CHAPTER X
"Bob, what is that tall rock ahead of us?"
"I don't know, Mark."
"That is what they call Chimney Rock," put in Si. "Maybe Dixon was telling me about it. It won't be long now before we reach the top of the ridge and then we'll get our first sight of the Rocky Mountains."
The young gold hunters found the vicinity of Chimney Rock very beautiful, and that day they rested at a point where they could look for a good many miles around them. Chimney Rock was of soft stone, several hundred feet high, a well-defined landmark on that strange trail. Beyond it were a series of bluffs.
"Now we are going to get our first sight of the Rockies," said Mark, some days later, after another rain. "The storm cleared the air, so we ought to get a pretty good view."
They were close to the top of the ridge, along which they had traveled slowly and laboriously, for the road was nothing like what it is to-day, with its many towns and villages. The boys could not wait, and Mark and Si rushed on ahead of Bob, who was driving the mule.
"Hurrah! Here we are!" shouted Mark, throwing up his cap. "The mountains, as plain as day!"
The mountains were certainly there, but so far off that they were a mere blue-and-white blur in the distance. The tops were lost in the clouds, and this caused Si to draw a deep breath.
"It ain't going to be an easy task climbing over them," was his sober comment.
"Want to go back?" asked Mark, quickly.
"No! It's California or bust with me!" answered the farm boy, quickly. "Why, if I went back now, I'd never be able to look father and mother in the face again," he added.
Presently Darling came plodding up to the top of the ridge, with Bob trudging alongside of the wagon. Bob's face broke into a grin as he viewed the scene beyond.
"Are those the Rockies?" he asked.
"Yes," said both of the other boys.
"Good enough, we'll soon be over 'em," answered the former sailor boy, softly. "Ain't that so, Darling?" he added, to the mule. The animal laid back his ears, blinked one eye, and gave a gentle heehaw for an answer.
They spent the rest of the day on the ridge and early the next day started on the direct trail for Fort Laramie. The trail was now crowded and they had plenty of company. Many of the folks along the trail called them the Boy Triplets, because they were always seen together. Strangers were astonished when they learned that the boys had not known each other previous to starting on the trip.
"You certainly pull well together," said one pioneer, as he journeyed along with them for several miles. "No quarrelin' or nothin', eh?"
"None so far," answered Mark.
"Must all have good natures. I had a partner, but we didn't hitch a week. When I wanted to do one thing he always wanted to do something else."
"We know just what we want to do and we are going to do it," put in Bob. "We haven't got time to quarrel."
At last they reached Fort Laramie, called by some of the pioneers and trappers Fort John. It was a quadrangular building, built of rough bricks. The walls had watch towers and were defended by several brass cannon. It was located where the Laramie River flowed into the Platte, six hundred and seventy-two miles from Independence.
"We've done some traveling since we started," said Mark, when he heard the distance mentioned.
"That leaves us a little over fifteen hundred miles still to cover," said Si. "Boys, we are getting there."
"The worst of it is," put in Bob, "nearly all of the rest of the journey is uphill—that is, till we get over the top of the Rockies. It is going to be a long, hard pull, if I know anything about it."
A great many emigrants were encamped around Fort Laramie, taking a brief rest before setting out on the next stage of their arduous journey. Trappers, hunters, and traders were numerous, and not a few gambling places were in full blast. Some of these resorts were open day and night, and not a few of the men who went in to play lost all they possessed. The very night the boys arrived there was some excitement over a young man who had just committed suicide.
"He went an' gambled away his last dollar and then gambled away his hoss an' his hull outfit," explained one of the men to Mark. "That discouraged him, and he threw himself into the river with a bag of sand tied to his neck."
"Horrible!" murmured the boy, and shuddered.
"The gambling fever is fearful when it gets into your veins," went on the man. "I had it once and I know."
The gaming tables had a great fascination for Maybe Dixon, and soon he was putting up what little money he possessed, much to the boys' distress, for they thought a good deal of the man "from everywhere."
"Better give it up," said Bob to Dixon. "You are bound to lose."
"Not if they play fair," answered Maybe Dixon. "But maybe they don't give a feller a square deal. There's one chap I don't trust much—a feller from the south named Sag Ruff. He looks like a sharper. But he has got some o' my money already, an' I am bound to win it back, or my name ain't Dixon."
"Better leave him alone," said Mark. "If he is a swindler he will surely take all he can from you."
"I'll stake against him once more," said Dixon, determinedly.
Curious to see what might happen to Maybe Dixon, Mark watched his chance that evening and followed the man to the gambling shanty, which was located on the outskirts of the temporary settlement. The gambling table was a packing box with several smooth boards nailed to the top, and rude benches took the place of chairs. At one end of the table rested a tallow candle, and on the wall swung a smoking oil lamp.
A dozen men were present, some clean-cut and honest-looking and the others of all degrees of roughness. Sag Ruff was a burly fellow of forty, with a shock of red hair and a red beard. He had a harsh voice, and when he spoke it was frequently with biting sarcasm.
"Now, if you have nerve, step up, but if you are afraid, go home," he said to the crowd. "The game is an honest one, gents, but it takes nerve to play it."
"I'm in with you," said Maybe Dixon. "Told you I'd come, last night."
"So you did," answered Sag Ruff. His full first name was Sagamore, but all called him Sag for short.
The game was soon on. Mark could not follow very well, as he took no interest in cards. But he saw that Maybe Dixon was losing after the first game had been played.
"Once more," said Sag Ruff, after Dixon had lost several times.
The money went up on the table—the last fifty dollars which Maybe Dixon possessed—and the game proceeded. In the midst of the game Mark, shifting his position unknown to Sag Ruff, saw the gambler stick one card up his coat sleeve and produce another from his inner pocket.
"Sag wins!" shouted several, a minute later.
"And that busts me!" groaned Maybe Dixon. "Hang the luck, anyhow!" And he arose to go away.
"Wait a minute," said Mark, in a clear voice. "I want something explained."
"Hullo, Mark, I didn't know you were here."
"Did that man have a right to shove one card up his sleeve and substitute another from his pocket?"
"Did he what?" roared Maybe Dixon.
Mark repeated his question.
"Certainly not."
"Well, that is what he did do," went on the youth.
At this declaration several cries rang out, and a dozen began to speak at once. Sag Ruff glared at the boy as if he wanted to eat Mark up.
"What are you talking about?" he growled. "You're dreaming."
"I am not dreaming. I saw you put one card from your hand up your sleeve and then bring another card from your inside pocket."
"Never!"
"You did."
"See here, boy, do you want to get shot?" blustered Sag Ruff, and made a movement as if to draw a pistol. But ere he could raise a weapon Maybe Dixon had his own pistol out and leveled at the gambler's head.
"No shootin' jest yet, Sag Ruff. This boy always tell the truth."
"He does not."
"I say he does. I thought as how you was cheatin' me, but I couldn't get on to the game. Before we drop this matter, you'll please take off thet coat."
"I won't."
"I say he will. Ain't that so, men?"
"If he's honest he won't mind taking off the coat," answered one burly emigrant.
"Take it off," added two others.
"I am not going to," growled Sag Ruff, and it was plain to see that he was greatly disturbed.
Hardly had he spoken when he found himself covered by half a dozen pistols, some small and some extra large. He began to tremble, thinking he was to be shot down on the spot.
"Now take it off an' be quick about it," went on Maybe Dixon. "I'll count ten. One, two, three, four, five——"
"Wait, I'll take it off!" burst out the gambler, and began to take off the coat with care. Seeing this, an old miner pulled the garment from him, and out of the sleeve dropped a playing card.
"The four of clubs!" cried Maybe Dixon. "Boys, look through that pack we were playing with."
Three men did so, sorting out the cards as they went along. Soon came another excited cry:
"Here are two queen of hearts!"
"The card he brought from his pocket!"
"He is a swindler of the worst sort!"
"He must have cheated me!"
"And me too!"
"He got fifty dollars from me!"
"A hundred and ten from me!"
"Let us make him shell out!"
"We will make him shell out!" said Maybe Dixon, firmly. "He has got to pay us back every cent he took from us." He turned to Sag Ruff. "Will you do it—or will you have this?" And he shook the pistol in the gambler's face.
"I'll pay up," answered the swindler, weakly. "Don't shoot me, and I'll give up to the very last penny!"