Part 17 (2/2)
”I'd rather she had, instead of being taken by force!” The older man--aged incredibly in a few little minutes--slowly straightened. ”But don't storm at me, Ray!” he warned, carefully and quietly. ”I've stood a lot from you, but to-day I'd kill you for one word!”
They faced each other in black disdain, but Ray knew he spoke the truth.
There was no toying with this man's wrath to-day.
”And if you'd let me croak this devil like I wanted to, it wouldn't have happened either. But there's no use crying about either one. The girl's a goner, sure; she's deep in the rapids by now.”
”Yes, and it's part of this man's h.e.l.lish plan to take her clear through to Back There. You see, he dares us to come for her--and he'll be waiting and ready for us, mark my words. My G.o.d, she's probably dead--smashed to pieces--already!”
”He says he's got the old man's letter, leaving the claim to him. That messes up things even worse.”
”I wish I'd never heard of the claim. There's only one thing to do, and that's to rush into Snowy Gulch and get a big outfit--all the horses and supplies we can find--and go after her by land.”
”Yes, and walk right into his trap. Think again, Neilson. It would take weeks and months to get in that way. Besides, what would happen to the claim while we're gone?”
”You needn't fear for the claim! Of course, I'd expect you to think of that first--you who loved Beatrice so dearly!” Neilson's face was white with disdain. ”It'll be recorded in our names, by then--likely Chan is already in Bradleyburg--and Darby himself is the only man on earth we have to fear.” He paused, putting his faith in desperate craft. ”If you want to cinch the claim, the first thing to do is go and stamp the life out of Darby; otherwise he'll turn up and make us trouble, just as he says.”
”He can't do much if the claim's recorded in our names!”
”He can make us plenty of trouble. If you want the girl, Ray--don't lose a minute. Put your things together as fast as you can. We'll try to get some men in Snowy Gulch to come with us--to join in the hunt--and we'll hire every pack horse in the country. Get busy, and get busy quick.”
Reluctant to leave his gold, yet seeing the truth in Neilson's words, Ray hastened to his cabin to get such few supplies as would be needed for the day's march into Snowy Gulch. In less than five minutes they were on their way--tramping in file down the narrow moose trail.
They crossed the divide, thus reaching the headwaters of Poor Man's Creek; then took the trail down toward the settlements. But the two claim-jumpers had not yet learned all the day's ill news. Half-way to the mouth of the stream they met Chan Heminway on his way back to the claim.
At the first sight of him, riding in the rear of a long train of laden pack horses, they could hardly believe their eyes. It was not to be credited that he had made the trip to Bradleyburg and back in the few days he had been absent. Only an aeroplane could have made so fast a trip. Could it be that in spite of his definite orders he was returning with the duty of recording the claim still unperformed? To Neilson, however, the sight of the long pack train brought some measure of satisfaction. Here were horses laden with the summer supplies that Chan had been told to procure, and they could be utilized in the pursuit of Beatrice. Two days at least could be saved.
”What in the devil you coming back for?” Ray shouted, when Chan's ident.i.ty became certain.
Chan rode nearer as if he had not heard. He checked his horse deliberately, undoubtedly inwardly excited by the news he had to tell and perhaps somewhat triumphant because he was its bearer. ”I'm coming back because there ain't no use in staying at Snowy Gulch any longer,”
he answered at last. ”I've got the supplies, and I'm packin' up to the claim, just as I was told.”
”But why didn't you go to Bradleyburg and record the claim?” Ray stormed. ”Don't you know until that's done we're likely to be chased off any minute?”
Chan looked into his partner's angry eyes, and his own lips drew in a scowl. ”Because there wasn't any use in goin' to Bradleyburg.”
Ray was stricken with terror, and his words faltered. ”You mean you could tend to it in Snowy Gulch--”
”I don't mean nothing of the kind. Shut up a minute, and I'll tell you about it. A few days ago Steve Morris got a letter addressed to old Hiram Melville--in care of Steve. He opened it and read it, and I heard about it soon as I got into town. There ain't no use of our trying to record that claim.”
”For G.o.d's sake, why?”
”Because it's already recorded, that's why. We all felt so sure, and we wasn't sure at all. Before old Hiram died he wrote a letter--one of them two letters you heard about, Neilson--and which you wished you'd got hold of. Who that letter was to was an official in Bradleyburg--an old friend of Hiram's--and in it was a description of the claim. This letter Morris got was a notice that his claim was all properly filed in his--Hiram's--name. Whatever formalities was necessary was cut out because the old man had been too sick to make the trip--the recorder got special permission from Victoria. To be plain, I didn't file the claim because it's already filed, and I didn't want to show myself up as a claim-jumper quite as bad as that.”
”It's all over town--about the claim?”
”Sure, but there won't be a rush. There's quite a movement over Bradleyburg way for one thing; for another, this is a pocket country, once and for always.”
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