Part 17 (1/2)

Pierre stood looking complacently over the broken landscape. Much understanding was coming to him. The harmlessness of the dove radiated from his beaming face, but the wisdom of the serpent was s.h.i.+ning in his eyes.

CHAPTER XI

_The Devil's Elbow_

If Firmstone had flattered himself that his firm but just treatment of Luna in the case of the stolen ore had cleared his path of difficulties he would have been forced by current events to a rude awakening. He had been neither flattered nor deceived. He knew very well that a prop put under an unstable boulder may obscure the manifestation of gravity; but he never deceived himself with the thought that it had been eliminated.

The warming-up process, recommended by Pierre, was being actively exploited. Scarcely a day pa.s.sed but some annoying accident at the mine or mill occurred, frequently necessitating prolonged shut-downs. Day by day, by ones, by twos, by threes, his best men were leaving the mine.

There was no need to ask them why, even if they would have given a truthful answer. He knew very well why. Yet he was neither disheartened nor discouraged. He realised the fact clearly, as he had written to his Eastern employers that it would take time and much patient endeavour to restore order where chaos had reigned so long undisturbed. There was another element impeding his progress which he by no means ignored--that was the Blue Goose.

He had no tangible evidence against the resort beyond its obvious pretensions. He had no need of the unintentional but direct evidence of elise's words that the habitues of the Blue Goose there aired their grievances, real or imagined, and that both Pierre and Morrison were a.s.siduously cultivating this restlessness by sympathy and counsel. He was morally certain of another fact--that the Blue Goose was indirectly, at least, at the bottom of the extensive system of thieving, in offering a sure market for the stolen gold. This last fact had not especially troubled him, for he felt sure that the careful system of checks which he had inaugurated at the outset would eventually make the stealing so dangerous that it would be abandoned.

So far in the history of the camp, when once the plates were cleaned and gold, as ingots, was in possession of the company, it had been perfectly safe. No attempts at hold-ups had ever been made. Yet Firmstone had provided, in a measure, safeguards against this possibility. The ingots had been packed in a small steel safe and s.h.i.+pped by stage to the nearest express office, about ten miles distant. s.h.i.+pments had not been made every day, of course. But every day Firmstone had sent the safe, loaded with pigs of lead. The next day the safe was returned, and in it was the agent's receipt. Whether the safe carried gold or lead, the going and the returning weight was the same. If the safe carried gold enough lead was added by the express agent to make the returning weight the same. This fact was generally known, and even if a stage hold-up should be attempted, the chances were thirty to one that a few pounds of lead would be the only booty of the robbers.

This afternoon Firmstone was at his office-desk in a meditative and relieved frame of mind. He was meditative over his troubles that, for all his care, seemed to be increasing. Relieved in that, but an hour before, $50,000 in bullion had been loaded into the stage, and was now rolling down the canon on the way to its legitimate destination. His meditations were abruptly broken, and his sense of relief violently dissipated, when the office-door was thrust open, and hatless, with clothing torn to shreds, the stage-driver stood before him, his beard clotted with blood which flowed from a jagged cut that reached from his forehead across his cheek.

Firmstone sprang to his feet with a startled exclamation. The driver swept his hand over his blood-clotted lips.

”No; 'tain't a hold-up; just a plain, flat wreck. The whole outfit went over the cliff at the Devil's Elbow. I stayed with my job long's I could, but that wa'n't no decades.”

Firmstone dragged the man into his laboratory, and carefully began to wash the blood from his face.

”That's too long a process, gov'ner.” The driver soused his head into the bucket of cold water which Firmstone had drawn from the faucet.

”Can you walk now?” Firmstone asked.

”Reckon I'll try it a turn. Been flyin', for all I know. Must have been, to get up the cliff. I flew down; that much I know. Lit on a few places.

That's where I got this.” He pointed to the cut.

Firmstone led the man to his own room adjoining the office, and opening a small chest, took out some rolls of plaster and bandages. He began drying the wound.

The office-door again opened and the bookkeeper entered.

”Go tell Bennie to come down right away,” Firmstone ordered, without pausing in his work.

Satisfied that the man's skull was not fractured, he drew the edges of the wound together and fastened them with strips of plaster. A few minutes later Bennie, followed by Zephyr, hurriedly entered the office.

Paying no attention to their startled exclamations, Firmstone said:

”I wish you would look after Jim. He's badly hurt. He'll tell you about it. You said at the Devil's Elbow?” turning to the driver.

Zephyr glanced critically at the man; then, making up his mind that he was not needed, he said:

”I'll go along with you. Are you heeled?”

Firmstone made no audible reply, but took down his revolver and cartridge-belt, and buckled them on.

”'Tain't the heels you want; it's wings and fins. They won't be much good, either. The whole outfit's in the San Miguel. I followed it that far, and then pulled out.” The driver was attempting to hold out gamely, but the excitement and the severe shaking-up were evidently telling on him.

Firmstone and Zephyr left the office and followed the wagon-trail down the canon. Neither spoke a word.