XXVI.
THE JUMPING OF THE CANOPUS.
The snow was soft at last, and honeycombed by the splashes from thepines, which once more scattered their resinous odors on a little warmbreeze, when Shyanne Tom came plodding down the trail to the Canopus. Hewas a rock-driller of no great proficiency, which was why CaptainWilkins had sent him on an errand to a ranch; and was then retracing hissteps leisurely. It was still a long way to the mine, but he was in nogreat haste to reach it, because he found it pleasanter to slouchthrough the bush than swing the hammer, and the time he spent on thejourney would be credited to him. He had turned out of the trail torelight his pipe in the shelter of a big cedar, which kept off the wind,when he became sensible of a beat of horse hoofs close behind him. Hewould have heard it earlier, but that the roar of a river, which hadlately burst its icy chains, came throbbing across the trees.
Shyanne was shredding his tobacco plug with a great knife, but he turnedsharply round because he could not think of any one likely to be ridingdown that trail, which only led to the Canopus, just then. As ithappened, he stood in the shadow, and it is difficult to make out a manwho does not move amidst the great grey-tinted trunks, especially if heis dressed in stained and faded jean; but the sunlight was on the trail,and Shyanne was struck by the attitude of one of the horsemen whoappeared among the trees. There were five or six of them, and the beastswere heavily loaded with provisions and blankets, as well as axes andmining tools. The last man, however, led a horse, which carried nothingat all, and the leader, who had just pulled his beast up, was holding uphis hand. It was evident to Shyanne that they had seen his tracks in thesnow, but, as that was a peaceful country, he failed to understand whyit should have brought the party to a standstill. He, however, stayedwhere he was, watching the leader, who stooped in his saddle.
"It can't be more than a few minutes since that fellow went along, andhis tracks break off right here," he said. "I guess there's a side trailsomewhere, though the bush seems kind of thick."
"A blame rancher looking for a deer," said another man. "Anyway, if he'dheard us, he'd have stopped to talk."
The leader, Shyanne fancied, appeared reflective. "Well," he said, "Ican't quite figure where he could have come from. Tomlinson's ranch isquite a way back, and there's not another house of any kind until youstrike the mine. Still, I guess we needn't worry, so long as he hasn'tseen us."
He shook his bridle, and while one or two of the men turning in theirsaddles looked about them the horses plodded on, but Shyanne stood stillfor at least five minutes. He was not especially remarkable forintelligence, but it was evident to him that the men had a sufficientreason for desiring that nobody should see them. Then he put his pipeaway, and proceeded circumspectly up the trail, with the print of thehorse hoofs leading on before him, until they turned off abruptly intothe bush. The meaning of this was incomprehensible, since it was not theseason when timber-right or mineral prospectors started on theirjourneys, and Shyanne decided that it might be advisable to go on andinform Wilkins of what he had seen. Still, he made no great progress,for the snow was soft, and, after all, the Canopus did not belong tohim.
About the time he reached it, Brooke, who had come up there on somebusiness with Wilkins, was lounging, cigar in hand, on the verandah atthe ranch. The night was, for the season, still and almost warm, and ahalf-moon hung low above the dripping pines, while he found the silenceand the sweet resinous odors soothing, for he had been toilingfeverishly at the Dayspring of late. Why he stayed there when there wasno longer any reason he should not go back to England, and Barbara hadtold him that his offences were too grievous to be forgiven, he did notexactly know. Still, the work had taken hold of him, and he felt thatwhile she was in the country he could not go away. He was wondering,disconsolately, whether time would soften her indignation, or if shewould always be merciless, when Wilkins came into the verandah. He wasan elderly and somewhat deliberate man, but Brooke fancied he wasanxious just then.
"It's kind of fortunate you're here to-night. We've got to have a talk,"he said.
Brooke gave him a cigar, and leaned against the balustrade, when heslowly lighted it.
"You can't let me have the men I asked for?" he said.
Wilkins made a little gesture. "All you want. That's not the point. Now,you just let me have a minute or two."
Ten had passed before he had related what Shyanne had told him, and thenBrooke, who saw the hand of Saxton in this, quietly lighted anothercigar.
"Well," he said, "what do you make of it? They're scarcely likely to betimber-righters?"
"They might be claim-jumpers."
"Still, nobody could jump a claim whose title was good."
Wilkins appeared a trifle uneasy, though it was too dark for Brooke tosee him well, but he apparently made up his mind to speak.
"The fact is, our title isn't quite as good as it might be. That is,there's a point or two anybody who knew all about it could make troubleon," he said, and then turned, a trifle impatiently, to Brooke. "Youtake it blame quietly. I had kind of figured that would astonish you."
Brooke laughed. "I had surmised as much already. We'll suppose the menShyanne saw intend to jump the claim. How will they set about it?"
"They'll wait until they figure every one's asleep--twelve o'clock, mostlikely, since that would make it easy to get their record in the sameday, though it's most of an eight hours' ride to the office of the Crownrecorder. Then they'll drive their stakes in quietly, and while the restsit down tight on the pegged-off claim, one of them will ride out allhe's worth to get the record made. After that, they'll start in to bluffthe dollars out of Devine."
He stopped somewhat abruptly, and Brooke fancied that he had somethingstill upon his mind, but he had discovered already that it was generallyuseless to attempt the extraction of any information Wilkins had notquite decided to impart.
"Then what are we going to do?" he said.
"Turn out the boys, and hold the jumpers off as long as we can, whilesomebody from our crowd rides out to put a new record in. When a claim'sbad in law anybody can stake it, and the Crown will register him asowner until they can straighten out the thing."
"Then what do you expect from me?"
Wilkins' answer was prompt and decisive. "We'll have a horse ready.You'll ride for the Company."
Brooke turned from him abruptly, and looked down the valley. He wouldhave preferred to avoid an actual conflict with Saxton for severalreasons, but he could not remain neutral, and must choose between Devineand him. He had also broken off his compact, and while he wished thejumpers had been acting for another man, there was apparently only theone course open to him. It was also conceivable that if he could make avalid new record it would count for a little in his favor with Barbara.
"I certainly seem the most suitable person, and you can get the horseready," he said. "Still, is there any reason I shouldn't make sure ofthe thing by starting right away?"
Wilkins thought there was. "Well," he said, "I've only Shyanne's tale togo upon, and supposing those men aren't claim-jumpers after all, what dowe gain by sending you to make a new record on the claim?"
"Nothing beyond letting everybody know that your patent's bad, andraising trouble with the Crown people over it, while I scarcely fancyDevine would thank me for doing that unnecessarily. It would be wiser towait and make certain of what they mean to do."
"You've hit it," said Wilkins. "I'll go along and talk to the boys."
He disappeared into the darkness, and Brooke, who was feeling chillynow, went back to the stove, while it was two hours later when he tookhis place behind one of the sawn-off firs which dotted the hillsideabove what had been one of the most profitable headings of the mine. Thehalf-moon was higher now, and the pale radiance showed the six-footstumps that straggled up the steep slope in rows until the bush closedin on them again. There was no longer any snow upon the firs, and theytowered against the blueness of the night in black and solemn spires.The bush was also very quiet, as was the
strip of clearing, and therewas nothing to show that a handful of men were waiting there with asense of grim anticipation.
Half an hour slipped by, and there was no sound from the forest but thesoft rustling of the fir twigs under a little breeze, while Brooke, whofound the waiting particularly unpleasant, and was annoyed to feel hisfingers were quivering a little with the tension, grew chilly. It would,he felt, be a relief when the jumpers came, but another ten minutesdragged by and there was still no sign of them. The breeze had grown atrifle colder, and the firs were whispering eerily, while he could nowhear the men moving uneasily. Then he started when the howl of a wolfcame out of the bush, and, leaning forward, grasped Wilkins' arm.
"I suppose they will come?" he said.
The mine captain made a sign to a man who crouched behind a neighboringtree.
"Quite sure you were awake when you saw those men, Shyanne?" he said."Harrup hadn't been giving you any of the hard cider?"
Shyanne chuckled audibly. "Not more'n a jugful, anyway, and I don't seethings on the hardest cider they make in Ontario. No, sir, those menwere there, and I've a notion there's one of them yonder now."
The shadows of the firs were black upon the clearing, but a dark patchwas projected suddenly beyond the rest, and a voice came faintly throughthe whispering of the trees.
"Stand by," it said. "They're coming along."
Then Brooke set his lips as a human figure, carrying what seemed to bean axe, materialized out of the gloom. Another appeared behind it, andthen a third, while, when a fourth became visible, Wilkins rosesuddenly.
"Now, what in the name of thunder are you wanting here?" he said.
The foremost man jumped, as Shyanne asserted afterwards, like a shotdeer, but the rest, who had apparently steadier nerves, came on at arun, and a man behind them shouted, "Don't worry 'bout anything, butget your stakes in. I'll do the talking."
Then, while Brooke slipped away, Wilkins stepped out into the moonlightwith a Marlin rifle gleaming dully in his hand. "Stop right where youare," he said. "Where's the man who wants to talk?"
The men stopped, and stood glancing about them, irresolutely. There weresix in all, but rather more than that number of shadowy objects hadappeared unexpectedly among the sawn-off stumps. While they waitedSaxton stepped forward.
"Well," he said, "you see me."
"Oh, yes," said Wilkins, drily, "and I guess I've seen many a squarerman. What do you want crawling round our claim, anyway?"
"It's not yours. Your patent's bad, and we're going to re-locate it foryou. Haven't you got those stakes ready, boys?"
"Bring them along," said Wilkins. "I'm waiting."
He stood stiff and resolute, with the rifle at his hip, and themoonlight on his face, which was very grim, and once more theclaim-jumpers glanced at their leader, dubiously. They were aware thatalthough the regulations respecting mineral claims might not have beencomplied with, there are conditions under which a man is warranted inholding on to his property. Wilkins also appeared quite decided on doingit.
Then Saxton's voice rose sharply. "Hallo!" he said. "What the----"
Wilkins swung round, and saw three or four more shadowy figures enterthe clearing from the opposite side, and they also apparently carriedstakes and axes.
"Figured you'd get in ahead of us, Saxton," said one of them.
Saxton evidently lost his temper. "Well," he said, "I guess I'm going todo it, you slinking skunk. If it can't be fixed any other way, I'llstrike you for shooting Brooke."
Wilkins laughed. "Any more of you coming along? It's a kind of pity youdidn't get here a little earlier."
They knew what he meant in another moment, when the sound of a horseridden hard through slushy snow rose from the shadows of the pines.Wilkins made a little ironical gesture.
"I guess you'll never get rich claim-jumping, boys," he said.
Then Saxton's voice rose again. "The game's not finished. We'll play youfor it yet," he said. "Where's that horse? Get your stakes in."
He vanished in another minute, but his followers remained, and there wasfor a time a very lively scuffle about the stakes Brooke had alreadyhammered in. They were torn up, and replaced several times before theaffray was over, and then two men, who furnished a very vague accountof the fashion in which they had received their injuries, were withdifficulty conveyed to the Vancouver hospital. In spite of a popularillusion, pistols are not in general use in that country, but it is notinsuperably difficult to disable an opponent effectively with an axe orshovel.
In the meanwhile, three men, who realized that, under the circumstances,a good deal would depend upon who was first to reach it, were ridinghard by different ways towards the recorder's office, and Brooke, havingno great confidence in the horse Wilkins had supplied him with, hadtaken what was at once the worst and shortest route. That is not a nicecountry to ride through in daylight, even when there is no snow upon theground, and there were times when he held his breath as the horseplunged down the side of a gulley with the half-melted snow and gravelsliding away beneath its hoofs. They also smashed and floundered throughwithered fern and crackling thickets of sal-sal and salmon berry, andduring one perilous hour Brooke dragged the beast by the bridle upslopes of wet and slippery rock, from which the winds had swept the snowaway.
Still, it was long since he had felt in the same high spirits, and whenthey reached more even ground the rush through the cold night airbrought him a curious elation. He felt he was, at least doing what mightcount in his favor against the past, and, apart from that, there wassatisfaction to be derived from the reckless ride itself. He had,however, only a blurred recollection of most of it, flitting forest,peaks that glittered coldly, the glint of moonlight on still frozenlakes, and the frequent splashings through icy fords, until, when thestars had faded, and the firs rose black and hard against the dawn, theyreeled down to the bank of a larger river, from which the white mistswere streaming. It swirled by thick with floating ice, and the horsestrenuously objected to enter the water at all. Twice it reared at thestabbing of the spurs, and then bounded with arching back, but Brookewas used to that trick, and contrived to keep his saddle until he andthe beast slid down the bank together, and there was a splash andflounder as they reached the water.
It was most of it freshly-melted ice, and when he slipped from thesaddle, which he promptly found it necessary to do, the cold took hisbreath away, and he clung by the stirrup leather, gasping andhalf-dazed, while the beast proceeded unguided for a minute or two.Then, as they swung round in a white eddy, his perceptions came back tohim, and he realized that there was no longer any need for swimming,when he drove against a boulder, whose head just showed above theswirling foam. He got on his feet somehow, and was never quite surewhether he led the beast through the rest of the passage or held on bythe bridle, but at last they staggered up the opposite bank, where aman he could not see very well in the dim light sat looking down on himfrom the saddle. Brooke moved a pace nearer, and then recognized him asthe one who had shot him at Devine's ranch.
"Saxton has taken the high trail and he'll cross by the bridge, but Iguess we're quite a while ahead of him," he said. "Now, do you know anyreason why we shouldn't pool the thing?"
Brooke stared at him, divided between indignation and appreciation ofhis assurance.
"Yes," he said, drily, "several, and one of them is quite sufficient byitself."
"Figure it out," said the other. "I tell you Saxton can't make our timeover the high trail, though it's a better road. Now that one of us willget there first is a sure thing, but it's quite as certain it can't beboth, and I'd be content with half of what you bluff out of Devine.That's reasonable."
Brooke felt his face grow a trifle hot, though he recognized that it wasnot astonishing the man should credit him with the purpose he hadcertainly been impelled by at their last meeting.
"I can't make a deal with you on any terms," he said. "Ride on, or pullyour horse out of the trail."
"I guess that wouldn't suit me," said
the other man, and when Brooke hadhis foot in the stirrup, suddenly swung up his hand.
Then there was a flash and a detonation, and the horse plunged. Theflash was repeated, and while Brooke strove to clear his foot of thestirrup, the beast staggered and fell back on him. It, however, rolledand struggled, and, for his foot was free now, he contrived to draghimself away.
When he was next sensible of anything, he could hear a very faint thudof hoofs far up the climbing trail, and, after lying still for severalminutes, ventured to move circumspectly. He felt very sore, but all hislimbs appeared to be in their usual places, and, rising shakily, hefound, somewhat to his astonishment, that he could walk. The horse wasevidently dead, but there was, he remembered, a ranch not very far away,and a certain probability of the other man still breaking one of his ownlimbs or his horse's legs, for the trail was rather worse than trailsusually are in that country. Brooke accordingly decided to hobble on tothe ranch, and somehow accomplished it, though the man who opened thedoor to him looked very dubious when he asked him for a horse.
"The only beast I've got isn't worth much, but you don't look up totaking him in over the lake trail," he said.
He, however, parted with the horse, and hove Brooke into the saddle,while the latter groaned as he rode away. One arm and one leg were stiffand aching, and at every jolt his back hurt him excruciatingly, but afew hours later he rode, spattered with mire and slushy snow, into alittle wooden town, and had afterwards a fancy that somebody offered tolift him down. He was not sure how he got out of the saddle, but a manhe recognized took the horse, and he proceeded, limping stiffly, withhis wet clothes sticking to his skin, to the Crown mining office. Therecorder, who appeared to be a young Englishman, looked hard at him whenhe came in, and then pointed to a chair.
"You may as well sit down. If my surmises are correct, there is no greatneed for haste," he said.
Brooke's face, which was a trifle grey, grew suddenly set.
"Some one else has already recorded a new claim on the Canopus?" hesaid.
"Yes," said the recorder. "In fact, two of them, and the last man wasgood enough to inform me that there was another of you coming along."
"Then you can't give a record?"
"No," said the other man, with a little smile. "I'm not sure that any ofyou will get one in the meanwhile; that is, not until we have obtained afew particulars from Mr. Devine."
"I have come on behalf of him."
"That," said the recorder, "is, under the circumstances, no greatrecommendation. In fact, there are several points your employer will beasked to clear up before we go any further with the matter."
Brooke, who asked no more questions, contrived to make his way to thehotel, and flung himself down to rest, when he had ascertained when thePacific express came in. Important as it was that he should see Devine,he was, however, very uncertain whether he would be able to get upagain.