ITwas nearly noon of the next day when Helen awoke to find that McNamara had ridden in from the Creek and stopped for breakfast with the Judge. He had asked for her, but on hearing the tale of the night’s adventure would not allow her to be disturbed. Later, he and the Judge had gone away together.
Although her judgment approved the step she had contemplated the night before, still the girl now felt a strange reluctance to meet McNamara. It is true that she knew no ill of him, except that implied in the accusations of certain embittered men; and she was aware that every strong and aggressive character makes enemies in direct proportion to the qualities which lend him greatness. Nevertheless, she was aware of an inner conflict that she had not foreseen. This man who so confidently believed that she would marry him did not dominate her consciousness.
She had ridden much of late, taking long, solitary gallops beside the shimmering sea that she loved so well, or up the winding valleys into the foot-hills where echoed the roar of swift waters or glinted the flash of shovel blades. This morning her horse was lame, so she determined to walk. In her early rambles she had looked timidly askance at the rough men she met tillshe discovered their genuine respect and courtesy. The most unkempt among them were often college-bred, although, for that matter, the roughest of the miners showed abundant consideration for a woman. So she was glad to allow the men to talk to her with the fine freedom inspired by the new country and its wide spaces. The wilderness breeds a chivalry all its own.
Thus there seemed to be no danger abroad, though they had told the girl of mad dogs which roamed the city, explaining that the hot weather affects powerfully the thick-coated, shaggy “malamoots.” This is the land of the dog, and whereas in winter his lot is to labor and shiver and starve, in summer he loafs, fights, grows fat, and runs mad with the heat.
Helen walked far and, returning, chose an unfamiliar course through the outskirts of the town to avoid meeting any of the women she knew, because of that vivid memory of the night before. As she walked swiftly along she thought that she heard faint cries far behind her. Looking up, she noted that it was a lonely, barren quarter and that the only figure in sight was a woman some distance away. A few paces farther on the shouts recurred—more plainly this time, and a gunshot sounded. Glancing back, she saw several men running, one bearing a smoking revolver, and heard, nearer still, the snarling hubbub of fighting dogs. In a flash the girl’s curiosity became horror, for, as she watched, one of the dogs made a sudden dash through the now subdued group of animals and ran swiftly along the planking on which she stood. It was a handsome specimen of the Eskimo malamoot—tall, gray, and coated like a wolf, with the speed, strength, and cunning of its cousin.Its head hung low and swung from side to side as it trotted, the motion flecking foam and slaver. The creature had scattered the pack, and now, swift, menacing, relentless, was coming towards Helen. There was no shelter near, no fence, no house, save the distant one towards which the other woman was making her way. The men, too far away to protect her, shouted hoarse warnings.
Helen did not scream nor hesitate—she turned and ran, terror-stricken, towards the distant cottage. She was blind with fright and felt an utter certainty that the dog would attack her before she could reach safety. Yes—there was the quick patter of his pads close up behind her; her knees weakened; the sheltering door was yet some yards away. But a horse, tethered near the walk, reared and snorted as the flying pair drew near. The mad creature swerved, leaped at the horse’s legs, and snapped in fury. Badly frightened at this attack, the horse lunged at his halter, broke it, and galloped away; but the delay had served for Helen, weak and faint, to reach the door. She wrenched at the knob. It was locked. As she turned hopelessly away, she saw that the other woman was directly behind her, and was, in her turn, awaiting the mad animal’s onslaught, but calmly, a tiny revolver in her hand.
“Shoot!” screamed Helen. “Why don’t you shoot?” The little gun spoke, and the dog spun around, snarling and yelping. The woman fired several times more before it lay still, and then remarked, calmly, as she “broke” the weapon and ejected the shells:
“The calibre is too small to be good for much.”
Helen sank down upon the steps.
“How well you shoot!” she gasped. Her eyes were on the gray bundle whose death agonies had thrust it almost to her feet. The men had run up and were talking excitedly, but after a word with them the woman turned to Helen.
“You must come in for a moment and recover yourself,” she said, and led her inside.
It was a cosey room in which the girl found herself—more than that—luxurious. There was a piano with scattered music, and many of the pretty, feminine things that Helen had not seen since leaving home. The hostess had stepped behind some curtains for an instant and was talking to her from the next room.
“That is the third mad dog I have seen this month. Hydrophobia is becoming a habit in this neighborhood.” She returned, bearing a tiny silver tray with decanter and glasses.
“You’re all unstrung, but this brandy will help you—if you don’t object to a swallow of it. Then come right in here and lie down for a moment and you’ll be all right.” She spoke with such genuine kindness and sympathy that Helen flashed a grateful glance at her. She was tall, slender, and with a peculiar undulating suggestion in her movements, as though she had been bred to the clinging folds of silken garments. Helen watched the charm of her smile, the friendly solicitude of her expression, and felt her heart warm towards this one kind woman in Nome.
“You’re very good,” she answered; “but I’m all right now. I was badly frightened. It was wonderful, your saving me.” She followed the other’s graceful motion as she placed her burden on the table, andin doing so gazed squarely at a photograph of Roy Glenister.
“Oh—!” Helen exclaimed, then paused as it flashed over her who this girl was. She looked at her quickly. Yes, probably men would consider the woman beautiful, with that smile. The revelation came with a shock, and she arose, trying to mask her confusion.
“Thank you so much for your kindness. I’m quite myself now and I must go.”
Her change of face could not escape the quick perceptions of one schooled by experience in the slights of her sex. Times without number Cherry Malotte had marked that subtle, scornful change in other women, and reviled herself for heeding it. But in some way this girl’s manner hurt her worst of all. She betrayed no sign, however, save a widening of the eyes and a certain fixity of smile as she answered:
“I wish you would stay until you are rested, Miss—” She paused with out-stretched hand.
“Chester. My name is Helen Chester. I’m Judge Stillman’s niece,” hurried the other, in embarrassment.
Cherry Malotte withdrew her proffered hand and her face grew hard and hateful.
“Oh! So you are Miss Chester—and I—saved you!” She laughed harshly.
Helen strove for calmness. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, coolly. “I appreciate your service to me.” She moved towards the door.
“Wait a moment. I want to talk to you.” Then, as Helen paid no heed, the woman burst out, bitterly: “Oh, don’t be afraid! I know you are committing an unpardonable sin by talking to me, but no one will see you, and in your code the crime lies in being discovered.Therefore, you’re quite safe. That’s what makes me an outcast—I was found out. I want you to know, however, that, bad as I am, I’m better than you, for I’m loyal to those that like me, and I don’t betray my friends.”
“I don’t pretend to understand you,” said Helen, coldly.
“Oh yes, you do! Don’t assume such innocence. Of course it’s your rôle, but you can’t play it with me.” She stepped in front of her visitor, placing her back against the door, while her face was bitter and mocking. “The little service I did you just now entitles me to a privilege, I suppose, and I’m going to take advantage of it to tell you how badly your mask fits. Dreadfully rude of me, isn’t it? You’re in with a fine lot of crooks, and I admire the way you’ve done your share of the dirty work, but when you assume these scandalized, supervirtuous airs it offends me.”
“Let me out!”
“I’ve done bad things,” Cherry continued, unheedingly, “but I was forced into them, usually, and I never, deliberately, tried to wreck a man’s life just for his money.”
“What do you mean by saying that I have betrayed my friends and wrecked anybody’s life?” Helen demanded, hotly.
“Bah! I had you sized up at the start, but Roy couldn’t see it. Then Struve told me what I hadn’t guessed. A bottle of wine, a woman, and that fool will tell all he knows. It’s a great game McNamara’s playing and he did well to get you in on it, for you’re clever, your nerve is good, and your make-up is great for the part. I ought to know, for I’ve turned a fewtricks myself. You’ll pardon this little burst of feeling—professional pique. I’m jealous of your ability, that’s all. However, now that you realize we’re in the same class, don’t look down on me hereafter.” She opened the door and bowed her guest out with elaborate mockery.
Helen was too bewildered and humiliated to make much out of this vicious and incoherent attack except the fact that Cherry Malotte accused her of a part in this conspiracy which every one seemed to believe existed. Here again was that hint of corruption which she encountered on all sides. This might be merely a woman’s jealousy—and yet she said Struve had told her all about it—that a bottle of wine and a pretty face would make the lawyer disclose everything. She could believe it from what she knew and had heard of him. The feeling that she was groping in the dark, that she was wrapped in a mysterious woof of secrecy, came over her again as it had so often of late. If Struve talked to that other woman, why wouldn’t he talk to her? She paused, changing her direction towards Front Street, revolving rapidly in her mind as she went her course of action. Cherry Malotte believed her to be an actress. Very well—she would prove her judgment right.
She found Struve busy in his private office, but he leaped to his feet on her entrance and came forward, offering her a chair.
“Good-morning, Miss Helen. You have a fine color, considering the night you passed. The Judge told me all about the affair; and let me state that you’re the pluckiest girl I know.”
She smiled grimly at the thought of what made hercheeks glow, and languidly loosened the buttons of her jacket.
“I suppose you’re very busy, you lawyer man?” she inquired.
“Yes—but not too busy to attend to anything you want.”
“Oh, I didn’t come on business,” she said, lightly. “I was out walking and merely sauntered in.”
“Well, I appreciate that all the more,” he said, in an altered tone, twisting his chair about. “I’m more than delighted.” She judged she was getting on well from the way his professionalism had dropped off.
“Yes, I get tired of talking to uncle and Mr. McNamara. They treat me as though I were a little girl.”
“When do you take the fatal step?”
“What step do you mean?”
“Your marriage. When does it occur? You needn’t hesitate,” he added. “McNamara told me about it a month ago.”
He felt his throat gingerly at the thought, but his eyes brightened when she answered, lightly:
“I think you are mistaken. He must have been joking.”
For some time she led him on adroitly, talking of many things, in a way to make him wonder at her new and flippant humor. He had never dreamed she could be like this, so tantalizingly close to familiarity, and yet so maddeningly aloof and distant. He grew bolder in his speech.
“How are things going with us?” she questioned, as his warmth grew pronounced. “Uncle won’t talk and Mr. McNamara is as close-mouthed as can be, lately.”
He looked at her quickly. “In what respect?”
She summoned up her courage and walked past the ragged edge of uncertainty.
“Now, don’t you try to keep me in short dresses, too. It’s getting wearisome. I’ve done my part and I want to know what the rest of you are doing.” She was prepared for any answer.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, cautiously.
“Everything. Don’t you think I can hear what people are saying?”
“Oh, that’s it! Well, don’t you pay any attention to what people say.”
She recognized her mistake and continued, hurriedly:
“Why shouldn’t I? Aren’t we all in this together? I object to being used and then discarded. I think I’m entitled to know how the scheme is working. Don’t you think I can keep my mouth shut?”
“Of course,” he laughed, trying to change the subject of their talk; but she arose and leaned against the desk near him, vowing that she would not leave the office without piercing some part of this mystery. His manner strengthened her suspicion that therewassomething behind it all. This dissipated, brilliant creature knew the situation thoroughly; and yet, though swayed by her efforts, he remained chained by caution. She leaned forward and smiled at him.
“You’re just like the others, aren’t you? You won’t give me any satisfaction at all.”
“Give, give, give,” said Struve, cynically. “That’s always the woman’s cry. Give me this—give me that. Selfish sex! Why don’t you offer something in return? Men are traders, women usurers. You are curious, hence miserable. I can help you, therefore I shoulddo it for a smile. You ask me to break my promises and risk my honor on your caprice. Well, that’s woman-like, and I’ll do it. I’ll put myself in your power, but I won’t do it gratis. No, we’ll trade.”
“It isn’t curiosity,” she denied, indignantly. “It is my due.”
“No; you’ve heard the common talk and grown suspicious, that’s all. You think I know something that will throw a new light or a new shadow on everything you have in the world, and you’re worked up to such a condition that you can’t take your own people’s word; and, on the other hand, you can’t go to strangers, so you come to me. Suppose I told you I had the papers you brought to me last spring in that safe and that they told the whole story—whether your uncle is unimpeachable or whether he deserved hanging by that mob. What would you do, eh? What would you give to see them? Well, they’re there and ready to speak for themselves. If you’re a woman you won’t rest till you’ve seen them. Will you trade?”
“Yes, yes! Give them to me,” she cried, eagerly, at which a wave of crimson rushed up to his eyes and he rose abruptly from his chair. He made towards her, but she retreated to the wall, pale and wide-eyed.
“Can’t you see,” she flung at him, “that Imustknow?”
He paused. “Of course I can, but I want a kiss to bind the bargain—to apply on account.” He reached for her hand with his own hot one, but she pushed him away and slipped past him towards the door.
“Suit yourself,” said he, “but if I’m not mistaken, you’ll never rest till you’ve seen those papers. I’ve studied you, and I’ll place a bet that you can’t marryMcNamara nor look your uncle in the eye till you know the truth. You might do either if youknewthem to be crooks, but you couldn’t if you only suspected it—that’s the woman. When you get ready, come back; I’ll show you proof, because I don’t claim to be anything but what I am—Wilton Struve, bargainer of some mean ability. When they come to inscribe my headstone I hope they can carve thereon with truth, ‘He got value received.’ ”
“You’re a panther,” she said, loathingly.
“Graceful and elegant brute, that,” he laughed. “Affectionate and full of play, but with sharp teeth and sharper claws. To follow out the idea, which pleases me, I believe the creature owes no loyalty to its fellows and hunts alone. Now, when you’ve followed this conspiracy out and placed the blame where it belongs, won’t you come and tell me about it? That door leads into an outer hall which opens into the street. No one will see you come or go.”
As she hurried away she wondered dazedly why she had stayed to listen so long. What a monster he was! His meaning was plain, had always been so from the first day he laid eyes upon her, and he was utterly conscienceless. She had known all this; and yet, in her proud, youthful confidence, and in her need, every hour more desperate and urgent, to know the truth, she had dared risk herself with him. Withal, the man was shrewd and observant and had divined her mental condition with remarkable sagacity. She had failed with him; but the girl now knew that she could never rest till she found an answer to her questions. Shemustkill this suspicion that ate into her so. She thought tenderly of her uncle’s goodness to her, clung withdespairing faith to the last of her kin. The blood ties of the Chesters were close and she felt in dire need of that lost brother who was somewhere in this mysterious land—need of some one in whom ran the strain that bound her to the weak old man up yonder. There was McNamara; but how could he help her, how much did she know of him, this man who was now within the darkest shadow of her new suspicions?
Feeling almost intolerably friendless and alone, weakened both by her recent fright and by her encounter with Struve, Helen considered as calmly as her emotions would allow and decided that this was no day in which pride should figure. There were facts which it was imperative she should know, and immediately; therefore, a few minutes later, she knocked at the door of Cherry Malotte. When the girl appeared, Helen was astonished to see that she had been crying. Tears burn hottest and leave plainest trace in eyes where they come most seldom. The younger girl could not guess the tumult of emotion the other had undergone during her absence, the utter depths of self-abasement she had fathomed, for the sight of Helen and her fresh young beauty had roused in the adventuress a very tempest of bitterness and jealousy. Whether Helen Chester were guilty or innocent, how could Glenister hesitate between them? Cherry had asked herself. Now she stared at her visitor inhospitably and without sign.
“Will you let me come in?” Helen asked her. “I have something to say to you.”
When they were inside, Cherry Malotte stood and gazed at her visitor with inscrutable eyes and stony face.
“It isn’t easy for me to come back,” Helen began,“but I felt that I had to. If you can help me, I hope you will. You said that you knew a great wrong was being done. I have suspected it, but I didn’t know, and I’ve been afraid to doubt my own people. You said I had a part in it—that I’d betrayed my friends. Wait a moment,” she hurried on, at the other’s cynical smile. “Won’t you tell me what you know and what you think my part has been? I’ve heard and seen things that make me think—oh, they make me afraid to think, and yet I can’t find thetruth!You see, in a struggle like this, people will make all sorts of allegations, but do theyknow, have they any proof, that my uncle has done wrong?”
“Is that all?”
“No. You said Struve told you the whole scheme. I went to him and tried to cajole the story out of him, but—” She shivered at the memory.
“What success did you have?” inquired the listener, oddly curious for all her cold dislike.
“Don’t ask me. I hate to think of it.”
Cherry laughed cruelly. “So, failing there, you came back to me, back for another favor from the waif. Well, Miss Helen Chester, I don’t believe a word you’ve said and I’ll tell you nothing. Go back to the uncle and the rawboned lover who sent you, and inform them that I’ll speak when the time comes. They think I know too much, do they?—so they’ve sent you to spy? Well, I’ll make a compact. You play your game and I’ll play mine. Leave Glenister alone and I’ll not tell on McNamara. Is it a bargain?”
“No, no, no! Can’t yousee? That’s not it. All I want is the truth of this thing.”
“Then go back to Struve and get it. He’ll tell you;I won’t. Drive your bargain with him—you’re able. You’ve fooled better men—now, see what you can do with him.”
Helen left, realizing the futility of further effort, though she felt that this woman did not really doubt her, but was scourged by jealousy till she deliberately chose this attitude.
Reaching her own house, she wrote two brief notes and called in her Jap boy from the kitchen.
“Fred, I want you to hunt up Mr. Glenister and give him this note. If you can’t find him, then look for his partner and give the other to him.” Fred vanished, to return in an hour with the letter for Dextry still in his hand.
“I don’ catch dis feller,” he explained. “Young mans say he gone, come back mebbe one, two, ’leven days.”
“Did you deliver the one to Mr. Glenister?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Was there an answer?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, give it to me.”
The note read:
“Dear Miss Chester,—A discussion of a matter so familiar to us both as the Anvil Creek controversy would be useless. If your inclination is due to the incidents of last night, pray don’t trouble yourself. We don’t want your pity. I am,“Your servant,“Roy Glenister.”
“Dear Miss Chester,—A discussion of a matter so familiar to us both as the Anvil Creek controversy would be useless. If your inclination is due to the incidents of last night, pray don’t trouble yourself. We don’t want your pity. I am,
“Your servant,“Roy Glenister.”
As she read the note, Judge Stillman entered, and it seemed to the girl that he had aged a year for every hour in the last twelve, or else the yellow afternoonlight limned the sagging hollows and haggard lines of his face most pitilessly. He showed in voice and manner the nervous burden under which he labored.
“Alec has told me about your engagement, and it lifts a terrible load from me. I’m mighty glad you’re going to marry him. He’s a wonderful man, and he’s the only one who can save us.”
“What do you mean by that? What are we in danger of?” she inquired, avoiding discussion of McNamara’s announcement.
“Why, that mob, of course. They’ll come back. They said so. But Alec can handle the commanding officer at the post, and, thanks to him, we’ll have soldiers guarding the house hereafter.”
“Why—they won’t hurt us—”
“Tut, tut! I know what I’m talking about. We’re in worse danger now than ever, and if we don’t break up those Vigilantes there’ll be bloodshed—that’s what. They’re a menace, and they’re trying to force me off the bench so they can take the law into their own hands again. That’s what I want to see you about. They’re planning to kill Alec and me—so he says—and we’ve got to act quick to prevent murder. Now, this young Glenister is one of them, and he knows who the rest are. Do you think you could get him to talk?”
“I don’t think I quite understand you,” said the girl, through whitening lips.
“Oh yes, you do. I want the names of the ring-leaders, so that I can jail them. You can worm it out of that fellow if you try.”
Helen looked at the old man in a horror that at first was dumb. “You ask this of me?” she demanded, hoarsely, at last.
“Nonsense,” he said, irritably. “This isn’t any time for silly scruples. It’s life or death for me, maybe, and for Alec, too.” He said the last craftily, but she stormed at him:
“It’s infamous! You’re asking me to betray the very man who saved us not twelve hours ago. He risked his life for us.”
“It isn’t treachery at all, it’s protection. If we don’t get them, they’ll get us. I wouldn’t punish that young fellow, but I want the others. Come, now, you’ve got to do it.”
But she said “No” firmly, and quietly went to her own room, where, behind the locked door, she sat for a long time staring with unseeing eyes, her hands tight clenched in her lap. At last she whispered:
“I’m afraid it’s true. I’m afraid it’s true.”
She remained hidden during the dinner-hour, and pleaded a headache when McNamara called in the early evening. Although she had not seen him since he left her the night before, bearing her tacit promise to wed him, yet how could she meet him now with the conviction growing on her hourly that he was a master-rogue? She wrestled with the thought that he and her uncle, her own uncle who stood in the place of a father, were conspirators. And yet, at memory of the Judge’s cold-blooded request that she should turn traitress, her whole being was revolted. If he could ask a thing like that, what other heartless, selfish act might he not be capable of? All the long, solitary evening she kept her room, but at last, feeling faint, slipped down-stairs in search of Fred, for she had eaten nothing since her late breakfast.
Voices reached her from the parlor, and as she cameto the last step she froze there in an attitude of listening. The first sentence she heard through the close-drawn curtains banished all qualms at eavesdropping. She stood for many breathless minutes drinking in the plot that came to her plainly from within, then turned, gathered up her skirts, and tiptoed back to her room. Here she made haste madly, tearing off her house clothes and donning others.
She pressed her face to the window and noted that the night was like a close-hung velvet pall, without a star in sight. Nevertheless, she wound a heavy veil about her hat and face before she extinguished the light and stepped into the hall. Hearing McNamara’s “Good-night” at the front-door, she retreated again while her uncle slowly mounted the stairs and paused before her chamber. He called her name softly, but when she did not answer continued on to his own room. When he was safely within she descended quietly, went out, and locked the front-door behind her, placing the key in her bosom. She hurried now, feeling her way through the thick gloom in a panic, while in her mind was but one frightened thought:
“I’ll be too late. I’ll be too late.”
EVENafter Helen had been out for some time she could barely see sufficiently to avoid collisions. The air, weighted by a low-hung roof of clouds, was surcharged with the electric suspense of an impending storm, and seemed to sigh and tremble at the hint of power in leash. It was that pause before the conflict wherein the night laid finger upon its lips.
As the girl neared Glenister’s cabin she was disappointed at seeing no light there. She stumbled towards the door, only to utter a half-strangled cry as two men stepped out of the gloom and seized her roughly. Something cold and hard was thrust violently against her cheek, forcing her head back and bruising her. She struggled and cried out.
“Hold on—it’s a woman!” ejaculated the man who had pinioned her arms, loosing his hold till only a hand remained on her shoulder. The other lowered the weapon he had jammed to her face and peered closely.
“Why, Miss Chester,” he said. “What are you doing here? You came near getting hurt.”
“I am bound for the Wilsons’, but I must have lost my way in the darkness. I think you have cut my face.” She controlled her fright firmly.
“That’s too bad,” one said. “We mistook youfor—” And the other broke in, sharply, “You’d better run along. We’re waiting for some one.”
Helen hastened back by the route she had come, knowing that there was still time, and that as yet her uncle’s emissaries had not laid hands upon Glenister. She had overheard the Judge and McNamara plotting to drag the town with a force of deputies, seizing not only her two friends, but every man suspected of being a Vigilante. The victims were to be jailed without bond, without reason, without justice, while the mechanism of the court was to be juggled in order to hold them until fall, if necessary. They had said that the officers were already busy, so haste was a crying thing. She sped down the dark streets towards the house of Cherry Malotte, but found no light nor answer to her knock. She was distracted now, and knew not where to seek next among the thousand spots which might hide the man she wanted. What chance had she against the posse sweeping the town from end to end? There was only one; he might be at the Northern Theatre. Even so, she could not reach him, for she dared not go there herself. She thought of Fred, her Jap boy, but there was no time. Wasted moments meant failure.
Roy had once told her that he never gave up what he undertook. Very well, she would show that even a girl may possess determination. This was no time for modesty or shrinking indecision, so she pulled the veil more closely about her face and took her good name into her hands. She made rapidly towards the lighted streets which cast a skyward glare, and from which, through the breathless calm, arose the sound of carousal. Swiftly she threaded the narrow alleys in searchof the theatre’s rear entrance, for she dared not approach from the front. In this way she came into a part of the camp which had lain hidden from her until now, and of the existence of which she had never dreamed.
The vices of a city, however horrible, are at least draped scantily by the mantle of convention, but in a great mining-camp they stand naked and without concealment. Here there were rows upon rows of criblike houses clustered over tortuous, ill-lighted lanes, like blow-flies swarming to an unclean feast. From within came the noise of ribaldry and debauch. Shrill laughter mingled with coarse, maudlin songs, till the clinging night reeked with abominable revelry. The girl saw painted creatures of every nationality leaning from windows or beckoning from doorways, while drunken men collided with her, barred her course, challenged her, and again and again she was forced to slip from their embraces. At last the high bulk of the theatre building loomed a short distance ahead. Panting and frightened, she tried the door with weak hands, to find it locked. From behind it rose the blare of brass and the sound of singing. She accosted a man who approached her through the narrow alley, but he had cruised from the charted course in search of adventure and was not minded to go in quest of doormen; rather, he chose to sing a chantey, to the bibulous measures of which he invited her to dance with him, so she slipped away till he had teetered past. He was some long-shoreman in that particular epoch of his inebriety where life had no burden save the dissipation of wages.
Returning, she pounded on the door, possessed of the sense that the man she sought was here, till at last itwas flung open, framing the silhouette of a shirt-sleeved, thick-set youth, who shouted:
“What ’n ’ell do you want to butt in for while the show’s on? Go round front.” She caught a glimpse of disordered scenery, and before he could slam the door in her face thrust a silver dollar into his hand, at the same time wedging herself into the opening. He pocketed the coin and the door clicked to behind her.
“Well, speak up. The act’s closin’.” Evidently he was the directing genius of the performance, for at that moment the chorus broke into full cry, and he said, hurriedly:
“Wait a minute. There goes the finally,” and dashed away to tend his drops and switches. When the curtain was down and the principals had sought their dressing-rooms he returned.
“Do you know Mr. Glenister?” she asked.
“Sure. I seen him to-night. Come here.” He led her towards the footlights, and, pulling back the edge of the curtain, allowed her to peep past him out into the dance-hall. She had never pictured a place like this, and in spite of her agitation was astonished at its gaudy elegance. The gallery was formed of a continuous row of compartments with curtained fronts, in which men and women were talking, drinking, singing. The seats on the lower floor were disappearing, and the canvas cover was rolling back, showing the polished hardwood underneath, while out through the wide folding-doors that led to the main gambling-room she heard a brass-lunged man calling the commencement of the dance. Couples glided into motion while she watched.
“I don’t see him,” said her guide. “You better walk out front and help yourself.” He indicated thestairs which led up to the galleried boxes and the steps leading down on to the main floor, but she handed him another coin, begging him to find Glenister and bring him to her. “Hurry; hurry!” she implored.
The stage-manager gazed at her curiously, remarking, “My! You spend your money like it had been left to you. You’re a regular pie-check for me. Come around any time.”
She withdrew to a dark corner and waited interminably till her messenger appeared at the head of the gallery stairs and beckoned to her. As she drew near he said, “I told him there was a thousand-dollar filly flaggin’ him from the stage door, but he’s got a grouch an’ won’t stir. He’s in number seven.” She hesitated, at which he said, “Go on—you’re in right;” then continued, reassuringly: “Say, pal, if he’s your white-haired lad, you needn’t start no roughhouse, ’cause he don’t flirt wit’ these dames none whatever. Naw! Take it from me.”
She entered the door her counsellor indicated to find Roy lounging back watching the dancers. He turned inquiringly—then, as she raised her veil, leaped to his feet and jerked the curtains to.
“Helen! What are you doing here?”
“You must go away quickly,” she gasped. “They’re trying to arrest you.”
“They! Who? Arrest me for what?”
“Voorhees and his men—for riot, or something about last night.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “I had no part in it. You know that.”
“Yes, yes—but you’re a Vigilante, and they’re after you and all your friends. Your house is guarded andthe town is alive with deputies. They’ve planned to jail you on some pretext or other and hold you indefinitely. Please go before it’s too late.”
“How do you know this?” he asked, gravely.
“I overheard them plotting.”
“Who?”
“Uncle Arthur and Mr. McNamara.” She faced him squarely as she said it, and therefore saw the light flame up in his eyes as he cried:
“And you came here to save me—camehereat the risk of your good name?”
“Of course. I would have done the same for Dextry.” The gladness died away, leaving him listless.
“Well, let them come. I’m done, I guess. I heard from Wheaton to-night. He’s down and out, too—some trouble with the ’Frisco courts about jurisdiction over these cases. I don’t know that it’s worth while to fight any longer.”
“Listen,” she said. “You must go. I am sure there is a terrible wrong being done, and you and I must stop it. I have seen the truth at last, and you’re in the right. Please hide for a time at least.”
“Very well. If you have taken sides with us there’s some hope left. Thank you for the risk you ran in warning me.”
She had moved to the front of the compartment and was peering forth between the draperies when she stifled a cry.
“Too late! Too late! There they are. Don’t part the curtains. They’ll see you.”
Pushing through the gambling-hall were Voorhees and four others, seemingly in quest of some one.
“Run down the back stairs,” she breathed, andpushed him through the door. He caught and held her hand with a last word of gratitude. Then he was gone. She drew down her veil and was about to follow when the door opened and he reappeared.
“No use,” he remarked, quietly. “There are three more waiting at the foot.” He looked out to find that the officers had searched the crowd and were turning towards the front stairs, thus cutting off his retreat. There were but two ways down from the gallery and no outside windows from which to leap. As they had made no armed display, the presence of the officers had not interrupted the dance.
Glenister drew his revolver, while into his eyes came the dancing glitter that Helen had seen before, cold as the glint of winter sunlight.
“No, not that—for God’s sake!” she shuddered, clasping his arm.
“I must for your sake, or they’ll find you here, and that’s worse than ruin. I’ll fight it out in the corridors so that you can escape in the confusion. Wait till the firing stops and the crowd gathers.” His hand was on the knob when she tore it loose, whispering hoarsely:
“They’ll kill you. Wait! There’s a better way. Jump.” She dragged him to the front of the box and pulled aside the curtains. “It isn’t high and they won’t see you till it’s too late. Then you can run through the crowd.”
He grasped her idea, and, slipping his weapon back into its holster, laid hold of the ledge before him and lowered himself down over the dancers. He swung out unhesitatingly, and almost before he had been observed had dropped into their midst. The gallery was but twice the height of a man’s head from the floor, so helanded on his feet and had drawn his Colt’s even while the men at the stairs were shouting at him to halt.
At sight of the naked weapons there was confusion, wherein the commands of the deputies mingled with the shrieks of the women, the crash of overturned chairs, and the sound of tramping feet, as the crowd divided before Glenister and swept back against the wall in the same ominous way that a crowd in the street had once divided on the morning of Helen’s arrival. The trombone player, who had sunk low in his chair with closed eyes, looked out suddenly at the disturbance, and his alarm was blown through the horn in a startled squawk. A large woman whimpered, “Don’t shoot,” and thrust her palms to her ears, closing her eyes tightly.
Glenister covered the deputies, from whose vicinity the by-standers surged as though from the presence of lepers.
“Hands up!” he cried, sharply, and they froze into motionless attitudes, one poised on the lowest step of the stairs, the other a pace forward. Voorhees appeared at the head of the flight and rushed down a few steps only to come abruptly into range and to assume a like rigidity, for the young man’s aim shifted to him.
“I have a warrant for you,” the officer cried, his voice loud in the hush.
“Keep it,” said Glenister, showing his teeth in a smile in which there was no mirth. He backed diagonally across the hall, his boot-heels clicking in the silence, his eyes shifting rapidly up and down the stairs where the danger lay.
From her station Helen could see the whole tableau,all but the men on the stairs, where her vision was cut off. She saw the dance girls crouched behind their partners or leaning far out from the wall with parted lips, the men eager yet fearful, the bartender with a half-polished glass poised high. Then a quick movement across the hall suddenly diverted her absorbed attention. She saw a man rip aside the drapery of the box opposite and lean so far out that he seemed in peril of falling. He undertook to sight a weapon at Glenister, who was just passing from his view. At her first glance Helen gasped—her heart gave one fierce lunge, and she cried out.
The distance across the pit was so short that she saw his every line and lineament clearly; it was the brother she had sought these years and years. Before she knew or could check it the blood call leaped forth.
“Drury!” she cried, aloud, at which he whipped his head about, while amazement and some other emotion she could not gauge spread slowly over his features. For a long moment he stared at her without movement or sign while the drama beneath went on, then he drew back into his retreat with the dazed look of one doubting his senses, yet fearful of putting them to the test. For her part, she saw nothing except her brother vanishing slowly into the shadows as though stricken at her glance, the curtains closing before his livid face—and then pandemonium broke loose at her feet.
Glenister, holding his enemies at bay, had retreated to the double doors leading to the theatre. His coup had been executed so quickly and with such lack of turmoil that the throng outside knew nothing of it till they saw a man walk backward through the door. As he did so he reached forth and slammed the wide wingsshut before his face, then turned and dashed into the press. Inside the dance-hall loud sounds arose as the officers clattered down the stairs and made after their quarry. They tore the barrier apart in time to see, far down the saloon, an eddying swirl as though some great fish were lashing through the lily-pads of a pond, and then the swinging doors closed behind Glenister.
Helen made her way from the theatre as she had come, unobserved and unobserving, but she walked in a dream. Emotions had chased each other too closely to-night to be distinguishable, so she went mechanically through the narrow alley to Front Street and thence to her home.
Glenister, meanwhile, had been swallowed up by the darkness, the night enfolding him without sign or trace. As he ran he considered what course to follow—whether to carry the call to his comrades in town or to make for the Creek and Dextry. The Vigilantes might still distrust him, and yet he owed them warning. McNamara’s men were moving so swiftly that action must be speedy to forestall them. Another hour and the net would be closed, while it seemed that whichever course he chose they would snare one or the other—either the friends who remained in town, or Dex and Slapjack out in the hills. With daylight those two would return and walk unheeding into the trap, while if he bore the word to them first, then the Vigilantes would be jailed before dawn. As he drew near Cherry Malotte’s house he saw a light through the drawn curtains. A heavy raindrop plashed upon his face, another followed, and then he heard the patter of falling water increasing swiftly. Before he could gain the door the storm had broken. It swept up the street with tropical violence, while abreath sighed out of the night, lifting the litter from underfoot and pelting him with flying particles. Over the roofs the wind rushed with the rising moan of a hurricane while the night grew suddenly noisy ahead of the tempest.
He entered the door without knocking, to find the girl removing her coat. Her face gladdened at sight of him, but he checked her with quick and cautious words, his speech almost drowned by the roar outside.
“Are you alone?” She nodded, and he slipped the bolt behind him, saying:
“The marshals are after me. We just had a ‘run in’ at the Northern, and I’m on the go. No—nothing serious yet, but they want the Vigilantes, and I must get them word. Will you help me?” He rapidly recounted the row of the last ten minutes while she nodded her quick understanding.
“You’re safe here for a little while,” she told him, “for the storm will check them. If they should come, there’s a back door leading out from the kitchen and a side entrance yonder. In my room you’ll find a French window. They can’t corner you very well.”
“Slapjack and Dex are out at the shaft house—you know—that quartz claim on the mountain above the Midas.” He hesitated. “Will you lend me your saddle-horse? It’s a black night and I may kill him.”
“What about these men in town?”
“I’ll warn them first, then hit for the hills.”
She shook her head. “You can’t do it. You can’t get out there before daylight if you wait to rouse these people, and McNamara has probably telephoned the mines to send a party up to the quartz claim after Dex.He knows where the old man is as well as you do, and they’ll raid him before dawn.”
“I’m afraid so, but it’s all I can offer. Will you give me the horse?”
“No! He’s only a pony, and you’d founder him in the tundra. The mud is knee-deep. I’ll go myself.”
“Good Heavens, girl, in such a night! Why, it’s worth your life! Listen to it! The creeks will be up and you’ll have to swim. No, I can’t let you.”
“He’s a good little horse, and he’ll take me through.” Then, coming close, she continued: “Oh, boy! Can’t you see that I want to help? Can’t you see that I—I’ddiefor you if it would do any good?” He gazed gravely into her wide blue eyes and said, awkwardly: “Yes, I know. I’m sorry things are—as they are—but you wouldn’t have me lie to you, little woman?”
“No. You’re the only true man I ever knew. I guess that’s why I love you. And I do love you, oh, so much! I want to be good and worthy to love you, too.”
She laid her face against his arm and caressed him with clinging tenderness, while the wind yelled loudly about the eaves and the windows drummed beneath the rain. His heavy brows knit themselves together as she whispered:
“I love you! I love you! I love you!” with such an agony of longing in her voice that her soft accents were sharply distinguishable above the turmoil. The growing wildness seemed a part of the woman’s passion, which whipped and harried her like a willow in a blast.
“Things are fearfully jumbled,” he said, finally. “And this is a bad time to talk about them. I wish they might be different. No other girl would do what you have offered to-night.”
“Then why do you think of that woman?” she broke in, fiercely. “She’s bad and false. She betrayed you once; she’s in the play now; you’ve told me so yourself. Why don’t you be a man and forget her?”
“I can’t,” he said, simply. “You’re wrong, though, when you think she’s bad. I found to-night that she’s good and brave and honest. The part she played was played innocently, I’m sure of that, in spite of the fact that she’ll marry McNamara. It was she who overheard them plotting and risked her reputation to warn me.”
Cherry’s face whitened, while the shadowy eagerness that had rested there died utterly. “She came into that dive alone? She did that?” He nodded, at which she stood thinking for some time, then continued: “You’re honest with me, Roy, and I’ll be the same with you. I’m tired of deceit, tired of everything. I tried to make you think she was bad, but in my own heart I knew differently all the time. She came here to-day and humbled herself to get the truth, humbled herself tome, and I sent her away. She suspected, but she didn’t know, and when she asked for information I insulted her. That’s the kind of a creature I am. I sent her back to Struve, who offered to tell her the whole story.”
“What does that renegade want?”
“Can’t you guess?”
“Why, I’d rather—” The young man ground his teeth, but Cherry hastened.
“You needn’t worry; she won’t see him again. She loathes the ground he walks on.”
“And yet he’s no worse than that other scoundrel. Come, girl, we have work to do; we must act, and actquickly.” He gave her his message to Dextry, then she went to her room and slipped into a riding-habit. When she came out he asked: “Where is your rain-coat? You’ll be drenched in no time.”
“I can’t ride with it. I’ll be thrown, anyway, and I don’t want to be all bound up. Water won’t hurt me.”
She thrust her tiny revolver into her dress, but he took it and upon examination shook his head.
“If you need a gun you’ll need a good one.” He removed the belt from his own waist and buckled his Colt’s about her.
“But you!” she objected.
“I’ll get another in ten minutes.” Then, as they were leaving, he said: “One other request, Cherry. I’ll be in hiding for a time, and I must get word to Miss Chester to keep watch of her uncle, for the big fight is on at last and the boys will hang him sure if they catch him. I owe her this last warning. Will you send it to her?”
“I’ll do it for your sake, not for her—no, no; I don’t mean that. I’ll do the right thing all round. Leave it here and I’ll see that she gets it to-morrow. And—Roy—be careful of yourself.” Her eyes were starry and in their depths lurked neither selfishness nor jealousy now, only that mysterious glory of a woman who makes sacrifice.
Together they scurried back to the stable, and yet, in that short distance, she would have been swept from her feet had he not seized her. They blew in through the barn door, streaming and soaked by the blinding sheets that drove scythelike ahead of the wind. He struck a light, and the pony whinnied at recognition of his mistress. She stroked the little fellow’s muzzlewhile Glenister cinched on her saddle. Then, when she was at last mounted, she leaned forward:
“Will you kiss me once, Roy, for the last time?”
He took her rain-wet face between his hands and kissed her upon the lips as he would have saluted a little maid. As he did so, unseen by both of them, a face was pressed for an instant against the pane of glass in the stable wall.
“You’re a brave girl and may God bless you,” he said, extinguishing the light. He flung the door wide and she rode out into the storm. Locking the portal, he plunged back towards the house to write his hurried note, for there was much to do and scant time for its accomplishment, despite the helping hand of the hurricane. He heard the voice of Bering as it thundered on the Golden Sands, and knew that the first great storm of the fall had come. Henceforth he saw that the violence of men would rival the rising elements, for the deeds of this night would stir their passions as Æolus was rousing the hate of the sea.
He neglected to bolt the house door as he entered, but flung off his dripping coat and, seizing pad and pencil, scrawled his message. The wind screamed about the cabin, the lamp flared smokily, and Glenister felt a draught suck past him as though from an open door at his back as he wrote: