CHAPTER XXVIII
WUNPOST HAS A BAD DREAM
It is dangerous to start rumors against even the soundest of banks,because our present-day finance is no more than a house of cards builtprecariously on Public Confidence. No bank can pay interest, or even dobusiness, if it keeps all its money in the vaults; and yet in times ofpanic, if a run ever starts, every depositor comes clamoring for hismoney. Public confidence is shaken--and the house of cards falls,carrying with it the fortunes of all. The depositors lose their money,the bankers lose their money; and thousands of other people in nowiseconnected with it are ruined by the failure of one bank. Hence thecommittee of Blackwater citizens, with blood in their eye, which calledon John C. Calhoun.
Since the loss of his mine Wunpost had turned ugly and morose; and hisremarks about Eells, and especially about his bank, were nicelycalculated to get under the rind. He was waiting for the committee,right in front of the bank; and the moment they began to talk he beganto orate, and to denounce them and everything else in Blackwater. Whatwas intended as a call-down of an envious and destructive agitatorthreatened momentarily to turn into a riot and, hearing his own goodname brought into question, Judson Eells stepped quickly out andchallenged his bold traducer.
"W'y, sure I said it!" answered Wunpost hotly, "and I don't mind sayingit again. Your bank is all a fake, like your danged tin front; andyou've got everything in your vault except money."
"Well, now, Mr. Calhoun," returned Judson Eells waspishly, "I'm going tochallenge that statement, right now. What authority have you got forsuggesting that my cash is less than the law requires?"
"Well," began Wunpost, "of course I don't _know_, but----"
"No, of course you don't know!" replied Eells with a smile, "andeverybody knows you don't know; but your remarks are actionable and ifyou don't shut up and go away I'll instruct my attorney to sue you."
"Oh, 'shut up,' eh?" repeated Wunpost after the crowd had had its laugh;"you think I'm a blow-hard, eh? You all do, don't you? Well, I'll tellyou what I'll do." He paused impressively, reached down into severalpockets and pointed a finger at Eells. "I'll bet you," he said, "thatI've got more money in my clothes than you have in your whole dangedbank--and if you can prove any different I'll acknowledge I'm wrong bydepositing my roll in your bank. Now--that's fair enough, ain't it?"
He nodded and leered knowingly at the gaping crowd as Eells began totemporize and hedge.
"I'm a blow-hard, am I?" he shouted uproariously; "my remarks areactionable, are they? Well, if I should go into court and tell half ofwhat I know there'd be _two_ men on their way to the Pen!" Hepointed two fingers at Eells and Phillip Lapham and the banker saw achange in the crowd. Public confidence was wavering, the cold fingers ofdoubt were clutching at the hearts of his depositors--but behind it allhe sensed a trap. It was not by accident that Wunpost was on his cornerwhen the committee of citizens came by; and this bet of his was noaccident either, but part of some carefully laid scheme. The questionwas--how much money did Wunpost have? If, unknown to them, he had foundaccess to large sums and had come there with the money on his person,then the acceptance of his bet would simply result in a farce and makethe bank a byword and a mocking. If it could be said on the street thatone disreputable prospector had more money in his clothes than the bank,then public confidence would receive a shrewd blow indeed, which mightlead to disastrous results. But the murmur of doubt was growing, Wunpostwas ranting like a demagogue--the time for a show-down had come.
"Very well!" shouted Eells, and as the crowd began to cheer thecommittee adjourned to the bank. Eells strode in behind the counter andthrew the vault doors open, his cashier and Lapham made the count, andwhen Wunpost was permitted to see the cash himself his face fell and hefumbled in his pockets.
"You win," he announced, and while all Blackwater whooped and capered hedeposited his roll in the bank. It was a fabulously big roll--over fortythousand dollars in five hundred and thousand dollar bills--but hedeposited it all without saying a word and went out to buy the drinks.
"That's all right," he said, "the drinks are on me. But I wanted to knowthat that money was _safe_ before I went in and put it in thebank."
It was a great triumph for Eells and a great boost for his bank, and heinsisted in the end upon shaking hands with Wunpost and assuring himthere was no hard feeling. Wunpost took it all grimly, for he claimed tobe a sport, but he saddled up soon after and departed for the hills,leaving Blackwater delirious with joy. So old Wunpost had been stung andcalled again by the redoubtable Judson Eells, and the bank had beenproved to be perfectly sound and a credit to the community it served! Itmade pretty good reading for the _Blackwater Blade_, which hadrecently been established in their midst, and the committee of boostersordered a thousand extra copies and sent them all over the country. Thatwas real mining stuff, and every dollar of Wunpost's money had been dugfrom the Sockdolager Mine. Eells set to work immediately to build him aroad and to order the supplies and machinery, and as the developmentwork was pushed towards completion John C. Calhoun was almost forgotten.He was gone, that was all they knew, and if he never came back it wouldbe soon enough for Eells.
But there was one who still watched for the prodigal's return and longedardently for his coming, for Wilhelmina Campbell still remembered withregret the days when their ranch had been his goal. No matter where hehad been, or what desperate errand took him once more into the hills, hehad headed for their ranch like a homing pigeon that longs to join itsmates. The portal of her tunnel had been their trysting place, where hehad boasted and raged and denounced all his enemies and promised toreturn with their scalps. But that was just his way, and it was harmlessafter all, and wonderfully exciting and amusing; but now the ranch wasdead, except for the gang of road-makers who came by from their camp upthe canyon.
For her father at last had consented to build the road, since Wunposthad disclaimed all title to the mine; but now it was his daughter wholooked on with a heavy heart, convinced that the money was accursed. Shehad stolen it, she knew, from the man who had been her lover and who hadtrusted her as no one else; only Wunpost was too proud to make anyprotest or even acknowledge he had been wronged. He had accepted hisloss with the grim stoicism of a gambler and gone out again into thehills, and the only thought that rose up to comfort her was that he haddeposited all his money in the bank. Every dollar, so they said; andwhen he had bought his supplies the store-keeper had had to write outhis check! But anyway he was safe, for now everybody knew that he had nomoney on his person; and when he came back he might stop at the ranchand she could tell him about the road.
It was being built by contract, and more solidly than ever, and alreadyit was through the gorge and well up the canyon towards Panamint and theHomestake Mine. And the mud and rocks that the cloudburst had depositedhad been dug out and cleared away from their trees; the ditch had beenenlarged, her garden restored and everything left tidy and clean. Butsomething was lacking and, try as she would, she failed to feel theleast thrill of joy. Their poverty had been hard, and the waiting anddisappointments; but even if the Homestake Mine turned out to be aworld-beater she would always feel that somehow it was _his_. Butwhen Wunpost came back he did not stop at the ranch--she saw him passingby on the trail.
He rode in hot haste, heading grimly for Blackwater, and when he spurreddown the main street the crowd set up a yell, for they had learned towatch for him now. When Wunpost came to town there was sure to besomething doing, something big that called for the drinks; and all thepocket-miners and saloon bums were there, lined up to see him come in.But whether he had made a strike in his lucky way or was back foranother bout with Eells was more than any man could say.
"Hello, there!" hailed a friend, or pseudo-friend, stepping out to makehim stop at the saloon, "hold on, what's biting you now?"
"Can't stop," announced Wunpost, spurring on towards the bank, "by grab,I've had a bad dream!"
"A dream, eh?" echoed the friend, and then the crowd laughed andfollowed on up to the ban
k. Since Wunpost had lost in his bet with Eellsand deposited all his money in the bank he was looked upon almost withpride as a picturesque asset of the town. He made talk, and that wasmade into publicity, and publicity helped the town. And now this madprank upon which he seemed bent gave promise of even greater renown. Sohe had had a bad dream? That piqued their curiosity, but they were notkept long in doubt. Dismounting at the bank, he glanced up at the frontand then made a plunge through the bank.
"Gimme my money!" he demanded, bringing his fist down with a bang andmaking a grab for a check. "Gimme all of it--every danged cent!"
He started to write and threw the pen to the floor as it sputtered andruined his handiwork.
"Why, what's the matter, Mr. Calhoun?" cried Eells in astonishment, asthe crowd came piling in.
"Gimme a pen!" commanded Wunpost, and, having seized the cashier's, hebegan laboriously to write. "There!" he said, shoving the check throughthe wicket; and then he stood waiting, expectant.
The cashier glanced at the check and passed it back to Eells, who hadhastened behind the grille, and then they looked at each other in alarm.
"Why--er--this check," began Eells, "calls for forty-two thousand, eighthundred and fifty-two dollars. Do you want all that money now?"
"W'y, sure!" shrilled Wunpost, "didn't I tell you I wanted it?"
"Well, it's rather unusual," went on Judson Eells lamely, and then hespoke in an aside to his cashier.
"No! None of that, now!" burst out Wunpost in a fury, "don't you frameup any monkey-business on me! I want my money, see? And I want it rightnow! Dig up, or I'll wreck the whole dump!"
He brought his hand down again and Judson Eells retired while thecashier began to count out the bills.
"Here!" objected Wunpost, "I don't want all that small stuff--where'sthose thousand dollar bills I turned in? They're _gone_? Well, forcripes' sake, did you think they were a _present_?"
The clerk started to explain, but Wunpost would not listen to him.
"You're a bunch of crooks!" he burst out indignantly. "I only depositedthat money on a bet! And here you turn loose and spend the whole roll,and start to pay me back in fives and tens."
"No, but Mr. Calhoun," broke in Judson Eells impatiently, "you don'tunderstand how banking is done."
"Yes I do!" yelled back Wunpost, "but, by grab, I had a dream, and Idreamt that your danged bank was _broke_! Now gimme my money, andgive it to me quick or I'll come in there and git it myself!"
He waited, grim and watchful, and they counted out the bills while henodded and stuffed them into his shirt. And then they brought out goldin government-stamped sacks and he dropped them between his feet. Butthe gold was not enough, and while Eells stood pale and silent the clerkdragged out the silver from the vault. Wunpost took them one by one, thegreat thousand dollar sacks, and added them to the pile at his feet, andstill his demand was unsatisfied.
"Well, I'm sorry," said Eells, "but that's all we have. And I considerthis very unfair."
"Unfair!" yelled Wunpost. "W'y, you doggone thief, you've robbed me oftwo thousand dollars. But that's all right," he added; "it shows mydream was true. And now your tin bank _is_ broke!"
He turned to the crowd, which looked on in stunned silence, and tuckedin his money-stuffed shirt.
"So I'm a blow-hard, am I?" he inquired sarcastically, and no one said aword.