CHAPTER XVII.--MR. WILLETT LEARNS THE NEWS.
Collins, and his partner, Brill, were at heart as tender as they werebrave.
They reasoned that Mr. Willett should know the news the messengerbrought back from Gold Cave Camp, yet neither felt like conveying it tothe unhappy man.
"Somebody's got to tell him," said Brill, to his partner, "and as you'vegot the best gift of gab, Collins, I reckon you're the feller to do it."
"If it comes down whar I've got to speak my mind and tell a sneakin'feller jest what I think of him," replied Collins, "I ain't slow, and Ifind I'm flush of words 'bout that time, but tellin' a man his son'sdead, and that that 'ar paper he sent for to save his own life, ain'tagoin to be perduced, why, that's an entirely different matter, and I'da sight rather contract out the job to some chap as don't mind sichthings."
"See har, pard, I've got an idear."
"Let's have it," said Collins, much relieved.
"I think we'd better do this kinder by slow degrees like. What do yousay?"
"Why, I say, Brill, ole feller, I don't catch on to the drift of yourore bed," said Collins.
"I mean through Hank Tims."
"What about him?"
"We must get him to one side, kinder."
"And what then?"
"Why then we must up and tell him the hull story."
"I see yer pint, Brill."
"And then," continued Brill, "he can give it to Mr. Willett, and that'llkinder let us out of the scrape."
In token of his approval of this very excellent plan, Collins shookhands with his partner, and then Hank Tims was called outside of thedugout.
The partners were still in doubt as to which of them should tell thestory, and noticing that they stood looking at each other Hank asked:
"Is there any fresh trouble up, pards?"
"Wa'al, yes, kinder," said Collins, taking upon himself the painfulduties of spokesman.
"Let's have it," said Hank, stoutly. "Neither me nor Mr. Willett isskeered to hear the worst."
"Jest so," said Collins, "and so we thought we'd better give you thenews and let you break it to him."
"What news?" asked Hank.
"Why the news that's come from Gold Cave Camp."
"Wa'al, let's have it."
"You know, Hank, we sent a messenger to Gold Cave Camp when we found thestorm was onto us, and Mr. Willett's son hadn't showed up with thatpaper."
"Yes, I heard of that, Collins."
"Wa'al, the man's back----"
"And the boy--Sam Willett?" cried Hank.
"Couldn't be found," stammered Collins.
"Why not?"
"He wasn't thar."
"No," added Brill, "he wasn't no whar in sight."
"And the other folks, the black boy, the Chinee and the young Ute, Ulna,what came here with me an Mr. Willett and went back again when we wastook prizners?"
"No one knows; they wasn't in sight."
"Drownded out!" gasped Hank.
"No, the folks think they tried to git away by swimmin' or making araft," said Collins.
"They might as well try to fly. Ah, this is bad news; mighty bad news.I'd rather die mysel', and I know Mr. Willett would rather die athousand times over than to lose that boy. Did you ever see young SamWillett, gents?"
The partners shook their heads and said they never had seen young SamWillett.
"Wa'al," continued Hank, with a sob in his voice, "he wasn't what youand me mout think a full-growed man, but never a braver nor a handsomerlad ever crossed them Sierras off thar to the east. He was a gentleman,young Sam was, from the ground up; he couldn't think anything mean, muchless do it. Ah, why should men like you, and me, and others be left andhim be took? I don't see how I can bring mysel' to tell his father, forhe was all Mr. Willett had left, and he won't keer any more for lifewhen he hears this."
"It's mighty tough on the old man," coughed Brill, "not to mention hisother troubles; but as he's got to know it sooner or later, my pard andme thought you'd better tell him."
"Wa'al, if I must I 'spose I must; but I tell you what, boys, I'd jestas soon you'd order me out to be shot. In fact I'd a heap sight ratherbe shot, if I was only sure that my dyin' would bring back young SamWillett to life."
Brushing his sleeve across his eyes, Hank turned away to hide hisfeelings, and the partners went silently back to the cluster of tentsand buildings that was known as "the camp."
We have already seen something of the love that existed between Mr.Willett and his son.
Apart from the affection natural to their relationship, these two werestill more strongly attached to each other by the fact that they werealone in the world and the exclusive object of each other's mostprofound affections.
We shall not attempt to describe the manner in which Hank Timscommunicated the news to the already much afflicted father, but itshould be said that he acquitted himself with a tenderness hardly to beexpected from one of his rough exterior and rude life.
There are blows so crushing to the human heart that they fall withoutbeing followed by a sign of pain or a cry of agony.
The sting of a bee will call out a shout from the strongest man, but thebullet that taps the fountain of life is received with ashy but silentlips.
All the color left Mr. Willett's face, and he fell back on the blanketson which he had been sitting.
He looked as if he were dying, and Hank, to redress the effects of theblow he had been forced to deal, sprang forward, and putting his armsabout Mr. Willett's shoulder, he said, though he had not the slightestfaith in his own words:
"Thar ain't no doubt in my mind but the boys made a raft. Sam was sharp,and thar was lots of timber to do it."
"But that would only be going to death," said Mr. Willett faintly andslowly.
"Oh, not by a long odds. Thar's lots and lots of places lower down wharthey might get out easy. Now, let's jest have patience; thar ain'tnothin' like a good stock of patience. Why, it wouldn't s'prise me not abit if I was to see Sam and the hull caboodle of 'em walk into the doorof this dugout this blessed minute," and Hank fixed his eyes steadily onthe opening, as if he were quite prepared for this phenomenon.
Leaving Hank Tims to fan the faint ray of hope he had kindled in theafflicted father's heart, let us give a few minutes to reporting theconduct of the two men who were the authors of all this trouble.
There were some very bad men at Hurley's Gulch, as there are bad men inany gathering the world over, but in justice it should be said that amajority aimed to do as near right as they knew how.
Men's ideas of right and wrong vary with their training and theirnatural abilities to weigh evidence and comprehend truth. But even thosemen who are rude in their bearing, or even vicious in their lives, havetheir hearts touched by a death that brings great sorrow to some fond,loving heart.
So when the people at Hurley's Gulch began to think over Mr. Willett'sloss, they forgot for the time the grave offence with which he wascharged, and expressed themselves as very sorry for the death of hisboy.
This change of feeling did not escape the ever wide-awake observation ofFrank Shirley.
He was a pretty good judge of human nature, and so he thought it wisernot to say anything at this time. Indeed, he played his part so wellthat he expressed to the crowd, whom he kept attached to him by frequenttreating, that he was very sorry for young Sam Willett's loss.
"He was a cousin of mine," sighed Shirley, "and not a bit like hisfather."
How could the people know that the death of Sam Willett was the oneobject that brought Shirley to this land, and how could they know thatthe life of the noble youth was the one thing that stood between thisfellow and a large fortune.
"I tell you, Mr. Shirley," said Badger to his employer the day after thereception of the news from Gold Cave Camp, "you're a keen one. Oh, youken play it fine--finer'n any one I ever seed."
"Do you think so, Badger?" said Shirley, flattered by this compliment tohis talent for crime.
"Yes, I do. In
a day or two the boys'll forgit all about the death ofyoung Willett. Then you ken swing in on the murder of Tom Edwards again,and make them do jest as you please."
"Well, I'll try," replied the jubilant Shirley.