*CHAPTER XX*
_*Compensation*_
From where I sat on the frontage of that hill, the black, treelessmountain behind me, the hurly-burly of the scattered, out-cropping hillsand tree-filled basins below me, as the sun came up in my face, my gazewas attracted to a bush upon the incline.
This bush stood apart from the others on the hill, like an advancescout; and as the sunlight streamed over the mountains I saw thebranches of it agitated and a bird flew out, a bird about the size of ablackbird. I do not know its name, but it gave one of the strangestcries you ever heard--like this:
"Bob White! Bob White! Bobby White!"
And away it flew with a rising and falling motion and down into the cupbelow, from where its cry came up again.
It is difficult for me to tell you exactly what that bird meant to methen. My heart that was like a stone seemed cloven asunder on hearingthat bird's liquid cry. That there was something eerie in the sound ofit, so like human speech, did in nowise affect me. To terror, to theweird, to the unknown I now was heedless. But at that bird's cry myheart seemed just to break in sunder and I wept again, a weeping thatrelieved me much, so that when it was over I felt less miserable andheartsore. And I prayed a brief prayer as I had never prayed before,and was wondrously lightened after that; and turning to the horse, asmen will do when alone, I spoke to it, caressing its nose and pullingits pricked ears. And then it occurred to me that if Donoghue hadsurvived his wound, Apache Kid might still be alive. It had been forApache, indeed, that I had entertained greater hope.
"Shall we go down to the valley and see if my friend still lives?" Isaid, speaking to the horse; and just then the beast flung his head upfrom me and his eyeballs started.
I looked in the direction of his fear--and there was Apache Kid and noother, climbing up from the direction of the bush whence the bird hadflown away.
I rushed down the rise upon him with outspread arms, and at our meetingembraced him in my relief and joy, and dragged him up to my fire, andhad all my story of my doings of the night, the day, and the night toldhim, and of Donoghue and of Canlan--a rattling volley of talk, helistening quietly all the while, and smiling a little every time I brokein upon my tale with: "You do not blame me, Apache?"
And then I asked him, all my own selfish heart being outpoured, how itwas that I found him here alive.
"As for your accusations," he said, "dismiss them from your mind. Inall you have told me I think you acted with great presence of mind andforethought. As for my escape from death, and Larry's, it must have beendue entirely to the condition of that reptile's nerves, as you describehim to me."
He had been standing with his back to where Donoghue lay, and now in thelight that took all that black hillside at a bound, I saw a sight that Ishall never forget. For there, where should have been the dead man'sface, was nought but a skull, and perched upon the breast of the man andlicking its chops, showing its front teeth, was one of the greatmountain rats.
Apache Kid followed the gaze of my eyes, looked at me again with thatknitting of the brows, as in anger almost, or contempt.
"Brace up!" he said sharply.
"Brace up!" I cried. "Is it you who tell me to brace up, you whobrought me into this hideous place, you who are to blame for all this!I was a lad when you asked me to accompany you that day at BakerCity--it feels like years ago. Now, now," and I heard my voicebreaking, "now I am like a man whose life is blighted."
When I began my tirade he looked astonished at first, and then I thoughtit was a sneer that came upon his lips, but finally there was nothingbut kindliness visible.
"I was only trying the rough method of pulling you together," he said,"and it seems it has succeeded. Man, man, you have to thank me. Come,"and taking me by the arm and I unresisting, he led me to the cabin.
It was curious how then I felt my legs weak under me, and all the hillwas spinning round me in a growing darkness. I felt my head sinking andheard my voice moan: "Oh! Apache, I am dying. This night has killedme!" and I repeated the words in a kind of moan, thinking myself foolishin a vague way, too, I remember, and wondering what Apache Kid wouldthink of me. And then the darkness suddenly closed on me, a darkness inwhich I felt Apache Kid's hands groping at my armpits, lifting me up,and then I seemed to fall away through utter blackness.
When I came again from that darkness, I stretched out my hands andlooked around.
I had been dreaming, I suppose, or delirious and fevered, for I thoughtmyself at home in the old country, imagined myself waking in the darkHours; but only for a moment did that fancy obtain with me. All too soonI knew that I was lying in the Lost Cabin, but by the smell of the"fir-feathers" on which I lay, I knew that they were freshly gathered,and from the bottom of my heart I thanked Apache Kid for hisforethought. For to have wakened in one of these bunks would, Ibelieve, have made me more fevered than I was already. It was night, orcoming morning again. The hatch was off the roof, and through that holea grey smoke mounted from a fire upon the earthen floor. The door wasfastened up again.
At my turning, Apache Kid came to me out of the shadows and bent overme; but his face frightened me, for with the fever I had then on me itseemed a monstrous size, filling the whole room. I had sense enough toknow from this that I was ill, and looking into that face which I knewmy fever formed so hideously, I said:
"Oh, Apache Kid! It would be better to die and have done with it."
"Nonsense, man," he said. "Nonsense, man. There are so many things thatyou have to live for:" and he held up his left hand, the fingers seemingswollen to the size of puddings, and began counting upon them. "Youhave a lot of duties to perform to mankind before you can shuffle off.Shall I count some of them for you?" And he put his right forefinger tothe thumb of his left hand and turned to me as though to begin; but hethought better of it, and then said he:
"I know you have a lot to do before you can shuffle off. But if youwould perform these duties, you must calm yourself as best you can."
"How long have I lain here?" I asked suddenly.
"Just since morning," said he. "A mere nothing, man. After anothersleep you will be better, and then we----" he paused then.
"We will do what?" I said.
"We will get out of here and away home," he said, and took my hand justas a woman might have done, and wiped my brow and kept smoothing my hairtill I slept again.
From this I woke to a sound of drumming, as of thousands of patteringfeet.
It was the rain on the roof. Rain trickled from it in many places,running down in pools upon the floor. The smoke hole was again covered,the fire out, but the door was open, and through it I had a glimpse ofthe hills, streaming with rain and mist.
Apache Kid sat on one of the rough stools by the door, looking outward,and I called him.
He came quick and eager at my cry.
"Better?" he said. "Aha! That's what the rain does. And here 's theman that was going to die!" he rallied me. "Here, have a sip of this.It is n't sweet, but it will help you. I 've been rummaging."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Just a little nip of cognac. They had that left, poor devils. It's awonder Canlan----" he continued, and then stopped; doubtless I squirmedat the name.
I took over the draught, and he sat down on the fir-boughs and talked asgaily as ever man talked. All the substance of his talk I haveforgotten, only I remember how he heartened me. It was my determinationto fight the fever and sickness, that we had nothing in the way ofmedicines to cure, that he was trying to awaken. And I must say hemanaged it well.
With surprise I found myself sitting up and smoking a cigarette while hesat back nursing a knee, laughing on me and saying:
"Smoking a cigarette! A sick man! Sitting up--and inhaling, too--andblowing through the nose--a sick man--why, the thing's absurd!"
I looked and listened and smiled in return on him, and some thought cameto me of what manner of man this was
who ministered so kindly to me, andalso of how near death's door he himself had been.
"How are you?" I asked. "Where was it you said you had been wounded? Ifear I was so sick and queer that I have forgotten everything but seeingyou again."
"I?" he said. "Oh, I have just pulled myself together by sheerwill-power. I have a hole in my side, filled up with resin. But that'sa mere nothing. It 'll hold till we get back to civilisation again, orelse be healed by then. Thank goodness for our late friend's shakyhand." And at these words it struck me, thinking, I suppose, hownarrowly Apache had missed death, that Canlan might be alive despite hisfall.
Apache read the thought before I spoke. He nodded his headreassuringly, and said:
"We are safe from him. He will trouble us no more. I have seen, tomake sure."
"I think I should be ashamed of myself," said I, "for giving in likethis."
"Nonsense," said he. "You were sick enough last night, but you are allright now. Could you eat a thin, crisp pancake?--I won't say flapjack.A thin, crisp pancake?"
I thought I could, and found that he had a few ready against such areturn to my normal. As I ate, he meditated. I could see that, thoughhe spoke gaily enough, there was something on his mind. He looked at meseveral times, and then at last: "Do you think you could stand badnews?" he asked.
I looked up with inquiry.
"It's a fizzle, this!" he snapped; and then he told me that sure enoughthe three original owners of the mine had "struck something." But theore, according to Apache Kid's opinion of the samples lying in thecabin, was of such a quality that it would not repay anyone to work theplace.
"O," he said, "if there was a smelter at the foot of the mountains, Idon't say it would n't repay to rig up a bucket-tramway and plant; it'snot so very poor looking stuff; but to make a waggon road, or even apack-road, from here, say, to Kettle River Gap or even to Baker City anduse the ordinary road there for the further transportation--no, it wouldn't pay. We might hold this claim all our lives and the country mightnever open up this way while we lived; and what would we be the betterfor it all?"
It mattered little to me. My soul was sick of it all.
"Of course, that's the black side," he broke off. "Again, this valleymight be opened up--other prospects put on the market--and down there inthat valley you 'd live to see the smoke of a smelter smelting the oreof this little place of yours." He paused again. "But I doubt it," hesaid.
"So it's a fizzle?" I said half-heartedly.
"Yes," said he. "That is, practically a fizzle. As the country is atpresent it does n't seem to me very hopeful. But of course I am one ofthose who believe in big profits and quick returns. It is perhapsscarcely necessary for me to tell you of that characteristic of mine,however, unless the excitement of your recent experience has caused youto forget the half-told story I was spinning to you when friend Canlaninterrupted us. Man, how it does rain! And this," said he, looking up,"is only a preamble. If I 'm not in error, we 're going to have afierce night to-night. The storm-king is marshalling his forces. Hedoes n't often do it here, but when he does he does it with a vengeance.I think our best plan is to get the holes in this roof tinkered. I seethe gaps round about have been blocked up recently. Was it you didthat?"
I told him that the tinkering was Canlan's doing, to prevent an inroadof the rats, should we have slept in the place.
"Thanks be unto Canlan," said he. "We 'll start on the roof."
At this task I assisted, standing on the wabbly stool and filling up thecrevices.
It was when thus employed that in a cranny near the eaves I saw a pieceof what looked like gunnysacking protruding and catching hold of it itcame away in my hand and there was a great scattering to the floor--ofyellow raindrops, you might have thought; but they fell with a dullsound. I looked upon them lying there.
"What's that?" I cried. But indeed I guessed what these dirty yellowthings were.
Apache Kid scooped up a handful and gave them but one glance. He wasexcited, I could see; but it was when he most felt excitement that thisman schooled himself the most.
"Francis," said he, "there is, as many great men have written,compensation in all things. I think our journey will not be such afolly after all."
"These are gold nuggets?" said I. "Our fortunes are----" and then Iremembered that I had already received my wages and that none of thiswas mine. "Your fortune is made," said I, correcting myself.
He smiled a queer little smile at my words.
"Well," he said, "if this indicates anything, my fortune is made in theonly way I could ever make a fortune."
"Indicates?" I said. "How do you mean?"
"Pooh!" said he, turning the little, brass-looking peas in his hand."These would hardly be called a fortune. Even a bagful of these such asyou have unearthed don't run to very much. There is more of this sortof stuff in our cabin," said he.
I was a little mystified.
"Search!" he said. "Search! That is enough for the present. If ourlabours are rewarded, then I will give you an outline of the manner andcustoms of the Genus Prospector--a queer, interesting race."
We thought little now of filling up the holes in that cabin. It wasmore a work of dismantling that we began upon, I probing all around theeaves, Apache Kid picking away with one of the miners' picks, beginningsystematically at one end of the cabin and working along.
"Here," I cried, "here is another," for I had come upon just suchanother sack and quickly undid the string.
"Why, what is this?" said I. "What are these?"
He took the bag and examined a handful of the contents--the green andthe blue stones.
"This," said he, "is another sign of the customs of these men. This wasJackson's little lot, I expect; the man the Poorman boys picked up.Jackson was a long time in the Gila country."
"But what are they?" I said.
"Why, turquoises," replied Apache Kid.
"Turquoises in America?" I said.
"Yes," said he, "and a good American turquoise can easily match yourPersian variety."
He went over and sat down upon his stool.
"I don't like this," said he, disgustedly, and I waited his meaning."Fancy!" he cried, and then paused and said: "Fancy? You don't need tofancy! You see it here before you. When I say fancy, what I mean isthis: Can you put yourself, by any effort of imagination, into the egoof a man who has a fortune in either of his boot-soles, a fortune in hisbelt, a fortune in the lining of his old overcoat, and yet goes onhunting about in the mountain seeking more wealth, grovelling about likea mole? Can you get in touch with such a man? Can you discover in yoursoul the possibility of going and doing likewise? If you can, thenyou're not the man I took you for."
"They did n't get these turquoises here, then?" I said.
"Oh, no! I don't suppose that there is such a thing as a turquoise inthis whole territory. Don't you see, we've struck these fellows'banking accounts? Did you ever hear of a prospector putting his wholefunds in a bank? Never! He 'll trust the bank with enough for a rainyday. The only thing that he 'll do with his whole funds is to go in forsome big gamble, such as the Frisco Lottery that put thousands of suchold moles on their beam ends. In a gamble he 'll stake his all, down tohis pack-horse. But he does n't like the idea of putting out his wealthfor quiet, circumspect, two-a-half per cent interest. He 'd rather carryit in his boot-soles than do that any day."
Up he got then, and really I must leave it to you to decide how much waspose, how much was actual in Apache Kid, when he said:
"I think we had better continue our search, however, not so much for thefurther wealth we may find as to satisfy curiosity. It would beinteresting to know just how much wealth these fellows would n't trustthe banks with. Let us continue this interesting and instructivesearch."
For my part, I, who heard the ring in his voice as he spoke, think hewas really greatly excited, and to talk thus calmly was just his way.