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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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