The big day came for which Rimrock had waited, the day when he could strike his first blow. In his room at the Waldorf he had installed special telephone connections, with a clerk to answer his calls; and close by the table, where he could follow his campaign, a stock ticker stamped away at its tape. It was the morning of the twenty-third of December, and he had wired L. W. for his money. All was ready now for the first raid on Navajoa and he went down to see Buckbee, the broker.
"Mr. Buckbee," he said when he had him by himself, "I just want to find where you're at. You introduced me to Stoddard and, as it turned out, we all of us made on the deal. But here's the question—if it came to a show-down, would you be for Stoddard, or me?"
"Why, my dear friend Rimrock," answered Buckbee jovially, "I'm afraid you don't get me right. That little deal with Stoddard was strictly on the side—my business is to buy and sell stock. An order from you will look just as good to me as one from Whitney H. Stoddard, and it will be executed just as carefully. But if it's Navajoa you have on your mind my advice is positively to lay off. I'll buy or sell as much Navajoa as you want for the regular brokerage fee, but get this straight—when you go up against Stoddard you stand to lose your whole roll. Now shoot, and I give you my word of honor to execute your orders to the letter."
"All right," said Rimrock, "sell ten thousand shares short. Dump 'em over—I want Navajoa to go down."
"It'll go down," answered Buckbee as he scribbled out the order. "At what point do you want me to buy?"
"Don't want to buy," replied Rimrock grimly and Buckbee shook his head.
"All right, my boy," he said debonairly, "there'll be wild doings this day in Navajoa. But it's people like you that makes the likes of me rich, so divvel another word will I say."
Rimrock returned to his room and sat watching the tape as the ticker champed it out and soon he saw Navajoa. It had been quoted at thirty-two and a half, but this sale was made at thirty. He watched it decline to twenty-eight, and twenty-five, and soon it was down to twenty. He called up Buckbee.
"Sell ten thousand more," he ordered and Buckbee went on with the slaughter. Navajoa went down to eighteen and sixteen and then it jumped back to twenty. Big buying developed, but still Rimrock sold short and again Navajoa slumped. At the end of the day it stood at twenty and he prepared for the next step in his campaign. He had beaten Navajoa down to nearly half its former price and without parting with a single share. He had at that moment, in stock bought and paid for, enough to cover all his short selling—this raid was to call out more. When stock is going up the people cling to it, but when it drops they rush to sell. Already he could see the small sales of the pikers as they were shaken down for their shares. The next thing to do, as he had learned the game, was to buy in; and then hammer it again.
On the twenty-fourth, the day before Christmas, he bought till he could buy no more; and still the price stayed down. It was the holidays slump, so the brokers said, but it suited him to a nicety. The next day was Christmas and he wired once more for his money, for L. W. had not answered his first telegram; and then he went out with the boys. Since his break with Mrs. Hardesty he had taken to dodging into the bar, where he could be safe from her subtle advances; but on Christmas eve he went too far. They all went too far, in the matter of drinking, but Rimrock went too far with Buckbee. He told him just exactly what he intended to do to Stoddard; which was indiscreet, to say the least. But Buckbee, who was likewise in an expansive mood, told in turn everything he knew; and the following day, as Rimrock thought it over, he wondered if he had not been wrong.
Buckbee had assured him that the stock on the market represented less than half of the Navajoa capitalization; and if that was the case it was hopeless, of course, to try to break Stoddard's control. But, strictly as a friend and for old time's sake, Buckbee had offered to sell Rimrock's stock at a profit; he had even gone further and promised to pass it on to Stoddard, who was in the market to protect his holdings. At twenty-four, which was where it was selling, Rimrock would clean up a tidy sum; and every cent of that absolute velvet would come out of Stoddard's pocket. It was a great temptation, but as Rimrock sobered he remembered that it was a fight to a finish. He had set out to break Whitney Stoddard.
The next morning at ten he sat at his desk waiting expectantly for the Stock Exchange to open. It was to have been his big day when, with over a million dollars from his dividends, he had intended to buy in Navajoa. But there was one thing that left him uneasy—his money had not come. If it had been sent by registered mail the Christmas glut would easily account for the delay, but three telegrams had remained also unanswered. He pondered for a moment, whether to wire to Mary or not, and then the telephone rang.
"Hello?" said a voice, "this is Buckbee speaking. What do you think about the proposition I made?"
"What proposition?" demanded Rimrock and then he grunted intolerantly as Buckbee renewed his offer for the stocks. "You must be drunk!" he said at the end and a merry laugh came back over the 'phone.
"No, all joking aside—I'm sober now. What do you say to twenty-four?"
"Too little!" bluffed Rimrock. "I want at least thirty."
"Will you take that?"
"No!" replied Rimrock, "nor thirty-five. I'm in the market to buy!"
"Well, how much do you want, then?" began Buckbee eagerly, "it's all the same to me. As long as it moves and I get my commission I don't care who buys the stock. But I'll tell you one thing—you'll have to put up more margin if you start to bidding it up. Twenty per cent., at the least, and if it goes above thirty I'll demand a full fifty per cent. You want to remember, Old Scout, that every time you buy on a margin the bank puts up the rest; and if that stock goes down they'll call your loan and you're legally liable for the loss. You'll have to step lively if you buck Whitney H. Stoddard—he's liable to smash the price down to nothing."
"I'll show him!" gritted Rimrock, "but I'll call up that bank first and find out just how far I can go. A man like me, worth fifty millions at least——"
"Ye-es!" jeered Buckbee, and as the broker hung up Rimrock called the president of the bank. It took time to get him, but when Rimrock stated his case he promised an immediate report. The answer came within half en hour—he could borrow up to five hundred thousand.
"All right," said Rimrock, and calling up Buckbee he told him to go ahead and buy.
"How much?" enquired Buckbee.
"Buy all you can get," answered Rimrock briefly and hurried off to the bank.
"Now about this loan," said the president pleasantly, "I find we have already given you money on your note up to nearly the entire five hundred thousand. Of course there's no question of your ability to pay, but wouldn't it be more businesslike if you could put up a little collateral?",
"For instance?" said Rimrock and at the note of antagonism the president was quick to explain.
"Of course you understand," he went on cordially, "you are good, as far as I'm concerned. But we have such troublesome things as bank examiners, and the law is very strict. In fact, a loan of half a million dollars on the unendorsed note of one man——"
"How much do you want?" asked Rimrock and fetched out a great sheaf of Navajoa.
"Well—not Navajoa," said the banker uneasily, "we have quite a lot of that already, on brokers' loans. Mr. Buckbee, you know. But if you would just put up, say two thousand shares of Tecolote——"
"No!"
"We could loan you up to two million."
The president paused and glanced at him mildly, but Rimrock had thrown down his stock.
"No," he said, "you can take this Navajoa or I'll quit and go somewhere else. I wouldn't put up a single share of Tecolote if you'd give me your whole, danged bank."
"Very well," said the president with a fleeting smile, "we'll accept your Navajoa. My secretary will arrange it—but mind this is on a call loan! Give him credit for five hundred more," he added and the clerk showed Rimrock out.
There are certain formalities that the richest must observe before they can borrow half a million and it was nearly noon before Rimrock was free and on his way to the hotel. He was just leaping out of his taxicab when he saw Mrs. Hardesty reeling towards him.
"Oh, Rimrock!" she gasped, "I've had such a blow—won't you take me back to my rooms? Oh, I can't explain it, but Whitney H. Stoddard is trying to force me to give up my stock! That Tecolote stock——"
"Here, get into this taxi!" said Rimrock on the instant, "now where do you want to go?"
"To the St. Cyngia on Ninety-fifth Street—and hurry!" she commanded; and the chauffeur slammed the door.
"Now what's the matter?" demanded Rimrock hurriedly. "I haven't got a minute to spare. Did you notice Navajoa? Well, I've got a buy order in——"
"Oh, no! I've seen nothing—not since he sent me that message! It seems he's back in town."
"Who? Whitney Stoddard? Well, let me get out then—I've got to get back to that tape!"
"Oh, no!" she murmured sinking against him with a shudder, "don't go and leave me alone. I need your help, Rimrock! My whole fortune is involved. It's either that or give back the stock."
"What stock?" asked Rimrock, "that two thousand Tecolote? Well, you just give that to me! Have you really got it, or are you just stalling? Let me look at it and I'll see you through hell!"
"It's in my apartment," she answered weakly. "I'll show it to you when we are there. Ah, Rimrock, something told me you would come to save me. But—oh, I'm ready to fall."
She dropped against him and the startled Rimrock took her quickly within his arm. They rode on swiftly and as she lay panting on his breast she told him the story of her misfortune.
"I don't deserve it," she said, "to have you help me, because I started to do you a wrong. I didn't know you then, nor your generous heart—and so I made the agreement with Stoddard. I was to go to Gunsight and get acquainted with you and get you to come back to New York—and for that I was to receive two thousand shares of Tecolote stock. Oh, not as a present—I'd never think of that—but far below what they are worth. It would take all the money I had in the world just to make a part payment on the stock. But I knew how wonderfully valuable they were and so I took the chance."
She sighed and leaned against him closer while Rimrock listened eagerly for the rest.
"Can you understand now why I've seemed worried, and anxious and why I've concealed my affairs? I went there and met you, but when I refused to betray you I found I was caught in a trap. Whitney Stoddard is hounding you in every possible way to make you give up your mine, and after I refused to give back my stock he set out deliberately to ruin me!"
She shuddered and lay silent and Rimrock moved uneasily.
"What was it he wanted you to do?" he asked at last and she tore herself swiftly away.
"I can't tell you—here. But come up to my rooms. I defied him, but I did it for you."
She fell quickly to rearranging her hair and hat in preparation for the short dash past the doorman and at the end she looked at him and smiled.
"I knew you would come," she said; and as he helped her out he thrilled to the touch of her hand. At odd times before she had seemed old and blasé, but now she was young and all-alive. He dismissed the taxi without a thought of his business and they hurried up to her apartments. She let herself in and as she locked the door behind them she reached up and took his big hat.
"You must stay a while," she said. "The servants are gone and I have no one to protect me if they come to serve the papers. Just start the fire—and if anyone knocks don't let them break down the door."
She smiled again and a sudden giddiness seemed to blind Rimrock and make him doubt where he was. He looked about at the silken rugs and the luxurious hangings on the walls and wondered if it was the same place as before. Even when he lit the laid fire and sank down on a divan he still felt the sweet confusion of a dream; and then she came back, suddenly transformed by a soft house-gown, and looked him questioningly in the face.
"Can you guess," she asked as she sat down beside him, "what it was that he wanted me to do? No, not to betray you or get possession of your stock—all he asked was that I should marry you."
"Marry me!" exclaimed Rimrock and his keen, staring eyes suddenly narrowed as she bowed her head.
"Yes, marry you," she said. "That was what made it so hard. Did you notice, when I stopped inviting you here? I was afraid, my Rimrock; I was afraid I might forget and—marry you. That was the one spot where Stoddard's plan failed, he forgot that I might fall in love. I loved you, Rimrock, loved you too much to marry you, and so I broke up all his plans. If I had married you, don't you see how easy it would have been for me to get hold of your stock? And that girl out there—the one I don't like—she would have thrown her vote to Stoddard. That alone would give him control, they would have fifty per cent. of the stock."
"No they wouldn't," corrected Rimrock, "not if you've got that two thousand. That would give us fifty-one per cent!"
A shadow of annoyance passed over her face, as if some part of her plan had gone wrong, and then her eyes took on a fire.
"'Us?'" she said. "Would you have married me, Rimrock? But surely, not for the stock! Oh, I wish sometimes——" She stopped abruptly and looked at him strangely and then she hurried on. "Ah, no," she sighed, "that can never be—you are in love with that other woman—out there. When you met her at the opera, you forgot all about me. You went off and left me alone. If Whitney H. Stoddard had called me up then!" Her eyes flashed dangerously and she looked away, at which Rimrock glanced quickly at his watch.
"By—grab!" he exclaimed half-rising to his feet, "do you know it's half-past twelve? Say, where's your telephone? I've got a deal on in Navajoa and I've just got to find out where I am!"
She rose up suddenly and turned to face him with a look of queenly scorn.
"I have no telephone!" she answered evenly, "and if I did have I would not lend it to you. You're just like the rest of these men, I see; you think in terms of stocks. I should have done as Stoddard said, and paid you back for your rudeness. Do you know, Mr. Jones, that you think more of money than of anything else in the world? Are you aware of the fact that all the love and devotion that any poor woman might bestow would be wholly wasted, and worse than wasted, on a miserable stock-gambler like you! Ah, I was a fool!" she burst out, stamping her foot in a passion; and then she sank back on the divan and wept.
Rimrock stood and gazed at her, then glanced absently at his watch and looked about, shamefaced, for a 'phone. But in that elegant apartment, with its rich furnishings and tapestries there was no place for a crude, commercial telephone, and the door to the inner room was closed. He turned towards the outer door, for his business was urgent, but she had carried off the key. He stirred uneasily, and a shrewd doubt assailed him for her weeping seemed all at once sophisticated and forced; and at the moment she raised her head. One look and she had cast herself upon him and twined her arms about his neck.
"I can't help it! I can't help it!" she sobbed convulsively and drew down his head and kissed him. "I can't help it!" she whispered. "I love you, Rimrock; I can't bear to let you go!"
She clung to him passionately and with tremulous laughter tugged to draw him back to the divan, but Rimrock stood upright and stubborn. Some strange influence, some memory, seemed to sweep into his brain and make him immune to her charm. It was the memory of a kiss, but not like her kisses; a kiss that was impulsive and shy. He pondered laboriously, while he took hold of her hands and slowly drew them away, and then his strong grip tightened. It was the kiss that Mary had given him in prison, when she had laid her cheek against the bars! That kiss had haunted him through the long months of waiting, and it rose in his memory now, when perhaps it were better forgotten. He put away the hands that still clung and petted and gazed fiercely into her eyes. And the woman faced him—without a tear on her cheek for all the false weeping she had done.
"How's this?" he said and as she sensed his suspicion she jerked back in sudden defiance.
"A stock-jobber!" she mocked. "All you think of is money. The love of a woman is nothing to you!"
"Aw, cut out that talk!" commanded Rimrock brutally. "Some women are stock-jobbers, too. And speaking of stock, just give me a look at those two thousand shares of Tecolote."
A sullen, sulky pout distorted her mouth and she made a face like a wilful girl.
"You'd snatch them," she said, "and run away and leave me. And then what would I say to Stoddard?"
"Are you working for him?" he asked directly and she threw out her arms in a pet.
"No! I wish I were, but it's too late now. I might have made money, but as it is I stand to lose everything."
"Oh, you stand to lose everything, do you? Well say, that reminds me, I guess I stand about the same!"
He picked up his hat and started for the door, but she caught him by the arm.
"You're going to that woman!" she hissed vindictively, "perhaps I can tell you something about her. Well, I can!" she declared, "and I can prove it, too. I can prove it by my Tecolote stock."
"You haven't got any stock," answered Rimrock roughly. But he stopped and she drew back and smiled.
"Oh!" she said as she noted his interest, "you're beginning to believe me now. Well, I can show you by the endorsement where she sold out to Stoddard over a month before I came. She sold him two thousand shares of Tecolote for exactly two million dollars—and that's why she left when I came. She was afraid you would find her out. But you, you poor fool, you thought she was perfect; and had left because her feelings were hurt! But she couldn't fool me, I could read her like a book, and I'll tell you what she has done."
"You'll do nothing of the kind!" broke in Rimrock savagely, "you'll go and get me that stock. I won't believe a word you say——"
"What will you give me if I do?" she demanded coquettishly at the same time backing away.
"I'll give you a nice, sweet kiss!" answered Rimrock, twisting his mouth to a sinister smile. "And if you don't——"
"Ah, will you?" she cried as she started towards him and then she danced mockingly away.
"You can keep it for her!" she flung back bitterly and passed out through the inner door.
Like a lion held in leash Rimrock paced up and down and then he listened through the door. All was silent and with a sudden premonition he laid a quick hand on the knob. The door was locked against him! He listened again, then spoke through the keyhole, then raised his voice to a roar. The next moment he set his great shoulder to the panel, then drew back and listened again. A distant sound, like a door softly closing, caught his ear and all was still. He hurled himself with desperate vehemence against the door so treacherously locked and with a crash it leapt from its hinges and he stumbled into the room. From where he stood Rimrock looked about in a daze, for the room was stripped and bare. The table, the furnishings, all that had made it so intimate when he had dined with the tiger lady before; all were gone and with the bareness there came a chill and the certainty that he had been betrayed. He turned and rushed to the outer entrance, but as he laid violent hands on that door it opened of itself and with such unexpected suddenness that he fell backwards on the floor. He rose up cursing, for something told him whose hand had unlocked the door; but she was gone and all that remained was a scribbled card in the hall.
"Kiss your money good-bye," was written on its face and on the back:
"I hate a fool."
What a fool he was and how much the tiger lady hated him Rimrock was already in a position to judge, but the inner meaning of "Kiss your money good-bye!" was still to be disclosed. As he dashed down the hall and out into the street and into the first taxi that passed it seemed but a cynical way of saying that his sole sweetheart was gold; but when he reached his room and glanced at the tape its meaning was written plain. Navajoa was quoted at six. He brushed aside his excited clerk and called up Buckbee on the 'phone.
"What?" yelled Buckbee as he recognized his voice, "have you been here all the time? My God, man, I've got the whole police department after you! You've ruined me! I've gone to the wall! Yes, bankrupt, I tell you, unless you go to the bank and put up collateral for my loans. Why didn't you tell me you only had credit of a million dollars in all? You said: 'Buy all you can get!' and by the gods they threw it in my face with both hands! Hundreds of shares, thousands of shares! And then when I called you up your clerk said you had gone. Well, I had my orders and you can't say I weakened—I bought thirty-two thousand shares!"
"'Thirty-two thousand!' Well, what are you kicking about? That gives me control of the mine. But say, what the devil does this ticker mean, quoting Navajoa at six dollars a share?"
"It means!" shouted Buckbee, "that you bid up the market until I paid forty-three for the last and then Whitney K. Stoddard dumped every share he had and cut the ground out under your feet! You're obligated to make up a total deficiency of nearly a million at the bank; your loans have been called, and mine have been called, and the stock is forfeit for the debt. You've lost your stock that you bought on a margin and unless you can take up these loans, every blessed share of Navajoa will go to Stoddard and his bank."
"To Stoddard! Well, what does that bank outfit mean by grabbing all my shares? Ain't my name good for about fifty million? Did I ever default on a debt? I'm going right down there and tell that president to give me back every share, and if he don't——"
"Oh, now don't talk that stuff! Just go down and put up some collateral. That's all that will save you—they've got the law behind them and they're strictly within their rights. No, now listen! You borrowed a half a million dollars at the bank this morning and put up your Navajoa for collateral. It was worth twenty-four then, but now, by my ticker, it's only five and a half. Can't you see where you are? Stoddard caught you napping and he'll never let up till you're broke. You valued it at thirty, but he'll keep the market down to nothing until you settle up and liquidate those claims. Then the prices will soar, but you won't be in on it. He's got you trimmed, and no mistake."
"But I don't see it!" came back Rimrock insistently. "I want every one of those shares. And I've got the money—it ought to be here now—to pay every cent I owe. Say, come on up, Buckbee, and help me straighten this thing out—I was unexpectedly called away."
He hung up the 'phone and turned to the letters and telegrams that were strewn about the desk. There were notices from the bank and frantic demands that he put up more margin on his stock and a peremptory announcement that his loans had been called and must be taken up by the next day at noon—and a letter from Mary Fortune. He thrust it aside and searched again for some letter or telegram from L. W., and then he snatched up hers. There was something wrong and her letter might explain it—it might even contain his check.
He tore it open and read the first line and then the world turned black. The dividend had been passed! He hurled the letter down and struck it with his fist. Passed! He turned on his clerk and motioned him from the room with the set, glassy stare of a madman. Passed! And just at the time when he needed the money most! He picked up the letter and read a little further and then his hand went slack. She had voted against him—it was her vote and Stoddard's that had carried the day against L. W.! He dropped the letter into a gaping wastebasket and sat back grinding his teeth.
"Damn these women!" he moaned and when Buckbee found him he was still calling down curses on the sex. In vain Buckbee begged him to pull himself together and get down to figures and facts, he brushed all the papers in a pile before him and told him to do it himself. Buckbee made memoranda and called up the bank, and then called up Stoddard himself; and still Rimrock sat cursing his luck. Even when Buckbee began to read the final statement his mind was far away—all he heard was the lump sum he owed, a matter of nearly a million.
"Well, I'll tell you," he said, when Buckbee came to an end, "I'll fix it so you don't lose a cent. But that bank is different. They sold me out to Stoddard and peddled me my own stock twice. Now don't say a word, because I know better—it was like Davey Crockett's coonskin, that he kept stealing from behind the bar. They take my stock for security and then hand it to Stoddard and he sells it over to you, and by the time we get through Stoddard has still got the stock and I owe the bank a million. Those may not be big words but that's what's happened, like Crockett buying the drinks with his coonskin; but if they collect from me they'll have to sue. Now how can I fix it for you?"
"Well, just raise the money to meet my shortage—it's a matter of nearly six hundred thousand."
"All right," said Rimrock, "I'll tell you what I'll do. I just got some bad news from the mine. That big dividend that I absolutely counted on to meet all those obligations was held up—it wasn't passed. But here's the point: the money is still there, right in old L. W.'s bank; the only question is how to get it out. You show me how I can borrow on that tied-up dividend and I'll pay you back every dollar."
"The easiest thing in the world!" exclaimed Buckbee. "All you have to do is to put up your Tecolote stock."
"Nothing doing," said Rimrock, "show me some other way. You fellows know all the tricks."
"No, there's no other way," responded Buckbee earnestly. "That's the only way you can touch it, until the dividend is declared. The surplus in the bank is regarded in law simply as increasing the value of the shares; and so all you have to do is to prove its existence and put up your stock as security."
"And then, if I don't pay it back, the bank will keep my stock!" Rimrock stated it guardedly, but his eyes were snapping and his mouth had become suddenly hard. "Don't you ever think it!" he burst out. "I don't put up that stock! No, by grab, not a single share of it, if I lose every cent I've got and leave my best friend in the hole! Do you know what I think?" he demanded portentously as he shook his finger under Buckbee's nose. "I believe every doggoned woman and broker in the whole crooked city of New York is working for—Whitney—H.—Stoddard!"
He paused and at a sudden guilty glance he dropped his hand and started back.
"My God!" he cried, "not you, too, Buckbee? Don't tell me you're in on it, too! Well, I might as well quit, then! What's the use of trying when every friend you've got turns out a crook!" He slumped down in his chair and, rumpling up his hair, gazed at Buckbee with somber eyes. "So! Old friend Buckbee, too? Well, Buckbee, what's the deal? Just tell me where I'm at and I'll leave this cursed town forever."
"Too bad, Old Scout," answered Buckbee kindly, "but you know I warned you, from the first. I'm a Stoddard man, and I told you to lay off—but here's where he's got you now. You owe money to his bank, and you owe it to me, and he's guaranteed us both against loss. Now he might step in and get a judgment against you and tie up every share you've got; but all he wants—and he told me so himself—is four thousand shares of Tecolote. That gives him control and, I'll tell you frankly, he's going to get those shares."
"Oh, he is, is he?" said Rimrock and then sat silent while Buckbee bit the tip from a cigar.
"Yes, he's going to get them," went on Buckbee quietly, "but here's how it looks to me. The loss you will suffer from those four thousand shares will be more than made up by the increase in the dividends on the rest. You are not a good business man and, more than that, you have gone off and neglected your mine. But give Stoddard the control and, the way he'll manage it, your stock will bring you in more. You've learned your lesson—just hold on to the rest and you'll always have money to burn. But, if you try to buck him, as sure as God made little fishes, he'll have your hide on the fence."
"D'ye think so?" enquired Rimrock and again he sat silent while Buckbee puffed away at his cigar.
"Yes, he's a hard man to whip," went on Buckbee thoughtfully, "they call him the Iron Man. Any place you hit him you only break your hand; but when he comes back—zowie!"
"Well, I guess you're right," answered Rimrock slowly, "New York is no place for me. It's back to the cactus where they fight it out with sixshooters and the man that wins grabs the loot. But here you can get some kind of a judgment and let the sheriff do the job."
Buckbee laughed lightheartedly and slapped him on the back, but Rimrock did not even smile.
"By George," exclaimed Buckbee, "I'll be sorry to lose you. You do have a way of putting things. But say, Old Sport, let's get this painful business over. When can you arrange to turn in that stock?"
"I don't know," grumbled Rimrock, "I'll have to think this over—maybe call in a lawyer or two. I'm not so sure about those hands-up judgments."
"Why, my dear boy," exclaimed Buckbee, "you don't doubt for a moment that a bank can attach your stock? You must bear in mind that they loaned you half a million on your mere name stuck to a note. Not a cent of collateral—and on the other half million you were distinctly notified it could be called. Why, the banks have a department where they grind out these actions just exactly as a mill grinds out corn. It's the simplest thing in the world."
"Well, I'll think it over," answered Rimrock noncommittally, "unless you've got one of those attachments on you?"
"Oh, no!" laughed Buckbee, "I'm no summons-server. It isn't quite so simple as that. You see the bank begins the action, the court issues a summons, and if you don't appear the judgment is declared by default. But it won't come to that, I'm sure. Just think it over and I'll call you up later. So long; don't take it too hard."
He flashed back a smile, but as the door closed behind him Rimrock answered by showing his teeth. He went to a safe that stood in the room and took out a single envelope. Then he strapped on his shabby old six-shooter, stepped quietly out and was gone.
A crafty-eyed lawyer on an East-side street told Rimrock all he needed to know—a summons in equity could not be served outside the bounds of the state. And so, a year after his triumphal arrival, Rimrock Jones left gay New York. He slipped out of town with a mysterious swiftness that baffled certain officers of the court, but, though Jepson watched the trains in something approaching a panic, he did not drop off at Gunsight. Mary Fortune watched the trains, too, though with different motives and hopes, and when the last day dawned and no Rimrock appeared she went off by herself on the desert.
When that sun rose again, unless something was done, the Tecolote mine would be lost. And all because Rimrock did not come. His share in the mine as well as her own was dependent upon what she should do and she motored out across the desert to think. Jepson's plans were complete—L. W. was still drunk and Ike Bray was waiting for the word. At midnight that night, as the old year went out and the new year was ushered in, Ike Bray and his guards would climb up to the dome and re-locate the Old Juan claim. And then they would leave it—for that was their plan—and let Rimrock contend with the law. Once located and recorded they had ninety days in which to sink their discovery shaft, and the last day was as good as the first.
Mary had overheard Jepson in his numerous consultations until she knew every move he would make; the question was, what would she do? Would she sit idly by and let this mountain of copper be snatched from their hands by Stoddard; or would she, alone and with no one to help her, brave the darkness and locate it herself? Already, as she nerved herself for the deed, she had typed out her location notice in duplicate; filling in the exact description of the boundaries from the records of the Old Juan claim. But would she dare to post that notice, in the face of three desperate men? Would she dare risk a meeting with drunken Ike Bray on the summit of that lonely peak? She resolved and recanted, and resolved again and drove back to the hotel in despair.
From the day she had known him she had helped Rimrock Jones in every way that she could; but he from the first had neglected every duty and followed after every half-god. She had written him to come, and told him of his peril, and that her own rights were jeopardized with his own; and he answered never a word. A hot wave passed over her, of passionate resentment and hatred and womanly scorn, and she drew her lips to a line. She would jump the Old Juan, but she would jump it for herself and hold it against both Rimrock and Stoddard!
It had once been observed that, when driven too far, Mary Fortune became an Indian; and the man who said it knew. For the rest of that day she was afire with a resolution which contemplated even the killing of men. She bought her a pistol and, driving out on the desert, she practised until she could shoot. Then as the sun sank low and Jepson and his men were occupied with sobering up Ike Bray, she drove off in the direction of Geronimo. She was far out on the desert when darkness fell, rushing south on the other road to Tecolote. Within sight of the camp she put out her lamps and, turning her machine out of the road, she crept along until it was hidden from view, then leapt out and started for the butte. It stood against the stars, huge and sinister in its black bulk, and she shuddered as she took the lone trail.
Up that very same path the year before Rimrock Jones had rushed on to defend his claim. He had been a man then, or at least a fighting animal; but now he was a soft, pampered brute. He left his fighting to be done by a woman while he spent his money like a fool. The fierce anger from that thought gave courage to her heart and her resentment spurred her on. She toiled on and rested and gazed despairingly at the high crags, but still she kept her face to the heights. As midnight approached and the trail had no ending she stopped and gazed doubtfully back, and then she went hurrying on. A clanking of rocks and the bass guffaw of men had come up to her from below; and terror supplied a whip that even hatred lacked—it was Ike Bray and his drunken guards!
As she staggered to the rim and dragged herself past the wall where McBain had come to his death it seemed as if she must drop, but the men were coming behind. She drew a great sobbing breath and, with her hand on her pistol, hastened over to the discovery shaft. It was a black, staring hole and by the dump beside it there stood a sign-post supported by rocks. A pale half moon had risen in the East and by its light she made out the notice that was tacked to the center of the board. That was Rimrock's notice, but now it was void for the hour was long after twelve. She tore it down and stuffed it into her pocket and drew out the one she had prepared. Then, gumming it carefully from a tube of glue, she posted it on the board. Already the voices were coming nearer, but there was one thing more to do—she lit a match and, looking at her watch, wrote the exact time on the blanks.
That was Rimrock's notice, but now it was void for the hour was long after twelve[Illustration: That was Rimrock's notice, but nowit was void for the hour was long after twelve]
That was Rimrock's notice, but now it was void for the hour was long after twelve[Illustration: That was Rimrock's notice, but nowit was void for the hour was long after twelve]
In the brief half hour that was occupied by Ike Bray in making the last lap of his trip Mary lived in an agony of fear. He came up slowly, using such violent language as she had never heard before; and, combined with the curses that he called down on the guards, was the demand for drink, and more drink. As she crouched behind a boulder that stood on the rim she bit her lips with shame and the hot rush of anger at his obscene revilings made her reconciled to killing him, if she must. He was lower than the lowest of created animals, a vile, degenerate beast; and as he struggled to the top and made for the monument his curses were directed against Rimrock.
"I'll show him!" he vaunted as he swayed before the sign, "I'll show him if Ike Bray's afraid. He can run a blazer over lawyers and women; but me—hey, tear off this notice!"
There was a minute of fumbling and then, as she gazed out at them, the taller guard spoke up.
"It's stuck," he said, "tighter than the back door of hell. Let it go and nail yours on top. Holy Smoke, if I'd knowed what a job this was—here, what are you doing now? Aw, give me that notice! Now where's your tacks? Say, Hank, pull him back from that hole!"
The sound of hammering came to her ears, half-drowned by a drunken brawl, and then there was a horror-stricken yell.
"He's fell down the hole! Are you hurt bad, Ike?"
The answer was a muffled curse, and both guards hurried to the shaft. With a prayer on her lips Mary crept from her shelter, then crouched and ran for the trail. She saw them leaning over the shaft and heard them bandying oaths and then she had gained the path.
"What's that?" cried one as she knocked a stone from the wall, and as it clattered she went dashing down the trail. She fell and lay breathless, listening dully for their footsteps, then rose up and went limping on. She paused for strength far down the path, where it swings along the wall, and her heart beat loud in her breast. They were still on the cliff-tops, still cursing and quarrelling and poisoning the clean silence with their words—but she had located first!
The day was breaking when, lost and wandering, she found her machine on the plain, but as it took the smooth road and went gliding towards Geronimo she smiled with a great sense of power. It was not alone that she controlled that throbbing engine, which made the car pulsate and thrill; she had a handle that would make two men she knew bow down and ask her for peace—Rimrock Jones and Whitney Stoddard. She appeared the next morning at the Recorder's office with a copy of her notice for record. Her torn clothes were concealed beneath a full cloak and her hands within automobile gloves; but the clerk, even in the rush of New Year recording, glanced curiously at a bruise across her forehead. Then he filed her claim with a hundred others and she slipped out and drove away.
When Mary Fortune returned to Gunsight she found the whole town in an uproar. Men were running to and fro and a great crowd of people was gathered in front of the hotel. If she had feared for a moment that the scar above her eye, which she had covered so artfully with her hair, might be noticed by Jepson and others, that fear was instantly allayed. There was bigger news afoot—Ike Bray had come to town and given notice that he had jumped the Old Juan claim. He was backed up now against a plate-glass window of the Tecolote Mining Company's office and Jepson was making a speech. As she drove up closer she could see Hassayamp Hicks and as the crowd shouted he broke in on Jepson's disavowal.
"That ain't the question, suh!" he shouted fiercely, "we want to knowwho paid him! And as a personal friend of Mr. Jones, the best man in this hyer town, I wish to say right now that the Old Juan claim can't be jumped bynobody!"
"Just a moment, Mr. Hicks!" interrupted Jepson patiently, but the mob was shouting him down.
"It's a lie!" yelled Bray from his place against the window. "I jumped that claim for myself! I jumped it myself; and Rimrock Jones, nor none of his friends, can't come and take it away!"
"Oh, they can't, hey?" thundered a voice and Mary started as she saw a tall form through the crowd. It was L. W. Lockhart, the man who had sold Rimrock out and allowed the Old Juan to lapse. "They can't, you say? Well, I want to tell you theycan! And, gun-play or not, theywill!"
His high hat surged forward into the forbidden space that Bray had cleared with his gun and then a pistol shot rang out. The next moment the glass windows were swaying and bending beneath the weight of the mob. There was a babel of shouting, a quick surge forward and then the crowd gave back. L. W. was coming out and as they gave way before him he addressed the men of Gunsight.
"I've got 'im, boys!" he cried in a frenzy, "come on, we'll string 'im up! We'll show 'im if he can jump Rimrock's claim!"
He came striding from the crowd, one arm hanging limp the other dragging the cursing Ike Bray.
"You got me!" he snarled, shaking Bray like a rat, "but dang you, I've got you, too!"
The mob fell in behind, but as they passed Mary's automobile Bray reached out and clutched it with both hands.
"Let go!" commanded L. W., still dragging at his collar while his bloody arm flapped with each jerk. "Let go, you dastard, or I'll skin you alive—you can't run no sandy over me! The man don't live, so help me God, that can rob a friend of mine!"
He turned back impatiently, but as he raised his boot to stamp on the clinging hands his eyes met Mary Fortune's.
"Don't let him kill me, lady!" gasped Ike Bray imploringly as he felt L. W.'s grip relax. "I only shot in self-defense."
"You'd better let him in here," suggested Mary as she hurriedly threw open the door. "I think it will be better that way."
"No, he robbed old Rimmy!" sobbed L. W. hysterically, "the best friend I ever had. And I was drunk and let the assessment work lapse. My God, he'll kill me for this!"
"No, he won't!" she said and as she touched his hand L. W. let go and backed away.
"Well, all right, Miss Fortune," he stammered brokenly, "but—but he's got to git out of town!"
"I'll take him!" she answered and as the crowd fell back she speeded up and raced away.
"God bless you, ma'am," cried Ike Bray tremulously as she slowed up to let him down, "I'll do as much for you, some day! Is there anything, now, I can do?"
He had read the sudden wish in her eyes, but she hesitated long before she spoke.
"Yes," she said as she started ahead, "keep away from Rimrock Jones!"