Part 52 (1/2)

No, the gambler had not been seen. Someone jocularly suggested that he and Zip were out visiting Sandy Joyce upon their claim. None of the three had been seen that morning. But the levity was allowed to pa.s.s without a smile, and Minky disappeared again into the back regions of his store.

After that the time pa.s.sed even more slowly. The store emptied; the men moved out into the sunlight to await the first sight of the stage.

There was nothing else to do. Such was their saturation of the previous night that even drink had no attraction at this early hour.

So they sat or lounged about, gazing out at the distant upland across the river. There lay the vanis.h.i.+ng-point of the Sp.a.w.n City trail, and beyond that they knew the danger-zone to lie. It was a danger-zone they all understood, and, hardy as they were, they could not understand anyone mad enough to risk a fortune of gold within its radius. Not one of them would have faced it singly with so little as twenty dollars in his pocket, much less laboring under the burden of sixty thousand dollars. And yet somebody was going to do so to-day.

A pounding of hoofs and crunching of wheels suddenly swept all apathy away. Every eye lit; every head turned. And in a moment Suffering Creek was on its feet, agog with the intensest interest. For one brief moment the rattle and clatter continued. Then, from round the corner, with bits champing and satin coats gleaming in the sun, their silver-mounted harness sparkling, Wild Bill's treasured team of six horses swept into view. Round they swung, hitched to his well-known spring-cart, and in a second had drawn up with a flourish in front of the veranda.

A gasp of astonishment greeted this unexpected vision. Men stood gaping at the beaming ch.o.r.eman sitting perched up on the driving-seat.

It was the first time in his life he had ever been allowed to handle the gambler's equine children, and his joy and pride were written in every furrow of his age-lined features.

The man sat waiting, while the thoroughbreds pawed the ground and reached restively at their bits. But they were like babes to handle, for their manners were perfect. They had been taught by a master-hand whose lessons had been well learned. And the picture they made was one that inspired admiration and envy in every eye and heart of those who now beheld them.

But these were not the only emotions the sight provoked. Blank astonishment and incredulous wonder stirred them, too. Bill's horses!

Bill's cart! Where--where was the gambler himself? Was this the stage?

Was Bill--?

The talk which had been so long suppressed now broke out afresh.

Everybody asked questions, but n.o.body answered any. They crowded about the cart. They inspected the horses with eyes of admiration and wonder. No man could have withstood the sight of the rope-like veins standing out through their velvet skin. They fondled them, and talked to them as men will talk to horses. And it was only when Minky suddenly appeared in their midst, bearing in his arms an iron-clamped case which he deposited in the body of the cart, that their attention was diverted, and they remembered the purpose in hand.

The gold-chest deposited and made secure, the storekeeper turned to the crowd about him.

”Well, boys,” he said, with an amiable smile, ”any more mail? Any you fellers got things you need to send to your sisters--or somebody else's sisters? You best get it ready sharp. We're startin' at eight o'clock. After that you'll sure be too late. Y'see,” he added humorously, ”we ain't figgered when the next stage goes.” He pulled out his nickel silver timepiece. ”It's needin' five minutes to schedule,” he went on officially, glancing keenly down the trail.

Anyone sufficiently observant, and had they been quick enough, might have detected a shade of anxiety in his glance. He moved round to the side of the cart and spoke to the man in the driving-seat.

”It's nigh eight. He ain't here?” he said questioningly.

”Guess he'll be right along, boss,” the little man returned in a low voice.

Again the storekeeper glanced anxiously down the trail. Then he turned away with a slight sigh.

”Well, boys,” he said, with another attempt at jocularity, ”if ther'

ain't nuthin' doin', guess this mail's sure closed.”

Pa.s.sing again to the back of the cart, he gazed affectionately upon the gold-chest. Then he lifted his eyes just as Van voiced the question in everybody's mind.

”You sure ain't sendin' pore old Danny with that stage?” he cried incredulously. ”You sure ain't sendin' him fer James to sift lead through? You ain't lettin' him drive Bill's horses?”

”He sure ain't. Him drive my plugs? Him? Gee! Ther' ain't no one but me drives them hosses--not if Congress pa.s.sed it a law.”

The harsh, familiar voice of Wild Bill grated contemptuously. He had come up from his hut all unnoticed just in time to hear Van's protesting inquiry. Now he stood with eyes only for his horses.

Daylight at last shone through the mist of doubt and puzzlement which had kept the citizens of Suffering Creek in darkness so long. They looked at this lean, harsh figure and understood. Here was the driver of the stage, and, curiously, with this realization their doubts of its welfare lessened. All along they had been blaming Bill for his lack of interest in the affairs of the camp, and now--

They watched him with keen, narrowing eyes. What mad game was he contemplating? They noted his dress. It was different to that which he usually wore. His legs were encased in sheepskin chaps. He was wearing a belt about his waist from which hung a heavy pair of guns. And under his black, s.h.i.+ny, short coat he was wearing a simple buckskin s.h.i.+rt.

They watched him as he moved round his horses, examining the fit of the bridles and the fastenings of the harness. He looked to the buckles of the reins. He smoothed the satin coats of his children with affectionate hand. Then in a moment they saw him spring into the cart.