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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e76078 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68692 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68692) diff --git a/old/68692-0.txt b/old/68692-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a847abf..0000000 --- a/old/68692-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7639 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The eagle's wing, by B. M. Bower - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The eagle's wing - A story of the Colorado - -Author: B. M. Bower - -Illustrator: Frank Tenney Johnson - -Release Date: August 5, 2022 [eBook #68692] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images - made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EAGLE'S WING *** - - - - - -THE EAGLE’S WING - -By B. M. Bower - - - - -Good Indian -Lonesome Land -The Ranch at the Wolverine -The Flying U’s Last Stand -The Heritage of the Sioux -Starr, of the Desert -Cabin Fever -Skyrider -Rim o’ The World -The Quirt -Cow-Country -Casey Ryan -The Trail of the White Mule -The Voice at Johnnywater -The Parowan Bonanza -The Eagle’s Wing - - - - -[Illustration: The man in the distance ducked out of sight amongst the -bowlders.] - - - - -THE EAGLE’S WING - -A STORY OF THE COLORADO - -BY B. M. BOWER - -WITH FRONTISPIECE BY FRANK TENNEY JOHNSON - -BOSTON - -LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY - -1924 - - - - -Copyright, 1924, - -By Little, Brown, and Company. - -All rights reserved - -Published February, 1924 - -Printed in the United States of America - - - - -To the American Eagle, - fighting always the Vultures of the earth; - whose protective wing extends even into the - desert lands; whose shadow has fallen upon - the great river, this story of the Colorado is - loyally inscribed. - B. M. B. - - - - -CONTENTS - - I. King, of the Mounted - II. Johnny Buffalo Bears Another Message - III. “My Heart is Dead” - IV. Rawley Reads the Bible - V. A City Forsaken - VI. Trails Meet - VII. Nevada - VIII. “Him That is--Mine Enemy” - IX. “A Pleasant Trip to You!” - X. A Family Tree - XI. Rawley Thinks Things Out - XII. Rawley Plays the Game - XIII. The Colorado - XIV. The Vulture Screams - XV. The Land of Splendid Dreams - XVI. Rawley Investigates - XVII. Changed Relations - XVIII. The Johnny Buffalo Uprising - XIX. The Eagle Strikes - XX. Nevada Analyzes - XXI. The Truth About Riches - XXII. Greater Than Gold - XXIII. The Eagle Looks Upon a Great River - XXIV. Anita - XXV. The Eagle and the Vulture - XXVI. “Take This Fighting Squaw Away!” - XXVII. “You Tell Hoover I Said So!” - XXVIII. The Vulture Makes Terms with the Eagle - XXIX. Fate Has Decreed - XXX. Dawn and the River - XXXI. The Vulture Feasts - XXXII. Another Rescue - XXXIII. The Eagle’s Wing - - - - -THE EAGLE’S WING - - -CHAPTER ONE - -KING, OF THE MOUNTED - - -On the wide south porch of the house where he had been born, Rawley King sat -smoking his pipe in the dusk heavy with the scent of a thousand roses. The -fragrant serenity of the great, laurel-hedged yard of the King homestead was -charming after the hot, empty spaces of the desert. Even the somber west wing -of the brooding old house seemed wrapped in the peace that enfolds lives -moving gently through long, uneventful months and years. The smoke of his pipe -billowed lazily upward in the perfumed air; incense burned by the prodigal son -upon the home altar after his wanderings. - -The old Indian, Johnny Buffalo, came walking straight as an arrow across the -strip of grass beside the syringa bushes that banked the west wing. Rawley -straightened and stared, the bowl of his pipe sagging to the palm of his hand. -As far back as he could remember, none had ever crossed that space of clipped -grass to hold speech with the Kings. But now Johnny Buffalo walked steadily -forward and halted beside the porch. - -“Your grandfather say you come,” he announced calmly and turned back to the -somber west wing. - -Sheer amazement held Rawley motionless for a moment. Until the Indian spoke to -him he had almost forgotten the strangeness of that hidden, remote life of his -grandfather. From the time he could toddle, Rawley had been taught that he -must not go near the west wing of the house or approach the brooding old man -in the wheel chair. As for the Indian who served his grandfather, Rawley had -been too much afraid of him to attempt any friendly overtures. There had been -vague hints that Grandfather King was not quite right in his mind; that a -brooding melancholy held him, and that he would suffer no one but his Indian -servant near him. Now, after nearly thirty years of studied aloofness, his -grandfather had summoned him. - -The Indian was waiting in the shadowed west porch when Rawley tardily arrived -at the steps. He turned without speaking and opened the door, waiting for -Rawley to pass. Still dumb with astonishment, a bit awed, Rawley crossed the -threshold and for the first time in his life stood in the presence of his -grandfather. - -A powerful figure the old man must have been in his youth. Old age had shrunk -him, had sagged his shoulders and dried the flesh upon his bones; but years -could not hide the breadth of those shoulders or change the length of those -arms. His eyes were piercingly blue and his lips were firm under the drooping -white mustache. His snow-white hair was heavy and lay upon his shoulders in -natural waves that made it seem heavier than it really was,--just so he had -probably worn it in the old, old days on the frontier. His eyebrows were -domineering and jet black, and the whole rugged countenance betrayed the -savage strength of the spirit that dwelt back of his eyes. But the great, -gaunt body stopped short at the knees, and the gray blanket smoothed over his -lap could not hide the tragic mutilation; nor could the great mustache conceal -the bitter lines around his mouth. - -“Back from Arizona, hey?” he launched abruptly at Rawley, and his voice was -grim as his face. - -Rawley started. Perhaps he expected a cracked, senile tone; it would have -fitted better the tradition of the old man’s mental weakness. - -“Just got back to-day, Grandfather.” Instinctively Rawley swung to a -matter-of-fact manner, warding off his embarrassment over the amazing -interview. - -“Mining expert, hey? Know your business?” - -“Well enough to be paid for working at it,” grinned Rawley, trying -unsuccessfully to keep his eyes from straying curiously around the room filled -with ancient trophies of a soldier’s life half a century before. - -“Not much like your father! I’ll bet he couldn’t have told you the meaning of -the words. Damned milksop. Bank clerk! Not a drop of King blood in his -body--far as looks and actions went. Guess he thought gold grew on bushes, -stamped with the date of the harvest!” - -“I remember him vaguely. He never seemed well or strong,” Rawley defended his -dead father. - -“Never had the King make-up. Only weakling the Kings ever produced--and he had -to be _my_ son! Take a look at that picture on the bureau. That’s what I mean -by King blood. Johnny, give him the picture.” - -The Indian moved silently to a high chest of drawers against the farther wall -and lifted from it an enlarged, framed photograph, evidently copied from an -earlier crude effort of some pioneer in the art. He placed it reverently in -Rawley’s hands and retreated to a respectful distance. - -“Taken before I started out with Moorehead’s expedition in ’59. Six feet two -in my bare feet, and not an ounce of soft flesh in my body. Not a man in the -company I couldn’t throw. Johnny could tell you.” A note of pride had crept -into the old man’s voice. - -“I can see it, Grandfather. I--I’d give anything to have been with you in -those days. Lord, what a physique!” - -The fierce old eyes sparkled. The bony fingers gripped the arms of the wheel -chair like steel claws. - -“That’s the King blood. Give me two legs and I’d be a King yet, old as I -am--instead of a hunk of meat in a wheel chair.” - -“It’s the spirit that counts, Grandfather,” Rawley observed hearteningly, his -eyes still on the picture but lifting now to the old man’s face. “The -picture’s like you yet.” - -The old man grunted doubtfully, his eyes fixed sharply upon Rawley’s face. His -fingers drummed restlessly upon the arm of his chair, as if he were seeing in -the young man his own care-free youth, and was yearning over it in secret. -Indeed, as he stood there in the light of the old-fashioned lamp, Rawley King -might have been mistaken for the original of the picture with the costume set -fifty years ahead. - -“Johnny, get the box.” Grandfather King spoke without taking his eyes off -Rawley. - -The old Indian slipped away. In a moment he returned with a square metal box -which he placed on the old man’s knees. Rawley found himself wondering what -his mother would say when he told her that Grandfather King had sent for him, -was actually talking to him, giving him a glimpse of that sealed past of his. -He watched his grandfather fit a key into the lock of the metal box. - -“You’re a King, thank God. I’ve watched you grow. Six feet and over, and no -water in _your_ blood, by the looks. You’re like I was at your age. Johnny -knows. He can remember how I looked when I had two legs. Here. You take -these--they’re yours, and all the good you can get out of them. Read ’em both. -Read ’em till you get the good that’s in ’em. If you’re a King, you’ll do it.” - -He held out two worn little books. Rawley took them, eyeing them queerly. One -was a Bible, the old-fashioned, leather-bound pocket size edition, with a -metal clasp. The other book was smaller; a diary, evidently, with a leather -band going around, the end slipping under a flap to hold it secure. - -“I will--you bet!” Rawley made his voice as hearty as his puzzlement would -permit. “Thanks, Grandfather.” - -“I meant ’em for your father--but he wasn’t the man to get anything out of ’em -worth while. A milksop--wore spectacles before he wore pants! His idea of -success was to shove money out to other people through a grated window. Paugh! -When he told me that was his ambition, I came near burning the books. Johnny -could tell you. He stopped me--only time in his life he ever stuck his foot -through the wheel of my chair and anchored me out of reach of the fire. Out of -reach of my guns, too, or I’d have killed him maybe! Johnny said, ‘You wait. -Maybe more Kings come--like Grandfather.’ - -“So I did wait, and after a while I could watch you grow--all King. I could -tell by the set of your shoulders and the tone of your voice and the way you -went straight at anything you wanted. So there’s your legacy, boy, from King, -of the Mounted. Ask any of the old veterans who King, of the Mounted, was! You -read those books.” He lifted a bony finger and pointed. “There’s a lot in that -Bible--if you read it careful.” - -“You bet, Grandfather!” Rawley undid the clasp and opened the book politely. -The old man twisted his lips into a sardonic smile. His eyes gleamed, indigo -blue, under his shaggy black brows. Then, as if reminded of something -forgotten, he dipped into the box, fumbled a bit and held out his hand to -Rawley. - -“You’re a mining expert; maybe you can tell me where I picked them up.” His -eyes bored into Rawley’s face. - -Rawley bent his head over the three nuggets of gold. He weighed them in his -hand, turned them to the light of the lamp which Johnny Buffalo had lifted -from the table and held close. - -“Greenhorns think that gold is gold,” Rawley grinned at last. “And so it -is--but you left a little rock sticking to this one, Grandfather. So I’ll -guess Nevada.” - -“Hunh!” The old man’s eyes sparkled. “What part?” - -Rawley glanced up at him with the endearing King smile. “Say, I’m liable to -fall down on that! But I reckon King, of the Mounted, will put me flat against -the wall before he quits, anyway. So--well, how about Searchlight?” - -“Hunh! I guess you know your job.” The old man smiled back at him, a glimmer -of that same endearing quality in the smile and the eyes. He waved back the -gold when Rawley would have returned it. “Keep it--you’ve earned it. No use to -me any more.” He settled deeper into the chair and gave a great sigh as his -head dropped back against the cushions. “Fifty years ago I picked ’em up--and -I’ve lived to see a King turn them over twice in his hand and tell me within a -few miles of where I got them. That shows what I mean by King blood. Fifty -years ago! It’s a long time to live like a hunk of meat. I’m seventy-nine--” - -“Get out! You’d have to prove it, Grandfather. That’s a good ten years more -than you look.” - -“Don’t lie to me, boy.” But King, of the Mounted, failed to look censorious. -“You read that Bible. Remember, that’s the legacy old King, of the Mounted, -leaves to the next King in line. It don’t lie, boy. Read it faithful and heed -what it says, and some day you’ll say the old man wasn’t so crazy after all.” - -“Why, Grandfather,--” - -But the old man waved him away with a peremptory gesture. Johnny Buffalo -glided to the door, opened it and held it so, waiting with the inscrutable -calm of his race. - -“Well, good night, Grandfather. I’m--glad to have had this little talk. And I -hope it won’t be the last. I always wanted to pioneer, and I’ve always felt as -if I’d like to talk over those times--” - -Rawley was finding it rather difficult even yet to bridge the silence of a -lifetime. - -“You grew up thinking I was crazy, most likely. Easy to say the old man’s -touched in the head--when they don’t want to bother with a cripple. You’re a -King. Maybe you can guess what it means to be a hulk in a wheel chair. And the -Kings never ran after anybody; nor the Rawlinses, your grandmother’s people. -Two good names--glad you carry ’em both. If you live up to ’em both you’ll go -far. Take care of those two books, boy. Remember what I said--they’re your -legacy from King, of the Mounted. Good night.” - -The old man snapped out the last two words in a tone of finality and reached -for his pipe. Johnny Buffalo opened the door an inch wider. Rawley obeyed the -unspoken hint and straightway found himself outside, with the door closed -behind him. He waited, listening, loth to go. Now that the feud was broken, he -tingled with the desire to know more about his grandfather, more about those -wonderful old fighting frontier days, more about King, of the Mounted. - -“Crazy? I should say not!” Rawley muttered as he made his way slowly across -the strip of grass by the syringas. “I only hope my brain will be as keen as -Grandfather’s when I am his age.” - -He stood for a few minutes breathing deep the night air saturated with -perfume. Then, with the spell of his grandfather’s vivid personality strong -upon him, he went in to where his mother sat gently rocking beside a -rose-shaded lamp, looking over a late magazine. - -“I’ve just been having a talk with Grandfather,” Rawley announced bluntly, -sitting down opposite his mother and studying her as if she were a stranger to -him. Indeed, those few minutes spent in the west wing had dealt a sharp blow -to his unquestioning faith in his mother. Mrs. King dropped the magazine and -opened her lips--artificially red--and gave a faint gasp. - -“Grandfather’s mind is as clear as yours or mine,” Rawley stated -challengingly. “A bit old-fashioned, maybe--a man couldn’t live in a wheel -chair for fifty years or so, shut away from all companionship as he has been, -and keep his ideas right up to the minute. If you ask me, I’ll say he’d make a -corking old pal. Full of pep--or would be if he weren’t crippled. It’s a -darned shame I never busted through the feud before. Why, fifty years ago he -was all through Nevada--think of that! I’d give ten years of my life to have -lived when he did, right at his elbow.” - -He felt the sag in his pockets then and brought out the two little books. - -“I always thought, Mother, that Grandfather King was a particularly wicked old -party. Well, that’s all wrong--same as the idea that he’s weak in the head. He -gave me this Bible, and made me promise to read it. He said--” - -“_Bible?_” Rawley’s mother sat up sharply, and her mouth remained open, ready -for further words which her mind seemed unable to formulate. - -“You bet. He said if I read it faithfully and got all the good out of it there -is in it, I’d thank him the rest of my life--or something like that. He meant -it, too.” - -“Why, Rawley King! Your grandfather has always been an atheist of the worst -type! I’ve heard your father tell how he used to hear your grandfather -blaspheme and curse God by the hour for making him a cripple. When he was a -little boy--your father, I mean--he was deeply impressed by your grandmother -asking every prayer-meeting night for the prayers of the church to soften her -husband’s heart and turn his thoughts toward God. Your father has told me how -he used to go home afterwards and watch to see if your grandfather’s heart was -softened. But it never was--he got wickeder, if possible, and swore horribly -at everything, nearly. Your father said he nearly lost faith in prayer. But he -believed that the congregation never prayed as it should. I wouldn’t believe, -Rawley, that your grandfather would have a Bible near him. Are you sure?” - -“Here it is,” Rawley assured her, grinning. “He said it was my legacy from -him.” - -“Well, that proves to my mind he’s crazy,” his mother said grimly. “Your -father always felt that Grandfather King had sinned against the Holy Ghost and -_couldn’t_ repent. Anyway,” she added resentfully, “that’s about all you’ll -ever get from him. When he deeded this place to your father for a wedding -present--that was a little while after your grandmother died--he reserved the -west wing for himself as long as he lived. It’s in the deed that he’s not to -be interfered with or molested. When he dies, the west wing becomes a part of -this property--which is mine, of course. He lives on his pension, which just -about keeps him and that awful old Indian. Of course the pension stops when he -dies. So he was right about the legacy, at least. But I’ll bet he put a curse -on the Bible before he gave it to you. It would be just like him.” - -Rawley shook his head dissentingly. “It’s darned hard to sit in a wheel chair -for fifty years,” he remarked somewhat irrelevantly. “I’d cuss things some, -myself, I reckon.” And he added abruptly, “Say, Grandfather’s got the bluest -eyes, Mother, I ever saw in a man’s head. I thought eyes faded with old age. -Did you ever notice his eyes, Mother?” - -His mother laughed unpleasantly. “Your Grandfather King never gave me any -inducement to get close enough to see his eyes. Seeing him on the porch of the -west wing is enough for me.” - -“He laid a good deal of stress upon his past,” said Rawley. “I suppose because -he hasn’t any present--and darned little future, I’m afraid. He gave me some -nuggets. Would you like a nugget ring, Mother?” - -His mother glanced at the nuggets and pushed away Rawley’s hand that held them -cupped in the palm. - -“No, I wouldn’t. Not if your Grandfather King had anything to do with it. He’s -been like a poison plant in the yard ever since I came here, Rawley; like -poison ivy, that you’re careful not to go near. I don’t want to touch anything -belonging to him--and I hope I’m not a vindictive woman, either.” - -Rawley was rolling the nuggets in his hand, staring at them abstractedly. - -“It’s queer--the whole thing,” he said finally. “I feel a sort of leaning -toward Grandfather. It was something in his eyes. You know, Mother, it must be -darned tough to have both legs chopped off at the knees when you’re a young -husky over six feet in your socks and full of pep. I--believe I can understand -Grandfather King. ‘A hunk of meat in a wheel chair’--that’s what he called -himself. And those amazing blue eyes of his--” - -His mother glanced curiously into his face. “They can’t be any bluer than -yours, Rawley,” she observed. - -Rawley looked up from the nuggets, his forehead wrinkled with surprise. - -“Oh, do you think that, Mother?” He stood up suddenly, still shaking the -nuggets with a dull clink in his hand. “Well, I hope Grandfather’s passed on a -few more of his traits to me. There’s a few of them I’m going to need,” he -said drily and kissed his mother good night. - - - - -CHAPTER TWO - -JOHNNY BUFFALO BEARS ANOTHER MESSAGE - - -In his room, Rawley switched on the light and slid into the big chair by the -table. Not to his mother could he confess how deeply those few minutes with -Grandfather King had stirred him. In spite of her attitude toward the silent -feud that had endured for nearly thirty years, he was conscious of the dull -ache of remorse. Without meaning to judge his parents or to criticize their -manner of handling a difficult situation, Rawley felt that night that he had -been guilty of a great wrong toward his grandfather. He at least should have -ignored the invisible wall that stood between the west wing and the rest of -the house. He was a King; he should not have permitted that reasonless silence -to endure through all these years. - -As a matter of fact, Rawley’s life since he was twelve had been spent mostly -away from home. First, a military academy in the suburbs of St. Louis, with -the long hiking trips featured by the school through the summer vacations; -after that, college,--with a special course in mineralogy. Since then, field -work had claimed most of his time. Home had therefore been merely a place -pleasantly tucked away in his memory, with a visit to his mother now and then -between jobs. - -The first twelve years of his life had thoroughly accustomed Rawley to the -sight of the fierce old man with long hair and his legs cut off at his knees, -who sometimes appeared in a wheel chair on a porch of the west wing, attended -by an Indian who looked savage enough to scalp a little boy if he ventured too -close; a ferocious Indian who scowled and wore his hair parted from forehead -to neck and braided in two long braids over his shoulder, and who padded -stealthily about the place in beautifully beaded moccasins and fringed -buckskin leggings. - -Nevertheless, there had been times, as he grew older, when Rawley had been -tempted to invade the west wing and find out for himself just how bitterly his -grandfather clung to the feud. It hurt him to think now of the old man’s -isolation and of the interesting companionship he had cheated himself out of -enjoying. - -He pulled the two old books from his pocket, handling them as if they were the -precious things his grandfather seemed to consider them. The Bible he opened -first, undoing the old-fashioned clasp with his thumb and opening the book at -the flyleaf. The inscription there was faded yet distinct on the yellowed -paper. The sloping, careful handwriting of Rawley’s great-grandmother sending -King, of the Mounted, forth upon his dangerous missions armed with the Word of -God,--and hoping prayerfully, no doubt, that he would read and heed its -precepts. - - To my beloved son, - George Walter King, - from his - Affectionate Mother. - -The date thrilled Rawley, aged twenty-six: 1858 was the year his -great-grandmother had inscribed in the book. To Rawley it seemed almost as -remote as the Stamp Act or the Mexican War. The thought that Grandfather King, -away back in 1858, had been old enough to join the Missouri Mounted -Volunteers--even to have been made a sergeant in his company and to make for -himself a reputation as an Indian fighter--gave the old man a new dignity in -the eyes of his grandson. It seemed strange that Grandfather King was still -alive and could talk of those days. - -The book itself was strangely contradictory in appearance. While the outside -was worn and scuffed as if with much usage, the inside crackled faintly a -protest against unaccustomed handling. The yellowed leaves clung together in -layers which Rawley must carefully separate. Now and then a line or two showed -faint penciled underscores; otherwise the book did not look as if it had been -opened for many, many years. Nowhere was it thumbed and soiled by the frequent -reading of a man living under canvas or the open sky. - -“Looks to me like the old boy has simply passed the buck,” Rawley grinned. -“Maybe he felt as if some one in the family ought to read it. His mother had -it all marked for him, too; wanted to give him a good start-off, maybe. No, -sir, the old book itself is pinning it onto King, of the Mounted! Mother must -be right, after all, and Grandfather never had enough religion to talk about. -But he sure gave me a Sunday-school talk; funny how a book can stand up and -call you a liar.” - -He smiled as he closed the book, whimsically shaking his head over the joke. -Then, just to make sure that his guess was correct, Rawley opened the Bible -again. No, there could be no mistake. Crackly new on the inside--though -yellowed with age--badly worn on the outside, the book itself proclaimed the -story of long carrying and little reading. The evidence against the sincerity -of the old man’s pious admonitions was conclusive. Rawley laid the Bible down -for a further consideration and took up the worn old diary. - -Here, too, Grandfather King had betrayed a certain lack of sincerity. Reading -the faded entries, Rawley decided that King, of the Mounted, must have been an -impetuous youth who had learned caution with the years. Dates, arrivals, -departures,--these remained. Incidents, however, had for the most part been -neatly sliced out with a knife. And with a stubborn disregard for the opinion -of later readers the stubs of the pages elided had been left to tell of the -deliberate mutilation of the record. So Rawley read perfunctorily the dry -record of obscure scouting trips, and the names of commanders long since dead -and remembered only in the records. - -Rawley learned that his grandfather had taken part in the making of much -frontier history. He spoke of Captain Hunt in a matter-of-fact way and -mentioned the date on which a certain Captain Hendley had been killed by -Indians somewhere near Las Vegas, in Nevada. On the next page Rawley found -this gruesome paragraph: - - From a young Indian captured in the battle of last week, I learned the - secret of the devilish poisoned arrows, which are black. The black - arrows are poisoned in this manner, he tells me, and since I have - befriended him in many small ways I do not doubt his word. To procure - the poison, an animal is slain and the liver removed. A captured - rattlesnake is then induced to strike the liver again and again, - injecting all of its poison into the meat. The arrow-points are - afterwards rubbed in the putrid mass and left to dry. Needless to say, - a wound touched by this poison and decayed meat surely causes death. - The young Indian tells me that a certain desert plant has been - successfully used as an antidote, but he did not tell me the name of - the plant. He declared that he did not know, that only the doctors of - his tribe know that secret. - - I think he lied. He was willing to tell me the horrid means of making - the poison. But is too cunning to let me know the antidote. So the - tobacco I’ve given him is after all wasted. The information merely - increases my dread of the black arrows. Rattlesnake venom and putrid - liver--paugh! I shall-- - -A page was missing. Followed several pages of brief entries, with long lapses -of time between. Then came a page which gave a glimpse into that colorful -life: - - June, 1866. On board the “Esmeralda.” Arrived at El Dorado - (_Deuteronomy_, 2:36) to-day. This is the first boat up the river. - -The Scriptural reference had been inserted in very small writing above the -name of the place. Evidently Grandfather King had been reading some Bible, if -not the one his mother had given him. - - A town has sprung up in the wilderness since I was here last, cursing - the heat and stinging gnats in ’59. A stamp mill stands at the river’s - edge and houses are scattered all up and down the river, while a ferry - crosses to the other shore. A crowd came down to the landing for their - mail and to see what strangers were on the boat. As yet I do not know - whether our company will be stationed here or at Fort Callville, a few - miles up the canyon. The Indians are quiet, they say. Too quiet, some - of the miners think. On the edge of the crowd I saw a young squaw--or - perhaps she is Spanish. She has the velvet eyes and the dark rose - blooming in her cheeks, which speaks of Spanish blood. By God, she’s - beautiful! Not more than sixteen and graceful as a fairy. I leaned - over the rail-- - -Several pages were cut from the book just there, and Rawley swore to himself. -When one is twenty-six one resents any interruption in a romance. The next -entry read: - - July 4th. Great doings at the fort to-day, with barbeque, wrestling, - target practice and gambling. Miners and Indians came out of the hills - to celebrate the holiday. In the wrestling matches I easily held my - own, as in the sharp-shooting. Anita received my message and was - here--el gusto de mi corazon. What a damned pity she’s not white! But - she’s more Spanish than Indian, with her proud little ways and her - light heart. Jess Cramer tried again to come between us, and there was - a fight not down on the program. They carried him to the hospital. A - little more and I’d have broken his back, the surgeon said. If he - looks at her again-- - -More elision just when the interest was keenest. Rawley wanted to know more -about Anita--“the joy of my heart”, as Grandfather had set it down in Spanish. -The next page, however, whetted Rawley’s curiosity a bit more: - - July 15th. To-morrow we march to Las Vegas to meet a party of emigrants - and guard them to San Bernardino. The Indians are unsettled and traveling - is not safe. A miner was murdered and scalped within ten miles of the fort - the other day. No mi alebro--Anita wept and clung to me when I told her we - had marching orders. Dulce corazon--God, how I wish she was white! But in - any case I could not take her with me. I shall return in a month’s time-- - - August. In hospital, after a hellish trip in a wagon with other wounded. - Mohave Indians attacked our wagon train, one hundred miles northeast of - here, on the desert. While leading a charge afoot against the Indians I - was shot through both legs. Gangrene set in before we could reach this - place, and the doctor will not promise the speedy recovery I desire. - - My Indian boy, Johnny Buffalo, refuses to leave my side. He hates all - other whites. On the desert I picked him up half dead with thirst, and set - him before me on the saddle because he feared the wagons. I judge him to - be about ten. If I live, I shall keep the boy with me and train him for my - body-servant. A faithful Indian is better than a watch-dog-- - -A lapse of several months intervened before the next entry. Then a brief -record, which told of the closing of one romance and the beginning of another: - - November 15th. This day I married Mary Jane Rawlins. Was able to stand - during the ceremony, supported by two crutches. My Indian boy slipped - away from the others and stood close behind me during the service, one - hand clutching tightly my coat-tail. Mary has courage, to wish to - marry a man likely to be a cripple the rest of his days. - -Nothing further was recorded for several years; four, to be exact. Then: - - Returned to-day from hospital. After all this suffering, both legs were - taken off above the knee. The poison had spread to the joints. What a pity - it was not my neck. - -On the next page was one grim line: - - December 4th, 1889. My wife, Mary Rawlins King, was buried to-day. - -That ended the diary. In a memorandum pocket just inside the cover, a folded -paper lay snug and flat. Rawley drew it forth eagerly and held it close to the -lamp. His face clouded then with disappointment, for nothing was written on -the paper save a list of Bible references. - -So that was the legacy. An old diary just interesting enough to be -tantalizing, with half the pages cut out; Bible references probably given to -King, of the Mounted, by his mother. And a worn old Bible that had never been -read. Rawley stacked the books one upon the other and leaned back in his -chair, staring at them meditatively while he filled his pipe. He took three -puffs before he laughed silently. - -“He was a speedy old bird, I’ll say that much for him,” he told himself. “I’ll -bet those pages he cut out fairly sizzled. And I’ll bet he cut them out about -the time he married Grandmother. Also, I think he left one or two pages by -mistake. Well, I’ll say he lived! As long as he had two good legs under him he -was up and coming. I don’t suppose there’s a chance in the world of getting -him to talk about Anita. ‘_El gusto de mi corazon_--’ There’s nothing like the -Spanish for love-making words. And that was in July--and he married -Grandmother in November. Poor little half-breed girl who should have been -white! But then, I reckon he’d have gone back to her if he could. But they -sent him home--crippled for life. You can’t blame Grandfather, after all. And -I notice he mentioned the fact that Grandmother wanted to marry him. Sorry for -the handsome young soldier on crutches, but it’s darned hard on Anita, just -the same. And I don’t suppose he could even get word to her.” - -He smoked the pipe out, his thoughts gone a-questing into the long ago, where -the black arrows were dipped in loathsome poison, and young Indian girls had -the fire and grace of the Spaniards. - -“She’d be old, too, by now--if she’s alive,” he thought, as he knocked the -ashes from his pipe and yawned. “I wonder if she ever forgot. And I wonder if -Grandfather ever thinks of her now. He does, I’ll bet. Those terrible, blue -eyes! They _couldn’t_ forget.” - -He went to bed, his imagination still held to the days of the fighting old -frontier; still building adventures and romances for the dashing, blue-eyed -King, of the Mounted. - -He was dreaming of an Indian fight when a sharp tapping on his window woke him -to gray dawn. He sprang out of bed, still knuckling the sleep out of his eyes, -and saw Johnny Buffalo standing close to the open screen. The Indian raised a -hand. - -“You come quick. Your grandfather is dead.” - - - - -CHAPTER THREE - -“MY HEART IS DEAD” - - -It was the evening after the funeral, and Rawley was sitting again on the -porch, staring out gloomily over a cold pipe into the yard. His grandfather’s -death had hit him a harder blow than he would have thought possible. The shock -of it, coming close on the heels of his first keen realization that -Grandfather King was a vivid personality, left him numbed with a sense of -loss. - -His mother’s evident relief at the removal of an unpleasant problem chilled -and irritated him. Her calm assumption that the Indian must also be removed -from the place, now that his master was gone, seemed to Rawley almost like -sacrilege. The place belonged to his mother only by right of his grandfather’s -generosity. To rob the Indian of a home he had enjoyed since boyhood was -unthinkable. - -He turned his head and glanced toward the west wing, his eyes following his -thoughts. A dimly outlined figure stood erect upon the porch of the west wing. -Pity gripped Rawley by the throat; pity and half-conscious admiration. Even -the greatest grief of his life could not bow the shoulders of Johnny Buffalo. -With no definite purpose, drawn only by the kinship of their loss, Rawley -rose, crossed the grass plot by the syringas and sat down on the top step of -the west porch. - -Johnny Buffalo stood with his arms folded, the fringe on his buckskin sleeves -whipping gently in the soft breeze that rose when the sun went down. He was -staring straight out at nothing,--the nothingness that epitomized his future. -Rawley slanted a glance up at him and began thoughtfully refilling his pipe. -By his silence he was unconsciously bringing himself close to the soul of the -Indian, the traditions of whose race forbade hasty speech. - -Half a pipe Rawley smoked, staring meditatively into the dusk. In that time -Johnny Buffalo had moved no more than if he were a statue of brown stone. Then -Rawley tipped his head sidewise and looked up at him. - -“Sit down, Johnny. I want to talk.” - -“Talk is useless when the heart is dead,” said Johnny Buffalo after a long -pause. But he came down two steps and seated himself, straight-backed, head -up, beside Rawley. - -“The man I love is cold. His spirit has gone. So I am left cold, and my heart -is dead. I shall wait--and be glad when my body is dead.” - -Rawley felt a sharp constriction in his throat. For one moment he almost hated -his mother who would drive this stricken old man out into a world he did not -know. A gun against his temple would be kinder. He drew a long breath. - -“Would you like to wait here, where he lived?” Intuitively he crystallized his -thoughts into the briefest words possible to express his meaning. - -Johnny Buffalo shook his head slowly, with a decisiveness that could not be -questioned. He folded his arms again across his grief-laden breast. - -“It is your mother’s. In the fields I can wait for death, which is my friend. -I shall walk toward the land of my people. When death finds me I shall smile.” - -Rawley turned this over in his mind, seeking some point where argument might -break down bitter resolution. - -“Cowards wait for death when life grows hard,” he said at last. “The brave man -meets life and faces sorrow because he is brave and will overcome. The brave -man fights death which is an enemy. He does not run away from life and welcome -his enemy. My grandfather found life very hard. For fifty years my grandfather -faced it because his spirit was strong.” - -“Your grandfather’s spirit was strong. His body was broken. My body is strong. -My spirit is broken. Can a strong body live with a broken spirit inside?” - -Rawley had to smoke over this for a while. Johnny Buffalo, he conceded -privately, was no man’s fool. Rawley tried to put himself in the Indian’s -place and discover, if he could, something that would make life worth the -living. - -“Your people are scattered,” he said quietly. “Few are left. The Mohaves are a -broken tribe.” - -“The Mohaves are not my people,” the Indian corrected him calmly. “I am -Pahute. In the mountains along the river you call the Colorado, my people -lived and hunted--and fought. My uncle was the chief, and I was proud. One day -my mother beat me with a stick. I took my bow and my arrows and some dried -meat, and that night I left my people, for I was angry and ashamed. With my -bow I had killed two mountain sheep. With my bow I had hidden in the rocks and -had wounded a white man who was digging in the hillside. I thought I was a -warrior and not to be beaten by a squaw. - -“The great thirst found me as I was walking toward the mountains where all my -life I had seen the sun go down. With my bow and arrow I could get meat, but I -could not get water. All my life I had lived near the river. The great thirst -I did not know. - -“I fell in the sand. When I awoke, water was in my mouth. I looked, and I was -lying in the arms of a white man. He was big and strong and very handsome. He -was Sergeant King. Your grandfather. I looked into his eyes and I was not -afraid. There was no hate in my heart for him, but all other whites I hated. -He lifted me and carried me in his arms and laid me in a wagon with white -women and children. I hated them. I was weak from the thirst and from much -walking, but I bit deep into the arm of a woman who put her hand on me. - -“There was much yelling in that wagon. The woman struck me many times. A horse -came galloping. Your grandfather lifted me out of the wagon and put me on the -horse with him. So we rode together in one saddle. I loved him. - -“The Mohaves attacked the whites when we had gone many days. My sergeant left -me with his horse by the wagons. He crept behind bushes and killed many. He -was a great warrior and I was proud when his gun brought death to a Mohave. I -watched him, for I loved him. When I saw him fall from his knees and lie on -his face in the sand, I jumped from the horse and went creeping through the -brush. He was not dead. I took his gun and killed Mohaves. Pretty soon my -sergeant looked at me and smiled while I killed. When there were no more -Mohaves, the captain came. They put my sergeant in a wagon and I sat beside -him. I gave him water, I gave him food. With my fists I beat back those who -would take from me the joy of serving him. - -“A long time he was sick in the town we entered. I was with him. Every day and -every night he could open his eyes and see that I was with him.” - -The sonorous voice ceased its monotone and the Indian sat silent, staring into -the past. After a while he turned his head and looked full at Rawley. - -“I was a boy when he took me. Now I am an old man. Since he took me there has -been no night when my sergeant could call and get no answer. There has been no -day when my sergeant could look and could not see me. Now my sergeant is gone. -My heart is gone with him.” - -Enthralled by the picture vividly painted with bold strokes by the Indian, -Rawley sat hunched over his pipe, cuddling the cooling bowl in his fingers. - -“Your sergeant was my grandfather. At the last I loved him, too. I am a King. -I need you.” His tone stamped the lie as truth. Later he would find some way -of making it the truth, he thought. - -Johnny Buffalo eyed him sharply in the deepening dusk. - -“You have read the book?” he asked after a minute. “If you have read, then I -will go with you. The spirit of my sergeant will go. My heart may live again.” - -“What book?” Rawley’s eyes widened. - -“Your grandfather gave you the book. Your grandfather commanded that you -read.” Reproach was in the voice of Johnny Buffalo. - -“I have read the diary--the book where he wrote of his travels. Do you mean -that book?” - -Johnny Buffalo gave a grunt that was pure Indian and signified disgust. - -Rawley frowned over the puzzle and his very evident defection. It must be the -Bible that was meant, he decided. But he could see no reason why he should -read the Bible and then go somewhere. Still, the thing seemed to have pulled -Johnny Buffalo out of his slough of despond, and that was what Rawley had been -working for. - -“If you mean the Bible,” he said tentatively, “I read it a little, that -night.” - -Johnny Buffalo peered at him. “Read that book more. Your grandfather commanded -that you should read. I heard the promise you gave. You said, ‘You bet.’ It -was a promise to obey your grandfather.” - -“I mean to keep the promise,” Rawley replied defensively. “I haven’t had time. -Things have been pretty much upset since that night.” - -The Indian meditated. “You read,” he admonished after due deliberation. “Your -grandfather never talked to make words. I think he would have told you more. -But his spirit went. I will stay in a tent by the river. When you have read, -you come. We will talk more when you have read.” - -Rawley felt the dismissal under the words. He offered the Indian money, which -was refused by a gesture. Then, conscious of a certain vague excitement in the -back of his mind, he went back to his own part of the house. - - - - -CHAPTER FOUR - -RAWLEY READS THE BIBLE - - -In his room again, Rawley unlocked his desk and got the two books which were -his “legacy.” He was young, and for all his technical training the spirit of -romance called to his youth. There was something particularly important, -something urgent in the admonition that he should read the Scriptures. -Rawley’s training was all against vague speculations. Your mining engineer -fights guesswork at every stage of his profession. - -He sat down with the books in his hand and began to reason the thing out -cold-bloodedly, as if it were a problem in mineral formations. He undid the -clasp of the Bible, opened it and looked through all the leaves, seeking for -some hidden paper. He spent half an hour in the search and discovered nothing. -There was no message, then, hidden in the Bible. His grandfather must have -meant the actual reading of the text itself. - -Then he remembered the paper filled with references, hidden in the pocket of -the diary. There might be something significant in that, he thought. He opened -the diary, took out the paper and glanced down the list of references. They -were scattered all through the book and there were sixty-four of them. - -He opened the Bible again and began to look for the first one--I Kings, 20:3. -The leaves stuck together, they turned in groups, they seemed determined that -he should not find I Kings anywhere in the book. Daniel, Joshua, Jeremiah, -Zechariah and Esther he peered into; there didn’t seem to be any Kings. - -He muttered a word frequently found in the Bible, laid the book down and went -to the living room, to the big, embossed Family Bible that had his birth date -in it and the date of his father’s death; and pictures at which he had been -permitted to look on Sunday afternoons if he were a good boy. His mother had -gone out to some meeting or other. He had the room to himself and he could -read at his leisure. - -It struck him immediately that this Bible had not been much read either. But -the leaves were thick enough to turn singly, the print was large, and if I -Kings were present he felt that he had some chance of finding it. With pencil -and paper beside him, and with the list of references in one hand, he -therefore set himself methodically to the task. And he was twenty-six, and the -blood of the adventurous Kings beat strongly in his veins. So when he had -found the book and the chapter which headed the list, he ran his finger down -the half-column to the third verse; and this is what he read: - - Thy silver and thy gold is mine; thy wives also and thy children, even - the goodliest, are mine. - -Rawley was conscious of a slight chill of disappointment when he had written -it down in his fine, beautifully exact, draftsman’s handwriting. But he went -doggedly to work on the next reference nevertheless: - - _Psalms_, 73:7. Their eyes stand out with fatness; they have more than - heart could wish. - -This was no more promising, but he had promised to read, and this seemed to -him the most practical method of getting at his grandfather’s secret purpose -and thoughts. So he settled himself down to an evening’s hard labor with book -and paper. - -He was just finishing the work when he heard his mother’s footsteps on the -porch. Rather guiltily he closed the Bible and folded his notes, so that his -mother, coming into the room, found Rawley standing before a large window, -thoughtfully gazing out into the dark while he stuffed tobacco in his pipe. -His mother was a religious woman and a member of the church, but she took her -religion according to certain fixed rules. Reading the Bible casually, -apparently for entertainment, would have required an explanation,--and Rawley -did not want to explain, least of all to his mother. - -He listened with perfunctory interest to her account of the evening’s -edifications (a Swedish missionary having lectured in his own tongue, with an -interpreter) and escaped when he could to his room. He wanted to be alone -where he could try and guess the riddle his grandfather had placed before him. - -That there was a message of some kind hidden away in the Scriptural -quotations, Rawley felt absolutely certain. In the first place, they did not -seem to him such passages as a devout person would cherish for the comfort -they held. Moreover, certain verses had been repeated, although the text -itself did not seem to justify such emphasis. Precious metals, and journeyings -into rough country, he decided, was the dominant note of the citations and the -net result was confusing to say the least. If his grandfather really intended -that he should discover any meaning in the jumble, he should have furnished a -key, Rawley told himself disgustedly, some time after midnight, when he had -read the quotations over and over until his head ached and they seemed more -meaningless than at first. - -But his grandfather had told him emphatically that there was a lot in the -Bible, if he read it carefully enough. There might have been in the statement -no meaning deeper than an old man’s whim, but Rawley could not bring himself -to believe it. Somewhere in those verses a secret lay hidden, and Rawley did -not mean to give up until he had solved the problem. - -At daylight the next morning Rawley awoke with what he considered an -inspiration. He swung out of bed and with his bathrobe over his shoulders made -a stealthy pilgrimage into the old-fashioned library where the conventional -aggregation of “works” were to be found in leather-bound sets. Squatting on -his haunches, he inspected a certain dim corner filled with fiction of the -type commonly accepted as standard. He chose a volume and returned to bed, -leaving one of his heelless slippers behind him in his absorption in the -mystery. - -He crawled back into bed and read Poe’s “Gold Bug” before breakfast, giving -particular attention to the elucidation of the cipher contained in the story. -The general effect of this research work was not illuminating. Poe’s cipher -had been worked out with numbers, whereas Grandfather King had carelessly -muffled his meaning in many words; unless the book, chapter and verse numbers -were intended to convey the message in cipher similar to Poe’s. - -This possibility struck Rawley in the middle of his shaving. He could not wait -to put the theory to the test, but hastily wiped the razor, and the lather -from one side of his face, opened his grandfather’s old Bible at the index and -began setting down the number of each book above its name in the reference -list. Thus, I Kings, 20:3 became the numerals 11-20-3. - -He was eagerly at work at this when his mother called him to breakfast. His -mother was a woman who worked industriously at being cultured. She had a -secret ambition to be called behind her back a brilliant conversationalist. -Breakfast, therefore, was always an uncomfortable meal for Rawley whenever his -mother had attended some instructive gathering the evening before. - -While he ate his first muffin, Rawley listened to a foggy interpretation of -the Swedish lecturer’s ideas upon universal brotherhood. Rather, he sat quiet -while his mother talked. Then he interrupted her shockingly. - -“Say, Mother, do you know whether Grandfather ever read Poe?” - -A swallow of coffee went down his mother’s “Sunday throat.” It was some -minutes before she could reply, and by that time Rawley had decided that -perhaps he had better not bother his mother about the cipher. He patted her on -the back, begged her pardon for asking foolish questions, and escaped to his -own room, where he spent the whole day with “The Gold Bug” opened before him -at the page which contained Poe’s rule concerning the frequency with which -certain letters occur in the alphabet. - -That evening there was a fine litter of papers scribbled over with letters and -numbers, singly and in groups. Rawley could not get two words that made sense. -The thing simply didn’t work. If his grandfather had ever read Poe’s “Gold -Bug”, he certainly had not used it for a pattern. - -He went back to his sixty-four Bible verses and began studying them again. But -he could not see any reason why Grandfather King should claim any one’s wives -and children, whose “eyes stand out with fatness.” The third and fourth verses -were intelligible; - - _Proverbs_, 2:1. My son, if thou wilt receive my words, and hide my - commandments with thee. - - _II Chronicles_, 1:12. Wisdom and knowledge is granted unto thee; and I - will give thee riches, and wealth, and honor, such as none of the kings - have had that have been before thee, neither shall there any after thee - have the like. - -Even the next three lent themselves to a possible personal meaning: - - _Psalms_, 2:10. Be wise now therefore, oh ye kings; be instructed, ye - judges of the earth. - - _I Chronicles_, 22:16. Of the gold, the silver, and the brass, and the - iron, there is no number. Rise, therefore, and be doing and the Lord be - with thee. - - _Deuteronomy_, 11:11. But the land, whither ye go to possess it, is a land - of hills and valleys, and drinketh water of the rain of heaven. - -After that, he was all at sea. - -He picked up the little Bible and opened it again. It must be there that the -message was hidden; and Rawley felt very sure, by now, that the Bible -quotations held the secret. The book opened at the eleventh chapter of -Deuteronomy. Here was a verse marked,--a verse made familiar to Rawley in his -hours of exhaustive study. Only a part of the verse was marked, however, by a -penciled line drawn faintly beneath certain words. - -With a sudden excitement Rawley seized a fresh sheet of paper and wrote down -the marked passage, “The land whither ye go to possess it is a land of hills -and valleys.” - -Painstakingly then he began at the beginning of the reference list and worked -his way once more through book, chapter and verse. But this time he used his -grandfather’s Bible and copied only such parts of the verse as were -underscored. Now he was on the right track, and as he wrote his excitement -grew apace. From a hopeless jumble, the verses conveyed to him this message: - - ... Gold is mine ... more than heart could wish. My son, if thou wilt - receive my words and hide my commandments with thee ... I will give thee - riches, and wealth ... such as none of the kings have had that have been - before thee. Be wise now, therefore, be instructed. Of the gold ... there - is no number. The land whither ye go to possess it is a land of hills and - valleys. Do this now, my son. Go through ... the city which is by the - river in the wilderness ... yet making many rich. In the midst thereof ... - a ferry-boat ... which is by the brink of the river. Take victuals with - you for the journey ... turn you northward into the wilderness ... to a - great and high mountain ... cedar trees in abundance ... scattered over - the face of ... the high mountain. In the cliffs ... there is a path which - no fowl knoweth, and which the vulture’s eye hath not seen. Come to the - top of the mount ... pass over unto the other side ... westward ... on the - hillside ... a very great heap of stones ... joined ... to ... a dry tree. - Go into the clefts of the rocks ... into the tops of the jagged rocks ... - to the sides of the pit ... take heed now ... that is ... exceeding deep. - It is hid from the eyes of all living ... creep into ... the midst thereof - ... eastward ... two hundred, fourscore and eight ... feet ... ye shall - find ... a pure river of water ... proceed no further ... there is gold - ... heavier than the sand ... pure gold ... upon the sand. And all the - gold ... thou shalt take up ... then shalt thou prosper if thou takest - heed ... I know thy poverty, but thou art rich ... take heed now ... On - the hillside ... which is upon the bank of the river ... in the wilderness - ... there shall the vultures also be gathered ... ye shall find ... him - that ... is mine enemy ... his mouth is full of cursing ... under his - tongue is mischief and vanity ... be watchful ... the heart is desperately - wicked ... He that keepeth his mouth keepeth his life ... I put my trust - in thee. Now, my son, the Lord be with thee and prosper thou. - -His first impulse was to find Johnny Buffalo. He folded the paper, slipped it -safely into a pocket and reached for his hat. He had neglected to ask the -Indian just where he meant to make his camp, but he felt sure that he could -find him. Indeed, when he stopped in the path halfway to the front gate and -looked toward the west wing, he could just discern a figure standing on the -porch. So he crossed the grass plot and in a moment stood before Johnny -Buffalo. - -Again his mood impelled him to the manner that most appealed to the old -Indian, nephew of a chief of his tribe. He waited for a space before he spoke. -And when he did speak it was in the restrained tone which had won the Indian’s -confidence the evening before. - -“I have read,” he stated quietly, “and I know what it is that Grandfather -meant. If we can go inside I’ll read it to you.” - -“The door is locked.” Johnny Buffalo pointed one finger over his shoulder. “It -is a new lock put there by your mother. She does not want me to go in.” - -Rawley pressed his lips tightly together before he dared trust himself to -speak. He looked at the barred door, thought of the room he had seen, its -furnishings enriched by a hundred little mementoes of the past that belonged -to his soldier grandfather. He had a swift, panicky fear that his mother would -call in a second-hand furniture dealer and take what price he offered for the -stuff. That, he promised himself, he would prevent at all costs. - -“Come into my room, then,” he invited. “I want to read you what I discovered.” - -“No. The house is your mother’s. We will go to my camp.” - -So it was by the light of a camp fire, with the Mississippi flowing -majestically past them under the stars, that Rawley first read as a complete -document the Scriptural fragments that contained his grandfather’s message. -Away in the northeast the lights of St. Louis set the sky aglow. Little -lapping waves crept like licking lips against the bank with a whispery sound -that mingled pleasantly with the subdued crackling of the fire. Across the -leaping flames, Johnny Buffalo sat with his brown, corded hands upon his -knees, his black braids drawn neatly forward across his chest. His lean face -with its high nose and cheek bones flared into light or grew shadowed as the -flames reached toward him or drew away. His lips were pressed firmly together, -as if he had learned well the lesson of setting their seal against his -thoughts. - -“There is one point I thought you might be able to tell me,” Rawley said, -looking across the fire when he had finished reading. “This ‘City which is by -the river in the wilderness’--and ‘In the midst thereof a ferryboat which is -by the brink of the river.’ Do you know what place is meant by that? Is it El -Dorado, Nevada? Because Grandfather’s diary tells of going up the river to El -Dorado. And I remember, now, there was some kind of Bible reference written -over the name. I don’t remember what it was, though. I didn’t look it up. -We’ll have to make sure about that, for the directions start from that point. -It says we’re to go through the city which is by the river, and turn -northward--and so on.” - -The Indian reached out a hand, lifted a stick of wood and laid it across the -fire. His eyes turned toward the river. - -“Many times, when the air was warm and the stars sat in their places to watch -the night, my sergeant came here with me, and I gathered wood to make a fire. -Many hours he would sit here in his chair beside the river. Sometimes he would -talk. His words were of the past when he was the strongest of all men. -Sometimes his words were of El Dorado. It is a city by the river, and a -ferryboat is in the midst thereof. It has made many rich with the gold they -dig from the mountains. I think that is the city you must go through.” - -“There isn’t any city now,” Rawley told him. “It’s been abandoned for years. I -don’t think there’s a town there, any more.” - -“There is the place by the river,” Johnny Buffalo observed calmly. “There is -the great and high mountain. There is ‘the path that no man knoweth.’” - -“Yes, you bet. And we’re going to find it, Johnny Buffalo. I’ve got a chance -to go out that way this month, to examine a mine. I didn’t think I’d take the -job. I wanted to go to Mexico. But now, of course, it will be Nevada, and I’ll -want you to go with me. Do you know that country?” - -A strange expression lightened the Indian’s face for an instant. - -“When I killed my first meat,” he said, “I could walk from the kill to the -city by the river. My father’s tent was no more distant than it is from here -to the great city yonder. Not so far, I think. The way was rough with many -hills.” - -Impulsively Rawley leaned and stretched out his arm toward the Indian. - -“Let’s shake on it. We will go together, and you will be my partner. Whatever -we find is the gift of my grandfather, and half of it is yours when we find -it. I feel he’d want it that way. Is it a go, Johnny Buffalo?” - -Something very much like a smile stirred the old man’s lips. He took Rawley’s -hand and gave it a solemn shake, once up, once down, as is the way of the -Indian. - -“It is go. You are like my sergeant when he held me in his arms and gave me -water from his canteen. You are my son. Where you go I will go with you.” - - - - -CHAPTER FIVE - -A CITY FORSAKEN - - -The storekeeper at Nelson stood on his little slant-roofed porch and mopped -his beaded forehead with a blue calico handkerchief. The desert wrinkles -around his eyes drew together and deepened as he squinted across the acarpous -gulch where a few rough-board shacks stood forlorn with uncurtained windows, -to the heat-ridden hillside beyond. - -“It’s going to be awful hot down there by the river,” he observed -deprecatingly. “You’ll find the water pretty muddy--but maybe you know that. -Strangers don’t always; it’s best to make sure, so if you haven’t a bucket or -something to settle the water in, I’d advise you to take one along. I’ve an -extra one I could lend you, if you need it.” - -“We have a bucket, thanks.” Rawley stepped into the dust-covered car loaded -with camp outfit. “El Dorado is right at the mouth of the canyon, isn’t it?” - -The storekeeper gave him an odd look. “This is El Dorado,” he answered drily. -“This whole canyon is the El Dorado. There used to be a town at the mouth of -the canyon, but that’s gone years ago. Better take the left-hand road when you -get down here a quarter of a mile or so. That will take you past the -Techatticup Mine. Below there, turn to the right where two shacks stand close -together in the fork of the road. The other trail’s washed, and I don’t know -as you could get down that way. Car in good shape for the pull back? She’s -pretty steep, coming this way.” - -“She’s pulled everything we’ve struck, so far,” Rawley replied cheerfully. -“Other cars make it, don’t they?” - -“Some do--and some holler for help. It’s a long, hard drag up the wash. And if -you tackle it in the hot part of the day you’ll need plenty of water. And,” -the storekeeper added with a whimsical half-smile, “the hot part of the day is -any time between sunrise and dark. It does get _awful_ hot down in there! I -don’t mean to knock my own district,” he added, “but I don’t like to see any -one start down the canyon without knowing about what to expect. Then, if they -want to go, that’s their business.” - -“That’s the way to look at it,” Rawley agreed. “I expect you’ve been here a -good while, haven’t you?” - -The storekeeper wiped a fresh collection of beads from his forehead. He looked -up and down the canyon rather wistfully. - -“About as many years as you are old,” he said quietly. “I came in here -twenty-five years ago.” - -Rawley laughed. “I was about a year old when you landed. Seems a long while -back, to me.” He stepped on the starter, waved his hand to the storekeeper and -went grinding away down the steep trail through the loose sand. Johnny -Buffalo, sitting beside him, lifted a hand and laid it on his arm. - -“Stop! He calls,” he said. - -Rawley stopped the car, his head tilted outward, looking back. The storekeeper -was coming down the trail toward them. - -“I forgot to tell you there’s a bad Indian loose in the hills somewhere along -the river,” he panted when he came up. “He’s waylaid a couple of prospectors -that we know of. A blood feud against the whites, the Indians tell me. You may -not run across him at all, but it will be just as well to keep an eye out.” - -“What’s his name?” Johnny Buffalo turned his head and stared hard at the -other. - -“His name’s Queo. He’s middle-aged--somewhere in the late forties, I should -say. Medium-sized and kind of stocky built. He’ll kill to get grub or tobacco. -Seeing there’s two of you he might not try anything, but I’d be careful, if I -were in your place. There’s a price on his head, so if he tries any tricks--” -He waved his hand and grinned expressively as he turned back to the store. - -“He is older than that man thinks,” said Johnny Buffalo after a silence. “Queo -has almost as many years as I have. When we were children we fought. He is -bad. For him to kill is pleasure, but he is a coward.” - -“If there is a price on his head he has probably left the country,” Rawley -remarked indifferently. “Old-timers are fine people, most of them. But they do -like to tell it wild to tenderfeet. I suppose that’s human nature.” - -Johnny Buffalo did not argue the point. He seemed content to gaze at the hills -in the effort to locate old landmarks. And as for Rawley himself, his mind was -wholly absorbed by his mission into the country, which he had dreamed of for -more than a month. There had been some delay in getting started. First, he -could not well curtail the length of his visit with his mother, in spite of -the fact that they seemed to have little in common. Then he thought it wise to -make the trip to Kingman and report upon a property there which was about to -be sold for a good-sized fortune. The job netted him several hundred dollars, -which he was likely to need. Wherefore he had of necessity had plenty of time -to dream over his own fortune which might be lying in the hills--“In the cleft -of the jagged rocks”--waiting for him to find it. - -Just at first he had been somewhat skeptical. Fifty years is a long time for -gold to remain hidden in the hills of a mining country so rich as Nevada, -without some prospector discovering it. But Johnny Buffalo believed. Whether -his belief was based solely upon his faith in his sergeant, Rawley could not -determine. But Johnny Buffalo had a very plausible argument in favor of the -gold remaining where Grandfather King had left it in the underground stream. - -The fact that Rawley was exhorted to “take victuals for the journey” meant a -distance of a good many miles, perhaps, which they must travel from El Dorado. -Then, they were to go to the top of a very high mountain and pass over on the -other side. Johnny Buffalo argued that the start was to be made from El Dorado -merely because the mountain would be most visible from that point. It would be -rough country, he contended. The code mentioned cliffs and great heaps of -stones and clefts in jagged rocks, with a deep pit, “Hid from the eyes of all -living,” for the final goal. He thought it more than likely that Grandfather -King’s gold mine was still undiscovered. And toward the last, Rawley had been -much more inclined to believe him. He had read diligently all the mining -information he could get concerning this particular district, as far back as -the records went. Nowhere was any mention made of such a rich placer discovery -on--or in--a mountain. - -He was thinking all this as he drove the devious twistings and turnings of the -canyon road. Another mine or two they passed; then, nosing carefully down a -hill steeper than the others, they turned sharply to the left and were in the -final discomfort of the “wash.” A veritable sweat box it was on this -particular hot afternoon in July. The baked, barren hills rose close on either -side. Like a deep, gravelly river bed long since gone dry, the wash sloped -steeply down toward the Colorado. Rawley could readily understand now the -solicitude of the storekeeper. The return was quite likely to be a time of -tribulation. - -He had expected to come upon a camp of some sort. But the canyon opened -bleakly to the river, the hot sand of its floor sloping steeply to meet the -lapping waves of the turgid stream. At the water’s edge, on the first high -ground of the bank, were ruins of an old stamp mill, which might have been -built ten years ago or a hundred, so far as looks went. - -He left the car and climbed upon the cement floor of the old mill. What at -first had seemed to be a greater extension of the plant he now discovered was -a walled roadway winding up to the crest of the hill. He swung about and gazed -to the northward, as the Bible code had commanded that he should travel. A -mile or so up the river were the walls of a deep canyon,--Black Canyon, -according to his map. Farther away, set back from the river a mile, perhaps -two miles, a sharp-pointed hill shouldered up above its fellows. This seemed -to be the highest mountain, so far as he could see, in that direction. If that -were the “great and high mountain” described in the code, their journey would -not be so long as Johnny Buffalo anticipated. - -The nearer view was desolation simmering in the heat. A hundred yards away, on -the opposite bank of the wash, the forlorn ruins of a cabin or two gave -melancholy evidence that here men had once worked and laughed and -loved--perchance. He looked at the furnace yawning beside him, and at the -muddy water swirling in drunken haste just below. It might have been just here -that his grandfather had landed from the steamboat _Gila_ and had watched the -lovely young half-breed girl in the crowd come to welcome the boat and -passengers. - -He started when Johnny Buffalo spoke at his elbow. How the Indian had reached -that spot unheard and unseen Rawley did not know. Johnny Buffalo was pointing -to the north. - -“I think that high mountain is where we must go,” he said. “It is one day’s -travel. We can go to-day when the sun is behind the mountains, and we can walk -until the stars are here. Very early in the morning we can walk again, and -before it is too hot we can reach the trees where it will be cool.” - -“We have a lot of grub and things in the car,” Rawley objected. “It seems to -me that it wouldn’t be a bad plan to carry the stuff up here and cache it -somewhere in this old mill. Then if your friend Queo should show up, there -won’t be so much for him to steal. And if we want to make a camp on the -mountain, we can come down here and carry the stuff up as we need it. There’s -a hundred dollars’ worth of outfit in that car, Johnny,” he added frugally. -“I’m all for keeping it for ourselves.” - -Johnny Buffalo looked at the mountain, and he looked down at the car,--and -then grunted a reluctant acquiescence. Rawley laughed at him. - -“That’s all right--the mountain won’t run away over night,” he bantered, -slapping his hand down on Johnny Buffalo’s shoulder with an affectionate -familiarity bred in the past month. “I’ve been juggling that car over the -desert trails since sunrise, and I wouldn’t object to taking it easy for a few -hours.” - -Johnny Buffalo said no more but began helping to unload the car. It was he who -chose the trail by which they carried the loads to the upper level, -cement-floored, where no tracks would show. He chose a hiding place beneath -the wreckage of some machinery that had fallen against the bank in such a way -that an open space was left beneath, large enough to hold their outfit. - -A huge rattlesnake protested stridently against being disturbed. Rawley drew -his automatic, meaning to shoot it; but Johnny Buffalo stopped him with a -warning gesture, and himself killed the snake with a rock. While it was still -writhing with a smashed head, he picked it up by the tail, took a long step or -two and heaved it into the river, grinning his satisfaction over a deed well -done. - -Rawley, standing back watching him, had a swift vision of the old Indian -paddling solemnly about the yard near the west wing. There he was an -incongruous figure amongst the syringas and the roses. Here, although he had -discarded the showy fringed buckskin for the orthodox brown khaki clothes of -the desert, he somehow fitted into his surroundings and became a part of the -wilderness itself. Johnny Buffalo was assuredly coming into his own. - - - - -CHAPTER SIX - -TRAILS MEET - - -By sunrise they were ready for the trail, light packs and filled canteens -slung upon their shoulders. The car was backed against the bluff that would -shade it from the scorching sunlight from early afternoon to sundown. Beside -it were the embers of a mesquite-wood fire where they had boiled coffee and -fried bacon in the cool of dawn. As a safeguard against the loss of his car, -Rawley had disconnected the breaker points from the distributor and carried -them, carefully wrapped, in his pocket. There would be no moving of the car -under its own power until the points were replaced. And Johnny Buffalo had -advised leaving a few things in the car, to ward off suspicion that their -outfit had been cached. Furthermore, he had cunningly obliterated their tracks -through the deep, fine sand to the ruins of the stamp mill. Even the keen, -predatory eyes of an outlaw Indian could scarcely distinguish any trace of -their many trips that way. - -They crossed the wash, turned into the remnant of an old road leading up the -bank to the level above, and followed a trail up the river. Once Johnny -Buffalo stopped and pointed down the bank. - -“The ferryboat went there,” he explained. “Much land has been eaten by the -river since last I saw this place. Many houses stood here. They are gone. All -is gone. My people are gone, like the town. Of Queo only have I heard, and him -the white men hunt as they hunt the wolf.” - -Rawley nodded, having no words for what he felt. There was something -inexpressibly melancholy in this desolation where his grandfather had found -riotous life. Of the fortunes gathered here, the fortunes lost--of the hopes -fulfilled and the hopes crushed slowly in long, monotonous days of toil and -disappointment--what man could tell? Only the river, rushing heedlessly past -as it had hurried, all those years ago, to meet the lumbering little river -boats struggling against its current with their burden of human emotions, only -the river might have told how the town was born,--and how it had died. Or the -grim hills standing there as they had stood since the land was in the making, -looking down with saturnine calm upon the puny endeavors of men whose lives -would soon enough cease upon earth and be forgotten. Rawley’s boot toe struck -against something in the loose gravel,--a child’s shoe with the toe worn to a -gaping mouth, the heel worn down to the last on the outer edge: dry as a -bleached bone, warped by many a storm, blackened, doleful. Even a young man -setting out in quest of his fortune, with a picturesque secret code in his -pocket, may be forgiven for sending a thought after the child who had scuffed -that coarse little shoe down here in El Dorado. - -But presently Johnny Buffalo, leading the way briskly, his sharp old eyes -taking in everything within their range as if he were eagerly verifying his -memories of the place, turned from the trail along the river and entered the -hills. His moccasined feet clung tenaciously to the steep places where -Rawley’s high-laced mining boots slipped. The sun rays struck them fiercely -and the “little stinging gnats” which Grandfather King had mentioned in his -diary were there to pester them, poising vibrantly just before the eyes as if -they waited only the opportunity to dart between the lids. - -The thought that perhaps his grandfather had come that way, fifty years ago, -filled the toil of climbing up the long gully with a peculiar interest. Fifty -years ago these hills must have looked much the same. Fifty years ago, the -prospect holes they passed occasionally may have been fresh-turned earth and -rocks. Men searching for rich silver and gold might have been seen plodding -along the hillsides; but the hills themselves could not have changed much. His -grandfather had looked upon all this, and had divided his thoughts, perhaps, -between the gold and his latest infatuation, the half-breed girl, Anita. And -suddenly Rawley put a vague speculation into words: - -“Hey, Johnny! Here’s a good place to make a smoke, in the shade.” He waited -until the Indian had retraced the dozen steps between them. “Johnny, there was -a beautiful half-breed girl here, when Grandfather made his last trip up the -river. She was half Spanish. My grandfather mentioned her once or twice in his -diary. Do you remember her?” - -“There were many beautiful girls in my tribe,” Johnny Buffalo retorted drily. -“What name did he call her?” - -“Anita. It’s a pretty name, and it proves the Spanish, I should say.” - -The old man stared at the opposite slope. His mouth grew thin-lipped and -stern. - -“My uncle, the chief, was betrayed in his old age. His youngest squaw loved a -Spanish man with noble look. I have the tale from my older brothers, who told -me. The child she bore was the child of the Spanish gentleman. My uncle’s -youngest squaw--died.” Johnny Buffalo paused significantly. “The child was -given to my mother to keep. Her name was Anita. She was very beautiful. I -remember. Many visits Anita made with friends near this place. I think she is -the same. It was not good for my sergeant to look upon her with love. I have -heard my brothers whisper that Anita looked with soft eyes upon the white -soldiers.” - -Rawley’s young sympathies suffered a definite revulsion. If his grandfather’s -_dulce corazon_ were a coquette, her fruitless waiting for his return was not -so beautifully tragic after all. There were other white soldiers stationed -along the river, Rawley remembered, with a curl of the lip. His romantic -imagination had not balked at the savage blood in her veins, since she was a -beauty of fifty years ago. But he was a sturdy-souled youth with very -old-fashioned notions concerning virtue. He finished his smoke and went on, -feeling cheated by the cold facts he had almost forced from Johnny Buffalo. - -They reached the head of that gulch, climbed a steep, high ridge where they -must use hands as well as feet in the climbing, and dug heels into the earth -in a descent even steeper. Rawley told himself once that he would just as soon -start out to follow a crow through this country as to follow Johnny Buffalo. -One word had evidently been omitted from the Indian’s English education by -Grandfather King,--the word “detour.” Rawley thought of the straight-forward -march of locusts he had once read about and wondered if Johnny Buffalo had -taken lessons from them in his youth. - -However, he consoled himself with the thought that a straight line to the -mountain would undoubtedly shorten the distance. If the Indian could climb -sneer walls of rock like a lizard, Rawley would attempt to follow. And they -would ultimately arrive at their destination, though the glimpse he had -obtained of the mountain from the ridge they had just crossed failed to -confirm Johnny Buffalo’s assertion that it was one day’s travel. They had been -walking three hours by Rawley’s watch, and the mountain looked even farther -away than from El Dorado. But Johnny Buffalo was so evidently enjoying every -minute of the hike through his native hills that Rawley could not bear to -spoil his pleasure by even hinting that he was blazing a mighty rough trail. - -They were working up another tortuous ravine where not even Johnny Buffalo -could always keep a straight line by the sun. In places the walls overhung the -gulch in shelving, weather-worn cliffs of soft limestone. Bowlders washed down -from the heights made slow going, because they were half the time climbing -over or around some huge obstruction; and because of the rattlesnakes they -must look well where a hand or a foot was laid. Johnny Buffalo was still in -the lead; and Rawley, for all his youth and splendid stamina was not finding -the Indian too slow a pacemaker. Indeed, he was perfectly satisfied when the -dozen feet between them did not lengthen to fifteen or twenty. - -The mounting sun made the heat in that gully a terrific thing to endure. But -the Indian did not lift the canteen to his mouth; nor did Rawley. Both had -learned the foolishness of drinking too freely at the beginning of a journey. -So, when Johnny Buffalo stopped suddenly in the act of passing around a -jutting ledge, Rawley halted in his tracks and waited to see what was the -reason. - -The Indian glanced back at him and crooked a forefinger. Rawley set one foot -carefully between two rocks, planted the other as circumspectly, and so, -without a sound, stole up to Johnny Buffalo’s side. Johnny waited until their -shoulders touched then leaned forward and pointed. - -Up on the ridge a couple of hundred yards before them, a man moved crouching -behind a bush, came into the open, bent lower and peered downward. His actions -were stealthy; his whole manner inexpressibly furtive. His back was toward -them, and the ridge itself hid the thing he was stalking. - -“He’s after a deer, maybe. Or a mountain sheep,” Rawley whispered, when the -man laid a rifle across a rock and settled lower on his haunches. - -“Still, it is well that we see what he sees,” Johnny Buffalo whispered back. -“We will stalk him as he stalks his kill.” - -The Indian squirmed his shoulder out of the strap sling that held his rifle in -its case behind him. With seeming deliberation, yet with speed he uncased the -weapon, worked the lever gently to make sure the gun was chamber loaded, and -motioned Rawley to follow him. - -In the hills the old man had somehow slipped into the leadership, and now -Rawley obeyed him without a word. They stole up the side of the gulch where -the man on the ridge could not discover them without turning completely -around; which would destroy his position beside the rock and risk the loss of -a shot at his game. He seemed wholly absorbed in watching something on the -farther side of the ridge, and it did not seem likely that he would hear them. - -A little farther up, a ledge cutting across the head of the gulch hid him -completely from the two. An impulse seized Rawley to cross the gulch there and -to climb the ridge farther on, nearer the spot which the man had seemed to be -watching. He caught the attention of Johnny Buffalo, whispered to him his -desire, and received a nod of understanding and consent. Johnny would keep -straight on, and so come up behind the fellow. - -Unaccountably, Rawley wanted to hurry. He wanted to see the man’s quarry -before a shot was fired. So, when a wrinkle in the ridge made easy climbing -and afforded concealment, he went up a tiny gully, digging in his toes and -trying to keep in the soft ground so that sliding rocks could not betray him. - -Unexpectedly the deep wrinkle brought him up to a notch in the ridge, beyond -which another gully led steeply downward. Immediately beneath him a narrow -trail wound sinuously, climbing just beyond around the point of another hill. -He could not see the man up on the ridge, but he could not doubt that the -rifle was aimed at some point along this trail. He was standing on a rock, -reconnoitering and expecting every moment to hear a shot, when the -unmistakable sound of voices came up to him from somewhere below. He listened, -his glance going from the ridge to the bit of trail that showed farther away -on the point of the opposite hill. The thought flashed through his mind that -the man with the rifle could easily have seen persons coming around that -point; that he must be lying in wait. Whoever it was coming, they must pass -along the trail directly beneath the watcher on the ridge. It would be an easy -rifle shot; a matter of no more than a hundred yards downhill. - -He stepped down off the rock and started running down the steep gully to the -trail. He was, he judged, fully a hundred yards up the trail from where the -man was watching above. He did not know who was coming; it did not matter. It -was an ambush, and he meant to spoil it. So he came hurtling down the steep -declivity, the lower third of which was steeper than he suspected. Had he made -an appointment with the travelers to meet them at that spot, he could not -possibly have kept it more punctually. For he slid down a ten-foot bank of -loose earth and arrived sitting upright in the trail immediately under the -nose of a bald-faced burro with a distended pack half covering it from sight. - -There was no time for ceremony. Rawley flung up his arms and shooed the -astonished animal back against another burro, so precipitately that he crowded -it completely off the trail and down the steep bank. Rawley heard the sullen -thud of the landing as he scrambled to his knees, glancing apprehensively over -his shoulder as he did so. There had been no shot fired, but he could not be -certain that the small flurry in the trail had been unobserved. - -“Get back, around the turn!” he commanded guardedly and drove before him the -two women who had been walking behind the burros. - -The first, a fat old squaw with gray bangs hanging straight down to her -eyebrows, scuttled for cover, the lead burro crowding past her and neatly -overturning her in the trail. But a slim girl in khaki breeches and high-laced -boots stood her ground, eyeing him with a slight frown from under a light gray -Stetson hat. - -“Get back, I say! A man on the ridge is watching this trail with a rifle -across a rock. It may be Queo--get back!” He did not stop with words. He took -the girl by the arm and bustled her forcibly around the sharp kink in the -trail that would, he hoped, effectually hide them from the ridge. - -“Are you quite insane?” The girl twitched her arm out of his grasp. “Or is -this a joke you are perpetrating on the natives? I must say I fail to see the -humor of it.” - -“Climb that gully to the top and sneak along the ridge a couple of hundred -yards, and you will see the point of the joke,” Rawley retorted with an access -of dignity, perhaps to cover the extreme informality of his arrival. - -“And why should any one--even Queo--want to shoot us?” True to her sex, the -girl was refusing to abdicate her first position in the matter. - -“How should I know? He may not be watching for you, particularly. From the -ridge he probably saw your pack train around the turn above here, and he may -have thought you were prospectors. I don’t know; I’m only guessing. What I do -know is what I saw: a man with a rifle laid across a rock, up there, watching -this trail. It may not be you he’s after; but I wouldn’t deliberately walk -into range just to find out.” - -“What would you do, then? Stay here forever?” - -“Until my partner and I eliminate the risk, you’d better stay here.” Rawley’s -tone was masterful. “I only came down to warn whoever was coming--walking into -an ambush.” - -The girl eyed him speculatively, with an exasperating little smile. “It all -sounds very thrilling; very tenderfooty indeed. And in the meantime, there’s -poor old Deacon down there on his back in the ditch. Do you always--er--arrive -like that?” - -Rawley turned his back on her indignantly and discovered the old squaw sitting -solidly where the lead burro had placed her. She was very fat, and she filled -that portion of the trail which she occupied. The red bandana was pushed back -on her head, and her gray curtain of bangs was parted rakishly on one side. -She was staring at Rawley fixedly, a look of terror in her eyes. - -He went to her, meaning to help her up. Now that he recalled that first -panicky moment, he remembered that the burro had deposited her with some force -in her present position. She might be hurt. - -But the old squaw put up her hands before her, palms out to ward him off. She -cried out, a shrill expostulation in her own tongue which caused the girl to -swing round quickly and hurry toward her. - -“No, no! He isn’t a ghost! Whatever made you think of such a thing? He doesn’t -mean to harm you--no, he is _not_ a spirit. He merely fell down hill, and he -wants to help you up. Are you hurt--Grandmother?” Her clear, gray-brown eyes -went quickly, defiantly to Rawley’s face. - -That young man could not repress a startled look, which traveled from the slim -girl, indubitably white, to the squaw whimpering in the trail. She must be -trying her own hand at a joke, he thought, just to break even with his fancied -presumption in halting their leisurely progress down the trail. - -From up on the ridge a rifle cracked. The three turned heads toward the thin, -sinister report. They waited motionless for a moment. Then the girl spoke. - -“That wasn’t fired in our direction,” she said, and immediately there came the -sound of another shot. “And that’s not the same gun,” she added. “That sounds -like an old-fashioned gun shooting black powder. Didn’t you hear the _pow-w_ -of it?” - -“That would be Johnny Buffalo--my Indian partner,” said Rawley. “You folks -stay here. I’m going back up there and see what’s doing.” - -“Is that necessary?” The girl looked at him quickly. “I think you ought to -help turn Deacon right side up before you go.” She leaned sidewise and peered -down over the bank. “He’s in an awful mess. His pack is wedged between two -bowlders, and his legs are sticking straight up in the air.” - -Rawley sent a hasty glance down the bank. “He’s all right--he’s flopping his -ears,” he observed reassuringly. “I’ll be back just as soon as I see how -Johnny Buffalo is making out. That fellow may have got him. You stay back here -out of sight. Promise me.” He looked at her earnestly, as if by the force of -his will he would compel obedience. - -Her eyes evaded the meeting. “Pickles will have to be rounded up,” she said. -“He’s probably halfway to Nelson by this time. And there’s Grandmother to -think of.” - -“Well, you think of those things until I get back,” he said, with a swift -smile. “I can’t leave my partner to shoot it out alone.” - - - - -CHAPTER SEVEN - -NEVADA - - -He ran to the point of rocks, gathered himself together and cleared the trail -and the open space beyond in one leap. How he got up the steep bank he never -remembered afterward. He only knew that he heard the sharp crack of the first -rifle again as he was sprinting up the little gully that had concealed his -descent. He gained the top, stopped to get his bearings more accurately and -made his way toward the spot where he had seen the man with the rifle. - -It occurred to him that he had best approach the spot from the shelter of the -ledge where he had separated from Johnny Buffalo. At that point he could pick -up the Indian’s tracks and follow them, so saving time in the long run. - -Johnny Buffalo’s moccasins left little trace in the gravelly soil. But here -and there they left a mark, and Rawley got the direction and hurried on. Fifty -yards farther up the ridge he glimpsed something yellowish-brown against a -small juniper. A few feet farther, he saw that it was Johnny Buffalo, lying on -his face, one arm thrown outward with the hand still grasping the stock of his -rifle. - -He snatched up the rifle, crouched beside the Indian and searched the -neighborhood with his eyes, trying to get a sight of the killer. In a moment -he spied him, away down the deep ravine up which he and Johnny Buffalo had -toiled not half an hour before. The man was running. Rawley raised the rifle -to his shoulder, took careful aim and fired, but he had small hope of hitting -his target at that distance. - -At the sound of the shot so close above him, Johnny Buffalo stirred uneasily, -as if disturbed in his sleep. The man in the distance ducked out of sight -amongst the bowlders; and that was the last Rawley saw of him at that time. - -“I must apologize for not taking you more seriously when you warned me,” said -the girl, just behind him. “Is this--?” - -“My partner, Johnny Buffalo. He isn’t dead--he moved, just now--but I’m afraid -he’s badly hurt.” Rawley lifted anxious blue eyes to her face. - -“We can carry him down to the trail. Then, if Deacon is all right when we get -him up, we can put your partner on him and pack him home. It’s only a mile or -so.” - -“It might be better to take him to Nelson,” Rawley amended the suggestion. “I -could get a car there and take him on to Las Vegas, probably. Or some mine -will have a doctor.” - -“It’s farther--and the heat, with the long ride, would probably finish him,” -the girl pointed out bluntly. “On the other hand, a mile on the burro will get -him home, where it’s cool and we can see how badly he’s hurt. And then, if he -needs hospital care, Uncle Peter can take him down to Needles in the launch, -this evening when it’s cool. I really don’t mean to be disagreeable and -argumentative, but it seems to me that will be much the more comfortable plan -for him. And I can’t help feeling responsible, in a way. I suppose he was -trying to protect us, when he was shot.” - -Rawley looked up from an amateurish examination of the old man. The bullet -wound was in the shoulder, and he was hoping that it was high enough so that -the lung was not injured. His flask of brandy, placed at Johnny’s lips, -brought a gulp and a gasp. The black eyes opened, looked from Rawley to the -girl and closed again. - -“There! I believe he’s going to be all right,” the girl declared -optimistically. “I’ll take his feet, and you carry his shoulders. When we get -him down to the trail, I’ll have Grandmother look after him until we get the -burros straightened out. Queo--or whoever it was--did you see him?” - -Rawley waved a hand toward the rocky ravine. “You heard me shoot,” he reminded -her. “Missed him--with that heirloom Johnny carries. He was running like a -jackrabbit when I saw him last. Well, I think you’re right--but I hate to -trouble you folks. Though I’d trouble the president himself, for Johnny -Buffalo’s sake.” - -“It’s a strange name,” she remarked irrelevantly, stooping and making ready to -lift his knees. “He must be a Northern Indian.” - -“Born in this district,” Rawley told her. “Grandfather found him in the desert -when he was a kid. I suppose he gave him the name--regardless.” - -Until they reached the trail there was no further talk, their breath being -needed for something more important. They laid the injured man down in the -shade of a greasewood, and the girl immediately left to bring the old squaw. -She was no sooner gone than Johnny Buffalo opened his eyes. - -“It was Queo,” he said, huskily whispering. “I thought he was shooting at you. -I tried to kill him. But the damn gun is old--old. It struck me hard. I did -not shoot straight. I did not kill him. Queo looked, he saw me and he shot as -he ran away. The gun has killed many--but I am old--” - -“You’re all right,” Rawley interrupted. “Quit blaming yourself. You saved two -women by shooting when you did. Queo was afraid to stay and shoot again when -he knew there was a gun at his back. He has gone down the ravine where we came -up.” - -“Who was the white girl?” Even Johnny Buffalo betrayed a very masculine -interest, Rawley observed, grinning inwardly. But he only said: - -“I don’t know. She was on the trail, with an old squaw and two burros. It was -they that Queo was laying for, evidently. Don’t try to talk any more, till I -get you where we can look after you properly. Where’s your pack? I didn’t see -it, up there.” - -“It is hidden in the juniper. I did not want to fight with a load on my back.” - -“All right. Don’t talk any more. We’ll fix you up, all fine as silk.” - -The girl was returning, and after her waddled the squaw, reluctant, looking -ready to retreat at the first suspicious move. Rawley stood aside while the -girl gave her brief directions in Indian,--so that Johnny Buffalo could -understand, Rawley shrewdly suspected, and thanked her with his eyes. The -squaw sidled past Rawley and sat down on the bank, still staring at him -fixedly. His abrupt appearance and the consequent stampede of the burros had -evidently impressed her unfavorably. The look she bestowed upon Johnny Buffalo -was more casual. He was an Indian and therefore understandable, it seemed. - -The narrow canyon lay sun-baked and peaceful to the hard blue of the sky. With -the lightness which came of removing the pack from his shoulders, Rawley -walked up the trail and around the turn to where the burro called Deacon still -lay patiently on his back in the narrow watercourse below the trail. He slid -down the bank and inspected the lashings of the pack. - -“We use what is called the squaw hitch,” the girl informed him from the trail -just above his head. “If you cut that forward rope I think you can loosen the -whole thing. The knot is on top of the pack, and of course Deacon’s lying on -it.” A moment later she added, “I’ll go after Pickles, unless I can be of some -use to you.” - -Privately, Rawley thought that she was useful as a relief to the eyes, if -nothing else. But he told her that he could get along all right, and let her -go. The girl piqued his interest; she was undoubtedly beautiful, with her -slim, erect figure, her clear, hazel eyes with straight eyebrows, heavy -lashes, and her lips that were firm for all their soft curves. But Johnny -Buffalo’s life might be hanging on Rawley’s haste. However beautiful, however -much she might attract his interest, no girl could tempt him from the chief -issue. - -By the time she returned with Pickles, Rawley had retrieved Deacon and was -gone down the trail with him. She came up in time to help him lift Johnny -Buffalo on the burro and tie him there with the pack rope. She was efficient -as a man, and almost as strong, Rawley observed. And although she treated the -squaw with careful deference, she was plainly the head of their little -expedition,--and the shoulders and the brains. - -Only once did the squaw speak on the way to the river. The girl was walking -alongside Deacon, steadying Johnny Buffalo on that side while Rawley held the -other. They were talking easily now, of impersonal things; and when, on a -short climb, the burro stepped sharply to one side and Johnny Buffalo lurched -toward the girl, Rawley slipped his arm farther behind the Indian. His fingers -clasped for an instant the girl’s hand. The squaw, walking heavily behind, saw -the brief contact. - -“Nevada! You shall not be so bold,” she cried in Pahute. “Take away your hand -from the white man.” - -The girl turned her head and answered sharply in the same tongue and -afterwards smiled across at Rawley, meeting his eyes with perfect frankness. - -“Yes, my name is Nevada. I’ll save you the trouble of asking,” she said -calmly. “El Dorado Nevada Macalister, if you want it all at once. Luckily, no -one ever attempts to call me all of it. My parents were loyal, romantic, and -had an ear for euphony.” - -“Were?” The small impertinence slipped out in spite of Rawley; but fortunately -she did not seem to mind. - -“Yes. My father was caught in a cave-in in the Quartette Mine when I was a -baby. Mother died when I was six. I have a beautiful, impractical name--and -not much else--to remember them by. I’ve lived with Grandfather and -Grandmother; except, of course, what time I have been in school.” She gave him -another quick look behind Johnny Buffalo’s back. “And your autobiography?” - -“Mine is more simple and not so interesting. Name, George Rawlins King. Place -of birth, a suburb of St. Louis. Occupation, mining engineer. Present -avocation, prospecting during my vacation. My idea of play, you see, is to get -out here in the heat and snakes and work at my trade--for myself.” - -“And Johnny Buffalo?” - -“Oh, he just came along. Hadn’t seen this country since he was a kid and -wanted to get back, I suppose, on his old stamping ground. He lived with -Grandfather. But Grandfather died a few weeks ago, and Johnny and I have sort -of thrown in together. Now, I suppose our prospecting trip is all off--for the -present, anyway.” - -“This country has been gone over with a microscope, almost,” said Nevada. “I -suppose there is mineral in these hills yet, but it must be pretty well -hidden. The country used to swarm with prospectors, but they seem to have got -disgusted and quit. The war in Europe, of course, has created a market--” She -stopped and laughed with chagrin. “Of course a lady desert rat like me can -give a mining engineer valuable information concerning markets and economic -conditions in general!” - -“I’m always glad to talk shop,” Rawley declared tactfully. - -But Nevada fell silent and would not talk at all during the remainder of the -journey. - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHT - -“HIM THAT IS--MINE ENEMY” - - -Their progress was necessarily slow, and Nevada’s “mile or so” seemed longer. -Johnny Buffalo remained no more than half-conscious and breathed painfully. -Nevada invented a makeshift sunshade for him, breaking off and trimming a -drooping greasewood branch and borrowing the squaw’s apron to spread over it. -This Rawley held awkwardly with one hand while he steadied the swaying figure -with the other, and so they came at last abruptly to the river he had left at -sunrise. - -The trail dipped down steeply to a small basin that overlooked the river -possibly a hundred feet below. The canyon walls rose bold and black -beyond,--sheer crags of rock with here and there a brush-filled crevice. -Around the barren rim of the basin two or three crude shacks were set within -easy calling distance of one another, and three or four swarthy, unkempt -children accompanied by nondescript dogs rushed forth to greet the newcomers. - -The old squaw waddled forward and drove the dogs from the heels of the burro -called Pickles, which lashed out and sent one cur yelping to the nearest -shack. The children halted abruptly and stared at the two strangers -open-mouthed, retreating slowly backward, unwilling to lose sight of them for -an instant. - -Rawley stole a glance at Nevada, just turning his eyes under his heavy-lashed -lids. A furtive look directed at his face was intercepted, and the red -suffused her cheeks. Then her head lifted proudly. - -“My uncle’s children are not accustomed to seeing people,” she explained -evenly. “Strangers seldom come here, and the children have never been away -from home. Please forgive their bad manners.” - -“Kids are honest in their manners,” Rawley replied, “and that’s more than -grown-ups can say. I reckon these youngsters wonder what the deuce has been -taking place. I’d want an eyeful, myself, if I were in their places.” - -Nevada did not answer but led the way past the shacks, which did not look -particularly inviting, to a rock-faced building with screened porch that faced -the river, its back pushed deep into the hill behind it. Rawley gave her a -grateful glance. He did not need to be told that this was the quietest, -coolest place in the basin. - -“We’ll make him as comfortable as we can, and I’ll send for Uncle Peter,” she -said, as they stopped before the door. She called to the oldest of the -children, a boy, and spoke to him rapidly in Indian. It seemed to Rawley that -she was purposely emphasizing her bizarre relationship. - -A younger squaw--or so she looked to be--came from a shack, a fat, solemn-eyed -baby riding her hip. Her hair was wound somehow on top of her head and held -there insecurely with hairpins half falling out and cheap, glisteny side -combs. A second glance convinced Rawley that she had white man’s blood in her -veins, but her predominant traits were Indian, he judged; except that she -lacked the Indian aloofness. - -“Mr. King, this is my Aunt Gladys--Mrs. Cramer,” Nevada announced distinctly. -“Aunt Gladys, Queo shot Mr. King’s partner, who had discovered him lying in -wait for Grandmother and me and was trying to protect us. Mr. King ran down to -the trail to warn us, while his partner crept up behind Queo. He fired, after -Queo had shot at us, but he thinks he missed altogether. At any rate Queo shot -him. So Grandmother and I brought him on home. He saved our lives, and we must -try to save his.” - -Aunt Gladys ducked her unkempt head, grinned awkwardly at Rawley, who lifted -his hat to her--and thereby embarrassed her the more--and hitched the baby -into a new position on her hip. - -“Whadda yuh think ol’ Jess’ll say?” she asked, in an undertone. “My, ain’t it -awful, the way that Queo is acting up? Is there anything I can do? It won’t -take but a few minutes to start a fire and heat water.” - -They had eased Johnny Buffalo from the burro’s back to the broad doorstep, -which was shaded by the wide eaves of the porch. Now they were preparing to -carry him in, feet first so that Nevada could lead the way. She turned her -head and nodded approval of the suggestion. So Aunt Gladys, after lingering to -watch the wounded man’s removal, departed to her own shack, shooing her -progeny before her. - -Rawley had never had much experience with wounds, but he went to work as -carefully as possible, getting the old man to bed and ready for ministrations -more expert than his. In a few minutes Nevada came with a basin of water that -smelled of antiseptic. Very matter-of-factly she helped him wash the wound. - -“I think that is as much as we can do until Uncle Peter comes,” she said when -they had finished. “He’s the one who always looks after hurts in the family.” -She left the room and did not return again. - -With nothing to do but sit beside the bed, Rawley found himself dwelling -rather intently upon the strangeness of the situation. From the name spoken by -Nevada, he knew that he must be in the camp of the enemy. At least, Jess -Cramer was the name of Grandfather’s rival who figured unfortunately in that -Fourth of July fight away back in ’66, and there was furthermore the warning -of the code, “Take heed now ... on the hillside ... which is upon the bank of -the river ... in the wilderness ... ye shall find ... him that ... is mine -enemy.” Rawley had certainly not expected that the enemy would be Jess Cramer, -but it might be so. - -He was repeating to himself that other warning, “He that keepeth his mouth -keepeth his life,” when Nevada’s voice outside brought his attention back to -the immediate exigencies of the case. He had already told her his name--she -had repeated it to that flat-faced, hopelessly uninteresting “Aunt Gladys.” -Nevada had taken particular pains, he remembered, to tell her aunt all about -the mishap and to stress the service which he and Johnny Buffalo had rendered -her and her grandmother. Was it because she wished to have some one beside -herself who was well-disposed toward them? Partly that, he guessed, and partly -because the easiest way to forestall curiosity is to give a full explanation -at once. In Nevada’s rapid-fire account of the shooting, Rawley fancied that -he had unconsciously been given a key to the situation and to the disposition -of Aunt Gladys. He grinned while he filled his pipe and waited. - -Presently the deep, masculine voice he had heard outside talking with Nevada -ceased, and a firm, measured tread was heard on the porch. A big man paused -for a few seconds in the doorway and then came forward; a man as tall as -Rawley, as broad of shoulder, as narrow hipped. He was dressed much as Rawley -was dressed, except that his shirt was of cheaper, darker material and the -breeches were earth-stained and old, as were his boots. He carried his head -well up and looked down at Rawley calmly, appraisingly, with neither dislike -nor favor in his face. He was smooth-shaven, and his jaw was square, his lips -firm and somewhat bitter. Rawley rose and bowed and stood back from the bed. - -“My niece has told me all about the shooting,” he said, moving toward the bed. -“I’m not a doctor, but I’ve had some experience with wounds. In this country -we have to learn to take care of ourselves. Is your partner unconscious?” - -“Dopey, I’d say. I can rouse him, but it seemed best to let him be as quiet as -possible. He had over an hour in the heat, and the joggling on the burro -didn’t do him any good, I imagine.” Rawley hoped Uncle Peter would not think -he was staring like an idiot, but he could not rid himself of the feeling that -somewhere, some time, he had seen this man before. - -Uncle Peter bent and examined the wound. When he moved Johnny Buffalo a bit, -the Indian opened his eyes and stared hard into his face. - -“My sergeant! I did not think to--” - -“Out of his head,” Rawley muttered uneasily. “It’s the first symptom of it -he’s shown.” - -Johnny Buffalo muttered again, pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. -After that he did not speak, or give any sign that he heard, though Uncle -Peter was talking all the while he dressed the wound. - -“It’s going to take some time,” he said. “The bullet broke his shoulder blade, -but if the lung is touched at all it was barely grazed. Nevada spoke of my -taking him down the river to Needles, but it can’t be done. The engine in the -launch is useless until I can get a new connecting rod and another part or -two.” He stared down at Johnny Buffalo, frowning. - -“Well, from all accounts the two of you saved the women’s lives to-day,” he -said, after a minute of studying over the situation. “Queo was after the grub, -probably--and he’s no particular love for any of us. He undoubtedly knew who -was coming down the trail--he may have watched them go up, just about -daybreak. Common gratitude gives the orders, in this case. You can stay here -until this man is well enough to ride, or until I can take you to Needles.” - -A little more of harshness and his tone would have been grudging. Rawley -flushed at the implied reluctance of the offered hospitality. - -“It’s mighty good of you, but we don’t want to impose on any one,” he said -stiffly. “If he can stay for a day or two, I can get out to Needles and bring -up a boat of some kind. It’s the only thing I can think of--but I can make it -in a couple of days.” - -The other turned and regarded him much as Nevada had first done, with a -mixture of defiance and pride. His jaw squared, the lines beside his mouth -grew more bitter. - -“We may be breeds--but we aren’t brutes,” he said harshly. “You’ll stay where -you are and take care of your partner. The burden of nursing him can’t fall on -the women.” He stopped and seemed debating something within himself. “We’ve no -reason to open our arms to outsiders,” he added finally. “If folks let us -alone, we let them alone--and glad to do it. Father’s touchy about having -strangers in camp. But all rules must be broken once, they say.” - -“I think you’re over-sensitive,” Rawley told him bluntly. “You’re -self-conscious over something no one else would think of twice. It’s--” - -“Oh, I know. You needn’t say it. Sounds pretty, but it isn’t worth a damn when -you try to put it in practice. Well, let it drop. I’ll send over some medicine -to keep his fever down, and the rest is pretty much up to nature and the care -you give him. It’s cool here--that’s a great deal.” - -“We’ll be turning out your niece, though, I’m afraid. I can’t do that.” For -the first time Rawley was keenly conscious of the incongruity of his -surroundings. Here in a settlement of Indians (he could scarcely put it more -mildly, with the dogs and the frowsy papooses and the two squaws for evidence) -one little oasis of civilized furnishings spoke eloquently of the white blood -warring against the red. The room was furnished cheaply, it is true, and much -of the furniture was homemade; but for all its simplicity there was not one -false note anywhere, not one tawdry adornment. It was like the girl -herself,--simple, clean-cut, dignified. - -“My niece won’t mind. I shall give her my own dugout, which is as comfortable -as this. I can find plenty of room to stretch out. Hard work makes a soft -bed.” He smiled briefly. Again Rawley was struck with a sense of familiarity, -of having known Uncle Peter somewhere before. - -But before he could put the question the man was gone, and Johnny Buffalo was -looking at him gravely. But he did not speak, and presently his eyes closed. -After that, the medicine was handed in by a bashful, beady-eyed boy who showed -white teeth and scudded away, kicking up hot dust with his bare feet as he -ran. - -After all, what did it matter? A chance meeting in some near-by town and -afterwards forgetfulness. Uncle Peter evidently did not remember him, so the -meeting must have been brief and unimportant. - - - - -CHAPTER NINE - -“A PLEASANT TRIP TO YOU!” - - -Rawley chanced to look out of the window. He muttered something then and -strode to the screened door. - -“Hey! You aren’t going back up that trail, surely?” He went out hurriedly and -took long steps after Nevada. - -The girl turned and looked at him over her shoulder, flinging back a heavy -braid of coppery auburn hair. She had Pickles by his lead rope and was plainly -heading into the trail to Nelson. - -“Why, yes. There’s a load of grub beside the trail where Deacon upset. I’m -going after it.” - -Rawley rushed back, seized his hat, sent an anxious glance toward the bed and -then ran. He overtook Nevada just at the edge of the basin and stopped her by -the simple method of stopping the burro with a strong hand. - -“You go back and sit beside Johnny,” he commanded. “I’ll get that grub, -myself. And if you’ve got a rifle, I’d like to borrow it.” - -“That’s utter nonsense--your going,” Nevada exclaimed. “I meant to take one of -the boys--I just sent him in to wash his face, first.” - -Rawley laughed. “Do you think a clean face on a kid will have any effect on -Queo? You’ll both stay at home, please. I’m going.” - -“If you’re determined, I can’t very well stop you,” she said coldly. “But I -certainly am going. I always do these things. There’s no possible reason--” - -Rawley looked over at the nearest shack, where Aunt Gladys stood watching -them, the baby still on her hip. “Mrs. Cramer, I am going up after the grub we -left by the trail. Will you see that Johnny Buffalo is looked after? And will -you call Miss Macalister’s grandmother, or whoever has any authority over -her?” His voice was stern, but the twinkle in his eyes belied the tone. - -Aunt Gladys giggled and hitched the baby up from its sagging position. “There -ain’t nobody but Peter can do nothing with Nevada,” she informed him. “Her -gran’paw, maybe--but he don’t pay no attention half the time. You better stay -home, Nevada. Queo might shoot you.” - -“How perfectly idiotic! Do you suppose he would refrain from shooting Mr. -King, but kill me instead?” - -“Well, you can’t tell what he might do,” Aunt Gladys observed sagely. “He’s -crazy in the head.” - -Rawley laid his fingers on Nevada’s hand, where she held Pickles by the -bridle. He looked straight into her eyes, bright with anger. His own eyes -pleaded with her. - -“Miss Macalister, please don’t be obstinate. To let you go back up that trail -is unthinkable. I am going, and some one must be with my partner. I can make -the trip well under two hours; there is heavy stuff in that ditch which needs -a man’s shoulder under it, getting it back into the trail. Please stay with -Johnny Buffalo, won’t you?” - -Nevada hesitated, staring back into his eyes. Her hand slid reluctantly from -the bridle. Her lip curled at one corner, though her cheeks flushed -contradictorily. - -“Masculine superiority asserts itself,” she drawled. “Since I can’t prevent -your going, I think, after all, I shall prefer to stay at home. A pleasant -trip to you, Mr. King!” - -“Thanks for those kind words,” Rawley cried, his voice as mocking as hers. -“Come on, Pickles, old son!” - -A boy of ten, with his face clean to the point of his jaws, came running from -the shack with a rifle sagging his right shoulder. Rawley waited until he came -up, then took the rifle, spun the boy half around and gave him a gentle push. - -“Thanks, sonny. Ladies and children not allowed on this trip, however. You -stay and protect the women and babies, son. Got to leave a man in camp, you -know. Wounded to look after.” - -The boy whirled back, valor overcoming his tongue-tied bashfulness. “Aw, he -wouldn’t come here! Gran’paw’d kill ’im. Gran’paw purt’ near did, one time. I -c’n shoot, mister. I c’n hit a rabbit in the eye from here to that big rock -over there.” - -“Yes--well--this isn’t going to be a rabbit hunt. You stay here, sonny.” - -“Aw, you’re as bad as Uncle Peter!” the boy muttered resentfully, kicking -small rocks with his bare toes. “I guess you’ll wish I’d come along, if Queo -gets after you!” - -Rawley only laughed and swung up the trail, leading the burro behind him, -since he was not at all acquainted with the beast and had no desire to follow -it vainly to Nelson, for lack of the proper knowledge to halt it beside the -scene of Deacon’s downfall. - -As he went, Rawley scanned the near-by ridges and the brush along the trail. -There was slight chance, according to his belief, that the outlaw Indian would -venture down this far, especially since he could not be sure he had failed to -kill Johnny Buffalo. On the other hand, he must have been rather desperate to -lie in wait for two women coming home with supplies. Rawley wondered why he -had remained up on the ridge; why he had not waited by the trail and robbed -them of such things as he needed. Then he remembered Nevada’s very evident -ability to whip wildcats, if necessary--certainly to meet any emergency -calmly--and shook his head. The old squaw, too, would probably do some clawing -if the occasion demanded, and she knew just who and why she was fighting. On -the whole, Rawley decided that Queo had merely borne out Johnny Buffalo’s -statement that he was a coward and had taken no chances. And from the boy’s -remark about his grandfather nearly killing Queo, he thought the outlaw had -not wanted his identity discovered. - -As for his own risk, Rawley did not give it a second thought. Queo had been -well scared, finding two men on the job where he had expected to deal only -with women. He had been headed toward the river when Rawley last saw him. It -was more than probable that he would continue in that direction. - -But it is never safe to guess what an Indian will do,--much less an Indian -outlaw who must become a beast of prey if he would live and keep his freedom. -Rawley remembered Johnny Buffalo’s pack and tied Pickles to a bush directly -under the spot where the shooting had taken place, while he climbed the ridge -to retrieve his belongings. He brought canteen and pack down to the trail and -hung them on the packsaddle, feeling absolutely secure. The ridge was hot and -deserted, even the birds and rabbits having taken cover from the heat. - -He went on around the little bend and anchored the burro again while he -carried up a sack of potatoes, bacon, flour and a package wrapped in damp -canvas, which he guessed to be butter. The tribe of Cramer had what they -wanted to eat, at least, he reflected. Also, the load would have made a nice -grubstake for the outlaw. Two such burro loads would have supplied Queo for -months, adding what game he would undoubtedly kill. - -Rawley had just finished packing the burro and had looped up the tie rope to -send Pickles down the home trail, when some warning (a sound, perhaps, or a -flicker of movement) caused him to look quickly behind him. He glimpsed a -dark, heavy face behind a leveled gun barrel, broken teeth showing in an evil -grin. Rawley threw himself to one side just as the gun belched full at him. -Something jerked his left arm viciously, and a numb warmth stole into that -side. - -He dropped forward, his right hand flinging back to his holstered automatic -and drawing up convulsively with the gun in his hand. - -“Thanks for packing the stuff!” chortled Queo, and the two fired -simultaneously. - -Both scored hits. The leering, black face sobered and slid slowly out of sight -behind the rock. Rawley’s head dropped so that his face lay in the blistering -dust of the trail. Through his hat crown a small, singed hole showed in front, -a ragged tear opposite at the back. Pickles, scored on the leg with the second -shot from Queo’s gun, kicked savagely with both feet and went careening down -the trail toward home, his pack wabbling violently as he galloped. - -It was the sight of him trotting down the trail alone that halted Nevada -midway between her rock dugout and the shack where Gladys was setting steaming -dishes on the table for the three men who were “washing up” at the bench under -the crude porch. Nevada gave a little cry and ran to meet Pickles, and the -first thing she noticed was the fresh, red furrow on his leg, from which the -blood was still dripping. Turning to call, she saw Peter coming close behind -her, wiping his face and neck as he walked. - -“Oh, Uncle Peter--he’s been shot!” she cried tremulously. “It must be Queo -again.” - -Peter’s eyes turned to the trail, visible for some distance up the side hill. -There was no one in sight, and without a word he turned back to his own house, -dug into the hill near Nevada’s, and presently returned, passing the girl with -long strides. He carried his rifle and struck into the hill trail bareheaded. -Nevada looked after him, her eyes wide and dark. - -An hour later, Peter returned, walking steadily down the trail with Rawley on -his back. Without a word he passed the staring group at the shack and carried -his burden into the room where Johnny Buffalo lay in uneasy slumber. A step -sounded behind him, and he spoke without turning. - -“Have Jess and Gladys bring that spring cot out of my cabin, Nevada. They’ll -be more contented in the same room. He got Queo--I found him behind a rock not -fifty feet from this chap. Now Queo’s cousin will take up the feud and get -this fellow--if he pulls out of this scrape.” - -“Is he badly hurt?” Nevada was holding her voice steady from sheer will power. - -“Arm smashed and a scalp wound. All depends on the care he gets. Well--” Peter -straightened and wiped his forehead, looking thoughtfully at Rawley, half -lying in a big chair, his long legs spread limply, his face white and streaked -with blood, “--we owe him good care, I guess. He must have killed Queo after -he’d been shot in the arm. And he’s saved this outfit some trouble. I didn’t -tell you--but Queo was laying for a chance at us. Well--run and get that cot -here.” - -Nevada pushed back her craning family and sent them running here and there on -errands. Her grandfather and Jess, the husband of Gladys, looked at her -inquiringly from the porch of the shack. Rawley might have thought it strange -that they remained mere bystanders during the excitement. But Nevada did not -seem to notice their indifference. - -“Queo shot him twice--but he killed Queo,” she told them. “Uncle Jess, you’re -to get his spring cot, Uncle Peter says, and fix a bed in there.” Her eyes -went challengingly to her grandfather. “Uncle Peter says we owe them the best -care we can give,” she stated clearly. “He says they have saved some lives in -this family.” - -The tall, bearded old patriarch looked at her frowningly. He glanced toward -the rock cabin, grunted something unintelligible to the girl, and went in to -his interrupted dinner. - - - - -CHAPTER TEN - -A FAMILY TREE - - -It seemed as fantastic as a troubled dream. To be lying there helpless, to -look across and see Johnny Buffalo staring grimly up at the ceiling, his face -set stoically to hide the pain that burned beneath the white bandage, held no -semblance of reality. Was it that morning only, that they had left the car and -started out to walk to the “great and high mountain”? Perhaps several days had -passed in oblivion. He did not know. To Rawley the shock of drifting back from -unconsciousness to these surroundings had been as great as the shock of -incredulous slipping down and down into blackness. He moved his head a -half-inch. The pain brought his eyebrows together, but he made no sound. -Johnny Buffalo must not be worried. - -“All right again, are you?” Peter moved into Rawley’s range of vision. “You -had a close squeak. The thickness of your skull between you and death--that -was all. The bullet skinned along on the outside instead of the inside.” - -“I’ll be all right then,” Rawley muttered thickly. “Don’t mean to be a -nuisance. Soon as this grogginess lets up--” - -“You’ll be less trouble where you are,” Peter interrupted him bluntly. “I’ve -done all I can for you now, so I’ll go back to my work. The Injun’s making out -all right, too. Head clear as a bell, near as I can judge. I’ll see you this -evening, and if there’s anything you want, either of you, just pound that toy -drum beside you. That will bring one of the women.” - -Rawley looked up at him, though the movement of his eyeballs was -excruciatingly painful. Again that sense of familiarity came to tantalize him. -What was it? Peter’s great, square shoulders, his eyes? He made another effort -to look more closely and failed altogether. His vision blurred; things went -black again. Perhaps he slept, after that. When he opened his eyes again a -cool wind was blowing; the intolerable glare outside the window had softened. - -He was conscious of a definite feeling of satisfaction when Nevada appeared -with a tray of food such as fever patients may have; tea, toast, a bit of -fruit--mostly juice. Behind her waddled her grandmother; Rawley could not yet -believe in the reality of the relationship between this high-bred white girl -and the old squaw. In the back of his mind he thought there must be some joke; -or at least, he told himself, looking at the two closely, Nevada must be one -of the tribe by adoption. He had heard of such things. - -And there was her Uncle Peter, who was a white man in looks, in personality, -everything. Yet Uncle Peter had flared proudly, “We may be breeds--but we -aren’t brutes.” He could only have meant himself and Nevada. He looked at her, -his eyes going again to the squaw with her gray bangs, the red kerchief, her -squat shapelessness. - -Her fear of him seemed to have evaporated upon reflection. Her curiosity -concerning him had not, evidently. She set down the tray and stared at him -with a frank fixity that reminded Rawley of the solemn regard of the sloe-eyed -baby riding astride Aunt Gladys’ slatternly hip. - -“You feed Johnny Buffalo, Grandmother,” Nevada directed. “He used to live in -this country when he was a boy. You can’t tell--you might be old -acquaintances.” She smiled, patted the old woman on a cushiony shoulder and -approached Rawley, who was suddenly resigned to his helplessness. - -“Grandmother rather holds herself above full-blood Indians,” she whispered. -“She’s only half Indian, herself. I don’t want her to snub your partner; he -looks so lonely, somehow. What is it?” - -“He’s grieving over my grandfather’s death,” Rawley told her, his own voice -dropped to an undertone that would not carry. “Until I proposed this trip he -didn’t want to live. He’s better, out here.” - -“I do hope--” - -A shrill ejaculation from the squaw brought Nevada’s head around. “What is it, -Grandmother?” - -The old woman started a singsong Indian explanation, and Nevada smiled. “She -says they do know each other. She remembers him when he was a boy and was -lost. So that’s fine. He can hear about all his old playmates and his -family.” She turned her back on them as if the duties of hostess sat more -lightly on her shoulders, since one of the patients could visit with her -grandmother. - -“I’m wondering what happened, up the trail.” - -Nevada thoughtfully cooled the tea with the spoon and looked at him -speculatively. “Uncle Peter can tell you better than I can--since I was not -permitted to go along. Besides, the less talking you do now, I believe, the -less danger there is of complications. Neither wound is so bad of itself, -Uncle Peter says. It’s having your head hurt, along with the broken bone in -the arm. Unless you are very quiet for a day or two, there may be fever; and -fevered blood makes slow healing. That’s Uncle Peter’s theory, and it must be -correct. He has books and studies all the time--when he isn’t working. Then, -of course, there’s the danger of infection from the outside; but he has been -very careful in the dressings. Johnny Buffalo,” she added after a minute, “is -worse off than you are. His shoulder blade is badly smashed. And then he’s so -much older.” - -She was talking, he knew, to prevent him from doing so. And since his head -felt like a nest of crickets, all performing at once, he was content to let -her have her way. Across the room he could hear the intermittent murmur of the -two Indians, the voice of the grandmother droning musically, with sliding, -minor inflections as she recounted, no doubt, the history of the old man’s -family and friends. - -He watched Nevada pour and sweeten a second cup of tea and did a swift mental -calculation in genealogy. Jess Cramer, he knew, was a white man. The husband -of Gladys, bearing the name of Grandfather King’s enemy, must be a son of the -old man and of this half-breed squaw. Very well, then, old Jess Cramer’s -children would be one quarter Indian--Peter, Jess and Nevada’s mother -(granting that Nevada was a blood relative). Nevada’s father must have been -white,--a Scotchman, by the name, and by Nevada’s clear skin and coppery hair. -Well, then, Nevada was--A knife thrust of pain stabbed through his brain, and -he could not think. Nevada set down the cup hastily and laid cool fingers on -his temple. He lifted his right hand and held her fingers there. The throbbing -agony lessened, grew fainter and fainter. After all, what did it matter--the -blood in those fingers? They were cool and sweet and soothing-- - -He thought Nevada had lifted her hand and was gently removing the bandage from -his head. But it was Uncle Peter, and Nevada was not there, and it was dark -outside. In another room a clock began to strike the hour. He counted nine. It -was strange; he could not remember going to sleep with her fingers pressed -against the pulse beat in his temple. Yet he must have slept for hours. He -closed his eyes and then opened them again, staring up with a child-like -candor into the man’s bent face. - -“I know. You look like Grandfather,” he said thickly. And when Peter’s eyes -met his, “It’s your eyes. Grandfather had eyes exactly like yours. And there’s -something about the mouth--a bitterness. Gameness, too. Grandfather had his -legs off at the knees, for fifty years. Called himself a hunk of meat in a -wheel chair. God, it must be awful--a thing like that, when the rest of you is -big and strong--but you’re not crippled that way. Oh, Johnny! Are you awake?” -He heard a grunt. “I’ve got it--what you meant at first, about seeing your -sergeant. Uncle Peter looks like--” - -A hand went over his mouth quite unexpectedly and effectually. He looked up -into the eyes like Grandfather King’s and found them very terrible. - -“Fool! Never whisper it. Am I not the son of Jess Cramer? It had better be so! -Better not see that I am like his enemy--and rival.” He leaned close, his eyes -boring into the eyes so like his own. “One word to any one that would slur my -mother, and--” he pressed his lips together, his meaning told by his eyes. -“She came to me to-day, chattering her fear. Old Jess Cramer lives with other -thoughts, and his eyes are dim at close range. Never come close to him, boy. -Never recall the past to him. It would mean--God knows what it would mean. My -mother’s life, maybe. And then his own, for I’d kill him, of course, if he -touched her.” - -Rawley blinked, trying to make sense of the riddle. Then his good hand went -out and rested on Peter’s arm, that was trembling under the thin shirt sleeve. - -“Uncle Peter!” His lips barely moved to form the words, and afterward they -smiled. “The blood of the Kings! I’m glad--” - -“Are you?” Peter bent over him fiercely. “Proud of a man who went away and -left my mother--” - -“He had to go,” Rawley defended hastily. “He meant to come back in a month’s -time. But he was shot through the legs, and in hospital for months, and then -sent home a cripple. After that he lost his legs altogether. How could he come -back? Johnny can tell you.” - -Peter pulled himself together and redressed the long, angry gash on Rawley’s -head. Johnny Buffalo, having slowly squirmed his body to a position that gave -him a view of Rawley’s cot, watched them unblinkingly, his wise old eyes -gravely inscrutable. When he had finished, Peter strode to the door and stood -there looking out. Rawley had a queer feeling that he was looking for -eavesdroppers. - -“What you say will make my mother happier,” he told Rawley, coming back and -speaking in his usual calm tone of immutable reserve. “She seemed very bitter -to-day when she talked with me. She has always thought your grandfather went -away knowing he would never come back. And she has proud, Spanish blood in her -veins--” - -“Anita, by ----!” Rawley’s jaw dropped in sheer, crestfallen amazement. - -“Did he tell you?” Peter eyed him queerly. - -“It’s the diary. The beautiful, half-Spanish girl, all fire and life--he -described her like that. And--” - -“Well, they change as they grow old.” Peter’s lips twitched in a grin. “The -beautiful Spanish señoritas get fat and ugly, and the Indian women are more -so. Your grandfather’s fiery Spanish girl had nothing to pull her up the hill. -Monotony, hardships--one can’t wonder if the recidivous influences surrounding -her all these years pulled her down to the dead level of her mother’s people. -Take this Indian here--” he tilted his head toward Johnny Buffalo--“he was -taken out of it when he was a kid. Now, aside from certain traits of dignity -and repression, I imagine he’s more white than Indian.” - -Rawley nodded. “Lived right with Grandfather all his life and has studied and -read everything he could get his hands on. He’s better educated than lots of -college men; aren’t you, Johnny?” - -“Yes. I think very much, of many things which Indians do not know. I do not -talk very much. And that is wisdom also.” - -“Mother had nothing from books. When her youth went and she began to take on -weight, she dropped her pretty ways and became like the squaws. I remember, -and it used to hurt my pride to see her slip into their ways. I was--white.” -His mouth shut grimly. - -Rawley lay looking into his face, trying to realize the full significance of -this amazing truth. His grandfather’s son, and Anita’s. His own uncle. With -Indian blood, but his uncle nevertheless. If Grandfather King had known-- - -“He’d have been proud,” he said aloud, “to have a son like you. He always -wanted--and my father was a weakling, physically, I mean. He died when I was -just a kid. Grandfather called him a damned milksop, because he wanted to work -in a bank. Johnny can tell you a lot about Grandfather--your--father.” He -lowered his voice, mindful of Peter’s warning. And then, “Does Nev--does your -niece know about it?” - -“She does not. The fewer who know it, the better for all concerned. There will -be four of us, as it is. There mustn’t be five. Why make the lives of two old -people bitter? Old Jess--I’ve a brother, Young Jess--thinks I am his son. He -needs me, and Nevada needs me. We’ve hung together, in spite of the mixed -breed you see us. Jess is Injun in looks and ways. Nevada’s mother was all -white. Jess married a mission half-breed girl, and their kids are Injun to the -bone. Belle, Nevada’s mother, married a Scotchman--good blood, I always -thought, from his looks and actions. Nevada’s--Nevada.” - -He said it proudly, and Rawley felt his blood tingle with something of the -same pride. - -From the other bed Johnny Buffalo spoke suddenly. “Anita, your mother, is my -cousin. The daughter of my aunt. My blood is mingled with the blood of my -sergeant’s son. My heart is now alive again and life is good. My sergeant has -gone where he can walk on two feet, and I am left to care for his son and his -grandson. I now see that God is very wise.” - -“He is?” Peter pulled down his heavy, black brows and the corners of his lips. -“I’ve spent a good deal of time wondering about that. There’s Nevada--and -one-eighth Indian. Is that--” - -“Oh, what the devil difference does that make?” Rawley gave a flounce that -made him groan. But in the midst of it he managed to growl, “You said it -yourself; Nevada’s--Nevada.” - - - - -CHAPTER ELEVEN - -RAWLEY THINKS THINGS OUT - - -At intervals of fevered wakefulness during that night, Rawley went over and -over the astonishing state of affairs. The hour and the temperature that was -almost inevitable conspired to twist and exaggerate the truth, to give him an -intolerable sense of kinship with the slovenly, platter-faced Gladys, the -stolid obesity of the old squaw, and of a hopeless abyss between himself and -Nevada. They were related, somehow. They must be, since her Uncle Peter was -also his uncle. Uncle Peter, he thought, had been terribly wronged, and he -must somehow make amends, must remove the handicap of that savage blood. In -the morning he must tell Gladys that he was her cousin; why, that made him -Indian, too! No wonder his hair was so black, and he loved the wilderness with -such a passion. He was part Indian, that was why. Johnny Buffalo was some -relation; how Rawley’s mother would hate that! - -What he did not know was that he talked about it, with Johnny Buffalo awake -and listening in the bed against the farther wall, and with Peter awake, too, -in a bed he had made for himself on the porch. He remembered that Peter came -and gave him a drink, and that it did not seem to matter so much, after that. -He slept late into the morning, after the opiate, and awoke to a saner point -of view. - -As before, Nevada and her grandmother brought trays of food and helped the two -helpless ones to eat. With the knowledge Peter had given him, Rawley looked -with more interest at the old lady, covertly trying to see the slim little -half-caste Spanish girl whom Grandfather King had found “the joy of his -heart.” On the whole, Rawley could not feel that his grandfather would have -gone on loving, in any case. And he could not get away from the fact that -Anita had consoled herself with considerable expedition. - -“You aren’t such a hero, after all,” Nevada bantered him, bringing him out of -his revery with a laugh. “You’re looking abominably well, this morning, for a -young man who was brought in dead only yesterday. And after all, you did not -kill Queo. Uncle Jess and Uncle Peter went up to the spot last evening, just -before dark, to identify him beyond all doubt, and--he’d disappeared. They -found where he had lain behind the rock, and they knew he was wounded, by the -blood.” She shivered involuntarily. “But he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Uncle -Peter feels quite put out. He looked at Queo when he went up after you, and he -felt sure the man was dead. So now, if he lives, he’ll be more venomous than -ever.” - -“Then I’m sorry I hit him at all,” Rawley declared. “But I had to. He was -after the grub, all right. He thanked me for carrying it up to the trail for -him. Then he plugged me--I didn’t duck quite soon enough. So--I always hate to -be killed, like that,” he finished whimsically. - -“That sounds like Uncle Peter,” Nevada observed. “Your voice, I mean. -Grandmother, don’t you think Mr. King looks and talks like Uncle Peter?” - -Rawley tried not to look as startled as he felt. The pillowy (after all, one -letter would have called her willowy in the old days, so that not so much had -been changed) Anita walked deliberately over to them, advancing one side at a -time, like a duck that travels in a leisurely mood. She laid her cushioned -knuckles on her bulging hips and regarded Rawley steadfastly. - -“Mebby he look--a lil bit,” she conceded with a superb indifference. “Peter, -he t’inner--a lil bit. More darker. More--like his fadder, Jesse.” - -“Yes-s--he does look more like Grandfather, of course. But I do think Mr. King -looks like them both.” Nevada spoke with a perfect sincerity which sent the -spirits of three persons up a notch or two. - -Rawley laughed. “Well, maybe we’re some relation--away back,” he said -recklessly. “A Cramer, connected with my family, was known to have come West, -years ago. I remember reading it in some old record. But I’m afraid I can’t -claim he was very closely related. In fact, I rather think he wasn’t.” His -eyes met the eyes of old Anita, and he almost thought he saw a gleam of -approval in them. He could not be sure. - -Of the look in the eyes of Peter, who was standing in the doorway, he was much -more positive. The color came into his face as their eyes met. After all, -others were sure to notice the resemblance, and there must be some explanation -ready. - -“I’m sure that’s it.” Nevada laughed softly. “You’re a fourth or fifth cousin, -perhaps. Likenesses do travel that way. I wonder if Grandfather would know.” - -“I wouldn’t want to ask him,” her Uncle Peter observed in his grim way. “Why -stir the old man up for days, just to satisfy idle curiosity?” He laid his -hand on Nevada’s head, smoothing back a lock of her hair with a gesture -inexpressibly tender. “On the strength of the fifth-cousin relationship, seems -like we might drop the Mr. King. Father hates to think of his past,--a quarrel -with his family brought him West, as nearly as I can make out. What do folks -call you, young man, when they know you well?” - -“Oh, Rawley is what I grew up under. George Rawlins King is my name. I wish -you would call me Rawley. Then I could say Uncle Peter, and Nevada, -and--Grandmother, maybe, if Mrs. Cramer will let me.” - -“Uncle me all you please,” grinned Peter. “And Nevada is down on all the -school maps. If you don’t mind, when you do meet father, let it be as George -Rawlins. Your last name might or might not recall a family quarrel. But--we -spare him excitement as much as possible. And while you’re here, the outfit -will call you--Rawlins.” - -“Well, then I’ll explain to Aunt Gladys,” said Nevada, as if they were -planning a secret for fun; and yet there was a certain look of anxiety, too, -in her face. “I think I can manage her--but then she never says much to -Grandfather, anyway. They don’t like each other very well,” she explained to -Rawley. “Grandfather was angry when Uncle Jess married her, and while they -never quarrel, it is merely toleration. Aunt Gladys won’t tell.” - -Rawlins then lay for a long time thinking how strangely the pattern is woven -into the woof of Life. With the sun shining and the noise of playing children -outside, the unexpected turn of events seemed more natural. So much had -happened in the past twenty-four hours that Rawley found himself checking up, -as he called it, on events and emotions engendered by the sudden crises. He -glanced across at the other bed and found Johnny Buffalo awake and seemingly -comfortable; wherefore he made bold to ask a few questions. - -“Johnny, I thought I had those women hidden around a bend in the trail. How -did Queo manage to spot them so as to try a shot? I’ve been wondering about -that first rifle shot. Are you sure it was fired at us?” - -“I am sure. You were not hidden altogether. I, myself, could see heads, though -I could not see the trail. Queo was higher. I think that little point was too -low.” - -“Well, that accounts for it. I lost my bearings down there, then. Part of the -ridge was hidden, I know. I thought it was the place where he was located. He -shot wide, anyway.” He lay looking at a Las Vegas merchant’s calendar, -reviewing still the immediate past. - -“There’s another thing that just struck me this morning. How did Grandfather -know that Jess Cramer was located here on the river? Jess was a soldier at the -fort, I thought, when Grandfather saw him last. It’s in the diary.” - -“I think you should read again more carefully, my son. My sergeant spoke to me -often of Jess Cramer. He had found gold here at this canyon. He was often at -the fort, spending his gold in the games of chance. Jess Cramer played not for -sport, but to win. A sergeant’s pay was not large, and my sergeant spent many -hours in searching for such gold as Jess Cramer brought with him to the fort. -My sergeant had won a little. He kept it and searched for more of the same. It -was not only for Anita that the two quarreled. A woman and gold make hatreds -that do not die. He did not tell me all. He longed for a son who would take up -the search. Or so I believed. I did not know that he had found his gold. I -thought that the nuggets he gave to you he had won at cards from Jess Cramer. -He told you that he picked them up. My sergeant does not lie. So I know that -he had found the gold he had sought, and that if you obeyed him you would -learn the secret he had kept from me.” - -“He had a son,” Rawley muttered, “and he’d have been proud of him if he had -known about him. Johnny, I can’t help thinking that Peter is more -Grandfather’s son than my father was.” - -Johnny Buffalo meditated, staring at the ceiling. - -“There was love,” he said softly at last. “My sergeant did not love the mother -of your father. I could see in his eyes when he looked upon her that his -thoughts were not with her, and that his heart was far away.” - -They lay for a long time silent. Each thought that the other slept, he lay so -still. But of a sudden Rawley reached up his uninjured hand and pushed back -the bandage that was slipping over his eye. The movement betrayed not so much -protest against a physical discomfort as the impatient mind that seeks in vain -for the correct answer to a puzzle. - -But Johnny Buffalo did not sleep. He lay staring at the ceiling, his mouth -closed firmly with lines beside it which nature draws to show when the soul is -weary. But there was no longer any bitterness there, though there was pain. -The hollow eyes glowed steadily, as if the old man had found a light ahead -somewhere in the blackness of his grief. Once, a gentle snore drew his -attention, and he turned his head and stared for a long while at the young, -unlined face with the bandage drawn diagonally above it. For Rawley the Great -Game had only begun; his stakes were piled before him, to win or to lose. The -old Indian wondered gravely how that Game would be played. Wisely? -Bravely,--he was sure. Honestly,--he hoped. - - - - -CHAPTER TWELVE - -RAWLEY PLAYS THE GAME - - -How wisely, how honestly, how bravely he would play the Great Game, Rawley -unconsciously indicated that evening, when Peter sat alone with the two, after -Nevada and her grandmother had given them their supper and gone away. Peter -had declared himself rather proud of his surgical skill, and had almost -yielded to Rawley’s importunities that he might get up and dress in the -morning and help take care of Johnny Buffalo. But Peter had his father’s -firmness, after all. - -“I took five stitches in that gash on your head,” he explained. “Queo uses -slugs to knock over an elephant. I’m not so sure your skull isn’t cracked. You -talk rather crack-brained, sometimes.” (That was Peter’s first joke with -them.) “Best wait until we’re sure, anyway.” - -Rawley gave an embarrassed kind of laugh and sent an involuntary, inquiring -glance at Johnny Buffalo. - -“I wish you’d lock the door, Uncle Peter, and then bring me my coat. I’ve got -something on my mind other than a cracked skull and embroidered hide. - -“Now, to make the thing clear to you, Uncle Peter, I’ll have to say that -Grandfather left here expecting to come back--and I hope you told your mother -what happened.” - -Peter nodded. - -“Well, there Grandfather was, helpless. It made him kind of proud and bitter, -and he sort of held himself away from folks. But he was disappointed because -my father was sickly and didn’t take to anything outdoors, and I never met him -face to face, or spoke a word to him, until the night before he died. Of -course nobody dreamed he was going--I don’t think he did, or Johnny, even. - -“At any rate, he sent for me. And he said I was all King, and he had waited to -make sure. He talked a little and gave me his old diary and an old Bible his -mother had given him. He told me to read the Bible--that there was a lot in -it, if I read it carefully. It was the last talk I had with him. He died in -the night. - -“Well, the point I’m getting at is this: Grandfather had a secret--about a -mine out here. He had it all described, in a kind of code that sure had me -guessing blind for awhile. I found a long list of Bible references, you -see--no one would ever think of wading through the bunch, unless it was a -preacher, maybe; and he wouldn’t need to. It took me a while to catch on to -the fact that they meant something. Grandfather, you must know, wasn’t -religious. Anything but. So the crux of the matter was those references looked -so darned dry and innocent, and they were the only thing I could find to work -on. Johnny, there, made it mighty plain to me that I’d better work on -_something_. I tried Poe’s cipher, and I looked up all the references. I will -say that just reading verse after verse, according to the references, they -make snappy reading; murder and bloodshed and bigamy and the wrath of God. And -names I couldn’t pronounce, of tribes headed out on the warpath. It was great -stuff--not. - -“But finally I dug into the little old Bible Grandfather had carried around -with him--and hadn’t read, or the book’s a liar--and I got this. I want to -read it to you: I dug it out by writing down words and phrases in all the -verses, that Grandfather had marked. I’ll read it as if it were -altogether--which it wasn’t, by a long shot: - - “Gold is mine, more than heart could wish. My son, if thou wilt receive my - words and hide my commandments with thee, I will give thee riches, and - wealth, such as none of the Kings have had that have been before thee. Be - wise, now, therefore, be instructed. Of the gold, there is no number. The - land whither ye go to possess it is a land of hills and valleys. - - “Do this, now, my son. Go through a city which is by the river in the - wilderness, yet making many rich. In the midst thereof a ferry-boat which - is by the brink of the river. Take victuals with you for the journey. Turn - you northward into the wilderness, to a great and high mountain; cedar - trees in abundance scattered over the face of the high mountain. In the - cliffs there is a path which no fowl knoweth, and which the vulture’s eye - hath not seen. Come to the top of the mount. Pass over unto the other - side, westward. On the hillside, a very great heap of stones joined to a - dry tree. Go into the clefts of the rocks, into the tops of the jagged - rocks, to the sides of the pit. Take heed, now--that is exceeding deep. It - is hid from the eyes of all living. Creep into the midst thereof, - eastward, two hundred and fourscore feet. Ye shall find a pure river of - water. Proceed no further. There is gold heavier than the sand; pure gold - upon the sand. And all the gold thou shalt take up. Then shalt thou - prosper if thou takest heed. I know thy poverty, but thou art rich. - - “Take heed, now. On the hillside which is upon the bank of the river in - the wilderness, there shall the vultures also be gathered. Ye shall find - him that is mine enemy. His mouth is full of cursing, under his tongue is - mischief and vanity. Be watchful--the heart is desperately wicked. - - “He that keepeth his mouth, keepeth his life. I put my trust in thee. Now, - my son, the Lord be with thee and prosper thou.” - -Rawley folded the paper, looking up under his bandaged brows at Uncle Peter, -and sending a glance past him to the unreadable face of Johnny Buffalo. - -“So that’s what I dug out of his Bible. He meant it for his son. He told me so -himself. But he said my dad wasn’t the man to get anything out of it--which -was true. When he passed it on to me, he--he didn’t know he had another son -who _could_ make good on the proposition. It’s yours, by rights. He just gave -it to me because he didn’t know of any one else. And--all I ask, Uncle Peter, -is that you make some kind of provision for Johnny, over there. I told him -we’d go fifty-fifty, and--” he held out the folded paper to Peter--“Johnny’s -been hands and feet and a loyal friend to Grandfather, all these years. Fifty. -Just think of that, Uncle Peter. Grandfather didn’t have anything but his -pension--and this. He didn’t say so, but I know he expected me to look after -Johnny. I will, of course. I can make good money at my profession. And I want -to say, Uncle Peter,” he added boyishly, “that I’m mighty glad Grandfather -left something--for his son.” - -Rawley lay back with a relieved sigh and watched Peter, his eyes smiling a -little. He did not think that he had done any unusual thing. Peter was exactly -the kind of son whom Grandfather King had longed for, all these years. Rawley -guessed that Peter, too, had been defrauded of the father he would have -worshiped. It was a foregone conclusion that, had Grandfather King known -Peter, he would have sent him, long ago, hunting for the mine. And while Peter -had not said so, Rawley guessed shrewdly that Peter did not greatly admire -Jess Cramer, in spite of the fact that he had believed the man his father. His -nightmare thoughts, that he had somehow defrauded Peter, were wiped out once -for all. The code had been written for the son of King, of the Mounted. The -son had it. No more was to be said. - -Peter opened the paper and read it through slowly, a corner of his lip drawn -between his teeth. What he thought, no man could say. He finished the reading -and folded the paper slowly, looking at Rawley afterward from under his heavy -brows. - -“Have you still got the Bible and the references?” he asked. - -“Yes. In my safe deposit box, in St. Louis.” - -“Humph.” Peter deliberately twisted the paper into a spill, felt in his pocket -for a match, and as deliberately set fire to the paper, turning and tilting it -until the creeping flame was about to scorch his fingers. He laid the stub on -the floor, bent and watched it go black, then set his foot upon the charred -fragments. - -“Boy, you keep what was given you. If I’ve any right in it, I’ll sign that -right over to you. But never mention that--” he motioned toward the ashes on -the floor--“above your breath. Your grand--my father was right. The vultures -are perched here by the river, and the old vulture’s eye is never shut. While -you’re here, forget it. Both of you.” - -“But it isn’t mine. It’s yours, Uncle Peter. I don’t want it--now.” - -“If it’s mine, then it will never be found. I don’t need it. When the vultures -swoop down and light--the feast will be big enough even for them. But I warn -you, remember. Never speak of that again, in this camp.” He stood up, gazing -down at Rawley much as Grandfather King had looked at him that night. With a -quick, impulsive movement he stooped and laid his hand over Rawley’s, pressing -it warmly. He smiled; and there was that in the smile which made Rawley draw -in his breath sharply. - -“If Fate had dealt the cards straight to me--I might have had you for _my_ -son!” - -He drew his hand away, turned and walked out. - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTEEN - -THE COLORADO - - -The tribe of Cramer dined. In the shack beside the big mesquite tree was heard -the clatter of knives and forks--more knives than forks, one might guess--the -dull clink of enameled ware, the high, demanding voices of hungry children -more Indian than white. Above all the clamor of feeding, the shrill petulance -of Aunt Gladys could be heard rising above all other sounds as she -expostulated incessantly with her young. The baby was crying monotonously. -Some one kicked a dog, which shot out of the open door ki-yi-ing hysterically. - -In the smaller rock dugout, tinkle of glass and silver plate and china -betrayed the fact that the white blood held itself aloof from the red at -mealtime. In the larger cabin built for Nevada, Rawley had just finished his -supper, eaten with Johnny Buffalo in a punctilious regard for the old man’s -feelings, though he had been invited to join Peter and Nevada at table. - -In the matter of recovery, young bones were healing much faster than the old. -Rawley had been promoted to a gauze pad held in place by strips of adhesive -over the long gash on his head. His arm had settled down to the dull, grinding -ache and intolerable deep itching of knitting bone and healing flesh. Johnny -Buffalo, splinted and bandaged, was able to sit propped in cushions in a big -chair on the porch. - -Rawley left him reading deliberately the matchless “Apology” of Socrates, -which Peter had lent him that day, and started out for a walk, choosing -between his own company and the companionship of Nevada, which seemed always -to bring at least half the tribe of Cramer at their heels like the dragging -tail of a kite. Rawley reflected disgustedly that as yet he had never had five -consecutive minutes alone with Nevada. When her grandmother was not filling -the foreground, the offspring of Aunt Gladys formed a snuffling, big-eared -background which Nevada sweepingly termed the Little Pitchers. Whether Nevada -enjoyed the company of the Little Pitchers on their infrequent strolls to the -river bank, or approved the solid chaperonage of the juglike Anita, Rawley had -never been able to decide. Nevada’s manner toward her dark-skinned kinsfolk -was impartially and imperturbably gracious. Indeed, Rawley sometimes suspected -that she deliberately encouraged their tagging along. Four goggling kids and -three dogs, he considered, might be recommended as a romance-proof -chaperonage. - -Mechanically he walked straight down to the river, to the spot which Nevada -always chose as their destination. A flat rock there formed a convenient place -to sit and enjoy the view of the river and the hills beyond. Across the -swift-moving, muddy stream, bottom lands covered with cottonwoods gave a -refreshing touch of green to the picture. Arizona cottonwoods they were, since -the Colorado formed the dividing line. Away to the southwest, he could see the -hills made familiar at Kingman. Rough, rather forbidding mountains they had -been at close range, but now they were made soft and alluring by the blue haze -of distance. Straight down the river he could see the hill that looked down on -El Dorado, that “city forsaken.” Up the river he could not see, because of the -high, granite cliffs that blocked the view. - -Because nature had seemed to bar the way, Rawley turned and made his way -aimlessly toward the barrier. With his left arm in splints and carried in a -sling, he could not do much in the way of climbing; but presently he stumbled -upon a well-defined path leading amongst bowlders just under the rim of the -basin. The path led up the canyon, and Rawley followed it with a desultory -interest in seeing where it led,--and for the exercise it promised. Perhaps, -had he given the matter thought, he would have owned that a strange trail -never failed to tempt his feet to follow. At any rate, he held to the pathway. - -Now the river was hidden completely from him, though he could hear it -complaining over the bowlders in the canyon and hurrying through as fast as if -indignation lent it speed. The path went on, finding the easiest places to -worm through the jagged rocks and climbing closer and closer to the river, -whose roar became more distinct as he neared it. - -Through a split in the huge wall so narrow as to be almost a crevice, the -trail led him quite suddenly to a narrow shelf set sheer above the river. -Crude steps cut in the rock went down the cliff at a slant. He heard the water -worrying over something unseen at the bottom, and began to descend, his right -hand steadying himself against the granite wall. He was curious, somewhat -mystified. Neither Peter nor Nevada had mentioned any possibility of reaching -the water’s edge in the canyon. - -He found himself in a tiny cove which had been formed when some primal -upheaval had split the granite wall at the base, throwing the outside into the -river. No more than a wide crack, it was, but it was serving well a purpose. A -small, rock landing filled the shore end of the slit completely. Riding -quietly in the slack water of the small anchorage, a squat, powerful looking -launch sat bow to the landing, secured there by a heavy chain. - -A great deal of labor had gone into the making of that landing and the steps -leading down to it. His trained eyes could see where an inner portion of the -jagged point had been cleverly blown off in such manner that the huge -fragments formed a most natural appearing breakwater, making quiet water -within instead of a moiling swirl. If the Cramers wanted a secret landing on -the river, here was one ideally suited to their needs. - -But the Cramers had another landing, in plain sight of the flat rock at the -rim of the basin. At that landing also a launch was tied; a very ordinary -launch of a type sufficiently sturdy to combat easily enough the strong river -current. It was that other launch that was out of repair so that a trip to -Needles had been declared impossible. True enough, this launch might also be -out of commission, but Rawley did not think so. Stopping and looking in at the -engine, he judged that it was in very good working order indeed, and from -certain little, indefinable signs, he believed that it had been lately used. -By whom he did not know, although he remembered now that Young Jess--who was -not so young as he sounded, since he was well past forty--had not been in -evidence lately among his family. - -He saw all that was to be seen and retraced his steps up the rock stairway. It -could not matter, one way or the other, if the Cramers kept a dozen secret -landings on the river. Nevertheless, Rawley was frankly puzzled. He thought he -could guess why his Uncle Peter had not wanted to take them to Needles in this -large boat. If he really meant to keep this boat a secret, it would scarcely -do to run it down to the house landing, alongside the smaller, crippled -launch. Rawley and Johnny might come back, some time, and they might ask about -the second launch, seeing only one down there at the other landing. - -Some one must want absolute freedom to come and go by the river without -observation, he decided. With the smaller launch innocently swinging in the -eddy at the lower landing, the Cramers would naturally appear to be at home, -or ranging in the hills; whereas one or two of them might be absent in this -boat here. It was very simple,--and very mystifying as well. The rock landing -stage was built to make safe anchorage in high water as in low; which proved -conclusively that this was an all-year landing. - -At the top he hesitated, in some doubt as to whether he should return to the -house or follow the path on up the canyon. He yielded to the unknown trail, -which was singularly well-traveled for a trail that apparently led directly -away from any logical destination. He had not gone far when he came upon the -flat, level space of a dump. Close beside him the black mouth of a tunnel -opened into the cliff rising a sheer hundred feet above his head. He stopped, -astonished at this unexpected ending of the trail. The solid face of granite -gave no indication whatever of carrying mineral of any kind. There was no -logical reason, therefore, for all this evidence of development work. - -The ethics of his profession forbade his prowling underground without being -invited. He would as soon open an unlocked door and go spying through a man’s -house and personal belongings. From the size of the dump he judged that the -workings extended for some distance underground, and from the look of the rock -that had come from the tunnel he knew that any hope of reaching mineral was -likely to remain long unfulfilled. Instinctively he picked up a piece of rock -here and there, looked at it and threw it aside. If they were driving in to a -contact, he thought, the Cramers must have sharp eyes indeed for surface -indications. Knowing mineral formations at a glance was a part of his trade, -and he had seen absolutely nothing that would lead him to the point of -advising any man to lift a shovelful of muck. - -He turned back. The afterglow was purpling across the river, and he did not -want to be too long away from Johnny Buffalo. He reached a turn in the trail -where a jutting crag thrust out and overhung the river,--and there he stopped -short. - -Perched on the point of the crag like the vulture his grandfather had named -him, Old Jess Cramer leaned and looked down upon the hurrying waters, a full -six hundred feet below him. The distance between them was mostly a matter of -altitude, for Old Jess had climbed considerably to reach that particular -point. Staring up at him, Rawley was struck with a certain weird resemblance -to that predatory bird. There was something sinister about him as he sat -there; something rapacious and purposeful. It was as if he meant to seize the -river and wrest from it something which his greed desired. While he looked, -Old Jess stretched out his arm and shook his fist at the roaring stream. - -Rawley turned away. Something within him revolted at the sight, though even to -himself he could not have explained why. As his gaze dropped from Old Jess to -the trail, there was Peter standing looking from one to the other. Peter’s -face was stern, his eyes cold with disapproval. It seemed to Rawley that he -was purposely blocking the trail. - -“I see you’ve done quite a lot of development work back there,” Rawley -remarked to cover a vague embarrassment. - -“Yes. Quite a lot. Did you go in?” - -Rawley smiled at what seemed to him a needless question. “Certainly not. I -never go underground unless I’m hired to do so.” - -He thought he saw relief in his Uncle Peter’s eyes. - -“Well, I never saw any particular fun in it, myself. It’s all work, to me.” He -turned and seemed to be awaiting Rawley’s pleasure. “If you want a view,” -Peter hazarded drily, “you ought to go down to where the river swings east, -below the basin where we live. You can look straight up the canyon here for a -long way. Cliffs are too jagged here to get much of a view; there’s a bulge in -the canyon that interferes.” - -“It’s better down at the landing in front of the house than it is here,” -Rawley agreed carelessly. “I see now why Nevada always heads straight for that -big, flat rock.” - -He caught a swift, questioning side glance from Uncle Peter and knew beyond -all doubt that the big launch, the hewn-rock stairway and the tunnel in the -cliff were things which he was not supposed to know about. But the reason for -the secrecy he could not guess. - - - - -CHAPTER FOURTEEN - -THE VULTURE SCREAMS - - -A high-keyed snarl brought the two sharply facing the crag. Bearing down upon -them with his fists flailing the air in a kind of impotent fury came old Jess -Cramer, like a vulture fighting for his feast. Rawley had seen the old man at -a short distance, but he had never before stood face to face with him. He -would cheerfully have missed the meeting now. Old Jess craned his long neck -toward him, his bleak, blue-gray eyes venomous. But it was Peter to whom he -spoke--screamed, rather. - -“Told ye it’d come to this, didn’t I? You _would_ take ’em in and pet ’em up, -and treat ’em better’n you do your own kin! Think so much of ’em you had to go -and show ’em what we’re doing and why! Reckon when we touch ’er off and git -the damned river penned back, you’ll beg ’em on your knees to go down and claw -out gold till they wear their fingers to the bone! - -“What have I slaved for and worked for and hoarded for, all these years? To -let you give away the gold when we git it? Is this the kind uh thing I raised -ye for? Take in the first stranger that comes snoopin’ around the place, and -bring him sight-seein’ up here to our dam! You--!” - -Rawley had thought the miners he sometimes worked among could curse, but he -stood agape before the blistering vituperations of this gray-bearded old man. -He looked at Peter, wondering how any man with the King blood could have -endured his fancied father’s vile tongue all these years. Peter stood with a -face of iron, his eyes terribly blue and hard, and listened impersonally to -the frenzied outburst. - -“That’s enough, now. Shut up and listen to me!” - -It was like snapping a whip in the face of a roaring lion. Old Jess had -stopped merely to gasp fresh air into his lungs so that he could go on. He -glared at Peter, weakened and cringed. The fire that had flared in his eyes -died as suddenly. He looked toward the river, looked at Rawley and his glance -slid away from the two of them. - -“What’d yuh want to go and let it all out to him for?” he half whimpered. “Now -he’ll want a share--and there might not be more ’n five or six millions in the -hull damned river bed! And you know ’s well as I do, Peter, that our dam is -liable as not to go out, next high water. We won’t have many months to work -in, mebby. I--I want a word with yuh, Peter. I--I want a word with yuh, that’s -all. I guess mebby you know what you’re up to, but--” - -“Shut up!” Peter snapped the verbal whip again. His eyes turned briefly toward -Rawley. “What’s been let out, you did yourself, dad.” (Rawley thought that -Peter hesitated over the last word.) “I have never breathed one word of our -plan. Slave? What have _I_ been slaving for, all these years? Do you think _I_ -have not endured everything but dishonor, for the sake of the millions we plan -to get? And Nevada--what about _her_? Hasn’t she done the work of a man and -slaved over her studies, so that she could help, too? It’s you, letting go -your tongue and raving like a fool, that has betrayed the secret. _You’ve_ -done it. This man didn’t know or suspect a thing, till you let it out, -accusing me of telling!” - -The old man looked uneasily from one to the other. Peter stared unrelentingly -at him. Rawley, stealing a glance at his face, thought that he knew now the -kind of man his Grandfather King had been in his old, fighting days. - -“Now, he’ll have to know.” Peter’s voice relaxed the tension. It was as if he -had suddenly determined to accept the situation and make the best of it,--and -the most. “He can be trusted, I think. He’ll _have_ to be trusted, after your -blathering.” - -Old Jess turned his predatory eyes on Rawley, and his beard moved to a -sinister smile beneath. - -“You’re a big man, Peter--and it ain’t but a few steps to the edge!” He tilted -his head backwards toward the river. There was no possibility of mistaking his -meaning. But he added a sentence to clinch it: “She never gives up a body--the -Colorado don’t!” - -Peter’s grin was a withering thing to face. Again the old man cringed, and his -eyes shifted like a cornered rat. - -“I’ll remember that, if you open your mouth again. I’m strong--and the river -never gives up a dead man. You keep that in mind, will you?” Peter insisted -ominously. - -“He shan’t have none of _my_ share,” Old Jess shrilled, his voice cracking -with anger and fear. “It was my idee, before you was born, Peter. You shan’t -rob me in my old age--you shan’t, now! I’ll be the first one to pick up the -gold--that’s been understood, since you was big enough to talk. An’ he better -not let it out to anybody! I’ll kill him if he does--you mark me, Peter! I’ll -kill any man that stands in my road to them millions I been watching over all -these long years--scrabbling the gold together, ounce by ounce, till I’ve got -enough to do it! A million dollars--but I’ll reap a thousand dollars for one. -You mark what I say; I’ll kill anybody that tries to horn in--It’s mine, every -bit of it!” - -“In that case,” said Peter contemptuously, “you can go ahead and get it.” - -“All but your share’s mine, Peter. Yours and Young Jess’ and Nevada’s. This -feller better not think--” - -“He only thinks you’re a fool,” Peter told him harshly. “Stay and watch your -gold, then. It might float off!” He motioned with his head toward home, and -Rawley obeyed the signal and started ahead of him down the trail, wondering a -good deal over the encounter. - -“Looks like I’m driving you off,” Peter remarked after a bit. “But I’m merely -bringing up the rear. Old Jess is not all there. I’ll tell you all about it, -now he’s told so much. I had half a mind to, anyway, if I could get him and -Young Jess to agree. You’re a mining engineer. I kind of wanted your opinion -and advice. It is out of your line, probably; but technical training helps. I -never had any, myself. Old Jess is a slave driver, all right. And now he’s -half crazy, and I wouldn’t want to go off and leave him with the women. If a -stranger happened along and roused his suspicion, there’s no prophesying what -might happen.” - -“It sounds pretty wild, to me, all his talk,” Rawley returned after a minute. -“I can easily believe the old man’s crazy. I can’t seem to get any sense out -of it; millions of gold--and all that. Uncle Peter, were you just stringing -him along--because he’s crazy?” - -Peter laughed queerly. “I can’t wonder at your thinking so,” he said. “Sit -down here, and I’ll tell you the straight of it.” - -It was the flat rock which they had reached. The shouts of the children, the -barking of the dogs and the crying of the baby came to them in one -indistinguishable chorus from across the small flat. In the deepening dusk -they would not be noticed and interrupted. - -“Away back, before I was born,” Peter began, “Jess had mining claims here. -Placer, and he was doing pretty well at it, I imagine. He bached here beside -the river, and an idea came to him one day that has stuck to him like a burr -ever since. That idea, boy, has ruled this bunch, has driven us like dogs. -It’s a big one--the only big idea he ever had, so far as I know. - -“Old Jess got to thinking how much gold must lie at the bottom of the river, -washed down through all the centuries of time, through Colorado, even through -Wyoming, where its main tributaries rise. When you think of it, the thing gets -hold of you. And the more you think, the stronger it holds. He thought how -tremendously rich and powerful he’d be if he could just get at that gold out -there. But you see the old river; she holds what she’s got. And in flood -time-- - -“Well, it wasn’t long before he began to figure out how he could get at that -gold. And he got the idea of throwing a dam across the canyon here, and -backing up the water. I don’t think he ever told any one, but he kind of -quizzed around and decided finally that it would cost a lot of money. A -million dollars, we made it at a rough guess. So he began to save his gold, -instead of gambling and carousing with it down in El Dorado and at the fort. -For that matter, I believe the old man always was a grasping, avaricious -individual. It’s his nature--I’ve seen it demonstrated all my life. - -“We’re all living fairly decently now, son. But until I was old enough to -assert myself a bit, he almost starved us, he was so keen on saving that -million. Even now I have to have a run-in with him, every so often, about the -money that goes for living expenses. But he can afford it. He’s got his -million, and then some.” - -“_What?_” - -“He’s been saving every grain he could scrape together, for fifty years, -Rawley. And it’s a good claim--group of claims, rather. No one in the country -has ever dreamed that we’ve done more than scratch a living here. Some day, -when your arm is well, I’ll show you. Yes, he has his million. - -“For a long time, now--several years--we’ve been getting ready for the dam. -That tunnel you saw is part of the work. When you’re better, I’d like to take -you through our workings and see what we’ve done and what we expect to do. -Maybe you can give us some advice. We’ve had to use our own wits, because we -can’t consult with experts, in the very nature of things. We are not,” he said -cynically, “the only vultures in the world. The country would be black with -them. And when all’s said and done, we have first right. Why, look at El -Dorado! Men sat down there and cursed their luck--and looked straight at the -richest gold mine in the world! This canyon was here, everything was here, -ready for them to go to work and get the gold just as we are going to do. But -nobody thought of it. Sheep--that’s what men are. Not one in a thousand does -any thinking outside the beaten path. Nobody _had_ dammed the river to get the -gold; they had no precedent to follow--no bell wether to show them the way. So -nobody ever thought of the possibility of doing it. Old Jess, I must say, shot -up head and shoulders above the ruck when he conceived the idea. His -avariciousness and dwelling on that one thought all these years have given him -a mental twist. He’d kill any man who seemed to be standing in his way. He’s -gone too far now--he has lived with that air castle too long. But my God, -think what a castle he’s built!” Peter’s voice was vibrant with emotion. Here, -as with Old Jess, was the dream of a lifetime revealed. - -“Yes--it’s a tremendous scheme,” Rawley admitted guardedly. “I’m afraid it -won’t work, Uncle Peter. It doesn’t, somehow, seem feasible.” - -“Why not?” Peter’s voice challenged him. “Merely because you hadn’t thought of -its feasibility. Nobody thought of it. Why, you’re like all the rest, son. You -can’t think constructively. You must have a precedent to hang onto with one -hand, before you think out into the ocean of unguessed achievements. Fifty -years ago, they would have shut you up in an asylum if you had declared it -possible to telegraph without wires. How was the first telephone hooted? And -history tells us that a large faction of religious people declared that -anesthetics were contrary to the will of God, who meant that men should -suffer. - -“When I show you the canyon, back here, and explain to you how we mean to do -it, you’ll have to admit the simplicity of the thing. And that’s it! The very -simplicity of it has prevented men from grasping it.” He laughed scornfully. -“What a to-do about building a dam they make! They must have government -backing, and political wirepulling, and they must fiddle around for years with -hundreds of men building a dam up from bedrock, with cement and stone! Wait -until I show you what _we_ mean to do! Simplest thing in the world--since we -don’t want canals for irrigation and only want to get at the river below. Even -if we did want to divert the water, instead of restraining it only, we could -build our canals just the same, and at our leisure. - -“But it’s all desert, above and below. Already I’ve bought any little rancher -out, that might have his land flooded when _we build our dam_.” Peter laughed -again triumphantly. “I’ll arrange to get possession before we’re ready to back -up the water--” - -“Will the government allow that?” Rawley’s tone was troubled. So great a hold -had Peter’s argument taken upon him that he found himself _fearing_ that the -government might object. - -Peter gave a contemptuous snort. “Give us a chance to rake the gold out of the -river bed below here, and we can pay whatever fine or indemnity the government -may see fit to levy,” he retorted. “But why should it object? We’ll be saving -the folks away down below here a lot of trouble and loss from high water. -They’ve been howling for flood control ever since the Imperial Valley began to -be settled. The dams they’ve got don’t answer the problem. Sooner or later, -the government, or somebody, will have to put a dam in the river, up this way. -They will be mighty grateful, I should say, if we do it at our own expense -while they’re talking about it. - -“Then, if they want to, they can pay us for our trouble and go ahead and build -their canals, or power plants, or whatever they want. All we want is the gold -that has been washed down during a few thousand years.” He lifted his arm and -pointed down to where the river could dimly be seen moiling and grumbling over -its rocky bed. - -“You see how rocky it is? Figure for yourself what a perfect trap for gold -every bowlder makes! And there is gold! You don’t deny that, do you?” - -“Why, no. I can’t deny the very probable presence of gold in considerable -quantity.” This being rather in the nature of a professional question, Rawley -instinctively leaned toward conservatism in his reply. - -“Well, that’s our object. We feel it’s going to be worth the expense of -building the dam. Other people may possibly want to make use of our dam, when -they see it. In that case, we should be able to get back at least what money -we are going to put into it. We’ll know, to a dollar. Nevada has got the -education and training the rest of us lack and can tell us at a minute’s -notice just what the work is costing us. That’s her job. And Old Jess has -signed a contract with us three. The idea was his in the first place, and the -claims that produced the gold to do the work with are his--most of them. He -gets half of all the gold we take out. We repay, out of our share, one-half -the expense of building the dam, and the three of us share equally in the -rest. In other words--I suppose I’ve put it clumsily--he takes half the net -proceeds, we divide the other half. And since we inherit, at his death, we are -all satisfied.” He stood up and smiled down at Rawley in the half darkness of -early night. - -“So you see, son, why I won’t need any of that gold you and the Injun are -looking for. I expect to be pretty well fixed myself, before so very long.” - - - - -CHAPTER FIFTEEN - -THE LAND OF SPLENDID DREAMS - - -For days Rawley watched the might of the rushing Colorado and wondered at the -temerity of men who would calmly plan to check its headlong progress to the -sea. A splendid dream, he was compelled to own; a dream worthy a better man -than old Jess Cramer. But every man must have one vision of great things -during his life, else he would lack the spark of immortality. He may distort -the vision to baser depths, but to each life is given one dream, one glimpse -into the realm of beautiful possibilities. So Jess Cramer had dreamed his -dream, had seen his vision, and had held aside the curtain so that others -might see. - -It interested Rawley in his days of helplessness to observe the reactions of -that dream upon the diverse natures that dwelt within the basin. Old Jess -Cramer had become a vulture in human form, his whole soul enslaved by the -greed fostered by his individual conception of the vision. Rawley could look -at the river and picture Old Jess down in its slimy bed of mud bars, rocks and -groping streamlets, wildly scrabbling amongst the gravel and stones for the -gold his insatiable soul craved. He pictured Old Jess gloating over his gold, -weighing it in his hands, stupidly goggling without the wit to give it for -what pleasures his spent old life could still enjoy. - -Young Jess, too, had pulled the splendid vision down to his dull -understanding. Young Jess, low-browed, sullen, would like to throw the gold -with both hands into the lap of brutish gratifications. Young Jess was a -gambler by nature, Rawley gleaned. He must never be let loose in a town, -because he would have to be hauled out in a drunken torpor, his pockets empty, -his credit strained, his soul fresh blotted by vice. Young Jess had “sprees”; -from Gladys Rawley learned that. So Young Jess was kept on a leash of family -watchfulness. - -“When we make our big clean-up,” Gladys confided from the bench on the -screened porch, her baby nursing desultorily in its sleep, “Jess has gotta -give me half of his share fast as he rakes it in. I’m going to have Peter -see’t he does that--or we’ll be broke ag’in in no time. I’m going to put it -where he can’t git his fingers on it to gamble, you bet! And he runs with -women--that sure makes the money fly! But I guess they’ll be two of us, at -that!” she tittered. “I ain’t so old yet I can’t git up some speed--give me -some decent clothes and di’mon’s. I’m going to Salt Lake, an’ I’m going to -have me the biggest car they is on the market. My folks is got a car, down to -Needles--” - -Anita,--Rawley was long in learning what was Anita’s bright, particular -vision. One day he asked her outright, since he could not lead her to talk -about her expectations in a general way. And straightway he was humbled and -ashamed. - -Anita looked at him stolidly, turned her great bulk and stared down at the -river hurrying by in the midday sunlight. She lifted a hand to her eyes and -stared out from beneath the flat of her brown palm. - -“Gol’--if it can buy me back--t’ings I have love’--t’ings I have los’ long -time ago,” she murmured. “Gol’--it don’t buy young body--pretty face--voice to -sing like a bird. Gol’ don’t give back my girl--modder of Nevada. Pah-h!” She -spat at the river contemptuously. “W’at I care for gol’?” - -Nevada,--to her the dream was a splendid vision indeed. To her it was -achievement--success--the open door through which she might pass to a -glorified future. Nevada, when pressed, admitted that she loved pretty -things--“And then, the world is so full of people who want to be helped!” - -Rawley nodded. “I know. I’ve felt that.” - -“And if there is gold to be had, so that they can be helped, I think it’s -wicked not to use every ounce of energy we possess to get it, so that we can -use it,” she declared with more enthusiasm than Rawley had ever seen her show. -“When it’s fought for, just for sake of self-indulgence, it ought to be fought -for in the interests of good. I’d found a home for--well, almost anybody that -needed it. And I want so to travel, Fifth Cousin! I don’t mean to spend more -than two or three millions, just myself. I’m afraid I might grow reckless and -extravagant. So I shall only hold out three million, at the most, for my own -personal needs. The rest I shall give away.” Whereupon she laughed at him. - -“You don’t really expect to be a lady billionaire?” Nevada sobered. “It’s such -a big, untamed land,” she dreamed aloud, her young eyes on the river, as -Anita’s had been. “If you don’t dream splendidly, you somehow feel that you’re -too small for the desert. It’s a land of splendid visions, Fifth Cousin. Never -mind if they don’t come true. They’re like the sunsets and the sunrises. They -live, and they die, and they live again, on and on--forever.” She lifted a -tanned, rounded arm and pointed away to the floating, hazy blue of the -horizon. - -“That’s what I mean,” she said. “Can you look at that and think small? Why, -every old prospector who follows a burro along the desert trail has his -visions. The dim distances promise him heart’s desire. Why else would he keep -going? He’s a millionaire--in his dreams. The next gulch may change his vision -to reality. Think how the Spaniards came dreaming up this very river, as long -ago as when Washington was praying for boots at Valley Forge! What brought -them, but the splendid dreams--their visions of what lay over the next hill?” - -Her gaze dropped to the river. Just as every other adult member of the Cramer -family looked at the hurrying water, so Nevada gazed and saw--not lost youth -and lost love, as did Anita, but the splendid future that would be hers when -the river gave up its hoarded gold. She smiled and forgot to speak. Her vision -held her entranced. - -Peter’s dream was very like Nevada’s. Peter, as Rawley knew, exulted over the -achievement itself; the constructive thinking that left the beaten path of -thought and plunged boldly into the realm of unguessed possibilities. The -taming of a river that called itself untamable meant more to Peter than to -Nevada, even. The gold would be his just reward for having dared to achieve -the improbable. - -Peter also craved emancipation from the petty round of his isolated life. -Around the world Peter would sail and learn of other lands and other peoples -and the problems which Fate had set them to solve. Peter was willing to divert -a part of his gold to the welfare of his fellow men, but he did not dream of -that as did Nevada. The building of the dam, the actual getting of the gold, -the splendid hazards of the undertaking, these things set Peter’s indigo-blue -eyes alight with the flame of his enthusiasm. - -So even the tribe of Cramer dreamed, each according to the quality of his -soul. And Rawley knew why his Uncle Peter stayed and worked -shoulder-to-shoulder with men whose half-relationship humiliated and -embittered him. He knew why Nevada chose to remain here, in an environment -ludicrously unsuitable, inharmonious. Indian and white, they held, in various -forms, the same vision. There was something fine, something splendid in their -even daring to dream. - - - - -CHAPTER SIXTEEN - -RAWLEY INVESTIGATES - - -Came a time when Rawley felt fit enough for work; and this investigation of -the wild, improbable scheme of the Cramers would be work, with every faculty -of the engineer on the alert for his clients. For the others he would not have -attempted the thing he contemplated. He would have told them, more or less -politely but nevertheless firmly, that the whole thing was out of his line and -that he could not assume the responsibility. But for his Uncle Peter and for -Nevada he would do the best that was in him. - -Old Jess and Young Jess still looked at him with suspicious eyes, but they -made no comment when he set off one morning with Peter to look over their -work. They followed sullenly along the trail, ready, Rawley thought, to turn -at the slightest indication of treachery and pitch him over the edge of the -cliff--if they could--as Old Jess had naïvely suggested to Peter. - -Back to the tunnel Peter led him,--and within it. It was smaller than the -usual mine tunnel, and fifty feet back from the portal two crosscuts ran -parallel with the face of the cliff for a distance of fifty feet in either -direction. In the hard rock, working with hand drills, the excavations had -been made at the expense of infinite labor, Rawley could see. No car or track -was there for removing the muck, which had been taken out in a wheelbarrow. At -the face of the tunnel, a winze had been sunk fifty feet, and from this two -other crosscuts extended, apparently directly beneath the upper ones. - -Rawley saw it all, riding down the winze in the bucket, since he had but one -arm of any use. With Uncle Peter at the windlass he felt perfectly -secure--though he would have refused the descent with one of the others, so -great was his distrust of the Cramers, father and son. - -When he returned, Peter conducted him down the stairway hewn into the cliff, -and into the big launch. - -“This is something we don’t let the world know about,” he remarked. “From -Nelson we pack in supplies that any ordinary miner’s family would need--if -they were just scratching a living out of their claims. You saw how we do -it--with burros. Fifteen years ago we began to work on that stairway and -landing. It was a long, hard job. But I knew that we were going to need some -private way of getting supplies and material in for the dam. Now, we can slip -down to Needles and get a boat-load and get back without these people around -here knowing it. Early morning, just at peep of day, is the time I choose for -running in here. On the far side of the river, none of the El Dorado -prospectors would be apt to notice; and if they did, they would think I was on -my way farther north. Now, I’m going to take you across the canyon.” - -Once out and fighting the current, Rawley saw at once why it was that the -Colorado was not considered a navigable river. There were no rapids in the -canyon, properly speaking. But the pent volume of water rushed through like a -dignified mill race, and it was only Peter’s skill and the power of the motor -that landed them across the canyon. - -Here, a small eddy, with a break in the bold, granite wall, made a fair -landing. Peter tied the launch securely and led the way up a steep trail from -the water’s edge to a natural shelf, where another tunnel with crosscuts was -being run. As far as the contour of the cliffs would permit, the workings here -were identical with those on the home shore, except that they were not -finished. They had just completed the winze. - -“We can’t work over here except when the weather and the river are favorable,” -Peter explained. “And Old Jess kept us at the gold diggings until we balked. -He’d got that one idea so firmly fixed in his mind that he wouldn’t let up -when he had his million. He seemed to think a few months’ work would put the -dam in, and it was next to impossible to pry him away from the gold grubbing. -When we finally struck and refused to put in another shift in the mine, he -yielded the point. Now he’s in a fever to get this done. He’ll sit and watch -the river by the hour, just as you saw him that night he came down on us. -Gloats and grudges by turns, I suppose. He doesn’t realize what a job it -is--blowing enough rock into the canyon to dam the river.” - -“I wonder if you do, yourself!” Rawley remarked laconically and led the way -out. “I want to study these cliffs a bit from the outside. I’ve seen enough of -your underground work.” - -He spent two hours sitting on first one jutting rock pinnacle and then -another, studying the cliffs and making sketchy diagrams and notes. A splendid -dream, surely; but a dream wellnigh impossible, as he saw it. - -That evening after supper, he sent word to Peter that he was ready to talk to -him and would prefer to have the Cramers present. Wherefore Peter brought them -over to the cabin; Old Jess vulture-like and grim, and fairly bristling with -suspicion, Young Jess surly, but wanting to know what was going on between -Peter and this stranger. Rawley dragged chairs out to the porch and laid a -diagram sketch on the small table beside him. - -“I want to say first, to all of you,” he began gravely, “that I don’t approve -of the scheme from any point of view. Peter says that is because I think by -rule; because the thing has never been done, and I therefore have nothing to -work from. However that may be, I warn you at the start that I don’t like it. -I don’t believe you can dam the river in the way you are going at it. It’s a -cinch you will have to alter your plans in certain ways, if you are to have -any hope whatever of accomplishing the feat. - -“I want to warn you that the government will probably have something to say -about your performance. If the river had not been declared unnavigable, you -would be in trouble for obstructing the channel, if for nothing else. What -Washington will say about it in the circumstances, I can’t predict. I don’t -know. But if you persist in carrying out your scheme, be prepared for trouble -with the authorities. Red tape may wind you up tighter than you anticipate. - -“With the understanding, then, that I absolutely disapprove of the idea, I am -going to give you my opinion of the most feasible method of making it a -success. Of course, I needn’t point out to you the very obvious fact that, if -you don’t make a success of it, you will lose every dollar you put into it, -and probably get into trouble just the same. If you spend a fortune throwing -rock into the river and fail to dam the flow so that you can carry on whatever -operations you have in mind on the river bed below, you will be worse off than -if you had not started. Therefore, I’m going to tell you how I think you -should do it.” - -“In other words, ‘Don’t do it--but if you _do_ do it, do it this way,’” Nevada -murmured mischievously. - -“Something like that,” Rawley grinned. “In the first place, your work is far -from finished. You will have to put in relievers, to break the rock between -your crosscuts and the face. That can be done by raising, or you can sink -incline shafts from the surface. My diagram here shows approximately what I -mean. Later, when my arm is well, I will, if you like, run your lines for you. -I have a small instrument for my own use. - -“These relievers must be shot with dynamite, of course. I suppose, having had -long experience in mining, you know that you should use some dynamite for -breaking the rock, and black powder to lift and heave it over into the river. -Since dynamite gives a quick concussion, the whole can be fired -simultaneously; the black powder will follow the dynamite. - -“What you should have, of course, is the advice of expert engineers who -specialize in this sort of thing. It’s out of my line, and I am merely giving -you my opinion for whatever it is worth--in soundness,” he added, catching a -miserly chill in Old Jess’s eyes. “I couldn’t sell advice on a matter outside -my profession, and in any case I am glad to do whatever I can to help you -avoid mistakes. I am trying to see it as a mining problem--the opening of a -glory hole, we’ll say. - -“Your idea of crosscutting at different levels is a good one, but you should -by all means break your rock to the surface, and so give your main explosives -a chance to lift it over. You see what I mean?” He lifted the diagram and held -it up for them to see. “Here are your tunnel, winze and crosscuts. Then here -are your relievers. An incline to the surface--or close to the surface--as -high as you wish the cliff to break. I shall have to survey that for you, to -give you the proper pitch. Then these ‘coyote holes’ between the apex and your -adit--these will be filled with dynamite. I wonder if you have formed any -definite idea of how much powder and dynamite you are going to need!” - -“Nevada and I have been working on that for five years,” Peter said, and -smiled. “We intend to use plenty.” - -“I should hope so,” Rawley exclaimed. “Better a few tons too much, than to -have all your work and money go for nothing. Make a dead-sure job of it, -or--drop the scheme right here.” - -This brought an ominous growl from the old man and Young Jess. Peter was -studying the diagram. He passed it along to Young Jess, who scowled down at it -intently, his slower mind studying each detail laboriously. Old Jess reached -out a grimy claw and bent over it like a vulture over a half-picked bone. - -“I’m afraid you’ll have trouble getting your explosives,” Rawley observed. -“The war is taking enormous quantities to Europe. And I’m afraid we’re going -to be dragged into the scrap ourselves. In which case, the government will -probably shut off private buyers entirely.” - -Young Jess laughed a coarse guffaw. “We should worry!” He leered at Rawley. -“We got a glory hole a’ready, back at the diggin’s. We been five years gittin’ -powder in here. Gosh! We c’d blow up Yerrup if we wanted to, ourselves! -Y’ain’t showed him our powder cache, have yuh, Pete?” - -“I didn’t know anything about that. It isn’t necessary that I should,” Rawley -broke in impatiently. “My concern is merely the engineering problem you’ve got -on your hands. As to the details and the means of putting the idea into -execution, I’m not sure that I want to know. I might be hauled up as a -witness, sometime--and what I don’t know I won’t have to lie about.” - -“That’s right. That’s the way to talk,” Young Jess approved. The diagram had -evidently impressed him considerably. He stared at Rawley from under his -heavy, lowering brows. Though he spoke as any illiterate white man of the West -would speak, he looked like a full-blooded Indian. Rawley wondered which side -of him did the thinking,--if any. The worst of both sides, he guessed -shrewdly. - -“We ain’t tellin’ more’n we’re obleeged to tell,” Old Jess grumbled, lifting -his greedy old eyes from the sketch. “We ain’t sharin’, neither! You’re eatin’ -my grub--two of ye--” - -“Grandfather!” Nevada sprang up and faced the old man furiously. “How can you -dare! Have you forgotten that Mr. Rawlins and his partner saved my life and -Grandmother’s? Oh, what a groveling lot of brute beasts we have become!” - -“Mr. Rawlins is my affair,” Peter said sternly, catching Nevada’s hand as she -would have passed him and pulling her down to his knee. “I brought him here. -He is doing this work for me. You two will profit by it, though it will not -cost you so much as a crust of bread. Nevada is right, except that you strike -me as being more like vultures. All you think of is what lies at the bottom of -the river. - -“The bigness of the achievement, the real significance of a lifetime’s -devotion to one tremendous demonstration of man’s dominion over nature means -less than nothing to you two. I asked Rawlins to look over our work and advise -us. He’s doing it. It’s only by courtesy that you two were called in to hear -what he has to say. It’s out of friendship for _me_ that he’s going on with -his study of the problems we have to solve. - -“Why, damn you,” he flared out suddenly--for all the world like King, of the -Mounted--“you couldn’t hire this man to do for you what he’s doing for me for -nothing!” - - - - -CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - -CHANGED RELATIONS - - -Young Jess and Old Jess exchanged sidelong glances. Young Jess turned his head -away from the group and spat out a quid of tobacco on to the porch floor, -whereat Nevada frowned her disgust. - -“Yeah--we know all about him doin’ it fer _you_,” he leered. He eyed the two -through half-closed lids. “You played it slick, but not slick enough. When yuh -thought up a name fer him, Pete, you’d oughta stuck to it, ’stid of changin’ -your mind first day he was here. Gladys knows. He told Nevada one name, an’ -you come along and changed it on him. - -“Look at ’im, Dad! D’ yuh ever see father an’ son look more alike in your -life? By--, you can’t make a fool outa me, Pete, nor outa Gladys. Why don’t -yuh own up? _We_ know you’re his daddy. You can’t claim to me an’ Gladys you -never throwed in with no woman! Not with that face, right there, callin’ you a -liar!” - -Nevada started, and Peter’s arm around her tightened restrainingly. She did -not speak, although her lips parted in astonishment. She looked at Rawley and -met his eyes fixed upon her questioningly. Nevada flushed and turned away her -face, hiding it against Peter’s cheek. - -“Why didn’t you tell me, Uncle Peter?” she whispered chidingly. “You could -have trusted me--you know you could.” - -Peter’s arm tightened again. His face was turned toward the Cramers. His lips -were drawn up a bit at the corners in a smile, but his eyes were hard. - -“Well, and what of it?” he asked calmly. “Suppose he _is_ my son--what then?” - -Young Jess was prying off a fresh chew of tobacco from a half-plug that filled -his palm. - -“Nothin’, I guess. Only I want yuh to know we’re wise to you. You mighta come -out with it, ’stid of lyin’ and beatin’ about the bush, that’s all. Any fool -can see you two’re close related. I seen it first thing, and so did Gladys.” - -“Is it anybody’s business, besides his and mine?” Peter’s voice was still -calm, though it boded ill for Young Jess if he did not watch his tongue. - -“Can’t say as it is,” Young Jess admitted. “Mebby his mother might think it -was _her_ business--whoever she is.” - -“Leave my mother out of this,” Rawley cried hotly. “She’s not--” - -“Aw, what the hell do I care?” Young Jess rose and hitched up his sagging -breeches. “Yuh can’t fool me--that’s all. And I will say I ain’t afraid to -have yuh go ahead and look the works over. My own _nephew_ wouldn’t -double-cross his paw’s family, I guess.” - -He left them, turning his head once to grin knowingly over his shoulder. Old -Jess mumbled a general curse on all family ties, or anything that would -interfere with his getting the gold out of the river, and followed. Ten steps -away he saw what he believed to be a joke and went off cackling, “Pete’s own -son! he-he!” - -Nevada shivered and pulled herself free from her Uncle Peter’s arms. Her lips -were pressed rather firmly together, and she avoided looking at either of the -men. - -“Well, you were the first to notice the likeness, Nevada,” Peter reminded her -banteringly. - -“And you were the first to--no, my _cousin_ was the first to lie to me about -it!” Her voice was coldly disapproving. “I’m very sorry--I did think that I -was worthy your full confidence, Uncle Peter. It seems that I have been -mistaken all along. You have only pretended to trust me, and all these -years--though that in itself doesn’t so much matter, since there may have been -good reason for keeping the secret, even from me. But when my--_cousin_ came -here, you must have known immediately who he was, Uncle Peter. It is that -which hurts. You pretended to me that you never had seen him before, and that -you were not quite willing that he should stay. And he--oh, I hate you both!” - -Her voice broke quite unexpectedly. She gave an impatient, spurning gesture -and fled. - -Peter got out the solacing “makings” of a cigarette. He glanced at Rawley -queerly and gave a cynical smile. - -“Talk about the beautiful faith of your own people,” he remarked -philosophically. “Here’s a sample for you. Even Nevada believes right away -that I have lived a double life.” - -“It makes it damned awkward--this resemblance,” Rawley muttered ruefully. -“Young Jess ought to have his block knocked off.” - -“Dynamite wouldn’t feaze Young Jess,” Peter declared. “He and Gladys have -cooked this up between them. ’Twouldn’t have done any good to deny it, son. -They wouldn’t believe it unless it suited them. And if I convinced them, -they’d want to know more than ever why we look so much alike. Poor old -mother--I was thinking of her. I hope you don’t mind?” - -“Not in the way you mean,” Rawley assured him discontentedly. “I only wish you -were my father. That is, I would if-- I hate to have Nevada feel that we both -lied to her,” he blurted helplessly. - -For once, Uncle Peter was dense. He laughed quietly to himself. - -“Oh, she’ll get over that,” he declared easily. “That’s the drop of Spanish -blood. Don’t you worry about that, boy. On the whole, I’m rather relieved. -I’ve caught Young Jess eyeing you; Old Jess, too, and even Gladys noticed, I -think. I was waiting for one of them to mention the resemblance between us. I -was braced for it. I meant to laugh it off, as just their imagination. This -way, they think they have it all accounted for. It does save a good deal of -dangerous speculation. I’m not guessing. I know that Old Jess used to take -spells of jealousy. Anita--mother--has always been afraid of him. When I was -just a kid, I threw up his gun when it was pointed at her heart, and the -quarrel was over your--over my father. Something had brought up the subject, -some chance remark. The Spanish in her flamed up, and she told him that she -loved King. Then he pulled the gun. He may have been drunk--I don’t remember -that part. - -“So you see, son, I know why she’s in deadly fear of having him find it out. -And there are other reasons why none of them must know. While he and Young -Jess think I’m a Cramer, they will listen to me. I can keep things straight -here. If they knew the truth, I’d probably have to leave.” He lighted the -cigarette, and Rawley watched his face revealed for a moment by the flare of -the match. - -“Boy,” he went on, turning toward Rawley, “I’ve got to stay. I’ve grown up, -I’ve spent my whole life dreaming of the dam. It isn’t what we’ll get out of -it, altogether, though it’s human and natural to want the gold, too. It’s the -_dam_. I’ve planned and worked for it so long. I’ve got to see it go through.” - -He smoked and meditated for awhile, staring down at the river, always slipping -past him, always in a hurry to meet the tides; to mingle its mountain water -with the salt of the ocean. - -“I saw two men drown out there, once.” He waved a hand toward the river. “I’d -like to stop it running, just to show it who’s master here.” Another silence, -and then he looked at Rawley. “You don’t mind being thought my son?” There was -a wistfulness in his tone. “If I thought you minded--” - -Rawley shook himself out of his mood. He leaned forward and forced himself to -smile at Peter. - -“I don’t mind, at all,” he lied. “I hate to have Nevada think that I -deliberately lied to her because I was ashamed of any such relationship. -I--want to keep her confidence and respect--” - -Strange words for the leaden depression that had come over him at her anger, -but he was fairly sincere in their employment. He believed--because he was -forcing himself to believe--that he merely liked Nevada very much, and admired -her, and was anxious to preserve the friendly relations into which they had -drifted. It amused him to be called “Fifth Cousin” in that whimsical tone she -used for the term. He thrilled a little whenever she reminded him thus of the -make-believe relationship. To be called her cousin was somehow quite -different. There was a chill in the word,--and any young man would rather be -thrilled than chilled by a girl as beautiful, mentally and physically, as was -Nevada. - -“I’ll tell her you didn’t know you were my son,” Peter was calmly planning -aloud. “She’ll believe it, if I tell her so. I have never lied to Nevada in my -life. She’ll believe whatever I tell her about this affair. She’s bound to.” -He chuckled under his breath, still blinded by his relief at the attitude his -family had taken. “A reputation for honesty comes in handy, sometimes!” - -“You don’t think, then, that it would be wise to tell Nevada the straight of -it?” In spite of himself, Rawley spoke constrainedly. He wanted to appear -nonchalant, even amused, but he knew that he was betraying himself to any man -who chanced to observe him. - -“I don’t. The truth is not our secret, boy. It belongs to a silent, sad old -woman who never speaks what’s in her heart and so is not considered as having -any feelings. Do you think the taint of Indian relations will do you the -slightest harm? Tell me honestly.” - -“No. I’m young, but I have made a certain name for myself for all that. I have -the name of never having been bought and never leaving a job until I have the -correct data. My clients have never yet inquired into my personal affairs. -They never will. They know I’m an American; that’s about all that counts, -these days, so far as your blood ties go.” - -“There isn’t one chance in fifty that this will ever be known, even in this -district. We keep to ourselves. The old man has made it plain, ever since I -can remember, that he doesn’t want his neighbors to come around the place. If -you inquire amongst the miners and prospectors, you will hear that we are a -tough outfit and best let alone. It is believed, as I told you, that we’re -just a bunch of breeds digging out a little gold--enough to support us. Dad’s -a half-crazy squaw-man, and Young Jess is mighty unpopular. Whatever business -must be taken care of outside, I attend to myself. Or Nevada sometimes does it -for me. She never talks with people except when it’s necessary. Whenever she -goes to Nelson, or to Las Vegas, my mother goes with her. - -“Nevada would not mention the matter, in any case, but I must ask you not to -tell her. Mother is almost uncanny at reading faces. She’d see at once that we -had told the girl. She worships Nevada. It would break her heart if she saw -that Nevada knew her secret. She’s afraid of Old Jess, but that’s partly -because of what it would mean to the girl. She thinks Nevada would despise her -for the sin of her youth. That’s the way she put it, and there’s this about an -Indian: You can’t pry an idea out of their minds, once it’s firmly planted. -Poor old mother broods over these things. She feels as if Nevada is her one -hope of heaven, almost. To keep that girl pure and sweet is her religion. I -promised her, by everything that she called sacred, that Nevada should never -know; at least, not so long as her grandmother lives. So that’s why,” he -finished gently, “I’m pleased at the turn it’s taken. I don’t mind anything -they may hatch up about me, if it will protect poor old mother.” - -Rawley felt humbled. He remembered how old Anita had spat her contempt of the -gold that could not buy her the things she had loved,--and lost. In that -gross, shapeless body, who could say how fine a soul might be hidden? - -“It’s all right,” he said, after a minute. “I’ll have to warn Johnny Buffalo, -and then I’ll adopt you for my dad, if you like. I can see how it simplifies -matters here. But I’m afraid Nevada never will forgive--” - -“Oh, she’ll be proud of her new cousin, once she recovers from the shock of -not being told first thing,” Peter assured him gratefully. “I’m afraid I’ve -spoiled that girl.” - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - -THE JOHNNY BUFFALO UPRISING - - -Johnny Buffalo was on the warpath. Figuratively speaking, he was brandishing -the tomahawk over the tribe of Cramer. The gods he worshiped had been -blasphemed, the altar upon which he laid the gifts of his soul had been -defiled. - -In other words, Johnny Buffalo had lain in his bed and listened while Young -Jess and his father jibed at Johnny Buffalo’s two idols, in whose veins flowed -the blood of his beloved sergeant. The blood of the Kings might not be made a -mockery while Johnny Buffalo could lift one arm to fight. When Rawley returned -to him, he was discovered out of his bed, braced against a table and trying -unsuccessfully to load the old King rifle which he had first used to kill -Mohaves on that day, fifty years ago, when King, of the Mounted, received the -shot that changed his whole life. - -The old Indian was shaking with weakness, but his eyes blazed with the war -spirit of his tribe. - -“They are dogs of Pahutes!” he exclaimed, when Rawley entered the room. “They -would drag the virtue of good men in the mud. They shall retract. They shall -know the truth! Or I shall kill.” - -With three long steps Rawley was beside him, his hand on the rifle barrel, -touching the trembling, sinewy hand of Johnny Buffalo. But the old man would -not yield the gun. His eyes neither softened nor lowered themselves before the -steadfast blue eyes that were the heritage of the Kings. - -“You better get back to bed,” Rawley warned him, half-laughing. “If Peter -comes and finds you up, there’ll be the devil and all to pay. I guess we won’t -massacre anybody, Johnny,--at least not to-night.” - -“I heard the half-breed make a mock of Peter and of you. I heard him say that -Peter is your father. When he said that, he laughed. His laugh was evil. Now -he shall kneel upon his knees and beg the forgiveness of Peter and of you. He -shall say that he spoke a lie from his black heart that would like to see -others vile, because he is vile. If he does not say that he lied, I shall kill -him. And that half-breed cousin, Anita, shall own her sin and her son. It is -not good that Peter should be thought the son of that old vulture, when we -know that he is the son of my sergeant. He is not your father. He is your -uncle. I will tell them so, and we will see then if they laugh!” - -If unshakable dignity can rave, then Johnny Buffalo was raving. Rawley tried -again to take the rifle gently from the Indian’s grasp; but the brown fingers -seemed to have grown fast to the barrel. Rawley hated to do it, but his word -had been given to Peter and this unforeseen uprising must be quelled; he -therefore took Johnny Buffalo firmly by the shot shoulder. The old man wilted -in his grasp. Rawley leaned the rifle against the table and helped Johnny -Buffalo back to his bed. - -Subdued but knowing no surrender, Johnny Buffalo lay glaring up at Rawley, -even while his lips were twisted with pain. With a singularly motherly motion, -Rawley adjusted the pillows and smoothed the sheet. - -“That’s a nice way to act--start out gunning for my adopted family the minute -I get one!” he scolded with mock severity. “Can’t leave you a minute but you -jump the reservation and go on the warpath. And here I thought you were -civilized!” - -He grinned, but in Johnny Buffalo’s eyes the fire did not die. His thin, old -lips would not soften to a smile. The immobility of his face reminded Rawley -of what his Uncle Peter had just said about Indians: that it is impossible to -pry an idea out of their minds, once it is firmly fixed there. Nevertheless, -he sat down beside the bed and repeated to Johnny Buffalo all that Peter had -said concerning Young Jess’s charge. He was wise enough, however, to refrain -from any attempt to rouse sympathy in Johnny’s heart for that pathetic -culprit, Anita. Rather, he flattered himself by declaring that Peter was -pleased because the tribe of Cramer believed him Rawley’s father, and he -emphasized the need of protecting Peter’s influence over the two men, and his -and Nevada’s interest in the river gold. The mocking laughter of Young Jess, -he declared, was not worthy a second thought. - -It took Rawley just three hours to bring about an unconditional surrender to -Peter’s wishes in the matter. Even so, Rawley went to his own bed fagged but -feeling that he had done pretty well, considering Johnny Buffalo’s first -intention. But as an indemnity to the old man’s pride, Rawley had faithfully -promised that he would get their camp outfit up from its hiding place on the -morrow, and that he would pitch their tent as far as was practicable from the -tribe of Cramer. Johnny Buffalo, it appeared, would not attempt to hold -himself responsible for what might happen if he were compelled to listen to -further inanities from Gladys, or to hear the voices of Old Jess or Young Jess -or Anita. Nevada he very kindly excepted from the general condemnation of the -tribe. And Peter, of course, was a King. He therefore could do no wrong,--in -the eyes of Johnny Buffalo. - -It was a secret relief to Rawley that the change could be placed in the form -of a concession to the Indian’s pride. His own pride was demanding that he -should move under his own canvas roof and eat the bread--so to speak--of his -own buying. He had never felt quite right about taking Nevada’s cabin. He -happened to know that their occupancy had forced her to many little -makeshifts. Then the jibe of Old Jess had made his position as a guest -intolerable, in spite of the quick championship of Nevada and Peter. He had -felt obliged to consider, however, Johnny Buffalo’s welfare. The old man was -not recovering as quickly as he should. Rawley had felt constrained to stay on -his account; but now it seemed likely that a change to their own tent would -really be beneficial. He had not dreamed that Johnny Buffalo’s Indian pride -had been daily martyred by the presence of Anita and Gladys. - -“The scion of chiefs,” Johnny Buffalo had declaimed bitterly, “should not be -forced to become a companion of the squaws. Anita knows the etiquette of our -tribe. Yet she would humiliate me by forcing me to listen to her chatter. Bah! -I am not a squaw, nor a lover of squaws. Take me to our camp, my son. There I -need not submit to the indignity of their presence.” - -So the next morning, when Peter stopped by the porch for a minute on his way -to work, Rawley told him honestly what it was that he and Johnny Buffalo had -burned a light so late the night before to discuss. Peter seemed to understand -and offered the burros and Nevada for his service. Rawley grinned over the -manner in which Peter had made the offer, but he made no comment. The burros -and Nevada would be very acceptable, he said. - -“I had a talk with Nevada last night,” Peter added. “You’ll find she’s all -over her temper. And she knows all the good camping places between here and El -Dorado. You couldn’t stay down there in the canyon; it’s too hot. There are -places, like this basin, where the breeze strikes most of the day. I want you -close. I’ll have Nevada show you a place down the river, on one of my claims. -I don’t suppose you’ll object to camping on my land, will you?” - -Rawley would not, and he said so. And after breakfast he started out with -Nevada, following the two burros which went nipping down the river under empty -packsaddles. There seemed to be certain advantages in becoming a cousin of -Nevada, Rawley discovered. Their chaperonage had been practically abandoned; -they were accompanied by the burros and only one dog. The trailing cloud of -young Cramers were sharply called off by Aunt Gladys, and Nevada drove the -other dogs back with rather accurately aimed stones. Anita, for some reason -which Rawley was not sufficiently acute to fathom, failed altogether to put in -an appearance. It was the first time since Rawley came into the basin that -Nevada prepared to set off without her grandmother. - -Nevada, in her high-laced boots, khaki breeches and white shirt open at the -throat, walked with her easy stride down the faint trail behind the burros. -Rawley followed her, wondering man-fashion what thoughts she was thinking, how -she felt about him, whether she was glad to be setting out like this with him -for trail partner instead of her grandmother, and what she thought of him as a -cousin. - -He was not a particularly shy young man; there was too much of his grandfather -in his make-up not to have had certain little romantic adventures of his own. -He would have told you, with a bit of cynicism in his tone, that he knew girls -and that they were all alike. But he was beginning to discover that he did not -know Nevada Macalister. Now that he seemed to have become irrevocably her -cousin by diplomacy and tribal belief, he was disposed to make what use he -could of the relationship. But after half a mile of traveling with no more -than an occasional monosyllable for Nevada’s contribution to the conversation, -Rawley was compelled to admit to himself that the cousin business was not -working as he would like to have it. - -In view of her emotional outbreak last night, Rawley could not quite bring -himself to the point of asking her outright how she liked her new cousin. But -the question kept tickling his tongue, nevertheless. Then he reflected that -Nevada was rather generously supplied with cousins, none of them definitely -desirable. From that thought it was only a short jump to the next inevitable -conclusion. Nevada, he decided, had placed him mentally alongside those other -pestiferous cousins, the offspring of Gladys and Young Jess. Or if she had -not, she was surely according him the same treatment. - -As a romantic chapter in their acquaintance, the trip was a flat failure. -Nevada was businesslike,--and aloof. Rawley’s faint hope that some unforeseen -incident would occur to shock Nevada out of her insouciant mood died of -inanition. The camp outfit they found exactly as it had been left, except that -a rat had rashly decided to make a nest in a fold of the wrapped tent. This -did not seem to interest Nevada in the slightest degree. She helped him with -the packing and did not seem to care whether he hurt his newly healed arm or -not. They returned as they had gone,--Nevada silent, following the burros that -plodded sedately homeward under their loads, Rawley trailing after her in -complete discouragement over the rebuffs his friendly overtures had received. - -They did not so much as see a rattlesnake. - - - - -CHAPTER NINETEEN - -THE EAGLE STRIKES - - -The month of inaction which followed fretted Johnny Buffalo nearly as much as -the companionship of the squaws had done. In his boyhood he had been trained -to serve his sergeant. For fifty years that service had been uninterrupted by -ill health or accident. It irked him now to lie idle and watch Rawley burn his -fingers on the handle of the frying pan, or wash the dishes from which Johnny -Buffalo had been fed. - -The long days when Rawley was away with Peter were lonesome. There was nothing -to do but to seek sedulously after comfort, which is so rare a thing in a camp -beside the Colorado in summer that every little whiff of cool breeze is -prized, every little change in the monotonous diet makes an impromptu banquet. -Sometimes Nevada walked down to camp with things she herself had cooked; but -Johnny Buffalo had taken care to insult Gladys and Anita so definitely that -they refused to come near him. - -“I am well enough now to walk,” he announced one evening, when he had insisted -upon cooking the supper. “To-day I climbed to the top of that hill. In a sack -on my shoulder I carried a rock that weighed twenty-five pounds. I am well. We -can go now and find the gold.” - -“You packed a rock up that hill?” Rawley laid his hands on his hips and -squinted at the hill indicated. “You ought to get sun-struck for that. But if -you think you’re up to it, we can hit the trail to the mountain about day -after to-morrow. I’ll have to drive up to Nelson to-morrow to get more grub -and the mail. You might borrow the burros from Peter and meet me at the mouth -of the canyon. That will save time and give you a chance to try out your -shoulder.” - -Johnny Buffalo actually grinned and stepped more briskly than was his normal -gait, as if he would prove himself as spry as any young man of twenty-six. - -Thus for ten days they wandered through rocky gorges, and climbed the steep -sides of hills, and returned to their camp for fresh supplies and a day or two -of rest. The “great and high mountain” in the distance had seemed to recede -before them as they walked. They had been three days in reaching its base. -Another two days had served to take them over the top and down on the other -side westward. There their trail seemed to end, for that side of the mountain -was almost entirely covered with loose rubble of decomposed rock. There were -no cliffs or jagged rocks anywhere that they could see. - -Since Peter had burned the code, and the list of references was in St. Louis -with Grandfather’s Bible, they were compelled for the present to depend -altogether on memory. But Rawley could repeat the code from beginning to end -without hesitation. The only explanation, then, of their failure was that -either he had made a mistake somewhere in writing down the marked passages or -Grandfather King had marked them wrong. - -Rawley astonished Nevada somewhat by asking to borrow her Bible. But when he -received it he could not remember the references, so that he was no better off -than before. One thing was certain: the only great and high mountain within -sight of El Dorado, looking north, with “Cedar trees in abundance scattered -over the face of the high mountain” had no cliffs upon its western side. When -the mountain itself failed to measure up with the description, the whole code -fell flat. It was a big country, and it was a rough country. A man might spend -a lifetime in the search. - -“My sergeant did not lie,” Johnny Buffalo contended stubbornly. “He was a -great man. He did not make mistakes. When he said the gold was there, in the -clefts of the jagged rocks, it was there. He said it.” - -“He said it--fifty years ago,” Rawley retorted rather impatiently. “I didn’t -see any gold formation anywhere on that mountain. It’s true that ‘Gold is -where you find it’; but it leaves earmarks in its particular neighborhood for -the man who knows how to read the signs. If there is any gold on that -mountain, some one carried it there.” - -“There is gold where my sergeant said there is gold,” Johnny Buffalo insisted. -“I shall look until I find.” - -“You will need winter quarters, then,” Rawley observed grimly, rummaging for -his sweater. October was hard upon them, and the wind was chill. “Tell you -what, Johnny. I’ll have to get out and earn some more money, anyway. I have a -dandy offer that came in the last mail. It’s a big job, and it ought to net me -a thousand dollars, easy. You remember that spring we passed, back here three -or four miles? It isn’t far from the trail. There’s plenty of wood, and a -little prospecting there might turn up something. I noticed as we came through -that the country looked pretty good. I’ll help build you a cabin there and get -you fixed up for winter. Then I’ll go and report on this mine--and come back, -maybe, after I’m through. Peter’ll see that you have everything you need while -I’m gone.” - -Johnny Buffalo nodded approval. “All winter I will hunt for the gold my -sergeant gave you,” he declared. “He said it was on the high mountain. I shall -find it.” - -Rawley had long ago learned that argument was a waste of time and breath. All -the while they were building the cabin, Johnny Buffalo talked of finding the -gold while Rawley was gone; and Rawley did not discourage him. He was saving a -secret for the old man, and he was in a hurry to have it complete before he -must leave. - -Rawley’s mother had offered for sale the furniture and belongings of the west -wing, and Rawley had surreptitiously bought them for a fair price through the -friendly dealer who had known him since Rawley was a child. The things were -stored ready for shipping. Rawley wrote for them; and on the day when the -truck was to bring them to the end of the road nearest Johnny’s winter -quarters, he encouraged Johnny to start on a two-day trip to the mountain. -Peter and Nevada arrived with the burros before Johnny had much more than -walked out of sight. - -Never mind what it cost those three in haste and hard work. When Johnny -Buffalo dragged himself wearily to the cabin at dusk on the second day, he -walked into an atmosphere poignantly familiar. Even the wheel chair had -arrived with the rest of the things. That, however, Rawley had left crated and -stored in the little shed adjoining the cabin. Everything else he had unpacked -and arranged as he had seen them in the west wing. - -Peter and Nevada had lingered, waiting for the old man’s return; but after all -they lacked the courage to follow him when he went inside. He was gone a long -while. The three sat out on a rock before the cabin and watched the moon slide -up from behind a jagged peak across the river. They did not talk. Splendid -dreams held them silent,--dreams and their conscious waiting for Johnny -Buffalo. - -Even when he came from the cabin there was no speech amongst them; Johnny -Buffalo looked as though he had been talking with angels. - -A few days after that, Rawley went away to his work, content because he had -wheedled from Nevada a promise to write to him and keep him informed of Johnny -Buffalo’s welfare and the progress of the dam. He expected to return in a -month. But instead of coming he wrote a long letter. - -He had finished the mine report and was about to leave for Washington, he -said. The president of the School of Mines where he had studied wrote him, -asking if he would not offer his services to the government, which was badly -in need of men for research work. Minerals hitherto in little demand had -suddenly become tremendously important,--for while the country was not yet at -war it was quietly preparing for such an emergency. He told Nevada that, much -as he disliked to change his plans, it was too good a chance to pass up, even -if his loyalty to the government did not impel him to accept the tacit offer. -He would come in contact with some of the biggest men in the game, he wrote. - -In April, when war was actually declared, Rawley was already thoroughly shaken -down into his job. He still wrote twice a month to Nevada, but his letters -became shorter,--as if they were written in stray minutes snatched from his -duties. An interesting assortment of postmarks Nevada collected during the -ensuing two years. Every State in the Union that could flaunt a mineral -product seemed to be represented. Her replies were usually about two jobs -behind him, so that letters with the Nelson, Nevada, postmark trailed -patiently after Rawley wherever he went. - -During the war, his mother saw him just once, when he happened to be passing -through St. Louis and could stop over for a few hours. Johnny Buffalo, Peter, -and Nevada saw him not at all. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY - -NEVADA ANALYZES - - -On a certain day in June, Rawley left his car at Nelson and started afoot down -the trail to Cramers. Although the war was over he was still in the service of -the government. A bit leaner, a bit harder-muscled, steadier of eye and of -purpose, with a broader vision, too. Rawley had been making good. - -After more than two years away from this particular point on the Colorado, old -emotions came sweeping back upon him as he caught sight of this bold peak or -that wild gorge, familiar landmarks along the trail. Halfway to Cramers, he -turned aside and followed a dim trail that went climbing tortuously up a -narrow canyon and so reached a bold hillside where the cabin of Johnny Buffalo -squatted snugly beside the spring. - -Johnny was absent,--probably still hunting for the gold, Rawley thought, as he -grinned to himself. After so long a time spent wholly in service to others, -with the weal of his country always in the front of his mind, the search for -his grandfather’s gold mine seemed a shade less important than it had been two -years ago. He had the Bible and the old diary with him, but that was partly to -please Johnny Buffalo and because he thought the books might be interesting to -Peter. For himself he had not much hope of finding the cleft in the rocks; for -Johnny Buffalo the quest would be a wholesome object in life. Johnny Buffalo -would continue the search from no selfish motive, but in a zeal for Rawley’s -welfare. There was a difference, Rawley thought, in the way you go at a thing. - -He left a note for Johnny on the table and went on down the hill and back into -the trail to the river. At the edge of the basin he stopped and surveyed the -somewhat squalid huddle of buildings, wondering why it was he felt almost as -if this were a home-coming. Perhaps it was a fondness for his Uncle Peter, and -because Nevada had kept the place fresh in his mind with the letters she had -written him. - -Two strange dogs were added to the hysterically barking pack that rushed out -at him as he drew near. Five children instead of four grouped themselves and -stared. Gladys appeared in the open doorway of her cabin; a fatter Gladys, -with another baby riding astride her hip. The tribe of Cramer was waxing -strong. - -He was sure that Gladys recognized him, but with the stolidity of the race -which dominated her nature, she merely stared and gave no sign of welcome. -Rawley kicked a dog or two that seemed over-serious in their intentions and -kept straight on. When he reached the hard-trodden zone immediately before the -cabin, he lifted his hat and spoke to Gladys. - -“Hullo,” she grinned fatuously. “We don’t see you for a long time.” - -Anita came to the door, looked out and nodded with an imperturbable gravity -that always disconcerted Rawley. He asked for Peter and Nevada. Peter was at -work, Gladys told him vaguely. And the clicking of a typewriter in the rock -dugout told him where Nevada might be found. - -Rawley was amazed, almost appalled at the agitation with which he faced her. -In the press of his work, of meeting strange people and seeing strange places, -he had thought the image of Nevada was blurred; a charming personality dimmed -by distance and the urge of other thoughts, other interests. But when he held -her hand, looked up into her eyes as she stood on the step of the porch, he -had a curious sensation of having been poignantly hungry for her all this -while. He found himself fighting a desire to take her in his arms and kiss her -red mouth that was smiling down at him. He had to remind himself that he -hadn’t the right to do that; that Nevada had never given him the faintest -excuse to believe that he would ever be privileged to kiss her. - -He sat in the homemade chair on the porch and, because looking at Nevada -disturbed him unaccountably, he stared down at the river while they talked. He -wondered if Nevada really felt as unconcerned over his coming as she sounded -and looked. She was friendly, frankly pleased to see him,--and he resented the -fact that she could speak so openly of her pleasure. She could have said to -any acquaintance the things she said to him, he told himself savagely; she was -like all her letters, friendly, unconstrained, impersonal. It amazed him now -to remember that he had been delighted with her letters. If at first he had -wished them more diffident, as if she felt the sweet possibilities of their -friendship, he had come to thank the good Lord for one sensible girl in the -world. Nevada had no nonsense, he frequently reminded himself. She didn’t -expect the mushy love-making flavor in their correspondence. He could feel -sure of Nevada. - -Now it maddened him to feel so sure of her; so sure of her composed -friendliness that left no little cranny for love to creep in. She liked -him,--in the same way that she liked Peter. He could even believe that she -liked him almost as well as she liked Peter; that he stood second in her -affections before all the world. Covertly he studied her whenever the -conversation made a glance into her eyes quite natural and expected. She met -each glance with smiling unconcern,--the most disheartening manner a lover can -face. - -“You’ve grown, Cousin Rawley,” she said. “Yes, I’ve got your home name on my -tongue--from Johnny Buffalo, I suppose. Well, you _have_ grown. I don’t mean -your body alone, though you have filled out and your shoulders look broader -and stronger, somehow, even though you may not weigh a pound more. But you’ve -grown mentally. There’s a strength in your face--an added strength. And your -eyes are so _much_ different. You keep me wondering, in between our talk, what -is in your mind--back of those eyes. That’s a sure sign that a great, strong -soul is looking out. It’s been an awful two years, hasn’t it?” - -“It has,” Rawley answered quietly, his mind reverting swiftly to several close -squeaks from the enemy at home. - -“Two years ago you’d have said ‘You _bet_!’ just like that. ‘It has’ wouldn’t -have seemed expressive enough. That’s what I’m driving at. Now you can just -say ‘It has’, and something back of your eyes and your voice gives the punch. -Cousin Rawley, you can cut out all exclamatory phrases from now on, if you -like. The punch is there. I’ve seen other men back from service. One or two -had that same reserve power. The others were merely full of talk about how -they won the war. It’s funny.” - -Rawley did not think it was funny. She had lifted his heart to his throat with -her flattering analysis and had dropped it as a child drops a toy for some -fresher interest. He was all this and all that,--and she had seen other men -return with the same look. Right there Rawley silently indulged himself in his -strongest exclamatory phrase in his vocabulary. - -Nevada had turned her head to call something in Indian, replying to her -grandmother’s shrill voice. She did not see what lay back of Rawley’s eyes at -that moment,--worse luck. - -“Well, I wanted to get in and help. Gladys and Grandmother knitted sweaters -and socks, and so did I. I wanted to be a Red Cross nurse--was there a girl in -America who didn’t?--but Uncle Peter wouldn’t let me go. He said I was needed -here, to help hold things together. But I’ll tell you what I did do. I went -into the old diggings and mined. I found a stringer or two they hadn’t -bothered with, and I mined for dear life and sent every last color to the Red -Cross. Uncle Peter was helping, too--I mean giving all he could--but I wanted -to do something my own self. And do you know, Cousin Rawley, Grandmother got -right in with me and shoveled gravel to beat the cars! I didn’t write you -about it--it seemed so little to do. And besides, I didn’t realize then the -importance of living up to you. But with that--that Sphinxlike strength you’ve -acquired, I’ll just inform you that your Injuns were on the job.” - -“I knew it, anyway. And you did more good than your personal service in -hospital could have done. It took money to keep the nurses going that were on -the job, remember.” - -“Two years ago,” mused Nevada, “you’d have called me on that Sphinx remark and -for calling myself Injun. Yes, you have grown. You can keep to the essential -point much better than before. Well, and how is Johnny Buffalo? I haven’t seen -him for a week.” - -“Nor I for over two years. I left a note on his table. Nevada, how long has he -had that wheel chair of Grandfather’s standing across the table from his own?” - -Nevada looked at him studyingly until Rawley, for all his vaunted strength, -found his eyes sliding away from the directness of her gaze. - -“Cousin Rawley, if you have grown hard, you won’t sympathize with Johnny -Buffalo, or understand. For more than a year, now, he has believed that his -sergeant comes and sits in that chair to keep him company. He really believes -it. You mustn’t laugh at him, will you?” - -Rawley was staring down at the always hurrying river. He said nothing. - -“Just don’t laugh at Johnny,” Nevada urged. “And don’t argue with him. It’s a -_comfort_ to him to believe that. He doesn’t always keep the chair at the -table. Sometimes it is by the window, or close to the fire when I go there. I -think he moves it just as he would if your grandfather were living there with -him.” - -“That’s nonsense!” Rawley spoke sharply. - -“It’s a comfort to Johnny Buffalo,” Nevada observed calmly. “I’m glad I saw -you first, if that is your attitude. Johnny Buffalo has been brighter and -happier, ever since he first thought he saw your grandfather walk in at the -door and stand smiling down at him. He insists that his sergeant has his legs -back, and that not a day passes but he comes and sits awhile with him. -He--there’s something he won’t tell me, but he’s very anxious to see you, -especially. I think it is something concerning your grandfather.” - -“Oh, well, if it’s any comfort to the old man--” Rawley frowned, but his tone -was yielding. - -“Then do, please, act as if you believed your grandfather is there when Johnny -says he is there! You needn’t pretend to see him. I never do. I always say I -can’t see him; and then Johnny Buffalo tells me just how he looks, and what he -says. It pleases him so! He will be sure to have his sergeant meet you, Cousin -Rawley. And you must pretend to believe. He’s just waiting for you to come, so -that something important can take place. He wouldn’t even tell Uncle Peter -what it is.” Nevada leaned dangerously toward Rawley and laid a hand on his, -apparently as unconscious of the possible results as is a child who picks up -an explosive. - -“Promise me, Cousin Rawley, that you’ll be careful not to hurt Johnny’s -feelings.” Her hand closed warmly over his. - -Rawley’s silence was not the stubbornness she seemed to think it. He was -holding his teeth clamped together, trying to reach that quiet strength of -soul she had naïvely credited him with possessing. He had tried to hold -himself together, to refrain from making a fool of himself, and she had -mistaken the effort for strength of soul, he thought with secret chagrin. Oh, -as to Johnny Buffalo-- - -“I should feel very badly if I knew that I had hurt any one’s feelings,” he -said. “Least of all, Johnny Buffalo. If he can be happy with an hallucination, -I shall not disturb his happiness. But that means a mental letting go, -according to my way of thinking. When he takes to having delusions, he’s -weakening. I don’t like that. I can’t be with him, you see. I have a few days -to myself, and then I must be on the job again.” - -“Oh. I thought you would be here for awhile, anyway.” - -Rawley tried to extract some comfort from Nevada’s tone of regret. But her -regret was, after all, too candid to mean anything especial, he feared. He did -not make the mistake of asking her if she really minded his going again so -soon. - -“How is the dam coming along?” That, at least, would be a sane subject, he -hoped. - -“Oh--it’s coming along. I believe they’re all across the river, to-day.” - -She did not seem eager to pursue that subject, either. He began to wonder more -than ever what was in her mind. Something she would not talk about, he knew. -But presently she pulled herself out of her preoccupation. - -“Can you imagine that sliding volume of water being halted in all its hurry -and made to stop running to the gulf; thwarted in its whole purpose?” she -asked dreamily. “I’ve watched it all my life. Sometimes it’s savage and boils -along, with driftwood and débris of all kinds--I saw it at Needles, once, in -flood time. It was awful. Then to think how three men have lived beside it and -planned and worked for years and years, to stop all that tremendous movement -and pen it up in the hills and--it seems to me that it’s like life. It goes -hurrying along, too, for years and years, and its power is devastating and -awful, sometimes. And then--after all, it’s so easy to stop it.” - -“Yes,” said Rawley, his thoughts forced back again to things he would like to -forget. “It’s easy to stop it. Like that.” He snapped his fingers. “A man -standing so close to me our shoulders rubbed was stopped in the middle of a -sentence. We were talking. I asked him something about the mine. He was -telling me. A cable broke, and the end of it snapped our way and caught him in -the head. Life stopped right there, so far as he was concerned. He wasn’t -given time to finish what he was saying.” - -Nevada was staring at him, her lips parted, the easy flow of her thoughts -halted by the horror of the picture he had drawn with a few quiet words. So -few words--spoken so quietly, she thought fleetingly. - -“I--didn’t know--right beside you! It might have--Weren’t you hurt?” - -Rawley lifted a hand to his cheek, where a fine, white line was drawn. - -“The tip of one strand flicked me there,” he said. “Made a nasty gash.” - -The pallor in Nevada’s face deepened. She shivered as if a sudden chill had -struck her skin. - -“Well,” said Rawley, after a further five minutes of staring at the river. -“I’ll be getting back. Tell Peter I’ll be down again. Or if he can take the -time, have him come up, will you?” - -“Why don’t you call him father?” Nevada asked him. “You aren’t ashamed of him, -are you?” - -Rawley looked at her, the truth on the tip of his tongue. But he closed his -lips a bit more firmly, smiled down at her and shook his head. - -“Peter and I understand each other,” he told her enigmatically and went away. - -He quite agreed with Nevada. Even in times of peace, life could almost be -called devastating. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - -THE TRUTH ABOUT RICHES - - -“To-morrow,” said Johnny Buffalo, with a transparent air of triumph, “we will -go to the cleft in the rocks, by the path which no man knoweth, and you shall -go down into the deep pit and find the gold.” - -“What’s that?” Rawley looked up from crowding tobacco into his pipe after a -most satisfying supper. “You found it, did you?” - -“My sergeant led me to the place,” Johnny Buffalo stated gravely. “There was a -mistake. The great and high mountain which holds the gold was not that -greatest mountain which we can see. There were cedar trees scattered over the -face of the mountain when my sergeant found the gold. That was many years ago. -Now there are no cedar trees or trees of any kind. That is why we could not -find the place. One year ago, my sergeant came and led me to the spot.” - -“Is the gold there?” Rawley leaned forward, studying the old Indian through -half-shut eyes. - -“I did not go down into the pit. My sergeant would not permit me to go. He -says that you will go, and that you will there learn the truth about riches. -He told me that I must not go down and look, for it would not be good that I -should see what will be revealed to you.” Johnny Buffalo spoke as if he were -reciting a lesson. His face was turned toward the empty wheel chair, drawn -before the open window. - -Rawley frowned over the lighting of his pipe. The mystical message made little -impression on his mind, but he did worry over the Indian’s implicit belief in -it. His promise to Nevada bound him to silence on the subject of -hallucinations, however, even though he had in mind several things which he -would like to say. - -Johnny Buffalo, sitting straight-backed with his hands spread palm down on his -knees, related all the incidents of his life during the past two years. Queo -had been accused of other murders, and after a particularly heinous one at the -Techatticup mine had disappeared altogether. Once Johnny Buffalo had seen him -and had taken a shot at him, but again the gun had kicked,--or perhaps his aim -was not too good. He had missed. Once his cabin had been robbed of food, and -he suspected the outlaw of committing the depredation. Of the tribe of Cramer -he would say little. Not once in the two years had he been in their camp, he -said. Peter and Nevada came often to see him. They were good to him. His -sergeant had come, and he had seen him. His sergeant sometimes spoke to him. -Perhaps Rawley would see him. - -Rawley did not think so, but he refrained from voicing his doubt. As tactfully -as possible he avoided the subject and told some of his own adventures, to -which Johnny Buffalo listened with polite attention. It was plain to Rawley -that his mind was given up to another matter, and that he was merely waiting -with his Indian patience until he could guide his adopted son to the secret -cleft on the side of the mountain. - -“No man has been before us,” he declared emphatically, when Rawley questioned -him. “Bushes have grown in the cleft until I could not have found it or -suspected that a cleft was there if my sergeant had not shown me the spot. The -cleft is there. I have seen it. The bushes are very old, and there is much -dead wood. There is the great heap of stones, and there has been a dead tree. -But it is gone many years and only the root is left to show that it once stood -joined to the great heap of stones. When the sun comes I will show you.” - -He was punctiliously true to his promise, for the sun was not ten minutes -above the peak across the river when Rawley stood beside the “Great heap of -stones ... joined to a dry tree”, or what even he could see had once been a -dry tree. It had been an unmerciful trail, and he could easily believe that it -was a path which the eye of man had not seen. Indeed, it was not a path at -all, but a line of least obstruction through an upheaval of what Rawley’s -trained eyes recognized as iron-stained quartz and porphyry. - -The place was almost inaccessible, and from a short distance it resembled a -blow-out of granite so much that no prospector would trouble to investigate. -Besides, Johnny Buffalo explained that this had been a popular habitat of -snakes, and that he had spent a great deal of his time, since the location of -the spot, in hunting rattlesnakes. He proudly added that he had earned many -dollars in extracting the oil and in selling the skins. He feared that he had -not gathered them all, however, and he warned Rawley against setting his foot -carelessly amongst the rocks. - -Johnny Buffalo then gathered dry leaves and started a fire in the brush. So -much dead wood underlay the growth that the crevice was presently a furnace. - -“If any snakes are there, they will come out,” he observed grimly. “Also, -light will go down, so that you will not stumble in darkness. I know what my -sergeant meant in the message: ‘Take heed, now ... that is exceeding deep.’ -You will need light.” - -Rawley nodded. He was watching the flames curiously. - -“By Jove, Johnny, I believe you are right,” he exclaimed, pointing. “Do you -see that? There is a strong draught from _beneath_. There’s an opening down -there, sure as anything. And I’ll admit to you right now that this is gold -formation blown out here. The iron stain is a good mask for it. I can readily -believe that it hasn’t been prospected.” - -“My sergeant does not speak lies,” Johnny Buffalo retorted imperturbably. “I -know that it is so.” Whereupon he gave chase to a rattlesnake that had slipped -out from between two tilted bowlders and went sliding sinuously away. With a -crude trident, long of handle and tough and light, he pinned the snake to the -ground and neatly sliced off its head with a light ax which he carried -suspended from his belt. - -“Here’s another,” Rawley told him, and Johnny Buffalo, moving with surprising -agility, caught that one also. - -“For a time I gathered the venom in a bottle,” he informed Rawley in his -serious tone. “But now I take only the body. When you go down into the pit -there will be no snakes until you reach the bottom. Then you look out.” - -Rawley was sufficiently impressed to borrow the trident, which was barbed and -could kill as easily as it could capture. So, when the fire had died and the -rocks had cooled a little, he went down into the pit. - -A blowhole it was, such as is frequently found in a country so torn by -volcanic action. As he descended he read the signs at a glance,--signs which -to a layman would have meant nothing whatever. Beneath all this, said the -rocks to Rawley, there should be gold. His pulse quickened as he worked his -way downward, seeking foothold precariously where he might. The thought that -Grandfather King, of all the millions of men in the world, was the only one -who had ever dared these depths, thrilled him with pride. Not even the Indians -had known of it, he was sure. He wondered how his grandfather had managed the -snakes, and then it occurred to him that Grandfather King might have -discovered this place late in some season after the snakes had been overcome -by their winter lethargy. - -He breathed freer when his feet crunched in coarse gravel and he knew that he -had reached the bottom. He had encountered no snakes, which he considered good -luck, especially since he had needed hands and feet and all his great strength -to negotiate the descent, and had been compelled to abandon the trident before -he had gone fifty feet. As nearly as he could estimate, the blowhole was well -over two hundred feet in depth, and there were places where he had no more -than comfortable room for his body. The flashlight hung on a thong around his -neck showed him how terrific had been the explosion that had torn this crevice -open to the surface. - -Rawley stood in a cavern probably ten feet high and extending farther than his -light could penetrate in two directions, which his pocket compass showed him -as east and west. So far the code was correct. The width he estimated as being -approximately thirty feet, although the walls drew in or receded sharply, as -the formation turned hard or soft. He faced toward the east and went forward, -pacing three feet at a stride, his flashlight throwing a white brilliance -before him. - -Seventy-two strides down the high, tunnel-like cavern brought him to the -“River of pure water.” There he stopped and stood, turning his light here and -there upon the walls, the water, the gravel. His heart, that had been beating -exultantly as his hopes rose higher, slumped and became a leaden weight. - -Gold had been there. Of that he had no doubt whatever. But the placer had been -mined,--gutted and abandoned. He apprehended at once the truth; that here was -an underground stream, one of the sunken rivers for which the desert country -is famous--that, or a small branch of a sunken river. There must be some other -point of ingress, one of which Grandfather King had no knowledge. Some one had -come in by the other route and had taken the gold. The work had been done -systematically, by miners who knew what they were about. A glance at the -workings told him that. - -Rawley turned his light down the stream. As far as its rays could pierce the -dark of the cavern, the placer workings extended. He went on, following the -windings of the stream and its natural tunnel. Now that he had discovered his -grandfather’s potential riches, the legacy which he had confidently believed -was a fortune, Rawley was determined to see just where the watercourse would -lead him. - -He thought that he must have followed it for a mile or more, although it could -have been farther. All the way along, the gravel had been worked and the gold -taken out. A suspicion had been growing in his mind, and quite suddenly it -crystallized into certainty. He walked into a larger cavern, the full extent -of which he could not see from that point. There he stopped and considered. - -Near at hand, all around him, black cans were piled. He did not need the -second glance to tell him what it was he had run into. Here was the secret -hoard of black powder which the Cramers had been gathering together for years. -Here was the powder that would, in the space of a breath, tear down two -mountain sides and halt the flow of a great river,--if what they hoped and -dreamed should come to pass. - -The Cramers, then, had taken the gold which Grandfather King had discovered. -Here was a part of it, no doubt, transformed into tons of explosive. Rawley’s -grin was sardonic as he surveyed the piled cans. It would be a bitter ending -for their quest that he must show to Johnny Buffalo, he thought. - -He walked on slowly and halted suddenly when a light showed ahead. Some one -was coming toward him, and Rawley instinctively snapped off his light and -moved to one side. War habits were still strong upon him, and in any case he -would not trust the Cramers. - -Presently he saw that it was Peter, and called to him and went forward. Peter -was astonished, but he was also glad to see Rawley. - -“I meant to walk over to your place this evening,” he explained. “We’re so -busy, right now--” - -“With the dam?” Rawley sat down on a keg of powder, started to roll a -cigarette and remembered that it might not be wise. - -“Yes. We’re loading her as fast as we can. It’s a big job, and the old man is -getting fractious over the delay.” Peter sat down on another keg and took off -his hat, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “It’s going to be a blistering -day outside. Seems like an ice-box in here. How did you come?” - -Then Rawley told him. - -Peter listened in complete silence, his arms folded on his knees. When Rawley -had finished, Peter straightened up with a sigh. - -“I never dreamed we had cut into your ground,” he said heavily. “I thought, as -you probably did, that the code described an old, underground watercourse some -miles from here. But you must be right, this is it. Old Jess discovered gold -near the river, at a point where this stream back here dives under the cliffs -and empties, most likely, into the river somewhere under the water line. It -was rich; a heap richer than any one ever dreamed, I guess. And the fact that -the stream flowed right into the Colorado may have given him his first idea of -gathering the gold that had washed on into the river. If you come with me, -I’ll show you.” - -“I can’t be too long,” said Rawley. “Johnny Buffalo’s up on top, waiting for -me to come back with my pockets full of gold. It’s going to be hard on the old -man, especially since Grandfather’s gold went into the clutches of Old Jess. I -don’t know that I’d better tell him. At the same time,” he mused aloud, “I -can’t tell him that there isn’t any gold; he is so firmly convinced that his -sergeant told the truth. He’d have to know that some one else has beat us to -it.” - -Peter turned and looked at him thoughtfully. “I’ll give you some nuggets to -take up to him,” he said. “Old Johnny’s pretty keen, and he holds a bad grudge -against Young Jess and the old man. If I could, you know I’d replace the gold -we got from under that blowhole. But I can’t. It has all been spent, -practically. Gone into the dam, along with the rest.” - -Rawley laid his hand on Peter’s shoulder and left it there. - -“You wouldn’t do anything of the kind,” he laughed. “That darned dam idea of -yours is catching. I’ve got it, and got it bad. If that gold you beat me to -will tip enough rock into the river to make a good job of the dam, I’m -satisfied. All I ask is that you let me know when you’re ready so I can see -her go. Are you doing as I advised,--preparing to shoot her with electricity?” - -Peter nodded. “Old Jess kicked on the cost, but we showed him how it was the -only safe way. She’s all loaded, across the river. We did that during low -water and carried the wiring across up to a high, overhead cable that crosses -the river all ready to be hooked up to the battery. I talked with a mining man -about explosives and found out some things that came in pretty handy, I guess. -I got a hint not to break the ground with dynamite enough so that the power of -the black powder would be killed in the seams opened up. We didn’t use so much -dynamite, after all. We’re depending on the black powder.” - -“I still warn you against it,” said Rawley. “But if you can’t be stopped, I do -want to see the fireworks. There’s a pretty engineering problem there, and it -will be worth a good deal to see how it works out.” His thoughts returned -again to the old Indian waiting up on the hill. “I’ll buy some gold from you, -Uncle Peter, if you have it handy. I’ll tell old Johnny it’s all I could find; -I think I can satisfy the old fellow with the thought that his sergeant had it -straight.” - -Peter left him for five minutes and returned, carrying a small canvas sack. - -“Here’s a handful of specimens I tucked into a niche in the rocks, intending -to give them to Nevada for a necklace or something,” he told Rawley. “But -Nevada can have diamond necklaces when the dam goes in. You take these, boy. -Maybe some of them sort of belong to you, anyway.” - -“Lord, _I_ don’t want them,” Rawley protested. “I’ll give them to Johnny -Buffalo, though. It will keep him from worrying about it. More than all that, -it will keep him off the warpath, the old catamount.” - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - -GREATER THAN GOLD - - -Johnny Buffalo held a handful of nuggets in his hard, brown palms. His eyes -shone whenever he looked toward the old wheel chair beside the window. He -listened to Rawley’s explanation of why there would be no more gold, but the -technical phraseology went completely over his head, and he smiled -abstractedly and held up first one bit of gold and then another to the light. -They were very heavy. They were beautiful. They had lain, hidden away all -these years, just where his sergeant had said that they were hidden. - -“‘There is a path which no man knoweth,’” he muttered, when Rawley had -finished and was waiting to see what effect his harangue about erosions and -changed currents had taken on the Indian mind. “It is so. My sergeant said it, -and it was the truth. My sergeant never lied. Always the words he spoke were -true. I know it without proof. Now you have the proof, and you know it also.” - -“There won’t be any more, you understand,” Rawley repeated with finality. “My -work is to examine these matters and report the truth about them. After -examining what lies at the bottom of the pit, I am reporting to you that there -will be no more gold--” - -Johnny Buffalo stopped him with a hand lifted, palm out. “What was revealed to -you in the pit is not good for me to know,” he stated firmly. “My sergeant has -said that you should know the truth about riches. He said that it would not be -good that I should know the truth as you would know it.” - -“That’s true, too,” Rawley admitted, taken aback. - -“The gold was there when my sergeant said that it was there. That is good. My -sergeant did not say that there would always be gold where gold has been. I -think that is the truth about riches which you have learned.” - -“You’re right, Johnny.” Rawley grinned at him ruefully. “If we’ve had any -dream of being millionaires, we may as well forget it. Grandfather gave us the -straight dope, and you found the cleft in the rocks. It isn’t Grandfather’s -fault that the millions have moved on. So that’s all of that, and the next -thing is something else.” - -“The next thing is what is given us to do,” said Johnny Buffalo solemnly. “We -will do our duty, whatever that may be. Now I have no more searching for my -sergeant’s gold. I shall live here until it is time to go. I do not think it -will be long.” - -Rawley looked at him anxiously, but he could not bring himself to speak what -was in his mind. Johnny Buffalo would not understand that to the young death -is a dreadful thing, to be shunned and never thought of voluntarily,--an ogre -that may snatch one away from the joys of living. After all, he thought, -Johnny Buffalo had outlived his love of life. No one needed him. He had only -to wait. Rawley wished that he could be with him longer and oftener, but that -was not possible unless he were willing to sacrifice the work he loved. Even -if he could bring himself to that, Johnny Buffalo would not permit it. It -would break his heart to feel that he had hindered his sergeant’s grandson. - -“Your work,” said Johnny Buffalo, almost as if he had been reading Rawley’s -thoughts, “is better than the gold. A man is great within himself, or he is -nothing. The full pocket makes the empty head. It is greater fortune that you -have honor and youth and work to perform. So my sergeant would tell you.” - -“You’re right, Johnny,” Rawley assented again. “If we’d found a ton of gold I -think I’d have gone on with my work just the same. A man my age can’t stop -working for the sake of seeing how fast he can spend money. I couldn’t, -anyway.” - -“Then you do not need the gold. You can earn what you need and have the -pleasure twice: in the getting and in the spending. So you have not lost.” - -“We’re a great pair of philosophers,” Rawley laughed, “or else we are eating -sour grapes. Blamed if I know, sometimes, just where the difference lies. Or -perhaps there isn’t any, and crying sour grapes is true philosophy, after -all.” - -Peter and Nevada, coming up the path, diverted the talk to lighter channels. -Nevada, spying the gold, exclaimed over the odd pieces and took them in her -cupped palm to admire each specimen by itself. - -“They are yours, save this one which I shall keep,” said Johnny Buffalo -unexpectedly. “Rawley will not take them. I do not need gold. I have three -friends and the spirit of my sergeant, who waits for me. I am rich. They are -yours. Put them on a chain and hang them around your neck while yet it is -white and round.” - -Nevada looked at him a full fifteen seconds before she moved. Then she rose -and kissed Johnny Buffalo on the withered cheek nearest her. - -“To know a man like you is a privilege,” she said simply. “I shall keep the -nuggets to remind me that not all men worship gold.” - -“You will wear them in a necklace. My sergeant wishes you to have them. They -are not so beautiful as your white throat.” - -Nevada blushed vividly and shook the nuggets in her two hands. “It’s a good -thing Grandmother can’t hear you,” she laughed. “An old bachelor like you!” - -“An old bachelor can say what the young man dares only to think,” Johnny -Buffalo stated calmly. - -Rawley was trying distractedly to read a letter which Nevada had brought down -from the post-office, and to pretend that he did not hear what was going on. -But it is reasonable to assume that there was nothing in the letter to make -him blush at the moment when Johnny Buffalo said his little say. Nevada stole -a glance at him from under her lashes and smiled. - -“What is it, Cousin Rawley?” she asked wickedly. “You seem disturbed.” - -“I’m called back on the job.” Rawley tried to meet her eyes unconcernedly. “I -won’t even have the week I promised myself. This is pretty urgent, and so I -think I’ll take the trail again in the morning.” - -Even Nevada betrayed some mental disturbance over that information, especially -when Rawley could not hazard any opinion concerning his next visit. - -“I won’t even have time to look over your work at the dam,” he told Peter. “I -intended going down to-morrow. I wanted to have a talk with you about that. -I’ve picked up a little information, here and there, and I’m afraid there will -be complications. But I’ve been holding off until I was sure of my ground. I -know, of course, that my personal opinion won’t have much weight.” - -Peter shook his head. “You can work and pry and lift till your eyes pop out of -your head, starting a bowlder down a mountain,” he said grimly, “and you can -give it the last heave and over she goes. Any time, up to that last heave, you -can quit and she stays right there where she was planted. But once she starts, -all hell can’t stop her. I’m afraid we’ve given the last heave, son.” - -“_Look out below!_” Nevada cried mockingly and looked at Rawley. “I could tell -a cousin in three words how he can make himself as popular as a rattlesnake -with the Cramers,--and the last of the Macalisters.” - -“And those three words?” Rawley looked her squarely in the eyes. - -“Fight the dam.” Nevada’s eyes were as steady as his own. - -“Thunder!” Rawley sat back and reached for his tobacco sack. “I’ve no notion -of fighting the dam. It’s the biggest proposition I ever saw three lone -men--and a girl; excuse me, Nevada!--tackle in my life. Four of you, thinking -to stop, just like that,”--he made a slicing, downward gesture, “--the second -largest river in the United States! You’ll be damming the Gulf Stream next, I -suppose. Divert it so as to warm up Maine and make it a winter-bathing -resort!” - -“Do you dare us to try?” Nevada poured nuggets from one palm to the other. -“That might be a good investment, when we’ve made our clean-up in the river -bed.” She smiled dreamily at her handful of gold. “That’s a wonderful idea. We -need some wonderful idea to work on, after the dam is in and the gold is out. -You can’t,” she looked up wistfully at Rawley, “you can’t live with a -tremendous idea all your life and suddenly drop back to three meals a day and -which dress shall you wear. One would go mad. It--it’s like taking the -mainspring out of life.” - -Johnny Buffalo nodded his head in significant approval. “A man can only wait, -then, until it is time to go,” he said with quiet decision. - -“Very well. I’ll speak to the Peace Conference about the Gulf Stream,” Rawley -assured her gravely. “In case I am unable to reserve it for you--would the -Gulf of Mexico do, or the Mississippi River, perhaps?” - -“We’re accustomed to cracking our whip over fresh water,” Nevada retorted. “I -should prefer to have the Mississippi, please.” - -Johnny Buffalo glanced toward the wheel chair, gazed at it intently and nodded -his head. - -“You will succeed and fail in the succeeding,” he intoned solemnly. “In the -failure you will rise to greater things. It is so. My sergeant never speaks -what is not true.” - -Eyes moved guardedly to meet other eyes that understood, conveying a warning -that the old man must be humored. Johnny Buffalo stood up, his face turned -toward the wheel chair. He seemed to be listening. His eyes brightened. The -wrinkles in his bronzed old face deepened and radiated joy. - -“It is good! I need not wait--I go now!” He took an eager step and wavered -there. - -Peter and Rawley, rising together, caught the old man in their arms as he went -down, falling slowly like a straight, old tree whose roots have snapped with -age. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - -THE EAGLE LOOKS UPON A GREAT RIVER - - -Rawley drove down El Dorado Canyon, now silent in mid-afternoon, with not a -sound of stamp mill or compressor or the mingled voices of men at work. -Techatticup stood forlorn, deserted save by one old man who bore himself -proudly because he was the guardian there. The war, the labor question, the -slump in metals, had done their work. It seemed to Rawley as if the nation -were taking a long breath, making ready to go forward again more resistlessly -than before. He missed Johnny Buffalo terribly; but if he could, he would not -have called him back. Johnny would have had a dreary time of it, alone all -these long months when Rawley’s work had held close to the affairs of the -government. - -The eye of the Eagle had not been closed. His keen glance had gone to this and -to that, his piercing gaze had fixed itself upon the desert land and the river -that went hurrying down through flaming gorge and painted canyon, a law unto -itself, an untaught, untamed giant of the wild; a scenic wonder set deep in -savage walls of rock, where people came and looked down upon it, drew back -shivering, ventured to look again in silent awe; a terrible, devastating thing -from which men fled in terror when the giant river rose, leaped from its bed -and went raging across the land. - -Men called for power, for protection, for water to till barren acres that -might be made fertile. Men shouted for the things which the Colorado held -arrogantly within its grasp, to hoard with miserly greed or to let loose in a -ferocious fury. The Colorado had power, it had water, it had a cruel habit of -devouring lands and homes and whooping onward toward the gulf, heedless of the -destruction in its wake. - -And the Eagle had lifted his head and turned his eyes upon the great river. -Here, within the borders of his domain, dwelt a powerful, savage thing that -must be tamed and taught to obey the will of men. The Eagle considered this -headlong defiance of all civilized restraint. The Eagle saw how men looked -upon the river, drew back in awe and ventured to look again; men, who should -be the masters of the river. The Eagle lifted and spread his wings. And the -tip of a wing reached over the desert land and laid its shadow across the -Colorado. - -A great orator had painted it so, and Rawley was thinking of that picture of -the Eagle as he drove down the canyon to the very brink of the river and -climbed out of his car. Still desolate, more forsaken than ever was the place -where El Dorado had stood alive, alert, self-sufficient. The camp was gone, -almost forgotten. The river flowed past, disdainful of the puny efforts of men -who died and forgot their dreams and their endeavors, while it rushed on -through the ages, and played with the lives of men and mocked at their fear of -it. - -But three men and a girl had dared to dream of holding the might of it in -leash. It was to see these dreamers, to warn and to show them the shadow of -the Eagle’s wing, that he had come in haste to the bank of the Colorado. For -months he had heard nothing. Nevada had not written, or if she had the letter -had not reached him. There was danger in delay, in their continued silence. - -Rawley slung a canteen over his shoulder and started up the river, taking the -well-known trail. This was the quickest way to reach the Cramers, and now that -he was in their neighborhood once more a great impatience was upon him, a -nervous dread that he might be an hour, a minute too late for what he had come -to do. - -He came upon Nevada suddenly. She was standing on the site of the old camp -where he had stayed with Johnny Buffalo. Her back was toward him, and she was -holding something in her two hands; something he had seen her extract from the -thorny branches of a stunted mesquite bush. When his footsteps sounded close, -she turned and looked at him dumbly, her eyes wide and dark. The thing she -held in her hands was his pipe,--one that he had lost on that first trip into -the country. - -Before his better judgment or his doubts could stop him, Rawley drew her into -his arms and held her close while he kissed her. It was so good to see her -again, to feel her nearness. But after one rapturous minute, she put away his -arms and faced him calmly, though her breath was not quite even and her eyes -would not meet his with the old frankness. - -“Your one eighth of Indian blood should have given you more reserve, Cousin -Rawley,” she reproved him mockingly. “The Spanish of us must be watched. Well, -I needn’t ask about your health; you haven’t been pining during your absence, -that one could notice.” - -Rawley barely escaped forswearing both his Indian and his Spanish blood, but -remembered his promise just in time. He did not believe that Nevada regretted -his impulsiveness,--for you simply can’t fool a man under thirty when he -kisses a girl. Nevada’s lips, he joyously remembered, had not been -unresponsive. - -“Here’s your pipe,” she said lamely, when he only stood and looked at her. “I -was just wondering whether it’s worth saving, or whether I’d better heave it -into the river and see how far it would float.” - -Rawley did not believe that she intended to heave it anywhere, but he passed -the point. - -“If cousins fell in love, they--would you consider the relationship any bar--” - -Nevada went white around the mouth. - -“I certainly should! You ought to be ashamed to ask a question like that. No -man with any decency could think of such a thing.” - -“I’m decent,” Rawley contended, “and I thought of it.” But he did not pursue -the subject further. Nevada had turned and was walking on toward the camp of -Cramer, and Rawley could do nothing but follow. The path was too narrow to -permit him to walk beside her, and a man feels a fool making love to a woman’s -back. - -“Have you done anything further about the dam?” he asked, after a silence. - -“I believe the work is going ahead,” Nevada replied, keeping straight on. - -“You must have received my letter about it; or didn’t you?” - -“Yes, I received a letter about something of the sort.” - -“You didn’t answer it, did you? I never received any reply.” - -“I did not think,” said Nevada, “that the letter required any answer. You -wrote and told us to stop all work on the dam, and give up the idea, because -some one else wanted to build a dam. Or was considering the building of a dam. -I read that letter to Grandfather and Uncle Jess and Uncle Peter, as you -requested. They swore rather fluently and went to work the next morning as -usual.” Then, as if it had just occurred to her, “Did you come to see about -that, Cousin Rawley?” - -“Oh, I wish you’d omit the ‘cousin’,” Rawley blurted irrelevantly. “I don’t -like having it rubbed in.” - -Nevada said nothing for a time. Then she laughed, a hard little laugh that -sounded strange, coming from her. - -“Certainly, if you wish. I’m very sorry I seem to have ‘rubbed it in’, as you -put it. And I quite understand how you feel. Out among men--and women--as you -have been, all your life, the--er--mixed relationship would prove rather a -handicap. Poor old Grandfather and Grandmother should have thought of their -children’s children, before they fell in love. And Uncle Peter should either -have brought you here and raised you with the rest of the tribe, or never told -you the truth. I’m not blaming him; I’m merely sorry for the mistake. I know -what it means. I’ve been out in the world, too.” - -Rawley stared at the proud lift of her head and wondered just how much of that -she meant. She must be quite aware of his reason for disliking to be called -her cousin, but he would not argue with her. Except about the handicap. - -“You’re mistaken, if you think the mixed blood is an objectionable feature,” -he said firmly. “Indian and Spanish have the same essential characteristics of -race that the straight white blood owns. Besides, there are mighty few -Americans who couldn’t trace back to something of the sort. Character, culture -and environment sweep a few drops of red blood into the background, Nevada. -You wouldn’t feel bitter over it, if you didn’t live right here and see the -Indian predominate in Young Jess and Gladys--and your grandmother.” - -“_Your_ grandmother, as well as mine,” she flashed over her shoulder with a -very human spitefulness. “Don’t deny it--to me.” - -Rawley did not deny anything at all; wherefore, conversation languished -between the two. Since first he had known her, Nevada had frequently withdrawn -into an unapproachable aloofness discouraging to any lasting intimacy, but she -had never before betrayed resentment against her blood. - -He had hoped that she would be glad to see him and would let him see that she -was glad. He had hoped to win her complete confidence in his devotion to their -interests and welfare. He needed to have both Nevada and Peter on his side, if -he were going to be successful in his mission to the Cramers. But he was -extremely doubtful now of ever winning Nevada’s confidence. It began to look -as though he may as well count her an opponent and be done with doubt. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - -ANITA - - -Life seemed to have moved sluggishly in the basin, save in the increase of the -tribe. Six young Cramers now walked upright, though the smallest walked -insecurely and frequently fell down and lay squalling with its eyes shut and -its nose wrinkled until one of the older children picked it up and dusted it -off, remonstrating the while in Pahute. The seventh was not yet old enough to -ride the well-upholstered hip of Gladys, but wailed in a cradle which some one -must be incessantly rocking. - -Gladys was more slatternly than ever she had been, and her vacuous grin had -lost a tooth. Anita had aged terribly, Rawley thought. She moved slowly, with -a long stick for a staff, and her eyes held a dumb misery he could not face. -Nevada informed him that Grandmother had not been very well, lately, although -there was nothing wrong, particularly. - -“She doesn’t sleep at all, it seems to me,” Nevada detailed. “Often she’s up -and prowling along the river bank in the middle of the night, and I have to go -and lead her back. I think she’s getting childish. She will sit and watch me -by the hour, when I’m working, but she doesn’t seem to want me to talk to her. -She just sits and looks, the way she’s been looking at you.” - -Nevada went away then to some work which she said was important, and Rawley -wandered down to the river bank. In a few minutes he heard a sound behind him -and turned, hoping that Nevada had yielded to his unspoken desire and was -coming to join him. - -But it was Anita, walking slowly down the uneven pathway, planting her crude -staff ahead of her in the trail and pulling herself to it with a weary, -laborious movement. Her gray bangs hung straight down to her eyelids. Her -wrinkled old face was impassive, her eyes dumb. Rawley bit his lip suddenly, -thinking of his Grandfather King sitting, “a hunk of meat in the wheel chair.” -Life, it seemed to him, had dealt very harshly with these two. He was no -longer swayed by the stern prejudice of Johnny Buffalo. He did not believe -that Anita, in her lovely youth, had been merely a whimsy of love. His -grandfather had loved her, had meant to return to her. He did not believe that -King, of the Mounted, would have loved one who loved many. The King pride -would not have permitted that. - -Anita came up to him and leaned hard upon her stick, her eyes turned dully -upon the river. Never before had she sought him out; rather had she avoided -him, staring at him with a look he interpreted as resentment. She looked so -old, so infinitely tired with life, and her eyes went to the river as if it -alone could know the things she had buried in her heart, long ago when she was -a slim young thing, all fire and life. - -With a sudden impulse of tenderness he put his arm around her, leading her to -the flat rock and seating her there as gallantly as if she were Nevada, whom -he loved. It was what his grandfather would have done. Rawley felt suddenly -convicted of a fault, almost of a sin; the sin of omission. Here was the love -of his grandfather’s youth, the mother of his grandfather’s first-born. And -because she was old and fat, because the primitive blood had triumphed and she -had yielded to environment and slipped back into Indian ways, he had -snobbishly held himself aloof. He had ignored her claim upon his kindness. Had -her beauty remained with her, he told himself harshly, his attitude had been -altogether different. Now he wanted to make up to her, somehow, for his -selfish oversight. He sat down beside her and patted her hand,--for the Anita -who had been beautiful, the Anita whom King, of the Mounted, had loved. - -“You love--my girl--Nevada?” The old squaw spoke abruptly, though her voice -held to a dead level of impassivity. - -“How did you know?” Rawley took away his hand. - -“I know. I have seen love--in eyes--blue. Eyes like your eyes.” - -“Nevada doesn’t care anything about me, Anita.” - -At the word, the old squaw turned her head and stared at him fixedly. “You -call that name. Where you know that name? Jess, he call me Annie.” - -Rawley flushed, but there was no help for it now--or, yes, there was Johnny-- - -“Johnny Buffalo called you Anita,” he parried. - -Anita shook her head slowly. “Jawge--your gran’fadder--he call me Anita too,” -she said wistfully. “You ver’ much--like Jawge. I firs’ think--you are ghos’ -of Jawge, when you come.” - -“Grandfather was crazy about you,” slipped off Rawley’s tongue. “He spoke of -you in his diary--a book where he wrote down things he did--things he -thought.” - -Anita stared down at the river. - -“You tell me,” she commanded tersely. “All those things--Jawge -think--about--Anita.” - -Rawley’s hand went out and closed again over her wrinkled, work-hardened -knuckles. - -“The first was when he came up to El Dorado on the _Esmeralda_ in ’66. He was -leaning over the rail, watching the miners crowd down to the landing. He -wrote, ‘I saw a young girl--I think she is Spanish. She has the velvet eyes -and the rose blooming in her cheeks. She’s beautiful. Not more than sixteen -and graceful as a fairy.’ What more he wrote of you I don’t know. He cut the -pages from the book so no one could read it.” - -Anita raised a knotted, brown hand and smoothed her bangs, tucking them neatly -under her red kerchief. - -“I was little,” she said complacently. “Ver’ beautiful. Every-body -was--crazy--about--me.” She halted, choosing the best English words she knew. -“I was--good girl. I love--nobody. I jus’ laugh all time--when them so’jers -make the love. Then I see--Jawge--my Sah-geant King. He is king to me. -Tall--big--strong--all time laughing--making love with blue eyes--like -you--all time make love--with eyes--to Nevada. I know them eyes--I have -lived--to look--in them eyes.” - -“I don’t do anything of the kind,” Rawley protested, confusion crimsoning his -face. “I’ve always tried--” - -“Eyes like them eyes--no tell lies. Woman eyes see--things they tell. -Jawge--he write more?” - -“Most of it was cut from the book. He called you ‘_el gusto de mi corazon_,’ -and his ‘_dulce corazon_.’ Do you know--?” - -Beneath his palm Anita’s hand was trembling. She pulled it free and lifted it -to her face, her withered fingers wiping the tears that were slipping down her -wrinkled cheeks. Rawley could have bitten his tongue in two. Awkwardly he -patted her on one huge, rounded shoulder. - -Like a lonesome dog, the old woman whimpered behind her brown palm, from -beneath which a tear sometimes escaped and splashed upon her calico wrapper. -Rawley sat silent, abashed before this forlorn grief over a romance fifty -years dead. - -“Now I love Nevada, Peter.” She mastered her tears and became again impassive. -“You leave me--Nevada? Lil time--I want Nevada. I die--then you can love--many -years. You do that?” - -“Of course. I promised Peter, a long time ago. But it doesn’t matter, anyway. -Nevada doesn’t care a rap about me.” - -The old woman looked at him stolidly. - -“You not tell Nevada--you not Peter’s boy,” she said. “Nevada think that. You -not tell Nevada--that’s a lie. You tell Nevada, I kill myself.” - -“I’ve no intention of telling Nevada,” Rawley said, chilled by her manner. “It -doesn’t matter, anyway.” - -“You not come--for Nevada? You not think, marry Nevada--take Nevada ’way off, -I no see any more?” Anita peered into his face. - -“No. I came to see Peter. About the dam.” - -Anita took some time over this statement. Then she rose stiffly and hobbled -away, leaving Rawley to stare morosely into the river. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - -THE EAGLE AND THE VULTURE - - -“You may as well listen to me,” said Rawley in the incisive tone which big -responsibilities had taught him. “I am your friend. My only object in coming -here is to be of service to you. If you do not listen to what I have to say, -you will have to listen to the Federal Reclamation Service, acting under the -Secretary of the Interior. That may be more convincing to you--but believe me, -it will be less pleasant!” - -“You were keen for the dam, last time you were here,” Peter reminded him -drily. “You called it a big idea. You’ve had a change of heart, son.” - -“I have. I have come to tell you that there are other ideas bigger than yours, -and a power behind them that will make yours look like building a toy dam in -the sand, like kids. You must have read of it in the papers. There’s been all -kinds of publicity given to the project.” - -“You’re right. There’s been a heap of talk,” Peter retorted. “The papers have -done the talking, and we’ve been sawing wood and keeping our mouths shut. -While they’re still talking and arguing and speechifying, we’ll put ’er in. -There’s nothing the matter with that, is there? Take the wind out of their -sails, maybe, especially the fellows that have their speeches all written out, -ready for the next banquet. But,--_the dam will be in_! They’ll have some -work, trying to get around that point. - -“You ask if we’ve read the papers. I have. They’ve been talking about spending -a hundred million dollars. We’ve spent one. They’ve been fiddling along the -river, looking to see if it’s feasible. We’ve kept right on digging. They -thought we were _mining_--the only party that discovered our diggings. They -were very patronizing, very polite, and they talked about the wonderful things -a dam would do for us. Is that what you came to tell us, son?” - -Rawley leaned back against the wall and laid one foot across the other knee, -tapping his boot with his finger tips. He was facing them all. He must -convince them, somehow, and he must batter down the dream of a lifetime to do -it. - -“No, you’ve read most of the talk,” he told Peter. “I admit the thing has -almost been talked to death. It begins to look as though the general public is -tired of reading about damming the Colorado. If that were all there is to it, -Peter, I’d never say a word. But there are some facts we can’t get around with -talk, or defiance. I came here to show them to you--just plain, hard -facts--and let you see for yourself what they mean. - -“In the first place--and this is probably the hardest fact you have to -face--the Colorado is an international stream. It flows through a part of -Mexico. The Constitution of the United States has decreed that such rivers -must at all times and in every particular be under the control of the Federal -Government. There are seven States bordering this river, yet not one of them -dare build a dam without the consent and supervision of the government. Get -that firmly planted in your minds, folks.” - -Young Jess turned his head an inch and slanted a look at Old Jess. Old Jess -crossed his legs, folded his arms and trotted one rusty boot, waggling his -beard while he chewed tobacco complacently. No one could fail to read his -mind, just then. He was thinking that what seven States were afraid to do, he, -Jess Cramer, had dared. The joke was on the seven States, according to Old -Jess’s viewpoint. - -“Arizona,” Rawley went on, after a minute of contemplating the complete -satisfaction of Old Jess, “Arizona wants water for irrigation. One hundred and -fifty thousand acres of desert land can be made fertile with the water of the -Colorado, properly diverted into a system of canals.” - -“They kin have the water,” the Vulture conceded benificently. “We don’t want -it. Glad to git rid of it. You kin tell ’em I said so.” - -Young Jess laughed hoarsely. - -“Sure. Glad to git it off’n our hands!” - -“The State of Nevada wants power for her mines. The copper interests are after -a dam up the river here, so that they can resume the output of copper. They -want a smelter, operated by power from the Colorado. Two million brake -horse-power of electric energy is slipping past your door, worse than wasted. - -“California wants more power for her industries--” - -“She’s welcome,” Old Jess stated smugly. “We ain’t hoggin’ no electric energy -’t I know of.” - -“You are, if you interfere with the building of a dam of sufficient size and -strength to conserve that power.” - -Young Jess leaned forward, grinning impudently into Rawley’s face. - -“Hell! There’s thousands uh miles up river that we ain’t doin’ a thing to. -They kin build dams from here to Denver, fer all we care! That’s all -poppycock, our interferin’. Everybody with ten cents in his pocket is talkin’ -about buildin’ a dam in the Colorado. Why the hell don’t they go ahead and -_do_ it? We ain’t stoppin’ nobody!” - -“You may be, without knowing it,” Rawley explained patiently, determined to -educate them beyond their single-track idea, if possible. “I see how it looks -to you, of course. But I’ll explain how it looks to the greatest engineers in -the country, Jess. You remember I was rather keen for it, myself. It was out -of my line, and I didn’t know. - -“Now the fact is, you are attempting, with a certain amount of rock blown into -the river from the sides, to dam a river second only to the Mississippi. - -“I know, the Missouri is wider, but I am speaking now of the volume of water -that passes through this canyon right here. It is a swift river, and it is a -deep river. You don’t realize, any of you, just how deep and how swift it is, -though you have lived beside it all your lives. - -“Peter has spoken of the amount of money they are talking of spending to build -a dam at Boulder Canyon, up here. The canyon there is as narrow as this; -perhaps narrower. And to hold back the tremendous volume of water that flows -past your door, engineers have said that they must go down one hundred and -fifty feet, to bed rock, and start there to build their dam. They say that the -dam will--must--to hold back the terrific pressure of water, rise something -like six hundred feet above low-water mark. It will keep several thousand men -working for eight or ten years to complete the dam, its spillways and main -canals. It will cost around one hundred million dollars, and it will bring -both protection and prosperity to thousands and thousands of people. That,” he -declared, leaning forward, “is what it means to dam the Colorado.” - -“It don’t mean that to us,” Old Jess stated, turning his quid to the other -cheek. “We aim to show ’em something about buildin’ dams.” He grinned and -showed yellow snags of teeth. - -“Yeah. Wait till they see how _we_ aim to do it,” snickered Young Jess. “We’ll -be rakin’ in the gold whilst they’re still standin’ around with their mouths -open.” - -Peter had fallen into a taciturn, grim mood, staring somber-eyed at the river. -Beside him, Nevada leaned chin upon her cupped palm and stared also. Several -thousand men, working for eight years! That was as long as the years back to -her first sight of the convent where Peter took her to be educated. Thousands -of men working all that time--thousands! Was it, then, so deceptively vast, -that river? Would the cliffs they had undermined fall in and be swept -disdainfully away? Did it really belong to the government, that river, so that -no man living all his life on its bank might say what should be done with it? -Had Uncle Peter, and Young Jess and her grandfather been children, playing all -these years beside a stream they must not touch or tamper with? - -“It sounds as big as the stars,” she observed vaguely. “As if we had been -waving a handkerchief at Mars, down here by the river, and then some one comes -along and pushes us back and says, ‘Here, here, you must stand back. You are -obstructing the view. The President wants to wave his handkerchief. You annoy -him.’ Do you think,” she flashed at Rawley, “it is going to make any -difference to the river--who dams it first?” - -“You don’t get the point,” Rawley protested. “I am not responsible because the -undertaking is so stupendous that it is beyond any private enterprise. You -_can’t_ shoot a lot of rock into the river and call that a dam. And if you -could, you must not. Don’t you see? The welfare of too many thousands of -people are involved. It’s a job for the government. You can’t take it for -granted that, just because you have lived beside it all your lives, and -because it doesn’t seem to belong to anybody, any more than the clouds belong, -that you can claim it, or even claim the right to do as you please with it. -There’s a right that goes away beyond the individual--” - -“The gold down there is ours,” Old Jess cried fiercely. “We own placer claims -on both sides of the river, and the lines run across. We’ve got a right to -placer the gold in the river bed. It’s _ours_. We got a right to git it any -way we kin! The gov’ment can’t stop us, neither.” - -“Oh, yes, it can!” Rawley rashly contradicted. “When you come down to fine -points, the government owns this river. It owns the river bed and whatever -gold is there. By ‘right of eminent domain’, if you ever heard of that.” - -“Right of eminent hell!” Young Jess got up and stood over Rawley -threateningly. “Tell _me_ a bunch uh swell-heads back in Wash’n’ton, that -never _seen_ this river, can set and tell us what we can do an’ what we can’t -do? We own claims both sides the river, and we got a right to what’s _in_ the -river. You can’t come here and tell us, this late day, ’t we got to quit, and -lose our time an’ money, because the gov’ment or somebody wants to build a -dam. Hell, _we_ ain’t stoppin’ nobody! They better nobody try an’ stop us, -neither!” - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - -“TAKE THIS FIGHTING SQUAW AWAY!” - - -Never before had Rawley seen Young Jess in a rage. A surly, ignorant fellow he -knew him to be, and not too intelligent. A dangerous fellow, Rawley believed -him; quite capable of killing any man who thwarted him or roused his fury. But -Rawley did not move or attempt to placate him. He had learned that some -natures must blow up a great storm before they can yield. He hoped that this -was the case with Young Jess. - -The old vulture craned his neck forward, his eyes piercingly malevolent. - -“Think I’ve waited fifty year fer that gold, t’ be robbed of it now? They -ain’t no gov’ment on earth can step in an’ take what’s mine! I’ll blow ’em to -hell first! I’ll--” - -As once before, when he thought his gold was threatened, Old Jess ran the full -gamut of anathema. Nevada fled from the sound of his cracked voice shrieking -maniacal threats and maledictions. He shook his fist under Rawley’s nose and -stamped his feet and raved. Young Jess was over-ridden, silenced by the old -man’s insane outburst. - -As once before, Peter said absolutely nothing until Old Jess had reached the -zenith of his rage. Then he rose deliberately and without excitement, took the -old man by the collar and headed him toward the door. - -“Go and cool off,” he advised dispassionately. “You old vulture, you can’t -scream any louder than the Eagle. You, too, Jess,” he added, turning harshly -upon his half-brother. “You’re a pretty good man when it comes to swinging a -single-jack, but you’re a damn poor hand at thinking! This thing is away -beyond your depth. You can’t holler the government down. Get out!” - -Young Jess blustered and threatened still, flailing his fists and mouthing -oaths. - -“That’s about all from you,” grated Rawley, stung to action by some vile -threat against the government. - -“Is, hey?” Young Jess advanced upon him. - -Then Rawley went for him, the blue eyes of the Kings gone black with fury. The -fight, if it could be called that, was short and undramatic. No tables were -overturned, no glass was shattered. Young Jess aimed a sledge blow at Rawley, -got one on the jaw that spun him so that he faced the other way, and Rawley -forthwith kicked him off the porch. Young Jess rooted gravel, looked over his -shoulder and saw Rawley coming at him again, and started off on all fours. -When he regained his feet he went away, blathering blasphemy. He was going for -his gun,--so he said. - -Peter stood looking after Young Jess, his brows pulled together. A slim figure -slipped past him and went straight to Rawley, who was pulling at his tie, -which had gone crooked. She was pale, breathless with the fear that looked out -of her big eyes. - -“Oh, you must go--_now_,” she breathed, clasping her two hands around his arm. -“You think he’s just like any other bully, all bluster. He’ll kill you, just -as sure as you stand here. Grandfather, too. Uncle Jess will shoot you in the -back--oh, _anyway_! He’s the worst of the Indian blood; once you rouse him, -there’s _nothing_ he’ll stop at! Get him away, Uncle Peter! It isn’t brave, to -stay and be killed. It’s the worst kind of cowardice; the kind that is afraid -to show itself. Uncle Peter!” - -“We’re going, Nevada. I know Young Jess. A rattlesnake’s a prince alongside -him when he’s mad. Son, you should have left him to me. I can handle him -pretty well, no matter how mad he gets. Come along; he’ll not be above potting -you from ambush, Injun style.” - -He left the porch at the farther end, pulling Rawley after him; and much as -Rawley hated the thought of retreat, he was forced to believe that Nevada and -Peter, neither of them timid souls, must know what they were talking about. - -Nevada disappeared, with no word of farewell to Rawley. Young Jess could be -plainly heard bawling at Gladys because his “shells” had been misplaced. - -Peter chuckled. - -“One of the kids shot himself through the hat, a month or so ago,” he -explained his amusement. “Since then the guns are kept unloaded. Jess is -hunting cartridges; God bless Gladys for a poor housekeeper!” - -He still held a firm grip on Rawley’s arm, leading him down the path to the -river. But suddenly, keeping an ear cocked toward the sounds behind him, he -swung away from the trail toward the bluffs. - -“He’s found them, from the way things have quieted down, back there. He’ll be -hot on your trail, now--unless Nevada can stop him, which I doubt. He’s Injun -enough to hold women in contempt when it comes to a show-down. Here.” - -He pulled Rawley down between two great, upstanding bowlders standing black -against the stars. Rawley felt a movement of Peter’s arm, and knew that Peter -had pulled a gun from somewhere and was aiming it across a ridge of rock. -Rawley himself could hear nothing but the crying of the wakened baby in the -shack, the yelp of a kicked dog. - -For a long time, it seemed to Rawley, they waited. He could not hear a sound. -But Peter still held his gun leveled across the rock before them, and Rawley -could feel how Peter’s muscles were tensed for a struggle. - -Two greenish lights showed faintly as a star-beam struck the eyeballs of a -dog. A shuffling sound approaching through the weedy gravel, a sniffling at -Peter’s hand. Rawley felt a crimple down his spine, though he did not think -that he was afraid. - -A pebble plunked into something close beside him, and the dog shied off with a -faint, staccato yelp. Young Jess, then, was close. A muttered curse reached -the ears of the two between the bowlders. Immediately afterward, Nevada’s -whisper came distinctly. - -“I think he’s hidden here, somewhere in the rocks. His car is down in the -canyon, but he wouldn’t go that way--he’d expect you to follow. Watch the dog. -He hasn’t any gun--I know. Can you creep back toward the hill--” - -“Sh-sh. You call him. Quiet, as if you was scared. Make out you’re sweet on -him--” - -“I can’t. He knows--I hate him. We quarreled to-day. I hate his snobbish -ways--I told him so.” - -“Call his name if you run onto him. Then duck. I’ll--” - -“Sh-sh--he may be near!” - -The two were standing close together, just beyond the bowlder that reared its -bulk beyond Peter. Rawley bit his lip, straining his ears to hear more. - -“You call him. He won’t s’spect--” Young Jess urged in a whisper. - -“He’d be a fool if he didn’t. I tell you he knows--” - -“He’s stuck on yuh. That makes a fool--” - -“Sh-sh. He’s not--” - -Inch by inch, Rawley was drawing himself backward, until now he was free of -the bowlder and Peter. From the sounds, he knew that the two were standing -close to the rock. He thought that they were facing the river, though he could -not be sure. It did not greatly matter. He inched that way until he could -faintly distinguish two upright blots in the darkness of the bowlder’s shadow. - -Upon the taller of the two he launched himself, reaching instinctively for the -gun he knew was there. His hand closed on the cool steel of the barrel, and he -gave a mighty wrench as he went down. Young Jess, caught unawares from behind, -had no chance to save himself. Rawley landed full on his back, his chest -forcing the face of Young Jess into the gravel. His left hand gripped the back -of Jess’s neck. - -“Peter, please take this fighting squaw to the house and lock her up -somewhere. Then come back here. I want to have a talk with you before I go,” -he said hardly. “I can handle this vermin, but I leave the squaw to you.” - -“As you like,” Peter’s voice was noncommittal. “Come, Nevada.” - -Rawley had expected some outburst from her, some bitter reply to his taunt. -But she went away with Peter and spoke no word to any one. So Rawley pulled -off his necktie and tied Young Jess’s hands behind him, and made himself a -smoke while he waited Peter’s return. - -“I’ll git you, and I’ll git you right!” gritted Young Jess, when Rawley had -his cigarette going. “You better kill me now, or you’ll see the day you’ll be -begging me to kill yuh. I’ll ketch yuh and take yuh back in the mine, an’ -I’ll--” He amused himself for some minutes, making up the programme of his -revenge. He would finish, he decided, by building a bed of powder kegs and -placing Rawley full length upon it, with a ten-foot fuse spitted just before -Young Jess bade him good-by. - -“You ought to have lived fifty years ago,” Rawley commented indifferently, and -blew smoke in his face. “Why don’t yuh squeal for that old buzzard of a dad? -Maybe he could help yuh out, right now.” - -Young Jess, having just made up his mind to shout for Old Jess to come, shut -his mouth so hard his teeth clicked like a dog cracking a bone. - -“Any fool can plan the things he’d _like_ to do,” Rawley taunted. “What counts -is the fact that you’re on your back, right now, and that I put you there--and -you with a gun in your hands! I could kick you in the slats and make you howl -like a kicked pup. I could drive your teeth in, so you’d feed yourself in the -back of your head the rest of your life! Don’t talk to _me_--about what you’d -like to do! I’m liable to experiment on yuh, just to see how it works.” - -Then Peter returned, and further social amenities were postponed to some -future meeting. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - -“YOU TELL HOOVER I SAID SO!” - - -Las Vegas awoke one morning to find itself in the public eye. Destiny had so -decreed when it permitted Las Vegas to become the town nearest to the proposed -dam site at Boulder Canyon,--the largest governmental project undertaken for -many a day. The Panama Canal, said the orators (and no doubt they spoke the -truth), had not cost so much as it would cost to dam the Colorado River, to -conserve its tremendous power, to control its flood waters and put the river -to work tamely watering long rows of cotton, potatoes, great fields of grain. -Long enough had it gone leaping down through the wildest, most gorgeous -scenery in the country. Now it must be harnessed to new industries and become -the servant of plowboys, the friend of prospectors. It must pull trains across -the desert which it was to transform into tilled farms. It must keep several -States vibrant with the hum of machinery. It must make of the town of Las -Vegas a city worthy the name. One can’t blame Las Vegas for being particularly -interested in that phase of the project. - -The town lay fairly under the eye of the Eagle,--and of the sun, whose light -the magic alchemy of the desert transmuted into soft tints on the mountains, -into a faint lavender glow on the desert. The air was still, with a little nip -to it that would later soften to a lazy warmth. A stranger to the desert, -standing on the depot platform, would have thought that he might walk quite -easily to Charleston Mountains, standing bold and stark against the western -sky line. - -Down the flag-draped main street, coming from the side door of the little -post-office, a huge, good-natured negro leaned against a pushcart piled high -with dingy, striped canvas mail sacks. When he passed, certain belated -citizens swung out to the edge of the pavement and took longer steps, knowing -that the train was on time, and that the crowd would already be edging out -upon the platform. Automobiles with flags standing perkily from headlight -braces went careening past, to swing up into the parking space, trying their -nonchalant best to look as if they were not going to hold governors and high -officials of the Federal Government and carry them safely down to Boulder -Canyon, the most popular dam site on the Colorado. - -A group of small boys dressed in white came marching down the street, stubbing -toes over the uneven places because they must keep their eyes on the music -while they played the uncertain strains of a march. They were very sleek as to -hair, very shiny as to cheeks and very solemn, those boys. Their mothers and -their fathers and their teachers were going to detect any false note or -flatted sharp and tell them about it afterwards. Besides, there aren’t many -boys who ever get a chance to stand on the platform and play when the -Governor’s train comes in--and be the only band on the job. They felt the deep -responsibility attendant upon the honor and thought feverishly of certain -spots in the music where they weren’t quite sure they could make it; not with -the whole town standing around listening. - -They fumbled their instruments, stood hipshot and consciously unconcerned -while they waited for the train. Their leader glanced around the group, -encountered certain anxious pairs of eyes fixed upon his face, and made an -impulsive change in the programme. “The Star-Spangled Banner” was appropriate -and customary for such occasions, but there were treacherous high notes which -a certain scared boy might play flat, and other places where the slide -trombone was in danger of skidding. He gave them a piece they could play with -their eyes shut and was rewarded by hearing long sighs of relief here and -there among the musicians. - -So it happened that when the train had slid into the station and the Governors -and high officials had descended from the private car, Rawley caught the -familiar air, “I’m forever blow-ing bubbles” floating out over the heads of -the assembled citizens of Las Vegas. If the tune wabbled here and there, what -matter? Governors and high officials can hear better music anywhere,--but they -never will hear a more sincere effort to please, made by more loyal hearts -than skipped beats under the white jackets of the “kid band” of Las Vegas. - - I’m dreaming dreams, I’m scheming schemes, - I’m building castles high-- - -Rawley caught himself humming the words to himself and thought, in a heartsick -way, of Nevada, only twenty-five miles from him, so far as miles went,--a -million miles away in her thoughts. - -“I’ve talked Boulder Canyon Dam until I wonder sometimes if it isn’t Bubble -Canyon, maybe,” a certain governor confided to him under his breath. “Do you -reckon this is a civic confession the kids are making, or what?” - -“The civic air castle--nearest the kids can come to it,” Rawley grinned. “Wait -till you hear this town stand up on its hind legs and tell you how they feel -about it. They talk Boulder Canyon in their sleep, I reckon. It’s no bubble to -_this_ bunch! If the rest of the country had half the enthusiasm this town has -got, they’d be hauling concrete to the river to-day!” - -“Instead of the Commission, huh? Well, I wish they were.” - -A man pushed out of the fringe of common citizens who came merely to look upon -assembled greatness and faced Rawley, smiling with his eyes. - -“Uncle Peter!” Rawley gripped his hand and did not know that his eyes searched -the crowd, wistfully, seeking a face-- - -“No, she didn’t come,” Peter informed him. “I want to get a chance to talk -with the men in your outfit who count the most. Not on paper, but with the -government. Can you fix it for me, boy?” - -“Has anything happened?” Rawley drew him anxiously aside. - -“No--I just want to get at the right men. I want you there, of course.” Peter -glanced here and there at the men who were smiling, shaking hands, speaking -pleasant phrases. - -“All right. Of course every minute is mortgaged, I suppose, to the town. But -I’ll get you--” - -“An hour will do me,” Peter stated modestly, and Rawley suppressed a grin. - -Looking him over surreptitiously, Rawley decided that he could be very proud -indeed of Uncle Peter. Even amongst governors and such, Peter could hold his -own with that quiet dignity which nothing seemed able to ruffle, that poise -which came of being very sure of his own mind and of what he wanted. A great -man looked from one to the other curiously, and Rawley immediately introduced -Peter to him. Then he caught the eye of another, and presently that man was -shaking hands very humanly with Peter Cramer, who looked so much like George -Rawlins King, of the Reclamation Service. Before he quite realized what was -taking place, Peter was absorbed into the party of great men, and a flustered -waitress in the depot dining room was hastily making room at a table and -laying another knife and fork purloined from the lunch room outside. - -The reception committee probably revised at the last minute their arrangements -for seating the party in the decorated automobiles. Some one must have been -crowded; but Peter rode in comfort in a big car in company with some of the -nation’s important men, though this was not what he had gotten an early -haircut for. He had seen the river in all its moods and under all conditions; -it seemed strange to him now, no doubt, to be sight-seeing it with men who had -heretofore been no more than names to be read in headlines in week-old -newspapers. But no one suspected it,--unless perhaps some member of the -reception committee wondered how he had broken in. However, as a guest of the -Colorado River Commission, seven governors and railroad presidents, no mere -local committee dared flicker an eyelid. - -“It has to be done this way--whatever it is you want to do,” Rawley muttered -once in Peter’s ear at the river, when he caught Peter looking boredly at the -bold cliffs of Boulder Canyon. “You couldn’t get a look-in, just coming up and -trying for an interview. As soon as we get back, and before the banquet up -town, I’ve arranged for you to talk to the Commission. I told the chief,” he -added drily, “that it was more important than anything else he’d hear. I -gambled on that, because I know you. And a little nerve goes a long way, -sometimes. We’re going to cut this short as possible and get back to the car -early. Then--you’ll have to boil down your hour, Peter. There won’t be more -than half that much time for whatever it is you want to say.” - -“It may pay this Colorado River Commission,” said Peter laconically, “to miss -their supper to-night, and even cut out some of the speeches they’ve got ready -to hand out to Vegas citizens. As I understand it, the Commission was created -for the purpose of investigating claims, collecting all data and adjusting -rights pertaining to the Colorado River. They’d better take a piece of bread -and butter in their hands and eat it while they listen to what I’ve got to -say.” He paused and added significantly, “You tell Hoover I said so.” - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - -THE VULTURE MAKES TERMS WITH THE EAGLE - - -Rawley had them rounded up in the private car--governors and high officials -and newspaper representatives--lighting cigars, cigarettes and pipes and -eyeing, their curiosity politely veiled, the big, broad-shouldered man with -the brown skin and piercing blue eyes, who stood at one end of the car waiting -for them to settle themselves into easy, listening attitudes. This was -informal,--but if they were to believe that keen young man, George Rawlins -King, it was going to be pretty important; and, what appealed to most of them -like a window opened in a stifling room, fresh and untalked. It is impossible -to eat, sleep and live with one subject for months without feeling a tingle of -relief when some entirely new angle crops up,--something that hasn’t been -argued, weighed and considered a hundred times. The Colorado River Commission -was on the job,--heart, soul and mind. But that did not preclude secret sighs -of anticipation when the Commission faced something wholly new to every -member. - -Not a man among them knew Peter Cramer. Not one had ever heard the name. He -looked a man of the desert, every inch of his six-feet-and-something-over. He -might turn out to be a bore; he did not look like a boor. He did not wear his -hair in the prevailing fad; it grew thick to the nape of his neck and was -trimmed there neatly by some barber who remembered how they used to cut hair. -His dark suit was incontestably made to his measure,--but it had been made -before the War. You don’t get such material nowadays. At least, men of the -desert do not get it. His hands, as he shuffled a few slips of paper, showed -how hardly they had been used. They were the hands of a laborer, scrubbed -meticulously clean, the nails trimmed painstakingly,--with a pocket-knife, one -could guess. So there he stood, towering above them all, with pre-War clothes, -the hands of a laborer, the eyes of a thinker. - -The car became very still. Every man there looked at Peter. And one man’s eyes -held love, sympathy and a shade of anxiety. To this moment, Rawley King could -only guess at what his Uncle Peter was going to say. There was a little prayer -in Rawley’s heart, in his eyes. A modern, young-man prayer, “God, don’t let -him pull a boner!” It would be well if all the prayers in all the churches -were as sincere. - -“Gentlemen of the Colorado River Commission” (Peter began in his deep, even -voice that carried far) “you do not know me, and I do not know you. I thank -you for consenting to listen to me. When I am done, you may thank me for -consenting with myself to talk to you. In the words of a certain wise -man--whose wisdom I wish I might borrow as I borrow his words--‘I am not a -clever speaker in any way at all; unless, indeed, by a clever speaker they -mean a man who speaks the truth. You will not hear an elaborate speech dressed -up with words and phrases. I will say to you what I have to say, without -preparation and in the words which come first, for I believe that my cause is -just. So let none of you expect anything else.’ If I could better that -statement, make it more forceful, I should hesitate. Gentlemen, they stand for -absolute honesty of purpose. Let them stand for me now, as they stood for -Socrates--but I hope with happier effect. - -“Fifty-four years ago, I was born within sight and sound of the Colorado River -and within sight of the cliffs of Black Canyon. The river has been a part of -my life. The wilderness hedged me in, mile upon mile. When I was ten, so long -ago as that, I was taught the use of a rifle that I might help defend lives -and property from hostile Indians and renegade white men. My mother is the -granddaughter of a chief, and the daughter of a Spanish nobleman who voyaged -up from Mexico before white men had seen this country. I am therefore -one-fourth Indian,--a son of the desert. My father was a white man of good -blood. - -“When I was a boy and helped in my father’s mine at Black Canyon, I was urged -to greater labor by the great plan my father had conceived in his long labor -at the placer claims. He would save his gold until he had enough and more than -enough. Then, when he had gold enough, he would dam the flow of the Colorado -River and get the gold that lies in the river bed, washed down through the -ages. - -“That plan became the splendid dream of my life, Gentlemen of the Commission. -The stupendousness of the idea took root in my very soul. I would stand and -watch the river hurrying past, and I would think how best it might be done, -and I would picture the river held back, halted in its headlong course to the -sea. - -“When I was fifteen I was studying, in a small, groping way, the engineering -feat of damming the river at Black Canyon. I knew that I had a tremendous -problem before me. I knew that the problem was doubled by the need of secrecy, -which had been impressed upon me from the time I was a child. No one had -thought of getting the gold from the river bed. The river was too swift, its -currents too treacherous. I used to watch the steamboats warp up against the -sweep of that current, to make the landing at El Dorado. That gave me an idea -of the giant strength we should have to combat, to conquer. No one ever -suspected the purpose that grew within the minds of the ‘squaw man’ Cramer and -his breed boys, mining at Black Canyon. Deliberately we fostered the belief in -our commonplace lives, our lack of ambition, our ignorance. That belief, -gentlemen, was a necessary factor in our ultimate success. - -“Studying alone--for my younger brother avoids thinking when possible, and my -father gave himself up wholly to the thought of getting the gold--I felt the -need of help from our great engineers. I could not take the time for college, -for studying in the schools that turn out engineers. I am a man of the desert, -as you see me. What I know I have learned by reading when others slept. I -could not give my working hours to study, for they were sold to the need of -getting gold to build the dam in order to get more gold! I alone realized the -magnitude of the undertaking; to me they looked for the wit to accomplish -their desire. And I remembered, gentlemen, the engineering problem solved by -half-savage peoples; their power is gone, but their engineering feats remain -to testify for them. I remembered the pyramids, some of the wonderful old -cathedrals of Europe, the marvelous ruined cities of the Incas, the Aztecs,--I -counted myself a savage who must think for himself, and I went at the problem -of making the splendid dream a reality. - -“Gentlemen, when I was yet a boy I was experimenting with explosives. I was -studying the resistance of granite, the lifting power of black powder; I was -preparing to build the dam. Before I had books on the subject, I had measured -so many cubic feet of granite and had heaved it a certain distance with so -many pounds of black powder. Over and over again I did it, in spare time when -I was not working in the underground placer claims by the river. - -“I will be brief, gentlemen, but I want to be understood by each one of you -before I stop talking. I told my father, when I was in my teens, that we must -have a million dollars before we could hope to carry out his idea. I told him -that we must have enough, or lose what we had. I showed him where failure to -dam the river would mean a total loss of time, money, labor. I convinced him -that I knew what I was talking about. I hope that I can convince you. - -“Gentlemen, in order to dam the Colorado River and mine the gold in its bed, -for a distance of, say, a mile or two, you must make sure first of all of the -means, second of the secrecy of your plan, and third of the practicability of -the project. We had placer ground of unsuspected riches; an underground -watercourse with gravel bed, carrying placer gold. This gave us the means. We -simulated poverty and ignorance and a paucity of ambition, which gave us -immunity from suspicion that we had a secret to keep. And I made it my -business, gentlemen, to study the practical engineering problem. - -“I had long ago chosen the spot for the dam; a point in the canyon where the -granite cliffs rise highest. I drew charts--” Peter glanced toward Rawley, and -his eyes twinkled “--of a system of underground workings which, when filled -with black powder augmented by light charges of dynamite, would break the -granite walls and heave them into the river. I worked upon the principle that -it would be better to use too much than not enough, and for fifteen -years--yes, for longer than that--I have been buying and storing black powder. -To-day, gentlemen, I have in place explosives which, with hush money that I -was compelled to pay for the secret, have cost approximately one hundred -thousand dollars. _In place!_ Wired, tamped with heavy cement, ready to go. -_Ready to shoot!_” - -He looked from face to face, smiling while he waited for the information to -sink in. He saw certain newspaper men poise pencils before they set down the -sum, then scribble furiously. - -“You didn’t know that, did you? No one has told the Colorado River Commission, -until now, when I am telling you, that twenty-five miles from here, in the -cliffs beside the river, there is at this moment peacefully reposing a giant -ready to rise up and fling rocks into the river, and lie back again when all -is done, to watch the Colorado halt in its headlong rush to the sea! I will be -more explicit, gentlemen. - -“In the cliffs, _ready to shoot_--bear that always in mind--I have five -hundred thousand pounds of blasting powder, and fifty thousand pounds of forty -per cent. dynamite, so disposed that, fired simultaneously on both sides of -the river, the volume of rock will meet midway and drop into the channel. Some -distance up the river, I have an auxiliary dam built, ready to blow at a -moment’s notice if the main dam seems in danger of not holding against the -terrific pressure of the Colorado’s flow. - -“Incidentally--I had nearly forgotten to tell you--I have perhaps the oldest, -most complete private record of the flow, rise and fall of the Colorado River -in existence. The record goes back thirty-nine years, gentlemen. I still use a -gauge which I invented when I was about fifteen, and I find that it is -practical, though crude. - -“I have planned the auxiliary dam, as I call it, to check and help hold the -pressure against the main dam, if necessary. In flood time the force is -terrific; I have provided against that. The auxiliary dam, if thrown in, will -give me time to strengthen the main dam. I have not expected that one big -blast will end the matter. Once that is in, and further secrecy impossible, I -shall be prepared to rush one hundred men, whose names and addresses I have on -file, to work with compressors (two on each side of the river, each one -portable and capable of running three drills each--with jack hammers and -expert men behind them). These will rush another system of undermining, so -that a second installment of Black Canyon can be heaved in upon the first. - -“You will bear in mind, gentlemen, that we are first in the field by a good -many laborious years. I grant you that the idea was born in greed. The eye of -the vultures have dwelt upon the gold in the river, these fifty years. But -even the vulture must give way to the Eagle. I have seen the wing of the Eagle -spread, and its shadow has touched our dam in Black Canyon. Gentlemen, the -vulture has come to make terms with the Eagle.” - -That, for reasons best known to the Commission, was applauded. A great man -asked a question. - -“How much, approximately, have you spent in this undertaking?” - -Peter glanced down at a slip of paper in his hand. - -“It is something I have waited to tell you. I divided our capital into -budgets, as follows: - -“A dredger, now waiting at Needles to be towed up the river, four hundred -thousand dollars. (That, of course, is our personal property and need not be -considered in our negotiations, if any are carried on.) Fund for payment of -damages to property caused by blasting, one hundred thousand dollars. (That, I -thought, should pay for all the windows and crockery we may break, and that -remains in bank until such time as we need it.) Property bought along the -river above the dam site, which may be inundated, fifty thousand. Incidental -expenses covering a period of years, fifty thousand. Explosives, wiring, -battery and cement--with hush money paid out--one hundred thousand dollars. - -“The explosives, gentlemen, I should expect the government to buy, if you take -over our dam; which I hope that you will do. I have no desire now to infringe -upon the rights of the government, even if I could. The project has been my -life’s work. The achievement in itself has been the big dream of my life. If -it will be of any service to you, if your engineers find my idea a practical -one, I shall feel that my life so far has been well-spent. I had an idea that -our dredger might still be used in the river bed to extract the gold. We have -claims on both sides of the river. I have hoped that we might still be able to -operate our dredger, paying a royalty to the government on whatever gold we -may take out. If that is impossible, then we shall be obliged to unload our -dredger for whatever we can get for it. - -“Finally, gentlemen, I must urge you to extend your stay in Las Vegas, so that -you may see our dam, and understand more fully what I have been trying to make -plain to you: That _we have a dam_, ready to shoot within an hour’s -notice--yes, in fifteen minutes from the time you say the word. I believe that -it will hold. You may find that, by reënforcing it, by building spillways and -preparing for your canals, our dam will be of real, practical benefit to -you--put you that much farther along the trail. Give you something concrete to -work to, something besides politics, talk, theories, factions. It’s there. -It’s ready to speak its little piece to-morrow, if you like--though I am not -so ignorant as to speak seriously of that. I merely wish to point my -information, make it definite. You, or you, or you, could go down to our -place, and if I told you just where I have hidden the battery, you could hook -it up to our wires and dam the Colorado--like that.” He snapped the fingers he -had pointed and stood waiting. And while he waited, no man in that car did -more than breathe, and look at Peter, and think rapidly, with some -consternation, of the significance of his information. - -“Gentlemen, I have finished. I should like to show you the Cramer Dam, -to-morrow. It may upset your schedule, just as I am making you late for the -banquet, which is probably waiting and cooling at this moment. But, gentlemen, -it will pay you to upset your schedule. It will pay you to take the time and -walk the two or three miles between the nearest road and the dam. Until you do -see the Cramer Dam, which I now publicly announce as being completed, you are -not fully qualified to make your report, if report you must make, to the -Secretary of the Interior, or whoever receives and passes upon your findings -in the matter. Gentlemen, I thank you.” - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - -FATE HAS DECREED - - -“I should like to say just here, if I may, that many of the astonishing facts -as Mr. Cramer has placed them before you I can vouch for from my own personal -knowledge.” Rawley was on his feet, turned toward Peter’s audience. “Just -before the war, I was permitted to look over the work on the Cramer -Dam”--privately, Rawley liked the way Uncle Peter had dignified the dam by -giving it a name which would hereafter identify it to the public--“which at -that time was uncompleted. I did not approve of their project, but I will say -that I was personally in sympathy with it. - -“In considering the facts which Mr. Cramer has presented to you, I am taking -the liberty of asking you to bear in mind that I am willing to vouch for their -authenticity. And in explanation of my silence on the subject, I will say that -I went to the Cramers and urged them to abandon their project, since it would -interfere with the reclamation plans of the government. I did not know, until -he stated their position in the matter just now, what stand they meant to -take.” - -He sat down, and his chief nodded approvingly. It was perfectly apparent to -Peter that his cause would be none the worse for Rawley’s championship. He -glowed to see how friendly they all were with Rawley. Also, it surprised his -unsophisticated soul to observe the ease and familiarity with which these men -comported themselves. Headliners in the newspapers, every one of them save the -reporters themselves, he had half expected them to retain their platform -manners in private. They were just men, after all, he decided, and turned to -answer the questions of a great man as easily as he would have answered -Rawley. - -The committee of entertainment waited a bit for their guests of honor, that -night. From the manner in which the talk slid into other and more accustomed -channels the moment others entered the car, Peter gathered that Las Vegas -would continue for a time in ignorance of what had been going on under its -nose for so long. It tickled him to picture the amazement and incredulity when -the Commission should make its announcement. Or perhaps Las Vegas would read -it in the city papers first. They would be slow to believe that the obscure -family of Cramers could put over a thing like that and keep it under cover all -these years. - -At the banquet in the town hall, Peter listened to Rawley’s dazed enthusiasm -calmly while he watched the crowd. This was the first banquet which Peter had -ever attended--a man confessing to fifty-four years and quoting Socrates!--and -he was interested. But Rawley would not let him enjoy himself as he would -like; instead, he must tell why and why and why; a tiresome job for Peter. - -“Oh, I didn’t lack confidence, boy. I wanted your opinion without any -influence from me. If I’d told you all I knew, that wouldn’t have helped _me_ -any. I wanted to know what _you_ knew about it. Then I compared your ideas -with mine. - -“No, Jess and the old man don’t know what I’m up to. I talked to them, some, -after you left. But they can’t see beyond the gold in the river. They’ll be -mad, I expect. But we couldn’t go on the way we planned. You can’t fight the -government, boy. The old Eagle is a real scrapper. - -“Yes, Nevada knows I intended to fly a white flag. She’s willing. She sees, as -I do, that you were right--” - -Peter’s neighbor on the other side claimed him then; an engineer who wanted -further details of just how Peter had planned to move a mountain and cast it -into the river. Two men across the table left off eating and their talk to -lean forward and listen, and the man next Rawley was frankly stretching his -hearing across and catching as much of Peter’s elucidation as he could. So -Rawley was obliged to content himself with his pride in Uncle Peter, who was -plainly making an extremely favorable impression on certain governors and high -officials. And it amused him secretly to observe Peter’s complete unconcern -over his growing popularity and his childlike interest in the commonplace -incidents of the banquet. - -An ambitious reporter slipped up behind Rawley and asked him for the love of -Mike to arrange an interview with Cramer. His tone was imploring. - -“New dope--and oh, boy, it’s a hummer!” he confided in Rawley’s ear. “You know -we pencil pushers are just about goofy, trying to get a fresh punch into this -thing. This man, Cramer, is worth a million dollars to the project, just for -the publicity there is in him. A dam under our noses--oh, _boy_!” - -“He won’t talk,” Rawley discouraged him. “Taciturn is the word that describes -him.” - -“Taciturn? With that talk he put over this evening? I’ve got every word of -it--it’s priceless. Arabian Nights ain’t in it. And believe me, King, it’s -going on the wires complete, the minute we get the word to release it.” - -“Let’s see,” Rawley mused. “You’re an A. P. man, aren’t you? Well, I’ll try -and run Peter into a corner for you--but I won’t promise he’ll give you -anything.” - -“You, then! King, you’re wise--I can see it in your left eyebrow. You’ve got -some ripping dope on this, and I know it. Say, if you’ll--” - -The toastmaster had risen and was rapping a spoon against his plate. The -ambitious scribe and the human beehive subsided, but Rawley observed that the -reporter had pulled up a chair and was preparing to camp at his elbow and -Peter’s. Well, why not? he thought headily. A man like Peter could go far in -the world, give him a chance. And this might be the chance. A desert man who -spoke calmly of budgeting a million dollars, the savings of a lifetime for -three men, to spend in secret upon a project over which the whole nation was -arguing, and who could make a talk like that the first time he ever faced -great men was, to say the least, unusual. - -He glanced sidelong at Peter, who had straightened and folded his arms, -gravely prepared to give his full attention to the speakers. There would be no -word out of him now, Rawley knew. As well expect a devout old lady to divulge -her recipe for piccalilli in church. He turned his head and whispered behind -his hand to the reporter: - -“Stick around. I’ll do what I can.” - -The reporter patted his shoulder gratefully, and Rawley came to attention, -stifling a yawn. It was so like every other banquet, and the speeches were so -like all the other speeches on the same subject! He listened with the same -bored loyalty with which the workers in the Liberty Loan drives and all the -other drives toiled through their patriotic programme night after night, day -after day. It did not lessen their patriotism that the workers sometimes -wearied of the same old arguments, the stereotyped appeals to the patriotism -of the public. He wished that Peter might rise and say what he had said to the -Commission, a couple of hours ago. That would open their eyes! - -However, the speeches which were so old to the visiting great ones were not -old to Las Vegas, and they were not old to Peter. There was the usual appeal -for sympathy with the project under the direct supervision of the government, -to which Peter listened closely, his head turned a bit sidewise so that he -would not miss a word of it. The reporter was quietly sketching his profile on -a small pad, but Peter never guessed that. - -A tall, lean man from California was speaking. He was the fourth or fifth on -the programme, and the audience was restive under his voice, wanting to hear -from the greatest of the great men there. The greatest of the great men was -listening courteously with half his mind, while the other half was divided -between an aching desire to crawl into his berth and forget the whole darned -thing for a few hours, and recasting a certain story which might be used with -effect at the beginning of his talk,--unless Las Vegas was too familiar with -it. His colleagues knew the thing backward; but then, when one has traveled -much with a certain group, speaking valiantly at every stop in behalf of one’s -cause, one’s colleagues are going to be bored anyway when one starts speaking, -so that their desires are never considered. The same old stuff is always -new,--provided one has always a new audience before one. - -“Ladies and gentlemen,” the speaker was crying enthusiastically, “you can’t -get away from the fact that progress is ever marching onward. The hand of -Opportunity is lifted, knocking at your door! Whether you open or not--upon -that rests your future. You can’t get away from it. One day (and that day is -not far distant, ladies and gentlemen), you will awake to find yourselves in -the midst of great, growing industries. The mighty river at your very door, -ladies and gentlemen, will be at work for the Nation! The full measure of her -might, ladies and gentlemen, will be _at your service_! Can such a stupendous -thing as that, ladies and gentlemen, be placed in the hands of private -interests? I say, _no_!” (The tall, lean man did not say it, he thundered the -words.) “I say, no man, no group of individuals, can do a thing like that! No -man--” - -A queer, sickening lurch of the building, forward and back, a shattering of -windows drowned his voice completely. You know how it is when an earthquake -intrudes upon your little thoughts, your infinitesimal activities. You -suddenly know that you are nothing at all. Your very soul sickens before a -mightier than thou. So it was at the banquet. - -The tall, lean man’s plate leaped at him, and a custardy dessert which he had -not touched,--on account of dyspepsia--was deposited on his clothing in -splotches. He started for the door, enraged because every one else was also -starting for the door. - -Came a terrific, booming roar like the rolling up of the heavens into a -scroll,--done carelessly and in haste. Women shrieked. Men shouted -unintelligibly under the impression that they were doing something to quell -the panic. - -Peter, stunned for a minute, jumped upon the table, one heel crunching a dish -of salted almonds devastatingly. His great voice boomed above the tumult and -stilled it, while each person looked to see what and why he was speaking. - -“Ladies and gentlemen, that’s all. There won’t be any more. Folks, like it or -not, you’ve got a dam in the Colorado River! She’s dammed, right this minute. -It’s an accident, a slip-up in the plans, but--_she’s there_. You just heard a -chunk of Black Canyon go into the river. The man that made the last speech -said it couldn’t be done. It _is_ done. Now, the government will have to do -whatever else is to be done. Ladies and gentlemen, you have just heard the -Cramer Dam go in!” - -That stopped the panic automatically. Men and women waited to hear more. They -were accustomed to blasting, if that were all. They accepted Peter’s statement -that this was all of it, though the women were still white, still inclined to -clutch their husbands and sweethearts and wonder if they were going to faint. -Las Vegas was dazed. The Colorado Commission was collectively looking at Peter -through narrowed lids. - -Peter glanced down into the measuring, weighing eyes of the greatest man -present. He flushed at what he read there, and he answered the look. - -“It’s my fault,” he said simply. “I ought to have tied ’em up, or brought ’em -with me. I should have placed a guard over that dam. I did hide the -battery--but they must have found it.” - -At a sudden thought he threw out both hands in the gesture with which a strong -man meets the inevitable. - -“Gentlemen,” he cried, and his voice was a challenge. “Fate has decreed that -the thing should go through! I had no knowledge of this, but--” his eyes -darkened and twinkled, the endearing King smile softened his face suddenly -“--gentlemen, if you will stop over a day, I should like to show you the -Cramer Dam, _completed_!” - -He looked at the great engineer who had questioned him during dinner. - -“_You_ said it couldn’t be done! I’m not a gambling man, Mr. Brown, but I’ll -bet you fifty thousand dollars against fifty cents, that _she’s there_!” - -The man he challenged looked up at him. Slowly, as his thought crystallized, -the blood drained out of the engineer’s face, leaving it dead white. He turned -to his chief, but his voice went to the farthest corner of the hall. - -“My God! What if she holds a while! Warn Needles, Yuma--send out a general -warning below! Tell the people to hunt the highest points they can reach! -Gentlemen, if that damned Cramer Dam holds for forty-eight hours, there’ll be -the greatest disaster in the history of the West!” - -The A. P. man leaped chairs, bowled over men on his way to the door. After him -came the banqueters in a senseless rush. - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTY - -DAWN AND THE RIVER - - -On the street men were guessing wild. An explosion had taken place,--every one -knew that. The majority guessed that the powder magazine at Searchlight had -blown up; though as a matter of fact they were not certain that Searchlight -had a powder magazine. - -The more impulsive were already tearing down the road in automobiles, without -any very definite notion of where they were headed for. As is customary in -such cases, every man who had a tongue had also an opinion which he was eager -to impart to somebody, and was unable to find any one who would listen to him. - -Into this confusion the A. P. man burst like a rocket shot off accidentally. -He was on his way to the telegraph office on the second floor of the depot, -and he meant to arrive there ahead of the others so that he could be sure of a -clear wire to cover the story. Besides, he had been impressed with the need of -haste in warning people below. Yet he found time to shout the news to a group -of men as he passed them. - -“Colorado’s dammed!” he cried, and did not wait to explain how it should be -spelled. Wherefore Las Vegas guessed harder than ever until men less hurried -arrived from the banquet hall and told just what had happened. Immediately -thereafter, every man who owned a car cranked up and got going in the -direction of Black Canyon. The Governor of the State stayed a while to give -certain orders and to make sure that they would be promptly obeyed. - -Peter laid a detaining hand upon the arm of a shrewd young lawyer whom he knew -slightly, and who had studied him intently while Peter explained to the -banqueters the commotion. The young lawyer instinctively drew aside from the -throng, to a clear space where confidences might be indulged in. But Peter was -brief. - -“Here’s a check. It’s good for ten thousand. You advertise that people with -smashed windows and so on can have the damage made good. Get a contractor, -have him investigate all complaints, and then fix things up. I’ll see you in a -day or so. I’m going to the river to see what’s happened. You attend to the -damages here.” - -He did not wait until the lawyer consented to accept the job, but left him -standing there, the check in his hands, an unlighted cigar in his mouth. Peter -was just climbing into the big car that drew up to the curb for him, when the -A. P. man--his name was Jerry Newton, by the way--sprinted a half-block and -landed on the running board. - -“Sent out a general alarm,” he puffed, “and got the news to headquarters. -Cramer’s speech--wrote it during the feed. Had a hunch I might have to make it -snappy. Needles and Yuma will get word to the ranchers--if the big splash -holds off a couple of hours they think they can reach everybody, practically. -Anybody got a cigar? Never had time to eat a bite.” - -“You’re out of luck, then,” Peter informed him. “No chance till breakfast, -now.” - -Rawley swung round upon them from the front seat, where he was to pilot the -driver. His voice was strained and unnatural. - -“The--folks would know enough to get out of danger, wouldn’t they, Uncle -Peter?” - -“They would,” Peter said grimly, “if they had any warning.” - -“You don’t think it was an accident, surely!” As Rawley spoke, others leaned -to listen for Peter’s reply. - -“I know I found a doctor,--he’s going to follow at our tail light. I hid the -battery where Jess and the old man couldn’t find it. The rest we’ll know when -we get there.” Peter’s exultation had left him completely. He sat back in a -corner of the wide seat and said no more. And by that, Rawley knew that Peter -was worried. - -The reporter was saying that Needles had reported every window in town broken -by the concussion. - -“Of course they counted, in the five minutes they must have had before you -wired,” Rawley exclaimed irritably. If Peter was worried over the folks in the -basin, then Rawley knew that there was cause. He told the driver to “hit ’er -up, the road’s good”, and thereby gained some minutes and gave some great men -a jolting. - -They left the road to Black Canyon and went on to Nelson. They could drive to -the river that way, and one glance would tell them whether the dam was -holding. That was important. The Governor of the State having called for help, -it was necessary to see first of all what the river was doing below the -dam,--if dam there were. - -Several cars fell in behind them, no doubt cognizant of the fact that the -Governor, Peter and the great engineer were in the first automobile, and that -they knew where they were going. So it was a swift procession that swung up -over the summit and down into El Dorado Canyon. - -The September moon was lingering upon a mountain top, loath to withdraw its -gaze from the crippled river he had watched over all these ages long. Peter -was first out of the car, which, for reasons readily apprehended, he had -stopped well up the wash. If the dam was holding so long, there would be a -great, engulfing wave when it broke, and the longer the dam held, the greater -the flood. - -“The river’s high for this time of year, on account of the storms in the -mountains,” the chief engineer of the party informed them superfluously, since -the occurrence was sufficiently unusual to have excited comment before now. -“She’s running close to fifty thousand second feet,--or was, when we left -Needles yesterday.” He turned to Peter with courteous criticism; not for him -was it to censure or judge, but he ventured a remark nevertheless which -betrayed his own personal belief. - -“You should have waited until the edge of winter before you let that charge -loose. This is an unusual year, I grant; but with your knowledge of the river, -you must know the danger of attempting to dam it while there is so great a -discharge.” - -The group hurried its pace to listen, but Peter, in the lead, seemed wholly -unconscious of criticism and listeners alike. He was absorbed by his own -thoughts, his own fears. - -“It was madness to do it now, in any case,” he agreed simply. “For years we’ve -talked of shooting it during September, when the water begins to lower -definitely for the winter months. That would give us the longest possible time -for strengthening the dam. If this wasn’t a sheer accident, it was done by a -madman,--the vulture who feared the Eagle would snatch away his feast. I know -of no better simile. Gentlemen, I fear you will have to cope with a madman who -ran amuck when he discovered my absence and feared that I would betray the -whole scheme to the government. He could see nothing but disaster in that. If -he deliberately blew up the dam, it was with a crazy notion of forestalling -the government. I don’t know; I hid the battery.” - -He was leading them up on the high bank on the north side of the wash by a -narrow trail he knew. Even in his haste he remembered that the lives of great -men must not be placed in danger, and he had not needed the reminder of the -engineer that it was a risky proceeding, blowing in the dam at the height of -this sporadic high water. Not so high as to overflow its banks, it is true, -but with not too wide a margin of safety, either. - -No man there knew better than Peter what an unexpected breakage would do, no -man there felt more keenly the elements of disaster, once his first exultation -over their disbelief had passed; a flare of triumph over the wise ones. Peter -had been on that river just yesterday. His launch was still at Needles, where -he had left it to take the train for Barstow. He had arrived in Las Vegas on -the train which brought the private car of the Commission. He had planned it -so, to be sure of seeing them, and also to conceal his errand from the two -Cramers, whose rage would not have stopped at murder, it is likely, had they -known what was in his mind. - -When Peter had embarked in his launch, the river was running forty-three -thousand second feet. He had looked at the gauge. He had not known how the -government gauge had read at Needles when his train left there, but he did not -doubt the word of the engineer. There had been unusual, heavy storms in -Colorado, Wyoming, Utah. An edge of it had swept his own State. To attempt to -dam that sweeping flood was, as he had named it, madness. - -Once up the bank they walked rapidly. Rawley, glancing back, saw other -automobiles stop behind their car, and men trailing after them up the bank. It -was a somewhat circuitous route; he wondered if his party would follow Peter -so patiently if they knew that they could have driven to the water’s edge. -They were walking half a mile when they might have ridden. But Peter was -taking no risk. - -They reached the high bank of the river just as the moon slipped--like the -face of a boy who has been peering over a stone wall and who has lost his -footing--dropped suddenly out of sight, and left the river dark, the far hills -gilded tantalizingly with its white light. The party halted. - -“She’s dammed,” Peter said tersely. - -“I can hear it running,” some one objected. - -“I know every sound of this river,” said Peter impatiently. “I’ve listened to -it all my life. You hear a seepage fighting the rocks in the channel. It’s no -bigger than a trout stream now. This way, gentlemen.” - -In the blackness before dawn, made blacker to them by the sudden desertion of -the moon, Peter struck into the burro trail Rawley knew so well. - -The familiar path brought a sharp longing for Nevada, whom he had left in -anger some months before. Of course she had not been plotting with Young Jess -against him! Once his hurt pride let him think clearly, Rawley knew that she -had been trying to save him. She would naturally suppose that they had gone -straight toward the canyon, and she was encouraging Jess to waste time looking -among the rocks, never dreaming that they were there. Many a time Rawley -cursed the King temper for letting him taunt her with her Indian blood. He had -wanted to hurt. His instinct had led him to the words that would sting -sharpest, even though she believed him as much Indian as herself. - -Men before him and behind were talking--short-breathed over the pace Peter was -unconsciously setting them--of the dam, its probable strength and the danger -of a disastrous flood if it held a while and then failed to hold. Rawley -walked among them, thinking of Nevada, wondering if she would ever forgive him -for what he had said to her. Strangely enough, of Young Jess’s hate and -promised revenge he did not think at all. Nevada’s resentment, her -forgiveness,--these were the things that mattered. The dam was an incident, a -job for others to handle. Rawley’s whole thought was of persuading a girl to -forget a dozen words which he had spoken in blind fury. - -Then, looking across at the piled hills beyond the river (the hills of -Arizona), the white radiance faded, chilled, merged into the crepuscule that -threatened to deepen again to darkness. The moon was retreating before the -coming of the sun. - -The twilight brightened, pulled lavender and rose from the dawn and spread -over the hills a radiant, opal-tinted veil. The great men stopped and faced -the dawn, and forgot the problems set by the great Teacher for human minds to -solve, and, in the solving, grow to greater things. The Governor removed his -hat and stood, head bared, waiting for the coming of the sun. The heralds -flung banners of royal purple and gold. The hills laid aside the thin veil of -enchantment and spread a soft carpet of gray and brown. - -The King appeared, a ruddy disk with broad bars of purple cloud before his -face. The heavens blazed with the glory of a new day. Somewhere behind them, -in hidden mesquite bush, a mocking bird began singing reverently its morning -aria. - -Eyes left the savage wonder of the wilderness greeting the dawn and dropped to -the crippled Colorado. - -In a dark canyon drab bars of silt stretched like gigantic crocodiles upon the -river’s bed, with the shiny humps of moss-slimed bowlders in between. Rosy -pools of still water reflected the barbaric dawn clouds above. Ridges of -water-worn gravel. A thin swift current was fighting the huge rocks in the -channel with a great splutter and turmoil of spray flung up. Smaller streams -were worming impatiently aslant the river bed to join the stream fighting so -valiantly in the channel. - -Already the main current was yielding, choked by the neighbor mountain that -had suddenly assailed it from above. Against the rocks the sun painted -inexorably the mark of its surrender. - -Peter looked down upon the river bed and saw his splendid dream come true. For -a moment his exultation returned. He looked at the Governor. - -“I believe, sir, that the Cramer Dam is a complete success!” A ringing note of -pride was in his voice. - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - -THE VULTURE FEASTS - - -They walked on, heads turned toward the spectacle. The sun, rising higher, -splashed a mellow light into the deep crannies between the bowlders, set the -bald pates of smoothed granite rocks a-gleam,--rocks never before uncovered in -the history of man. - -Rawley turned and looked curiously at Peter, whose eyes were upon the river -bed while his feet stumbled along the trail. They were anxious to reach the -dam, every man of them. The engineer was stepping out briskly, keen glances -going to the cliffs up-river; but for all their haste they could not forebear -to gaze down at the stark, denuded canyon bottom, where a great river had been -halted in its headlong rush. - -“Well, Uncle Peter, you’ve had your wish,” Rawley said at last. “You said you -were waiting for the day when you could show the Colorado who was boss. You -wanted to stop it. It’s stopped.” - -Peter looked at him, smiling faintly. - -“I was just thinking of Johnny Buffalo, that last night,” he said, speaking so -that the others, straggling along the trail, would not hear. “What was that he -said? ‘You will succeed, and fail in the succeeding. And from the failure you -will rise to greater things’--or something like that. It just struck me. I -wonder if he meant,--this.” He tilted his head toward the river. “I’ve -succeeded. I’ve stopped the Colorado, and shown it who’s boss. But it isn’t -like I dreamed it, after all. I’ve got a hunch, boy, that we’ll never work -that dredger. Maybe the government will have other ideas about that. It was a -self-centered plan, I admit that now. It had no right to succeed. The folks -below need the river. I hadn’t figured them into the calculations at all.” - -Jerry Newton overheard that last observation and stepped faster until he was -just behind them. - -“Did you ever see a flood, Mr. Cramer? I covered Pueblo and several other -places; was down South, that last big one. Families down below here are -getting out,--and believe me, they are making it snappy! I’ll bet you couldn’t -find a breakfast cooked in its own kitchen, down below here, to save your -life! They know what a flood means, and this is going to be like the crack o’ -doom when it comes. Sudden, what I mean. They’ve been tickling the gas levers, -believe me, since that blast went off.” - -Peter turned and looked at him, frowning. - -“What makes you all take it for granted the dam won’t hold?” he queried -resentfully. “It would, I’d stake my life on it almost, though it should have -been shot in low water, or falling water. This high water is not going to -last. It’s the run-off of a big general storm, and I believe the peak is past, -anyway. You don’t realize the size of the Cramer Dam. And you seem to forget -altogether the auxiliary dam that can be thrown in, any time it seems -necessary.” - -Jerry Newton saw the point, but he saw something else, and being a blunt young -man by nature, he blurted a retort. - -“If you’re so sure of its holding, Mr. Cramer, what are you so worried about?” - -Peter’s eyes hardened. - -“Lives, young fellow. Two of them dear to me.” - -The A. P. man was silenced. He looked contritely at Peter’s back, but he could -not think of anything to say. - -“Look there!” The engineer, hurrying along in the lead, stopped and pointed. -“That’s what I call enterprise. But it’s taking a chance I shouldn’t care -about, myself.” - -The party pulled up, facing the river. They had reached the lower edge of the -basin, about where Rawley and Johnny Buffalo had camped. The bank here was -high and rocky as the canyon opened slowly its mouth. The river had been -forced to a narrower channel, and it held therefore a deeper bed. - -Away down there in the middle of it, almost at the edge of the channel -fighting still to hold its own, a bent figure was groping, bent almost double, -eyes to the ground. Now and then it knelt and clawed in slimy pools. Then it -went on, inch by inch, like a child picking pretty pebbles on a beach. - -“Old Jess!” cried Rawley. “Peter, it’s Old Jess! Call to him! He’ll step into -a hole--there’s quicksand--or if the dam breaks--” - -“He’s crazy!” several of the party spoke the words at once, as sometimes -happens, unconsciously forming an impromptu chorus. “Call him out of there!” - -“He wouldn’t come!” Peter was starting toward the edge, seeking a trail down. -Rawley, running ahead to the place where he used to bring up water, was down -before him. - -“Go back! I’ll get him,” shouted Peter, scrambling after, and those left at -the top gesticulated and shouted. - -“You go back,” Rawley cried over his shoulder. “One’s enough!” Then, having -reached the bottom, he started out. - -The vulture saw them, and flapped his arms and screamed vituperations in a -reasonless rage, greed-mad, thinking they were come to rob him. - -Slipping, sliding among the bowlders that piled the river bed in places, the -two ran out, instinctively avoiding the treacherous bars of engulfing mud that -lay upstream from some larger obstruction, the deep pools where fish were -leaping. Neither would turn back. Both men realized that. - -The vulture picked up a rock as big as his fist and threatened them with it. -They went on, straight for him. Old Jess gave a maniacal scream, hurled the -rock and fled. Rawley ducked. But Peter, coming just behind him, was caught in -the chest. He lurched, slipped on a slimy spot and went down backward on a -rock. - -Rawley did not see. He was hot after the old man, who ran awkwardly, his -pockets weighted so that they sagged the full stretch of the cloth, a sample -bag over his shoulder knocking heavily against his back. He headed straight -for the current that boiled, a miniature Colorado, in the channel. - -He meant to jump it and gain the other side. He had lost all sense of -proportion. He did not see that a horse could scarcely clear the racing flood. -Rawley shouted a warning just as Old Jess reached the brink. The old vulture -gave a scream, sprang out, and the current caught him and dragged him down. - -Rawley ran for a few steps down the plunging stream, put one foot in the -quicksand and hurled himself back just in time. The black, tumbled object that -was Old Jess whirled on. - -“The river never gives up its dead; he said it himself,” Rawley exclaimed in -an awed tone to Peter, and turned. But Peter was not behind him, as he had -supposed. Then he saw him lying among a litter of small, mossy rocks. - -Up on the bank men were shouting, pointing upriver when Rawley heaved Peter up -on his back and started picking his way toward shore. Rawley glanced up, saw -the stretched arms, looked, and began running. - -Up the river, close against shore, looking as if it were hugging the rocks for -protection, a narrow, white line came leaping down upon him. The Colorado was -not a river to submit tamely to the will of man. It had found a weak spot -close inshore, and in the few hours that it had been fretting against its -barrier, it had eaten a way through. Now a slim skirmisher came surging down -through the tunnel the water had made. - -Men scrambled down the bluff toward him; well-groomed men with patent leathers -that slipped on the steep bank. They could not help, but neither could they -stand up there with their hands in their pockets and watch. - -Rawley did not see them. He did not see that gamboling white line, after the -first glance. He did not see anything, save the next place where he must set -his foot, the next mud bar which he must avoid. His shoulders were bent under -the two-hundred-pound weight of a man he loved as he had never before loved -any man, and he knew that safety might lie in a second,--in one long stride. - -The rocks seemed to grow more slippery, more slimy as he went on. The mud -banks seemed to slide in upon him. He had to turn back once, just in time to -avoid a patch of ooze. He imagined that the shore receded, or that he stood -still and moved his feet in one spot. But he fought that notion and forced -himself to believe that he was making time against the small, devouring flood -that was racing down at him. He kept telling himself that the water had twice -as far to travel in order to engulf him as he must go to escape it. - -He was right. The water had farther to travel, and he made time. Indeed, the -spectators swore that he made a new record for speed. Running with two hundred -pounds on his back was a feat for any man on smooth going, they told him. Over -that course, it was not an achievement at all; it was a miracle. - -However that may be, Rawley used his last ounce of energy to reach the bank. A -gloved hand reached down and caught him. Its mate seized the other wrist. He -gave a final dig with his toes and a scrambling wriggle, and crawled up as -some one pulled Peter off his back and the small torrent swept past. - -On a shelf of rock above the watermark he lay back for a minute to breathe -before he essayed to climb the high bank. He looked down at the rush of water, -his eyes wide. - -“Lord, I thought it was the whole river coming at me!” he panted disgustedly, -looking up into the face of the Governor, whose hand had reached down to him. -“Why, I could jump that,--almost.” - -“Hardly, with a load,” the Governor retorted. “And then, the whole dam may -give way at any moment, now it has started.” - -Peter stirred and struggled to sit up. His dazed eyes went down to the new -torrent. The sight stung him to full consciousness. He came up like a lion -wounded but full of fight. - -“Come on! We’ve got to shoot in that auxiliary dam,” he shouted thickly. -“I--was going to--anyway. And let this flood down--easy.” - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - -ANOTHER RESCUE - - -“Going to try for a rescue of the--body?” Jerry Newton looked up from fussing -with one of the best small cameras on the market to-day. He had “got” that -dramatic race with the flood, and he made no apologies for his enterprise. It -was his business to get such scenes. - -The Governor pressed his lips together and pointed downward. - -“We’re going to save the living,” he said. “Where’s that doctor?” - -A shrewd-eyed, tanned man was already feeling of Peter’s skull with finger -tips that seemed to own a detached intelligence. - -“Just a simple contusion,” he announced cheerfully. “Put you to sleep for a -minute, though, didn’t it? Here. I’ll fix you up in two shakes so you’ll feel -like new. Let’s have a look at your chest.” - -In five minutes Peter was standing steadily on his own feet, ready to go. -Rawley caught his somber glance at the place where Old Jess had disappeared -and shook his head, unconsciously aping the Governor. - -“No use, Uncle Peter. I tried to get him. It’s running like a mill race. He -landed square in the middle of it.” - -“He did this.” Peter swept his arm out toward the bared river bed while his -eyes sought the Governor’s. “Crazy,--you saw that. My half-brother would have -more sense. The old man did it, to get the gold before the government could -beat him to it.” - -He looked from one face to another trying to choose who stood highest in rank. - -“I want permission,” he said more firmly, as the doctor’s stimulant took hold, -“to go ahead now and carry out my plans. I warn you, gentlemen, that if that -is not done there may be a great flood. Let me go ahead and shoot in that -auxiliary dam _now_. That will relieve the pressure until we can shoot in more -rock here. If I hold back the flood for you, at my expense, you can do as you -think best with me afterwards, and with the river.” - -He threw out a hand toward the mutinous inshore stream. - -“That dam is all rock; tons upon tons of it. Inshore is where a channel could -eat through. The cliffs overhang and would prevent a full drop there of broken -rock. I counted on this. It was my natural run-off. If it broke through -anywhere, it would break here. Nature’s a pretty good engineer, gentlemen. But -we’ll make it a safe proposition. We’ll shoot in the auxiliary dam. I want a -free hand in this, or--I can’t answer for the consequences. I warn you.” - -The Governor lifted his eyebrows at the great engineer of the party. The -engineer looked at the Chairman of the Commission. He looked at the river. -Plainly, he disliked to give his word, which would carry much weight and which -might lead them astray. Peter walked steadily along, between the Governor and -Rawley, who held him solicitously by the arm. - -“You will bear in mind that I have studied this problem all my life,” Peter -added urgently. “I’ve been spending a good deal of money on it. I have laid my -plans very carefully, so as to risk neither lives nor money. The people below -us will be safe, if you let me go ahead. In spite of the high water the Cramer -Dam will hold--if you let me go ahead and finish the job.” - -The engineer shut his technical eyes and listened to his common reason. The -Governor was still glancing his way between steps, wanting his opinion. - -“There’s a good deal in that,” the engineer said at last. “I should advise -that under the circumstances we permit Mr. Cramer to go ahead and make his dam -as safe as possible. It will not render the present danger any greater. The -longer the Cramer Dam holds, the better chance we will have of averting -disaster. Give me a little time, and I can, I think, promise to get the river -under control without any disastrous flood condition arising.” - -Peter’s eyes darkened at the inference, but he had won at least one point. -That, he reflected, was more than might have happened. These were truly great -men; they were greater than their training of keeping well within the red-tape -fences. - -“Very well, Mr. Cramer,” the Governor said. “I appoint you to take charge of -the safeguarding of the river against a flood. I cannot promise immediate -funds, however,--” - -Peter dismissed that point with a gesture. - -“I expected to finance the Cramer Dam from start to finish,” he said bluntly. -“I still expect to do that. All I ask is to be left alone.” - -They had reached the flat rock, on the river bank opposite the shacks. Peter -sent a glance that way, saw that the shacks were standing, apparently -unharmed, and dismissed from his mind the thought of danger to his family. -With the engineer beside him, the Governor and others behind him, he kept -straight on to the dam site. He was wondering if that maniac, Old Jess, had -thought to remove the big launch to a safe point around the bend above. If -not, they might not be able to cross the river, should they want to do so. -There were a few ticklish little points in the situation, he was bound to -admit. - -Rawley let go his arm and turned away toward the camp, and Peter called after -him. - -“Have Gladys and Nevada cook a big breakfast, son. We’ll be back in an hour or -so. And look out for another blast. But it will be a lot farther off than this -one was. Have plenty of hot coffee.” - -“You bet!” Rawley promised, his heart curiously light. Angry or pleased, -Nevada was very close. In another minute or two he would see her. There would -be plenty to talk about, besides themselves. Just to hear her voice, he -thought exultantly, would be a panacea for his loneliness. - -As he neared the place he stopped as though some one had thrust him back. Then -he went on, running as he had not run from the small flood in the river. The -shacks stood, unharmed save for gaping window sashes, splinters of glass -sticking like flattened icicles to the edges. The porch of Nevada’s rock-faced -dugout cabin stood upright, though slightly twisted. But behind the porch the -rockwork was tumbled in a confused heap. - -At a certain place in the ruins, Anita was whimpering and tearing at the rock -with her fingers. Two of the older children were trying to help. It was the -sight of these which filled Rawley with a cold fear. They would not tear at -the wreck of an empty cabin. - -Anita turned and stared at him dully. Then she pointed, her hand shaking as if -she were stricken with palsy. - -“In there--Nevada,” she quavered. “My girl die, mebby! Lil time ago, speak to -me. Now don’t speak no more. Mebby die.” - -“Get back, out of the way.” Rawley went up, looked at the place where they had -been digging, and caught his breath. - -“A little more, and you’d have had the whole thing in on top of her. Don’t you -see that wall just ready to topple? Kid, go get a pick and shovel. I’ll try -the roof.” - -He recalled the construction of the place, thanking God that he had spent many -days there. The rock cabin had been set back into the hill, against a rock -ledge of the prevailing granite. That, he felt sure, would hold against -anything but a direct charge of explosives. In the far corner a dark, -closet-like recess had been cut, and roofed with poles, corrugated iron and -the dirt. It was used, he remembered, as a storeroom. It had never been -finished like the two rooms in front. The rock walls were bare, the poles and -iron showed in the low roof. - -With pick and shovel he began digging at the roof, which had remained intact. -As he worked he cursed Peter’s thoroughness in constructing the place. The -poles were set rather close together, and they were spiked down to heavy -beams. The oldest boy brought a pinch-bar for that, and Rawley, throwing back -the iron roofing, pried up a pole and let himself down into blackness. - -The heavy curtain that hung in the doorway of the storeroom was slit. Beyond, -the room seemed at his first dismayed glance to be completely filled with rock -and débris. Then, quite close, he saw her. - -She was sitting before the homemade desk that held her typewriter. Spread out -before her were the books wherein she kept the records of the Cramer Dam. She -had been working on the books when the blast wrecked the place. A beam from -the ceiling had fallen, caught upon another beam, and pinned her down, bowed -over her desk. Perhaps she had been leaning upon her folded arms to rest, when -the shock came. But the beam was lying against her back, holding her down, and -upon that, around it, rocks were piled. - -Rawley set his teeth, carefully removed the rocks between him and the girl, -and crept closer. Hesitating, afraid, he reached out and touched her fingers, -still closed around something which she had been holding in her hand. Her -fingers were cool, pliable,--alive, he could have sworn. So his heart, that -had seemed to stop altogether, gave a great jump. - -Very gently he released the thing she was holding and drew it toward him. His -old, weather-scarred, briar pipe! He looked down at it dumbly, looked at -Nevada and very carefully laid the pipe back, against her fingers. His eyes -were very blue and bright; his face was very pale. He steadied himself. He -would get her out; he _must_ free her and bring her alive to the safe outside, -where-- - -A fear stabbed him. They were going to shoot in the other dam! He hadn’t much -time, then. Another shock,--Peter had told him to look out for a blast. It was -perhaps a matter of minutes. - -He raised himself, looked at the beams. They seemed to be solidly braced, for -the present, though another concussion would be likely to throw them down. He -looked down. - -Nevada was sitting on a reed stool, with two cushions upon it to give her -height. He crept closer, raised himself and set a shoulder against the beam -that lay along her bowed shoulders. He steadied it so while he took firm hold -of a cushion and pulled it from beneath her. - -Nevada’s body sagged a bit. Rawley could see daylight now between her -shoulders and the beam. He waited a breath, felt no settling of the beam, and -pulled out the remaining cushion. Still the beam held fast. Nevada, then, was -not being crushed; she had been pinned down without bearing the weight of the -beam. - -Rawley went back, crouching under the caved roof. His arms were round Nevada -when he stopped and picked up the pipe, slipping it into the pocket of her -blouse. Then, pulling her gently to him, he drew her out from under the beam -and into the granite-walled storehouse. As he lifted her in his arms Nevada -groaned. - -Anita’s arms were uplifted to receive her when Rawley came up head and -shoulders through the gaping hole in the dugout roof. But he shook his head, -stepped out with her in his arms and dug heels in the soft bank, working his -way down to the level. - -He still held the girl in his arms, looking for a place where he might lay her -comfortably, when the earth shook beneath his feet. The terrific boom of the -explosion deafened him. The jumble of rock shook and fell, tighter packed. - -The auxiliary dam was in. - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - -THE EAGLE’S WING - - -Nevada was lying on the bed in Anita’s shack, trying to convince Rawley that -the doctor knew what he was talking about. The doctor had declared that -Nevada’s injuries were mostly superficial bruises and the nervous shock of -sitting cramped in one position for hours, expecting every moment to be -crushed to death. Nevada had seemed rather crestfallen when Rawley told her -how simple a matter it had been to free her from the beam. - -“The whole thing caught me unawares just when I had stopped a minute to rest,” -she explained defensively. “I think I was half asleep when it happened, and of -course my lamp was smashed too flat even to think of exploding. It was black -dark, and I suppose it was natural to imagine that I was being crushed when I -was merely held fast. I did not try to move. I was afraid the whole thing -would come down on me. Of course, I should have thought of the cushions,--” - -“You’d be a wonder if you had; even more of a wonder than you are.” Rawley -took her hand in both of his and patted it, in a sublime disregard of the -circumstances of his last visit to the basin. “I believe in omens, Nevada. -Fate gave me a splendid one when I found you.” Rawley smiled at her -mysteriously, his eyes twinkling. - -“In the general wreck, my old pipe had landed from some cranny right on the -desk beside you. You can’t make me believe that Fate didn’t mean something by -that! The way I interpret it--” - -“A freak accident,” interrupted Nevada, her cheeks showing alarming symptoms -of a sudden attack of fever. “That old pipe! You didn’t take it, and I must -have tucked it up somewhere until you came again. I suppose it rattled down.” - -Rawley’s eyes had never been so blue. They were like looking down upon a -sunlit sea. He dipped his fingers into the pocket of Nevada’s blouse and -produced the pipe, turning it tenderly in his hands. - -“God bless the day I learned to smoke!” he murmured, his eyes still dancing. -“It may have rattled down--but I know it’s a good omen. It means--” - -“Yes?” Nevada’s big eyes were upon his face. A faint tremor was in her lips, -as if laughter and tears were fighting for the mastery. - -“The omen says that you and I are going to get married within a week. Well -within a week.” He was studying the pipe as a mystic studies the crystal. “It -tells me that the hatchet is forever buried. This is the pipe of peace, and it -passed from me to you. That means that you and I go through life together. Our -trails never separate. It means--” - -“Oh, hush!” Nevada cried sharply and struck at the pipe in his hand. “Our -trails can’t lie together. We can’t marry, ever--ever! You know that as well -as I do. We’re cousins.” She turned her face to the wall. - -Rawley did not speak. He looked up from the pipe, straight into the eyes of -Anita, sitting in a corner like a bronze Buddha disguised as a squaw. - -Anita met his look with stolid obstinacy, never blinking, never a quiver in -her face. - -Rawley’s jaw squared a little as he continued to look at her. His body swayed -forward, his eyes boring into her very soul. So had King, of the Mounted, -looked when he demanded that Anita should choose between himself and Jess -Cramer. Rawley did not know why he stared at her so. He only knew that the -truth was there, hidden behind those unreadable eyes. He knew that the truth -would give him Nevada the moment that truth was spoken. No lips but Anita’s -might speak that truth; other lips were sworn to silence. - -The old squaw whimpered under her breath. Her eyes flickered and could no -longer look defiance into those terrible, commanding blue eyes,--the eyes of -King, of the Mounted. Her hand went up to shield her face from the stare of -them. She stirred uneasily in her chair. She spread her fingers, peering -fearfully between them. The terrible blue eyes looked at her still. Slowly, -painfully, scarce knowing that she did so, Anita pulled herself up from the -chair and went forward as one goes to the bar of justice. - -As a flame shoots up suddenly from dying embers, so did a flame dart out from -the ashes of her youth. The stooped, gross old body straightened. Anita’s head -went back. Her eyes glowed with a little of their old fire. Her voice rang -clear, proud with the pride of ancestry unknown. - -“Nevada,” she cried imperiously and spoke rapidly in Indian. “It is not true -that you are his cousin. He is the grandson of a man I loved in my youth. He -is the grandson of Sergeant George King, who was the father of Peter. I have -been ashamed that you should know the truth. Now I am not ashamed, for I know -that stolen love is more noble than a lie. The father of Peter, him I loved. -He was a soldier and he went away. He promised to return in one month. In -three months he had not come, nor sent me word. I was angry and I let the man -he hated think that I loved him and not my soldier man. Then I went away, for -my heart was sad. I would not follow my soldier man. I was proud. After a long -time--after more than a year had passed I returned to El Dorado and I brought -my child, who was Peter. I sought for news of my soldier, but there was none. -He had not come, he had not sent me word. So I went to the man I hated. I told -him that Peter was his son, which was a lie. I was very proud. I thought that -some day my soldier would return and would see how I laughed at him and loved -another. But I did not love. And Peter was not the son of the man my soldier -hated. Now the young man comes and loves, and I am old. Soon I go to my -soldier man. It is not right that others should have sorrow because of my lie. - -“So now I speak what is true. I say that this young man is not of your blood. -He is the grandson of the father of Peter, and Peter is his uncle. You are not -his cousin. Now you will be his wife, and you will hate Anita for the sin of -her youth.” - -Nevada lay listening, gazing fixedly at her grandmother. She caught the -gnarled old hand of Anita in both her own. She fondled it, kissed it, laughed -softly with tears in her laughter. - -“You will not hate Anita?” Tears spilled over the fat lids and trickled down -the cheeks of the old squaw. - -Whatever Nevada said, she spoke in Indian, stealing a shy glance now and then -at Rawley. But her voice crooned caresses. Now and then she kissed the old -hand she held in both her own. - -Anita tucked in her bangs, drew two fingers across her cheeks to dry her tears -and smiled. She turned heavily toward Rawley. - -“My girl say, loves you more--I love your grandfadder. My girl make you good -wife.” - -“Hush, Grandmother! He doesn’t want a fighting squaw--” - -“Don’t, eh?” Rawley got up and made for her. - -At that moment Peter walked in upon them, unconscious of the fact that he was -interrupting a very interesting conversation. Peter’s face was grave. - -“Nevada, do you and mother know anything about Young Jess? Gladys is all upset -over him. She thought he was down in the river with his father. She heard them -talking about getting gold, and then the dam went, and she hasn’t seen him -since. If he’s hiding,” he added sternly, “he may as well come out and show -himself. I think it can be fixed up. The Governor wants to ask him some -questions.” - -“How could I know? I was penned in when the cabin fell to pieces,” Nevada -countered. “They certainly said nothing to me, either one of them. I didn’t -see them all afternoon or evening.” - -Anita slowly lifted her hand to her face and gropingly tucked in her bangs. -Her eyes were fixed dumbly on Peter’s face. - -“Young Jess--by river,” she said reluctantly. “I walk in moonlight, no can -sleep. Comes big shootin’. I fall down. Bimeby I hear Nevada--she call me come -quick. I no see Jess no more. I come.” She recapitulated slowly. “Jess by -river, look on river. Comes shoot. No see Jess no more. Nevada call loud. Jess -no come.” - -The eyes of the two men met significantly. Peter turned and went out, and -Rawley followed him. - -“Concussion,” Rawley said succinctly. “If he were on the edge of the bank, it -would throw him off, very likely. It’s high, out here, and pretty steep. He -went into the river, in that case.” - -“Yes--some folks upriver came near getting it when we shot in the second dam,” -Peter said tonelessly. “I sent a man up on a hill to wave back any stragglers, -but the doctor had to do some patching on the crowd, nevertheless. Well, I’ll -go and look along the river. He may be hurt, under the bank.” - -Rawley did not think so, but he went with Peter and searched the bank -thoroughly. Halfway down, caught behind a bowlder, he found Young Jess’s hat. -He managed to retrieve it and bring it to Peter. Peter turned it over in his -hand, looked at Rawley and nodded. - -“It’s his,” he said shortly. “It’s all we’ll ever find.” - -He turned away toward the shack, swung back suddenly and faced the tremendous -heap of broken rock visible from midstream to the farther shore. He lifted -both hands high above his head, his face twisted, his eyes black with sublime -fury. - -“Damn you!” he cried. “Curse the thought, born in greed, fostered in rapacity, -that put you there! Curse the bitter years that brought you to pass! For the -greed of the gold they would have filched, for the vulture’s eye that watched -and waited all these years, to swoop down and snatch and grab, with never a -thought for the rights of other men, I curse the thing I helped to make! - -“Born in selfishness, you have defiled a mighty river that God meant should -flow through the land and one day be a blessing to mankind. You have made of -the river a monster. It is _you_ that is driving women and little children -from their homes! _You_, God damn you! You have been a traitor to the mind -that brought you forth. You have destroyed the two who worked and waited, that -you might pander to their greed. You have tried to destroy the dearest thing I -have on earth, because I saw in you something big and beautiful--because I was -fool enough to think that an idea spawned in devil-greed could live in noble -achievement. - -“Look at the slimy thing the vultures have made of the river! The leprous -thing over which the vultures croaked--for a little while--croaked and went -down and died! The Eagle would never stop the river, leave it a naked, -stinking thing under the sky. For the good of mankind, the Eagle would have -tamed the river, without destroying it. The Eagle would have had it run -peacefully within its banks, helping without hurting. Now the river lies -shamed in its bed--that magnificent stream!--and men flee from it in terror. -The two who thought to feast in the slime--yes, and I, too, could stoop so low -as to root for gold like a hog in the mire!--you have swept them to -destruction, have cheated them at the last of their prey. - -“But you have done your worst! I, who helped to make you what you are, who -created you thought by thought, I will tear you down. For the thing you are, a -monument to greed and self, I shall tear you down stone by stone until the -river is once more sweeping majestically down to the sea. As God is my -witness, this thing the vultures have created shall be forgotten. The Eagle’s -wing shall shadow the Colorado, a river undefiled.” - -His voice ceased. He stood, hands clenched beside him, jaw squared, staring at -the dam that had been his dream. A dream fulfilled,--and hated in the -fulfillment. His lips moved, muttering the prophecy of Johnny Buffalo: - -“‘You will succeed, and fail in the succeeding. And from the failure,--’” - -A gloved hand was laid in friendly fashion on Peter’s shoulder. He turned and -looked into the eyes of his Governor. - -“It takes a big man, a man of broad vision, to look upon his life’s work and -dare to say what you have said,” the Governor told him kindly, the look of -understanding in his eyes. “Don’t be down-hearted because your success has -proved a failure. The Cramer Dam would hold, I believe, if we wanted it to -hold. But you are right. It is not for the vulture, but for the Eagle to say -what shall be done with the river. The country needs more men like you, Peter. -You shall help to build another dam--and build it under the Eagle’s wing.” - -Peter lifted his right hand and laid it upon the shoulder of his Governor. His -eyes were very blue and very deep. So they stood for a space and looked into -each other’s eyes. - -“‘--And from the failure rise to greater things,’” Rawley repeated under his -breath, his eyes shining. - - -THE END - ------------------------------------------------------------------------ - -NOVELS BY B. M. BOWER - - -THE HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX - -A Flying U story in which the Happy Family get mixed up in a robbery faked for -film purposes. - -“Altogether a rattling story, that is better in conception and expression than -the conventional thriller on account of its touches of real humanity in -characterization.”--_The Philadelphia Public Ledger._ - - -STARR, OF THE DESERT - -A story of mystery, love and adventure, which has a Mexican revolt as its main -theme. - -“The tale is well written.... A book worth the reading which it is sure to get -from every one who begins it.”--_The New York Tribune._ - - -CABIN FEVER - -How Bud Moore and his wife, Marie, fared through their attack of “cabin fever” -is the theme of this B. M. Bower story. - -“It is breezy and wholesome, with a quiet humor.... Plenty of action is -evident, while the sentimental side of the story is thoroughly human and -altogether delightful.”--_The Boston Transcript._ - - -SKYRIDER - -A cowboy who becomes an aviator is the hero of this new story of Western ranch -life. - -“An engrossing ranch story with a new note of interest woven into its breezy -texture.”--_The Philadelphia Public Ledger._ - - -RIM O’ THE WORLD - -An engrossing tale of a ranch-feud between “gun-fighters” in -Idaho. - -“The author has filled the story with abundant happenings, and the reader of -this class of story will find many a thrill in its pages.”--_The Philadelphia -Public Ledger._ - - -THE QUIRT - -A story of ranch life in Idaho, with an abundance of action, adventure and -romance. - -“Like all the Bower novels, ‘The Quirt’ rings true. Lovers of Western Stories -have long voted Bower a place in the front rank of those who tell of -ranch-life, bad men, range wars and rough riding.”--_The Boston Herald._ - - -COW-COUNTRY - -This story of Bud Birnie will appeal to all lovers of tales of the real West. - -“A live, well-told Western romance which bears above all else the impress of -truth in its descriptions of both persons and country.”--_The New York Times._ - - -CASEY RYAN - -Lovers of stories of the real West will enjoy this humorous tale. - -“This is one of the cleverest and most amusing of all the many books that have -come from B. M. Bower’s pen.... It is a rollicking story, full of mirth and -laughter from beginning to end.”--_The New York Times._ - - -THE TRAIL OF THE WHITE MULE - -Another Casey Ryan story in which Casey is funnier than ever. - -“The author produces in Casey Ryan a fictional creation, a unique character -that is a worth while addition to our gallery of Western portraits in -fiction.”--_The New York Times._ - - -THE VOICE AT JOHNNYWATER - -“It is a crackerjack of a story, in B. M. Bower’s best style, the sort of -story that you have to read in one evening, so absorbing is it.”--_The St. -Louis Globe-Democrat._ - - -LONESOME LAND - -A vigorous tale of ranch life in Montana. - -“Montana, described as it really is, is the ‘lonesome land’ of this delightful -Bower story. A prairie fire and the death of the worthless husband are -especially well handled.”--_A. L. A. Booklist._ - - -THE RANCH AT THE WOLVERINE - -A tale of Idaho ranch life, with a bewitching heroine. - -“A ringing tale full of exhilarating cowboy atmosphere, abundantly and -absorbingly illustrating the outstanding features of that alluring ranch life -that is fast vanishing.”--_The Chicago Tribune._ - - -THE FLYING U’S LAST STAND - -What happened when a company of school teachers and farmers encamped on the -grounds of the Flying U Ranch. - -“How the ranchmen saved their grazing grounds is told by the novelist with -breezy humor and an overflow of fanciful incident.”--_The Philadelphia North -American._ - - -THE PAROWAN BONANZA - -“The reader can always take up a story of B. M. Bower with the assurance that -it will seethe with action, humor, Western color and romance.... ‘The Parowan -Bonanza’ is a smooth-running, well-told tale that leaves the reader with a -comfortable sense of having seen the desert country at close range, of having -known its mysterious, starlit nights and burning days, and of having -participated for a time in all the surge and rush of a mining town in its -making and its débâcle.”--_The New York Times._ - - -THE EAGLE’S WING - -A project to dam the Colorado River furnishes the theme of this -characteristically picturesque and exciting Bower story. - - -Boston--LITTLE, BROWN & COMPANY--Publishers - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EAGLE'S WING *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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M. Bower</title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - <style> - body { margin-left:8%; margin-right:8%; } - div.page { page-break-before:always; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:4em; } - p { text-indent:1.15em; margin-top:0.1em; margin-bottom:0.1em; text-align:justify; } - h1 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size:1.4em; } - h2 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; page-break-before: always; - font-size:1.0em; margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; } - h2.nobreak { page-break-before: avoid; } - .poetry { display:block; text-align:left; } - .poetry .stanza { margin-top:0.7em; margin-bottom:0.7em; margin-left:4em; } - .poetry .verse { text-indent: -4.5em; padding-left: 4.5em; } - .indent2 { text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 4.5em; } - .indent4 { text-indent: -1.5em; padding-left: 4.5em; } - .indent6 { text-indent: 0em; padding-left: 4.5em; } - .poetry-container { text-align: center; } - .sc { font-variant:small-caps; } - .ce { text-align:center; } - .it { font-style:italic; } - table.toc {} - table { page-break-inside: avoid; width:100%; } - table.tcenter { border-collapse:collapse; padding:3px; - margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em; - margin-left:2em; } - td { vertical-align:top; } - td.c1 { text-align:right; padding-right:0.7em; } - td.c2 { font-variant:small-caps; } - div.cbline { margin-left:1.4em; text-indent:-1.4em; } - .ifpc { margin-left:17%; width:65% } - .x-ebookmaker .ifpc { margin-left:12%; width:75% } - .mt01 { margin-top:1em; } - .mb01 { margin-bottom:1em; } - .caption { text-indent:0; padding:0.5em 0; text-align:center; } - p.ni { text-indent:0; margin-top:1em; } - </style> -</head> - -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The eagle's wing, by B. M. Bower</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The eagle's wing</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A story of the Colorado</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: B. M. Bower</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Frank Tenney Johnson</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 5, 2022 [eBook #68692]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EAGLE'S WING ***</div> - -<div class='page'> - -<h1>THE EAGLE’S WING</h1> - -</div> <!-- end of page --> - -<div class='page'> - -<div class='ce'>By B. M. Bower</div> - -<div style='text-align:center; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em'> - <div style='display:inline-block; text-align:left;'> - <div class='cbline sc'>Good Indian</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>Lonesome Land</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>The Ranch at the Wolverine</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>The Flying U’s Last Stand</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>The Heritage of the Sioux</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>Starr, of the Desert</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>Cabin Fever</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>Skyrider</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>Rim o’ The World</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>The Quirt</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>Cow-Country</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>Casey Ryan</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>The Trail of the White Mule</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>The Voice at Johnnywater</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>The Parowan Bonanza</div> - <div class='cbline sc'>The Eagle’s Wing</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> <!-- end of page --> - -<div class='page'> - -<div id='ifpc' class='mt01 mb01 ifpc'> - <img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%' /> - <p class='caption'>The man in the distance ducked out of sight amongst the bowlders.</p> -</div> - -</div> <!-- end of page --> - -<div class='page'> - -<div class='ce'> - <div style='font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:0.5em'>THE EAGLE’S WING</div> - <div class='it' style='margin-bottom:1.2em'>A STORY OF THE COLORADO</div> - <div style='font-size:0.9em'>BY</div> - <div style='margin-bottom:1.5em'>B. M. BOWER</div> - <div style='font-size:0.9em'>WITH FRONTISPIECE BY</div> - <div style='margin-bottom:1.5em'>FRANK TENNEY JOHNSON</div> - <div style='font-size:0.9em'>BOSTON</div> - <div style=''>LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY</div> - <div style='font-size:0.9em'>1924</div> -</div> - -</div> <!-- end of page --> - -<div class='page'> - -<div class='ce'> - <div class='it'>Copyright, 1924,</div> - <div class='sc'>By Little, Brown, and Company.</div> - <div class='it'>All rights reserved</div> - <div>Published February, 1924</div> - <div class='sc'>Printed in the United States of America</div> -</div> - -</div> <!-- end of page --> - -<div class='page'> - -<div class='ce sc'>To the American Eagle,</div> - -<div style='text-align:center; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em'> - <div style='display:inline-block; text-align:left;'> - <div class='cbline'>fighting always the Vultures of the earth;</div> - <div class='cbline'>whose protective wing extends even into the</div> - <div class='cbline'>desert lands; whose shadow has fallen upon</div> - <div class='cbline'>the great river, this story of the Colorado is</div> - <div class='cbline'>loyally inscribed.</div> - <div style='text-align: right'>B. M. B.</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> <!-- end of page --> - -<div class='page'> - -<div style='text-align:center'>CONTENTS</div> - <table class='toc tcenter' style='margin-bottom:3em'> - <tbody> - <tr><td class='c1'>I</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chI'>King, of the Mounted</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>II</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chII'>Johnny Buffalo Bears Another Message</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>III</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chIII'>“My Heart is Dead”</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>IV</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chIV'>Rawley Reads the Bible</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>V</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chV'>A City Forsaken</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>VI</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chVI'>Trails Meet</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>VII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chVII'>Nevada</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>VIII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chVIII'>“Him That is—Mine Enemy”</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>IX</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chIX'>“A Pleasant Trip to You!”</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>X</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chX'>A Family Tree</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XI</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXI'>Rawley Thinks Things Out</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXII'>Rawley Plays the Game</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XIII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXIII'>The Colorado</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XIV</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXIV'>The Vulture Screams</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XV</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXV'>The Land of Splendid Dreams</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XVI</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXVI'>Rawley Investigates</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XVII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXVII'>Changed Relations</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XVIII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXVIII'>The Johnny Buffalo Uprising</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XIX</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXIX'>The Eagle Strikes</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XX</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXX'>Nevada Analyzes</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XXI</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXXI'>The Truth About Riches</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XXII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXXII'>Greater Than Gold</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XXIII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXXIII'>The Eagle Looks Upon a Great River</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XXIV</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXXIV'>Anita</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XXV</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXXV'>The Eagle and the Vulture</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XXVI</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXXVI'>“Take This Fighting Squaw Away!”</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XXVII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXXVII'>“You Tell Hoover I Said So!”</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XXVIII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXXVIII'>The Vulture Makes Terms with the Eagle</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XXIX</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXXIX'>Fate Has Decreed</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XXX</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXXX'>Dawn and the River</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XXXI</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXXXI'>The Vulture Feasts</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XXXII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXXXII'>Another Rescue</a></td></tr> - <tr><td class='c1'>XXXIII</td><td class='c2'><a href='#chXXXIII'>The Eagle’s Wing</a></td></tr> - </tbody> - </table> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chI' title='I—King, of the Mounted'> - <span style='font-size:1.4em;'>THE EAGLE’S WING</span><br/><br/> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER ONE</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>KING, OF THE MOUNTED</span> -</h2> - -<p>On the wide south porch of the house where he had -been born, Rawley King sat smoking his pipe in the -dusk heavy with the scent of a thousand roses. The -fragrant serenity of the great, laurel-hedged yard of -the King homestead was charming after the hot, empty -spaces of the desert. Even the somber west wing of -the brooding old house seemed wrapped in the peace -that enfolds lives moving gently through long, uneventful -months and years. The smoke of his pipe billowed -lazily upward in the perfumed air; incense burned by -the prodigal son upon the home altar after his wanderings.</p> - -<p>The old Indian, Johnny Buffalo, came walking -straight as an arrow across the strip of grass beside -the syringa bushes that banked the west wing. Rawley -straightened and stared, the bowl of his pipe sagging -to the palm of his hand. As far back as he could -remember, none had ever crossed that space of clipped -grass to hold speech with the Kings. But now Johnny -Buffalo walked steadily forward and halted beside the -porch.</p> - -<p>“Your grandfather say you come,” he announced -calmly and turned back to the somber west wing.</p> - -<p>Sheer amazement held Rawley motionless for a -moment. Until the Indian spoke to him he had almost -forgotten the strangeness of that hidden, remote life -of his grandfather. From the time he could toddle, -Rawley had been taught that he must not go near the -west wing of the house or approach the brooding old -man in the wheel chair. As for the Indian who served -his grandfather, Rawley had been too much afraid of -him to attempt any friendly overtures. There had -been vague hints that Grandfather King was not quite -right in his mind; that a brooding melancholy held him, -and that he would suffer no one but his Indian servant -near him. Now, after nearly thirty years of studied -aloofness, his grandfather had summoned him.</p> - -<p>The Indian was waiting in the shadowed west porch -when Rawley tardily arrived at the steps. He turned -without speaking and opened the door, waiting for -Rawley to pass. Still dumb with astonishment, a bit -awed, Rawley crossed the threshold and for the first -time in his life stood in the presence of his grandfather.</p> - -<p>A powerful figure the old man must have been in -his youth. Old age had shrunk him, had sagged his -shoulders and dried the flesh upon his bones; but -years could not hide the breadth of those shoulders -or change the length of those arms. His eyes were -piercingly blue and his lips were firm under the drooping -white mustache. His snow-white hair was heavy -and lay upon his shoulders in natural waves that made -it seem heavier than it really was,—just so he had -probably worn it in the old, old days on the frontier. -His eyebrows were domineering and jet black, and -the whole rugged countenance betrayed the savage -strength of the spirit that dwelt back of his eyes. But -the great, gaunt body stopped short at the knees, and -the gray blanket smoothed over his lap could not hide -the tragic mutilation; nor could the great mustache -conceal the bitter lines around his mouth.</p> - -<p>“Back from Arizona, hey?” he launched abruptly -at Rawley, and his voice was grim as his face.</p> - -<p>Rawley started. Perhaps he expected a cracked, -senile tone; it would have fitted better the tradition of -the old man’s mental weakness.</p> - -<p>“Just got back to-day, Grandfather.” Instinctively -Rawley swung to a matter-of-fact manner, warding off -his embarrassment over the amazing interview.</p> - -<p>“Mining expert, hey? Know your business?”</p> - -<p>“Well enough to be paid for working at it,” grinned -Rawley, trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes from -straying curiously around the room filled with ancient -trophies of a soldier’s life half a century before.</p> - -<p>“Not much like your father! I’ll bet he couldn’t -have told you the meaning of the words. Damned -milksop. Bank clerk! Not a drop of King blood in -his body—far as looks and actions went. Guess he -thought gold grew on bushes, stamped with the date of -the harvest!”</p> - -<p>“I remember him vaguely. He never seemed well -or strong,” Rawley defended his dead father.</p> - -<p>“Never had the King make-up. Only weakling the -Kings ever produced—and he had to be <i>my</i> son! -Take a look at that picture on the bureau. That’s -what I mean by King blood. Johnny, give him the -picture.”</p> - -<p>The Indian moved silently to a high chest of drawers -against the farther wall and lifted from it an enlarged, -framed photograph, evidently copied from an earlier -crude effort of some pioneer in the art. He placed it -reverently in Rawley’s hands and retreated to a respectful -distance.</p> - -<p>“Taken before I started out with Moorehead’s expedition -in ’59. Six feet two in my bare feet, and not -an ounce of soft flesh in my body. Not a man in the -company I couldn’t throw. Johnny could tell you.” -A note of pride had crept into the old man’s voice.</p> - -<p>“I can see it, Grandfather. I—I’d give anything to -have been with you in those days. Lord, what a -physique!”</p> - -<p>The fierce old eyes sparkled. The bony fingers -gripped the arms of the wheel chair like steel claws.</p> - -<p>“That’s the King blood. Give me two legs and I’d -be a King yet, old as I am—instead of a hunk of meat -in a wheel chair.”</p> - -<p>“It’s the spirit that counts, Grandfather,” Rawley -observed hearteningly, his eyes still on the picture but -lifting now to the old man’s face. “The picture’s -like you yet.”</p> - -<p>The old man grunted doubtfully, his eyes fixed -sharply upon Rawley’s face. His fingers drummed -restlessly upon the arm of his chair, as if he were -seeing in the young man his own care-free youth, and -was yearning over it in secret. Indeed, as he stood -there in the light of the old-fashioned lamp, Rawley -King might have been mistaken for the original of -the picture with the costume set fifty years ahead.</p> - -<p>“Johnny, get the box.” Grandfather King spoke -without taking his eyes off Rawley.</p> - -<p>The old Indian slipped away. In a moment he returned -with a square metal box which he placed on the -old man’s knees. Rawley found himself wondering -what his mother would say when he told her that -Grandfather King had sent for him, was actually -talking to him, giving him a glimpse of that sealed -past of his. He watched his grandfather fit a key -into the lock of the metal box.</p> - -<p>“You’re a King, thank God. I’ve watched you -grow. Six feet and over, and no water in <i>your</i> blood, -by the looks. You’re like I was at your age. Johnny -knows. He can remember how I looked when I had -two legs. Here. You take these—they’re yours, -and all the good you can get out of them. Read ’em -both. Read ’em till you get the good that’s in ’em. -If you’re a King, you’ll do it.”</p> - -<p>He held out two worn little books. Rawley took -them, eyeing them queerly. One was a Bible, the old-fashioned, -leather-bound pocket size edition, with a -metal clasp. The other book was smaller; a diary, -evidently, with a leather band going around, the end -slipping under a flap to hold it secure.</p> - -<p>“I will—you bet!” Rawley made his voice as -hearty as his puzzlement would permit. “Thanks, -Grandfather.”</p> - -<p>“I meant ’em for your father—but he wasn’t the -man to get anything out of ’em worth while. A milksop—wore -spectacles before he wore pants! His -idea of success was to shove money out to other -people through a grated window. Paugh! When -he told me that was his ambition, I came near burning -the books. Johnny could tell you. He stopped -me—only time in his life he ever stuck his foot -through the wheel of my chair and anchored me -out of reach of the fire. Out of reach of my guns, -too, or I’d have killed him maybe! Johnny said, -‘You wait. Maybe more Kings come—like Grandfather.’</p> - -<p>“So I did wait, and after a while I could watch -you grow—all King. I could tell by the set of your -shoulders and the tone of your voice and the way -you went straight at anything you wanted. So there’s -your legacy, boy, from King, of the Mounted. Ask -any of the old veterans who King, of the Mounted, -was! You read those books.” He lifted a bony -finger and pointed. “There’s a lot in that Bible—if -you read it careful.”</p> - -<p>“You bet, Grandfather!” Rawley undid the clasp -and opened the book politely. The old man twisted -his lips into a sardonic smile. His eyes gleamed, indigo -blue, under his shaggy black brows. Then, as if reminded -of something forgotten, he dipped into the -box, fumbled a bit and held out his hand to Rawley.</p> - -<p>“You’re a mining expert; maybe you can tell me -where I picked them up.” His eyes bored into Rawley’s -face.</p> - -<p>Rawley bent his head over the three nuggets of -gold. He weighed them in his hand, turned them to -the light of the lamp which Johnny Buffalo had lifted -from the table and held close.</p> - -<p>“Greenhorns think that gold is gold,” Rawley -grinned at last. “And so it is—but you left a little -rock sticking to this one, Grandfather. So I’ll guess -Nevada.”</p> - -<p>“Hunh!” The old man’s eyes sparkled. “What -part?”</p> - -<p>Rawley glanced up at him with the endearing King -smile. “Say, I’m liable to fall down on that! But -I reckon King, of the Mounted, will put me flat against -the wall before he quits, anyway. So—well, how -about Searchlight?”</p> - -<p>“Hunh! I guess you know your job.” The -old man smiled back at him, a glimmer of that same -endearing quality in the smile and the eyes. He waved -back the gold when Rawley would have returned it. -“Keep it—you’ve earned it. No use to me any -more.” He settled deeper into the chair and gave -a great sigh as his head dropped back against the -cushions. “Fifty years ago I picked ’em up—and -I’ve lived to see a King turn them over twice in his -hand and tell me within a few miles of where I got -them. That shows what I mean by King blood. Fifty -years ago! It’s a long time to live like a hunk of meat. -I’m seventy-nine—”</p> - -<p>“Get out! You’d have to prove it, Grandfather. -That’s a good ten years more than you look.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t lie to me, boy.” But King, of the Mounted, -failed to look censorious. “You read that Bible. Remember, -that’s the legacy old King, of the Mounted, -leaves to the next King in line. It don’t lie, boy. Read -it faithful and heed what it says, and some day you’ll -say the old man wasn’t so crazy after all.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Grandfather,—”</p> - -<p>But the old man waved him away with a peremptory -gesture. Johnny Buffalo glided to the door, opened -it and held it so, waiting with the inscrutable calm of -his race.</p> - -<p>“Well, good night, Grandfather. I’m—glad to -have had this little talk. And I hope it won’t be the -last. I always wanted to pioneer, and I’ve always felt -as if I’d like to talk over those times—”</p> - -<p>Rawley was finding it rather difficult even yet to -bridge the silence of a lifetime.</p> - -<p>“You grew up thinking I was crazy, most likely. -Easy to say the old man’s touched in the head—when -they don’t want to bother with a cripple. You’re a -King. Maybe you can guess what it means to be a hulk -in a wheel chair. And the Kings never ran after anybody; -nor the Rawlinses, your grandmother’s people. -Two good names—glad you carry ’em both. If you -live up to ’em both you’ll go far. Take care of those -two books, boy. Remember what I said—they’re -your legacy from King, of the Mounted. Good night.”</p> - -<p>The old man snapped out the last two words in a -tone of finality and reached for his pipe. Johnny Buffalo -opened the door an inch wider. Rawley obeyed -the unspoken hint and straightway found himself outside, -with the door closed behind him. He waited, -listening, loth to go. Now that the feud was broken, -he tingled with the desire to know more about his -grandfather, more about those wonderful old fighting -frontier days, more about King, of the Mounted.</p> - -<p>“Crazy? I should say not!” Rawley muttered as -he made his way slowly across the strip of grass by -the syringas. “I only hope my brain will be as keen -as Grandfather’s when I am his age.”</p> - -<p>He stood for a few minutes breathing deep the night -air saturated with perfume. Then, with the spell of -his grandfather’s vivid personality strong upon him, -he went in to where his mother sat gently rocking beside -a rose-shaded lamp, looking over a late magazine.</p> - -<p>“I’ve just been having a talk with Grandfather,” -Rawley announced bluntly, sitting down opposite his -mother and studying her as if she were a stranger to -him. Indeed, those few minutes spent in the west wing -had dealt a sharp blow to his unquestioning faith in -his mother. Mrs. King dropped the magazine and -opened her lips—artificially red—and gave a faint -gasp.</p> - -<p>“Grandfather’s mind is as clear as yours or mine,” -Rawley stated challengingly. “A bit old-fashioned, -maybe—a man couldn’t live in a wheel chair for fifty -years or so, shut away from all companionship as he -has been, and keep his ideas right up to the minute. If -you ask me, I’ll say he’d make a corking old pal. Full -of pep—or would be if he weren’t crippled. It’s a -darned shame I never busted through the feud before. -Why, fifty years ago he was all through Nevada—think -of that! I’d give ten years of my life to have -lived when he did, right at his elbow.”</p> - -<p>He felt the sag in his pockets then and brought out -the two little books.</p> - -<p>“I always thought, Mother, that Grandfather King -was a particularly wicked old party. Well, that’s all -wrong—same as the idea that he’s weak in the head. -He gave me this Bible, and made me promise to read -it. He said—”</p> - -<p>“<i>Bible?</i>” Rawley’s mother sat up sharply, and -her mouth remained open, ready for further words -which her mind seemed unable to formulate.</p> - -<p>“You bet. He said if I read it faithfully and got -all the good out of it there is in it, I’d thank him the -rest of my life—or something like that. He meant -it, too.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Rawley King! Your grandfather has always -been an atheist of the worst type! I’ve heard -your father tell how he used to hear your grandfather -blaspheme and curse God by the hour for making him -a cripple. When he was a little boy—your father, I -mean—he was deeply impressed by your grandmother -asking every prayer-meeting night for the prayers -of the church to soften her husband’s heart and turn -his thoughts toward God. Your father has told me -how he used to go home afterwards and watch to see -if your grandfather’s heart was softened. But it never -was—he got wickeder, if possible, and swore horribly -at everything, nearly. Your father said he nearly -lost faith in prayer. But he believed that the congregation -never prayed as it should. I wouldn’t believe, -Rawley, that your grandfather would have a Bible -near him. Are you sure?”</p> - -<p>“Here it is,” Rawley assured her, grinning. “He -said it was my legacy from him.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that proves to my mind he’s crazy,” his -mother said grimly. “Your father always felt that -Grandfather King had sinned against the Holy Ghost -and <i>couldn’t</i> repent. Anyway,” she added resentfully, -“that’s about all you’ll ever get from him. When he -deeded this place to your father for a wedding present—that -was a little while after your grandmother -died—he reserved the west wing for himself as long -as he lived. It’s in the deed that he’s not to be interfered -with or molested. When he dies, the west -wing becomes a part of this property—which is mine, -of course. He lives on his pension, which just about -keeps him and that awful old Indian. Of course the -pension stops when he dies. So he was right about the -legacy, at least. But I’ll bet he put a curse on the Bible -before he gave it to you. It would be just like him.”</p> - -<p>Rawley shook his head dissentingly. “It’s darned -hard to sit in a wheel chair for fifty years,” he remarked -somewhat irrelevantly. “I’d cuss things some, -myself, I reckon.” And he added abruptly, “Say, -Grandfather’s got the bluest eyes, Mother, I ever saw -in a man’s head. I thought eyes faded with old age. -Did you ever notice his eyes, Mother?”</p> - -<p>His mother laughed unpleasantly. “Your Grandfather -King never gave me any inducement to get close -enough to see his eyes. Seeing him on the porch of -the west wing is enough for me.”</p> - -<p>“He laid a good deal of stress upon his past,” said -Rawley. “I suppose because he hasn’t any present—and -darned little future, I’m afraid. He gave me some -nuggets. Would you like a nugget ring, Mother?”</p> - -<p>His mother glanced at the nuggets and pushed away -Rawley’s hand that held them cupped in the palm.</p> - -<p>“No, I wouldn’t. Not if your Grandfather King -had anything to do with it. He’s been like a poison -plant in the yard ever since I came here, Rawley; like -poison ivy, that you’re careful not to go near. I don’t -want to touch anything belonging to him—and I hope -I’m not a vindictive woman, either.”</p> - -<p>Rawley was rolling the nuggets in his hand, staring -at them abstractedly.</p> - -<p>“It’s queer—the whole thing,” he said finally. “I -feel a sort of leaning toward Grandfather. It was -something in his eyes. You know, Mother, it must -be darned tough to have both legs chopped off at the -knees when you’re a young husky over six feet in -your socks and full of pep. I—believe I can understand -Grandfather King. ‘A hunk of meat in a wheel -chair’—that’s what he called himself. And those -amazing blue eyes of his—”</p> - -<p>His mother glanced curiously into his face. “They -can’t be any bluer than yours, Rawley,” she observed.</p> - -<p>Rawley looked up from the nuggets, his forehead -wrinkled with surprise.</p> - -<p>“Oh, do you think that, Mother?” He stood up -suddenly, still shaking the nuggets with a dull clink in -his hand. “Well, I hope Grandfather’s passed on a -few more of his traits to me. There’s a few of them -I’m going to need,” he said drily and kissed his mother -good night.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chII' title='II—JOHNNY BUFFALO BEARS ANOTHER MESSAGE'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER TWO</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>JOHNNY BUFFALO BEARS ANOTHER MESSAGE</span> -</h2> - - -<p>In his room, Rawley switched on the light and slid -into the big chair by the table. Not to his mother -could he confess how deeply those few minutes with -Grandfather King had stirred him. In spite of her -attitude toward the silent feud that had endured for -nearly thirty years, he was conscious of the dull -ache of remorse. Without meaning to judge his -parents or to criticize their manner of handling a difficult -situation, Rawley felt that night that he had been -guilty of a great wrong toward his grandfather. He -at least should have ignored the invisible wall that -stood between the west wing and the rest of the house. -He was a King; he should not have permitted that reasonless -silence to endure through all these years.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, Rawley’s life since he was twelve -had been spent mostly away from home. First, a military -academy in the suburbs of St. Louis, with the -long hiking trips featured by the school through the -summer vacations; after that, college,—with a special -course in mineralogy. Since then, field work had -claimed most of his time. Home had therefore been -merely a place pleasantly tucked away in his memory, -with a visit to his mother now and then between jobs.</p> - -<p>The first twelve years of his life had thoroughly -accustomed Rawley to the sight of the fierce old man -with long hair and his legs cut off at his knees, who -sometimes appeared in a wheel chair on a porch of the -west wing, attended by an Indian who looked savage -enough to scalp a little boy if he ventured too close; -a ferocious Indian who scowled and wore his hair -parted from forehead to neck and braided in two long -braids over his shoulder, and who padded stealthily -about the place in beautifully beaded moccasins and -fringed buckskin leggings.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, there had been times, as he grew older, -when Rawley had been tempted to invade the west -wing and find out for himself just how bitterly his -grandfather clung to the feud. It hurt him to think -now of the old man’s isolation and of the interesting -companionship he had cheated himself out of enjoying.</p> - -<p>He pulled the two old books from his pocket, handling -them as if they were the precious things his -grandfather seemed to consider them. The Bible he -opened first, undoing the old-fashioned clasp with his -thumb and opening the book at the flyleaf. The inscription -there was faded yet distinct on the yellowed -paper. The sloping, careful handwriting of Rawley’s -great-grandmother sending King, of the Mounted, -forth upon his dangerous missions armed with the -Word of God,—and hoping prayerfully, no doubt, that -he would read and heed its precepts.</p> - -<div class='poetry-container'> - <div class='poetry'> - <div class='stanza'> - <div class='verse'>To my beloved son,</div> - <div class='indent2'>George Walter King,</div> - <div class='indent4'>from his</div> - <div class='indent6'>Affectionate Mother.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The date thrilled Rawley, aged twenty-six: 1858 -was the year his great-grandmother had inscribed in -the book. To Rawley it seemed almost as remote as -the Stamp Act or the Mexican War. The thought that -Grandfather King, away back in 1858, had been old -enough to join the Missouri Mounted Volunteers—even -to have been made a sergeant in his company and -to make for himself a reputation as an Indian fighter—gave -the old man a new dignity in the eyes of his -grandson. It seemed strange that Grandfather King -was still alive and could talk of those days.</p> - -<p>The book itself was strangely contradictory in appearance. -While the outside was worn and scuffed as -if with much usage, the inside crackled faintly a protest -against unaccustomed handling. The yellowed -leaves clung together in layers which Rawley must -carefully separate. Now and then a line or two showed -faint penciled underscores; otherwise the book did -not look as if it had been opened for many, many -years. Nowhere was it thumbed and soiled by the -frequent reading of a man living under canvas or the -open sky.</p> - -<p>“Looks to me like the old boy has simply passed the -buck,” Rawley grinned. “Maybe he felt as if some -one in the family ought to read it. His mother had -it all marked for him, too; wanted to give him a good -start-off, maybe. No, sir, the old book itself is pinning -it onto King, of the Mounted! Mother must be right, -after all, and Grandfather never had enough religion -to talk about. But he sure gave me a Sunday-school -talk; funny how a book can stand up and call you a -liar.”</p> - -<p>He smiled as he closed the book, whimsically shaking -his head over the joke. Then, just to make sure that -his guess was correct, Rawley opened the Bible again. -No, there could be no mistake. Crackly new on the -inside—though yellowed with age—badly worn on -the outside, the book itself proclaimed the story of -long carrying and little reading. The evidence against -the sincerity of the old man’s pious admonitions was -conclusive. Rawley laid the Bible down for a further -consideration and took up the worn old diary.</p> - -<p>Here, too, Grandfather King had betrayed a certain -lack of sincerity. Reading the faded entries, Rawley -decided that King, of the Mounted, must have been -an impetuous youth who had learned caution with the -years. Dates, arrivals, departures,—these remained. -Incidents, however, had for the most part been neatly -sliced out with a knife. And with a stubborn disregard -for the opinion of later readers the stubs of the -pages elided had been left to tell of the deliberate -mutilation of the record. So Rawley read perfunctorily -the dry record of obscure scouting trips, and the names -of commanders long since dead and remembered only -in the records.</p> - -<p>Rawley learned that his grandfather had taken part -in the making of much frontier history. He spoke of -Captain Hunt in a matter-of-fact way and mentioned -the date on which a certain Captain Hendley had been -killed by Indians somewhere near Las Vegas, in -Nevada. On the next page Rawley found this gruesome -paragraph:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>From a young Indian captured in the battle of last -week, I learned the secret of the devilish poisoned arrows, -which are black. The black arrows are poisoned -in this manner, he tells me, and since I have befriended -him in many small ways I do not doubt his word. To -procure the poison, an animal is slain and the liver removed. -A captured rattlesnake is then induced to -strike the liver again and again, injecting all of its -poison into the meat. The arrow-points are afterwards -rubbed in the putrid mass and left to dry. Needless to -say, a wound touched by this poison and decayed meat -surely causes death. The young Indian tells me that -a certain desert plant has been successfully used as an -antidote, but he did not tell me the name of the plant. -He declared that he did not know, that only the doctors -of his tribe know that secret.</p> - -<p>I think he lied. He was willing to tell me the horrid -means of making the poison. But is too cunning to -let me know the antidote. So the tobacco I’ve given -him is after all wasted. The information merely increases my dread of the black arrows. Rattlesnake -venom and putrid liver—paugh! I shall—</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>A page was missing. Followed several pages of brief -entries, with long lapses of time between. Then came -a page which gave a glimpse into that colorful life:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>June, 1866. On board the “Esmeralda.” Arrived at -El Dorado (<i>Deuteronomy</i>, 2:36) to-day. This is the -first boat up the river.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>The Scriptural reference had been inserted in very -small writing above the name of the place. Evidently -Grandfather King had been reading some Bible, if not -the one his mother had given him.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>A town has sprung up in the wilderness since I was -here last, cursing the heat and stinging gnats in ’59. -A stamp mill stands at the river’s edge and houses are -scattered all up and down the river, while a ferry -crosses to the other shore. A crowd came down to the -landing for their mail and to see what strangers were -on the boat. As yet I do not know whether our company -will be stationed here or at Fort Callville, a few -miles up the canyon. The Indians are quiet, they say. -Too quiet, some of the miners think. On the edge of -the crowd I saw a young squaw—or perhaps she is -Spanish. She has the velvet eyes and the dark rose -blooming in her cheeks, which speaks of Spanish blood. -By God, she’s beautiful! Not more than sixteen and -graceful as a fairy. I leaned over the rail—</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Several pages were cut from the book just there, -and Rawley swore to himself. When one is twenty-six -one resents any interruption in a romance. The next -entry read:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>July 4th. Great doings at the fort to-day, with -barbeque, wrestling, target practice and gambling. -Miners and Indians came out of the hills to celebrate -the holiday. In the wrestling matches I easily held -my own, as in the sharp-shooting. Anita received my -message and was here—el gusto de mi corazon. What -a damned pity she’s not white! But she’s more Spanish -than Indian, with her proud little ways and her -light heart. Jess Cramer tried again to come between -us, and there was a fight not down on the program. -They carried him to the hospital. A little more and I’d -have broken his back, the surgeon said. If he looks -at her again—</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>More elision just when the interest was keenest. -Rawley wanted to know more about Anita—“the joy -of my heart”, as Grandfather had set it down in -Spanish. The next page, however, whetted Rawley’s -curiosity a bit more:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>July 15th. To-morrow we march to Las Vegas to -meet a party of emigrants and guard them to San Bernardino. -The Indians are unsettled and traveling is -not safe. A miner was murdered and scalped within -ten miles of the fort the other day. No mi alebro—Anita -wept and clung to me when I told her we had -marching orders. Dulce corazon—God, how I wish -she was white! But in any case I could not take her -with me. I shall return in a month’s time—</p> - -<p>August. In hospital, after a hellish trip in a wagon -with other wounded. Mohave Indians attacked our -wagon train, one hundred miles northeast of here, on -the desert. While leading a charge afoot against the -Indians I was shot through both legs. Gangrene set -in before we could reach this place, and the doctor -will not promise the speedy recovery I desire.</p> - -<p>My Indian boy, Johnny Buffalo, refuses to leave my -side. He hates all other whites. On the desert I picked -him up half dead with thirst, and set him before me -on the saddle because he feared the wagons. I judge -him to be about ten. If I live, I shall keep the boy -with me and train him for my body-servant. A faithful -Indian is better than a watch-dog—</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>A lapse of several months intervened before the -next entry. Then a brief record, which told of the -closing of one romance and the beginning of another:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>November 15th. This day I married Mary Jane -Rawlins. Was able to stand during the ceremony, -supported by two crutches. My Indian boy slipped -away from the others and stood close behind me during -the service, one hand clutching tightly my coat-tail. -Mary has courage, to wish to marry a man likely to -be a cripple the rest of his days.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Nothing further was recorded for several years; -four, to be exact. Then:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>Returned to-day from hospital. After all this suffering, -both legs were taken off above the knee. The -poison had spread to the joints. What a pity it was -not my neck.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>On the next page was one grim line:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>December 4th, 1889. My wife, Mary Rawlins King, -was buried to-day.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>That ended the diary. In a memorandum pocket just -inside the cover, a folded paper lay snug and flat. -Rawley drew it forth eagerly and held it close to the -lamp. His face clouded then with disappointment, for -nothing was written on the paper save a list of Bible -references.</p> - -<p>So that was the legacy. An old diary just interesting -enough to be tantalizing, with half the pages cut -out; Bible references probably given to King, of the -Mounted, by his mother. And a worn old Bible that -had never been read. Rawley stacked the books one -upon the other and leaned back in his chair, staring -at them meditatively while he filled his pipe. He -took three puffs before he laughed silently.</p> - -<p>“He was a speedy old bird, I’ll say that much for -him,” he told himself. “I’ll bet those pages he cut -out fairly sizzled. And I’ll bet he cut them out about -the time he married Grandmother. Also, I think he -left one or two pages by mistake. Well, I’ll say he -lived! As long as he had two good legs under him -he was up and coming. I don’t suppose there’s a chance -in the world of getting him to talk about Anita. ‘<i>El -gusto de mi corazon</i>—’ There’s nothing like the -Spanish for love-making words. And that was in July—and -he married Grandmother in November. Poor -little half-breed girl who should have been white! -But then, I reckon he’d have gone back to her if he -could. But they sent him home—crippled for life. -You can’t blame Grandfather, after all. And I notice -he mentioned the fact that Grandmother wanted to -marry him. Sorry for the handsome young soldier on -crutches, but it’s darned hard on Anita, just the same. -And I don’t suppose he could even get word to her.”</p> - -<p>He smoked the pipe out, his thoughts gone a-questing -into the long ago, where the black arrows were -dipped in loathsome poison, and young Indian girls -had the fire and grace of the Spaniards.</p> - -<p>“She’d be old, too, by now—if she’s alive,” he -thought, as he knocked the ashes from his pipe and -yawned. “I wonder if she ever forgot. And I wonder -if Grandfather ever thinks of her now. He does, -I’ll bet. Those terrible, blue eyes! They <i>couldn’t</i> forget.”</p> - -<p>He went to bed, his imagination still held to the days -of the fighting old frontier; still building adventures -and romances for the dashing, blue-eyed King, of the -Mounted.</p> - -<p>He was dreaming of an Indian fight when a sharp -tapping on his window woke him to gray dawn. He -sprang out of bed, still knuckling the sleep out of his -eyes, and saw Johnny Buffalo standing close to the -open screen. The Indian raised a hand.</p> - -<p>“You come quick. Your grandfather is dead.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chIII' title='III—“MY HEART IS DEAD”'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER THREE</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>“MY HEART IS DEAD”</span> -</h2> - - -<p>It was the evening after the funeral, and Rawley -was sitting again on the porch, staring out gloomily -over a cold pipe into the yard. His grandfather’s -death had hit him a harder blow than he would have -thought possible. The shock of it, coming close on -the heels of his first keen realization that Grandfather -King was a vivid personality, left him numbed with -a sense of loss.</p> - -<p>His mother’s evident relief at the removal of an -unpleasant problem chilled and irritated him. Her -calm assumption that the Indian must also be removed -from the place, now that his master was gone, seemed -to Rawley almost like sacrilege. The place belonged to -his mother only by right of his grandfather’s generosity. -To rob the Indian of a home he had enjoyed -since boyhood was unthinkable.</p> - -<p>He turned his head and glanced toward the west -wing, his eyes following his thoughts. A dimly outlined -figure stood erect upon the porch of the west wing. -Pity gripped Rawley by the throat; pity and half-conscious -admiration. Even the greatest grief of his -life could not bow the shoulders of Johnny Buffalo. -With no definite purpose, drawn only by the kinship -of their loss, Rawley rose, crossed the grass plot by -the syringas and sat down on the top step of the west -porch.</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo stood with his arms folded, the -fringe on his buckskin sleeves whipping gently in the -soft breeze that rose when the sun went down. He -was staring straight out at nothing,—the nothingness -that epitomized his future. Rawley slanted a glance up -at him and began thoughtfully refilling his pipe. By his -silence he was unconsciously bringing himself close -to the soul of the Indian, the traditions of whose race -forbade hasty speech.</p> - -<p>Half a pipe Rawley smoked, staring meditatively -into the dusk. In that time Johnny Buffalo had moved -no more than if he were a statue of brown stone. Then -Rawley tipped his head sidewise and looked up at him.</p> - -<p>“Sit down, Johnny. I want to talk.”</p> - -<p>“Talk is useless when the heart is dead,” said -Johnny Buffalo after a long pause. But he came down -two steps and seated himself, straight-backed, head up, -beside Rawley.</p> - -<p>“The man I love is cold. His spirit has gone. So I -am left cold, and my heart is dead. I shall wait—and -be glad when my body is dead.”</p> - -<p>Rawley felt a sharp constriction in his throat. For -one moment he almost hated his mother who would -drive this stricken old man out into a world he did not -know. A gun against his temple would be kinder. -He drew a long breath.</p> - -<p>“Would you like to wait here, where he lived?” -Intuitively he crystallized his thoughts into the briefest -words possible to express his meaning.</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo shook his head slowly, with a decisiveness -that could not be questioned. He folded -his arms again across his grief-laden breast.</p> - -<p>“It is your mother’s. In the fields I can wait for -death, which is my friend. I shall walk toward the -land of my people. When death finds me I shall smile.”</p> - -<p>Rawley turned this over in his mind, seeking some -point where argument might break down bitter resolution.</p> - -<p>“Cowards wait for death when life grows hard,” -he said at last. “The brave man meets life and faces -sorrow because he is brave and will overcome. The -brave man fights death which is an enemy. He does -not run away from life and welcome his enemy. My -grandfather found life very hard. For fifty years -my grandfather faced it because his spirit was strong.”</p> - -<p>“Your grandfather’s spirit was strong. His body -was broken. My body is strong. My spirit is broken. -Can a strong body live with a broken spirit inside?”</p> - -<p>Rawley had to smoke over this for a while. Johnny -Buffalo, he conceded privately, was no man’s fool. -Rawley tried to put himself in the Indian’s place and -discover, if he could, something that would make life -worth the living.</p> - -<p>“Your people are scattered,” he said quietly. “Few -are left. The Mohaves are a broken tribe.”</p> - -<p>“The Mohaves are not my people,” the Indian corrected -him calmly. “I am Pahute. In the mountains -along the river you call the Colorado, my people lived -and hunted—and fought. My uncle was the chief, -and I was proud. One day my mother beat me with a -stick. I took my bow and my arrows and some dried -meat, and that night I left my people, for I was angry -and ashamed. With my bow I had killed two mountain -sheep. With my bow I had hidden in the rocks -and had wounded a white man who was digging in the -hillside. I thought I was a warrior and not to be -beaten by a squaw.</p> - -<p>“The great thirst found me as I was walking toward -the mountains where all my life I had seen the -sun go down. With my bow and arrow I could get -meat, but I could not get water. All my life I had -lived near the river. The great thirst I did not -know.</p> - -<p>“I fell in the sand. When I awoke, water was in -my mouth. I looked, and I was lying in the arms of a -white man. He was big and strong and very handsome. -He was Sergeant King. Your grandfather. I looked -into his eyes and I was not afraid. There was no hate -in my heart for him, but all other whites I hated. He -lifted me and carried me in his arms and laid me in a -wagon with white women and children. I hated them. -I was weak from the thirst and from much walking, -but I bit deep into the arm of a woman who put her -hand on me.</p> - -<p>“There was much yelling in that wagon. The -woman struck me many times. A horse came galloping. -Your grandfather lifted me out of the wagon and put -me on the horse with him. So we rode together in one -saddle. I loved him.</p> - -<p>“The Mohaves attacked the whites when we had -gone many days. My sergeant left me with his horse -by the wagons. He crept behind bushes and killed -many. He was a great warrior and I was proud when -his gun brought death to a Mohave. I watched him, -for I loved him. When I saw him fall from his knees -and lie on his face in the sand, I jumped from the horse -and went creeping through the brush. He was not -dead. I took his gun and killed Mohaves. Pretty soon -my sergeant looked at me and smiled while I killed. -When there were no more Mohaves, the captain came. -They put my sergeant in a wagon and I sat beside him. -I gave him water, I gave him food. With my fists -I beat back those who would take from me the joy -of serving him.</p> - -<p>“A long time he was sick in the town we entered. -I was with him. Every day and every night he could -open his eyes and see that I was with him.”</p> - -<p>The sonorous voice ceased its monotone and the -Indian sat silent, staring into the past. After a while -he turned his head and looked full at Rawley.</p> - -<p>“I was a boy when he took me. Now I am an old -man. Since he took me there has been no night when -my sergeant could call and get no answer. There has -been no day when my sergeant could look and could -not see me. Now my sergeant is gone. My heart is -gone with him.”</p> - -<p>Enthralled by the picture vividly painted with bold -strokes by the Indian, Rawley sat hunched over his -pipe, cuddling the cooling bowl in his fingers.</p> - -<p>“Your sergeant was my grandfather. At the last -I loved him, too. I am a King. I need you.” His -tone stamped the lie as truth. Later he would find some -way of making it the truth, he thought.</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo eyed him sharply in the deepening -dusk.</p> - -<p>“You have read the book?” he asked after a minute. -“If you have read, then I will go with you. The spirit -of my sergeant will go. My heart may live again.”</p> - -<p>“What book?” Rawley’s eyes widened.</p> - -<p>“Your grandfather gave you the book. Your -grandfather commanded that you read.” Reproach -was in the voice of Johnny Buffalo.</p> - -<p>“I have read the diary—the book where he wrote -of his travels. Do you mean that book?”</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo gave a grunt that was pure Indian -and signified disgust.</p> - -<p>Rawley frowned over the puzzle and his very evident -defection. It must be the Bible that was meant, -he decided. But he could see no reason why he should -read the Bible and then go somewhere. Still, the thing -seemed to have pulled Johnny Buffalo out of his slough -of despond, and that was what Rawley had been working -for.</p> - -<p>“If you mean the Bible,” he said tentatively, “I read -it a little, that night.”</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo peered at him. “Read that book -more. Your grandfather commanded that you should -read. I heard the promise you gave. You said, ‘You -bet.’ It was a promise to obey your grandfather.”</p> - -<p>“I mean to keep the promise,” Rawley replied defensively. -“I haven’t had time. Things have been -pretty much upset since that night.”</p> - -<p>The Indian meditated. “You read,” he admonished -after due deliberation. “Your grandfather never -talked to make words. I think he would have told you -more. But his spirit went. I will stay in a tent by the -river. When you have read, you come. We will talk -more when you have read.”</p> - -<p>Rawley felt the dismissal under the words. He -offered the Indian money, which was refused by a gesture. -Then, conscious of a certain vague excitement in -the back of his mind, he went back to his own part of -the house.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chIV' title='IV—RAWLEY READS THE BIBLE'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER FOUR</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>RAWLEY READS THE BIBLE</span> -</h2> - - -<p>In his room again, Rawley unlocked his desk and -got the two books which were his “legacy.” He was -young, and for all his technical training the spirit of -romance called to his youth. There was something particularly -important, something urgent in the admonition -that he should read the Scriptures. Rawley’s training -was all against vague speculations. Your mining -engineer fights guesswork at every stage of his profession.</p> - -<p>He sat down with the books in his hand and began -to reason the thing out cold-bloodedly, as if it were a -problem in mineral formations. He undid the clasp of -the Bible, opened it and looked through all the leaves, -seeking for some hidden paper. He spent half an hour -in the search and discovered nothing. There was no -message, then, hidden in the Bible. His grandfather -must have meant the actual reading of the text itself.</p> - -<p>Then he remembered the paper filled with references, -hidden in the pocket of the diary. There might be -something significant in that, he thought. He opened -the diary, took out the paper and glanced down the list -of references. They were scattered all through the -book and there were sixty-four of them.</p> - -<p>He opened the Bible again and began to look for the -first one—I Kings, 20:3. The leaves stuck together, -they turned in groups, they seemed determined that -he should not find I Kings anywhere in the book. -Daniel, Joshua, Jeremiah, Zechariah and Esther he -peered into; there didn’t seem to be any Kings.</p> - -<p>He muttered a word frequently found in the Bible, -laid the book down and went to the living room, to the -big, embossed Family Bible that had his birth date in -it and the date of his father’s death; and pictures at -which he had been permitted to look on Sunday afternoons -if he were a good boy. His mother had gone -out to some meeting or other. He had the room to -himself and he could read at his leisure.</p> - -<p>It struck him immediately that this Bible had not -been much read either. But the leaves were thick -enough to turn singly, the print was large, and if -I Kings were present he felt that he had some chance -of finding it. With pencil and paper beside him, and -with the list of references in one hand, he therefore -set himself methodically to the task. And he was -twenty-six, and the blood of the adventurous Kings -beat strongly in his veins. So when he had found the -book and the chapter which headed the list, he ran -his finger down the half-column to the third verse; -and this is what he read:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>Thy silver and thy gold is mine; thy wives also and -thy children, even the goodliest, are mine.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Rawley was conscious of a slight chill of disappointment -when he had written it down in his fine, -beautifully exact, draftsman’s handwriting. But he -went doggedly to work on the next reference nevertheless:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p><i>Psalms</i>, 73:7. Their eyes stand out with fatness; -they have more than heart could wish.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>This was no more promising, but he had promised to -read, and this seemed to him the most practical method -of getting at his grandfather’s secret purpose and -thoughts. So he settled himself down to an evening’s -hard labor with book and paper.</p> - -<p>He was just finishing the work when he heard his -mother’s footsteps on the porch. Rather guiltily he -closed the Bible and folded his notes, so that his -mother, coming into the room, found Rawley standing -before a large window, thoughtfully gazing out into -the dark while he stuffed tobacco in his pipe. His -mother was a religious woman and a member of the -church, but she took her religion according to certain -fixed rules. Reading the Bible casually, apparently for -entertainment, would have required an explanation,—and -Rawley did not want to explain, least of all to -his mother.</p> - -<p>He listened with perfunctory interest to her account -of the evening’s edifications (a Swedish missionary -having lectured in his own tongue, with an interpreter) -and escaped when he could to his room. He wanted -to be alone where he could try and guess the riddle his -grandfather had placed before him.</p> - -<p>That there was a message of some kind hidden away -in the Scriptural quotations, Rawley felt absolutely -certain. In the first place, they did not seem to him -such passages as a devout person would cherish for the -comfort they held. Moreover, certain verses had been -repeated, although the text itself did not seem to justify -such emphasis. Precious metals, and journeyings into -rough country, he decided, was the dominant note of -the citations and the net result was confusing to say -the least. If his grandfather really intended that he -should discover any meaning in the jumble, he should -have furnished a key, Rawley told himself disgustedly, -some time after midnight, when he had read the quotations -over and over until his head ached and they -seemed more meaningless than at first.</p> - -<p>But his grandfather had told him emphatically that -there was a lot in the Bible, if he read it carefully -enough. There might have been in the statement no -meaning deeper than an old man’s whim, but Rawley -could not bring himself to believe it. Somewhere in -those verses a secret lay hidden, and Rawley did not -mean to give up until he had solved the problem.</p> - -<p>At daylight the next morning Rawley awoke with -what he considered an inspiration. He swung out of -bed and with his bathrobe over his shoulders made a -stealthy pilgrimage into the old-fashioned library -where the conventional aggregation of “works” were -to be found in leather-bound sets. Squatting on his -haunches, he inspected a certain dim corner filled with -fiction of the type commonly accepted as standard. -He chose a volume and returned to bed, leaving one -of his heelless slippers behind him in his absorption -in the mystery.</p> - -<p>He crawled back into bed and read Poe’s “Gold -Bug” before breakfast, giving particular attention to the -elucidation of the cipher contained in the story. The -general effect of this research work was not illuminating. -Poe’s cipher had been worked out with numbers, -whereas Grandfather King had carelessly muffled his -meaning in many words; unless the book, chapter and -verse numbers were intended to convey the message -in cipher similar to Poe’s.</p> - -<p>This possibility struck Rawley in the middle of his -shaving. He could not wait to put the theory to the -test, but hastily wiped the razor, and the lather from one -side of his face, opened his grandfather’s old Bible at -the index and began setting down the number of each -book above its name in the reference list. Thus, -I Kings, 20:3 became the numerals 11-20-3.</p> - -<p>He was eagerly at work at this when his mother -called him to breakfast. His mother was a woman -who worked industriously at being cultured. She had -a secret ambition to be called behind her back a brilliant -conversationalist. Breakfast, therefore, was always an -uncomfortable meal for Rawley whenever his mother -had attended some instructive gathering the evening -before.</p> - -<p>While he ate his first muffin, Rawley listened to a -foggy interpretation of the Swedish lecturer’s ideas -upon universal brotherhood. Rather, he sat quiet while -his mother talked. Then he interrupted her shockingly.</p> - -<p>“Say, Mother, do you know whether Grandfather -ever read Poe?”</p> - -<p>A swallow of coffee went down his mother’s “Sunday -throat.” It was some minutes before she could -reply, and by that time Rawley had decided that perhaps -he had better not bother his mother about the -cipher. He patted her on the back, begged her pardon -for asking foolish questions, and escaped to his own -room, where he spent the whole day with “The Gold -Bug” opened before him at the page which contained -Poe’s rule concerning the frequency with which certain -letters occur in the alphabet.</p> - -<p>That evening there was a fine litter of papers scribbled -over with letters and numbers, singly and in -groups. Rawley could not get two words that made -sense. The thing simply didn’t work. If his grandfather -had ever read Poe’s “Gold Bug”, he certainly -had not used it for a pattern.</p> - -<p>He went back to his sixty-four Bible verses and began -studying them again. But he could not see any -reason why Grandfather King should claim any -one’s wives and children, whose “eyes stand out -with fatness.” The third and fourth verses were -intelligible;</p> - -<blockquote> -<p><i>Proverbs</i>, 2:1. My son, if thou wilt receive my -words, and hide my commandments with thee.</p> - -<p><i>II Chronicles</i>, 1:12. Wisdom and knowledge is -granted unto thee; and I will give thee riches, and -wealth, and honor, such as none of the kings have -had that have been before thee, neither shall there any -after thee have the like.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Even the next three lent themselves to a possible -personal meaning:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p><i>Psalms</i>, 2:10. Be wise now therefore, oh ye kings; -be instructed, ye judges of the earth.</p> - -<p><i>I Chronicles</i>, 22:16. Of the gold, the silver, and -the brass, and the iron, there is no number. Rise, -therefore, and be doing and the Lord be with thee.</p> - -<p><i>Deuteronomy</i>, 11:11. But the land, whither ye go -to possess it, is a land of hills and valleys, and drinketh -water of the rain of heaven.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>After that, he was all at sea.</p> - -<p>He picked up the little Bible and opened it again. -It must be there that the message was hidden; and -Rawley felt very sure, by now, that the Bible quotations -held the secret. The book opened at the eleventh chapter -of Deuteronomy. Here was a verse marked,—a -verse made familiar to Rawley in his hours of exhaustive study. Only a part of the verse was marked, -however, by a penciled line drawn faintly beneath -certain words.</p> - -<p>With a sudden excitement Rawley seized a fresh -sheet of paper and wrote down the marked passage, -“The land whither ye go to possess it is a land of -hills and valleys.”</p> - -<p>Painstakingly then he began at the beginning of the -reference list and worked his way once more through -book, chapter and verse. But this time he used his -grandfather’s Bible and copied only such parts of the -verse as were underscored. Now he was on the right -track, and as he wrote his excitement grew apace. -From a hopeless jumble, the verses conveyed to him -this message:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>... Gold is mine ... more than heart could wish. -My son, if thou wilt receive my words and hide my -commandments with thee ... I will give thee riches, -and wealth ... such as none of the kings have had -that have been before thee. Be wise now, therefore, be -instructed. Of the gold ... there is no number. The -land whither ye go to possess it is a land of hills and -valleys. Do this now, my son. Go through ... the -city which is by the river in the wilderness ... yet -making many rich. In the midst thereof ... a ferry-boat -... which is by the brink of the river. Take -victuals with you for the journey ... turn you northward -into the wilderness ... to a great and high -mountain ... cedar trees in abundance ... scattered -over the face of ... the high mountain. In the cliffs -... there is a path which no fowl knoweth, and which -the vulture’s eye hath not seen. Come to the top of the -mount ... pass over unto the other side ... westward -... on the hillside ... a very great heap of -stones ... joined ... to ... a dry tree. Go into -the clefts of the rocks ... into the tops of the jagged -rocks ... to the sides of the pit ... take heed now -... that is ... exceeding deep. It is hid from the -eyes of all living ... creep into ... the midst thereof -... eastward ... two hundred, fourscore and -eight ... feet ... ye shall find ... a pure river -of water ... proceed no further ... there is gold -... heavier than the sand ... pure gold ... upon -the sand. And all the gold ... thou shalt take up -... then shalt thou prosper if thou takest heed ... -I know thy poverty, but thou art rich ... take heed -now ... On the hillside ... which is upon the bank -of the river ... in the wilderness ... there shall -the vultures also be gathered ... ye shall find ... -him that ... is mine enemy ... his mouth is full -of cursing ... under his tongue is mischief and -vanity ... be watchful ... the heart is desperately -wicked ... He that keepeth his mouth keepeth his -life ... I put my trust in thee. Now, my son, the -Lord be with thee and prosper thou.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>His first impulse was to find Johnny Buffalo. He -folded the paper, slipped it safely into a pocket and -reached for his hat. He had neglected to ask the -Indian just where he meant to make his camp, but he -felt sure that he could find him. Indeed, when he -stopped in the path halfway to the front gate and -looked toward the west wing, he could just discern -a figure standing on the porch. So he crossed the -grass plot and in a moment stood before Johnny -Buffalo.</p> - -<p>Again his mood impelled him to the manner that -most appealed to the old Indian, nephew of a chief of -his tribe. He waited for a space before he spoke. -And when he did speak it was in the restrained tone -which had won the Indian’s confidence the evening -before.</p> - -<p>“I have read,” he stated quietly, “and I know what -it is that Grandfather meant. If we can go inside I’ll -read it to you.”</p> - -<p>“The door is locked.” Johnny Buffalo pointed one -finger over his shoulder. “It is a new lock put there -by your mother. She does not want me to go in.”</p> - -<p>Rawley pressed his lips tightly together before he -dared trust himself to speak. He looked at the -barred door, thought of the room he had seen, its furnishings -enriched by a hundred little mementoes of -the past that belonged to his soldier grandfather. He -had a swift, panicky fear that his mother would call in -a second-hand furniture dealer and take what price he -offered for the stuff. That, he promised himself, he -would prevent at all costs.</p> - -<p>“Come into my room, then,” he invited. “I want -to read you what I discovered.”</p> - -<p>“No. The house is your mother’s. We will go to -my camp.”</p> - -<p>So it was by the light of a camp fire, with the Mississippi -flowing majestically past them under the stars, -that Rawley first read as a complete document the -Scriptural fragments that contained his grandfather’s -message. Away in the northeast the lights of St. Louis -set the sky aglow. Little lapping waves crept like licking -lips against the bank with a whispery sound that -mingled pleasantly with the subdued crackling of the -fire. Across the leaping flames, Johnny Buffalo sat -with his brown, corded hands upon his knees, his black -braids drawn neatly forward across his chest. His -lean face with its high nose and cheek bones flared -into light or grew shadowed as the flames reached -toward him or drew away. His lips were pressed -firmly together, as if he had learned well the lesson of -setting their seal against his thoughts.</p> - -<p>“There is one point I thought you might be able to -tell me,” Rawley said, looking across the fire when he -had finished reading. “This ‘City which is by the -river in the wilderness’—and ‘In the midst thereof -a ferryboat which is by the brink of the river.’ Do -you know what place is meant by that? Is it El Dorado, -Nevada? Because Grandfather’s diary tells of -going up the river to El Dorado. And I remember, -now, there was some kind of Bible reference written -over the name. I don’t remember what it was, though. -I didn’t look it up. We’ll have to make sure about -that, for the directions start from that point. It says -we’re to go through the city which is by the river, and -turn northward—and so on.”</p> - -<p>The Indian reached out a hand, lifted a stick of -wood and laid it across the fire. His eyes turned toward -the river.</p> - -<p>“Many times, when the air was warm and the -stars sat in their places to watch the night, my sergeant -came here with me, and I gathered wood to -make a fire. Many hours he would sit here in his -chair beside the river. Sometimes he would talk. His -words were of the past when he was the strongest of -all men. Sometimes his words were of El Dorado. It -is a city by the river, and a ferryboat is in the midst -thereof. It has made many rich with the gold they -dig from the mountains. I think that is the city you -must go through.”</p> - -<p>“There isn’t any city now,” Rawley told him. “It’s -been abandoned for years. I don’t think there’s a -town there, any more.”</p> - -<p>“There is the place by the river,” Johnny Buffalo -observed calmly. “There is the great and high mountain. -There is ‘the path that no man knoweth.’”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you bet. And we’re going to find it, Johnny -Buffalo. I’ve got a chance to go out that way this -month, to examine a mine. I didn’t think I’d take the -job. I wanted to go to Mexico. But now, of course, it -will be Nevada, and I’ll want you to go with me. Do -you know that country?”</p> - -<p>A strange expression lightened the Indian’s face for -an instant.</p> - -<p>“When I killed my first meat,” he said, “I could -walk from the kill to the city by the river. My father’s tent was no more distant than it is from here to -the great city yonder. Not so far, I think. The way -was rough with many hills.”</p> - -<p>Impulsively Rawley leaned and stretched out his arm -toward the Indian.</p> - -<p>“Let’s shake on it. We will go together, and you -will be my partner. Whatever we find is the gift of -my grandfather, and half of it is yours when we find -it. I feel he’d want it that way. Is it a go, Johnny -Buffalo?”</p> - -<p>Something very much like a smile stirred the old -man’s lips. He took Rawley’s hand and gave it a -solemn shake, once up, once down, as is the way of the -Indian.</p> - -<p>“It is go. You are like my sergeant when he held -me in his arms and gave me water from his canteen. -You are my son. Where you go I will go with you.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chV' title='V—A CITY FORSAKEN'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER FIVE</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>A CITY FORSAKEN</span> -</h2> - - -<p>The storekeeper at Nelson stood on his little slant-roofed -porch and mopped his beaded forehead with a -blue calico handkerchief. The desert wrinkles around -his eyes drew together and deepened as he squinted -across the acarpous gulch where a few rough-board -shacks stood forlorn with uncurtained windows, to -the heat-ridden hillside beyond.</p> - -<p>“It’s going to be awful hot down there by the -river,” he observed deprecatingly. “You’ll find the -water pretty muddy—but maybe you know that. -Strangers don’t always; it’s best to make sure, so if -you haven’t a bucket or something to settle the water -in, I’d advise you to take one along. I’ve an extra -one I could lend you, if you need it.”</p> - -<p>“We have a bucket, thanks.” Rawley stepped into -the dust-covered car loaded with camp outfit. “El -Dorado is right at the mouth of the canyon, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>The storekeeper gave him an odd look. “This is -El Dorado,” he answered drily. “This whole canyon -is the El Dorado. There used to be a town at the -mouth of the canyon, but that’s gone years ago. Better take the left-hand road when you get down here a -quarter of a mile or so. That will take you past the -Techatticup Mine. Below there, turn to the right -where two shacks stand close together in the fork of -the road. The other trail’s washed, and I don’t know -as you could get down that way. Car in good shape for -the pull back? She’s pretty steep, coming this way.”</p> - -<p>“She’s pulled everything we’ve struck, so far,” Rawley -replied cheerfully. “Other cars make it, don’t -they?”</p> - -<p>“Some do—and some holler for help. It’s a long, -hard drag up the wash. And if you tackle it in the -hot part of the day you’ll need plenty of water. And,” -the storekeeper added with a whimsical half-smile, -“the hot part of the day is any time between sunrise -and dark. It does get <i>awful</i> hot down in there! I -don’t mean to knock my own district,” he added, “but -I don’t like to see any one start down the canyon -without knowing about what to expect. Then, if they -want to go, that’s their business.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the way to look at it,” Rawley agreed. “I -expect you’ve been here a good while, haven’t you?”</p> - -<p>The storekeeper wiped a fresh collection of beads -from his forehead. He looked up and down the canyon -rather wistfully.</p> - -<p>“About as many years as you are old,” he said -quietly. “I came in here twenty-five years ago.”</p> - -<p>Rawley laughed. “I was about a year old when -you landed. Seems a long while back, to me.” He -stepped on the starter, waved his hand to the storekeeper -and went grinding away down the steep trail -through the loose sand. Johnny Buffalo, sitting beside -him, lifted a hand and laid it on his arm.</p> - -<p>“Stop! He calls,” he said.</p> - -<p>Rawley stopped the car, his head tilted outward, -looking back. The storekeeper was coming down the -trail toward them.</p> - -<p>“I forgot to tell you there’s a bad Indian loose in -the hills somewhere along the river,” he panted when -he came up. “He’s waylaid a couple of prospectors -that we know of. A blood feud against the whites, the -Indians tell me. You may not run across him at all, -but it will be just as well to keep an eye out.”</p> - -<p>“What’s his name?” Johnny Buffalo turned his -head and stared hard at the other.</p> - -<p>“His name’s Queo. He’s middle-aged—somewhere -in the late forties, I should say. Medium-sized -and kind of stocky built. He’ll kill to get grub or tobacco. -Seeing there’s two of you he might not try -anything, but I’d be careful, if I were in your place. -There’s a price on his head, so if he tries any -tricks—” He waved his hand and grinned expressively -as he turned back to the store.</p> - -<p>“He is older than that man thinks,” said Johnny -Buffalo after a silence. “Queo has almost as many -years as I have. When we were children we fought. -He is bad. For him to kill is pleasure, but he is a -coward.”</p> - -<p>“If there is a price on his head he has probably left -the country,” Rawley remarked indifferently. “Old-timers -are fine people, most of them. But they do like -to tell it wild to tenderfeet. I suppose that’s human -nature.”</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo did not argue the point. He seemed -content to gaze at the hills in the effort to locate old -landmarks. And as for Rawley himself, his mind -was wholly absorbed by his mission into the country, -which he had dreamed of for more than a month. -There had been some delay in getting started. First, -he could not well curtail the length of his visit with his -mother, in spite of the fact that they seemed to have -little in common. Then he thought it wise to make -the trip to Kingman and report upon a property there -which was about to be sold for a good-sized fortune. -The job netted him several hundred dollars, -which he was likely to need. Wherefore he had -of necessity had plenty of time to dream over his -own fortune which might be lying in the hills—“In -the cleft of the jagged rocks”—waiting for him to -find it.</p> - -<p>Just at first he had been somewhat skeptical. Fifty -years is a long time for gold to remain hidden in the -hills of a mining country so rich as Nevada, without -some prospector discovering it. But Johnny Buffalo -believed. Whether his belief was based solely upon -his faith in his sergeant, Rawley could not determine. -But Johnny Buffalo had a very plausible argument in -favor of the gold remaining where Grandfather King -had left it in the underground stream.</p> - -<p>The fact that Rawley was exhorted to “take victuals -for the journey” meant a distance of a good many -miles, perhaps, which they must travel from El Dorado. -Then, they were to go to the top of a very high mountain -and pass over on the other side. Johnny Buffalo -argued that the start was to be made from El Dorado -merely because the mountain would be most visible -from that point. It would be rough country, he contended. -The code mentioned cliffs and great heaps of -stones and clefts in jagged rocks, with a deep pit, “Hid -from the eyes of all living,” for the final goal. He -thought it more than likely that Grandfather King’s -gold mine was still undiscovered. And toward the last, -Rawley had been much more inclined to believe him. -He had read diligently all the mining information he -could get concerning this particular district, as far -back as the records went. Nowhere was any mention -made of such a rich placer discovery on—or in—a -mountain.</p> - -<p>He was thinking all this as he drove the devious -twistings and turnings of the canyon road. Another -mine or two they passed; then, nosing carefully down -a hill steeper than the others, they turned sharply to the -left and were in the final discomfort of the “wash.” -A veritable sweat box it was on this particular hot -afternoon in July. The baked, barren hills rose close -on either side. Like a deep, gravelly river bed long -since gone dry, the wash sloped steeply down toward -the Colorado. Rawley could readily understand now -the solicitude of the storekeeper. The return was quite -likely to be a time of tribulation.</p> - -<p>He had expected to come upon a camp of some sort. -But the canyon opened bleakly to the river, the hot -sand of its floor sloping steeply to meet the lapping -waves of the turgid stream. At the water’s edge, on -the first high ground of the bank, were ruins of an old -stamp mill, which might have been built ten years ago -or a hundred, so far as looks went.</p> - -<p>He left the car and climbed upon the cement floor -of the old mill. What at first had seemed to be a -greater extension of the plant he now discovered was -a walled roadway winding up to the crest of the hill. -He swung about and gazed to the northward, as the -Bible code had commanded that he should travel. A -mile or so up the river were the walls of a deep canyon,—Black -Canyon, according to his map. Farther away, -set back from the river a mile, perhaps two miles, a -sharp-pointed hill shouldered up above its fellows. -This seemed to be the highest mountain, so far as he -could see, in that direction. If that were the “great -and high mountain” described in the code, their journey -would not be so long as Johnny Buffalo anticipated.</p> - -<p>The nearer view was desolation simmering in the -heat. A hundred yards away, on the opposite bank -of the wash, the forlorn ruins of a cabin or two gave -melancholy evidence that here men had once worked -and laughed and loved—perchance. He looked at -the furnace yawning beside him, and at the muddy -water swirling in drunken haste just below. It might -have been just here that his grandfather had landed -from the steamboat <i>Gila</i> and had watched the lovely -young half-breed girl in the crowd come to welcome -the boat and passengers.</p> - -<p>He started when Johnny Buffalo spoke at his elbow. -How the Indian had reached that spot unheard and -unseen Rawley did not know. Johnny Buffalo was -pointing to the north.</p> - -<p>“I think that high mountain is where we must go,” -he said. “It is one day’s travel. We can go to-day -when the sun is behind the mountains, and we can -walk until the stars are here. Very early in the morning -we can walk again, and before it is too hot we can -reach the trees where it will be cool.”</p> - -<p>“We have a lot of grub and things in the car,” -Rawley objected. “It seems to me that it wouldn’t -be a bad plan to carry the stuff up here and cache it -somewhere in this old mill. Then if your friend Queo -should show up, there won’t be so much for him to -steal. And if we want to make a camp on the mountain, -we can come down here and carry the stuff up -as we need it. There’s a hundred dollars’ worth of -outfit in that car, Johnny,” he added frugally. “I’m -all for keeping it for ourselves.”</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo looked at the mountain, and he -looked down at the car,—and then grunted a reluctant -acquiescence. Rawley laughed at him.</p> - -<p>“That’s all right—the mountain won’t run away -over night,” he bantered, slapping his hand down on -Johnny Buffalo’s shoulder with an affectionate familiarity -bred in the past month. “I’ve been juggling -that car over the desert trails since sunrise, and I -wouldn’t object to taking it easy for a few hours.”</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo said no more but began helping to -unload the car. It was he who chose the trail by which -they carried the loads to the upper level, cement-floored, -where no tracks would show. He chose a -hiding place beneath the wreckage of some machinery -that had fallen against the bank in such a way that an -open space was left beneath, large enough to hold their -outfit.</p> - -<p>A huge rattlesnake protested stridently against being -disturbed. Rawley drew his automatic, meaning to -shoot it; but Johnny Buffalo stopped him with a warning -gesture, and himself killed the snake with a rock. -While it was still writhing with a smashed head, he -picked it up by the tail, took a long step or two and -heaved it into the river, grinning his satisfaction over -a deed well done.</p> - -<p>Rawley, standing back watching him, had a swift -vision of the old Indian paddling solemnly about the -yard near the west wing. There he was an incongruous -figure amongst the syringas and the roses. Here, although -he had discarded the showy fringed buckskin -for the orthodox brown khaki clothes of the desert, -he somehow fitted into his surroundings and became -a part of the wilderness itself. Johnny Buffalo was -assuredly coming into his own.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chVI' title='VI—TRAILS MEET'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER SIX</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>TRAILS MEET</span> -</h2> - - -<p>By sunrise they were ready for the trail, light packs -and filled canteens slung upon their shoulders. The -car was backed against the bluff that would shade it -from the scorching sunlight from early afternoon to -sundown. Beside it were the embers of a mesquite-wood -fire where they had boiled coffee and fried bacon -in the cool of dawn. As a safeguard against the loss -of his car, Rawley had disconnected the breaker points -from the distributor and carried them, carefully -wrapped, in his pocket. There would be no moving of -the car under its own power until the points were replaced. -And Johnny Buffalo had advised leaving a few -things in the car, to ward off suspicion that their outfit -had been cached. Furthermore, he had cunningly -obliterated their tracks through the deep, fine sand to -the ruins of the stamp mill. Even the keen, predatory -eyes of an outlaw Indian could scarcely distinguish -any trace of their many trips that way.</p> - -<p>They crossed the wash, turned into the remnant of -an old road leading up the bank to the level above, and -followed a trail up the river. Once Johnny Buffalo -stopped and pointed down the bank.</p> - -<p>“The ferryboat went there,” he explained. “Much -land has been eaten by the river since last I saw this -place. Many houses stood here. They are gone. All -is gone. My people are gone, like the town. Of -Queo only have I heard, and him the white men hunt -as they hunt the wolf.”</p> - -<p>Rawley nodded, having no words for what he felt. -There was something inexpressibly melancholy in this -desolation where his grandfather had found riotous -life. Of the fortunes gathered here, the fortunes lost—of -the hopes fulfilled and the hopes crushed slowly -in long, monotonous days of toil and disappointment—what -man could tell? Only the river, rushing heedlessly -past as it had hurried, all those years ago, to -meet the lumbering little river boats struggling against -its current with their burden of human emotions, only -the river might have told how the town was born,—and -how it had died. Or the grim hills standing there -as they had stood since the land was in the making, -looking down with saturnine calm upon the puny endeavors -of men whose lives would soon enough cease -upon earth and be forgotten. Rawley’s boot toe -struck against something in the loose gravel,—a child’s -shoe with the toe worn to a gaping mouth, the heel -worn down to the last on the outer edge: dry as -a bleached bone, warped by many a storm, blackened, -doleful. Even a young man setting out in quest of his -fortune, with a picturesque secret code in his pocket, -may be forgiven for sending a thought after the child -who had scuffed that coarse little shoe down here in -El Dorado.</p> - -<p>But presently Johnny Buffalo, leading the way -briskly, his sharp old eyes taking in everything within -their range as if he were eagerly verifying his memories -of the place, turned from the trail along the river -and entered the hills. His moccasined feet clung -tenaciously to the steep places where Rawley’s high-laced -mining boots slipped. The sun rays struck them -fiercely and the “little stinging gnats” which Grandfather -King had mentioned in his diary were there to -pester them, poising vibrantly just before the eyes as -if they waited only the opportunity to dart between -the lids.</p> - -<p>The thought that perhaps his grandfather had come -that way, fifty years ago, filled the toil of climbing up -the long gully with a peculiar interest. Fifty years -ago these hills must have looked much the same. Fifty -years ago, the prospect holes they passed occasionally -may have been fresh-turned earth and rocks. Men -searching for rich silver and gold might have been seen -plodding along the hillsides; but the hills themselves -could not have changed much. His grandfather had -looked upon all this, and had divided his thoughts, -perhaps, between the gold and his latest infatuation, -the half-breed girl, Anita. And suddenly Rawley put -a vague speculation into words:</p> - -<p>“Hey, Johnny! Here’s a good place to make a -smoke, in the shade.” He waited until the Indian had -retraced the dozen steps between them. “Johnny, there -was a beautiful half-breed girl here, when Grandfather -made his last trip up the river. She was half Spanish. -My grandfather mentioned her once or twice in his -diary. Do you remember her?”</p> - -<p>“There were many beautiful girls in my tribe,” -Johnny Buffalo retorted drily. “What name did he -call her?”</p> - -<p>“Anita. It’s a pretty name, and it proves the Spanish, -I should say.”</p> - -<p>The old man stared at the opposite slope. His mouth -grew thin-lipped and stern.</p> - -<p>“My uncle, the chief, was betrayed in his old age. -His youngest squaw loved a Spanish man with noble -look. I have the tale from my older brothers, who -told me. The child she bore was the child of the -Spanish gentleman. My uncle’s youngest squaw—died.” -Johnny Buffalo paused significantly. “The -child was given to my mother to keep. Her name was -Anita. She was very beautiful. I remember. Many -visits Anita made with friends near this place. I think -she is the same. It was not good for my sergeant -to look upon her with love. I have heard my brothers -whisper that Anita looked with soft eyes upon the -white soldiers.”</p> - -<p>Rawley’s young sympathies suffered a definite revulsion. -If his grandfather’s <i>dulce corazon</i> were a -coquette, her fruitless waiting for his return was not -so beautifully tragic after all. There were other white -soldiers stationed along the river, Rawley remembered, -with a curl of the lip. His romantic imagination had -not balked at the savage blood in her veins, since she -was a beauty of fifty years ago. But he was a sturdy-souled -youth with very old-fashioned notions concerning -virtue. He finished his smoke and went on, feeling -cheated by the cold facts he had almost forced from -Johnny Buffalo.</p> - -<p>They reached the head of that gulch, climbed a steep, -high ridge where they must use hands as well as feet -in the climbing, and dug heels into the earth in a -descent even steeper. Rawley told himself once that -he would just as soon start out to follow a crow -through this country as to follow Johnny Buffalo. -One word had evidently been omitted from the Indian’s -English education by Grandfather King,—the -word “detour.” Rawley thought of the straight-forward -march of locusts he had once read about and -wondered if Johnny Buffalo had taken lessons from -them in his youth.</p> - -<p>However, he consoled himself with the thought that -a straight line to the mountain would undoubtedly -shorten the distance. If the Indian could climb sneer -walls of rock like a lizard, Rawley would attempt to -follow. And they would ultimately arrive at their destination, -though the glimpse he had obtained of the -mountain from the ridge they had just crossed failed -to confirm Johnny Buffalo’s assertion that it was one -day’s travel. They had been walking three hours by -Rawley’s watch, and the mountain looked even farther -away than from El Dorado. But Johnny Buffalo was -so evidently enjoying every minute of the hike through -his native hills that Rawley could not bear to spoil -his pleasure by even hinting that he was blazing a -mighty rough trail.</p> - -<p>They were working up another tortuous ravine -where not even Johnny Buffalo could always keep a -straight line by the sun. In places the walls overhung -the gulch in shelving, weather-worn cliffs of soft -limestone. Bowlders washed down from the heights -made slow going, because they were half the time -climbing over or around some huge obstruction; and -because of the rattlesnakes they must look well where a -hand or a foot was laid. Johnny Buffalo was still in the -lead; and Rawley, for all his youth and splendid stamina -was not finding the Indian too slow a pacemaker. -Indeed, he was perfectly satisfied when the dozen feet -between them did not lengthen to fifteen or twenty.</p> - -<p>The mounting sun made the heat in that gully a -terrific thing to endure. But the Indian did not lift -the canteen to his mouth; nor did Rawley. Both had -learned the foolishness of drinking too freely at the -beginning of a journey. So, when Johnny Buffalo -stopped suddenly in the act of passing around a jutting -ledge, Rawley halted in his tracks and waited to see -what was the reason.</p> - -<p>The Indian glanced back at him and crooked a forefinger. -Rawley set one foot carefully between two -rocks, planted the other as circumspectly, and so, without -a sound, stole up to Johnny Buffalo’s side. Johnny -waited until their shoulders touched then leaned forward -and pointed.</p> - -<p>Up on the ridge a couple of hundred yards before -them, a man moved crouching behind a bush, came into -the open, bent lower and peered downward. His -actions were stealthy; his whole manner inexpressibly -furtive. His back was toward them, and the ridge -itself hid the thing he was stalking.</p> - -<p>“He’s after a deer, maybe. Or a mountain sheep,” -Rawley whispered, when the man laid a rifle across a -rock and settled lower on his haunches.</p> - -<p>“Still, it is well that we see what he sees,” Johnny -Buffalo whispered back. “We will stalk him as he -stalks his kill.”</p> - -<p>The Indian squirmed his shoulder out of the strap -sling that held his rifle in its case behind him. With -seeming deliberation, yet with speed he uncased the -weapon, worked the lever gently to make sure the gun -was chamber loaded, and motioned Rawley to follow -him.</p> - -<p>In the hills the old man had somehow slipped into -the leadership, and now Rawley obeyed him without -a word. They stole up the side of the gulch where the -man on the ridge could not discover them without turning -completely around; which would destroy his position beside the rock and risk the loss of a shot at his -game. He seemed wholly absorbed in watching something -on the farther side of the ridge, and it did not -seem likely that he would hear them.</p> - -<p>A little farther up, a ledge cutting across the head -of the gulch hid him completely from the two. An -impulse seized Rawley to cross the gulch there and to -climb the ridge farther on, nearer the spot which the -man had seemed to be watching. He caught the attention -of Johnny Buffalo, whispered to him his desire, -and received a nod of understanding and consent. -Johnny would keep straight on, and so come up behind -the fellow.</p> - -<p>Unaccountably, Rawley wanted to hurry. He -wanted to see the man’s quarry before a shot was fired. -So, when a wrinkle in the ridge made easy climbing -and afforded concealment, he went up a tiny gully, -digging in his toes and trying to keep in the soft -ground so that sliding rocks could not betray him.</p> - -<p>Unexpectedly the deep wrinkle brought him up to a -notch in the ridge, beyond which another gully led -steeply downward. Immediately beneath him a narrow -trail wound sinuously, climbing just beyond around the -point of another hill. He could not see the man up on -the ridge, but he could not doubt that the rifle was -aimed at some point along this trail. He was standing -on a rock, reconnoitering and expecting every moment -to hear a shot, when the unmistakable sound of voices -came up to him from somewhere below. He listened, -his glance going from the ridge to the bit of trail that -showed farther away on the point of the opposite hill. -The thought flashed through his mind that the man -with the rifle could easily have seen persons coming -around that point; that he must be lying in wait. Whoever -it was coming, they must pass along the trail -directly beneath the watcher on the ridge. It would be -an easy rifle shot; a matter of no more than a hundred -yards downhill.</p> - -<p>He stepped down off the rock and started running -down the steep gully to the trail. He was, he judged, -fully a hundred yards up the trail from where the man -was watching above. He did not know who was coming; -it did not matter. It was an ambush, and he -meant to spoil it. So he came hurtling down the steep -declivity, the lower third of which was steeper than -he suspected. Had he made an appointment with the -travelers to meet them at that spot, he could not possibly -have kept it more punctually. For he slid down -a ten-foot bank of loose earth and arrived sitting upright -in the trail immediately under the nose of a bald-faced -burro with a distended pack half covering it from -sight.</p> - -<p>There was no time for ceremony. Rawley flung -up his arms and shooed the astonished animal back -against another burro, so precipitately that he crowded -it completely off the trail and down the steep bank. -Rawley heard the sullen thud of the landing as he -scrambled to his knees, glancing apprehensively over -his shoulder as he did so. There had been no shot -fired, but he could not be certain that the small flurry -in the trail had been unobserved.</p> - -<p>“Get back, around the turn!” he commanded -guardedly and drove before him the two women who -had been walking behind the burros.</p> - -<p>The first, a fat old squaw with gray bangs hanging -straight down to her eyebrows, scuttled for cover, the -lead burro crowding past her and neatly overturning -her in the trail. But a slim girl in khaki breeches -and high-laced boots stood her ground, eyeing him -with a slight frown from under a light gray Stetson -hat.</p> - -<p>“Get back, I say! A man on the ridge is watching -this trail with a rifle across a rock. It may be Queo—get -back!” He did not stop with words. He took the -girl by the arm and bustled her forcibly around the -sharp kink in the trail that would, he hoped, effectually -hide them from the ridge.</p> - -<p>“Are you quite insane?” The girl twitched her -arm out of his grasp. “Or is this a joke you are -perpetrating on the natives? I must say I fail to see -the humor of it.”</p> - -<p>“Climb that gully to the top and sneak along the -ridge a couple of hundred yards, and you will see the -point of the joke,” Rawley retorted with an access of -dignity, perhaps to cover the extreme informality of his -arrival.</p> - -<p>“And why should any one—even Queo—want to -shoot us?” True to her sex, the girl was refusing to -abdicate her first position in the matter.</p> - -<p>“How should I know? He may not be watching for -you, particularly. From the ridge he probably saw -your pack train around the turn above here, and he -may have thought you were prospectors. I don’t know; -I’m only guessing. What I do know is what I saw: a -man with a rifle laid across a rock, up there, watching -this trail. It may not be you he’s after; but I wouldn’t -deliberately walk into range just to find out.”</p> - -<p>“What would you do, then? Stay here forever?”</p> - -<p>“Until my partner and I eliminate the risk, you’d -better stay here.” Rawley’s tone was masterful. “I -only came down to warn whoever was coming—walking -into an ambush.”</p> - -<p>The girl eyed him speculatively, with an exasperating -little smile. “It all sounds very thrilling; very -tenderfooty indeed. And in the meantime, there’s poor -old Deacon down there on his back in the ditch. Do -you always—er—arrive like that?”</p> - -<p>Rawley turned his back on her indignantly and discovered -the old squaw sitting solidly where the lead -burro had placed her. She was very fat, and she -filled that portion of the trail which she occupied. The -red bandana was pushed back on her head, and her gray -curtain of bangs was parted rakishly on one side. She -was staring at Rawley fixedly, a look of terror in her -eyes.</p> - -<p>He went to her, meaning to help her up. Now that -he recalled that first panicky moment, he remembered -that the burro had deposited her with some force in her -present position. She might be hurt.</p> - -<p>But the old squaw put up her hands before her, -palms out to ward him off. She cried out, a shrill expostulation -in her own tongue which caused the girl -to swing round quickly and hurry toward her.</p> - -<p>“No, no! He isn’t a ghost! Whatever made you -think of such a thing? He doesn’t mean to harm -you—no, he is <i>not</i> a spirit. He merely fell down hill, -and he wants to help you up. Are you hurt—Grandmother?” -Her clear, gray-brown eyes went -quickly, defiantly to Rawley’s face.</p> - -<p>That young man could not repress a startled look, -which traveled from the slim girl, indubitably white, to -the squaw whimpering in the trail. She must be trying -her own hand at a joke, he thought, just to break even -with his fancied presumption in halting their leisurely -progress down the trail.</p> - -<p>From up on the ridge a rifle cracked. The three -turned heads toward the thin, sinister report. They -waited motionless for a moment. Then the girl -spoke.</p> - -<p>“That wasn’t fired in our direction,” she said, and -immediately there came the sound of another shot. -“And that’s not the same gun,” she added. “That -sounds like an old-fashioned gun shooting black powder. -Didn’t you hear the <i>pow-w</i> of it?”</p> - -<p>“That would be Johnny Buffalo—my Indian partner,” said Rawley. “You folks stay here. I’m going -back up there and see what’s doing.”</p> - -<p>“Is that necessary?” The girl looked at him -quickly. “I think you ought to help turn Deacon -right side up before you go.” She leaned sidewise and -peered down over the bank. “He’s in an awful mess. -His pack is wedged between two bowlders, and his -legs are sticking straight up in the air.”</p> - -<p>Rawley sent a hasty glance down the bank. “He’s -all right—he’s flopping his ears,” he observed reassuringly. -“I’ll be back just as soon as I see how -Johnny Buffalo is making out. That fellow may have -got him. You stay back here out of sight. Promise -me.” He looked at her earnestly, as if by the force of -his will he would compel obedience.</p> - -<p>Her eyes evaded the meeting. “Pickles will have -to be rounded up,” she said. “He’s probably halfway -to Nelson by this time. And there’s Grandmother -to think of.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you think of those things until I get back,” -he said, with a swift smile. “I can’t leave my partner -to shoot it out alone.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chVII' title='VII—NEVADA'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER SEVEN</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>NEVADA</span> -</h2> - - -<p>He ran to the point of rocks, gathered himself together -and cleared the trail and the open space beyond -in one leap. How he got up the steep bank he never -remembered afterward. He only knew that he heard -the sharp crack of the first rifle again as he was sprinting -up the little gully that had concealed his descent. -He gained the top, stopped to get his bearings more -accurately and made his way toward the spot where -he had seen the man with the rifle.</p> - -<p>It occurred to him that he had best approach the -spot from the shelter of the ledge where he had separated -from Johnny Buffalo. At that point he could -pick up the Indian’s tracks and follow them, so saving -time in the long run.</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo’s moccasins left little trace in the -gravelly soil. But here and there they left a mark, -and Rawley got the direction and hurried on. Fifty -yards farther up the ridge he glimpsed something yellowish-brown -against a small juniper. A few feet -farther, he saw that it was Johnny Buffalo, lying on -his face, one arm thrown outward with the hand still -grasping the stock of his rifle.</p> - -<p>He snatched up the rifle, crouched beside the Indian -and searched the neighborhood with his eyes, trying -to get a sight of the killer. In a moment he spied him, -away down the deep ravine up which he and Johnny -Buffalo had toiled not half an hour before. The man -was running. Rawley raised the rifle to his shoulder, -took careful aim and fired, but he had small hope of -hitting his target at that distance.</p> - -<p>At the sound of the shot so close above him, Johnny -Buffalo stirred uneasily, as if disturbed in his sleep. -The man in the distance ducked out of sight amongst -the bowlders; and that was the last Rawley saw of him -at that time.</p> - -<p>“I must apologize for not taking you more seriously -when you warned me,” said the girl, just behind him. -“Is this—?”</p> - -<p>“My partner, Johnny Buffalo. He isn’t dead—he -moved, just now—but I’m afraid he’s badly hurt.” -Rawley lifted anxious blue eyes to her face.</p> - -<p>“We can carry him down to the trail. Then, if -Deacon is all right when we get him up, we can put -your partner on him and pack him home. It’s only a -mile or so.”</p> - -<p>“It might be better to take him to Nelson,” Rawley -amended the suggestion. “I could get a car there -and take him on to Las Vegas, probably. Or some -mine will have a doctor.”</p> - -<p>“It’s farther—and the heat, with the long ride, -would probably finish him,” the girl pointed out -bluntly. “On the other hand, a mile on the burro -will get him home, where it’s cool and we can see how -badly he’s hurt. And then, if he needs hospital care, -Uncle Peter can take him down to Needles in the -launch, this evening when it’s cool. I really don’t -mean to be disagreeable and argumentative, but it -seems to me that will be much the more comfortable -plan for him. And I can’t help feeling responsible, in -a way. I suppose he was trying to protect us, when -he was shot.”</p> - -<p>Rawley looked up from an amateurish examination -of the old man. The bullet wound was in the shoulder, -and he was hoping that it was high enough so that -the lung was not injured. His flask of brandy, placed -at Johnny’s lips, brought a gulp and a gasp. The -black eyes opened, looked from Rawley to the girl and -closed again.</p> - -<p>“There! I believe he’s going to be all right,” the -girl declared optimistically. “I’ll take his feet, and -you carry his shoulders. When we get him down to -the trail, I’ll have Grandmother look after him until -we get the burros straightened out. Queo—or whoever -it was—did you see him?”</p> - -<p>Rawley waved a hand toward the rocky ravine. -“You heard me shoot,” he reminded her. “Missed -him—with that heirloom Johnny carries. He was -running like a jackrabbit when I saw him last. Well, -I think you’re right—but I hate to trouble you folks. -Though I’d trouble the president himself, for Johnny -Buffalo’s sake.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a strange name,” she remarked irrelevantly, -stooping and making ready to lift his knees. “He must -be a Northern Indian.”</p> - -<p>“Born in this district,” Rawley told her. “Grandfather -found him in the desert when he was a kid. I -suppose he gave him the name—regardless.”</p> - -<p>Until they reached the trail there was no further talk, -their breath being needed for something more important. -They laid the injured man down in the shade -of a greasewood, and the girl immediately left to bring -the old squaw. She was no sooner gone than Johnny -Buffalo opened his eyes.</p> - -<p>“It was Queo,” he said, huskily whispering. “I -thought he was shooting at you. I tried to kill him. -But the damn gun is old—old. It struck me hard. -I did not shoot straight. I did not kill him. Queo -looked, he saw me and he shot as he ran away. The -gun has killed many—but I am old—”</p> - -<p>“You’re all right,” Rawley interrupted. “Quit -blaming yourself. You saved two women by shooting -when you did. Queo was afraid to stay and shoot -again when he knew there was a gun at his back. He -has gone down the ravine where we came up.”</p> - -<p>“Who was the white girl?” Even Johnny Buffalo -betrayed a very masculine interest, Rawley observed, -grinning inwardly. But he only said:</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. She was on the trail, with an old -squaw and two burros. It was they that Queo was -laying for, evidently. Don’t try to talk any more, till -I get you where we can look after you properly. -Where’s your pack? I didn’t see it, up there.”</p> - -<p>“It is hidden in the juniper. I did not want to fight -with a load on my back.”</p> - -<p>“All right. Don’t talk any more. We’ll fix you up, -all fine as silk.”</p> - -<p>The girl was returning, and after her waddled the -squaw, reluctant, looking ready to retreat at the first -suspicious move. Rawley stood aside while the girl -gave her brief directions in Indian,—so that Johnny -Buffalo could understand, Rawley shrewdly suspected, -and thanked her with his eyes. The squaw sidled past -Rawley and sat down on the bank, still staring at him -fixedly. His abrupt appearance and the consequent -stampede of the burros had evidently impressed her -unfavorably. The look she bestowed upon Johnny -Buffalo was more casual. He was an Indian and -therefore understandable, it seemed.</p> - -<p>The narrow canyon lay sun-baked and peaceful to -the hard blue of the sky. With the lightness which -came of removing the pack from his shoulders, Rawley -walked up the trail and around the turn to where -the burro called Deacon still lay patiently on his back -in the narrow watercourse below the trail. He slid -down the bank and inspected the lashings of the pack.</p> - -<p>“We use what is called the squaw hitch,” the girl -informed him from the trail just above his head. “If -you cut that forward rope I think you can loosen the -whole thing. The knot is on top of the pack, and of -course Deacon’s lying on it.” A moment later she -added, “I’ll go after Pickles, unless I can be of some -use to you.”</p> - -<p>Privately, Rawley thought that she was useful as a -relief to the eyes, if nothing else. But he told her -that he could get along all right, and let her go. The -girl piqued his interest; she was undoubtedly beautiful, -with her slim, erect figure, her clear, hazel eyes with -straight eyebrows, heavy lashes, and her lips that were -firm for all their soft curves. But Johnny Buffalo’s -life might be hanging on Rawley’s haste. However -beautiful, however much she might attract his interest, -no girl could tempt him from the chief issue.</p> - -<p>By the time she returned with Pickles, Rawley had -retrieved Deacon and was gone down the trail with -him. She came up in time to help him lift Johnny -Buffalo on the burro and tie him there with the pack -rope. She was efficient as a man, and almost as strong, -Rawley observed. And although she treated the squaw -with careful deference, she was plainly the head of their -little expedition,—and the shoulders and the brains.</p> - -<p>Only once did the squaw speak on the way to the -river. The girl was walking alongside Deacon, -steadying Johnny Buffalo on that side while Rawley -held the other. They were talking easily now, of impersonal -things; and when, on a short climb, the burro -stepped sharply to one side and Johnny Buffalo -lurched toward the girl, Rawley slipped his arm farther -behind the Indian. His fingers clasped for an instant -the girl’s hand. The squaw, walking heavily behind, -saw the brief contact.</p> - -<p>“Nevada! You shall not be so bold,” she cried in -Pahute. “Take away your hand from the white man.”</p> - -<p>The girl turned her head and answered sharply in -the same tongue and afterwards smiled across at Rawley, -meeting his eyes with perfect frankness.</p> - -<p>“Yes, my name is Nevada. I’ll save you the trouble -of asking,” she said calmly. “El Dorado Nevada Macalister, -if you want it all at once. Luckily, no one ever -attempts to call me all of it. My parents were loyal, -romantic, and had an ear for euphony.”</p> - -<p>“Were?” The small impertinence slipped out in -spite of Rawley; but fortunately she did not seem to -mind.</p> - -<p>“Yes. My father was caught in a cave-in in the -Quartette Mine when I was a baby. Mother died -when I was six. I have a beautiful, impractical name—and -not much else—to remember them by. I’ve -lived with Grandfather and Grandmother; except, of -course, what time I have been in school.” She gave -him another quick look behind Johnny Buffalo’s back. -“And your autobiography?”</p> - -<p>“Mine is more simple and not so interesting. -Name, George Rawlins King. Place of birth, a suburb -of St. Louis. Occupation, mining engineer. Present -avocation, prospecting during my vacation. My idea -of play, you see, is to get out here in the heat and -snakes and work at my trade—for myself.”</p> - -<p>“And Johnny Buffalo?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he just came along. Hadn’t seen this country -since he was a kid and wanted to get back, I suppose, -on his old stamping ground. He lived with Grandfather. -But Grandfather died a few weeks ago, and -Johnny and I have sort of thrown in together. Now, -I suppose our prospecting trip is all off—for the -present, anyway.”</p> - -<p>“This country has been gone over with a microscope, -almost,” said Nevada. “I suppose there is -mineral in these hills yet, but it must be pretty well -hidden. The country used to swarm with prospectors, -but they seem to have got disgusted and quit. The -war in Europe, of course, has created a market—” -She stopped and laughed with chagrin. “Of course a -lady desert rat like me can give a mining engineer -valuable information concerning markets and economic -conditions in general!”</p> - -<p>“I’m always glad to talk shop,” Rawley declared -tactfully.</p> - -<p>But Nevada fell silent and would not talk at all -during the remainder of the journey.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chVIII' title='VIII—“HIM THAT IS—MINE ENEMY”'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER EIGHT</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>“HIM THAT IS—MINE ENEMY”</span> -</h2> - - -<p>Their progress was necessarily slow, and Nevada’s -“mile or so” seemed longer. Johnny Buffalo remained -no more than half-conscious and breathed -painfully. Nevada invented a makeshift sunshade -for him, breaking off and trimming a drooping greasewood -branch and borrowing the squaw’s apron to -spread over it. This Rawley held awkwardly with -one hand while he steadied the swaying figure with -the other, and so they came at last abruptly to the -river he had left at sunrise.</p> - -<p>The trail dipped down steeply to a small basin that -overlooked the river possibly a hundred feet below. -The canyon walls rose bold and black beyond,—sheer -crags of rock with here and there a brush-filled crevice. -Around the barren rim of the basin two or three -crude shacks were set within easy calling distance of -one another, and three or four swarthy, unkempt children -accompanied by nondescript dogs rushed forth -to greet the newcomers.</p> - -<p>The old squaw waddled forward and drove the dogs -from the heels of the burro called Pickles, which lashed -out and sent one cur yelping to the nearest shack. The -children halted abruptly and stared at the two strangers -open-mouthed, retreating slowly backward, unwilling -to lose sight of them for an instant.</p> - -<p>Rawley stole a glance at Nevada, just turning his -eyes under his heavy-lashed lids. A furtive look directed -at his face was intercepted, and the red suffused -her cheeks. Then her head lifted proudly.</p> - -<p>“My uncle’s children are not accustomed to seeing -people,” she explained evenly. “Strangers seldom -come here, and the children have never been away from -home. Please forgive their bad manners.”</p> - -<p>“Kids are honest in their manners,” Rawley replied, -“and that’s more than grown-ups can say. I reckon -these youngsters wonder what the deuce has been taking -place. I’d want an eyeful, myself, if I were in -their places.”</p> - -<p>Nevada did not answer but led the way past the -shacks, which did not look particularly inviting, to a -rock-faced building with screened porch that faced the -river, its back pushed deep into the hill behind it. Rawley -gave her a grateful glance. He did not need to be -told that this was the quietest, coolest place in the basin.</p> - -<p>“We’ll make him as comfortable as we can, and -I’ll send for Uncle Peter,” she said, as they stopped -before the door. She called to the oldest of the children, -a boy, and spoke to him rapidly in Indian. It -seemed to Rawley that she was purposely emphasizing -her bizarre relationship.</p> - -<p>A younger squaw—or so she looked to be—came -from a shack, a fat, solemn-eyed baby riding her hip. -Her hair was wound somehow on top of her head and -held there insecurely with hairpins half falling out and -cheap, glisteny side combs. A second glance convinced -Rawley that she had white man’s blood in her -veins, but her predominant traits were Indian, he -judged; except that she lacked the Indian aloofness.</p> - -<p>“Mr. King, this is my Aunt Gladys—Mrs. Cramer,” -Nevada announced distinctly. “Aunt Gladys, -Queo shot Mr. King’s partner, who had discovered him -lying in wait for Grandmother and me and was trying -to protect us. Mr. King ran down to the trail to -warn us, while his partner crept up behind Queo. He -fired, after Queo had shot at us, but he thinks he -missed altogether. At any rate Queo shot him. So -Grandmother and I brought him on home. He saved -our lives, and we must try to save his.”</p> - -<p>Aunt Gladys ducked her unkempt head, grinned awkwardly -at Rawley, who lifted his hat to her—and -thereby embarrassed her the more—and hitched the -baby into a new position on her hip.</p> - -<p>“Whadda yuh think ol’ Jess’ll say?” she asked, in -an undertone. “My, ain’t it awful, the way that -Queo is acting up? Is there anything I can do? It -won’t take but a few minutes to start a fire and heat -water.”</p> - -<p>They had eased Johnny Buffalo from the burro’s -back to the broad doorstep, which was shaded by the -wide eaves of the porch. Now they were preparing to -carry him in, feet first so that Nevada could lead the -way. She turned her head and nodded approval of the -suggestion. So Aunt Gladys, after lingering to watch -the wounded man’s removal, departed to her own -shack, shooing her progeny before her.</p> - -<p>Rawley had never had much experience with wounds, -but he went to work as carefully as possible, getting the -old man to bed and ready for ministrations more expert -than his. In a few minutes Nevada came with a -basin of water that smelled of antiseptic. Very matter-of-factly -she helped him wash the wound.</p> - -<p>“I think that is as much as we can do until Uncle -Peter comes,” she said when they had finished. “He’s -the one who always looks after hurts in the family.” -She left the room and did not return again.</p> - -<p>With nothing to do but sit beside the bed, Rawley -found himself dwelling rather intently upon the -strangeness of the situation. From the name spoken -by Nevada, he knew that he must be in the camp of the -enemy. At least, Jess Cramer was the name of Grandfather’s -rival who figured unfortunately in that Fourth -of July fight away back in ’66, and there was furthermore -the warning of the code, “Take heed now ... -on the hillside ... which is upon the bank of the -river ... in the wilderness ... ye shall find ... -him that ... is mine enemy.” Rawley had certainly -not expected that the enemy would be Jess Cramer, -but it might be so.</p> - -<p>He was repeating to himself that other warning, -“He that keepeth his mouth keepeth his life,” when -Nevada’s voice outside brought his attention back to the -immediate exigencies of the case. He had already told -her his name—she had repeated it to that flat-faced, -hopelessly uninteresting “Aunt Gladys.” Nevada had -taken particular pains, he remembered, to tell her aunt -all about the mishap and to stress the service which -he and Johnny Buffalo had rendered her and her grandmother. -Was it because she wished to have some one -beside herself who was well-disposed toward them? -Partly that, he guessed, and partly because the easiest -way to forestall curiosity is to give a full explanation -at once. In Nevada’s rapid-fire account of the shooting, -Rawley fancied that he had unconsciously been -given a key to the situation and to the disposition of -Aunt Gladys. He grinned while he filled his pipe and -waited.</p> - -<p>Presently the deep, masculine voice he had heard -outside talking with Nevada ceased, and a firm, -measured tread was heard on the porch. A big man -paused for a few seconds in the doorway and then -came forward; a man as tall as Rawley, as broad of -shoulder, as narrow hipped. He was dressed much as -Rawley was dressed, except that his shirt was of -cheaper, darker material and the breeches were earth-stained -and old, as were his boots. He carried his -head well up and looked down at Rawley calmly, appraisingly, -with neither dislike nor favor in his face. -He was smooth-shaven, and his jaw was square, his -lips firm and somewhat bitter. Rawley rose and -bowed and stood back from the bed.</p> - -<p>“My niece has told me all about the shooting,” he -said, moving toward the bed. “I’m not a doctor, but -I’ve had some experience with wounds. In this country -we have to learn to take care of ourselves. Is your -partner unconscious?”</p> - -<p>“Dopey, I’d say. I can rouse him, but it seemed -best to let him be as quiet as possible. He had over -an hour in the heat, and the joggling on the burro didn’t -do him any good, I imagine.” Rawley hoped Uncle -Peter would not think he was staring like an idiot, but -he could not rid himself of the feeling that somewhere, -some time, he had seen this man before.</p> - -<p>Uncle Peter bent and examined the wound. When -he moved Johnny Buffalo a bit, the Indian opened his -eyes and stared hard into his face.</p> - -<p>“My sergeant! I did not think to—”</p> - -<p>“Out of his head,” Rawley muttered uneasily. -“It’s the first symptom of it he’s shown.”</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo muttered again, pressed his lips together -and closed his eyes. After that he did not -speak, or give any sign that he heard, though Uncle -Peter was talking all the while he dressed the wound.</p> - -<p>“It’s going to take some time,” he said. “The -bullet broke his shoulder blade, but if the lung is -touched at all it was barely grazed. Nevada spoke of -my taking him down the river to Needles, but it can’t -be done. The engine in the launch is useless until I -can get a new connecting rod and another part or two.” -He stared down at Johnny Buffalo, frowning.</p> - -<p>“Well, from all accounts the two of you saved the -women’s lives to-day,” he said, after a minute of studying -over the situation. “Queo was after the grub, -probably—and he’s no particular love for any of us. -He undoubtedly knew who was coming down the trail—he -may have watched them go up, just about daybreak. -Common gratitude gives the orders, in this -case. You can stay here until this man is well enough -to ride, or until I can take you to Needles.”</p> - -<p>A little more of harshness and his tone would have -been grudging. Rawley flushed at the implied reluctance -of the offered hospitality.</p> - -<p>“It’s mighty good of you, but we don’t want to -impose on any one,” he said stiffly. “If he can stay -for a day or two, I can get out to Needles and bring up -a boat of some kind. It’s the only thing I can think -of—but I can make it in a couple of days.”</p> - -<p>The other turned and regarded him much as Nevada -had first done, with a mixture of defiance and pride. -His jaw squared, the lines beside his mouth grew more -bitter.</p> - -<p>“We may be breeds—but we aren’t brutes,” he said -harshly. “You’ll stay where you are and take care of -your partner. The burden of nursing him can’t fall on -the women.” He stopped and seemed debating something -within himself. “We’ve no reason to open our -arms to outsiders,” he added finally. “If folks let us -alone, we let them alone—and glad to do it. Father’s -touchy about having strangers in camp. But all rules -must be broken once, they say.”</p> - -<p>“I think you’re over-sensitive,” Rawley told him -bluntly. “You’re self-conscious over something no -one else would think of twice. It’s—”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know. You needn’t say it. Sounds pretty, -but it isn’t worth a damn when you try to put it in -practice. Well, let it drop. I’ll send over some medicine -to keep his fever down, and the rest is pretty -much up to nature and the care you give him. It’s -cool here—that’s a great deal.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll be turning out your niece, though, I’m afraid. -I can’t do that.” For the first time Rawley was keenly -conscious of the incongruity of his surroundings. -Here in a settlement of Indians (he could scarcely put -it more mildly, with the dogs and the frowsy papooses -and the two squaws for evidence) one little oasis of -civilized furnishings spoke eloquently of the white -blood warring against the red. The room was furnished -cheaply, it is true, and much of the furniture -was homemade; but for all its simplicity there was not -one false note anywhere, not one tawdry adornment. -It was like the girl herself,—simple, clean-cut, dignified.</p> - -<p>“My niece won’t mind. I shall give her my own -dugout, which is as comfortable as this. I can find -plenty of room to stretch out. Hard work makes a -soft bed.” He smiled briefly. Again Rawley was -struck with a sense of familiarity, of having known -Uncle Peter somewhere before.</p> - -<p>But before he could put the question the man was -gone, and Johnny Buffalo was looking at him gravely. -But he did not speak, and presently his eyes closed. -After that, the medicine was handed in by a bashful, -beady-eyed boy who showed white teeth and scudded -away, kicking up hot dust with his bare feet as he ran.</p> - -<p>After all, what did it matter? A chance meeting in -some near-by town and afterwards forgetfulness. -Uncle Peter evidently did not remember him, so the -meeting must have been brief and unimportant.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chIX' title='IX—“A PLEASANT TRIP TO YOU!”'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER NINE</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>“A PLEASANT TRIP TO YOU!”</span> -</h2> - - -<p>Rawley chanced to look out of the window. He -muttered something then and strode to the screened -door.</p> - -<p>“Hey! You aren’t going back up that trail, -surely?” He went out hurriedly and took long steps -after Nevada.</p> - -<p>The girl turned and looked at him over her shoulder, -flinging back a heavy braid of coppery auburn hair. -She had Pickles by his lead rope and was plainly heading -into the trail to Nelson.</p> - -<p>“Why, yes. There’s a load of grub beside the trail -where Deacon upset. I’m going after it.”</p> - -<p>Rawley rushed back, seized his hat, sent an anxious -glance toward the bed and then ran. He overtook -Nevada just at the edge of the basin and stopped her -by the simple method of stopping the burro with a -strong hand.</p> - -<p>“You go back and sit beside Johnny,” he commanded. -“I’ll get that grub, myself. And if you’ve -got a rifle, I’d like to borrow it.”</p> - -<p>“That’s utter nonsense—your going,” Nevada exclaimed. -“I meant to take one of the boys—I just -sent him in to wash his face, first.”</p> - -<p>Rawley laughed. “Do you think a clean face on a -kid will have any effect on Queo? You’ll both stay at -home, please. I’m going.”</p> - -<p>“If you’re determined, I can’t very well stop you,” -she said coldly. “But I certainly am going. I always -do these things. There’s no possible reason—”</p> - -<p>Rawley looked over at the nearest shack, where Aunt -Gladys stood watching them, the baby still on her hip. -“Mrs. Cramer, I am going up after the grub we left by -the trail. Will you see that Johnny Buffalo is looked -after? And will you call Miss Macalister’s grandmother, -or whoever has any authority over her?” His -voice was stern, but the twinkle in his eyes belied the -tone.</p> - -<p>Aunt Gladys giggled and hitched the baby up from -its sagging position. “There ain’t nobody but Peter -can do nothing with Nevada,” she informed him. -“Her gran’paw, maybe—but he don’t pay no attention -half the time. You better stay home, Nevada. -Queo might shoot you.”</p> - -<p>“How perfectly idiotic! Do you suppose he would -refrain from shooting Mr. King, but kill me instead?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you can’t tell what he might do,” Aunt -Gladys observed sagely. “He’s crazy in the head.”</p> - -<p>Rawley laid his fingers on Nevada’s hand, where she -held Pickles by the bridle. He looked straight into -her eyes, bright with anger. His own eyes pleaded -with her.</p> - -<p>“Miss Macalister, please don’t be obstinate. To let -you go back up that trail is unthinkable. I am going, -and some one must be with my partner. I can make the -trip well under two hours; there is heavy stuff in that -ditch which needs a man’s shoulder under it, getting -it back into the trail. Please stay with Johnny Buffalo, -won’t you?”</p> - -<p>Nevada hesitated, staring back into his eyes. Her -hand slid reluctantly from the bridle. Her lip curled -at one corner, though her cheeks flushed contradictorily.</p> - -<p>“Masculine superiority asserts itself,” she drawled. -“Since I can’t prevent your going, I think, after all, -I shall prefer to stay at home. A pleasant trip to you, -Mr. King!”</p> - -<p>“Thanks for those kind words,” Rawley cried, his -voice as mocking as hers. “Come on, Pickles, old -son!”</p> - -<p>A boy of ten, with his face clean to the point of his -jaws, came running from the shack with a rifle sagging -his right shoulder. Rawley waited until he came -up, then took the rifle, spun the boy half around and -gave him a gentle push.</p> - -<p>“Thanks, sonny. Ladies and children not allowed -on this trip, however. You stay and protect the women -and babies, son. Got to leave a man in camp, you -know. Wounded to look after.”</p> - -<p>The boy whirled back, valor overcoming his tongue-tied bashfulness. “Aw, he wouldn’t come here! -Gran’paw’d kill ’im. Gran’paw purt’ near did, one -time. I c’n shoot, mister. I c’n hit a rabbit in the eye -from here to that big rock over there.”</p> - -<p>“Yes—well—this isn’t going to be a rabbit hunt. -You stay here, sonny.”</p> - -<p>“Aw, you’re as bad as Uncle Peter!” the boy muttered -resentfully, kicking small rocks with his bare -toes. “I guess you’ll wish I’d come along, if Queo -gets after you!”</p> - -<p>Rawley only laughed and swung up the trail, leading -the burro behind him, since he was not at all acquainted -with the beast and had no desire to follow it vainly to -Nelson, for lack of the proper knowledge to halt it -beside the scene of Deacon’s downfall.</p> - -<p>As he went, Rawley scanned the near-by ridges and -the brush along the trail. There was slight chance, according -to his belief, that the outlaw Indian would venture -down this far, especially since he could not be sure -he had failed to kill Johnny Buffalo. On the other -hand, he must have been rather desperate to lie in -wait for two women coming home with supplies. Rawley -wondered why he had remained up on the ridge; -why he had not waited by the trail and robbed them of -such things as he needed. Then he remembered Nevada’s -very evident ability to whip wildcats, if necessary—certainly -to meet any emergency calmly—and -shook his head. The old squaw, too, would probably -do some clawing if the occasion demanded, and she -knew just who and why she was fighting. On the -whole, Rawley decided that Queo had merely borne -out Johnny Buffalo’s statement that he was a coward -and had taken no chances. And from the boy’s remark -about his grandfather nearly killing Queo, he thought -the outlaw had not wanted his identity discovered.</p> - -<p>As for his own risk, Rawley did not give it a second -thought. Queo had been well scared, finding two men -on the job where he had expected to deal only with -women. He had been headed toward the river when -Rawley last saw him. It was more than probable that -he would continue in that direction.</p> - -<p>But it is never safe to guess what an Indian will do,—much -less an Indian outlaw who must become a beast -of prey if he would live and keep his freedom. Rawley -remembered Johnny Buffalo’s pack and tied Pickles -to a bush directly under the spot where the shooting -had taken place, while he climbed the ridge to retrieve -his belongings. He brought canteen and pack down -to the trail and hung them on the packsaddle, feeling -absolutely secure. The ridge was hot and deserted, -even the birds and rabbits having taken cover from the -heat.</p> - -<p>He went on around the little bend and anchored the -burro again while he carried up a sack of potatoes, -bacon, flour and a package wrapped in damp canvas, -which he guessed to be butter. The tribe of Cramer -had what they wanted to eat, at least, he reflected. -Also, the load would have made a nice grubstake for -the outlaw. Two such burro loads would have supplied -Queo for months, adding what game he would undoubtedly -kill.</p> - -<p>Rawley had just finished packing the burro and had -looped up the tie rope to send Pickles down the home -trail, when some warning (a sound, perhaps, or a -flicker of movement) caused him to look quickly behind -him. He glimpsed a dark, heavy face behind a -leveled gun barrel, broken teeth showing in an evil -grin. Rawley threw himself to one side just as the -gun belched full at him. Something jerked his left -arm viciously, and a numb warmth stole into that -side.</p> - -<p>He dropped forward, his right hand flinging back -to his holstered automatic and drawing up convulsively -with the gun in his hand.</p> - -<p>“Thanks for packing the stuff!” chortled Queo, and -the two fired simultaneously.</p> - -<p>Both scored hits. The leering, black face sobered and -slid slowly out of sight behind the rock. Rawley’s -head dropped so that his face lay in the blistering dust -of the trail. Through his hat crown a small, singed -hole showed in front, a ragged tear opposite at the back. -Pickles, scored on the leg with the second shot from -Queo’s gun, kicked savagely with both feet and went -careening down the trail toward home, his pack wabbling -violently as he galloped.</p> - -<p>It was the sight of him trotting down the trail alone -that halted Nevada midway between her rock dugout -and the shack where Gladys was setting steaming dishes -on the table for the three men who were “washing -up” at the bench under the crude porch. Nevada gave -a little cry and ran to meet Pickles, and the first thing -she noticed was the fresh, red furrow on his leg, from -which the blood was still dripping. Turning to call, -she saw Peter coming close behind her, wiping his face -and neck as he walked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Uncle Peter—he’s been shot!” she cried -tremulously. “It must be Queo again.”</p> - -<p>Peter’s eyes turned to the trail, visible for some distance -up the side hill. There was no one in sight, and -without a word he turned back to his own house, dug -into the hill near Nevada’s, and presently returned, -passing the girl with long strides. He carried his rifle -and struck into the hill trail bareheaded. Nevada -looked after him, her eyes wide and dark.</p> - -<p>An hour later, Peter returned, walking steadily down -the trail with Rawley on his back. Without a word -he passed the staring group at the shack and carried his -burden into the room where Johnny Buffalo lay in uneasy -slumber. A step sounded behind him, and he -spoke without turning.</p> - -<p>“Have Jess and Gladys bring that spring cot out -of my cabin, Nevada. They’ll be more contented in the -same room. He got Queo—I found him behind a -rock not fifty feet from this chap. Now Queo’s cousin -will take up the feud and get this fellow—if he pulls -out of this scrape.”</p> - -<p>“Is he badly hurt?” Nevada was holding her voice -steady from sheer will power.</p> - -<p>“Arm smashed and a scalp wound. All depends on -the care he gets. Well—” Peter straightened and -wiped his forehead, looking thoughtfully at Rawley, -half lying in a big chair, his long legs spread limply, his -face white and streaked with blood, “—we owe him -good care, I guess. He must have killed Queo after -he’d been shot in the arm. And he’s saved this outfit -some trouble. I didn’t tell you—but Queo was laying -for a chance at us. Well—run and get that cot here.”</p> - -<p>Nevada pushed back her craning family and sent -them running here and there on errands. Her grandfather -and Jess, the husband of Gladys, looked at her -inquiringly from the porch of the shack. Rawley -might have thought it strange that they remained mere -bystanders during the excitement. But Nevada did not -seem to notice their indifference.</p> - -<p>“Queo shot him twice—but he killed Queo,” she -told them. “Uncle Jess, you’re to get his spring cot, -Uncle Peter says, and fix a bed in there.” Her eyes -went challengingly to her grandfather. “Uncle Peter -says we owe them the best care we can give,” she -stated clearly. “He says they have saved some lives in -this family.”</p> - -<p>The tall, bearded old patriarch looked at her frowningly. -He glanced toward the rock cabin, grunted -something unintelligible to the girl, and went in to his -interrupted dinner.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chX' title='X—A FAMILY TREE'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER TEN</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>A FAMILY TREE</span> -</h2> - - -<p>It seemed as fantastic as a troubled dream. To be -lying there helpless, to look across and see Johnny -Buffalo staring grimly up at the ceiling, his face set -stoically to hide the pain that burned beneath the white -bandage, held no semblance of reality. Was it that -morning only, that they had left the car and started -out to walk to the “great and high mountain”? Perhaps -several days had passed in oblivion. He did not -know. To Rawley the shock of drifting back from unconsciousness -to these surroundings had been as great -as the shock of incredulous slipping down and down -into blackness. He moved his head a half-inch. The -pain brought his eyebrows together, but he made no -sound. Johnny Buffalo must not be worried.</p> - -<p>“All right again, are you?” Peter moved into -Rawley’s range of vision. “You had a close squeak. -The thickness of your skull between you and death—that -was all. The bullet skinned along on the outside -instead of the inside.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be all right then,” Rawley muttered thickly. -“Don’t mean to be a nuisance. Soon as this grogginess -lets up—”</p> - -<p>“You’ll be less trouble where you are,” Peter interrupted -him bluntly. “I’ve done all I can for you -now, so I’ll go back to my work. The Injun’s making -out all right, too. Head clear as a bell, near as I can -judge. I’ll see you this evening, and if there’s anything -you want, either of you, just pound that toy drum -beside you. That will bring one of the women.”</p> - -<p>Rawley looked up at him, though the movement of -his eyeballs was excruciatingly painful. Again that -sense of familiarity came to tantalize him. What was -it? Peter’s great, square shoulders, his eyes? He -made another effort to look more closely and failed -altogether. His vision blurred; things went black -again. Perhaps he slept, after that. When he opened -his eyes again a cool wind was blowing; the intolerable -glare outside the window had softened.</p> - -<p>He was conscious of a definite feeling of satisfaction -when Nevada appeared with a tray of food such as -fever patients may have; tea, toast, a bit of fruit—mostly -juice. Behind her waddled her grandmother; -Rawley could not yet believe in the reality of the relationship -between this high-bred white girl and the -old squaw. In the back of his mind he thought there -must be some joke; or at least, he told himself, looking -at the two closely, Nevada must be one of the tribe -by adoption. He had heard of such things.</p> - -<p>And there was her Uncle Peter, who was a white -man in looks, in personality, everything. Yet Uncle -Peter had flared proudly, “We may be breeds—but -we aren’t brutes.” He could only have meant himself -and Nevada. He looked at her, his eyes going again -to the squaw with her gray bangs, the red kerchief, her -squat shapelessness.</p> - -<p>Her fear of him seemed to have evaporated upon -reflection. Her curiosity concerning him had not, -evidently. She set down the tray and stared at him -with a frank fixity that reminded Rawley of the solemn -regard of the sloe-eyed baby riding astride Aunt -Gladys’ slatternly hip.</p> - -<p>“You feed Johnny Buffalo, Grandmother,” Nevada -directed. “He used to live in this country when he -was a boy. You can’t tell—you might be old acquaintances.” -She smiled, patted the old woman on a -cushiony shoulder and approached Rawley, who was -suddenly resigned to his helplessness.</p> - -<p>“Grandmother rather holds herself above full-blood -Indians,” she whispered. “She’s only half Indian, herself. -I don’t want her to snub your partner; he looks so -lonely, somehow. What is it?”</p> - -<p>“He’s grieving over my grandfather’s death,” Rawley -told her, his own voice dropped to an undertone -that would not carry. “Until I proposed this trip he -didn’t want to live. He’s better, out here.”</p> - -<p>“I do hope—”</p> - -<p>A shrill ejaculation from the squaw brought Nevada’s -head around. “What is it, Grandmother?”</p> - -<p>The old woman started a singsong Indian explanation, -and Nevada smiled. “She says they do know each -other. She remembers him when he was a boy and -was lost. So that’s fine. He can hear about all his old -playmates and his family.” She turned her back on -them as if the duties of hostess sat more lightly on her -shoulders, since one of the patients could visit with -her grandmother.</p> - -<p>“I’m wondering what happened, up the trail.”</p> - -<p>Nevada thoughtfully cooled the tea with the spoon -and looked at him speculatively. “Uncle Peter can -tell you better than I can—since I was not permitted -to go along. Besides, the less talking you do now, I -believe, the less danger there is of complications. -Neither wound is so bad of itself, Uncle Peter says. -It’s having your head hurt, along with the broken bone -in the arm. Unless you are very quiet for a day or two, -there may be fever; and fevered blood makes slow healing. -That’s Uncle Peter’s theory, and it must be correct. -He has books and studies all the time—when -he isn’t working. Then, of course, there’s the danger -of infection from the outside; but he has been very -careful in the dressings. Johnny Buffalo,” she added -after a minute, “is worse off than you are. His shoulder -blade is badly smashed. And then he’s so much -older.”</p> - -<p>She was talking, he knew, to prevent him from -doing so. And since his head felt like a nest of crickets, -all performing at once, he was content to let her have -her way. Across the room he could hear the intermittent -murmur of the two Indians, the voice of the -grandmother droning musically, with sliding, minor -inflections as she recounted, no doubt, the history of -the old man’s family and friends.</p> - -<p>He watched Nevada pour and sweeten a second cup -of tea and did a swift mental calculation in genealogy. -Jess Cramer, he knew, was a white man. The husband -of Gladys, bearing the name of Grandfather -King’s enemy, must be a son of the old man and of -this half-breed squaw. Very well, then, old Jess Cramer’s -children would be one quarter Indian—Peter, -Jess and Nevada’s mother (granting that Nevada was -a blood relative). Nevada’s father must have been -white,—a Scotchman, by the name, and by Nevada’s -clear skin and coppery hair. Well, then, Nevada -was—A knife thrust of pain stabbed through his -brain, and he could not think. Nevada set down the -cup hastily and laid cool fingers on his temple. He -lifted his right hand and held her fingers there. The -throbbing agony lessened, grew fainter and fainter. -After all, what did it matter—the blood in those -fingers? They were cool and sweet and soothing—</p> - -<p>He thought Nevada had lifted her hand and was -gently removing the bandage from his head. But it -was Uncle Peter, and Nevada was not there, and it -was dark outside. In another room a clock began to -strike the hour. He counted nine. It was strange; -he could not remember going to sleep with her fingers -pressed against the pulse beat in his temple. Yet he -must have slept for hours. He closed his eyes and -then opened them again, staring up with a child-like -candor into the man’s bent face.</p> - -<p>“I know. You look like Grandfather,” he said -thickly. And when Peter’s eyes met his, “It’s your -eyes. Grandfather had eyes exactly like yours. And -there’s something about the mouth—a bitterness. -Gameness, too. Grandfather had his legs off at the -knees, for fifty years. Called himself a hunk of meat -in a wheel chair. God, it must be awful—a thing like -that, when the rest of you is big and strong—but -you’re not crippled that way. Oh, Johnny! Are you -awake?” He heard a grunt. “I’ve got it—what -you meant at first, about seeing your sergeant. Uncle -Peter looks like—”</p> - -<p>A hand went over his mouth quite unexpectedly and -effectually. He looked up into the eyes like Grandfather -King’s and found them very terrible.</p> - -<p>“Fool! Never whisper it. Am I not the son of -Jess Cramer? It had better be so! Better not see -that I am like his enemy—and rival.” He leaned -close, his eyes boring into the eyes so like his own. -“One word to any one that would slur my mother, -and—” he pressed his lips together, his meaning told -by his eyes. “She came to me to-day, chattering her -fear. Old Jess Cramer lives with other thoughts, and -his eyes are dim at close range. Never come close to -him, boy. Never recall the past to him. It would -mean—God knows what it would mean. My mother’s -life, maybe. And then his own, for I’d kill him, of -course, if he touched her.”</p> - -<p>Rawley blinked, trying to make sense of the riddle. -Then his good hand went out and rested on -Peter’s arm, that was trembling under the thin shirt -sleeve.</p> - -<p>“Uncle Peter!” His lips barely moved to form the -words, and afterward they smiled. “The blood of -the Kings! I’m glad—”</p> - -<p>“Are you?” Peter bent over him fiercely. “Proud -of a man who went away and left my mother—”</p> - -<p>“He had to go,” Rawley defended hastily. “He -meant to come back in a month’s time. But he was -shot through the legs, and in hospital for months, and -then sent home a cripple. After that he lost his legs -altogether. How could he come back? Johnny can -tell you.”</p> - -<p>Peter pulled himself together and redressed the -long, angry gash on Rawley’s head. Johnny Buffalo, -having slowly squirmed his body to a position that -gave him a view of Rawley’s cot, watched them unblinkingly, -his wise old eyes gravely inscrutable. When -he had finished, Peter strode to the door and stood -there looking out. Rawley had a queer feeling that he -was looking for eavesdroppers.</p> - -<p>“What you say will make my mother happier,” he -told Rawley, coming back and speaking in his usual -calm tone of immutable reserve. “She seemed very -bitter to-day when she talked with me. She has always -thought your grandfather went away knowing -he would never come back. And she has proud, Spanish -blood in her veins—”</p> - -<p>“Anita, by ——!” Rawley’s jaw dropped in sheer, -crestfallen amazement.</p> - -<p>“Did he tell you?” Peter eyed him queerly.</p> - -<p>“It’s the diary. The beautiful, half-Spanish girl, all -fire and life—he described her like that. And—”</p> - -<p>“Well, they change as they grow old.” Peter’s lips -twitched in a grin. “The beautiful Spanish señoritas -get fat and ugly, and the Indian women are more so. -Your grandfather’s fiery Spanish girl had nothing to -pull her up the hill. Monotony, hardships—one can’t -wonder if the recidivous influences surrounding her all -these years pulled her down to the dead level of her -mother’s people. Take this Indian here—” he tilted -his head toward Johnny Buffalo—“he was taken out -of it when he was a kid. Now, aside from certain -traits of dignity and repression, I imagine he’s more -white than Indian.”</p> - -<p>Rawley nodded. “Lived right with Grandfather all -his life and has studied and read everything he could -get his hands on. He’s better educated than lots of -college men; aren’t you, Johnny?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. I think very much, of many things which -Indians do not know. I do not talk very much. And -that is wisdom also.”</p> - -<p>“Mother had nothing from books. When her -youth went and she began to take on weight, she -dropped her pretty ways and became like the squaws. -I remember, and it used to hurt my pride to see her -slip into their ways. I was—white.” His mouth -shut grimly.</p> - -<p>Rawley lay looking into his face, trying to realize -the full significance of this amazing truth. His grandfather’s -son, and Anita’s. His own uncle. With Indian -blood, but his uncle nevertheless. If Grandfather -King had known—</p> - -<p>“He’d have been proud,” he said aloud, “to have a -son like you. He always wanted—and my father was -a weakling, physically, I mean. He died when I was -just a kid. Grandfather called him a damned milksop, -because he wanted to work in a bank. Johnny can -tell you a lot about Grandfather—your—father.” -He lowered his voice, mindful of Peter’s warning. -And then, “Does Nev—does your niece know about -it?”</p> - -<p>“She does not. The fewer who know it, the better -for all concerned. There will be four of us, as it is. -There mustn’t be five. Why make the lives of two old -people bitter? Old Jess—I’ve a brother, Young Jess—thinks -I am his son. He needs me, and Nevada -needs me. We’ve hung together, in spite of the mixed -breed you see us. Jess is Injun in looks and ways. -Nevada’s mother was all white. Jess married a mission -half-breed girl, and their kids are Injun to the bone. -Belle, Nevada’s mother, married a Scotchman—good -blood, I always thought, from his looks and actions. -Nevada’s—Nevada.”</p> - -<p>He said it proudly, and Rawley felt his blood tingle -with something of the same pride.</p> - -<p>From the other bed Johnny Buffalo spoke suddenly. -“Anita, your mother, is my cousin. The daughter of -my aunt. My blood is mingled with the blood of my -sergeant’s son. My heart is now alive again and life -is good. My sergeant has gone where he can walk on -two feet, and I am left to care for his son and his -grandson. I now see that God is very wise.”</p> - -<p>“He is?” Peter pulled down his heavy, black -brows and the corners of his lips. “I’ve spent a good -deal of time wondering about that. There’s Nevada—and -one-eighth Indian. Is that—”</p> - -<p>“Oh, what the devil difference does that make?” -Rawley gave a flounce that made him groan. But in -the midst of it he managed to growl, “You said it -yourself; Nevada’s—Nevada.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXI' title='XI—RAWLEY THINKS THINGS OUT'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER ELEVEN</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>RAWLEY THINKS THINGS OUT</span> -</h2> - - -<p>At intervals of fevered wakefulness during that -night, Rawley went over and over the astonishing state -of affairs. The hour and the temperature that was -almost inevitable conspired to twist and exaggerate the -truth, to give him an intolerable sense of kinship with -the slovenly, platter-faced Gladys, the stolid obesity -of the old squaw, and of a hopeless abyss between -himself and Nevada. They were related, somehow. -They must be, since her Uncle Peter was also his uncle. -Uncle Peter, he thought, had been terribly wronged, -and he must somehow make amends, must remove the -handicap of that savage blood. In the morning he must -tell Gladys that he was her cousin; why, that made -him Indian, too! No wonder his hair was so black, -and he loved the wilderness with such a passion. He -was part Indian, that was why. Johnny Buffalo was -some relation; how Rawley’s mother would hate that!</p> - -<p>What he did not know was that he talked about it, -with Johnny Buffalo awake and listening in the bed -against the farther wall, and with Peter awake, too, in -a bed he had made for himself on the porch. He remembered that Peter came and gave him a drink, -and that it did not seem to matter so much, after that. -He slept late into the morning, after the opiate, and -awoke to a saner point of view.</p> - -<p>As before, Nevada and her grandmother brought -trays of food and helped the two helpless ones to eat. -With the knowledge Peter had given him, Rawley -looked with more interest at the old lady, covertly trying -to see the slim little half-caste Spanish girl whom -Grandfather King had found “the joy of his heart.” -On the whole, Rawley could not feel that his grandfather -would have gone on loving, in any case. And he -could not get away from the fact that Anita had consoled -herself with considerable expedition.</p> - -<p>“You aren’t such a hero, after all,” Nevada bantered -him, bringing him out of his revery with a laugh. -“You’re looking abominably well, this morning, for -a young man who was brought in dead only yesterday. -And after all, you did not kill Queo. Uncle Jess and -Uncle Peter went up to the spot last evening, just before -dark, to identify him beyond all doubt, and—he’d -disappeared. They found where he had lain behind -the rock, and they knew he was wounded, by the -blood.” She shivered involuntarily. “But he wasn’t -anywhere to be found. Uncle Peter feels quite put out. -He looked at Queo when he went up after you, and he -felt sure the man was dead. So now, if he lives, he’ll -be more venomous than ever.”</p> - -<p>“Then I’m sorry I hit him at all,” Rawley declared. -“But I had to. He was after the grub, all right. He -thanked me for carrying it up to the trail for him. -Then he plugged me—I didn’t duck quite soon enough. -So—I always hate to be killed, like that,” he finished -whimsically.</p> - -<p>“That sounds like Uncle Peter,” Nevada observed. -“Your voice, I mean. Grandmother, don’t you think -Mr. King looks and talks like Uncle Peter?”</p> - -<p>Rawley tried not to look as startled as he felt. The -pillowy (after all, one letter would have called her -willowy in the old days, so that not so much had been -changed) Anita walked deliberately over to them, advancing -one side at a time, like a duck that travels in a -leisurely mood. She laid her cushioned knuckles on her -bulging hips and regarded Rawley steadfastly.</p> - -<p>“Mebby he look—a lil bit,” she conceded with a -superb indifference. “Peter, he t’inner—a lil bit. -More darker. More—like his fadder, Jesse.”</p> - -<p>“Yes-s—he does look more like Grandfather, of -course. But I do think Mr. King looks like them both.” -Nevada spoke with a perfect sincerity which sent the -spirits of three persons up a notch or two.</p> - -<p>Rawley laughed. “Well, maybe we’re some relation—away -back,” he said recklessly. “A Cramer, -connected with my family, was known to have come -West, years ago. I remember reading it in some old -record. But I’m afraid I can’t claim he was very -closely related. In fact, I rather think he wasn’t.” -His eyes met the eyes of old Anita, and he almost -thought he saw a gleam of approval in them. He -could not be sure.</p> - -<p>Of the look in the eyes of Peter, who was standing -in the doorway, he was much more positive. The color -came into his face as their eyes met. After all, others -were sure to notice the resemblance, and there must be -some explanation ready.</p> - -<p>“I’m sure that’s it.” Nevada laughed softly. -“You’re a fourth or fifth cousin, perhaps. Likenesses -do travel that way. I wonder if Grandfather would -know.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t want to ask him,” her Uncle Peter -observed in his grim way. “Why stir the old man up -for days, just to satisfy idle curiosity?” He laid his -hand on Nevada’s head, smoothing back a lock of her -hair with a gesture inexpressibly tender. “On the -strength of the fifth-cousin relationship, seems like we -might drop the Mr. King. Father hates to think of -his past,—a quarrel with his family brought him -West, as nearly as I can make out. What do folks call -you, young man, when they know you well?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Rawley is what I grew up under. George -Rawlins King is my name. I wish you would call me -Rawley. Then I could say Uncle Peter, and Nevada, -and—Grandmother, maybe, if Mrs. Cramer will let -me.”</p> - -<p>“Uncle me all you please,” grinned Peter. “And -Nevada is down on all the school maps. If you don’t -mind, when you do meet father, let it be as George -Rawlins. Your last name might or might not recall a -family quarrel. But—we spare him excitement as -much as possible. And while you’re here, the outfit -will call you—Rawlins.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then I’ll explain to Aunt Gladys,” said Nevada, -as if they were planning a secret for fun; and -yet there was a certain look of anxiety, too, in her face. -“I think I can manage her—but then she never says -much to Grandfather, anyway. They don’t like each -other very well,” she explained to Rawley. “Grandfather -was angry when Uncle Jess married her, and -while they never quarrel, it is merely toleration. Aunt -Gladys won’t tell.”</p> - -<p>Rawlins then lay for a long time thinking how -strangely the pattern is woven into the woof of Life. -With the sun shining and the noise of playing children -outside, the unexpected turn of events seemed more -natural. So much had happened in the past twenty-four -hours that Rawley found himself checking up, -as he called it, on events and emotions engendered by -the sudden crises. He glanced across at the other bed -and found Johnny Buffalo awake and seemingly comfortable; -wherefore he made bold to ask a few questions.</p> - -<p>“Johnny, I thought I had those women hidden -around a bend in the trail. How did Queo manage to -spot them so as to try a shot? I’ve been wondering -about that first rifle shot. Are you sure it was fired -at us?”</p> - -<p>“I am sure. You were not hidden altogether. I, -myself, could see heads, though I could not see the trail. -Queo was higher. I think that little point was too low.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that accounts for it. I lost my bearings down -there, then. Part of the ridge was hidden, I know. I -thought it was the place where he was located. He -shot wide, anyway.” He lay looking at a Las Vegas -merchant’s calendar, reviewing still the immediate -past.</p> - -<p>“There’s another thing that just struck me this -morning. How did Grandfather know that Jess -Cramer was located here on the river? Jess was a -soldier at the fort, I thought, when Grandfather saw -him last. It’s in the diary.”</p> - -<p>“I think you should read again more carefully, my -son. My sergeant spoke to me often of Jess Cramer. -He had found gold here at this canyon. He was often -at the fort, spending his gold in the games of chance. -Jess Cramer played not for sport, but to win. A -sergeant’s pay was not large, and my sergeant spent -many hours in searching for such gold as Jess Cramer -brought with him to the fort. My sergeant had won -a little. He kept it and searched for more of the same. -It was not only for Anita that the two quarreled. A -woman and gold make hatreds that do not die. He did -not tell me all. He longed for a son who would take -up the search. Or so I believed. I did not know that -he had found his gold. I thought that the nuggets he -gave to you he had won at cards from Jess Cramer. -He told you that he picked them up. My sergeant does -not lie. So I know that he had found the gold he had -sought, and that if you obeyed him you would learn -the secret he had kept from me.”</p> - -<p>“He had a son,” Rawley muttered, “and he’d have -been proud of him if he had known about him. -Johnny, I can’t help thinking that Peter is more -Grandfather’s son than my father was.”</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo meditated, staring at the ceiling.</p> - -<p>“There was love,” he said softly at last. “My sergeant -did not love the mother of your father. I could -see in his eyes when he looked upon her that his -thoughts were not with her, and that his heart was far -away.”</p> - -<p>They lay for a long time silent. Each thought that -the other slept, he lay so still. But of a sudden Rawley -reached up his uninjured hand and pushed back the -bandage that was slipping over his eye. The movement -betrayed not so much protest against a physical discomfort -as the impatient mind that seeks in vain for -the correct answer to a puzzle.</p> - -<p>But Johnny Buffalo did not sleep. He lay staring -at the ceiling, his mouth closed firmly with lines beside -it which nature draws to show when the soul is -weary. But there was no longer any bitterness there, -though there was pain. The hollow eyes glowed steadily, -as if the old man had found a light ahead somewhere -in the blackness of his grief. Once, a gentle -snore drew his attention, and he turned his head and -stared for a long while at the young, unlined face -with the bandage drawn diagonally above it. For -Rawley the Great Game had only begun; his stakes -were piled before him, to win or to lose. The old -Indian wondered gravely how that Game would be -played. Wisely? Bravely,—he was sure. Honestly,—he -hoped.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXII' title='XII—RAWLEY PLAYS THE GAME'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER TWELVE</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>RAWLEY PLAYS THE GAME</span> -</h2> - - -<p>How wisely, how honestly, how bravely he would -play the Great Game, Rawley unconsciously indicated -that evening, when Peter sat alone with the two, after -Nevada and her grandmother had given them their supper -and gone away. Peter had declared himself rather -proud of his surgical skill, and had almost yielded to -Rawley’s importunities that he might get up and dress -in the morning and help take care of Johnny Buffalo. -But Peter had his father’s firmness, after all.</p> - -<p>“I took five stitches in that gash on your head,” he -explained. “Queo uses slugs to knock over an elephant. -I’m not so sure your skull isn’t cracked. You -talk rather crack-brained, sometimes.” (That was -Peter’s first joke with them.) “Best wait until we’re -sure, anyway.”</p> - -<p>Rawley gave an embarrassed kind of laugh and sent -an involuntary, inquiring glance at Johnny Buffalo.</p> - -<p>“I wish you’d lock the door, Uncle Peter, and then -bring me my coat. I’ve got something on my mind -other than a cracked skull and embroidered hide.</p> - -<p>“Now, to make the thing clear to you, Uncle Peter, -I’ll have to say that Grandfather left here expecting to -come back—and I hope you told your mother what -happened.”</p> - -<p>Peter nodded.</p> - -<p>“Well, there Grandfather was, helpless. It made him -kind of proud and bitter, and he sort of held himself -away from folks. But he was disappointed because my -father was sickly and didn’t take to anything outdoors, -and I never met him face to face, or spoke a word to -him, until the night before he died. Of course nobody -dreamed he was going—I don’t think he did, or -Johnny, even.</p> - -<p>“At any rate, he sent for me. And he said I was -all King, and he had waited to make sure. He talked -a little and gave me his old diary and an old Bible -his mother had given him. He told me to read the -Bible—that there was a lot in it, if I read it carefully. -It was the last talk I had with him. He died in the -night.</p> - -<p>“Well, the point I’m getting at is this: Grandfather -had a secret—about a mine out here. He had -it all described, in a kind of code that sure had me -guessing blind for awhile. I found a long list of Bible -references, you see—no one would ever think of wading -through the bunch, unless it was a preacher, maybe; -and he wouldn’t need to. It took me a while to catch -on to the fact that they meant something. Grandfather, -you must know, wasn’t religious. Anything but. So -the crux of the matter was those references looked so -darned dry and innocent, and they were the only thing -I could find to work on. Johnny, there, made it mighty -plain to me that I’d better work on <i>something</i>. I tried -Poe’s cipher, and I looked up all the references. I will -say that just reading verse after verse, according to -the references, they make snappy reading; murder and -bloodshed and bigamy and the wrath of God. And -names I couldn’t pronounce, of tribes headed out on the -warpath. It was great stuff—not.</p> - -<p>“But finally I dug into the little old Bible Grandfather -had carried around with him—and hadn’t read, -or the book’s a liar—and I got this. I want to read -it to you: I dug it out by writing down words and -phrases in all the verses, that Grandfather had marked. -I’ll read it as if it were altogether—which it wasn’t, -by a long shot:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>“Gold is mine, more than heart could wish. My -son, if thou wilt receive my words and hide my commandments -with thee, I will give thee riches, and -wealth, such as none of the Kings have had that have -been before thee. Be wise, now, therefore, be instructed. -Of the gold, there is no number. The land -whither ye go to possess it is a land of hills and valleys.</p> - -<p>“Do this, now, my son. Go through a city which is -by the river in the wilderness, yet making many rich. -In the midst thereof a ferry-boat which is by the brink -of the river. Take victuals with you for the journey. -Turn you northward into the wilderness, to a great and -high mountain; cedar trees in abundance scattered over -the face of the high mountain. In the cliffs there is a -path which no fowl knoweth, and which the vulture’s -eye hath not seen. Come to the top of the mount. Pass -over unto the other side, westward. On the hillside, a -very great heap of stones joined to a dry tree. Go -into the clefts of the rocks, into the tops of the jagged -rocks, to the sides of the pit. Take heed, now—that -is exceeding deep. It is hid from the eyes of all living. -Creep into the midst thereof, eastward, two hundred -and fourscore feet. Ye shall find a pure river of -water. Proceed no further. There is gold heavier -than the sand; pure gold upon the sand. And all the -gold thou shalt take up. Then shalt thou prosper if -thou takest heed. I know thy poverty, but thou art -rich.</p> - -<p>“Take heed, now. On the hillside which is upon -the bank of the river in the wilderness, there shall the -vultures also be gathered. Ye shall find him that is -mine enemy. His mouth is full of cursing, under his -tongue is mischief and vanity. Be watchful—the -heart is desperately wicked.</p> - -<p>“He that keepeth his mouth, keepeth his life. I put -my trust in thee. Now, my son, the Lord be with -thee and prosper thou.”</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Rawley folded the paper, looking up under his bandaged -brows at Uncle Peter, and sending a glance past -him to the unreadable face of Johnny Buffalo.</p> - -<p>“So that’s what I dug out of his Bible. He meant -it for his son. He told me so himself. But he said -my dad wasn’t the man to get anything out of it—which -was true. When he passed it on to me, he—he -didn’t know he had another son who <i>could</i> make good -on the proposition. It’s yours, by rights. He just gave -it to me because he didn’t know of any one else. And—all I ask, Uncle Peter, is that you make some kind -of provision for Johnny, over there. I told him we’d -go fifty-fifty, and—” he held out the folded paper -to Peter—“Johnny’s been hands and feet and a loyal -friend to Grandfather, all these years. Fifty. Just -think of that, Uncle Peter. Grandfather didn’t have -anything but his pension—and this. He didn’t say -so, but I know he expected me to look after Johnny. -I will, of course. I can make good money at my profession. -And I want to say, Uncle Peter,” he added -boyishly, “that I’m mighty glad Grandfather left -something—for his son.”</p> - -<p>Rawley lay back with a relieved sigh and watched -Peter, his eyes smiling a little. He did not think that -he had done any unusual thing. Peter was exactly the -kind of son whom Grandfather King had longed for, -all these years. Rawley guessed that Peter, too, had -been defrauded of the father he would have worshiped. -It was a foregone conclusion that, had Grandfather -King known Peter, he would have sent him, long ago, -hunting for the mine. And while Peter had not said -so, Rawley guessed shrewdly that Peter did not greatly -admire Jess Cramer, in spite of the fact that he had -believed the man his father. His nightmare thoughts, -that he had somehow defrauded Peter, were wiped out -once for all. The code had been written for the son -of King, of the Mounted. The son had it. No more -was to be said.</p> - -<p>Peter opened the paper and read it through slowly, -a corner of his lip drawn between his teeth. What he -thought, no man could say. He finished the reading -and folded the paper slowly, looking at Rawley afterward -from under his heavy brows.</p> - -<p>“Have you still got the Bible and the references?” -he asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes. In my safe deposit box, in St. Louis.”</p> - -<p>“Humph.” Peter deliberately twisted the paper -into a spill, felt in his pocket for a match, and as deliberately -set fire to the paper, turning and tilting it -until the creeping flame was about to scorch his fingers. -He laid the stub on the floor, bent and watched it go -black, then set his foot upon the charred fragments.</p> - -<p>“Boy, you keep what was given you. If I’ve any -right in it, I’ll sign that right over to you. But never -mention that—” he motioned toward the ashes on -the floor—“above your breath. Your grand—my -father was right. The vultures are perched here by -the river, and the old vulture’s eye is never shut. -While you’re here, forget it. Both of you.”</p> - -<p>“But it isn’t mine. It’s yours, Uncle Peter. I -don’t want it—now.”</p> - -<p>“If it’s mine, then it will never be found. I don’t -need it. When the vultures swoop down and light—the -feast will be big enough even for them. But I -warn you, remember. Never speak of that again, in -this camp.” He stood up, gazing down at Rawley -much as Grandfather King had looked at him that -night. With a quick, impulsive movement he stooped -and laid his hand over Rawley’s, pressing it warmly. -He smiled; and there was that in the smile which made -Rawley draw in his breath sharply.</p> - -<p>“If Fate had dealt the cards straight to me—I -might have had you for <i>my</i> son!”</p> - -<p>He drew his hand away, turned and walked out.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXIII' title='XIII—THE COLORADO'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE COLORADO</span> -</h2> - - -<p>The tribe of Cramer dined. In the shack beside -the big mesquite tree was heard the clatter of knives -and forks—more knives than forks, one might guess—the -dull clink of enameled ware, the high, demanding -voices of hungry children more Indian than white. -Above all the clamor of feeding, the shrill petulance -of Aunt Gladys could be heard rising above all other -sounds as she expostulated incessantly with her young. -The baby was crying monotonously. Some one kicked -a dog, which shot out of the open door ki-yi-ing hysterically.</p> - -<p>In the smaller rock dugout, tinkle of glass and silver -plate and china betrayed the fact that the white blood -held itself aloof from the red at mealtime. In the -larger cabin built for Nevada, Rawley had just finished -his supper, eaten with Johnny Buffalo in a punctilious -regard for the old man’s feelings, though he had been -invited to join Peter and Nevada at table.</p> - -<p>In the matter of recovery, young bones were healing -much faster than the old. Rawley had been promoted -to a gauze pad held in place by strips of adhesive -over the long gash on his head. His arm had settled -down to the dull, grinding ache and intolerable deep -itching of knitting bone and healing flesh. Johnny -Buffalo, splinted and bandaged, was able to sit propped -in cushions in a big chair on the porch.</p> - -<p>Rawley left him reading deliberately the matchless -“Apology” of Socrates, which Peter had lent him that -day, and started out for a walk, choosing between his -own company and the companionship of Nevada, which -seemed always to bring at least half the tribe of Cramer -at their heels like the dragging tail of a kite. Rawley -reflected disgustedly that as yet he had never had five -consecutive minutes alone with Nevada. When her -grandmother was not filling the foreground, the offspring -of Aunt Gladys formed a snuffling, big-eared -background which Nevada sweepingly termed the Little -Pitchers. Whether Nevada enjoyed the company -of the Little Pitchers on their infrequent strolls to the -river bank, or approved the solid chaperonage of the -juglike Anita, Rawley had never been able to decide. -Nevada’s manner toward her dark-skinned kinsfolk -was impartially and imperturbably gracious. Indeed, -Rawley sometimes suspected that she deliberately encouraged -their tagging along. Four goggling kids -and three dogs, he considered, might be recommended -as a romance-proof chaperonage.</p> - -<p>Mechanically he walked straight down to the river, -to the spot which Nevada always chose as their destination. -A flat rock there formed a convenient place -to sit and enjoy the view of the river and the hills -beyond. Across the swift-moving, muddy stream, -bottom lands covered with cottonwoods gave a refreshing -touch of green to the picture. Arizona cottonwoods -they were, since the Colorado formed the dividing -line. Away to the southwest, he could see the -hills made familiar at Kingman. Rough, rather forbidding -mountains they had been at close range, but -now they were made soft and alluring by the blue -haze of distance. Straight down the river he could -see the hill that looked down on El Dorado, that -“city forsaken.” Up the river he could not see, because -of the high, granite cliffs that blocked the -view.</p> - -<p>Because nature had seemed to bar the way, Rawley -turned and made his way aimlessly toward the barrier. -With his left arm in splints and carried in a sling, he -could not do much in the way of climbing; but presently -he stumbled upon a well-defined path leading -amongst bowlders just under the rim of the basin. The -path led up the canyon, and Rawley followed it with -a desultory interest in seeing where it led,—and for -the exercise it promised. Perhaps, had he given the -matter thought, he would have owned that a strange -trail never failed to tempt his feet to follow. At any -rate, he held to the pathway.</p> - -<p>Now the river was hidden completely from him, -though he could hear it complaining over the bowlders -in the canyon and hurrying through as fast as if indignation lent it speed. The path went on, finding the -easiest places to worm through the jagged rocks and -climbing closer and closer to the river, whose roar -became more distinct as he neared it.</p> - -<p>Through a split in the huge wall so narrow as to be -almost a crevice, the trail led him quite suddenly to a -narrow shelf set sheer above the river. Crude steps -cut in the rock went down the cliff at a slant. He -heard the water worrying over something unseen at the -bottom, and began to descend, his right hand steadying -himself against the granite wall. He was curious, -somewhat mystified. Neither Peter nor Nevada had -mentioned any possibility of reaching the water’s edge -in the canyon.</p> - -<p>He found himself in a tiny cove which had been -formed when some primal upheaval had split the -granite wall at the base, throwing the outside into the -river. No more than a wide crack, it was, but it was -serving well a purpose. A small, rock landing filled -the shore end of the slit completely. Riding quietly in -the slack water of the small anchorage, a squat, powerful -looking launch sat bow to the landing, secured there -by a heavy chain.</p> - -<p>A great deal of labor had gone into the making of -that landing and the steps leading down to it. His -trained eyes could see where an inner portion of the -jagged point had been cleverly blown off in such manner -that the huge fragments formed a most natural -appearing breakwater, making quiet water within instead of a moiling swirl. If the Cramers wanted a -secret landing on the river, here was one ideally suited -to their needs.</p> - -<p>But the Cramers had another landing, in plain sight -of the flat rock at the rim of the basin. At that landing -also a launch was tied; a very ordinary launch of -a type sufficiently sturdy to combat easily enough the -strong river current. It was that other launch that -was out of repair so that a trip to Needles had been declared -impossible. True enough, this launch might -also be out of commission, but Rawley did not think -so. Stopping and looking in at the engine, he judged -that it was in very good working order indeed, and -from certain little, indefinable signs, he believed that -it had been lately used. By whom he did not know, -although he remembered now that Young Jess—who -was not so young as he sounded, since he was well past -forty—had not been in evidence lately among his -family.</p> - -<p>He saw all that was to be seen and retraced his steps -up the rock stairway. It could not matter, one way -or the other, if the Cramers kept a dozen secret landings -on the river. Nevertheless, Rawley was frankly -puzzled. He thought he could guess why his Uncle -Peter had not wanted to take them to Needles in this -large boat. If he really meant to keep this boat a -secret, it would scarcely do to run it down to the house -landing, alongside the smaller, crippled launch. Rawley -and Johnny might come back, some time, and they -might ask about the second launch, seeing only one -down there at the other landing.</p> - -<p>Some one must want absolute freedom to come -and go by the river without observation, he decided. -With the smaller launch innocently swinging in the -eddy at the lower landing, the Cramers would naturally -appear to be at home, or ranging in the hills; whereas -one or two of them might be absent in this boat here. -It was very simple,—and very mystifying as well. -The rock landing stage was built to make safe anchorage -in high water as in low; which proved conclusively -that this was an all-year landing.</p> - -<p>At the top he hesitated, in some doubt as to whether -he should return to the house or follow the path on up -the canyon. He yielded to the unknown trail, which -was singularly well-traveled for a trail that apparently -led directly away from any logical destination. He -had not gone far when he came upon the flat, level -space of a dump. Close beside him the black mouth of -a tunnel opened into the cliff rising a sheer hundred -feet above his head. He stopped, astonished at this -unexpected ending of the trail. The solid face of granite -gave no indication whatever of carrying mineral -of any kind. There was no logical reason, therefore, -for all this evidence of development work.</p> - -<p>The ethics of his profession forbade his prowling -underground without being invited. He would as -soon open an unlocked door and go spying through -a man’s house and personal belongings. From the size -of the dump he judged that the workings extended for -some distance underground, and from the look of the -rock that had come from the tunnel he knew that any -hope of reaching mineral was likely to remain long -unfulfilled. Instinctively he picked up a piece of rock -here and there, looked at it and threw it aside. If -they were driving in to a contact, he thought, the -Cramers must have sharp eyes indeed for surface indications. -Knowing mineral formations at a glance was -a part of his trade, and he had seen absolutely nothing -that would lead him to the point of advising any man -to lift a shovelful of muck.</p> - -<p>He turned back. The afterglow was purpling -across the river, and he did not want to be too long -away from Johnny Buffalo. He reached a turn in the -trail where a jutting crag thrust out and overhung the -river,—and there he stopped short.</p> - -<p>Perched on the point of the crag like the vulture his -grandfather had named him, Old Jess Cramer leaned -and looked down upon the hurrying waters, a full six -hundred feet below him. The distance between them -was mostly a matter of altitude, for Old Jess had -climbed considerably to reach that particular point. -Staring up at him, Rawley was struck with a certain -weird resemblance to that predatory bird. There was -something sinister about him as he sat there; something -rapacious and purposeful. It was as if he meant to -seize the river and wrest from it something which his -greed desired. While he looked, Old Jess stretched -out his arm and shook his fist at the roaring stream.</p> - -<p>Rawley turned away. Something within him revolted -at the sight, though even to himself he could -not have explained why. As his gaze dropped from Old -Jess to the trail, there was Peter standing looking from -one to the other. Peter’s face was stern, his eyes cold -with disapproval. It seemed to Rawley that he was -purposely blocking the trail.</p> - -<p>“I see you’ve done quite a lot of development work -back there,” Rawley remarked to cover a vague embarrassment.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Quite a lot. Did you go in?”</p> - -<p>Rawley smiled at what seemed to him a needless -question. “Certainly not. I never go underground -unless I’m hired to do so.”</p> - -<p>He thought he saw relief in his Uncle Peter’s eyes.</p> - -<p>“Well, I never saw any particular fun in it, myself. -It’s all work, to me.” He turned and seemed to be -awaiting Rawley’s pleasure. “If you want a view,” -Peter hazarded drily, “you ought to go down to where -the river swings east, below the basin where we live. -You can look straight up the canyon here for a long -way. Cliffs are too jagged here to get much of a -view; there’s a bulge in the canyon that interferes.”</p> - -<p>“It’s better down at the landing in front of the -house than it is here,” Rawley agreed carelessly. “I -see now why Nevada always heads straight for that big, -flat rock.”</p> - -<p>He caught a swift, questioning side glance from -Uncle Peter and knew beyond all doubt that the big -launch, the hewn-rock stairway and the tunnel in the -cliff were things which he was not supposed to know -about. But the reason for the secrecy he could not -guess.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXIV' title='XIV—THE VULTURE SCREAMS'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE VULTURE SCREAMS</span> -</h2> - - -<p>A high-keyed snarl brought the two sharply facing -the crag. Bearing down upon them with his fists -flailing the air in a kind of impotent fury came old -Jess Cramer, like a vulture fighting for his feast. -Rawley had seen the old man at a short distance, but -he had never before stood face to face with him. He -would cheerfully have missed the meeting now. Old -Jess craned his long neck toward him, his bleak, blue-gray -eyes venomous. But it was Peter to whom he -spoke—screamed, rather.</p> - -<p>“Told ye it’d come to this, didn’t I? You <i>would</i> -take ’em in and pet ’em up, and treat ’em better’n you -do your own kin! Think so much of ’em you had to -go and show ’em what we’re doing and why! Reckon -when we touch ’er off and git the damned river penned -back, you’ll beg ’em on your knees to go down and -claw out gold till they wear their fingers to the bone!</p> - -<p>“What have I slaved for and worked for and -hoarded for, all these years? To let you give away the -gold when we git it? Is this the kind uh thing I -raised ye for? Take in the first stranger that comes -snoopin’ around the place, and bring him sight-seein’ -up here to our dam! You—!”</p> - -<p>Rawley had thought the miners he sometimes worked -among could curse, but he stood agape before the -blistering vituperations of this gray-bearded old man. -He looked at Peter, wondering how any man with the -King blood could have endured his fancied father’s vile -tongue all these years. Peter stood with a face of -iron, his eyes terribly blue and hard, and listened impersonally -to the frenzied outburst.</p> - -<p>“That’s enough, now. Shut up and listen to me!”</p> - -<p>It was like snapping a whip in the face of a roaring -lion. Old Jess had stopped merely to gasp fresh air -into his lungs so that he could go on. He glared at -Peter, weakened and cringed. The fire that had flared -in his eyes died as suddenly. He looked toward the -river, looked at Rawley and his glance slid away from -the two of them.</p> - -<p>“What’d yuh want to go and let it all out to him -for?” he half whimpered. “Now he’ll want a share—and -there might not be more ’n five or six millions in -the hull damned river bed! And you know ’s well as I -do, Peter, that our dam is liable as not to go out, next -high water. We won’t have many months to work -in, mebby. I—I want a word with yuh, Peter. I—I -want a word with yuh, that’s all. I guess mebby you -know what you’re up to, but—”</p> - -<p>“Shut up!” Peter snapped the verbal whip again. -His eyes turned briefly toward Rawley. “What’s been -let out, you did yourself, dad.” (Rawley thought that -Peter hesitated over the last word.) “I have never -breathed one word of our plan. Slave? What have <i>I</i> -been slaving for, all these years? Do you think <i>I</i> have -not endured everything but dishonor, for the sake of -the millions we plan to get? And Nevada—what -about <i>her</i>? Hasn’t she done the work of a man and -slaved over her studies, so that she could help, too? It’s -you, letting go your tongue and raving like a fool, that -has betrayed the secret. <i>You’ve</i> done it. This man -didn’t know or suspect a thing, till you let it out, -accusing me of telling!”</p> - -<p>The old man looked uneasily from one to the other. -Peter stared unrelentingly at him. Rawley, stealing a -glance at his face, thought that he knew now the kind -of man his Grandfather King had been in his old, -fighting days.</p> - -<p>“Now, he’ll have to know.” Peter’s voice relaxed -the tension. It was as if he had suddenly determined -to accept the situation and make the best of it,—and -the most. “He can be trusted, I think. He’ll <i>have</i> -to be trusted, after your blathering.”</p> - -<p>Old Jess turned his predatory eyes on Rawley, and -his beard moved to a sinister smile beneath.</p> - -<p>“You’re a big man, Peter—and it ain’t but a few -steps to the edge!” He tilted his head backwards -toward the river. There was no possibility of mistaking -his meaning. But he added a sentence to clinch -it: “She never gives up a body—the Colorado -don’t!”</p> - -<p>Peter’s grin was a withering thing to face. Again -the old man cringed, and his eyes shifted like a cornered -rat.</p> - -<p>“I’ll remember that, if you open your mouth again. -I’m strong—and the river never gives up a dead man. -You keep that in mind, will you?” Peter insisted -ominously.</p> - -<p>“He shan’t have none of <i>my</i> share,” Old Jess -shrilled, his voice cracking with anger and fear. “It -was my idee, before you was born, Peter. You shan’t -rob me in my old age—you shan’t, now! I’ll be the -first one to pick up the gold—that’s been understood, -since you was big enough to talk. An’ he better not -let it out to anybody! I’ll kill him if he does—you -mark me, Peter! I’ll kill any man that stands in my -road to them millions I been watching over all these -long years—scrabbling the gold together, ounce by -ounce, till I’ve got enough to do it! A million dollars—but -I’ll reap a thousand dollars for one. You mark -what I say; I’ll kill anybody that tries to horn in—It’s -mine, every bit of it!”</p> - -<p>“In that case,” said Peter contemptuously, “you -can go ahead and get it.”</p> - -<p>“All but your share’s mine, Peter. Yours and -Young Jess’ and Nevada’s. This feller better not -think—”</p> - -<p>“He only thinks you’re a fool,” Peter told him -harshly. “Stay and watch your gold, then. It might -float off!” He motioned with his head toward home, -and Rawley obeyed the signal and started ahead of him -down the trail, wondering a good deal over the encounter.</p> - -<p>“Looks like I’m driving you off,” Peter remarked -after a bit. “But I’m merely bringing up the rear. -Old Jess is not all there. I’ll tell you all about it, now -he’s told so much. I had half a mind to, anyway, if -I could get him and Young Jess to agree. You’re a -mining engineer. I kind of wanted your opinion and -advice. It is out of your line, probably; but technical -training helps. I never had any, myself. Old Jess is -a slave driver, all right. And now he’s half crazy, and -I wouldn’t want to go off and leave him with the -women. If a stranger happened along and roused -his suspicion, there’s no prophesying what might happen.”</p> - -<p>“It sounds pretty wild, to me, all his talk,” Rawley -returned after a minute. “I can easily believe the old -man’s crazy. I can’t seem to get any sense out of it; -millions of gold—and all that. Uncle Peter, were -you just stringing him along—because he’s crazy?”</p> - -<p>Peter laughed queerly. “I can’t wonder at your -thinking so,” he said. “Sit down here, and I’ll tell -you the straight of it.”</p> - -<p>It was the flat rock which they had reached. The -shouts of the children, the barking of the dogs and the -crying of the baby came to them in one indistinguishable chorus from across the small flat. In the deepening -dusk they would not be noticed and interrupted.</p> - -<p>“Away back, before I was born,” Peter began, -“Jess had mining claims here. Placer, and he was -doing pretty well at it, I imagine. He bached here -beside the river, and an idea came to him one day that -has stuck to him like a burr ever since. That idea, boy, -has ruled this bunch, has driven us like dogs. It’s a -big one—the only big idea he ever had, so far as I -know.</p> - -<p>“Old Jess got to thinking how much gold must -lie at the bottom of the river, washed down through -all the centuries of time, through Colorado, even -through Wyoming, where its main tributaries rise. -When you think of it, the thing gets hold of you. And -the more you think, the stronger it holds. He thought -how tremendously rich and powerful he’d be if he -could just get at that gold out there. But you see the -old river; she holds what she’s got. And in flood -time—</p> - -<p>“Well, it wasn’t long before he began to figure out -how he could get at that gold. And he got the idea of -throwing a dam across the canyon here, and backing -up the water. I don’t think he ever told any one, but -he kind of quizzed around and decided finally that it -would cost a lot of money. A million dollars, we made -it at a rough guess. So he began to save his gold, instead -of gambling and carousing with it down in El -Dorado and at the fort. For that matter, I believe the -old man always was a grasping, avaricious individual. -It’s his nature—I’ve seen it demonstrated all my life.</p> - -<p>“We’re all living fairly decently now, son. But -until I was old enough to assert myself a bit, he almost -starved us, he was so keen on saving that million. -Even now I have to have a run-in with him, every so -often, about the money that goes for living expenses. -But he can afford it. He’s got his million, and then -some.”</p> - -<p>“<i>What?</i>”</p> - -<p>“He’s been saving every grain he could scrape together, -for fifty years, Rawley. And it’s a good claim—group -of claims, rather. No one in the country -has ever dreamed that we’ve done more than scratch a -living here. Some day, when your arm is well, I’ll -show you. Yes, he has his million.</p> - -<p>“For a long time, now—several years—we’ve -been getting ready for the dam. That tunnel you saw -is part of the work. When you’re better, I’d like to -take you through our workings and see what we’ve -done and what we expect to do. Maybe you can give -us some advice. We’ve had to use our own wits, because -we can’t consult with experts, in the very nature -of things. We are not,” he said cynically, “the only -vultures in the world. The country would be black -with them. And when all’s said and done, we have -first right. Why, look at El Dorado! Men sat down -there and cursed their luck—and looked straight -at the richest gold mine in the world! This canyon -was here, everything was here, ready for them to go -to work and get the gold just as we are going to do. -But nobody thought of it. Sheep—that’s what men -are. Not one in a thousand does any thinking outside -the beaten path. Nobody <i>had</i> dammed the river to -get the gold; they had no precedent to follow—no bell -wether to show them the way. So nobody ever thought -of the possibility of doing it. Old Jess, I must say, -shot up head and shoulders above the ruck when he -conceived the idea. His avariciousness and dwelling -on that one thought all these years have given him a -mental twist. He’d kill any man who seemed to be -standing in his way. He’s gone too far now—he has -lived with that air castle too long. But my God, think -what a castle he’s built!” Peter’s voice was vibrant -with emotion. Here, as with Old Jess, was the dream -of a lifetime revealed.</p> - -<p>“Yes—it’s a tremendous scheme,” Rawley admitted -guardedly. “I’m afraid it won’t work, Uncle -Peter. It doesn’t, somehow, seem feasible.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?” Peter’s voice challenged him. -“Merely because you hadn’t thought of its feasibility. -Nobody thought of it. Why, you’re like all the rest, -son. You can’t think constructively. You must have a -precedent to hang onto with one hand, before you think -out into the ocean of unguessed achievements. Fifty -years ago, they would have shut you up in an asylum -if you had declared it possible to telegraph without -wires. How was the first telephone hooted? And -history tells us that a large faction of religious people -declared that anesthetics were contrary to the will of -God, who meant that men should suffer.</p> - -<p>“When I show you the canyon, back here, and explain -to you how we mean to do it, you’ll have to admit -the simplicity of the thing. And that’s it! The -very simplicity of it has prevented men from grasping -it.” He laughed scornfully. “What a to-do about -building a dam they make! They must have government -backing, and political wirepulling, and they must -fiddle around for years with hundreds of men building -a dam up from bedrock, with cement and stone! Wait -until I show you what <i>we</i> mean to do! Simplest thing -in the world—since we don’t want canals for irrigation -and only want to get at the river below. Even if -we did want to divert the water, instead of restraining -it only, we could build our canals just the same, and at -our leisure.</p> - -<p>“But it’s all desert, above and below. Already I’ve -bought any little rancher out, that might have his land -flooded when <i>we build our dam</i>.” Peter laughed again -triumphantly. “I’ll arrange to get possession before -we’re ready to back up the water—”</p> - -<p>“Will the government allow that?” Rawley’s tone -was troubled. So great a hold had Peter’s argument -taken upon him that he found himself <i>fearing</i> that the -government might object.</p> - -<p>Peter gave a contemptuous snort. “Give us a chance -to rake the gold out of the river bed below here, and -we can pay whatever fine or indemnity the government -may see fit to levy,” he retorted. “But why should it -object? We’ll be saving the folks away down below -here a lot of trouble and loss from high water. They’ve -been howling for flood control ever since the Imperial -Valley began to be settled. The dams they’ve got don’t -answer the problem. Sooner or later, the government, -or somebody, will have to put a dam in the river, up -this way. They will be mighty grateful, I should say, -if we do it at our own expense while they’re talking -about it.</p> - -<p>“Then, if they want to, they can pay us for our -trouble and go ahead and build their canals, or power -plants, or whatever they want. All we want is the gold -that has been washed down during a few thousand -years.” He lifted his arm and pointed down to where -the river could dimly be seen moiling and grumbling -over its rocky bed.</p> - -<p>“You see how rocky it is? Figure for yourself what -a perfect trap for gold every bowlder makes! And -there is gold! You don’t deny that, do you?”</p> - -<p>“Why, no. I can’t deny the very probable presence -of gold in considerable quantity.” This being rather -in the nature of a professional question, Rawley instinctively -leaned toward conservatism in his reply.</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s our object. We feel it’s going to be -worth the expense of building the dam. Other people -may possibly want to make use of our dam, when they -see it. In that case, we should be able to get back at -least what money we are going to put into it. We’ll -know, to a dollar. Nevada has got the education and -training the rest of us lack and can tell us at a minute’s -notice just what the work is costing us. That’s her -job. And Old Jess has signed a contract with us three. -The idea was his in the first place, and the claims that -produced the gold to do the work with are his—most -of them. He gets half of all the gold we take out. -We repay, out of our share, one-half the expense of -building the dam, and the three of us share equally in -the rest. In other words—I suppose I’ve put it -clumsily—he takes half the net proceeds, we divide -the other half. And since we inherit, at his death, we -are all satisfied.” He stood up and smiled down at -Rawley in the half darkness of early night.</p> - -<p>“So you see, son, why I won’t need any of that gold -you and the Injun are looking for. I expect to be -pretty well fixed myself, before so very long.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXV' title='XV—THE LAND OF SPLENDID DREAMS'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE LAND OF SPLENDID DREAMS</span> -</h2> - - -<p>For days Rawley watched the might of the rushing -Colorado and wondered at the temerity of men who -would calmly plan to check its headlong progress to -the sea. A splendid dream, he was compelled to own; -a dream worthy a better man than old Jess Cramer. -But every man must have one vision of great things -during his life, else he would lack the spark of immortality. -He may distort the vision to baser depths, -but to each life is given one dream, one glimpse into -the realm of beautiful possibilities. So Jess Cramer -had dreamed his dream, had seen his vision, and had -held aside the curtain so that others might see.</p> - -<p>It interested Rawley in his days of helplessness to -observe the reactions of that dream upon the diverse -natures that dwelt within the basin. Old Jess Cramer -had become a vulture in human form, his whole soul -enslaved by the greed fostered by his individual conception -of the vision. Rawley could look at the river -and picture Old Jess down in its slimy bed of mud -bars, rocks and groping streamlets, wildly scrabbling -amongst the gravel and stones for the gold his insatiable soul craved. He pictured Old Jess gloating -over his gold, weighing it in his hands, stupidly goggling -without the wit to give it for what pleasures his -spent old life could still enjoy.</p> - -<p>Young Jess, too, had pulled the splendid vision down -to his dull understanding. Young Jess, low-browed, -sullen, would like to throw the gold with both hands -into the lap of brutish gratifications. Young Jess was -a gambler by nature, Rawley gleaned. He must never -be let loose in a town, because he would have to be -hauled out in a drunken torpor, his pockets empty, his -credit strained, his soul fresh blotted by vice. Young -Jess had “sprees”; from Gladys Rawley learned that. -So Young Jess was kept on a leash of family watchfulness.</p> - -<p>“When we make our big clean-up,” Gladys confided -from the bench on the screened porch, her baby -nursing desultorily in its sleep, “Jess has gotta give -me half of his share fast as he rakes it in. I’m going -to have Peter see’t he does that—or we’ll be broke -ag’in in no time. I’m going to put it where he can’t -git his fingers on it to gamble, you bet! And he runs -with women—that sure makes the money fly! But -I guess they’ll be two of us, at that!” she tittered. “I -ain’t so old yet I can’t git up some speed—give me -some decent clothes and di’mon’s. I’m going to Salt -Lake, an’ I’m going to have me the biggest car they -is on the market. My folks is got a car, down to -Needles—”</p> - -<p>Anita,—Rawley was long in learning what was -Anita’s bright, particular vision. One day he asked -her outright, since he could not lead her to talk about -her expectations in a general way. And straightway -he was humbled and ashamed.</p> - -<p>Anita looked at him stolidly, turned her great bulk -and stared down at the river hurrying by in the midday -sunlight. She lifted a hand to her eyes and stared out -from beneath the flat of her brown palm.</p> - -<p>“Gol’—if it can buy me back—t’ings I have love’—t’ings -I have los’ long time ago,” she murmured. -“Gol’—it don’t buy young body—pretty face—voice -to sing like a bird. Gol’ don’t give back my girl—modder -of Nevada. Pah-h!” She spat at the river -contemptuously. “W’at I care for gol’?”</p> - -<p>Nevada,—to her the dream was a splendid vision -indeed. To her it was achievement—success—the -open door through which she might pass to a glorified -future. Nevada, when pressed, admitted that she -loved pretty things—“And then, the world is so full -of people who want to be helped!”</p> - -<p>Rawley nodded. “I know. I’ve felt that.”</p> - -<p>“And if there is gold to be had, so that they can -be helped, I think it’s wicked not to use every ounce -of energy we possess to get it, so that we can use it,” -she declared with more enthusiasm than Rawley had -ever seen her show. “When it’s fought for, just for -sake of self-indulgence, it ought to be fought for in -the interests of good. I’d found a home for—well, -almost anybody that needed it. And I want so to -travel, Fifth Cousin! I don’t mean to spend more than -two or three millions, just myself. I’m afraid I might -grow reckless and extravagant. So I shall only hold -out three million, at the most, for my own personal -needs. The rest I shall give away.” Whereupon she -laughed at him.</p> - -<p>“You don’t really expect to be a lady billionaire?” -Nevada sobered. “It’s such a big, untamed land,” -she dreamed aloud, her young eyes on the river, as -Anita’s had been. “If you don’t dream splendidly, -you somehow feel that you’re too small for the desert. -It’s a land of splendid visions, Fifth Cousin. Never -mind if they don’t come true. They’re like the sunsets -and the sunrises. They live, and they die, and they -live again, on and on—forever.” She lifted a tanned, -rounded arm and pointed away to the floating, hazy -blue of the horizon.</p> - -<p>“That’s what I mean,” she said. “Can you look -at that and think small? Why, every old prospector -who follows a burro along the desert trail has his -visions. The dim distances promise him heart’s desire. -Why else would he keep going? He’s a millionaire—in -his dreams. The next gulch may change his vision -to reality. Think how the Spaniards came dreaming up -this very river, as long ago as when Washington was -praying for boots at Valley Forge! What brought -them, but the splendid dreams—their visions of what -lay over the next hill?”</p> - -<p>Her gaze dropped to the river. Just as every other -adult member of the Cramer family looked at the hurrying -water, so Nevada gazed and saw—not lost -youth and lost love, as did Anita, but the splendid -future that would be hers when the river gave up its -hoarded gold. She smiled and forgot to speak. Her -vision held her entranced.</p> - -<p>Peter’s dream was very like Nevada’s. Peter, as -Rawley knew, exulted over the achievement itself; -the constructive thinking that left the beaten path of -thought and plunged boldly into the realm of unguessed -possibilities. The taming of a river that called itself -untamable meant more to Peter than to Nevada, even. -The gold would be his just reward for having dared to -achieve the improbable.</p> - -<p>Peter also craved emancipation from the petty round -of his isolated life. Around the world Peter would -sail and learn of other lands and other peoples and -the problems which Fate had set them to solve. Peter -was willing to divert a part of his gold to the welfare -of his fellow men, but he did not dream of that as did -Nevada. The building of the dam, the actual getting -of the gold, the splendid hazards of the undertaking, -these things set Peter’s indigo-blue eyes alight with -the flame of his enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>So even the tribe of Cramer dreamed, each according -to the quality of his soul. And Rawley knew why -his Uncle Peter stayed and worked shoulder-to-shoulder -with men whose half-relationship humiliated and -embittered him. He knew why Nevada chose to remain -here, in an environment ludicrously unsuitable, -inharmonious. Indian and white, they held, in various -forms, the same vision. There was something -fine, something splendid in their even daring to dream.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXVI' title='XVI—RAWLEY INVESTIGATES'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER SIXTEEN</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>RAWLEY INVESTIGATES</span> -</h2> - - -<p>Came a time when Rawley felt fit enough for work; -and this investigation of the wild, improbable scheme -of the Cramers would be work, with every faculty of -the engineer on the alert for his clients. For the others -he would not have attempted the thing he contemplated. -He would have told them, more or less politely but -nevertheless firmly, that the whole thing was out of -his line and that he could not assume the responsibility. -But for his Uncle Peter and for Nevada he would do -the best that was in him.</p> - -<p>Old Jess and Young Jess still looked at him with -suspicious eyes, but they made no comment when he -set off one morning with Peter to look over their work. -They followed sullenly along the trail, ready, Rawley -thought, to turn at the slightest indication of treachery -and pitch him over the edge of the cliff—if they could—as -Old Jess had naïvely suggested to Peter.</p> - -<p>Back to the tunnel Peter led him,—and within it. -It was smaller than the usual mine tunnel, and fifty -feet back from the portal two crosscuts ran parallel -with the face of the cliff for a distance of fifty feet -in either direction. In the hard rock, working with -hand drills, the excavations had been made at the expense -of infinite labor, Rawley could see. No car or -track was there for removing the muck, which had -been taken out in a wheelbarrow. At the face of the -tunnel, a winze had been sunk fifty feet, and from -this two other crosscuts extended, apparently directly -beneath the upper ones.</p> - -<p>Rawley saw it all, riding down the winze in the -bucket, since he had but one arm of any use. With -Uncle Peter at the windlass he felt perfectly secure—though -he would have refused the descent with one of -the others, so great was his distrust of the Cramers, -father and son.</p> - -<p>When he returned, Peter conducted him down the -stairway hewn into the cliff, and into the big launch.</p> - -<p>“This is something we don’t let the world know -about,” he remarked. “From Nelson we pack in supplies -that any ordinary miner’s family would need—if -they were just scratching a living out of their claims. -You saw how we do it—with burros. Fifteen years -ago we began to work on that stairway and landing. -It was a long, hard job. But I knew that we were going -to need some private way of getting supplies and -material in for the dam. Now, we can slip down to -Needles and get a boat-load and get back without these -people around here knowing it. Early morning, just at -peep of day, is the time I choose for running in here. -On the far side of the river, none of the El Dorado -prospectors would be apt to notice; and if they did, they -would think I was on my way farther north. Now, -I’m going to take you across the canyon.”</p> - -<p>Once out and fighting the current, Rawley saw at -once why it was that the Colorado was not considered -a navigable river. There were no rapids in the canyon, -properly speaking. But the pent volume of water -rushed through like a dignified mill race, and it was -only Peter’s skill and the power of the motor that -landed them across the canyon.</p> - -<p>Here, a small eddy, with a break in the bold, granite -wall, made a fair landing. Peter tied the launch securely -and led the way up a steep trail from the -water’s edge to a natural shelf, where another tunnel -with crosscuts was being run. As far as the contour -of the cliffs would permit, the workings here were identical -with those on the home shore, except that they -were not finished. They had just completed the winze.</p> - -<p>“We can’t work over here except when the weather -and the river are favorable,” Peter explained. “And -Old Jess kept us at the gold diggings until we balked. -He’d got that one idea so firmly fixed in his mind that -he wouldn’t let up when he had his million. He seemed -to think a few months’ work would put the dam in, and -it was next to impossible to pry him away from the -gold grubbing. When we finally struck and refused -to put in another shift in the mine, he yielded the point. -Now he’s in a fever to get this done. He’ll sit and -watch the river by the hour, just as you saw him that -night he came down on us. Gloats and grudges by -turns, I suppose. He doesn’t realize what a job it is—blowing -enough rock into the canyon to dam the -river.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder if you do, yourself!” Rawley remarked -laconically and led the way out. “I want to study -these cliffs a bit from the outside. I’ve seen enough of -your underground work.”</p> - -<p>He spent two hours sitting on first one jutting rock -pinnacle and then another, studying the cliffs and -making sketchy diagrams and notes. A splendid -dream, surely; but a dream wellnigh impossible, as he -saw it.</p> - -<p>That evening after supper, he sent word to Peter that -he was ready to talk to him and would prefer to have -the Cramers present. Wherefore Peter brought them -over to the cabin; Old Jess vulture-like and grim, and -fairly bristling with suspicion, Young Jess surly, but -wanting to know what was going on between Peter -and this stranger. Rawley dragged chairs out to the -porch and laid a diagram sketch on the small table -beside him.</p> - -<p>“I want to say first, to all of you,” he began gravely, -“that I don’t approve of the scheme from any point of -view. Peter says that is because I think by rule; because -the thing has never been done, and I therefore -have nothing to work from. However that may be, I -warn you at the start that I don’t like it. I don’t believe -you can dam the river in the way you are going -at it. It’s a cinch you will have to alter your plans -in certain ways, if you are to have any hope whatever -of accomplishing the feat.</p> - -<p>“I want to warn you that the government will probably -have something to say about your performance. -If the river had not been declared unnavigable, you -would be in trouble for obstructing the channel, if for -nothing else. What Washington will say about it in -the circumstances, I can’t predict. I don’t know. But -if you persist in carrying out your scheme, be prepared -for trouble with the authorities. Red tape may wind -you up tighter than you anticipate.</p> - -<p>“With the understanding, then, that I absolutely -disapprove of the idea, I am going to give you my -opinion of the most feasible method of making it a -success. Of course, I needn’t point out to you the -very obvious fact that, if you don’t make a success of -it, you will lose every dollar you put into it, and probably -get into trouble just the same. If you spend a -fortune throwing rock into the river and fail to dam -the flow so that you can carry on whatever operations -you have in mind on the river bed below, you will be -worse off than if you had not started. Therefore, I’m -going to tell you how I think you should do it.”</p> - -<p>“In other words, ‘Don’t do it—but if you <i>do</i> do it, -do it this way,’” Nevada murmured mischievously.</p> - -<p>“Something like that,” Rawley grinned. “In the -first place, your work is far from finished. You will -have to put in relievers, to break the rock between your -crosscuts and the face. That can be done by raising, -or you can sink incline shafts from the surface. My -diagram here shows approximately what I mean. -Later, when my arm is well, I will, if you like, run -your lines for you. I have a small instrument for my -own use.</p> - -<p>“These relievers must be shot with dynamite, of -course. I suppose, having had long experience in -mining, you know that you should use some dynamite -for breaking the rock, and black powder to lift and -heave it over into the river. Since dynamite gives a -quick concussion, the whole can be fired simultaneously; -the black powder will follow the dynamite.</p> - -<p>“What you should have, of course, is the advice of -expert engineers who specialize in this sort of thing. -It’s out of my line, and I am merely giving you my -opinion for whatever it is worth—in soundness,” he -added, catching a miserly chill in Old Jess’s eyes. -“I couldn’t sell advice on a matter outside my profession, -and in any case I am glad to do whatever I can -to help you avoid mistakes. I am trying to see it as -a mining problem—the opening of a glory hole, we’ll -say.</p> - -<p>“Your idea of crosscutting at different levels is a -good one, but you should by all means break your rock -to the surface, and so give your main explosives a -chance to lift it over. You see what I mean?” He -lifted the diagram and held it up for them to see. -“Here are your tunnel, winze and crosscuts. Then -here are your relievers. An incline to the surface—or -close to the surface—as high as you wish the cliff -to break. I shall have to survey that for you, to give -you the proper pitch. Then these ‘coyote holes’ between -the apex and your adit—these will be filled -with dynamite. I wonder if you have formed any -definite idea of how much powder and dynamite you -are going to need!”</p> - -<p>“Nevada and I have been working on that for five -years,” Peter said, and smiled. “We intend to use -plenty.”</p> - -<p>“I should hope so,” Rawley exclaimed. “Better a -few tons too much, than to have all your work and -money go for nothing. Make a dead-sure job of it, -or—drop the scheme right here.”</p> - -<p>This brought an ominous growl from the old man -and Young Jess. Peter was studying the diagram. -He passed it along to Young Jess, who scowled down -at it intently, his slower mind studying each detail -laboriously. Old Jess reached out a grimy claw and -bent over it like a vulture over a half-picked bone.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid you’ll have trouble getting your explosives,” -Rawley observed. “The war is taking enormous -quantities to Europe. And I’m afraid we’re going -to be dragged into the scrap ourselves. In which case, -the government will probably shut off private buyers -entirely.”</p> - -<p>Young Jess laughed a coarse guffaw. “We should -worry!” He leered at Rawley. “We got a glory hole -a’ready, back at the diggin’s. We been five years gittin’ -powder in here. Gosh! We c’d blow up Yerrup if we -wanted to, ourselves! Y’ain’t showed him our powder -cache, have yuh, Pete?”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know anything about that. It isn’t necessary -that I should,” Rawley broke in impatiently. -“My concern is merely the engineering problem you’ve -got on your hands. As to the details and the means -of putting the idea into execution, I’m not sure that I -want to know. I might be hauled up as a witness, -sometime—and what I don’t know I won’t have to -lie about.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right. That’s the way to talk,” Young Jess -approved. The diagram had evidently impressed him -considerably. He stared at Rawley from under his -heavy, lowering brows. Though he spoke as any illiterate -white man of the West would speak, he looked -like a full-blooded Indian. Rawley wondered which -side of him did the thinking,—if any. The worst of -both sides, he guessed shrewdly.</p> - -<p>“We ain’t tellin’ more’n we’re obleeged to tell,” Old -Jess grumbled, lifting his greedy old eyes from the -sketch. “We ain’t sharin’, neither! You’re eatin’ my -grub—two of ye—”</p> - -<p>“Grandfather!” Nevada sprang up and faced the -old man furiously. “How can you dare! Have you -forgotten that Mr. Rawlins and his partner saved my -life and Grandmother’s? Oh, what a groveling lot -of brute beasts we have become!”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Rawlins is my affair,” Peter said sternly, -catching Nevada’s hand as she would have passed him -and pulling her down to his knee. “I brought him -here. He is doing this work for me. You two will -profit by it, though it will not cost you so much as a crust -of bread. Nevada is right, except that you strike me -as being more like vultures. All you think of is what -lies at the bottom of the river.</p> - -<p>“The bigness of the achievement, the real significance -of a lifetime’s devotion to one tremendous demonstration -of man’s dominion over nature means less -than nothing to you two. I asked Rawlins to look -over our work and advise us. He’s doing it. It’s -only by courtesy that you two were called in to hear -what he has to say. It’s out of friendship for <i>me</i> that -he’s going on with his study of the problems we have -to solve.</p> - -<p>“Why, damn you,” he flared out suddenly—for all -the world like King, of the Mounted—“you couldn’t -hire this man to do for you what he’s doing for me for -nothing!”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXVII' title='XVII—CHANGED RELATIONS'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>CHANGED RELATIONS</span> -</h2> - - -<p>Young Jess and Old Jess exchanged sidelong -glances. Young Jess turned his head away from the -group and spat out a quid of tobacco on to the porch -floor, whereat Nevada frowned her disgust.</p> - -<p>“Yeah—we know all about him doin’ it fer <i>you</i>,” -he leered. He eyed the two through half-closed lids. -“You played it slick, but not slick enough. When -yuh thought up a name fer him, Pete, you’d oughta -stuck to it, ’stid of changin’ your mind first day he -was here. Gladys knows. He told Nevada one name, -an’ you come along and changed it on him.</p> - -<p>“Look at ’im, Dad! D’ yuh ever see father an’ son -look more alike in your life? By—, you can’t make -a fool outa me, Pete, nor outa Gladys. Why don’t -yuh own up? <i>We</i> know you’re his daddy. You can’t -claim to me an’ Gladys you never throwed in with no -woman! Not with that face, right there, callin’ you -a liar!”</p> - -<p>Nevada started, and Peter’s arm around her tightened -restrainingly. She did not speak, although her -lips parted in astonishment. She looked at Rawley -and met his eyes fixed upon her questioningly. Nevada -flushed and turned away her face, hiding it -against Peter’s cheek.</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you tell me, Uncle Peter?” she whispered -chidingly. “You could have trusted me—you -know you could.”</p> - -<p>Peter’s arm tightened again. His face was turned -toward the Cramers. His lips were drawn up a bit -at the corners in a smile, but his eyes were hard.</p> - -<p>“Well, and what of it?” he asked calmly. “Suppose -he <i>is</i> my son—what then?”</p> - -<p>Young Jess was prying off a fresh chew of tobacco -from a half-plug that filled his palm.</p> - -<p>“Nothin’, I guess. Only I want yuh to know we’re -wise to you. You mighta come out with it, ’stid of -lyin’ and beatin’ about the bush, that’s all. Any fool -can see you two’re close related. I seen it first thing, -and so did Gladys.”</p> - -<p>“Is it anybody’s business, besides his and mine?” -Peter’s voice was still calm, though it boded ill for -Young Jess if he did not watch his tongue.</p> - -<p>“Can’t say as it is,” Young Jess admitted. “Mebby -his mother might think it was <i>her</i> business—whoever -she is.”</p> - -<p>“Leave my mother out of this,” Rawley cried hotly. -“She’s not—”</p> - -<p>“Aw, what the hell do I care?” Young Jess rose -and hitched up his sagging breeches. “Yuh can’t fool -me—that’s all. And I will say I ain’t afraid to have -yuh go ahead and look the works over. My own -<i>nephew</i> wouldn’t double-cross his paw’s family, I -guess.”</p> - -<p>He left them, turning his head once to grin knowingly -over his shoulder. Old Jess mumbled a general -curse on all family ties, or anything that would interfere -with his getting the gold out of the river, and -followed. Ten steps away he saw what he believed to -be a joke and went off cackling, “Pete’s own son! -he-he!”</p> - -<p>Nevada shivered and pulled herself free from her -Uncle Peter’s arms. Her lips were pressed rather -firmly together, and she avoided looking at either of -the men.</p> - -<p>“Well, you were the first to notice the likeness, Nevada,” -Peter reminded her banteringly.</p> - -<p>“And you were the first to—no, my <i>cousin</i> was the -first to lie to me about it!” Her voice was coldly disapproving. -“I’m very sorry—I did think that I was -worthy your full confidence, Uncle Peter. It seems -that I have been mistaken all along. You have only -pretended to trust me, and all these years—though -that in itself doesn’t so much matter, since there may -have been good reason for keeping the secret, even -from me. But when my—<i>cousin</i> came here, you -must have known immediately who he was, Uncle -Peter. It is that which hurts. You pretended to me -that you never had seen him before, and that you were -not quite willing that he should stay. And he—oh, -I hate you both!”</p> - -<p>Her voice broke quite unexpectedly. She gave an -impatient, spurning gesture and fled.</p> - -<p>Peter got out the solacing “makings” of a cigarette. -He glanced at Rawley queerly and gave a cynical smile.</p> - -<p>“Talk about the beautiful faith of your own people,” -he remarked philosophically. “Here’s a sample for -you. Even Nevada believes right away that I have -lived a double life.”</p> - -<p>“It makes it damned awkward—this resemblance,” -Rawley muttered ruefully. “Young Jess ought to -have his block knocked off.”</p> - -<p>“Dynamite wouldn’t feaze Young Jess,” Peter declared. -“He and Gladys have cooked this up between -them. ’Twouldn’t have done any good to deny it, son. -They wouldn’t believe it unless it suited them. And -if I convinced them, they’d want to know more than -ever why we look so much alike. Poor old mother—I -was thinking of her. I hope you don’t mind?”</p> - -<p>“Not in the way you mean,” Rawley assured him -discontentedly. “I only wish you were my father. -That is, I would if— I hate to have Nevada feel that -we both lied to her,” he blurted helplessly.</p> - -<p>For once, Uncle Peter was dense. He laughed -quietly to himself.</p> - -<p>“Oh, she’ll get over that,” he declared easily. -“That’s the drop of Spanish blood. Don’t you worry -about that, boy. On the whole, I’m rather relieved. -I’ve caught Young Jess eyeing you; Old Jess, too, and -even Gladys noticed, I think. I was waiting for one -of them to mention the resemblance between us. I -was braced for it. I meant to laugh it off, as just their -imagination. This way, they think they have it all accounted -for. It does save a good deal of dangerous -speculation. I’m not guessing. I know that Old Jess -used to take spells of jealousy. Anita—mother—has -always been afraid of him. When I was just a kid, -I threw up his gun when it was pointed at her heart, -and the quarrel was over your—over my father. -Something had brought up the subject, some chance -remark. The Spanish in her flamed up, and she told -him that she loved King. Then he pulled the gun. He -may have been drunk—I don’t remember that part.</p> - -<p>“So you see, son, I know why she’s in deadly fear -of having him find it out. And there are other reasons -why none of them must know. While he and Young -Jess think I’m a Cramer, they will listen to me. I -can keep things straight here. If they knew the truth, -I’d probably have to leave.” He lighted the cigarette, -and Rawley watched his face revealed for a moment -by the flare of the match.</p> - -<p>“Boy,” he went on, turning toward Rawley, “I’ve -got to stay. I’ve grown up, I’ve spent my whole life -dreaming of the dam. It isn’t what we’ll get out of it, -altogether, though it’s human and natural to want the -gold, too. It’s the <i>dam</i>. I’ve planned and worked for -it so long. I’ve got to see it go through.”</p> - -<p>He smoked and meditated for awhile, staring down -at the river, always slipping past him, always in a -hurry to meet the tides; to mingle its mountain water -with the salt of the ocean.</p> - -<p>“I saw two men drown out there, once.” He waved -a hand toward the river. “I’d like to stop it running, -just to show it who’s master here.” Another silence, -and then he looked at Rawley. “You don’t mind being -thought my son?” There was a wistfulness in his -tone. “If I thought you minded—”</p> - -<p>Rawley shook himself out of his mood. He leaned -forward and forced himself to smile at Peter.</p> - -<p>“I don’t mind, at all,” he lied. “I hate to have -Nevada think that I deliberately lied to her because I -was ashamed of any such relationship. I—want to -keep her confidence and respect—”</p> - -<p>Strange words for the leaden depression that had -come over him at her anger, but he was fairly sincere -in their employment. He believed—because he was -forcing himself to believe—that he merely liked Nevada -very much, and admired her, and was anxious to -preserve the friendly relations into which they had -drifted. It amused him to be called “Fifth Cousin” -in that whimsical tone she used for the term. -He thrilled a little whenever she reminded him -thus of the make-believe relationship. To be called -her cousin was somehow quite different. There -was a chill in the word,—and any young man -would rather be thrilled than chilled by a girl as -beautiful, mentally and physically, as was Nevada.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell her you didn’t know you were my son,” -Peter was calmly planning aloud. “She’ll believe it, -if I tell her so. I have never lied to Nevada in my -life. She’ll believe whatever I tell her about this affair. -She’s bound to.” He chuckled under his breath, -still blinded by his relief at the attitude his family -had taken. “A reputation for honesty comes in handy, -sometimes!”</p> - -<p>“You don’t think, then, that it would be wise to -tell Nevada the straight of it?” In spite of himself, -Rawley spoke constrainedly. He wanted to appear -nonchalant, even amused, but he knew that he was betraying -himself to any man who chanced to observe -him.</p> - -<p>“I don’t. The truth is not our secret, boy. It belongs -to a silent, sad old woman who never speaks -what’s in her heart and so is not considered as having -any feelings. Do you think the taint of Indian relations -will do you the slightest harm? Tell me honestly.”</p> - -<p>“No. I’m young, but I have made a certain name -for myself for all that. I have the name of never -having been bought and never leaving a job until I -have the correct data. My clients have never yet inquired -into my personal affairs. They never will. -They know I’m an American; that’s about all that -counts, these days, so far as your blood ties go.”</p> - -<p>“There isn’t one chance in fifty that this will ever -be known, even in this district. We keep to ourselves. -The old man has made it plain, ever since I can remember, -that he doesn’t want his neighbors to come -around the place. If you inquire amongst the miners -and prospectors, you will hear that we are a tough -outfit and best let alone. It is believed, as I told you, -that we’re just a bunch of breeds digging out a little -gold—enough to support us. Dad’s a half-crazy -squaw-man, and Young Jess is mighty unpopular. -Whatever business must be taken care of outside, I -attend to myself. Or Nevada sometimes does it for -me. She never talks with people except when it’s -necessary. Whenever she goes to Nelson, or to Las -Vegas, my mother goes with her.</p> - -<p>“Nevada would not mention the matter, in any -case, but I must ask you not to tell her. Mother is -almost uncanny at reading faces. She’d see at once -that we had told the girl. She worships Nevada. It -would break her heart if she saw that Nevada knew -her secret. She’s afraid of Old Jess, but that’s partly -because of what it would mean to the girl. She thinks -Nevada would despise her for the sin of her youth. -That’s the way she put it, and there’s this about an -Indian: You can’t pry an idea out of their minds, -once it’s firmly planted. Poor old mother broods over -these things. She feels as if Nevada is her one hope -of heaven, almost. To keep that girl pure and sweet -is her religion. I promised her, by everything that she -called sacred, that Nevada should never know; at -least, not so long as her grandmother lives. So that’s -why,” he finished gently, “I’m pleased at the turn it’s -taken. I don’t mind anything they may hatch up about -me, if it will protect poor old mother.”</p> - -<p>Rawley felt humbled. He remembered how old -Anita had spat her contempt of the gold that could -not buy her the things she had loved,—and lost. In -that gross, shapeless body, who could say how fine a -soul might be hidden?</p> - -<p>“It’s all right,” he said, after a minute. “I’ll have -to warn Johnny Buffalo, and then I’ll adopt you for my -dad, if you like. I can see how it simplifies matters -here. But I’m afraid Nevada never will forgive—”</p> - -<p>“Oh, she’ll be proud of her new cousin, once she -recovers from the shock of not being told first thing,” -Peter assured him gratefully. “I’m afraid I’ve spoiled -that girl.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXVIII' title='XVIII—THE JOHNNY BUFFALO UPRISING'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE JOHNNY BUFFALO UPRISING</span> -</h2> - - -<p>Johnny Buffalo was on the warpath. Figuratively -speaking, he was brandishing the tomahawk over -the tribe of Cramer. The gods he worshiped had been -blasphemed, the altar upon which he laid the gifts of -his soul had been defiled.</p> - -<p>In other words, Johnny Buffalo had lain in his bed -and listened while Young Jess and his father jibed at -Johnny Buffalo’s two idols, in whose veins flowed the -blood of his beloved sergeant. The blood of the Kings -might not be made a mockery while Johnny Buffalo -could lift one arm to fight. When Rawley returned to -him, he was discovered out of his bed, braced against a -table and trying unsuccessfully to load the old King rifle -which he had first used to kill Mohaves on that day, -fifty years ago, when King, of the Mounted, received -the shot that changed his whole life.</p> - -<p>The old Indian was shaking with weakness, but his -eyes blazed with the war spirit of his tribe.</p> - -<p>“They are dogs of Pahutes!” he exclaimed, when -Rawley entered the room. “They would drag the -virtue of good men in the mud. They shall retract. -They shall know the truth! Or I shall kill.”</p> - -<p>With three long steps Rawley was beside him, his -hand on the rifle barrel, touching the trembling, sinewy -hand of Johnny Buffalo. But the old man would not -yield the gun. His eyes neither softened nor lowered -themselves before the steadfast blue eyes that were the -heritage of the Kings.</p> - -<p>“You better get back to bed,” Rawley warned him, -half-laughing. “If Peter comes and finds you up, -there’ll be the devil and all to pay. I guess we won’t -massacre anybody, Johnny,—at least not to-night.”</p> - -<p>“I heard the half-breed make a mock of Peter and -of you. I heard him say that Peter is your father. -When he said that, he laughed. His laugh was evil. -Now he shall kneel upon his knees and beg the forgiveness -of Peter and of you. He shall say that he spoke a -lie from his black heart that would like to see others -vile, because he is vile. If he does not say that he -lied, I shall kill him. And that half-breed cousin, -Anita, shall own her sin and her son. It is not good -that Peter should be thought the son of that old vulture, -when we know that he is the son of my sergeant. -He is not your father. He is your uncle. I will tell -them so, and we will see then if they laugh!”</p> - -<p>If unshakable dignity can rave, then Johnny Buffalo -was raving. Rawley tried again to take the rifle -gently from the Indian’s grasp; but the brown fingers -seemed to have grown fast to the barrel. Rawley hated -to do it, but his word had been given to Peter and this -unforeseen uprising must be quelled; he therefore took -Johnny Buffalo firmly by the shot shoulder. The old -man wilted in his grasp. Rawley leaned the rifle -against the table and helped Johnny Buffalo back to -his bed.</p> - -<p>Subdued but knowing no surrender, Johnny Buffalo -lay glaring up at Rawley, even while his lips were -twisted with pain. With a singularly motherly motion, -Rawley adjusted the pillows and smoothed the sheet.</p> - -<p>“That’s a nice way to act—start out gunning for -my adopted family the minute I get one!” he scolded -with mock severity. “Can’t leave you a minute but -you jump the reservation and go on the warpath. And -here I thought you were civilized!”</p> - -<p>He grinned, but in Johnny Buffalo’s eyes the fire -did not die. His thin, old lips would not soften to a -smile. The immobility of his face reminded Rawley -of what his Uncle Peter had just said about Indians: -that it is impossible to pry an idea out of their minds, -once it is firmly fixed there. Nevertheless, he sat down -beside the bed and repeated to Johnny Buffalo all that -Peter had said concerning Young Jess’s charge. He -was wise enough, however, to refrain from any attempt -to rouse sympathy in Johnny’s heart for that -pathetic culprit, Anita. Rather, he flattered himself -by declaring that Peter was pleased because the tribe of -Cramer believed him Rawley’s father, and he emphasized -the need of protecting Peter’s influence over the -two men, and his and Nevada’s interest in the river -gold. The mocking laughter of Young Jess, he declared, -was not worthy a second thought.</p> - -<p>It took Rawley just three hours to bring about an -unconditional surrender to Peter’s wishes in the matter. -Even so, Rawley went to his own bed fagged but -feeling that he had done pretty well, considering -Johnny Buffalo’s first intention. But as an indemnity -to the old man’s pride, Rawley had faithfully promised -that he would get their camp outfit up from its hiding -place on the morrow, and that he would pitch their tent -as far as was practicable from the tribe of Cramer. -Johnny Buffalo, it appeared, would not attempt to hold -himself responsible for what might happen if he were -compelled to listen to further inanities from Gladys, -or to hear the voices of Old Jess or Young Jess or -Anita. Nevada he very kindly excepted from the general -condemnation of the tribe. And Peter, of course, -was a King. He therefore could do no wrong,—in -the eyes of Johnny Buffalo.</p> - -<p>It was a secret relief to Rawley that the change -could be placed in the form of a concession to the -Indian’s pride. His own pride was demanding that -he should move under his own canvas roof and eat the -bread—so to speak—of his own buying. He had -never felt quite right about taking Nevada’s cabin. -He happened to know that their occupancy had forced -her to many little makeshifts. Then the jibe of Old -Jess had made his position as a guest intolerable, in spite -of the quick championship of Nevada and Peter. He -had felt obliged to consider, however, Johnny Buffalo’s -welfare. The old man was not recovering as quickly -as he should. Rawley had felt constrained to stay on -his account; but now it seemed likely that a change to -their own tent would really be beneficial. He had not -dreamed that Johnny Buffalo’s Indian pride had been -daily martyred by the presence of Anita and Gladys.</p> - -<p>“The scion of chiefs,” Johnny Buffalo had declaimed -bitterly, “should not be forced to become a -companion of the squaws. Anita knows the etiquette -of our tribe. Yet she would humiliate me by forcing -me to listen to her chatter. Bah! I am not a squaw, -nor a lover of squaws. Take me to our camp, my son. -There I need not submit to the indignity of their presence.”</p> - -<p>So the next morning, when Peter stopped by the -porch for a minute on his way to work, Rawley told -him honestly what it was that he and Johnny Buffalo -had burned a light so late the night before to discuss. -Peter seemed to understand and offered the burros and -Nevada for his service. Rawley grinned over the manner -in which Peter had made the offer, but he made no -comment. The burros and Nevada would be very acceptable, -he said.</p> - -<p>“I had a talk with Nevada last night,” Peter added. -“You’ll find she’s all over her temper. And she knows -all the good camping places between here and El Dorado. -You couldn’t stay down there in the canyon; it’s -too hot. There are places, like this basin, where the -breeze strikes most of the day. I want you close. -I’ll have Nevada show you a place down the river, on -one of my claims. I don’t suppose you’ll object to -camping on my land, will you?”</p> - -<p>Rawley would not, and he said so. And after breakfast -he started out with Nevada, following the two -burros which went nipping down the river under empty -packsaddles. There seemed to be certain advantages in -becoming a cousin of Nevada, Rawley discovered. -Their chaperonage had been practically abandoned; -they were accompanied by the burros and only one dog. -The trailing cloud of young Cramers were sharply -called off by Aunt Gladys, and Nevada drove the other -dogs back with rather accurately aimed stones. Anita, -for some reason which Rawley was not sufficiently -acute to fathom, failed altogether to put in an appearance. -It was the first time since Rawley came into the -basin that Nevada prepared to set off without her -grandmother.</p> - -<p>Nevada, in her high-laced boots, khaki breeches and -white shirt open at the throat, walked with her easy -stride down the faint trail behind the burros. Rawley -followed her, wondering man-fashion what -thoughts she was thinking, how she felt about him, -whether she was glad to be setting out like this with -him for trail partner instead of her grandmother, and -what she thought of him as a cousin.</p> - -<p>He was not a particularly shy young man; there was -too much of his grandfather in his make-up not to have -had certain little romantic adventures of his own. He -would have told you, with a bit of cynicism in his tone, -that he knew girls and that they were all alike. But -he was beginning to discover that he did not know -Nevada Macalister. Now that he seemed to have become -irrevocably her cousin by diplomacy and tribal -belief, he was disposed to make what use he could of -the relationship. But after half a mile of traveling -with no more than an occasional monosyllable for Nevada’s -contribution to the conversation, Rawley was -compelled to admit to himself that the cousin business -was not working as he would like to have it.</p> - -<p>In view of her emotional outbreak last night, Rawley -could not quite bring himself to the point of asking -her outright how she liked her new cousin. But the -question kept tickling his tongue, nevertheless. Then -he reflected that Nevada was rather generously supplied -with cousins, none of them definitely desirable. -From that thought it was only a short jump to the -next inevitable conclusion. Nevada, he decided, had -placed him mentally alongside those other pestiferous -cousins, the offspring of Gladys and Young Jess. Or -if she had not, she was surely according him the same -treatment.</p> - -<p>As a romantic chapter in their acquaintance, the trip -was a flat failure. Nevada was businesslike,—and -aloof. Rawley’s faint hope that some unforeseen incident -would occur to shock Nevada out of her insouciant mood died of inanition. The camp outfit they -found exactly as it had been left, except that a rat had -rashly decided to make a nest in a fold of the wrapped -tent. This did not seem to interest Nevada in the -slightest degree. She helped him with the packing and -did not seem to care whether he hurt his newly healed -arm or not. They returned as they had gone,—Nevada -silent, following the burros that plodded sedately -homeward under their loads, Rawley trailing -after her in complete discouragement over the rebuffs -his friendly overtures had received.</p> - -<p>They did not so much as see a rattlesnake.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXIX' title='XIX—THE EAGLE STRIKES'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER NINETEEN</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE EAGLE STRIKES</span> -</h2> - - -<p>The month of inaction which followed fretted -Johnny Buffalo nearly as much as the companionship -of the squaws had done. In his boyhood he had been -trained to serve his sergeant. For fifty years that -service had been uninterrupted by ill health or accident. -It irked him now to lie idle and watch Rawley burn his -fingers on the handle of the frying pan, or wash the -dishes from which Johnny Buffalo had been fed.</p> - -<p>The long days when Rawley was away with Peter -were lonesome. There was nothing to do but to seek -sedulously after comfort, which is so rare a thing in -a camp beside the Colorado in summer that every little -whiff of cool breeze is prized, every little change in the -monotonous diet makes an impromptu banquet. Sometimes -Nevada walked down to camp with things she -herself had cooked; but Johnny Buffalo had taken -care to insult Gladys and Anita so definitely that they -refused to come near him.</p> - -<p>“I am well enough now to walk,” he announced -one evening, when he had insisted upon cooking the -supper. “To-day I climbed to the top of that hill. -In a sack on my shoulder I carried a rock that weighed -twenty-five pounds. I am well. We can go now and -find the gold.”</p> - -<p>“You packed a rock up that hill?” Rawley laid his -hands on his hips and squinted at the hill indicated. -“You ought to get sun-struck for that. But if you -think you’re up to it, we can hit the trail to the mountain -about day after to-morrow. I’ll have to drive up -to Nelson to-morrow to get more grub and the mail. -You might borrow the burros from Peter and meet me -at the mouth of the canyon. That will save time and -give you a chance to try out your shoulder.”</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo actually grinned and stepped more -briskly than was his normal gait, as if he would prove -himself as spry as any young man of twenty-six.</p> - -<p>Thus for ten days they wandered through rocky -gorges, and climbed the steep sides of hills, and returned -to their camp for fresh supplies and a day or -two of rest. The “great and high mountain” in the -distance had seemed to recede before them as they -walked. They had been three days in reaching its -base. Another two days had served to take them over -the top and down on the other side westward. There -their trail seemed to end, for that side of the mountain -was almost entirely covered with loose rubble of decomposed -rock. There were no cliffs or jagged rocks -anywhere that they could see.</p> - -<p>Since Peter had burned the code, and the list of -references was in St. Louis with Grandfather’s Bible, -they were compelled for the present to depend altogether -on memory. But Rawley could repeat the code -from beginning to end without hesitation. The only -explanation, then, of their failure was that either he -had made a mistake somewhere in writing down the -marked passages or Grandfather King had marked -them wrong.</p> - -<p>Rawley astonished Nevada somewhat by asking to -borrow her Bible. But when he received it he could -not remember the references, so that he was no better -off than before. One thing was certain: the only great -and high mountain within sight of El Dorado, looking -north, with “Cedar trees in abundance scattered over -the face of the high mountain” had no cliffs upon its -western side. When the mountain itself failed to -measure up with the description, the whole code fell -flat. It was a big country, and it was a rough -country. A man might spend a lifetime in the -search.</p> - -<p>“My sergeant did not lie,” Johnny Buffalo contended -stubbornly. “He was a great man. He did -not make mistakes. When he said the gold was there, -in the clefts of the jagged rocks, it was there. He -said it.”</p> - -<p>“He said it—fifty years ago,” Rawley retorted -rather impatiently. “I didn’t see any gold formation -anywhere on that mountain. It’s true that ‘Gold is -where you find it’; but it leaves earmarks in its particular -neighborhood for the man who knows how to -read the signs. If there is any gold on that mountain, -some one carried it there.”</p> - -<p>“There is gold where my sergeant said there is -gold,” Johnny Buffalo insisted. “I shall look until I -find.”</p> - -<p>“You will need winter quarters, then,” Rawley observed -grimly, rummaging for his sweater. October -was hard upon them, and the wind was chill. “Tell -you what, Johnny. I’ll have to get out and earn some -more money, anyway. I have a dandy offer that came -in the last mail. It’s a big job, and it ought to net me -a thousand dollars, easy. You remember that spring -we passed, back here three or four miles? It isn’t far -from the trail. There’s plenty of wood, and a little -prospecting there might turn up something. I noticed -as we came through that the country looked pretty -good. I’ll help build you a cabin there and get you -fixed up for winter. Then I’ll go and report on this -mine—and come back, maybe, after I’m through. -Peter’ll see that you have everything you need while -I’m gone.”</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo nodded approval. “All winter I -will hunt for the gold my sergeant gave you,” he declared. -“He said it was on the high mountain. I -shall find it.”</p> - -<p>Rawley had long ago learned that argument was a -waste of time and breath. All the while they were -building the cabin, Johnny Buffalo talked of finding -the gold while Rawley was gone; and Rawley did not -discourage him. He was saving a secret for the old -man, and he was in a hurry to have it complete before -he must leave.</p> - -<p>Rawley’s mother had offered for sale the furniture -and belongings of the west wing, and Rawley had surreptitiously -bought them for a fair price through the -friendly dealer who had known him since Rawley was -a child. The things were stored ready for shipping. -Rawley wrote for them; and on the day when the truck -was to bring them to the end of the road nearest -Johnny’s winter quarters, he encouraged Johnny to -start on a two-day trip to the mountain. Peter and -Nevada arrived with the burros before Johnny had -much more than walked out of sight.</p> - -<p>Never mind what it cost those three in haste and -hard work. When Johnny Buffalo dragged himself -wearily to the cabin at dusk on the second day, he -walked into an atmosphere poignantly familiar. Even -the wheel chair had arrived with the rest of the things. -That, however, Rawley had left crated and stored in -the little shed adjoining the cabin. Everything else -he had unpacked and arranged as he had seen them in -the west wing.</p> - -<p>Peter and Nevada had lingered, waiting for the old -man’s return; but after all they lacked the courage to -follow him when he went inside. He was gone a long -while. The three sat out on a rock before the cabin -and watched the moon slide up from behind a jagged -peak across the river. They did not talk. Splendid -dreams held them silent,—dreams and their conscious -waiting for Johnny Buffalo.</p> - -<p>Even when he came from the cabin there was no -speech amongst them; Johnny Buffalo looked as -though he had been talking with angels.</p> - -<p>A few days after that, Rawley went away to his -work, content because he had wheedled from Nevada -a promise to write to him and keep him informed of -Johnny Buffalo’s welfare and the progress of the dam. -He expected to return in a month. But instead of -coming he wrote a long letter.</p> - -<p>He had finished the mine report and was about to -leave for Washington, he said. The president of the -School of Mines where he had studied wrote him, asking -if he would not offer his services to the government, -which was badly in need of men for research -work. Minerals hitherto in little demand had suddenly -become tremendously important,—for while the -country was not yet at war it was quietly preparing -for such an emergency. He told Nevada that, much -as he disliked to change his plans, it was too good a -chance to pass up, even if his loyalty to the government -did not impel him to accept the tacit offer. He -would come in contact with some of the biggest men -in the game, he wrote.</p> - -<p>In April, when war was actually declared, Rawley -was already thoroughly shaken down into his job. He -still wrote twice a month to Nevada, but his letters -became shorter,—as if they were written in stray -minutes snatched from his duties. An interesting assortment -of postmarks Nevada collected during the -ensuing two years. Every State in the Union that -could flaunt a mineral product seemed to be represented. -Her replies were usually about two jobs behind -him, so that letters with the Nelson, Nevada, -postmark trailed patiently after Rawley wherever he -went.</p> - -<p>During the war, his mother saw him just once, when -he happened to be passing through St. Louis and could -stop over for a few hours. Johnny Buffalo, Peter, -and Nevada saw him not at all.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXX' title='XX—NEVADA ANALYZES'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER TWENTY</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>NEVADA ANALYZES</span> -</h2> - - -<p>On a certain day in June, Rawley left his car at -Nelson and started afoot down the trail to Cramers. -Although the war was over he was still in the service -of the government. A bit leaner, a bit harder-muscled, -steadier of eye and of purpose, with a broader -vision, too. Rawley had been making good.</p> - -<p>After more than two years away from this particular -point on the Colorado, old emotions came sweeping -back upon him as he caught sight of this bold peak or -that wild gorge, familiar landmarks along the trail. -Halfway to Cramers, he turned aside and followed a -dim trail that went climbing tortuously up a narrow -canyon and so reached a bold hillside where the cabin -of Johnny Buffalo squatted snugly beside the spring.</p> - -<p>Johnny was absent,—probably still hunting for the -gold, Rawley thought, as he grinned to himself. After -so long a time spent wholly in service to others, with -the weal of his country always in the front of his -mind, the search for his grandfather’s gold mine -seemed a shade less important than it had been two -years ago. He had the Bible and the old diary with -him, but that was partly to please Johnny Buffalo and -because he thought the books might be interesting to -Peter. For himself he had not much hope of finding -the cleft in the rocks; for Johnny Buffalo the quest -would be a wholesome object in life. Johnny Buffalo -would continue the search from no selfish motive, but -in a zeal for Rawley’s welfare. There was a difference, -Rawley thought, in the way you go at a thing.</p> - -<p>He left a note for Johnny on the table and went on -down the hill and back into the trail to the river. At -the edge of the basin he stopped and surveyed the -somewhat squalid huddle of buildings, wondering why -it was he felt almost as if this were a home-coming. -Perhaps it was a fondness for his Uncle Peter, and -because Nevada had kept the place fresh in his mind -with the letters she had written him.</p> - -<p>Two strange dogs were added to the hysterically -barking pack that rushed out at him as he drew near. -Five children instead of four grouped themselves and -stared. Gladys appeared in the open doorway of her -cabin; a fatter Gladys, with another baby riding astride -her hip. The tribe of Cramer was waxing strong.</p> - -<p>He was sure that Gladys recognized him, but with -the stolidity of the race which dominated her nature, -she merely stared and gave no sign of welcome. Rawley -kicked a dog or two that seemed over-serious in -their intentions and kept straight on. When he reached -the hard-trodden zone immediately before the cabin, -he lifted his hat and spoke to Gladys.</p> - -<p>“Hullo,” she grinned fatuously. “We don’t see you -for a long time.”</p> - -<p>Anita came to the door, looked out and nodded with -an imperturbable gravity that always disconcerted -Rawley. He asked for Peter and Nevada. Peter was -at work, Gladys told him vaguely. And the clicking -of a typewriter in the rock dugout told him where -Nevada might be found.</p> - -<p>Rawley was amazed, almost appalled at the agitation -with which he faced her. In the press of his -work, of meeting strange people and seeing strange -places, he had thought the image of Nevada was -blurred; a charming personality dimmed by distance -and the urge of other thoughts, other interests. But -when he held her hand, looked up into her eyes as she -stood on the step of the porch, he had a curious sensation -of having been poignantly hungry for her all this -while. He found himself fighting a desire to take -her in his arms and kiss her red mouth that was smiling -down at him. He had to remind himself that he -hadn’t the right to do that; that Nevada had never -given him the faintest excuse to believe that he would -ever be privileged to kiss her.</p> - -<p>He sat in the homemade chair on the porch and, -because looking at Nevada disturbed him unaccountably, -he stared down at the river while they talked. -He wondered if Nevada really felt as unconcerned -over his coming as she sounded and looked. She was -friendly, frankly pleased to see him,—and he resented -the fact that she could speak so openly of her pleasure. -She could have said to any acquaintance the things she -said to him, he told himself savagely; she was like all -her letters, friendly, unconstrained, impersonal. It -amazed him now to remember that he had been delighted -with her letters. If at first he had wished -them more diffident, as if she felt the sweet possibilities -of their friendship, he had come to thank the good -Lord for one sensible girl in the world. Nevada had -no nonsense, he frequently reminded himself. She -didn’t expect the mushy love-making flavor in their -correspondence. He could feel sure of Nevada.</p> - -<p>Now it maddened him to feel so sure of her; so sure -of her composed friendliness that left no little cranny -for love to creep in. She liked him,—in the same -way that she liked Peter. He could even believe that -she liked him almost as well as she liked Peter; that -he stood second in her affections before all the world. -Covertly he studied her whenever the conversation -made a glance into her eyes quite natural and expected. -She met each glance with smiling unconcern,—the -most disheartening manner a lover can -face.</p> - -<p>“You’ve grown, Cousin Rawley,” she said. “Yes, -I’ve got your home name on my tongue—from -Johnny Buffalo, I suppose. Well, you <i>have</i> grown. -I don’t mean your body alone, though you have filled -out and your shoulders look broader and stronger, -somehow, even though you may not weigh a pound -more. But you’ve grown mentally. There’s a -strength in your face—an added strength. And -your eyes are so <i>much</i> different. You keep me wondering, -in between our talk, what is in your mind—back -of those eyes. That’s a sure sign that a great, -strong soul is looking out. It’s been an awful two -years, hasn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“It has,” Rawley answered quietly, his mind reverting -swiftly to several close squeaks from the enemy -at home.</p> - -<p>“Two years ago you’d have said ‘You <i>bet</i>!’ just -like that. ‘It has’ wouldn’t have seemed expressive -enough. That’s what I’m driving at. Now you can -just say ‘It has’, and something back of your eyes -and your voice gives the punch. Cousin Rawley, you -can cut out all exclamatory phrases from now on, if -you like. The punch is there. I’ve seen other men -back from service. One or two had that same reserve -power. The others were merely full of talk about -how they won the war. It’s funny.”</p> - -<p>Rawley did not think it was funny. She had lifted -his heart to his throat with her flattering analysis and -had dropped it as a child drops a toy for some fresher -interest. He was all this and all that,—and she had -seen other men return with the same look. Right -there Rawley silently indulged himself in his strongest -exclamatory phrase in his vocabulary.</p> - -<p>Nevada had turned her head to call something in -Indian, replying to her grandmother’s shrill voice. -She did not see what lay back of Rawley’s eyes at that -moment,—worse luck.</p> - -<p>“Well, I wanted to get in and help. Gladys and -Grandmother knitted sweaters and socks, and so did -I. I wanted to be a Red Cross nurse—was there a -girl in America who didn’t?—but Uncle Peter -wouldn’t let me go. He said I was needed here, to -help hold things together. But I’ll tell you what I -did do. I went into the old diggings and mined. I -found a stringer or two they hadn’t bothered with, and -I mined for dear life and sent every last color to the -Red Cross. Uncle Peter was helping, too—I mean -giving all he could—but I wanted to do something -my own self. And do you know, Cousin Rawley, -Grandmother got right in with me and shoveled gravel -to beat the cars! I didn’t write you about it—it -seemed so little to do. And besides, I didn’t realize -then the importance of living up to you. But with -that—that Sphinxlike strength you’ve acquired, I’ll -just inform you that your Injuns were on the -job.”</p> - -<p>“I knew it, anyway. And you did more good than -your personal service in hospital could have done. It -took money to keep the nurses going that were on the -job, remember.”</p> - -<p>“Two years ago,” mused Nevada, “you’d have -called me on that Sphinx remark and for calling myself -Injun. Yes, you have grown. You can keep to -the essential point much better than before. Well, -and how is Johnny Buffalo? I haven’t seen him for -a week.”</p> - -<p>“Nor I for over two years. I left a note on his -table. Nevada, how long has he had that wheel chair -of Grandfather’s standing across the table from his -own?”</p> - -<p>Nevada looked at him studyingly until Rawley, for -all his vaunted strength, found his eyes sliding away -from the directness of her gaze.</p> - -<p>“Cousin Rawley, if you have grown hard, you -won’t sympathize with Johnny Buffalo, or understand. -For more than a year, now, he has believed that his -sergeant comes and sits in that chair to keep him company. -He really believes it. You mustn’t laugh at -him, will you?”</p> - -<p>Rawley was staring down at the always hurrying -river. He said nothing.</p> - -<p>“Just don’t laugh at Johnny,” Nevada urged. -“And don’t argue with him. It’s a <i>comfort</i> to him -to believe that. He doesn’t always keep the chair at -the table. Sometimes it is by the window, or close to -the fire when I go there. I think he moves it just as -he would if your grandfather were living there with -him.”</p> - -<p>“That’s nonsense!” Rawley spoke sharply.</p> - -<p>“It’s a comfort to Johnny Buffalo,” Nevada observed -calmly. “I’m glad I saw you first, if that is -your attitude. Johnny Buffalo has been brighter and -happier, ever since he first thought he saw your grandfather walk in at the door and stand smiling down at -him. He insists that his sergeant has his legs back, -and that not a day passes but he comes and sits awhile -with him. He—there’s something he won’t tell me, -but he’s very anxious to see you, especially. I think -it is something concerning your grandfather.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, if it’s any comfort to the old man—” -Rawley frowned, but his tone was yielding.</p> - -<p>“Then do, please, act as if you believed your grandfather -is there when Johnny says he is there! You -needn’t pretend to see him. I never do. I always say -I can’t see him; and then Johnny Buffalo tells me just -how he looks, and what he says. It pleases him so! -He will be sure to have his sergeant meet you, Cousin -Rawley. And you must pretend to believe. He’s just -waiting for you to come, so that something important -can take place. He wouldn’t even tell Uncle Peter -what it is.” Nevada leaned dangerously toward Rawley -and laid a hand on his, apparently as unconscious -of the possible results as is a child who picks up an -explosive.</p> - -<p>“Promise me, Cousin Rawley, that you’ll be careful -not to hurt Johnny’s feelings.” Her hand closed -warmly over his.</p> - -<p>Rawley’s silence was not the stubbornness she -seemed to think it. He was holding his teeth clamped -together, trying to reach that quiet strength of soul -she had naïvely credited him with possessing. He had -tried to hold himself together, to refrain from making -a fool of himself, and she had mistaken the effort for -strength of soul, he thought with secret chagrin. Oh, -as to Johnny Buffalo—</p> - -<p>“I should feel very badly if I knew that I had hurt -any one’s feelings,” he said. “Least of all, Johnny -Buffalo. If he can be happy with an hallucination, I -shall not disturb his happiness. But that means a -mental letting go, according to my way of thinking. -When he takes to having delusions, he’s weakening. -I don’t like that. I can’t be with him, you see. I -have a few days to myself, and then I must be on the -job again.”</p> - -<p>“Oh. I thought you would be here for awhile, -anyway.”</p> - -<p>Rawley tried to extract some comfort from Nevada’s -tone of regret. But her regret was, after all, too candid -to mean anything especial, he feared. He did not -make the mistake of asking her if she really minded -his going again so soon.</p> - -<p>“How is the dam coming along?” That, at least, -would be a sane subject, he hoped.</p> - -<p>“Oh—it’s coming along. I believe they’re all -across the river, to-day.”</p> - -<p>She did not seem eager to pursue that subject, -either. He began to wonder more than ever what was -in her mind. Something she would not talk about, -he knew. But presently she pulled herself out of her -preoccupation.</p> - -<p>“Can you imagine that sliding volume of water -being halted in all its hurry and made to stop running -to the gulf; thwarted in its whole purpose?” she asked -dreamily. “I’ve watched it all my life. Sometimes -it’s savage and boils along, with driftwood and débris -of all kinds—I saw it at Needles, once, in flood time. -It was awful. Then to think how three men have -lived beside it and planned and worked for years and -years, to stop all that tremendous movement and pen -it up in the hills and—it seems to me that it’s like life. -It goes hurrying along, too, for years and years, and -its power is devastating and awful, sometimes. And -then—after all, it’s so easy to stop it.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Rawley, his thoughts forced back again -to things he would like to forget. “It’s easy to stop -it. Like that.” He snapped his fingers. “A man -standing so close to me our shoulders rubbed was -stopped in the middle of a sentence. We were talking. -I asked him something about the mine. He was -telling me. A cable broke, and the end of it snapped -our way and caught him in the head. Life stopped -right there, so far as he was concerned. He wasn’t -given time to finish what he was saying.”</p> - -<p>Nevada was staring at him, her lips parted, the -easy flow of her thoughts halted by the horror of -the picture he had drawn with a few quiet words. -So few words—spoken so quietly, she thought fleetingly.</p> - -<p>“I—didn’t know—right beside you! It might -have—Weren’t you hurt?”</p> - -<p>Rawley lifted a hand to his cheek, where a fine, -white line was drawn.</p> - -<p>“The tip of one strand flicked me there,” he said. -“Made a nasty gash.”</p> - -<p>The pallor in Nevada’s face deepened. She shivered -as if a sudden chill had struck her skin.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Rawley, after a further five minutes -of staring at the river. “I’ll be getting back. Tell -Peter I’ll be down again. Or if he can take the time, -have him come up, will you?”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you call him father?” Nevada asked -him. “You aren’t ashamed of him, are you?”</p> - -<p>Rawley looked at her, the truth on the tip of his -tongue. But he closed his lips a bit more firmly, -smiled down at her and shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Peter and I understand each other,” he told her -enigmatically and went away.</p> - -<p>He quite agreed with Nevada. Even in times of -peace, life could almost be called devastating.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXXI' title='XXI—THE TRUTH ABOUT RICHES'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE TRUTH ABOUT RICHES</span> -</h2> - - -<p>“To-morrow,” said Johnny Buffalo, with a transparent -air of triumph, “we will go to the cleft in the -rocks, by the path which no man knoweth, and you -shall go down into the deep pit and find the gold.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that?” Rawley looked up from crowding -tobacco into his pipe after a most satisfying supper. -“You found it, did you?”</p> - -<p>“My sergeant led me to the place,” Johnny Buffalo -stated gravely. “There was a mistake. The great -and high mountain which holds the gold was not that -greatest mountain which we can see. There were -cedar trees scattered over the face of the mountain -when my sergeant found the gold. That was many -years ago. Now there are no cedar trees or trees of -any kind. That is why we could not find the place. -One year ago, my sergeant came and led me to the -spot.”</p> - -<p>“Is the gold there?” Rawley leaned forward, -studying the old Indian through half-shut eyes.</p> - -<p>“I did not go down into the pit. My sergeant -would not permit me to go. He says that you will go, -and that you will there learn the truth about riches. -He told me that I must not go down and look, for it -would not be good that I should see what will be revealed -to you.” Johnny Buffalo spoke as if he were -reciting a lesson. His face was turned toward the -empty wheel chair, drawn before the open window.</p> - -<p>Rawley frowned over the lighting of his pipe. The -mystical message made little impression on his mind, -but he did worry over the Indian’s implicit belief in it. -His promise to Nevada bound him to silence on the -subject of hallucinations, however, even though he -had in mind several things which he would like to say.</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo, sitting straight-backed with his -hands spread palm down on his knees, related all the -incidents of his life during the past two years. Queo -had been accused of other murders, and after a particularly -heinous one at the Techatticup mine had disappeared -altogether. Once Johnny Buffalo had seen -him and had taken a shot at him, but again the gun -had kicked,—or perhaps his aim was not too good. -He had missed. Once his cabin had been robbed of -food, and he suspected the outlaw of committing the -depredation. Of the tribe of Cramer he would say -little. Not once in the two years had he been in their -camp, he said. Peter and Nevada came often to see -him. They were good to him. His sergeant had -come, and he had seen him. His sergeant sometimes -spoke to him. Perhaps Rawley would see him.</p> - -<p>Rawley did not think so, but he refrained from -voicing his doubt. As tactfully as possible he avoided -the subject and told some of his own adventures, to -which Johnny Buffalo listened with polite attention. -It was plain to Rawley that his mind was given up to -another matter, and that he was merely waiting with -his Indian patience until he could guide his adopted -son to the secret cleft on the side of the mountain.</p> - -<p>“No man has been before us,” he declared emphatically, -when Rawley questioned him. “Bushes have -grown in the cleft until I could not have found it or -suspected that a cleft was there if my sergeant had not -shown me the spot. The cleft is there. I have seen -it. The bushes are very old, and there is much dead -wood. There is the great heap of stones, and there -has been a dead tree. But it is gone many years and -only the root is left to show that it once stood joined -to the great heap of stones. When the sun comes I -will show you.”</p> - -<p>He was punctiliously true to his promise, for the sun -was not ten minutes above the peak across the river -when Rawley stood beside the “Great heap of stones -... joined to a dry tree”, or what even he could see -had once been a dry tree. It had been an unmerciful -trail, and he could easily believe that it was a path -which the eye of man had not seen. Indeed, it was not -a path at all, but a line of least obstruction through an -upheaval of what Rawley’s trained eyes recognized as -iron-stained quartz and porphyry.</p> - -<p>The place was almost inaccessible, and from a short -distance it resembled a blow-out of granite so much -that no prospector would trouble to investigate. Besides, -Johnny Buffalo explained that this had been a -popular habitat of snakes, and that he had spent a -great deal of his time, since the location of the spot, -in hunting rattlesnakes. He proudly added that he -had earned many dollars in extracting the oil and in -selling the skins. He feared that he had not gathered -them all, however, and he warned Rawley against setting -his foot carelessly amongst the rocks.</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo then gathered dry leaves and started -a fire in the brush. So much dead wood underlay the -growth that the crevice was presently a furnace.</p> - -<p>“If any snakes are there, they will come out,” he -observed grimly. “Also, light will go down, so that -you will not stumble in darkness. I know what my -sergeant meant in the message: ‘Take heed, now -... that is exceeding deep.’ You will need light.”</p> - -<p>Rawley nodded. He was watching the flames -curiously.</p> - -<p>“By Jove, Johnny, I believe you are right,” he exclaimed, -pointing. “Do you see that? There is a -strong draught from <i>beneath</i>. There’s an opening -down there, sure as anything. And I’ll admit to you -right now that this is gold formation blown out here. -The iron stain is a good mask for it. I can readily -believe that it hasn’t been prospected.”</p> - -<p>“My sergeant does not speak lies,” Johnny Buffalo -retorted imperturbably. “I know that it is so.” -Whereupon he gave chase to a rattlesnake that had -slipped out from between two tilted bowlders and went -sliding sinuously away. With a crude trident, long -of handle and tough and light, he pinned the snake to -the ground and neatly sliced off its head with a light -ax which he carried suspended from his belt.</p> - -<p>“Here’s another,” Rawley told him, and Johnny -Buffalo, moving with surprising agility, caught that -one also.</p> - -<p>“For a time I gathered the venom in a bottle,” he -informed Rawley in his serious tone. “But now I -take only the body. When you go down into the pit -there will be no snakes until you reach the bottom. -Then you look out.”</p> - -<p>Rawley was sufficiently impressed to borrow the -trident, which was barbed and could kill as easily as -it could capture. So, when the fire had died and the -rocks had cooled a little, he went down into the pit.</p> - -<p>A blowhole it was, such as is frequently found in a -country so torn by volcanic action. As he descended -he read the signs at a glance,—signs which to a layman -would have meant nothing whatever. Beneath -all this, said the rocks to Rawley, there should be gold. -His pulse quickened as he worked his way downward, -seeking foothold precariously where he might. The -thought that Grandfather King, of all the millions of -men in the world, was the only one who had ever dared -these depths, thrilled him with pride. Not even the -Indians had known of it, he was sure. He wondered -how his grandfather had managed the snakes, and -then it occurred to him that Grandfather King might -have discovered this place late in some season after -the snakes had been overcome by their winter -lethargy.</p> - -<p>He breathed freer when his feet crunched in coarse -gravel and he knew that he had reached the bottom. -He had encountered no snakes, which he considered -good luck, especially since he had needed hands and -feet and all his great strength to negotiate the descent, -and had been compelled to abandon the trident before -he had gone fifty feet. As nearly as he could estimate, -the blowhole was well over two hundred feet in depth, -and there were places where he had no more than comfortable -room for his body. The flashlight hung on -a thong around his neck showed him how terrific had -been the explosion that had torn this crevice open to -the surface.</p> - -<p>Rawley stood in a cavern probably ten feet high -and extending farther than his light could penetrate -in two directions, which his pocket compass showed -him as east and west. So far the code was correct. -The width he estimated as being approximately thirty -feet, although the walls drew in or receded sharply, -as the formation turned hard or soft. He faced -toward the east and went forward, pacing three feet -at a stride, his flashlight throwing a white brilliance -before him.</p> - -<p>Seventy-two strides down the high, tunnel-like -cavern brought him to the “River of pure water.” -There he stopped and stood, turning his light here and -there upon the walls, the water, the gravel. His heart, -that had been beating exultantly as his hopes rose -higher, slumped and became a leaden weight.</p> - -<p>Gold had been there. Of that he had no doubt -whatever. But the placer had been mined,—gutted -and abandoned. He apprehended at once the truth; -that here was an underground stream, one of the -sunken rivers for which the desert country is famous—that, -or a small branch of a sunken river. There -must be some other point of ingress, one of which -Grandfather King had no knowledge. Some one had -come in by the other route and had taken the gold. -The work had been done systematically, by miners who -knew what they were about. A glance at the workings -told him that.</p> - -<p>Rawley turned his light down the stream. As far -as its rays could pierce the dark of the cavern, the -placer workings extended. He went on, following -the windings of the stream and its natural tunnel. -Now that he had discovered his grandfather’s potential -riches, the legacy which he had confidently believed -was a fortune, Rawley was determined to see just -where the watercourse would lead him.</p> - -<p>He thought that he must have followed it for a -mile or more, although it could have been farther. -All the way along, the gravel had been worked and the -gold taken out. A suspicion had been growing in his -mind, and quite suddenly it crystallized into certainty. -He walked into a larger cavern, the full extent of which -he could not see from that point. There he stopped -and considered.</p> - -<p>Near at hand, all around him, black cans were piled. -He did not need the second glance to tell him what it -was he had run into. Here was the secret hoard of -black powder which the Cramers had been gathering -together for years. Here was the powder that would, -in the space of a breath, tear down two mountain sides -and halt the flow of a great river,—if what they hoped -and dreamed should come to pass.</p> - -<p>The Cramers, then, had taken the gold which Grandfather -King had discovered. Here was a part of it, -no doubt, transformed into tons of explosive. Rawley’s -grin was sardonic as he surveyed the piled cans. -It would be a bitter ending for their quest that he must -show to Johnny Buffalo, he thought.</p> - -<p>He walked on slowly and halted suddenly when a -light showed ahead. Some one was coming toward -him, and Rawley instinctively snapped off his light -and moved to one side. War habits were still strong -upon him, and in any case he would not trust the -Cramers.</p> - -<p>Presently he saw that it was Peter, and called to him -and went forward. Peter was astonished, but he was -also glad to see Rawley.</p> - -<p>“I meant to walk over to your place this evening,” -he explained. “We’re so busy, right now—”</p> - -<p>“With the dam?” Rawley sat down on a keg of -powder, started to roll a cigarette and remembered that -it might not be wise.</p> - -<p>“Yes. We’re loading her as fast as we can. It’s -a big job, and the old man is getting fractious over -the delay.” Peter sat down on another keg and took -off his hat, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “It’s -going to be a blistering day outside. Seems like an -ice-box in here. How did you come?”</p> - -<p>Then Rawley told him.</p> - -<p>Peter listened in complete silence, his arms folded -on his knees. When Rawley had finished, Peter -straightened up with a sigh.</p> - -<p>“I never dreamed we had cut into your ground,” -he said heavily. “I thought, as you probably did, -that the code described an old, underground watercourse -some miles from here. But you must be right, -this is it. Old Jess discovered gold near the river, at -a point where this stream back here dives under the -cliffs and empties, most likely, into the river somewhere -under the water line. It was rich; a heap richer -than any one ever dreamed, I guess. And the fact -that the stream flowed right into the Colorado may -have given him his first idea of gathering the gold that -had washed on into the river. If you come with me, -I’ll show you.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t be too long,” said Rawley. “Johnny -Buffalo’s up on top, waiting for me to come back with -my pockets full of gold. It’s going to be hard on the -old man, especially since Grandfather’s gold went into -the clutches of Old Jess. I don’t know that I’d better -tell him. At the same time,” he mused aloud, “I -can’t tell him that there isn’t any gold; he is so firmly -convinced that his sergeant told the truth. He’d have -to know that some one else has beat us to it.”</p> - -<p>Peter turned and looked at him thoughtfully. “I’ll -give you some nuggets to take up to him,” he said. -“Old Johnny’s pretty keen, and he holds a bad grudge -against Young Jess and the old man. If I could, you -know I’d replace the gold we got from under that -blowhole. But I can’t. It has all been spent, practically. -Gone into the dam, along with the rest.”</p> - -<p>Rawley laid his hand on Peter’s shoulder and left it -there.</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t do anything of the kind,” he -laughed. “That darned dam idea of yours is catching. -I’ve got it, and got it bad. If that gold you beat -me to will tip enough rock into the river to make a -good job of the dam, I’m satisfied. All I ask is that -you let me know when you’re ready so I can see her -go. Are you doing as I advised,—preparing to shoot -her with electricity?”</p> - -<p>Peter nodded. “Old Jess kicked on the cost, but -we showed him how it was the only safe way. She’s -all loaded, across the river. We did that during low -water and carried the wiring across up to a high, overhead -cable that crosses the river all ready to be hooked -up to the battery. I talked with a mining man about -explosives and found out some things that came in -pretty handy, I guess. I got a hint not to break the -ground with dynamite enough so that the power of -the black powder would be killed in the seams opened -up. We didn’t use so much dynamite, after all. -We’re depending on the black powder.”</p> - -<p>“I still warn you against it,” said Rawley. “But -if you can’t be stopped, I do want to see the fireworks. -There’s a pretty engineering problem there, and it will -be worth a good deal to see how it works out.” His -thoughts returned again to the old Indian waiting up -on the hill. “I’ll buy some gold from you, Uncle -Peter, if you have it handy. I’ll tell old Johnny it’s -all I could find; I think I can satisfy the old fellow -with the thought that his sergeant had it straight.”</p> - -<p>Peter left him for five minutes and returned, carrying -a small canvas sack.</p> - -<p>“Here’s a handful of specimens I tucked into a niche -in the rocks, intending to give them to Nevada for a -necklace or something,” he told Rawley. “But Nevada -can have diamond necklaces when the dam goes -in. You take these, boy. Maybe some of them sort -of belong to you, anyway.”</p> - -<p>“Lord, <i>I</i> don’t want them,” Rawley protested. -“I’ll give them to Johnny Buffalo, though. It will -keep him from worrying about it. More than all that, -it will keep him off the warpath, the old catamount.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXXII' title='XXII—GREATER THAN GOLD'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>GREATER THAN GOLD</span> -</h2> - - -<p>Johnny Buffalo held a handful of nuggets in his -hard, brown palms. His eyes shone whenever he -looked toward the old wheel chair beside the window. -He listened to Rawley’s explanation of why there -would be no more gold, but the technical phraseology -went completely over his head, and he smiled abstractedly -and held up first one bit of gold and then another -to the light. They were very heavy. They were -beautiful. They had lain, hidden away all these years, -just where his sergeant had said that they were -hidden.</p> - -<p>“‘There is a path which no man knoweth,’” he -muttered, when Rawley had finished and was waiting -to see what effect his harangue about erosions and -changed currents had taken on the Indian mind. “It -is so. My sergeant said it, and it was the truth. My -sergeant never lied. Always the words he spoke were -true. I know it without proof. Now you have the -proof, and you know it also.”</p> - -<p>“There won’t be any more, you understand,” Rawley -repeated with finality. “My work is to examine -these matters and report the truth about them. After -examining what lies at the bottom of the pit, I am reporting -to you that there will be no more gold—”</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo stopped him with a hand lifted, palm -out. “What was revealed to you in the pit is not -good for me to know,” he stated firmly. “My sergeant -has said that you should know the truth about -riches. He said that it would not be good that I -should know the truth as you would know it.”</p> - -<p>“That’s true, too,” Rawley admitted, taken aback.</p> - -<p>“The gold was there when my sergeant said that it -was there. That is good. My sergeant did not say -that there would always be gold where gold has been. -I think that is the truth about riches which you have -learned.”</p> - -<p>“You’re right, Johnny.” Rawley grinned at him -ruefully. “If we’ve had any dream of being millionaires, -we may as well forget it. Grandfather gave us -the straight dope, and you found the cleft in the rocks. -It isn’t Grandfather’s fault that the millions have -moved on. So that’s all of that, and the next thing is -something else.”</p> - -<p>“The next thing is what is given us to do,” said -Johnny Buffalo solemnly. “We will do our duty, -whatever that may be. Now I have no more searching -for my sergeant’s gold. I shall live here until it -is time to go. I do not think it will be long.”</p> - -<p>Rawley looked at him anxiously, but he could not -bring himself to speak what was in his mind. Johnny -Buffalo would not understand that to the young death -is a dreadful thing, to be shunned and never thought -of voluntarily,—an ogre that may snatch one away -from the joys of living. After all, he thought, Johnny -Buffalo had outlived his love of life. No one needed -him. He had only to wait. Rawley wished that he -could be with him longer and oftener, but that was not -possible unless he were willing to sacrifice the work -he loved. Even if he could bring himself to that, -Johnny Buffalo would not permit it. It would break -his heart to feel that he had hindered his sergeant’s -grandson.</p> - -<p>“Your work,” said Johnny Buffalo, almost as if he -had been reading Rawley’s thoughts, “is better than -the gold. A man is great within himself, or he is -nothing. The full pocket makes the empty head. It -is greater fortune that you have honor and youth -and work to perform. So my sergeant would tell -you.”</p> - -<p>“You’re right, Johnny,” Rawley assented again. -“If we’d found a ton of gold I think I’d have gone on -with my work just the same. A man my age can’t -stop working for the sake of seeing how fast he can -spend money. I couldn’t, anyway.”</p> - -<p>“Then you do not need the gold. You can earn -what you need and have the pleasure twice: in the -getting and in the spending. So you have not lost.”</p> - -<p>“We’re a great pair of philosophers,” Rawley -laughed, “or else we are eating sour grapes. Blamed -if I know, sometimes, just where the difference lies. -Or perhaps there isn’t any, and crying sour grapes is -true philosophy, after all.”</p> - -<p>Peter and Nevada, coming up the path, diverted the -talk to lighter channels. Nevada, spying the gold, exclaimed -over the odd pieces and took them in her -cupped palm to admire each specimen by itself.</p> - -<p>“They are yours, save this one which I shall keep,” -said Johnny Buffalo unexpectedly. “Rawley will not -take them. I do not need gold. I have three friends -and the spirit of my sergeant, who waits for me. I -am rich. They are yours. Put them on a chain and -hang them around your neck while yet it is white and -round.”</p> - -<p>Nevada looked at him a full fifteen seconds before -she moved. Then she rose and kissed Johnny Buffalo -on the withered cheek nearest her.</p> - -<p>“To know a man like you is a privilege,” she said -simply. “I shall keep the nuggets to remind me that -not all men worship gold.”</p> - -<p>“You will wear them in a necklace. My sergeant -wishes you to have them. They are not so beautiful -as your white throat.”</p> - -<p>Nevada blushed vividly and shook the nuggets in -her two hands. “It’s a good thing Grandmother -can’t hear you,” she laughed. “An old bachelor like -you!”</p> - -<p>“An old bachelor can say what the young man dares -only to think,” Johnny Buffalo stated calmly.</p> - -<p>Rawley was trying distractedly to read a letter which -Nevada had brought down from the post-office, and to -pretend that he did not hear what was going on. But -it is reasonable to assume that there was nothing -in the letter to make him blush at the moment -when Johnny Buffalo said his little say. Nevada -stole a glance at him from under her lashes and -smiled.</p> - -<p>“What is it, Cousin Rawley?” she asked wickedly. -“You seem disturbed.”</p> - -<p>“I’m called back on the job.” Rawley tried to meet -her eyes unconcernedly. “I won’t even have the week -I promised myself. This is pretty urgent, and so I -think I’ll take the trail again in the morning.”</p> - -<p>Even Nevada betrayed some mental disturbance over -that information, especially when Rawley could not -hazard any opinion concerning his next visit.</p> - -<p>“I won’t even have time to look over your work at -the dam,” he told Peter. “I intended going down -to-morrow. I wanted to have a talk with you about -that. I’ve picked up a little information, here and -there, and I’m afraid there will be complications. But -I’ve been holding off until I was sure of my ground. -I know, of course, that my personal opinion won’t -have much weight.”</p> - -<p>Peter shook his head. “You can work and pry -and lift till your eyes pop out of your head, starting -a bowlder down a mountain,” he said grimly, “and -you can give it the last heave and over she goes. Any -time, up to that last heave, you can quit and she stays -right there where she was planted. But once she -starts, all hell can’t stop her. I’m afraid we’ve given -the last heave, son.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Look out below!</i>” Nevada cried mockingly and -looked at Rawley. “I could tell a cousin in three -words how he can make himself as popular as a rattlesnake -with the Cramers,—and the last of the -Macalisters.”</p> - -<p>“And those three words?” Rawley looked her -squarely in the eyes.</p> - -<p>“Fight the dam.” Nevada’s eyes were as steady as -his own.</p> - -<p>“Thunder!” Rawley sat back and reached for his -tobacco sack. “I’ve no notion of fighting the dam. -It’s the biggest proposition I ever saw three lone men—and -a girl; excuse me, Nevada!—tackle in my life. -Four of you, thinking to stop, just like that,”—he -made a slicing, downward gesture, “—the second -largest river in the United States! You’ll be damming -the Gulf Stream next, I suppose. Divert it so -as to warm up Maine and make it a winter-bathing -resort!”</p> - -<p>“Do you dare us to try?” Nevada poured nuggets -from one palm to the other. “That might be a good -investment, when we’ve made our clean-up in the river -bed.” She smiled dreamily at her handful of gold. -“That’s a wonderful idea. We need some wonderful -idea to work on, after the dam is in and the gold is out. -You can’t,” she looked up wistfully at Rawley, “you -can’t live with a tremendous idea all your life and suddenly -drop back to three meals a day and which dress -shall you wear. One would go mad. It—it’s like -taking the mainspring out of life.”</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo nodded his head in significant approval. -“A man can only wait, then, until it is time -to go,” he said with quiet decision.</p> - -<p>“Very well. I’ll speak to the Peace Conference -about the Gulf Stream,” Rawley assured her gravely. -“In case I am unable to reserve it for you—would -the Gulf of Mexico do, or the Mississippi River, -perhaps?”</p> - -<p>“We’re accustomed to cracking our whip over fresh -water,” Nevada retorted. “I should prefer to have -the Mississippi, please.”</p> - -<p>Johnny Buffalo glanced toward the wheel chair, -gazed at it intently and nodded his head.</p> - -<p>“You will succeed and fail in the succeeding,” he -intoned solemnly. “In the failure you will rise to -greater things. It is so. My sergeant never speaks -what is not true.”</p> - -<p>Eyes moved guardedly to meet other eyes that -understood, conveying a warning that the old man -must be humored. Johnny Buffalo stood up, his -face turned toward the wheel chair. He seemed -to be listening. His eyes brightened. The wrinkles -in his bronzed old face deepened and radiated -joy.</p> - -<p>“It is good! I need not wait—I go now!” He -took an eager step and wavered there.</p> - -<p>Peter and Rawley, rising together, caught the old -man in their arms as he went down, falling slowly like -a straight, old tree whose roots have snapped with age.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXXIII' title='XXIII—THE EAGLE LOOKS UPON A GREAT RIVER'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE EAGLE LOOKS UPON A GREAT RIVER</span> -</h2> - - -<p>Rawley drove down El Dorado Canyon, now silent -in mid-afternoon, with not a sound of stamp mill or -compressor or the mingled voices of men at work. -Techatticup stood forlorn, deserted save by one old -man who bore himself proudly because he was the -guardian there. The war, the labor question, the -slump in metals, had done their work. It seemed to -Rawley as if the nation were taking a long breath, -making ready to go forward again more resistlessly -than before. He missed Johnny Buffalo terribly; but -if he could, he would not have called him back. -Johnny would have had a dreary time of it, alone all -these long months when Rawley’s work had held close -to the affairs of the government.</p> - -<p>The eye of the Eagle had not been closed. His -keen glance had gone to this and to that, his piercing -gaze had fixed itself upon the desert land and the river -that went hurrying down through flaming gorge and -painted canyon, a law unto itself, an untaught, untamed -giant of the wild; a scenic wonder set deep in -savage walls of rock, where people came and looked -down upon it, drew back shivering, ventured to look -again in silent awe; a terrible, devastating thing from -which men fled in terror when the giant river rose, -leaped from its bed and went raging across the land.</p> - -<p>Men called for power, for protection, for water to -till barren acres that might be made fertile. Men -shouted for the things which the Colorado held arrogantly -within its grasp, to hoard with miserly greed -or to let loose in a ferocious fury. The Colorado had -power, it had water, it had a cruel habit of devouring -lands and homes and whooping onward toward the -gulf, heedless of the destruction in its wake.</p> - -<p>And the Eagle had lifted his head and turned his -eyes upon the great river. Here, within the borders -of his domain, dwelt a powerful, savage thing that -must be tamed and taught to obey the will of men. -The Eagle considered this headlong defiance of all -civilized restraint. The Eagle saw how men looked -upon the river, drew back in awe and ventured to look -again; men, who should be the masters of the river. -The Eagle lifted and spread his wings. And the tip -of a wing reached over the desert land and laid its -shadow across the Colorado.</p> - -<p>A great orator had painted it so, and Rawley was -thinking of that picture of the Eagle as he drove down -the canyon to the very brink of the river and climbed -out of his car. Still desolate, more forsaken than -ever was the place where El Dorado had stood alive, -alert, self-sufficient. The camp was gone, almost forgotten. -The river flowed past, disdainful of the puny -efforts of men who died and forgot their dreams and -their endeavors, while it rushed on through the ages, -and played with the lives of men and mocked at their -fear of it.</p> - -<p>But three men and a girl had dared to dream of -holding the might of it in leash. It was to see these -dreamers, to warn and to show them the shadow of -the Eagle’s wing, that he had come in haste to the bank -of the Colorado. For months he had heard nothing. -Nevada had not written, or if she had the letter had -not reached him. There was danger in delay, in their -continued silence.</p> - -<p>Rawley slung a canteen over his shoulder and -started up the river, taking the well-known trail. This -was the quickest way to reach the Cramers, and now -that he was in their neighborhood once more a great -impatience was upon him, a nervous dread that he -might be an hour, a minute too late for what he had -come to do.</p> - -<p>He came upon Nevada suddenly. She was standing -on the site of the old camp where he had stayed -with Johnny Buffalo. Her back was toward him, and -she was holding something in her two hands; something -he had seen her extract from the thorny branches -of a stunted mesquite bush. When his footsteps -sounded close, she turned and looked at him dumbly, -her eyes wide and dark. The thing she held in her -hands was his pipe,—one that he had lost on that first -trip into the country.</p> - -<p>Before his better judgment or his doubts could stop -him, Rawley drew her into his arms and held her close -while he kissed her. It was so good to see her again, -to feel her nearness. But after one rapturous minute, -she put away his arms and faced him calmly, -though her breath was not quite even and her eyes -would not meet his with the old frankness.</p> - -<p>“Your one eighth of Indian blood should have given -you more reserve, Cousin Rawley,” she reproved him -mockingly. “The Spanish of us must be watched. -Well, I needn’t ask about your health; you haven’t -been pining during your absence, that one could -notice.”</p> - -<p>Rawley barely escaped forswearing both his Indian -and his Spanish blood, but remembered his promise -just in time. He did not believe that Nevada regretted -his impulsiveness,—for you simply can’t fool a man -under thirty when he kisses a girl. Nevada’s lips, he -joyously remembered, had not been unresponsive.</p> - -<p>“Here’s your pipe,” she said lamely, when he only -stood and looked at her. “I was just wondering -whether it’s worth saving, or whether I’d better heave -it into the river and see how far it would float.”</p> - -<p>Rawley did not believe that she intended to heave it -anywhere, but he passed the point.</p> - -<p>“If cousins fell in love, they—would you consider -the relationship any bar—”</p> - -<p>Nevada went white around the mouth.</p> - -<p>“I certainly should! You ought to be ashamed to -ask a question like that. No man with any decency -could think of such a thing.”</p> - -<p>“I’m decent,” Rawley contended, “and I thought -of it.” But he did not pursue the subject further. -Nevada had turned and was walking on toward the -camp of Cramer, and Rawley could do nothing but -follow. The path was too narrow to permit him to -walk beside her, and a man feels a fool making love to -a woman’s back.</p> - -<p>“Have you done anything further about the dam?” -he asked, after a silence.</p> - -<p>“I believe the work is going ahead,” Nevada replied, -keeping straight on.</p> - -<p>“You must have received my letter about it; or -didn’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I received a letter about something of the -sort.”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t answer it, did you? I never received -any reply.”</p> - -<p>“I did not think,” said Nevada, “that the letter required -any answer. You wrote and told us to stop -all work on the dam, and give up the idea, because -some one else wanted to build a dam. Or was considering -the building of a dam. I read that letter to -Grandfather and Uncle Jess and Uncle Peter, as you -requested. They swore rather fluently and went to -work the next morning as usual.” Then, as if it had -just occurred to her, “Did you come to see about that, -Cousin Rawley?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I wish you’d omit the ‘cousin’,” Rawley -blurted irrelevantly. “I don’t like having it rubbed -in.”</p> - -<p>Nevada said nothing for a time. Then she laughed, -a hard little laugh that sounded strange, coming from -her.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, if you wish. I’m very sorry I seem to -have ‘rubbed it in’, as you put it. And I quite understand -how you feel. Out among men—and women—as -you have been, all your life, the—er—mixed -relationship would prove rather a handicap. Poor old -Grandfather and Grandmother should have thought of -their children’s children, before they fell in love. And -Uncle Peter should either have brought you here and -raised you with the rest of the tribe, or never told you -the truth. I’m not blaming him; I’m merely sorry for -the mistake. I know what it means. I’ve been out -in the world, too.”</p> - -<p>Rawley stared at the proud lift of her head and -wondered just how much of that she meant. She -must be quite aware of his reason for disliking to be -called her cousin, but he would not argue with her. -Except about the handicap.</p> - -<p>“You’re mistaken, if you think the mixed blood is -an objectionable feature,” he said firmly. “Indian -and Spanish have the same essential characteristics of -race that the straight white blood owns. Besides, -there are mighty few Americans who couldn’t trace -back to something of the sort. Character, culture and -environment sweep a few drops of red blood into the -background, Nevada. You wouldn’t feel bitter over -it, if you didn’t live right here and see the Indian predominate -in Young Jess and Gladys—and your -grandmother.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Your</i> grandmother, as well as mine,” she flashed -over her shoulder with a very human spitefulness. -“Don’t deny it—to me.”</p> - -<p>Rawley did not deny anything at all; wherefore, -conversation languished between the two. Since first -he had known her, Nevada had frequently withdrawn -into an unapproachable aloofness discouraging to any -lasting intimacy, but she had never before betrayed -resentment against her blood.</p> - -<p>He had hoped that she would be glad to see him -and would let him see that she was glad. He had hoped -to win her complete confidence in his devotion to their -interests and welfare. He needed to have both -Nevada and Peter on his side, if he were going to be -successful in his mission to the Cramers. But he was -extremely doubtful now of ever winning Nevada’s -confidence. It began to look as though he may as -well count her an opponent and be done with doubt.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXXIV' title='XXIV—ANITA'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>ANITA</span> -</h2> - - -<p>Life seemed to have moved sluggishly in the basin, -save in the increase of the tribe. Six young Cramers -now walked upright, though the smallest walked insecurely -and frequently fell down and lay squalling -with its eyes shut and its nose wrinkled until one of -the older children picked it up and dusted it off, remonstrating -the while in Pahute. The seventh was -not yet old enough to ride the well-upholstered hip of -Gladys, but wailed in a cradle which some one must -be incessantly rocking.</p> - -<p>Gladys was more slatternly than ever she had been, -and her vacuous grin had lost a tooth. Anita had -aged terribly, Rawley thought. She moved slowly, -with a long stick for a staff, and her eyes held a dumb -misery he could not face. Nevada informed him that -Grandmother had not been very well, lately, although -there was nothing wrong, particularly.</p> - -<p>“She doesn’t sleep at all, it seems to me,” Nevada -detailed. “Often she’s up and prowling along the -river bank in the middle of the night, and I have to -go and lead her back. I think she’s getting childish. -She will sit and watch me by the hour, when I’m working, -but she doesn’t seem to want me to talk to her. -She just sits and looks, the way she’s been looking at -you.”</p> - -<p>Nevada went away then to some work which she -said was important, and Rawley wandered down to the -river bank. In a few minutes he heard a sound behind -him and turned, hoping that Nevada had yielded -to his unspoken desire and was coming to join him.</p> - -<p>But it was Anita, walking slowly down the uneven -pathway, planting her crude staff ahead of her in the -trail and pulling herself to it with a weary, laborious -movement. Her gray bangs hung straight down to -her eyelids. Her wrinkled old face was impassive, -her eyes dumb. Rawley bit his lip suddenly, thinking -of his Grandfather King sitting, “a hunk of meat in -the wheel chair.” Life, it seemed to him, had dealt -very harshly with these two. He was no longer -swayed by the stern prejudice of Johnny Buffalo. He -did not believe that Anita, in her lovely youth, had -been merely a whimsy of love. His grandfather had -loved her, had meant to return to her. He did not -believe that King, of the Mounted, would have loved -one who loved many. The King pride would not have -permitted that.</p> - -<p>Anita came up to him and leaned hard upon her -stick, her eyes turned dully upon the river. Never -before had she sought him out; rather had she avoided -him, staring at him with a look he interpreted as resentment. She looked so old, so infinitely tired with -life, and her eyes went to the river as if it alone could -know the things she had buried in her heart, long ago -when she was a slim young thing, all fire and life.</p> - -<p>With a sudden impulse of tenderness he put his arm -around her, leading her to the flat rock and seating -her there as gallantly as if she were Nevada, whom -he loved. It was what his grandfather would have -done. Rawley felt suddenly convicted of a fault, almost -of a sin; the sin of omission. Here was the love -of his grandfather’s youth, the mother of his grandfather’s -first-born. And because she was old and fat, -because the primitive blood had triumphed and she -had yielded to environment and slipped back into Indian -ways, he had snobbishly held himself aloof. He -had ignored her claim upon his kindness. Had her -beauty remained with her, he told himself harshly, his -attitude had been altogether different. Now he -wanted to make up to her, somehow, for his selfish -oversight. He sat down beside her and patted her -hand,—for the Anita who had been beautiful, the -Anita whom King, of the Mounted, had loved.</p> - -<p>“You love—my girl—Nevada?” The old squaw -spoke abruptly, though her voice held to a dead level -of impassivity.</p> - -<p>“How did you know?” Rawley took away his -hand.</p> - -<p>“I know. I have seen love—in eyes—blue. -Eyes like your eyes.”</p> - -<p>“Nevada doesn’t care anything about me, Anita.”</p> - -<p>At the word, the old squaw turned her head and -stared at him fixedly. “You call that name. Where -you know that name? Jess, he call me Annie.”</p> - -<p>Rawley flushed, but there was no help for it now—or, -yes, there was Johnny—</p> - -<p>“Johnny Buffalo called you Anita,” he parried.</p> - -<p>Anita shook her head slowly. “Jawge—your -gran’fadder—he call me Anita too,” she said wistfully. -“You ver’ much—like Jawge. I firs’ think—you -are ghos’ of Jawge, when you come.”</p> - -<p>“Grandfather was crazy about you,” slipped off -Rawley’s tongue. “He spoke of you in his diary—a -book where he wrote down things he did—things -he thought.”</p> - -<p>Anita stared down at the river.</p> - -<p>“You tell me,” she commanded tersely. “All -those things—Jawge think—about—Anita.”</p> - -<p>Rawley’s hand went out and closed again over her -wrinkled, work-hardened knuckles.</p> - -<p>“The first was when he came up to El Dorado on -the <i>Esmeralda</i> in ’66. He was leaning over the rail, -watching the miners crowd down to the landing. He -wrote, ‘I saw a young girl—I think she is Spanish. -She has the velvet eyes and the rose blooming in her -cheeks. She’s beautiful. Not more than sixteen and -graceful as a fairy.’ What more he wrote of you I -don’t know. He cut the pages from the book so no -one could read it.”</p> - -<p>Anita raised a knotted, brown hand and smoothed -her bangs, tucking them neatly under her red kerchief.</p> - -<p>“I was little,” she said complacently. “Ver’ beautiful. -Every-body was—crazy—about—me.” She -halted, choosing the best English words she knew. “I -was—good girl. I love—nobody. I jus’ laugh all -time—when them so’jers make the love. Then I see—Jawge—my -Sah-geant King. He is king to me. -Tall—big—strong—all time laughing—making -love with blue eyes—like you—all time make love—with -eyes—to Nevada. I know them eyes—I have -lived—to look—in them eyes.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t do anything of the kind,” Rawley protested, -confusion crimsoning his face. “I’ve always -tried—”</p> - -<p>“Eyes like them eyes—no tell lies. Woman eyes -see—things they tell. Jawge—he write more?”</p> - -<p>“Most of it was cut from the book. He called -you ‘<i>el gusto de mi corazon</i>,’ and his ‘<i>dulce corazon</i>.’ -Do you know—?”</p> - -<p>Beneath his palm Anita’s hand was trembling. She -pulled it free and lifted it to her face, her withered -fingers wiping the tears that were slipping down her -wrinkled cheeks. Rawley could have bitten his tongue -in two. Awkwardly he patted her on one huge, -rounded shoulder.</p> - -<p>Like a lonesome dog, the old woman whimpered -behind her brown palm, from beneath which a tear -sometimes escaped and splashed upon her calico wrapper. Rawley sat silent, abashed before this forlorn -grief over a romance fifty years dead.</p> - -<p>“Now I love Nevada, Peter.” She mastered her -tears and became again impassive. “You leave me—Nevada? -Lil time—I want Nevada. I die—then -you can love—many years. You do that?”</p> - -<p>“Of course. I promised Peter, a long time ago. -But it doesn’t matter, anyway. Nevada doesn’t care -a rap about me.”</p> - -<p>The old woman looked at him stolidly.</p> - -<p>“You not tell Nevada—you not Peter’s boy,” she -said. “Nevada think that. You not tell Nevada—that’s -a lie. You tell Nevada, I kill myself.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve no intention of telling Nevada,” Rawley said, -chilled by her manner. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”</p> - -<p>“You not come—for Nevada? You not think, -marry Nevada—take Nevada ’way off, I no see any -more?” Anita peered into his face.</p> - -<p>“No. I came to see Peter. About the dam.”</p> - -<p>Anita took some time over this statement. Then -she rose stiffly and hobbled away, leaving Rawley to -stare morosely into the river.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXXV' title='XXV—THE EAGLE AND THE VULTURE'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE EAGLE AND THE VULTURE</span> -</h2> - - -<p>“You may as well listen to me,” said Rawley in the -incisive tone which big responsibilities had taught him. -“I am your friend. My only object in coming here -is to be of service to you. If you do not listen to what -I have to say, you will have to listen to the Federal -Reclamation Service, acting under the Secretary of -the Interior. That may be more convincing to you—but -believe me, it will be less pleasant!”</p> - -<p>“You were keen for the dam, last time you were -here,” Peter reminded him drily. “You called it a -big idea. You’ve had a change of heart, son.”</p> - -<p>“I have. I have come to tell you that there are other -ideas bigger than yours, and a power behind them that -will make yours look like building a toy dam in the -sand, like kids. You must have read of it in the -papers. There’s been all kinds of publicity given to -the project.”</p> - -<p>“You’re right. There’s been a heap of talk,” Peter -retorted. “The papers have done the talking, and -we’ve been sawing wood and keeping our mouths shut. -While they’re still talking and arguing and speechifying, we’ll put ’er in. There’s nothing the matter with -that, is there? Take the wind out of their sails, maybe, -especially the fellows that have their speeches all -written out, ready for the next banquet. But,—<i>the -dam will be in</i>! They’ll have some work, trying to -get around that point.</p> - -<p>“You ask if we’ve read the papers. I have. -They’ve been talking about spending a hundred million -dollars. We’ve spent one. They’ve been fiddling -along the river, looking to see if it’s feasible. We’ve -kept right on digging. They thought we were <i>mining</i>—the -only party that discovered our diggings. They -were very patronizing, very polite, and they talked -about the wonderful things a dam would do for us. Is -that what you came to tell us, son?”</p> - -<p>Rawley leaned back against the wall and laid one -foot across the other knee, tapping his boot with his -finger tips. He was facing them all. He must convince -them, somehow, and he must batter down the -dream of a lifetime to do it.</p> - -<p>“No, you’ve read most of the talk,” he told Peter. -“I admit the thing has almost been talked to death. -It begins to look as though the general public is tired -of reading about damming the Colorado. If that were -all there is to it, Peter, I’d never say a word. But -there are some facts we can’t get around with talk, or -defiance. I came here to show them to you—just -plain, hard facts—and let you see for yourself what -they mean.</p> - -<p>“In the first place—and this is probably the hardest -fact you have to face—the Colorado is an international -stream. It flows through a part of Mexico. -The Constitution of the United States has decreed that -such rivers must at all times and in every particular -be under the control of the Federal Government. -There are seven States bordering this river, yet not one -of them dare build a dam without the consent and -supervision of the government. Get that firmly -planted in your minds, folks.”</p> - -<p>Young Jess turned his head an inch and slanted a -look at Old Jess. Old Jess crossed his legs, folded his -arms and trotted one rusty boot, waggling his beard -while he chewed tobacco complacently. No one could -fail to read his mind, just then. He was thinking that -what seven States were afraid to do, he, Jess Cramer, -had dared. The joke was on the seven States, according -to Old Jess’s viewpoint.</p> - -<p>“Arizona,” Rawley went on, after a minute of contemplating -the complete satisfaction of Old Jess, -“Arizona wants water for irrigation. One hundred -and fifty thousand acres of desert land can be made -fertile with the water of the Colorado, properly diverted -into a system of canals.”</p> - -<p>“They kin have the water,” the Vulture conceded -benificently. “We don’t want it. Glad to git rid of -it. You kin tell ’em I said so.”</p> - -<p>Young Jess laughed hoarsely.</p> - -<p>“Sure. Glad to git it off’n our hands!”</p> - -<p>“The State of Nevada wants power for her mines. -The copper interests are after a dam up the river here, -so that they can resume the output of copper. They -want a smelter, operated by power from the Colorado. -Two million brake horse-power of electric energy is -slipping past your door, worse than wasted.</p> - -<p>“California wants more power for her industries—”</p> - -<p>“She’s welcome,” Old Jess stated smugly. “We -ain’t hoggin’ no electric energy ’t I know of.”</p> - -<p>“You are, if you interfere with the building of a -dam of sufficient size and strength to conserve that -power.”</p> - -<p>Young Jess leaned forward, grinning impudently -into Rawley’s face.</p> - -<p>“Hell! There’s thousands uh miles up river that -we ain’t doin’ a thing to. They kin build dams from -here to Denver, fer all we care! That’s all poppycock, -our interferin’. Everybody with ten cents in -his pocket is talkin’ about buildin’ a dam in the Colorado. -Why the hell don’t they go ahead and <i>do</i> it? -We ain’t stoppin’ nobody!”</p> - -<p>“You may be, without knowing it,” Rawley explained -patiently, determined to educate them beyond -their single-track idea, if possible. “I see how it -looks to you, of course. But I’ll explain how it looks -to the greatest engineers in the country, Jess. You -remember I was rather keen for it, myself. It was out -of my line, and I didn’t know.</p> - -<p>“Now the fact is, you are attempting, with a certain -amount of rock blown into the river from the -sides, to dam a river second only to the Mississippi.</p> - -<p>“I know, the Missouri is wider, but I am speaking -now of the volume of water that passes through this -canyon right here. It is a swift river, and it is a deep -river. You don’t realize, any of you, just how deep -and how swift it is, though you have lived beside it -all your lives.</p> - -<p>“Peter has spoken of the amount of money they are -talking of spending to build a dam at Boulder Canyon, -up here. The canyon there is as narrow as this; perhaps -narrower. And to hold back the tremendous -volume of water that flows past your door, engineers -have said that they must go down one hundred and -fifty feet, to bed rock, and start there to build their -dam. They say that the dam will—must—to hold -back the terrific pressure of water, rise something like -six hundred feet above low-water mark. It will keep -several thousand men working for eight or ten years -to complete the dam, its spillways and main canals. It -will cost around one hundred million dollars, and it -will bring both protection and prosperity to thousands -and thousands of people. That,” he declared, leaning -forward, “is what it means to dam the Colorado.”</p> - -<p>“It don’t mean that to us,” Old Jess stated, turning -his quid to the other cheek. “We aim to show ’em -something about buildin’ dams.” He grinned and -showed yellow snags of teeth.</p> - -<p>“Yeah. Wait till they see how <i>we</i> aim to do it,” -snickered Young Jess. “We’ll be rakin’ in the gold -whilst they’re still standin’ around with their mouths -open.”</p> - -<p>Peter had fallen into a taciturn, grim mood, staring -somber-eyed at the river. Beside him, Nevada leaned -chin upon her cupped palm and stared also. Several -thousand men, working for eight years! That was as -long as the years back to her first sight of the convent -where Peter took her to be educated. Thousands of -men working all that time—thousands! Was it, -then, so deceptively vast, that river? Would the cliffs -they had undermined fall in and be swept disdainfully -away? Did it really belong to the government, that -river, so that no man living all his life on its bank -might say what should be done with it? Had Uncle -Peter, and Young Jess and her grandfather been children, -playing all these years beside a stream they must -not touch or tamper with?</p> - -<p>“It sounds as big as the stars,” she observed -vaguely. “As if we had been waving a handkerchief -at Mars, down here by the river, and then some one -comes along and pushes us back and says, ‘Here, here, -you must stand back. You are obstructing the view. -The President wants to wave his handkerchief. You -annoy him.’ Do you think,” she flashed at Rawley, -“it is going to make any difference to the river—who -dams it first?”</p> - -<p>“You don’t get the point,” Rawley protested. “I -am not responsible because the undertaking is so stupendous -that it is beyond any private enterprise. You -<i>can’t</i> shoot a lot of rock into the river and call that a -dam. And if you could, you must not. Don’t you -see? The welfare of too many thousands of people -are involved. It’s a job for the government. You -can’t take it for granted that, just because you have -lived beside it all your lives, and because it doesn’t seem -to belong to anybody, any more than the clouds belong, -that you can claim it, or even claim the right to do as -you please with it. There’s a right that goes away beyond -the individual—”</p> - -<p>“The gold down there is ours,” Old Jess cried -fiercely. “We own placer claims on both sides of the -river, and the lines run across. We’ve got a right to -placer the gold in the river bed. It’s <i>ours</i>. We got a -right to git it any way we kin! The gov’ment can’t -stop us, neither.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, it can!” Rawley rashly contradicted. -“When you come down to fine points, the government -owns this river. It owns the river bed and whatever -gold is there. By ‘right of eminent domain’, if you -ever heard of that.”</p> - -<p>“Right of eminent hell!” Young Jess got up and -stood over Rawley threateningly. “Tell <i>me</i> a bunch -uh swell-heads back in Wash’n’ton, that never <i>seen</i> this -river, can set and tell us what we can do an’ what we -can’t do? We own claims both sides the river, and -we got a right to what’s <i>in</i> the river. You can’t come -here and tell us, this late day, ’t we got to quit, and -lose our time an’ money, because the gov’ment or somebody -wants to build a dam. Hell, <i>we</i> ain’t stoppin’ -nobody! They better nobody try an’ stop us, neither!”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXXVI' title='XXVI—“TAKE THIS FIGHTING SQUAW AWAY!”'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>“TAKE THIS FIGHTING SQUAW AWAY!”</span> -</h2> - - -<p>Never before had Rawley seen Young Jess in a -rage. A surly, ignorant fellow he knew him to be, -and not too intelligent. A dangerous fellow, Rawley -believed him; quite capable of killing any man who -thwarted him or roused his fury. But Rawley did not -move or attempt to placate him. He had learned that -some natures must blow up a great storm before they -can yield. He hoped that this was the case with -Young Jess.</p> - -<p>The old vulture craned his neck forward, his eyes -piercingly malevolent.</p> - -<p>“Think I’ve waited fifty year fer that gold, t’ be -robbed of it now? They ain’t no gov’ment on earth -can step in an’ take what’s mine! I’ll blow ’em to hell -first! I’ll—”</p> - -<p>As once before, when he thought his gold was threatened, -Old Jess ran the full gamut of anathema. Nevada -fled from the sound of his cracked voice shrieking -maniacal threats and maledictions. He shook his fist -under Rawley’s nose and stamped his feet and raved. -Young Jess was over-ridden, silenced by the old man’s -insane outburst.</p> - -<p>As once before, Peter said absolutely nothing until -Old Jess had reached the zenith of his rage. Then he -rose deliberately and without excitement, took the old -man by the collar and headed him toward the door.</p> - -<p>“Go and cool off,” he advised dispassionately. -“You old vulture, you can’t scream any louder than -the Eagle. You, too, Jess,” he added, turning harshly -upon his half-brother. “You’re a pretty good man -when it comes to swinging a single-jack, but you’re -a damn poor hand at thinking! This thing is away -beyond your depth. You can’t holler the government -down. Get out!”</p> - -<p>Young Jess blustered and threatened still, flailing -his fists and mouthing oaths.</p> - -<p>“That’s about all from you,” grated Rawley, stung -to action by some vile threat against the government.</p> - -<p>“Is, hey?” Young Jess advanced upon him.</p> - -<p>Then Rawley went for him, the blue eyes of the -Kings gone black with fury. The fight, if it could be -called that, was short and undramatic. No tables were -overturned, no glass was shattered. Young Jess -aimed a sledge blow at Rawley, got one on the jaw -that spun him so that he faced the other way, and -Rawley forthwith kicked him off the porch. Young -Jess rooted gravel, looked over his shoulder and saw -Rawley coming at him again, and started off on all -fours. When he regained his feet he went away, -blathering blasphemy. He was going for his gun,—so -he said.</p> - -<p>Peter stood looking after Young Jess, his brows -pulled together. A slim figure slipped past him and -went straight to Rawley, who was pulling at his tie, -which had gone crooked. She was pale, breathless -with the fear that looked out of her big eyes.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you must go—<i>now</i>,” she breathed, clasping -her two hands around his arm. “You think he’s just -like any other bully, all bluster. He’ll kill you, just -as sure as you stand here. Grandfather, too. Uncle -Jess will shoot you in the back—oh, <i>anyway</i>! He’s -the worst of the Indian blood; once you rouse him, -there’s <i>nothing</i> he’ll stop at! Get him away, Uncle -Peter! It isn’t brave, to stay and be killed. It’s the -worst kind of cowardice; the kind that is afraid to -show itself. Uncle Peter!”</p> - -<p>“We’re going, Nevada. I know Young Jess. A -rattlesnake’s a prince alongside him when he’s mad. -Son, you should have left him to me. I can handle -him pretty well, no matter how mad he gets. Come -along; he’ll not be above potting you from ambush, -Injun style.”</p> - -<p>He left the porch at the farther end, pulling Rawley -after him; and much as Rawley hated the thought of -retreat, he was forced to believe that Nevada and -Peter, neither of them timid souls, must know what -they were talking about.</p> - -<p>Nevada disappeared, with no word of farewell to -Rawley. Young Jess could be plainly heard bawling -at Gladys because his “shells” had been misplaced.</p> - -<p>Peter chuckled.</p> - -<p>“One of the kids shot himself through the hat, a -month or so ago,” he explained his amusement. -“Since then the guns are kept unloaded. Jess is hunting -cartridges; God bless Gladys for a poor housekeeper!”</p> - -<p>He still held a firm grip on Rawley’s arm, leading -him down the path to the river. But suddenly, keeping -an ear cocked toward the sounds behind him, he -swung away from the trail toward the bluffs.</p> - -<p>“He’s found them, from the way things have -quieted down, back there. He’ll be hot on your trail, -now—unless Nevada can stop him, which I doubt. -He’s Injun enough to hold women in contempt when -it comes to a show-down. Here.”</p> - -<p>He pulled Rawley down between two great, upstanding -bowlders standing black against the stars. Rawley -felt a movement of Peter’s arm, and knew that Peter -had pulled a gun from somewhere and was aiming it -across a ridge of rock. Rawley himself could hear -nothing but the crying of the wakened baby in the -shack, the yelp of a kicked dog.</p> - -<p>For a long time, it seemed to Rawley, they waited. -He could not hear a sound. But Peter still held his -gun leveled across the rock before them, and Rawley -could feel how Peter’s muscles were tensed for a -struggle.</p> - -<p>Two greenish lights showed faintly as a star-beam -struck the eyeballs of a dog. A shuffling sound approaching through the weedy gravel, a sniffling at -Peter’s hand. Rawley felt a crimple down his spine, -though he did not think that he was afraid.</p> - -<p>A pebble plunked into something close beside him, -and the dog shied off with a faint, staccato yelp. -Young Jess, then, was close. A muttered curse -reached the ears of the two between the bowlders. Immediately -afterward, Nevada’s whisper came distinctly.</p> - -<p>“I think he’s hidden here, somewhere in the rocks. -His car is down in the canyon, but he wouldn’t go that -way—he’d expect you to follow. Watch the dog. -He hasn’t any gun—I know. Can you creep back -toward the hill—”</p> - -<p>“Sh-sh. You call him. Quiet, as if you was -scared. Make out you’re sweet on him—”</p> - -<p>“I can’t. He knows—I hate him. We quarreled -to-day. I hate his snobbish ways—I told him so.”</p> - -<p>“Call his name if you run onto him. Then duck. -I’ll—”</p> - -<p>“Sh-sh—he may be near!”</p> - -<p>The two were standing close together, just beyond -the bowlder that reared its bulk beyond Peter. Rawley -bit his lip, straining his ears to hear more.</p> - -<p>“You call him. He won’t s’spect—” Young -Jess urged in a whisper.</p> - -<p>“He’d be a fool if he didn’t. I tell you he -knows—”</p> - -<p>“He’s stuck on yuh. That makes a fool—”</p> - -<p>“Sh-sh. He’s not—”</p> - -<p>Inch by inch, Rawley was drawing himself backward, -until now he was free of the bowlder and -Peter. From the sounds, he knew that the two were -standing close to the rock. He thought that they -were facing the river, though he could not be sure. -It did not greatly matter. He inched that way until -he could faintly distinguish two upright blots in the -darkness of the bowlder’s shadow.</p> - -<p>Upon the taller of the two he launched himself, -reaching instinctively for the gun he knew was there. -His hand closed on the cool steel of the barrel, and he -gave a mighty wrench as he went down. Young Jess, -caught unawares from behind, had no chance to save -himself. Rawley landed full on his back, his chest -forcing the face of Young Jess into the gravel. His -left hand gripped the back of Jess’s neck.</p> - -<p>“Peter, please take this fighting squaw to the house -and lock her up somewhere. Then come back here. -I want to have a talk with you before I go,” he said -hardly. “I can handle this vermin, but I leave the -squaw to you.”</p> - -<p>“As you like,” Peter’s voice was noncommittal. -“Come, Nevada.”</p> - -<p>Rawley had expected some outburst from her, some -bitter reply to his taunt. But she went away with -Peter and spoke no word to any one. So Rawley -pulled off his necktie and tied Young Jess’s hands behind -him, and made himself a smoke while he waited -Peter’s return.</p> - -<p>“I’ll git you, and I’ll git you right!” gritted Young -Jess, when Rawley had his cigarette going. “You -better kill me now, or you’ll see the day you’ll be begging -me to kill yuh. I’ll ketch yuh and take yuh back -in the mine, an’ I’ll—” He amused himself for some -minutes, making up the programme of his revenge. -He would finish, he decided, by building a bed of powder -kegs and placing Rawley full length upon it, with -a ten-foot fuse spitted just before Young Jess bade -him good-by.</p> - -<p>“You ought to have lived fifty years ago,” Rawley -commented indifferently, and blew smoke in his face. -“Why don’t yuh squeal for that old buzzard of a dad? -Maybe he could help yuh out, right now.”</p> - -<p>Young Jess, having just made up his mind to shout -for Old Jess to come, shut his mouth so hard his teeth -clicked like a dog cracking a bone.</p> - -<p>“Any fool can plan the things he’d <i>like</i> to do,” Rawley -taunted. “What counts is the fact that you’re on -your back, right now, and that I put you there—and -you with a gun in your hands! I could kick you in -the slats and make you howl like a kicked pup. I -could drive your teeth in, so you’d feed yourself in -the back of your head the rest of your life! Don’t -talk to <i>me</i>—about what you’d like to do! I’m liable -to experiment on yuh, just to see how it works.”</p> - -<p>Then Peter returned, and further social amenities -were postponed to some future meeting.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXXVII' title='XXVII—“YOU TELL HOOVER I SAID SO!”'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>“YOU TELL HOOVER I SAID SO!”</span> -</h2> - - -<p>Las Vegas awoke one morning to find itself in the -public eye. Destiny had so decreed when it permitted -Las Vegas to become the town nearest to the proposed -dam site at Boulder Canyon,—the largest governmental -project undertaken for many a day. The -Panama Canal, said the orators (and no doubt they -spoke the truth), had not cost so much as it would cost -to dam the Colorado River, to conserve its tremendous -power, to control its flood waters and put the river to -work tamely watering long rows of cotton, potatoes, -great fields of grain. Long enough had it gone leaping -down through the wildest, most gorgeous scenery -in the country. Now it must be harnessed to new industries -and become the servant of plowboys, the -friend of prospectors. It must pull trains across the -desert which it was to transform into tilled farms. It -must keep several States vibrant with the hum of -machinery. It must make of the town of Las Vegas -a city worthy the name. One can’t blame Las Vegas -for being particularly interested in that phase of the -project.</p> - -<p>The town lay fairly under the eye of the Eagle,—and -of the sun, whose light the magic alchemy of the -desert transmuted into soft tints on the mountains, -into a faint lavender glow on the desert. The air was -still, with a little nip to it that would later soften to a -lazy warmth. A stranger to the desert, standing on -the depot platform, would have thought that he might -walk quite easily to Charleston Mountains, standing -bold and stark against the western sky line.</p> - -<p>Down the flag-draped main street, coming from the -side door of the little post-office, a huge, good-natured -negro leaned against a pushcart piled high with dingy, -striped canvas mail sacks. When he passed, certain -belated citizens swung out to the edge of the pavement -and took longer steps, knowing that the train was on -time, and that the crowd would already be edging out -upon the platform. Automobiles with flags standing -perkily from headlight braces went careening past, to -swing up into the parking space, trying their nonchalant -best to look as if they were not going to hold governors -and high officials of the Federal Government -and carry them safely down to Boulder Canyon, the -most popular dam site on the Colorado.</p> - -<p>A group of small boys dressed in white came marching -down the street, stubbing toes over the uneven -places because they must keep their eyes on the music -while they played the uncertain strains of a march. -They were very sleek as to hair, very shiny as to cheeks -and very solemn, those boys. Their mothers and their -fathers and their teachers were going to detect any -false note or flatted sharp and tell them about it afterwards. -Besides, there aren’t many boys who ever get -a chance to stand on the platform and play when the -Governor’s train comes in—and be the only band on -the job. They felt the deep responsibility attendant -upon the honor and thought feverishly of certain spots -in the music where they weren’t quite sure they could -make it; not with the whole town standing around -listening.</p> - -<p>They fumbled their instruments, stood hipshot and -consciously unconcerned while they waited for the -train. Their leader glanced around the group, encountered -certain anxious pairs of eyes fixed upon his face, -and made an impulsive change in the programme. -“The Star-Spangled Banner” was appropriate and -customary for such occasions, but there were treacherous -high notes which a certain scared boy might play -flat, and other places where the slide trombone was in -danger of skidding. He gave them a piece they could -play with their eyes shut and was rewarded by hearing -long sighs of relief here and there among the -musicians.</p> - -<p>So it happened that when the train had slid into the -station and the Governors and high officials had descended -from the private car, Rawley caught the -familiar air, “I’m forever blow-ing bubbles” floating -out over the heads of the assembled citizens of Las -Vegas. If the tune wabbled here and there, what matter? Governors and high officials can hear better -music anywhere,—but they never will hear a more -sincere effort to please, made by more loyal hearts than -skipped beats under the white jackets of the “kid -band” of Las Vegas.</p> - -<div class='poetry-container'> - <div class='poetry'> - <div class='stanza'> - <div class='verse'>I’m dreaming dreams, I’m scheming schemes,</div> - <div class='indent2'>I’m building castles high—</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Rawley caught himself humming the words to himself -and thought, in a heartsick way, of Nevada, only -twenty-five miles from him, so far as miles went,—a -million miles away in her thoughts.</p> - -<p>“I’ve talked Boulder Canyon Dam until I wonder -sometimes if it isn’t Bubble Canyon, maybe,” a certain -governor confided to him under his breath. “Do you -reckon this is a civic confession the kids are making, -or what?”</p> - -<p>“The civic air castle—nearest the kids can come -to it,” Rawley grinned. “Wait till you hear this town -stand up on its hind legs and tell you how they feel -about it. They talk Boulder Canyon in their sleep, -I reckon. It’s no bubble to <i>this</i> bunch! If the -rest of the country had half the enthusiasm this -town has got, they’d be hauling concrete to the river -to-day!”</p> - -<p>“Instead of the Commission, huh? Well, I wish -they were.”</p> - -<p>A man pushed out of the fringe of common citizens -who came merely to look upon assembled greatness and -faced Rawley, smiling with his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Uncle Peter!” Rawley gripped his hand and did -not know that his eyes searched the crowd, wistfully, -seeking a face—</p> - -<p>“No, she didn’t come,” Peter informed him. “I -want to get a chance to talk with the men in your outfit -who count the most. Not on paper, but with the -government. Can you fix it for me, boy?”</p> - -<p>“Has anything happened?” Rawley drew him -anxiously aside.</p> - -<p>“No—I just want to get at the right men. I want -you there, of course.” Peter glanced here and there -at the men who were smiling, shaking hands, speaking -pleasant phrases.</p> - -<p>“All right. Of course every minute is mortgaged, -I suppose, to the town. But I’ll get you—”</p> - -<p>“An hour will do me,” Peter stated modestly, and -Rawley suppressed a grin.</p> - -<p>Looking him over surreptitiously, Rawley decided -that he could be very proud indeed of Uncle Peter. -Even amongst governors and such, Peter could hold -his own with that quiet dignity which nothing seemed -able to ruffle, that poise which came of being very sure -of his own mind and of what he wanted. A great -man looked from one to the other curiously, and Rawley -immediately introduced Peter to him. Then he -caught the eye of another, and presently that man was -shaking hands very humanly with Peter Cramer, who -looked so much like George Rawlins King, of the -Reclamation Service. Before he quite realized what -was taking place, Peter was absorbed into the party of -great men, and a flustered waitress in the depot dining -room was hastily making room at a table and laying -another knife and fork purloined from the lunch room -outside.</p> - -<p>The reception committee probably revised at the last -minute their arrangements for seating the party in the -decorated automobiles. Some one must have been -crowded; but Peter rode in comfort in a big car in -company with some of the nation’s important men, -though this was not what he had gotten an early haircut -for. He had seen the river in all its moods and -under all conditions; it seemed strange to him now, no -doubt, to be sight-seeing it with men who had heretofore -been no more than names to be read in headlines -in week-old newspapers. But no one suspected it,—unless -perhaps some member of the reception committee -wondered how he had broken in. However, as a -guest of the Colorado River Commission, seven governors -and railroad presidents, no mere local committee -dared flicker an eyelid.</p> - -<p>“It has to be done this way—whatever it is you -want to do,” Rawley muttered once in Peter’s ear at -the river, when he caught Peter looking boredly at the -bold cliffs of Boulder Canyon. “You couldn’t get a -look-in, just coming up and trying for an interview. -As soon as we get back, and before the banquet up -town, I’ve arranged for you to talk to the Commission. -I told the chief,” he added drily, “that it was -more important than anything else he’d hear. I gambled -on that, because I know you. And a little nerve -goes a long way, sometimes. We’re going to cut this -short as possible and get back to the car early. Then—you’ll -have to boil down your hour, Peter. There -won’t be more than half that much time for whatever -it is you want to say.”</p> - -<p>“It may pay this Colorado River Commission,” -said Peter laconically, “to miss their supper to-night, -and even cut out some of the speeches they’ve got ready -to hand out to Vegas citizens. As I understand it, -the Commission was created for the purpose of investigating -claims, collecting all data and adjusting rights -pertaining to the Colorado River. They’d better take -a piece of bread and butter in their hands and eat it -while they listen to what I’ve got to say.” He paused -and added significantly, “You tell Hoover I said so.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXXVIII' title='XXVIII—THE VULTURE MAKES TERMS WITH THE EAGLE'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE VULTURE MAKES TERMS WITH THE EAGLE</span> -</h2> - - -<p>Rawley had them rounded up in the private car—governors -and high officials and newspaper representatives—lighting -cigars, cigarettes and pipes and eyeing, -their curiosity politely veiled, the big, broad-shouldered -man with the brown skin and piercing blue -eyes, who stood at one end of the car waiting for them -to settle themselves into easy, listening attitudes. -This was informal,—but if they were to believe that -keen young man, George Rawlins King, it was going -to be pretty important; and, what appealed to most of -them like a window opened in a stifling room, fresh -and untalked. It is impossible to eat, sleep and live -with one subject for months without feeling a tingle -of relief when some entirely new angle crops up,—something -that hasn’t been argued, weighed and considered -a hundred times. The Colorado River Commission -was on the job,—heart, soul and mind. But -that did not preclude secret sighs of anticipation when -the Commission faced something wholly new to every -member.</p> - -<p>Not a man among them knew Peter Cramer. Not -one had ever heard the name. He looked a man of -the desert, every inch of his six-feet-and-something-over. -He might turn out to be a bore; he did not look -like a boor. He did not wear his hair in the prevailing -fad; it grew thick to the nape of his neck and was -trimmed there neatly by some barber who remembered -how they used to cut hair. His dark suit was incontestably -made to his measure,—but it had been made -before the War. You don’t get such material nowadays. -At least, men of the desert do not get it. His -hands, as he shuffled a few slips of paper, showed how -hardly they had been used. They were the hands of a -laborer, scrubbed meticulously clean, the nails trimmed -painstakingly,—with a pocket-knife, one could guess. -So there he stood, towering above them all, with pre-War -clothes, the hands of a laborer, the eyes of a -thinker.</p> - -<p>The car became very still. Every man there looked -at Peter. And one man’s eyes held love, sympathy -and a shade of anxiety. To this moment, Rawley -King could only guess at what his Uncle Peter was -going to say. There was a little prayer in Rawley’s -heart, in his eyes. A modern, young-man prayer, -“God, don’t let him pull a boner!” It would be well -if all the prayers in all the churches were as sincere.</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen of the Colorado River Commission” -(Peter began in his deep, even voice that carried far) -“you do not know me, and I do not know you. I -thank you for consenting to listen to me. When I am -done, you may thank me for consenting with myself to -talk to you. In the words of a certain wise man—whose -wisdom I wish I might borrow as I borrow his -words—‘I am not a clever speaker in any way at all; -unless, indeed, by a clever speaker they mean a man -who speaks the truth. You will not hear an elaborate -speech dressed up with words and phrases. I will say -to you what I have to say, without preparation and in -the words which come first, for I believe that my cause -is just. So let none of you expect anything else.’ If -I could better that statement, make it more forceful, -I should hesitate. Gentlemen, they stand for absolute -honesty of purpose. Let them stand for me now, as -they stood for Socrates—but I hope with happier -effect.</p> - -<p>“Fifty-four years ago, I was born within sight and -sound of the Colorado River and within sight of the -cliffs of Black Canyon. The river has been a part of -my life. The wilderness hedged me in, mile upon -mile. When I was ten, so long ago as that, I was taught -the use of a rifle that I might help defend lives and -property from hostile Indians and renegade white men. -My mother is the granddaughter of a chief, and the -daughter of a Spanish nobleman who voyaged up from -Mexico before white men had seen this country. I -am therefore one-fourth Indian,—a son of the desert. -My father was a white man of good blood.</p> - -<p>“When I was a boy and helped in my father’s mine -at Black Canyon, I was urged to greater labor by the -great plan my father had conceived in his long labor -at the placer claims. He would save his gold until -he had enough and more than enough. Then, when -he had gold enough, he would dam the flow of the -Colorado River and get the gold that lies in the river -bed, washed down through the ages.</p> - -<p>“That plan became the splendid dream of my life, -Gentlemen of the Commission. The stupendousness -of the idea took root in my very soul. I would stand -and watch the river hurrying past, and I would think -how best it might be done, and I would picture the -river held back, halted in its headlong course to the -sea.</p> - -<p>“When I was fifteen I was studying, in a small, -groping way, the engineering feat of damming the -river at Black Canyon. I knew that I had a tremendous -problem before me. I knew that the problem was -doubled by the need of secrecy, which had been impressed -upon me from the time I was a child. No one -had thought of getting the gold from the river bed. -The river was too swift, its currents too treacherous. -I used to watch the steamboats warp up against the -sweep of that current, to make the landing at El -Dorado. That gave me an idea of the giant strength -we should have to combat, to conquer. No one ever -suspected the purpose that grew within the minds of -the ‘squaw man’ Cramer and his breed boys, mining -at Black Canyon. Deliberately we fostered the belief -in our commonplace lives, our lack of ambition, our -ignorance. That belief, gentlemen, was a necessary -factor in our ultimate success.</p> - -<p>“Studying alone—for my younger brother avoids -thinking when possible, and my father gave himself up -wholly to the thought of getting the gold—I felt the -need of help from our great engineers. I could not -take the time for college, for studying in the schools -that turn out engineers. I am a man of the desert, as -you see me. What I know I have learned by reading -when others slept. I could not give my working hours -to study, for they were sold to the need of getting -gold to build the dam in order to get more gold! I -alone realized the magnitude of the undertaking; to -me they looked for the wit to accomplish their desire. -And I remembered, gentlemen, the engineering problem -solved by half-savage peoples; their power is gone, -but their engineering feats remain to testify for them. -I remembered the pyramids, some of the wonderful -old cathedrals of Europe, the marvelous ruined cities -of the Incas, the Aztecs,—I counted myself a savage -who must think for himself, and I went at the problem -of making the splendid dream a reality.</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen, when I was yet a boy I was experimenting -with explosives. I was studying the resistance -of granite, the lifting power of black powder; -I was preparing to build the dam. Before I had books -on the subject, I had measured so many cubic feet of -granite and had heaved it a certain distance with so -many pounds of black powder. Over and over again -I did it, in spare time when I was not working in the -underground placer claims by the river.</p> - -<p>“I will be brief, gentlemen, but I want to be understood -by each one of you before I stop talking. I told -my father, when I was in my teens, that we must have -a million dollars before we could hope to carry out -his idea. I told him that we must have enough, or lose -what we had. I showed him where failure to dam the -river would mean a total loss of time, money, labor. -I convinced him that I knew what I was talking about. -I hope that I can convince you.</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen, in order to dam the Colorado River -and mine the gold in its bed, for a distance of, say, a -mile or two, you must make sure first of all of the -means, second of the secrecy of your plan, and third of -the practicability of the project. We had placer -ground of unsuspected riches; an underground watercourse -with gravel bed, carrying placer gold. This -gave us the means. We simulated poverty and ignorance -and a paucity of ambition, which gave us immunity -from suspicion that we had a secret to keep. And -I made it my business, gentlemen, to study the practical -engineering problem.</p> - -<p>“I had long ago chosen the spot for the dam; a -point in the canyon where the granite cliffs rise highest. -I drew charts—” Peter glanced toward Rawley, -and his eyes twinkled “—of a system of underground -workings which, when filled with black powder -augmented by light charges of dynamite, would break -the granite walls and heave them into the river. I -worked upon the principle that it would be better to -use too much than not enough, and for fifteen years—yes, -for longer than that—I have been buying and -storing black powder. To-day, gentlemen, I have in -place explosives which, with hush money that I was -compelled to pay for the secret, have cost approximately -one hundred thousand dollars. <i>In place!</i> -Wired, tamped with heavy cement, ready to go. -<i>Ready to shoot!</i>”</p> - -<p>He looked from face to face, smiling while he waited -for the information to sink in. He saw certain newspaper -men poise pencils before they set down the sum, -then scribble furiously.</p> - -<p>“You didn’t know that, did you? No one has told -the Colorado River Commission, until now, when I -am telling you, that twenty-five miles from here, in -the cliffs beside the river, there is at this moment peacefully -reposing a giant ready to rise up and fling rocks -into the river, and lie back again when all is done, to -watch the Colorado halt in its headlong rush to the -sea! I will be more explicit, gentlemen.</p> - -<p>“In the cliffs, <i>ready to shoot</i>—bear that always in -mind—I have five hundred thousand pounds of blasting -powder, and fifty thousand pounds of forty per -cent. dynamite, so disposed that, fired simultaneously -on both sides of the river, the volume of rock will -meet midway and drop into the channel. Some distance -up the river, I have an auxiliary dam built, ready -to blow at a moment’s notice if the main dam seems -in danger of not holding against the terrific pressure -of the Colorado’s flow.</p> - -<p>“Incidentally—I had nearly forgotten to tell you—I -have perhaps the oldest, most complete private -record of the flow, rise and fall of the Colorado River -in existence. The record goes back thirty-nine years, -gentlemen. I still use a gauge which I invented when -I was about fifteen, and I find that it is practical, -though crude.</p> - -<p>“I have planned the auxiliary dam, as I call it, to -check and help hold the pressure against the main dam, -if necessary. In flood time the force is terrific; I have -provided against that. The auxiliary dam, if thrown -in, will give me time to strengthen the main dam. I -have not expected that one big blast will end the matter. -Once that is in, and further secrecy impossible, -I shall be prepared to rush one hundred men, whose -names and addresses I have on file, to work with compressors -(two on each side of the river, each one portable -and capable of running three drills each—with -jack hammers and expert men behind them). These -will rush another system of undermining, so that a -second installment of Black Canyon can be heaved in -upon the first.</p> - -<p>“You will bear in mind, gentlemen, that we are first -in the field by a good many laborious years. I grant -you that the idea was born in greed. The eye of the -vultures have dwelt upon the gold in the river, these -fifty years. But even the vulture must give way to -the Eagle. I have seen the wing of the Eagle spread, -and its shadow has touched our dam in Black Canyon. -Gentlemen, the vulture has come to make terms with -the Eagle.”</p> - -<p>That, for reasons best known to the Commission, -was applauded. A great man asked a question.</p> - -<p>“How much, approximately, have you spent in this -undertaking?”</p> - -<p>Peter glanced down at a slip of paper in his hand.</p> - -<p>“It is something I have waited to tell you. I -divided our capital into budgets, as follows:</p> - -<p>“A dredger, now waiting at Needles to be towed up -the river, four hundred thousand dollars. (That, of -course, is our personal property and need not be considered -in our negotiations, if any are carried on.) -Fund for payment of damages to property caused by -blasting, one hundred thousand dollars. (That, -I thought, should pay for all the windows and crockery -we may break, and that remains in bank until such -time as we need it.) Property bought along the river -above the dam site, which may be inundated, fifty -thousand. Incidental expenses covering a period of -years, fifty thousand. Explosives, wiring, battery -and cement—with hush money paid out—one hundred -thousand dollars.</p> - -<p>“The explosives, gentlemen, I should expect the -government to buy, if you take over our dam; which I -hope that you will do. I have no desire now to infringe upon the rights of the government, even if I -could. The project has been my life’s work. The -achievement in itself has been the big dream of my -life. If it will be of any service to you, if your engineers -find my idea a practical one, I shall feel that my -life so far has been well-spent. I had an idea that -our dredger might still be used in the river bed to extract -the gold. We have claims on both sides of the -river. I have hoped that we might still be able to -operate our dredger, paying a royalty to the government -on whatever gold we may take out. If that is -impossible, then we shall be obliged to unload our -dredger for whatever we can get for it.</p> - -<p>“Finally, gentlemen, I must urge you to extend -your stay in Las Vegas, so that you may see our dam, -and understand more fully what I have been trying -to make plain to you: That <i>we have a dam</i>, ready to -shoot within an hour’s notice—yes, in fifteen minutes -from the time you say the word. I believe that it will -hold. You may find that, by reënforcing it, by building -spillways and preparing for your canals, our dam -will be of real, practical benefit to you—put you that -much farther along the trail. Give you something -concrete to work to, something besides politics, talk, -theories, factions. It’s there. It’s ready to speak its -little piece to-morrow, if you like—though I am not -so ignorant as to speak seriously of that. I merely -wish to point my information, make it definite. You, -or you, or you, could go down to our place, and if I -told you just where I have hidden the battery, you -could hook it up to our wires and dam the Colorado—like -that.” He snapped the fingers he had pointed and -stood waiting. And while he waited, no man in that -car did more than breathe, and look at Peter, and think -rapidly, with some consternation, of the significance of -his information.</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen, I have finished. I should like to show -you the Cramer Dam, to-morrow. It may upset your -schedule, just as I am making you late for the banquet, -which is probably waiting and cooling at this moment. -But, gentlemen, it will pay you to upset your schedule. -It will pay you to take the time and walk the two or -three miles between the nearest road and the dam. -Until you do see the Cramer Dam, which I now publicly -announce as being completed, you are not fully -qualified to make your report, if report you must make, -to the Secretary of the Interior, or whoever receives -and passes upon your findings in the matter. Gentlemen, -I thank you.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXXIX' title='XXIX—FATE HAS DECREED'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>FATE HAS DECREED</span> -</h2> - - -<p>“I should like to say just here, if I may, that many -of the astonishing facts as Mr. Cramer has placed -them before you I can vouch for from my own personal -knowledge.” Rawley was on his feet, turned -toward Peter’s audience. “Just before the war, I was -permitted to look over the work on the Cramer Dam”—privately, -Rawley liked the way Uncle Peter had -dignified the dam by giving it a name which would -hereafter identify it to the public—“which at that -time was uncompleted. I did not approve of their -project, but I will say that I was personally in sympathy -with it.</p> - -<p>“In considering the facts which Mr. Cramer has -presented to you, I am taking the liberty of asking you -to bear in mind that I am willing to vouch for their -authenticity. And in explanation of my silence on the -subject, I will say that I went to the Cramers and -urged them to abandon their project, since it would -interfere with the reclamation plans of the government. -I did not know, until he stated their position -in the matter just now, what stand they meant to take.”</p> - -<p>He sat down, and his chief nodded approvingly. It -was perfectly apparent to Peter that his cause would -be none the worse for Rawley’s championship. He -glowed to see how friendly they all were with Rawley. -Also, it surprised his unsophisticated soul to observe -the ease and familiarity with which these men comported -themselves. Headliners in the newspapers, -every one of them save the reporters themselves, he -had half expected them to retain their platform manners -in private. They were just men, after all, he -decided, and turned to answer the questions of a great -man as easily as he would have answered Rawley.</p> - -<p>The committee of entertainment waited a bit for -their guests of honor, that night. From the manner -in which the talk slid into other and more accustomed -channels the moment others entered the car, Peter -gathered that Las Vegas would continue for a time in -ignorance of what had been going on under its nose -for so long. It tickled him to picture the amazement -and incredulity when the Commission should make its -announcement. Or perhaps Las Vegas would read it -in the city papers first. They would be slow to believe -that the obscure family of Cramers could put over a -thing like that and keep it under cover all these years.</p> - -<p>At the banquet in the town hall, Peter listened to -Rawley’s dazed enthusiasm calmly while he watched -the crowd. This was the first banquet which Peter -had ever attended—a man confessing to fifty-four -years and quoting Socrates!—and he was interested. -But Rawley would not let him enjoy himself as he -would like; instead, he must tell why and why and -why; a tiresome job for Peter.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I didn’t lack confidence, boy. I wanted your -opinion without any influence from me. If I’d told -you all I knew, that wouldn’t have helped <i>me</i> any. I -wanted to know what <i>you</i> knew about it. Then I -compared your ideas with mine.</p> - -<p>“No, Jess and the old man don’t know what I’m -up to. I talked to them, some, after you left. But -they can’t see beyond the gold in the river. They’ll -be mad, I expect. But we couldn’t go on the way we -planned. You can’t fight the government, boy. The -old Eagle is a real scrapper.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Nevada knows I intended to fly a white flag. -She’s willing. She sees, as I do, that you were -right—”</p> - -<p>Peter’s neighbor on the other side claimed him then; -an engineer who wanted further details of just how -Peter had planned to move a mountain and cast it into -the river. Two men across the table left off eating -and their talk to lean forward and listen, and the man -next Rawley was frankly stretching his hearing across -and catching as much of Peter’s elucidation as he -could. So Rawley was obliged to content himself with -his pride in Uncle Peter, who was plainly making an -extremely favorable impression on certain governors -and high officials. And it amused him secretly to observe -Peter’s complete unconcern over his growing -popularity and his childlike interest in the commonplace -incidents of the banquet.</p> - -<p>An ambitious reporter slipped up behind Rawley and -asked him for the love of Mike to arrange an interview -with Cramer. His tone was imploring.</p> - -<p>“New dope—and oh, boy, it’s a hummer!” he -confided in Rawley’s ear. “You know we pencil -pushers are just about goofy, trying to get a fresh -punch into this thing. This man, Cramer, is worth a -million dollars to the project, just for the publicity -there is in him. A dam under our noses—oh, -<i>boy</i>!”</p> - -<p>“He won’t talk,” Rawley discouraged him. -“Taciturn is the word that describes him.”</p> - -<p>“Taciturn? With that talk he put over this evening? -I’ve got every word of it—it’s priceless. -Arabian Nights ain’t in it. And believe me, King, -it’s going on the wires complete, the minute we get the -word to release it.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s see,” Rawley mused. “You’re an A. P. -man, aren’t you? Well, I’ll try and run Peter into a -corner for you—but I won’t promise he’ll give you -anything.”</p> - -<p>“You, then! King, you’re wise—I can see it in -your left eyebrow. You’ve got some ripping dope on -this, and I know it. Say, if you’ll—”</p> - -<p>The toastmaster had risen and was rapping a spoon -against his plate. The ambitious scribe and the human -beehive subsided, but Rawley observed that the reporter had pulled up a chair and was preparing to camp -at his elbow and Peter’s. Well, why not? he thought -headily. A man like Peter could go far in the world, -give him a chance. And this might be the chance. A -desert man who spoke calmly of budgeting a million -dollars, the savings of a lifetime for three men, to -spend in secret upon a project over which the whole -nation was arguing, and who could make a talk like -that the first time he ever faced great men was, to -say the least, unusual.</p> - -<p>He glanced sidelong at Peter, who had straightened -and folded his arms, gravely prepared to give his full -attention to the speakers. There would be no word -out of him now, Rawley knew. As well expect a devout -old lady to divulge her recipe for piccalilli in -church. He turned his head and whispered behind -his hand to the reporter:</p> - -<p>“Stick around. I’ll do what I can.”</p> - -<p>The reporter patted his shoulder gratefully, and -Rawley came to attention, stifling a yawn. It was so -like every other banquet, and the speeches were so like -all the other speeches on the same subject! He listened -with the same bored loyalty with which the workers -in the Liberty Loan drives and all the other drives -toiled through their patriotic programme night after -night, day after day. It did not lessen their patriotism -that the workers sometimes wearied of the same old -arguments, the stereotyped appeals to the patriotism -of the public. He wished that Peter might rise and -say what he had said to the Commission, a couple of -hours ago. That would open their eyes!</p> - -<p>However, the speeches which were so old to the -visiting great ones were not old to Las Vegas, and -they were not old to Peter. There was the usual appeal -for sympathy with the project under the direct -supervision of the government, to which Peter listened -closely, his head turned a bit sidewise so that he would -not miss a word of it. The reporter was quietly -sketching his profile on a small pad, but Peter never -guessed that.</p> - -<p>A tall, lean man from California was speaking. He -was the fourth or fifth on the programme, and the -audience was restive under his voice, wanting to hear -from the greatest of the great men there. The greatest -of the great men was listening courteously with -half his mind, while the other half was divided between -an aching desire to crawl into his berth and forget the -whole darned thing for a few hours, and recasting a -certain story which might be used with effect at the -beginning of his talk,—unless Las Vegas was too -familiar with it. His colleagues knew the thing backward; -but then, when one has traveled much with a -certain group, speaking valiantly at every stop in behalf -of one’s cause, one’s colleagues are going to be -bored anyway when one starts speaking, so that their -desires are never considered. The same old stuff is -always new,—provided one has always a new audience -before one.</p> - -<p>“Ladies and gentlemen,” the speaker was crying -enthusiastically, “you can’t get away from the fact -that progress is ever marching onward. The hand of -Opportunity is lifted, knocking at your door! -Whether you open or not—upon that rests your future. -You can’t get away from it. One day (and -that day is not far distant, ladies and gentlemen), you -will awake to find yourselves in the midst of great, -growing industries. The mighty river at your very -door, ladies and gentlemen, will be at work for the -Nation! The full measure of her might, ladies and -gentlemen, will be <i>at your service</i>! Can such a stupendous -thing as that, ladies and gentlemen, be placed -in the hands of private interests? I say, <i>no</i>!” (The -tall, lean man did not say it, he thundered the words.) -“I say, no man, no group of individuals, can do a -thing like that! No man—”</p> - -<p>A queer, sickening lurch of the building, forward -and back, a shattering of windows drowned his voice -completely. You know how it is when an earthquake -intrudes upon your little thoughts, your infinitesimal -activities. You suddenly know that you are nothing -at all. Your very soul sickens before a mightier than -thou. So it was at the banquet.</p> - -<p>The tall, lean man’s plate leaped at him, and a custardy -dessert which he had not touched,—on account -of dyspepsia—was deposited on his clothing in -splotches. He started for the door, enraged because -every one else was also starting for the door.</p> - -<p>Came a terrific, booming roar like the rolling up of -the heavens into a scroll,—done carelessly and in -haste. Women shrieked. Men shouted unintelligibly -under the impression that they were doing something -to quell the panic.</p> - -<p>Peter, stunned for a minute, jumped upon the table, -one heel crunching a dish of salted almonds devastatingly. -His great voice boomed above the tumult and -stilled it, while each person looked to see what and why -he was speaking.</p> - -<p>“Ladies and gentlemen, that’s all. There won’t be -any more. Folks, like it or not, you’ve got a dam in -the Colorado River! She’s dammed, right this minute. -It’s an accident, a slip-up in the plans, but—<i>she’s -there</i>. You just heard a chunk of Black Canyon -go into the river. The man that made the last speech -said it couldn’t be done. It <i>is</i> done. Now, the government -will have to do whatever else is to be done. -Ladies and gentlemen, you have just heard the Cramer -Dam go in!”</p> - -<p>That stopped the panic automatically. Men and -women waited to hear more. They were accustomed -to blasting, if that were all. They accepted Peter’s -statement that this was all of it, though the women -were still white, still inclined to clutch their husbands -and sweethearts and wonder if they were going to -faint. Las Vegas was dazed. The Colorado Commission -was collectively looking at Peter through narrowed -lids.</p> - -<p>Peter glanced down into the measuring, weighing -eyes of the greatest man present. He flushed at what -he read there, and he answered the look.</p> - -<p>“It’s my fault,” he said simply. “I ought to have -tied ’em up, or brought ’em with me. I should have -placed a guard over that dam. I did hide the battery—but -they must have found it.”</p> - -<p>At a sudden thought he threw out both hands in the -gesture with which a strong man meets the inevitable.</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen,” he cried, and his voice was a challenge. -“Fate has decreed that the thing should go -through! I had no knowledge of this, but—” his -eyes darkened and twinkled, the endearing King smile -softened his face suddenly “—gentlemen, if you will -stop over a day, I should like to show you the Cramer -Dam, <i>completed</i>!”</p> - -<p>He looked at the great engineer who had questioned -him during dinner.</p> - -<p>“<i>You</i> said it couldn’t be done! I’m not a gambling -man, Mr. Brown, but I’ll bet you fifty thousand dollars -against fifty cents, that <i>she’s there</i>!”</p> - -<p>The man he challenged looked up at him. Slowly, -as his thought crystallized, the blood drained out of -the engineer’s face, leaving it dead white. He turned -to his chief, but his voice went to the farthest corner -of the hall.</p> - -<p>“My God! What if she holds a while! Warn -Needles, Yuma—send out a general warning below! -Tell the people to hunt the highest points they can -reach! Gentlemen, if that damned Cramer Dam holds -for forty-eight hours, there’ll be the greatest disaster -in the history of the West!”</p> - -<p>The A. P. man leaped chairs, bowled over men on -his way to the door. After him came the banqueters -in a senseless rush.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXXX' title='XXX—DAWN AND THE RIVER'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER THIRTY</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>DAWN AND THE RIVER</span> -</h2> - - -<p>On the street men were guessing wild. An explosion -had taken place,—every one knew that. The -majority guessed that the powder magazine at Searchlight -had blown up; though as a matter of fact they -were not certain that Searchlight had a powder -magazine.</p> - -<p>The more impulsive were already tearing down the -road in automobiles, without any very definite notion -of where they were headed for. As is customary in -such cases, every man who had a tongue had also an -opinion which he was eager to impart to somebody, -and was unable to find any one who would listen to -him.</p> - -<p>Into this confusion the A. P. man burst like a rocket -shot off accidentally. He was on his way to the telegraph -office on the second floor of the depot, and he -meant to arrive there ahead of the others so that he -could be sure of a clear wire to cover the story. Besides, -he had been impressed with the need of haste in -warning people below. Yet he found time to shout -the news to a group of men as he passed them.</p> - -<p>“Colorado’s dammed!” he cried, and did not wait -to explain how it should be spelled. Wherefore Las -Vegas guessed harder than ever until men less hurried -arrived from the banquet hall and told just what had -happened. Immediately thereafter, every man who -owned a car cranked up and got going in the direction -of Black Canyon. The Governor of the State stayed -a while to give certain orders and to make sure that -they would be promptly obeyed.</p> - -<p>Peter laid a detaining hand upon the arm of a -shrewd young lawyer whom he knew slightly, and who -had studied him intently while Peter explained to the -banqueters the commotion. The young lawyer instinctively -drew aside from the throng, to a clear space -where confidences might be indulged in. But Peter -was brief.</p> - -<p>“Here’s a check. It’s good for ten thousand. You -advertise that people with smashed windows and so on -can have the damage made good. Get a contractor, -have him investigate all complaints, and then fix things -up. I’ll see you in a day or so. I’m going to the -river to see what’s happened. You attend to the damages -here.”</p> - -<p>He did not wait until the lawyer consented to accept -the job, but left him standing there, the check in his -hands, an unlighted cigar in his mouth. Peter was -just climbing into the big car that drew up to the curb -for him, when the A. P. man—his name was Jerry -Newton, by the way—sprinted a half-block and -landed on the running board.</p> - -<p>“Sent out a general alarm,” he puffed, “and got -the news to headquarters. Cramer’s speech—wrote -it during the feed. Had a hunch I might have to make -it snappy. Needles and Yuma will get word to the -ranchers—if the big splash holds off a couple of -hours they think they can reach everybody, practically. -Anybody got a cigar? Never had time to eat a bite.”</p> - -<p>“You’re out of luck, then,” Peter informed him. -“No chance till breakfast, now.”</p> - -<p>Rawley swung round upon them from the front -seat, where he was to pilot the driver. His voice was -strained and unnatural.</p> - -<p>“The—folks would know enough to get out of -danger, wouldn’t they, Uncle Peter?”</p> - -<p>“They would,” Peter said grimly, “if they had any -warning.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t think it was an accident, surely!” As -Rawley spoke, others leaned to listen for Peter’s reply.</p> - -<p>“I know I found a doctor,—he’s going to follow -at our tail light. I hid the battery where Jess and the -old man couldn’t find it. The rest we’ll know when -we get there.” Peter’s exultation had left him completely. -He sat back in a corner of the wide seat and -said no more. And by that, Rawley knew that Peter -was worried.</p> - -<p>The reporter was saying that Needles had reported -every window in town broken by the concussion.</p> - -<p>“Of course they counted, in the five minutes they -must have had before you wired,” Rawley exclaimed -irritably. If Peter was worried over the folks in the -basin, then Rawley knew that there was cause. He -told the driver to “hit ’er up, the road’s good”, and -thereby gained some minutes and gave some great men -a jolting.</p> - -<p>They left the road to Black Canyon and went on -to Nelson. They could drive to the river that way, -and one glance would tell them whether the dam was -holding. That was important. The Governor of the -State having called for help, it was necessary to see -first of all what the river was doing below the dam,—if -dam there were.</p> - -<p>Several cars fell in behind them, no doubt cognizant -of the fact that the Governor, Peter and the great engineer -were in the first automobile, and that they knew -where they were going. So it was a swift procession -that swung up over the summit and down into El -Dorado Canyon.</p> - -<p>The September moon was lingering upon a mountain -top, loath to withdraw its gaze from the crippled -river he had watched over all these ages long. Peter -was first out of the car, which, for reasons readily -apprehended, he had stopped well up the wash. If -the dam was holding so long, there would be a great, -engulfing wave when it broke, and the longer the dam -held, the greater the flood.</p> - -<p>“The river’s high for this time of year, on account -of the storms in the mountains,” the chief engineer -of the party informed them superfluously, since -the occurrence was sufficiently unusual to have excited -comment before now. “She’s running close to fifty -thousand second feet,—or was, when we left Needles -yesterday.” He turned to Peter with courteous criticism; -not for him was it to censure or judge, but he -ventured a remark nevertheless which betrayed his own -personal belief.</p> - -<p>“You should have waited until the edge of winter -before you let that charge loose. This is an unusual -year, I grant; but with your knowledge of the river, -you must know the danger of attempting to dam it -while there is so great a discharge.”</p> - -<p>The group hurried its pace to listen, but Peter, in -the lead, seemed wholly unconscious of criticism and -listeners alike. He was absorbed by his own thoughts, -his own fears.</p> - -<p>“It was madness to do it now, in any case,” he -agreed simply. “For years we’ve talked of shooting -it during September, when the water begins to lower -definitely for the winter months. That would give us -the longest possible time for strengthening the dam. -If this wasn’t a sheer accident, it was done by a madman,—the -vulture who feared the Eagle would snatch -away his feast. I know of no better simile. Gentlemen, -I fear you will have to cope with a madman who -ran amuck when he discovered my absence and feared -that I would betray the whole scheme to the government. -He could see nothing but disaster in that. If -he deliberately blew up the dam, it was with a crazy -notion of forestalling the government. I don’t know; -I hid the battery.”</p> - -<p>He was leading them up on the high bank on the -north side of the wash by a narrow trail he knew. -Even in his haste he remembered that the lives of great -men must not be placed in danger, and he had not -needed the reminder of the engineer that it was a risky -proceeding, blowing in the dam at the height of this -sporadic high water. Not so high as to overflow its -banks, it is true, but with not too wide a margin of -safety, either.</p> - -<p>No man there knew better than Peter what an unexpected -breakage would do, no man there felt more -keenly the elements of disaster, once his first exultation -over their disbelief had passed; a flare of triumph over -the wise ones. Peter had been on that river just yesterday. -His launch was still at Needles, where he had -left it to take the train for Barstow. He had arrived -in Las Vegas on the train which brought the private -car of the Commission. He had planned it so, to be -sure of seeing them, and also to conceal his errand -from the two Cramers, whose rage would not have -stopped at murder, it is likely, had they known what -was in his mind.</p> - -<p>When Peter had embarked in his launch, the river -was running forty-three thousand second feet. He -had looked at the gauge. He had not known how the -government gauge had read at Needles when his train -left there, but he did not doubt the word of the engineer. There had been unusual, heavy storms in Colorado, -Wyoming, Utah. An edge of it had swept his -own State. To attempt to dam that sweeping flood -was, as he had named it, madness.</p> - -<p>Once up the bank they walked rapidly. Rawley, -glancing back, saw other automobiles stop behind their -car, and men trailing after them up the bank. It was -a somewhat circuitous route; he wondered if his party -would follow Peter so patiently if they knew that they -could have driven to the water’s edge. They were -walking half a mile when they might have ridden. -But Peter was taking no risk.</p> - -<p>They reached the high bank of the river just as the -moon slipped—like the face of a boy who has been -peering over a stone wall and who has lost his footing—dropped -suddenly out of sight, and left the river -dark, the far hills gilded tantalizingly with its white -light. The party halted.</p> - -<p>“She’s dammed,” Peter said tersely.</p> - -<p>“I can hear it running,” some one objected.</p> - -<p>“I know every sound of this river,” said Peter impatiently. -“I’ve listened to it all my life. You hear -a seepage fighting the rocks in the channel. It’s no -bigger than a trout stream now. This way, gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>In the blackness before dawn, made blacker to them -by the sudden desertion of the moon, Peter struck into -the burro trail Rawley knew so well.</p> - -<p>The familiar path brought a sharp longing for -Nevada, whom he had left in anger some months before. -Of course she had not been plotting with Young -Jess against him! Once his hurt pride let him think -clearly, Rawley knew that she had been trying to save -him. She would naturally suppose that they had gone -straight toward the canyon, and she was encouraging -Jess to waste time looking among the rocks, never -dreaming that they were there. Many a time Rawley -cursed the King temper for letting him taunt her with -her Indian blood. He had wanted to hurt. His instinct -had led him to the words that would sting sharpest, -even though she believed him as much Indian as -herself.</p> - -<p>Men before him and behind were talking—short-breathed -over the pace Peter was unconsciously setting -them—of the dam, its probable strength and the -danger of a disastrous flood if it held a while and -then failed to hold. Rawley walked among them, -thinking of Nevada, wondering if she would ever forgive -him for what he had said to her. Strangely -enough, of Young Jess’s hate and promised revenge -he did not think at all. Nevada’s resentment, her forgiveness,—these -were the things that mattered. The -dam was an incident, a job for others to handle. Rawley’s -whole thought was of persuading a girl to forget -a dozen words which he had spoken in blind fury.</p> - -<p>Then, looking across at the piled hills beyond the -river (the hills of Arizona), the white radiance faded, -chilled, merged into the crepuscule that threatened to -deepen again to darkness. The moon was retreating -before the coming of the sun.</p> - -<p>The twilight brightened, pulled lavender and rose -from the dawn and spread over the hills a radiant, -opal-tinted veil. The great men stopped and faced the -dawn, and forgot the problems set by the great -Teacher for human minds to solve, and, in the solving, -grow to greater things. The Governor removed his -hat and stood, head bared, waiting for the coming of -the sun. The heralds flung banners of royal purple -and gold. The hills laid aside the thin veil of enchantment -and spread a soft carpet of gray and brown.</p> - -<p>The King appeared, a ruddy disk with broad bars -of purple cloud before his face. The heavens blazed -with the glory of a new day. Somewhere behind them, -in hidden mesquite bush, a mocking bird began singing -reverently its morning aria.</p> - -<p>Eyes left the savage wonder of the wilderness greeting -the dawn and dropped to the crippled Colorado.</p> - -<p>In a dark canyon drab bars of silt stretched like -gigantic crocodiles upon the river’s bed, with the shiny -humps of moss-slimed bowlders in between. Rosy -pools of still water reflected the barbaric dawn clouds -above. Ridges of water-worn gravel. A thin swift -current was fighting the huge rocks in the channel with -a great splutter and turmoil of spray flung up. -Smaller streams were worming impatiently aslant the -river bed to join the stream fighting so valiantly in -the channel.</p> - -<p>Already the main current was yielding, choked by -the neighbor mountain that had suddenly assailed it -from above. Against the rocks the sun painted inexorably -the mark of its surrender.</p> - -<p>Peter looked down upon the river bed and saw his -splendid dream come true. For a moment his exultation -returned. He looked at the Governor.</p> - -<p>“I believe, sir, that the Cramer Dam is a complete -success!” A ringing note of pride was in his voice.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXXXI' title='XXXI—THE VULTURE FEASTS'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE VULTURE FEASTS</span> -</h2> - - -<p>They walked on, heads turned toward the spectacle. -The sun, rising higher, splashed a mellow light into -the deep crannies between the bowlders, set the bald -pates of smoothed granite rocks a-gleam,—rocks never -before uncovered in the history of man.</p> - -<p>Rawley turned and looked curiously at Peter, whose -eyes were upon the river bed while his feet stumbled -along the trail. They were anxious to reach the dam, -every man of them. The engineer was stepping out -briskly, keen glances going to the cliffs up-river; but -for all their haste they could not forebear to gaze down -at the stark, denuded canyon bottom, where a great -river had been halted in its headlong rush.</p> - -<p>“Well, Uncle Peter, you’ve had your wish,” Rawley -said at last. “You said you were waiting for the day -when you could show the Colorado who was boss. -You wanted to stop it. It’s stopped.”</p> - -<p>Peter looked at him, smiling faintly.</p> - -<p>“I was just thinking of Johnny Buffalo, that last -night,” he said, speaking so that the others, straggling -along the trail, would not hear. “What was that he -said? ‘You will succeed, and fail in the succeeding. -And from the failure you will rise to greater things’—or -something like that. It just struck me. I wonder -if he meant,—this.” He tilted his head toward -the river. “I’ve succeeded. I’ve stopped the Colorado, -and shown it who’s boss. But it isn’t like I -dreamed it, after all. I’ve got a hunch, boy, that we’ll -never work that dredger. Maybe the government will -have other ideas about that. It was a self-centered -plan, I admit that now. It had no right to succeed. -The folks below need the river. I hadn’t figured them -into the calculations at all.”</p> - -<p>Jerry Newton overheard that last observation and -stepped faster until he was just behind them.</p> - -<p>“Did you ever see a flood, Mr. Cramer? I covered -Pueblo and several other places; was down South, that -last big one. Families down below here are getting -out,—and believe me, they are making it snappy! -I’ll bet you couldn’t find a breakfast cooked in its own -kitchen, down below here, to save your life! They -know what a flood means, and this is going to be like -the crack o’ doom when it comes. Sudden, what I -mean. They’ve been tickling the gas levers, believe -me, since that blast went off.”</p> - -<p>Peter turned and looked at him, frowning.</p> - -<p>“What makes you all take it for granted the dam -won’t hold?” he queried resentfully. “It would, I’d -stake my life on it almost, though it should have been -shot in low water, or falling water. This high water -is not going to last. It’s the run-off of a big general -storm, and I believe the peak is past, anyway. You -don’t realize the size of the Cramer Dam. And you -seem to forget altogether the auxiliary dam that can -be thrown in, any time it seems necessary.”</p> - -<p>Jerry Newton saw the point, but he saw something -else, and being a blunt young man by nature, he blurted -a retort.</p> - -<p>“If you’re so sure of its holding, Mr. Cramer, what -are you so worried about?”</p> - -<p>Peter’s eyes hardened.</p> - -<p>“Lives, young fellow. Two of them dear to me.”</p> - -<p>The A. P. man was silenced. He looked contritely -at Peter’s back, but he could not think of anything to -say.</p> - -<p>“Look there!” The engineer, hurrying along in -the lead, stopped and pointed. “That’s what I call -enterprise. But it’s taking a chance I shouldn’t care -about, myself.”</p> - -<p>The party pulled up, facing the river. They had -reached the lower edge of the basin, about where Rawley -and Johnny Buffalo had camped. The bank here -was high and rocky as the canyon opened slowly its -mouth. The river had been forced to a narrower -channel, and it held therefore a deeper bed.</p> - -<p>Away down there in the middle of it, almost at the -edge of the channel fighting still to hold its own, a bent -figure was groping, bent almost double, eyes to the -ground. Now and then it knelt and clawed in slimy -pools. Then it went on, inch by inch, like a child picking -pretty pebbles on a beach.</p> - -<p>“Old Jess!” cried Rawley. “Peter, it’s Old Jess! -Call to him! He’ll step into a hole—there’s quicksand—or -if the dam breaks—”</p> - -<p>“He’s crazy!” several of the party spoke the words -at once, as sometimes happens, unconsciously forming -an impromptu chorus. “Call him out of there!”</p> - -<p>“He wouldn’t come!” Peter was starting toward -the edge, seeking a trail down. Rawley, running -ahead to the place where he used to bring up water, -was down before him.</p> - -<p>“Go back! I’ll get him,” shouted Peter, scrambling -after, and those left at the top gesticulated and shouted.</p> - -<p>“You go back,” Rawley cried over his shoulder. -“One’s enough!” Then, having reached the bottom, -he started out.</p> - -<p>The vulture saw them, and flapped his arms and -screamed vituperations in a reasonless rage, greed-mad, -thinking they were come to rob him.</p> - -<p>Slipping, sliding among the bowlders that piled the -river bed in places, the two ran out, instinctively avoiding -the treacherous bars of engulfing mud that lay upstream -from some larger obstruction, the deep pools -where fish were leaping. Neither would turn back. -Both men realized that.</p> - -<p>The vulture picked up a rock as big as his fist and -threatened them with it. They went on, straight for -him. Old Jess gave a maniacal scream, hurled the -rock and fled. Rawley ducked. But Peter, coming -just behind him, was caught in the chest. He lurched, -slipped on a slimy spot and went down backward on a -rock.</p> - -<p>Rawley did not see. He was hot after the old man, -who ran awkwardly, his pockets weighted so that they -sagged the full stretch of the cloth, a sample bag over -his shoulder knocking heavily against his back. He -headed straight for the current that boiled, a miniature -Colorado, in the channel.</p> - -<p>He meant to jump it and gain the other side. He -had lost all sense of proportion. He did not see that -a horse could scarcely clear the racing flood. Rawley -shouted a warning just as Old Jess reached the brink. -The old vulture gave a scream, sprang out, and the -current caught him and dragged him down.</p> - -<p>Rawley ran for a few steps down the plunging -stream, put one foot in the quicksand and hurled himself -back just in time. The black, tumbled object that -was Old Jess whirled on.</p> - -<p>“The river never gives up its dead; he said it himself,” -Rawley exclaimed in an awed tone to Peter, and -turned. But Peter was not behind him, as he had -supposed. Then he saw him lying among a litter of -small, mossy rocks.</p> - -<p>Up on the bank men were shouting, pointing upriver -when Rawley heaved Peter up on his back and started -picking his way toward shore. Rawley glanced up, -saw the stretched arms, looked, and began running.</p> - -<p>Up the river, close against shore, looking as if it -were hugging the rocks for protection, a narrow, white -line came leaping down upon him. The Colorado was -not a river to submit tamely to the will of man. It -had found a weak spot close inshore, and in the few -hours that it had been fretting against its barrier, it -had eaten a way through. Now a slim skirmisher -came surging down through the tunnel the water had -made.</p> - -<p>Men scrambled down the bluff toward him; well-groomed -men with patent leathers that slipped on the -steep bank. They could not help, but neither could -they stand up there with their hands in their pockets -and watch.</p> - -<p>Rawley did not see them. He did not see that gamboling -white line, after the first glance. He did not -see anything, save the next place where he must set his -foot, the next mud bar which he must avoid. His -shoulders were bent under the two-hundred-pound -weight of a man he loved as he had never before loved -any man, and he knew that safety might lie in a second,—in -one long stride.</p> - -<p>The rocks seemed to grow more slippery, more slimy -as he went on. The mud banks seemed to slide in -upon him. He had to turn back once, just in time to -avoid a patch of ooze. He imagined that the shore -receded, or that he stood still and moved his feet in -one spot. But he fought that notion and forced himself -to believe that he was making time against the -small, devouring flood that was racing down at him. -He kept telling himself that the water had twice as far -to travel in order to engulf him as he must go to escape -it.</p> - -<p>He was right. The water had farther to travel, -and he made time. Indeed, the spectators swore that -he made a new record for speed. Running with two -hundred pounds on his back was a feat for any man -on smooth going, they told him. Over that course, it -was not an achievement at all; it was a miracle.</p> - -<p>However that may be, Rawley used his last ounce of -energy to reach the bank. A gloved hand reached -down and caught him. Its mate seized the other wrist. -He gave a final dig with his toes and a scrambling -wriggle, and crawled up as some one pulled Peter off -his back and the small torrent swept past.</p> - -<p>On a shelf of rock above the watermark he lay back -for a minute to breathe before he essayed to climb the -high bank. He looked down at the rush of water, his -eyes wide.</p> - -<p>“Lord, I thought it was the whole river coming at -me!” he panted disgustedly, looking up into the face -of the Governor, whose hand had reached down to -him. “Why, I could jump that,—almost.”</p> - -<p>“Hardly, with a load,” the Governor retorted. -“And then, the whole dam may give way at any moment, -now it has started.”</p> - -<p>Peter stirred and struggled to sit up. His dazed -eyes went down to the new torrent. The sight stung -him to full consciousness. He came up like a lion -wounded but full of fight.</p> - -<p>“Come on! We’ve got to shoot in that auxiliary -dam,” he shouted thickly. “I—was going to—anyway. -And let this flood down—easy.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXXXII' title='XXXII—ANOTHER RESCUE'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>ANOTHER RESCUE</span> -</h2> - - -<p>“Going to try for a rescue of the—body?” -Jerry Newton looked up from fussing with one of the -best small cameras on the market to-day. He had -“got” that dramatic race with the flood, and he made -no apologies for his enterprise. It was his business -to get such scenes.</p> - -<p>The Governor pressed his lips together and pointed -downward.</p> - -<p>“We’re going to save the living,” he said. -“Where’s that doctor?”</p> - -<p>A shrewd-eyed, tanned man was already feeling of -Peter’s skull with finger tips that seemed to own a detached -intelligence.</p> - -<p>“Just a simple contusion,” he announced cheerfully. -“Put you to sleep for a minute, though, didn’t -it? Here. I’ll fix you up in two shakes so you’ll feel -like new. Let’s have a look at your chest.”</p> - -<p>In five minutes Peter was standing steadily on his -own feet, ready to go. Rawley caught his somber -glance at the place where Old Jess had disappeared and -shook his head, unconsciously aping the Governor.</p> - -<p>“No use, Uncle Peter. I tried to get him. It’s -running like a mill race. He landed square in the -middle of it.”</p> - -<p>“He did this.” Peter swept his arm out toward the -bared river bed while his eyes sought the Governor’s. -“Crazy,—you saw that. My half-brother would -have more sense. The old man did it, to get the gold -before the government could beat him to it.”</p> - -<p>He looked from one face to another trying to choose -who stood highest in rank.</p> - -<p>“I want permission,” he said more firmly, as the -doctor’s stimulant took hold, “to go ahead now and -carry out my plans. I warn you, gentlemen, that if -that is not done there may be a great flood. Let me -go ahead and shoot in that auxiliary dam <i>now</i>. That -will relieve the pressure until we can shoot in more rock -here. If I hold back the flood for you, at my expense, -you can do as you think best with me afterwards, -and with the river.”</p> - -<p>He threw out a hand toward the mutinous inshore -stream.</p> - -<p>“That dam is all rock; tons upon tons of it. Inshore -is where a channel could eat through. The cliffs overhang -and would prevent a full drop there of broken -rock. I counted on this. It was my natural run-off. -If it broke through anywhere, it would break here. -Nature’s a pretty good engineer, gentlemen. But we’ll -make it a safe proposition. We’ll shoot in the auxiliary -dam. I want a free hand in this, or—I can’t answer -for the consequences. I warn you.”</p> - -<p>The Governor lifted his eyebrows at the great engineer -of the party. The engineer looked at the Chairman -of the Commission. He looked at the river. -Plainly, he disliked to give his word, which would -carry much weight and which might lead them astray. -Peter walked steadily along, between the Governor and -Rawley, who held him solicitously by the arm.</p> - -<p>“You will bear in mind that I have studied this -problem all my life,” Peter added urgently. “I’ve -been spending a good deal of money on it. I have -laid my plans very carefully, so as to risk neither lives -nor money. The people below us will be safe, if you let -me go ahead. In spite of the high water the Cramer -Dam will hold—if you let me go ahead and finish the -job.”</p> - -<p>The engineer shut his technical eyes and listened to -his common reason. The Governor was still glancing -his way between steps, wanting his opinion.</p> - -<p>“There’s a good deal in that,” the engineer said at -last. “I should advise that under the circumstances -we permit Mr. Cramer to go ahead and make his dam -as safe as possible. It will not render the present danger -any greater. The longer the Cramer Dam holds, -the better chance we will have of averting disaster. -Give me a little time, and I can, I think, promise to get -the river under control without any disastrous flood -condition arising.”</p> - -<p>Peter’s eyes darkened at the inference, but he had -won at least one point. That, he reflected, was more -than might have happened. These were truly great -men; they were greater than their training of keeping -well within the red-tape fences.</p> - -<p>“Very well, Mr. Cramer,” the Governor said. “I -appoint you to take charge of the safeguarding of the -river against a flood. I cannot promise immediate -funds, however,—”</p> - -<p>Peter dismissed that point with a gesture.</p> - -<p>“I expected to finance the Cramer Dam from start -to finish,” he said bluntly. “I still expect to do that. -All I ask is to be left alone.”</p> - -<p>They had reached the flat rock, on the river bank -opposite the shacks. Peter sent a glance that way, saw -that the shacks were standing, apparently unharmed, -and dismissed from his mind the thought of danger to -his family. With the engineer beside him, the Governor -and others behind him, he kept straight on to the -dam site. He was wondering if that maniac, Old Jess, -had thought to remove the big launch to a safe point -around the bend above. If not, they might not be -able to cross the river, should they want to do so. -There were a few ticklish little points in the situation, -he was bound to admit.</p> - -<p>Rawley let go his arm and turned away toward the -camp, and Peter called after him.</p> - -<p>“Have Gladys and Nevada cook a big breakfast, -son. We’ll be back in an hour or so. And look out -for another blast. But it will be a lot farther off than -this one was. Have plenty of hot coffee.”</p> - -<p>“You bet!” Rawley promised, his heart curiously -light. Angry or pleased, Nevada was very close. In -another minute or two he would see her. There would -be plenty to talk about, besides themselves. Just to -hear her voice, he thought exultantly, would be a -panacea for his loneliness.</p> - -<p>As he neared the place he stopped as though some -one had thrust him back. Then he went on, running -as he had not run from the small flood in the river. -The shacks stood, unharmed save for gaping window -sashes, splinters of glass sticking like flattened icicles -to the edges. The porch of Nevada’s rock-faced dugout -cabin stood upright, though slightly twisted. But -behind the porch the rockwork was tumbled in a confused -heap.</p> - -<p>At a certain place in the ruins, Anita was whimpering -and tearing at the rock with her fingers. Two of the -older children were trying to help. It was the sight -of these which filled Rawley with a cold fear. They -would not tear at the wreck of an empty cabin.</p> - -<p>Anita turned and stared at him dully. Then she -pointed, her hand shaking as if she were stricken with -palsy.</p> - -<p>“In there—Nevada,” she quavered. “My girl die, -mebby! Lil time ago, speak to me. Now don’t speak -no more. Mebby die.”</p> - -<p>“Get back, out of the way.” Rawley went up, -looked at the place where they had been digging, and -caught his breath.</p> - -<p>“A little more, and you’d have had the whole thing -in on top of her. Don’t you see that wall just ready -to topple? Kid, go get a pick and shovel. I’ll try the -roof.”</p> - -<p>He recalled the construction of the place, thanking -God that he had spent many days there. The rock -cabin had been set back into the hill, against a rock -ledge of the prevailing granite. That, he felt sure, -would hold against anything but a direct charge of -explosives. In the far corner a dark, closet-like recess -had been cut, and roofed with poles, corrugated iron -and the dirt. It was used, he remembered, as a storeroom. -It had never been finished like the two rooms -in front. The rock walls were bare, the poles and iron -showed in the low roof.</p> - -<p>With pick and shovel he began digging at the roof, -which had remained intact. As he worked he cursed -Peter’s thoroughness in constructing the place. The -poles were set rather close together, and they were -spiked down to heavy beams. The oldest boy brought -a pinch-bar for that, and Rawley, throwing back the -iron roofing, pried up a pole and let himself down into -blackness.</p> - -<p>The heavy curtain that hung in the doorway of the -storeroom was slit. Beyond, the room seemed at his -first dismayed glance to be completely filled with rock -and débris. Then, quite close, he saw her.</p> - -<p>She was sitting before the homemade desk that held -her typewriter. Spread out before her were the books -wherein she kept the records of the Cramer Dam. -She had been working on the books when the blast -wrecked the place. A beam from the ceiling had -fallen, caught upon another beam, and pinned her -down, bowed over her desk. Perhaps she had been -leaning upon her folded arms to rest, when the shock -came. But the beam was lying against her back, holding -her down, and upon that, around it, rocks were -piled.</p> - -<p>Rawley set his teeth, carefully removed the rocks -between him and the girl, and crept closer. Hesitating, -afraid, he reached out and touched her fingers, still -closed around something which she had been holding -in her hand. Her fingers were cool, pliable,—alive, -he could have sworn. So his heart, that had seemed -to stop altogether, gave a great jump.</p> - -<p>Very gently he released the thing she was holding -and drew it toward him. His old, weather-scarred, -briar pipe! He looked down at it dumbly, looked at -Nevada and very carefully laid the pipe back, against -her fingers. His eyes were very blue and bright; -his face was very pale. He steadied himself. He -would get her out; he <i>must</i> free her and bring her -alive to the safe outside, where—</p> - -<p>A fear stabbed him. They were going to shoot in -the other dam! He hadn’t much time, then. Another -shock,—Peter had told him to look out for a blast. -It was perhaps a matter of minutes.</p> - -<p>He raised himself, looked at the beams. They -seemed to be solidly braced, for the present, though -another concussion would be likely to throw them -down. He looked down.</p> - -<p>Nevada was sitting on a reed stool, with two cushions -upon it to give her height. He crept closer, raised -himself and set a shoulder against the beam that lay -along her bowed shoulders. He steadied it so while -he took firm hold of a cushion and pulled it from beneath -her.</p> - -<p>Nevada’s body sagged a bit. Rawley could see daylight -now between her shoulders and the beam. He -waited a breath, felt no settling of the beam, and pulled -out the remaining cushion. Still the beam held fast. -Nevada, then, was not being crushed; she had been -pinned down without bearing the weight of the beam.</p> - -<p>Rawley went back, crouching under the caved roof. -His arms were round Nevada when he stopped and -picked up the pipe, slipping it into the pocket of her -blouse. Then, pulling her gently to him, he drew her -out from under the beam and into the granite-walled -storehouse. As he lifted her in his arms Nevada -groaned.</p> - -<p>Anita’s arms were uplifted to receive her when Rawley -came up head and shoulders through the gaping -hole in the dugout roof. But he shook his head, -stepped out with her in his arms and dug heels in the -soft bank, working his way down to the level.</p> - -<p>He still held the girl in his arms, looking for a place -where he might lay her comfortably, when the earth -shook beneath his feet. The terrific boom of the -explosion deafened him. The jumble of rock shook -and fell, tighter packed.</p> - -<p>The auxiliary dam was in.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -<h2 id='chXXXIII' title='XXXIII—THE EAGLE’S WING'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE EAGLE’S WING</span> -</h2> - - -<p>Nevada was lying on the bed in Anita’s shack, trying -to convince Rawley that the doctor knew what -he was talking about. The doctor had declared that -Nevada’s injuries were mostly superficial bruises and -the nervous shock of sitting cramped in one position -for hours, expecting every moment to be crushed to -death. Nevada had seemed rather crestfallen when -Rawley told her how simple a matter it had been to -free her from the beam.</p> - -<p>“The whole thing caught me unawares just when I -had stopped a minute to rest,” she explained defensively. -“I think I was half asleep when it happened, -and of course my lamp was smashed too flat -even to think of exploding. It was black dark, and I -suppose it was natural to imagine that I was being -crushed when I was merely held fast. I did not try -to move. I was afraid the whole thing would come -down on me. Of course, I should have thought of the -cushions,—”</p> - -<p>“You’d be a wonder if you had; even more of a -wonder than you are.” Rawley took her hand in both -of his and patted it, in a sublime disregard of the circumstances -of his last visit to the basin. “I believe -in omens, Nevada. Fate gave me a splendid one when -I found you.” Rawley smiled at her mysteriously, his -eyes twinkling.</p> - -<p>“In the general wreck, my old pipe had landed from -some cranny right on the desk beside you. You can’t -make me believe that Fate didn’t mean something by -that! The way I interpret it—”</p> - -<p>“A freak accident,” interrupted Nevada, her cheeks -showing alarming symptoms of a sudden attack of -fever. “That old pipe! You didn’t take it, and I -must have tucked it up somewhere until you came -again. I suppose it rattled down.”</p> - -<p>Rawley’s eyes had never been so blue. They were -like looking down upon a sunlit sea. He dipped his -fingers into the pocket of Nevada’s blouse and produced -the pipe, turning it tenderly in his hands.</p> - -<p>“God bless the day I learned to smoke!” he murmured, -his eyes still dancing. “It may have rattled -down—but I know it’s a good omen. It means—”</p> - -<p>“Yes?” Nevada’s big eyes were upon his face. A -faint tremor was in her lips, as if laughter and tears -were fighting for the mastery.</p> - -<p>“The omen says that you and I are going to get -married within a week. Well within a week.” He -was studying the pipe as a mystic studies the crystal. -“It tells me that the hatchet is forever buried. This -is the pipe of peace, and it passed from me to you. -That means that you and I go through life together. -Our trails never separate. It means—”</p> - -<p>“Oh, hush!” Nevada cried sharply and struck at -the pipe in his hand. “Our trails can’t lie together. -We can’t marry, ever—ever! You know that as -well as I do. We’re cousins.” She turned her face to -the wall.</p> - -<p>Rawley did not speak. He looked up from the pipe, -straight into the eyes of Anita, sitting in a corner like a -bronze Buddha disguised as a squaw.</p> - -<p>Anita met his look with stolid obstinacy, never -blinking, never a quiver in her face.</p> - -<p>Rawley’s jaw squared a little as he continued to look -at her. His body swayed forward, his eyes boring -into her very soul. So had King, of the Mounted, -looked when he demanded that Anita should choose -between himself and Jess Cramer. Rawley did not -know why he stared at her so. He only knew that the -truth was there, hidden behind those unreadable eyes. -He knew that the truth would give him Nevada the -moment that truth was spoken. No lips but Anita’s -might speak that truth; other lips were sworn to -silence.</p> - -<p>The old squaw whimpered under her breath. Her -eyes flickered and could no longer look defiance into -those terrible, commanding blue eyes,—the eyes of -King, of the Mounted. Her hand went up to shield her -face from the stare of them. She stirred uneasily in -her chair. She spread her fingers, peering fearfully -between them. The terrible blue eyes looked at her -still. Slowly, painfully, scarce knowing that she did -so, Anita pulled herself up from the chair and went -forward as one goes to the bar of justice.</p> - -<p>As a flame shoots up suddenly from dying embers, so -did a flame dart out from the ashes of her youth. The -stooped, gross old body straightened. Anita’s head -went back. Her eyes glowed with a little of their old -fire. Her voice rang clear, proud with the pride of -ancestry unknown.</p> - -<p>“Nevada,” she cried imperiously and spoke rapidly -in Indian. “It is not true that you are his cousin. -He is the grandson of a man I loved in my youth. He -is the grandson of Sergeant George King, who was -the father of Peter. I have been ashamed that you -should know the truth. Now I am not ashamed, for -I know that stolen love is more noble than a lie. The -father of Peter, him I loved. He was a soldier and -he went away. He promised to return in one month. -In three months he had not come, nor sent me word. -I was angry and I let the man he hated think that I -loved him and not my soldier man. Then I went -away, for my heart was sad. I would not follow my -soldier man. I was proud. After a long time—after -more than a year had passed I returned to El -Dorado and I brought my child, who was Peter. I -sought for news of my soldier, but there was none. -He had not come, he had not sent me word. So I -went to the man I hated. I told him that Peter -was his son, which was a lie. I was very proud. I -thought that some day my soldier would return and -would see how I laughed at him and loved another. -But I did not love. And Peter was not the son of the -man my soldier hated. Now the young man comes -and loves, and I am old. Soon I go to my soldier man. -It is not right that others should have sorrow because -of my lie.</p> - -<p>“So now I speak what is true. I say that this -young man is not of your blood. He is the grandson -of the father of Peter, and Peter is his uncle. You -are not his cousin. Now you will be his wife, and you -will hate Anita for the sin of her youth.”</p> - -<p>Nevada lay listening, gazing fixedly at her grandmother. -She caught the gnarled old hand of Anita in -both her own. She fondled it, kissed it, laughed softly -with tears in her laughter.</p> - -<p>“You will not hate Anita?” Tears spilled over -the fat lids and trickled down the cheeks of the old -squaw.</p> - -<p>Whatever Nevada said, she spoke in Indian, stealing -a shy glance now and then at Rawley. But her voice -crooned caresses. Now and then she kissed the old -hand she held in both her own.</p> - -<p>Anita tucked in her bangs, drew two fingers across -her cheeks to dry her tears and smiled. She turned -heavily toward Rawley.</p> - -<p>“My girl say, loves you more—I love your grandfadder. -My girl make you good wife.”</p> - -<p>“Hush, Grandmother! He doesn’t want a fighting -squaw—”</p> - -<p>“Don’t, eh?” Rawley got up and made for her.</p> - -<p>At that moment Peter walked in upon them, unconscious -of the fact that he was interrupting a very -interesting conversation. Peter’s face was grave.</p> - -<p>“Nevada, do you and mother know anything about -Young Jess? Gladys is all upset over him. She -thought he was down in the river with his father. -She heard them talking about getting gold, and then -the dam went, and she hasn’t seen him since. If he’s -hiding,” he added sternly, “he may as well come out -and show himself. I think it can be fixed up. The -Governor wants to ask him some questions.”</p> - -<p>“How could I know? I was penned in when the -cabin fell to pieces,” Nevada countered. “They certainly -said nothing to me, either one of them. I didn’t -see them all afternoon or evening.”</p> - -<p>Anita slowly lifted her hand to her face and gropingly -tucked in her bangs. Her eyes were fixed dumbly -on Peter’s face.</p> - -<p>“Young Jess—by river,” she said reluctantly. “I -walk in moonlight, no can sleep. Comes big shootin’. -I fall down. Bimeby I hear Nevada—she call me -come quick. I no see Jess no more. I come.” She -recapitulated slowly. “Jess by river, look on river. -Comes shoot. No see Jess no more. Nevada call -loud. Jess no come.”</p> - -<p>The eyes of the two men met significantly. Peter -turned and went out, and Rawley followed him.</p> - -<p>“Concussion,” Rawley said succinctly. “If he were -on the edge of the bank, it would throw him off, very -likely. It’s high, out here, and pretty steep. He went -into the river, in that case.”</p> - -<p>“Yes—some folks upriver came near getting it -when we shot in the second dam,” Peter said tonelessly. -“I sent a man up on a hill to wave back any stragglers, -but the doctor had to do some patching on the crowd, -nevertheless. Well, I’ll go and look along the river. -He may be hurt, under the bank.”</p> - -<p>Rawley did not think so, but he went with Peter and -searched the bank thoroughly. Halfway down, caught -behind a bowlder, he found Young Jess’s hat. He -managed to retrieve it and bring it to Peter. Peter -turned it over in his hand, looked at Rawley and -nodded.</p> - -<p>“It’s his,” he said shortly. “It’s all we’ll ever -find.”</p> - -<p>He turned away toward the shack, swung back suddenly -and faced the tremendous heap of broken rock -visible from midstream to the farther shore. He lifted -both hands high above his head, his face twisted, his -eyes black with sublime fury.</p> - -<p>“Damn you!” he cried. “Curse the thought, born -in greed, fostered in rapacity, that put you there! -Curse the bitter years that brought you to pass! For -the greed of the gold they would have filched, for the -vulture’s eye that watched and waited all these years, -to swoop down and snatch and grab, with never a -thought for the rights of other men, I curse the thing -I helped to make!</p> - -<p>“Born in selfishness, you have defiled a mighty -river that God meant should flow through the land -and one day be a blessing to mankind. You have made -of the river a monster. It is <i>you</i> that is driving -women and little children from their homes! <i>You</i>, -God damn you! You have been a traitor to the mind -that brought you forth. You have destroyed the two -who worked and waited, that you might pander to their -greed. You have tried to destroy the dearest thing -I have on earth, because I saw in you something big -and beautiful—because I was fool enough to think -that an idea spawned in devil-greed could live in noble -achievement.</p> - -<p>“Look at the slimy thing the vultures have made -of the river! The leprous thing over which the vultures -croaked—for a little while—croaked and went -down and died! The Eagle would never stop the -river, leave it a naked, stinking thing under the sky. -For the good of mankind, the Eagle would have tamed -the river, without destroying it. The Eagle would -have had it run peacefully within its banks, helping -without hurting. Now the river lies shamed in its -bed—that magnificent stream!—and men flee from -it in terror. The two who thought to feast in the -slime—yes, and I, too, could stoop so low as to root -for gold like a hog in the mire!—you have swept -them to destruction, have cheated them at the last of -their prey.</p> - -<p>“But you have done your worst! I, who helped -to make you what you are, who created you thought -by thought, I will tear you down. For the thing you -are, a monument to greed and self, I shall tear you -down stone by stone until the river is once more sweeping -majestically down to the sea. As God is my witness, -this thing the vultures have created shall be forgotten. -The Eagle’s wing shall shadow the Colorado, -a river undefiled.”</p> - -<p>His voice ceased. He stood, hands clenched beside -him, jaw squared, staring at the dam that had been his -dream. A dream fulfilled,—and hated in the fulfillment. -His lips moved, muttering the prophecy of -Johnny Buffalo:</p> - -<p>“‘You will succeed, and fail in the succeeding. -And from the failure,—’”</p> - -<p>A gloved hand was laid in friendly fashion on Peter’s -shoulder. He turned and looked into the eyes of his -Governor.</p> - -<p>“It takes a big man, a man of broad vision, to look -upon his life’s work and dare to say what you have -said,” the Governor told him kindly, the look of understanding -in his eyes. “Don’t be down-hearted because -your success has proved a failure. The Cramer -Dam would hold, I believe, if we wanted it to hold. -But you are right. It is not for the vulture, but for -the Eagle to say what shall be done with the river. -The country needs more men like you, Peter. You -shall help to build another dam—and build it under -the Eagle’s wing.”</p> - -<p>Peter lifted his right hand and laid it upon the -shoulder of his Governor. His eyes were very blue -and very deep. So they stood for a space and looked -into each other’s eyes.</p> - -<p>“‘—And from the failure rise to greater things,’” -Rawley repeated under his breath, his eyes shining.</p> - - -<div class='ce' style='margin-top:0.7em;'>THE END</div> - -</div> - -<div class='page'> -<hr style='border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:100%; margin-bottom:2em;' /> - -<div class='ce' style='font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:1em;'>NOVELS BY B. M. BOWER</div> - - -<p class='ni'>THE HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX</p> - -<p>A Flying U story in which the Happy Family get mixed up -in a robbery faked for film purposes.</p> - -<p>“Altogether a rattling story, that is better in conception and expression -than the conventional thriller on account of its touches of -real humanity in characterization.”—<i>The Philadelphia Public -Ledger.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>STARR, OF THE DESERT</p> - -<p>A story of mystery, love and adventure, which has a Mexican -revolt as its main theme.</p> - -<p>“The tale is well written.... A book worth the reading which -it is sure to get from every one who begins it.”—<i>The New York -Tribune.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>CABIN FEVER</p> - -<p>How Bud Moore and his wife, Marie, fared through their -attack of “cabin fever” is the theme of this B. M. Bower story.</p> - -<p>“It is breezy and wholesome, with a quiet humor.... Plenty -of action is evident, while the sentimental side of the story is -thoroughly human and altogether delightful.”—<i>The Boston -Transcript.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>SKYRIDER</p> - -<p>A cowboy who becomes an aviator is the hero of this new story -of Western ranch life.</p> - -<p>“An engrossing ranch story with a new note of interest woven -into its breezy texture.”—<i>The Philadelphia Public Ledger.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>RIM O’ THE WORLD</p> - -<p>An engrossing tale of a ranch-feud between “gun-fighters” in -Idaho.</p> - -<p>“The author has filled the story with abundant happenings, -and the reader of this class of story will find many a thrill in its -pages.”—<i>The Philadelphia Public Ledger.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>THE QUIRT</p> - -<p>A story of ranch life in Idaho, with an abundance of action, -adventure and romance.</p> - -<p>“Like all the Bower novels, ‘The Quirt’ rings true. Lovers of -Western Stories have long voted Bower a place in the front rank -of those who tell of ranch-life, bad men, range wars and rough -riding.”—<i>The Boston Herald.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>COW-COUNTRY</p> - -<p>This story of Bud Birnie will appeal to all lovers of tales of -the real West.</p> - -<p>“A live, well-told Western romance which bears above all else -the impress of truth in its descriptions of both persons and -country.”—<i>The New York Times.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>CASEY RYAN</p> - -<p>Lovers of stories of the real West will enjoy this humorous tale.</p> - -<p>“This is one of the cleverest and most amusing of all the many -books that have come from B. M. Bower’s pen.... It is a -rollicking story, full of mirth and laughter from beginning to end.”—<i>The -New York Times.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>THE TRAIL OF THE WHITE MULE</p> - -<p>Another Casey Ryan story in which Casey is funnier than ever.</p> - -<p>“The author produces in Casey Ryan a fictional creation, a -unique character that is a worth while addition to our gallery of -Western portraits in fiction.”—<i>The New York Times.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>THE VOICE AT JOHNNYWATER</p> - -<p>“It is a crackerjack of a story, in B. M. Bower’s best style, -the sort of story that you have to read in one evening, so absorbing -is it.”—<i>The St. Louis Globe-Democrat.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>LONESOME LAND</p> - -<p>A vigorous tale of ranch life in Montana.</p> - -<p>“Montana, described as it really is, is the ‘lonesome land’ of this -delightful Bower story. A prairie fire and the death of the worthless -husband are especially well handled.”—<i>A. L. A. Booklist.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>THE RANCH AT THE WOLVERINE</p> - -<p>A tale of Idaho ranch life, with a bewitching heroine.</p> - -<p>“A ringing tale full of exhilarating cowboy atmosphere, abundantly -and absorbingly illustrating the outstanding features of that -alluring ranch life that is fast vanishing.”—<i>The Chicago Tribune.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>THE FLYING U’S LAST STAND</p> - -<p>What happened when a company of school teachers and -farmers encamped on the grounds of the Flying U Ranch.</p> - -<p>“How the ranchmen saved their grazing grounds is told by -the novelist with breezy humor and an overflow of fanciful -incident.”—<i>The Philadelphia North American.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>THE PAROWAN BONANZA</p> - -<p>“The reader can always take up a story of B. M. Bower with -the assurance that it will seethe with action, humor, Western -color and romance.... ‘The Parowan Bonanza’ is a smooth-running, -well-told tale that leaves the reader with a comfortable -sense of having seen the desert country at close range, of having -known its mysterious, starlit nights and burning days, and of -having participated for a time in all the surge and rush of a mining -town in its making and its débâcle.”—<i>The New York Times.</i></p> - - -<p class='ni'>THE EAGLE’S WING</p> - -<p>A project to dam the Colorado River furnishes the theme of -this characteristically picturesque and exciting Bower story.</p> - - -<div class='ce'>Boston—LITTLE, BROWN & COMPANY—Publishers</div> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EAGLE'S WING ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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