Chapter XVII
Howard Holds the Gulch
'Look at the mysterious gentleman!' said Helen, laughing, as her fatherreturned to them upon the hotel porch. Longstreet observed that sheappeared to be in the best of spirits. 'Look at the light in his eye!Can't you just tell that he thinks he has a secret? Papa,' and shesqueezed his arm, 'won't you ever learn that with that face of yoursyou couldn't hide what you are thinking to save your life?'
For the second time that day Longstreet winked slyly at Howard. Hislaughter, as gay as Helen's, bubbled up straight from his soul.
'Helen,' he said as soberly as he might, 'I am afraid that we shallhave to leave you to your own devices for an hour or so. Mr. Howardand I have a little business together.'
'Oh,' said Helen. She studied her father's face gravely, then turnedtoward Alan. She knew all along that her father was planning some sortof birthday surprise for her, and now she could not but wonder what itwas that had called the cattleman in to Longstreet's aid. For thethought of the two men really having business together struck her asquite absurd.
'I have been dying to be alone,' she said quickly. 'There is anice-cream shop across the street, and it's so much more comfortable ona day like this not to have a man along counting the dishes you order.Good-bye, business men,' and rather than be the one deserted she leftthem and ran across the street, vanishing within the inviting door.
'I have already arranged the matter of filing on my claim,' saidLongstreet, turning triumphantly to Howard. 'I saw Bates, GeorgeHarkness's assistant, and he has undertaken to do everythingimmediately.'
'I know Bates. He's a good man, better for your work than Harknesseven.' He spoke without a great amount of interest in the subject, andthere was something of downright wistfulness in his look which hadfollowed Helen across the street.
They walked a short block in silence. Longstreet, glancing at hiscompanion and noting his abstraction, was glad that there were noquestions to answer. After all, it was going to be very simple to keepMrs. Murray's name out of the whole matter. When they came to thecorner and he asked 'Which way?' Howard actually started.
'Guess I was wool-gathering,' he grunted sheepishly. 'We go back thisway.'
They retraced their steps half the way, crossed the quiet street andturned in at a hardware store. Howard led the way to the tiny officeat the front, whose open windows looked out on the street. Aruddy-faced man in shirt sleeves sat with his hands clasped behind hishead, his eyes thoughtful. Seeing his callers, he jumped to his feet.
'Put her there, Al, old boy,' he called in a big, booming, good-naturedvoice like a young bull's. 'Watched you go by and wondered if youweren't coming in. Haven't seen you since old Buck was a calf. Whereyou been keeping yourself?' His big smile widened. 'Courtot hasn'tgot you hiding out, has he?'
'So you've heard that Courtot stuff, too? Pony, this is a friend ofmine; Mr. Longstreet, Pony Lee.' While they shook hands Howard added:'Lee here knows more about practical mining than any other foot-loosestranger this side the Alleghanies.'
'Draw it mild, Al,' laughed Lee. 'Glad to know you, Longstreet. ThinkI've heard of you.'
He indicated chairs and the three sat down. Longstreet, lookingcuriously at the man, noted that whereas he was florid and jolly andgave the impression at first almost of joviality, upon closer scrutinythat which was most pronounced about him was the keen glint of hisprobing grey eyes. He came to learn later that Pony Lee had thereputation of being both a good fellow and a fighting man.
'Longstreet wants to spin you a little yarn.' said Howard. 'And if youwill see him through, I imagine he's going to have a job open for you.'
'Mine, of course?' suggested Lee.
'Yes.'
'Have a cigar,' invited Lee. He produced a box from a desk drawer.'See if I can guess where it is. Other side of Big Run?'
Howard nodded.
'Who found it?'
'I did,' answered Longstreet. 'Yesterday.'
'Last Ridge country, then. H'm.' He rolled his cigar in his mouthidly. Then he sat bolt upright and leaned forward. 'How many peoplehave you told about it already? A dozen?'
It was little less than accusation, and Longstreet flushed. He wasopening his lips to answer stiffly when Howard spoke for him.
'He is keeping it to himself. He has told no one but me.'
Lee sank back in his chair, and when he spoke again it was in acareless, off-hand manner.
'Half an hour ago I saw Monte Devine. He came tearing down the street,hell-bent-for-election. Down at the saloon on the corner he picked uptwo men you know, Al. One of them was Jake Bettins and the other wasEd True. The three hit the pike at a regular two-forty clip for theBig Run road. Those birds don't go chasing around on a day like thisjust to get sunburn, do they?'
Howard frowned. 'Monte Devine?' he muttered, staring at Lee. But Lee,instead of taking the trouble to give the necessary assurance again,turned his eyes upon Longstreet.
'Filed on your claim yet?' he demanded.
'Yes,' retorted Longstreet, feeling inexplicably ill at ease andshifting in his chair. 'Immediately.'
'That's good,' grunted Lee. 'But I would be squatting on my diggingswith a shot-gun under my arm. Al, here, can tell you a few thingsabout Monte Devine and his crowd.'
'Next to Lee,' said Howard, 'Devine knows the mining game fromhackamore to hoof. And he's a treacherous hound and a Jim Courtot man.'
'You said it, boy,' grunted Pony Lee. 'He's all of that. And he's nonickel shooter, either. If the game ain't big, he won't chip in.'
'But,' continued Howard, 'I guess you've doped it up wrong, Pony.Chances are they've got something else up their sleeves. They couldn'tpossibly have dropped on to Longstreet's find.'
For a full minute Lee's eyes bored into Longstreet's. Then he spokedryly:
'As long's the desert wind blows, word of a strike will go with it.Maybe I have got the wrong end of it.' He shrugged loosely. 'I'vedone that sort of thing now and then. But I got one more thing tospill. Sanchia Murray's in town. Or she was a little while ago.'
Again he fixed his shrewd eyes upon Longstreet's tell-tale face, whichslowly reddened. Pony Lee grunted and at last lighted his cigar.Howard, with a look of sheer amazement, stared at Helen's father.
'You didn't tell Sanchia?' he gasped.
They got their answer in a perfect silence. Lee laughed somewhere deepdown in his throat. Howard simply sat and stared. Then suddenly hesprang to his feet and grasped Longstreet by both shoulders, jerkinghim up out of his chair.
'Tell me about it,' he commanded sternly. 'What did you tell her?'
'Everything,' returned the bewildered college man. 'Why shouldn't I?She promised not to say anything.'
Howard groaned.
'Oh, hell!' he muttered and turned away. But he came back andexplained quietly. 'She's as crooked as a dog's hind leg; she'srunning neck and neck, fifty-fifty, with Jim Courtot and Monte Devineon all kinds of deals--Come on. We've got to burn the earth gettingback to Big Run. We'll beat 'em to it yet.'
'Wait a minute, Al,' called Lee softly. 'Let's get all the dope first.You say, Mr. Longstreet, that you filed on your claim all right?'
Longstreet began to flounder and half-way through his recital boggeddown helplessly. He had met Sanchia Murray, had gone with her to theMontezuma House, had seen Mr. Bates there----
'What sort of a looking gent is this Mr. Bates?' quizzed Pony Leesharply.
'A short man, dark, black moustaches----'
Again Howard groaned. Lee merely smiled.
'Recognize the picture, Al? She steered him right into Monte to fixhis papers! Well, by God!'
His expression was one of pure admiration. In his mind Sanchia Murrayhad risen to undreamed of heights--heights of impudence, but none theless daring. He could see the coup in all of its brilliance. But notso Howard.
'We saw her leave a letter at the hotel in Big Run!' he cried out. Hewas half-way to the
door. 'She had the hunch then. By now Courtot andDevine and the rest are in the saddles, if they are not, some of them,already squatting on the job at Last Ridge! I'm on my way. Pony, comealive. Chase over to the court-house; take Longstreet with you andfile on the claim if it isn't too late.'
As his last words came back to them he was out on the street andrunning. He knew within himself that it was too late. They would findthat Sanchia or one of her crowd had already visited Harkness's office.Well, that was one thing; the other was to take possession. His bootsclattered loudly upon the echoing board sidewalk and men came out tolook after him.
He came to his horse in front of the hotel, snatched the tie-rope looseand went up into the saddle without bothering about the spurs hangingover the horn. His horse plunged under him and in another moment horseand rider were racing, even as Sanchia Murray's white mare had carriedher, out toward Big Run.
He came as close to killing a horse that day as he had ever come in hislife. His face grew sterner as he flung the barren miles behind himand higher and higher surged the bitterness in his heart. IfLongstreet had found gold, and he believed that he had, it would havemeant so much to Helen. He had seen how she did without little things;he had felt that she was just exactly the finest girl in all of theworld; it had seemed to him only the right and logical thing that sheshould own a gold mine. And now it was to go to Jim Courtot andSanchia Murray. Sanchia instead of Helen! At the moment he felt thathe could have choked the lying heart out of the woman's soft whitethroat. As for Jim Courtot, already he and Howard hated each other asperforce two men of their two types must come to do. Here again wasample cause for fresh hatred; he drove his horse on furiously, anxiousto come upon Courtot, thanking God in his heart that he could look tohis enemy for scant words and a quick gun. There come to men at timessituations when the only solution is to be found in shooting a way out.Now, more than ever before in his life, was Alan Howard ready for thisdirect method.
Arrived in Big Run he rode straight on until he came to Tony Moraga's.Here, if anywhere in the settlement, he could hope to find his man. Aglance showed him one horse only at the rack, a lean sorrel that herecognized. It was Yellow Barbee's favourite mount, and it struck himthat if there were further hard riding to be done, here was the horseto satisfy any man. He threw himself from the saddle, left his ownhorse balancing upon its trembling legs, and stepped into the saloon.
Moraga was dozing behind his bar. Yellow Barbee sat slumped over atable, his lean, grimy fingers twisting an empty glass. No one elsewas in the room.
'Courtot been here?' demanded Howard of Moraga.
Moraga shook his head. Howard glanced toward Barbee. The boy's facewas sullen, his eyes clouded. He glowered at Moraga and, turning hismorose eyes upon Howard, snapped out:
'Moraga lies. Jim was here a little while ago. He's just beat it witha lot of his rotten crowd, Monte Devine and Bettins and True. They'reup to something crooked.'
'I forgot.' Moraga laughed greasily. 'Jim was in the back room theretalking to Sanchia! Nice girl, no?' he taunted Barbee.
'I'll kill you some day, Moraga,' cursed Barbee thickly.
Howard turned back to the door.
'I want your horse, Barbee,' he said quickly. 'All right?'
'Go to it,' Barbee flashed out. 'And if you ain't man enough to getJim Courtot pretty damn soon, I am!'
'Keep your shirt on, kid,' Howard told him coolly. 'And keep yourhands off. And for God's sake, stop letting that woman make a fool ofyou.'
Barbee cursed in his throat and with burning eyes watched the swingdoors snap after the departing cattleman. Howard, his anger standinghigher and hotter, threw himself to the back of Barbee's roan and leftBig Run riding furiously from the jump. He knew the horse; it couldstand the pace across the few miles and there was no time to lose.There was scant enough likelihood as matters were of his coming to LastRidge before Courtot's crowd. But the men might have failed to changeto fresh horses; in that case his chance was worth something. And,always, until a game be played out, it is anybody's game.
As he rode out toward the Last Ridge trail his one thought was of JimCourtot. Little by little he lost sight of other matters. He hadfought with Jim Courtot before now; he had seen the spit of thegambler's gun twice, he had knocked him down. Courtot had hunted him,he had gone more than half-way to meet the man. And yet that which hadoccurred just now had happened again and again before; he came seekingCourtot, and Courtot had just gone. It began almost to seem thatCourtot was fleeing him, that he had no stomach for a face-to-facemeeting; that what he wanted was to step out unexpectedly from acorner, to shoot from the dark. This long-drawn-out, fruitless seekingbaffled and angered. It was time, he thought, high time that he andJim Courtot shot their way out of an unendurable mess. At everyswinging stride of Barbee's roan he grew but the more impatient for theend of the ride and the face of Jim Courtot.
The broad sun flattened against the low hills and sank out of sight.Dusk came and thickened and the stars began to flare out. Against thedarkening skyline before him the Last Ridge country reared itselfsombrely. A little breeze went dancing and shivering through the drymesquite and greasewood. His horse stumbled and slowed down. They hadcome to the first of the rocky ground. He should be at the mouth ofDry Gulch in half an hour. And there he would find the men he hadfollowed; they had beat him to it, for not a glimpse of them had hehad. They were, then, first on the ground. That was something, heconceded. But it was not everything.
At last he dismounted and tied his horse to a bush. About him werethick shadows, before him the tall bulwark of the uplands. His feetwere in a trail that he knew. He went on up, as silently, as swiftlyas he could. Presently he stood on the edge of the same flat on whichthe Longstreets had made their camp, though a good half-mile to theeast of the canvas shack. A wide black void across the plateau was DryGulch. Upon its nearer bank, not a hundred yards from him, a dry woodfire blazed brightly; he must have seen it long ago except that ashoulder of the mountain had hidden it. It burned fiercely, thrustingits flames high, sending its sparks skyward. In its flickering circleof light he saw dark objects which he knew must be the forms of men.He did not count them, merely prayed within his heart that Courtot wasamong them, and came on. He heard the men talking. He did not listenfor words, since words did not matter now. He hearkened for a certainvoice.
The voices broke off and a man stood up. When he was within a score ofpaces of the fire Howard stopped. The man's thick squat form wasclearly outlined. Unmistakably this was Monte Devine. There were twoor three other forms squatting; it was impossible to distinguish acrouching man from a boulder.
'That you, Monte?' called Howard.
'Good guess,' came Monte's heavy, insolent voice. 'You've got one onme, though, pardner.'
'Courtot here?' demanded Howard.
Monte Devine laughed then.
'Hello, Al,' he returned lightly. 'You and Jim sure play a greatlittle game of tag, don't you?'
'He isn't here, then?'
'Left an hour ago. There's just me and Bettins and True on the job.Come on in and make yourself at home.'
Howard came on slowly. Monte might be telling the truth, and thenagain lying came easy to him. Every dark blot was searched outsuspiciously by Howard's frowning eyes. Again, having read what was inHoward's mind, Monte laughed.
'He ain't here, Al,' he insisted. 'You and him will have to make adate if you ever get together.'
The two other men rose from the ground and stood a little aside. Nodoubt they were True and Bettins; still neither had spoken and in thisuncertain light either might be Courtot.
'Hello, True,' said Howard shortly. True's voice answered him.'Hello, Bettins,' he said, and it was Bettin's voice replying.
'Where did Jim go?' he asked.
'Search me,' retorted Monte Devine. Then, a hint of a jeer in hisvoice, 'Going to stay out there in the dark all night? 'Fraid Jim'llbe hiding out waiting to pot you?' r />
The other men laughed.
'That's his sort of play,' muttered Alan coolly.
He took his time to look about. Little by little the mystery shroudingthis and that object dissolved and showed him a rock or a bush. Heheard a snapping bit of brush off to the right and wheeled toward it.It was a horse moving. He circled the fire and went to it. Beyondwere two other horses, only three in all. Then he shrugged hisshoulders and jammed his revolver angrily into its holster and cameback to the figures by the fire.
'Longstreet is a friend of mine,' he said shortly. 'I am going to seehim through, Monte.'
'Who's Longstreet?' demanded Monte.
'I guess you know. He's the man who found gold up here yesterday.He's the man Sanchia Murray brought to you at the Montezuma House. Heowns these diggings that you and Jim Courtot and your crowd are tryingto jump to-night. Better think it over and jump somewhere else, Monte.'
Monte Devine appeared to be meditating. Howard's angry thoughts wereracing. Rage baffled was but baffled again. There seemed nothingconcrete that he could lay his hands on; again Jim Courtot had come andgone. To drive the men off the land, even could he succeed in doing itwould so far as he could see be barren of any desired result. Therewas a law in the country, and that law would see the man through whohad properly filed on his claim. And yet, for all that, his blood grewhot at the thought of all of this riff-raff of Jim Courtot squattinghere upon that which by right was Helen's.
'I reckon we'll stay and see it through,' said Monte at last.
Howard turned and strode away. True laughed. But Howard had seensomething showing whitely just yonder in the black void of Dry Gulch.There was the spot where Longstreet's claim lay. He went down into thegulch and to the thing that he had seen dimly. It was a stake and abit of white paper thrust into the split, and showed him that the threemen had not mistaken the spot. Here, at last, was something concreteupon which a man, hot with his anger, could lay his hands. He wrenchedit away and hurled it far from him. He saw another stake and anotherand these like the first he snatched up and pitched wrathfully as faras he could throw them.
'That's something, if it isn't much,' he muttered to himself.
The others had held back, watching him. He could hear them speakingquickly among themselves, Bettins and True angrily. Monte's voice waslow and steady. But it was Monte who came on first.
'Hold on there a minute,' called Howard sharply. 'I'm not asking anycompany down here. Here I am going to stick until morning. By thattime, or I miss my guess, this neck of the woods will be full of peoplewho have heard that something's doing here. There'll be a handful ofyour crowd, but there'll be twice as many square-shooters. You'llstand back with the crowd and take your chance with what is left afterLongstreet gets his, or you'll play crooked and take another chance,that of a long rope and a quick drop. Think it over, boys.'
'Better clean out while you can, Al,' said Monte. His own voice hadsharpened. 'We're coming down to put them stakes back.'
Howard withdrew half a dozen steps into the deeper shadows of the gulch.
'Come ahead when you're ready,' he retorted. 'I can see you fine upthere against the skyline. Start it going any time, Monte.'
His was the position of a man in desperate need for action and withlittle enough scope for his desire. But he had the hope thatLongstreet and Pony Lee might possibly have been the first at thecourt-house; were that to prove to be the case and were he on theground when they came in the morning, he would in the end haveprevented a tangle and the long delay and intricate trouble ofdispossessing Courtot's agents. Further, his mood was one in which hewould have been glad to have Monte 'start it going.'
Monte and his companions spoke quietly among themselves a second time.Then, with never another word to him, they withdrew and disappeared.An immense silence shut down about him. He knew that they had not gonefar and that they would be heard from before long. For they were notthe men to let go so easily. But Monte Devine, plainly the brains ofthe crowd, was a cool hand who played as safe a game as circumstancesallowed.
He sat down with his back to a fallen boulder. He was thinking thatperhaps they were waiting for the dawn; by daylight they would have allthe best of it and might close in on him from three sides. But whenthe night wind blowing up the gulch brought him the smell of deadleaves burning, when he saw a quick tongue of flame on one bank andthen another, like a reflection in a mirror, on the other bank, heunderstood. It was like a Monte Devine play. Presently the dry grasswould be burning all along the draw; the flames would sweep by him andin their light he would stand forth as in the light of day. Then, ifthere were a single rifle among the three men, he would have not somuch as a chance to fight. Even if they had nothing but revolvers, theodds were all on their side.
And it was like Jim Courtot's play, too, to clear out and leave hisagents to deal with the man he hated. All in the world that Courtotever wanted was to win; the means were nothing. If his enemy went downby another man's bullet than his own, so much the better for JimCourtot, who had always enough to answer for as it was.
'This belongs to Helen Longstreet,' Howard told himself steadily. 'Iam going to hold it for her if it's in the cards.'
He withdrew a little further. Then, with a sudden inspiration, heclambered silently up the sloping bank. The men who had lighted thefires would have circled about to come upon him from the other side.He was right. As he thrust his head above the top of the bank he sawtwo figures running in the direction that he had judged they wouldtake. He pulled himself up. A loosened rock rolled noisily into thegulch. They heard it and stopped. He knew when they saw him and knewwho they were as he heard them call to each other. They were Ed Trueand Monte Devine. And Ed True, as he called, whipped out his revolverand fired.
'He's on this side, Bettins,' called Monte loudly. 'Take your time.'
He had not fired nor had Howard. Ed True, however, lacked the coolnerve and emptied his revolver. Monte cursed him for a fool.
'You couldn't hit a barn that far off in this light,' he shouted.'Take your time, can't you?'
Howard's lips tightened. That was Monte Devine for you. Steady andcool as a rock.
'We've got the best of you, Al,' called Monte warningly. 'Better crawlout while you got the chance.'
'Go to hell!' Howard told him succinctly. And knowing that the man hadbeen right when he had said you couldn't hit a barn at that distanceand in that light, he came forward suddenly. For in a little theburning grass would be behind him and outlined against it the target ofhis body would be a mark for anybody to hit.
Suddenly, having reloaded, True fired again. But he was not so hurriednow. He fired once and waited. This time the bullet had not flown sofar afield as the first shots; Howard heard its shrill cleaving of theair. He saw that Monte was moving to one side. Again he understoodthe man's intention. Monte planned to put him between two fires.Howard jerked up his own gun.
The two explosions came simultaneously, his and Monte's. There was abrief silence. Plainly no bullet had yet found its mark. True firedagain. His bullet whined by and Howard realized that the man wascoming closer every time. He turned a little and, 'taking his time,'as Monte was doing, answered True's fire. There was a little squeal ofpain from True, a grunt of satisfaction from Howard, a second shot fromMonte. Howard saw that True had spun about and fallen. He saw,further, that Monte had come a step nearer and had stopped. In alittle Bettins would be to reckon with. It was still close enough fora chance hit, too far for absolute accuracy. Walking slowly, realizingthat he had but four shots left and that those gone he would never begiven time to reload, Howard came half a dozen paces toward Montebefore he stopped. He heard True's groaning curse; a spat of flamefrom where the man lay showed him that he was still to be counted on.But his shooting would be apt to be wild and he must be forgotten untilDevine was dealt with.
He was near enough to make out the gesture as Monte raised his arm.And he was ready.
Howard fired first; he saw the flare and heard thereport of Monte's gun and knew that he had missed. But Monte had notmissed. There was a searing pain across Howard's outer left arm, nearthe shoulder. The pain came and was gone, like the flash of the gun;remained only a mounting rage in Howard's brain. Three shots left andthree men still to fight. A shot for each man and none to waste, orthe tale would be told for Alan Howard. And there would be occasionfor Jim Courtot's jeering laugh tomorrow.
Before the smoke had cleared from Monte's gun Howard leaped closer, andat this close range fired. He saw Monte reel back. He knew that EdTrue was still shooting, but he did not care. Monte was stumbling,saving himself from falling, straightening again, lifting his gun. Butbefore the swaying figure could answer the call of the cool braindirecting it, Howard sprang in upon him and struck with his clubbedrevolver. And Monte Devine, his finger crooking to the trigger as theblow fell, went down heavily from the impact of the gun-barrel againsthis head. Ed True emptied his cylinder and cursed and began filling itagain.
Howard stood a moment over Monte Devine. Then he took up the fallenrevolver in his left hand and turned to True.
'Chuck your gun to me, Ed,' he commanded sternly, 'or I'll get youright next time.'
True damned him violently. Then he groaned, and a moment later therewas the sound of his revolver hurled from him, clattering among thestones. Howard took it up, shoved it into his pocket and turned towardthe gulch. While he sought for a sight of Bettins he hastily filledthe empty chambers of his own weapon.
Now only he realized how brief a time had elapsed since Ed True's firstshot. The grass fire was blazing, but had crept up the draw only a fewfeet. And Bettins had not yet had the time to come from the otherside, down into the gulch and up on this side. He saw Bettins; the manwas standing still staring toward his fallen companions. The fireleaped higher, its light danced out in widening circles, touching atlast the spot where Howard stood, where Ed True and Monte Devine lay.
'Well, Bettins?' called Howard abruptly.
'What about you? Are you coming over?'
Bettins was silent a moment. The light flickered on the gun in hishand. Presently he raised his voice to inquire anxiously:
'Hurt much, Monte? And you, True?'
No answer from Monte. True shrieked at him: 'Come, over and plug him,Bettins. For God's sake, plug the damn cowman.'
Still Bettins hesitated.
'Monte dead?' he demanded.
'How the hell do I know?' complained True.
'Come, plug him, Bettins.'
This time Bettins' reply was lost in a sudden shout of voices risingfrom the lower end of the flat. The vague forms of several horsemenappeared; there came the thunderous beat of flying hoofs. Howard'slips grew tight-pressed. True lifted himself on his elbow.
'It's Jim coming back!' he called triumphantly.
'This way, Jim!'
But the answering shout, closer now, was unmistakably the voice ofYellow Barbee. And with him rode half a dozen men and, among them agirl.
Chapter XVIII
A Town is Born
The fire, spreading and burning brightly now, shone on the faces makinga ring about Alan Howard and the two men lying on the ground. WithYellow Barbee had come John Carr, Longstreet and Helen, and two of theDesert Valley men, Chuck Evans and Dave Terril. They looked swiftlyfrom Howard to the two men whom he had shot, then curiously at Howardagain.
'Jim Courtot, Al?' asked Carr, for Monte Devine's face was in shadow.
Howard shook his head.
'No such luck, John,' he said briefly. 'Just Monte Devine and Ed True.Bettins is over yonder; he didn't mix in.'
'I hope,' said Longstreet nervously, 'that you haven't started anytrouble on my account.'
'No trouble at all,' said Howard dryly. Yellow Barbee laughed and wentto look at Devine. Ed True was still cursing where he had proppedhimself up with his back to a rock.
'This is apt to be bad business, Al.' It was John Carr speakingheavily, his voice unusually blunt and harsh. 'I saw Pony Lee, and hetold me that Longstreet here hasn't a leg to stand on. Devine filed onthe claim; he and his men got here ahead of us; neither Miss Helen norI nor any one but you can go into court and swear that Longstreet everso much as said that he had made a find. I was hoping we would gethere before you started anything.'
Howard looked at his friend in amazement. He knew that the discoverywas Longstreet's by right; to his way of thinking the simplest thing inthe world was to hold and to fight for the property of his friends. Hewould have said that John Carr would have done the same thing were Carrin his boots. He had taken another man's quarrel upon his ownshoulders to-night, and asked no questions; he had plunged into a fightagainst odds and had gotten away with it and no help asked; thefighting heat was still in his blood, and it seemed to him that his oldfriend John Carr was finding fault with him.
They had all dismounted by now. Longstreet had slid to the ground, letgo his horse's reins and was fidgeting up and down, back and forth, inan access of nervous excitement. Now he began talking quickly, failingto understand in the least what effect his rushing words would have onthe man who had taken up his fight.
'The thing is of no consequence, not the least in the world. Come, letthem have it. It is only a gold mine, and haven't I told you all thetime that for me there is no difficulty in locating gold? I am sorryall of this has happened. They're here first; they have filed on it;let them have it.'
Howard's face no longer showed amazement. In the flickering light hismouth was hard and bitter, set in the implacable lines of sternresentment. Between Carr and Longstreet they made it seem that he hadmerely made a fool of himself. Well, maybe he had. He shrugged hisshoulders and turned away.
'I know you did it for me,' Longstreet began, having a glimpse of thebitterness in Alan's heart.
'And you mustn't think----'
Howard wheeled on him.
'I didn't do it for you.' he snapped irritably. 'I tried the only wayI knew to help save the mine for Helen. We'd do it yet if you weren'ta pack of damned rabbits.'
He pushed by and laid his hand on the mane of the horse Dave Terrilrode.
'Give me your horse, Dave,' he said quietly. 'I'm on my way home.You'll find Barbee's down under the cliff.'
Dave Terril was quick to obey. But before his spurred boot-heel hadstruck the turf Helen had came running through the men about Howard,her two hands out, her voice thrilling and vibrant as she cried:
'There is only one man among you, one real man, and that is AlanHoward! He was not wrong; he was right! And no matter what happens tothe gold, I had rather have a man like Alan Howard do a thing like thatfor me than have all of the gold in the mountains!'
Her excitement, too, ran high, her words came tripping over oneanother, heedless and extravagant. But Howard suddenly glowed, andwhen she put her hands out to him he took them both and squeezed themhard.
'Why, God bless you, you're a brick!' he cried warmly. 'And, in spiteof the rest of 'em, I'm glad I did make a fool of myself!'
From his wounded arm a trickle of blood had run down to his hand.Helen cried out as she saw the smear across the sleeve of his shirt.
'He's hurt!' she exclaimed.
He laughed at her.
'It would be worth it if I were,' he told her gently. 'But I'm not.'He slipped his foot into the stirrup. 'Dave,' he said over hisshoulder, 'you and Chuck had better look at Monte. I don't know howbad his hurt is. Do what ever you can for him. If I'm wanted, I'm atthe ranch.'
But Helen, carried out of herself by the excitement of the moment andunconscious that she was clinging to him, pleaded with him not to goyet.
'Wait until we decide what we are going to do,' she told him earnestly.'Won't you, please?'
'You bet I will!' he answered, his voice ringing with his eagerness todo anything she might ask of him. 'If _you_ want me to stay, here Istick.'
He dropped the reins and with her at his side turne
d back to theothers. Already two men were kneeling beside Monte Devine. ChuckEvans, who had got there first, looked up and announced:
'He's come to, Al. He looks sick, but he ain't hurt much, I'd say fora guess. Not for a tough gent like him. How about it, Monte?'
Monte growled something indistinct, but when at the end of it hedemanded a drink of whisky his voice was both clear and steady. Chucklaughed. Thereafter those who knew most of such matters looked overboth Monte's and Ed True's injuries and gave what first-aid they could.It was Chuck's lively opinion that both gents were due for a littlequiet spell at a hospital, but that they'd be getting in trouble againinside a month or so.
'You can't kill them kind,' he concluded lightly. 'Not so easy.'
They called to Bettins, but he held back upon the far side of the gulchand finally withdrew and disappeared. Then Longstreet, who had beenrestless but quiet-tongued for ten minutes, exclaimed quickly:
'We must get these two men over to our camp right away, where we canhave better light, and put them into bed until a physician can besummoned. Think of the horrible situation which would arise if theydied!' He shuddered. Then he turned to Howard and extended his hand.His voice shook slightly as he said hurriedly: 'Old chap, don't thinkthat I don't appreciate what you have attempted for us; it was quitethe most amazingly splendid thing I ever heard of! But now, withmatters as they stand, there is nothing for us to do but withdraw. Letthem have the mine; it is blood-stained and ill-starred. I wouldn'thave a thing to do with it if they returned it to me.'
'But, papa,' cried Helen hotly, 'just think! They have stolen it fromus, they have tried to murder----'
'My dear,' cut in Longstreet sternly, 'I trust that you will saynothing further about it. I have made up my mind; I am a man of theworld and an older and cooler mind than you. Leave this to me.'
Howard heard her deep breath, slowly drawn, slowly expelled, and sawher face looking white and tense; he knew that her teeth were set, thather heart was filled with rebellion. But she made no answer, knowingthe futility of mere words to move her father in his present mood.Instead, she turned away from him and looked out across the gulch alongboth banks of which the fires were now raging. Nor did she turn againwhile Monte and True were placed in the saddles which were to carrythem to the camp.
'A moment, Mr. Longstreet,' said Howard, as they were starting. 'Am Ito understand that you absolutely refuse to make a fight for your ownrights?'
'In this particular instance, absolutely!' said Longstreet emphatically.
'Then,' pursued Howard, 'I have a suggestion to make. We are allfriends here: suppose that each one of us stakes out a claim justadjoining the ones you have lost. Certainly they might have somevalue.'
But Longstreet shook his head impatiently.
'I am through with the whole mess,' he declared, waving his hands. 'Iwon't have a thing to do with it, and I won't allow Helen to touch it.Further, the other claims would have no value in my eyes; the spot thathas been stolen from me is the only spot in the gulch that I would givea dollar for. Come on, Helen.'
'We'll follow you,' said Helen quietly.
The others moved away. John Carr, who had not spoken since his firstwords, stood hesitatingly looking at the two figures silhouettedagainst the fire. Then he too moved away, going with the others and insilence.
'Tell me about it,' said Helen. She dropped down and sat with her chinin her hands, her eyes moody upon the rushing flames. 'Just whathappened.'
He sat by her and told her. His heart was still filled with hisbitterness and his voice told the fact. Presently she withdrew hergaze from the gulch and turned it upon him; she had never seen him sorelentlessly stern. Almost he frightened her. Then she noticed againthe stain upon his shoulder and this time insisted upon helping himmake a bandage. With his knife she slit the shirt sleeve; togetherthey got a handkerchief bound about the wound. It was not deep nor wasit in any way dangerous, but Helen winced and paled before the job wasdone. Then their eyes met and clung together and for a little whilethey were silent, and gradually the colour came back into the girl'scheeks.
'Are you tired?' he asked presently. 'Or hungry? If not, and you careto sit here with me for an hour or two, maybe a little more, I canpromise to show you a sight you will never forget.'
'What is it?' she asked curiously, wondering if he meant a moonriseover the far desert mountains.
'It is the birth of a mining camp. For there will be one here beforemorning.'
'Surely not so soon? Who will know?'
'Who?' he grunted disgustedly. 'Everybody! Down in San Ramon Pony Leeknows; at the court-house it is known. Men give tips to their friends.Courtot's crowd knows. Out here my men know; Carr and Barbee know.Already there are a hundred men, maybe several times a hundred, whoknow. And you may be sure that already they are coming like a train ofants. Once gold has been uncovered the secret is out. Pony Lee swearsthe desert winds carry the news.'
Howard was entirely correct in his surmise, saving in the time hejudged they must wait. Less than an hour had passed and the grass firewas still spreading with a fierce crackling sound and myriad sparks,when the vanguard of the gold-seekers came. Helen and Howard heardhorses' hoofs, rattling stones, impatient voices, and withdrew ahundred yards from the gulch and into the shadows of a ring of boulders.
With the first came Bettins. His voice was the loudest, coming now andthen distinctly; he employed the name of Howard and cursed it; he saidsomething about his 'pals' Devine and True. A man to whom he wastalking laughed at him. Thereafter half a dozen forms swarmed downinto the gulch; the fire on either side of them was dying out along thegulch's edge; they cursed its heat when it offended them, tookadvantage of its light at all times, and more like ants than everappeared to be running back and forth foolishly and aimlessly. But,apparently, Bettins got his stakes and his friends' back and the menwith whom he had returned hastily staked out their own claims, allfeverishly and by crude guesswork. There was perhaps not a man amongthem who knew the first thing about mining. Helen watched them insheer fascination. Down there half in light, half in shadow, dartingthis way and that, they were like little gnomes playing some wild gameof their own.
'They act like madmen,' she whispered. 'They run about as ifeverything had to be done in a minute.'
'Between them the crowd down there don't own, I'd say, fifty dollars.Each one is figuring that he has his chance to be a millionaireto-morrow. And they know that more men are coming. That's the way menthink when they're in the gold rush. Look, there come some more!'
This time there were three men. They broke into a run when they heardvoices; perhaps they had hoped to be first. Down into the bed of thegulch they plunged; one of them slipped and rolled and cursed; menlaughed, and with the laughter dying in their throats broke off to yella warning to some one to keep his feet off a claim already staked out.Within an hour after the return of Bettins there were a score of men onthe spot; again and again rose sharp words as every man, alert toprotect his own interests, was ready for a quarrel. They draggedstones to mark their boundaries; they cut and hammered stakes, theyleft their chosen sites now and then and altered their first judgmentsand restaked somewhere else. They swarmed up the banks of the gulch onboth sides, they hastened back and forth, they staked everywhere. Asthe time passed more and more came plunging into the orgy of gold untilat last the night was never quiet. Harsh words passed and once blowswere struck and a man went down and lay still. Another time there wasthe report of a gun and a boom of many voices commanding order and thatquarrels be taken to a safe distance and out of the way of busy men.
'It's dreadful,' whispered Helen. 'They're like wild animals.'
'It's just the gold fever,' he returned. 'Poor devils! they are drunkwith their visions.'
But Helen wondered if they were capable of visions. Down in theshadow-filled sink they were to her imagination like so many swineplunging into a monster trough. When Alan suggested, 'We've seen,
andnow maybe we had better be going,' she rose without a word or backwardglance and went with him. But Howard, looking over his shoulder, sawstill other men coming. He himself began to wonder whence they hadcome: by now, it seemed to him, both Big Run and San Ramon must haveemptied themselves like bags of wheat slashed with a knife.
They walked swiftly until the din of the gold-seekers was lost to theirears. Then slowly they strolled on, silence enwrapping them, Helen'seyes wandering away to the glory of the stars, Howard's contented withthe girl's face. After a while Helen, feeling the intentness of hislook, turned toward him with a strange little smile which came and wentfleetingly. She stopped a moment, still looking at him.
'Your country has done something to me,' she said thoughtfully, 'eventhough I have been out here only a few weeks. For one thing, when Ifirst came I thought that I knew all about men and that they werepretty much all alike. I am finding out that they are not at all alikeand that I don't understand them.'
'No, they are not all alike, and some men are hard to make out, Isuppose,' he said when she paused.
'Men are more violent than I thought men were nowadays,' she added.'They are stronger; they are fiercer. I used to think that a girl wasa wretched little coward to be afraid of any man. Now I would beafraid of many of them I have seen in this land that you like to callyour country.'
He understood that in her brain had formed a vision of his fight withDevine and Ed True, and that, blurring that image, she was still seeingthe picture of the dark forms rushing down into the gulch. She beganto move on again, and he went at her side making no reply and communingwith his own thoughts. She did not stop again until they came close tothe canvas-walled cabin and saw the light shining wanly through and theshadows of the men inside. Then she lifted her face so that it wasclear to him in the starlight and said to him slowly:
'I am going in and see if I can help with the wounded men now. Ishould have gone at first, I suppose. Maybe there is something I cando. You wouldn't want them to die, would you?'
'No,' he returned, 'I would not want them to die.'
In the silence which followed he could see that she was seeking to readhis face and that she was very, very thoughtful.
'Tell me something,' she said abruptly. 'If one of them were JimCourtot--would you want him to die?'
At the mention of Courtot's name she made out a quick hardening of hismouth; she even saw, or fancied, an angry gathering of his brows.To-night's work was largely the work of Jim Courtot, and because of itDry Gulch, which might have poured great heaps of gold at Helen's feet,was being wrangled over by a hundred men. He thought of that and hethought of other things, of how Courtot had fired on him from the darklong ago, of how Courtot was hunting him after Courtot's own tenaciousfashion.
'Why do you ask that?' he demanded sharply.
She did not reply. Instead she turned from him and looked at thestars. And then she withdrew her eyes and turned them toward the lightgleaming palely through the walls of canvas. But at last she liftedher face again to Howard.
'I'll go in now. And maybe I am tired after all. It has been a day,hasn't it? And please know that I felt that you did the right thingto-night, and that I don't know another man who would have been manenough to do it. Good night.'
'Good night,' he said, and watched her as she went into the house.