CHAPTER V
THE WILLIE MEENA
The morning had scarcely dawned when Wilhelmina dashed up the trail andlooked down on the Sink below; and Wunpost had been right, where beforeall was empty, now the Death Valley Trail was alive. From Blackwater toWild Rose Wash the dust rose up in clouds, each streamer boring ontowards the north; and already the first stampeders had passed out ofsight in their rush for the Black Point strike. It lay beyond NorthPass, cut off from view by the shoulder of a long, low ridge; but thereit was, and her claim and Wunpost's was already swarming with men. Thewhole town of Blackwater had risen up in the night and gone streakingacross the Sink, and what was to keep those envious pocket-miners fromclaiming the find for their own? And Dusty Rhodes--he must have led thestampede--had he respected his partners' rights? She gazed a longmoment, then darted back through the tunnel and bore the news to herfather and Wunpost.
He had slept in the hay, this hardy desert animal, this shabby,penniless man with the loud voice of a demagogue and the profile of abronze Greek god; and he came forth boldly, like Odysseus of old when,cast ashore on a strange land, he roused from his sleep and beheldNausicaa and her maidens at play. But as Nausicaa, the princess,withstood his advance when all her maidens had fled, so Wilhelmina facedhim, for she knew full well now that he was not a god. He was awater-hole prospector who for two idle years had eaten the bread ofJudson Eells; and then, when chance led him to a rich vein of ore, hadcovered up the hole and said nothing. Yet for all his human weaknesseshe had one godlike quality, a regal disregard for wealth; for he hadkept his plighted word and divided, half and half, this mine towardswhich all Blackwater now rushed. She looked at him again and her rosylips parted--he had earned the meed of a smile.
The day had dawned auspiciously, as far as Billy was concerned, for shewas back in her overalls and her father had consented to take her alongto the mine. The claim was part hers and Wunpost had insisted that sheaccompany them back to the strike. Dusty Rhodes would be there, with hisnoisy demands and his hints at greater rights in the claim; and in thefirst wild rush complications might arise that would call for a speedysettlement. But with Billy at his side and Cole Campbell as a witness,every detail of their agreement could be proved on the instant and theWillie Meena started off right. So Wunpost smiled back when he beheldthe make-believe boy who had come to his aid on her mule; and as theyrode off down the canyon, driving four burros, two packed with water, helooked her over approvingly.
In skirts she had something of the conventional reserve which had alwaysmade him scared of women; but as a boy, as Billy, she was one partner ina thousand, and as carefree as the wind. Upon the back of her saddle,neatly tied up in a bag, she carried the dress that she would wear atthe mine; but riding across the mesa on the lonely Indian trail sheclung to the garb of utility. In overalls she had ridden up and down thecorkscrew canyon that led to her father's mine; she had gone out to huntfor burros, dragged in wood and carried up water and done the dailyduties of a man. Both her brothers were gone, off working in the mines,and their tasks descended to her; until in stride and manner and speechshe was by instinct, a man and only by thought a woman.
The years had slipped by, even her mother had hardly noticed how she toohad grown up like the rest; and now in one day she had stepped forthinto their councils and claimed her place as a man. Yes, that was theplace that she had instinctively claimed but they had given her theplace of a woman. When it came to prospecting among the lonely peaks shecould go as far as she chose; but in the presence of men, even as anowner in the great mine, she must confine her free limbs within skirts.And, though she had come of age, she was still in tutelage--with two menalong to do her thinking. Wunpost had made it easy, all she had to dowas stand pat and agree to whatever he said; and her father was there toprotect her in her rights and preserve the family honor from loosetongues.
They skirted the edge of the valley, keeping up above the Sink andcrossing an endless series of rocky washes, until as they topped thelast low ridge the Black Point lay before them, surrounded by a swarm ofdigging men. It jutted out from the ridge, a round volcanic conesticking up through the shattered porphyry; and yet this point of rock,all but buried in the wash of centuries, held a treasure fit to ransom aking. It held the Willie Meena mine, which had lain there by the trailwhile thousands of adventurers hurried past; until at last Wunpost hadstopped to examine it and had all but perished of thirst. But one therewas who had seen him, and saved him from the Sink, and loaned him hermule to ride; and in honor of her, though he could not spell her name,he had called it the Willie Meena.
Billy sat on Tellurium and gazed with rapt wonder at the scene whichstretched out below. Wagons and horses everywhere, and automobiles too,and dejected-looking burros and mules; and in the rough hills beyond menwere climbing like goats as they staked the lava-crowned buttes. Aprocession of Indian wagons was filing up the gulch to haul water fromWild Rose Spring and already the first tent of what would soon be a citywas set up opposite the point. In a few hours there would be twenty up,in a few days a hundred, in a few months it would be a town; and allnamed for her, who had been given a half by Wunpost and yet had hardlymurmured her thanks. She turned to him smiling but as she was about tospeak her father caught her eye.
"Put on your dress," he said, and she retired, red with chagrin, tostruggle into that accursed badge of servitude. It was hot, the sunboiled down as it does every day in that land where the rocks are burnedblack; and, once she was dressed, she could not mount her mule withoutseeming to be immodest. So she followed along behind them, leadingTellurium by his rope, and entered her city of dreams unnoticed. Calhounstrode on before her, while Campbell rounded up the burros, and the menfrom Blackwater stared at him. He was a stranger to them all, butevidently not to boom camps, for he headed for the solitary tent.
"Good morning to you, gentlemen," he called out in his great voice;"won't you join me--let's all have a drink!"
The crowd fell in behind him, another crowd opened up in front, and hestood against the bar, a board strewn thick with glasses and totteringbottles of whiskey. An old man stood behind it, wagging his beard as hechewed tobacco, and as he set out the glasses he glanced up at Wunpostwith a curious, embittered smile. He was white-faced and white-bearded,stooped and gnarled like a wind-tortured tree, and the crook to his nosemade one think instinctively of pictures of the Wandering Jew. Orperhaps it was the black skull-cap, set far back on his bent head, whichgave him the Jewish cast; but his manner was that of the rough-and-readybarkeeper and he slapped one wet hand on the bar.
"Here's to her!" cried Wunpost, ignoring the hint to pay as he raisedhis glass to the crowd. "Here's to the Willie Meena--some mine!"
He tossed off the drink, but when he looked for the chaser the barkeepershook his head.
"No chasers," he said, "water is too blasted scarce--that'll be threedollars and twenty-five cents."
"Charge it to ground-rent!" grinned Wunpost. "I'm the man that owns thisclaim. See you later--where's Dusty Rhodes?"
"No--_cash_!" demanded the barkeeper, looking him coldly in theeye. "I'm in on this claim myself."
"Since when?" inquired Wunpost. "Maybe you don't know who I am? I amJohn C. Calhoun, the man that discovered Wunpost; and unless I'm greatlymistaken you're not in on anything--who gave you any title to thisground?"
"Dusty Rhodes," croaked the saloon-keeper, and a curse slipped pastWunpost's lips, though he knew that a lady was near.
"Well, damn Dusty Rhodes!" he cried in a passion. "Where is the crazyfool?"
He burst from the crowd just as Dusty came hurrying across from where hehad been digging out ore; and for a minute they stood clamoring, bothshouting at once, until at last Wunpost seized him by the throat.
"Who's this old stiff with whiskers?" he yelled into his ear, "thatthinks he owns the whole claim? Speak up, or I'll wring your neck!"
He released his hold and Dusty Rhodes staggered back, while the crowdlooked on in alarm.
"W'y, that's
Whiskers," explained Dusty, "the saloon-keeper down inBlackwater. I guess I didn't tell you but he give me a grubstake and sohe gits half my claim."
"_Your_ claim!" echoed Wunpost. "Since when was this your claim?You doddering old tarrapin, you only own one-third of it--and that ain'tyours, by rights. How much do you claim, I say?"
"W'y--I only claim one third," responded Dusty weakly, "but Whiskers, heclaims that I'm entitled to a half----"
"A half!" raged Wunpost, starting back towards the saloon. "I'll showthe old billygoat what he owns!"
He kicked over the bar with savage destructiveness, jerking up atent-peg with each brawny hand, and as the old man cowered he draggedthe tent forward until it threatened every moment to come down.
"Git out of here!" he ordered, "git off of my ground! I discovered thisclaim and it's located in my name--now git, before I break you in two!"
"Here, here!" broke in Cole Campbell, laying a hand on Wunpost's arm asthe saloon-keeper began suddenly to beg, "let's not have any violence.What's the trouble?"
"Why, this old spittoon-trammer," began Wunpost in a fury, "has got thenerve to claim half my ground. I've been beat out of one claim, but thistime it's different--I'll show him who owns this ground!"
"I just claim a quarter of it!" snapped old Whiskers vindictively. "Iclaim half of Dusty Rhodes' share. He was working on my grubstake--andhe was with you when you made your strike."
"He was not!" denied Wunpost, "he went off and left me. Did you find hisname on the notice? No, you found John C. Calhoun and WilliemeenaCampbell, the girl that loaned me her mule. We're the locators of thisproperty, and, just to keep the peace, we agreed to give Dusty onethird; but that ain't a half and if you say it is again, out yougo--I'll throw you off my claim!"
"Well, a third, then," screeched Old Whiskers, holding his hands abouthis ears, "but for cripes' sake quit jerking that tent! Ain't a thirdenough to give me a right to put up my tent on the ground?"
"It is if I say so," replied Wunpost authoritatively, "and ifWilliemeena Campbell consents. But git it straight now--we're runningthis property and you and Dusty are _nothing_. You're the minority,see, and if you make a crooked move we'll put you both off the claim.Can you git that through your head?"
"Well, I guess so," grumbled Whiskers, stooping to straighten up hisbar, and Wunpost winked at the crowd.
"Set 'em up again!" he commanded regally and all Blackwater drank on thehouse.