Part 46 (1/2)

Suffering Creek awoke on the Monday morning laboring under a hideous depression of nightmare. There was no buoyancy in the contemplation of the day's ”prospect.” It was as though that wholesome joy of life which belongs to the ”outdoor” man had suddenly been s.n.a.t.c.hed away, and only the contemplation of a dull round of unprofitable labor had been left for the burdened mind to dwell upon.

It was in this spirit that Joe Brand rubbed his eyes and pulled on his moleskin trousers. It was in this spirit that the miner, White, slouching along to the store for breakfast, saw and greeted him.

”Nuthin' doin' in the night,” he said, in something like the tone of a disappointed pessimist.

”No.” Joe Brand did not feel a great deal like talking. Besides the nightmare depression that held him he had drunk a good deal of rye whisky overnight.

White stared out across the creek, whither his thoughts were still wandering.

”Maybe we--was scairt some,” he observed, with a hollow laugh.

”Maybe.”

Joe's manner was discouraging.

”Gettin' breakfast?” the other inquired presently.

”Guess so.”

And the rest of the journey to the store was made in morose silence.

Others were already astir when they reached their destination. And at some distance they beheld a small group of men cl.u.s.tering at one point on the veranda. But such was their mood that the matter had no interest whatever for them until they came within hailing distance.

Then it was that they were both startled into new life. Then it was that all depression was swept away and active interest leapt. Then it was that sore heads and troubled thoughts gave way before an excitement almost equal to the previous day's, only that it carried with it a hope which the latter had almost killed.

”Say, don't it beat h.e.l.l?” demanded a burly prospector as they came up, pointing back at the wall of the store where the group was cl.u.s.tering like a swarm of bees.

”Don't what?” inquired Brand, with only partial interest.

”Why, that,” cried the man, still pointing. ”Ther' it is, all writ up ther'. It's in Minky's writin', too. They're sendin' out a stage, Wednesday. Git a peek at it.”

But Brand and his companion did not wait for his final suggestion.

They, too, had already joined the cl.u.s.ter, and stood craning on the outskirts of it. Yes, there it was, well chalked out in Minky's bold capitals--an invitation to all his customers to trade all the gold they chose to part with to him at the usual rates, or to s.h.i.+p direct to the bank at Sp.a.w.n City by a stage that was to leave Suffering Creek at eight o'clock on Wednesday morning, its safe delivery insured, at special rates, by the storekeeper himself.

It was the most astounding notice, under the circ.u.mstances, ever seen on Suffering Creek, and as the citizens read it excitement surged to a tremendous pitch.

The man called Van expressed something of the thought in every mind as he turned to Brand, who happened to be at his side.

”Gee!” he cried, with ironical levity. ”Old Minky's plum 'bug.' He's waited to 'unload' till James' gang has got the camp held up three miles out. Wal, I ain't s.h.i.+ppin'. Guess I'll trade my dust at a discount. It's a sight easier carryin' United States currency.”

”But he's guaranteein' delivery at the bank,” protested Brand.

”That's what it sez, sure,” observed White doubtfully.

”It beats me,” said the burly miner perplexedly, again drawn to the notice by the apparent recklessness of its purport. ”It beats me sure,” he reiterated. Then, after a thoughtful pause, he went back to his original statement as something that expressed the limit of his understanding. ”It sure do beat h.e.l.l.”

So it was throughout the morning. And by noon every soul in the camp had seen or heard of Minky's contemplated recklessness. The place was wild with excitement, and, instead of setting out for their various claims for the usual day's work, every man went out to sc.r.a.pe together any ”dust” he possessed, and brought it in to trade.

And Minky bought with perfect good-humor, discounting at the recognized tariff, but always with solemn eyes, and a mind still wondering at his overnight interview with Wild Bill. He had obeyed him implicitly, knowing that he was making a liberal profit for himself, whatever the gambler might be risking. All his transactions were guaranteed for him by the small fortune which Bill possessed safely deposited in the Sp.a.w.n City bank. Well, it was not for him to hesitate.

But his trading was not carried on without comment and questioning.