VASQUEZ, THE BANDIT.
Harkaway was merely taken to the station-house and kept there half an hour.
This was all the indignity he was subjected to.
After this he was discharged, as no one came to make any complaint against him.
All Lord Maltravers wanted was the scene in the theatre, the scandal of which could be made into a very pretty story for the newspapers.
Harkaway's escapade, as it would be called, could be sent to Miss Vanhoosen, and her mind be poisoned by reading how Jack was caught in a box at the theatre with another man's wife.
This was part of his deep-laid plot.
Jack returned to the Palace Hotel, where Mr. Mole and Harvey were awaiting him.
They could not help laughing when they heard how Maltravers had succeeded in tricking him, after all.
"Never mind; there will be no harm done," said the professor. "You can write to Miss Vanhoosen, and your word will go further than anything he can say."
"It isn't what he can say," exclaimed Jack; "it's what the papers will print."
"Hang the papers!" growled Harvey.
"Of course," continued Jack, "Maltravers will send the papers to Lena, and you all know what women think of anything in print."
"It's a dirty, mean trick of Maltravers," said Harvey.
"So it is; but what if he carries out the rest of his programme, as the girl in the box described it, and sends our friend Jack to the Brazils?"
"I should look well as a galley slave," remarked Jack, laughing.
"It is no laughing matter," continued Mr. Mole.
"We won't leave him," said Harvey. "He shan't go out alone."
This being settled, they retired to rest.
The morning papers fully realized Jack's expectations, for they contained full and sensational accounts of the disturbance at the California Theatre.
Names were freely given, and the affair aroused the liveliest interest.
In vain Jack wrote letters explanatory of the occurrence. The papers would not insert them, so the lie went forth uncontradicted, and Maltravers was triumphant.
While Jack was chewing the cud of bitter reflection, he received a letter bearing the Calistoga postmark.
It was signed "Anonymous," and stated the following:
"If Mr. Harkaway wishes to meet Lord Maltravers, he can find him at the Geysers, in Northern California. Go to Fossville from Calistoga and you will find fresh instructions awaiting you, with Four-in-Hand Foss."
"Look at this," said Jack, handing the letter to Harvey.
Dick read it and replied:
"Queer! Who the deuce is Four-in-Hand Foss?"
"I'll find out, for I'll start for Calistoga to-day."
Mr. Mole entered at this juncture.
"And what will you go to Calistoga for?" he asked.
Jack read him the letter.
"It's a trap, my dear friend," replied the professor.
"Trap or no trap, I'm going," answered Jack.
He rang the bell and called his black servant, Monday.
"What's in de wind now, sah?" asked Monday.
"Pack up. We are going to start for the North."
That afternoon they crossed the bay in the steamer, and taking the steam-cars, reached Calistoga by nightfall.
In the morning they were surprised to hear that "Four-in-Hand Foss" was waiting outside their hotel.
Harkaway went down-stairs and asked to see Mr. Foss.
He was shown a tall, handsome man, between fifty and sixty years of age, who is well-known to every tourist on the Pacific Slope.
"Well, Mr. Foss," said Jack, after the introduction was effected, "to what am I indebted for the honor of this visit?"
"I heard you had arrived," replied Foss, "and that you intended to visit the Geysers. I own the road over the mountains, and I reckoned I'd drive you myself."
"Much obliged, I'm sure."
"You're welcome."
"Have you any message for me?" inquired Jack.
"You're Harkaway, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Then I was told to tell you that you would meet the man you are in search of in the hills."
"Is that all?"
"All."
"Who told you?"
"Well," said Foss, "he's a fellow I've met around considerable, and he is called Nappa Bill."
"Nappa Bill!" repeated Jack. "That's the fellow I shot in San Francisco."
"Maybe—he wears one arm in a sling," replied Foss, carelessly.
"Will you breakfast with me?" perused Jack.
"I'll take a cocktail. Fact is, I'm not much on eating to-day."
"Why not? Has anything occurred to take away your appetite, may I ask?"
"I'm in mourning for a five-hundred dollar horse that died of the glanders, yesterday, and it isn't ten to one that I don't spill you out of the coach before I get you up the hill."
Jack invited him into the breakfast-room and introduced him to his companions.
When they had eaten something they got into the stage, which was drawn by six horses.
Foss was the best driver in California, and the way in which he handled a team was quite fascinating to Jack, who could "handle the ribbons" and "tool a pair of tits" as well as the next one.
The distance between Calistoga and Fossville was completed in about twenty-five minutes, the stage rolling about in the most alarming manner.
It was arranged they should stay for lunch, and Mr. Foss indulged in further demonstrations of grief for the five-hundred dollar horse.
That is to say, he drank enough champagne to float an ordinary rowing-boat.
At one o'clock they started to ascend the mountains on their way to the Geysers.
Harkaway was perfectly charmed by the magnificent scenery which he saw on all sides.
So engrossed was he in contemplating the wonders of nature that he did not see a man spring out in the middle of the road.
Nor did he notice half a dozen men form in line behind the stage.
These held blocks of stone in their hands, and when Foss brought his horses to a standstill, they placed the stones behind the wheels to prevent the stage slipping down hill.
They were fully armed with rifles and pistols; knives peeped out of their belts, and their faces wore an air of ferocious determination.
"Halt!" cried the leader.
It was at this command that Foss stopped his horses.
The leader wore his arm in a sling, and Harkaway had no difficulty in recognizing the familiar features of Nappa Bill.
"Throw up your arms," continued the leader.
Jack looked round and saw that they were surrounded.
"What shall we do?" he asked of Foss.
"Got to weaken," replied Foss.
Mr. Mole appeared very indignant and drew a pistol, which he discharged at Nappa Bill.
The bullet missed the mark, and Bill laughed loudly.
"Put up your iron, you old fool," he said; "we only want Jack Harkaway out of your crowd, and if we don't have him step down and out, right away, there'll be a circus here, with some dead bodies in it, mighty quick."
"Look at here," replied Foss. "I don't want people to think that I'm in this thing. You give me a message to take to Calistoga for you to this gentleman, Mr. Harkaway, and that's all there is in it."
"That is true, Foss; you are as square as they make them."
"Let us go on, then."
"Not till Harkaway gets out."
Harvey now leveled his pistol at Nappa Bill.
"You scoundrel," he said; "take that."
As before, the bullet flew wide of the mark.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Nappa Bill; "the ball isn't molded yet that can hit me."
Just then some one fired from behind, and Harvey fell into the stage with a bullet in his shoulder.
"My God, I'm hit!" he cried.
Jack rose up.
"We are overpowered," he exclaimed. "I do not wish my friends to suffer for my sake."
"Surrender!" said Nappa Bill.
Jack deliberately walked over to the man and threw down his pistol.
"This is a civilized State," he said. "You daren't murder me. Let my friends go on, and I will become your prisoner, for I know that there will be such a hue and cry in a day or two that California will be too hot to hold you."
"That's what you say," replied the robber, mockingly.
Harkaway folded his arms and stood his ground.
"Drive on, Foss," said the robber.
"Who the deuce are you, anyway?" asked Four-in-Hand Foss.
"Do you want to know, particularly?"
"If I didn't I shouldn't ask."
The robber drew himself up proudly to his full height.
"I am Vasquez, the bandit," he cried.
Foss indulged in a prolonged whistle.
"Jerusalem!" he said, hitting his horses. "Git up thar. That settles it. I didn't count on meeting with Vasquez."
"No hard feelings, old man," cried Vasquez, who had concealed his identity under the name of Nappa Bill.
"Not at all, pard. So long."
The horses started, and the stage went on up the hill.
Harkaway was in the custody of Vasquez and his men, while Mr. Mole, half frightened to death, and Harvey, dangerously wounded, were slowly carried away, it not being in the power of Foss to prevent this consummation.
Jack turned smilingly to his captor, and said:
"Now, Mr. Vasquez, if that is your name, what are you going to do with me?"
"My dear sir," replied Vasquez, the celebrated bandit, about whose crimes the whole of California was excited, "I will allow some one else to answer that question."
A man stepped forward.
He had been concealed in the bush hitherto, but directly Jack saw him he recognized Lord Maltravers.
"Mr. Harkaway," said Maltravers, "you have kindly fallen into the little trap I laid for you. It is with great pleasure that I meet you again, and I shall now send you on a trip which will take you to South America."
Jack turned pale.
He saw how foolish he had been to despise the power of his lordship.
"What mean you?" he asked.
"Simply that you are on your way to the diamond mines of Brazil."
"You cannot be in earnest?"
"Never more so in my life, I assure you."
"Villain!"
Lord Maltravers twirled his mustache.
"Yes," he replied, complacently, "I am all that the word implies."
"But——"
"I cannot waste time in talking to you. Pray excuse me," interrupted Maltravers.
Vasquez, the bandit, took hold of Jack's arm and led him away.
Six men with pistols leveled followed on each side.
Escape was impossible.
Lower down in the road a stage was in waiting, and it conveyed the party in two days to the coast.
Jack was put on board a sailing vessel.
The captain was named Moreland.
"You have your orders?" said Vasquez to Moreland.
"Yes," replied the captain; "my instructions are in writing."
"See that they are fulfilled to the letter."
"I will."
Vasquez left the ship, and Harkaway was confined in the captain's cabin, where he could amuse himself with books and papers.
That afternoon the ship sailed, and Jack was bound for a long voyage.
Lord Maltravers was triumphant again.
Jack now blamed himself for yielding so easily, but he reflected that if he had made any resistance his whole party would have been killed.
The odds against them were too great.
Wondering if Harvey was much hurt, and consoling himself with the reflection that his friends knew where to look for him, he lighted a cigar which he found on the table, and waited for Captain Moreland to come to him.
THE SLAVE OF THE DIAMOND MINES.
The ship on which Jack Harkaway was a prisoner took out a general cargo for the Brazils.
Captain Moreland at once put Jack at his ease.
He assured him that there was no reason why he should be treated harshly.
The vessel had not been two hours at sea before he requested his presence in his cabin.
Jack was not in an enviable position, nor was he in an amicable frame of mind, but he felt that he was in the captain's power, and it would be advisable for him to treat him with civility.
The colored steward placed a couple of bottles with glasses on the table, as well as a box of cigars, and retired.
"Be seated," said the captain. "You smoke, I presume?"
"Yes," replied Jack.
"Help yourself," continued Moreland, pushing the box of cigars over to him. "The wine is port and sherry; which do you prefer?"
Jack liked sherry, and they pledged one another.
He now had a good opportunity of looking at Moreland, who was a spare, short man, with reddish hair and small, twinkling eyes, which appeared to have a treacherous expression.
"I wish to have you as my friend and companion during our voyage," began Moreland.
"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," replied Jack.
"Of course I need not conceal anything from you?"
"It is useless."
"Well, I admit that I have been paid handsomely by Vasquez, the bandit, to convey you to Rio. He, I believe, was employed by some enemy of yours."
"Precisely. I know all that."
"I shall enjoy your society during the voyage, for I see you are an educated gentleman, and your companionship cannot fail to be agreeable."
"Thank you for the compliment," exclaimed Jack, who could not help thinking that there was something lurking behind this extraordinary civility.
"When you arrive at Rio our intimacy ceases, for I shall discharge cargo, take in another of bags of coffee, and return to 'Frisco."
"Am I to be set free then?"
"Certainly," answered Moreland.
"I cannot understand that."
"It is simple enough. Your enemy wishes to get you out of the way for a time. That is all."
"I heard," said Jack, "that I was, in some mysterious way, to be sent as a slave to the diamond mines."
"Not by me, at all events," laughed the captain.
"Are you sure?"
"Perfectly. My instructions are simply to land you at Rio, and there will end my duty as regards you."
Jack could not make this out.
He was forced, however, to be content with the assurance given him by Captain Moreland, and there the conversation ended.
There were plenty of books in the cabin. He messed with Moreland. Everything he wanted was placed at his service, and he really had a very pleasant voyage round Cape Horn.
The captain succeeded in thoroughly gaining his confidence, and he soon voted him an excellent fellow, from whom he would be sorry to part when the time came.
At length Rio was reached, and as Jack was almost without money, Moreland volunteered to advance him some for current expenses, taking in return a sight draft on his agent in San Francisco.
When the ship swung into the dock, and the bills of lading had been given to the consignees, Moreland invited Jack to dine with him.
"I know the city," he remarked, "and can take you to a good place."
Jack accepted the invitation, and they walked out together.
As they quitted the ship, the captain slipped something into Harkaway's pocket, without the action being perceived.
They walked to the restaurant indicated by Moreland, and Jack's suspicions returned as he saw it was in a low part of the town.
What was his professed friend's object in steering him toward the slums, as he was evidently doing?
"Not a very savory neighborhood, this," he ventured to observe.
"No, but you will be amply compensated, my friend, by the cooking, at the little hotel we are in search of."
"Oh, I comprehend," said Jack. "I am prepared to sacrifice a great deal for artistic cooking."
They soon reached a dingy-looking inn, where the waiters and landlord nodded familiarly to the captain, as if he was an old customer.
The room into which they were ushered was dark and dirty, the table-cloths uninviting, and directly Jack saw the place he had an admonition of coming evil.
"Really," he remarked, "this is as bad as Zola'sAssommoir. I can't congratulate you on your taste."
"Wait a while," responded Moreland. "Landlord, a bottle of wine, and the best dinner you can get ready."
"Si, signor," replied the proprietor, who was a swarthy, thick-set, beetle-browed Spaniard.
The wine was produced, and seemed to Jack to have a peculiar flavor.
Being thirsty, he drank heartily of it, while Moreland contented himself with sipping it.
"You don't drink?" observed Harkaway.
"Excuse me, I rarely do before eating; it takes away my appetite."
A dizziness began to attack Jack, and a soft, sensuous, dreamy feeling stole over him.
What could it mean?
Had he been brought into the place by his kind friend, the captain, to be drugged and betrayed into some carefully set trap?
Indeed, it looked like it.
"What is the time?" said the captain.
"I have no watch," replied Jack. "Vasquez kindly relieved me of that trifle in the Nappa Valley."
"I had mine when I left the ship," continued Moreland, "and I have been with no one but you."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Jack.
It appeared as if there was some latent accusation in this remark.
"Oh, nothing," answered the captain. "I have to report to the American Consul at three, and it is necessary that I should know the time."
He began to search in all his pockets.
Jack watched him with an abstracted air, while his stupor increased, and it seemed all the time as if it was too much trouble for him to speak.
"Very odd where that watch of mine is gone to," continued Moreland.
"Very," ejaculated Harkaway.
"Are you sure you have not taken it?"
"I?"
Jack was dumbfounded with astonishment, and could only stare at Moreland.
"I must have this investigated," said the latter. "Waiter!"
"Signor?"
"Call an officer—quick!"
Jack was like one in a dream.
He could not believe that what he heard was real.
Some insidious drug had been mixed with the wine, and like the opium-eater, he was seeing and hearing things that did not exist.
Presently the waiter returned with a policeman.
"Who wants me?" he inquired.
"I do. Arrest and search that man. I accuse him of stealing my watch."
He pointed to Harkaway, whom the officer approached.
Jack endeavored to rise and strike his false friend, but he seemed to have lost all power over his limbs.
Obscured as his intellect was, however, by the drugged wine, he saw that he was the victim of an infamous plot, the depth of which, as yet, he could scarcely gauge.
Moreland had won his confidence to prevent his making a charge of abduction against him on their arrival in Rio.
That was clear enough.
What was to follow remained for coming events to develop.
The officer began to search Jack, who laughed in a half imbecile manner, as if it was a good joke, and made no resistance.
In his coat pocket were found a watch and chain.
"Is that yours?" asked the officer, holding it up.
"Yes. I will swear to it. Besides, my name is on the case. It was a present to me. Oh! the ingratitude of some people!"
"Shall I arrest the thief?"
"Yes; lock him up. I will follow and make the complaint."
Jack was dragged rudely from the room to the police court, which was not far off.
Captain Moreland hastily settled the bill and followed his victim.
A magistrate was sitting on the bench, and Jack soon had a specimen of how swiftly justice is administered in Brazil.
Moreland told his story, stating how he had given the prisoner a passage from San Francisco, and how he had returned his kindness by stealing his watch, while under the influence of liquor.
"He is drunk now," he added, "or perhaps he would not have done it."
"Do you press the charge?" asked the court.
"It is my duty to society to do so."
Turning to the prisoner, the court asked him if he had anything to say.
Jack was more and more under the influence of the drug, whose effects made themselves felt in a greater degree every minute.
He thought he was dreaming, and continued to laugh at what he thought was an excellent joke.
"No," he replied.
"I shall sentence you to five years' hard labor in the mines!" exclaimed the magistrate.
"That's all right," replied Jack; "I knew that was coming."
He laughed louder than ever.
The jailer took him to a cell and locked him up. He soon fell into a profound slumber, from which he did not awake until the following morning.
Captain Moreland was perfectly satisfied, for he fulfilled his contract with his employer to the letter.
There was no chance of his victim's being pardoned, and little of his escaping.
Practically, he was out of the way for five years, during which time Lord Maltravers could prosecute his plans with regard to Miss Vanhoosen.
Perhaps the hardships he would encounter in the mines might enfeeble his magnificent physique, and kill him before his sentence expired.
When Jack woke up in his cell he pressed his hand to his aching head and exclaimed:
"Where the deuce am I?"
He sat up and reflected.
"Seems to me," he continued, "I had a dream. Moreland invited me to dine; accused me of stealing his watch. Hang his impudence! I was arrested, and got five years in the mines.Wasit a dream?"
A look at the cell convinced him that it was not so much a dream as a terrible reality.
The perspiration broke out all over him, and he began to feel terribly alarmed.
Presently the jailer entered with a suit of convict's clothes and some breakfast.
"Eat and dress," he said.
"Certainly," replied Jack; "but let me ask you a few questions."
"Be brief."
"Am I a convict?"
"You are."
"Is there no appeal? Cannot I communicate with the English or American Consul?"
"No time for that," replied the jailer. "In half an hour the chain-gang starts for the mines, and you are one of them."
"For heaven's sake, do something for me!"
The jailer shook his head.
"I am innocent," asseverated Jack.
"The stolen property was found on you. It is a clear case. An angel could not save you."
"But I assure you, my friend, that I am innocent. It is a base conspiracy of which I am the victim."
"Eat and dress!" said the jailer, harshly. "In half an hour I shall come and fix the chain on you."
With these words he banged to the door with a hollow, sepulchral sound, which to Jack sounded like the knell of doom.
He recognized the fact that he was indeed a slave.
"Well," he muttered, "I must admit it was cleverly done; to repine is useless. I will make the best of the situation. Harvey, if not mortally wounded, will come after me. Thanks to what Elise said, my friends know where I am."
He deliberately ate his breakfast, and then attired himself in the hideous yellow suit of a convict sent to the mines.
In the present there was no hope.
It was to the future that he had to look for comfort, assistance and freedom.
Many were the wild tales he had heard of the sufferings in the mines by the poor creatures condemned to toil there.
His heart sank within him as he recalled these stories.
Yet in the midst of all his misery the fairy-like form of Lena Vanhoosen would come before him.
She seemed to be ever bidding him hope on, and telling him that it is always darkest before dawn.
When the half hour was up the jailer, relentless as fate itself, appeared, and fastened a chain around his ankle.
In the court-yard of the prison twenty unfortunates, similarly situated, were assembled.
They were all chained together, and at the word "March," the gate was thrown open and they slowly filed out.
Part of the journey was performed by railway, the convicts having a special car, but a considerable distance had to be traversed on foot, and this was painful and toilsome.
Every week the ranks of the miners, depleted by sickness and death, were reinforced by fresh batches of criminals.
It was seldom that a mine slave lasted longer than five years.
The wretches, cruelly tasked and badly fed, broke down and perished miserably.
The government worked the mines for its own benefit, entirely by convict labor, and made a handsome profit out of it, for the labor cost them nothing but what they paid for food, and often diamonds of large size, first water, and great value were found when the mines were reached. The prisoners were detailed to certain sections, and Jack had to work underground with a desperate-looking ruffian whose name was Alfonso.
The most favored prisoners worked above ground, receiving the "dirt" as it came up the shafts, and washing it in the streams which flowed down from the sides of the mountains.
These were watched by overseers, and the diamonds were, when found, handed to superintendents.
The men worked in couples, and were allowed to talk. They had three meals a day of coarse food, and slept in wooden huts at night, laboring from dawn to dusk.
Jack and Alfonso were supplied with a pickax, a shovel and a basket.
They first picked down the earth or diamond-studded dirt, then shoveled it into the basket, afterward carrying it to the nearest shaft, where it was taken in hand by others, and sent up to the surface.
"What are you in for?" asked Alfonso.
"They say I took a man's watch, and I got five years," replied Jack.
"That's nothing," continued Alfonso; "I killed my man, and I was sent 'down' for life."
Jack shuddered.
He was in the company of a murderer.
"Don't I wish I could get away!" continued the ruffian.
"What would you do?" asked Jack.
"Can you keep a secret?"
"I guess so."
"I tried to escape, but the soldiers, who are always on guard, night and day, saw me and fired. They brought me down. I've the bullet in my leg now."
"Is that so?"
"Yes; but they didn't get it," said Alfonso, laughing.
"It? What do you mean by 'it'?"
"The diamond, my lad. I've got the biggest beauty that ever came out of the mines."
"You have?"
"Yes, sir. It's worth a king's ransom. It ought to be in the crown of a royal personage. It's fit for an emperor."
"Is it so fine?"
"Magnificent. It's as big as the Koh-i-noor, which is the largest in the world. I shall never get out, though, so what use is it?"
He sighed deeply.
"Why don't you give it to the authorities?" inquired Jack.
"Can you tell me why I should?"
"No."
"Do they treat us too well?"
"No, indeed."
"Aren't we slaves and dogs, and lead a life of utter and hopeless misery?"
"Very true."
"They shall never have it. No, my lad. It's safe; but I've taken a fancy to you, and if anything happens to me, I want you to know where it is."
Jack expressed his thankfulness for this proof of the convict's good will.
"Where is it?" he asked, his curiosity being aroused.
The convict bared his right leg and advanced to the lamp which gave them the light by which they were working.
"Any one around?" he asked.
"I can't see any one," replied Jack.
"You never can tell when the overseers come around. They're on the spy all the time."
"We are alone," Jack said.
"See here, then."
Alfonso took his hand and placed it on his flesh. Jack felt a lump under the skin.
"What's that?" he asked.
"The diamond," replied Alfonso, under his breath.
"Impossible! how could it get there?" Jack asked, incredulously.
"Didn't I tell you they brought me down with a bullet?"
"Yes."
"Well, they saw it had lodged just under the skin, and the brutes didn't think it worth while to get the doctor to cut it out. A day or two afterward I found the diamond."
"Well?"
"So I takes a knife and cuts it out myself, and seeing there was room for the bullet, I shoved the diamond into the hole and let the skin grow over it and there it is now."
"In your body?"
"In my living body," replied Alfonso, "and no word of a lie about it."
"Didn't it hurt?"
"I'll bet you it did. I suffered the tortures of the damned for weeks, and it hurts now if I strain myself or lie on that side."
Jack was overpowered with astonishment.
"You've got grit in you," he remarked.
"Didn't I tell you I killed my man? Any one who's got pluck enough to slay his enemy and risk the gallows can do anything," answered Alfonso.
"What do you want me to do?" inquired Jack.
"If I die, cut it out."
"And then?"
"Hide it somewhere. I can't tell you where. We must think."
Suddenly a mine-boss came along, with gentle, cat-like footsteps.
"What are you two skulking for?" he asked, exhibiting a rattan, his badge of office.
"Who's skulking?" asked Alfonso, savagely.
"You are."
The murderer looked at him with a foreboding gleam in his eye.
"Pedro," he said, "I warned you once before not to interfere with me."
"It is my duty."
"Let me alone; I'm a desperate man, and I'd just as soon be dead as working here. Do you understand?"
"I understand that you are threatening me," answered Pedro, "and I shall report you."
This "report" meant fifty lashes on the bare back of the prisoner, delivered publicly before retiring to rest.
Alfonso gnashed his teeth savagely.
"Take care," he said.
"I shall report you twice if you do not instantly go to work."
This was intended to convey the fact that the punishment would be doubled, and the number of lashes increased to one hundred.
Alfonso's eyes glared like those of a wild beast.
Jack shrank back, for he felt sure that some terrible tragedy was about to take place.
In any case of disobedience reported by the overseers, the convicts were unmercifully flogged with a rawhide, and Alfonso had been treated to that kind of discipline twice during his period of incarceration.
What wonder that a man condemned for life to the most degrading drudgery, who had no hope of a commutation of his sentence, and who could only expect to die in his chains, should rebel when he thought himself persecuted by those in authority over him?
"I have warned you," said Alfonso, in a strangled voice.
"And I have warned you," replied the keeper.
"Recollect that I have already killed one man."
"Bah!" replied Pedro, the keeper, drawing a pistol. "If you were so much as to raise your little finger toward me, I would stretch you a corpse on this floor."
"What should I be doing to let you?" asked Pedro, with a sneer which was peculiarly aggravating.
Alfonso breathed heavily.
"Do you mean to report me?" he demanded.
"Certainly I do, and you know very well what that means."
"Yes—I—do," answered the convict—speaking with difficulty.
"Shall I tell you?"
"No need of it; my back bears the record."
"For two days in succession, my friend," exclaimed Pedro, who seemed to take a pleasure in tormenting the convict, "you will be flogged in the presence of your companions."
Alfonso's herculean frame trembled, and he shook like an aspen leaf.
"God!" he cried, uplifting his eyes to the dark rock above him, "my time has come—and his."
With a wild gasp he sprang upon Pedro.
Harkaway would have interfered, but he saw that it was useless to make any attempt to separate them.
It was a duel to the death between these two men.
He would only have endangered his own life and have done no good.
Pedro discharged his pistol, as he had threatened to do, but Alfonso received the bullet in his left shoulder without flinching. With his right hand he drove the sharp point of his pick into the skull of the keeper.
Pedro fell with a groan.
Again and again the infuriated convict struck him until, in his mad frenzy, he had smashed his skull into a jelly.
"What have you done?" asked Jack.
"Settled him, any way. There is one mine-boss gone, and the world is rid of another petty tyrant," replied Alfonso.
"And what will become of you?"
"I shall solve the great problem, my friend," said the convict, now a double murderer.
He stooped and picked up the pistol which Pedro had allowed to drop from his hand.
"You do not mean that you will take your own life?"
"That is precisely what I do mean."
"How?"
"Look here!" exclaimed Alfonso. "I take you to be a sensible man, though young. What have I, a slave, to live for? Is it any pleasure to me to exist, as I have been existing for the last year, since I have been in this infernal place?"
"No, I admit that; but——"
"What?"
"While there is life there is hope."
"Not for such as I. Have I not killed this man, almost in self-defense, I may say?"
"I admit it."
"Well, if I live a few hours more they will seize me, flog me till I am in a dying condition, and then hang me. Why should I not die now?"
Harkaway could not see any valid reason why he should prolong his miserable and forfeited existence.
"You are right," he said. "It is clear that suicide in your case is an atonement, if not a virtue."
"Comrade," exclaimed Alfonso, "they say that those who are about to die see future events clearly."
"I have heard that," replied Jack.
"I can see you free and happy."
"Ha!" cried Jack. "When?"
"Before long. I congratulate you. Do not forget what I told you about the diamond."
"I will not."
"Cut it out as soon as I am dead, and then give the alarm at the mouth of the shaft."
"I will; but where shall I put it?"
Alfonso looked wildly around him.
"I don't know. I can't tell," he replied. "My brain is in a whirl. I hear strange voices ringing in my ears. Angels are talking to me. I am conversing with the spirits of the mighty dead and they bid me come to them."
Jack saw now that the man was crazed.
His troubles and his hard lot had weakened his mind, and he was no longer responsible for his actions.
What ought he to do under the circumstances?
If he snatched the pistol from his hand, he would run the risk of being shot, and it would be no charity to the poor wretch to save his life in order that, after cruelly torturing him, the authorities at the mines might take it in a few hours.
Holding out his hand, he said:
"Good-by."
The murderer grasped it warmly.
"You say good-by! Have you anything to add?" he asked.
"Yes. God bless you and——"
Jack hesitated.
"What?"
"Forgive you, for His Son's sake."
"Good!Adios, signor."
These were the last words that Alfonso spoke, for he placed the muzzle of the pistol against his right temple and fired.
There was a loud report, which gave out cavernous echoes, a thick smoke, which nearly obscured the light of the lamp, and the murderer fell prostrate over the corpse of the mine boss.
The bullet had done its work only too well.
He died without a word, a sigh, or a groan.
MISS VANHOOSEN TRAVELS.
Lord Maltravers took care that the papers, containing an account of Harkaway's adventure in the private box at the California theatre with Elise Holt should reach Miss Vanhoosen.
Lena read the account with surprise and indignation.
"He cannot love me," she said, "or he would not intrigue with a married woman."
She tried to harden her heart against men in general, and Jack in particular.
It was singular that she could not succeed, however, for she had to confess to herself that she still loved him.
A copy of the paper had also been sent to Mrs. Vanhoosen, who gloried in it.
"My dear child," she exclaimed, "what did I always tell you about that man?"
"I know you never liked him, mamma."
"Is not my judgment verified now?"
"Perhaps," replied Lena, "though one ought not always to believe what one reads in the papers."
"Why not?"
"Oh, because they are untrustworthy nine times out of ten," said Lena, who wished to defend her absent lover, no matter how strong the proofs might be against him.
"You should have married Maltravers."
"How could I, when he has a wife alive? What nonsense you talk, mamma! He killed the poor creature, and if he is ever caught he will be hanged."
"Not at all," answered Mrs. Vanhoosen. "I have had a letter from him, in which he says that he is about to return to England. No one here cares to prosecute him. Who will send after him? Is the district-attorney going to the expense of extraditing him?"
"Really, mamma, I do not know, and I don't care to argue the point with you," said Lena, with a weary air.
"Why not?"
"It fatigues me."
"You should marry Lord Maltravers."
"I shall never marry now," answered Lena. "I intend to devote myself to a life of single blessedness."
"Why so?"
"Because——"
She paused abruptly.
"I know what you would say," exclaimed Mrs. Vanhoosen. "This man Harkaway, whom you love, has proved himself unworthy of you, as I always said he was, and therefore you close your heart against every one."
"Have it your own way."
"Are you not foolish?"
"Mamma," said Lena, with sudden energy, "if you taunt me any more I will go into a convent."
"Indeed, you will not. I insist upon you visiting Europe with me again," replied Mrs. Vanhoosen.
"What if I refuse?"
"I will disown you; turn you into the street, and you can shift for yourself, ungrateful girl," replied her mother, passionately.
"You expect that I will meet Maltravers and marry him, after all that has occurred?"
"I do."
"Then you are greatly mistaken," said Lena, obstinately.
"My dear child," continued her mother, "consider all you are losing. If you meet Maltravers in Paris, you can get married, for he has no wife alive now, and go and live in Switzerland, or some quiet place, till this affair has blown over."
"Never!"
At this moment Alfred Vanhoosen, who had been absent in Albany for some little time, entered the room.
His presence was unexpected, but it was as welcome as the flowers in May to Lena, who dearly loved her brother.
She knew that he was at all times her friend and her protector.
"Alfred!" she exclaimed, grasping his hand, "I am so glad to see you!"
"And I to see you, sis. Mamma, how are you?"
"Ailing, my dear," replied Mrs. Vanhoosen. "My head has troubled me very much since you have been away."
"Sorry for that. What have you got in your hand, sissy?"
"A California paper."
"I thought as much. What is it about?" asked Alfred.
"That affair of Mr. Harkaway's, in San Francisco," replied Lena.
"Oho! Is that all? You have not seen theChronicleof a later date?"
"No."
He produced a paper, in which he pointed out to her a certain paragraph.
"I presume," he exclaimed, "that Lord Maltravers sends you papers for his own purposes."
"Possibly," she answered, beginning to read.
"Who sends papers to you?" asked Mrs. Vanhoosen, sharply.
"Dick Harvey keeps me posted, and I know just what is going on. This is a game of chess between Harkaway and Maltravers, and I am sorry to say that his lordship has won the first two moves in the game."
"Glad of it!" replied Mrs. Vanhoosen.
"No, mother," said Alfred, "you are not glad in your heart."
"Why not?"
"Because you are too much of a lady and a Christian to wish to see a scoundrel triumph over an honest man."
Mrs. Vanhoosen sat down on the lounge and fanned herself in a vigorous manner.
She did not condescend to make any reply.
Lena read the paragraph which her brother had pointed out to her, and learnt from it some startling facts.
It stated that Harkaway and his friends had been stopped on their way to the Geysers by Vasquez the celebrated bandit, who had been the scourge of California for so long a time.
Harvey had been dangerously wounded, and Jack had been carried off, nobody knew where.
When she had fully mastered the contents of this news item, Lena uttered a loud cry.
Her mother looked at her in astonishment.
"My dear child!" she exclaimed, "what is the matter?"
"Jack has been captured by bandits," replied Lena. "Oh! what shall I—what ought I to do?"
"Shall I tell you, sis?" asked Alfred.
"Oh! yes."
Mrs. Vanhoosen rose and extended her hand.
"Allow me an opportunity to speak, if you please," she said.
"Certainly," replied Alfred; "you are our mother, and we are bound to hear you, although I must say that if I were in Lena's place I would go after Jack."
"Insolent boy!"
"No, mother, I am not insolent; but the girl loves the man, and what is the use of interfering between them?"
"She shall not marry him!"
"I don't want to be undutiful or go against the fifth commandment, mother, which tells us, very properly, to honor our father and mother; but, really, you are wrong in this case."
"Why, may I ask?"
"Mr. Harkaway is an honorable and elegant gentleman in every sense of the word, and by no means a pauper. He can support Lena just as well as you have supported her, and there is no reason why he should not marry her."
Mrs. Vanhoosen tried to speak, but her rising temper rendered her speechless.
Lena began to cry, and put her handkerchief to eyes.
"Oh!" she sobbed; "I shall never see him again."
Alfred Vanhoosen patted her on the cheek with brotherly affection.
"Yes, you will, sis," he replied.
"Oh, no! never, never!"
"I beg your pardon. Jack is not a man very easy to kill, and I don't think Maltravers will get away with him so easily as he thinks."
"God grant it."
"At any rate," continued Alfred, "I will proceed at once to San Francisco and search for him."
"You will?"
"Yes, indeed."
Lena seized him by the hand and looked imploringly in his face.
"Take me with you," she exclaimed. "I shall die if I stay here. This life is intolerable to me."
Alfred looked at his mother, as if he expected some reproach from that proud, ambitious woman.
She was not really bad-hearted, but she was like so many other mothers in the United States who desire their daughters to marry some man from Europe with a title rather than have one of their own race, or at least, one who has nothing but his face and his character to recommend him.
"You are a thankless child, and your conduct is sharper than a serpent's tooth," said Mrs. Vanhoosen.
Lena held out her hand.
"Mamma," she exclaimed, "we must part."
"What! am I to be deserted by my children?"
"Alas! yes. We cannot live together. There is no sympathy between us. My love calls me far away."
Mrs. Vanhoosen became very angry. Her face flushed. She tried to speak, and failed.
Suddenly she uttered a cry. Something seemed to burst in her throat. She fell to the ground heavily.
A stream of blood rushed from her mouth.
In her anger she had broken a blood-vessel, and her life was in danger.
Lena, now greatly alarmed, knelt down and supported her parent's head.
A doctor was sent for, and he did all he could for the unhappy woman, but there was internal hemorrhage, and after lingering for three days, she died.
Tho brother and sister were deeply grieved at their mother's death, but they could not blame themselves for her untimely end.
By her will she had divided her fortune equally between them.
After the funeral, which was largely attended by their numerous friends in New York, they decided to go to California and unravel the mystery which to them attended the fate of Jack Harkaway.
The journey across the continent was delightful.
Everything was so new that they forgot their grief and were happy.
THE ESCAPE FROM THE MINES.
Alfonso, the desperate murderer, had effectually put an end to all his earthly sufferings.
Jack quickly recovered from the shock which his death had given him.
Taking a knife with which he was accustomed to eat his dinner, he searched for the spot in the man's leg where he claimed to have hidden the diamond.
It was with very little hope of finding it that he did so.
The whole story seemed like the delirious ravings of a madman. Cutting away the skin, a hard substance fell out, which Jack picked up.
He had been at work in the mines long enough to know what a diamond was.
Holding it to the light, he uttered a cry of surprise, for he saw that he was the possessor of a jewel of the first water and of prodigious size.
Alfonso had not lied to him.
The story was not the invention of a maniac, but a solemn fact.
What should he do with it?
This question could not be decided off-hand, so he slipped it in his pocket, with the reflection that he yet had half the day to think the matter out.
The convicts were only searched at night, before retiring to their quarters.
He was running a great risk, and he knew it.
If a diamond was found upon the person of a convict he was instantly shot.
Not even a drum-head court-martial was held upon him.
A squad of soldiers was ordered up with loaded rifles, and in less time than it takes to tell it the unlucky finder of the stone was dead.
Making his way to the shaft, where he knew a guard was always stationed, Jack went to make his report.
"What do you want, my man?" asked the officer of the guard.
"Come to report, sir," replied Jack.
"Well?"
"I worked with convict No. 9, Alfonso by name. Overseer Pedro accused him of shirking his work, and an altercation ensued. Pedro threatened to report him twice. Alfonso attacked him with his pick. A shot was fired; but Pedro was killed."
"Ha!" cried the officer; "an overseer slain?"
"Yes, captain."
"What were you about, not to prevent it?"
"I was powerless to interfere."
"How so?"
"The whole thing was so sudden, captain," said Jack.
"Where is the assassin?" inquired the officer.
"He is dead."
"Dead also?"
"Yes. He snatched up the pistol of Pedro and shot himself dead."
The officer turned to his men.
"Sergeant," he said, "take a file of the guard. Go into that working and verify the truth of this man's statement."
The sergeant saluted.
"If there are any dead bodies, bring them to the shaft," continued the officer.
He again bestowed his attention upon Harkaway.
"You will consider yourself under arrest," he added.
Jack nodded, and sat down on the ground between two soldiers.
He wondered what would happen next.
Men who live an uncertain life enjoy an excitement similar to that experienced by gamblers.
Jack did not know whether he would live to see the sun set, and yet he felt more inclined to whistle than cry.
At length the dead bodies were brought out and sent up to the surface in the cage.
The officer followed with Jack.
On being informed of the tragedy, the governor of the mines held an examination.
Harkaway told his story with such a straightforward, truthful air, that he was instantly believed.
No blame attached to him.
"It wasn't your quarrel, my good fellow," said the governor, "and I do not see how you could have interfered successfully. These affairs must occur in such a population as ours. It was clearly Pedro's own fault for not using his pistol with more celerity and not taking a better aim. You are discharged."
"Thank you, sir," replied Jack. "Might I ask you one favor?"
"Name it."
"I should like to work in the open air."
"Would you? That is not extraordinary. Most people would."
"Cannot I wash the dirt when it comes out of the mines?"
"We have enough already."
"If I go below I shall see those two men quarreling. It will be enough to drive me crazy, and if I become insane, the State will lose a valuable servant."
The governor laughed.
"I should think you had been a lawyer," he observed.
"Why so?"
"You know how to plead your cause so well."
He paused for a moment, as if reflecting.
"Your answer, excellency," exclaimed the officer.
"To what?"
"This man's prayer."
"Oh, yes. I had forgotten him. His request is granted. I was thinking of something else. Send up the band of the regiment to my house. I have to entertain two strangers to-day. They come from Rio with letters from the Emperor himself."
The governor went away, and Jack was at once taken to a stream, where, standing up to his waist in water, he washed the dirt in a sieve as it was brought to him in a barrow, from the mouth of the mine, by another convict.
The bank of the stream on one side was several feet above the water.
Jack had not been at work long before he heard voices.
Looking up, he saw the governor and two gentlemen.
What was his surprise to see his friends, Harvey and Mr. Mole?
They had evidently lost no time in following him to the Brazils.
He was about to make an exclamation, when Mr. Mole's foot slipped and he fell into the water.
Splashing about like a huge fish, he seized Jack and pulled him down.
They rolled over and over.
"Help! I'm drowning!" cried Mole. "Never could swim a stroke in my life, you know. Help me, you clumsy slave, or I'll have you whipped!"
"No, you won't, Mr. Mole," said Jack, helping him up.
"Ha! you know my name?"
"Yes; look at me."
"Jack!"
The professor delightedly threw his arms round Jack's neck, and hugged and kissed him with every demonstration of unbounded affection.
The governor was astonished.
"What is the matter with your friend?" he asked. "Is he crazy?"
"I don't know," replied Harvey.
The professor waved his hand.
"I've found him," he exclaimed. "It's Jack!"
They speedily made their way to the bank, and Harvey was as much pleased as Mr. Mole had been.
"Jack, my dear old fellow," he said; "thank God you are alive and well."
Turning to the governor, he added:
"This, sir, is the gentleman whose pardon I have brought you from the Emperor."
The governor bowed.
"One of our best prisoners," he replied. "I am sorry to lose him; but, of course, he is free."
Jack was profoundly affected.
"We lost no time in following you," said Harvey. "My wound was not a dangerous one, and as soon as I got well enough to travel, we were off."
That day Jack, in a new suit of clothes, dined with the governor and his friends.
He kept the diamond, which he had cut in San Francisco afterward, and handsomely set.
"For Lena," he said.
They made their way to the city of Rio and took the first steamer for Aspinwall, where they crossed the Isthmus to Panama, and took ship again for 'Frisco.
On their arrival they bought theChronicle, and Jack read a paragraph in the fashionable intelligence:
"Miss Lena Vanhoosen and Mr. Alfred Vanhoosen are staying at Black's Hotel, in the Yosemite Valley."
"Dick," he exclaimed, "we must travel again."
"How?"
"Lena is in California."
That evening they were traveling toward Merced, and the next day they took the stage for the far-famed valley, where they hoped to meet the Vanhoosens.
Of Lord Maltravers they heard absolutely nothing.
He seemed to have disappeared from the scene.