“Come in!” he called, but as the door swung open it was Virginia who stood facing his gun.
“O–oh!” she screamed, and then she flushed angrily as Charley began to laugh.
“Well, laugh then, you fool,” she said to Wiley, “and when you’re through, just look at this that we found!”
She held up the ore-bag that Wiley had lost and strode dramatically in. “Look at that!” she cried, and strewing the white quartz on the table she pointed her finger in his face. “You stole my specimen!” she cried accusingly. “That’s why you came back for more. But you give it back to47me–I want it this minute. I see you’re honest–like your father!”
She spat it out venomously, more venomously than was needful, for he was already fumbling for the rock; and when he gave it back he smiled over-scornfully and his lower lip mounted up.
“All right,” he said, “you don’t have to holler for it. You’re getting to be just like your mother.”
“I’m not!” she denied, but after looking at him a minute she burst into tears and fled.
The wind was still blowing when Wiley was awakened by the cold of the October morning. In the house all was dark, on account of the blankets which Death Valley had nailed over the windows, but outside he could hear the thump of an axe and the whining yelp of a dog. Then Charley came in, his arms full of wood, and lit a roaring fire in the stove. Wiley dozed off again, for his leg had pained him and kept him awake half the night, and when he woke up it was to the strains of music and the mournful howls of Heine.
“Ah, you are so confectionate!” exclaimed Charley in honeyed tones and laughed and patted him on the back. “Don’t you like the fiddle, Heine? Well, listen to this now; the sweetest song of all.”
He stopped the rasping phonograph to put on another record and when Heine heard “Listen to the Mocking-bird” he barked and leapt with joy. Wiley listened for awhile, then he stirred in bed and at last he tried to get up; but his leg was very stiff and old Charley was oblivious, so he sank back and waited impatiently. Heine sat upon the49floor before the largest of three phonographs, which ground out the Mocking-bird with variations; and each time he heard the whistled notes of the bird he rolled his eyes on Charley with a soulful, beseeching glance. The evening before, when his master had cuffed him, Wiley had considered Heine badly abused; but now as the concert promised to drag on indefinitely he was forced to amend his opinion.
“Say,” he spoke up at last, in a pause between records, “what’s the chance of getting something to eat?”
“Yes, there’s plenty,” answered Charley, and went on with his frolic until Wiley rose up in disgust. He had heated some water, besides tearing down a blanket and letting the daylight in, when there came a hurried knock at the door and the Widow appeared with his breakfast. She avoided his eyes, but her manner was ingratiating and she supplied the conversation herself.
“Good morning!” she smiled,–“Charley, stop that awful racket and let Heine go out for his scraps. Well, I brought you your breakfast–Virginia isn’t feeling very well–and I hope you’re going to be all right. No, get right back into bed and I’ll prop you up with pillows; Charley’s got a hundred or so. I declare, it’s a question which can grab the most; old Charley or Stiff Neck George. Every time anyone moves out–and sometimes when they don’t–you’ll see those two ghouls hanging around; and the minute they’re50gone, well, you never saw anything like it, the way they will fight for the loot. Charley’s got a whole room filled up with bedding, and stoves and tables and chairs; and George–he’s vicious–he takes nearly everything and piles it up down in his warehouse. It isn’t his, of course, but─”
“He hauls it off in a wheelbarrow,” broke in Charley, virtuously. “He don’t care what he does. They was a widow woman here whose daughter got sick and she had to go out for a week, and when she came back─”
“Yes, her whole house was looted–he carried off even her sewing-machine!”
“And a deep line of wheelbarrow tracks,” added Charley, unctuously, “leading from her house right down to his. She nailed up all her windows before she went, but he─”
“Yes, he broke in,” supplied the Widow. “He’s a desperate character and everybody is afraid of him, so he can do whatever he pleases; but you bet your life he can’t run it over me–I filled him up with buckshot twice. Oh–that is–er–did you ever hear how he got his head twisted? Well, go right ahead now and eat up your toast. I asked him one time–that was before we’d had our trouble–what was the cause of his head being to one side. He looks, you know, for all the world like he was watching for a good kick from behind; but he tried to appear pathetic and told me a long story about saving a mother and her child in a flood. And when it was all over, according to him, he51fell down in a faint in the mud; but the best accounts I get say he was dead drunk in the gutter and woke up with his head on one side.”
She ended with a sniff and Wiley glanced at Charley, but he was staring blankly away.
“I don’t like that man,” spoke up Charley at last, “he kicked my dog, one time.”
“And he bootlegs something awful,” added the Widow, desperately, for fear that the chatter would lag. “There doesn’t a day go by but some drunken Piute comes whooping up the road, and that bunch of Shooshonnies─”
“Yes, he sells to the bucks,” observed Death Valley, slyly. “They’re no good–they get drunk and tell. But you can trust the squaws–I had one here yesterday─”
“You what?” shrieked the Widow, and Charley looked up startled, then rose and whistled to his dog.
“Go lay down!” he commanded and slapped him till he yelped, after which he slipped fearfully away.
“The very idea!” exclaimed the Widow frigidly and then she glanced at Wiley.
“Mr. Holman,” she began, “I came out here to talk business–there’s nothing round-the-corner about me. Now what about this tax sale, and what does Blount mean by allowing you to buy it in for nothing?”
“Well, I don’t know,” answered Wiley. “He refused to pay the taxes, so I bought in the property myself.”
52“Yes, but what does hemean?”
The Widow’s voice rose to the old quarrelsome, nagging pitch, and Wiley winced as if he had been stabbed.
“You’ll have to askhim, Mrs. Huff, to find out for sure; but to a man with one leg it looks like this. Whatever you can say about him, Samuel J. is a business man, and I think he decided that, as a business investment, the Paymaster wasn’t worth eighty-three, forty-one. Otherwise he would have bought it himself.”
“Unless, of course,” added the Widow scornfully, “there was some understanding between you.”
“Oh, yes, sure,” returned Wiley, and went on with his eating with a wearied, enduring sigh.
“Well, I declare,” exclaimed the Widow, after thinking it over, “sometimes I get so discouraged with the whole darned business you could buy me out for a cent!”
She waited for a response, but Wiley showed no interest, so she went on with her general complaint.
“First, it was the Colonel, with his gambling and drinking and inviting the whole town to his house; and then your father, or whoever it was, started all this stock market fuss; and from that time it’s gone from bad to worse until I haven’t a dollar to my name. I was brought up to be a lady–and so was Virginia–and now we’re keeping a restaurant!”
Wiley pulled down his lip in masterful silence and set the breakfast tray aside. It was nothing to53him what the Widow Huff suffered–she had brought it all on herself. And whenever she was ready to write to his father she could receive her ten cents a share. That would keep her as a lady for several years to come, if she had as many shares as she claimed; but there was nothing to his mind so flat, stale and unprofitable as a further discussion of the Paymaster. Indeed, with one leg wound up in a bandage, it might easily prove disastrous. So he looked away and, after a minute, the Widow again took up her plaint.
“Of course,” she said, “I’m not a business woman, and I may have made some mistakes; but it doesn’t seem right that Virginia’s future should be ruined, just because of this foolish family quarrel. The Colonel is dead now and doesn’t have to be considered; so–well, after thinking it over, and all the rest of it, I think I’ll accept your offer.”
“Which offer?” demanded Wiley, suddenly startled from his ennui, and the Widow regarded him sternly.
“Why, your offer to buy my stock–that paper you drew up for me. Here it is, and I’m willing to sign it.”
She drew out the paper and Wiley read it silently, then rolled it into a ball and chucked it into the corner.
“No,” he said, “that offer doesn’t hold. I didn’t know you then.”
“Well, you know me now!” she flashed back resentfully, “and you’d better come through with54that money. I’ve taken enough off of you and your father without standing for any more of your gall. Now you write me out a check for twenty thousand dollars and here’s my two hundred thousand shares. I know you’re robbing me but I simply can’t endure it–I can’t stay here a single day longer!”
She burst into angry tears as he shook his head and regarded her with steady eyes.
“No,” he said, “you can’t do business that way. I haven’t got twenty thousand dollars.”
“But–you offered it to me! You wrote out this paper and put it right under my eyes─”
“No,” he said, “I never offered you twenty thousand–I offered to take an option at that price. I wanted to see that mine, and I wanted to see it peaceably, and I thought I could do it that way; but that piece of paper simply gave me the option of buying the stock if I wanted to.”
“Well, you wanted to buy the stock–you were crazy to get hold of it–and now, when I’m willing, you won’t take it!”
“No, that’s right,” agreed Wiley, leaning back against his pillow. “And now, what are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going to kill you!” shrieked the Widow in a frenzy. “I’m going tomakeyou take it! I declare, it seems like every single soul is against me–and me a poor helpless woman!”
She sank back in a chair and began to sob hysterically and Wiley looked about for the old shotgun.55It was far too short, but it had served once as a crutch, and in a pinch it must serve him again. Keno was no place for him, he saw that very plainly, and it was better to risk the long drive across the desert than to stay with this weeping virago. If she didn’t kill him then she would kill him later, and he was powerless to strike back in defense. She would take advantage of every immunity of her sex to obtain her own way in the end. He located the gun–it was down behind his bed where he had dropped it when they helped him in–but as he was fishing it up the door burst open and Virginia stood looking at her mother. Behind her appeared Death Valley Charley, his eyes blinking fearfully; but at sight of the Widow he ducked around the corner while Virginia came resolutely in.
“Oh, mother!” she burst out in a pleading, reproachful voice, “can’t you see that Wiley is sick? Well, what’s the use of creating a scene when it’s likely to make him worse?”
“I don’t care!” wailed the Widow. “I hope he dies. I wish I’d killed him–I do!”
“You do not!” returned Virginia, and shook her reprovingly. “I declare, I wonder what poor father would think if he heard how we’d treated a guest. Now you go back to the house and don’t you come out again until Mr. Holman sends for you.”
“You shut up!” burst out the Widow, pushing her brusquely aside. “I guess I know what I’m about. But I’ll fool you,” she cried, whirling about56on Wiley as she started towards the door. “I’ll sell my stock to Blount!”
She paused for the effect but Wiley did not answer and she returned to pursue her advantage.
“I know you!” she announced. “You and old Honest John–you’re trying to steal my mine. But I’m going to fool you, I’m going right down to Vegas and sell every share to Blount!”
“Well, go to it,” returned Wiley after a long, defiant silence, “and I hope you stick him a-plenty!”
“Why, what’s the matter?” inquired the Widow, brushing Virginia away again and swaggering up to his bed. “I thought you and Blount were good friends.”
“Yeh, guess again,” replied Wiley grimly. “I’ll tell him the mine shows up fine.”
“Well, it does!” she asserted. “The Colonel said it wasn’t scratched. And didn’t you steal that piece of quartz from Virginia? Oh, you gave it back, eh? Well, how did it assay? I know you foundsomethingpretty good!”
“How could I give it back, if I’d had it assayed?” asked Wiley with compelling calm.
“Well whatdidyou come back for?” demanded the Widow, triumphantly. “You must have figured to win somewhere.”
“Yes, I did,” sighed Wiley, “but I was badly mistaken. All I want now is to get out of town.”
“Well, how about your father? That offer he made me! Has he backed out on that, too?”
“No, he hasn’t,” answered Wiley, “my father57keeps his word. You can get your money any time.”
“Well, of all the crazy crooked deals,” the Widow began to rave, and then Wiley grabbed for the shotgun.
“It may be crazy!” he shouted savagely, “but believe me, it isn’t crooked. My father never did a crooked thing in his life, and you know it as well as I do; and if it wasn’t that you’re such a crook yourself─”
“Wiley Holman!” raged the Widow, but he rose up on his crutch and shouldered his way out the door.
“You’re crazy!” he yelled, “the whole danged town’s crazy. All except old Charley and me.”
He jerked his head and winked at Charley as he hobbled towards the street and Death Valley nodded gravely. There was a long, hateful silence; then the great motor roared out and the white racer rushed away across the desert.
“Well, I don’t care!” declared the Widow as she gazed after his dust and when the stage went out that day it took a lady passenger to Vegas.
The madness of the Widow and Old Charley and Stiff Neck George was no mystery to Wiley Holman–it was the same form of mania which he encountered everywhere when he went to see men who owned mines. If he offered them a million for a ten-foot hole they would refuse it and demand ten million more, and if he offered them nothing they immediately scented a conspiracy to starve them out and gain possession of their mine. It was the illusion of hidden wealth, of buried treasure, which keeps half the mines in the West closed down and half of the rest in litigation; except that in Keno it seemed to be associated with gun-plays and a marked tendency towards homicide. So, upon his return from a short stay in the hospital he came up the main street silently, then stepped on the throttle and went through town a-smoking. But the Widow was out waiting for him in the middle of the road and, rather than run her down, he threw on both brakes and stopped.
“Well, what now?” he inquired, frowning at the odor of heated rubber. “What’s your particular59grievance this trip?” He regarded her coldly, then bowed to Virginia and waved a friendly hand at Charley. “Hello, there, Death Valley,” he called out jovially, as the Widow choked with a rush of words, “what’s the news from the Funeral Range?”
“Now, here!” exclaimed the Widow, advancing from the dust cloud, and glancing into the machine. “I want you to bring back that gun!”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Huff,” he replied with finality, “but you’ll have to get along without it. I turned it over to the sheriff, along with three buckshot and an affidavit regarding the shooting─”
“What, you great, big coward!” stormed the Widow in a fury. “Did you run and complain to the sheriff?”
“No, I walked,” said Wiley, “and on one leg at that. But I might as well warn you that next time you make a gun-play you’re likely to break into jail.”
“You’re a coward!” she taunted. “You’re standing in with Blount to beat me out of my mine. First you sneak off with my gun, so I can’t protect my rights, and then Stiff Neck George comes up and jumps the Paymaster!”
“The hell!” burst out Wiley, rising up in his seat and looking across at the mine.
“Yes, the hell,” she returned, “and he’s warned off all comers and is holding the mine for Blount!”
“For Blount!” he echoed and, seeing him roused at last, the Widow became subtly provocative.
60“For Samuel J. Blount,” she repeated impressively. “He–he’s got all my stock on a loan.”
“Oh!” observed Wiley, and as she raved on with her story he rubbed his chin in deep thought.
“Yes, I went down to see him and he wouldn’t buy it, so I left it as collateral on a loan. And then he came out here and looked over the mine again and told Stiff Neck George to stand guard. They’re fixing to pump out the water.”
“Oho!” exclaimed Wiley, and his eyes began to kindle as he realized what Blount had done. Then reaching for the pistol that lay handy beside his leg, he leapt out with waspish quickness, only to stop short as he hurt his lame foot.
“Go on!” hissed the Widow, advancing to his shoulder and pointing the way up the trail. “He stays right there by the dump. The mine is yours; go put him off–I would, if I had my gun.”
“Aw, pfooey!” he exclaimed, suddenly turning back and clamoring into his seat. “I’ve got one game leg already. Let ’im have the doggoned mine.”
“What? Are you going to back out? Well, you are a good one–and it stands in your name, this minute!”
“Yes, and it isn’t worth–that!” he said with conviction, and snapped his finger in the air. “He can have it. You can tell Blount, the next time you see him, he can buy in that tax title for the costs.”
He paused and muttered angrily, gazing off towards the dump where crooked-necked George61stood guard, and then he hopped out to crank up.
“Want a ride?” he asked, as he saw Virginia watching him and she hesitated and shook her head. “Come on,” he smiled, casting aside his black mood, “let’s take a little spin–just down on the desert and back. What’s going on–getting ready to move?”
He gazed with alarm at a pile of packing boxes that the Widow had marshaled on the gallery and then he looked back at Virginia. She was attired in a gown that had been very chic in the fall of nineteen ten, but, though it was scant for these bouffant days, she was the old Virginia still–slim and strong and dainty, and highbred in every line, with dark eyes that mirrored passing thoughts. She was the Virginia he had played with when Keno was booming and his own sisters had been there for company; and now after ten years he remembered the time when he had asked her, in vain, for a kiss.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” he said at last and Virginia stepped into the racer.
“Virginia!” reminded the Widow, and then at a glance she turned round and flung into the house. There were times and occasions when she had found it safer not to press her maternal authority too far, and the look that she received was first notice from Virginia that such an occasion had arrived. The motor began to thunder, Wiley threw in the clutch, and with a speed that was startling,62they whipped a sudden circle and went bubbling away down the road.
It stretched on endlessly, this road across the desert, as straight as a surveyor’s line, and as they cleared the rough gulches and glided down into its immensity Virginia glanced at the desert and sighed.
“Pretty big,” he suggested and as she nodded slowly he raised his eyes to the hills. “I don’t know,” he went on, “whether you’ll like Los Angeles. You’ll get lonely for this, sometimes.”
“Yes, but not for that”–she jerked a thumb back at Keno–“that place is pretty small. What’s left, of course; but it seems to me sometimes they’re all of them lame, halt and blind. Always quarreling and backbiting and jumping each other’s claims–but–what do you think of the Paymaster?”
She shot the question at him and it occurred suddenly to Wiley that perhaps she had a programme, too.
“Well, I’ll tell you,” he began, deftly changing his ground, “I’m in Dutch on that, all around. When I came home full of buckshot and the Old Man heard about it I got my orders to come back and apologize. Well, I’ll do that–to you–and you can tell your mother I’m sure sorry I went up on that dump.”
He grinned and motioned to his injured foot, but Virginia was in no mood for a joke.
“That’s all right,” she said, “and I accept your apology–though I don’t know exactly what it’s for. But I asked your opinion of the Paymaster.”
63“Oh, yes,” he replied and then he began to temporize. “You’d better tell me what you want it for, first.”
“What? Do you have one opinion for one set of people and another for somebody else? I thought!”─ She paused and the hot blood leapt to her cheeks as she saw where her temper had led her. “Well,” she explained, “I’ve got a few shares of stock.”
She said it quietly and the suggestion of scolding gave way to a chastened appeal. She remembered–and he sensed it–that winged shaft which he had flung back when she had said he was honest, like his father. He had told her then she was becoming like her mother, and Virginia could never endure that.
“Ah, I see,” he answered and went on hurriedly with a new note of friendliness in his voice. “Well, I’ll tell you, Virginia, if it will be any accommodation to you I’ll take over that stock myself. But–well, I hate to advise you–because–how many shares have you got?”
“Oh, several thousand,” she responded casually. “They were given to me by father–and by different men that I’ve helped. Mr. Masters, you know, that I took care of for a while, he gave me all he had when he died. But I don’t want to sell them–I know there’s no market, because Blount wouldn’t give Mother anything–but if he should happen to strike something─”
She glanced across at him swiftly but Wiley’s face was grim.
64“Yes,himfind anything!” he jeered. “That fat-headed old tub! He knows about as much about mining as a hog does about the precession of the equinox. No; miracles may happen but, short of that, he’ll never get back a cent!”
“No, but Wiley,” she protested, “you know as well as I do that the Paymaster isn’t worked out. Now what’s to prevent my stock becoming valuable sometime when they open it up?”
“What’s to prevent?” he repeated. “Well, I’ll tell you what. If Blount makes a strike he’ll close that mine down and send the company through bankruptcy. Then he’ll buy the mine back on a judgment and you’ll be left without a cent.”
“But what about you?” she suggested shrewdly. “Will you let him serveyoulike that?”
“Don’t you think it!” he answered. “I know him too well–my money is somewhere else.”
“But if you should buy the mine?”
“Well─” he stirred uneasily and then shot his machine ahead–“I haven’t bought it yet.”
“No, but you offered to, and I don’t see why─”
“Do you want to sell your stock?” he asked abruptly and she flushed and shook her head. “Well!” he said and without further comment he slowed down and swung about.
“Oh, dear,” she sighed, as they started back and he turned upon her swiftly.
“Do you know why I wouldn’t have that mine,” he inquired, “if you’d hand it to me as a gift? It’s because of this everlasting fight. I own it, right65now, if anybody does, and I’ve never been down the shaft. Now suppose I’d go over there and shoot it out with George and get possession of my mine. First Blount would come up with some other hired man-killer and I’d have a bout with him; and then your respected mother─”
“Now you hush up!” she chided and he closed down his jaw like a steel-trap. She watched him covertly, then her eyes began to blink and she turned her head away. The desert rushed by them, worlds of waxy green creosote bushes and white, gnarly clumps of salt bush; and straight ahead, frowning down on the forgotten city, rose the black cloud-shadow of Shadow Mountain.
“Oh, turn off here!” she cried, impulsively as they came to a fork in the road and, plowing up the sand, he skidded around a curve and struck off up the Death Valley road. They came together at the edge of the town–the long, straight road to the south, and the road-trail that led west into the silence. There were no tracks in it now but the flat hoof-prints of burros and the wire-twined wheel-marks of desert buckboards; even the road was half obliterated by the swoop of the winds which had torn up the hard-packed dirt, yet the going was good and as the racer purred on Virginia settled back in her seat.
“I can’t believe it,” she said at last, “that we’re going to leave here, forever. This is the road that Father took when he left home that last time–have you ever been over into Death Valley? It’s66a great, big sink, all white with salt and borax; and at the upper end, where he went across, there are miles and miles of sand-hills. He’s buried out there somewhere, and the hills have covered him–but oh, it’s so awful lonesome!”
She turned away again and as her head went down Wiley stared straight ahead and blinked. He had known the Colonel and loved him well, and his father had loved him, too; but that rift had come between them and until it was healed he could never be a friend of Virginia’s. She distrusted him in everything–in his silence and in his speech, his laughter and his anger, in his evasions and when he talked straight–it was better to say nothing now. He had intended to help her, to offer her money or any assistance he could give; but her heart was turned against him and the most he could hope for was to get back to Keno without a quarrel. The divide was far ahead, where the road struck the pass and swung over and down into the Great Valley; and, glancing up at the sun, he turned around slowly and rumbled back into town. Shadow Mountain rose before them; it towered above the valley like a brooding image of hate but as he smiled farewell at the sad-eyed Virginia something moved him to take her hand.
“Good-by,” he said, “you’ll be gone when I come back. But if you get into trouble–let me know.”
He gave her hand a squeeze and Virginia looked at him sharply, then she let her dark lashes droop.
67“I’m in trouble now,” she said at last. “What good did it do to tell you?”
He winced and shrugged his shoulders, then gazed at her again with a challenge in his eyes.
“If you’d trustmemore,” he said very slowly, “perhaps I’d trustyoumore. What is it you want me to do?”
“I want you to answer me–yes or no. Shall I keep my stock, or sell it?”
“You keep it,” he answered, and avoided her eye until she climbed out and entered the house.
“Well?” inquired the Widow as her daughter came back from her ride with Wiley Holman; but Virginia was not giving out confidences. At last, and by a trick, she had surprised the truth from Wiley and he had told her to keep her stock. For weeks, for months, he had told her and everybody else that the Paymaster was not worth having; but when she had drooped her lashes and asked him for his opinion he had told her not to sell. Not hesitatingly nor doubtfully, or with any crafty intent; but honestly, as a friend, perhaps as a lover–and then he had looked away. He knew, of course, how his past actions must appear in the light of this later advice; but he had told her the truth and gone. The question was: What should she do?
Virginia returned to her room and locked the door while her mother stormed around outside and at last she came to a decision. What Wiley had told her had been said in strictest confidence and it would not be fair to pass it on; but if he advised her not to sell he had a reason for his advice, and69that reason was not far to find. It was in that white stone that he had stolen from her collection, and in the white quartz he had gathered from the dump. He claimed, of course, that he had not had her specimen assayed; but why, then, had he come back for more? And why had he been so careful to tell her and everyone that he would not take the Paymaster as a gift? As a matter of fact, he owned it that minute by virtue of his delinquent tax-sale, and his goings and comings had been nicely timed to enable him to keep track of his property. He was shrewd, that was all, but now she could read him; for he had spoken, for once, from his heart.
The mail that night bore a sample of white quartz to a custom assayer in Vegas, but Virginia guarded her secret well. She had gained it by wiles that were not absolutely straight-forward, in that she had squeezed Wiley’s hand in return, and since by so doing she had compromised with her conscience she placated it by withholding the great news. If she told her mother she would create a scene with Blount and demand the return of her stock; and the secret would get out and everybody would be buying stock and Wiley would blame it on her. No, everything must be kept dark and she mailed her sample when even the postmistress was gone. Perhaps Wiley was right in his extreme subterfuges and in always covering up his hand, but she would show him that there were others just as smart. She would take a leaf from his book and70play a lone hand, too; only now, of course, she could not leave town.
“Virginia!” scolded the Widow, when for the hundredth time she had discovered her dawdling at her packing. “If you don’t get up and come and help me this minute I’ll unpack and let you go alone.”
“Well, let’s both unpack,” said Virginia thoughtfully, and the Widow sat down with a crash.
“I knew it!” she cried. “Ever since that Wiley Holman─”
“Now, you hush up!” returned Virginia, flushing angrily. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Well, if I don’t know I can guess; but I never thought a Huff─”
“Oh, you make me tired!” exclaimed Virginia, spitefully. “I’m staying here to watch that mine.”
“That–mine!” The Widow repeated it slowly and her eyes opened up big with triumph. “Virginia, do you mean to say you got the best of that whipper-snapper and─”
“No, nothing of the kind! No! Can’t you hear me? Oh, Mother, you’d drive a person crazy!”
“I–see!” observed the Widow and stood nodding her head as Virginia went on with her protests. “Oh, my Lord!” she burst out, “and I put up all my stock for a measly eight hundred dollars! That scoundrelly Blount–I saw it in his eye the minute I mentioned my stock! He’s tricked me, the rascal; but I’ll fool him yet–I’ll pay him back and get my stock!”
71“You’ll pay him back? Why, you’ve spent half the money to redeem your jewels and the diamonds!”
“Well, I’ll pawn them again. Oh, it makes me wild to think how that rascal has tricked me!”
“But, Mother,” protested Virginia, “hehasn’t done any work yet. They haven’t made any strike at the mine. Why not let it go until they pump out the water and really find some ore? And besides, how could Wiley know anything about it? He’s never been down the shaft.”
“But–why you told me yourself─”
“I never told you anything!” burst out Virginia tearfully. “You just jump at everything like a flea. And now you’ll tell everybody, and Wiley’ll say I did it, and─”
“Virginia Huff!” cried her mother, dramatically, “are you in love with that–thief?”
“He is not! No, I am not! Oh, I wish you’d quit talking to me–I tell you he never told meanything!”
“Well, for goodness sake!” exclaimed the Widow pityingly, and stalked off to think it over.
“You, Charley!” she exclaimed as she found Death Valley on the gallery pretending to nail up a box, “you leave those things alone. Well, that’s all right; we’ve changed our minds and now we’re going to stay.”
“That’s good,” replied Charley, laying his hammer aside, “I’ve been telling ’em so for days. It’s coming everywhere; all the old camps are opening up, but Keno will beat them all.”
72“Yes, that’s right,” assented the Widow absently, and as she bustled away to begin her unpacking, Death Valley looked at Heine and leered.
“Didn’t I tell you!” he crowed and, scuttling back to get his six-shooter, he went out and began re-locating claims. That was the beginning. The real rush came later when the pumps began to throb in the Paymaster. A stream of water like a sheet of silver flowed down the side of the dump and as if it’s touch had brought forth men from the desert sands, the old-timers came drifting in. Once more the vacant sidewalks resounded to the thud of sturdy hob-nailed boots; and along with the locaters came pumpmen and miners to sound the flooded depths of the Paymaster.
It was a great mine, a famous mine, the richest in all the West; within twenty months it had produced twelve million dollars and the lower levels had never been touched. But what was twelve million to what it would turn out when they located the hidden ore-body? On its record alone the Paymaster was a world-beater, but the ground had barely been scratched. Even Samuel Blount, who was cold as a stone and had sold out the entire town, even he had caught the contagion; and he was talking large on the bank corner when Holman came back through town.
Wiley drove in from the north, his face burned by sun and wind and his machine weighed down with sacks of samples, but when he saw the crowd,73and Blount in the middle of it, he threw on his brakes with a jerk.
“Hello!” he hailed. “What’s all the excitement? Has the Paymaster made a strike?”
All eyes turned to Blount, who stepped down ponderously and waddled out to the auto. He was a very heavy man, with his mouth on one side and a mild, deceiving smile; and as he shook hands perfunctorily he glanced uneasily at Wiley, for he had heard about the tax-sale.
“Why, no,” he replied, “no strike as yet. How’s everything with you, Mr. Holman?”
“Fine and dandy, I guess,” returned Wiley civilly. “Where did all these men jump up from?”
“Oh, they just dropped in, or stopped over in passing. Do you still take an interest in mines?”
“Well, yes,” responded Wiley. “I’m a mining engineer, and so naturally I do take quite an interest. And by the way, Mr. Blount, did it ever occur to you that the Paymaster has been sold for taxes? Oh, that’s all right, that’s all right; I didn’t know whether you’d heard about it–do you recognize my title to the mine?”
“Well,” began Blount, and then he smiled appeasingly, “I didn’t just know where to reach you. Of course, according to law, you do hold the title; but I suppose you know that the stockholders of the company have five years in which to buy back the mine. Yes, that is the law; but I thought under the circumstances–the mine lying idle and all–you74might be willing to waive your strict rights in the interests of, well, harmony.”
“I get you,” answered Wiley, glancing at the staring onlookers, “and of course these gentlemen are our witnesses. You acknowledge my title, and that every bit of your work is being done on another man’s ground; but, of course, if you make a strike I won’t put any obstacles in your way. I’m for harmony, Mr. Blount, as big as a wolf; but there’s one thing I want to ask you. Did you or did you not employ this Stiff Neck George to act as guard on the mine? Because two months ago, after I’d bought in the Paymaster for taxes, I went over to inspect the ground and Stiff Neck George─”
“Oh, no! Oh dear, no!” protested Blount vigorously. “He was acting for himself. I heard about his actions, but I had nothing to do with them–I never even knew about it till lately.”
“But was he in your employ at the time of the shooting, and did you tell him to drive off all comers? Because─”
“No! My dear boy, of course not! But come over to my office; I want to talk with you, Wiley.”
The banker beamed upon him affectionately and, shaking out a white handkerchief, wiped the sudden sweat from his brow; and then Wiley leapt to the ground.
“All right,” he said, “but let’s go and see the mine first.”
He strapped on his pistol and waited expectantly75and at last Blount breathed heavily and assented. Nothing more was said as they went across the flat and toiled up the trail to the mine. Wiley walked behind and as they mounted to the shaft-house his eyes wandered restlessly about; until, at the tool-shed, they suddenly focussed and a half-crouching man stepped out. He was tall and gnarly and the point of his chin rested stiffly on the slope of his shoulder. It was Stiff Neck George and he kept a crook in his elbow as he glanced from Blount to Wiley.
“How’s this?” demanded Wiley, putting Blount between him and George, “what’s this man doing up here?”
“Why, that’s George,” faltered Blount, “George Norcross, you know. He works for me around the mine.”
“Oh, he does, eh?” observed Wiley, in the cold tones of an examining lawyer. “How long has he been in your employ?”
“Oh, since we opened up–that’s all–just temporarily. This gentleman is all right, George; you can go.”
Stiff Neck George stood silent, his sunken eyes on Wiley, his sunburned lips parted in a grin, and then he turned and spat.
“Eh, heh; hiding!” he chuckled and, stung by the taunt, Wiley stepped out into the open. His gun was pulled forward, his jaws set hard, and he looked the hired man-killer in the eye.
“Don’t you think it,” he said, “I know you too76well. You’re afraid to fight in the day-time; you dirty, sneaking murderer!”
He waited, poised, but George only laughed silently, though his poisonous eyes began to gleam.
“What are you doing on my ground?” demanded Wiley, advancing threateningly with his pistol raised. “Don’t you know I own this mine?”
“No,” snarled Stiff Neck George, coming suddenly to a crouch, “and, furthermore, I don’t give a damn!”
“Now, now, George,” broke in Blount, “let’s not have any words. Mr. Holman holds the title to this claim.”
“Heh–Holman!” mocked George, “Honest John’s boy–eh?” He laughed insultingly and spat against the wind and Wiley’s lip curled up scornfully.
“Yes–Honest John,” he repeated evenly. “And it’s a wonder to me you don’t take a few lessons and learn to spit clear of your chin.”
“You shut up!” snapped George as venomous as a rattlesnake. “Your damned old father was a thief!”
“You’re a liar!” yelled Wiley and, swinging his pistol like a club, he made a rush at the startled gunman. His eyes were flashing with a wild, reckless fury and as Stiff Neck George dodged and broke to run he leapt in and placed a fierce kick. “Now you git, you old dastard!” he shouted hoarsely and as George went down he grabbed him by the trousers and sent him sprawling down the dump. Sand, rocks and waste went avalanching after him,77and a loose boulder thundered in his wake, until, at the bottom George scrambled to his feet and stood motionless, looking back. His head sank lower as he saw Wiley watching him and he slunk down closer to the ground, then with the swiftness of a panther that has marked down its prey he turned and skulked away.
“That’s bad business, Wiley,” protested Blount half-heartedly and Wiley nodded assent.
“Yes,” he said, “he’s dangerous now. I should have killed the dastard.”
While his blood was pounding and his heart was high, Wiley Holman went down into his mine. He rode down on the bucket, deftly balanced on the rim and fending off the wall with one hand, and when he came up he was smiling. Not smiling with his lips, but far back in his eyes, like a man who has found something good. Perhaps Blount surprised the look before it had fled for he beamed upon Wiley benevolently.
“Well, Wiley, my boy,” he began confidentially as he drew him off to one side, “I’m glad to see you’re pleased. The gold is there–I find that everyone thinks so–all we need now is a little co-operation. That’s all we need now–peace. We should lay aside all personal feelings and old animosities and join hands to make the Paymaster a success.”
“That’s right, that’s right,” agreed Wiley cheerfully, “there’s nobody believes in peace more than I do. But all the same,” he went on almost savagely, “you’ve got to get rid of old George. I’m for peace, you understand, but if I find him here again–well, I’ll have to take over the property. He’s nothing but a professional murderer.”
79“Yes, I know,” explained Blount, “he’s a dangerous man–but I don’t like to let an old man starve. He’s got a right to live the same as any of us, and, since he can’t work–well, I gave him a job as watchman.”
“Well, all right,” grumbled Wiley, “if you want to be charitable; but I suppose you know that, under the law, you’re responsible for the acts of your agents?”
“That’s all right, that’s all right,” burst out Blount impatiently, “I’ll never hire him again. He refused to obey my orders and─”
“Andhe tried to kill me!” broke in Wiley angrily, but Blount had thrown up both hands.
“Oh, now, Wiley,” he protested, “why can’t we be reasonable? Why can’t we get together on this?”
“We can,” returned Wiley, “but you’ve got to show me that you’re not trying to jump my claim.”
“Oh, you know,” exclaimed Blount, “as well as I do that a tax sale is never binding. The owners of the property are given five years’ time─”
“It is binding,” corrected Wiley, “until the property is bought back–and I happen to be holding the deed. Now, here’s the point–what authority have you got for coming in here and working this property?”
“Well, you may as well know,” replied Blount shortly, “that I own a majority of the stock.”
“Aha!” burst out Wiley. “I was listening for that. So you’re the Honest John?”
80“What do you mean?” demanded Blount and, seeing the anger in his eyes, he hastened to head off the storm. “No, now listen to me, Wiley; it’s not the way you think. I knew your father well, and I always found him the soul of honor; but I never liked to say anything, because Colonel Huff was my partner, too. So, when this trouble arose, I tried to remain neutral, without joining sides with either. It pained me very much to have people make remarks reflecting upon the honesty of your father, but as the confidant of both it was hardly in good taste for me to give out what I knew. So I let the matter go, hoping that time would heal the breach; but now that the Colonel is dead─”
“Aha!” breathed Wiley and Blount nodded his head lugubriously.
“Yes,” he said, “that is the way it was. Your father was absolutely honest.”
“Well, but who sold the stock, and then bought it back–and put all the blame on my father?”
“I can’t tell you,” answered Blount. “I never speak evil of the dead–but the Colonel was a very poor business man.”
“Yes, he was,” agreed Wiley, and then, after a silence: “How did it happen that you got all his stock?”
“Well, on mortgages and notes; and now as collateral on a loan that I made his widow. I own a clean majority of the stock.”
“Oh, you do, eh?” observed Wiley and rubbed81his jaw thoughtfully while Blount looked mildly on. “Well, what are you going to do?”
“Why, I’d like to buy back that tax deed,” answered Blount amiably, “and get control of my property.”
“Oh,” said Wiley, and looked down the valley with eyes that squinted shrewdly at the sun. “All right,” he agreed, “just to show you that I’m a sport, I’ll give you a quit-claim deed right now for the sum of one hundred dollars.”
“You will?” challenged Blount, reaching tremulously for his fountain pen and then he paused at a thought. “Very well,” he said, but as he filled out the form he stopped and gazed uneasily at Wiley. Here was a mining engineer selling a possessory right to the Paymaster for the sum of one hundred dollars; while he, a banker, was spending a hundred dollars a day in what had proved so far to be dead work. “Er–I haven’t any money with me,” he suggested at length. “Perhaps–well, perhaps you could wait?”
“Sure!” replied Wiley, rising up from where he was seated, “I’ll wait for anything, except my supper. Where’s the best place to eat in town, now?”
“Why, at Mrs. Huff’s,” returned Blount in surprise. “But about this quit-claim, perhaps a check would do as well?”
“What, are the Huffs still here?” exclaimed Wiley, starting off. “Why, I thought─”
“No, they decided to stay,” answered Blount,82following after him. “But now, Wiley, about this quit-claim?”
“Well, gimme your check! Or keep it, I don’t care–I came away without my breakfast this morning.”
He strode off down the trail and Blount pulled up short and stood gazing after him blankly, then he shouted to him frantically and hurried down the slope to where Wiley was waiting impatiently.
“Here, just sign this,” he panted. “I’ll write you out a check. But what’s the matter, Wiley–didn’t the mine show up as expected?”
Wiley muttered unintelligibly as he signed the quit-claim which he retained until he had looked over the check. Then he folded up the check and kissed it surreptitiously before he stored it away in his pocketbook.
“Why, yes,” he said, “it shows up fine. I’ll see you later, down at the house.”
Blount sat down suddenly, but as Wiley clattered off he shouted a warning after him.
“Oh, Wiley, please don’t mention that matter I spoke of!”
“What matter?” yelled back Wiley and at another disquieting thought Blount jumped up and came galloping after him.
“The matter of the Colonel,” he panted in his ear, “and here’s another thing, Wiley. You know Mrs. Huff–she’s absolutely impossible and–well, she’s been making me quite a little trouble. Now as a personal favor, please don’t lend her any money83or help her to get back her stock; because if you do─”
“I won’t!” promised Wiley, holding up his right hand. “But say, don’t stop me–I’m starving.”
He ran down the trail, limping slightly on his game leg, and Blount sat down on a rock.
“Well, I’ll be bound!” he puffed and gazed at the quit-claim ruefully.
The tables were all set when Wiley re-entered the dining-room from which he had retreated once before in such haste, and Virginia was there and waiting, though her smile was a trifle uncertain. A great deal of water had flowed down the gulch since he had advised her to keep her stock, but the assayer at Vegas was worse than negligent–he had not reported on the piece of white rock. Therefore she hardly knew, being still in the dark as to his motives in giving the advice, whether to greet Wiley as her savior or to receive him coldly, as a Judas. If the white quartz was full of gold that her father had overlooked–say fine gold, that would not show in the pan–then Wiley was indeed her friend; but if the quartz was barren and he had purposely deceived her in order to boom his own mine–she smiled with her lips and asked him rather faintly if he wanted his supper at once.
But if Virginia was still a Huff, remembering past treacheries and living in the expectancy of more, the Widow cast aside all petty heart-burnings in her joy at the humiliation of Stiff Neck George. Leaving Virginia in the kitchen, to fry Wiley’s84steak, she rushed into the dining-room with her eyes ablaze and all but shook his hand.
“Well, well,” she exulted, “I’ll have to take it back–you certainly did boot him good. I said you were a coward but I was watching you through my spy-glass and I nearly died a-laughing. You just walked right up to him–and you were cursing him scandalous, I could tell by the look on your face–and then all at once you made a jump and gave him that awful kick. Oh, ho, ho; you know I’ve always said he looked like a man that was watching for a swift kick from behind; and now–after waiting all these years–oh, ho ho–you gave him what was coming to him!”
The Widow sat down and held her sides with laughter and Wiley’s grim features, that had remained set and watchful, slowly relaxed to a flattered grin. He had indeed stood up to Stiff Neck George and booted him down the dump, so that the score of that night when he had been hunted like a rabbit was more than evened up; for George had sneaked up on an unarmed man and rolled down boulders from above, but he had outfaced him, man to man and gun to gun, and kicked him down the dump to boot. Yes, the Widow might well laugh, for it would be many a long day before Stiff Neck George heard the last of that affair.
“And old Blount,” laughed the Widow, “he was right there and saw it–his own hired bully, and all. Say, now Wiley, tell me all about it–what did Blount have to say? Did he tell you it was85all a mistake? Yes, that’s what he tells everybody, every time he gets into trouble; but he can’t make excuses to me. Do you know what he’s done? He’s tied up all my stock as security for eight hundred dollars! What’s eight hundred dollars–I turned it all in to get the best of my diamonds out of pawn. It made me feel so bad, seeing that diamond ring of yours; I just couldn’t help getting them out. And now I’m flat and he’s holding all my stock for a miserable little eight hundred dollars!”
She ended up strong, but Wiley sensed a touch and his expressions of sympathy were guarded.
“Now, you’re a business man,” she went on unheedingly. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do–you lend me the money to get back that stock and I’ll sell it all to your father!”
“To my father!” echoed Wiley and then his face turned grim and he laughed at some hidden joke. “Not much,” he said, “I like the Old Man too much. You’d better sell it back to Blount.”
“To Blount? Why, hasn’t your father been hounding me for months to get his hands on that stock? Well, I’d like to know then what you think you’re doing? Have you gone back on your promise, or what?”
“I never made any promise,” returned Wiley pacifically. “It was my father that made the offer.”
“Oh, fiddlesticks!” exploded the Widow. “Well,86what’s the difference–you’re working hand and glove!”
“Not at all,” corrected Wiley, “the Old Man is raising cattle. You can’t get him to look at a mine.”
“Well, he offered to buy my stock!” exclaimed the Widow, badly flustered. “I’d like to know what this means?”
“It’s no use talking,” returned Wiley wearily, “I’ve told you a thousand times. If you send your stock to John Holman at Vegas, he’ll give you ten cents a share; butIwon’t give you a cent.”
“Do you mean to say,” demanded the Widow incredulously, “that you don’t want that stock?”
“That’s it,” assented Wiley. “I’ve just sold my tax title for a hundred dollars, to Blount.”
“Oh, this will drive me mad!” cried the Widow in a frenzy. “Virginia, come in here and help me!”
Virginia came in with the steak slightly scorched and laid his dinner before Wiley. Her eyes were rather wild, for she had been listening through the doorway, but she turned to her mother inquiringly.
“He says he’s sold his tax claim,” wailed the Widow in despair, “for one hundred dollars–to Blount. And then he turns around and says his father will buy my stock for ten cents a share in cash. But he won’t lend me the money to pay my note to Blount and get my Paymaster stock back.”
“That’s right,” nodded Wiley, “you’ve got it87all straight. Now let’s quit before we get into a row.”
He bent over the steak and, after a meaning look at Virginia, the Widow discreetly withdrew.
“We saw you fighting George,” ventured Virginia at last as he seemed almost to ignore her presence. “Weren’t you afraid he’d get mad and shoot you?”
“Uh, huh,” he grunted, “wasn’t I hiding behind Blount? No, I had him whipped from the start. Bad conscience, I reckon; these crooks are all the same–they’re afraid to fight in the open.”
“Butyourconscience is all right, eh?” suggested Virginia sarcastically, and he glanced up from under his brows.
“Yes,” he said, “we’ve got ’em there, Virginia. Are you still holding onto that stock?”
A swift flood of shame mantled Virginia’s brow and then her dark eyes flashed fire.
“Yes, I’ve got it,” she said, “but what’s the answer when you sell out your tax claim to Blount?”
“I wonder,” he observed and went on with his eating while she paced restlessly to and fro.
“You told me to hold it,” she burst out accusingly, “and then you turn around and sell!”
“Well, why don’tyousell?” he suggested innocently, and she paused and bit her lip. Yes, why not? Why, because there were no buyers–except Wiley Holman and his father! The knowledge of her impotence almost drove her on to further madness, but another voice bade her beware. He had given her his advice, which was not to sell, and–oh,88that accursed assayer! If she had his report she could flaunt it in his face or–she caught her breath and smiled.
“No,” she said, “you told me not to!”
And Wiley smiled back and patted her hand.
What was Wiley Holman up to? Virginia paced the floor in a very unloverlike mood; and at last she sat down and wrote a scathing letter to the assayer, demanding her assay at once. She also enclosed one dollar in advance to test the sample for gold and silver and then, as an afterthought, she enclosed another bill and told him to test it for copper, lead, and zinc. There was something in that rock–she knew it just as well as she knew that Wiley was in love with her, and this was no time to pinch dollars. For ten years and more they had stuck there in Keno, waiting and waiting for something to happen, but now things had come to such a pass that it was better to know even the worst. For if the mine was barren and Wiley, after all, was only trying in his dumb way to help, then she must pocket her pride and sell him her stock and go away and hide her head. But if the white quartz was rich–well, that would be different; there would be several things to explain.
Yet, if the quartz was barren, why did Wiley offer to buy her stock, and if it was rich, why did90he sell his tax deed? And if his father stood ready to pay ten cents a share for two hundred thousand shares of stock why did Wiley refuse to redeem her mother’s holdings for a petty eight hundred dollars? He must have the money, for his diamond ring alone was worth well over a thousand dollars; and he had tried repeatedly to get possession of this same stock which he now refused to accept as a gift. Virginia thought it over until her head was in a whirl and at last she stamped her foot. The assay would tell, and if he had been trying to cheat her–she drew her lips to a thin, hard line and looked more than ever like her mother.
The work at the Paymaster went on intermittently, but Blount’s early zest was lacking. For eight, yes, ten years he had waited patiently for the moment when he should get control of the mine; but now that he held it, without let or hindrance, somehow his enthusiasm flagged. Perhaps it was the fact that the timbering was expensive and that his gropings for the lost ore body came to nothing; but in the back of his mind Blount’s growing distrust dated from the day he had bought Wiley’s quit-claim. Wiley had come to the mine full of fury and aggressiveness, as his combat with Stiff Neck George clearly showed; but after he had gone down and inspected the workings he had sold out for one hundred dollars. And Wiley Holman was a mining engineer, with a name for Yankee shrewdness–he must have had a reason.
Blount recalled his men from the drifts where91they had been working and set them to crosscutting for the vein. It was too expensive, restoring all the square-sets and clearing out the fallen rock; and he had learned to his sorrow that Colonel Huff had blown up every heading with dynamite. In that tangle of shattered timbers and caved-in walls the miners made practically no progress, for the ground was treacherous and ten years under water had left the wood soft and slippery. To be sure the hidden chute lay at the breast of some such drift; but to clear them all out, with his limited equipment and no regular engineer in charge, would run up a staggering account. So Blount began to crosscut, and to sink along the contact, but chiefly to cut down expenses.
With the railroad that had tapped the camp torn up and hauled away, every foot of timber, every stick of powder, cost twice as much as it ought. And then there was machinery, and gas and oil for the engine, and valves and spare parts for the pumps, and the board of the men, and overhead expenses–and not a single dollar coming in. Blount sat up late in his office, adding total to total, and at the end he leaned back aghast. At the very inside it was costing him two hundred dollars for every day that he operated the mine. And what was it turning back? Nothing. The mine had been gutted of every pound of ore that it would pay to sack and ship, and unless something was done to locate the lost ore body and give some guarantee of future values, well, the Paymaster92would have to shut down. Blount considered it soberly, as a business man should, and then he sent for Wiley Holman.
There were others, of course, to whom he might appeal; but he sent for Wiley first. He was a mining engineer, he had had his eye on the property and–well, he probably knew something about the lost vein. So he sent a wire, and then a man; and at last Holman, M. E., arrived. He came under protest, for he had been showing a mine of his own to some four-buckle experts from the east, and when Blount made his appeal he snorted.
“Well, for the love of Miguel!” he exclaimed, starting up. “Do you think I’m going to help you for nothing? I’m a mining engineer, and the least it will cost you is five hundred dollars for a report. No, I don’t think anything; and I don’t know anything; and I won’t take your mine on shares. I’m through–do you get me? I sold out my entire interest for one hundred dollars, cash. That puts me ahead of the game, up to date; and while I’m lucky I’ll quit.”
He stamped out of the office–Blount having moved into the bank building where he had formerly officiated as president–and made a break for his machine; but other eyes had marked his arrival in town and Death Valley Charley button-holed him.
“Say,” he said, “do you want something good–an option on ten first-class claims? Well, come with me; I’ll make you an offer that you can’t hardly, possibly refuse.”
93He led Wiley up an alley, then whisked him around corners and back to his house behind the Widow’s.
“Now, listen,” he went on, when Wiley was in a chair and he had carefully fastened the door, “I’m going to show you something good.”
He reached under his bed and brought out ten sacks of samples which he spread, one by one, on the table.
“Now, you see?” he said. “It’s all that white quartz that you was after on the Paymaster dump. I followed the outcrop, on an extension of the Paymaster, and I took up ten, good, opened claims.”
“Umm,” murmured Wiley, and examined each sample with a careful, appraising eye. “Yes, pretty good, Charley; I suppose you guarantee the title? Well, how much do you want for your claims?”
“Oh, whatever you say,” answered Charley modestly, “but I want two hundred dollars down.”
“And about a million apiece, I suppose, for the claims? It doesn’t costmeanything, you know, on an option.”
“Eh, heh, heh,” laughed Charley indulgently and Heine, who had been looking from face to face, jumped up and barked with delight. “Eh, heh; yes, that’s good; but you know me, Mr. Holman–I ain’t so crazy as they think. No, I don’t talk millions with my mouth full of beans; all I want is five hundred apiece. But I got to have two hundred down.”
“Oh,” observed Wiley, “that’s two dollars for94the marriage license and the rest for the wedding journey. Well, if it’s as serious as that─” He reached for his check-book and Charley cackled with merriment.
“Yes, yes,” he said, “then Iwouldbe crazy. Do you know what the Colonel told me?
“‘Charley,’ he says, ‘whatever you do, don’t marry no talking woman. She’ll drive you crazy, the same as I am; but don’t you forget that whiskey.’”
“Oh, sure,” exclaimed Wiley, beginning to write out the option, “this money is to buy whiskey for the Colonel!”
“That’s it,” answered Charley. “He’s over across Death Valley–in the Ube-Hebes–but I can’t find my burros. They–Heine, come here, sir!” Heine came up cringing and Charley slapped him soundly. “Shut up!” he commanded and as Heine crept away Death Valley began to mutter to himself. “No, of course not; he’s dead,” he ended ineffectively, and Wiley looked up from his writing.
“Who’s dead?” he inquired, but Charley shook his head and listened through the wall.
“Look out,” he said, “I can hear her coming–jest give me that two hundred now.”
“Well, here’s twenty,” replied Wiley, passing over the money, and then there came a knock at the door.
“Come in!” called out Charley and, as he motioned Wiley to be silent, Virginia appeared in the doorway.
95“Oh!” she cried, “I didn’t know you were here!” But something in the way she fixed her eyes on him convinced Wiley that she had known, all the same.
“Just a matter of business,” he explained with a flourish, “I’m considering an option on some of Charley’s claims.”
“Jest my bum claims!” mumbled Charley as Virginia glanced at him reprovingly. “Jest them ten up north of the Paymaster.”
“Oh,” she said and drew back towards the door, “well, don’t let me break up a trade.”
“You’d better sign as a witness,” spoke up Wiley imperturbably, and she stepped over and looked at the paper.
“What? All ten of those claims for five hundred apiece? Why, Charley, they may be worth millions!”
“Well, put it down five million, then,” suggested Wiley, grimly. “How much do you want for them, Charley?”
“Five hundred dollars apiece,” answered Charley promptly, “but they’s got to be two hundred down.”
“Well?” inquired Wiley as Virginia still regarded him suspiciously, and then he beckoned her outside. “Say, what’s the matter?” he asked reproachfully. “Let the old boy make his touch–he wants that two hundred for grub.”
“He does not!” she spat back. “I’m ashamed of you, Wiley Holman; taking advantage of a crazy man like that!”
96“Well, I don’t know,” he began in a slow, drawling tone that cut her to the quick, “he may not be as crazy as you think. I’ve just been offered a half interest in the Paymaster if I’ll come out and take charge of it.”
“Youhave!” she cried, starting back and staring as he regarded her with steely eyes. “Well, are you going to take it?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Thought I’d better see you first–it might be taking advantage of Blount.”
“Of Blount!” she echoed and then she saw his smile and realized that he was making fun of her.
“Yes,” went on Wiley, whose feelings had been ruffled, “he may be crazy, too. He sure was looking the part.”
“Now don’t you laugh at me!” she burst out hotly. “This isn’t as funny as you think. What’s going to happen to us if you take over that mine? I declare, you’ve been standing in with Blount!”
“I knew it,” he mocked. “You catch me every time. But what about Charley here–does he get his money or not?” He turned to Death Valley, who was standing in the doorway watching their quarrel with startled eyes. “I guess you’re right, Charley,” he added, smiling wryly. “It must be something in the air.”