CHAPTER XXXII
THE ENEMY
The night wore on slowly. Midnight struck, and the cold of themountain night had reached its maximum chill. To the ears of the wearypatrols there came no sound save the continuous complaint of thewaters, a note rising and falling, increasing and decreasing in volume,after the strange fashion of waters carried by the chance vagaries ofthe air. At times the sound of the river rose to great volume, againit died down to a low murmur, the voice of a beaten giant protestingagainst his shackles. Came two o'clock in the morning, and the guardswalked their beats with the weariness of men who have fought off sleepfor hours. Sim Gage, sleepless so long, was very weary, but he keptabout his work.
At intervals of half an hour he crunched down the gravel-faced slope ofthe bank which ran from the bench level to the foot of the dam. Herehe walked along the level of the great eddy, along the rocky shore,examining the face of the vast concrete wall itself, gazing also as healways did, with no special purpose, at the face of the wide and longapron where the waters foamed over, a few inches deep, white as milk,day and night.
Any attempt at the use of dynamite by any enemy naturally would be madeon this lower side of the dam. There were different places which mightnaturally be used by a criminal who had opportunity. One of these,concealed from the chance glance of any officer, was back under theapron, behind the half-completed side columns of the spill gate, wherea great buttress came out to flank the apron. A charge exploded herewould get at the very heart of the dam, for it would open the turbinewells and the spillway passage which had been provided for thecontrolled outlet.
Ragged heaps of native rock lay along the foot of the dam, flanking theedge of the great eddy eastward of the apron. Here often the laborersstood and cast their lines for the leaping trout, which, wearied bytheir fruitless fight at the apron, that carried them only up to theinsurmountable obstacle which reached a hundred feet above them,sometimes were swept back to seek relief in the gentler waters of thedeep eddy, that swung inshore from the lower end of the apron.
Sim Gage saw all these scenes, so familiar by this time, as they layhalf revealed under the blaze of the great searchlight. It all seemedsafe now, as it always had before.
But when at length he turned back to ascend to the upper level, he sawsomething which caused him to stop for just an instant, and then tospring into action.
The power plant proper of the dam was not yet wholly installed, onlythe dam and turbine-ways being completed. In the power house itself, asturdy building of rock which caught hold of the immemorial mountainfoot beneath it, only a single unit of the dynamos had been installed.This unit had been hooked on, as the engineers phrased it, in order tofurnish electric light to the camp itself, for the telephone service ofthe valley and for the minor machinery which was operated by this orthat machine shop along the side of the mountain. A cable from thepower house ran up to another house known as the lighting plant, whichstood in the angle between the street level and the dam itself. Herewas installed a giant searchlight which could be played at will alongthe face of the dam, to make its examination the more easy and exact bynight. The steady stream of this light was a fixed factor, being heldat such a position as would cover the greatest amount of the dam face.
Now, as Sim Gage topped the grade, gravel crunching under his feet, atrifle out of breath with his climb, since the incline itself was athing of magnificent distances, he saw the searchlight of the power dambegin a performance altogether new in his own experience.
The great shaft of light rose up abruptly to a position vertical, abeam of light reaching up into the sky. An instant, and it began toswing from side to side. It swung sharply clear against the bald faceof the mountain at the farther end of the dam. It swept down thecanyon itself, or to its first great bend. It rose again and sweptacross the dark-fringed summit of the mountains on the hither side ofthe stream. Not once, but twice, this was done.
It was a splendid and magnificent thing itself, this giant eye,illuminating and revealing, fit factor in a wild and imposing panoramaof the night. But why? No one ever had known the searchlight to beused in this way. What orders had been given? What did these zig-zagbeams up and down the surface of the sky indicate? Was it a signal, orwas some one playing with the property of the Company, there in thecupola of the light station?
Sim Gage reached the side of the plant just as the light came down toits original duty of watching the face of the dam. At first there wasnot any sound.
"Who's there?" he called out. No answer came. It seemed to him thathe heard some sort of movement in the little rock house.
"Halt! Who goes there?" he called out in a formula he had learned.
He got no answer, but he heard a thud as of a body dropping out of thewindow of the further side of the house, against the slope of the damwhich lay above it.
He ran around the corner of the little building, rifle at the ready,only to see a scrambling figure, bent over, endeavoring to reach thetop of the dam, where the smooth roadway ran from side to side of thegreat gorge. That way lay no escape. The sentry was across yonder,and would soon return. This way, toward the east, a fugitive must goif he would seek any point of emergence from these surroundings.
"Halt! Halt there! Halt, or I'll fire!" cried Gage. "Halt!" Hecalled it out again, once, twice, three times. But the figure, whoeveror whatever it was, ran on. It now had reached the top of the dam, andcould be seen with more or less distinctness, sky-lined against thestarlight and the gray sky behind it.
Sim Gage, old-time hunter, used all his life to firearms, was used alsoto firing at running game. He drew down now deep into the rear sightof his Springfield, allowing for the faint light, and held at the frontedge of the running figure as nearly as he could tell. He fired once,twice and three times--rap!--rap!--rap!--the echo came from theconcrete--at the figure as it crouched and stumbled on. Then itstopped. There came a scrambling and a sliding of the object, whichfell at the top of the dam. It slipped off the dam top and rolled andslid almost at his feet. He dragged it down into the edge of the beamsof the searchlight itself.
Up to this time he had not known or suspected who the man might be. Atfirst he now thought it was a woman. In reality it was a Chinaman, thecook and body-servant of Waldhorn, engineer at the power operations!He was dead.
Sim stood looking down at what he had done, trying in his slow fashionof mind to puzzle out what this man had been doing here, and why he hadcome. He heard the sound of running feet above him, heard challenges,shouts, every way. Others had heard the shot. "This way, fellers----Come along!" he heard Wid Gardner call out, high and clear; for thatnight Wid also was of the upper guard.
But they were not running in his direction. They seemed to be back onthe street. All at once Sim Gage solved his little problem. ThisChinaman had been sent to do this work--sent by the owner of that houseyonder, the engineer, Waldhorn. That prisoner must not escape now. Heknew! It was he who had given the searchlight signal! Waldhorn--andDorenwald! He coupled both names now again.
Sim Gage himself, having a shorter distance to go than his comrades,left his dead Chinaman, and started after the man higher up. Hereached the Waldhorn quarters slightly before the others.
He heard the screen door of the log house slam, saw a stout and burlyman step out, satchel in hand. The man walked hurriedly toward a carwhich Sim Gage had not noticed, since there was so much unusedmachinery about, wheel scrapers, wagons, plows and the like. Now hesaw that it was Waldhorn and Waldhorn's car. He was taking advantageof this confusion to make his own escape.
This hurrying figure halted for a half instant in the dim light, for heheard footsteps on each side of him. He knew the guard was coming.
Sim Gage's summons rang high and clear. Yonder was the man--he wasgoing to escape. He must not escape. All these things came to SimGage's mind as he half raised his weapon to his shoulder, challengingagain, "Halt! Who goes there? Halt!" The bolt of his Springfieldcl
inked home once more.
The man turned away, toward the sound of the greater number of hisenemies, weapon in hand. The patrol was closing in. But before heturned he both gave and received death in the last act he might offerin treachery to this country, which had been generous and kind to him.
Sim Gage fired with close, sure aim, and cut his man through with theblow of the Spitzer bullet of the Springfield piece. But even as hedid so Waldhorn himself had fired with the heavy automatic pistol whichhe carried. The bullet caught Sim Gage high in the chest, and passedthrough, missing the spine by but little. He sprawled forward.
Waldhorn's body was no better than a sieve, for he received the fire ofthe entire squad of riflemen who had approached from the other side,and so many bullets struck him, again and again, that they actuallyheld him up from falling for an instant.
Now the entire street filled. Foreign or half-foreign laboring folkcame out, soldiers and sailor boys came, jabbering in a score oftongues. None knew the plot of the drama which had been finished now.All they knew was that the chief engineer had been killed by the guard.Very well, but who had shot Scout Gage?
Sim Gage, looking up at the sky, felt the great arm of Flaherty, theforeman, under his head.
"Easy now, lad," said the big man. "Easy. Lay down a bit, till I havea look. Where's the Docther, boys?--Get him quick."
"What's the matter?" said Sim Gage. "Lemme up. I fell down--Who hitme?"
He felt something at his chest, raised a hand, and in turn passed itbefore his face in wonderment.
"Well, look at that!" said he. "Did that feller shoot me? Say, did Iget him?"
"Sure, boy!" said Flaherty. "You got him. And so did a dozen more ofthe fellies. He's deader'n hell this minute, so don't you worry noneover that. Don't worry over nothing," he added gently, folding hiscoat to put under Sim's head. He had seen gun shot wounds before inhis life on the rough jobs, and he knew.
"Get a board, or something, boys," he said. So presently they broughta plank, and eased Sim Gage gently to it, men at each end lifting him,others steadying him as he was carried. They took him into the housewhich Waldhorn had just now left.
"Get a board, or something, boys"]
It was the turn of dawn now. The soft light of day was filteringthrough the air from somewhere up above, somewhere beyond the edge ofthe canyon.
"Better tell those women to stay away," said Flaherty to the younglieutenant. The latter met Annie Squires at the door of her house,ejaculating, demanding, questioning, weeping, all at once. It was withdifficulty that she was induced to obey the general orders of gettinginside and keeping quiet.
Other men came now, telling of the discovery of the dead Chinaman nearthe lighting station. The bits of information were pieced togetherhurriedly, this and that to the other.
Doctor Barnes had seen the light's play on the sky, had heard echoes inthe mountains. He now reached the scene, coming at top speed up thecanyon trail in his car. He met answers already formed for hisquestions.
"They got Sim," said Wid Gardner. "Waldhorn----"
He hurried into the room where they had carried the wounded man. "Why,of course," said Sim Gage dully, "I'll be all right. After breakfastI'll be out again all right. I've got to go over and see--I've got togo over to her house and see----" But he never told what he planned.
Doctor Barnes shook his head to Flaherty after a time, when the latterturned to him in the outer room. The big foreman compressed his lips.
"He's done good work, the lad!" said Flaherty; and Wid Gardner, stillstanding by, nodded his head.
"Mighty good. It was him got the Chink all right--hit him twict out ofthree, and creased him onct; and like enough this Dutchman first, too.Tell me, Doc, ain't he got a chanct to come through? Can't you make itout that way for pore old Sim?"
"I'm afraid not," said Doctor Barnes. "The shot's close to an artery,and like enough he's bleeding internally, because he's coughing. Hispulse is jumpy. It's too bad--too damn bad. He was--a good man, SimGage!"
"What was it, Annie?" asked Mary Gage, over in their house. "There wasshooting. Was anybody hurt?"
"Some of the hands got to mixing it, like enough," said Annie, herselfpale and shaking. "I don't know."
"Was anybody hurt?"
"I haven't had time to find out. Oh, my God! Sis, I wish't we'd nevercome out here to this country at all. I want my mother, that's what Iwant! I'm sick with all this." She began to cry, sobbing openly.Mary Gage, now the stronger, drew the girl's head down into her ownarms.
"You mustn't cry," said she. "Annie, we've got to pull together."
"I guess so," said Annie, sobbing, "both of us. But I'm solonesome--I'm so awful scared."
The morning came slowly, at length fully, cool and softly luminous.The friends of Sim Gage, all men, stood near his bedside. His eyesopened sometimes, looking with curious languor around him, as thoughsome problem were troubling him. At length he turned toward Wid, whostood close to him.
"Hit!" said he.--"I know, now."
No one said anything to this. After a time he reached out a hand andtouched almost timidly the arm of his friend. His voice was laboringand not strong.
"Where's--where's my hat?" he whispered at length.
"Your hat?" said Wid. "Your hat?--Now, why--I reckon it's hangingaround somewheres here. What makes you want it?"
But some one had heard the request and came through the little hallwaywith Sim Gage's hat, brave green cord and all.
The wounded man looked at it and smiled, as sweet a smile as may cometo a man's face--the smile of a boy. Indeed, he had lived a life thathad left him scarce more than a boy, all these years alone on outskirtsof the world.
He motioned to them to put the hat on the bed side him. "I want ithere," he said after a time, moving restlessly when they undertook totake it from him.
He touched it with his hand. At length he reached out and dropped iton the chair at the head of his bed, now and again turning and lookingat it the best he might, laboring as he did with his torn lungs;looking at it with some strange sort of reverence in his gaze, sometremendous significance.
"Ain't she _fine_?" he asked of his friend, again with hisastonishingly winsome smile; a smile they found hard to look upon.
A half hour later some man down the road said to another that thesagebrusher had croaked too.
That is to say, Sim Gage, gentleman, soldier and patriot, had passed onto the place where men find reward for doing the very best they knowwith what God has seen fit to give them as their own.