The booming mining camp of Blackwater stood under the rim of a high mesa, between it and an alkali flat, and as Wunpost rode in he looked it over critically, though with none too friendly eyes. Being laid out in a land of magnificent distances, there was plenty of room between the houses, and the broad main street seemed more suited for driving cattle than for accommodating the scant local traffic. There had been a time when all that space was needed to give swing-room to twenty-mule teams, but that time was past and the two sparse rows of houses seemed dwarfed and pitifully few. Yet there were new ones going up, and quite a sprinkling of tents; and down on the corner Wunpost saw a big building which he knew must be Judson Eells’ bank.
It had sprung up in his absence, a pretentious structure of solid concrete, and as he jogged along past it Wunpost swung his head and looked it over scornfully. The walls were thick and strong, but that was no great credit, for in that desert country any man who would get water could mix concrete until he was tired. All in the world he had to do was to scoop up the ground and pour the mud into the92molds, and when it was set he had a natural concrete, composed of lime and coarse gravel and bone-dry dust. Half the burro-corrals in Blackwater were built out of concrete, but Eells had put up a big false front. This had run into money, the ornately stamped tin-work having been shipped all the way from Los Angeles; and there were two plate-glass windows that framed a passing view of marble pillars and shining brass grilles. Wunpost took it all in and then hissed through his teeth–the money that had built it was his!
“I’ll skin him!” he muttered, and pulled up down the street before Old Whiskers’ populous saloon. Several men drifted out to speak to him as he tied his horse and pack, but he greeted them all with such a venomous glare that they shied off and went across the street. There there stood a rival saloon, rushed up in Wunpost’s absence; but after looking it over he went into Whiskers’ Place, which immediately began to fill up. The coming of Wunpost had been noted from afar, and a man who buys his grub with jewelry gold-specimens is sure to have a following. He slouched in sulkily and gazed at Old Whiskers, who was chewing on his tobacco like a ruminative billygoat and pretending to polish the bar. It was borne in on Whiskers that he had refused Wunpost a drink on the day he had walked out of camp, but he was hoping that the slight was forgotten; for if he could keep him in his saloon all the others would soon be vacated, now that Wunpost was the talk of the town. He had found one mine and lost it and93gone out and found another one while the rest of them were wearing out shoe-leather; and a man like that could not be ignored by the community, no matter if he did curse their town. So Whiskers chewed on, not daring to claim his friendship, and Wunpost leaned against the bar.
“Gimme a drink,” he said laying fifteen cents before him; and as several men moved forward he scowled at them in silence and tossed off hissolamente. “Cr-ripes!” he shuddered, “did you make that yourself?” And when Whiskers, caught unawares, half acquiesced, Wunpost drew himself up and burst forth. “I believe it!” he announced with an oracular nod, “I can taste the burnt sugar, the fusel oil, the wood alcohol and everything. One drink of that stuff would strike a stone Injun blind if it wasn’t for this dry desert air. They tell me, Whiskers, that when you came to this town you brought one barrel of whiskey with you–and that you ain’t ordered another one since. That stuff is all right for those that like it–I’m going across the street.”
He strode out the door, taking the fickle crowd with him and leaving Old Whiskers to chew the cud of brooding bitterness. In the saloon across the street a city barkeeper greeted Wunpost affably, and inquired what it would be. Wunpost asked for a drink and the discerning barkeeper set out a bottle with the seal uncut. It was bonded goods, guaranteed seven years in the wood, and Wunpost smacked his lips as he tasted it.
94“Have one yourself,” he suggested and while the crowd stood agape he laid down a nugget of gold.
That settled it with Blackwater, they threw their money on the bar and tried to get him drunk, but Wunpost would drink with none of them.
“No, you bunch of bootlickers!” he shouted angrily, “go on away, I won’t have nothing to do with you! When I was broke you wouldn’t treat me and now that I’m flush I reckon I can buy my own liquor. You’re all sucking around old Eells, saying he made the town–I made your danged town myself! Didn’t I discover the Willie Meena–and ain’t that what made the town? Well, go chase yourselves, you suckers, I’m through with ye! You did me dirt when you thought I was cleaned and now you can all go to blazes!”
He shook hands with the friendly barkeeper, told him to keep the change, and fought his way out to the street. The crowd of boomers, still refusing to be insulted, trooped shamelessly along in his wake; and when he unpacked his mule and took out two heavy, heavy ore-sacks even Judson Eells cast aside his dignity. He had looked on from afar, standing in front of the plate-glass window which had “Willie Meena Mining Company” across it; but at a signal from Lynch, who had been acting as his lookout, he came running to demand his rights. The acquisition of The Wunpost and The Willie Meena properties had by no means satisfied his lust; and since this one crazy prospector–who of all men he had grubstaked95seemed the only one who could find a mine–had for the third time come in with rich ore, he felt no compunctions about claiming his share.
“Where’d you get that ore?” he demanded of Wunpost as the crowd opened up before him and Wunpost glanced at him fleeringly.
“I stole it!” he said and went on sorting out specimens which he stuffed into his well-worn overalls.
“I asked youwhere!” returned Eells, drawing his lip up sternly, and Wunpost turned to the crowd.
“You see?” he jeered, “I told you he was crooked. He wants to go and steal some himself.” He laughed, long and loud, and some there were who joined in with him, for Eells was not without his enemies. To be sure he had built the bank, and established his offices in Blackwater when he might have started a new town at the mine; but no moneylender was ever universally popular and Eells was ruthless in exacting his usury. But on the other hand he had brought a world of money in to town, for the Willie Meena had paid from the first; and it was his pay-roll and the wealth which had followed in his wake that had made the camp what it was; so no one laughed as long or as loud as John C. Calhoun and he hunched his shoulders and quit.
“Never you mind where I stole it!” he said to Eells, “I stole it, and that’s enough. Is there anything in your contract that gives you a cut on everything Isteal?”
“Why–why, no,” replied Eells, “but that isn’t96the point–I asked you where you got it. If it’s stolen, that’s one thing, but if you’ve located another mine─”
“I haven’t!” put in Wunpost, “you’ve broke me of that. The only way I can keep anything now is to steal it. Because, no matter what it is, if I come by it honestly, you and your rabbit-faced lawyer will grab it; but if I go out and steal it you don’t dare to claim half, because that would make you out a thief. And of course a banker, and a big mining magnate, and the owner of the famous Willie Meena–well, it just isn’t done, that’s all.”
He twisted up his lips in a wry, sarcastic smile but Eells was not susceptible to irony. He was the bulldog type of man, the kind that takes hold and hangs on, and he could see that the ore was rich. It was so rich indeed that in those two sacks alone there were undoubtedly several thousand dollars–and the mine itself might be worth millions. Eells turned and beckoned to Phillip F. Lapham, who was looking on with greedy eyes. They consulted together while Wunpost waited calmly, though with the battle light in his eyes, and at last Eells returned to the charge.
“Mr. Calhoun,” he said, “there’s no use to pretend that this ore which you have is stolen. We have seen samples of it before and it is very unusual–in fact, no one has seen anything like it. Therefore your claim that it is stolen is a palpable pretense, to deprive me of my rights under our constitution.
97“Yes?” prompted Wunpost, dropping his hand on his pistol, and Eells paused and glanced at Lapham.
“Well,” he conceded, “of course I can’t prove anything and─”
“No, you bet you can’t prove anything,” spoke up Wunpost defiantly, “and you can’t touch an ounce of my ore. It’s mine and I stole it and no court can make me show where; because a man can’t be compelled to incriminate himself–and if I showed you they could come out and pinch me. Huh! You’ve got a lawyer, have you? Well, I’ve got one myself and I know my legal rights and if any man puts out his hand to take away this bag, I’ve got a right to shoot him dead! Ain’t that right now, Mr. Flip Flappum?”
“Well–the law gives one the right to defend his own property; but only with sufficient force to resist the attack, and to shoot would be excessive.”
“Not with me!” asserted Wunpost, “I’ve consulted one of the best lawyers in Nevada and I’m posted on every detail. There’s Pisen-face Lynch, that everybody knows is a gun-man in the employ of Judson Eells, and at the first crooked move I’d be justified in killing him and then in killing you and Eells. Oh, I’ll law you, you dastards, I’ll law you with a six-shooter–and I’ve got an attorney all hired to defend me. We’ve agreed on his fee and I’ve got it all buried where he can go get it when I give him the directions; and I hope he gets it soon because then there’ll be just three less grafters, to rob honest prospectors of their rights.”
98He advanced upon Lapham, his great head thrust out as he followed his squirming flight through the crowd; and when he was gone he turned upon Eells who stood his ground with insolent courage.
“And you, you big slob,” he went on threateningly, “you don’t need to think you’ll git off. I ain’t afraid of your gun-man, and I ain’t afraid of you, and before we get through I’m going togityou. Well, laugh if you want to–it’s your scalp or mine–and you can jest politely go to hell.”
He snapped his fingers in his face and, taking a sack in both hands, started off to the Wells Fargo office; and, so intimidated for once were Eells and his gun-fighter, that neither one followed along after him. Wunpost deposited his treasure in the Express Company’s safe and went off to care for his animals and, while the crowd dispersed to the several saloons, Eells and Lapham went into conference. This sudden glib quoting of moot points of law was a new and disturbing factor, and Lapham himself was quite unstrung over the news of the buried retainer. It had all the earmarks of a criminal lawyer’s work, this tender solicitude for his fee; and some shysters that Lapham knew would even encourage their client to violence, if it would bring them any nearer to the gold. But this gold–where did it come from? Could it possibly be high-graded, in spite of all the testimony to the contrary? And if not, if his claim that it was stolen was a blind, then how could they discover its whereabouts? Certainly not by force of law, and not by any violence–they99must resort to guile, the old cunning of the serpent, which now differentiates man from the beasts of the field, and perhaps they could get Wunpost drunk!
Happy thought! The wires were laid and all Blackwater joined in with them, in fact it was the universal idea, and even the new barkeeper with whom Wunpost had struck up an acquaintance had promised to do his part. To get Wunpost drunk and then to make him boast, to pique him by professed doubts of his great find; and then when he spilled it, as he had always done before, the wild rush and another great boom! They watched his every move as he put his animals in a corral and stored his packs and saddles; and when, in the evening, he drifted back to The Mint, man after man tried to buy him a drink. But Wunpost was antisocial, he would have none of their whiskey and their canting professions of friendship; only Ben Fellowes, the new barkeeper, was good enough for his society and he joined him in several libations. It was all case goods, very soft and smooth and velvety, and yet in a remarkably short space of time Wunpost was observed to be getting garrulous.
“I’ll tell you, pardner,” he said taking the barkeeper by the arm and speaking very confidently into his ear, “I’ll tell you, it’s this way with me. I’m a Calhoun, see–John C. Calhoun is my name, and I come from the state of Kentucky–and a Kentucky Calhoun never forgets a friend, and he never forgets an enemy. I’m burned out on this town–don’t100like it–nothing about it–but you, now, you’re different, you never done me any injury. You’re my friend, ain’t that right, you’re my friend!”
The barkeeper reassured him and held his breath while he poured out another drink and then, as Wunpost renewed his protestations, Fellowes thanked him for his present of the nugget.
“What–that?” exclaimed Wunpost brushing the piece of gold aside, “that’s nothing–here, give you a good one!” He drew out a chunk of rock fairly encrusted with gold and forced it roughly upon him. “It’s nothing!” he said, “lots more where that came from. Got system, see–know how to find it. All these water-hole prospectors, they never find nothing–too lazy, won’t get out and hunt. I head for the high places–leap from crag to crag, see, like mountain sheep–come back with my pockets full of gold. These bums are no good–I could take ’em out tonight and lead ’em to my mine and they’d never be able to go back. Rough country ’n all that–no trails, steep as the devil–take ’em out there and lose ’em, every time. Take you out and lose you–now say, you’re my friend, I’ll tell you what I’ll do.”
He stopped with portentous dignity and poured out another drink and the barkeeper frowned a hanger-on away.
“I’ll take you out there,” went on Wunpost, “and show you my mine–show you the place where I get all this gold. You can pick up all you want, and when we get back you give me a thousand dollar bill. That’s all I ask is a thousand dollar101bill–like to have one to flash on the boys–and then we’ll go to Los and blow the whole pile–by grab, I’m a high-roller, right. I’m a good feller, see, as long as you’re my friend, but don’t tip off this place to old Eells. Have to kill you if you do–he’s bad actor–robbed me twice. What’s matter–ain’t you got the dollar bill?”
“You said a thousand dollars!” spoke up the barkeeper breathlessly.
“Well, thousand dollar bill, then. Ain’t you got it–what’s the matter? Aw, gimme another drink–you’re nothing but a bunch of short sports.”
He shook his head and sighed and as the barkeeper began to sweat he caught the hanger-on’s eye. It was Pisen-face Lynch and he was winking at him fiercely, meanwhile tapping his own pocket significantly.
“I can get it,” ventured the barkeeper but Wunpost ignored him.
“You’re all short sports,” he asserted drunkenly, waving his hand insultingly at the crowd. “You’re cheap guys–you can’t bear to lose.”
“Hey!” broke in the barkeeper, “I said I’d take you up. I’ll get the thousand dollars, all right.”
“Oh, you will, eh?” murmured Wunpost and then he shook himself together. “Oh–sure! Yes, all right! Come on, we’ll start right now!”
In a certain stratum of society, now about to become extinct, it is considered quiteau faitto roll a drunk if circumstances will permit. And it was from this particular stratum that the barkeeper at The Mint had derived his moral concepts. Therefore he considered it no crime, no betrayal of a trust, to borrow the thousand dollars with which he was to pay John C. Calhoun from that prince of opportunists, Judson Eells. It is not every banker that will thrust a thousand dollar bill–and the only one he has on hand–upon a member of the bungstarters’ brotherhood; but a word in his ear from Pisen-face Lynch convinced Fellowes that it would be well to run straight. Fate had snatched him from behind the bar to carry out a part not unconnected with certain schemes of Judson Eells and any tendency to run out on his trusting backers would be visited with summary punishment. At least that was what he gathered in the brief moment they had together before Lynch gave him the money and disappeared.
As for John C. Calhoun, a close student of inebriety103might have noticed that he became sober too quick; but he invested their departure in such a wealth of mystery that the barkeeper was more than satisfied. A short ways out of town Wunpost turned out into the rocks and milled around for an hour; and then, when their trail was hopelessly lost, he led the way into the hills. Being a stranger in the country Fellowes could not say what wash it was, but they passed upsomewash and from that into another one; and so on until he was lost; and the most he could do was to drop a few white beans from the pocketful that Lynch had provided. The night was very dark and they rode on interminably, camping at dawn in a shut-in canyon; and so on for three nights until his mind became a blank as far as direction was concerned. His liberal supply of beans had been exhausted the first night and since then they had passed over a hundred rocky hog-backs and down a thousand boulder-strewn canyons. As to the whereabouts of Blackwater he had no more idea than a cat that has been carried in a bag; and he lacked that intimate sense of direction which often enables the cat to come back. He was lost, and a little scared, when Wunpost stopped in a gulch and showed him a neat pile of rocks.
“There’s my monument,” he said, “ain’t that a neat piece of work? I learned how to make them from a surveyor. This tobacco can here contains my notice of location–that was a steer when I said it wasn’t staked. Git down and help yourself!”
He assisted his companion, who was slightly104saddle-sore, to alight and inspect the monument and then he waited expectantly.
“Oh, the mine! The mine!” cried Wunpost gaily. “Come along–have you got your sack? Well, bring along a sack and we’ll fill it so full of gold it’ll bust and spill out going home. Be a nice way to mark the trail, if you should want to come back sometime–and by the way, have you got that thousand dollar bill?”
“Yes, I’ve got it,” whined the barkeeper, “but where’s your cussed mine? This don’t look like nothing to me!”
“No, that’s it,” expounded Wunpost, “you haven’t got my system–they’s no use for you to turn prospector. Now look in this crack–notice that stuff up and down there? Well, now, that’s where I’d look to find gold.”
“Jee-rusalem!” exclaimed the barkeeper, or words to that effect, and dropped down to dig out the rock. It was the very same ore that Wunpost had shown when he had entered The Mint at Blackwater, only some of it was actually richer than any of the pieces he had seen. And there was a six-inch streak of it, running down into the country-rock as if it were going to China. He dug and dug again while Wunpost, all unmindful, unpacked and cooked a good meal. Fellowes filled his small sack and all his pockets and wrapped up the rest in his handkerchief; and before they packed to go he borrowed the dish-towel and went back for a last hoard of gold. It was there for the taking, and he could105have all he wanted as long as he turned over the thousand dollar bill. Wunpost was insistent upon this and as they prepared to start he accepted it as payment in full.
“That’smyidea of money!” he exclaimed admiringly as he smoothed the silken note across his knee. “A thousand dollar bill, and you could hide it inside your ear–say, wait till I pull that in Los! I’ll walk up to the bar in my old, raggedy clothes and if the barkeep makes any cracks about paying in advance I’ll just dropthatdown on the mahogany. That’ll learn him, by grab, to keep a civil tongue in his head and to say Mister when he’s speaking to a gentleman.”
He grinned at the Judas that he had taken to his bosom but Fellowes did not respond. He was haunted by a fear that the simple-minded Wunpost might ask him where he got that big bill, since it is rather out of the ordinary for even a barkeeper to have that much money in his clothes; but the simple-minded Wunpost was playing a game of his own and he asked no embarrassing questions. It was taken for granted that they were both gentlemen of integrity, each playing his own system to win, and the barkeeper’s nervous fear that the joker would pop up somewhere found no justification in fact. He had his gold, all he could carry of it, and Wunpost had his thousand dollar bill, and now nothing remained to hope for but a quick trip home and a speedy deliverance from his misery.
“Say, for cripes’ sake,” he wailed, “ain’t they106any short-cut home? I’m so lame I can hardly walk.”
“Well, there is,” admitted Wunpost, “I could have you home by morning. But you might take to dropping that gold, like you did them Boston beans, and I’d come back to find my mine jumped.”
“Oh, I won’t drop no gold!” protested Fellowes earnestly, “and them beans was just for a joke. Always read about it, you know, in these here lost treasure stories; but shucks, I didn’t mean no harm!”
“No,” nodded Wunpost, “if I’d thought you did I’d have ditched you, back there in the rocks. But I’ll tell you what Iwilldo–you let me keep you blindfolded and I’ll get you out of here quick.”
“You’re on!” agreed Fellowes and Wunpost whipped out his handkerchief and bound it across his whole face. They rode on interminably, but it was always down hill and the sagacious Mr. Fellowes even noted a deep gorge through which water was rushing in a torrent. Shortly after they passed through it he heard a rooster crow and caught the fragrance of hay and not long after that they were out on the level where he could smell the rank odor of the creosote. Just at daylight they rode into Blackwater from the south, for Wunpost was still playing the game, and half an hour later every prospector was out, ostensibly hunting for his burros. But Wunpost’s work was done, he turned his animals into the corral and retired for some much-needed107sleep; and when he awoke the barkeeper was gone, along with everybody else in town.
The stampede was to the north and then up Jail Canyon, where there was the only hay ranch for miles; and then up the gorge and on almost to Panamint, where the tracks turned off up Woodpecker Canyon. They were back-tracking of course, for the tracks really came down it, but before the sun had set Wunpost’s monument was discovered, together with the vein of gold. It was astounding, incredible, after all his early efforts, that he should let them back-track him to his mine; but that was what he had done and Pisen-face Lynch was not slow to take possession of the treasure. There was no looting of the paystreak as there had been at the Willie Meena, a guard was put over it forthwith; and after he had taken a few samples from the vein Lynch returned on the gallop to Blackwater.
The great question now with Eells was how Wunpost would take it, but after hearing from his scouts that the prospector was calm he summoned him to his office. It seemed too good to be true, but so it had seemed before when Calhoun had given up the Wunpost and the Willie Meena; and when Lynch brought him in Eells was more than pleased to see that his victim was almost smiling.
“Well, followed me up again, eh?” he observed sententiously, and Eells inclined his head.
“Yes,” he said, “Mr. Lynch followed your trail108and–well, we have already taken possession of the mine.”
“Under the contract?” inquired Wunpost and when Eells assented Wunpost shut his lips down grimly. “Good!” he said, “now I’ve got you where I want you. We’re partners, ain’t that it, under our contract? And you don’t give a whoop for justice or nothing as long as you get itall! Well, you’ll get it, Mr. Eells–do you recognize this thousand dollar bill? That was given to me by a barkeep named Fellowes, but of course he received it from you. I knowed where he got it, and I knowed what he was up to–I ain’t quite as easy as I look–and now I’m going to take it and give it to a lawyer, and start in to get my rights. Yes, I’ve got some rights, too–never thought of that, did ye–and I’m going to demand ’emall! I’m going to go to this lawyer and put this bill in his hand and tell him to git me myrights! Not part of ’em, not nine tenths of ’em–I want ’emall–and by grab, I’m going toget’em!”
He struck the mahogany table a resounding whack and Eells jumped and glanced warningly at Lynch.
“I’m going to call for a receiver, or whatever you call him, to look after my interests at the mine; and if the judge won’t appoint him I’m going to have you summoned to bring the Wunpost books into court. And I’m going to prove by those books that you robbed me of my interest and never made any proper accounting; and then, by grab, he’llhaveto appoint him, and I’ll get all that’s coming to me,109and you’ll get what’s coming toyou. You’ll be shown up for what you are, a low-down, sneaking thief that would steal the pennies from a blind man; you’ll be showed up right, you and your sure-thing contract, and you’ll get a littlepublicity! I’ll just give this to the press, along with some four-bit cigars and the drinks all around for the boys, and we’ll just see where you stand when you get your next rating from Bradstreet–I’ll put your tin-front bank on the bum! And then I’ll say to my lawyer, and he’s a slippery son-of-a-goat: ‘Go to it and see how much you can get–and for every dollar you collect, by hook, crook or book, I’ll give you back a half of it! Sue Eells for an accounting every time he ships a brick–make him pay back what he stole on the Wunpost–give him fits over the Willie Meena–and if a half ain’t enough, send him broke and you can have itall! Do you reckon I’ll get some results?”
He asked this last softly, bowing his bristling head to where he could look Judson Eells in the eye, and the oppressor of the poor took counsel. Undoubtedly hewouldget certain results, some of which were very unpleasant to contemplate, but behind it all he felt something yet to come, some counter-proposal involving peace. For no man starts out by laying his cards on the table unless he has an ace in the hole–or unless he is running a bluff. And he knew, and Wunpost knew, that the thing which irked him most was that sure-fire Prospector’s Contract. There Eells had the high card and if he110played his hand well he might tame this impassioned young orator. His lawyer was not yet retained, none of the suits had been brought, and perhaps they never would be brought. Yet undoubtedly Wunpost had consulted some attorney.
“Why–yes,” admitted Eells, “I’m quite sure you’d get results–but whether they would be the results you anticipate is quite another question. I have a lawyer of my own, quite a competent man and one in whom I can trust, and if it comes to a suit there’s one thing youcan’tbreak and that is your Prospector’s Contract.”
He paused and over Wunpost’s scowling face there flashed a twinge that betrayed him–Judson Eells had read his inner thought.
“Well, anyhow,” he blustered, “I’ll deal you so much misery─”
“Not necessary, not necessary,” put in Judson Eells mildly, “I’m willing to meet you half way. What is it you want now, and if it’s anything reasonable I’ll be glad to consider a settlement. Litigation is expensive–it takes time and it takes money–and I’m willing to do what is right.”
“Well, gimme back that contract!” blurted out Wunpost desperately, “and you can keep your doggoned mine. But if you don’t by grab I’ll fight you!”
“No, I can’t do that,” replied Eells regretfully, “and I’ll tell you, Mr. Calhoun, why. You’re just one of forty-odd men that have signed those Prospector’s111Contracts, and there’s a certain principle involved. I paid out thirty thousand dollars before I got back a nickel and I can’t afford to establish a precedent. If I let you buy out, they will all want to buy out–that is, if they’ve happened to find a mine–and the result will be that there’ll be trouble and litigation every time I claim my rights. When you were wasting my grubstake I never said a word, because that, in a way, was your privilege; and now that, for some reason, you are stumbling onto mines, you ought to recognize my rights. It is a part of my policy, as laid down from the first, under no circumstances to ever release anybody; otherwise some dishonest prospector might be tempted to conceal his find in the hope of getting title to it later. But now about this mine, which you have named The Stinging Lizard–what would be your top price for cash?”
“I want that contract,” returned Wunpost doggedly but Judson Eells shook his head.
“How about ten thousand dollars?” suggested Eells at last, “for a quit-claim on the Stinging Lizard Mine?”
“Nothing doing!” flashed back Wunpost, “I don’t sign no quit-claim–nor no other paper, for that matter. You might have it treated with invisible ink, or write something else in, up above. But–aw cripes, dang these lawyers, I don’t want to monkey around–gimme a hundred thousand dollars and she’s yours.”
112“The Stinging Lizard?” inquired Eells and wrote it absently on his blotter at which Wunpost began to sweat.
“I don’tsignnothing!” he reminded him, and Eells smiled indulgently.
“Very well, you can acknowledge it before witnesses.”
“No, I don’t acknowledge nothing!” insisted Wunpost stubbornly, “and you’ve got to put the money in my hand. How about fifty thousand dollars and make it all cash, and I’ll agree to get out of town.”
“No-o, I haven’t that much on hand at this time,” observed Judson Eells, frowning thoughtfully. “I might give you a draft on Los Angeles.”
“No–cash!” challenged Wunpost, “how much have you got? Count it over and make me an offer–I want to get out of this town.” He muttered uneasily and paced up and down while Judson Eells, with ponderous surety, opened up the chilled steel vault. He ran through bundles and neat packages, totting up as he went, and then with a face as frozen as a stone he came out with the currency in his hands.
“I’ve got twenty thousand dollars that I suppose I can spare,” he began as he spread out the money, but Wunpost cut him short.
“I’ll take it,” he said, “and you can have the Stinging Lizard–but my word’s all the quit claim you get!”
He stuffed the money into his pockets without113stopping to count it, more like a burglar than a seller of mines, and that night while the town gathered to gaze on in wonder he took the stage for Los Angeles. No one shouted good-by and he did not look back, but as they pulled out of Blackwater he smiled.
The dry heat of July gave way to the muggy heat of August and as the September storms began to gather along the summits Wunpost Calhoun returned to his own. It was his own country, after all, this land of desert spaces and jagged mountains reared up again the sky; and he came back in style, riding a big, round-bellied mule and leading another one packed. He had a rifle under his knee, a pistol on his hip and a pair of field glasses in a case on the horn; and he rode in on a trot, looking about with a knowing smile that changed suddenly to a smirk of triumph.
“Well, well!” he exclaimed as he saw Eells emerge from the bank, “how’s the mine, Mr. Eells; how’s the mine?”
And Judson Eells, who had rushed out at the rumor of his approach, drew up his lip and glared at him hatefully.
“You’re a criminal!” he bellowed, “I could have you jailed for this–that Stinging Lizard mine was salted!”
“The hell you say!” shrilled Wunpost and then115he laughed uproariously while he did a little jig in his stirrups. “Yeee–hoo!” he yelled, “say, that’s pretty good! Have you any idee who done it?”
“You did it!” answered Eells, “and I could have you arrested for it, only I don’t want to have any trouble. But you agreed to leave town and now I see you’re back–what’s the meaning of this, Mr. Calhoun?”
“Too slow inside,” complained Mr. Calhoun, who was sporting a brand-new outfit, “so I thought I’d come back and shake hands with my friends and take another look at my mine. Costs money to live in Los Angeles and I bought me a dog–looky here, cost me eight hundred dollars!”
He reached down into a nest which he had hollowed out of the pack and held up a wilted fox terrier, and as Eells stood speechless he dropped it back into its cubby-hole and laid a loving hand on the mule.
“How’s this for a mule?” he enquired ingenuously, “cost me five hundred dollars in Barstow. Fastest walker in the West–picked him out on purpose–and my pack mule can carry four hundred. How much did you lose on the Stinging Lizard?”
“I lost over thirty thousand dollars, with the road work and all,” answered Eells with ponderous exactitude, and Wunpost laughed again.
“Thirty thousand!” he echoed. “I wish it was a million! But you can’t say that I didn’t warn you!”
“Warn me!” raged Eells, “you did nothing of the116kind. It was a deliberate attempt to defraud me.”
“Aw, cripes,” scoffed Wunpost, “you can’t win all the time–why don’t you take your medicine like a sport? Didn’t I name the danged hole The Stinging Lizard? Well, there was your warning–but you got stung!”
He laughed heartily at the joke and looked up the street, ignoring the staring crowd.
“Well, got to go!” he said. “Whereisthat road you built–like to go up and take a look at it!”
“It extends up Jail Canyon,” returned the banker grimly. “I understand Mr. Campbell is using it.”
“Pretty work!” exclaimed Wunpost, “won’t be wasted, anyhow. That’ll come in right handy for Cole. Why didn’t you buy the old hassayamper out?”
“He won’t sell!” grumbled Eells, “say, come in here a minute–I’ve got something I want to talk over.”
He led the way into his inner office, where an electric fan was running, and Wunpost took off his big, black hat to loll before the breeze.
“Pretty nice,” he pronounced, “they’ve got lots of ’em in Los. But I never suffered so much from heat in my life–the poor fools all wearcoats! Gimme the desert, every time!”
“So you’ve come back to stay, eh?” inquired Eells unsociably, “I thought you’d left these parts.”
“Yep–left and came back,” replied Wunpost lightly. “Say, how much do you want for that contract? You might as well release me, because117it’ll never buyyouanything–you’ve got all the mines you’ll get.”
“I’ll never release you!” answered Judson Eells firmly. “It’s against my principles to do it.”
“Aw, put a price on it,” burst out Wunpost bluffly, “you know you haven’t got any principles. You’re out for the dough, the same as the rest of us, and you figure you’ll make more by holding on. But I’m here to tell you that I’m getting too slick for you and you might as well quit while you’re lucky.”
“Not for any money,” responded Judson Eells solemnly, “I am in this as a matter of principle.”
“Ahhr, principle!” scoffed Wunpost. “You’re the crookedest dog that ever drew up a contract–and then talk to me aboutprinciple! Why don’t you say what you mean and call it your system–like they use trying to break the roulette wheel? But I’m telling you your system is played out. I’ll never locate another claim as long as I live, unless I’m released from that contract; so where do you figure on any more Willie Meenas? All you’ll get will be Stinging Lizards.”
He burst out into taunting laughter but Judson Eells sat dumb, his heavy lower lip drawn up grimly.
“That’s all right,” he said at last, “I have reason to believe that you have located a very rich mine–and the only way you personally can ever get a dollar out of it, is to come through and give me half!”
118“The only way, eh?” jeered Wunpost, “well, where did I get the price to buy that swell pair of mules? Did I give you one half, or even a smell? Not much–and I got this, besides.”
He slapped a wad of bills that he drew from his pocket, and Eells knew they were a part of his payment–the purchase price of the salted Stinging Lizard–but he only looked them over and scowled.
“Nothing doing, eh?” observed Wunpost rising up to go, “you won’t sell that contract for no price. Going to follow me up, eh, and find this hidden treasure, and skin me out of it, too? Well, hop to it, Mr. Eells, and after you’ve got a bellyful perhaps you’ll listen to reason. You got stung good and plenty when you bought the Stinging Lizard and I figure I’m pretty well heeled. Got two new mules, beside my other animals, and an eight hundred dollar watch-dog to keep me company; and I’m going to come back inside of a month with my mules loaded down with gold. Do you reckon your pet rabbit, Mr. Phillip F. Flappum, can make me come through with any part of it? Well, I consulted a lawyer before I left Los Angeles and he said–decidedly not! Your contract calls for claims, wherever located, but I haven’t got any claim. This ore that I bring in may be dug from some claim, and then again it may be high-graded from some mine; but you’ve got to find that claim and prove that it exists before you can call for a cent. You’ve got to prove, by grab, where I got that gold, before you can claim that it’s yours–and that’s something you119never can do. I’m going to say Istoleit and if you sue for any part of it you make yourself out a thief!”
He slammed his hand on Eells’ desk and slammed the door when he went out and mounted his big mule with a swagger. The citizens of Blackwater made way for him promptly, though many a lip curled in scorn, and he rode out of town sitting sideways in his saddle while he did a little jig in his stirrups. He had come into town and bearded their leading citizen and now he was on his way. If any wished to follow, that was their privilege as free citizens, and their efforts might lead them to a mine; but on the other hand they might lead them up some very rocky canyons and down through Death Valley in summer. But there was one man he knew would follow, for the stakes were high and Judson Eells was not to be denied–it was up to Lynch, who had claimed to be so bad, to prove himself a tracker and a desert-man.
Wunpost rode along slowly until the sun went down, for the heat-haze hung black over the Sink, and that evening about midnight he entered Jail Canyon on a road that was graded like a boulevard. It swung around the point well up above the creek, and then on along the wash to Corkscrew Gorge, and as he paused below the house Wunpost chuckled to himself as he thought of his boasts to Wilhelmina. He had bet her two months before that, without turning his hand over or spending a cent of money, he could build her father a road;120and now here it was, laid out like a highway–a proof that his system would work. She had chosen to scoff when he had made his big talk; but here he was back with his clothes full of money, and Judson Eells had kindly built the road. He looked up at the moon, where it rose swimming through the haze, and laughed until he shook; then he camped and waited for day.
The dawn came in a wave of heat, preceding the sun like the breath from a furnace; and Wunpost woke up suddenly to hear his wilted terrier barking furiously as he raced towards the house. There was a moment of silence, then the spit and yell of a cat and as Wunpost stood grinning his dog came slinking back licking the blood from a scratch across his nose. He was a fullblooded fox terrier, but small and white and trembly; and the baby-blue in his eyes pleaded of youth and inexperience as he crouched before his stern master.
“Come here!” commanded Wunpost but as he reached down to slap him a voice called his name from above.
“Don’twhip him!” it begged and Wunpost withheld his hand for Wilhelmina had been much in his mind. She came dancing down the trail, her curls tumbling about her face and down over the perennial bib-overalls, and when the pup saw her he left his scowling master and crept meechingly to take refuge at her feet.
“He was chasing Red,” she dimpled, “and you know how fierce he is–why, Red isn’t afraid of a121wildcat! Where have you been? We’ve all been looking for you!”
“I’ve been in Los Angeles,” responded Wunpost with a sigh, “but, by grab, I never thought that this dog of mine would get licked by an old yaller cat!”
“He isn’t yellow–he’s red!” corrected Wilhelmina briskly, “the desert makes all yellow cats red; but where’d you get your dog? And oh, yes; isn’t it fine–how do you like our new road? They had it built up to your mine!”
“So I hear,” returned Wunpost with a grim twinkle in his eye, “what do you think of my system now?”
“Why, what system?” asked Billy, staring blankly into his face, and Wunpost pulled down his lip. Was it possible that this fly-away had taken his words so lightly that she had forgotten his exposition and prophecy? Did she think that this road had come there by accident and not by deep-laid design? He called back his dog and made him lie down behind him and then he changed the subject.
“How’s your father getting along?” he asked after a silence, “has he shipped out any ore? Well say, you tell ’im to get a move on. There’s liable to be a cloudburst and wash the whole road out, and then where’d you be with your home stake?”
“Well, I guess there hasn’t been one for over twelve years,” answered Billy snapping her fingers enticingly to his dog, “and besides, it’s so hot the trucks can’t gull up the canyon–it makes their radiators122boil. But we’ve got it all sacked and when Father gets his payment I’m going inside, to school. Isn’t it fine, after all they said about Dad–calling him crazy and everything else–and now his mine is worth lots and lots of money! I knew all the time he would win! And Eells has been up here and offered us forty thousand dollars, but Father wouldn’t even consider it.”
She stepped over boldly and picked up the dog, who wriggled frantically and tried to lick her face, and Wunpost stood mumbling to himself. So now it was her father who was getting all the credit for this wonderful stroke of luck; and he and the others who had called old Cole crazy were proven by the event to be fools. And yet he had packed ore for over two weeks to salt the Stinging Lizard for Eells!
“Put your mules in the corral and come up to breakfast!” cried Billy starting off for the house; and then she dropped his dog, which ran capering along behind her–and Wunpost had named it Good Luck! If she stole his dog on top of everything else, he would learn about women from her.
There was a cordial welcome at the house from Mrs. Campbell, who was radiant with joy over their good fortune; but Wunpost avoided the subject of the sale of his mine, for of course she must know it was salted. Anyone would know that after they had dug down a ways for Wunpost had simply quarried out a vein of rotten quartz and filled the resultant fissure with high grade. But there is123something in Latin aboutcaveat emptor, which is short for “Let the buyer beware!” and if Judson Eells was so foolish as to build his road first that was certainly no fault of Wunpost’s. All he had done was to locate the hole, and then Judson Eells had jumped it; and if, as a result thereof, Wunpost had trimmed him of twenty thousand, that was nothing to what Eells had done to him. And yet every time he met Mrs. Campbell’s eye he felt that she had her reservations about him. He was a mine-salter, a crook, the same as Eells was a crook; but she welcomed him all the same. Perhaps she held it to his credit that he had given Billy a full half when he had discovered the Willie Meena Mine; but it might be, of course, that she was this way with everyone and simply tolerated him as she did Hungry Bill. He ate a good breakfast, but without saying much, and then he went back to his camp.
Wilhelmina tagged along, joyous as a child to have company and quite innocent of what is called maidenly reserve; and Wunpost dug down into his pack and gave her a bag of candy, at the same time patting her hand.
“Yours truly,” he said, “sweets to the sweet, and all that. Say, what do you think this is?”
He held up a box, which might contain almost anything that was less than six inches square, and shook his head at all her guesses.
“Come on up to the lookout,” he said at last and she followed along fearlessly behind him. There124are maidens, of course, who would refuse to enter dark tunnels in the company of masterful young prospectors; but Wilhelmina had yet to learn both fear and feminine subterfuge and she made no pretty excuses. She was neither afraid of the dark, nor afflicted with vertigo, nor reminded of pressing home duties; and she was frankly interested both in the contents of the box and the ways of a man with a maid. He had given her some candy, and there was a gift in the little box–and once before he had made as if to kiss her; would he now, after bringing his lover’s gifts, demand the customary tribute? And if so, should she permit it; and if not, why not?
It was very perplexing and yet Billy was determined not to evade any of the problems of life. All girls had their suitors; and yet few of them, she knew, were cast in the heroic mold of Wunpost. He was big and strong, with roving blue eyes and a smile that was both compelling and shy; and sometimes when he looked at her she felt a vague tumult, for of course he could kiss her if he would. When he had assaulted Old Whiskers and seized Dusty Rhodes by the throat, in the contest over their mine, she had stood in awe of his violence; but except for that one time when he had attempted to steal a kiss, he had reserved his rough violence for his enemies. Yet–and somehow the thought thrilled her–it might be, after all, that he was shy; and that playful, bear-like hug was only his boyish way of hinting at the wish in his heart.
125It might even be that he was secretly in love with her, as she had read of other lovers in books; and that all the time, unknown to her, he was worshiping her beauty from afar. For she was beautiful, she knew it–and others had told her so–and there are few girls indeed that have curling hairanddimples, but Nature had given her both. And now if he did not kiss her, or speak from his heart, it would be because she was dressed like a boy; and she would have to lay aside her overalls forever. For no one can hope to retain everything in this world, and life is ours to be lived; and if worst came to worst, she might give up her freedom and consent to wear millinery and skirts. She sighed and followed on, and came safely to the portal which looked out on the great world below.
Wunpost sat down deliberately at the mouth of the tunnel, on the broad seat she had built along the wall, and handed Wilhelmina the package; and as she sank down beside him the panting fox terrier slumped down at her feet and wheezed. But Billy failed to notice this sign of affection, for as the package was broken open a dainty case was exposed and this in turn revealed a pair of glasses. Not ordinary, cheap field-glasses with rusty round barrels and lenses that refracted the colors of the rainbow; but exquisitely small ones, with square shoulders on the sides and quality showing in every line. She caught them up ecstatically and looked out across the Sink; and Wunpost let her gaze, though126her focus was all wrong, while he made his little speech.
“Now,” he said, “next time you see my dust you’ll know whether it’s a man or a dog.”
“Oh, aren’t they fine!” exclaimed Billy, swinging the glasses on Blackwater. “I can see every house in town. And there’s a man on the trail–yes, and another one behind–I believe they’re coming this way.”
“Probably Pisen-face Lynch,” observed Wunpost unconcernedly, “I expected him to be on my trail.”
“Why, what for?” murmured Billy still struggling with the focus. “Oh, now I can see them fine! Oh, aren’t these just wonderful–and such little things, too–are you going to use them to hunt horses?”
“No, they’re yours!” returned Wunpost with a generous swagger, “I’ve got another pair of my own. I’ll never forget how you picked me up that time, so this is a kind of present.”
“A present!” gasped Wilhelmina and then she paused and blushed, for of course she had known it all the time. They were small glasses, for a lady, but it was nice of him to say it, and to mention her finding him on the desert. And now her mother would have to let her keep them, for, they were in remembrance of her saving his life.
“It’s awful kind of you,” she said, “and I’ll never forget it–and now, won’t you show me how they work?”
127She drew a little closer, and as her curls brushed his cheek Wunpost reeled as if from a blow.
“Sure,” he said and gave her a kiss just as if she had really asked for it.
It is no more than right that the first kiss should be forgiven, especially if no one is to blame, and Wilhelmina forgave him very sweetly; but there was a wild, hunted look in Wunpost’s bold eyes and he wondered what would happen next. Something had come over him very suddenly and made him forget the restraint which all ladies, even in overalls, laid upon him; and when their hands had touched some great force had drawn them together and he had kissed her before she knew it. But instead of resisting she had yielded for a moment, and then pushed him away very slowly; and he still remembered, like part of a dream, her heart beating against his breast. But it was all over now, and she was toying with the field-glasses which he had brought from the city as a present.
“Isn’t it wonderful,” she said, “how we first came together? And the first place I looked for when you gave me these glasses was that wash where you made your two fires.”
“If you’d had them then,” ventured Wunpost at last, “you’d’ve been able to see me plain.”
“Yes,” she sighed, “but I found you anyhow.129Doesn’t it seem a long time ago? And it was only the end of last May.”
“Something doing every minute,” burst out Wunpost gaily, “say, I’ve found two mines this summer! What did old Eells think of the Stinging Lizard? I hooked him right on that–he’ll be careful what he grabs next time. And when he jumps the next claim of mine I reckon he’ll sink a few feet before he builds any more ten thousand dollar roads!”
He chuckled and ran his hand through his tumbled hair, which always stood straight on end, but Billy was looking at him curiously.
“Mr. Eells was up to see us,” she said at last, “and he claims you salted that mine. And he even told Father that you located it up our canyon just on purpose so we could use his road!”
“And what did you say?” inquired Wunpost teasingly. “Didn’t I tell you, right here, I was going to do it?”
“Oh, but you were just fooling!” she protested laughing, “and I told him you did nothing of the kind. And then Father stepped in, when he heard what we were talking about, and he told Mr. Eells what he thought of him.”
“No, but I did salt the mine!” spoke up Wunpost quickly, “there wasn’t any fooling there. And, being as I had to locate it somewhere–well, the chances are Eells was correct.”
“Oh, that’s just the way you talk!” she burst out incredulously; “did you honestly do it on purpose?”
“Well, I guess I did!” boasted Wunpost. “I just130stopped over in Blackwater and told Mr. Eells all about it. So don’t be worried onmyaccount–and he built you a mighty good road.”
“Yes, but do you think it was quite right,” began Billy indignantly, “to make Father seem a party to a fraud? It’s what some people would call a very shady transaction; but I suppose, of course, you’re proud of it!”
“Why, sure I am!” returned Wunpost warmly, “and you don’t need to be so high and mighty. I guess I’m just as good as your old man or anybody, and I notice he’s using the road!”
“He won’t though,” answered Billy, “if I tell him what’s happened! My father is honest, he works for what he gets, and that road is just the same as stolen!”
“Well, go ahead and tell him!” challenged Wunpost angrily. “We’ll come to a show-down, right now. And anybody that’s too good to use my road is too good to associate withme!” He brought down his big fist into the palm of his hand and Wilhelmina jumped at the smack. “Didn’t I tell you,” he demanded rising and pointing at her accusingly, “didn’t I say I was going to build that road? Well, why didn’t you kick about itthen? You were game to follow me up and jump my mine so your father could build him a road; but the minute I trim old Eells, who has robbed you of a million, by grab, all of a sudden you getgood! You can’t bear to use a road that that old skinflint built, thinking he’d131robbed me of another rich mine! No, that wouldn’t be right, that’s a shady transaction! All right then, don’t use the doggoned road!”
He smashed his fist into his hand in a final sweeping gesture of disdain and Wilhelmina gazed at him fixedly.
“I thought you were just talking,” she said at last, “but don’t you ever tell Father what’s happened. If you do he’ll never use the road–or if he does, he’ll pay Mr. Eells for it. He tries to be honest in everything.”
“Yes, and look what it gets him!” cried Wunpost passionately, “he’s spent half his life in this hell-hole of a canyon and you’re chasing around here in overalls! And then when somecrooklike me comes along and gives him a ten thousand dollar road this is all the thanks he gets! I’m through–you can rustle for yourself!”
“Very well!” returned Billy with a wild gleam in her eye, “and if you don’t like my overalls─”
“I do!” he broke in, “I like ’em fine–like ’em better than those flimsy danged skirts! But if you’re too good to use my road─”
“It isn’t that,” interrupted Billy, “I’m glad you built the road, but Father looks at it differently. He told Mr. Eells he wouldn’t be a party to any such scheme to defraud. But–now it’s all built–don’t tell him how you did it; because I want him to have a little happiness. He’s been working so long and this came, as he said, just like an act of Providence;132so let’s not tell him, and when he’s taken out his ore he can pay Mr. Eells, if he wishes to.”
“If he’s crazy!” corrected Wunpost. “What, pay that crook? Say, do you see those two men on the trail? They’re hired by Eells to tag along behind me and trail me to my mine. Now what right has he got to claim that mine? Did he ever give me a dollar to spend, while I was up there in the high country looking for it? He did not, and he stole every dollar I had before I ever went out to prospect. Didn’t he rob us both of the Willie Meena–take it all without giving us a cent? Well, what’s the sense of trying to treat him white, when you know he’s out to do you? His name is Eells and he skins ’em alive! But you wait–I’m out to skinhim!”
“You’re awfully convincing,” conceded Billy smiling tremulously, “but somehow it doesn’t seem right. Just because he robs you─”
“Aw, forget it; forget it!” exclaimed Wunpost impatiently, “didn’t I tell you this is no Sunday school picnic? What’re you going to do, let him go on robbing everybody until he has all the money in the world? No, you’ve got to play the game–go after him with the hay hooks and get his back hair if you can! I’ve trimmed him of twenty thousand and a ten thousand dollar road, but where did he get all that coin? He took it out of our mine, the old Willie Meena, and a whole lot more besides. Well, whose money was it, anyway–didn’t I own the mine first? All right, then, I reckon it wasmine!”
133He patted his pocket, where his roll of bills lay, and smiled roguishly as he grabbed up the dog.
“Fine pup, eh?” he began, “well, he picked me out himself–followed along when I was going down the street. Tried to lose him and couldn’t do it, he followed me everywhere, so I kept him and called him Good Luck. Get the idea? Luck is my pup, he lays down and rolls over whenever I say the word. Going to make a fine watch-dog if he lives through this hot weather–how’d you like to keep him a while?”
“Oh, I’d like to!” beamed Billy, “only I’m afraid you might be jealous─”
“Not of no pup, kid,” returned Wunpost with his lordliest swagger, “and if you steal him, by grab you can have him!”
“Well, I’ll bet I can do it!” answered Billy defiantly. “And are you still going to give me that mine?”
“If you can find it!” nodded Wunpost. “Or I’ll give it to Mr. Lynch, if he’ll promise to follow the leader. I see that’s an Injun that he’s got riding along behind him but I’m going to lose ’em both. These Shooshonnies ain’t so much–I can out-trail ’em, any time–and I tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to lead Mr. Lynch and his rat-eating guide just as long as they’re game to follow, and if they follow me two weeks I’ll take ’em to my mine and tell ’em to help themselves. Now that’s sporting, ain’t it? Because the Sockdolager ain’t staked and she’s the richest hole I’ve struck.”
134“Yes, it’s sporting,” she admitted, “but why don’t you stake it? Are you afraid they’ll take it away from you?”
“Don’t you think it!” he exclaimed, “if it was staked I’d have half of it! No, I’m doing this out of pride. I’m leaving that claim open and if Mr. Eells can find it he’s welcome to itall! But I’m telling you, it’ll never be found!”
He nodded impressively, with a wise, mysterious, smile, and Billy rose up impatiently.
“I believe youliketo fight,” she stated accusingly and Wunpost did not deny it.
The fight for the Sockdolager Mine was on and Wunpost led off up the canyon with a swagger. His fast walking mule stepped off at a brisk pace and the pack-mule, well loaded with provisions and grain, followed along up Judson Eells’ road. First it led through the Gorge, now clinging to one wall and now crossing perforce to the other, and as Wunpost saw the work of the powder-men above him he laughed and slapped his leg. Great masses of rock had been shot down from the sides, filling up the pot-holes which the cloudburst had dug; and then, along the sides, a grade had been constructed which gave clearance for loaded trucks. Past the Gorge, the work showed the signs of greater haste, as if Eells had driven his men to the limit; but to get through at all he had had to move much dirt, and that of course had run into money. Wunpost ambled along luxuriously, chuckling at each heavy job of blasting and at the spot where Cole Campbell’s road turned in; and then he swung off up Woodpecker Canyon to where the Stinging Lizard Mine had been located.
Great timbers still lay where they had been136dumped from the trucks, there was a concrete foundation for the engine; and a double-compartment shaft, sunk on the salted vein, showed what great expectations had been blasted. With the Willie Meena still sinking on high-grade ore, Judson Eells had taken a good deal for granted when he had set out to develop the Stinging Lizard. He had squared out his shaft and sunk on the vein only as far as the muckers could throw out the waste; and then, instead of installing a windlass or a whim, he had decided upon a gallows-frame and hoist. But to bring in his machinery he must first have a road, for the trail was all but impassable; and so, without sinking, he had blasted his way up the canyon, only to find his efforts wasted. The ore had been dug out before his engine was installed, thus saving him even greater loss; but every dollar that he had put into the work had been absolutely thrown away. Wunpost camped there and gloated and then, shortly after midnight, he set off with his tongue in his cheek.
The time had now come when he was to match wits with Lynch in the old game of follow-my-leader and, even with the Indian to do Lynch’s tracking, he had no fears for the outcome. There were places on those peaks where a man could travel for miles without placing his foot on soft ground, and other places in Death Valley where he could travel in sand that was so powdery it would bog a butterfly. First the high places, to wear them out and make Pisen-face Lynch get quarrelsome; and then the137desolate Valley, with its heat and poison springs, to put the final touch to his revenge. For it was revenge that Wunpost sought, revenge on Pisen-face Lynch, who had driven him from two claims with a gun; and this chase over the hills, which had started so casually, had really been planned for months. It was part of that “system” which he had developed so belatedly, by which his enemies were all to be confounded; and, knowing that Lynch would follow wherever he led, Wunpost had made his plans accordingly. He was leading the way into a trap, long set, which was sure to enmesh its prey.
At daylight Wunpost paused in his steady, plunging climb and looked back over the rock-slides and boulders; and while his mules munched their grain well back out of sight he focussed his new field glasses and watched. From the knife-blade ridge up which he had spurred and scrambled the whole country lay before him like a relief map, and in the particular gash-like canyon where he had located the Stinging Lizard he made out his furtive pursuers. The Indian was ahead, leaning over in his saddle as he kept his eyes on the trail; and Lynch rode behind, a heavy rifle beneath his knee, scanning the ridges to prevent a surprise. But neither led a pack-horse and when Wunpost had looked his fill he put up his glasses and smiled.
In the country where he was going there was no grass for those horses, no browse that even an Indian pony could travel on; and if they wanted to keep up with him and his grain-fed mules they138would have to use quirt and spurs. And the man who feeds his horse on buckskin alone is due to walk back to camp. So reasoned John C. Calhoun from his cow-puncher days, when he had tried out the weaknesses of horseflesh; and as he returned to the grassy swale where his mules were hid he looked them over proudly. His riding mule, Old Walker, was still in his prime, a big-bellied animal with the long reach in its fore-shoulders which made it by nature a fast walker; and his pack-mule, equally round-bellied to store away food, was short-bodied as well so that he bore his pack easily without any tendency to give down. He had been raised with Old Walker and would follow him anywhere, without being dragged by a rope, so that Wunpost had both hands for any emergency which might arise and could keep his eyes on the trail.
And to think that these noble animals, big and black and beautifully gaited, had been bought with Judson Eells’ own money; while he, poor fool, sent Lynch out after him on a miserable Indian cayuse. Wunpost’s road was always plain, for where he went they must follow, but at every rocky point or granite-strewn flat they must circle and cut for his trail. As he rode on now to the north he did not double and twist, for the Indian would know the old trail; but the tracks he had left behind him before he mounted to the ridge were as aimless as it was possible to make them. They did not strike out boldly up some hogback or canyon but at every fork and bend they turned this way and that, as if he139were hopelessly lost. And now as he rode on, unobserved by his pursuers, over the well-worn Indian trail along the summit, Lynch and his tracker were far behind, tracing his mule-tracks to and fro, up and down the broiling hot canyons.
On the summit it was cool and the grass was still green, for the snow had held late on the peaks, and the junipers and piñons had given place to oaks and limber pines which stood up along the steep slopes like switches. The air was sweet and pure, all the world lay below him; but, as the heat came on, the abyss of Death Valley was lost in a pall of black haze. It gathered from nowhere, smoke-like and yet not smoke; a haze, a murk, a mass of writhing heat like the fumes from a witches’ cauldron. Wunpost had simmered in that cauldron, and he would simmer again soon; but gladly, if he had Lynch for company. It was follow-my-leader and, since there were no long wharves to jump off of, Wunpost had decided upon the Valley of Death. And if, in following after him to rob him of his mine, Pisen-face Lynch should succumb to the heat, that might justly be considered a visitation of Providence to punish him for his misspent life. Or at least so Wunpost reasoned and, remembering the gun under Lynch’s knee, he decided to keep well in the lead.
Wunpost camped that night at the upper water in Wild Rose Canyon, letting his mules get a last feed of grass; and the next morning at daylight he was up and away on the long trail that led down to Death Valley. But first it led north over a broad,140sandy plain, where Indian ponies were grazing in stray bands; and then, after ten miles, it swung off to the east where it broke through the hills and turned down. After that it was a jump-off for six thousand feet, from the mountain-top to down below sea-level; and, before he lost himself in the gap between the hills, Wunpost paused and looked back across the plain.
This was the door to his trap, for at the edge of the rim the trail split in twain; the Wet Trail leading past water while the Dry Trail was shorter, but dry. And as live bait is best he unpacked and waited patiently until he spied his pursuers in the pass. They were not five miles away, coming down the narrow draw which marked the turn in the trail, and after a long look Wunpost put up his glasses and saddled and packed to go. Yet still he lingered on, looking back through the shimmering heat that seemed to make the yellow earth blaze; until at last they were so near that he could see them point ahead and bring their tired horses to a stop. Then he whipped out his pistol and shot back at them defiantly, turning off up the Dry Trail at a trot.
They followed, but cautiously, as if anxious to avoid a conflict and Wunpost swung off between the points of two hills and led them on down the dry canyon. If they took the Wet Trail, which the Indian knew, he might double back and give them the slip; but now there was no water till they had descended to sea level and crossed the treacherous corduroy to Furnace Creek. The trap was sprung,141they were committed to the adventure, to follow him wherever he might lead; and Wunpost never stopped spurring until he had descended the steep canyon and led them out in the dry wash below. It was like climbing down a wall into a sink-hole of boiling heat, but Lynch did not weaken and Wunpost bowed his head and took the main trail to the ranch.
The sun swung low behind the rim of the Panamints, throwing a shadow across the broad canyon below; ten miles to the east, under the heat and haze, lay Furnace Creek Ranch and rest; but as his pursuers came on, just keeping within sight of him, Wunpost turned off sharply to the north. He quit the trail and struck out across the boulder-patches towards the point of Tucki Mountain, and if they followed him there it would be into a country that even the Indians were afraid of. It was there that Death Valley had earned its name, when a party of Mormon emigrants had died beside their ox-teams after drinking the water at Salt Creek. There was Stove-pipe Hole, with the grave close by of the man who had not stopped to bail the hole; and, nearest of all, was Poison Spring, the worst water in all Death Valley. Wunpost turned out and started north, daring his enemies to follow, and Lynch accept the challenge–alone.
The Indian rode on, leaving the white man to his fate and heading for Furnace Creek Ranch; and Wunpost, sweating streams and cursing to himself, flogged on toward Poison Spring. It was a hideous142thing to do, but Lynch had chosen to follow him and his blood would be upon his own head. Wunpost had given him the trail, to go on to the ranch while he turned back the way they had come; but no, Lynch was bull-headed, or perhaps the heat had warped his judgment–in any case he had elected to follow. The last courtesies were past, Wunpost had given him his chance, and Lynch had taken his trail like a bloodhound; he could not claim now that he was going in the same direction–he was following along after him like a murderer. Perhaps the slow fever of the terrible heat had turned his anger into an obsession to kill, for Wunpost himself was beginning to feel the desert madness and he set out deliberately to lure him.