CHAPTER X
THE SHORT SPORTS
The booming mining camp of Blackwater stood under the rim of a highmesa, between it and an alkali flat, and as Wunpost rode in he looked itover critically, though with none too friendly eyes. Being laid out in aland of magnificent distances, there was plenty of room between thehouses, and the broad main street seemed more suited for driving cattlethan for accommodating the scant local traffic. There had been a timewhen all that space was needed to give swing-room to twenty-mule teams,but that time was past and the two sparse rows of houses seemed dwarfedand pitifully few. Yet there were new ones going up, and quite asprinkling of tents; and down on the corner Wunpost saw a big buildingwhich he knew must be Judson Eells' bank.
It had sprung up in his absence, a pretentious structure of solidconcrete, and as he jogged along past it Wunpost swung his head andlooked it over scornfully. The walls were thick and strong, but that wasno great credit, for in that desert country any man who would get watercould mix concrete until he was tired. All in the world he had to do wasto scoop up the ground and pour the mud into the molds, and when it wasset he had a natural concrete, composed of lime and coarse gravel andbone-dry dust. Half the burro-corrals in Blackwater were built out ofconcrete, but Eells had put up a big false front. This had run intomoney, the ornately stamped tin-work having been shipped all the wayfrom Los Angeles; and there were two plate-glass windows that framed apassing view of marble pillars and shining brass grilles. Wunpost tookit all in and then hissed through his teeth--the money that had built itwas his!
"I'll skin him!" he muttered, and pulled up down the street before OldWhiskers' populous saloon. Several men drifted out to speak to him as hetied his horse and pack, but he greeted them all with such a venomousglare that they shied off and went across the street. There there stooda rival saloon, rushed up in Wunpost's absence; but after looking itover he went into Whiskers' Place, which immediately began to fill up.The coming of Wunpost had been noted from afar, and a man who buys hisgrub with jewelry gold-specimens is sure to have a following. Heslouched in sulkily and gazed at Old Whiskers, who was chewing on histobacco like a ruminative billygoat and pretending to polish the bar. Itwas borne in on Whiskers that he had refused Wunpost a drink on the dayhe had walked out of camp, but he was hoping that the slight wasforgotten; for if he could keep him in his saloon all the others wouldsoon be vacated, now that Wunpost was the talk of the town. He had foundone mine and lost it and gone out and found another one while the restof them were wearing out shoe-leather; and a man like that could not beignored by the community, no matter if he did curse their town. SoWhiskers chewed on, not daring to claim his friendship, and Wunpostleaned against the bar.
"Gimme a drink," he said laying fifteen cents before him; and as severalmen moved forward he scowled at them in silence and tossed off his_solamente_. "Cr-ripes!" he shuddered, "did you make thatyourself?" And when Whiskers, caught unawares, half acquiesced, Wunpostdrew himself up and burst forth. "I believe it!" he announced with anoracular nod, "I can taste the burnt sugar, the fusel oil, the woodalcohol and everything. One drink of that stuff would strike a stoneInjun blind if it wasn't for this dry desert air. They tell me,Whiskers, that when you came to this town you brought one barrel ofwhiskey with you--and that you ain't ordered another one since. Thatstuff is all right for those that like it--I'm going across the street."
He strode out the door, taking the fickle crowd with him and leaving OldWhiskers to chew the cud of brooding bitterness. In the saloon acrossthe street a city barkeeper greeted Wunpost affably, and inquired whatit would be. Wunpost asked for a drink and the discerning barkeeper setout a bottle with the seal uncut. It was bonded goods, guaranteed sevenyears in the wood, and Wunpost smacked his lips as he tasted it.
"Have one yourself," he suggested and while the crowd stood agape helaid down a nugget of gold.
That settled it with Blackwater, they threw their money on the bar andtried to get him drunk, but Wunpost would drink with none of them.
"No, you bunch of bootlickers!" he shouted angrily, "go on away, I won'thave nothing to do with you! When I was broke you wouldn't treat me andnow that I'm flush I reckon I can buy my own liquor. You're all suckingaround old Eells, saying he made the town--I made your danged townmyself! Didn't I discover the Willie Meena--and ain't that what made thetown? Well, go chase yourselves, you suckers, I'm through with ye! Youdid me dirt when you thought I was cleaned and now you can all go toblazes!"
He shook hands with the friendly barkeeper, told him to keep the change,and fought his way out to the street. The crowd of boomers, stillrefusing to be insulted, trooped shamelessly along in his wake; and whenhe unpacked his mule and took out two heavy, heavy ore-sacks even JudsonEells cast aside his dignity. He had looked on from afar, standing infront of the plate-glass window which had "Willie Meena Mining Company"across it; but at a signal from Lynch, who had been acting as hislookout, he came running to demand his rights. The acquisition of TheWunpost and The Willie Meena properties had by no means satisfied hislust; and since this one crazy prospector--who of all men he hadgrubstaked seemed the only one who could find a mine--had for the thirdtime come in with rich ore, he felt no compunctions about claiming hisshare.
"Where'd you get that ore?" he demanded of Wunpost as the crowd openedup before him and Wunpost glanced at him fleeringly.
"I stole it!" he said and went on sorting out specimens which he stuffedinto his well-worn overalls.
"I asked you _where_!" returned Eells, drawing his lip up sternly,and Wunpost turned to the crowd.
"You see?" he jeered, "I told you he was crooked. He wants to go andsteal some himself." He laughed, long and loud, and some there were whojoined in with him, for Eells was not without his enemies. To be sure hehad built the bank, and established his offices in Blackwater when hemight have started a new town at the mine; but no moneylender was everuniversally popular and Eells was ruthless in exacting his usury. But onthe other hand he had brought a world of money in to town, for theWillie Meena had paid from the first; and it was his pay-roll and thewealth which had followed in his wake that had made the camp what itwas; so no one laughed as long or as loud as John C. Calhoun and hehunched his shoulders and quit.
"Never you mind where I stole it!" he said to Eells, "I stole it, andthat's enough. Is there anything in your contract that gives you a cuton everything I _steal_?"
"Why--why, no," replied Eells, "but that isn't the point--I asked youwhere you got it. If it's stolen, that's one thing, but if you'velocated another mine----"
"I haven't!" put in Wunpost, "you've broke me of that. The only way Ican keep anything now is to steal it. Because, no matter what it is, ifI come by it honestly, you and your rabbit-faced lawyer will grab it;but if I go out and steal it you don't dare to claim half, because thatwould make you out a thief. And of course a banker, and a big miningmagnate, and the owner of the famous Willie Meena--well, it just isn'tdone, that's all."
He twisted up his lips in a wry, sarcastic smile but Eells was notsusceptible to irony. He was the bulldog type of man, the kind thattakes hold and hangs on, and he could see that the ore was rich. It wasso rich indeed that in those two sacks alone there were undoubtedlyseveral thousand dollars--and the mine itself might be worth millions.Eells turned and beckoned to Phillip F. Lapham, who was looking on withgreedy eyes. They consulted together while Wunpost waited calmly, thoughwith the battle light in his eyes, and at last Eells returned to thecharge.
"Mr. Calhoun," he said, "there's no use to pretend that this ore whichyou have is stolen. We have seen samples of it before and it is veryunusual--in fact, no one has seen anything like it. Therefore your claimthat it is stolen is a palpable pretense, to deprive me of my rightsunder our constitution.
"Yes?" prompted Wunpost, dropping his hand on his pistol, and Eellspaused and glanced at Lapham.
"Well," he conceded, "of course I can't prove anything and----"
"No, you bet you can't prove anything," spoke up Wunpost d
efiantly, "andyou can't touch an ounce of my ore. It's mine and I stole it and nocourt can make me show where; because a man can't be compelled toincriminate himself--and if I showed you they could come out and pinchme. Huh! You've got a lawyer, have you? Well, I've got one myself and Iknow my legal rights and if any man puts out his hand to take away thisbag, I've got a right to shoot him dead! Ain't that right now, Mr. FlipFlappum?"
"Well--the law gives one the right to defend his own property; but onlywith sufficient force to resist the attack, and to shoot would beexcessive."
"Not with me!" asserted Wunpost, "I've consulted one of the best lawyersin Nevada and I'm posted on every detail. There's Pisen-face Lynch, thateverybody knows is a gun-man in the employ of Judson Eells, and at thefirst crooked move I'd be justified in killing him and then in killingyou and Eells. Oh, I'll law you, you dastards, I'll law you with asix-shooter--and I've got an attorney all hired to defend me. We'veagreed on his fee and I've got it all buried where he can go get it whenI give him the directions; and I hope he gets it soon because thenthere'll be just three less grafters, to rob honest prospectors of theirrights."
He advanced upon Lapham, his great head thrust out as he followed hissquirming flight through the crowd; and when he was gone he turned uponEells who stood his ground with insolent courage.
"And you, you big slob," he went on threateningly, "you don't need tothink you'll git off. I ain't afraid of your gun-man, and I ain't afraidof you, and before we get through I'm going to _git_ you. Well,laugh if you want to--it's your scalp or mine--and you can jest politelygo to hell."
He snapped his fingers in his face and, taking a sack in both hands,started off to the Wells Fargo office; and, so intimidated for once wereEells and his gun-fighter, that neither one followed along after him.Wunpost deposited his treasure in the Express Company's safe and wentoff to care for his animals and, while the crowd dispersed to theseveral saloons, Eells and Lapham went into conference. This sudden glibquoting of moot points of law was a new and disturbing factor, andLapham himself was quite unstrung over the news of the buried retainer.It had all the earmarks of a criminal lawyer's work, this tendersolicitude for his fee; and some shysters that Lapham knew would evenencourage their client to violence, if it would bring them any nearer tothe gold. But this gold--where did it come from? Could it possibly behigh-graded, in spite of all the testimony to the contrary? And if not,if his claim that it was stolen was a blind, then how could theydiscover its whereabouts? Certainly not by force of law, and not by anyviolence--they must resort to guile, the old cunning of the serpent,which now differentiates man from the beasts of the field, and perhapsthey could get Wunpost drunk!
Happy thought! The wires were laid and all Blackwater joined in withthem, in fact it was the universal idea, and even the new barkeeper withwhom Wunpost had struck up an acquaintance had promised to do his part.To get Wunpost drunk and then to make him boast, to pique him byprofessed doubts of his great find; and then when he spilled it, as hehad always done before, the wild rush and another great boom! Theywatched his every move as he put his animals in a corral and stored hispacks and saddles; and when, in the evening, he drifted back to TheMint, man after man tried to buy him a drink. But Wunpost wasantisocial, he would have none of their whiskey and their cantingprofessions of friendship; only Ben Fellowes, the new barkeeper, wasgood enough for his society and he joined him in several libations. Itwas all case goods, very soft and smooth and velvety, and yet in aremarkably short space of time Wunpost was observed to be gettinggarrulous.
"I'll tell you, pardner," he said taking the barkeeper by the arm andspeaking very confidently into his ear, "I'll tell you, it's this waywith me. I'm a Calhoun, see--John C. Calhoun is my name, and I come fromthe state of Kentucky--and a Kentucky Calhoun never forgets a friend,and he never forgets an enemy. I'm burned out on this town--don't likeit--nothing about it--but you, now, you're different, you never done meany injury. You're my friend, ain't that right, you're my friend!"
The barkeeper reassured him and held his breath while he poured outanother drink and then, as Wunpost renewed his protestations, Fellowesthanked him for his present of the nugget.
"What--_that_?" exclaimed Wunpost brushing the piece of gold aside,"that's nothing--here, give you a good one!" He drew out a chunk of rockfairly encrusted with gold and forced it roughly upon him. "It'snothing!" he said, "lots more where that came from. Got system,see--know how to find it. All these water-hole prospectors, they neverfind nothing--too lazy, won't get out and hunt. I head for the highplaces--leap from crag to crag, see, like mountain sheep--come back withmy pockets full of gold. These bums are no good--I could take 'em outtonight and lead 'em to my mine and they'd never be able to go back.Rough country 'n all that--no trails, steep as the devil--take 'em outthere and lose 'em, every time. Take you out and lose you--now say,you're my friend, I'll tell you what I'll do."
He stopped with portentous dignity and poured out another drink and thebarkeeper frowned a hanger-on away.
"I'll take you out there," went on Wunpost, "and show you my mine--showyou the place where I get all this gold. You can pick up all you want,and when we get back you give me a thousand dollar bill. That's all Iask is a thousand dollar bill--like to have one to flash on theboys--and then we'll go to Los and blow the whole pile--by grab, I'm ahigh-roller, right. I'm a good feller, see, as long as you're my friend,but don't tip off this place to old Eells. Have to kill you if youdo--he's bad actor--robbed me twice. What's matter--ain't you got thedollar bill?"
"You said a thousand dollars!" spoke up the barkeeper breathlessly.
"Well, thousand dollar bill, then. Ain't you got it--what's the matter?Aw, gimme another drink--you're nothing but a bunch of short sports."
He shook his head and sighed and as the barkeeper began to sweat hecaught the hanger-on's eye. It was Pisen-face Lynch and he was winkingat him fiercely, meanwhile tapping his own pocket significantly.
"I can get it," ventured the barkeeper but Wunpost ignored him.
"You're all short sports," he asserted drunkenly, waving his handinsultingly at the crowd. "You're cheap guys--you can't bear to lose."
"Hey!" broke in the barkeeper, "I said I'd take you up. I'll get thethousand dollars, all right."
"Oh, you will, eh?" murmured Wunpost and then he shook himself together."Oh--sure! Yes, all right! Come on, we'll start right now!"