Part 9 (1/2)

”Your name is Nolan, I think,” said a man from the Denver. ”We've heard of you. s.h.i.+ner's boy is better, though still weak. You mustn't feel we left you to s.h.i.+ft for yourselves up there. Our men were all out, and we didn't know how soon they'd be swooping on us. 'Twasn't until last night it was generally known that you were back, and that you and your friends were what saved c.a.w.ker and the Silver s.h.i.+eld yesterday. How's _he_?”

”c.a.w.ker? Oh, c.a.w.ker's probably about got dinner ready for you gentlemen by this time. If you are sure about s.h.i.+ner we won't go down.”

”Go down? Why, Nolan, they'd murder you!”

But there came a sudden shot, and then a shout, from somewhere uphill.

On the edge of the dump a man was eagerly waving his hat, pointing away to the northeast along the ma.s.sive slope of the mountain.

”Well, Mr. Fireman,” said Nolan, ”I guess we'll have to go back. But you are sure about s.h.i.+ner, are you?”--this again to the visitors, as he persisted in calling them. ”Well, come right along up and see the old man himself. Dinner ought to be ready now.”

But, once back at the buildings, Nolan left to c.a.w.ker and his guard the pleasure of receiving the crowd from across the creek. He and Geordie were needed at once at the lookout on top of the office, the little tower above which fluttered the flag. Down on the platform anxious faces were upturned, for the sentry had seen a countless throng of men, so he said, coming over from Miners' Joy. To c.a.w.ker and his fellows it meant but one thing: The miners in the northward valley, more numerous than these along Lance Creek, reinforced, probably, by a swarm of the idlers from Hatch's Cove, were coming to the aid of their friends and fellow-countrymen in the strike at Silver s.h.i.+eld.

For two miles out the road from the village meandered up a winding ravine, then went twisting and turning along the eastward face of the mountain until it dipped out of sight over the ma.s.sive divide. Down in the depths of the gorge little dots of men could be seen hurrying away up the trail as though going to meet the coming concourse. Away out along the mountain-side not to exceed three or four vehicles and a scant dozen of hors.e.m.e.n could dimly be made out, crawling slowly southward, coming gingerly towards them. Where, then, was the ”countless throng”?

”They were in sight on yonder ridge,” said the lookout, ”not ten minutes ago. They must be hiding in the hollows, waiting for the others to catch up,” whereupon Nolan, looking daggers, had called him a scarehead, and Geordie shouted for c.a.w.ker's gla.s.s. It was sent up the stairway in less than a minute and focussed on Porphyry Point, a ma.s.sive b.u.t.tress overhanging the farther valley. For long seconds Geordie steadied the binocular against the staff and peered silently through. At last he said: ”Some riders and two or three livery-rigs are coming, but I see no men afoot.” Then, turning over his shoulder to c.a.w.ker, standing in the midst of his friends and fellow-managers, and looking eagerly aloft, he called: ”Better have dinner now, if it's ready. It will take 'em an hour to get here.”

”Who is that young fellow, anyhow?” asked Townsend, of the Vanguard Mine, and the ears of a score of men awaited the answer.

”That young feller,” said c.a.w.ker, in low tone, and impressively, ”was a stranger to every one here, except old Nolan and s.h.i.+ner, just twenty-four hours ago. Now there ain't one of 'em but swears by him. I don't know him from Adam, and Nolan won't tell, but, gentlemen--that young feller's a dandy!”

And this of a youth in grimy cap, flannels, and overalls, with a pair of smouched soldier gauntlets hiding the white of his hands, and a coating of coal-dust and smudge hiding all but the clear, healthy white of his eyes!

But an hour later came at least partial enlightenment. Picking their way, afoot and a few in saddle, welcomed by shouts from the lately besieged, and escorted by a deputation sent forward to meet them, there began to arrive certain citizens well known to the neighborhood by name and reputation.

There was the sheriff of Yampah, with a small squad of deputies. There was the mayor of Argenta, a director in the mines, and with him, puffing prodigiously and slowly up the ramp from the wagon-road, two brother directors away out from Denver. There were certain prominent citizens of Argenta and Hatch's Cove. There were certain railway men, with men and tools at their back and no time to waste. There were two men in civilian dress whom many a man of Silver Run knew for soldiers at once, for as such had they known them before--Captain Lee and Quartermaster McCrea of the old --th Cavalry--and there had been a remarkable meeting and hand-shaking between them and Nolan, and a whispered confabulation, at the end of which the two dove into the office building where s.h.i.+ner still lay, comforted by better news of his boy, by good surgical aid, and by a skilful and competent nurse who, for more than one reason, preferred to keep out of sight for the time being. There had been a face-to-face meeting between sergeant and sheriff when Nolan came forth from a rapturous scene at old s.h.i.+ner's bedside. But this time the sheriff looked sheepish, and there was no talk of arrest. Young Breifogle, it seems, would not die of his wounds. One of the culprits had ”split” and the real a.s.sailants were known.

And there had been a fine shower of congratulation on c.a.w.ker for his heroic defence and determined stand against tremendous odds, and the three magnates present of Silver s.h.i.+eld had begun with much unction to talk of reward and appreciation, and very probably c.a.w.ker felt both heroic and deserving, and quite ready to accept all credit and pay, but there were too many witnesses, too many wise men, too many suggestive smiles and snickers and audible remarks, and c.a.w.ker had sense to see and then to rise manfully to the occasion.

”We did the best we knew how, gentlemen,” said he, ”but I am bound to say Silver s.h.i.+eld would have been in ruins this minute, and most of us dead, if it hadn't been for Nolan--the man you ordered thrown out.”

There was a silence almost dramatic for a moment.

”Who ordered him thrown out?” asked Mr. Stoner, of Denver.

”The directors, sir, unless young Mr. Breifogle lied. These men are my witnesses.”

And the answer came straightway.

”No such orders were given by the board. If Mr. Breifogle gave them, they were his alone.”

Whereupon a shout went up that shook the roof. But the end was not yet.

Nolan was dragged forward to be grasped by the hand and smothered with congratulations, and old Nolan, in turn, would have none of it. A dozen men had seized Geordie Graham, even as his cla.s.smates and comrades had chaired him a few weeks back at the Point, and black, grimy, and protesting, he was heaved forward and deposited in front of the astonished trio. But the shout that went up from all sides was significant. Lee and McCrea were shouting, too.

”More heroes?” asked Mr. Stoner, wide-eyed and uncomprehending.

”Well--er, Nolan, they told us on the way over that there must be a hundred soldiers here.”

”That's about right, sir,” grinned Nolan; then, reaching forth, he laid a hand lightly on Graham's broad shoulder, ”and here stands--most of 'em.”

CHAPTER XIII