Part 13 (2/2)

”I've been afraid it would come to that, sooner or later,” he said slowly. Then he added: ”We ought to be able to stop it. The colonel seems to deprecate the sc.r.a.pping part of it as much as we do.”

Fitzpatrick's exclamation was of impatient disbelief. ”Any time he'll hold up his little finger, Mr. Ballard, this monkey-business will go out like a squib fuse in a wet hole! He isn't wanting to stop it.”

Ballard became reflective again, and hazarded another guess.

”Perhaps the object-lesson of this morning will have a good effect. A chance shot has figured as a peacemaker before this.”

”Don't you believe it's going to work that way this time!” was the earnest protest. ”If the Craigmiles outfit doesn't whirl in and shoot up this camp before to-morrow morning, I'm missing my guess.”

Ballard rapped the ashes from his briar, and refilled and lighted it.

When the tobacco was glowing in the bowl, he said, quite decisively: ”In that case, we'll try to give them what they are needing. Are you picketed?”

”No.”

”See to it at once. Make a corral of the wagons and sc.r.a.pers and get the stock inside of it. Then put out a line of sentries, with relays to relieve the men every two hours. We needn't be taken by surprise, whatever happens.”

Fitzpatrick jerked a thumb toward the outer room where Bigelow was smoking his after-supper pipe.

”How about your friend?” he asked.

At the query Ballard realised that the presence of the Forest Service man was rather unfortunate. Constructively his own guest, Bigelow was really the guest of Colonel Craigmiles; and the position of a neutral in any war is always a difficult one.

”Mr. Bigelow is a member of the house-party at Castle 'Cadia,” he said, in reply to the contractor's doubtful question. ”But I can answer for his discretion. I'll tell him what he ought to know, and he may do as he pleases.”

Following out the pointing of his own suggestion, Ballard gave Bigelow a brief outline of the Arcadian conflict while Fitzpatrick was posting the sentries. The Government man made no comment, save to say that it was a most unhappy situation; but when Ballard offered to show him to his quarters for the night, he protested at once.

”No, indeed, Mr. Ballard,” he said, quite heartily, for him; ”you mustn't leave me out that way. At the worst, you may be sure that I stand for law and order. I have heard something of this fight between your company and the colonel, and while I can't pretend to pa.s.s upon the merits of it, I don't propose to go to bed and let you stand guard over me.”

”All right, and thank you,” laughed Ballard; and together they went out to help Fitzpatrick with his preliminaries for the camp defence.

This was between eight and nine o'clock; and by ten the stock was corralled within the line of shacks and tents, a cordon of watchers had been stretched around the camp, and the greater number of Fitzpatrick's men were asleep in the bunk tents and shanties.

The first change of sentries was made at midnight, and Ballard and Bigelow both walked the rounds with Fitzpatrick. Peace and quietness reigned supreme. The stillness of the beautiful summer night was undisturbed, and the roundsmen found a good half of the sentinels asleep at their posts. Ballard was disposed to make light of Fitzpatrick's fears, and the contractor took it rather hard.

”I know 'tis all hearsay with you, yet, Mr. Ballard; you haven't been up against it,” he protested, when the three of them were back at the camp-fire which was burning in front of the commissary. ”But if you had been sc.r.a.pping with these devils for the better part of two years, as we have----”

The interruption was a sudden quaking tremor of earth and atmosphere followed by a succession of shocks like the quick firing of a battles.h.i.+p squadron. A sucking draught of wind swept through the camp, and the fire leaped up as from the blast of an underground bellows. Instantly the open s.p.a.ces of the headquarters were alive with men tumbling from their bunks; and into the thick of the confusion rushed the lately posted sentries.

For a few minutes the turmoil threatened to become a panic, but Fitzpatrick and a handful of the cooler-headed gang bosses got it under, the more easily since there was no attack to follow the explosions. Then came a cautious reconnaissance in force down the line of the ca.n.a.l in the direction of the earthquake, and a short quarter of a mile below the camp the scouting detachment reached the scene of destruction.

The raiders had chosen their ground carefully. At a point where the ca.n.a.l cutting pa.s.sed through the shoulder of a hill they had planted charges of dynamite deep in the clay of the upper hillside. The explosions had started a land-slide, and the patient digging work of weeks had been obliterated in a moment.

Ballard said little. Fitzpatrick was on the ground to do the swearing, and the money loss was his, if Mr. Pelham's company chose to make him stand it. What Celtic rage could compa.s.s in the matter of cursings was not lacking; and at the finish of the outburst there was an appeal, vigorous and forceful.

”You're the boss, Mr. Ballard, and 'tis for you to say whether we throw up this job and quit, or give these blank, blank imps iv h.e.l.l what's comin' to 'em!” was the form the appeal took; and the new chief accepted the challenge promptly.

”What are your means of communication with the towns in the Gunnison valley?” he asked abruptly.

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