Part 9 (2/2)
”You're the whitest d.a.m.ned white man that walks on two legs, if that's what you mean,” answered Brent, in a low voice. ”I'll make the claims over to you, now.”
”Don't say that,” replied Camillo Bill, ”they was five or six of us that figgered out this play--all friends of yourn. We all of us agreed to do what I'm doin'--it was only a question of who could afford to carry the load till next fall. I kin. Right's right--an' wrong ain't deuce-high, nowheres. A million's a million--an' it ain't two million. An' you don't need to make over them claims to me, neither. Jest you sign a paper givin' me the right to go into 'em an' take out a million, an' we'll tear up them slips an' markers.”
”But what if there isn't a million in them. I believe there is--much more than a million. But, what if they're 'spotted,' and I just happened to hit the spots, or what if bed-rock shows a lot shallower than I think it will----”
”What if! What if! To h.e.l.l with what if! If the claims peter out I ain't no better off if I hold t.i.tle to 'em, am I? If they ain't good for the million, what the h.e.l.l difference does it make who owns 'em? I'd ruther someone else holds a b.u.m claim than me, any day,” he added with a grin.
”An' now that's settled, what you goin' to do, while I'm gettin' out my dust?”
Brent drank his liquor, and reached for the bottle: ”Why, I'm going to hit out and locate another strike,” he said, a trifle thickly.
Camillo Bill regarded him thoughtfully: ”Where at?”
”Why I don't know. There are plenty of creeks--Eldorado--Ophir--Doolittle----”
The other laughed: ”Listen here,” he said, ”While you be'n here in town rollin' 'em high an' soppin' up hooch, they's be'n a h.e.l.l of a change on the creeks. Ain't you stopped to notice that Dawson's more'n twict as big as she was in August, an' that the country is gittin full of tin-horns, an' _chechakos_. Well it is--an' every creek's filed that's worth a d.a.m.n--an' so's every one that ain't. They ain't a claim to be took up no more on Bonanza, nor Ophir, nor Siwash, nor Eldorado, nor Alhambra, nor Sulphur, nor Excelsis, nor Christo, nor Doolittle, nor not hardly none on no pup nor dry wash that runs into 'em.”
”All right, I'll go farther, then,” retorted Brent, pouring more liquor into his gla.s.s. ”I'll go beyond the last creek that's staked. And, by G.o.d, I'll find gold!”
Camillo Bill shook his head: ”Look a here, you ain't in no shape to hit out on no long trip. You've laid up too long to tackle it, an' you've drunk too much of that d.a.m.ned hooch. It ain't none of my business what you do, or what you don't do--maybe you ain't drinkin' enough of it, I don't know. But that there's d.a.m.n poor stuff to train on for a long trail in winter--an' I'm tellin' it to you that winter's sure hit these diggin's an' hit 'em hard. Tell you what I'll do. I've be'n nosin'
'round buyin' claims while you be'n layin' abed daytimes sleepin' off the hooch. I've got more'n what I kin 'tend to alone. I'll give you two thousand a month to help me look after 'em, an' you can sort of ease off the hooch, an' get broke in easy agin. If you sleep nights, an' keep out doors daytimes, an' lay off the cards an' the hooch, you'll be good as ever agin spring.”
”Not on your life,” flared Brent, ”I'm as good a man right now as I ever was! And a d.a.m.n sight too good a man to be anybody's pensioner. You know d.a.m.ned well that you don't need me at two thousand a month, or any other figure, except at an ounce a day, the same as anyone else gets. What the h.e.l.l's the matter with everybody?” A querulous note crept into Brent's voice, ”I tell you I'm as good a man as I ever was! Kitty told me the same thing--that I'm drinking too much! Whose business is it if I am?
But, I'm not, and I'll hit the trail tomorrow and show you all!”
”So long,” said Camillo Bill as he rose from his chair. ”I told you it wasn't no one's business but yourn, so they ain't no argyment there.
Only, jest you remember that I'm a friend of yourn, an' so is Kitty--an' a man might have a d.a.m.n sight worse friend than her, at that.”
Later in the day Stoell accosted Brent as he stood drinking alone at the bar. ”They romped right up your middle, didn't they, the last week or so?”
Brent nodded: ”They cleaned me out. I played them too high for the cards I was holding.”
”What you figuring on doing now?”
”Going to hit out and locate another claim when this storm lets up.”
”You've got a long trip ahead. Everything's staked.”
”So they say, but I guess I'll find something, somewhere.”
”Why don't you take an inside job this winter. h.e.l.l of a lot of grief out there in the snow with only a tent and a bunch of huskies.”
”What kind of a job?”
”I'm figuring on starting up a new layout--faro. How'd you like to deal?
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