CHAPTER XIII
SETTING THE TRAP
Notwithstanding the exhaustion occasioned by his journey Riles wasearly about. The hotel bed was strange to him, and the noises thatfloated up from the bar-room interrupted his slumbers. At least, hetold himself it was the noises, but the fact is a great new thoughthad been sown in his brain, and had started the cells whirling indizzy speculation. The unexpected meeting with Gardiner, the latter'sevident prosperity, and his frank contempt for men who made theirliving by labour, had left a deep impression upon Riles. He had noidea by what means Gardiner proposed that they should possessthemselves of Harris's money, and he felt some doubt about any suchattempt being rewarded with success. Nevertheless, Gardiner seemed tothink the matter a simple one enough, and Gardiner's good clothes andgood cigars were evidence of his ability to carry his plans intoeffect.
The streets had not yet assumed their morning activity when Rilesemerged from the hotel, but the unclouded Alberta sunshine wasbathing every atom of out-of-doors in a warmth and brilliance thatmight have found, and in very truth did find, a keen response in theinanimate objects of its affection. The jubilant laugh of runningmountain water rippled through the quiet air, fragrant with theperfume of balm-of-Gilead and balsam; to the eastward the sunshinepoured into broad valleys of undulating, sweeping plain, and in thewest the great mountains, clad in their eternal robes of white,loomed silent and impressive in their majesty. Even Riles stopped tolook at them, and they stirred in him an emotion that was notaltogether profane--a faint, undefined consciousness of the puninessof man and the might of his Creator. No one can live for long in thepresence of the mountains without that consciousness, and it is agreat day for the mountain-dweller when he learns to distinguishbetween the puniness of man, the animal, and the infinity of man, thethinking soul. Riles breakfasted as soon as the dining-room wasopened, eating his meal hurriedly, as he always did, albeit theFrench-fried potatoes, to which he was unaccustomed, could be poisedon his knife only with considerable effort. Then he sat down in anarm-chair on the shady side of the hotel to wait for Gardiner. He hadsuddenly lost his interest in the free lands which had been thepurpose of his journey.
His wait was longer than he had expected, and he broke it severaltimes by strolls about the little town. In size it was much the sameas Plainville, but that was the chief point of resemblance. True, ithad its typical stores, selling everything from silks to coal oil;its blacksmiths' shops, ringing with the hammer of the busy smith onploughshare or horseshoe; its implement agencies, with rows ofgaudily-painted wagons, mowers, and binders obstructing thethoroughfare, and the hempen smell of new binder twine floating fromthe hot recess of their iron-covered storehouses; a couple of banks,occupying the best corners, and barber shops and pool-rooms inapparent excess of the needs of the population. All these he mighthave found in Plainville, but there were here in additionhalf-a-dozen real estate offices, with a score or more curbstonedealers, locaters, commission-splitters, and go-betweens, and thenumber and size of the livery stables gave some clue to the amount ofprospecting going on from this base of supplies. The streets werelined with traffic. Riles estimated that in two hours as many teamspassed him as might be seen in Plainville in a week; long rows ofbox-cars were unloading on the side tracks; farmers' effects andhousehold goods of every description were piled in great heaps aboutthe railway yards; while horses, cattle, pigs, and poultrycontributed to the dust and din of the settlers' operations. Greatwagons of lumber were being loaded at the lumber yards, and anunbroken procession of wagons and farm machinery of every descriptionwas wending its way slowly into the distance where lay hope of homeor fortune for the new settler.
It was almost noon when Gardiner appeared on the scene. "You don'thurt you'self in the mornin's," was Riles' greeting.
"Don't need to," he answered cheerily. "Besides, I'd a long sessionafter I left you last night. No, no particulars at present. I toldyou you had spoiled your hands for that kind of work. How d'ye likethis air? Isn't that something worth breathing?"
"Good enough," said Riles, "but I didn't come out here for air."
"No, you came for land. I'm surprised you're not out bouncing overthe prairie in a buckboard long before this."
Riles shot a quick glance at Gardiner. But he was puffing a cigar anddrinking in the warm sunshine with obvious satisfaction.
"So I might o' been, but I thought we kind o' made a date last night,didn't we?"
"Did we? Oh yes; now I remember. But I thought perhaps you'd feeldifferent about it in the morning. A man generally does. I won't holdyou to anything you said last night, Riles."
Riles could not recall that he had said anything that committed himin any way, but Gardiner's tone implied that plainly enough.
"I ain't changed my mind," he said, "but I don't know's I saidanything bindin', did I? I thought we was goin' t' drive out t' yourplace t'-day an' talk things over."
"Well, I just didn't want you to lose any time over me if you thoughtthings wouldn't work out," said Gardiner. "It takes more nerve, youknow, than hoeing potatoes. But you're welcome to the hospitality ofthe ranch, in any case. I came in on horseback, so we'll get a teamat one of the stables and drive out."
In a short time they were on their way. The road skirted the river,threading its way through the narrow belt of cotton-woods andevergreens that found footing in the moist soil of the valley. Hereand there, through an opening in the trees, or across a broad wedgeof prairie, could be seen the mountains, now bathed in a faintpurple, silently receding before them. A soft breeze, neither hot norcold, but moist and fresh from the great table-lands of snow, pressedgently about the travellers, but their thoughts were of neither thescenery nor the weather.
"It's all right, Riles," Gardiner was saying. "If you're prepared tostay with the deal we can pull it through--no doubt about that. Thatis, if Harris will sell his farm and come out here with the cash inhis jeans. If he won't do that, you better get busy on your homesteadproposition right away."
"He'll do it all right, if he sees somethin' worth while. ButHarris's no spring chicken, an' you'll have t' show him somethin' t'his likin' before he loosens up."
"I don't care whether he loosens up or not," said Gardiner. "All Icare is that he brings the money, and brings it in bills. No cheques,mind you. Get him out here with the cash on him, and I'll do theloosening up, if it comes to that."
Riles was somewhat alarmed at the sinister turn of the conversation.He had no compunction about getting the better of his old neighbour,the man who had entrusted him with the discharge of their jointmission, but he had considerable respect for the force, if not theprinciple, of the law.
"You don't mean that you'd do anythin'--anythin' that wasn't right?"he said. "I wouldn't want t' get mixed up in no scrape, y' know."
"You mean that you think more of your skin than you do of Harris'scoin. Well, there's no accounting for tastes. But as for doinganything wrong--you ought to know me better than that. It will all beclean and above board, and no violence if it can be helped, but ifHarris is unfortunate nobody's to blame for that. Of course, ifyou're afraid to take a sportsman's chance for a half of fortythousand dollars, call the deal off. I've got lots of other fish tofry."
"You don't understand," said Riles. "I ain't a'scared, but I don'twant t' do nothin' that'll get us into trouble. Harris is an oldneighbour o' mine, an'--"
"I understand perfectly. You wouldn't mind a piece of Harris's moneyserved on a platter and wrapped in tissue paper, but you wantsomebody else to take the chances. Now, there won't be any chances tospeak of, but what there are you take your share. If that's a bargainit's a bargain, and if it isn't we'll talk about the weather. Whatd'you say?"
"It's a bargain," said Riles, "provided your plan'll work out."
"It's got to work out. It's like going up in a balloon--if it doesn'twork out it's all off with the engineer. You got to take the chance,Hiram, and then make good on the chance."
Riles chewed vigorously at his tobacco. "Explain how yo
u're goin' topull it off," he said, "an' then I'll tell you yes or no."
"Not on your life," said Gardiner. "I don't show my hand until I knowwho's sitting across."
There was silence for half a mile, while Riles turned the matter overin his mind. He was naturally a coward, but he was equally amoney-grabber, and it was one instinct against the other. Avarice wonit, and at length he extended his hand to Gardiner. "I'm in onanythin' you're in on," he said.
"That sounds like it," said Gardiner, with enthusiasm. "Now the wholething's simple as A B C, and not half as dangerous as running atraction engine or breaking a broncho. It all rests on getting himout here with the money, and that's where you come in. I don't mindtelling you if it wasn't for the help you can give there I'd handlethe job myself, and save dividing the proceeds."
"Yes, that's the point, all right," said Riles, somewhat dubiously."How're we goin' t' get him out here with all that money?"
"Think, Riles," said Gardiner, puffing complacently at a fresh cigar."Think hard."
Riles wrinkled his forehead and spat copiously at the front hub, butthe inspiration would not come. "I give it up," he said at last."You'll have t' plan it, an' I'll carry it out."
"That's what comes of hard work, Hiram; you lose all yourimagination. Right now you haven't any more imagination than acabbage. Now, I could suggest a dozen schemes to suit the purpose ifI had to, but one will do. Suppose this:
"These mountains up here are full of coal--more coal than can beburnt in a million years. It's a bad road in, but once you get hereyou'll see it lying in seams, ten, fifteen, twenty feet thick, andstretching right through the rocks as far as you like to follow it.That coal's going to make a bunch of millionaires some day, but notuntil you can get at it with something bigger than a cayuse. Butrailroads come fast in this country, and there's no saying how soon aman might cash in if he invested just now."
"You ain't goin't' wait till a railroad comes, are you? We'll likeenough be dead by that time."
"Hiram, I told you you had no imagination, wait a moment. Now,suppose that some strange eccentric chap owns one of these coallimits. He lives up in the mountains, a kind of hermit, but we fallin with him and offer him forty thousand dollars for his limit,worth, say, half a million, or more if you feel like it. He says,'All right, but mind I want the money in bills, and you'll have tobring it out to me here.' Now can you think of anything?"
"Harris don't know nothin' about coal," protested Riles. "He wouldn'tbite at anythin' like that."
"Your faith has been neglected as well as your imagination. You'vegot to paint it to him so's to get him interested. That's all. Ourbusiness is to get Harris, with the money in his wallet, started upinto those mountains. It's mighty lonely up there, with timberwolves, grizzly bears, precipices, snow-slides, and trails that leadto nowhere, and if Harris is unfortunate--well, he's unfortunate."
The plan gradually penetrated Riles' slow-working mind. At first itnumbed him a little, and his face was a strange colour as he turnedto his companion, and said, in a low voice, "Ain't it risky? What ifthe police catch on?"
"They won't. They're all right for cleaning up a rough-house, butdon't cut any figure in fine art work like we'll put over. I tellyou, Riles, it's absolutely safe. Of course, ordinary precautionsmust be taken, same as you would with a vicious horse or any otherrisk you might run. The main thing is to see that he has the money inbills; anything else would be risky and lead to trouble. Then thisfellow that's supposed to own the mine must be kept in thebackground. We--"
"But who _does_ own the mine?"
Gardiner made a gesture of exasperation. "You don't get me, Hiram.Nobody owns the mine. That part of it's all a myth--a fairy talemanufactured because we need it. But Harris mustn't find thatout--not, at any rate, until it's too late. Then if anything everdoes leak out, suspicion will be directed toward some mysteriousmine-owner, and the police will be wearing out shoe-leather huntingthe cracks in the foothills while you and I are taking in the sightsof Honolulu or South America. We'll quietly make an appointment forHarris to meet the mine-owner somewhere up in the hills. We'll directhim where to go, and leave it at that. Of course we won't go withhim; we'll have other business about that time."
Riles looked at Gardiner with frank admiration. It seemed so simplenow, and in his growing enthusiasm he felt that he would have littledifficulty in persuading Harris to raise all the cash possible andbring it with him. And it seemed so safe. As Gardiner said, themountains were full of danger, and if something should happen toHarris--well, he would be unfortunate; but lots of other people hadbeen unfortunate, too.
Gardiner turned his team down a side road, forded the river, climbeda steep, slippery bank, and drew up beside a cluster of ranchbuildings sheltered with cotton-woods and spruces. The old, longlog-house, reminiscent of the days when the West was a land and a lawunto itself, might have stirred the heart of poet or artist; thehard-beaten soil of the corral hinted still of the brave days of theopen range and cattle beyond the counting. As the team, in theirlong, steady trot, swung up beside the stables, an alert young fellowcame quickly out and busied himself with the unhitching.
"Guess you ought to know our visitor, Jim, shouldn't you?" saidGardiner. "Another Manitoban chasing the free land."
Travers at once recognized Riles and extended his hand. "Well, Mr.Riles, we weren't looking for you here, although I suppose Ishouldn't be surprised, for there was some talk of your coming Westbefore I left Plainville. What do you think of it? And did you seethe mountains this morning? Worth the trip themselves, aren't they?"
"Look pretty good, all right, Jim," said Riles, with an attempt ataffability, "but I reckon you wouldn't grow much wheat on 'em, an'scenery's not very fillin'. How you makin' it go you'self?"
"Nothing but luck since I landed," said Jim. "Got a good homesteadand a good job right away. You must let me take you out to my farmbefore you go back. How's everybody? Harrises well, I hope?"
"Guess they're well enough, but gettin' kind o' scattered for afamily group. Beulah lit out when you did--but I guess I can't giveyou no information about that."
The smile did not depart from Travers' face, but if Riles had knownhim as well as he should he would have seen the sudden smoulderinglight in the eye. But the young man answered quietly, "I saw Beulahthe day I left Plainville, and I understood she was going West on avisit. She isn't back yet?"
"Innocent, ain't chuh?" said Riles, in a manner intended to beplayful. "It's all right; I don't blame you. Beulah's a good girl, ifa bit high falutin, an' a few years' roughin' it on the homestead'lltake that out of her."
But Jim had dropped the harness and stood squarely facing Riles. Thesmile still lingered on his lips, but even the heavy-witted farmersaw that he had been playing with fire. Riles was much the larger manof the two, but he was no one to court combat unless the odds wereoverwhelmingly in his favour. He carried a scar across his eye as aconstant reminder of his folly in having once before invited troublefrom a younger man.
"What do you mean?" demanded Travers. "Put it in English."
But Gardiner interposed. "Don't be too sensitive, Jim," he said."Riles has forgotten his parlour manners, but he doesn't mean anyharm. You weren't insinuating anything, were you, Hiram?"
"Course not," said Riles, glad of an opportunity to get out of thedifficulty without a direct apology. "No offence intended, Jim.Beulah's all right, an' you're all right, an' that's what I alwayssaid."
Travers was not in the least deceived as to Riles' high-mindedness,but he realized that the man was the guest of his employer, and hedecided not to press the point. Gardiner and Riles went to the house,and Jim presently saddled his own horse and rode out on the prairie.He had already lunched, and it was Gardiner's custom to cook forhimself when at home.
Inside, the two men were soon seated at a meal which Gardiner hastilybut deftly prepared. They ate from plates of white enamelled ware, ona board table covered with oilcloth, but the food was appetizing, andthe manner of serving it much more t
o Riles' liking than that towhich he had been subjected for some days. The meat was fresh andtasty; and the bread and butter were all that could be desired, andthe strong, hot tea, without milk but thick with sugar, completed ameal that was in every way satisfactory. Riles' eyes, when not on hisplate, were busy taking in the surroundings. The log walls were hungwith mementoes, some of earlier days and some of other lands, andthroughout the big room was a strange mixture of elegance andplainness. At one end were rows of shelves, with more books thanRiles had ever seen, and above stood a small piece of statuary worththe price of many bushels of wheat.
Gardiner noted the interest of his guest, and smiled quietly tohimself. He supposed that Riles had the usual notions about the FarWest--a notion that here he was on the outer-most rim of the finercivilization of even the Middle West. But he knew also that thisplain log building contained furnishings and decorations altogetherbeyond anything that Riles had ever seen or heard of--things, indeed,so far removed from the life of the hard-working farmer that theymight have come from another world than his own. When the meal wasfinished Gardiner swept the soiled dishes into a big galvanized irontub, there to await attentions from Jim at a convenient season, andinvited Riles to look about the house.
They entered another room, immediately to the north of the largeapartment which served all general housekeeping purposes. The floorwas of plain boards, smooth with the riding-boots of many years, andin the centre lay the skin of a great bear. An old-fashioned carvedtable, of some size, and three leather chairs, were the principalfurniture. Two swords hung diagonally across the far wall, and abovethem was an old flag, discoloured with sun and rain. Ancient firearmsdecorated the walls, and odd pieces of strange clothing hung about inprofusion.
"This is His Nibs' drawing-room," said Gardiner. "This junk you seeabout you has been gathered from the corners of the earth during thelast few centuries. In there"--indicating another room through a doorto the left--"is his bedroom--a regular museum of stuff running to noend of money, if you went to buy it. He has a couple of picturesworth more than a quarter-section of land, and that mat you seethrough the door--a prayer-rug he calls it, though he don't use itmuch for that--is worth over five hundred dollars."
Gardiner enjoyed the look of amazement that slowly spread over Riles'face. "He's been stuffin' you," said Riles at length, thinking of hisown extravagance when he paid ninety cents a yard for a carpet fortheir front room at home. "He's been stuffin' you sure. There ain'tno mats worth any money like that."
"It's gospel," said Gardiner. "Why, man, he has a set of chess worthmore than the best team on your farm, and that statue affair upthere--you simply couldn't buy it. The place is just bristling withvaluables of one kind and another."
But Riles appeared suddenly agitated. He seized Gardiner by the arm,saying, "If this stuff's worth's much as you figure, why don't wemake a clean-up here, when the duke, or whatever he is, is away?That'd be safer, wouldn't it?"
"No, it wouldn't. It'd be easy enough to get away with the stuff, buthow'd you turn it into money? The police would get you sure on a gamelike that. Of course, if you should decide to go in for culture,without the 'agri' ahead, you might like to have the prayer-mat foryour own knees. No, you can't put over anything like that. And now webetter be getting down to business."
Gardiner drew a couple of chairs up to the carved table, opened adrawer, and produced writing materials. "We can't get a letter awayto Harris any too soon. Nothing like making hay while the sun shines,you know, and if he gets out here before we put our plan up to him,it would be natural enough for him to want to see the mine-ownerhimself. So hitch yourself to that pen there, and let us see whatkind of a hand you are at fiction."
Riles would rather have done a day's work in the field than write aletter, but Gardiner insisted it must be done by him. Much of theafternoon was spent in the struggle, and Gardiner's fertileimagination had to be appealed to at several critical points. But atlast the letter was completed. It ran as follows:
"John Harris esq"planvil man
"sir i take up my pen to let you no that i am all well hoppin thiswill find you the same well this is a grate contry their is sure abig out ov doors well mr Harris i think i see somthing here a holelot better than 3 years on a homstead homsteads is all rite for menthat Hasunt got any mony but a man with sum mony can do better iwisht i Had sold my plase before i left i could ov done well heretheir is lots ov chantez to make big mony their is a man here owns acole mine he is what they call Xsentrik He is a Hermitt and lives inthe Hills His mine is wurth 500000$ but He dont no it He will take80000$ for it and we can sell it rite away for perhaps 500000$ ithink we should take this up it is a grate chants if you will sellyour plase rite away and bring all the mony you can then i will sellmine for the balluns be sure and bring all the mony you can if youdont like the cole mine there is lots of other chantez they will makeyou rich and bring the mony in bills not chex becaws He wont takechex becaws He is Xsentrik their is a man here sais His frend in newyork would pay 500000$ for the cole mine if he was here and He issending Him word so Hurry and let us get holt ov it furst then we'llsell it to Him and make a killing dont fale
"your obedyunt servunt
"HIRAM RILES."
Gardiner read the letter carefully, suppressing his amusement overRiles' wrestlings with the language, and finally gave his approval.
"Now, you must make a copy of it," he said. "It's only business tohave a copy. That was a fine touch of yours about going back to sellyour own farm. I believe you have some imagination after all, if itonly had a chance to sprout."
Riles protested about the labour of making a copy, but Gardinerinsisted, and at last the work was completed. The sound of gallopinghoofs was heard outside, and a cowboy from a neighbouring ranchcalled at the door to ask if there was anything wanted from town."Here's your chance to mail your letter," Gardiner called to Rileswith unnecessary loudness. "Mr. Riles dropped in here to write aletter," he explained to the rider.
Having with much difficulty folded his epistle until it could becrumpled into an envelope. Riles sealed, stamped, and addressed it,and a moment later the dust was rising down the trail as the cowboybore the fatal missive to town. The die was cast; the match had beenset to the tinder, and the fire must now burn through to a finish,let it scorch whom it would.
Gardiner took up the copy, folded it carefully, and put it in hispocket-book. "Now, Mr. Riles," he said, "we're in for this thing, andthere's no backing out. At least you're in for it. You have sent aletter, in your handwriting, such as it is, to Harris, and I have acopy of it, in your handwriting, in my pocket. If this thing evergets out these letters will make good evidence."