CHAPTER II.
TERRIBLE NEWS.
William Tunstall returned to Cedar Gulch the very day upon which hismates began to expect him. Having finished up the work in their claimon the previous day they strolled up the hill to meet the coach on thechance of his coming.
"Well, mate, how goes it?" Sim Howlett asked.
"Well, it doesn't go at all, Sim."
"How is that?"
"Well, the lawyer was civil, and all that, but if I had let him hewould have made me believe that I was not Will Tunstall at all. Ishowed him my brother's letters, which ought to have satisfied anyone,and he hinted that these might have come into my possession anyhow,that Tunstall might be dead, or that his kit, with these letters in it,might have been stolen."
"That is the very thing the doctor said he would be after," Sim Howlettexclaimed in great admiration at the latter's perspicacity.
"I suppose he didn't say he thought so, Bill?" the doctor asked.
"No, he knew better than that, doctor. He kept on saying that he wasquite satisfied, but that other people wouldn't be satisfied. Then heasked about references, who could I refer to? Could I refer to anyonewho had known me as William Tunstall before the date of these letters?I said that I had been knocking about on the plains and doing trappingand Indian fighting for years, and that I was known as English Bill,and that I did not suppose there were half a dozen fellows ever didknow my name, and that, for aught I knew, they had all been scalped,shot, or hung long ago. He said, in that case I should have to go toEngland to prove my claim. I said I would see the claim at the bottomof the sea first, and then I left him.
"I met some fellows, and made a night of it, but in the morning thelawyer turned up at the hotel just as I had finished breakfast. I hadtold him the hotel where I was staying. He said it was no use beinghasty. I said I wasn't hasty, and we were near having a row again.Then he said that he had only had instructions to find me, and did notknow how much was left me under the will, or anything about it, exceptwhat he had put in the advertisement. At any rate he would write to thepeople who had instructed him in England and tell them that a gentlemanrepresenting himself to be William Tunstall had called, and that hepossessed letters from the late Mr. Edgar Tunstall. That in the presentstate of affairs I declined to make the voyage to England for thepurpose of proving my identity, but that he had my address, and couldcommunicate further with me upon receiving instructions from them.
"I told him to say that I didn't want the money, and was not going toput myself out one way or the other about it. He listened, and shookhis head, just the way the doctor does when he don't agree with you.Then he remarked that he would not do anything rash if he were in myplace. I told him it was no odds to me whether he would or would not,and as I had just time to catch the steamer I wasn't going to waste anymore time jawing over it, so off I came, and here I am. Well, what isdoing here? Has there been any fresh rush?"
"Nary one. The doctor and I think we cannot do better than stay here.I was talking with Halkett and his partners this afternoon. They don'tget on well together. Halkett said they would sell out if they couldget a fair price. They are getting out about six ounces a day. Nogreat thing, but they are only half-way down at present. It is in fourshares, for two of the gang are on day wages. Of course, I said thatit wasn't much of a thing to buy, as they were only getting an ounce apiece, and besides, the shaft is badly timbered. Still, if they wouldsay what they wanted for it we would talk it over with you when yougot back. Halkett was evidently anxious to sell, and said they wouldtake a hundred ounces for it right out. Of course I said that was toomuch, but I think it is a bargain, so does the doctor. They have gotthrough the worst half, and there is the best behind. It don't alwaysturn out rich on the bed-rock here; it didn't with us. Still, there isthe chance of it; and if it only keeps as it is now, and we take on acouple of men to work with us, we should, after paying them and keepingourselves, be making three ounces a day anyhow, and it will take us acouple of months to get to the bottom, and perhaps more."
"How do we stand after the clear-up, doctor?" for Frank was thetreasurer of the party.
"We got twenty ounces at the last clear-up, and we had eighty-ninebefore, so if we give him his price we should have nine ounces left."
"It will take fifty or sixty dollars," Sim Howlett said, "to make thatshaft safe. Halkett is the only one of the lot that knows anythingabout that, and it has been done in a very slovenly style. I shouldn'tlike to work down there until we have strengthened it all the way down.I told Halkett the other day that if he didn't mind it would be cavingin. I think that is partly why they are selling."
"Well, I think we couldn't do better than take it, Sim; but you mustget them to knock a few ounces off, otherwise we shan't have enough torepair the shaft, and from what you say we must do that before we go towork in the bottom. Let us go and make a bargain at once."
"That will never do, Bill," Sim Howlett said; "that would look as if wehad made up our mind to take it, and they wouldn't come down an ounce.No, no, we will have our meal, and wait an hour or two, then I willstroll round to Halkett's tent and say that as we calculate it wouldcost a heap of money to make the shaft safe we do not see our way toit, though we might otherwise have taken to the job. Then you will seeto-morrow morning, when they knock off for breakfast, Halkett will comeround here and make some proposal."
So indeed it turned out. Soon after breakfast Halkett came to the tentdoor. "Look here, boys," he said, "I want to get out of this lot. Themen I am working with ain't worth shucks. The three of them don't do afair man's work, and I am sick of it. But I have been talking to them,and they won't take less than twenty-five ounces a share, and they havebeen talking to some men who have pretty well made up their minds togive it. If I had the dust I would buy the others out, but I haven't.If you will buy the other three out at their terms I will keep my shareand work partners with you. I have got enough dust to pay my share ofretimbering the shaft. What do you say?"
The doctor had gone off to take some broth to two of his patients. Theother two looked at each other, and then Sim Howlett said: "Well, thisis how it stands, Halkett. My mate here and I would have no objectionto work with you; but it is this way: we and the doctor have chummedtogether, and have never taken anyone else in with us, partly becausewe are quite content as it is, and partly because the doctor can't dohis share of the work--he hasn't got it in him. We don't want to goaway from here now, and we have dust enough to buy your three partnersout. I suppose we should want to work four at that shaft. I don't knowwhat you have been working six for, except that three of your lot areof no use."
"That is about it," Halkett said.
"So you see we should have to take on a man to do the doctor's work."
"Well, you would have to do that if you worked it yourselves."
"So we should," Sim Howlett assented. "What do you say, Bill?"
"Halkett's proposal seems a fair one, Sim; it seems to me we can't dobetter than accept it. We must consult the doctor, Halkett. He is sureto agree, but we should not like to do it without speaking to him; thatwould not be fair. But you may consider it a bargain."
"Very well, I will go back and tell them I have made the agreement withyou. Then I will come back and bring you fifteen ounces of dust, whichis all I have got; I don't want them to know that I am going to stopin it. If I do, like enough they will cut up rusty, so I want you tomake it up and hand the hundred ounces over clear; then they will handme my share, and I can give you the other ten ounces. They will leavethe camp as soon as they get their money. Somebody has been blowing tothem about a find he has made prospecting among the hills, and I fancythey mean going off with him, and it would be no use letting on that Iam going to stop in the partnership until they have gone. They are justthe sort of fellows to think that I had been somehow besting them, andif they said so there would be trouble, and I don't want to do any ofthem harm."
The doctor on his return fell in, as a matter of course, with
hismates' arrangement.
At dinner-time Halkett and his partners came in, and the dust wasweighed out and handed over to them. Sim Howlett and Tunstall spent theafternoon in making a careful examination of the shaft, and in decidingupon the best plan for strengthening it. Halkett's former partnersleft a couple of hours after they got the money, and on the followingmorning the new proprietors of the claim set to work. The first stepwas to make an arrangement with a man who had horses, to haul timberfrom a little saw-mill that had been erected two miles away, and assoon as this began to arrive, the work of strengthening the shaft wasset about. It took the three men, and another whom they had taken on atdaily pay, a week, and at the end of that time it was pronounced safeagainst any pressure it was likely to have to bear.
The advertisement in the Sacramento paper had been noticed by othersthan by those for whom it was intended, and there happened to be amongthe miners who had worked at various times in the same diggings withWilliam Tunstall another who had been on the jury when he had mentionedhis name. He did not, however, notice the advertisement until a day ortwo after the newspaper had arrived in camp.
"There," he said to some mates who were sitting round the fire, "thatis just like my luck; there is five hundred dollars slipped cleanthrough my fingers because I did not happen to see this here paperbefore."
"How is that, Jones?"
"Why, here is five hundred dollars offered for information as to thewhereabouts of William Tunstall."
"And who is William Tunstall? I never heard of him."
"Why, English Bill; that is his name sure enough; he gave it on ajury we served on together. I told him then I had never heard the namebefore. That is how I came to remember it."
"Well, why are you too late? Why don't you write off at once and say heis here, and claim the money?"
"Because he is gone, mate. Sim Howlett asked Black Johnson yesterday,when I was standing by, if he knew of a good man he could take on for aweek's work, as he was single-handed, for of course Limping Frank don'tcount in the way of work. I asked him if English Bill was laid up, andhe said, No; he had gone the night before down to Frisco. I wonderedthen at his starting just before they had cleaned up their claim. Nowit is clear enough, he had seen this advertisement."
"Bolted?" one of the other men asked.
"Bolted! no," Jones said in a tone of contemptuous disgust. "You don'tsuppose English Bill has been cutting anyone's throat, do you? orrobbing some digger of his swag? No, he has gone down to Frisco to seethe chap that put this into the paper. Why, look here," and he readthe advertisement aloud; "he has come into a fortune, I expect. Theywould never have taken the trouble to advertise for him if it hadn'tbeen a big sum. You bet English Bill has struck it rich; like enough itis a thundering big ranche, with two or three hundred thousand head ofcattle."
"They don't have estates like that in England," another digger put in."I was chatting with an Englishman at Holly Creek. He said land wasworth a heap there, but it was all cultivated and hedged in, and hedidn't suppose as there was a man in the whole country who had got asmuch as five thousand head of cattle. However, cattle or not, I expectit is a big thing English Bill has come in for, and we shan't see himin here again."
The news spread quickly through the camp. It was discussed by the menas they worked the rockers, by the gamblers up at the saloon, and inthe tents when the work was done. Sim Howlett was soon questioned, butwas surly, and little could be got from him. Limping Frank was no morecommunicative. He was accosted frequently, as he went from the tentswith his soups and medicines, with "Well, Frank, so I hear your matehas come in for a big thing, and gone down to Frisco. Jack Jones sawthe advertisement for him in the paper."
"If Jack Jones saw it, of course it was there," the doctor said withhis quiet smile; "couldn't have seen it otherwise, could he? Yes, Billhas gone off. I am glad to hear that it is a big thing; hadn't heard itbefore. It will be a surprise to him, for he didn't expect it would bea big thing. Didn't think it would be worth troubling about, you see.However, I daresay he will be back in a week or two, and then no doubthe will tell you all about it."
Cedar Gulch was greatly disappointed when English Bill reappeared inhis ordinary red shirt, high boots, and miner's hat, and went to workon the following afternoon as if nothing had happened. There had beena general idea that if he came back he would appear in store-clothesand a high hat, and perhaps come in a carriage with four horses allto himself, and that he would stand champagne to the whole camp, andthat there would be generally a good time. He himself, when questionedon the subject, turned the matter off by saying he had not thoughtthe thing worth bothering about; that he could not get what therewas without going to England to fetch it, and that it might go to thebottom of the sea before he took that trouble.
The only person to whom he said more was the man who ran thegambling-table. Things had been lately going on more quietly there, andthe gambler had postponed his departure to San Francisco. Bill Tunstallspent, as the doctor said, no inconsiderable portion of his earnings atthe gambling-tables, and had struck up an acquaintance with Symonds.The latter was, like many of his class, a man of quiet and pleasantmanners. For his profession a nerve of iron was required, for pistolswere frequently drawn by disappointed miners, flushed with drink andfurious at their losses, and the professional gambler had his lifeconstantly in his hands. The accusation, "You cheated me!" was the suresignal for one or two pistol shots to ring out in sharp succession,then a body would be carried out, and play resumed.
Symonds bore no worse reputation than others of the class. It wasassumed, of course, that he would cheat if he had the chance; but witha dozen men looking on and watching every movement of the fingers, eventhe cleverest gambler generally played fair. These men were generally,by birth and education, far above those with whom they played. Theyhad fallen from the position they had once occupied; had, perhaps, inthe first place been victims of gamblers, just as they now victimizedothers; had been cast out from society as detected cheats or convictedswindlers; but now, thanks to nerve, recklessness of life, and sleightof hand, they reaped a fortune, until the bullet of a ruined miner, orthe rope of Judge Lynch, cut short their career.
Symonds was not unpopular among the miners. He was liberal with hismoney, had many times spared men who, according to the code of thediggings, had forfeited their lives by an insult or by a shot thathad missed its aim. He had often set men on their legs again who hadlost their all to him; and if there was a subscription raised forsome man down with fever, or for a woman whose husband had been killedin a shaft, Symonds would head the list with a handsome sum. And yetthere were few men more feared. Magnanimous on some occasions, he wasruthless on others. He was a dead shot, and handled his pistol witha lightning speed, that in nine cases out of ten enabled him to firefirst; and while he would contemptuously spare a man who was simplymaddened by ruin and drink, the notorious bully, the terror of a camp,a man who deliberately forced a quarrel upon him, relying upon hisstrength or skill, would be shot down without hesitation.
Thus in nine cases out of ten the feeling of the communities amongwhom he plied his vocation was in his favour. While he himself was adangerous man, he rid the camp of others who were still more obnoxious,and the verdict after most of these saloon frays was, "Served himright;" but as a rule men avoided discussing Symonds or his affairs. Itwas dangerous to do so, for somehow he seemed always to learn what wassaid of him, and sooner or later the words were paid for.
Will Tunstall knew that he was a dangerous man, and had no doubt thathe was an utterly unscrupulous one, but he himself never drank whilehe played, and was never out of temper when he lost, therefore he hadno reason whatever to fear the man, and Symonds had always been civiland pleasant with him, recognizing that there was something in himthat placed him somewhat apart from the rough crowd. He met him oneafternoon soon after his return.
"Is it true all this they are saying about you, Bill?" Symonds asked.
"Well, it is true enough that I was advertis
ed for, and went down toFrisco to see a man there about it. Of course it is all nonsense as towhat they are saying about the value of it. It is some family propertythat might have come to me long ago if I hadn't kicked over the traces;but I am not going to trouble about it. I shall have all the bother andexpense of going to England to prove who I am, and I wouldn't do it ifit were ten times as much."
"Come and have a glass of cham, Bill. My own story is a good deal likeyours. I daresay I might be master of a good estate in the old countrynow, if I hadn't gone a mucker."
"It is too early to drink," Will said; "if I did drink it would be justa cocktail. The champagne you get is poison."
"Just as you like. By the way, if I can be of any use to you let meknow. It is an expensive run home to England from here, and if youhave need for a thousand dollars, I could let you have them. I havehad a good run of luck this last six months. It would be a businesstransaction, you know, and you could pay me a couple of hundred for theuse of it. It is of no use losing a good thing for the want of funds."
"Thank you, Symonds. I have enough to take me home if I have to go; butI am very much obliged for the offer all the same."
"It is business," the other said carelessly, "and there are no thanksdue. If you change your mind let me know; mind I owe you a cocktailnext time we meet in the saloon."
The gambler went on. Will Tunstall looked after him with a littlewonder at the offer he had made. "It is a good-natured thing to offer,for, of course, if I went to England he could not make anything out ofme beyond the interest of the money, and he would get more than thatputting it on house property in Frisco. He is a queer card, and wouldlook more at home in New York than in Cedar Gulch!"
SYMONDS AND BILL TUNSTALL HAVE A TALK.]
The gambler's dress, indeed, was out of place with the surroundings.Like most of his class he dressed with scrupulous neatness; his clotheswere well made, and fitted him; he wore a white shirt, the only onein the camp, and abstained from the diamond studs and rings, and heavygold watch-chain that was generally affected by professional gamblers.He was tall, as tall as Tunstall himself, though not so broad or sostrongly built; but his figure was well knit, there was in his walkand action an air of lightness and activity, and he had more thanonce shown that he possessed an altogether unusual amount of muscularstrength.
"It is a pity that the fellow is what he is," Will Tunstall said whenhe turned away; "what a soldier he would have made, with his strength,and pluck, and wonderful coolness!"
This little conversation was followed by several others. Somehow orother they met more frequently than they had done before, and oneevening, when there was no play in the saloon, Symonds asked him tocome in and have a chat with him in his private room at the hotel. Forsome time they chatted on different subjects. Symonds had brought out abox of superb cigars, and a bottle of such claret as Will Tunstall hadnot drunk for years, saying carelessly as he did so, "I always carry myown tipple about with me. It would ruin my nerves to drink the poisonthey keep at these places."
After a time he brought the subject round to the legacy. "I have beenthinking over what you said about not going back, and I think youare wrong, if you don't mind my saying so. What have you got to lookforward to here? Toil and slave year after year, without ever gettinga step further, living all the time a life harder than that of thepoorest labourer at home. It is well enough now, I suppose. You areseven or eight and thirty, just about my own age; in another ten yearsyou will be sorry you let the chance slip. Of course it is differentwith me. As far as money goes, I could give it up now, but I cannotgo back again. Men don't take to my sort of life," he said with somebitterness, "unless they have got a pretty bad record behind them; butI shall give it up before very long, unless I am wiped out first. ThenI'll go and settle in South America, or some place of that sort, buy anestate, and set up as a rich and virtuous Englishman whose own climatedoesn't agree with him."
Then he carelessly changed the subject again, but it was reverted toonce or twice in the course of the evening, and before Will left he hadsaid enough to enable his companion to gather a fair estimate of thevalue of the property, and the share he was likely to have of it.
The new claim turned out fairly well, improving somewhat in depth, andyielding a good though not an extraordinary profit to the partners.Some four months after Will Tunstall had been down to San Francisco,he received a bulky letter from the attorney there. It contained anabstract of his brother's will. This left him half the property, witha statement saying that he considered it to be his brother's by right,and inclosed with it was a copy of a letter written a few days beforehis death. It ran as follows:--
"MY DEAR WILL,--You have wandered about long enough. It is high time for you to come back to the old place that you ought never to have left. I shall not see you again, for I have long been suffering from heart-disease, and the doctors tell me the end may come any day. I have had the opinion of some of the best authorities, and they all say that, thanks to some peculiar wording in the will, which I don't understand in the slightest, the prohibition to divide with you is only binding during my lifetime, and that nothing is said that restricts my right to leave it as I please. I don't suppose the contingency of your surviving me ever entered into our father's mind, and probably he thought that you would never be heard of again. However, you see it has turned out otherwise. You have wandered and roughed it, and gone through dangers of all sorts, and are still, you tell me, strong and healthy. I have lived quietly and comfortably with every luxury, and without a day's trouble, save my terrible grief when my wife died, and the ever-constant regret that you were not here beside me; yet I am dying, but that enables me at last to redress to some extent the cruel wrong you have suffered.
"I have left you half the estate, and it makes me happy to think that you will come back again to it. I have appointed you sole guardian of my boy. He is only twelve years old, and I want you to be a father to him. The estate is large enough for you both, and I hope that you may, on your return, marry, and be happy here; if not, I suppose it will all go to him at your death. In any case, I pray you to come home, for the boy's sake, and for your own. It is my last request, and I hope and believe that you will grant it. You were always good to me when we were boys together, and I feel sure that you will well supply my place to Hugh. God bless you, old fellow! Your affectionate brother, EDGAR."
With these documents was a letter from the solicitors to the familysaying that they had heard from their agents at San Francisco thathe had presented himself in answer to their advertisement, and hadshown them the letters of the late Mr. Edgar Tunstall. They thereforeforwarded him copies of the will, and of Mr. Tunstall's letter, andbegged him to return home without delay, as his presence was urgentlyrequired. They assumed, of course, that they were writing to Mr.William Tunstall, and that when he arrived he would have no difficultywhatever in proving his identity.
"I think I must go, boys," he said as, after reading his brother'sletter three or four times, he folded the papers up, and put them inhis pocket. "My brother has made me guardian of his boy, and puts itso strongly that I think I must go over for a bit. I don't supposeI shall have to stop; although the lawyers say that I am urgentlyrequired there; but, mind, I mean to do just what I said. I shall takea thousand pounds or so, and renounce the rest. A nice figure I shouldmake setting up at home as a big land-owner. I should be perfectlymiserable there. No, you take my word for it, I shall be back here insix months at the outside. I shall get a joint guardian appointed tothe boy; the clergyman of the place, or some one who is better fittedto see after his education and bringing up than I am. When he gets toseventeen or eighteen, and a staunch friend who knows the world prettywell may be really of use to him, I shall go over and take him on histravels for two or three years. Bring him out here a bit, perhaps.However, that is in the distance. I am going now f
or a few months;then you will see me back here. I wish I wasn't going; it is a horriblenuisance, but I don't see that I can get out of it."
"Certainly you cannot, Bill; it is your plain duty. We don't go by dutymuch in these diggings, and it will be pleasant to see somebody do athing that he doesn't like because it is right. We shall miss you, ofcourse--miss you badly. But we all lose friends, and nowhere so muchas here; for what with drink and fever and bullets the percentage wipedout is large. You are going because, in fact, you can't help yourself.We shall be glad when you come back; but if you don't come back, weshall know that it was because you couldn't. Yes, I know you have quitemade up your mind about that; but circumstances are too strong for men,and it may be that, however much you may wish it, you won't be able tocome. Well, we shall be clearing up the claim in another two or threedays, so it could not come at a better time if it had to come."
The work was continued to the end of the week, and then, the last panof dirt having been washed, the partners divided the result. Eachweek's take had been sent down by the weekly convoy to the bank atSacramento, for robberies were not uncommon, and prudent men onlyretained enough gold-dust by them for their immediate wants. But addingthe dust and nuggets acquired during the last and best week's work tothe amount for which they had the bank's receipt, the four partnersfound that they had, after paying all their expenses, two hundred andfifty ounces of gold.
"Sixty-two ounces and a half each," the doctor said. "It might havebeen better, it might have been worse. We put in twenty-five each fourmonths ago, so we have got thirty-seven ounces each for our work, afterpaying expenses, and each drawing half an ounce a day to spend as heliked. This we have, of course, all of us laid by."
There was a general laugh, for not one of them had above an ounce ortwo remaining.
"Well, it isn't bad anyhow, doctor," William Tunstall said. "Sixty-twoounces apiece will make roughly L250, which is as much as we have everhad before on winding up a job. My share will be enough to lake me toEngland and back."
"Yes, provided you don't drop it all in some gambling saloon atSacramento or San Francisco," the doctor said.
"I shan't do that, doctor. I have lost big sums before now in a night'splay, I confess; but I knew I could set to work and earn more. Now Ihave got an object before me."
That afternoon English Bill went round the camp saying good-bye to hisacquaintances, and although it was very seldom that he drank too much,the standing treat and being treated in turn was too much for his head,and it was with a very unsteady step indeed that he returned late inthe evening to his tent. Sim Howlett, who had started with him, hadsuccumbed hours before, and had been carried down from the saloon by aparty who were scarcely able to keep on their own legs.
When Will Tunstall woke in the morning he had but a vague idea of theevents of the latter part of the evening. He remembered hazily thatthere had been many quarrels and rows, but what they had been about heknew not, though he felt sure that there had been no shooting. He hada dim recollection that he had gone into Symonds' room at the hotel,where he had some champagne, and a talk about his trip to England andabout the people there.
"What the deuce could have set me talking about them?" he wondered inhis mind. He was roused from these thoughts by the doctor.
"If you are going to catch this morning's coach, Bill, you must pullyourself together."
"All right!" he said, getting on to his feet. "I shall be myself when Ihave put my head in a bucket of water. I'm afraid I was very drunk lastnight."
"Well, you were drunk, Bill. I have never seen you drunk but oncebefore since we were partners; but I suppose no one ever did get out ofa mining camp where he had been working for some time, and had fairlygood luck, without getting pretty well bowled over after going therounds to say good-bye. Now, then, Sim, wake up! Bill will be off in aquarter of an hour. I have got breakfast ready."
Sim Howlett needed no second call. It was no very unusual thing for himto be drunk overnight and at work by daybreak the following morning. Soafter stretching himself and yawning, and following Will's example ofhaving a wash, he was ready to sit down to breakfast with an excellentappetite. Will, however, did poor justice to the doctor's efforts,and ten minutes later the trio started off to meet the coach. Therewere many shouts of "Good-bye, mate! good luck to yer!" from the mengoing down to the diggings, but they were soon beyond the camp. Fewwords were said as they went up the hill, for the three men were muchattached to each other, and all felt the parting. Fortunately they hadbut two or three minutes to wait before the coach came in sight.
"Just you look out for me in about six months' time, mates; but I'llwrite directly I get home, and tell you all about things. I shalldirect here, and you can get someone to ask for your letters and sendthem after you if you have moved to a new camp."
With a last grasp of the hand, Tunstall climbed up to the top of thecoach, his bundle was thrown up to him, the coachman cracked his whip,the horses started again at a gallop, and Sim Howlett and his mate wentdown to Cedar Gulch without another word being spoken between them.
Three days later, as they were breakfasting in their tent, for they hadnot yet made up their minds what they should do, a miner entered.
"Hello, Dick! Back from your spree? How did you get on at Frisco?"
"Yes, I have just got off the coach. I have got some bad news to tellyou, mates."
"Bad news! Why, what is that, Dick?" Sim Howlett asked.
"Well, I know it will hit you pretty hard, mates, for I know youthought a heap of him. Well, lads, it is no use making a long story ofit, but your mate, English Bill, has been murdered."
The two men started to their feet--Sim Howlett with a terribleimprecation, the doctor with a cry like the scream of a woman.
"It is true, mates, for I saw the body. I should have been upyesterday, but I had to wait for the inquest to say who he was. Iwas going to the coach in the morning when I saw half a dozen mengathered round a body on the footway of a small street. There wasnothing unusual in that at Sacramento. I don't know what made me turnoff to have a look at the body. Directly I saw it I knew who it was.It was English Bill, so I put off coming, and stopped to the inquest.He hadn't been killed fair, he had been shot down from behind with abullet in the back of his head. No one had heard the shot particular.No one thinks anything of a shot in Sacramento. No one seemed to knowanything about him, and the inquest didn't take five minutes. Of coursethey found a verdict of wilful murder against some person unknown."
Sim Howlett listened to the narration with his hands clenched asif grasping a weapon, his eyes blazing with fury, and mutteringejaculations of rage and horror. The doctor hardly seemed to hearwhat was said. He was moving about the tent in a seemingly aimlessway, blinded with tears. Presently he came upon his revolver, which hethrust into his belt, then he dropped his bag of gold-dust inside hisshirt, and he then picked up his hat.
"Come along, Sim," he said in hurried tones, touching his companion onthe arm.
"Come along!" Sim repeated. "Where are you going?"
"To Sacramento, of course. We will hunt him down, whoever did it. Iwill find him and kill him if it takes years to do it."
"I am with you," Sim said; "but there is no coach until to-night."
"There is a coach that passes through Alta at twelve o'clock. It isfifteen miles to walk, but we shall be there in time, and it will takeus into Sacramento by midnight."
Sim Howlett snatched up his revolver, secured his bag of gold-dust, andsaid to the man who had brought the news, "Fasten up the tent, Dick,and keep an eye on it and the traps. The best thing will be for you tofix yourself here until we come back."
"That will suit me, Sim. I got rid of all my swag before I left. Youwill find it all right when you return."
They had but four hours to do the distance across a very broken andhilly country, but they were at Alta a quarter of an hour before thecoach was due. It taxed Sim Howlett's powers to the utmost, and even inhis rage and grief he could not help looking wi
th astonishment at hiscompanion, who seemed to keep up with him without difficulty. They randown the steep hills and toiled up the formidable ascents. The doctor'sbreath came quick and short, but he seemed almost unconscious of theexertions he was making. His eyes were fixed in front of him, his facewas deadly pale, his white hair damp with perspiration. Not a wordhad been spoken since the start, except that, towards the end of thejourney, Howlett had glanced at his watch and said they were in goodtime and could take it easy. His companion paid no attention, but kepton at the top of his speed.
When the coach arrived it was full, but the doctor cried out, "It is amatter of life and death; we must go! We will give five ounces apieceto any one who will give us up their places and go on by the nextcoach."
Two men gladly availed themselves of the offer, and at midnight the twocompanions arrived at Sacramento. The doctor's strength had given waywhen the necessity for exertion was over, and he had collapsed.
"Perhaps someone has got a flask with him?" Sim Howlett suggested."My mate and I have just heard of the murder of an old chum of ours atSacramento, and we are on our way down to find out who did it and towipe him out. We have had a hard push for it, and, as you see, it hasbeen too much for my mate, who is not over strong."
Half a dozen bottles were instantly produced, and some whiskey poureddown the doctor's throat. It was not long before he opened his eyes,but remained for some time leaning upon Sim Howlett's shoulder.
"Take it easy, doctor, take it easy," the latter said as he felt thedoctor straightening himself up. "You have got to save yourself. Youknow we may have a long job before us."
There was nothing to do when they entered the town but to find alodging for the night. In the morning they commenced their search. Itwas easy to find the under-sheriff who had conducted the inquest. Hehad but little to tell. The body had been found as they had alreadyheard. There were no signs of a struggle. The pockets were all turnedinside out. The sheriff supposed that the man had probably been ina gambling-house, had won money there, and had been followed andmurdered. Their first care was to find where Will Tunstall was buried,and then to order a stone to be erected at his head. Then they spent aweek visiting every gambling-den in Sacramento, but nowhere could theyfind that anyone at all answering to their mate's description had beengambling there on the night before he was killed.
They then found the hotel where he had put up on the arrival of thecoach. He had gone out after breakfast and had returned alone todinner, and had then gone out again. He had not returned; it wassupposed that he had gone away suddenly, and as the value of theclothes he had left behind was sufficient to cover his bill, noinquiries had been made. At the bank they learned that in the courseof the afternoon he had drawn his portion of the joint fund on theorder signed by them all. At another hotel they learned that a mancertainly answering to his description had come in one evening a weekor so before with a gentleman staying at the house. They did not knowwho the gentleman was; he was a stranger, but he was well dressed,and they thought he must have come from Frisco. He had left the nextday. They had not noticed him particularly, but he was tall and dark,and so was the man who came in with him. The latter was in regularminer's dress. They had not sat in the saloon, but had gone up to thestranger's bed-room, and a bottle of spirits had been taken up there.They did not notice what time the miner left, or whether the other wentout with him. The house was full, and they did not bother themselvesas to who went in or out. It was from a German waiter they learned allthis, after having made inquiries in vain two or three times previouslyat this hotel.
As soon as they left the place the doctor seized Sim's arm. "We havegot a clew at last, Sim."
"Not much of a clue, doctor; still there is something to go upon. Wehave got to hunt out this man."
"Do you mind going back to the camp to-night, Sim?"
"No, I don't mind; but what for, doctor?"
"You go and see whether Symonds is still there, and if not, find outwhat day and hour he left."
"Good heavens! you don't suspect him?"
"I feel sure, Sim, just as sure as if I had seen it. The descriptionfits him exactly. Who else could Bill have known dressed like agentleman that he would have gone up to drink with when he had L250about him. You know he had got rather thick with that villain beforehe left the camp, and likely enough the fellow may have got out of himthat he was going to draw his money from the bank, and thought that itwas a good bit more than it was. At any rate go and see."
Two days later Sim Howlett returned with the news that Symonds had lefttwo or three hours after Tunstall had done so. He had said that he hada letter that rendered it necessary that he should go to Frisco, andhad hired a vehicle, driven to Alta, and caught the coach there. He hadnot returned to the camp.
"That settles it, Sim. When I find Symonds the gambler, I find themurderer of Bill Tunstall. I have been thinking it over. It may bemonths before I catch him. He may have gone east into Colorado or southinto Mexico, but I am going to find him and kill him. I don't think itis any use for us both to hunt; it may take months and years."
"Perhaps he thinks he is safe, and hasn't gone far. He may think thatpoor Bill will be picked up and buried, and that no one will be any thewiser. We would have thought that he had gone off to England; and so itwould have been if Dick hadn't happened to come along and turn off tolook at the body. Like enough he will turn up at Cedar Gulch again."
"He may," the doctor said thoughtfully, "and that is the more reasonwhy you should stop about here. You would hear of his coming back toany of the mining camps on the slopes. But I don't think he will. Hewill feel safe, and yet he won't feel quite safe. Besides, you know, Idreamt that I should kill him. However, if he does come back anywherehere I leave him to you, Sim. Shoot him at sight as if he were a maddog. You don't want any fair play with a fellow like that. When youtell the boys the story they will all say you did right. I will writeto you from time to time to let you know where I am. If you have killedhim let me know. I shall come back to you as soon as I have found him."
And so it was settled; for, eager as Sim Howlett was for vengeance,he did not care for the thought of years spent in a vain search, andbelieved that his chance of meeting Symonds again was as good among themining camps as elsewhere.