Part 31 (1/2)
But Ralph answers him nothing.
Then Lot laughs: ”You walked into yer own trap. You thought I'd gone to Salt Lake, but I reckoned from yer break-out of last night that yer Utah Central stock, which the Mormon Church needs and will have, was here in yer possession, an' made up my mind to locate it. I knew it wa'n't in yer safe, 'cause I'd seen that open too often lately. I reckoned it was right in this mine, and I'd been hunting over this place all night without success. But in the mornin' I heard a noise on the trail, and I seed ye and yer darter comin' up, an' I knowed what yer'd come for! An'
when yer come down in the mine, I come down a _leetle_ ahead of yer, and spied on yer from that drift, an' seed yer give that stock to Ermie to take away. But I'll 'tend to her afterwards.”
To this Travenion sighs: ”My daughter!”
But Kruger goes on savagely: ”I would have shot yer while yer were profanin', if it hadn't been I didn't want to shock her by her seein'
yer die. But now, I love yer so well, R. H. Tranyon, I'm goin' to fix ye!”
With this, he takes the case of wine and hurls it to the other end of the incline. There's a crash, and Margaux and Clicquot trickle over the stones of the mine.
Then he cries: ”Yer won't need this!” and throwing over the keg of water, it runs to waste upon the earth.
”Neither will ye want pervisions!” and he tosses the old club man's dainties into the sink of the mine at the bottom of the incline, keeping a big buffalo tongue, which he bites and eats, talking after this, with his mouth full, which makes him more hideous and awful, as he jeers: ”I ain't had no breakfast--I'm foragin' on the enemy of the Lord.”
”My G.o.d! What do you mean to do?” gasps Travenion, who has looked on with eyes that are growing bloodshot.
”Cut ye off behind the ears--make a blood atonement of ye! You've been so crafty about this, no one will ever know you're down here to hunt ye up.”
Then running up the incline, Lot loads the two cars standing at the surface, with great ma.s.ses of rock and boulders, fanaticism giving him increased strength. Letting them run down, he unloads them, and once more does the same, unheeding the cries of the man helpless in the level below.
When he has done enough of this, he cuts the cars loose at the surface, and they come cras.h.i.+ng down, and block up the incline. Then he comes down again himself and piles the boulders he has already let down, on top of the wrecked cars, blocking Travenion from the outer world.
Noting his purpose, Ralph staggers up, bound as he is, and prays: ”Not that! Shoot me--kill me another way! For G.o.d's sake, NOT THAT!”
But Kruger cries: ”Powder and lead cost money! The Church is too poor to give ye an easy atonement.” And he piles the rocks up to the pleading wretch's shoulders.
A moment after, he blows out every candle, save one, to light him in the finis.h.i.+ng touches of his awful work; when, desperately struggling, Travenion drags himself to the barrier, and screams: ”My G.o.d! You are mad--you don't know what you do! I'm your old friend and chum!”
”I'm sacrificin' you here on the altar, where I heerd ye blaspheme your religion an' your prophets! That's what I'm doin'!”
”Mercy! Not this death!” gasp the white lips, and bloodshot eyes beseech the executioner, looking over the barrier rising steadily between them.
”Ye've been given into my hands by Jehovah and Brigham, both of whom ye've blasphemed!” cries Kruger, piling the barrier up to the shuddering man's neck.
Then he goes on in savage mockery. ”Ye'll tell no funny anecdotes and sacrilegious jokes about our president, Brigham Young, and our prophet, Joseph Smith! Champagne won't flow over yer infamous apostasy, in the Unity Club. It will be a rare tale to tell yer chums Von Punster and De Beekman, and Travis, an' Larry Jerry, of how yer made a mockery of our sainted religion, an' jeered us, even when ye preached from our altars!
But ye'll never tell it! 'DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES!'”
Then the barrier is up to Ralph Travenion's face, which is now pale as the flickering candle that lights its agonies. Over this face comes one pang more cruel than the others, and the white lips sigh, ”My daughter!”
”Yer darter--that's the p'int! I'll look after her salvation. She shall be a lamb of Zion. I'll take her right into my sheepfold.”
”Powers of Heaven! What do you mean?” And the wall now rises above his mouth.
”I sha'n't be hard on her,” mocks Kruger. ”I'll spare her herding and cattle work. She shall do ch.o.r.es round the house. I'll be light on her, I will, bishop, for I mean--” He whispers three words into the fainting wretch's ear, who reels back from him and shrieks: ”MY G.o.d! NOT THAT!”