When Constable Hope had made his report upon Berwick's abiding-place, and added to it particulars as to his visitors, and the council held on the Dome, Smoothbore recognized that he had to do with a man of more than ordinary character and intelligence. In the first place, a council held upon the Dome's summit in broad daylight was not susceptible to eavesdropping. As a base of assault upon the town, a modern rifle might drop a bullet into the barrack yard. There were possibly fifty thousand men against less than two hundred!
As a matter of fact, six hundred officers and men were on their way to the Yukon, via the Stikeen route: that is, if they had not got "cold feet" and turned back. In any case, such military outfits were of little good. Being a staunch believer in the Police, Smoothbore had little faith in the Militia!
The report of the meeting on the Dome wasto the effect that council had been held and that the different parties attending it had immediately left town. Berwick's former residence had been abandoned, and its other occupants (who had been at the meeting) were not to be seen in any of the dance-halls or gambling-saloons.
Crossing the quadrangle of the Barracks from the orderly-room towards his own private office, immediately after reading the report of Constable Hope, Smoothbore met Inspector Herbert, the officer of the day.
Smoothbore returned the other's salute and stopped, which brought Herbert to a standstill also, and then, glancing over his shoulder at the Dome towering behind the town, inquired,
"Herbert, how would you like leading a squad of men against a trenched position on the top of the Dome?"
"The only way a man could storm that position would be by flying machine—and they're not invented yet. But you might cut off the enemy's supplies—that is, if you had enough men—or their water—there is no water except in the draw at the back. Were you thinking of having some manœuvres, sir?"
"Manœuvres may be made necessary by the dread realities of war."
Herbert opened his eyes wide, and looked at his chief. Smoothbore did not return his gaze;he was still looking intently at the top of the hill, where he could see a flag-staff and the figure of a man. Herbert followed his gaze, noted the human figure, and made to take his military glasses from their case. But his superior checked him. "Don't look up there with your glasses; some one may have his on us."
"You don't mean that you seriously fear an insurrection," Herbert then exclaimed; "that these dirty prospectors will show fight?" Herbert had a contempt for the populace similar to that of Louis XV.
Smoothbore turned to him. "There are as many known murderers in Dawson as there are mounted police in the whole of the Yukon. On that hill there is a man who quotes Scripture; can probably string out his pedigree to the Conquest; and propounds the doctrine that the man who steals another's substance steals that portion of his life which went to the acquiring of that substance. This is a dangerous doctrine—because it makes our grafters murderers! The great majority of his followers will absorb this doctrine without question. Every one of the discontented is ready to lay the responsibility of his non-success on the shoulders of the officials. God knows we have real grafting and grafters enough; but if you would hear each separate tale of woe, or the different tales of woe that eachmalcontent will unburden himself of at the least excuse, and add the whole together, the sum would involve twice the number of claims at present made in the Yukon Valley. It does not matter that these injuries are many of them fancied: the effect upon the possessor of the delusion is the same. These men have endured countless hardships on the trail: they have—many of them—staked their all in the venture. The hopes they encouraged within themselves as they struggled to the goal have given place to dejection. Now they find themselves at the end of their resources, and their ways are blocked by corruption! Can you not understand how little organized agitation will ferment rebellion?"
"And they have abundant ammunition," commented Herbert, ever-practical.
"They brought a great supply with them, thinking to kill game on the way. They met little or none, and consequently have their ammunition unspent. Look in at any of the second-hand shops, and you will find numbers of the highest class of modern rifles, with stacks of ammunition, on sale at half their original cost."
"Then you really fear rebellion?"
"Not fear, but I think rebellion is not improbable. Officers of the mounted police don't fear anything this side of the Great Divide," and the speaker smiled.
"Would it not be well to arrest the ringleaders, and nip the thing in the bud?" asked the Inspector.
"We have no charge to lay against them, except the voicing of sedition; and there was only one man who did so. And if we did arrest him—no! it would not do! Besides: sedition!—there are enough people voicing sedition within earshot of Whitehall to keep the prisons of England filled were they all arrested. It would be a hard thing to get a jury to convict on a charge of sedition."
With this the Commandant continued his way to his office.
Smoothbore sat at his desk, and filled his pipe. His conversation with his Inspector had not dispelled his apprehensions—far from it. He must do something. He turned to the constable who was busy with papers at a neighbouring desk, and sent him for Sergeant Galbraith. In the meantime he sat and thought. There were few Canadians in the total population of the Yukon, while the English and Australians were the most bitter against the existing wrongs, and foremost in their utterances of protest.
In due time Sergeant Galbraith entered and saluted. Smoothbore turned to him,
"Constable Hope has not been able to find anytrace of the associates of Berwick at their tent, nor in the dance-halls?"
"He has not, sir."
"They appear to have left town. It is clear that they are organizing, which means trouble. What is Hope doing?"
"Detailed to watch the Dome, sir."
"You had better put another man on that job, and send Hope to the Forks, and on through to Dominion, if needs be, to see if he can pick up any trace of these men, and if so to ascertain what they are doing. He might travel in plain clothes. It is possible he may give the appearance of being a likely recruit for the Klondike Free State."
"Very good, sir."
"Do you see any signs of organization?"
"Nothing further, sir."
"Well, have a look in at these second-hand shops that have the most rifles and ammunition in stock, and size up what they have. Then you can see later if much is being sold. You might ask the proprietors to find out where the purchasers say they are going. The explanation for your questions will be that you understand there has been a new find made somewhere, and that you wish to ascertain where it is."
"Very good, sir."
There could be no doubt that, if a number ofrebels entrenched themselves on the summit of the Dome, there would be no dislodging them, while they could drop bullets into any part of the town, including the Police Barracks!
Smoothbore had small hopes of securing any number of recruits from the civilian population. No, the civilian population would take little hand in suppressing a rising. There was no end to be served by the Police making the first move; they could only wait and watch, hoping for something to turn up. The humour of the malcontents might change; some new distraction might spring up. The British Empire had been on the verge of collapse a score of times, but always something had happened to floor the prophets. He was quite ready to believe that the man at the head of the new movement—this John Berwick—was steadfast in his affection for the British Crown; quite possibly his action in the matter grew out of his loyalty. And being right in this reflection goes to show how worldly-wise the Police Commandant really was. That in a crisis, such as was being developed, he proved strong enough to lie low, illustrates the moral and physical courage of the man.
That Frank, Hugh, and George had not returned to their tent the night after the council of war on the Dome was due to nothing more than the fact that they had gone to town with Long Shorty, and had stayed the night in his cabin. They did not appear in the saloons and dance-halls because they had decided upon Baxter's Free Library as down-town headquarters. Hence it was that two astute policemen had made wrong deductions; and while Constable Hope was haunting the resorts on the creeks for them, they were actually in the heart of the metropolis.
The selection of Baxter's Free Library was the result of the astuteness of Long Shorty. He knew the place. Only in Dawson would it have been worthy of the name of library, as the number of volumes was limited to a score or so. There were also several newspapers there, which, though thumbed and scrawled upon and tattered, were the latest the camp contained.
Access to these newspapers and books was free, the revenue of the establishment being derived from a lunch counter. As the building was located one street back from that which ran along the water front, the rent paid was comparatively small; and the proprietor was able to serve a roll and a cup of coffee for fifty cents, and a plate of stew, made of bully beef, or pork and beans, for a dollar and a half, which was about 33 per cent. cheaper than fashionable prices!
The combination of comparatively cheap food and free reading drew to Baxter's many of those who had ample time upon their hands, with little or no money in their pockets, and who were unwilling, or unable, to perform the heavy labour of mining operations on the creeks. They were of the educated and semi-educated classes; and among their motley members Long Shorty guessed that many desperate characters might be found. A winter—the most severe in which white people lived—would be upon them in a few short months.
The plan of campaign decided upon was that each of the four conspirators should enter the reading-room, engage in reading, and gradually draw possible recruits into conversation—which in free-and-easy Dawson would not be difficult to do.
Long Shorty was not long in picking out hisman. He seemed the ordinary type of prospector, well-set-up and muscular; his dress was of good quality, by which it was to be inferred that his outfit would be large, and in all probability would include a rifle or two with ammunition. He was reading a copy of Shakespeare.
Long Shorty sat beside him, and picked up a copy of the Bible. Bibles and the works of William Shakespeare were the most common volumes in Dawson in the summer of '98. Long Shorty turned over the pages, read a verse, then put down the book, and sighed.
"Well, stranger," he said, "what do you think of things?"
"Damned bad."
"They sure are; but what are you going to do about it?"
"Just about the same as the rest; get out of the country as soon as I can. Isn't that what you're going to do?"
"I guess so—after I've made my pile!"
"Well, if you get away with a pile, I reckon you'll have to make two: one for yourself and one for the grafters."
"There may be a change."
"You must have been listening to the fellow down at the Borealis the other night."
"Perhaps I was," said Long Shorty significantly.
"And you think those fellows will ever do more than talk?"
"Well, you know how many police there are, and how many there are of the others. The police are armed with old Winchesters, twenty years behind the times! Looks like the insurrectoes might have a chance if they got together and had ammunition and rifles."
"There are lots of both among the crowd, I guess. I have a 303 and a thousand cartridges; that is, five shots for every policeman in the country." He spoke with some bitterness.
Long Shorty rightly concluded that here was a spirit who only wanted a leader. To make doubly sure he thought he would draw him a little and see how much real mutiny was in his heart; so he said,
"But there are the claim-owners, grafters, and other civilians who might aid the police."
"Not much! The claim-owners wouldn't, except possibly those who got their holdings through Poo-Bah. The fellows who got their claims straight would know a new Government would do them more good than harm."
The speaker then, as if tired of politics, pointedly went on with his reading; his mind was absorbing the philosophy of the melancholy Jacques.
Long Shorty's sensibilities were not of thefinest, and he refused to consider the conversation closed; so he asked the direct question,
"What would you do if the boys got up?"
"Nothing!—I'd do nothing. It's no use considering it: I'm off down the river on a steamer leaving to-morrow. I'm going to work my way as a wood-passer to St. Michael's, after which I'll trust to luck for getting to 'Frisco. But if the boys are really going to rise, they have my good wishes. I tried to sell my rifle to-day, and the best offer I could get was five dollars—and I told the fellow I'd chuck it into the Yukon first. If you are going to stay I'll make you a present of it, to be given to the boys if they want it."
The man was going home. Long Shorty felt there was no use in attempting to hold him; so he answered in such a manner as to accept the offer, and yet not compromise himself. He said, "I don't mind taking the rifle and the cartridges and holding them in case things do happen—though I may be away on the creeks at the time."
"All right, I leave them with Baxter here; you can call for them to-morrow." Again he returned to the Forest of Arden, and Long Shorty permitted the conversation to close.
In the meantime, the other three had been hard at work. George met one Australian whose sentiments were so pronounced that he quicklyclosed with him; and as the recruit knew several others in the library, the agitation made good progress.
It was agreed by the reformers and the new recruits that they should all meet later in the day at Lookout Point, which was the angle of the Klondike Bluffs, where the valley of the Klondike met that of the Yukon. In later years a seat and a flag-staff were erected there, and it became a favourite trysting-place for young men and maidens engaged in another quest than that of gold.
This arrangement settled, George set off to report to Berwick, while the others, still looking for more of the rightly disaffected, drifted into the different saloons.
Berwick was delighted at their present success, and was eager to meet the party at Lookout Point. He felt that if so many adherents could be gained by such a small canvass, three or four thousand devoted armed men, at least, could be recruited from Dawson and its environs. The outlook was hopeful.
In due course, that is three or four days afterwards, Constable Hope returned from the creeks with the report that there was no trace to be found of the allies of John Berwick. To Smoothbore this was not evidence of any abandonment of the conspiracy. He was convinced that Berwick meant business. There was, besides, a strange quietude reigning over Dawson. So mercurial a population could not have let its excitement subside and disappear in that short time.
On the other hand, Inspector Herbert was confident enough to be facetious at the expense of the enemies of officialdom. When Smoothbore told him that Hope's expedition had no result, he said,
"I thought as much; you'll find the reputed leader has some fool theory of the origin of gold, and is camped on the Dome to receive inspiration, while his followers have slipped off down the river for the good of their healths."
"Perhaps," replied Smoothbore as he glanced at the Dome. "Perhaps!" and they parted.
"The old man is a bit locoed on this rebellion theory," mused Herbert as he went along. "It's strange in a man who has seen so much service, and with him it is not 'nerves.'" Just then Herbert happened to glance up at the Dome. "By Jove! what a position for a couple of maxims. One hundred men could stand off ten thousand. I wonder! There are thousands of men starving, with many too proud to beg, and little to spare even for them. What would a successful revolution mean? For one thing, it would establish a multitude of openings in the new Civil Service—with chances of graft. It would mean a new police force, or militia, perhaps both, the members of which would, at least, be fed. It is not a case so much of righting wrong, as of getting for these fellows a piece of the pumpkin. Taking that view of it, it looks serious. What if the old man were right!" Such were the thoughts that flashed through Herbert's mind.
Almost within a minute after Smoothbore had left him he was wavering in his opinions; now he was striding in pursuit of him.
"Well—what do you think we had better do about it," asked the Commandant, after he had heard the changed opinions of his Inspector.
"Arrest the leaders!"
The conversation was interrupted by a knock at the office-door, which was followed by the entrance of Constable Hope, quite in a fluster.
"I have located Berwick's friends, sir," he reported, "in fact he was with them when I spotted them. They were all in Baxter's Free Library, and they are up to something. Berwick sits reading the Bible, and every now and then one of his aides-de-camp comes up and whispers in his ear, and then goes away to begin opening conversation with some pilgrim. I sat down, thinking one of them might come to me with his talk, but no results, sir."
"Well, now you have them located, take two good men in plain clothes and point the gang out to them; in fact, you might take four, so that henceforth they can be easily traced. Detail one man to Berwick and two to the others."
"Good man, that," remarked Herbert, when Hope had left their presence.
"Yes, it would be a pity to have him in the Army."
"My guess seems to have been wrong as to the movements of the gang."
Smoothbore made no comment on this, but asked,
"Would you arrest them now?"
"Yes."
"I am afraid I must still disagree with you," was the Chief's answer, and Herbert shortly after went away.
Constable Hope collected together four of his comrades, told them to dress in civilian clothes and follow him. They did so and joined the crowd in Baxter's. In due time the four policemen had registered in their memory the features of John Berwick and his followers. Constable Hope then told off three men according to instructions, and with the remaining policeman left the place.
"Who are those fellows?" asked the Constable who accompanied Hope.
"Berwick is the prospective liberator of the oppressed and down-trodden miner. He can talk on occasions; in fact I heard him and nearly determined to jump my uniform."
"What do they propose to do?"
"Send the police down the river, and set up for themselves!"
"Cheerful for us! Do you think they will make the effort?"
"Smoothbore seems to take them seriously, and I think Herbert is coming to think the same way."
"What will Smoothbore do?"
"Stand pat! What else would he do? What would you or I do?" and Constable Hopelooked at his companion in a manner not complimentary.
"The outfit would surely get licked in the end."
"To be sure they would!—but in the meantime, two years: how much could you graft in two years?"
This query admitted of no reply, and lacking a further word from his companion, Constable Hope continued,
"Fifty miles, ten hours on the river—and you are in the land of Uncle Sam! See?"
"Yes, I see."
"If you think over it a bit you will see more."
"Yes, I guess my vision would enlarge; and you say Smoothbore is only standing pat?"
"I do."
"Funny!"
"It's not funny: it's the only thing to do; they have not begun to mass their forces yet. When they do we might have some evidence."
Shortly after Hope and Inspector Herbert had left Smoothbore, Sergeant Galbraith knocked at the office door, and reported.
"I've looked into the second-hand shops, and sized up their ammunition. Rosenbaum on Second Street reports considerable buying lately, and so does Hobson on Third Avenue. In fact, sir, they appeared to be somewhat excited. The Jew thought there was a strike up the Klondikeand the Cockney thought there must be a stampede up the Stewart."
"Perhaps these stories may be right!"
"No, sir, I think not. The town patrol reported to-day two fellows in from Wind City, sir, on the Edmonton Trail, and I looked them up. They had not met any fellows going up the Stewart; that is, any number worth mentioning."
"Then this looks like corroborative evidence: at least the trouble is reaching such a stage as to make it advisable to get on the defensive; also, we must let the men know what seems likely to happen. Have the town patrol keep their eyes on all men carrying rifles."
"Very good, sir."
"Report direct to me anything that appears of interest."
"Yes, sir."
"And, Sergeant—what about those fellows who arrived from Edmonton?"
"They were in a very bad state, sir. Of their party of fourteen they were the only survivors. They wintered at Wind City, got scurvy, and all died but four, and of the four these two only remain. The other two were drowned in a rapid."
"Poor fellows! That will do, Sergeant."
Smoothbore was left to his recollections and general musings.
"Gold, gold—the price that is paid for it! Fifty thousand men in this stampede; two hundred and fifty thousand people affected; homes devastated; affections torn asunder! Hundreds dead by scurvy or drowning; thousands with constitutions wrecked! The gold is not worth the candle, with the Trusts betrayed and morals twisted! It is not worth it. Look at this little Yukon district, remote from the world. Our genesis was of gold; it would seem our dissolution will be through the same agent! The love of gold, that it may command luxury, is a source of overwhelming evil: it feeds our vices—that is pretty well all that can be said of this insensate greediness. But this is not practical!" he continued, moving. "I must give orders that the men pay special attention to their rifles and side-arms;" and he went off at once to the orderly office. The time had come for every preparation to be made. The Commandant considered the position.
There was no scope for fortifying the Barracks. The buildings were of logs, loopholes could be made by the simple process of pushing a rifle barrel through the mortar. The main thing was that the police should appear to be unconscious of the movement on foot.
One action he determined upon, and that was the purchase of the best rifles and ammunition inthe shops: this to be accomplished by secret agents. This was not entirely intended to keep arms from Berwick's men, for the enemy would still have enough ammunition to exterminate the police force. But the arms of the police were not "modern"!
The Wood-pile was an institution almost as famous with the underworld as Dawson itself. From St. Michael's to Frisco, and up and down the Yukon River, its reputation held. At the mention of its name the pale and sickly faces of the vicious became still paler and more sickly, when they did not flush with angry hatred.
The Wood-pile was the prison, called so because the inmates, given hard labour, worked out their debt to society by sawing wood. In cold winter-weather—the winter of the sub-Arctic, with the thermometer forty degrees below zero!—the process was no joke.
The great majority of the prisoners were United States citizens, in the souls of whom many fourths of July had engendered a contempt for the British uniform. To be herded by a yellow-leg with a rifle, and made to saw wood to keep the oppressor warm, was a circumstance that rankled.
Five Ace Dan—called, for brevity's sake, Five Ace—was on the Wood-pile.
One day Five Ace was taking a hand in a Poker game, and by some mischance one of the other players detected him extracting a card from his sleeve, and charged him with the offence. There was, of course, a row, whereupon Five Ace drew a revolver, and pointed it at his adversary, with the words—adorned with some special expletives,
"If I had you across the line I'd fill you full of holes."
Whereat the man addressed came back with the words, uttered with a leer and a hiss,
"But we ain't: See!"
Five Ace was surely in hard luck, for a policeman heard the noise of the row, and quickly gathered him in. Smoothbore gave him three months on the Wood-pile, with a blue ticket at the end of that term. A blue ticket meant that the authorities requested the recipient to leave the country—an invitation rarely not taken advantage of! But Five Ace was serving his term in the summer months, when fuel was not a pressing necessity, and the number of prisoners was large. The stock employment of the gang was drawing gravel from the banks of the Yukon and carrying it in barrows to the quadrangle of the Barracks, or the road-bed of the main street.
While climatic conditions were infinitely better during the summer months than they were in winter, this was not an unmixed blessing to Five Ace; for while the winter months were dark and drear and cold, the coldness, darkness, and dreariness, together with the abundance of clothing it was necessary for the prisoners to wear, made it hard for their persons to be recognized by passers-by. On the other hand, during the bright summer days, the situation was very embarrassing; and it is easy to believe that any one holding strong ideas on the rights of man, a true citizen, that is to say, of the United States, so imprisoned, was ready for any desperate venture. If it came to the killing of a yellow-leg or two—what matter? There were no greater or more glorious people on God's green earth than the citizens of the United States! Five Ace was quite ready to pose as a hero and martyr, when opportunity served.
Long Shorty happened to be a friend of Five Ace Dan; not that he consorted with tin-horns, but Dan hadn't always been what he was now, and, anyway, there wasn't much harm in pulling off a trick once in a while! The officials in this country were always robbing people, so why should not he put in a hand?
One day, as Long Shorty was prospecting for recruits, he recognized Five Ace among the gangemployed in the gravel pit, and, quick as a flash, the idea came that it would be well to have an ally among the prisoners. How to get into communication with Five Ace was a matter demanding consideration; it would not do to make a mess of things through any little mistake at the beginning. So he walked away, pondering, and sat down and reviewed the situation from afar; in other words, he watched the prisoners and noted their movements. There were about eight in this particular band, over whom stood a policeman. The process was for the prisoners to file down to the shore of the river, fill their barrows, and march back again. Each man returned to the spot he had left and picked up the tools he had been working with.
The best means to get a word with Five Ace was by means of a note, provided the note did not fall into the hands of the police! Long Shorty soon came to his decision. The note must not be compromising. This is what Long Shorty wrote,
"The Marmot has generally two entrances to his burrow, the yellow-leg has only one. Some day soon something is going to happen, but in the meantime the hunters with rifles would like to know if the yellow-legs are wise to the game. Where the seed is sown there will the flower grow, and I expect response to this where I sow it; at dinner-hour I will look for it."
After setting down this on a piece of paper, Long Shorty, not a little proud of his achievement, rumpled it up with another piece of blank paper and enclosed a small piece of lead pencil. This was because prisoners were not always allowed paper and pencil.
After the little parcel was ready Long Shorty walked down-stream to where there was a canoe belonging to a man he knew. He borrowed the craft and began poling up-stream towards the mouth of the Klondike.
He had noted that the site of Five Ace's labour was very near the river, so that when he passed the spot he could have stepped on the tools with which the convict worked.
A labourer toiling with pick and shovel first loosens the soil with the pick and then uses the shovel. The astute mind of Long Shorty conceived that if he dropped the paper close to where the hand of the toiler, as he grasped the shovel, would be, events would work out—as they did.
Five Ace, on returning with the empty barrow, took up his pick and began to work, and while he was scratching the ground in the leisurely manner of the convict his eye saw the paper. He judged that its appearance was possibly connected with Long Shorty, who was hanging about watching. So, with the slyness proper to his fraternity, he took up the shovel and managed tosmuggle and hide away the parcel by slipping it down his neck.
When Five Ace had an opportunity he read the missive, and his breast swelled. Here was evidently an invitation for him to join a rising against the oppressors! If successful it would mean that an honest fellow could shoot down a black-leg and get away. Judge Lynch would sit in the Yukon. By all means things must be kept quiet. Five Ace felt sure he could get the other prisoners to turn against their guard when the proper time came. One man might get shot; but if he were careful it need not be himself.
Long Shorty had the idea that Five Ace Dan and his fellow prisoners might, in the case of a rising outside, carry out some portion of a general move by striking a blow within. On the other hand, while Five Ace believed he was the child of a race of patriots and felt himself a champion of liberty with a possibility of shining before posterity, his first and foremost idea was always his own liberty!
He wrote a note and left it as directed, where Long Shorty secured it, and this is what it said,
"The Beaver is working with no thought of danger. If his dam is broken in spots he will fix it. To drive him out you must make a clean job. You have friends who will help, but you must keep them posted."
Five Ace had evidently the same ideas as the leader of the insurrection, that a sudden display of force, thousands strong, would make the position at the Barracks untenable and force a surrender.
The following day Long Shorty replied,
"Many years ago the south face slid off the Dome and many ingins went to the happy hunting-grounds. Some day something may slide off the Dome and keep on going till it hits the Barracks and bumps it into the Klondike. I will look out for things that are to happen, so that those in the Barracks will know what to prepare for. In case they can help, I will let them know."
All of which duly fell into the hands of Five Ace Dan, and conveyed to him the true situation of affairs. Had it fallen into those of the police it would have appeared as mere nonsense—the scribbling of some prospector whose hardships had affected his reason. That is what Long Shorty thought.
Within a few days fifteen hundred men in Dawson had signified their readiness to act for a new Government. Another thousand could readily be counted upon from the creeks. Twenty-five hundred well-armed and determined men, entrenched at the top of the Dome, could withstand an army. To attack them, armed as they were with long-range sporting rifles, would be, on the part of the police, madness.
It was noon on a Saturday when Long Shorty left his last note to Five Ace Dan on the Yukon gravel bar. Having satisfied himself that the missive had fallen into the proper hands, he set out for the Dome to report. He found Berwick, Hugh Spencer, Bruce, Corte, and several others holding a council of war. Berwick was giving instructions.
"Behind the Dome, you will notice, is a valley where the timber is comparatively heavy. Our men can camp there with two weeks' provisions.Every man—or two men—will be their own commissariat. Their instructions will be to hold themselves in readiness while recruits are being gathered from the creeks."
"Recruits! We don't want no recruits from the creeks," roared Long Shorty. "Fifteen hundred men will fix the thing."
Hugh agreed with this. "Fifteen hundred men should be able to scare less than two hundred into surrender, especially when we can show them that we can shoot and be out of range of their rifles." Berwick put the matter to the vote, and it was agreed that the fifteen hundred to be recruited from Dawson would be sufficient.
Berwick sighed. "Very good; fifteen hundred let it be; but we must try to avoid bloodshed. This affair will be serious enough without anybody being killed. Pass the word for a muster right away; camps to be made in the woods as if a base for prospecting. At the camps rifles may be cached to be quickly available. It is possible the police may not notice the migration; but we must chance that. Until it is time to act the men will go into town every day as usual."
"Don't you think we had better have a preliminary muster?" asked George.
"Yes. It would serve a double purpose: give an opportunity to our men to learn the plans; and the massing of so many upon the Dome woulddoubtless lead to inquiries by the police, and probably impress them with our display of force. It is hardly possible they will make arrests, and they can hardly shoot unarmed men."
"It won't do 'em any harm to show we look like meaning business. Why not have the boys bring their arms?" asked Long Shorty.
"I'd say nothing about arms," Hugh counselled. "Let each man suit himself; there'll be enough guns in the crowd to guard against accidents."
"And what are we to do after our display of force?" asked Long Shorty.
"Send a letter to the Barracks, calling on the officer commanding to surrender," answered John Berwick.
"If he does not surrender? Suppose he tells you to go to the devil?"
"We'll give him till Saturday to consider it."
"And then, if he says no?"
"He won't say no: he is a humane man, and must know we are in the right. He must also be aware that we can annihilate him."
Berwick did not quite possess the assurance he showed in this reply. There might be such a thing as Smoothbore being willing to die at his post. Of late this idea had been more and more gaining hold on his mind; his sleep had become more restless as the time for action approached. In all probability some irresponsible person would make a slip, which would precipitate matters.
Dark thoughts and doubts came upon him, as they must at times to every leader who holds under his control many lives; but resolutely he put them from him, and comforted his heart, strengthened his determination, by remembering the wrongs they had suffered and the righteousness of their cause. He hoped earnestly that Smoothbore would recognize that his force was outnumbered by at least ten to one.
But Long Shorty was tenacious; possibly he thought he detected some wavering in his leader. And so he persisted,
"But if he does call the bluff?"
"In that case we must hold a council of war, and determine what to do. Our display of force on Wednesday should make him apprehensive. By Friday our intentions and strength must have impressed him. Then we shall forward him a summons to surrender! If by Saturday noon he has not complied...."
"We'll drop a few bullets round the flag-pole," cried Long Shorty; "and it would not do much harm if we peppered a yellow-leg or two."
"I'd rather they got one of the grafters!" said a recruit, to which remark others chorused, "Hear! hear!"
"We'll see—we'll see! What we need firstis to get our forces camped in the woods. So pass the word among our adherents that they are expected to gain their encampment during Monday and Tuesday. Let Sunday be a day of rest; it is possible the Sunday after may be far from peaceful!"
"All right, boss," spoke up Frank. Frank was far more loyal to "Parson Jack," much less inclined to question him, than Long Shorty.
"That ends this present business," said John. "Those of you who don't wish to go into town may as well stay and go over the ground in survey of a line of entrenchment."
Thereupon, with his friends about him, John went to his den and secured a pick and shovel hidden there, and with them traced a furrow, to be enlarged later. The riflemen would lie there and fire upon the Barracks. To this day that furrow is to be found across the top of the Dome.
Dawson was now at the zenith of its prosperity. Not only had the creeks produced many millions, but vast sums of outside capital were being paid for speculative claims, as well as for properties of proven worth. For those who were prosperous it was a heyday of delight; to those whose fortunes had stuck it was no heyday. It was for these that Berwick and his comrades were working: to give honest workers something of a fair chance; though there was a longspan between the idealism of John and the motives of Long Shorty, which were not a little selfish and sordid.
There have been many popular outbursts in the world's history; but never had a leader entered his fortunes against an established Government with the chances of success held by Berwick! In numbers, in arms and equipment, he had the advantage. His hesitation was, therefore, not due to any shirking of the issue. He was the reverse of a moral coward; and yet he felt keenly the responsibility and unpleasantness of the part he had to play in leading a force against the authority of Britain's Queen. It was duty which drove him against his patriotic instincts. He loathed the necessity; but there was no alternative if wrongs were to be righted.
The five colleagues had been thoughtfully watching Dawson, that hive of human bees.
The first to break the silence was Long Shorty, when he told of his acquaintanceship with Five Ace Dan on the Wood-pile, and added the suggestion that he might prove useful. This roused Hugh, who said sharply, "We don't want any jail-birds!"
"He's a bit of a tin-horn," protested Shorty, "but he ain't a jail-bird."
"There ain't much difference," was Hugh's retort. Long Shorty held his peace.
Constable Hope had no doubts. Professional instinct told him there was an important conspiracy hatching. He was ambitious, and he loved his work, so that every impulse prompted him to find and follow the threads of the plot. Smoothbore's action in keeping "tab"[10]on the number of men carrying rifles suggested to him that his Commandant regarded the situation as serious.