Part 30 (1/2)
After fifteen minutes' walk they come to the hill on which the Zion's Co-operative deserted mine is located. At the foot of this is Travenion's light express wagon, drawn by a strange team of broncos, two men standing by it. Then Ralph says easily: ”This is Patsey Bolivar, and this, Pioche George. Gentlemen, this is my daughter whom you have promised to take care of.”
”We'll see the young lady through,” remarks Patsey, taking off his hat.
And noting Erma has started back, for she has recognized her selected escorts as two of the most ferocious fighters in the camp, Pioche George, as he doffs his sombrero, remarks: ”We look a leetle rough, miss, but you'll find us very tender of you, and very tough to your enemies--eh, Patsey?”
To which Bolivar cries cheerily: ”No coppers on us!”
”Oh, papa's selection proves that,” says Miss Travenion, who has looked into these gentlemen's eyes and feels confident of them as she gives these two fighting men her hand, so affably and trustfully that she binds them to her--even to life and death.
Then Ralph remarks: ”I wish to take my daughter with me up to my mine; would one of you come with us to take her down? I shall bid her good-bye, there.”
”With pleasure, bishop,” replies one desperado.
But the other laughs, ”Quit calling him bishop. He's repented and become a Christian like us!”
For Travenion has been compelled to take these men partially into his trust, which he has done quite confidently, knowing he has paid them well, and after having taken his money they can be bought by no one else, the code of morals of the Western mine fighter being very definite on this point.
So, followed by Pioche George, Patsey Bolivar remaining to look after the team, Ralph a.s.sists Erma up the hill.
In a few minutes father and daughter are standing in the ore house on the dump pile of the now deserted Zion's Co-operative Mine, their accompanying fighting man remaining outside, ”to give 'em a chance to be confidential.”
Ralph whispers, ”I'll go down and get the stock.”
But Erma says suddenly, ”Let me go with you. I must see that you are comfortable during your retreat from the world.”
”I rather think I've looked out for myself pretty thoroughly,” laughs Travenion, who seems in very good spirits, the strain of waiting having pa.s.sed from his mind. Then he goes on earnestly, ”G.o.d bless you, Erma, for thinking of me. Come down and see what I've done for myself. I can give you the stock there just as well as here.”
So, lighting a candle for her, and guiding her steps very carefully, Ralph a.s.sists his daughter down the incline, and the two shortly come to the station, and turning along the level that runs away from the Mineral Hill Mine, Ralph pauses at the fourth set of timbers and laughs, ”What do you say to this for a bachelor's apartment?”
To this his daughter cries, ”Oh, sybarite!--you've even got champagne and dried buffalo tongues.”
As he has, a dozen pints of Veuve Clicquot, likewise Chateau Margaux, as well as a couple of boxes of rare Havanas, and canned provisions; a soft mattress and warm blankets; a chair to sit upon, half a dozen novels and some current literature to kill time with, lots of candles to illuminate his retreat, and plenty of water in a small barrel.
”I'll be pretty comfortable here, I imagine,” he says, contemplatively.
”No, you'll be cold,” answers the young lady.
”Cold?--a hundred feet under the ground? This depth is the perfection of climate. It is neither too warm in summer nor too frigid in winter. I shall be very snug down here,” he remarks; then chuckles, ”while my friend Kruger is hunting for me through snow-storms and blizzards on the outer earth.”
”Still it seems horrible,” mutters the girl with a shudder, ”for you to be buried under the ground. The air----”
”Is excellent!” interrupts Ralph, tapping the tin air-pipe with his hand. ”This is a natural draught--not enough for twenty or thirty men working down here unless the fan is in operation, but lots for two or three. See how brightly my candles burn!” Then he says sharply, ”We've no time to lose. Pioche George will be getting impatient up-stairs. Hold a candle for me, my darling!”
With a pick-axe he has brought down with him, he exhumes from underneath the fourth set of timbers a small iron box, strongly secured by padlock, and giving it with its key to Erma, says: ”Do as I have directed with this. It is the Utah Central stock.”
Then, for the parting is coming, she falters: ”Father, when will you join me?”
”As soon as you are surely safe and out of this accursed Territory, and Kruger has disappeared, pursuing me with his Mormon bloodhounds.”
A second after, he bursts out, as if a great relief has come upon him, from throwing off the bonds that have held him so long: ”Oh, how I have scoffed them in my heart, as I have preached their religious bosh at Conference and ward meeting, all these years. Won't this be a great story to tell in the Unity Club, New York, to my old chums, De Punster and Van Beekman, Travis and Larry Jerry, and the rest of the boys? How they will shriek at Ralph Travenion, the swell, having been a Mormon!