Part 14 (1/2)
”I met a feller this mornin' that's workin' on the Midas,” the old man resumed. ”He came in town fer a pair of gum boots, an' he says they've run into awful rich ground--so rich that they have to clean up every morning when the night s.h.i.+ft goes off 'cause the riffles clog with gold.”
”Think of it!” Glenister growled. ”If we had even a part of one of those clean-ups we could send Wheaton outside.”
In the midst of his bitterness a thought struck him. He made as though to speak, then closed his mouth; but his partner's eyes were on him, filled with a suppressed but growing fire. Dextry lowered his voice cautiously:
”There'll be twenty thousand dollars in them sluices to-night at midnight.”
Glenister stared back while his pulse pounded at something that lay in the other's words.
”It belongs to us,” the young man said. ”There wouldn't be anything wrong about it, would there?”
Dextry sneered. ”Wrong! Right! Them is fine an' soundin' t.i.tles in a mess like this. What do they mean? I tell you, at midnight to- night Alec McNamara will have twenty thousand dollars of our money--”
”G.o.d! What would happen if they caught us?” whispered the younger, following out his thought. ”They'd never let us get off the claim alive. He couldn't find a better excuse to shoot us down and get rid of us. If we came up before this Judge for trial, we'd go to Sitka for twenty years.”
”Sure! But it's our only chance. I'd ruther die on the Midas in a fair fight than set here bitin' my hangnails. I'm growin' old and I won't never make another strike. As to bein' caught--them's our chances. I won't be took alive--I promise you that--and before I go I'll get my satisfy. Castin' things up, that's about all a man gets in this vale of tears, jest satisfaction of one kind or another. It'll be a fight in the open, under the stars, with the clean, wet moss to lie down on, and not a sc.r.a.ppin'-match of freak phrases and law-books inside of a stinkin' court-room. The cards is shuffled and in the box, pardner, and the game is started. If we're due to win, we'll win. If we're due to lose, we'll lose.
These things is all figgered out a thousand years back. Come on, boy. Are you game?”
”Am I game?” Glenister's nostrils dilated and his voice rose a tone. ”Am I game? I'm with you till the big cash-in, and Lord have mercy on any man that blocks our game to-night.”
”We'll need another hand to help us,” said Dextry. ”Who can we get?”
At that moment, as though in answer, the door opened with the scant ceremony that friends of the frontier are wont to observe, admitting the attenuated, flapping, dome-crowned figure of Slapjack Simms, and Dextry fell upon him with the hunger of a wolf.
It was midnight and over the dark walls of the valley peered a mult.i.tude of stars, while away on the southern horizon there glowed a subdued effulgence as though from hidden fires beneath the Gold G.o.d's caldron, or as though the phosph.o.r.escence of Bering had spread upward into the skies. Although each night grew longer, it was not yet necessary to light the men at work in the cuts.
There were perhaps two hours in which it was difficult to see at a distance, but the dawn came early, hence no provision had been made for torches.
Five minutes before the hour the night-s.h.i.+ft boss lowered the gates in the dam, and, as the rush from the sluices subsided, his men quit work and climbed the bluff to the mess tent. The dwellings of the Midas, as has already been explained, sat back from the creek at a distance of a city block, the workings being thus partially hidden under the brow of the steep bank.
It is customary to leave a watchman in the pit during the noon and midnight hours, not only to see that strangers preserve a neutral att.i.tude, but also to watch the waste-gates and water supply. The night man of the Midas had been warned of his responsibility, and, knowing that much gold lay in his keeping, was disposed to gaze on the curious-minded with the sourness of suspicion. Therefore, as a man leading a pack-horse approached out of the gloom of the creek- trail, his eyes were on him from the moment he appeared. The road wound along the gravel of the bars and pa.s.sed in proximity to the flumes. However, the wayfarer paid no attention to them, and the watchman detected an explanatory weariness in his slow gait.
”Some prospector getting in from a trip,” he thought.
The stranger stopped, scratched a match, and, as he undertook to light his pipe, the observer caught the mahogany s.h.i.+ne of a negro's face. The match sputtered out and then came impatient blasphemy as he searched for another.
”Evenin', sah! You-all oblige me with a match?”
He addressed the watcher on the bank above, and, without waiting a reply, began to climb upward.
No smoker on the trail will deny the luxury of a light to the most humble, so as the negro gained his level the man reached forth to accommodate him. Without warning, the black man leaped forward with the ferocity of an animal and struck the other a fearful blow. The watchman sank with a faint, startled cry, and the African dragged him out of sight over the brow of the bank, where he rapidly tied him hand and foot, stuffing a gag into his mouth.
At the same moment two other figures rounded the bend below and approached. They were mounted and leading a third saddle-horse, as well as other pack-animals. Reaching the workings, they dismounted. Then began a strange procedure, for one man clambered upon the sluices and, with a pick, ripped out the riffles. This was a matter of only a few seconds; then, seizing a shovel, he transferred the concentrates which lay in the bottom of the boxes into canvas sacks which his companion held. As each bag was filled, it was tied and dumped into the cut. They treated but four boxes in this way, leaving the lower two-thirds of the flume untouched, for Anvil Creek gold is coa.r.s.e and the heart of the clean-up lies where it is thrown in. Gathering the sacks together, they lashed them upon the pack-animals, then mounted the second string of sluices and began as before. Throughout it all they worked with feverish haste and in unbroken silence, every moment flas.h.i.+ng quick glances at the figure of the lookout who stood on the crest above, half dimmed in the shadow of a willow clump.
Judging by their rapidity and sureness, they were expert miners.
From the tent came the voices of the night s.h.i.+ft at table, and the faint rattle of dishes, while the canvas walls glowed from the lights within like great fire-flies hidden in the gra.s.s. The foreman, finis.h.i.+ng his meal, appeared at the door of the mess tent, and, pausing to accustom his eyes to the gloom, peered perfunctorily towards the creek. The watchman detached himself from the shadow, moving out into plain sight, and the boss turned back. The two men below were now working on the sluices which lay close under the bank and were thus hidden from the tent.
McNamara's description of Anvil Creek's riches had fired Helen Chester with the desire to witness a clean-up, so they had ridden out from town in time for supper at the claim. She had not known whither he led her, only understanding that provision for her entertainment would be made with the superintendent's wife. Upon recognizing the Midas, she had endeavored to question him as to why her friends had been dispossessed, and he had answered, as it seemed, straight and true.
The ground was in dispute, he said--another man claimed it--and while the litigation pended he was in charge for the court, to see that neither party received injury. He spoke adroitly, and it satisfied her to have the proposition resolved into such simplicity.