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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/30572-8.txt b/30572-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b9cc1d3 --- /dev/null +++ b/30572-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7261 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Silver and Gold, by Dane Coolidge + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Silver and Gold + A Story of Luck and Love in a Western Mining Camp + + +Author: Dane Coolidge + + + +Release Date: December 2, 2009 [eBook #30572] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SILVER AND GOLD*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +SILVER AND GOLD + + * * * * * + +BY THE SAME AUTHOR + +THE FIGHTING FOOL: + +A Tale of the Western Frontier + +Cloth, 12mo. with a wrapper drawn by Edward Borein + +$1.75 net + +E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY + +NEW YORK + + * * * * * + + +SILVER AND GOLD + +A Story of Luck and Love in a Western Mining Camp + +by + +DANE COOLIDGE + +Author of "The Fighting Fool" Etc. + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + +"Gold is where you find it, and Silver in high places." + --_Miners' Saying_. + + +New York +E. P. Dutton & Company +681 Fifth Avenue + +Copyright, 1919 +By E. P. Dutton & Company +All Rights Reserved + +Printed in the United States of America + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. The Ground-Hog 1 + II. Big Boy 7 + III. Hobo Stuff 16 + IV. Cash 23 + V. Mother Trigedgo 33 + VI. The Oraculum 42 + VII. The Eminent Buttinsky 53 + VIII. The Silver Treasure 61 + IX. Bible-Back Murray 72 + X. Signs and Omens 81 + XI. The Lady of the Sycamores 92 + XII. Steel on Steel 100 + XIII. Swede Luck 108 + XIV. The Strike 119 + XV. A Night for Love 128 + XVI. A Friend 138 + XVII. Broke 147 + XVIII. The Hand of Fate 154 + XIX. The Man-Killer 161 + XX. Jumpers--and Tenors 170 + XXI. Broke Again 180 + XXII. The Rock-Drilling Contest 189 + XXIII. The Heart of his Beloved 200 + XXIV. Colonel Dodge 210 + XXV. The Answer 219 + XXVI. The Course of the Law 231 + XXVII. Like a Hog on Ice 238 + XXVIII. Parole 245 + XXIX. The Interpretation Thereof 251 + + + + +SILVER AND GOLD + + + + +_THE PROPHECY_ + +"You will make a long journey to the West and there, within the +shadow of a Place of Death, you will find two treasures, one of Silver +and the other of Gold. Choose well between them and both shall be Yours, +but if you choose unwisely you will lose them Both and suffer a great +disgrace. You will fall in love with a beautiful woman who is an artist, +but beware how you reveal your affection or she will confer her hand +upon Another. Courage and constancy will attend you through life but in +the end will prove your undoing, for you will meet your death at the +hands of your Dearest Friend." + + + + +SILVER AND GOLD + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE GROUND-HOG + + +The day had dawned on the summit of Apache Leap and a golden eagle, +wheeling high above the crags, flashed back the fire of the sun from his +wings; but in the valley below where old Pinal lay sleeping the heat had +not begun. A cool wind drew down from the black mouth of Queen Creek +Canyon, stirring the listless leaves of the willows, and the shadow of +the great cliff fell like a soothing hand on the deserted town at its +base. In the brief freshness of the morning there was a smell of +flaunting green from the sycamores along the creek, and the tang of +greasewood from the ridges; and then, from the chimney of a massive +stone house, there came the odor of smoke. A coffee mill began to purr +from the kitchen behind and a voice shouted a summons to breakfast, but +the hobo miner who lay sprawling in his blankets did not answer the +peremptory call. He raised his great head, turned his pig eyes toward +the house, then covered his face from the flies. + +There was a clatter of dishes, a long interval of silence, and then the +sun like a flaming disc topped the mountain wall to the east. The square +adobe houses cast long black shadows across the whitened dust of the +street and as the man burrowed deeper to keep out the light the door of +the stone house slammed. The day seldom passed when Bunker Hill's wife +did not cook for three or four hoboes but when Old Bunk called a man in +to breakfast he expected him to come. He stood for a minute, tall and +rangy and grizzled, a desert squint in one eye; and then with a muttered +oath he strode across the street. + +"Hey!" he called prodding the blankets with his boot and the hobo came +alive with a jump. + +"You look out!" he snarled, bounding violently to his feet and dropping +back to a crouch; but when he met Bunker Hill's steely eyes he mumbled +something and lowered his hands. + +"All right, pardner," observed Hill, "I'll do all of that; but if you +figure on getting any breakfast you'd better come in and eat it." + +"Huh!" responded the hobo scowling and blinking at the sun and then +without a word he started for the house. He was a big, hulking man, with +arms like a bear and bulging, bench-like legs; but the expression on his +face above his enormous black mustache was that of a disgruntled +ground-hog. His nose was tipped up, his eyes were small and stubborn and +as he ate a hurried breakfast he glanced about uneasily as if fearful of +some trap; yet if Bunker Hill had any reservations about his guest he +did not abate his hospitality. The coffee was still hot, there was +plenty of everything and when the miner rose to go Old Bunk accompanied +him to the door. + +"Going to be hot," he observed as the heat struck through their clothes; +but the hobo omitted even a nod of assent in his haste to be off down +the trail. + +"Well, the dadblasted bum!" exclaimed Bunker in a rage as the miner +passed over the first hill and, stumping across the street, he rolled up +the tumbled blankets. "The dirty dog!" he grumbled vindictively, +hoisting the bed upon his shoulders; but as he started back to the house +he heard something drop from the roll. He paused and looked back and +there on the ground lay a wallet, stuffed with bills. It was the miner's +purse, which he had put under his pillow and forgotten in his sudden +departure. + +"O-ho!" observed Bunker as he picked it up. "O-ho, I thought you was +broke!" He opened the purse with great deliberation, laying bare a great +sheaf of bills, and as his wife and daughter came hurrying down the +steps he counted the hobo's hoard. + +"Over eight hundred dollars," he announced with ominous calm. "Some +roll, when a man is bumming his meals and can't even stop to say +thanks----" + +"He's coming back for it," broke in his wife anxiously. "And now, +Andrew, please don't----" + +"Never mind," returned her husband, slipping the wallet into his pocket, +and she sighed and folded her hands. The hobo was walking fast, coming +back down the hill, and when he saw Hill by the blankets he broke into a +ponderous trot. + +"Say," he called, "you didn't see a purse, did ye? I left one under my +blankets." + +"A purse!" exclaimed Bunker with exaggerated surprise. "Why I thought +you was broke--what business have _you_ got with a purse?" + +"Well, I had a few keep-sakes and----" + +"You're a liar!" rapped out Bunker and his sharp lower jaw suddenly +jutted out like a crag. "You're a liar," he repeated, as the hobo let it +pass, "you had eight hundred and twenty-five dollars." + +"Well, what's that to you?" retorted the miner defiantly. "It's mine, so +gimme it back!" + +"Oh, I don't know," drawled Bunker hauling the purse from his pocket and +looking over the bills, "I don't know whether I will or not. You came in +here last night and told me you were broke, but right here is where I +collect. It'll cost you five dollars for your supper and breakfast and +five dollars more for your bed--that's my regular price to transients." + +"No, you don't!" exclaimed the hobo, but as Bunker looked up he drew +back a step and waited. + +"That's ten dollars in all," continued Hill, extracting two bills from +the purse, "and next time you bum your breakfast I'd advise you to thank +the cook." + +"Hey, you give me that money!" burst out the miner hoarsely, holding out +a threatening hand, and Bunker Hill rose to his full height. He was six +feet two when he stooped. + +"W'y, sure," he said handing over the wallet; but as the miner turned to +go Hill jabbed him in the ribs with a pistol. "Just a moment, my +friend," he went on quietly, "I just want to tell you a few things. I've +been feeding men like you for fifteen years, right here in this old +town, and I've never turned one away yet; but you can tell any bo that +you meet on the trail that the road-sign for this burg is changed. I +used to be easy, but so help me Gawd, I'll never feed a hobo again. Here +my wife has been slaving over a red-hot stove cooking grub for you +hoboes for years and the first bum that forgets and leaves his purse has +eight hundred dollars--cash! Now you git, dad-burn ye, before I do the +world a favor and fill you full of lead!" He motioned him away with the +muzzle of his pistol while his wife laid a hand on his arm, and after +one look the hobo turned and loped over the top of the hill. + +"Now Andrew, please," expostulated Mrs. Hill, and, still breathing hard, +Old Bunk put up his gun and reached for a chew of tobacco. + +"Well, all right," he growled, "but you heard what I said--that's the +last doggoned hobo we feed." + +"Well--perhaps," she conceded, but Bunker Hill was roused by the memory +of years of ingratitude. + +"No 'perhaps' about it," he asserted firmly, "I'll run every last one of +them away. Do you think I'm going to work my head off for my family, +only to be et out of house and home? Do you think I'm going to have you +cooking meals for these miners when they're earning their five dollars a +day? Let 'em buy a lunch at the store!" + +"No, but Andrew," protested Mrs. Hill, who was a large, motherly soul +and not to be bowed down by work, "I'm sure that some of them are +worthy." + +"Yes, I know you are," he answered, smiling grimly, "that's what you +always say. But you hear me, now; I'm through. Don't you feed another +man." + +He turned to his daughter for support, but his bad luck had just begun. +Drusilla was shading her eyes from the sun and staring up the trail. + +"Oh, here comes another one," she cried in a hushed voice and pointed up +the creek. He stood at the mouth of the black-shadowed canyon where the +trail comes in from Globe--a young man with wind-blown hair, looking +doubtfully down at the town; but when he saw them he stepped boldly +forth and came plodding down the trail. + +"Oh, not this one!" pleaded Mrs. Hill when she saw his boyish face; but +Bunker Hill thrust out his jaw. + +"Every one of 'em," he muttered, "the whole works--all of 'em! You women +folks go into the house." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +BIG BOY + + +He was a big, fair-haired boy, blue-eyed and clean limbed, and as he +came down the trail there was a spring to his step that not even a limp +could obliterate; and at every stride the great muscles in his chest +played and rippled beneath his shirt. He was a fine figure of a man, +tall and straight as an Apollo, and yet he was a hobo. Never before had +Bunker Hill seen a better built man or one more open-faced and frank, +but he came down the trail with the familiar hobo-limp and Bunker set +his jaws and waited. It was such men as this, young and strong and full +of blood, who had kept him poor for years. Hobo miners, the most expert +of their craft, and begging their grub on the trail! + +"Good morning," nodded Hill and squinted down his eyes as the young man +boggled at his words. + +"Good morning," replied the hobo and then, after a pause, he +straightened up and came to the point. "What's the chance to get a +little something to eat?" he inquired with a twisted smile and Bunker +Hill sprang his bomb. + +"Danged poor," he returned, and as the hobo blinked he spoke his piece +with a rush. "I've got a store over there where you can buy what you +want; but I've quit, absolutely, feeding every hobo that comes by and +batters my door for grub. I'm an old man myself and you're young and +strong--why the hell don't you get out and work?" + +"Never you mind," answered the hobo, his eyes glowing angrily; and as +Old Bunk went on with his tirade the miner's lip curled with scorn. +"That's all right, old-timer," he broke in with cold politeness--"no +offense--don't let me deprive you. I don't make a practice of battering +on back doors. But, say, I'm looking for a fellow with a big, black +mustache--did you see him come by this way?" + +"Did I _see_ him?" yelled Hill flying into a fury, "well you're +danged whistling I did! He came in last night and bummed his supper--my +wife had to cook it special--and I gave him his bed and breakfast; and +this morning when he left he didn't even say: 'Thanks!' That's how +grateful these hoboes are! And when I went out to pick up his blankets a +thumping big purse dropped out!" + +"Holy Joe!" exclaimed the hobo looking up with sudden interest, "say, +how long ago did he leave?" + +"Not half an hour! No, not ten minutes ago--and if my wife hadn't been +there to hold me down I'd have run him till he dropped. And when I +opened that purse it was full of money--there was eight hundred and +twenty-five dollars--and him trying to tell me he was broke!" + +"That's him, all right," declared the hobo. "Well, so long; I'll be on +my way." + +He started off down the trail at a long, swinging stride, then turned +abruptly back. + +"I'll get a drink," he suggested, "if there's no objection. Don't charge +for your water, I reckon." + +It was all said politely and yet there was an edge to it which cut Old +Bunk to the quick. He, Bunker Hill, who had fed hoboes for years and had +never taken a cent, to be insulted like this by the first sturdy beggar +that he declined to serve with a meal! He reached for his gun, but just +at that moment his wife laid a hand on his arm. She had not been far +away, just up on the porch where she could watch what was going on, and +she turned to the hobo with a smile. + +"Mr. Hill is just angry," she explained good-naturedly, "on account of +that other man; but if you'll wait a few minutes I'll cook you some +breakfast and----" + +"Thank you, ma'am," returned the miner, taking off his hat civilly, +"I'll just take a drink and go." + +He hurried back to the well and, picking up the bucket, drank long and +deep of the water; then he threw away the rest and with practiced hands +drew up a fresh bucket from the depths. + +"You'd better fill a bottle," called Bunker Hill, whose anger was +beginning to evaporate, "it's sixteen miles to the next water." + +The hobo said nothing, nor did he fill a bottle, and as he came back +past them there was a set to his jaw that was eloquent of rage and +disdain. It was the custom of the country--of that great, desert country +where houses are days' journeys apart--to invite every stranger in; and +as Bunker Hill gazed after him he saw his good name held up to +execration and scorn. This boy was a Westerner, he could tell by his +looks and the way he saved on his words, perhaps he even lived in those +parts; and in a sudden vision Hill beheld him spreading the news as he +followed the long trail to the railroad. He would come dragging in to +Whitlow's Wells, the next station down the road, so weak he could hardly +walk and when they enquired into his famished condition he would unfold +some terrible tale. And the worst of it was that the boys would believe +it and repeat it to all who passed. Men would hear in distant cow camps, +far back in the Superstitions, that Old Bunk had driven a starving man +from his door and he had nearly perished on the desert. + +"Hey!" called Bunker Hill taking a step or two after him, "wait a +minute--I'll give you a lunch." + +"You can keep your lunch," said the man over his shoulder and strode +doggedly on up the hill. + +"Gimme something to take to him," rapped out Hill to his wife, but the +hobo's sharp ears had caught the words and he wheeled abruptly in his +tracks. + +"I wouldn't take your danged lunch if it was the last grub on earth," he +shouted in a towering rage; and while they stood gazing he turned his +back and passed on over the hill. + +"Let 'im go!" grumbled Bunker pacing up and down and avoiding his +helpmeet's eye, but at last he ripped out a smothered oath and racked +off down the street to his stable. This was an al fresco affair, +consisting of a big stone corral within the walls of what had once been +the dancehall, and as he saddled up his horse and rode out the narrow +gate he found his wife waiting with a lunch. + +"Don't crush the doughnuts," she murmured anxiously and patted his hand +approvingly. + +"All right," he said and, putting spurs to his horse, he galloped off +over the hill. + +The old town of Pinal lay on a bench above the creek bed, with high +cliffs to the east and north; but south and west the country fell off +rapidly in a series of rolling ridges. Over these the road to the +railroad climbed and dipped with wearisome regularity until at last it +dropped down into the creek-bed again and followed its dry, sandy +course. Not half an hour had passed from the time the second hobo left +till Old Bunk had started after him, yet so fast had he traveled that he +was almost to the creek bed before Bunker Hill caught sight of him. + +"Ay, Chihuahua!" he ejaculated in shrill surprise and reined in his +horse to gaze. The young hobo was running and, not far ahead, the Ground +Hog was fleeing before him. They ran through bushy gulches and over +cactus-crowned ridges where the sahuaros rose up like giant sentinels; +until at last, as he came to the sandy creek-bed, the black hobo stood +at bay. + +"They're fighting!" exclaimed Bunker with a joyous chuckle and rode down +the trail like the wind. + +After twenty wild years in Old Mexico, there were times when Bunker Hill +found Arizona a trifle tame; but here at last there was staged a combat +that promised to take a place in local history. When he rode up on the +fight the young miner and the Ground Hog were standing belt to belt, +exchanging blows with all their strength, and as the young man reeled +back from a right to the jaw the Ground Hog leapt in to finish him. + +"Here! None of that!" spoke up Bunker Hill menacing the black hobo with +his quirt; but the battered young Apollo waved him angrily aside and +flew at his opponent again. + +"I'll show you, you danged dog!" he cursed exultantly as the Ground Hog +went down before him, "I'll show you how to run out on me! Come on, you +big stiff, and if I don't make you holler quit you can have every dollar +you stole!" + +"Hey, what's the matter, Big Boy? What's going on here?" demanded Bunker +of the blond young giant. "I thought you fellers were pardners." + +"Pardners, hell!" spat Big Boy, whose mouth was beginning to bleed. "He +robbed me of all my money. We won eight hundred dollars in the drilling +contest at Globe and he collected the stakes and beat it!" + +"You're a liar!" retorted the Ground Hog standing sullenly on his guard, +and once more Big Boy went after him. They roughed it back and forth, +neither seeking to avoid the blows but swinging with all their might; +until at last the Ground Hog landed a mighty smash that knocked his +opponent to the ground. "Now lay there," he jeered, and, stepping over +to one side, he picked up a purse from the ground. + +It was the same bulging purse that he had forgotten that morning in his +hurry to get over the hill, and as Bunker Hill gazed at it two things +which had misled him became suddenly very plain. The day before had been +the Fourth of July, when the miners had their contests in Globe, and +these two powerful men were a team of double-jackers who had won the +first prize between them. Then the Ground Hog had stolen the total +proceeds, which accounted for his show of great wealth; and Big Boy, on +the other hand, being left without a cent, had been compelled to beg for +his breakfast. A wave of righteous anger rose up in Old Bunk's breast at +the monstrous injustice of it all and, whipping out his pistol, he threw +down on the Ground Hog and ordered him to put up his hands. + +"And now lay down that purse," he continued briefly, "before I shoot the +flat out of your eye." + +The hobo complied, but before he could retreat the young miner raised +himself up. + +"Say, you butt out of this!" he said to Bunker Hill, waggling his head +to shake off the blood. "I'll 'tend to this yap myself." + +He turned his gory front to the Ground Hog, who came eagerly back to the +fray; and once more like snarling animals they heaved and slugged and +grunted, until once more poor Big Boy went down. + +"I can whip him!" he panted rising up and clearing his eyes. "I could +clean him in a minute--only I'm starved." + +He staggered and the heart of Bunker Hill smote him when he remembered +how he had denied the man food. Yet he bored in resolutely, though his +blows were weak, and the Ground Hog's pig eyes gleamed. He abated his +own blows, standing with arms relaxed and waiting; and when he saw the +opening he struck. It was aimed at the jaw, a last, smashing hay-maker, +such a blow as would stagger an ox; but as it came past his guard the +young Apollo ducked, and then suddenly he struck from the hip. His whole +body was behind it, a sharp uppercut that caught the hurtling Ground Hog +on the chin; and as his head went back his body lurched and followed and +he landed in a heap in the dirt. + +"He's out!" shouted Bunker and Big Boy nodded grimly; but the Ground Hog +was pawing at the ground. He rose up, and fell, then rose up again; and +as they watched him half-pityingly he scrambled across the sand and made +a grab at the purse. + +"You stand back!" he blustered clutching the purse to his breast and +snapping open the blade of a huge jack-knife; but before Old Bunk could +intervene Big Boy had caught up a rock. + +"You drop that knife," he shouted fiercely, "or I'll bash out your +brains with this stone!" And as the Ground Hog gazed into his battle-mad +eyes he weakened and dropped the knife. "Now gimme that purse!" ordered +the masterful Big Boy and, cringing before the rock, the beaten Ground +Hog slammed it down on the ground with a curse. + +"I'll git you yet!" he burst out hoarsely as he shambled off down the +trail, "I'll learn you to git gay with me!" + +"You'll learn me nothing," returned the young miner contemptuously and +gathered up the spoils of battle. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +HOBO STUFF + + +"Young man," began Bunker Hill after a long and painful silence in which +Big Boy completely ignored him, "I want to ask your pardon. And anything +I can do----" + +"I'm all right," cut in the hobo wiping the blood out of one eye and +feeling tenderly of a tooth, "and I don't want nothing to do with you." + +"Can't blame ye, can't blame ye," answered Old Bunk judicially. "I +certainly got you wrong. But as I was about to say, Mrs. Hill sent this +lunch and she said she hoped you'd accept it." + +He untied a sack from the back of his saddle, and as he caught the +fragrance of new-made doughnuts Big Boy's resolution failed. + +"All right," he said, making a grab for the lunch. "Much obliged!" And +he chucked him a bill. + +"Hey, what's this for?" exclaimed Bunker Hill grievously. "Didn't I ask +your pardon already." + +"Well, maybe you did," returned the hobo, "but after that call down you +gave me this morning I'm going to pay my way. It's too danged bad," he +murmured sarcastically as he opened up the lunch. "Sure hard luck to see +a good woman like that married to a pennypinching old walloper like +you." + +"Oh, I don't know," observed Old Bunk, gazing doubtfully at the bill, +but at last he put it in his pocket. + +"Yes, that's right," he agreed with an indulgent smile, "she's an awful +good cook--and an awful good woman, too. I'll just give her this money +to buy some little present--she told me I was wrong, all the time. But I +want to tell you, pardner--you can believe it or not--I never turned a +man down before." + +The hobo grunted and bit into a doughnut and Bunker Hill settled down +beside him. + +"Say," he began in an easy, conversational tone, "did you ever hear +about the hobo that was walking the streets in Globe? Well, he was broke +and up against it--hadn't et for two days and the rustling was awful +poor--but as he was walking along the street in front of that big +restaurant he saw a new meal ticket on the sidewalk. His luck had been +so bad he wouldn't even look at it but at last when he went by he took +another slant and see that it was good--there wasn't but one meal +punched out." + +"Aw, rats," scoffed Big Boy, "are you still telling that one? There was +a miner came by just as he reached down to grab it and punched out every +meal with his hob-nails." + +"That's the story," admitted Bunker, "but say, here's another one--did +you ever hear of the hobo Mark Twain? Well, he was a well-known +character in the old days around Globe--kinder drifted around from one +camp to the other and worked all his friends for a dollar. That was his +regular graft, he never asked for more and he never asked the same man +twice, but once every year he'd make the rounds and the old-timers kind +of put up with him. Great story-teller and all that and one day I was +sitting talking with him when a mining man came into the saloon. He +owned a mine, over around Mammoth somewhere, and he wanted a man to herd +it. It was seventy-five a month, with all expenses paid and all you had +to do was to stick around and keep some outsider from jumping in. Well, +when he asked for a man I saw right away it was just the place for old +Mark and I began to kind of poke him in the ribs, but when he didn't +answer I hollered to the mining man that I had just the feller he +wanted. Well, the mining man came over and put it up to Mark, and +everybody present began to boost. He was such an old bum that we wanted +to get rid of him and there wasn't a thing he could kick on. There was +plenty of grub, a nice house to live in and he didn't have to work a +tap; but in spite of all that, after he'd asked all kinds of questions, +Old Mark said he'd have to think it over. So he went over to the bar and +began to figger on some paper and at last he came back and said he was +sorry but he couldn't afford to take it. + +"'Well, why not?' we asks, because we knowed he was a bum, but he says: +'Well gentlemen, I'll tell ye, it's this way. I've got twelve hundred +friends in Arizona that's worth a dollar apiece a year; but this danged +job only pays seventy-five a month--I'd be losing three hundred a year." + +"Huh, huh," grunted Big Boy, picking up some folded tarts, "your mind +seems to be took up with hoboes." + +"Them's my wife's pay-streak biscuits," grinned Bunker Hill, "or at +least, that's what I call 'em. The bottom crust is the foot-wall, the +top is the hanging-wall, and the jelly in the middle is the pay streak." + +"Danged good!" pronounced the hobo licking the tips of his fingers and +Old Bunk tapped him on the knee. + +"Say," he said, "seeing the way you whipped that jasper puts me in mind +of a feller back in Texas. He was a big, two-fisted hombre, one of these +Texas bad-men that was always getting drunk and starting in to clean up +the town; and he had all the natives bluffed. Well, he was in the saloon +one day, telling how many men he'd killed, when a little guy dropped in +that had just come to town, and he seemed to take a great interest. He +kept edging up closer, sharpening the blade of his jack-knife on one of +these here little pocket whetstones, until finally he reached over and +cut a notch in the bad man's ear. + +"There," he says, "you're so doggoned bad--next time I see you I'll know +you!" + +"Yeh, some guy," observed Big Boy, "and I see you're some story-teller, +but what's all this got to do with me?" + +"Oh, nothing, nothing," answered Old Bunk hastily, "only I thought while +you were eating----" + +"Yes, you told me two stories about a couple of hoboes and then another +one about taming down a bad man; but I want to tell you right now, +before you go any further, that I'm no hobo nor bad man neither. I'm a +danged good miner--one of the best in Globe----" + +"Aw, no no!" burst out Bunker holding up both hands in protest, "you've +got me wrong entirely." + +"Well, your stories may be all right," responded Big Boy shortly, "but +they don't make a hit with me. And I've took about enough, for one day." + +He started back up the trail and Bunker Hill rode along behind him going +over the events of the day. Some distinctly evil genius seemed to have +taken possession of him from the moment he got out of bed and, try as he +would, it seemed absolutely impossible for him to square himself with +this Big Boy. + +"Hey, git on and ride," he shouted encouragingly, but Big Boy shook his +head. + +"Don't want to," he answered and once more Bunker Hill was left to +ponder his mistakes. The first, of course, was in taking too much for +granted when Big Boy had walked into town; and the second was in ever +refusing a hobo when he asked for something to eat. True it amounted in +the aggregate to a heart-breaking amount--almost enough to support his +family--but a man lost his luck when he turned a hobo down and Old Bunk +decided against it. Never again, he resolved, would he restrain his good +wife from following the dictates of her heart, and that meant that every +hobo that walked into town would get a square meal in his kitchen. Where +the cash was coming from to buy this expensive food and pay for the +freighting across the desert was a matter for the future to decide, but +as he dwelt on his problem a sudden ray of hope roused Bunker Hill from +his reverie. Speaking of money, the ex-hobo, walking along in front of +him, had over eight hundred dollars in his hip pocket--and he claimed to +be a miner! + +"Say!" began Bunker as they came in sight of town, "d'ye see those old +workings over there? That's the site of the celebrated Lost Burro +Mine--turned out over four millions in silver!" + +"Yeah, so I've heard," answered Big Boy wearily, "been closed down +though, for twenty years." + +"I'm the owner of that property," went on Bunker pompously. "Andrew Hill +is my name and I'd be glad to show you round." + +"Nope," said the future prospect, "I'm too danged tired. I'm going down +to the crick and rest." + +"Come up to the house," proposed Bunker Hill cordially, "and meet my +wife and family. I'm sure Mrs. Hill will be glad to see you back--she +was afraid that something might happen to you." + +The hobo glanced up with a swift, cynical smile and turned off down the +trail to the creek. + +"I see you've got your eye on my roll," he observed and Bunker Hill +shrugged regretfully. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CASH + + +It was evident to Bunker Hill that no common measures would serve to +interest this young capitalist in his district; and yet there he was, a +big husky young miner, with eight hundred dollars in his pocket. That +eight hundred dollars, if wisely expended, might open up a bonanza in +Pinal; and in any case, if it was spent with him, it would help to pay +the freight. Old Bunk chopped open a bale of hay with an ax and gave his +horse a feed; and, after he had given his prospect time to rest, he +drifted off down towards the creek. + +The creek at Pinal was one of those vagrant Western streams that appear +and disappear at will. Where its course was sandy it sank from sight, +creeping along on the bed-rock below; but where as at Pinal the bed-rock +came to the surface, then the creek, perforce, rushed and gurgled. From +the dark and windy depths of Queen Creek Canyon it came rioting down +over the rocks and where the trail crossed there was a mighty sycamore +that almost dammed its course. With its gnarled and swollen roots half +dug from their crevices by the tumultuous violence of cloudbursts, it +clung like an octopus to a shattered reef of rocks and sucked up its +nourishment from the water. In the pool formed by its roots the minnows +leapt and darted, solemn bull-frogs stared forth from dark holes, and in +a natural seat against the huge tree trunk Big Boy sat cooling his feet. +He looked younger now, with the blood washed off his face and the hard +lines of hunger ironed out, and as Bunker Hill made some friendly crack +he showed his white teeth in a smile. + +"Pretty nice down here," he said and Bunker nodded gravely. + +"Yes," he said, "nice place for frogs. Say, did you ever hear the story +about Spud Murphy's frog farm? Well Spud was an old-timer, awful gallant +to the ladies, especially when he'd had a few drinks, and every time +he'd get loaded about so far he'd get out an old flute and play it. But +it sounded so sad and mournful that everybody kicked, and one time over +at a dance when Spud was about to play some ladies began to jolly him +about it. + +"'Well, I'll tell you,' says Spud, 'there's a story connected with that +flute. The only time I ever stood to make a fortune I spoiled it by +playing that sad music.' + +"'Oh, tell us about it,' they all says at once; so Spud began on his +tale. + +"It seems he was over around Clifton when some French miners came in +and, knowing their weakness, Spud dammed up the creek and got ready to +have a frog farm. He sent back to Arkansaw and got three carloads of +bull-frogs--thoroughbreds old Spud said they was--and turned them loose +in the creek; and every evening, to keep them from getting lonely, he'd +play 'em a few tunes on his flute. Well, they were doing fine, getting +used to the dry country and beginning to get over being homesick, when +one night Murph went up there and played them the Arkansaw Traveler. + +"Well, of course that was the come-on--Old Spud stopped his story--and +finally one lady bit. + +"'Yes, but how did you lose your fortune?' she asks and Spud he shakes +his head. + +"'By playing that tune,' he says. 'Them frogs got so homesick they +started right out for Arkansaw--and every one perished on the desert.'" + +"Huh!" grunted Big Boy, who had been listening intolerantly. "Say, is +that all you do--sit around and tell stories for a living? Why the hell +don't you git out and work?" + +"Well, you got me again, kid," admitted Old Bunk mournfully, "I'm sure +sorry I made you that talk. But I was so doggoned sore at that pardner +of yours that I kinder went out of my head." + +"Well, all right," conceded Big Boy, "if that's the way you feel about +it there's no use rubbing it in, but you certainly lost out with me. My +hands may be big, but I never broadened my knuckles by battering on +other people's back doors. At the same time if I have to ask a man for a +meal I expect to be treated civil. When I'm working around town and a +miner strikes me for a stake I give him a dollar to eat on, and if I +happen to be broke when I land in a new camp I work my face the same +way. That's the custom of the country, and when a man asks me why I +don't work----" + +"Aw, forget it!" pleaded Bunker, "didn't I ask your pardon? Didn't my +wife tell you why I said it? But I'll bet you, all the same, if you'd +fed as many as I have you'd throw a fit once in a while, yourself. +Here's the whole camp shut down, only one outfit working and they're +just running a diamond drill--and at the same time I have to feed every +hobo that comes through, whether he's got any money or not. How'd you +like to buy your grub at these war-time prices and run a hotel for +nothing, and at the same time keep up the assessment work on fifteen or +twenty claims? Maybe you'd get kind of peevish when a big bum laid in +his blankets and wouldn't even get up for breakfast!" + +"Ah, that man Meacham!" burst out Big Boy scornfully. "Say do you know +what that yap did to me? We were drilling pardners in the double-jack +contest--it was just yesterday, over in Globe--and in the last few +minutes he began to throw off on me, so I had to win the money myself. +Practically did all the work, and while they were giving me a rub-down +afterwards he collected the money and beat it. I'd put up every dollar I +had in side bets, and the first prize was seven hundred dollars; but he +collected it all and then, when I began looking for him, he took out +over this trail. Well, I was so doggoned mad when I found out what he'd +done that I didn't even stop to eat, and I followed him on the run until +dark. When I ran out of matches to look for his tracks I laid down and +slept in the trail and this morning when I got up I was so stiff and +weak that I couldn't hardly crawl. But I caught the big jasper and +believe me, old-timer, he'll think twice before he robs me again!" + +"He will that," nodded Bunker, "but say, tell me this--ain't half of +that money his?" + +"Not a bean!" declared Big Boy. "We fought for the purse, the winner to +take it all. He saw I was weak or he'd never have stood up to me--that's +why he was so sore when he lost." + +"I'd never've let him hurt you!" protested Old Bunk vehemently, "I had +my gun on him, all the time. And if I'd had my way you'd never have +fought him--I'd have taken the purse away from him." + +"Yes, that's it, you see--that's what he was fishing for--he wanted you +to make it a draw! But I knew all the time I could lick him with one +hand--and I did, too, and got the money!" + +"You did danged well!" praised Bunker roundly, "I never see a gamier +fight; but I thought at the end he sure had you beat--you could hardly +hold up your hands." + +"All a stall!" exclaimed Big Boy proudly. "I began fighting his way at +first, but I saw I was too weak to slug; so, just for a come-on, I +pulled my blows and when he made a swing I downed him." + +"Well, well!" beamed Old Bunk, "you certainly are a wise one--you know +how to use your head. I wouldn't have believed it, but if you're as +smart as all that you've got no business working as a miner. You've got +a little stake--why don't you buy a claim and make a play for big money? +Look at the rich men in the West--take Clark and Douglas and +Wingfield--how did they all get their money? Every one of them made it +out of mining. Some started in as bankers, or store-keepers or +saloon-keepers; but they got their big money, just the same as you or I +will, out of a four-by-six hole in the ground. That's the way I dope it +out and I've spent fifteen years of my life just playing that system to +win. Me and old Bible-Back Murray, the store-keeper down in Moroni, have +been working in this district for years; and, sooner or later, one or +the other of us will strike it and we'll pile up our everlasting +fortunes. I hate the Mormon-faced old dastard, he's such a sanctified +old hypocrite, but I always treat him white and if his diamond drill +hits copper he'll make the two of us rich. Anyhow, that's what I'm +waiting for." + +Big Boy looked up at the striated hills which lay like a section of +layer cake between the base of the mountains and the creek and then he +shook his head. + +"Nope," he said, "it don't look good to me. The formation runs too +regular. What you need for a big mineral deposit is some fissure veins, +where the country has been busted up more." + +"Oh, it don't look like a mineral country at all, eh?" enquired Bunker +Hill sarcastically. "Well, how do you figure it out then that they took +out four million dollars' worth of silver from that little hill right up +the creek?" + +"Don't know," answered Big Boy, "but you couldn't work it now, with +silver down to fifty-two cents. It's copper that's the high card now." + +"Yes, and look what happened to copper when the war broke out?" cried +Bunker Hill derisively, "it went down to eleven cents. But is it down to +eleven now? Well, not so you'd notice it--thirty-one would be more like +it--and all on account of the metal trust. They smashed copper down, +then bought it all up, and now they're boosting the price. Well, they'll +do the same with silver." + +"Aw, you're crazy," came back Big Boy, "they need copper to make +munitions to sell to those nations over in Europe; but what can you make +out of silver?" + +"Oh, nothing," jeered Bunker, "but I'll tell you what you _can_ +do--you can use it to pay for your copper! You hadn't figured that out, +now had you? Well, here now, let me tell _you_ a few things. These +people that are running the metal-buying trust are smart, see--they look +way ahead. They know that after we've grabbed all the gold away from +Europe those nations will have to have some other metal to stand behind +their money--and that metal is going to be silver. The big operators up +in Tonopah ain't selling their silver now, they're storing it away in +vaults, because they know in a little while all the nations in the world +are going to be bidding for silver. And say, do you see that line of +hills? There's silver enough buried underneath them to pay the national +debt of the world." + +He paused and nodded his head impressively and Big Boy broke into a +grin. + +"Say," he said, "you must have some claim for sale, like an old feller I +met over in New Mex. + +"'W'y, young man,' he says when I wouldn't bite, 'you're passing up the +United States Mint. If you had Niagara Falls to furnish the power, and +all hell to run the blast furnace, and the whole State of Texas for a +dump, you couldn't extract the copper from that property inside of a +million years. It's big, I'm telling you, it's big!' And all he wanted +for his claim was a thousand dollars, down." + +"Aw, you make me tired," confessed Bunker Hill frankly, now that he saw +his sale gone glimmering, "I see you're never going to get very far. +You'll tramp back to Globe and blow in your money and go back to +polishing a drill. W'y, a young man like you, if he had any ambition, +could buy one of these claims for little or nothing and maybe make a +fortune. I'll tell you what I'll do--you stay around here a while and +look at some of my claims; and if you see something you like----" + +"Nope," said Big Boy, "you can't work me now--you lost your horse-shoe +this morning. I was a hobo then and you told me to go to hell, but now +when you see I've got eight hundred dollars you're trying to bunco me +out of it. I know who you are, I've heard the boys tell about +you--you're one of these blue-bellied Yankees that try to make a living +swapping jack-knives. You got your name from that Bunker Hill monument +and they shortened it down to Bunk. Well, you lose--that's all I'll say; +I wouldn't buy your claims if they showed twenty dollar gold pieces, +with everything on 'em but the eagle-tail. And the formation is no good +here, anyhow." + +"Oh, it ain't, hey?" came back Bunk thrusting out his jaw belligerently, +"well take a look up at that cliff. That Apache Leap is solid +porphyry----" + +"Apache Leap!" broke in Big Boy suddenly sitting erect and looking all +around, "by grab, is this the place?" + +"This is the place," replied Old Bunk wagging his head and smiling +wisely, "and that cap is solid porphyry." + +"Gee, boys!" exclaimed Big Boy getting up on his feet, "say, is that +where they killed all those Indians?" + +"The very place," returned Bunker Hill proudly, "you can find their +skeletons there to this day." + +"Well, for cripe's sake," murmured Big Boy at last and looked up at the +cliff again. + +"Some jump-off," observed Bunker, but Big Boy did not hear him--he was +looking up at the sun. + +"Say," he said, "when the sun rises in the morning how far out does that +shadow come?" + +"What shadow?" demanded Bunker Hill. "Oh, of Apache Leap? It goes way +out west of town." + +"And does it throw its shadow on these hills where your claims are? +Well, old-timer, I'll just take a look at them." + +He climbed out purposefully and began to put on his shoes and Old Bunk +squinted at him curiously. There was something going on that he did not +know about--some connection between the Leap and his mines; he waited, +and the secret popped out. + +"Say," said Big Boy after a long minute of silence, "do you believe in +fortune-tellers?" + +"Sure thing!" spoke up Bunker, suddenly taking a deep breath and +swallowing his Adam's apple solemnly, "I believe in them phenomena +implicitly. And, as I was about to say, you can have any claim I've got +for eight hundred dollars--cash." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MOTHER TRIGEDGO + + +"Well, I'll tell you," confided Big Boy, moving closer to Old Bunk and +lowering his voice mysteriously, "I know you'll think I'm crazy, but +there's something to that stuff. Maybe we don't understand it, and of +course there's a lot of fakes, but I got this from Mother Trigedgo. +She's that Cornish seeress, that predicted the big cave in the stope of +the Last Chance mine, and now I _know_ she's good. She tells +fortunes by cards and by pouring water in your hand and going into a +trance. Then she looks into the water and sees a kind of vision of all +that is going to happen. Well, here's what she said for me--and she +wrote it down on a paper. + +"'You will soon make a journey to the west and there, in the shadow of a +place of death, you will find two treasures, one of silver and the other +of gold. Choose well between the two and----" + +"By grab, that's right, boy!" exclaimed Old Bunk enthusiastically, "she +described this place down to a hickey. You came west from Globe and when +you went by here the shadow was still on those hills; and as for a place +of death, Apache Leap got its name from the Indians that jumped over +that cliff. Say, you could hunt all over Arizona and not find another +place that came within a mile of it!" + +"That's right," mused Big Boy, "but I was thinking all the time that +that place of death would be a graveyard." + +"Sure, but how could a graveyard cast a shadow--they're always on level +ground. No, I'm telling you, boy, that there cliff is the place--lemme +tell you how it got its name. A long time ago when the Indians were bad +they had a soldiers' post right here where this town stands, and they +kept a lookout up on the Picket Post butte, where they could heliograph +clear down to Tucson. Well, every time a bunch of Indians would go down +out of the hills to raid some wagon-train on the trail this lookout +would see them and signal Tucson and the soldiers would do the rest. It +got so bymeby the Indians couldn't do anything and at last Old Cochise +got together about eight hundred Apaches and came over to wipe out the +post. It looked easy at the time, because there was less than two +hundred men, but the major in command was a fighting fool and didn't +know when he was whipped. The Apaches all gathered up on the top of +those high cliffs--it's flat on the upper side--and one night when their +signal fires had burned down the soldiers sneaked around behind them. +And then, just at dawn, they fired a volley and made a rush for the +camp; and before they knowed it about two hundred Indians had jumped +clean over the cliff. They killed the rest of them--all but two or three +bucks that fought their way through the line--and now, by grab, you +couldn't get an Indian up there if you'd offer him a quart of whiskey. +It's sure bad medicine for Apaches." + +"Isn't it wonderful!" exclaimed Big Boy, "there's no use talking--this +sure is the place of death. And say, next time you go over to Globe you +go and see Mother Trigedgo--I just want to tell you what she did!" + +"All right," sighed Old Bunk, who preferred to talk business, and he +settled down to listen. + +"This Mother Trigedgo," began Big Boy, "isn't an ordinary, cheap +fortune-teller. Those people are all fakes because they're just out for +the dollar and tell you what they think you want to know. But Mother +Trigedgo keeps a Cousin-Jack boarding house and only prophesies when she +feels the power. Sometimes she'll go along for a week or more and never +tell a fortune; and then, when she happens to be feeling right, she'll +tell some feller what's coming to him. Those Cousin Jacks are crazy +about what she can do, but I never went to a seeress in my life until +after we had that big cave. I'm a timber man, you see, and sometimes I +take contracts to catch up dangerous ground; and the best men in the +world when it comes to that work are these old-country Cousin Jacks. +They're nervy and yet they're careful and so I always hire 'em; but when +we were doing this work down in the stope of the Last Chance, they began +talking about Mother Trigedgo. It seems she'd told the fortune of a boy +or two--they were all of them boarding at her house--and she was so +worried she could hardly cook on account of them working in this mine. +It was swelling ground and there were a lot of old workings where the +timbering had given way; and to tell you the truth I didn't like it +myself, although I wouldn't admit it." + +"Well, it was the twenty-second of April, and all that morning we could +hear the ground working over head and when it came noon we went up +above, as we says, for a breath of fresh air. But while we were eating, +there was a Cousin Jack named Chambers fetched up this old talk about +Mother Trigedgo, and how she'd predicted he'd be killed in a cave if he +didn't quit working in the stope; and when our half-hour's nooning was +up he says: 'I'll not go down that shaft!' + +"We were all badly scared, because that ground was always moving, and +finally we agreed that we'd take a full hour off and work till five +o'clock. Well, we waited till after one before we went to the collar and +just as I was stepping into the cage the whole danged stope caved in!" + +"Well, sir, I went back to my room and got every dollar I had and gave +Mother Trigedgo the roll. I could easy earn more but if I'd been caught +in that cave they'd never even tried to dig me out. That was the least I +could do, considering what she'd done for me; but Mother Trigedgo took +on so much about it that I told her it was to have my fortune told. +Well, she tried the cards and dice and consulted the signs of the +Zodiac; and then one day when she felt the power strong she poured a +little water in my hand. That made a kind of pool, like these +crystal-gazers use, and when she looked into it she began to talk and +she told me all about my life. Or that is, she told me what she thought +I ought to know, and gave me a copy of the Book of Fate that Napoleon +always consulted. And here it ain't three months till I make this +journey west and find the place she prophesied." + +"Yes, and silver, too!" added Old Bunk portentously, "she hit it, down +to a hickey. And now, if you'd like to inspect those claims----" + +"No, hold on," protested Big Boy still pondering on his fate, "I've got +to find these treasures myself. And one of them was of gold. What's the +chances around here for that?" + +"Danged poor," grumbled Bunker as he saw his hopes gone glimmering, +"don't remember to have seen a color. But say, old Bible Back is +drilling for copper and that's a good deal like gold. Same color, +practically, and you know all these prophecies have a kind of symbolical +meaning. A golden treasure don't necessarily mean gold, and I've got a +claim----" + +"Say, who's that up there?" broke in Big Boy uneasily and Old Bunk +looked around with a jerk. + +An old, white-haired man, wearing a battered cork helmet, was peering +over the bank and when he perceived that his presence was discovered he +came shuffling down the trail. He was a short, fat man, in faded shirt +and overalls; and on his feet he wore a pair of gunboat brogans, thickly +studded on the bottom with hob-nails. A space of six inches between the +tops of his shoes and the worn-off edge of his trousers exposed his +shrunken shanks, and he carried a stick which might serve for cane or +club as circumstances demanded. He came down briskly with his broad toes +turned out in grotesque resemblance to a duck and when Bunker Hill saw +him he snorted resentfully and rose up from his seat. + +"Have you seen my burros?" demanded the old man, half defiantly, "I +can't find dose rascals nowhere. Ah, so; here's a stranger come to camp! +Good morning, I'm glad to know you." + +"Good morning," returned Big Boy glancing doubtfully at Bunker Hill, "my +name is Denver Russell." + +"Oh, excuse _me_!" spoke up Bunker with a sarcastic drawl, "Mr. +Russell, this is Professor Diffenderfer, the eminent buttinsky and +geologist." + +"Ah--so!" beamed the Professor overlooking the fling in the excitement +of the meeting, "I take it you're a mining man? Vell, if it's golt +you're looking for I haf a claim up on dat hill dat is rich in +auriferous deposits." + +"Yes," broke in Bunker giving Big Boy a sly wink, "you ought to inspect +that tunnel--it's unique in the annals of mining. You see the Professor +here is an educated man--he's learned all the big words in the +dictionary, and he's learned mining from reading Government reports. +We're quite proud of his achievements as a mining engineer, but you +ought to see that tunnel. It starts into the hill, takes a couple of +corkscrew twists and busts right out into the sunshine." + +"Oh, never mind _him_!" protested the Professor as Bunker burst +into a roar, "he will haf his choke, of course. But dis claim I speak +of----" + +"And that ain't all his accomplishments," broke in Bunker Hill +relentlessly, "Mr. Diffenderfer is a count--a German count--sometimes +known as Count No-Count. But as I was about to say, his greatest +accomplishments have been along tonsorial lines." + +A line of pain appeared between the Professor's eyes--but he stood his +ground defiantly. "Yes," went on Bunker thrusting out his jaw in a +baleful leer at his rival, "for many years he has had the proud +distinction of being the Champion Rough-Riding Barber of Arizona." + +"Vell, I've got to go," murmured the Professor hastily, "I've got to +find dem burros." + +He started off but at the plank across the creek he stopped and cleared +his throat. "Und any time," he began, "dat you'd like to inspect dem +claims----" + +"The Champeen--Rough-Riding--Barber!" repeated Old Bunk with gusto, "he +won his title on the race-track at Tucson, before safety razors was +invented." + +"Shut up!" snapped the Professor and, crossing the plank with waspish +quickness, he went squattering off down the creek. Yet one ear was +turned back and as Bunker began to speak he stopped in the trail to +listen. + +"He took a drunken cowboy up in the saddle before him," went on Bunker +with painful distinctness, "and gave him a close shave while the horse +was bucking, only cutting his throat three times." + +"You're a liar!" yelled the Professor and, stamping his foot, he hustled +vengefully off down the trail. + +"Say, who is that old boy?" enquired Big Boy curiously, "he might know +where I'd find that gold." + +"Who--him?" jeered Bunker, "why, that old stiff wouldn't know a chunk of +gold if he saw it. All he does is to snoop around and watch what +_I'm_ doing, and if he ever thinks that I've picked up a live one +he butts in and tries to underbid me. Now I'll tell you what I'll do, +I'll get you a horse and show you all over the district, and any claim +I've got that you want to go to work on, you can have for five hundred +dollars. Now, that's reasonable, ain't it? And yet, the way things are +going, I'm glad to let you in on it. If you strike something big, here +I've got my store and mine, and plenty of other claims, to boot; and if +there's a rush I stand to make a clean-up on some of my other +properties. So come up to the house and meet my wife and daughter, and +we'll try to make you comfortable. But that old feller----" + +"Nope," said Big Boy, "I think I'd rather camp--who lives in those +cave-houses up there?" + +He jerked his head at some walled-up caves in the bluff not far across +the creek and Old Bunk scowled reproachfully. + +"Oh, nobody," he said, "except the rattle-snakes and pack-rats. Why +don't you come up to the house?" + +"I don't need to go to your house," returned Big Boy defiantly. "I've +got money to buy what I need." + +"Yes, but come up anyway and meet my wife and daughter. Drusilla is a +musician--she's studied in Boston at the celebrated Conservatory of +Music----" + +"I've got me a phonograph," answered Big Boy shortly, "if I can ever get +it over here from Globe." + +"Well, go ahead and get it, then," said Bunker Hill tartly, "they's +nobody keeping you, I'm sure." + +"No, and you bet your life there won't be," came back Big Boy, starting +off, "I'm playing a lone hand to win." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE ORACULUM + + +The palpitating heat lay like a shimmering fleece over the deserted camp +of Pinal and Denver Russell, returning from Globe, beheld it as one in a +dream. Somewhere within the shadow of Apache Leap were two treasures +that he was destined to find, one of gold and one of silver; and if he +chose wisely between them they were both to be his. And if he chose +unwisely, or tried to hold them both, then both would be lost and he +would suffer humiliation and shame. Yet he came back boldly, fresh from +a visit with Mother Trigedgo who had blessed him and called him her son. +She had wept when they parted, for her burdens had been heavy and his +gift had lightened her lot; but though she wished him well she could not +control his fate, for that lay with the powers above. Nor could she +conceal from him the portion of evil which was balanced against the +good. + +"Courage and constancy will attend you through life'" she had written in +her old-country scrawl; "but in the end will prove your undoing, for you +will meet your death at the hands of your dearest friend." + +That was the doom that hung over him like a hair-suspended sword--to be +killed by his dearest friend--and as he paused at the mouth of Queen +Creek Canyon he wished that his fortune had not been told. Of what good +to him would be the two hidden treasures--or even the beautiful young +artist with whom he was destined to fall in love--if his life might be +cut off at any moment by some man that he counted his friend? +_When_ his death should befall, Mother Trigedgo had not told, for +the signs had been obscure; but when it did come it would be by the hand +of the man that he called his best friend. A swift surge of resistance +came over him again as he gazed at the promised land and he shut his +teeth down fiercely. He would have no friends, no best of friends, but +all men that he met he would treat the same and so evade the harsh hand +of fate. Forewarned was forearmed, he would have no more pardners such +as men pick up in rambling around; but in this as in all else he would +play a lone hand and so postpone the evil day. + +He strode on down the trail into the silent town where the houses stood +roofless and bare, and as he glanced at the ancient gallows-frame above +the abandoned mine fresh courage came into his heart. This city of the +dead should come back to life if what the stars said was true; and the +long rows of adobes now stripped of windows and doors, would awaken to +the tramp of miners' boots. He would find two treasures and, if he chose +well between them, both the silver and the gold would be his. But +neither wily Bunker Hill nor the palavering Professor should pull him +this way or that; for Mother Trigedgo had given him a book, to consult +on all important occasions. It was Napoleon's Oraculum, or Book of Fate; +and as Denver had glanced at the key--with its thirty-two questions +covering every important event in human life--a thrill of security had +passed over him. With this mysterious Oraculum, the Man of Destiny had +solved the many problems of his life; and in question thirteen, that +sinister number, was a test that would serve Denver well: + +"Will the FRIEND I most reckon upon prove faithful or treacherous?" + +How many times must that great, aloof man have put some friend's loyalty +to the test; and if the answer was in the negative how often had he +avoided death by foreknowledge of impending treachery! Yet such friends +as he had retained had all proved loyal, his generals had been devoted +to his cause; and with the aid of his Oraculum he had conquered all his +enemies--until at last the Book of Fate had been lost. At the battle of +Leipsic, in the confusion of the retreat, his precious Dream Book had +been left behind. Kings and Emperors had used it since, and seeresses as +well; and now, after the lapse of a hundred years, it was published in +quaint cover and lettering, for the guidance of all and sundry. And Old +Mother Trigedgo, coming all the way from Cornwall, had placed the Book +of Fate in his hands! There was destiny in everything, and this woman +who had saved his life could save it again with her Oraculum. + +Denver turned to the Mexican who, with two heavily-packed mules, stood +patiently awaiting his pleasure; and with a brief nod of the head he +strode down the trail while the mules minced along behind him. Past the +old, worked-out mine, past the melted-down walls of abandoned adobe +ruins, he led on to the store and the cool, darkened house which +sheltered the family of Andrew Hill; but even here he did not stop, +though Old Bunk beckoned him in. His life, which had once been as other +people's lives, had been touched by the hand of fate; and gayeties and +good cheer, along with friendship and love, had been banished to the +limbo of lost dreams. So he turned across the creek and led the way to +the cave that was destined to be his home. + +It was an ancient cavern beneath the rim of a low cliff which overlooked +the town and as Denver was helping to unlash the packs Bunker Hill came +toiling up the trail. + +"Got back, hey?" he greeted stepping into the smoke-blackened cave and +gazing dubiously about, "well, it'll be cool inside here, anyway." + +"Yes, that's what I figured on," responded Denver briefly, and as he +cleaned out the rats' nests and began to make camp Old Bunk sat down in +the doorway and began a new cycle of stories. + +"This here cave," he observed, "used to be occupied by the +cliff-dwellers--them's their hand-marks, up on the wall; and then I +reckon the Apaches moved in, and after them the soldiers; but when the +Lost Burro began turning out the ore, I'll bet it was crowded like a +bar-room. Them was the days, I'm telling you--you couldn't walk the +street for miners out spending their money--and a cliff-house like this +with a good, tight roof, would bring in a hundred dollars a night, any +time that it happened to rain. All them melted-down adobes was plumb +full of people, the saloons were running full blast, and the miner that +couldn't steal ten dollars a day had no business working underground. +They took out chunks of native silver as big as your head, and it all +ran a thousand ounces to the ton, but even at that them worthless +mule-skinners was throwing pure silver at their teams. They had mounted +guards to ride along with the wagons and keep them from stealing the +ore, but you can pick up chunks yet where them teamsters threw them off +and never went back to find 'em. + +"Did you ever hear how the Lost Burro was found? Well, the name, of +course, tells the story. If one of these prospectors goes out to find +his burros he runs across a mine; and if he goes out the next day to +look for another mine he runs across his burros. The most of them are +like the old Professor down here, they wouldn't know mineral if they saw +it; but of course when they grab up a chunk of pure silver and start to +throw it at a jackass they can't help taking notice. Well, that's the +way this mine was found. A prospector that was camping here went up on +that little hill to rock his old burro back to camp and right on top he +found a piece of silver that was so pure you could cut it with your +knife. That guy was honest, he gave the credit to his burro, and, if the +truth was known, half the mines in the west would be named after some +knot-headed jackass. That's how much intellect it takes to be a +prospector." + +"No, I'll tell you what's the matter with these prospectors," returned +Denver with a miner's scorn, "they do everything in the world but dig. +They'll hike, and hunt burros and go out across the desert; but anything +that calls for a few taps of work they'll pass it right up, every time. +And I'll tell you, old-timer, all the mines on top of ground have been +located long ago. That's why you hear so much about 'Swede luck' these +days--the Swede ain't too lazy to sink. + +"That's my motto--sink! Get down to bed-rock and see what there is on +the bottom; but these danged prospectors just hang around the +water-holes and play pedro until they eat up their grub-stakes." + +"Heh, heh; that's right," responded Bunker reminiscently, "say, did you +ever hear of old Abe Berg? He used to keep a store down below in Moroni; +and there was one of these old prospectors that made a living that way, +used to touch him up regular for a grub-stake. Old Abe was about as easy +as Bible-Back Murray when you showed him a rich piece of ore and after +this prospector had et up all his grub he'd drift back to town for more. +But on the way in, like all of them fellers, he'd stop at some real good +mine; and after he'd stole a few chunks of high-grade ore he'd take it +along to show to Abe. But after a while Old Abe got suspicious--he +didn't fall for them big stories any more--and at last he began to +enquire just where this bonanza was, that the prospector was reporting +on so favorable. Well, the feller told him and Abe he scratched his head +and enquired the name of the mine. + +"'Why, I call it the Juniper,' says the old prospector kind of innocent; +and Abe he jumped right up in the air. + +"'Vell, dat's all right,' he yells, tapping himself on the chest, 'but +here's one Jew, I betcher, dat you von't nip again!' Get the point--he +thought the old prospector was making a joke of it and calling his mine +the Jew-Nipper!" + +"Yeah, I'm hep," replied Russell, "say who is this feller that you call +Bible-Back Murray--has he got any claims around here?" + +"Claims!" repeated Bunker, "well, I guess he has. He's got a hundred if +I've got one--this whole upper district is located." + +"What--this whole country?" exclaimed Denver in sudden dismay, "the +whole range of hills--all that lays in the shadow of the Leap?" + +"Jest about," admitted Bunker, "but as I told you before, you can have +any of mine for five hundred." + +"Oh hell," burst out Denver and then he roused up and a challenge crept +into his voice. "Do you mean to tell me," he said, "that he's kept up +his assessment work? Has he done a hundred dollars worth of work on +every claim? No, you know danged well he hasn't--you've just been doing +lead-pencil work." + +"That's all right," returned Bunker, "we've got a gentlemen's agreement +to respect each others monuments; and you'll find our sworn statements +that the work has been done on file with the County Recorder." + +"Yes, and now I know," grumbled Russell rebelliously, "why the whole +danged district is dead. You and Murray and this old Dutchman have +located all the ground and you're none of you doing any work. But when a +miner like me blows into the camp and wants to prospect around he's +stuck for five hundred dollars. How'm I going to buy my powder and a +little grub and steel if I give up my roll at the start? No, I'll look +this country over and if I find what I want----" + +"You'll pay for it, young man," put in Bunker Hill pointedly, "that is, +if it belongs to me." + +"Well, I will if it's worth it," answered Russell grudgingly, "but +you've got to show me your title." + +"Sure I will," agreed Bunker, "the best title a man can have--continuous +and undisputed possession. I've been here fifteen years and I've never +had a claim jumped yet." + +"Who's this Bible-Back Murray?" demanded Denver, "has he got a clean +title to his ground?" + +"You bet he has," replied Bunker Hill, "and he's got my name as a +witness that his yearly assessment work's been done." + +"And you, I suppose," suggested Denver sarcastically, "have got +_his_ name, as an affidavit man, to prove that _your_ work has +been done. And when I look around I'll bet there ain't a hole anywhere +that's been sunk in the last two years." + +"Yes there is!" contradicted Bunker, "you go right up that wash that +comes down from them north hills and you'll find one that's down twelve +hundred feet. And there's a diamond drill outfit sinking twenty feet a +day, and has been for the last six months. At five dollars a +foot--that's the contract price--Old Bible-Back is paying a hundred +dollars a day. Now--how many days will that drill have to run to do the +annual work? No, you're all right, young man, and I like your nerve, but +you don't want to take too much for granted." + +"Judas priest!" exclaimed Russell, "twelve hundred feet deep? What does +the old boy think he's got?" + +"He's drilling for copper," nodded Bunker significantly, "and for all +you and I know, he's got it. He's got an armed guard in charge of that +drill, and no outsider has been allowed anywhere near it for going on to +six months. The cores are all stored away in boxes where nobodv can get +their hands on them and the way old Bible-Back is sweating blood I +reckon they're close to the ore. But a hundred dollars a day--say, the +way things are now that'll make or break old Murray. He's been blowing +in money for ten or twelve years trying to develop his silver +properties; but now he's crazy as a bed-bug over copper--can't talk +about anything else." + +"Is that so?" murmured Denver and as he went about his work his brain +began to seethe and whirl. Here was something he had not known of, an +element of chance which might ruin all his plans; for if the diamond +drill broke into rich copper ore his chance at the two treasures would +be lost. There would be a big rush and the price of claims would soar to +thousands of dollars. The country looked well for copper, with its heavy +cap of dacite and the manganese filling in the veins; and it was only a +day's journey in each direction from the big copper camps of Ray and +Globe. He turned impulsively and reached for his purse, but as he was +about to plank down his five hundred dollars in advance he remembered +Mother Trigedgo's words. + +"Choose well between the two and both shall be yours. But if you choose +unwisely, then both will be lost and you will suffer humiliation and +shame." + +"Say," blurted out Denver, "your claims are all silver--haven't you got +a gold prospect anywhere?" + +"No, I haven't," answered Old Bunk, his eye on the bank-roll, "but I'll +accept a deposit on that offer. Any claim I've got--except the Lost +Burro itself--for five hundred dollars, cash." + +"How long is that good for?" enquired Russell cautiously and Bunker +slapped his leg for action. + +"It's good for right now," he said, "and not a minute after!" + +"But I've got to look around," pleaded Denver desperately, "I've got to +find both these treasures--one of silver and one of gold--and make my +choice between them." + +"Well, that's your business," said Bunker rising up abruptly. "Will you +take that offer or not?" + +"No," replied Denver, putting up his purse and Old Bunk glanced at him +shrewdly. + +"Well, I'll give you a week on it," he said, smiling grimly, and stood +up to look down the trail. Denver looked out after him and there, +puffing up the slope, came Professor Diffenderfer, the eminent buttinsky +and geologist. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE EMINENT BUTTINSKY + + +That there was no love lost between Bunker Hill and Professor +Diffenderfer was evident by their curt greetings, but as they began to +bandy words Denver became suddenly aware that he was the cause of their +feud. He and his eight hundred dollars, a sum so small that a shoestring +promoter would hardly notice it; and yet these two men with their +superfluity of claims were fighting for his favor like pawn-brokers. +Bunker Hill had seen him first and claimed him as his right; but +Professor Diffenderfer, ignoring the ethics of the game, was out to make +a sale anyway. He carried in one hand a large sack of specimens, and +under his arm were some weighty tomes which turned out to be Government +reports. He came up slowly, panting and sweating in the heat, and when +he stepped in Bunk was waiting for him. + +"O-ho," he said, "here comes the Professor. The only German count that +ever gave up his title to become an American barber. Well, Professor, +you're just the man I'm looking for--I want to ask your professional +opinion. If two white-bellied mice ran down the same hole would the one +with the shortest tail get down first?" + +The Professor staggered in and sat down heavily while he wiped the sweat +from his eyes. + +"Mr. Russell," he began, ignoring the grinning Bunker, "I vant to +expound to you the cheology of dis country--I haf made it a lifelong +study." + +"Yes, you want to get this," put in Bunker _sotto voce_, "he knows +every big word in them books." + +"I claim," went on the Professor, slapping the books together +vehemently, "I claim dat in dis district we haf every indication of a +gigantic deposit of copper. The morphological conditions, such as we see +about us everywhere, are distinctly favorable to metalliferous +deposition; and the genetic influences which haf taken place later----" + +"Well, he's off," sighed Bunker rising wearily up and ambling over +towards the door, "so long, Big Boy, I'll see you to-morrow. Never could +understand broken English." + +"Dat's all righd!" spat back the Professor with spiteful emphasis, "I'm +addressing my remarks to dis _chentleman_!" + +"Ah--so!" mimicked Bunker. "Vell, shoodt id indo him! And say, tell him +about that tunnel! Tell him how you went in until the air got bad and +came out up the hill like a gopher. Took a double circumbendibus and, +after describing a parabola----" + +"Dat's all righd!" repeated the Professor, "now--you think you're so +smart--I'm going to prove _you_ a liar! I heard you the other day +tell dis young man here dat dere vas no golt in dis district. Vell! All +righd! We vill see now--joost look! Vat you call _dat_ now, my goot +young friend?" He dumped out the contents of his canvas ore-sack and +nodded to Denver triumphantly. "I suppose dat aindt golt, eh! Maybe I +try to take advantage of you and show you what dey call fools gold--what +mineralogists call pyrites of iron? No? It aindt dat? Vell, let me ask +you vun question den--am I righd or am I wrong?" + +"You're right, old man," returned Denver eagerly as he held a specimen +to the light; and when he looked up Bunker Hill was gone. + +"You see?" leered the Professor jerking his thumb towards the door, "dot +man vas trying to _do_ you. He don't like to haf me show you dis +golt. He vants you to believe dat here is only silver; but I am a +cheologist--I know!" + +"Yes, this is gold," admitted Denver, wetting the thin strip of quartz, +"but it don't look like much of a vein. Whereabouts did you get these +specimens?" + +"From a claim dat I haf, not a mile south of here," burst out the +Professor in great excitement; and while Denver listened in stunned +amazement he went into an involved and sadly garbled exposition of the +geological history of the district. + +"Yes, sure," broke in Denver when he came to a pause, "I'll take your +word for all that. What I want to know is where this claim is located. +If its inside the shadow of Apache Leap, I'll go down and take a look at +it; but----" + +"But vat has the shadow of the mountain to do with it?" inquired the +Professor with ponderous dignity. "The formation, as I vas telling you, +is highly favorable to an extensive auriferous deposit----" + +"Aw, can the big words," broke in Denver impatiently, "I don't give a +dang for geology. What I'm looking for is a mine, in the shadow of that +big cliff, and----" + +"Ah, ah! Yes, I see!" exclaimed the Professor delightedly, "it must +conform to the vords of the prophecy! Yes, my mine is in the shadow of +Apache Leap, where the Indians yumped over and were killed." + +"Well, I'll look at it," responded Denver coldly, "but who told you +about that prophecy? It kinder looks to me as if----" + +"Oh, vell," apologized the Professor, "I vas joost going by and I +couldn't help but listen. Because dis Bunker Hill, he is alvays +spreading talk dat I am not a cheologist. But him, now; _him_! Do +you know who he is? He is nothing but an ignorant cowman. Ven dis mine +vas closed down I vas for some years the care-taker, vat you call the +custodian of the plant; and dis Bunker Hill, ven I happened to go avay, +he come and take the job. I am a consulting cheologist and my services +are very valuable, but he took the job for fifty dollars a month and +came here to run his cattle. For eight or ten years he lived right in +dat house and took all dat money for nothing; and den, when the Company +can't pay him no more, he takes over the property on a lien. Dat fine, +valuable mine, one of the richest in the vorld, and vot you think he +done with it? He and Mike McGraw, dat hauls up his freight, dey tore it +all down for junk! All dat fine machinery, all dem copper plates, all +the vater-pipe, the vindows and doors--they tore down everything and +hauled it down to Moroni, vere they sold it for nothing to Murray! + +"Do you know vot I would do if I owned dat mine?" demanded the Professor +with rising wrath. "I vould organize a company and pump oudt the vater +and make myself a millionaire. But dis Bunker Hill, he's a big bag of +vind--all he does is to sit around and talk! A t'ousand times I haf told +him repeatedly dat dere are millions of dollars in dat mine, and a +t'ousand times he tells me I am crazy. For fifteen years I haf begged +him for the privilege to go into pardners on dat mine. I haf written +reports, describing the cheology of dis district, for the highest mining +journals in the country; I haf tried to interest outside capital; and +den, for my pay, when some chentleman comes to camp, he tells him dat I +am a barber!" + +The Professor paused and swallowed fiercely, and as Denver broke into a +grin the old man choked with fury. + +"Do you know what dat man has been?" he demanded, shaking a trembling +finger towards Bunker's house, "he has been everything but an honest +man--a faro-dealer, a crook, a gambler! He vas nothing--a bum--when his +vife heard about him and come here from Boston to marry him! Dey vas +boy-und-girl sveetheart, you know. And righdt avay he took her money and +put it into cows, and the drought come along and killed them; and now he +has nothing, not so much as I haf, and an expensive daughter besides!" + +He paused and wagged his head and indulged in a senile grin. + +"Und pretty, too--vat? The boys are all crazy, but she von't have a +thing to do with them. She von't come outdoors when the cowboys ride by +and stop to buy grub at the store. No, she's too good to talk to old +mens like me, and with cowboys what get forty a month; but she spends +all her time playing tunes on the piano and singing scales avay up in G. +You vait, pretty soon you hear her begin--dat scale-singing drives me +madt!" + +"Oh, sings scales, eh?" said Denver suddenly beginning to take an +interest, "must be studying to become a singer." + +"Dat's it," nodded the old man shaking his finger solemnly, "her mother +vas a singer before her. But after they have spent all their money to +educate her the teacher says she lacks the temperament. She can never +sing, he says, because she is too _dumf_; too--what you call +it--un-feeling. She lacks the fire of the vonderful Gadski--she has not +the g-great heart of Schumann-Heink. She is an American, you see, and +dat is the end of it, so all their money is spent." + +"Oh, I don't know," defended Denver warmly, "what's the matter with +Nordica, and Mary Garden and Farrar? They're Americans, all right, and +I've got some of their records that simply can't be beat! You wait till +I get out my instrument." + +He broke open a box in which was packed with many wrappings a polished +and expensive phonograph, but as he was clearing a space on a rickety +old table the Professor broke into a cackle. + +"Dere! Dere!" he cried, "don't you hear her now? 'Ah, ah, ah, oo, oo, +oo, oo!' Vell, dat's what we get from morning till night--by golly, it +makes me sick!" + +"Aw, that's all right," said Denver after listening critically, "she's +just getting ready to sing." + +"Getting ready!" sneered the Professor, "don't you fool yourself +dere--she'll keep dat going for hours. And in the morning she puts on +just one thin white dress and dances barefoot in the garden. I come by +dere one time and looked over the vall--and, psst, listen, she don't +vare no corsets! She ought to be ashamed." + +"Well, what about you, you danged old stiff?" inquired Denver with +ill-concealed scorn. "If Old Bunk had seen you he'd have killed you." + +"Ah--him?" scoffed the Professor, "no, he von't hurt nobody. Lemme tell +you something--now dis is a fact. When he married his vife--and she's an +awful fine lady--all she asked vas dat he'd stop his tammed fighting. +You see? I know everyt'ing--every little t'ing--I been around dis place +too long. She came right out here from the East and offered to marry +him, but he had to give up his fighting. He was a bad man--you see? He +was quick with a gun, and she was afraid he'd go out and get killed. So +I laugh at him now and he goes avay and leaves me--but he von't let me +talk with his vife. She's an awful nice woman but----" + +"Danged right she is!" put in Denver with sudden warmth and after a +rapid questioning glance the Professor closed his mouth. + +"Vell, I guess I'll be going," he said at last and Denver did not urge +him to stay. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SILVER TREASURE + + +As evening came on and the red eye of the sun winked and closed behind a +purple range of mountains Denver Russell came out of his cliff-dwelling +cave and looked at the old town below. Mysterious shadows were gathering +among the ruins, the white walls stood out ghostly and still, and as a +breeze stirred the clacking leaves of the sycamores a voice mounted up +like a bird's. It rose slowly and descended, it ran rippling arpeggios +and lingered in flute-like trills; but it was colorless, impersonal, +void of feeling. + +It was more like a flute than like the voice of a bird that pours out +its soul for joy; it was perfect, but it was not moving. Only as the +spirit of the desolate town--as of some lost soul, pure and +passionless--did it find its note of appeal and Denver sighed and sat +silent in the darkness. His thoughts strayed far away, to his boyhood in +the mountains, to his wanderings from camp to camp; they leapt ahead to +the problem that lay before him, the choice between the silver and gold +treasures; and then, drowsy and oblivious, he left the voice still +singing and groped to his bed in the cave. + +All night the prying pack-rats, dispossessed of their dwelling, raced +and gnawed and despoiled his provisions; but when the day dawned Denver +left them to do their worst, for his mind was on greater things. At +another time, when he was not so busy, he would swing some rude +cupboards on wires and store his food out of reach; but now he only +stopped to make a hasty breakfast and started off up the trail. When the +sun rose, over behind Apache Leap, and cast its black shadow among the +hills, Denver was up on the rim-rock, looking out on the promised land +that should yield him two precious treasures. + +The rim where he stood was uptilted and broken, a huge stratified wall +like the edge of a layer cake or the leaves of some mighty book. They +lay one upon the other, these ledges of lime and sandstone, some red, +some yellow, some white; and, heaped upon the top like a rich coating of +chocolate, was the brownish-black cap of the lava. In ages long past +each layer had been a mud bank at the bottom of a tropic sea, until the +weight of waters had pressed them down and time had changed them to +stone. Then Mother Earth had breathed and in a slow, century-long heave, +they had emerged from the bottom of the sea, there to be broken and +shattered by the pent-up forces of the fire which was raging in her +breast. + +Great rents had been formed, igneous rocks had boiled up through them; +and then in a grand, titanic effort the fire had forced its way up. For +centuries this extinct volcano had belched forth its lava, building up +the frowning heights of Apache Leap; and then once more the earth had +subsided and the waters of the ocean had rushed in. The edge of the +rim-rock had been sheered by torrential floods, erosion had fashioned +the far heights; until once more, with infinite groanings, the earth had +risen from the depths. There it stayed, cracking and trembling, as the +inner fires cooled down and the fury of the conflict died away; and +boiling waters bearing ores in solution burst like geysers from every +crack. And there atom by atom, combined with quartz and acids, the +metals of the earth were brought to the surface and deposited on the +sides of the cracks. Copper and gold and silver and lead, and many a +rarer metal, all spewed up from the molten heart of the world to be +sought out and used by man. + +All this Denver sensed as he gazed at the high cliff where the volcano +had overflowed the earth, and at the layers and layers of sedimentary +rock that protruded from beneath its base; but his eyes, though they +sensed it, cared nothing for the great Cause--what they looked for was +the fruit of all that labor. Where along this shattered rim-rock, +twisted and hacked and uptilted, were the hidden cracks, the precious +fissure veins, that had brought up the ore from the depths? There at his +feet lay one, the gash through the rim where Queen Creek took its +course; and further to the north, where the rim-rock was wrenched to the +west, was another likely place. To the south there was another, a deep, +sharp canyon that broke through the formation to the heights; and over +them all, like a sheltering hand, lay the dark, moving shadow of Apache +Leap. He traced out its line as it crept back towards the town and then, +big eyed and silent, he started down the trail, still looking for some +sign that might guide him. + +But other eyes than his had been sweeping the rim and as he came up the +trail Bunker Hill appeared and walked along beside him. + +"I'll just show you those claims," he said smiling genially, "it'll save +you a little time, and maybe a pair of shoes. And just to prove that I'm +on the square I'll take you to the best one first." + +He led on up the street and as they passed a stone cabin the door was +yanked violently open and then as suddenly slammed shut. + +"That's the Dutchman," grinned Bunker, "he wakes up grouchy every +morning. What did you think of that rock he showed you?" + +"Good enough," replied Denver, "it was rotten with gold. But from the +looks of the pieces it's only a stringer--I doubt if it shows any +walls." + +"No, nor anything else much," answered Bunker slightingly, "you can't +even call it a stringer. It's a kind of broken seam, going flat into the +hill--the Mexicans have been after it for years. Every time there's a +rain the Professor will go up there and wash out a little gold in the +gulch; but a Chinaman couldn't work it, and make it show a profit, if he +had to dig out his ore. Of course it's all right, if you think gold is +the ticket, but you wait till I show you this claim of mine--next to the +famous Lost Burro Mine. + +"You know the Lost Burro--there she lays, right there--and they took out +four million dollars in silver before the bonanza pinched out. At first +they hauled their ore to the Gulf of California and shipped it to +Swansea, Wales, and afterwards they built a kind of furnace and roasted +their ore right here. It was refractory ore, mixed up with zinc and +antimony; but with everything against them, and all kinds of bum +management, she paid from the very first day. All full of water now, or +I'd show you around; but some mine in its time, believe me. I wouldn't +sell it for a million dollars." + +"Five hundred is my limit," observed Denver with a grin and Bunker +slapped his leg. + +"Say," he said, "did I tell you that story about the deacon that got +stung in a horse-trade? Well, this was back east, where I used to live, +before I emigrated for the good of the country, and there was an old +Methodist deacon that was as smart as they make 'em when it came to +driving a bargain. He and the livery-stable keeper had made a few swaps +and one was about as sharp as the other; until finally it got to be a +matter of pride between 'em to cut each other's throats in some +horse-trade They would talk and haggle, and drive away and come back, +and jockey each other for months; but they always paid cash and if one +of 'em got stuck he'd trade the horse off to some woman. Well, one day +the livery-stable man drove past the deacon's house with a fine, free, +high-stepping bay; and every afternoon for about a week he'd go by at a +pretty good clip. The deacon he'd rush out and try to flag him, but the +livery-stable keeper wouldn't stop; until finally the deacon's curiosity +got the best of his judgment and he went out and laid in wait for him. + +"'How much do you want for that hoss?' he says when the livery-stable +man came to a stop. + +"'Two hundred dollars,' says the livery-stable keeper. + +"'I'll give you fifty!' barks the deacon coming out to look him over and +the livery-stable man tossed him the reins. + +"'The hoss is yours,' he says, and the deacon knowed he was stung. + +"Quick work," said Denver, "but I'm not like the deacon. I'm going to +look around." + +"Oh, sure, sure!" protested Bunker, "take all the time you want, but +this offer is only good for one week. I've got a special reason for +wanting to make a sale or I'd never let you look at this claim. Why, the +Professor himself has told me a thousand times that it's a better +proposition than the Burro, so you can see that I am making it +attractive. And I ain't pretending that I'm making you the offer for any +bull-con reason. I might say that I wanted you to do some work, or to +open up the district; but the fact of the matter is I need the five +hundred dollars. I've seen times before this war when a hundred thousand +cash wouldn't pry me loose from that claim, but now it's yours for five +hundred dollars if you honestly think it's worth it. And if you don't, +that's all right, there's no hard feeling between us and you can go and +buy from the Professor. You wasn't born yesterday and you're a good, +hard-rock miner; so enough said, there's the claim, right there." + +He waved his hand at the steep shoulder of the hill, where the canyon +had cut through the rim-rock; and as Denver looked at the formation of +the ground a gleam came into his eyes. The claim took in the silted edge +of the rim, where the strata had been laid bare, and along through the +middle of the varicolored layers there ran a broad streak of iron-red. +Into this a streak of copper-stained green had been pinched by the +lateral fault of the canyon and where the two joined--just across the +creek--was the discovery hole of the claim. + +"Let's go over and look at it," he said and, crossing the creek on the +stones, he clambered up to the hole. It was an open cut with a short +tunnel at the end and, piled up about the location monument, were some +samples of the rock. Denver picked one up and at sight of the ore he +glanced suspiciously at Bunker. + +"Where did this come from?" he asked holding up a chunk that was heavy +with silver and lead, "is this some high-grade from the famous Lost +Burro?" + +"Nope," returned Bunker, "'bout the same kind of rock, though. That +comes from the tunnel in there." + +"Like hell!" scoffed Denver with a swift look at the specimen, "and for +sale for five hundred dollars? Well, there's something funny here, +somewhere." + +He stepped into the tunnel and there, across the face, was a four inch +vein of the ore. It lay between two walls, as a fissure vein should; but +the dip was almost horizontal, following the level of the uptilted +strata. Except for that it was as ideal a prospect as a man could ask to +see--and for sale for five hundred dollars! A single ton of the ore, if +it was as rich as it looked, ought easily to net five hundred dollars. + +Denver knocked off some samples with his prospector's pick and carried +them out into the sun. + +"Why don't you work this?" he asked as he caught the gleam of native +silver in the duller gray of the lead and Old Bunk hunched his +shoulders. + +"Little out of my line," he suggested mildly, "I leave all that to the +Swedes. Say, did you ever hear that one about the Swede and the +Irishman--you don't happen to be Irish, do you?" + +"No," answered Denver and as he waited for the story he remembered what +the Professor had told him. This long, gangly Yankee, with his drooping +red mustache and his stories for every occasion, was nothing but a +store-keeper and a cowman. He knew nothing about mining or the value of +mines but like many another old-timer simply held down his claims and +waited--and to cover up his ignorance of mining he told stories about +Irishmen and Swedes. "No," said Denver, "and you're no Swede, or you'd +drift in there and see what you've got." + +"A mule can work," observed Bunker oracularly, "but here's one I heard +sprung on an Irishman. He was making a big talk about Swedes and Swede +luck, and after he'd got through a feller made the statement that the +Swedes were the greatest people in the world. + +"'In the wur-rold!' yells the Irishman, like he was out of his head, +'well, how do you figure thot out?' + +"'Well, I'll tell you,' says the feller, 'the Swedes invented the +wheel-barrow--and then they learned you Irish to stand on your hind legs +and run it!' Har, har, har; he had him going that time--the Mick +couldn't think what else to do so he went to heaving bricks." + +"Yes--sure," nodded Denver, "that was one on the Irish. But say, have +you got a clean title to this claim? Because if you have----" + +"You bet I have!" spoke up Bunker, now suddenly strictly business; but +as he waited expectantly there was a shout from the trail and Professor +Diffenderfer came rushing up. + +"Oh, I heard you!" he cried shaking a trembling fist at Bunker. "I heard +vot you said about my claim! Und now, Mister Bunk, I'll have my say--no +sir, you haf no goot title. You haf not done your yearly assessment vork +on dis or any oder claims!" + +"Say, who called you in on this?" inquired Bunker Hill coldly. "You +danged, bat-headed Dutchman, you keep butting in on my deals and I'll +forget and bust you on the jaw!" + +His long, sharp chin was suddenly thrust out, one eye had a dangerous +droop; but the Professor returned his gaze with an insolent stare and a +triumphant toss of the head. + +"Dat's all right!" he said, "you say my golt mine is a stringer--I say +your silver mine is nuttings. You haf no title, according to law, but +only by the custom of the country." + +"Well, you poor, ignorant baboon," burst out Bunker in a fury, "what +better title do you want? The claim is mine, everybody knows it and +acknowledges it; and I've got your signature, sworn before a notary +public, that the annual work was done!" + +"Just a form, just a form," returned the Professor with a shrug, "I do +like everyone else. But dis claim dat I haf--and my tunnel on the +hill--on dem the vork is done. And now, Mr. Russell, if you haf finished +looking here, I will take you to see my mine." + +"Well, I don't know," began Denver still gazing at the silver ore, "this +looks pretty good, right here." + +"But the prophecy!" exclaimed the Professor with a knowing smirk, "don't +it tell you to choose between the two? And how can you tell if you don't +even look--whether the golt or the silver is better?" + +"Aw, go down and look at it!" broke in Bunker Hill angrily as Denver +scratched his head, "go and see what he calls a mine--and if you don't +come running back and put your money in my hand you ain't the miner I +think you are. But by the holy, jumping Judas, I'm going to forget +myself some day and knock the soo-preme pip out of this Dutchman!" He +turned abruptly away and went striding back towards the town and the +Professor leered at Denver. + +"Vot I told you?" he boasted, "I ain't scared of dat mens--he promised +his vife he von't fight!" + +"Good enough," said Denver, "but don't work it too hard. Now come on and +let's look at your mine." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +BIBLE-BACK MURRAY + + +As a matter of form Denver went with the Professor and inspected his +boasted mine but all the time his mind was far away and his heart was +beating fast. The vein of silver that Bunker Hill had shown him was +worth a thousand dollars anywhere; but, situated as it was on the next +claim to the Lost Burro, it was worth incalculably more. It was too good +a claim to let get away and as he listened perfunctorily to the +Professor's patter he planned how he would open it up. First he would +shoot off the face, to be sure there was no salting, and send off some +samples to the assayer; and then he would drive straight in on the vein +as long as his money lasted. And if it widened out, if it dipped and +went down, he would know for a certainty that it was the silver treasure +that good old Mother Trigedgo had prophesied. But to carry out the +prophecy, to choose well between the two, he gazed gravely at the +Professor's strip of gold-ore. + +It was a knife-blade stringer, a mere seam of rotten quartz running +along the side of a canyon; and yet not without its elements of promise, +for it was located near another big fault. In geological days the +rim-rock had been rent here as it had at Queen Creek Canyon and this +stringer of quartz might lead to a golden treasure that would far +surpass Bunker's silver. But the signs were all against it and as Denver +turned back the Professor read the answer in his eyes. + +"Vell, vat you t'ink?" he demanded insistently, "vas I right or vas I +wrong? Ain't I showed you the golt--and I'll tell you anodder t'ing, dis +mine vill pay from the start. You can pick out dat rich quartz and pack +it down to the crick and vash out the pure quill golt; but dat ore of +Old Bunk's is all mixed oop with lead and zinc, and with antimonia too. +You vil haf to buy the sacks, and pay the freight, and the smelter +charges, too; and dese custom smelters they penalize you for everyt'ing, +and cheat you out of what's left. Dey're nutting but a bunch of t'ieves +and robbers----" + +"Aw, that's all right," broke in Denver impatiently, "for cripe's sake, +give me a chance. I haven't bought your mine nor Bunk's mine either, and +it don't do any good to talk. I'm going to rake this country with a +fine-tooth comb for claims that show silver and gold, and when I've seen +'em all I'll buy or I won't, so you might as well let me alone." + +"Very vell, sir," began the Professor bristling with offended dignity +and, seeing him prepared with a long-winded explanation, Denver turned +up the hill and quit him. He clambered up to the rim, dripping with +sweat at every step, and all that day, while the heat waves blazed and +shimmered, he prospected the face of the rim-rock. The hot stones burned +his hands, he fought his way through thorns and catclaws and climbed +around yuccas and spiny cactus; but at the end of the long day, when he +dragged back to camp, he had found nothing but barren holes. The country +was pitted with open cuts and shallow prospect-holes, mostly dug to hold +down worthless claims; and the second day and the third only served to +raise his opinion of the claim that Bunker had showed him. + +On the fourth day he went back to it and prospected it thoroughly and +then he kept on around the shoulder of the hill and entered the country +to the north. Here the sedimentary rim-rock lay open as a book and as he +followed along its face he found hole after hole pecked into one +copper-stained stratum. It was the same broad stratum of quartzite +which, on coming to the creek, had dipped down into Bunker's claim; and +now Denver knew that others beside himself thought well of that +mineral-bearing vein. For the country was staked out regularly and in +each location monument there was the name Barney B. Murray. + +The steady panting of a gas-engine from somewhere in the distance drew +Denver on from point to point and at last, in the bottom of a deep-cleft +canyon, he discovered the source of the sound. Huge dumps of white waste +were spewed out along the hillside, there were houses, a big tent and +criss-crossed trails; but the only sign of life was that _chuh_, +_chuh_, of the engine and the explosive _blap_, _blaps_ +of an air compressor. It was Murray's camp, and the engine and the +compressor were driving his diamond drill. + +Denver looked about carefully for some sign of the armed guard and then, +not too noisily, he went down the trail and followed along up the gulch. +The drill, which was concealed beneath the big, conical tent, was set up +in the very notch of the canyon, where it cut through the formation of +the rim-rock; and Denver was more than pleased to see that it was fairly +on top of the green quartzite. He kept on steadily, still looking for +the guard, his prospector's pick well in front; and, just down the trail +from the tented drill, he stopped and cracked a rock. + +"Hey! Get off this ground!" shouted a voice from the tent and as Denver +looked up a man stepped out with a rifle in his hand. "What are you +doing around here?" he demanded angrily and, as Denver made no answer, +another man stepped out from behind. Then with a word to the guard he +came down the trail and Denver knew it was Murray himself. + +He was a tall, bony man with a flowing black beard and, hunched up above +his shoulders, was the rounded hump which had given him the name of +"Bible-Back." To counterbalance this curvature his head was craned back, +giving him a bristling, aggressive air, and as he strode down towards +Denver his long, gorilla arms, extended almost down to his knees. + +"What are you doing here, young man?" he challenged harshly, "don't you +know that this ground is closed?" + +"Why, no," bluffed Denver, "you haven't got any signs out. What's all +the excitement about?" + +Bible-Back Murray paused and looked him over, and his prospector's pick +and ore-sack, and a glint came into one eye. The other eye remained +fixed in a cold, rheumy stare, and Denver sensed that it was made of +glass. + +"Who are you working for?" rasped Murray and as he raised his voice the +guard started down the dump. + +"I'm not working for anybody," answered Denver boldly, "I'm out +prospecting along the edge of the rim." + +"Oh--prospecting," said Murray suddenly moderating his voice; and then, +as the guard stood watching them narrowly, he gave way to a fatherly +smile. "Well, well," he exclaimed, "it's pretty hot for prospecting--you +can't see very well in this glare. Whereabouts have you made your camp?" + +"Over on the crick," answered Denver. "What have you got here, anyway? +Is this that diamond drill?" + +"Never mind, now!" put in the guard who, anticipating a call-down for +his negligence, was in a distinctly hostile mood, "you know danged well +it is!" + +"Oh, I do, do I?" retorted Denver, "well, all right pardner, if you say +so; but you don't need to call me a liar!" + +He returned the guard's glare with an insulting sneer and Murray made +haste to intercede. + +"Now, now," he said, "let's not have any trouble. But of course you've +no business on this ground." + +"That's all right," defended Denver, "that don't give him a license to +pull any ranicky stuff. I'm as peaceable as anybody, but you can tell +your hired man he don't look bad to me." + +"That will do, Dave," nodded Murray and after another look at Denver, +the guard turned back towards the tent. + +"Judas priest," observed Denver thrusting out his lip at the guard, +"he's a regular gun-fighting boy. You must have something pretty good +hid away here somewhere, to call for a guard like that." + +"He's a dangerous man," replied Murray briefly, "I'd advise you not to +rouse him. But what do you think of our district, Mister--er----" + +"Russell," said Denver promptly, "my name is Denver Russell. I just came +over from Globe." + +"Glad to meet you," answered Murray extending a hairy hand, "my name is +B. B. Murray. I'm the owner of all this ground." + +"'S that so?" murmured Denver, "well don't let me keep you." + +And he started off down the trail. + +"Hey, wait a minute!" protested Murray, "you don't need to go off mad. +Sit down here in the shade--I want to have a talk with you." + +He stepped over to the shade of an abandoned cabin and Denver followed +reluctantly. From the few leading questions which Mr. Murray had +propounded he judged he was a hard man to evade; and, until he had got +title to the claim on Queen Creek, it was advisable not to talk too +much. + +"So you're just over from Globe, eh?" began Murray affably, "well, how +are things over in that camp? Yes, I hear they are booming--were you +working in the mines? What do you think of this country for copper?" + +"It sure looks _good_!" pronounced Denver unctuously, "I never saw +a place that looked better. All this gossan and porphyry, and that +copper stain up there--and just look at that dacite cap!" + +He waved his hand at the high cliff behind and Murray's eye became beady +and bright. + +"Yes," he said rubbing his horny hands together and gazing at Denver +benevolently, "we think the indications are good--were you thinking of +locating in these parts?" + +"No, just going through," answered Denver slowly. "I was camping by the +crick and saw that copper-stain, so I thought I'd follow it up. How far +are you down with your drill?" + +"Quite a ways, quite a ways," responded Murray evasively. "You don't +look like an ordinary prospector--who'd you say it was you were working +for?" + +Denver turned and looked at him, and grunted contemptuously. + +"J. P. Morgan," he said and after a silence Murray answered with a +thin-lipped smile. + +"That's all right, that's all right," he said with a cackle. "No hard +feeling--I just wanted to know. You're an honest young man, but there +are others who are not, and we naturally like to inquire. Are you +staying with Mr. Hill?" + +"Well, not so you'd notice it," replied Denver brusquely. "I'm camped in +that cave across the crick." + +"Oh, is that so?" purred Murray driving relentlessly on in his quest for +information, "did he show you any of his claims?" + +"He showed me one," answered Denver and, try as he would, he could not +keep his voice from changing. + +"Oh, I see," said Murray suddenly smiling triumphantly, "he showed you +that claim by the creek." + +"That's the one," admitted Denver, "and it sure looked good. Have you +got any interests over there?" + +"Not at present," returned Murray with a touch of asperity, "but let me +tell you a little about that claim. You're a stranger in these parts and +it's only fair to warn you that the assessment work has never been done. +He has no title, according to law; so you can govern your actions +accordingly." + +"You mean," suggested Denver, "that all I have to do is to go in and +jump the claim?" + +"Hell--no!" exclaimed Bible-Back startled out of his piosity. "I mean +that you had better not buy it." + +"Well, thanks," drawled Denver, "this is danged considerate of you. +Shall I tell him you'll take it yourself?" + +"Certainly not!" snapped back Murray, "I've enough claims, already. I'm +just warning you for your own good." + +"Danged considerate," repeated Denver with a sarcastic smile, "and now +let me ask _you_ something. Who told you I wanted to buy?" + +"Never mind!" returned Murray, "I've warned you, and that is enough." + +"Well, all right," agreed Denver, "but if you don't want it +yourself----" + +"Young man!" exclaimed Murray suddenly rising to his feet and crooking +his neck like a crane, "I guess you know who I am. I can make or break +any man in this country, and I'm telling you now--don't you buy!" + +"I get you," answered Denver, and without arguing the point he rose up +and went down the trail. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SIGNS AND OMENS + + +When a man like Bible-Back Murray, the biggest man in the country--a +sheep-owner, a store-keeper, a political power--goes out of his way to +break up a trade there is something significant behind it. Denver had +come to Pinal in response to a prophecy, in search of two hidden +treasures between which he must make his choice; and now, added to that, +was the further question of whether he should venture to oppose Murray. +If he did, he could proceed in the spirit of the prophecy and choose +between the silver and gold treasures; but if he did not there would be +no real choice at all, but simply an elimination. He must turn away from +the silver treasure, that precious vein of metal which led so temptingly +into the hill, and take the little stringer of quartz which the +Professor had offered as a gold mine. Denver thought it all over out in +front of his cave that night and at last he came back to the prophecy. + +"Courage and constancy," it said, "will attend you through life, but in +the end will prove your undoing, for you will meet your death at the +hands of your dearest friend." + +Denver's heart fell again at the thought of that hard fate but it did +not divert him from his purpose. Mother Trigedgo had said that he should +be brave, nevertheless--very well then, he would dare oppose Murray. But +now to choose between the two, between the Professor's stringer of gold +and Bunker's vein of silver--with the ill will of Murray attached. +Denver pondered them well and at last he lit a candle and referred it to +Napoleon's Oraculum. + +In the front of the Book of Fate were thirty-two questions the answers +to which, on the succeeding pages, would give counsel on every problem +of life. The questions, at first sight, seemed more adapted to love-sick +swains than to the practical problem before Denver, but he came back to +number nine. + +"Shall I be SUCCESSFUL in my present undertaking?" + +All he had to do was to decide to buy the silver claim and then put the +matter to the test. He spread a sheet of fair paper on the clear corner +of his table and made five rows of short lines across it, each +containing more than the requisite twelve marks. Then he counted each +row and, opposite every one that came even, he placed two dots; opposite +every line that came odd, one dot. This made a series of five dots, one +above the other, of which the first two were double and the last three +single, and he turned to the fateful Key. + +It was spread across two pages, a solid mass of signs and letters, +arranged in a curious order; and along the side were the numbers of the +questions, across the top the different combinations of dots. Against +the thirty-two questions there were thirty-two combinations in which the +odd and even dots could be arranged, and Denver's series was the seventh +in order. The number of his question was nine. Where the seventh line +from the side met the ninth from the top there occurred the letter O. +Denver turned to the Oraculum and on the page marked O he found +thirty-two answers, each starred with a different combination of dots. +The seventh answer from the top was the one he sought--it said: + +"Fear not, if thou are prudent." + +"Good enough!" exclaimed Denver, shutting the book with a slap; but as +he went out into the night a sudden doubt assailed him--what did it mean +by: "If thou art prudent?" + +"Fear not!" he understood, it was the first and only motto in the +bright, brief lexicon of his life; but what was the meaning of +"prudent?" Did it mean he was to refrain from opposing Old Bible-Back, +or merely that he should oppose him within reason? That was the trouble +with all these prophecies--you never could tell what they meant. Take +the silver and golden treasures--how would he know them when he saw +them? And he had to choose wisely between the two. And now, when he +referred the whole business to the Oraculum it said: "Fear not, if thou +art prudent." + +He paced up and down on the smooth ledge of rock that made up the +entrance to his home and as he sunk his head in thought a voice came up +to him out of the blackness of the town below. It was the girl again, +singing, high and clear as a flute, as pure and ethereal as an angel, +and now she was singing a song. Denver roused up and listened, then +lowered his head and tramped back and forth on the ledge. The voice came +again in a song that he knew--it was one that he had on a record--and he +paused in his impatient striding. She could sing, this girl of Bunk's, +she knew something besides scales and running up and down. It was a song +that he knew well, only he never remembered the names on the records. +They were in German and French and strange, foreign languages, while all +that he cared for was the music. He listened again, for her singing was +different; and then, as she began another operatic selection he started +off down the trail. It was a rough one at best and he felt his way +carefully, avoiding the cactus and thorns; but as he crossed the creek +he suddenly took shame and stopped in the shadow of the sycamore. + +What if the Professor, that old prowler, should come along and find him, +peeping in through Bunker's open door? What if the ray of light which +struck out through the door-frame should reveal him to the singer +within? And yet he was curious to see her. Since his first brusque +refusal to go in and meet her, Bunker had not mentioned his daughter +again--perhaps he remembered what was said. For Denver had stated that +he had plenty of music himself, if he could ever get his phonograph from +Globe. Yet he had had the instrument for nearly a week and never +unpacked the records. They were all good records, no cheap stuff or +rag-time; but somehow, with her singing, it didn't seem right to start +up a machine against her. And especially when he had refused to come +down and meet her--a fine lady, practicing for grand opera. + +He sat down in the black shadow of the mighty sycamore and strained his +ears to hear; but a chorus of tree-frogs, silenced for the moment by his +coming, drowned the music with their eerie refrain. He hurled a rock +into the depths of the pool and the frog chorus ceased abruptly, but the +music from the house had been clearer from his cave-mouth than it was +from the bed of the creek. For half an hour he sat, gazing out into the +ghostly moonlight for some sign of the snooping Diffenderfer; and then +by degrees he edged up the trail until he stood in the shadow of the +store. The music was impressive--it was Marguerite's part, in "Faust," +sung consecutively, aria by aria--and as Denver lay listening it +suddenly came over him that life was tragic and inexorable. He felt a +great longing, a great unrest, a sense of disaster and despair; and then +abruptly the singing ceased, and with it passed the mood. + +There was a murmur of voices, a strumming on the piano, a passing of +shadows to and fro; and then from the doorway there came gay and +spritely music--and at last a song that he knew. Denver listened +intently, trying to remember the record which had contained this lilting +air. He had it--the "Barcarolle," the boat-song from the "Tales of +Hoffmann!" And she was singing the words in English. He left the shadow +and stepped out into the open, forgetful of everything but the singer, +and the words came out to him clearly. + + "Night divine, O night of love, + O smile on our enchantment; + Moon and stars keep watch above + This radiant night of love!" + +She came to the end, riding up and down in an ecstatic series of "Ahs!" +and as the song floated away into piano and pianissimo Denver braved the +light to see her. + +She was standing by the piano, swaying like a flower to the music; and a +lamp behind made her face like a cameo, her hair like a mass of gold. +That was all he saw in the swift, stolen moment before he retreated in a +panic to his cave. It was she, the beautiful woman that the seeress had +predicted, the one he should fall in love with! She had won his heart +before he even saw her, but how could he hope to win her? She was a +singer, an artist as Mother Trigedgo had said, and he was a hobo miner. +He stood by his cavern looking down on the town and up at the moon and +stars and the words of her song came back to his ears in a continual, +haunting refrain. + + "Ah! smile on our enchantment, + Night of Love, O night of love! + Ah, Ah! Ah, Ah! Ah, Ah! Ah, Ah!" + +It floated away in a lilting diminuendo, a joyous, mocking refrain; and +long after the night was quiet again the music still ran through his +head. It possessed him, it broke his sleep, it followed him in dreams; +and with it all went the vision of the singer, surrounded like St. +Cecilia with a golden halo of light. He woke up at dawn with a fire in +his brain, a tumult of unrest in his breast; and like a buck when he +feels the first sting of a wound he turned his face towards the heights. +The valley seemed to oppress him, to cabin him in; but up on the cliffs +where the eagles soared there was space and the breath of free winds. He +toiled up tirelessly, a fierce energy in his limbs, a mill-race of +thoughts in his mind, and at last on the summit he turned and looked +down on the house that sheltered his beloved. + +She was the woman, he knew it, for his heart had told him long before he +had thought of the prophecy; and now the choice between the gold and +silver treasures seemed as nothing compared to winning her. Of all the +admonitions which had been laid upon him by the words of the Cornish +seeress, none seemed more onerous than this about the woman that he +would love. + +"You will fall in love with a beautiful woman who is an artist," Mother +Trigedgo had written, "but beware how you reveal your affection or she +will confer her hand upon another." + +On another! This woman, whom he had worshipped from the moment he had +seen her, would flaunt him if he revealed his love! That was the thought +which had tortured him and driven him to the heights, where he could +wrestle with his problem alone. How could he meet her without her +reading in his eyes the secret he must not reveal? And yet he was +possessed with a mad desire to see her--to see her and hear her sing. +All her scales and roulades, her runs and trills, had passed by him like +so much smoke; but when the mood had come and she had sung her +song-of-songs he had lost his heart to her instantly. But if, in her +presence, he revealed this new love she would confer her hand upon +another! + +He stood on the edge of Apache Leap and gazed down at the valley below, +then he looked far away where peak piled on peak and the desert sloped +away to the horizon. It was hot, barren land, every ridge spiked with +giant cactus, every gulch a bruising tangle of brush and rocks; but +Pinal lay sleeping in the cool shadow of the Leap, and Drusilla slept +there too. But who would think to look for her in a place like that, or +for the treasures of silver and gold? The finger of destiny had pointed +him plain, for he stood on the Place of Death. It was lifeless yet, save +for the uneasy eagles who watched him from a splintered crag; and the +clean, black shadow that lapped out over the plain held the woman and +the treasures in its compass. + +A sense of awe, of religious exaltation, came over Denver as he +considered the prophecy, and from somewhere within him there came a new +strength which stilled the fierce tumult in his breast. Since the stars +had willed it that he should have this woman if he veiled his love from +her eyes he would be brave then, and constant, and steel his boy's heart +to resist her matchless charms. He would watch over her from afar, +feeding his love in secret, and when the time came he would reap his +reward and the prophecy would be fulfilled. And while he stood aloof, +stealing a glimpse of her at night or listening to the magic of her +songs; he must win the two treasures, both the silver and the gold, to +lay as an offering at her feet. + +The shadow of the Leap drew back from the town, leaving the houses +sun-struck and bare, and as his mind went back to the choice between the +treasures he watched the moving objects below. He saw a steer wandering +down the empty street, and Old Bunk going across to the store; and then +in the walled garden that lay behind the house he beheld a woman's form. +It was draped in white and it moved about rhythmically, bending slowly +from side to side; and then with the graceful ethereal lightness it +leapt and whirled in a dance. In the profundity of the distance all was +lost but the grace of it, the fairy-like flitting to and fro; and, as +Denver watched, the tears leapt to his eyes at the thought of her +perfect beauty. + +She was a woman from another world, which a horny-handed miner could +hardly hope to enter; yet if he won the two treasures, which would make +them both rich, the doors would swing open before him. All it needed was +a wise choice between the silver and the gold, and destiny would attend +to the rest. Well--if he chose the gold he would offend her own father, +who was urgently in need of funds; and if he chose the silver he would +offend Bible-Back Murray, and Diffenderfer as well. He considered the +two claims from every standpoint, looking hopefully about for some sign; +and as he stepped to the edge and looked down into the depths, the male +eagle left his crag. + +Riding high on the wind which, striking against the face of the cliff, +floated him up into the spaces above; he wheeled in a smooth circle, +turning his head from side to side as he watched the invader of his +eyrie. And at each turn of his head Denver caught the flash of gold, +though he was loath to accept it as a sign. He waited, fighting against +it, marshaling reasons to sustain him; and then, folding his wings, the +eagle descended like a plummet, shooting past him with a shrill, defiant +scream. Denver flinched and stepped back, then he leaned forward eagerly +to watch where the bird's flight would take him. No Roman legionary, +going into unequal battle with his war eagle wheeling above its +standard, ever watched its swift course with higher hopes or believed +more fully in the omen. The eagle spread his wings and glided off to the +west, flying low as he approached the plain; and as he passed over Pinal +and the claim by Queen Creek, Denver laughed and slapped his leg. + +"It's a go!" he exulted, "the silver wins!" + +And he bounded off down the trail. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE LADY OF THE SYCAMORES + + +A weight like that of Pelion and Ossa seemed lifted from Denver's +shoulders as he hurried down from Apache Leap and, with his wallet in +his hip pocket, he strode straight to Bunker's house. The eagle had +chosen for him, and chosen right, and the last of his troubles was over. +There was nothing to do now but buy the claim and make it into a +mine--and that was the easiest thing he did. Pulling ground was his +specialty--with a good man to help he could break his six feet a +day--and now that the choice had been made between the treasures he was +tingling to get to work. + +"Here's your money," he said as soon as Bunker appeared, "and I'd like +to order some powder and steel. Just write me out a quit-claim for that +ground." + +"Well, well," beamed Bunker pushing up his reading glasses and counting +over the roll of bills, "this will make quite a stake for Drusilla. Come +in, Mr. Russell, come in!" + +He held the door open and Denver entered, blinking his eyes as he came +in from the glare. The room was a large one, with a grand piano at one +end and music and books strewn about; and as Bunker Hill shouted for his +wife and daughter Denver stared about in astonishment. From the outside +the house was like any other, except that it was covered with vines; but +here within it was startling in its elegance, fitted up with every +luxury. There was a fireplace with bronze andirons, massive furniture, +expensive rugs; and the walls were lined with stands and book-shelves +that overflowed with treasures. + +"Oh Drusilla!" thundered Bunker and at last she came running, bounding +in through the garden door. She was attired in a filmy robe, caught up +for dancing, and her feet were in Grecian sandals; and at sight of +Denver she drew back a step, then stood firm and glanced at her father. + +"Here's that five hundred dollars," said Bunker briefly and put the roll +in her hand. + +"Oh--did you sell it?" she demanded in dismay "did you sell that Number +One claim?" + +"You bet I did," answered her father grimly, "so take your money and +beat it." + +"But I told you not to!" she went on reproachfully, ignoring Denver +entirely. "I told you not to sell it!" + +"That's all right," grumbled Bunker, "you're going to get your chance, +if it takes the last cow in the barn. I know you've got it in you to be +a great singer--and this'll take you back to New York." + +"Well, all right," she responded tremulously, "I did want just one more +chance. But if I don't succeed I'm going to teach school and pay every +dollar of this back." + +She turned and disappeared out the garden door and Bunker Hill reached +for his hat. + +"Come on over to the store," he said and Denver followed in a daze. She +was not like any woman he had ever dreamed of, nor was she the woman he +had thought. In the night, when she was singing, she had seemed slender +and ethereal with her swan's neck and piled up hair; but now she was +different, a glorious human animal, strong and supple yet with the lines +of a girl. And her eyes were still the eyes of a child, big and round +and innocently blue. + +"Here comes the Professor," muttered Bunker gloomily, as he unlocked the +heavy door, "he's hep, I reckon, the way he walks." + +The Professor was waddling with his queer, duck-like steps down the +middle of the deserted street and every movement of his gunboat feet was +eloquent of offended dignity. + +"Vell," he began as he burst into the store and stopped in front of +Denver, "I vant an answer, right avay, on dat property I showed you the +udder day. I joost got a letter from a chentleman in Moroni inquiring +about an option on dat claim and----" + +"You can give it to him," cut in Denver, "I've just closed with Mr. Hill +for that Number One claim up the crick." + +"So!" exploded the Professor, "vell, I vish you vell of it!" And he +flung violently out the door. + +"Takes it hard," observed Bunker, "never was a good loser. You want to +watch out for him, now--he's going over to report to Murray." + +"So that's the combination," nodded Denver. "I was over there yesterday +and Murray knew all about me--gave me a tip not to buy this property." + +"Danged right he's working for him," returned Old Bunk grimly. "He runs +to him with everything he hears. It's a wonder I haven't killed that +little tub of wienies--he crabs every trade I start to make. What's the +matter with Old Bible-Back now?" + +"Oh, nothing," answered Denver, "but if it's all the same to you I'd +like to just locate that ground. Then I'll do my discovery work and if +there ever comes up a question I'll have your quit-claim to boot." + +"Suit yourself," growled Bunker, "but I want to tell you right now I've +got a perfect title to that property. I've held it continuously for +fifteen years and----" + +"Give me a quit-claim then; because Murray questions your title and I +don't want to take any chances. He says you haven't kept up your work." + +"He does, hey!" challenged Bunker thrusting out his jaw belligerently, +"well, I'd like to see somebody jump me. I'm living on my property, and +possessory title is the very best title there is. By grab, if I thought +that Mormon-faced old devil was thinking of jumping my ground----" He +went off into uneasy mutterings and wrote out the quit-claim absently; +then they went up together and, after going over the lines, Denver +relocated the mine and named it the Silver Treasure. + +"Think you guessed right, do you?" inquired Bunker with a grin. "Well, I +hope you make a million. And if you do you'll never hear no kick from +me--you've bought it and paid my price." + +"Fair enough!" exclaimed Denver and shook hands on the trade, after +which he bought some second-hand tools and went to work on a trail. Not +a hundred feet down-stream from where the vein cropped out, the main +trail crossed to the east side of the creek, leaving the mine on the +side of a steep hill. A few days' work, while he was waiting for his +powder, would clear out the worst of the cactus and catclaws and give +him free access to his hole. Then he could clean out the open cut, set +up a little forge and prepare for the driving of his tunnel. The sun was +blazing hot, not a breath of wind was stirring and the sweat splashed +the rocks as he toiled; but there was a song in Denver's heart that made +his labors light and he hummed the "Barcarolle" as he worked. She was +scornful of him now and thought only of her music; but the time would +come when she would know him as her equal, for a miner can be an artist, +too. And at swinging a double-jack or driving uppers Denver Russell was +as good as any man. He worked for the joy of it and took pride in his +craft--and that marks the true artist everywhere. + +Yet now that his sale had been consummated and he had the money he +needed, Bunker Hill suddenly lost all interest in Denver and retired +into his shell. He had invited Denver once to come down to his house and +share the hospitality of his home; but, after Denver's brusque, almost +brutal refusal, Old Bunk had never been the same. He had shown Denver +his claim and stated the price and told a few stories on the side, but +he had shown in many ways that his pride had been hurt and that he did +not fully approve. This was made the more evident by the careful way in +which he avoided introducing his wife; and it became apparent beyond a +doubt in that tense ecstatic minute when Drusilla had come in from the +garden. + +Then, if ever, was the moment when Denver should have been introduced; +but Bunker had pointedly neglected the opportunity and left him still a +stranger. And all as a reward for his foolish words and his refusal of +well-meaning hospitality. Denver realized it now, but his pride was +touched and he refrained from all further advances. If he was not good +enough to know Old Bunker's family he was not good enough to associate +with him; and so for three days he lived without society, for the +Professor, too, was estranged. He passed Denver now with eyes fixed +straight ahead, refusing even to recognize his presence; and, cut off +for the time from all human intercourse, Denver turned at last to his +phonograph. + +The stars had come out in the velvety black sky, the hot stillness of +evening had come, and from the valley below no sound came up but the +eerie, _eh_, _eh_, _eh_, of tree toads. They were sitting +by the stream and in cracks among the rocks, puffing out their pouched +throats like toy balloons and raising, a shrill, haunting chorus. Their +thin voices intermingled in an insistent, unearthly refrain as if the +spirits of the dead had come again to gibber by the pool. Even the +scales and trills of Drusilla had ceased, so hot and close was the +night. + +Denver set up his phonograph with its scrollwork front and patent filing +cases and looked over the records which he had bought at great expense +while the other boys were buying jazz. He was proud of them all but the +one he valued most he reserved for another time. It was the "Barcarolle" +from "Les Contes D' Hoffmann," sung by Farrar and Scotti, and he put on +instead a tenor solo that had cost him three dollars in Globe. Then a +violin solo, "Tambourin Chinois," by some man with a foreign name; and +at last the record that he liked the best, the "Cradle Song," by +Schumann-Heink. And as he played it again he saw Drusilla come out and +stand in the doorway, listening. + +It was a beautiful song, very sweet, very tender, and sung with the +feeling of an artist; yet something about it seemed to displease +Drusilla, for she turned and went into the house. Perhaps, hearing the +song, she was reminded of the singers, stepping forward in a blare of +trumpets to meet the applause of vast audiences; or perhaps again she +felt the difference between her efforts and theirs; but all the next +day, when she should have been practicing, Drusilla was strangely +silent. Denver paused in his work from time to time as he listened for +the familiar roulades, then he swung his heavy sledge as if it were a +feather-weight and beat out the measured song of steel on steel. He +picked and shoveled, tearing down from above and building up the trail +below; and as he worked he whistled the "Cradle Song," which was running +through his brain. But as he swung the sledge again he was conscious of +a presence, of someone watching from the sycamores; and, glancing down +quickly he surprised Drusilla, looking up from among the trees. She met +his eyes frankly but he turned away, for he remembered what the seeress +had told him. So he went about his work and when he looked again his +lady of the sycamores had fled. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +STEEL ON STEEL + + +The stifling summer heat fetched up wind from the south and thundercaps +crowned the high peaks; then the rain came slashing and struck up the +dust before it lifted and went scurrying away. The lizards gasped for +breath, Drusilla ceased to sing, all Pinal seemed to palpitate with +heat; but through heat and rain one song kept on--Denver's song of steel +on steel. In the cool of his tunnel he drove up-holes and down, slugging +manfully away until his round of holes was done and then shooting away +the face. As the sun sank low he sat on the dump, sorting and sacking +the best of his ore; and one evening as he worked Drusilla came by, +walking slowly as if in deep thought. + +He was down on his knees, a single-jack in his right hand a pile of +quartzite at his left, and as she came to the forks he went on cracking +rocks without so much as a stare. She glanced at him furtively, looked +back towards the town, then turned off and came up his trail. + +"Good evening," she began and as he nodded silently she seemed at a loss +for words. "--I just wanted to ask you," she burst out hurriedly, "if +you'd be willing to sell back the mine? I brought up the money with me." + +She drew out the sweaty roll of bills which he had paid to her father +and as Denver looked up she held it out to him, then clutched it +convulsively back. + +"I don't mean," she explained, "that you have to take it. But I thought +perhaps--oh, is it very rich? I'm sorry I let him sell it." + +"Why, no," answered Denver with his slow, honest smile, while his heart +beat like a trip-hammer in his breast, "it isn't so awful rich. But I +bought it, you know--well, I was sent here!" + +"What, by Murray?" she cried aghast, "did he send you in to buy it?" + +"Don't you think it!" returned Denver. "I'm working for myself +and--well, I don't want to sell." + +"No, but listen," she pleaded, her eyes beginning to fill, "I--I made a +great mistake. This was father's best claim, he shouldn't have sold it; +and so--won't you sell it back?" + +She smiled, and Denver reached out blindly to accept the money, but at a +thought he drew back his hand. + +"No!" he said, "I was sent, you know--a fortune-teller told me to dig +here." + +"Oh, did he?" she exclaimed in great disappointment. "Won't some other +claim do just as well? No, I don't mean that; but--tell me how it all +came about." + +"Well," began Denver, avoiding her eyes; and then he rose up abruptly +and brushed off the top of a powder-box. "Sit down," he said, "I'd sure +like to accommodate you, but here's how I come to buy it. There's a +woman over in Globe--Mother Trigedgo is her name--and she saved the +lives of a lot of us boys by predicting a cave in a mine. Well, she told +my fortune and here's what she said: + +"You will soon make a journey to the west and there, within the shadow +of a place of death, you will find two treasures, one of silver and the +other of gold. Choose well between them and both shall be yours, +but--well, I don't need to tell you the rest. But this is my choice, +see? And so, of course----" + +"Oh, do you believe in those people?" she inquired incredulously, "I +thought----" + +"But not this one!" spoke up Denver stoutly, "I know that the most of +them are fakes. But this Mother Trigedgo, she's a regular seeress--and +it's all come true, every word! Apache Leap up there is the place of +death. I came west after that fellow that robbed me; and this mine here +and that gold prospect of the Professor's are both in the shadow of the +peaks!" + +"But maybe you guessed wrong," she cried, snatching at a straw. "Maybe +this isn't the one, after all. And if it isn't, oh, won't you let me buy +it back for father? Because I'm not going to New York, after all." + +"Well, what good would it do _him_?" burst out Denver vehemently. +"He's had it for fifteen years! If he thought so much of it why didn't +he work it a little and ship out a few sacks of ore?" + +"He's not a miner," protested Drusilla weakly and Denver grunted +contemptuously. + +"No," he said, "you told the truth that time--and that's what the matter +with the whole district. The ground is all held by lead-pencil work and +nobody's doing any digging. And now, when I come in and begin to find +some ore, your old man wants his mining claim back." + +"He does not!" retorted Drusilla, "he doesn't know I'm up here. But he +hasn't been the same since he sold his claim, and I want to buy it back. +He sold it to get the money to send me to New York, and it was all an +awful mistake. I can never become a great singer." + +"No?" inquired Denver, glad to change the subject, "I thought you were +doing fine. That evening when you----" + +"Well, so did I!" she broke in, "until you played all those records; and +then it came over me I couldn't sing like that if I tried a thousand +years. I just haven't got the temperament. Those continental people have +something that we lack--they're so Frenchy, so emotional, so full of +fire! I've tried and I've tried and I just can't do it--I just can't +interpret those parts!" + +She stamped her foot and winked very fast and Denver forgot he was a +stranger. He had heard her sing so often that he seemed to know her +well, to have known her for years and years, and he ventured a +comforting word. + +"Oh well, you're young yet," he suggested shame-facedly, "perhaps it +will come to you later." + +"No, it won't!" she flared back, "I've got to give it up and go to +teaching school!" + +She stomped her foot more impatiently than ever and Denver went to +cracking rocks. + +"What do you think of that?" he inquired casually, handing over a chunk +of ore; but she gazed at it uncomprehendingly. + +"Isn't there anything I can do?" she began at last, "that will make you +change your mind? I might give you this much money now and then pay you +more later, when I go to teaching school." + +"Well, what do you want it back for?" he demanded irritably, "it's been +lying here idle for years. I'd think you'd be glad to have somebody get +hold of it that would do a little work." + +"I just want to give it back--and have it over with!" she exclaimed with +an embittered smile. "I've practiced and I've practiced but it doesn't +do any good, and now I'm going to quit." + +"Oh, if that's all," jeered Denver, "I'll locate another claim, and let +you give that back. What good would it do him if you did give it +back--he'd just sit in the shade and tell stories." + +"Don't you talk that way about my father!" she exclaimed, "he's the +nicest, kindest man that ever lived! He's not strong enough to work in +this awful hot weather but he intended to open this up in the fall." + +"Well, it's opened up already," announced Denver grimly. "You just show +him that piece of rock." + +"Oh, have you found something?" she cried snatching up the chunk of ore. +"Why, this doesn't look like silver!" + +"No, it isn't," he said, and at the look in his eyes she leapt up and +ran down the trail. + +She came back immediately with her father and mother and, after a moment +of pop-eyed staring, the Professor came waddling along behind. + +"Where'd you get this?" called Bunker as he strode up the trail and +Denver jerked his thumb towards the tunnel. + +"At the breast," he said. "Looks pretty good, don't it? I _thought_ +it would run into copper!" + +"Vot's dat? Vot's dat?" clamored the Professor from the fork of the +trail and Bunker gave Denver the wink. + +"Aw, that ain't copper," he declared, "it's just this green hornblende. +We have it around here everywhere." + +"All right", answered Denver, "you can have it your own way--but I call +it copper, myself." + +"Vot--_copper_?" demanded the Professor making a clutch at the +specimen and examining it with his myopic eyes, and then he broke into a +roar. "Vot--dat copper?" he cried, "you think dat is copper? Oh, ho, ho! +Oh, vell! Dis is pretty rich. It is nutting but manganese!" + +"That's all right," returned Denver, "you can think whatever you please; +but I've worked underground in too many copper mines----" + +"Where'd you get this?" broke in Bunker, giving Denver a dig, and as +they went into the tunnel he whispered in his ear: "Keep it dark, or +he'll blab to Murray!" + +"Well, let him blab," answered Denver, "it's nothing to me. But all the +same, pardner," he added _sotto voce_, "if I was in your place I +wouldn't bank too much on holding them claims with a lead-pencil." + +"I'm holding 'em with a six-shooter," corrected Bunker, "and Murray or +nobody else don't dare to jump a claim. I'm known around these parts." + +"Suit yourself," shrugged Denver as they came to the face, "I guess this +ore won't start no stampede. That seam in the hanging wall is where it +comes in--I'm looking for the veins to come together." + +"Judas priest!" exclaimed Bunker jabbing his candlestick into the copper +streak, "say, this is showing up good. And your silver vein is widening +out, too. Nothing to it, boy; you've got a mine!" + +"Not yet," said Denver, "but wait till she dips. This is nothing but a +blanket vein, so far; but if she dips and goes down then look out, +old-timer, she's liable to turn out a bonanza." + +"Well, who'd a thought it," murmured Old Bunk turning somberly away, +"and I've been holding her for fifteen years!" + +He led the way out, stooping down to avoid the roof; and outside the +stoop still remained. + +"Where's the Professor?" he asked, suddenly looking about, "has he gone +to tell Murray, already? Well, by grab then, he knew it was." + +"Oh, _was_ it copper?" quavered Drusilla catching hold of his hand +and looking up into his tired eyes, "and you sold it for five hundred +dollars! But that's all right," she smiled, drawing his head down for a +kiss. "I'll just have to succeed now--and I'm going to!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +SWEDE LUCK + + +As the sun set that evening in a trailing blaze of glory Denver Russell +came out and sat with bared arms, looking lazily down at the town. The +news of his strike had roused them at last, these easy-going, do-nothing +old-timers; and now, from an outcast, a crack-brained hobo miner, he was +suddenly accepted as an equal. They spoke to him, they recognized him, +they rushed up to his mine and stared at the ore he had dug; and even +the Professor had purloined a specimen to take over and show to Murray. +And all because, while the rest of them loafed, he had drifted in on his +vein until he cut the stringer of copper. It was Swede luck again--the +luck of that great people who invented the wheel-barrow, and taught the +Irish to stand erect and run it. + +Denver could smile a little, grimly, as he recalled Old Bunker's stories +and his fleering statement that a mule could work; but, now that he had +struck copper at the breast of his tunnel, the mule was suddenly a +gentleman. He was good enough to speak to, and for Bunker's daughter to +speak to, and for his wife to invite to supper; and all on account of a +vein of copper that was scarcely two inches thick. It was rich and it +widened out, instead of pinching off as a typical gash-vein would; and +while it would take a fortune to develop it, it was copper, and copper +was king. Silver and gold mines were nothing now, for silver was down +and gold was losing its purchasing power; but the mining journals were +full of articles about copper, and it had risen to thirty cents a pound. + +Thirty cents, when a few years ago it had dropped as low as eleven! And +it was still going up, for the munition factories were clamoring for it +and the speculators were bidding up futures. Even Bible-Back Murray, who +had a reputation as a pincher, had suddenly become prodigal with his +money and was working day and night, trying to tap a hidden copper +deposit. He had caught the contagion, the lure of tremendous profits, +and he was risking his all on the venture. What would he have to say now +if his diamond drill tapped nothing and a hobo struck it rich over at +Queen Creek? Well, he could say what he pleased, for Denver was +determined not to sell for a million dollars. He had come there with a +purpose, in answer to a prophecy, and there yet remained to win the +golden treasure and the beautiful woman who was an artist. + +Every little thing was coming as the seeress had predicted--good Old +Mother Trigedgo with her cards and astrology--and all that was necessary +was to follow her advice and the beautiful Drusilla would be his. He +must treat her at first like any young country girl, as if she had no +beauty or charm; and then in some way, unrevealed as yet, he would win +her love in return. He had schooled himself rigidly to resist her +fascination, but when she had looked up at him with her beseeching blue +eyes and asked him to sell back the mine, only a miracle of intercession +had saved him from yielding and accepting back the five hundred dollars. +He was like clay in her hands--her voice thrilled him, her eyes dazzled +him, her smile made him forget everything else--yet just at the moment +when he had reached out for the money the memory of the prophecy had +come back to him. And so he had refused, turning a deaf ear to her +entreaties, and scoffing at her easy-going father; and she had gone off +down the trail without once looking back, promising Bunker she would +become a great singer. + +Denver smiled again dreamily as he dwelt upon her beauty, her hair like +fine-spun gold, her eyes that mirrored every thought; and with it all, a +something he could not name that made his heart leap and choke him. He +could not speak when she first addressed him, his brain had gone into a +whirl; and so he had sat there, like a great oaf of a miner, and refused +to give her anything. It was rough, yet the Cornish seeress had required +it; and doubtless, being a woman herself, she understood the feminine +heart. At the end of his long reverie Denver sighed again, for the ways +of astrologers were beyond him. + +In the morning he rose early, to muck out the rock and clear the tunnel +for a new round of holes; and each time as he came out with a +wheel-barrow full of waste he cocked his eye to the west. Bible-Back +Murray would be coming over soon, if he was still at his camp around the +hill. Yet the second day passed before he arrived, thundering in from +the valley in his big, yellow car; and even then he made some purchases +at the store before he came up to the mine. + +"Good morning!" he hailed cheerily, "they tell me you've struck ore. +Well, well; how does the vein show up?" + +"'Bout the same," mumbled Denver and glanced at him curiously. He had +expected a little fireworks. + +"About the same, eh?" repeated Murray, flicking his rebellious glass +eye, which had a tendency to stare off to one side, "is this a sample of +your ore? Well, I will say, it looks promising--would you mind if I go +into the tunnel?" + +"Nope," returned Denver; and then, after a moment's pause: "How's that +gun-man of yours getting along?" + +"Oh, Dave? He's all right. I'll ask you over sometime and let you get +better acquainted." + +"Never mind," answered Denver, "I know him all I want to. And if I catch +him on my ground I'll sure make him jump--I don't like the way he talked +to me." + +"Well, he's rough, but he's good hearted," observed Murray pacifically. +"I'm sorry he spoke to you that way--shall we go in now and look at the +vein?" + +Denver grunted non-committally and led Murray into the tunnel, which had +turned now to follow the ore. Whatever his game was it was too deep for +Denver, so he looked on in watchful silence. Murray seemed well +acquainted with mining--he looked at the foot-wall and hanging-wall and +traced out the course of both veins; and then, without offering to take +any samples, he turned and went out to the dump. + +"Yes, very good," he said, but without any enthusiasm, "it certainly +looks very promising. Well, good day, Mr. Russell; much obliged." + +He started down the trail, leaving Denver staring, and then he turned +hurriedly back. + +"Oh, by the way," he said, "I buy and sell ore. When you get enough +sacked you might send it down by McGraw and I'll give you a credit at +the store." + +"Yes, all right," assented Denver and stood looking after him till he +cranked up and went roaring away. Not a word about the title, nothing +said about his warning; and no mention made of his well-known ability to +break any man in the county. The facts, apparently, were all that +interested him then--but he might make an offer later. When the vein was +opened up and he had made his first shipment, when it began to look like +a mine! Denver went back to work and as he drove in day by day he was +careful to save all the ore. + +He hadn't had it assayed, because assaying is expensive and his supplies +had cost more than he expected, but from the size of the button when he +made his rough fire-tests, he knew that it ran high in silver. Probably +eight hundred ounces, besides the lead; and he had sorted out nearly a +ton. About the time he was down to his bottom dollar he would ship and +get another grub-stake. Then, when that was gone, if his vein opened up, +he would ship to the smelter direct; but the first small shipment could +be easier handled by a man who made it a business. Of course Murray +would gouge him, and overcharge him on everything, but the main idea was +to get Denver to start an account and take that much trade away from +Hill. Denver figured it all out and then let it pass, for there were +other things on his mind. + +On the evening of his strike the house below had been silent; but early +the next morning she had begun again, only this time she was not singing +scales. It was grand opera now, in French and Italian; with brilliant +runs and trills and high, sustained crescendos that seemed almost to +demand applause; and high-pitched, agitato recitatives. She was running +through the scores of the standard operas--"La Traviata," "Il +Trovatore," "Martha"--but as the week wore along she stopped singing +again and Denver saw her down among the sycamores. She paid no attention +to him, wandering up and down the creek bed or sitting in gloomy silence +by the pools; but at last as he stood at the mouth of his tunnel +breaking ore with the great hammer he loved, she came out on the trail +and gazed across at him wistfully, though he feigned not to notice her +presence. He was young and vigorous, and the sledge hammer was his toy; +and as Drusilla, when she was practicing, gloried in the range of her +voice and her effortless bravuras and trills, so Denver, swinging his +sledge, felt like Thor of old when he broke the rocks with his blows. +Drusilla gazed at him and sighed and walked pensively past him, then +returned and came back up his trail. + +"Good evening," she said and Denver greeted her with a smile for he saw +that her mood was friendly. She had resented, at first, his brusque +refusal and his rough, straight-out way of speaking; but she was lonely +now, and he knew in his heart that all was not well with her singing. + +"You like to work, don't you?" she went on at last as he stood sweating +and dumb in her presence, "don't you ever get tired, or anything?" + +"Not doing this," he said, "I'm a driller, you know, and I like to keep +my hand in. I compete in these rock-drilling contests." + +"Oh, yes, father was telling me," she answered quickly. "That's where +you won all that money--the money to buy the mine." + +"Yes, and I've won other money before," he boasted. "I won first place +last year in the single-handed contest--but that's too hard on your arm. +You change about, you know, in the double-handed work--one strikes while +the other turns--but in single jacking it's just hammer, hammer, hammer, +until your arm gets dead to the shoulder." + +"It must be nice," she suggested with a half-concealed sigh, "to be able +to make money so easily. Have you always been a miner?" + +"No, I was raised on a ranch, up in Colorado--but there's lots more +money in mining. I don't work by the day, I take contracts by the foot +where there's difficult or dangerous work. Sometimes I make forty +dollars a day. There's a knack about mining, like everything +else--you've got to know just how to drive your holes in order to break +the most ground--but give me a jack-hammer and enough men to muck out +after me and I can sink from sixteen to twenty feet a day, depending on +the rock. But here, of course, I'm working lone-handed and only make +about three feet a day." + +"Oh," she murmured with a mild show of interest and Denver picked up his +hammer. Mother Trigedgo had warned him not to be too friendly, and now +he was learning why. He set out a huge fragment that had been blasted +from the face and swung his hammer again. + +"Did you ever hear the 'Anvil Chorus'?" she asked watching him +curiously. "It's in the second act of 'Il Trovatore.'" + +"Sure!" exclaimed Denver, "I heard Sousa's band play it! I've got it on +a record somewhere." + +"No, but in a real opera--you'd be fine for that part. They have a row +of anvils around the back of the stage and as the chorus sing the gypsy +blacksmiths beat out the time by striking with their hammers. Back in +New York last year there was a perfectly huge man and he had a hammer as +big as yours that he swung with both hands while he sang. You reminded +me of him when I saw you working--don't you get kind of lonely, +sometimes?" + +"Too busy," replied Denver turning to pick up another rock, "don't have +time for anything like that." + +"Well, I wish I was that way," she sighed after a silence and Denver +smote ponderously at the rock. + +"Why don't you work?" he asked at last and Drusilla's eyes flashed fire. + +"I do!" she cried, "I work all the time! But that doesn't do me any +good. It's all right, perhaps, if you're just breaking rocks, or digging +dirt in some mine; but I'm trying to become a singer and you can't +succeed that way--work will get you only so far!" + +"'S that so!" murmured Denver, and at the unspoken challenge the +brooding resentment of Drusilla burst forth. + +"Yes, it is!" she exclaimed, "and, just because you've struck ore, that +doesn't prove that you're right in everything. I've worked and I've +worked, and that's all the good it's done me--I'm a failure, in spite of +everything." + +"Oh, I don't know," responded Denver with a superior smile, "you've +still got your five hundred dollars. A man is never whipped till he +thinks he's whipped--why don't you go back and take a run at it?" + +"Oh, what's the use of talking?" she cried jumping up, "when you don't +know a thing about it? I've tried and I've tried and the best I could +ever do was to get a place in the chorus. And there you simply ruin your +voice without even getting a chance of recognition. Oh, I get so +exasperated to see those Europeans who are nothing but big, spoiled +children go right into a try-out and take a part away from me that I +know I can render perfectly. But that's it, you see, they're perfectly +undisciplined, but they can throw themselves into the part; and the +director just takes my name and address and says he'll call me up if he +needs me." + +Denver grunted and said nothing and as he swung his hammer again the +leash to her passions gave way. + +"Yes, and I hate you!" she burst out, "you're so big and self-satisfied. +But I guess if you were trying to break into grand opera you wouldn't be +quite so intolerant!" + +"No?" commented Denver stopping to shift his grip and she stamped her +foot in fury. + +"No, you wouldn't!" she cried half weeping with rage as she contemplated +the wreck of her hopes, "don't you know that Mary Garden and +Schumann-Heink and Geraldine Farrar and all of them, that are now our +greatest stars, had to starve and skimp and wait on the impresarios +before they could get their chance? There's a difference between digging +a hole in the ground and moving a great audience to tears; so just +because you happen to be succeeding right now, don't think that you know +it all!" + +"All right," agreed Denver, "I'll try to remember that. And of course +I'm nothing but a miner. But there's one thing, and I know it, about all +those great stars--they didn't any of them quit. They might have been +hungry and out of a job but they never _quit_, or they wouldn't be +where they are." + +"Oh, they didn't, eh?" she mocked looking him over with slow scorn. "And +I suppose that _you_ never quit, either?" + +"No, I never did," answered Denver truthfully. "I've never laid down +yet." + +"Well, you're young yet," she said mimicking his patronizing tones, +"perhaps that will come to you later." + +She smiled with her teeth and stalked off down the trail, leaving Denver +with something to think about. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE STRIKE + + +Denver Russell _was_ young, in more ways than one, but that did not +prove he was wrong. Perhaps he was presumptuous in trying to tell an +artist how to gain a foothold on the stage, but he was still convinced +that, in grand opera as in mining, there was no big demand for a +quitter. As for that swift, back stab, that veiled intimation that he +might live to be a quitter himself, Denver resolved then and there not +to quit working his mine until his last dollar was gone. And, while he +was doing that, he wondered if Drusilla could boast as much of her +music. Would she weaken again, as she had twice already, and declare +that she was a miserable failure; or would she toil on, as he did, day +by day, refusing to acknowledge she was whipped? + +Denver returned to his cave in a defiant mood and put on a record by +Schumann-Heink. There was one woman that he knew had fought her way +through everything until she had obtained a great success. He had read +in a magazine how she had been turned away by a director who had told +her her voice was hopeless; and how later, after years of privation and +suffering, she had come back to that same director and he had been +forced to acknowledge her genius. And it was all there, in her voice, +the sure strength that comes from striving, the sweetness that comes +from suffering; and as Denver listened to her "Cradle Song" he +remembered what he had read about her children. Every night, in those +dark times when, deserted and alone, she sang in the chorus for her +bread, she had been compelled for lack of a nursemaid to lock her +children in her room; and evening after evening her mother's heart was +tormented by fears for their safety. What if the house should burn down +and destroy them all? All the fear and love, all the anguished +tenderness which had torn her heart through those years was written on +the stippled disc, so deeply had it touched her life. + +Denver put them all on, the best records he had by singers of world +renown, and then at the end he put on the "Barcarolle," the duet from +the "Love Tales of Hoffmann." For him, that was Drusilla's song, the +expression of her gayest, happiest self. Its lilt and flow recalled her +to his thoughts like the embroidered motifs that Wagner used to +anticipate the coming of his characters. It was a light song, in a way, +not the greatest of music; but while she was singing it he had seen her +for the first time and it had become the motif of her coming. When he +heard it he saw a vision of a beautiful young girl, singing and swaying +like a slender flower; and all about her was a golden radiance like the +halo of St. Cecelia. And to him it was a prophecy of her ultimate +success, for when she sung it she had won his heart. So he played it +over and over, but when he had finished there was silence from the old +town below. + +Yet if Drusilla was silent it was not from despair for in the morning as +Denver was mucking out his tunnel he heard her clear voice mount up like +the light of some bird. + +"Ah, _Ah-h-h-h_, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah." + +It was the old familiar exercise, rising an octave at the first bound +and then fluttering down like some gorgeous butterfly of sound till it +rested on the octave below. And at each renewed flight it began a note +higher until it climbed at last to high C. Then it ran up in roulades +and galloping bravuras, it trilled and sought out new flights; yet +always with the pellucid tones of the flute, the sweet, virginal purity +of a child. She was right--there was something missing, a something +which she groped for and could not find, a something which the other +singers had. Denver sensed the lack dimly but he could not define it, +all he knew was that she left out herself. In the brief glimpse he had +of her she had seemed torn by dark passions, which caused her at times +to brood among the sycamores and again to seek a quarrel with him; yet +all this youthful turbulence was left out of her singing--she had not +learned to express her emotions. + +Denver listened every morning as he came out of his dark hole, pushing +the wheel-barrows of ore and waste before him, and then he bade farewell +to sun, air and music and went into the close, dark tunnel. By the light +of a single candle, thrust into its dagger-like miner's candlestick and +stabbed into some seam in the wall, he smashed and clacked away at his +drill until the whole face was honeycombed with holes. At the top they +slanted up, at the bottom down, to keep the bore broken clean; but along +the sides and in the middle they followed no system, more than to adapt +themselves to the formation. When his round of holes was drilled he cut +his fuse and loaded each hole with its charge; after which with firm +hands he ignited each split end and hurried out of the tunnel. There he +sat down on a rock and listened to the shots; first the short holes in +the center, to blow out the crown; then the side holes, breaking into +the opening; and the top-holes, shooting the rock down from above; and +then, last and most powerful, the deep bottom holes that threw the dirt +back down the tunnel and left the face clear for more work. + +As the poisonous smoke was drifting slowly out of the tunnel mouth +Denver fired up his forge and re-sharpened his drills; and then, along +towards evening, when the fumes had become diffused, he went in to see +what he had uncovered. Sometimes the vein widened or developed rich +lenses, and sometimes it pinched down until the walls enclosed nothing +but a narrow streak of talc; but always it dipped down, and that was a +good sign, a prophecy of the true fissure vein to come. The ore that he +mined now was a mere excrescence of the great ore-body he hoped to find, +but each day the blanket-vein turned and dipped on itself until at last +it folded over and led down. In a huge mass of rocks, stuck together by +crystals of silica and stained by the action of acids, the silver and +copper came together and intermingled at the fissure vent which had +produced them both. Denver stared at it through the powder smoke, then +he grabbed up some samples and went to see Bunker Hill. + +Not since that great day when Denver had struck the copper had Bunker +shown any interest in the mine. He sat around the house listening to +Drusilla while she practiced and opening the store for chance customers; +but towards Denver he still maintained a grim-mouthed reserve, as if +discouraging him from asking any favors. Perhaps the fact that Denver's +money was all gone had a more or less direct bearing on the case; but +though he was living on the last of his provisions Denver had refrained +from asking for credit. His last shipment of powder and blacksmith's +coal had cost twenty per cent more than he had figured and he had sent +for a few more records; and after paying the two bills there was only +some small change left in the wallet which had once bulged with +greenbacks. But his pride was involved, for he had read Drusilla a +lecture on the evils of being faint-hearted, so he had simply stopped +buying at the little store and lived on what he had left. But now--well, +with that fissure vein opened up and a solid body of ore in sight, he +might reasonably demand the customary accommodations which all merchants +accord to good customers. + +"Well, I've struck it," he said when he had Bunker in the store, "just +take a look at _that_!" + +He handed over a specimen that was heavy with copper and Bunker squinted +down his eyes. + +"Yes, looks good," he observed and handed it somberly back. + +"I've got four feet of it," announced Denver gloating over the +specimens, "and the vein has turned and gone down. What's the chances +for some grub now, on account? I'm going to ship that sacked ore." + +"Danged poor--with me," answered Bunker with decision. "You'd better try +your luck with Murray." + +"Oh, boosting for Murray, eh?" remarked Denver sarcastically. "Well, I +may take you up on that, but it's too far to walk now and I've been +living on beans for a week. I guess I'm good for a few dollars' worth." + +"Sure you're good for it," agreed Bunker, "but that ain't the point. The +question is--when will I get my money?" + +"You'll get it, by grab, as soon as I do," returned Denver with +considerable heat. "What's the matter? Ain't that ore shipment good +enough security?" + +"Well, maybe it is," conceded Bunker, "but you'll have a long wait for +your money. And to tell you the truth, the way I'm fixed now, I can't +sell except for cash." + +"Oh! Cash, eh?" sneered Denver suddenly bristling with resentment. "It +seems like I've heard that before. In fact, every time that I ask you +for a favor you turn me down like a bum. I came through here, one time, +so danged weak I could hardly crawl and you refused to even give me a +meal; and now, when I've got a mine that's worth millions, you've still +got your hand out for the money." + +"Well, now don't get excited," spoke up Bunker pacifically, "you can +have what grub you want. But I'm telling you the truth--those people +down below won't give me another dollar's worth on tick. These are hard +times, boy, the hardest I've ever seen, and if you'd offer me that mine +back for five hundred cents I couldn't raise the money. That shows how +broke I am, and I've got a family to support." + +"Well, that's different," said Denver. "If you're broke, that settles +it. But I'll tell you one thing, old-timer, you won't be broke long. I'm +going to open up a mine here that will beat the Lost Burro. I've got +copper, and that beats 'em all." + +"Sure does," agreed Bunker, "but it's no good for shipping ore. It takes +millions to open up a copper property." + +"Yes, and it brings back millions!" boasted Denver with a swagger. "I'm +made, if I can only hold onto it. But I'll tell you right now, if you +want to hold your claims you'd better do a little assessment work. +There's going to be a rush, when this strike of mine gets out, that'll +make your ground worth millions." + +Old Bunk smiled indulgently and took a chew of tobacco and Denver came +back to earth. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do," proposed Denver after a silence, "I'll +take a contract to do your assessment work for ten dollars a claim, in +trade. I'll make an open cut that's four by six by ten, and that's held +to be legal work anywhere. Come on now, I'm tired of beans." + +"Well, come down to supper," replied Bunker at last, "and we'll talk it +over there." + +"No, I don't want any supper," returned Denver resentfully, "you've got +enough hoboes to feed. You can give me an answer, right now." + +"All right--I won't do it," replied Bunker promptly and turned to go out +the door; but it had opened behind them and Drusilla stood there +smiling, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. + +"What are you two men quarreling about?" she demanded reprovingly, "we +could hear you clear over to the house." + +"Well, I asked him over to supper," began Bunker in a rage, "and----" + +"That's got nothing to do with it," broke in Denver hotly, "I'm making +him a business proposition. But he's so danged bull-headed he'd rather +kill some jumper than comply with the law as it stands. He's been +holding down these claims with a lead-pencil and a six-shooter just +about as long as he can and----" + +"Oh, have you made another strike?" asked Drusilla eagerly and when she +heard the news she turned to her father with a sudden note of gladness +in her voice. "Then you'll have to do the work," she said, "because I'll +never be happy till you do. Ever since you sold your claim I've been +sorry for my selfishness but now I'm going to pay you back. I'm going to +take my five hundred dollars and hire this assessment work done and +then----" + +"It won't cost any five hundred," put in Denver hastily. "I'm kinder +short, right now, and I offered to do it for ten dollars a claim, in +trade." + +"Ten dollars? Why, how can you do it for that? I thought the law +required a ten foot hole, or the same amount of work in a tunnel." + +"Or an open cut," hinted Denver. "Leave it to me--I can do it and make +money, to boot." + +"Well, you're hired, then!" cried Drusilla with a rush of enthusiasm, +"but you have to go to work to-morrow." + +"Well--ll," qualified Denver, "I wanted to look over my strike and +finish sacking that ore. Wouldn't the next day do just as well?" + +"No, it wouldn't," she replied. "You can give me an answer, right now." + +"Well, I'll go you!" said Denver and Old Bunker grunted and regarded +them with a wry, knowing smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A NIGHT FOR LOVE + + +There was music that evening in the Bunker Hill mansion but Denver +Russell sat sulking in his cave with no company but an inquisitive +pack-rat. He regretted now his curt refusal to join the Hills at supper, +for Drusilla was singing gloriously; but a man without pride is a +despicable creature and Old Bunk had tried to insult him. So he went to +bed and early in the morning, while the shadow of Apache Leap still lay +like a blanket across the plain, he set out to fulfill his contract. +Across one shoulder he hung a huge canteen of water, on the other a sack +of powder and fuse; and, to top off his burden, he carried a long steel +churn-drill and a spoon for scooping out the muck. + +The discovery hole of Bunker's Number Two claim was just up the creek +from his own and, after looking it over, Denver climbed up the bank and +measured off six feet from the edge. Then, raising the steel bar, he +struck it into the ground, churning it rhythmically up and down; and as +the hole rapidly deepened he spooned it out and poured in a little more +water. It was the same uninteresting work that he had seen men do when +they were digging a railroad cut; and the object was the same, to shoot +down the dirt with the minimum of labor and powder. But with Denver it +became a work of art, a test of his muscle and skill, and at each +downward thrust he bent from the hips and struck with a deep-chested +"Huh!" + +An hour passed by, and half the length of the drill was buried at the +end of the stroke; and then, as he paused to wipe the sweat from his +eyes, Denver saw that his activities were being noted. Drusilla was +looking on from the trail below, and apparently with the greatest +interest. She was dressed in a corduroy suit, with a broad sombrero +against the sun; and as she came up the slope she leapt from rock to +rock in a heavy pair of boys' high boots. There was nothing of the +singer about her now, nor of the filmy-clad barefooted dancer; the +jagged edge of old Pinal would permit of nothing so effeminate. Yet, +over the rocks as on the smooth trails, she had a grace that was all her +own, for those hillsides had been her home. + +"Well, how's the millionaire?" she inquired with a smile that made his +fond heart miss a beat. "Is _this_ the way you do it? Are you just +going to drill one hole?" + +"That's the dope," replied Denver, "sink it down ten feet and blow the +whole bank off with one shot. It's as easy as shooting fish." + +"Why, you're down half-way, already!" she cried in amazement. "How long +before you'll be done?" + +"Oh, half an hour or so," said Denver. "Want to wait and see the blast? +I learned this system on the railroad." + +"You'll be through, then, before noon!" she exclaimed. "You're actually +making money." + +"Well, a little," admitted Denver, "but, of course, if you're not +satisfied----" + +"Oh, I'm satisfied," she protested, "I was only thinking--but then, it's +always that way. There are some people, of course, who can make money +anywhere. How does it feel to be a millionaire?" + +"Fine!" grinned Denver, chugging away with his drill, "this is the way +they all got their start. The Armstrong method--and that's where I +shine; I can break more ground than any two men." + +"Well, I believe you can," she responded frankly, "and I hope you have a +great success. I didn't like it very well when you called me a quitter, +but I can see now what you meant. Did you ever study music at all?" + +Denver stopped his steady churning to glance at her quickly and then he +nodded his head. + +"I played the violin, before I went to mining. Had to quit then--it +stiffens up your fingers." + +"What a pity!" she cried. "But that explains about your records--I knew +you'd heard good music somewhere." + +"Yes, and I'm going to hear more," he answered impressively, "I'm not +going to blow my money. I'm going back to New York, where all those +singers live. The other boys can have the booze." + +"Don't you drink at all?" she questioned eagerly. "Don't you even smoke? +Well, I'm going right back and tell father. He told me that all miners +spent their money in drinking--why wouldn't you come over to supper?" + +She shot the question at him in the quick way she had, but Denver did +not answer it directly. + +"Never mind," he said, "but I will tell you one thing--I'm not a hobo +miner." + +"No, I knew you weren't," she responded quickly. "Won't you come over to +supper to-night? I might sing for you," she suggested demurely; but +Denver shook his head. + +"Nope," he said, "your old man took me for a hobo and he can't get the +idea out of his head. What did he say when you gave me this job?" + +"Well, he didn't object; but I guess, if you don't mind, we'll only do +three or four claims. He says I'll need the money back East." + +"Yes, you will," agreed Denver. "Five hundred isn't much. If I was flush +I'd do this for nothing." + +"Oh, no," she protested, "I couldn't allow that. But if there +_should_ be a rush, and father's claims should be jumped----" + +"You'd have the best of them, anyway. I wouldn't tempt old Murray too +far." + +"No," she said, "and that reminds me--I hear that he's made a strike. +But say, here's a good joke on the Professor. You know he thinks he's a +mining expert, and he's been crazy to look at the diamond drill cores; +and the other day the boss driller was over and he told me how he got +rid of him. You know, in drilling down they run into cavities where the +lime has been leached away, and in order to keep the bore intact they +pour them full of cement. Well, when the Professor insisted upon seeing +the core and wouldn't take no for an answer, Mr. Menzger just gave him a +section of concrete, where they'd bored through a filled-up hole. And +Mr. Diffenderfer just looked so wise and examined it through his +microscope, and then he said it was very good rock and an excellent +indication of copper. Isn't that just too rich for anything?" + +"Yeh," returned Denver with a thin-lipped smile. And then, before he +thought how it sounded: "Say, who is this Mr. Menzger, anyway?" + +"Oh, he's a friend of ours," she answered drooping her eyelashes +coquettishly. "He gets lonely sometimes and comes down to hear me +sing--he's been in New York and everywhere." + +"Yes, he must be a funny guy," observed Denver mirthlessly. "Any +relation to that feller they call Dave?" + +"Oh, Mr. Chatwourth? No, he's from Kentucky--they say he's the last of +his family. All the others were killed in one of those mountain +feuds--Mr. Menzger says he's absolutely fearless." + +"Well, what did he leave home for, then?" inquired Denver arrogantly. +"He don't look very bad to me, I guess if he was fearless he'd be back +in Kentucky, shooting it out with the rest of the bunch." + +"No, it seems that his father on his dying bed commanded him to leave +the country, because there were too many of the others against him. But +Mr. Menzger tells me he's a professional killer, and that's why Old +Murray hired him. Do you think they would jump our claims?" + +"They would if they struck copper," replied Denver bluntly. "And old +Murray warned me not to buy from your father--that shows he's got his +eye on your property. It's a good thing we're doing this work." + +"Weren't you afraid, then?" she asked, putting the wonder-note into her +voice and laying aside her frank manner, "weren't you afraid to buy our +claim? Or did you feel that you were guided to it, and all would be for +the best?" + +"That's it!" exclaimed Denver suddenly putting down his drill to gaze +into her innocent young eyes. "I was guided, and so I bought it anyhow." + +"Oh, I think it's so romantic!" she murmured with a sigh, "won't you +tell me how it happened?" + +And then Denver Russell, forgetting the seeress' warning at the very +moment he was discussing her, sat down on a rock and gave Drusilla the +whole story of his search for the gold and silver treasures. But at the +end--when she questioned him about the rest of the prophecy--he suddenly +recalled Mother Trigedgo's admonition: "Beware how you reveal your +affection or she will confer her hand upon another." + +A shadow came into his blue eyes and his boyish enthusiasm was stilled; +and Drusilla, who had been practicing her stage-learned wiles, suddenly +found her technique at fault. She chattered on, trying subtly to ensnare +him, but Denver's heart was now of adamant and he failed to respond to +her approaches. It was not too late yet to heed the words of the +prophecy, and he drilled on in thoughtful silence. + +"Don't you get lonely?" she burst out at last, "living all by yourself +in that cave? Why, even these old prospectors have to have some +pardner--don't you ever feel the need of a friend?" + +There it was--he felt it coming--the appeal to be just friends. But +another girl had tried it already, and he had learned about women from +her. + +"No," he said shortly, "I don't need no friends. Say, I'm going to load +this hole now." + +"Well, go on!" she challenged, "I'm not afraid. I'll stay here as long +as you do." + +"All right," he said lowering his powder down the hole and tamping it +gently with a stick, "I see I can't scare _you_." + +"Oh, you thought you could scare me!" she burst out mockingly, "I +suppose you're a great success with the girls." + +"Well," he mocked back, "a good-looking fellow like me----" And then he +paused and grinned slyly. + +"Oh, what's the use!" she exclaimed, rising up in disgust, "I might as +well quit, right now." + +"No, don't go off mad!" he remonstrated gallantly. "Stay and see the big +explosion." + +"I don't care _that_ for your explosion!" she answered pettishly +and snapped her fingers in the air. + +It was the particular gesture with which the coquettish Carmen was wont +to dismiss her lovers; but as she strode down the hill Drusilla herself +was heart-broken, for her coquetry had come to naught. This big Western +boy, this unsophisticated miner, had sensed her wiles and turned them +upon her--how then could she hope to succeed? If her eyes had no allure +for a man like him, how could she hope to fascinate an audience? And +Carmen and half the heroines of modern light opera were all of them +incorrigible flirts. They flirted with servants, with barbers, with +strolling actors, with their own and other women's husbands; until the +whole atmosphere fairly reeked of intrigue, of amours and coquettish +escapades. To the dark-eyed Europeans these wiles were instinctive but +with her they were an art, to be acquired laboriously as she had learned +to dance and sing. But flirt she could not, for Denver Russell had +flouted her, and now she had lost his respect. + +A tear came to her eye, for she was beginning to like him, and he would +think that she flirted with everyone; yet how was she to learn to +succeed in her art if she had no experience with men? It was that, in +fact, which her teacher had hinted at when he had told her to go out and +live; but her heart was not in it, she took no pleasure in deceit--and +yet she longed for success. She could sing the parts, she had learned +her French and Italian and taken instruction in acting; but she lacked +the verve, the passionate abandon, without which she could never +succeed. Yet succeed she must, or break her father's heart and make his +great sacrifice a mockery. She turned and looked back at Denver Russell, +and that night she sang--for him. + +He was up there in his cave looking down indifferently, thinking himself +immune to her charms; yet her pride demanded that she conquer him +completely and bring him to her feet, a slave! She sang, attired in +filmy garments, by the light of the big, glowing lamp; and as her voice +took on a passionate tenderness, her mother looked up from her work. +Then Bunker awoke from his gloomy thoughts and glanced across at his +wife; and they sat there in silence while she sang on and on, the +gayest, sweetest songs that she knew. But Drusilla's eyes were fixed on +the open doorway, on the darkness which lay beyond; and at last she saw +him, a dim figure in the distance, a presence that moved and was gone. +She paused and glided off into her song of songs, the "Barcarolle" from +"Love Tales of Hoffman," and as her voice floated out to him Denver rose +up from his hiding and stepped boldly into the moonlight. He stood there +like a hero in some Wagnerian opera, where men take the part of gods, +and as she gazed the mockery went out of her song and she sang of love +alone. Such a love as women know who love one man forever and hold all +his love in return, yet the words were the same as those of false +Giuletta when she fled with the perfidious Dapertutto. + + "Night divine, O night of love, + O smile on our enchantment + Moon and stars keep watch above + This radiant night of love!" + +She floated away in the haunting chorus, overcome by the madness of its +spell; and when she awoke the song was ended and love had claimed her +too. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A FRIEND + + +A new spirit, a strange gladness, had come over Drusilla and parts which +had been difficult became suddenly easy when she took up her work the +next day; but when she walked out in the cool of the evening the +sombrero and boy's boots were gone. She wore a trailing robe, such as +great ladies wear when they go to keep a tryst with knightly lovers, and +she went up the trail to where Denver was working on the last of her +father's claims. He was up on the high cliff, busily tamping the powder +that was to blast out the side of the hill, and she waited patiently +until he had fired it and come down the slope with his tools. + +"That makes four," he said, "and I'm all out of powder." But she only +answered with a smile. + +"I'll have to wait, now," he went on bluffly, "until McGraw comes up +again, before I can do any more work." + +"Yes," she answered and smiled again; a slow, expectant smile. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded and then his face changed and he +fumbled with the strap of his canteen. And when he looked up his eyes +met hers and there was no longer any secret between them. + +"You can rest a few days, then," she suggested softly, "I'd like to hear +some of your records." + +"Yes--sure, sure," he burst out hastily and they walked down the trail +together. She went on ahead with the quick step of a dancer and Denver +looked up at an eagle in the sky, as if in some way it could understand. +But the eagle soared on, without effort and without ceasing, and Denver +could only be glad. In some way, far beyond him, she had divined his +love; but it was not to be spoken of--now. That would spoil it all, the +days of sweet communion, the pretence that nothing had changed; yet they +knew it had changed and in the sharing of that great secret lay the tie +that should bind them together. Denver looked from the eagle to the +glorious woman and remembered the prophecy again. Even yet he must +beware, he must veil every glance, treat her still like a simple country +child; for the seeress had warned him that his fate hung in the balance +and she might still confer her hand upon another. + +In the happy days that followed he did no more work, further than to +sack his ore and ship it; but all his thoughts were centered upon +Drusilla who was friendly and elusive by turns. On that first precious +evening she came up with her father and inspected his smoke-blackened +cave, and over his new records there sprang up a conversation that held +him entranced for hours. She had been to the Metropolitan and the Boston +Opera Houses and heard the great singers at their best; she understood +their language, whether it was French or Italian or the now proscribed +German of Wagner, and she listened to the records again and again, +trying to steal the secret of their success. But through it all she was +gentle and friendly, and all her old quarrelsomeness was gone. + +A week passed like a day, full of dreams and half-uttered confidences +and long, contented silences; and then, as they sat in the shade of the +giant sycamore Denver let his eyes that had been fixed upon Drusilla, +stray and sweep the lower road. + +"What are you looking for now?" she demanded impatiently and he turned +back with a guilty grin. + +"McGraw," he said and she frowned to herself for at last the world had +come between them. For a week he had been idle, a heaven-sent companion +in the barren loneliness of life; but now, when his powder and mining +supplies arrived, he would become the old hard-working miner. He would +go into his dark tunnel before the sun was up and not come out till it +was low in the west, and instead of being clean and handsome as a young +god he would come forth like a groveling gnome. His face would be grimy, +his hands gnarled with striking, his digging-clothes covered with +candle-grease: and his body would reek with salty sweat and the rank, +muggy odor of powder fumes. And he would crawl back to his cave like an +outworn beast of burden, to sleep while she sang to him from below. + +"Will you go back to work?" she asked at last and he nodded and +stretched his great arms. + +"Back to work!" he repeated, "and I guess it's about time. I wonder how +much credit Murray gave me?" + +Drusilla said nothing. She was looking far away and wondering at the +thing we call life. + +"Why do you work so hard?" she inquired, half complainingly. "Is that +all there is in the world?" + +"No, lots of other things," he answered carelessly, "but work is the +only way to get them. I'm on my way, see? I've just begun. You wait till +I open up that mine!" + +"Then what will you do?" she murmured pensively, "go ahead and open up +another mine?" + +"Well, I might," he admitted. "Don't you remember that other treasure? +There's a gold-mine around here, somewhere." + +"Oh, is that all you think about?" she protested with a smile. "There +are lots of other treasures, you know." + +"Yes, but this one was prophesied," returned Denver doggedly. "I'm bound +to find it, now." + +"But Denver," she insisted, "don't you see what I mean? These +fortune-tellers never tell you, straight out. Yours said, 'a golden +treasure,' but that doesn't mean a gold mine. There are other treasures, +besides." + +"For instance?" he suggested and she looked far away as if thinking of +some she might name. + +"Well," she said at length, "there are opals, for one. They are +beautiful, and look like golden fire. Or it might be a rare old violin +that would bring back your music again. I saw one once that was golden +yellow--wouldn't you like to play while I sing? But if you spend all +your life trying to grub out more riches you will lose your appreciation +of art." + +"Yes, but wait," persisted Denver, "I'm just getting started. I haven't +got a dollar to my name. If Murray don't send me the supplies that I +ordered I'll have to go to work for my grub. The jewels can wait, and +the yellow violins, but I know that she meant a mine. It would have to +be a mine or I couldn't choose between them--and when I make my stake +I'm going to buy out the Professor and see what he's got underground. Of +course, it's only a stringer now but----" + +"Oh dear," sighed Drusilla and then she rose up, but she did not go +away. "Aren't you glad," she asked, "that we've had this week together? +I suppose I'm going to miss you, now. That's the trouble with being a +woman--we get to be so dependent. Can I play over your records, +sometimes?" + +"Sure," said Denver, "say, I'm going up there now to see if McGraw isn't +in sight. Would you like to come along too? We can sit outside in the +shade and watch for his dust, down the road." + +"Well, I ought to be studying," she assented reluctantly, "but I guess I +can go up--for a while." + +They clambered up together over the ancient, cliff-dwellers' trail, +where each foothold was worn deep in the rock; but as they sat within +the shadow of the beetling cliff Drusilla sighed again. + +"Do you think?" she asked, "that there will be a great rush when they +hear about your strike down in Moroni? Because then I'll have to go--I +can't practice the way I have been with the whole town filled up with +miners. And everything will be changed--I'd almost rather it wouldn't +happen, and have things the way they are now. Of course I'll be glad for +father's sake, because he's awfully worried about money; but sometimes I +think we're happier the way we are than we will be when we're all of us +rich. What will be the first thing you'll do?" + +"Well," began Denver, his eyes still on the road, "the first thing is to +open her up. There's no use trying to interest outside capital until +you've got some ore in sight. Then I'll go over to Globe to a man that I +know and come back with a hundred thousand dollars. That's right--I know +him well, and he knows me--and he's told me repeatedly if I find +anything big enough he's willing to put that much into it. He came up +from nothing, just an ordinary miner, but now he's got money in ten +different banks, and a hundred thousand dollars is nothing to him. But +his time is valuable, can't stop to look at prospects; so the first +thing I do is to open up that mine until I can show a big deposit of +copper. The silver and lead will pay all the expenses--and you wait, +when that ore gets down to the smelter I'll bet there'll be somebody +coming up here. It runs a thousand ounces to the ton or I'm a liar, the +way I've sorted it out; but of course old Murray and the rest of 'em +will rob me. I don't expect more than three hundred dollars." + +"Isn't it wonderful," murmured Drusilla, "and to think it all happened +just from having your fortune told! I'm going over to Globe before I +start back East and get her to tell my fortune, too; but of course it +can't be as wonderful as yours--you must have been just born lucky." + +"Well, maybe I was," said Denver with a shrug, "but it isn't all over +yet--I still stand a chance to lose. And she told me some other things +that are not so pleasant--sometimes I wish I'd never gone near her." + +"Oh, what are they?" she asked in a hushed eager voice; but Denver +ignored the question. Never, not even to his dearest friend, would he +tell the forecasting of his death; and as for dearest friends, if he +ever had another pardner he could never trust him a minute. The chance +slipping of a pick, a missed stroke with a hammer, any one of a thousand +trivial accidents, and the words of the prophecy would come to pass--he +would be killed before his time. But if he favored one man no more than +another, if he avoided his former pardners and friends, then he might +live to be one of the biggest mining men in the country and to win +Drusilla for his wife. + +"I'll tell you," he said meditatively, "you'd better keep away from her. +A man does better without it. Suppose she'd tell you, for instance, that +you'd get killed in a cave like she did Jack Chambers over in Globe; +you'd be scared then, all the time you were under ground--it ruins a man +for a miner. No, it's better not to know it at all. Just go ahead, the +best you know how, and play your cards to win, and I'll bet it won't be +but a year or two until you're a regular operatic star. They'll be +selling your records for three dollars apiece, and all those managers +will be bidding for you; but if Mother Trigedgo should tell you some bad +news it might hurt you--it might spoil your nerve." + +"Oh, did she tell you something?" cried Drusilla apprehensively. "Do +tell me what it was! I won't breathe it to a soul; and if you could +share it with some friend, don't you think it would ease your mind?" + +Denver looked at her slowly, then he turned away and shook his head in +refusal. + +"Oh, Denver!" she exclaimed as she sensed the significance of it, and +before he knew it she was patting his work-hardened hand. "I'm sorry," +she said, "but if ever I can help you I want you to let me know. Would +it help to have me for a friend?" + +"A friend!" he repeated, and then he drew back and the horror came into +his eyes. She was his friend already, the dearest friend he had--was she +destined then to kill him? + +"No!" he said, "I don't want any friends. Come on, I believe that's +McGraw." + +He rose up hastily and held out his hand to help her but she refused to +accept his aid. Her lips were trembling, there were tears in her eyes +and her breast was beginning to heave; but there was no explanation he +could give. He wanted her, yes, but not as a friend--as his beloved, his +betrothed, his wife! By any name, but not by the name of friend. He drew +away slowly as her head bowed to her knees; and at last he left her, +weeping. It was best, after all, for how could he comfort her? And he +could see McGraw's dust down the road. + +"I'm going to meet McGraw!" he called back from the steps and went +bounding off down the trail. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +BROKE + + +McGraw, the freighter, was a huge, silent man from whom long years on +the desert had almost taken the desire for speech. He came jangling up +the road, his wagons grinding and banging, his horses straining wearily +in their collars; and as Denver ran to meet him he threw on the brakes +and sat blinking solemnly at his inquisitor. + +"Where's my powder?" demanded Denver looking over the load, "and say, +didn't you bring that coal? I don't see that steel I ordered, either!" + +"No," said McGraw and then, after a silence: "Murray wouldn't receive +your ore." + +"Wouldn't receive it!" yelled Denver, "why, what was the matter with +it--did the sacks get broke going down?" + +"No," answered McGraw, "the sacks were all right. He said the ore was no +good." + +"Like hell!" scoffed Denver, "that ore that I sent him? It would run a +thousand ounces to the ton!" + +McGraw wrinkled his brows and looked up at the sun. + +"Well," he said, "I guess I'll be going." + +"But--hey, wait!" commanded Denver, scarcely believing his ears, "didn't +he send me any grub, or anything?" + +"Nope," answered McGraw, "he wouldn't give me nawthin'. He said the ore +was no good. Come, boys!" And he threw off the brakes with a bang. + +The chains tightened with a jerk, the wheelers set their feet; then the +lead wagon heaved forward, the trail-wagon followed and Denver was alone +on the road. His brain was in a whirl, he had lost all volition, even +the will to control his wild thoughts; until suddenly he burst out in a +fit of cursing--of Murray, of McGraw, of everything. McGraw had been a +fool, he should have demanded the supplies anyway; and Murray was just +trying to job him. He knew he was broke and had not had the ore assayed, +and he was taking advantage of the fact. He had refused the ore in order +to leave him flat and compel him to abandon his mine; and then he, +Murray, would slip over with his gun-man and take possession himself. +Denver struck his leg and looked up and down the road, and then he +started off for Moroni. + +It was sixty miles, across a scorching desert with only two wells on the +road; but Denver arrived at Whitlow's an hour after sunset, and he was +at Desert Wells before dawn. A great fire seemed to consume him, to +drive him on, to fill his body with inexhaustible strength; and, against +the advice of the station man, he started on in the heat for Moroni. All +he wanted was a show-down with Bible-Back Murray, to meet him face to +face; and no matter if he had the whole county in his pocket he would +tell him what he thought of him. And he would make him take that ore, +according to his agreement, or answer to him personally; and then he +would return to Pinal, where he had left Drusilla crying. But he could +not face her now, after all his boasting and his tales of fabulous +wealth. He could never face her again. + +The sun rose up higher, the heat waves began to shimmer and the +landscape to blur before his eyes; and then an automobile came +thundering up behind him and halted on the flat. + +"Get in!" called the driver throwing the door open hospitably; and in an +hour's time Denver was set down in Moroni, but with the fever still hot +in his brain. His first frenzy had left him, and the heat madness of the +desert with its insidious promptings to violence; but the sense of +injustice still rankled deep and he headed for Murray's store. It was a +huge, brick building crowded from basement to roof with groceries and +general merchandise. Busy clerks hustled about, waiting on Mexicans and +Indians and slow-moving, valley ranchers; and as Denver walked in there +was a man there to meet him and direct him to any department. It showed +that Bible-Back was efficient, at least. + +"I'd like to see Mr. Murray," announced Denver shortly and the +floor-walker glanced at him again before he answered that Mr. Murray was +out. It was the same at the bank, and out at his house; and at last in +disgust Denver went down to the station, where he had been told his ore +was lying. The stifling heat of the valley oppressed him like a blanket, +the sweat poured down his face in tiny streams; and at each evasion his +anger mounted higher until now he was talking to himself. It was evident +that Murray was trying to avoid him--he might even have started back to +the mine--but his ore was there, on a heavily timbered platform, where +it could be transferred from wagon to car without lifting it up and +down. There was other ore there too, each consignment by itself, taken +in by the store-keeper in exchange for supplies and held to make up a +carload. The same perfect system, efficiency in all things--efficiency +and a hundred per cent profit. + +Denver leapt up on the platform and cut open a sack, but as he was +pouring a generous sample of the ore into his handkerchief a man stepped +out of the next warehouse. + +"Hey!" he called, "what are you doing, over there? You get down and +leave that ore alone!" + +"Go to hell!" returned Denver, tying a knot in his handkerchief, and the +man came over on the run. + +"Say!" he threatened, "you put that ore back or you'll find yourself in +serious trouble." + +"Oh, I will, hey?" replied Denver with his most tantalizing smile. +"Whose ore do you think this is, anyway?" + +"It belongs to Mr. Murray, and you'd better put it back or I'll report +the matter at once." + +"Well, report it," answered Denver. "My name is Denver Russell and I'm +taking this up to the assayer." + +"There's Mr. Murray, now," exclaimed the man and as Denver looked up he +saw a yellow automobile churning rapidly along through the dust. Murray +himself was at the wheel and, sitting beside him, was another man +equally familiar--it was Dave, his hired gun-man. + +"What are you doing here, Mr. Russell?" demanded Murray with asperity +and Denver became suddenly calm. Old Murray had been hiding from him, +but they had summoned him by telephone, and he had brought along Dave +for protection. But that should not keep him from having his way and +forcing Murray to a show-down. + +"I just came down for a sample of that ore I sent you," answered Denver +with a sarcastic grin. "McGraw said you claimed it was no good, so I +thought I'd have it assayed." + +"Oh," observed Murray and for a minute he sat silent while Dave and +Denver exchanged glances. The gun-man was slight and insignificant +looking, with small features and high, boney cheeks; but there was a +smouldering hate in his deep-set eyes which argued him in no mood for a +jest, so Denver looked him over and said nothing. + +"Very well," said Murray at last, "the ore is yours. Go ahead and have +it assayed. But with the price of silver down to forty-five cents I +doubt if that stuff will pay smelter charges. I'll ship it, if you say +so, along with this other, if only to make up a carload; but it will be +at your own risk and if the returns show a deficit, your mine will be +liable for the balance." + +"Oh, that's the racket, eh?" suggested Denver. "You've got your good eye +on my mine. Well, I'd just like to tell you----" + +"No, I haven't," snapped back Murray, his voice harsh and strident, "I +wouldn't accept your mine as a gift. Your silver is practically +worthless and there's no copper in the district; as I know all too well, +to my sorrow. I've lost twenty thousand dollars on better ground than +yours and ordered the whole camp closed down--that shows how much I want +_your_ mine." + +He started his engine and glided on to the warehouse and Denver stood +staring down the road. Then he raised his sample, tied up in his +handkerchief, and slammed it into the dirt. His mine was valueless +unless he had money, and Murray had abandoned the district. More than +ever Denver realized how much it had meant to him, merely to have that +diamond drilling running and a big man like Murray behind it. It was +indicative of big values and great expectations; but now, with Murray +out of the running, the district was absolutely dead. There was no +longer the chance of a big copper strike, such as had been rumored +repeatedly for weeks, to bring on a stampede and make every claim in the +district worth thousands of dollars as a gamble. + +No, Pinal was dead; the Silver Treasure was worthless; and he, Denver +Russell, was broke. He had barely the price of a square meal. He started +up-town, and turned back towards the warehouse where Murray was +wrangling with his hireling; then, cursing with helpless rage, he swung +off down the railroad track and left his broken dreams behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE HAND OF FATE + + +The swift hand of fate, which had hurled Denver from the heights into +the depths of dark despair, suddenly snatched him up out of the abyss +again and whisked him back to Globe. When he walked out of Moroni his +mind was a blank, so overcome was his body with heat and toil and the +astounding turns of his fortune; but at the next station below, as he +was trying to steal a ride, a man had dropped off the train and dragged +him, willy nilly, into his Pullman. It was a mining superintendent who +had seen him in action when he was timbering the Last Chance stope, and +in spite of his protests he paid his fare to Globe and put him to work +down a shaft. + +At the bottom of this shaft was millions of dollars worth of copper and +level after level of expensive workings; and some great stirring of the +earth was cutting it off, crushing the bottle off at the neck. Every +night, every shift, the swelling ground moved in, breaking stulls and +square-sets like tooth-picks; and now with solid steel and quick-setting +concrete they were fighting for the life of the mine. It was a dangerous +job, such as few men cared to tackle; but to Denver it was a relief, a +return to his old life after the delirium of an ugly dream. Even yet he +could not trace the flaw in his reasoning which had brought him to earth +with such a thump; but he knew, in general, that his error was the +common one of trying to run a mine on a shoestring. He had set up in +business as a mining magnate on eight hundred dollars and his nerve, and +Bible-Back Murray had busted him. + +Upon that point, at least, Denver suffered no delusion; he knew that his +downfall had been planned from the first and that he had bit like a +sucker at the bait. Murray had dropped a few words and spit on the hook +and Denver had shipped him his ore. The rest, of course, was like +shooting fish in the Pan-handle--he had refused to buy the ore, leaving +Denver belly-up, to float away with other human débris. But there was +one thing yet that he could not understand--why had Murray closed down +his own mine? That was pulling it pretty strong, just to freeze out a +little prospector and rob him of a ton or two of ore; and yet Denver had +proof that it was true. He had staked a hobo who had come over the trail +and the hobo had told him what he knew. The diamond drill camp was +closed down and all the men had left, but the guard was still herding +the property. And the hobo had seen a girl at Pinal. She was easy to +look at but hard to talk to, so he had passed and hit the trail for +Globe. + +Denver worked like a demon with a gang of Cousin Jacks, opposing the +swelling ground with lengths of railroad steel and pouring in the +concrete behind them; but all the time, by fits and snatches, the old +memories would press in upon him. He would think of Mother Trigedgo and +her glowing prophecies, which had turned out so wonderfully up to a +certain point and then had as suddenly gone wrong; and then he would +think of the beautiful artist with whom he was fated to fall in love, +and how, even there, his destiny had worked against him and led him to +sacrifice her love. For how could one hope to win the love of a woman if +he denied her his friendship first? And yet, if he accepted her as his +dearest friend, he would simply be inviting disaster. + +It was all wrong, all foolish--he dismissed it from his mind as unworthy +of a thinking man--yet the words of the prophecy popped up in his head +like the memories of some evil dream. His hopes of sudden riches were +blasted forever, he had given up the thought of Drusilla; but the one +sinister line recurred to him constantly--"at the hands of your dearest +friend." Never before in his life had he been without a pardner, to +share his ramblings and adventures, but now in that black hole with the +steel rails coming down and death on every hand, superstition +overmastered him and he rebuffed the hardy Cornishmen, refusing to take +any man for his friend. Nor would he return to Mother Trigedgo's +boarding house, for her prophecies had ruined his life. + +He worked on for a week, trying to set his mind at rest, and then a +prompting came over him suddenly to go back and see Drusilla. If death +must come, if some friend must kill him, in whose hands would he rather +entrust his life than in those of the woman he loved? Perhaps it was all +false, like the rest of the prophecy, the gold and silver treasures and +the rest; and if he was brave he might win her at last and have her for +more than a friend. But how could he face her, after all he had said, +after boasting as he had of his fortune? And he had refused her +friendship, when she had endeavored to comfort him and to exorcise this +fear-devil that pursued him. He went back to work, determined to forget +it all, but that evening he drew his time. It came to ninety dollars, +for seven shifts and over-time, and they offered him double to stay; but +the desire to see Drusilla had taken possession of him and he turned his +face towards Pinal. + +It was early in the morning when he rode out of Globe and took the trail +over the divide; and as he spurred up a hill he overtook another +horseman who looked back and grinned at him wisely. + +"Going to the strike?" he asked and Denver's heart leapt, though he kept +his quirt and spurs working. + +"What strike?" he said and the man burst into a laugh as if sensing a +hidden jest. + +"That's all right," he answered, "I guess you're hep--they say it runs +forty per cent copper." + +"How'd _you_ hear about it?" inquired Denver, fishing cautiously +for information. "Where you going--over to Pinal?" + +"You're whistling," returned the man, quite off his guard. "Say, stake +me a claim when you get there, if old Bible-Back hasn't jumped them +all." + +"Say, what are you talking about?" demanded Denver, suddenly reining in +his horse. "Is Murray jumping claims?" + +"Never mind!" replied the man, shutting up like a clam, and Denver +spurred on and left him. + +There was a strike then in Pinal, Old Murray had tapped the vein and it +ran up to forty per cent copper! That would make the claim that Denver +had abandoned the week before worth thousands and thousands of dollars. +It would make him rich and Bunker Hill rich and--yes, it would prove the +prophecy! He had chosen the silver treasure and the gold treasure had +been added to it--for the copper ore which had come in later was almost +the color of gold. As old Bunk had said, all these prophecies were +symbolical, and he had done Mother Trigedgo an injustice. And there was +one claim that he knew of--yes, and four others, too--that Murray would +never jump. That was his own Silver Treasure and the four claims of +Bunker's that he had done the annual work on himself. + +Denver's heart leapt again as he raced his horse across the flats and +led him scrambling with haste up the steep hills, and before the sun was +three hours high he had plunged into the box canyon of Queen Creek. Here +the trail wound in and out, crossing and recrossing the shrunken stream +and mounting with painful zigzags over the points; but he rioted through +it all, splashing the water out of the crossings as he hurried to claim +his own. The box canyon grew deeper, the walls more precipitous, the +creek bottom more dark and cavernous; until at last it opened out into +broad flats and boulder patches, thickly covered with alders and ash +trees. And then as he swung around the final, rocky point he saw his own +claim in the distance. It was nothing but a hole in the side of the +rocky hillside, a slide of gray waste down the slope; but to him it was +a beacon to light his home-coming, a proof that some dreams do come +true. He galloped down the trail where Drusilla and he had loitered and +let out an exultant whoop. + +But as Denver came opposite his mine a sinister thing happened--a head +rose up against the black darkness of the tunnel and a man looked +stealthily out. Then he drew back his head like some snake in a hole and +Denver stopped and stared. A low wall of rocks had been built across the +cut and the man was crouching behind it--Denver jogged down and turned +up the trail. A glimpse at Pinal showed the streets full of automobiles +and a huddle of men by the store door, and as he rode up towards his +mine Bunker Hill came running out and beckoned him frantically back. + +"Come back here!" he hollered and Denver turned and looked at him but +kept on up the narrow trail. The mine was his, without a doubt, both by +purchase and by assessment work done; and he had no fear of +dispossession by a jumper who was so obviously in the wrong. + +"Hello, there!" he hailed, reining in before the tunnel; and after a +minute the man rose up with his pistol poised over his shoulder. It was +Dave, Murray's gun-man, and at sight of his enemy Denver was swept with +a gust of passion. From the moment he had first met him, this +narrow-eyed, sneering bad-man had roused all the hate that was in him; +but now it had gone beyond instinct. He found him in adverse possession +of his property and with a gun raised ready to shoot. + +"What are _you_ doing here?" demanded Denver insolently but +Chatwourth did not move. He stood like a statue, his gun balanced in the +air, a thin, evil smile on his lips, and Denver gave way to his fury. +"You get out of there!" he ordered. "Get off my property! Get off or +I'll put you off!" + +Chatwourth twirled his gun in a contemptuous gesture; and then, like a +flash, he was shooting. He threw his shots low, between the legs of the +horse, which reared and whirled in a panic; and with the bang of the +heavy gun in his ears, Denver found himself headed down the trail. A +high derisive yell, a whoop of hectoring laughter, followed after him as +he galloped into the open; and he was fighting his horse in a cloud of +dust when Bunker Hill and the crowd came up. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE MAN-KILLER + + +"Did he hit ye?" yelled Bunker when Denver had conquered his pitching +horse and set him back on his haunches. "Hell's bells, boy, I told you +to stay out of there!" + +"Well, you lend me a gun!" shouted Denver in a fury, "and I'll go back +and shoot it out with that dastard! It's him or me--that's all!" + +"Here's a gun, pardner," volunteered a long-bearded prospector handing +up a six-shooter with tremulous eagerness; but Bunker Hill struck the +long pistol away and took Denver's horse by the bit. + +"Not by a jugful, old-timer," he said to the prospector. "Do you want to +get the kid killed? Come on back to the meeting and we'll frame up +something on these jumpers that'll make 'em hunt their holes. But this +boy here is my friend, understand?" + +He held the prancing horse, which had been spattered with glancing lead, +until Denver swung down out of the saddle; and then, while the crowd +followed along at their heels, he led the way back to the store. + +"What's going on here?" demanded Denver, looking about at the automobile +and the men who had popped up like magic, "has Murray made a strike?" + +"Danged right," answered Bunker, "he made a strike last month--and now +he has jumped all our claims. Or at least, it's his men, because Dave +there's the leader; but Murray claims they're working for themselves. +He's over at his camp with a big gang of miners, driving a tunnel in to +tap the deposit--it run forty per cent pure copper." + +"Well, we're made then," exulted Denver, "if we can get back our claims. +Come on, let's run these jumpers off!" + +"Yes, that's what _I_ said, a few hours ago," grumbled Bunker +biting savagely at his mustache, "and I never was so hacked in my life. +We went up to this Dave and all pulled our guns and ordered him out of +the district, and I'm a dadburned Mexican if he didn't pull _his_ +gun and run the whole bunch of us away. He's nervy, there's no use +talking; and I promised Mrs. Hill that I'd keep out of these shooting +affrays. By grab, it was downright disgraceful!" + +"That's all right," returned Denver, "he don't look bad to me. You just +lend me a gun and----" + +"He'll kill ye!" warned Bunker, "I know by his eye. He's a killer if +ever there was one. So don't go up against him unless you mean business, +because you can't run no blazer on _him_!" + +"Well--oh hell, then," burst out Denver, "what's the use of getting +killed! Isn't there anything else we can do? I don't need to eject him +because he's got no title, anyway. How about these lead-pencil fellows +that haven't done their work for years?" + +"That's it," explained Bunker, "we were having a meeting when we seen +you horn in on Dave. These gentlemen are all men that have held their +ground for years and it don't seem right they should lose it. At the +same time it'll take something more than a slap on the wrist to make +these blasted jumpers let go. They've staked all the good claims and are +up doing the work on them and the question is--what can we do?" + +"I'll tell you what I'll do," spoke up the old prospector vindictively +as the crowd surged into the store, "I'll get up on the Leap and shoot +down on them jumpers until I chase the last one of 'em off. They can't +run no rannikaboo on me!" + +He wagged his long beard and spat impressively but nobody paid any +attention to him. They realized at last that they were up against +gun-fighters--men picked for quick shooting and iron nerves and working +under the orders of one man. That man was Dave Chatwourth, nominally +dismissed by Murray but undoubtedly still in his pay, and until they +could devise some plan to eliminate him it was useless to talk of +violence. So they resumed their meeting and, as Denver owned a claim, he +found himself included in the membership. It was a belated revival of +the old-time Miners' Meeting, at one time the supreme law in Western +mining camps; and Bunker Hill, as Recorder of the district, presided +from his perch on the counter. + +From his seat in the corner Denver listened apathetically as the miners +argued and wrangled, and the longer they talked the more it became +apparent that nothing was going to be done. The encounter with Dave had +cooled their courage, and more and more the sentiment began to lean +towards an appeal to the power of the law. But then it came out that the +law was an instrument which might operate as a two-edged sword; for +possession, and diligence in working the claim, are the two big points +in mining law and just at that moment a legal decision would be all in +favor of the jumpers. And if Murray was behind them, as all the +circumstances seemed to indicate, he would hire the most expensive +lawyers in the country and fight the case to a finish. No, if anything +was to be done they must find out some other way, or they would be +playing right into his hands. + +"I'll tell you," proposed Bunker as the talk swung back to action, +"let's go back unarmed and talk to Dave again and find out what he +thinks he's doing. He can't hold Denver's claim, and those claims of +mine, because the work has just been done; and then, if we can talk him +into vacating our ground, maybe these other jaspers will quit." + +"I'll go you!" said Denver rising up impatiently, "and if he won't +vacate my claim I'll try some other means and see if we can't persuade +him." + +"That's the talk!" quavered the old prospector, slapping him heartily on +the back. "Lord love you, boy, if I was your age I'd be right up in +front there, shooting. Why, up in the Bradshaws in Seventy-three----" + +"Never mind what you'd do if you had the nerve," broke in Bunker Hill +sarcastically. "Just because you've got a claim that you'd like to get +back is no reason for stirring up trouble. No, I'm willing to go ahead +and do all the talking; but I want you to understand--this is +_peaceable_." + +"Well, all right," agreed the miners and, laying aside their pistols, +they started up the street for Denver's mine; but as Bunker led off a +voice called from the porch and his wife came hurrying after him. Behind +her followed Drusilla, reluctantly at first; but as her father kept on, +despite the entreaties of her mother, she ran up and caught him by the +sleeve. + +"No, don't go, father!" she cried appealingly and as Bunker replied with +an evasive laugh she turned her anger upon Denver. + +"Why don't you get back your own mine?" she demanded, "instead of +dragging my father into it?" + +"Never mind, now," protested Bunker, "we ain't going to have no +trouble--we just want to have a friendly talk. This has nothing to do +with Denver or his mine--all we want is a few words with Dave." + +"He'll shoot you!" she insisted. "Oh, I just know something will happen. +Well, all right, then; I'm going along too!" + +"Why, sure," smiled Bunker, "always glad to have company--but you'd +better stay back with your mother." + +"No, I'm going to stay right here," she answered stubbornly, giving +Denver a hateful glance, "because I don't believe a word you say." + +"Ve-ry well, my dear," responded Bunker indulgently and took her under +his arm. + +"I'm going ahead!" she burst out quickly as they came to the turn in the +trail; and before he could stop her she slipped out of his embrace and +went running to the entrance of the cut. But there she halted suddenly +and when they came up they found her pale and trembling. "Oh, go back!" +she gasped. "He's in there--he'll shoot you. I know something awful will +happen!" + +"You'd better go back, now," suggested her father quietly, and then he +turned to the barrier. "Don't start anything, Dave--we've come +peaceable, this time; so come out and let's have a talk." + +There was a long, tense silence and then the muzzle of a gun stirred +uneasily and revealed the hiding place of Dave. He was crouched behind +the rocks which he had piled up across the cut where it entered the +slope of the hill, and his long barrelled six-shooter was thrust out +through a crack just wide enough to serve for a loop-hole. + +"Don't want to talk," he answered at last. "So go on, now; get off of my +property." + +"Well, now listen," began Bunker shaking off Drusilla's grasp, "we +acknowledge we made a slight mistake. We tried to run a whizzer and you +called us good and plenty--all right then, now let's have a talk. If you +can show title to this ground you're holding, we'll leave you in +peaceful possession; and if you can't, you're just wasting your time and +talents, because there's plenty more claims that ain't took. It's a +cinch you can't hide in that hole forever, so you might as well have it +out now." + +"Well what d'ye want?" snarled Chatwourth irritably. "By cripes, I'll +kill the first man that comes a step nearer. I won't stand no +monkey-business from nobody." + +"Oh, sure, sure," soothed Bunker, "we know you're the goods--nerviest +gun-man, I believe, I ever saw. But here's the proposition, you ain't +here for your health, you must figure on making a winning somehow. Well, +if your title's good you've got a good mine, but if it ain't you're out +of luck. Now I sold this claim for five hundred dollars to Mr. Russell, +that you met a while ago; and we think it belongs to him yet. I gave him +a clear title and he's done his work, so----" + +"Your title was no good!" contradicted Chatwourth from his rock pile, +"you hadn't done your work for years. I've located this claim and the +man don't live----" + +"That's all right!" spoke up Denver, "but I located it before you did. I +didn't _buy_ this claim. I paid for a quit-claim and then relocated +it myself--and my papers are on record in Moroni." + +"Who called you in on this?" burst out Chatwourth abusively, rising up +with his gun poised to shoot. "Now you git, dam' your heart, and if you +say another word----" + +"You don't dare to shoot me!" answered Denver in a passion, standing +firm as the crowd surged back. "I'm unarmed, and you don't dare to shoot +me!" + +"Here, here!" exclaimed Bunker grabbing hastily at Denver's arm but +Denver struck him roughly aside. + +"Never mind, now," he said, "just get those folks away--I don't want any +of my friends to get hurt. But I'll tell you right now, either I throw +that man out or he'll have to shoot me down in cold blood." + +He backed away panting and the miners ran for cover, but Bunker Hill +held his ground. + +"No, now listen, Denver," he admonished gently, "you don't know what +you're doing. This man will kill you, as sure as hell." + +"He will not!" cried Denver grabbing up a heavy stone and advancing on +the barricade, "I'm destined to be killed by my dearest friend--that's +what old Mother Trigedgo told me! But this bastard ain't my friend and +never was----" + +He paused, for Chatwourth's gun came down and pointed straight at his +heart. + +"Stand back!" he shrilled and Denver leapt forward, hurling the rock +with all his strength. Then he plunged through the smoke, swinging his +arms out to clutch, and as he crashed through the barrier he stumbled +over something that he turned back and pounced on like a cat. It was +Chatwourth, but his body was limp and senseless--the stone had struck +him in the head. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +JUMPERS AND TENORS + + +They led Denver away as if he were a child, for the revulsion from his +anger had left him weak; but Chatwourth, the killer, was carried back to +town with his head lolling forward like a dead man's. The smash of the +stone had caught him full on the forehead, which sloped back like the +skull of a panther; and the blood, oozing down from his lacerated scalp, +made him look more murderous than ever. But his hard, fighting jaw was +hanging slack now and his dangerous eyes were closed; and the miners, +while they carried him with a proper show of solicitude, chuckled and +muttered among themselves. In a way which was nothing short of +miraculous Denver Russell had walked in on Murray's boss jumper and +knocked him on the head with a rock--and the shot which Chatwourth had +fired in return had never so much as touched him. + +They put Chatwourth in an automobile and sent him over to Murray's camp; +and then with broad smiles they gathered about Denver and took turns in +slapping him on the back. He was a wonder, a terror, a proper fighting +fool, the kind that would charge into hell itself with nothing but a +bucket of water; and would he mind, when he felt a little stronger, just +walking with them to their claims? Just a little, friendly jaunt, as one +friend with another; but if Murray's hired junipers saw him coming up +the trail that was all that would be required. They would go, and be +quick about it, for they had been watching from afar and had seen what +happened to Dave--but Denver brushed them aside and went up to his cave +where he could be by himself and think. + +If he had ever doubted the virtue of Mother Trigedgo's prophecy he put +the unworthy thought behind him. He knew it now, knew it +absolutely--every word of the prophecy was true. He had staked his life +to prove the blackest line of it, and Chatwourth's bullet had been +turned aside. No, the silver treasure was his, and the golden treasure +also, and no man but his best friend could kill him; but the beautiful +artist with whom he had fallen in love--would she now confer her hand +upon another? He had come back to Pinal to set the prophecy at defiance +and ask her to be his dearest friend; but now, well, perhaps it would be +just as well to stick to the letter of his horoscope. "Beware how you +reveal your affections," it said--and he had been rushing back to tell +her! And besides, she had met his advances despitefully, and practically +called him a coward. Denver brushed off the dust from his shiny +phonograph and put on the "Anvil Chorus." + +The next morning, early, he was up at his mine, with Chatwourth's gun +slung low on his leg; and while he remained there, to defend it against +all comers, he held an impromptu reception. There was a rush of miners, +to look at the mine and inspect the specimens of copper; and then +shoestring promoters began to arrive, with proposals to stock the +property. The Professor came up, his eyes staring and resentful; and old +Bunker, overflowing with good humor; and at last, when nobody else was +there, Drusilla walked by on the trail. She glanced up at him hopefully; +then, finding no response, she heaved a great sigh and turned up his +path to have it over and done with. + +"Well," she said, "I suppose you despise me, but I'm sorry--that's all I +can say. And now that I know all about your horoscope I don't blame you +for treating me so rudely. That is, I don't blame you so much. But don't +you think, Denver, when you went away and left me, you might have +written back? We'd always been such friends." + +She checked herself at the word, then smiled a sad smile and waited to +hear what he would say. And Denver, in turn, checked what was on his +lips and responded with a solemn nod. It had come to him suddenly to +rise up and clasp her hands and whisper that he'd take a chance on it, +yet--that is, if they could still be friends--but the significance of +the prophecy had been proved only yesterday, and miracles can happen +both ways. The same fate, the same destiny, which had fended off the +bullet when Chatwourth had aimed at his heart, might turn the merest +accident to the opposite purpose and make Drusilla his unwilling slayer. + +"Yes," he said, apropos of nothing, "you see now how I'm fixed. Don't +dare to have any friends." + +"No, but Denver," she pouted, "you might say you were sorry--that's +different from being friends. But after we'd been so--oh, do you believe +all that? Do you believe you'll be killed by your dearest friend, and +that nobody else can harm you? Because that, you know, is just +superstition; it's just like the ancient Greeks when they consulted the +oracle, and the Indians, and Italians and such people. But educated +people----" + +"What's the matter with the Greeks?" spoke up Denver contentiously. "Do +you mean to say they were ignorant? Well, I talked with an old-timer--he +was a Professor in some university--and he said it would take us a +thousand years before we even caught up with them. Do you think that I'm +superstitious? Well, listen to this, now; here's one that he told me, +and it comes from a famous Greek play. There was a woman back in Greece +that was like Mother Trigedgo, and she prophesied, before a man was +born, that he'd kill his own father and marry his own mother. What do +you think of that, now? His father was a king and didn't want to kill +him, so when he was born he pierced his feet and put him out on a cliff +to die. But a shepherd came along and found this baby and named him +Edipus, which means swelled feet; and when the kid grew up he was +walking along a narrow pass when he met his father in disguise. They got +into a quarrel over who should turn out and Epidus killed his father. +Then he went on to the city where his mother was queen and there was a +big bird, the Sphinx, that used to come there regular and ask those +folks a riddle: What is it that is four-footed, three-footed and +two-footed? And every time when they failed to give the answer the +Sphinx would take one of them to eat. Well, the queen had said that +whoever guessed that riddle could be king and have her for his wife, and +Epidus guessed the answer. It's a _man_, you see, that crawls when +he is a baby, stands on two legs when he's grown and walks with a cane +when he is old. Epidus married the queen, but when he found out what +he'd done he went mad and put his own eyes out. But don't you see he +couldn't escape it." + +"No, but listen," she smiled, "that was just a legend, and the Greeks +made it into a play. It was just like the German stories of Thor and the +Norse gods that Wagner used in his operas. They're wonderful, and all +that, but folks don't take them seriously. They're just--why, they're +fairy tales." + +"Well, all right," grumbled Denver, "I expect you think I am crazy, but +what about Mother Trigedgo? Didn't she send me over here to find this +mine? And wasn't it right where she told me? Doesn't it lie within the +shadow of a place of death, and wasn't the gold added to it?" + +"Why, no!" exclaimed Drusilla, "did you find the gold, too? I +thought----" + +"That referred to the copper," answered Denver soberly. "It was your +father that gave me the tip. When I first came over here I was inquiring +for gold, because I knew I had to make a choice; but he pointed out to +me that these horoscopes are symbolical and that the golden treasure +might be copper. It looks a whole lot like gold, you know; and now just +look what happened! I chose the silver, see--I chose the right +treasure--and when I drifted in, this vein of chalcopyrites appeared and +was added to the silver. It followed along in the hanging wall until the +whole formation dipped and then----" + +"Oh, I don't care about that!" burst out Drusilla fretfully, "it's easy +to explain anything, afterwards! But of course if you think more of gold +and silver than you do of having me for a friend----" + +"But I don't," interposed Denver, gently taking her hand. "Sit down here +and let's talk this over." + +"Well," sighed Drusilla and then, winking back the tears, she sank down +in the shade beside him. + +"I don't want you to think," went on Denver tenderly, without weighing +very carefully what he said, "I don't want you to think I don't like +you, because--say, if you'll kiss me, I'll take a chance." + +"Oh--would you?" she beamed her eyes big with wonder, "would you take a +chance on my killing you?" + +"If it struck me dead!" declared Denver gallantly, but she did not yield +the kiss. + +"No," she said, "I don't believe in kisses--have you kissed other girls +before? And besides, I just wanted to be friends again, the way we were +before." + +"Well, I guess you don't want to be friends very bad," observed Denver +with a disgruntled smile. "When do you expect to start for the East?" + +"Pretty soon," she answered. "Will you be sorry?" + +Denver shrugged his shoulders and began snapping pebbles at an ant. + +"Sure," he said and she drew away from him. + +"You won't!" she burst out resentfully. + +"Yes, I'll be sorry," he repeated, "but it won't make much difference--I +don't expect to last very long. I've always had a pardner, some feller +to ramble around with and borrow all my money when he was broke, and I'm +getting awful lonesome without one. Sooner or later, I reckon, I'll pick +up another one and the crazy danged fool will kill me. Drop a timber +hook on my head or some stunt like that--I wish I'd never seen old +Mother Trigedgo! What you don't know never hurt anyone; but now, by +grab, I'm afraid of every man I throw in with. For the time being, at +least, he's the best friend I've got; and--oh, what's the use, anyway, +it'll get you, sooner or later--I might as well go out like a sport." + +"You were awful brave," she murmured admiringly, "when you fought with +Mr. Chatwourth yesterday. Weren't you honestly afraid he would kill +you?" + +"No, I wasn't!" declared Denver. "He didn't look bad to me--don't now +and never did--and as long as the cards are coming my way I don't let no +alleged bad-man run it over me. Here's the gun that I took away from +him." + +"Yes, I noticed it," she said. "But when he comes back for it are you +going to give it up?" + +"Sure," answered Denver, "just show me a rock-pile and I'll run him out +of town like a rabbit." + +"And you fought him with _rocks_!" she said half to herself, "I +wish I were as brave as that." + +"Well, it's all in your mind," expounded Denver. "Some people are afraid +to crack an egg but I'm game to try anything once." + +"So am I!" she defended looking him boldly in the eye but he shook his +head and smiled. + +"Nope," he said, "you don't believe in kisses. But I was willing to take +a chance on getting killed." + +"No," she said, "a kiss means more than that. It means--well, it means +that you love someone." + +"It means what you want it to mean," he corrected. "Don't you have to +kiss the tenor in these operas?" + +"Well that's different," she responded blushing. "That's why I'm afraid +I'll never succeed! Of course we're taught to do stage kisses, but +somehow I can't bring myself to it. But oh, I do so love to sing! I like +it all, except just that part of it--and the singers are not all nice +men. Some of them just make a business of flattering pretty girls and +offering to get them a hearing. That's why some girls succeed and get +such big parts--they have an understanding with someone that can use his +influence with the directors. They don't take the best singers and +actors at all, it's all done by intrigue and money. Oh, I wish some real +_nice_ man would start a new company and invite me to take a part. +I've heard one was being organized--a traveling company that will sing +in all the big cities--and I've written to my music teacher about it. +But if I don't get some position my money will all be gone in no time +and then--well, what will I do?" + +She looked at him bravely and he saw in her eyes the calmness that goes +with desperation. + +"You write to me," he said, "and I'll send you the last dollar I've +got." + +"No, I didn't mean that," she replied, "I can earn my living at +something. But father and mother have spent all their money in training +me to be a great singer and I just can't bear to disappoint them. It's +cost ten thousand dollars to bring me where I am, and this five hundred +dollars is nothing. Why the great vocal teachers, who can use their +influence to get their pupils a hearing, charge ten dollars for a +half-hour lesson; and if I don't go to them then every door is +closed--unless I'm willing to pay the price." + +"Well, I take it all back then," spoke up Denver at last, "there are +different kinds of bravery. But you go on back there and do your best +and maybe we can make a raise. I'll just take my gun and go up to your +father's claims and jump out that bunch of bad-men----" + +"No! No, Denver!" she broke in very earnestly, "I don't want you to do +that again. I heard last night that Dave said he would get you--and if +he did, why then I'd be to blame. You'd be doing it for me, and if one +of those men killed you--well, it would be just the same as me." + +"Nope!" denied Denver, "there was no figure of speech about that. It +said: 'at the _hands_ of your dearest friend.' These jumpers ain't +my friends and never was--come on, let's take a chance. I'll run 'em off +the claims if your father will give you half of 'em, and then you can +turn around and sell out for cash and go back to New York like a queen. +You stand off the tenors and I'll stand off the jumpers; and then, +perhaps--but we won't talk about that now. Come on, will you shake hands +on the deal?" + +She looked at him questioningly, his powerful hand reached out to help +her, the old, boyish laughter in his eyes, and then she smiled back as +bravely. + +"All right," she said, "but you'll have to be careful--because now I'm +your dearest friend." + +"I'm game," he cried, "and you don't have to kiss me either. But if some +Dago tenor----" + +"No," she promised looking up at him wistfully. "I'll--I'll save the +kiss for you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +BROKE AGAIN + + +The industry of four jumpers, digging in like gophers on the best of +Bunker Hill's claims, was brought to an abrupt termination by the +appearance of one man with a gun. He came on unconcernedly, Dave's +six-shooter at his hip and the strength of a lion in his stride; and the +first of the gun-men, after looking him over, jumped out of his hole and +made off. Denver tore down his notice and posted the old one, with a +copy of his original affidavit that the annual work had been done; and +when he toiled up to the remaining three claims the jumpers had fled +before him. They knew him all too well, and the gun at his hip; and they +counted it no disgrace to give way before the man who had conquered Dave +Chatwourth with rocks. So Denver changed the notices and came back +laughing and Bunker Hill made over the claims. + +"Denver," he said clasping him warmly by the hand, "I swow, you're the +best danged friend I've got. For the last time, now, will you come to +dinner?" + +"Sure," grinned Denver, "but cut out that 'friend' talk. It makes me +kind of nervous." + +"I'll do it!" promised Bunker, "I'll do anything you ask me. You saved +my bacon on them claims. That snooping Dutch Professor tipped them +jumpers off that I'd promised my wife not to shoot, but I guess when +they see you come rambling up the gulch they begin to feel like Davey +Crockett's coon. + +"'Don't shoot, Davey,' he says, 'I know you'll get me.' And he came +right down off the limb." Old Bunker laughed uproariously and slapped +Denver on the back, after which he took him over to the house and +announced a guest for dinner. + +"Sit down, boy, sit down," he insisted hospitably as Denver spoke of +going home to dress, "you're company just the way you are. As Lord +Chesterfield says: 'A clean shirt is half of full dress.' And a pair of +overalls, I reckon, is the rest of it. Say, did you hear what Murray +said when we took Dave over there, looking like something that the cat +had brought in? + +"'My Gawd,' he says, 'what has happened to the _mine_?' + +"That was something like a deacon that I worked for one time when he was +fixing to paint his barn. He slung a ladder on an old, rotten rope and +sent me up on it to work and about half an hour afterwards the rope gave +way and dropped me, ladder and all, to the ground. The deacon was at the +house when he heard the crash and he came running with his coat-tails +straight out. + +"'Goodness gracious!' he hollered, 'did you spill the paint?' + +"'No,' I says, 'but I will!' And I kicked all his paint-cans over. + +"Well, old Murray is like that deacon; you touch his pocket and you +touch his heart--he's always thinking about money. He'd been planning +for months to slip in and jump these claims and here you come along and +do the assessment work and knock him out of five of 'em. The boys say +he's sure got blood in his eye and is cussing you out a blue streak. +That's a nice gun you got off of Dave--how many notches has it got on +the butt? Only three, eh? Well, say, if he ever sends over to ask for it +I've got another one that I'll loan you. You want to go heeled, +understand? Murray's busy right now bossing those three shifts of miners +that are driving that adit tunnel, but when he gets the time he'll leave +his glass eye on a fence post and come over to see what we're doing. +Didn't you ever hear about Murray's glass eye? + +"Well, they say he lost his good one looking for a dollar that he +dropped; but here's the big joke about the fence-post. He got his start +down in the valley, raising alfalfa and feeding stock, and he always +hired Indians whenever he could because they spent all their time-checks +at the store. A Mexican or a white man might hold out a few dollars, or +spend the whole wad for booze; but Indians are barred from getting drunk +and they've only got one use for money. Yes, they believe it was made to +spend, not to bury alongside of some fence-post. And speaking of +fence-posts brings me back to the point--Old Murray had a bunch of big, +lazy Apaches working by the day cleaning out a ditch. He was down there +at daylight and watched 'em like a hawk, but every time he'd go into +town the whole bunch would sit down for a talk. Well, he _had_ to +go to town so one day he called 'em up and made 'em a little talk. + +"'Boys,' he says, 'I've got to go to town but I'm going to watch you, +all the same. Sure thing, now,' he says, 'you can laugh all you want to, +but I'll see everything that you do.' Then he took out his glass eye and +set it on a fence-post where it looked right down the ditch, and started +off for town. You know these Apaches--superstitious as hell--they got in +and worked like niggers. Kinder scared 'em, you see, ain't used to glass +eyes; but there was one old boy that was foxy. He dropped down in the +ditch where the eye wouldn't see him and crept up behind that fence-post +like a snake, and then he picked up an empty tin can and slapped it down +over the eye. There was a boy over at the ranch that saw the whole +business and he says them Indians never did a lick of work till they saw +Bible-Back's dust down the road. Pretty slick, eh, for an Indian? And +some people will try to tell you that the untutored savage can't think. + +"Well, that's the kind of an hombre that we're up against--he'd skin a +flea for his hide and taller. As old Spud Murphy used to say, he'd rob a +poor tumble-bug of his ball of manure and put him on the wrong road +home. He's mean, and it sure hurt his feelings to have you hop in and +win back your mine. And knocking Dave on the head took the pip out of +these other jumpers--I'm looking for the whole bunch to fade." + +"Well, they might as well," said Denver, "because their claims are not +worth fighting for and there's a Miners' Committee going to call on 'em. +I'm going along myself in an advisory capacity, and my advice will be to +beat it. And if you'll take a tip from me you'll hire a couple of miners +and put them to work on your claims." + +"I'll do it to-morrow," agreed Bunker enthusiastically. "I've got a +couple of nibbles from some real mining men--not some of these little, +one-candle power promoters but the kind that pay with certified +checks--and if I can open up those claims and just get a color of copper +I'm fixed, boy, that's all there is to it. Come on now, let's go in to +dinner." + +The memory of that dinner, and of the music that followed it, remained +long in Denver's mind; and later in the evening, when the lights were +low and her parents had gone to their rest, Drusilla sang the +"Barcarolle" from Hoffmann. She sang it very softly, so as not to +disturb them, but the look in her eyes recalled something to Denver and +as he was leaving he asked her a question. It was not if she loved him, +for that would be unfair and might spoil an otherwise perfect evening; +but he had been wondering as he listened whether she had not seen him +that first time--when he had slipped down and listened from the shadows. + +And when he asked her she smiled up at him tremulously and nodded her +head very slowly; and then she whispered that she had always loved him +for it, just for listening and going away. She had been downcast that +night but his presence had been a comfort--it had persuaded her at last +that she could sing. She had sung the "Barcarolle" again, on that other +night, when he had stepped out so boldly from the shadows; but it was +the first time that she loved him for it, when he was still a total +stranger and had come just to hear her sing. There was more that she +said to him and when he had to go she smiled again and gave him her +hand, but he did not suggest a kiss. She was keeping that for him, until +she had been to New York and run the gauntlet of the tenors. + +This was the high spot in Denver's life, when he had stood upon +Parnassus and beheld everything that was good and beautiful; but in the +morning he put on his old digging clothes again and went to work in the +mine. He had seen her and it was enough; now to break out the ore and +win her for his own. For he was poor, and she was poor, and how could +she succeed without money? But if he could open up his mine and block +out a great ore body then her claims and Bunker's, that touched it on +both sides, would take on a speculative value. They could be sold for +cash and she could go East in style, to take lessons from the ten-dollar +teacher who had influence with directors and impresarios. Denver put in +a round of holes and blasted his way into the mountain; but as he came +out in the evening, dirty and grimed and pale from powder sickness, +Drusilla paled too and almost shrank away. She had strolled up before, +only to hear the clank of his steel and the muffled thud of his blows; +and now as she stood waiting, attired as daintily as a bride, the +dream-hero of her memories was banished. He was a miner again, a sweaty, +toiling animal, dead to all the finer things of life; but if Denver read +her thoughts he did not notice, for he remembered what Mother Trigedgo +had told him. + +Two weeks passed by and Labor Day came near, when all the hardy miners +foregathered in Globe and Miami and engaged in the sports of their kind. +A circular came to Denver, announcing the drilling contests and giving +his name as one of the contestants; then a personal letter from the +Committee on Arrangements, requesting him to send in his entry; and at +last there came a messenger, a good hard-rock man named Owen, to suggest +that they go in together. But Denver was driving himself to the limit, +blasting out ore that grew richer each day; and at thought of Bible-Back +Murray, waiting to pounce upon his mine, he sent back a reluctant +refusal. Yet they published his name, with the partner's place left +vacant, and advertised that he would participate; for on the Fourth of +July, with Slogger Meacham for a partner, he had won the title of +champion. + +The decision to go was forced upon him suddenly on the day before the +event, though he had almost lost track of time. Every morning at +day-break he had been up and cooking, after breakfast he had gone to the +mine; and, between mucking out the tunnel and putting in new shots, the +weeks had passed like days. But when he went to Bunker on the eighth of +September and asked for a little more powder Bunker took him to the +powder-house and showed him a space where the boxes of dynamite had +been. Then he took him behind the counter and showed him the money-till +and Denver awoke from his dream. + +In spite of the stampede and the activity all about them the whole Pinal +district was not producing a cent, and would not for months to come. +Every dollar that was spent there had to come in from the outside, and +the men who held the claims were all poor. Even after driving off the +jumpers and regaining their lost claims the majority had gone home after +merely scratching up their old dumps in a vain pretense at doing the +assessment work. + +The promoters were not buying, they were simply taking options and +waiting on Murray's tunnel; and until he drove in and actually tapped +the copper ore there would be no steady boom. He had organized a company +and was selling a world of stock, even using it to pay off his men: and +it was whispered about that his strike was a fake, for he still refused +to exhibit the drill cores. But whether his strike was a bona fide +discovery or merely a ruse to sell stock, the fact could not be blinked +that Denver and Bunker Hill had reached the end of their rope. They were +broke again and Denver set out for Globe, leaving Bunker to hold down +his claim. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE ROCK-DRILLING CONTEST + + +The main street of Globe was swarming with men, from the court-house +square down past the viaduct to where the Bohunks dwelt. And the men +were all miners, deep-chested and square-shouldered, but white from +working underground. They were gathered in knots before the soft-drink +emporiums that before had all been saloons and as Denver rode in they +shouted a hoarse welcome and followed on to Miners' Hall. There the +Committee of Arrangements was sitting in state but when Denver strode in +a huge form bulked up before him and Slogger Meacham grinned at him +evilly. Two months before, on the Fourth of July, they had been partners +in the winning team; but now Meacham had taken on with a Cornishman from +Miami and they counted the money as good as won. + +"What are you doing here?" demanded the Slogger insolently, "do you +think you're going to compete?" + +"Danged right I am, if the judges will let me," answered Denver shoving +resolutely past; and at sight of their lost champion the committee +brightened up, though they glanced at each other anxiously. But what +they wanted was a contest, something that would bring out the crowd and +make the great day a success, and they waited upon Denver expectantly. + +"Well, here's where you get left then," spoke up Meacham with a sneer, +"the entries were closed at noon." + +"Oh, hell!" cursed Denver and was turning to go when the chairman called +him back. + +"Just a minute," he said, "didn't you send in your entry? I believe +we've got it here, somewhere." He began to fumble industriously through +a pile of papers and Denver caught his breath. For a moment he had seen +his dreams brought to nothing, his last chance at the prize-money gone; +but at this tentative suggestion on the part of the chairman he suddenly +took heart of grace. They wanted him to compete, it had been advertised +in all the papers, and they were willing to meet him half-way. But +Denver was no liar, he shook his head and sighed, then turned back at a +sudden thought. + +"Maybe Tom Owen made the entry?" he burst out eagerly, "he was over to +see me, you know." + +"That was it!" exclaimed the chairman as if clutching at a straw, "say, +where is that blank of theirs, Joe?" + +"Search me," answered Joe, "it's around here, somewhere. Oh, I know!" +And he went out into the back room. "Ain't this it?" he inquired +returning with a paper and the chairman snatched it away from him. + +"Yes," he said, "how'd it get out there? Well, no matter--that's all +right, Mr. Russell!" + +"No it ain't!" blurted out Meacham making a grab for the paper; but the +chairman struck away his hand. + +"You keep out of this!" he said. "What d'ye think you're trying to do? +You keep out or I'll put you out!" + +"It's a flim-flam!" raged Meacham, "you're trying to job me. He never +made no entry." + +"I never claimed to," retorted Denver boldly and Meacham turned on him, +his pig eyes blazing with fury. + +"I'll fix you, for this!" he burst out hoarsely, "I'll get you if I have +to kill you. You robbed me once, but you won't do it again; so I give +you fair warning--pull out!" + +"You robbed _me_!" came back Denver, "and these boys all know it. +But I fought you fair for the whole danged roll----" + +"You did naht!" howled Meacham, "you had a feller with ye----" + +"Well, I'll fight you right now, then," volunteered Denver +accommodatingly but the Slogger did not put up his hands. + +"That's all right," he said backing sullenly away, "but remember what I +told you--I'll git ye!" + +"You'll git nothing!" returned Denver and laughed him out the door, +though there were others who muttered warnings in his ears. Slogger +Meacham was a fighter as well as a driller and his flight with the +prize-money was not the first time that he had lapsed from the ways of +strict rectitude. He had killed a man during the riots at Goldfield and +had been involved in several ugly brawls; but his record as a bad man +did not deter Denver from opposing him and he went out to hunt up Owen. + +Tom Owen was a good man, and he was also a good driller, but there was +one thing that Denver held against him--he had been a drinking man when +Arizona was wet. And a man who has drunk, no matter when, is never quite +the same in a contest. He has lost that narrow margin of vital force, +those last few ounces of strength and stamina which win or lose at the +finish. Yet even at that he was a better man than Meacham, who had laid +down like a yellow dog. Denver remembered that too and when he found his +man he told him they were due to win. Then he borrowed some drills and a +pair of eight-pound hammers and they went through a try-out together. +Owen was quick and strong, he made the changes like lightning and struck +a heavy blow; but when it was over and he was rolling a cigarette Denver +noticed that his hand was trembling. The strain of smashing blows had +over-taxed his nerves, though they had worked but three or four minutes. + +"Well, do the best you can," said Denver at last, "and for cripes sake, +keep away from this boot-leg." + +There was plenty of it in town on this festive occasion, a +nerve-shattering mixture that came in from New Mexico and had a kick +like a mule. It was circulating about in hip pockets and suit-cases and +in automobiles with false-bottomed seats, and Denver knew too well from +past experience what the temptation was likely to be; yet for all his +admonitions when he met Owen in the morning he caught the bouquet of +whisky. It was disguised with sen-sen and he pretended not to notice it +but his hopes of first money began to wane. They went out again to the +backyard of an old saloon where a great block of granite was embedded +and while their admirers looked on they practiced their turn, for they +had never worked together. A Cornish miner, a champion in his day, +volunteered to be their coach and at each call of: "Change!" they +shifted from drill to hammer without breaking the rhythm of their +stroke. + +"You'll win, lads," said the Cornishman, patting them affectionately on +the back and Denver led them off for their rub-down. + +The band began to play in the street below and the Miners' Union marched +past, after which they banked in about a huge block of granite and the +drilling contests began. The drilling rock was placed on a platform of +heavy timbers at the lower side of the court-house square, and the slope +above it and the windows of all the buildings were crowded with shouting +miners. First the men who were to compete in the single-jack contests +mounted the platform one by one; and the sharp, _peck_, +_peck_, of their hammers made music that the miners knew well. +Then, as their holes were cleaned out and the depth of each measured, +the first team of double-jackers climbed up to the platform amid the +frantic plaudits of the crowd. The announcer introduced them, they laid +out their drills and the hammer-man poised his double-jack; then at the +word from the umpire they leapt into action, striking and turning like +men gone mad. + +There were five teams entered, of which Denver's was the last, but when +Meacham and his partner were announced as the next contestants his +impatience would not brook further delay. With his own precious drills +tied securely in a bundle and Owen and the coach behind him he fought +his way to the base of the platform and sat down where he could watch +every blow. They came on together, a team hard to match; Meacham +stripped to the waist, his ponderous head thrust forward, the muscles +swelling to great knots in his arms. His partner wore the heavy, yellow +undershirt of a miner, his trousers draped low on his hips; and to hold +them up he had a strand of black fuse twisted loosely in place of a +belt. He was a hard, hairy man, with grim, deep-set eyes and a jaw that +jutted out like a crag and as he raised his hammer to strike Denver saw +that he was out to win. + +"Go!" called the umpire and the hammer smote the drill-head till it made +the blue granite smoke; and then for thirty seconds he flailed away +while Slogger Meacham turned the short starter-drill. + +"Change!" called their coach and with a single swoop Meacham flung his +drill back into the crowd and caught up his hammer to strike. His +partner dropped his hammer and chucked in a fresh drill--_smash_, +the hammer struck it into the rock--and so they turned and struck while +the ramping miners below them looked on in envious amazement. As each +drill was thrown out it was brought back from where it fell and examined +by the quick-eyed coach, and as he called off the half minutes he +announced their probable depth as indicated by the mud marks on the +drills. Across the block from the two drillers knelt a man with a rubber +tube who poured water into the churning hole; and at each blow of the +hammer the gray mud leapt up, splashing turner and hammer-man alike. + +At the end of five minutes they were down fifteen inches, at ten they +still held their pace; but as Denver glanced doubtfully at his coach and +Owen the sound of the drilling changed. There was a grating noise, a +curse from the turner, and as he flung out the drill and thrust in +another a murmur went up from the crowd. They had broken the bit from +the brittle edge of their drill and the new drill was grinding away on +the fragment, which dulled the keen edge of the steel. The quick ears of +the miners could sense the different sound as the drill champed the +fragment to pieces, and when the next change was made the mud-marks on +the drill showed that over an inch had been lost. A team working at top +speed averaged three inches to the minute, driving down through hard +Gunnison granite; but Meacham and his partner had lost their fast start +and they had yet four minutes to go. The tall Cornishman's eyes +gleamed--he struck harder than ever--but Meacham had begun to lose +heart. The accident upset him, and the grate of the broken steel as the +drill bit down on chance fragments; and as his coach urged him on he +glanced up from his turning with a look that Denver knew well. It was +the old pig-eyed glare, the look of unreasoning resentment, that he had +seen on the Fourth of July. + +"He's quitting," chuckled Owen when Meacham rose to strike; but when the +hole was measured it came to forty-three and fifteen-sixteenths of an +inch. The big Cornishman had done it in spite of his partner, he had +refused to accept defeat; and now, with only two more teams to compete, +they led by nearly an inch. + +"You can beat it!" cried Denver's coach, "I've done better than that +myself! Forty-four! You can make forty-six!" + +"I'm game," answered Denver, "but it takes two to win. Do you think you +can stick it out, Tom?" + +"I'll be up there, trying," returned Owen grimly and Denver nodded to +the coach. + +The next team did no better, for it is a heart-breaking test and the sun +was getting hot, and when Denver and Owen mounted up on the platform a +hush fell upon the crowd. Denver Russell they knew, but Owen was a new +man; and a drilling contest is won on pure nerve. Would he crack, like +Meacham, as the end approached, or would he stand up to the punishment? +They looked on in silence as Denver spread out his drills--a full +twenty, oil-tempered, of the best Norway steel, each narrower by a hair +than its predecessor. The starter was short and heavy, with an +inch-and-a-quarter bit; and the last long drill had a seven-eighths bit, +which would just cut a one-inch hole. They were the best that money +could buy and a famous tool-sharpener in Miami had tempered their edges +to perfection. Denver picked up his starter, all the officials left the +platform, and Owen raised his hammer. + +"Are the drillers ready?" challenged the umpire. "Then _go_!" he +shouted, and the double-jack descended with a smash. For thirty seconds +while the drill leapt and bounded, Denver held it firmly in its place, +and at the call of "Change!" he chucked it over his shoulder and swung +his own hammer in the air. Owen popped in a new drill, the hammer struck +it squarely and the crowd set up a cheer. Denver was working hard, +striking faster than his partner; and in every stroke there was a +smashing enthusiasm, a romping joy in the work, that won the hearts of +the miners. He was what they had been before drink and bad air had +sapped the first freshness of their strength, or dust and hot stopes had +broken their wind, or accidents had crippled them up--he was a miner, +young and hardy, putting his body behind each blow yet striking like a +tireless automaton. + +"Change!" cried the coach, his voice ringing with pride; and as the +drill came flying back he shouted out the depth which was better than +three inches for the minute. At five minutes it was sixteen, at ten, +thirty-three; but at eleven the pace slackened off and at twelve they +had lost an inch. Tom Owen was weakening, in spite of his nerve, in +spite of his dogged persistence; he struck the same, but his blows had +lost their drive, the drill did not bite so deep. At every stroke, as +Denver twisted the long drill loose and turned it by so much in the +hole, he raised it up and struck it against the bottom, to add to the +weight of the blows. The mud and muck from the hole splashed up into his +face and painted his body a dull gray, but at thirteen minutes they had +lost their lead and Tom Owen was striking wild. Then he missed the steel +and a great voice rose up in mocking, stentorian laughter. + +"Ho! Ho!" it roared, and Denver knew it well--it was Slogger Meacham, +exulting. + +"Here--you turn!" he said flinging out his drill, and as Owen sank down +on his knees by the hole Denver caught up his double-jack and struck. +For a half minute, a minute, he flailed away at the steel; while Owen, +his shoulders heaving, turned the drill like clock-work and gasped to +win back his strength. + +"Thirteen and a half!" announced the coach at last and then he shouted: +"Change!" + +"No--_turn_!" panted Denver, never missing a stroke; and Owen sank +back to his place by the hole while the battery of blows kept on. + +"Fourteen!" proclaimed the coach, "you're about an inch behind. How +about it--do you want to change?" + +"No--turn!" choked Denver. "I'll finish it--_turn_!" And as Owen +straightened his back Denver struck like a mad-man while the sweat +poured down in a shower. The official umpire leapt up on the platform to +toll off the last sixty seconds, but the rise and fall of Denver's body +was faster by far than his count. A frenzy seemed to seize him as the +half minute was called and Owen slipped in their last drill; and with +hoarse, coughing grunts he smashed it deeper and deeper while the miners +surged forward with a cheer. + +"Fifty-eight--fifty-nine--_sixty_!" cried the umpire, slapping him +sharply on the back to stop, and Denver fell like dead across the stone. +His great strength had left him, completely, on the instant; and when he +raised his head there was a grinning crowd around him as his coach was +measuring the last drill. + +"The poor, dom fool!" he exclaimed commiseratingly, "and to think of him +wurruking like thot. He's ahead by two inches and more." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE HEART OF HIS BELOVED + + +There was a celebration that day which warmed Denver's heart and sent +Slogger Meacham cursing out of the camp, but as soon as it was over and +he had his prize money in his hand Denver remembered his unguarded +claim. Bunker Hill was there, of course, but the spiteful Professor had +heralded his pledge afar; and a man who has promised his wife not to +fight is ill-fitted to herd a mine. No, the Silver Treasure lay open for +Dave or Murray to jump, if they felt like contesting his claim; and, +weak as he was, Denver took no rest until he was back where he could +fight for his own. He rode in late and slept like the dead, but in the +morning he was up and down at the store as soon as Old Bunk came out. + +"I win!" he announced holding up the roll of bills, "first money--can +you get me some powder?" + +"W'y, you lucky fool!" exclaimed Bunker admiringly, "seems like +_nothing_ can keep you down. Sure I'll get your powder, and just to +show you what _I_ can do--how's that for a healthy little roll?" He +drew out a roll of bills twice the size of Denver's and fingered them +over lovingly. "A thousand dollars," he murmured, "for an option on half +the Lost Burro. A party came up yesterday and took one look at it and +grabbed it right off the bat, and as soon as old Murray gets in to his +ore they're going to capitalize the Burro for a million. Fine name that, +for stock-selling--known all over the world, in England, Paris and +everywhere--but I made 'em come through with a thousand dollars cash, so +Drusilla could have a good stake. She's thinking of going East, soon." + +"'S that so?" said Denver, trying to take it all in, "are these parties +going to do any work?" + +"Well, that's an unfair question, as Pecos Edwards used to say when they +asked him if all Texans was cow-thieves; but you know how these +promoters work. There'll be lots of work done; but mostly by lawyers, +and publicity men and such. There's a whole lot of water in the workings +of the Lost Burro that'll have to be pumped out first, and then there's +a little job of timbering that'll cost a world of money. No, I sold them +that mine on the ore in your tunnel--I will say, it shows up splendid. +If you'd've been here yesterday you might have made a deal that +would----" + +"Not on your life!" broke in Denver, "I don't sell to anybody. But say, +but what did they think of my mine?" + +"Think!" exclaimed Bunker, "they stopped thinking right here, when I +showed 'em that big vein of copper! They went crazy, just like lunatics; +because it ain't often, I'm telling you, that you find sixty-per-cent +copper on the surface." + +"Not in a fissure vein--no," agreed Denver emphatically, "I wouldn't +sell out for a million. Did those promoters take away any samples?" + +"Well, yes; a few," responded Bunker apologetically, "I didn't think +you'd object." + +"Why, of course not," answered Denver, "it'll advertise the district and +bring in some outside people. And now that I've got another stake I'm +going to sack my ore and make a trial shipment to the smelter. But you +bet your boots, after what Murray put over on me, I'm going to have some +assaying done first." + +"Yes, and keep some samples," advised Bunker wisely. "Keep a sample out +of every bag." + +"I'll just mix that ore up," said Denver cautiously, "and cut it down, +the way they do at the mill. Throw out every tenth shovel and mix 'em up +again and then cut the pile down smaller until you've got a control, +like the ore brokers take at the smelter. And then I'll send a sample to +the assayer--say, there's Drusilla over there, trying to call you." + +"She's trying to call you," answered Bunker Hill shortly and went on +into the store. + +"Well, be sure and order that powder," shouted Denver after him. "And +say, I'll want the rest of those ore-sacks." + +"All right," replied Bunker and Denver turned to the house where +Drusilla was waiting on the porch. + +"Did you hear the news?" she asked dancing ecstatically to and fro; as +if she were a Delilah, leading the Philistine maidens in the "Spring +Song," and he were another Samson. "I'm expecting to go East now, soon." + +"Good!" exclaimed Denver. "Well, I won't see you much then--I'm going to +work in the mine." + +"Yes, isn't it grand?" she cried. "Everything is coming out fine--but +you must come down to dinner to-night. I'm going to sing, just for you." + +"I'll be there," smiled Denver, and then he stopped. "But let's not make +it to-night," he said, "I'm dead on my feet for sleep." + +"Well, sleep then," she laughed, "and get rested from your contest--I'm +awfully glad you won. And then----" + +"Nope, can't come to-night," he answered soberly, "I want to get that +ore sacked to-day. And I'm stiff as a strip of burnt raw-hide." + +"Well, to-morrow night," she said, "unless you don't want to come. But +you'll have to come soon or----" + +"Oh, I want to come, all right," interposed Denver hastily, "you know +that, without telling. But my partner played out on me before the end of +the contest and I had to finish the striking myself. And then I rode +hard to get back here, before Dave or some gun-man jumped my claim." + +"Then to-morrow night," she smiled, "but don't you forget, because if +you do I'll never forgive you." + +She danced away into the house and Denver turned in his tracks and went +to look over his ore-sacks. They were old and torn, what was left of a +big lot that Bunker had got in a trade; but Denver picked out the best +and wheeled them up to his dump, where his picked ore lay waiting for +shipment. He had a big lot, much larger than he had thought, and it was +just as it had been shot down from the breast. Some was silver-lead; and +there was copper to boot, though that would hardly do to ship. Yet at +thirty cents a pound copper was almost a precious metal, and a report +from the smelter would be a check. He would know from that how the ore +really ran and how much he would be penalized for the zinc. So he picked +out the best of it and broke it up fine, for the rough chunks would not +do to sack; and before he had more than got started with his sampling +the sun had gone down behind the ridge. And he was tired--too tired to +eat. + +There was music that night at the big house below but Denver could not +hold up his head. Nature had drugged him with sleep, like a romping +child that takes no thought of its strength, and in the morning he woke +up in a sort of stupor that could not be worked off. Yet he worked, +worked hard, for McGraw had arrived and the ore must be loaded that day; +so they threw in together, Denver sacking the heavy ore and McGraw +wheeling it out to the wagon. They toiled on till dark, for McGraw +started early and the work could not be put off till to-morrow; and when +it was over Denver staggered up to his cave like an old and outworn man. +He was reeking with sweat, his hands were like talons, the ore-dust had +left his face gray; and all he thought of was sleep. For a moment he +roused up, as if he remembered some new duty--something pleasant, yet +involving further effort--and then his candle went out. He fell asleep +in his chair and when he awoke it was only to stumble to his bed. + +The sun was over the Leap when he opened his heavy eyes and gazed at the +rude squalor of his cave. The dishes were unwashed, the floor was dirty, +a long-tailed rat hung balanced on the table-edge--and he was tired, +tired, tired. He heaved himself up and reached for the water-bucket but +he had forgotten to fill it at the creek. Now he grabbed it up +impatiently and started down the trail, every joint of his body +protesting, and when he had climbed back he was weak from the +effort--his bank account with Mother Nature was overdrawn. He was worn +out, at last; and his poor, tired brain took no thought how to make up +the deficit. All he wanted was rest, something to eat, a drink of water. +A drink of water anyway, and sleep. He drank deep and bathed his face, +then sank back on the bed and let the world whirl on. + +It was late in the day when he awoke again and hunger was gnawing his +vitals; but the slow stupor was gone, he was himself again and the +cramps had gone out of his limbs. He rose up luxuriously and cut a can +of tomatoes, drinking the juice and eating the fruit, and then he lit a +fire and boiled some strong coffee and cooked up a great mess of food. +There was two cans of corn and a can of corned beef, heated together in +a swimming sea of bacon grease and eaten direct from the frying-pan. It +went to the spot and his drooping shoulders straightened, the spring +came back into his step; yet as he cleaned up the dishes and changed to +decent clothes the weight of some duty seemed to haunt him. Was it +McGraw? No, he had loaded the last sack and sent him on his way. It was +Drusilla--she had been going to sing for him. + +Denver stepped to the door and looked down at the house and his heart +sank low at the thought. They had invited him to dinner and he had +forgotten to come, he had gone home and fallen asleep. And no one had +come to call him--or to inquire what had kept him away. A heavy guilt +came over him as he gazed down at the house with its broad porch and +trailing Virginia creepers, the Hills would take it very ill to have +their invitation ignored. Old Bunk had told him the time before, when he +had invited him in to dinner: "Now, for the last time, Denver----" and +it would take more than mere words to ever mend that breach. Denver +paced back and forth, undecided what to do, and at last he decided to do +nothing. As the sun went down he ate another supper and drugged his +sorrows with sleep. + +The next morning he rose early and shaved and bathed and put on his last +clean shirt, and then he walked down to the town; but the store was +locked, there was no voices from the house, only a smoke from the +kitchen stove. He went on to his mine and looked it over, and as he +passed the Professor leered out at him; there was something that he +knew, some bad news or spiteful gossip, for he found pleasure only in +evil. Denver came back down the street, that was now as deserted as it +had been before the stampede, and once more the Professor looked out. + +"Vell," he said, "so you haf lost your sveetheart!" And he chuckled and +shut the door softly. + +Denver stopped and stood staring, hardly crediting the news, yet +conscious of the sinister exulting. The Professor was glad, therefore +the news was bad; but what did he mean by those words? Had Drusilla gone +away or had she thrown him over for neglecting to keep his engagement? +She had probably spoken her mind as she watched for him at the doorway +and the Professor had been out there, eavesdropping. + +"What are you talking about?" he demanded at last but the Professor only +tittered. Then he dropped the heavy bar across his door and Denver took +the hint to move on. He went down past the house and looked it over +hopefully, but as no one came out he pocketed his pride and knocked, +like a hobo battering the door for a meal, Mrs. Hill came out slowly as +if preoccupied with other things, but when he saw her eyes he knew she +had been crying and that Drusilla had really gone. + +"I'm sorry," he began and then he stopped; there was nothing that he +could say. "Has Drusilla gone?" he asked at length and Mrs. Hill +answered him, almost kindly. + +"Yes," she said, "she was summoned by a telegram. Her father took her +down this morning." + +He stood thinking a minute, then he shook his head regretfully and +started off down the steps. + +"She was sorry not to have seen you," she added gently but Denver made +no reply. He was weak again now and inadequate to life; he could only +crawl back like some dumb, wounded animal, to the sheltering gloom of +his cave. But as he sat there stolidly, now trying to make some plan, +now endeavoring to become reconciled to his fate, a rage swept over him +like a storm-wind that shakes a tree and he burst into gusty oaths. The +fates had turned against him, his horoscope had come to nothing; he had +followed the admonitions of Mother Trigedgo and this was the result of +her advice. She had told him to beware how he revealed his affection, +but nothing about what to do when he had fallen asleep while his beloved +sang only for him. + +He drew out the Oraculum, by which the Man of Destiny had ordered the +least affairs of his life, and read down through the thirty-two +questions. Only once on each day could he consult the mystic oracle, and +once only in each month on the same subject, lest the fates be outworn +by his insistence. At first it was Number Thirteen that appealed to his +fancy: + +"Will the FRIEND I most reckon upon prove faithful or TREACHEROUS?" But +he knew without asking that, whatever her failings, Drusilla would never +prove treacherous. No, since he had taken her for his friend he would +never question her faithfulness; Number Twenty-six was more to his +liking: + +"Does the person whom I love, LOVE and regard me?" + +He spread out a sheet of paper on his littered table and dashed off the +five series of lines, and then he counted each carefully and made the +dots at the end--two dots for the two lines that came even and one for +those that came odd. The first two came odd, the next two even, the last +one odd again; and under that symbol the Oraculum Key referred him to +section B for his answer. He turned to the double pages with its +answers, good and bad, and his brain whirled while he read these words: + +"Thy heart of thy beloved yearneth toward thee." + +He closed the book religiously and put it away, and his heart for the +moment was comforted. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +COLONEL DODGE + + +Denver doubted it, himself, for human nature is much the same in man and +woman and Drusilla had been sorely slighted; but the Oraculum had said +that her heart was yearning towards him and the Book of Fate had always +spoken true. Perhaps women _were_ different, but if it had been +done to him, he would have called down black curses instead. Yet women +were different, one could never guess their moods, and perhaps Drusilla +would forgive him. Not right away, of course, but after her blood had +cooled and he had written a proper letter. He would let it go awhile, +until he had framed up some excuse or decided to tell her the truth, and +in the meantime there was plenty of work to do that would help him +forget his sorrow. There was his mine, and McGraw had brought up some +powder. + +There was something in the air which seemed to whisper to Denver of +portentous happenings to come, and as he was sharpening up his steel for +a fresh assault upon the ore-body a big automobile came into town. It +stopped and a big man wearing a California sombrero and a pair of +six-buckle boots leapt out and led the way to the Lost Burro. Behind him +followed three men attired as gentlemen miners and as Denver listened he +could hear the big man as he recited the history of the mine. +Undoubtedly it was the buyer of the Lost Burro Mine, with a party of +"experts" and potential backers who had come up to look over the ground; +yet something told Denver that there was more behind it all. He felt +their eyes upon him. They spent a few minutes looking over the old +workings, and then they came stringing up his trail. + +"Good afternoon, sir," hailed the promoter, "are you the owner of this +property? Well, I'd like with your permission to show my friends some of +your ore--why, what's this, have you hauled it away?" + +"Yes, I shipped it out yesterday," answered Denver briefly and the big +man glanced swiftly at his friends. + +"Well, I'm Colonel Dodge--H. Parkinson Dodge--you may have heard the +name. I'm your neighbor here on the south--we've taken over the Lost +Burro property. Yes, glad to know you, Mr. Russell." He shook hands and +introduced his friends all around, after which he came to the point. +"We've been looking at the Lost Burro and one of the gentlemen suggested +that it might be well to enlarge our property. That would make it more +attractive to worth-while buyers and at the same time prevent any future +litigation in case our ore-bodies should join. You understand what I +mean--there's such a thing as apex decision and of course you hold the +higher ground. Well, before we do any work or tie up our money we would +like to know just exactly where we stand in relation to surrounding +properties. What price do you put on your claim?" + +"No price," answered Denver. "I don't want to sell. Are you thinking of +opening up the Lost Burro?" + +"That will all depend," hinted the Colonel darkly, "upon the attitude of +the people in the district. If we meet with encouragement we intend to +form a company and spend hundreds of thousands of dollars; but if not, +why we will charge up our option money to profit and loss and seek out a +less backward community. What is your lowest price on your claim?" + +"A million dollars--cash," responded Denver cheerfully. "Now you come +through and make me an offer." + +"Well," began the Colonel, and then he stopped and glanced suggestively +at the tunnel. "We'd like to look it over first." + +"Fair enough," replied Denver and, giving each a candle, he led them +into the tunnel. They looked the ore over, making indifferent comments +and asking permission to take samples, and then Colonel Dodge took one +of his experts aside and they conferred in muffled tones. + +"Er--we'd rather not make an offer just now," said the Colonel at last; +and in a silent procession they returned to the daylight, leaving Denver +to follow behind. The atmosphere of the group was now reeking with gloom +but after a long conference the Colonel came back, summoning up the +ghost of a smile. "Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Russell," he began +apologetically, "we saw some of your ore before we came up and we were +all of us most enthusiastic. The copper in particular was very promising +but the gentleman I was talking with is our consulting engineer and he +advises me not to buy the property." + +"All right," answered Denver, "you don't have to buy it. I never saw one +of these six-buckle men yet that wouldn't knock a good claim." He turned +back angrily to his job of tool-sharpening and the Colonel followed +after him solicitously. + +"Don't misunderstand me," he said, "there's nothing I'd like better than +to buy in this neighboring property--if I could get it at a reasonable +figure; but Mr. Shadd advises me that your ore lies in a gash-vein, +which will undoubtedly pinch out at depth." + +"A gash-vein!" echoed Denver, "why the poor, ignorant fool--can't you +see that the vein is getting bigger? Well, how can it be a gash-vein +when it's between two good walls and increasing in width all the time? +Your friend must think I'm a prospector." + +"Oh, no," protested the Colonel smiling feebly at the joke, "but--well, +he advises me not to buy. The fact that the ore is so rich on the +surface is against its continuance at depth. All gash-veins, as you +know, are very rich at the surface; so in this case the fact is against +you. But I tell you what I will do--just to protect my other property +and avoid any future complications--I'll give you a thousand dollars for +your claim." + +"Whooo!" jeered Denver, "I'll get more than that for the ore I just sent +to the smelter. No, I'm no thousand-dollar man, Mr. Dodge. I've got a +fissure vein and it's increasing at depth, so I guess I'll just hold on +a while. You wait till old Murray begins to ship!" + +"Ah--er--well, I'll give you fifteen hundred," conceded the Colonel +drawing out his check-book and pen. "That's the best I can possibly do." + +"Well save your check then, because I'm a long ways from broke. What +d'ye think of that for a roll?" Denver drew out his roll of prize money, +with a hundred dollar bill on top, and flickered the edges of the +twenties. "I guess I can wait a while," he grinned. "Come around again, +when I'm broke." + +"I'll give you a thousand dollars down and nine thousand in six months," +burst out the Colonel with sudden vehemence. "Now it's that or +absolutely nothing. If you try to hold me up I'll abandon my option and +withdraw entirely from the district." + +"Sorry to lose you, old-timer," returned Denver genially, "but I guess +we can't do business. Come around in about a month." + +A sudden flash came into the Colonel's bold eyes and he opened his mouth +to speak--then he paused and shut his mouth tight. + +"Not on your life, Mr. Russell," he said with finality, "if I go I will +not come back. Now give me your lowest cash price for the property. Will +you accept ten thousand dollars?" + +"No, I won't," answered Denver, "nor a hundred thousand, either. I'm a +miner--I know what I've got." + +"Very well, Mr. Russell," replied Colonel Dodge crisply and, bowing +haughtily, he withdrew. + +Denver looked after him laughing, but something about his stride +suddenly wiped away the grin from Denver's face--the Colonel was going +somewhere. He was going with a purpose, and he walked like a man who was +perfectly sure of his next move--like a man who has seen a snake in the +road and turns back to cut a club. It was distinctly threatening and a +light dawned on Denver when the automobile turned off towards Murray's +camp. That was it, he was an agent of Murray. + +Denver sharpened up his steel and put in a round of holes but all that +day and the next his uneasiness grew until he jumped at every sound. He +felt the hostility of Colonel Dodge's silence more than any that words +could express; and when, on the second day, he saw Professor +Diffenderfer approaching he stopped his work to watch him. + +"Vell, how are you?" began the Professor, trying to warm up their +ancient friendship; and then, seeing that Denver merely bristled the +more, he cast off his cloak of well-wishing. "I vas yoost over to +Murray's camp," he burst out vindictively, "and Dave said he vanted his +gun." + +"Tell 'im to come over and get it," suggested Denver and then he +unbuckled his belt. "All right," he said handing over the gun and +cartridges, "here it is; I don't need it, anyhow." The Professor blinked +and looked again, then reached out and took the belt doubtfully. + +"Vot you mean?" he asked at last as his curiosity got the better of him, +"have you got anudder gun somevhere? Dot Dave, he svears he vill kill +you." + +"That's all right," replied Denver, "just give him his gun--I'll take +him on any day, with rocks." + +"How you mean 'take him on?'" inquired the Professor all excitement but +Denver waved him away. + +"Go on now," he said, "and give him his gun. I guess he'll know what I +mean." + +But if Chatwourth understood the hidden taunt he did not respond to the +challenge and Denver's mind reverted to H. Parkinson Dodge and his +flattering offers for the mine. Ten thousand dollars cash, from a mining +promoter, was indeed a princely sum; better by far than the offer of +half a million shares that went with Bunker's option. For stock is the +sop that is thrown to poor miners in lieu of the good hard cash, but ten +thousand dollars was a lot of money for a promoter to pay for a claim. +It showed that there were others beside himself who believed in the +value of his property, yet who this Colonel Dodge was or who were his +backers was a question that only Bunker could answer. Denver waited in a +sweat, now wondering if Bunker would speak to him, nor exulting in the +offer for his mine; and when at last he saw Bunker Hill drive in he +threw down his tools and hurried towards him. + +But Bunker Hill was surly, he barely glanced at Denver and went on +caring for his horses; and Denver did not crowd him. He waited, and at +last Old Bunk looked up with jaw thrust grimly out. + +"Well?" he said, and Denver forgot everything but the question that was +on his tongue. + +"Say," he burst out, "who is this Colonel Dodge that came up and bought +your mine? Is he working for Murray, or what?" + +"Search me," grumbled Bunker, "I got his thousand dollars, and that's +about all I know." + +"He was up here to see me the same day you left, with a whole load of +six-buckle experts; and say, he offered me a check for ten thousand +dollars if I'd sell him the Silver Treasure claim. And when I refused it +he got into his machine and went right over to Murray's. I'll bet you +you're sold out to Bible-Back." + +"Well, he's stuck then," said Bunker. "I guess you haven't heard the +news--Murray's closed down his camp for good." + +"He has!" exclaimed Denver, and then he laughed heartily. "He's a foxy +old dastard, isn't he?" + +"You said it," returned Bunker. "Never did have any ore. Just pretended +he had in order to sell stock and recoup what he'd lost on the drilling. +They're offering the stock for nothing." + +"Who's offering it?" demanded Denver suddenly taking the matter +seriously. "I'll bet you it's nothing but a fake!" + +"All right," shrugged Bunker, "but I met a bunch of miners and they were +swapping stock for matches. Old Tom Buchanan down at Desert Wells won't +accept it at any price--that shows how much it's a fake." + +"Aw, he pulled that once before," answered Denver contemptuously, "but +he don't fool me again. Like as not he's made a strike and is just +shutting down so he can buy back the stock he sold." + +Bunker looked up and grunted, then gathered together his purchases and +ambled off towards the house. + +"That's all you think about, ain't it?" he said at parting. "I'll +mention it when I write to Drusilla." + +"Oh--oh, yes," stammered Denver suddenly reminded of his dereliction, +"say, how did she happen to go? And I want to get her address so I can +explain how it happened--I wouldn't have missed seeing her for +anything!" + +"No, of course not," growled Bunker, "not for anything but your own +interests. You can go to hell for your address." + +"Why, what do you mean?" demanded Denver; but as Bunker did not answer +he fell back and let him go on. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE ANSWER + + +There are some kinds of questions which require no answers and others +which answer themselves. Denver had asked Bunker what he meant when he +refused Drusilla's address and intimated that he was unworthy of her +friendship, but after a gloomy hour in the deepening twilight the +question answered itself. Bunker had taken his daughter across the +desert, on her way to the train and New York, and his curt remarks were +but the reflex of her's as she discussed Denver's many transgressions. +He thought more of mines and of his own selfish interests than he did of +her and her art, and so she desired to hear no more of him or his +protestations of innocence. That was what the words meant and as Denver +thought them over he wondered if it was not true. + +Drusilla had greeted him cordially when he had returned from Globe and +had invited him to dinner that same night, but he had refused because he +needed the sleep and begrudged the daylight to take it. And the next day +he had worked even harder than before and had forgotten her invitation +entirely. She was to sing just for him and, after the singing, she would +have told him all her plans; and then perhaps they might have spoken of +other things and parted as lovers should. But no, he had spoiled it by +his senseless hurry in getting his ore off with McGraw; and now, with +all the time in the world on his hands, the valley below was silent. Not +a scale, not a trill, not a run or roulade; only silence and the frogs +with their devilish insistence, their ceaseless _eh_, _eh_, +_eh_. He rose up and heaved a stone into the creek-bed below, then +went in and turned on his phonograph. + +They were real people to him now, these great artists of the discs; +Drusilla had described them as she listened to the records and even the +places where they sang. She had pictured the mighty sweep of the +Metropolitan with its horse-shoe of glittering boxes; the balconies +above and the standing-room below where the poor art-students gathered +to applaud; and he had said that when he was rich he would subscribe for +a box and come there just to hear her sing. And now he was broke, and +Drusilla was going East to run the perilous gauntlet of the tenors. He +jerked up the stylus in the middle of a record and cursed his besotted +industry. If he had let his ore go, and gone to see her like a +gentleman, Drusilla might even now be his. She might have relented and +given him a kiss--he cursed and stumbled blindly to bed. + +In the morning he went to work in the close air of the tunnel, which +sadly needed a fan, and then he hurled his hammer to the ground and felt +his way out to daylight. What was the use of it all; where did it get +him to, anyway; this ceaseless, grinding toil? Murray's camp had shut +down, the promoters had vanished, Pinal was deader than ever; he +gathered up his tools and stored them in his cave, then sat down to +write her a letter. Nothing less than the truth would win her back now +and he confessed his shortcomings humbly; after which he told her that +the town was too lonely and he was leaving, too. He sealed it in an +envelope and addressed it with her name and when he was sure that Old +Bunk was not looking he slipped in and gave it to her mother. + +"I'm going away," he said, "and I may not be back. Will you send that on +to Drusilla?" + +"Yes," she smiled and hid it in her dress; but as he started for the +door she stopped him. + +"You might like to know," she said, "that Drusilla has received an +engagement. She is substitute soprano in a new Opera Company that is +being organized to tour the big cities. I'm sorry you didn't see her." + +"Yes," answered Denver, "I'm sorry myself--but that never bought a man +anything. Just send her the letter and--well, goodby." + +He blundered out the door and down the steps, and there stretched the +road before him. In the evening he was as far as Whitlow's Well and a +great weight seemed lifted from his breast. He was free again, free to +wander where he pleased, free to make friends with any that he met--for +if the prophecy was not true in regard to his mine it was not true +regarding his friends. And how could any woman, by cutting a pack of +cards and consulting the signs of the zodiac, predict how a man would +die? Denver made himself at home with a party of hobo miners who had +come in from the railroad below, and that night they sat up late, +cracking jokes and telling stories of every big camp in the West. It was +the old life again, the life that he knew and loved, drifting on from +camp to camp with every man his friend. Yet as he stretched out that +night by the flickering fire he almost regretted the change. He was free +from the great fear, free to make friends with whom he would; but, to +win back the love of the beautiful young artist, he would have given up +his freedom without a sigh. + +His sleep that night was broken by strange dreams and by an automobile +that went thundering by, and in the morning as they cooked a mulligan +together he saw two great motor trucks go past. They were loaded with +men and headed up the canyon and Denver began to look wild. A third +machine appeared and he went out to flag it but the driver went by +without stopping; and so did another, and another. He rushed after the +next one and caught it on the hill but the men pushed him roughly from +the running board. They were armed and he knew by their hard-bitten +faces that it was another party of jumpers. + +"Where are you going?" he yelled but they left him by the road without +even a curse for an answer. Well, he knew then; they were going to +Final, and Murray had fooled him again. Denver had suspected from the +first that Murray's shutdown was a ruse, to shake down the public for +their stock; and now he knew it, and that if his mine was jumped again +it would be held against all comers. Another automobile whirled by; and +then came men that he knew, the miners who owned claims in the district. + +"What's the matter?" he called but they would not stop to talk, simply +shouted and beckoned him on. Denver started, right then, without +stopping for breakfast or to pick up his hobo's pack; and soon he caught +a ride with a party of prospectors whose claims he had once freed from +jumpers. + +"It's a big strike!" they clamored, hauling him in and rushing on. "Old +Murray struck copper in his tunnel! _Rich?_ Hell, yes!" And they +gave him all the details as the machine lurched along up the road. + +Murray had struck another ore-body, entirely different from the first +one--the copper had come out the drill-holes like pure metal--and then +he had shut down and rushed the machine-men away before they could tell +of the strike. But they had got loose down in Moroni and showed the +drill-dust and every man that saw it had piled into his machine and +joined the rush for Murray's. + +"Jumped again!" muttered Denver and when he arrived in Pinal he found +his mine swarming with men. They had built a barricade and run a pipe +line down the hill to pump up water from the creek, and when he appeared +they ordered him off without showing so much as a head. And he went, for +the swiftness of the change had confused him; he was whipped before he +began. There was no use to fight or to put up a bluff, the men behind +the wall were determined; and while, according to law, they held no +title the law was far away. It was a weapon for rich men who could +afford to pay the price; but how could he, a poor man, hope to win back +his claim when it was held by Bible-Back Murray? He went down to the +store, where the Miners' Meeting was assembled, and beckoned Bunker +aside. + +"Mr. Hill," he said, "you promised me one time to give me the loan of a +gun. Well, now is the time I need it." + +"Nope," warned Bunker, "you ain't got a chance. Them fellers are just up +here to get you." + +"Well, for self-defense!" protested Denver, "Dave sent word he'd kill +me." + +"Keep away, then," advised Bunker, "don't give him no chance. But if +them fellers should jump on you, just run to my house and I'll slip you +the old Injun-tamer." + +Denver went out on the street, now swarming with traffic, and looked up +toward his mine; and as he gazed he walked up closer until he stopped at +the fork of the trails. The men behind the wall were watching him +grimly, without letting their faces be seen; but as he stood there +looking they began to bandy jests and presently to taunt him openly. But +Denver did not answer, for he divined their evil purpose, and at last he +turned quietly away. + +"Hey! Come back here!" roared a voice and Denver whirled in his tracks +for he knew it was Slogger Meacham's. He was standing there now, looking +across the barricade, and as Denver met his gaze he laughed. + +"Ho! Ho!" he rumbled folding his arms across his breast and thrusting +out his huge black mustache. "Well, how do you feel about it now?" + +"Never mind," returned Denver and, leaving him gloating, he hurried away +down the trail. Old Bunk was right, they had come there to get him, and +there was no use playing into their hands; yet at thought of Slogger +Meacham his hair began to bristle and he muttered half-formed threats. +The Slogger had come to get him--and Dave Chatwourth was behind there, +too--the whole district was dominated by their gang; but the times would +change and with inrush of other men the jumpers would soon be +out-numbered. It was better then to wait, to let the excitement die down +and law and order return; and then, with a deputy sheriff at his back, +he could eject them by due process of law. The claim was his, his papers +were recorded and no lawyer could question their validity--no, the best +thing was to let the jumpers rage, to say nothing and keep out of sight. +That was all that he had to do. + +But to avoid them was not so easy, for as the day wore on and no attempt +was made to oust them, the jumpers walked boldly into town. At first it +was Chatwourth, to buy some tobacco and break in on the Miners' Meeting; +and then Slogger Meacham, a huge mountain of a man, came ambling down +the street. He slouched down on the store platform and leered about him +evilly, but Denver had retreated to his cave under the cliff and the +Slogger returned to the mine. Then they came down in a body, Chatwourth +and Meacham and all the jumpers; but though his mine was left open +Denver refrained from going near it, for their purpose was becoming very +plain. They were trying to inveigle him into openly opposing them, after +which they would have a pretext for resorting to actual violence. But +their plans went no further for he remained in retirement and the +Miners' Meeting adjourned. Soon the street was deserted, except for +their own numbers, and they returned to the mine with shrill whoops. + +From his lookout above Denver watched them with a smile, for his nerve +had come back to him now. Now that Murray had made his strike, and +increased the value of the Silver Treasure by a thousand per cent over +night, Denver's mind had swung back like a needle to the pole to his +former belief in the prophecy. He had doubted it twice and renounced it +twice, but each time as if by an act of Providence he was rebuked for +his lack of faith. Now he _knew_ it was so--that the mine would be +restored and that only his dearest friend could kill him. So he smiled +almost pityingly at the loud-mouthed jumpers and went boldly down the +trail. + +The hush of evening was in the air when he knocked at Bunker Hill's door +and after a look about Old Bunk went back into the house and brought out +a heavy pistol. It was an old-fashioned six-shooter of the Indian-tamer +type--a single action, wooden-handled forty-five--and Bunker fingered it +lovingly as he handed it over to Denver. + +"For self-defense, understand," he said beneath his breath, "and look +out, that bunch is sure ranicky." + +"Much obliged," responded Denver and tested the action before he slipped +the gun in its belt. He was starting for his cave, when from his cabin +up the street the Professor came out and beckoned him. + +"What do you want?" called Denver; then, receiving no answer, he strode +impatiently up the street. + +"Come in," urged the Professor touching his nose for secrecy, "come in, +I vant to show you some-t'ing." + +"Well, show it to me here," answered Denver but the Professor drew him +inside the house. + +"You look oudt vat you do," he warned mysteriously, "dem joompers are +liable to see you." + +"I should worry," said Denver and, whipping out the gun, he made the +motions of fanning the hammer. + +"Now, now," reproved Diffenderfer drawing back in a panic; and then he +laughed, but nervously. + +"Well, what do you want to show me?" demanded Denver bluntly. "Hurry up +now--I hear somebody coming." + +"Oh, nutting--come again!" exclaimed the Professor apprehensively. "Come +to-morrow--I show you everyt'ing!" + +"You'll show me now," returned Denver imperturbably, "I'm not afraid of +the whole danged bunch. Come on, what have you got--a bottle?" + +"Yoost a piece of copper from Murray's tunnel--Mein Gott, I hear dem +boys coming!" + +He sprang to the door and dropped the heavy bar but Denver struck it up +and stepped out. + +"What the hell are you trying to do?" he demanded suspiciously and the +door slammed to behind him. + +"Run! Run!" implored the Professor staring out through his peep-hole but +Denver lolled negligently against the house. A crowd of men, headed by +Slogger Meacham, were coming down the street; but it was not for him to +fly. He had a gun now, as well as they, and his back was against the +wall. They could pass by or stop, according to their liking; but the +show-down had come, there and now. + +They came on in a bunch down the middle of the street, ignoring his +watchful glances; but as the rest trampled past Slogger Meacham turned +his head and came to a bristling halt. + +"Well," he said, "out for a little airing?" And the jumpers swung in +behind him. + +"Yes," answered Denver regarding him incuriously and the Slogger moved a +step or two closer. + +"You start anything around here," he went on significantly, "and you'll +be airing the smoke out of your clothes. We got your number, see, and +we're here to put your light out if you start to make a peep." + +"Is that so?" observed Denver still standing at a crouch and one or two +of the men walked off. + +"Come on, boys," they said but Meacham stood glowering and Chatwourth +stepped out in front of him. "I hear," he said to Denver, "that you've +been making your brag that you kin whip me with a handful of stones." + +"Never mind, now," replied Denver, "I'm not looking for trouble. You go +on and leave me alone." + +"I'll go when I damned please!" cried Chatwourth in a passion and as he +advanced on Denver the crowd behind him suddenly gave a concerted shove. +Denver saw the surge coming and stepped aside to avoid it, undetermined +whether to strike out or shoot; but as he was slipping away Slogger +Meacham made a rush and struck him a quick blow in the neck. He whirled +and struck back at him, the air was full of fists and guns, swung like +clubs to rap him on the head; and then he went down with Meacham on top +of him and a crashing blow ringing in his ears. When he came to his +senses he was stripped and mauled and battered, and a stranger stood +over him with a gun. + +"You're my prisoner," he said and Denver sat up startled. + +"Why--what's the matter?" he asked looking about at the crowd that had +gathered on the scene of the fight, "what's the matter with that jasper +over there?" + +"He's dead--that's all," answered the officer laughing shortly, "you hit +him over the head with this gun." + +"I did not!" burst out Denver, "I never even drew it. Say, who is that +fellow, anyway?" + +"Name was Meacham," returned the officer, "come on." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE COURSE OF THE LAW + + +As he lay in his cell in the county jail at Moroni it was borne in upon +Denver that he was caught in some great machine that ground out men as a +mill grinds grain. It had laid a cold hand on him in the person of an +officer of the law, it had inched him on further when a magistrate had +examined him and Chatwourth and his jumpers had testified; and now, as +he awaited his day in court, he wondered whither it was taking him. The +magistrate had held him, the grand jury had indicted him--would the +judge and jury find him guilty? And if so, would they send him to the +Pen? His heart sank at that, for the name of "ex-convict" is something +that cannot be laid. No matter what the crime or the circumstances of +the trial, once a man is convicted and sent to prison that name can +always be hurled at him--and Denver knew that he was not guilty. + +He had no recollection of even drawing his gun, to say nothing of +striking at Meacham; and yet Chatwourth and his gang would swear him +into prison if something was not done to stop them. They had come before +the magistrate all agreeing to the same story--that Denver had picked a +fight with his old enemy, Meacham, and struck him over the head with his +six-shooter. And then they showed Denver's pistol; the one he had +borrowed from Bunker, all gory with hair and blood. It was a frame-up +and he knew it, for they had all been striking at him and one of them +had probably hit Meacham; but how was he to prove to the satisfaction of +the court that Murray's hired gun-men were trying to hang him? His only +possible witness was Professor Diffenderfer, and he would not testify to +anything. + +In his examination before the magistrate Denver had called upon the +Professor to explain the cause of his being there; but Diffenderfer had +protested that he had been hiding in his cabin and knew nothing whatever +about the fight. Yet if the facts could be proved, Denver had not gone +up the street to shoot it out with the jumpers; he had gone at the +invitation of this same Professor Diffenderfer who now so carefully +avoided his eye. He had been called to the Professor's cabin to look at +a specimen of the copper from Murray's tunnel; but as Denver thought it +over a shrewd suspicion came over him that he had been lured into a +well-planned trap. They had never been over-friendly so why should this +Dutchman, after opposing him at every turn, suddenly beckon him up the +street and into his cabin just as Chatwourth and his gang came down? And +why, if he was innocent of any share in the plot, did Diffenderfer +refuse to testify to the facts? Denver ground his teeth at the thought +of his own impotence, shut up there like a dog in the pound. He was +helpless, and his lawyer would do nothing. + +The first thing he had done when he was brought to Moroni was to hire a +second-rate lawyer but, after getting his money, the gentleman had spent +his time in preparing some windy brief. What Denver needed was some +witnesses, to swear to his good character, and Diffenderfer to swear to +the facts; and no points of law were going to make a difference as long +as the truth was suppressed. Old Bunk alone stood by him, though he +could do little besides testifying to his previous good character. Day +after day Denver lay in jail and sweated, trying to find some possible +way out; but not until the morning before his trial did he sense the +real meaning of it all. Then a visitor was announced and when he came to +the bars he found Bible-Back Murray awaiting him. + +"Good morning, young man," began Murray smiling grimly, "I was just +passing by and I thought I'd drop in and talk over your case for a +moment." + +"Yes?" said Denver looking out at him dubiously, and the great man +smiled again. He _was_ a great man, as Denver had discovered to his +sorrow, for no one in the country dared oppose him. + +"I regret very much," went on Murray pompously, "to find you in this +position, and if there's anything I can do that is just and right I +shall be glad to use my influence. We have, as you know, here in the +State of Arizona one of the most enlightened governments in the country; +and a word from me, if spoken in time, might possibly save you from +conviction. Or, in case of conviction, our prison law is such that you +might immediately be released under parole. But before I take any +action----" he lowered his voice--"you might give me a quit-claim for +that mine." + +"Oh" said Denver, and then it was that the great ray of light came over +him. He could see it all now, from Murray's first warning to this last +bold demand for his mine; but two months in jail had broken his spirit +and he hesitated to defy the county boss. His might be the hand that +held Diffenderfer back, and it certainly was the one that paid +Chatwourth; he controlled the county and, if what he said was true, had +no small influence in the affairs of the state. And now he gave him the +choice between going to prison or giving up the Silver Treasure. + +"What is this?" inquired Denver, "a hold-up or a frame-up?" + +"I don't know what you're talking about," answered Murray curtly, "but +if you're still in a mood for levity----" He turned away but as Denver +did not stop him he returned of his own will to the bars. + +"Now see here," he said, "this has gone far enough, if you expect to +keep out of prison. I came down here to befriend you and all I ask in +return is a clear title to what is already mine. Perhaps you don't +realize the seriousness of your position, but I tell you right now that +no power on earth can save you from certain conviction. The District +Attorney has informed me that he has an airtight case against you but, +rather than see your whole life ruined, I am giving you this one, last +chance. You are young and headstrong, and hardly realized what you were +doing; and so I say, why not acknowledge your mistake and begin life +over again? I have nothing but the kindest feelings towards you, but I +can't allow my interests to be jeopardized. Think it over--can't you see +it's for the best?" + +"No, I can't," answered Denver, "because I never killed Meacham and I +don t believe any jury will convict me. If they do, I'll know who was +behind it all and govern myself accordingly." + +"Just a slight correction," put in Murray sarcastically, "you will not +govern yourself at all. You will become a ward of the State of Arizona +for the rest of your natural life." + +"Well, that's all right then," burst out Denver, wrathfully, "but I can +tell you one thing--you won't get no quit-claim for your mine. I'll lay +in jail and rot before I'll come through with it, so you can go as far +as you like. But if I ever get out----" + +"That will do, young man," said Murray stepping back, "I see you're +becoming abusive. Very well, let the law take its course." + +He straightened up his wry neck, put his glass eye into place and +stalked angrily out of the jail; and in the hard week that followed +Denver learned what he meant, for the wheels of the law began to grind. +First the District Attorney, in making his charge, denounced him like a +mad-man; then he brought on his witnesses, a solid phalanx, and put them +through their parts; and every point of law that Denver's attorney +brought up he tore it to pieces in an instant. He knew more law in a +minute than the lawyer would learn in a life-time, he could think +circles around him and not try; and when Denver's witnesses were placed +on the stand he cross-examined them until he nullified their testimony. +Even grim-eyed Bunker Hill, after testifying to Denver's character, was +compelled to admit that the first time he saw him he was engaged in a +fight with Meacham. And so it went on until the jury filed back with a +verdict of "Guilty of manslaughter." + +Thus the law took its course over the body and soul of what had once +been a man; and when it was over Denver Russell was a Number with +eighteen years before him. Eighteen years more or less, according to his +conduct, for the laws of the State of Arizona imposed an indeterminate +sentence which might be varied to fit any case. As Murray had intimated, +under the new prison law a man could be paroled the day after he was +sentenced, though he were in for ninety-nine years. That was the law, +and it was just, for no court is infallible and injustice must be +rectified somewhere. After the poor man and his poor lawyer had matched +their puny wits against those of a fighting District Attorney then mercy +must intervene in the name of society and equalize the sentence. For the +District Attorney is hired by the county to send every man to prison, +but no one is hired to defend the innocent or to balance the scales of +justice. + +Denver went to prison like any other prisoner, a rebel against society; +but after a lonely day in his cell he rose up and looked about him. Here +were men like himself--nay, old, hardened criminals--walking about in +civilian clothes, and the gates opened up before them. They passed out +of the walled yard and into the prison fields where there were cattle +and growing crops; and they came back fresh and earthy, after hours of +honest toil with no one to watch or guard them. It was the honor system +which he had read about for years, but now he saw it working; and after +a week he sent word to the Warden that he would give his word not to +escape. That was all they asked of him, his word as a man; and a great +hope came over him and soothed the deep wound that the merciless law had +torn. He raised his head, that had been bowed on his breast, and the +strength came back into his limbs; and when the Warden saw him with a +sledge-hammer in his hands he smiled and sent him up to the road-camp. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +LIKE A HOG ON ICE + + +A month had wrought great changes in the life of Denver Russell, raising +him up from a prisoner, locked up like a mad dog, to the boss of a gang +of road-makers. He was free again, as far as bolts and bars were +concerned; all that kept him to his place was the word he had given and +his pride as an honest man. And now he was out, doing an honest man's +work and building a highway for the state; and by the irony of fate the +road he was improving was the one that led to Pinal. For time had +wrought other changes while he lay in prison and the rough road up the +canyon was swarming with traffic going and coming from Murray's camp. It +was called "Murray" now, and a narrow-gauge railroad was being rushed to +haul out the ore. Teams and motor trucks swung by, hauling in timbers +and machinery, auto stages came and went like the wind; and old Mike +McGraw, who had hauled all the freight for years, looked on in wonder +and awe. + +Yes, Murray was a live camp, a copper camp with millions of dollars +behind it; and Bible-Back himself was a king indeed, for he had tapped +the rich body of ore. It was his courage and aggressiveness that had +made the camp, and the papers all sounded his praise; but still he was +not satisfied and as he passed by Denver Russell he glanced at him +almost appealingly. Here was a man he had broken in order to get his +way, and his efforts had come to nothing; for the Silver Treasure lay +idle, waiting the clearing of its title before the work could go on. And +Denver Russell, swinging his double-jack on a drill, never once returned +the glance. He was stiff-necked and stubborn, though Murray had sent +intermediaries and practically promised to get him a parole. + +A legal point had come up, after Denver had been imprisoned, which +Murray had failed to foresee; the fact that a convict is legally dead +until he has served his term. He cannot transfer property or enter into +a contract or transact any business whatever--nor, on the other hand, +can his mining claims be jumped. As a ward of the State his property is +held in trust until his term has expired. Then he gains back his +identity, if not his citizenship; and with the passing of his number and +the resumption of his name he can enter into contracts once more. +Murray's lawyer had known all this, but Murray had not; and when he +suggested a suit to quiet title to the Silver Treasure old Bible-Back +received a great blow. After all his efforts he found himself +balked--his work must even be undone. Denver Russell must be pardoned, +or at least paroled, and as the price of his freedom he must give his +word not to contest the title to his mine. No papers would be necessary, +in fact they would not be legal; but if his word would prevent him from +escaping from the road-camp it would keep him from claiming his mine. + +Murray attended to the matter himself, for he was in a fever to begin +work; and then Denver Russell struck back--he refused to apply for +parole. Though he was pleasant and amenable, never breaking the prison +rules and holding his gang to their duty, when the kindly parole clerk +offered to present his case to the Board he had flatly and +unconditionally refused. The smouldering fire of his resentment had +blazed up and overmastered him as he sensed the hidden hand of his +enemy, and he had cursed the black name of Murray. That was the +beginning, and now when Murray passed, his glance was almost beseeching. +The price of silver was going up, there were consolidation plans in +sight, and Denver's claim apexed all the rest--Murray pocketed his pride +and, after a word with the guard, drew Denver out of hearing of the +gang. + +"Mr. Russell," he said trying to appear magnanimous, "that offer of mine +holds good. I'll get you a parole to-morrow if you'll give me a +quit-claim to your claim." + +"How can I give you a quit-claim?" inquired Denver defiantly, "a convict +can't give title to anything!" + +"Just give me your word then," suggested Murray suavely and Denver +laughed in his face. + +"You glass-eyed old dastard," he burst out contemptuously, "I know what +you're up to, too well. You're trying to get me paroled so you can take +my mine away from me and I won't dare to raise a hand. But I'll fool +you, old-timer; I'll just serve my term out and then--well, I'll get +back my mine." + +"Is that a threat?" demanded Murray but Denver only smiled and toyed +with his heavy hammer. "Because if it is," went on Murray, "just for +self-protection, I'll see that you don't get out." + +"No, it isn't a threat," answered Denver quietly. "If I wanted to kill +you I'd swing this sledge and knock you on the head, right now. No, I +don't intend to kill you; but a man would be a sucker to play right into +your hands." + +"What do you mean?" asked Murray trying to argue the matter, but Denver +refused to indulge him. + +"Never mind," he said, "you railroaded me to the Pen', but by grab you +can't get me out. I'll just show you I'm as independent as a hog on +ice--if I can't stand up I'll lay down." + +"Then you intend, just to spite me, to remain on in prison when you +might be a free man to-morrow? I can't believe that--it doesn't seem +reasonable." + +"Well, I can't stand here talking," answered Denver impatiently and went +off and left him staring. + +It certainly was unbelievable that any reasoning creature should prefer +confinement and disgrace to freedom, but the iron had burned deep into +Denver's soul and his one desire now was revenge. He had been deprived +of his property and branded a convict by this man who boasted of his +powers; but, like a thrown mule, if he could not have his way he could +at least refuse to get up. He was down and out; but by a miracle of +Providence, a hitch in the wording of the law, the slave-driver Murray +could not proceed with his chariot until this balky mule got up. Denver +knew his rights as a prisoner of the state and his status before the +law; and bowed his head and took the beating stubbornly, punishing +himself a hundred times over to thwart his enemy's plans. As he worked +on the road old friends came by and tried to argue him out of his mood, +even Bunker Hill suggested a compromise; but he only listened sulkily, a +slow smile on his lips, a gleam of smouldering hatred in his eyes. + +So the winter passed by and as spring came on the road-gang drew near to +Murray. From the hills above their camp Denver could see the dumps and +hoists, and the mill that was going up below, and as the ore-trains +glided by on the newly finished narrow-gauge he picked up samples of the +copper. It was the same as his vein, a brassy yellow chalcopyrites with +chunks of red native copper, and he forgot the daily heart-ache and the +ignominy of his task as he contemplated the wealth that awaited him. +Yes, the mine was still his, though he was herded with common felons and +compelled to build a road for Murray; it was his and the law would +protect him, the same law that had sent him to prison. And he was a +prisoner by choice now for both the warden and the parole clerk had +recommended him heartily for parole. + +They treated him like a friend, like a big, wrong-headed boy who was +still sound and good at heart; and he knew that when he went to them and +applied for a parole they would recommend it at once to the Board. But +he was playing a deep game, one that had come to him suddenly when +Murray had suggested a parole, for by refusing to accept his freedom he +made the state his guardian and the receiver of his coveted property. It +was safe, and he could wait; and when the time was ripe he could apply +to the Governor for a pardon. A pardon would remove the taint of +dishonor and restore him to honest citizenship; but a paroled man was +known for an ex-con everywhere--he might as well be back in the +road-gang. Yet it was hard on his pride when the automobiles rushed past +and the passengers looked back and stared, it was hard to have the guard +always watching the gang for fear that some crook might decamp; and only +the thought that he was working out his destiny gave him courage to play +out his hand. + +But how wonderfully had the prophecy of Mother Trigedgo been justified +by the course of events! Not a year before he had come over the Globe +trail in pursuit of Slogger Meacham, and had discovered the Place of +Death. It rose before him now, a solid black wall, and within its shadow +lay the mine of the prophecy, the precious Silver Treasure. He had +chosen the silver treasure, and the yellow chalcopyrites had added its +wealth of copper. And now he but awaited the end of his long ordeal and +the reward of his courage and constancy. Both the silver and gold +treasures were destined to be his; and Drusilla--but there he paused. +Old Bunk had avoided him, Drusilla had not written; yet he had been +careful not to reveal his affection. Not once had he asked for her, only +once had he written; yet perhaps that one letter had defeated him. He +had acknowledged his love, humbly admitted his faults, and begged her to +try to forgive him. Even that might have cost him her love. + +The spring came on warmer, all the palo verde trees burst out in masses +of brilliant yellow, the mezquites hung out tassels of golden fuzz and +the giant cactus donned its crown of orange blossoms. Even the +iron-woods flaunted bloom and the barren, sandy washes turned green with +six-weeks grass. It was a time when rabbits gamboled, when mockingbirds +sang by moonlight and all the world turned young. Denver chafed at his +confinement, one of his Mexicans broke his parole, the hobo miners went +swinging past; and just as the last of his courage was waning Bunker +Hill came riding down the road. He was on his big bay, yet not out after +cattle--he was coming straight towards him. Denver caught his breath, +and waited. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +PAROLE + + +"Mornin', Denver," said Bunker Hill, "here's a letter that come for +you--I forgot to send it down." + +He fumbled in his pocket and Denver's heart stood still, but it was only +his check from the smelter. He slipped it into his shirt without even +glancing at the big total and looked up at Bunker expectantly. + +"Well?" he prompted and Old Bunk twisted in the saddle before he began +to talk. + +"How much did you get for your shipment?" he inquired but Denver +shrugged impatiently. + +"What do I give a damn?" he demanded. "What's up? What you got on your +mind?" + +"Big stuff," replied Bunker, "but I want you to listen to me--they's no +use running off at the head." + +"Who's running off at the head? Go on and shoot your wad. Is it +something about my mine?" + +"Yes--and mine," answered Bunker. "I don't know whether you know it, but +your property apexes the Lost Burro. And another thing, silver has gone +up. But Pinal is just as dead as it was a year ago. The whole camp is +waiting on you." + +"Well, what do you want me to do? Get a parole and give Murray my mine?" + +"No, just get a parole--and then we'll get you a pardon. I'll tell you, +Denver, the Dutchman has begun to talk and it seems he saw your fight. +He's told several people that you never pulled your gun, just struck out +at the crowd with your fists. And if hints and winks count for anything +with him he knows who it was that killed Meacham. He says he was hit +from behind. I've tried everything, Denver, to make that Dutchman talk +or put something down on paper; but he's scared so bad of Murray, and +mebbe of his gun-men, that he won't say a word, unless he's drunk. Now +here's the proposition--old Murray has had you railroaded, and he's sure +going to squeeze you until you let go of that claim. Why not sell out +for a good price, if he'll make the Professor talk and help get you a +pardon from the Governor? You know the Governor, he'll pardon most +anybody, but you've got to give him some excuse. Well, the Professor has +got the evidence to get you out to-morrow--if Murray will just tell him +to talk." + +"What d'ye call a good price?" inquired Denver suspiciously. "Did Murray +put you up to this?" + +"No!" snapped Bunker, "but he named ten thousand dollars as the most he +could possibly give. He owns the Colonel Dodge's interest in the Lost +Burro Mining Company now." + +"Your pardner, eh?" sneered Denver. "Well, where would I get off if I +took this friendly tip? I'd lose my mine, that's worth a million, at +least; and get ten thousand dollars and a parole. A paroled man can't +locate a claim--nor an ex-convict, neither. The Silver Treasure is the +last claim that I'll ever get; and I'm going to hold onto it, by grab!" + +"You're crazy," declared Bunker, "didn't I say we'd get you a pardon? +Well, a pardon restores you to citizenship--you can locate all the +claims you want." + +"Yes, sure; _if_ I'm pardoned! But I know that danged Dutchman--he +wouldn't turn a hand to get me out of the Pen' if you'd give him a +hundred thousand dollars. He's got it in for me, for not buying his +claim when I took the Silver Treasure from you; and more'n that, he's +afraid of me, because if I ever get out----" + +"Oh, don't be a dammed fool all the rest of your life," burst out Bunker +Hill impatiently. "If you'd quiet down a little and quit fighting your +head, maybe your friends would be able to help you. I might as well tell +you that I've been to the Governor and told him the facts of the case; +and he's practically promised, if the Professor will come through, to +give you a full pardon with citizenship. Now be reasonable, Denver, and +quit trying to whip the world, and we'll get you out of this jack-pot. +Give old Murray your mine--you can never law it away from him--and take +your ten thousand dollars; then move to another camp and make a fresh +start where there's nobody working against you. Of course I'm Murray's +pardner--he put one over on me--but at the same time I reckon I'm your +friend. Now there's the proposition and you can take it or leave it--I +ain't going to bother you again." + +"Nope, it don't look good to me," answered Denver promptly, "there's too +many ifs and ands. And I'll stay here till I rot before Bible-Back +Murray will ever get that mine from _me_. He hired that bunch of +gun-men to jump my claim twice when he had no title to the mine, and +then he hired Chatwourth and Slogger Meacham to get me in the door and +kill me. They made a slight mistake and got the wrong man, then sent me +to the Pen' for murder. That's the kind of a dastard you've got for a +pardner but you can tell him I'll never give up. I'll fight till I die, +and if I ever get out----" + +"Yes, there you go again," burst out Bunker Hill bitterly, "you ain't +got the brain of a mule. If I wasn't to blame for loaning you that gun +and leaving you out of my sight, I'd pass up your case for good. But I +didn't have no better sense than to slip you my old six-shooter, and now +Mrs. Hill can't hardly git over it so I'll give you another try. My +daughter, Drusilla, is coming home next week and she hasn't even heard +about this trouble. Now--are you going to stay here and meet her as a +convict, or will you come and meet her like a gentleman. This ain't my +doin's--I'd see you in hell, first--but Mrs. Hill says when you get out +on parole we'll be glad to receive you as our guest." + +Denver stopped and considered, smiling and frowning by turns, but at +last he shook his head mournfully. + +"No," he muttered, "what will she care for a poor ex-con? No, I'm down +and out," he went on to Bunker, "and she'll hear about it, anyhow. It's +too late now to pretend I'm a gentleman--my number has burned in like a +brand. All these other prisoners know me and they'll turn me up +anywhere; if I go to the China Coast one of 'em would show up, sooner or +later, and bawl me out for a convict. No, I'm ruined as a gentleman, and +old Murray did it; but by God, if I live, I'll teach him to regret +it--and he won't make a dollar out of me. That claim is tied up till +John D. Rockefeller himself couldn't get it away from me now; and it'll +lay right there until I serve out my sentence or get a free pardon from +the Governor. I won't agree to anything and----" + +He stopped abruptly and looked away, after which he reached out his +hand. + +"Well, much obliged, Bunk," he said, trying to smile, "I'm sorry I can't +accommodate you. Just thank Mrs. Hill for what she has done and--and +tell her I'll never forget it." + +He went back to his work and old Bunk watched him wonderingly, after +which he rode solemnly away. Then the road-making dragged on--clearing +away brush, blasting out rock, filling in, grading up, making the +crown--but now the road-boss was absent minded and oblivious and his +pride in the job was gone. He let the men lag and leave rough ends, and +every few moments his eyes would stray away and look down the canyon for +the stage. And as the automobiles came up he scanned the passengers +hungrily--until at last he saw Drusilla. There was the fluttering of a +veil, the flash of startled eyes, a quick belated wave, and she was +gone. Denver stood in the road, staring after her blankly, and then he +threw down his pick. + +"Send me back to the Pen'" he said to the guard, "I'm going to apply for +parole." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE INTERPRETATION THEREOF + + +After all his suffering, his oaths, his refusals, his rejection of each +friendly offer, Denver had changed his mind in the fraction of a second +when he saw Drusilla whirl past. He forgot his mine, the fierce battles, +the prophecy--all he wanted was to see her again. Placed on his honor +for the trip he started down the road, walking fast when he failed to +catch a ride, and early the next morning he reported at the prison to +apply for an immediate parole. But luck was against him and his heart +died in his breast, for the Board of Prison Directors had met the week +before and would not meet again for three weeks. Three weeks of idle +waiting, of pacing up and down and cursing the slow passage of time; and +then, perhaps, delays and disappointments and obstructions from +Bible-Back Murray. He sat with bowed head, then rose up suddenly and +wrote a brief letter to Murray. + +"Get me a pardon," he scrawled, "and I'll give you a quit-claim. This +goes, if you do it quick." + +He put it in the mail, with a special delivery stamp, and watched the +endless hours creep by. She was there in Pinal, running her scales, +practicing her exercises, singing arias from the operas at night; and he +was shut in by the gray concrete walls where the guards looked down from +the towers. He could not trust himself now outside of the yard, his +nerve was gone and he would head for Pinal like a homing bird to its +mate. And then it came, quicker than he had ever thought or hoped for, +though he had offered the Silver Treasure in return for it--a full +pardon from the Governor, with his citizenship restored and a letter +expressing confidence in his innocence. Denver clutched it to his breast +and started out across the desert with his eyes on distant Pinal. + +It lay in the shadow of Apache Leap, that blue wall that loomed to the +east, and he hardly stopped to shake hands with the Warden in his haste +to get out on the road. There he stopped the first automobile that was +going up the canyon and demanded a ride as his right, and so earnest was +his manner that the driver took him in and even speeded up his machine. +But at the fork of the ways, where the new road turned off to Murray, +Denver thanked him and got off to walk. The sun was low but he did not +hurry--he had begun to doubt his welcome. A hot shame swept over him at +his convict's shirt, his worn shoes and battered hat; and he wondered +suddenly if it was not all a mistake, if he had not thrown his mine +away. She was an opera singer now, returning from a season which must +have given her a taste of success--what use would she have for him? + +Up the wash to the west, where the automobile road went, a big camp had +sprung up in his absence; but when he topped the hill and gazed down on +Pinal nothing had changed, it was just the same. The street was broad +and empty, the houses still in ruins, his cave still there across the +creek; and from the chimney of Bunker's house a column of smoke mounted +up to show that supper was being cooked. Yes, it was the same old town +that he had entered the year before when Old Bunk had taken him for a +hobo; but now he was hobo and ex-convict both, though the pardon had +restored him to citizenship. His broad shoulders drooped, he turned back +and crossed the creek and slunk like a thief to his cave. + +The door was chained but he wrenched it open and slipped in out of +sight. Bunker Hill had closed up the cave and covered all his things, +and his bed was spread with clean, white sheets; the floor was swept and +the dishes washed, and he knew whose hands had done it. It was Mrs. +Hill's, that kindest of all women; who had even invited him to their +home. Denver started a fire and cooked a hasty supper from the canned +goods that were left in his boxes and then he looked down on the town. +The sun had set now and a single bright star glowed solemnly in the +west, but the valley was silent except for the frogs that made the air +palpitate with their chorus. Old Bunk came out and went over to the +store; someone struck a chord in the house, and as Denver listened +hungrily a voice rose up, clear and flute-like, yet somehow changed. + +It was her's, it was Drusilla's, and yet it was not; the year had made a +change. There was a difference in her singing; a new note of tenderness, +of yearning, of sadness, of love. Yes, he recognized it now, it had the +quality of the Cradle Song that she had listened to so enviously on his +phonograph. She had caught it, at last, that secret, subtle something +which gives Schumann-Heink her power; and which comes only from +love--and suffering. Denver rose up, startled; he had not thought of it +before, but Drusilla must have suffered, too. Not as tragically as he +but in other ways, fighting her way against the whole world. He went in +hastily and lit his lamp but even when he was dressed his courage failed +him and he bowed his head on the table. He dared not face her--now. + +The singing had ceased, the frog chorus seemed to mock him, to din his +convict's shame into his ears; but as he yielded to despair a hand fell +on his shoulders and he looked up to see Drusilla. She was more +beautiful than ever, dressed in the soft yellow gown that she had worn +when first he saw her, but her eyes were reproachful and near to tears +and she drew her hand away. + +"What is it?" she asked. "Can't you ever care for me? Must I make every +single advance? Oh, Denver, after I'd come clear home to see you--why +wouldn't you come down to the house?" + +He roused up startled, unable to comprehend her, his mind in a whirl of +emotions. + +"I was afraid you didn't want me," he said at last and she sank down on +the bench beside him. + +"Not want you?" she repeated. "Why, haven't I done everything to get you +out of prison? Didn't I go to the Professor and beg and plead with him +and sing all my German songs; didn't I go to the Governor and take him +with me, and go through everything to have you pardoned?" + +"Pardoned!" burst out Denver and then he stopped and shook his head +regretfully. "No," he said, "I wish you had, though. I traded my mine +for it--to Murray!" + +"Why, Denver!" she cried, "you did nothing of the kind. I got you that +pardon myself! And then, after all that--and after I'd played, and sung, +and waited for you--you wouldn't even come down to see me!" + +"Why, sure I would!" he protested brokenly, "I'd do anything for you, +Drusilla! But I was afraid you wouldn't want me. I've been in prison, +you know, and it makes a difference. They call me an ex-con now." + +"No, but Denver," she entreated, "surely you didn't think--why, we +_asked_ you to come and stay with us." + +"Yes, I know," he said but the sullen look had come back; he could not +forget so soon. "I know," he went on, "but it wouldn't be right--I guess +we've made a mistake. I wanted to see you, Drusilla; I gave everything I +had, just to get here before you went----" + +"Did you really?" she asked taking him gently by the hand and looking +deep into his eyes, "did you give up your mine--for me?" + +"Just to see you," answered Denver, "but after I got here----" + +"Oh, I'm so glad!" she sighed, "and you haven't lost your mine. I got to +the Governor first." + +"You did?" he cried and then he sat up and the old fire came back into +his eyes. "That's right," he laughed, "you must have beat him to it--I +thought that pardon came quick! This'll cost old Murray a million." + +"No, you haven't lost your mine," she went on, smiling curiously. "You +think a lot of it, don't you?" + +"Well, I don't know," grumbled Denver, "whether I do or not now. I +believe that mine was a Jonah. I believe I made a mistake and chose the +wrong treasure--I should have taken the gold." + +"Oh, Denver!" she beamed, "do you really think so? I've always just +hated that mine. I've always had the feeling that you thought more of it +than you did of me--or anybody." + +"Well, I did," confessed Denver, "it seemed to kind of draw me--to make +me forget everything else. And Drusilla, I'm sorry I didn't come +down--that night when you went away." + +"It was the mine," she frowned, "I believe it was accursed. It always +came between us. But you must sell it now, and not work for a while--I +want you to entertain me." + +"I'll do it!" exclaimed Denver, "I'll sell out for what I can get and +then we can be together. How did you get along on your trip?" + +"Oh, fine!" she burst out radiantly, "Oh, I had such _luck_. I was +only the understudy, and doing minor parts, when the soprano was taken +ill in the second act and I went in and scored a triumph. It was 'Love +Tales of Hoffmann' and when I sang the 'Barcarolle' they recalled me +seven times! That is they recalled us both--it's sung as a duet, you +know." + +"Um," nodded Denver and listened in glum silence as she related the +details of her premier. "And how about those tenors?" he asked at last, +"did any of 'em steal my kiss?" + +"No--or that is--well, we won't talk about that now. But of course I +have to act my parts." + +"Oh, sure, sure!" he answered rebelliously and a triumphant twinkle came +into her eyes. + +"Do you still believe in the prophecy?" she asked, "and in all that +Mother Trigedgo told you? Because if you do, I've got some news--you +won't die until you're past eighty." + +"I won't?" challenged Denver and then he stopped and waited as she +smiled back at him mischievously. + +"She's a nice old woman," went on Drusilla demurely, "but I wouldn't +take her too seriously. She told me, for instance, that I'd give up a +great career in order to marry for love. Yes, I went over to see her, +myself." + +"But what about me?" demanded Denver eagerly, "did she say I'd live till +I was eighty?" + +"Yes, she did; and she told me some other things, including the color of +your eyes. But don't you see, Denver, that you made a mistake when you +took what she said so seriously? Why, you wouldn't even speak to me or +let us be friends for fear that I'd rise up and kill you; and now it +appears that it was all a mistake and you're going to live till you're +eighty." + +"Well, all the same," responded Denver sighing and stretching his great +arms, "I'm awful glad she said it. And a man could live to be eighty and +still be killed by his friend. No, I believe that prophecy was true!" + +"Very well," she assented, "but you don't need to worry about our +friendship, and that's the principal thing. I just did it to set your +mind at rest." + +"Yes, it _was_ true," he went on rousing up from a reverie, "but I +was wrong--I should have taken the gold." + +"Is that all you think of?" she asked impatiently, "is there nothing but +silver and gold?" + +"Yes, there is," he acknowledged, "but--say, Drusilla I'm going to buy +out the Dutchman. I believe that stringer of his is rich." + +"What stringer?" she demanded looking up from her own musings and then +she nodded and sighed. "Yes, I know," she said, "you're back at your +mining--but you promised you'd think only of me. I may not be here long +and you want to be nice to me; because I almost hated you, once. Now +listen, Denver, and let _me_ interpret--don't you know you've got +everything wrong?" + +"No!" declared Denver, "it has all come out perfectly. I've lived clear +through it, already. Only I chose the wrong treasure and so I lost them +both and suffered a great disgrace. I should have taken the gold." + +"No; listen Denver," she went on patiently, "and don't always be +thinking of _things_. A golden treasure isn't necessarily of gold, +it might be even--me." + +"You?" echoed Denver and then he clutched his hands and stared about him +wildly. + +"Why, yes," she answered evenly, "haven't you noticed my hair? Other men +are not so blind--and one of them said it reminded him of fine-spun +gold. Yes, I was the golden treasure in the shadow of Apache Leap, but +all you could think of was mines. The mine was your silver treasure, and +you had to choose between us--and you always chose the mine. No matter +how I sang, or did up my hair or came around where you were at work; you +always went into that black, hateful hole, and I used to go home and +cry. But--no, listen, Denver--when you saw me come back, and you wanted +to see me, and there was no other way to do it; then you threw away your +mine and told Murray to take it--and I knew that you really loved me. +You loved me even more than your mine, and so you won us both. Do you +like your golden treasure?" + +"I was a fool!" moaned Denver but she stroked his rumpled hair and +raised his face from his hands. + +"We've both of us been foolish," she whispered, "I nearly hated you +once, and nearly gave your kiss to a tenor. But--oh Denver, I'll never +sing with those men again! I know you wouldn't like it." + +"No, I wouldn't," he admitted, "and if you'll only----" + +"There it is," she interrupted, giving him the long-treasured kiss. "I +saved it just for you." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SILVER AND GOLD*** + + +******* This file should be named 30572-8.txt or 30572-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/5/7/30572 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Silver and Gold</p> +<p> A Story of Luck and Love in a Western Mining Camp</p> +<p>Author: Dane Coolidge</p> +<p>Release Date: December 2, 2009 [eBook #30572]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SILVER AND GOLD***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>SILVER AND GOLD</h1> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:10px;'>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;'>THE FIGHTING FOOL:</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;margin-bottom:10px;'>A Tale of the Western Frontier</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;margin-bottom:10px;'>Cloth, 12mo. with a wrapper drawn by<br />Edward Borein</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;margin-bottom:10px;'>$1.75 net</p> +<p class='tp' style=''>E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;'>NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='tp' style='font-size:2.0em;margin-bottom:30px;'>SILVER AND GOLD</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;'>A Story of Luck and Love<br />in a Western Mining Camp</p> +<p class='tp' style=''>BY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;'>DANE COOLIDGE</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:30px;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Author of “The Fighting Fool” Etc</span>.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-emb.jpg' id="img000" alt='' /> +</div> + +<p class='tp' style='margin-top:10px;margin-bottom:30px;'>“Gold is where you find it, and Silver<br />in high places.”–<i>Miners’ Saying</i>.</p> +<p class='tp' style=''>NEW YORK</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;'>E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY</p> +<p class='tp' style=''>681 FIFTH AVENUE</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='tp' style=''><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Copyright</span>, 1919</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:10px;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>By</span> E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:10px;'>All Rights Reserved</p> +<p class='tp' style=''>Printed in the United States of America</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='TOC'> +<tr><td colspan='3' style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em;'>CONTENTS</td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1' style='font-size:smaller;'>CHAPTER</td><td></td><td class='c3' style='font-size:smaller;'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>I.</td><td class='c2'>The Ground-Hog</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_1'>1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>II.</td><td class='c2'>Big Boy</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_2'>7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>III.</td><td class='c2'>Hobo Stuff</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_3'>16</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>IV.</td><td class='c2'>Cash</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_4'>23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>V.</td><td class='c2'>Mother Trigedgo</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_5'>33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>VI.</td><td class='c2'>The Oraculum</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_6'>42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>VII.</td><td class='c2'>The Eminent Buttinsky</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_7'>53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>VIII.</td><td class='c2'>The Silver Treasure</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_8'>61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>IX.</td><td class='c2'>Bible-Back Murray</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_9'>72</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>X.</td><td class='c2'>Signs and Omens</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_10'>81</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XI.</td><td class='c2'>The Lady of the Sycamores</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_11'>92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XII.</td><td class='c2'>Steel on Steel</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_12'>100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XIII.</td><td class='c2'>Swede Luck</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_13'>108</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XIV.</td><td class='c2'>The Strike</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_14'>119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XV.</td><td class='c2'>A Night for Love</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_15'>128</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XVI.</td><td class='c2'>A Friend</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_16'>138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XVII.</td><td class='c2'>Broke</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_17'>147</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XVIII.</td><td class='c2'>The Hand of Fate</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_18'>154</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XIX.</td><td class='c2'>The Man-Killer</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_19'>161</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XX.</td><td class='c2'>Jumpers–and Tenors</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_20'>170</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XXI.</td><td class='c2'>Broke Again</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_21'>180</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XXII.</td><td class='c2'>The Rock-Drilling Contest</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_22'>189</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XXIII.</td><td class='c2'>The Heart of his Beloved</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_23'>200</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XXIV.</td><td class='c2'>Colonel Dodge</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_24'>210</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XXV.</td><td class='c2'>The Answer</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_25'>219</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XXVI.</td><td class='c2'>The Course of the Law</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_26'>231</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XXVII.</td><td class='c2'>Like a Hog on Ice</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_27'>238</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XXVIII.</td><td class='c2'>Parole</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_28'>245</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='c1'>XXIX.</td><td class='c2'>The Interpretation Thereof</td><td class='c3'><a href='#link_29'>251</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='tp' style='font-size:2.0em;'>SILVER AND GOLD</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='tp' style='font-style:italic;font-size:1.2em;'>THE PROPHECY</p> + +<p>“<i>You will make a long journey to the West and there, within the +shadow of a Place of Death, you will find two treasures, one of Silver and the +other of Gold. Choose well between them and both shall be Yours, but if you +choose unwisely you will lose them Both and suffer a great disgrace. You will +fall in love with a beautiful woman who is an artist, but beware how you reveal +your affection or she will confer her hand upon Another. Courage and constancy +will attend you through life but in the end will prove your undoing, for you +will meet your death at the hands of your Dearest Friend.</i>”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p style='font-size:1.6em;' class='tp'><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1'></a>1</span>SILVER AND GOLD</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><a id='link_1'></a>CHAPTER I<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE GROUND-HOG</span></h2> + +<p>The day had dawned on the summit of Apache Leap and a golden eagle, wheeling +high above the crags, flashed back the fire of the sun from his wings; but in +the valley below where old Pinal lay sleeping the heat had not begun. A cool +wind drew down from the black mouth of Queen Creek Canyon, stirring the listless +leaves of the willows, and the shadow of the great cliff fell like a soothing +hand on the deserted town at its base. In the brief freshness of the morning +there was a smell of flaunting green from the sycamores along the creek, and the +tang of greasewood from the ridges; and then, from the chimney of a massive +stone house, there came the odor of smoke. A coffee mill began to purr from the +kitchen behind and a voice shouted a summons to breakfast, but the hobo miner +who lay sprawling in his blankets did not answer the peremptory call. He raised +his great head, turned his pig eyes toward the house, then covered his face from +the flies.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2'></a>2</span>There was a clatter +of dishes, a long interval of silence, and then the sun like a flaming disc +topped the mountain wall to the east. The square adobe houses cast long black +shadows across the whitened dust of the street and as the man burrowed deeper to +keep out the light the door of the stone house slammed. The day seldom passed +when Bunker Hill’s wife did not cook for three or four hoboes but when Old +Bunk called a man in to breakfast he expected him to come. He stood for a +minute, tall and rangy and grizzled, a desert squint in one eye; and then with a +muttered oath he strode across the street.</p> + +<p>“Hey!” he called prodding the blankets with his boot and the hobo +came alive with a jump.</p> + +<p>“You look out!” he snarled, bounding violently to his feet and +dropping back to a crouch; but when he met Bunker Hill’s steely eyes he +mumbled something and lowered his hands.</p> + +<p>“All right, pardner,” observed Hill, “I’ll do all of +that; but if you figure on getting any breakfast you’d better come in and +eat it.”</p> + +<p>“Huh!” responded the hobo scowling and blinking at the sun and +then without a word he started for the house. He was a big, hulking man, with +arms like a bear and bulging, bench-like legs; but the expression on his face +above his enormous black mustache was that of a disgruntled ground-hog. His nose +was tipped up, his eyes were small and stubborn and as he ate a hurried +breakfast he glanced about uneasily as if fearful of some trap; <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span>yet if Bunker Hill had any +reservations about his guest he did not abate his hospitality. The coffee was +still hot, there was plenty of everything and when the miner rose to go Old Bunk +accompanied him to the door.</p> + +<p>“Going to be hot,” he observed as the heat struck through their +clothes; but the hobo omitted even a nod of assent in his haste to be off down +the trail.</p> + +<p>“Well, the dadblasted bum!” exclaimed Bunker in a rage as the +miner passed over the first hill and, stumping across the street, he rolled up +the tumbled blankets. “The dirty dog!” he grumbled vindictively, +hoisting the bed upon his shoulders; but as he started back to the house he +heard something drop from the roll. He paused and looked back and there on the +ground lay a wallet, stuffed with bills. It was the miner’s purse, which +he had put under his pillow and forgotten in his sudden departure.</p> + +<p>“O-ho!” observed Bunker as he picked it up. “O-ho, I +thought you was broke!” He opened the purse with great deliberation, +laying bare a great sheaf of bills, and as his wife and daughter came hurrying +down the steps he counted the hobo’s hoard.</p> + +<p>“Over eight hundred dollars,” he announced with ominous calm. +“Some roll, when a man is bumming his meals and can’t even stop to +say thanks─”</p> + +<p>“He’s coming back for it,” broke in his wife anxiously. +“And now, Andrew, please don’t─”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span>“Never +mind,” returned her husband, slipping the wallet into his pocket, and she +sighed and folded her hands. The hobo was walking fast, coming back down the +hill, and when he saw Hill by the blankets he broke into a ponderous trot.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he called, “you didn’t see a purse, did ye? I +left one under my blankets.”</p> + +<p>“A purse!” exclaimed Bunker with exaggerated surprise. “Why +I thought you was broke–what business have <i>you</i> got with a +purse?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I had a few keep-sakes and─”</p> + +<p>“You’re a liar!” rapped out Bunker and his sharp lower jaw +suddenly jutted out like a crag. “You’re a liar,” he repeated, +as the hobo let it pass, “you had eight hundred and twenty-five +dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what’s that to you?” retorted the miner defiantly. +“It’s mine, so gimme it back!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” drawled Bunker hauling the purse from +his pocket and looking over the bills, “I don’t know whether I will +or not. You came in here last night and told me you were broke, but right here +is where I collect. It’ll cost you five dollars for your supper and +breakfast and five dollars more for your bed–that’s my regular price +to transients.”</p> + +<p>“No, you don’t!” exclaimed the hobo, but as Bunker looked +up he drew back a step and waited.</p> + +<p>“That’s ten dollars in all,” continued Hill, extracting two +bills from the purse, “and next time you bum your breakfast I’d +advise you to thank the cook.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5'></a>5</span>“Hey, you give +me that money!” burst out the miner hoarsely, holding out a threatening +hand, and Bunker Hill rose to his full height. He was six feet two when he +stooped.</p> + +<p>“W’y, sure,” he said handing over the wallet; but as the miner +turned to go Hill jabbed him in the ribs with a pistol. “Just a moment, my +friend,” he went on quietly, “I just want to tell you a few things. +I’ve been feeding men like you for fifteen years, right here in this old +town, and I’ve never turned one away yet; but you can tell any bo that you +meet on the trail that the road-sign for this burg is changed. I used to be +easy, but so help me Gawd, I’ll never feed a hobo again. Here my wife has +been slaving over a red-hot stove cooking grub for you hoboes for years and the +first bum that forgets and leaves his purse has eight hundred +dollars–cash! Now you git, dad-burn ye, before I do the world a favor and +fill you full of lead!” He motioned him away with the muzzle of his pistol +while his wife laid a hand on his arm, and after one look the hobo turned and +loped over the top of the hill.</p> + +<p>“Now Andrew, please,” expostulated Mrs. Hill, and, still +breathing hard, Old Bunk put up his gun and reached for a chew of tobacco.</p> + +<p>“Well, all right,” he growled, “but you heard what I +said–that’s the last doggoned hobo we feed.”</p> + +<p>“Well–perhaps,” she conceded, but Bunker Hill was roused by +the memory of years of ingratitude.</p> + +<p>“No ‘perhaps’ about it,” he asserted firmly, +“I’ll <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span>run +every last one of them away. Do you think I’m going to work my head off +for my family, only to be et out of house and home? Do you think I’m going +to have you cooking meals for these miners when they’re earning their five +dollars a day? Let ’em buy a lunch at the store!”</p> + +<p>“No, but Andrew,” protested Mrs. Hill, who was a large, motherly +soul and not to be bowed down by work, “I’m sure that some of them +are worthy.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know you are,” he answered, smiling grimly, +“that’s what you always say. But you hear me, now; I’m +through. Don’t you feed another man.”</p> + +<p>He turned to his daughter for support, but his bad luck had just begun. +Drusilla was shading her eyes from the sun and staring up the trail.</p> + +<p>“Oh, here comes another one,” she cried in a hushed voice and +pointed up the creek. He stood at the mouth of the black-shadowed canyon where +the trail comes in from Globe–a young man with wind-blown hair, looking +doubtfully down at the town; but when he saw them he stepped boldly forth and +came plodding down the trail.</p> + +<p>“Oh, not this one!” pleaded Mrs. Hill when she saw his boyish +face; but Bunker Hill thrust out his jaw.</p> + +<p>“Every one of ’em,” he muttered, “the whole +works–all of ’em! You women folks go into the house.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span><a id='link_2'></a>CHAPTER II<br /><span class='h2fs'>BIG BOY</span></h2> + +<p>He was a big, fair-haired boy, blue-eyed and clean limbed, and as he came +down the trail there was a spring to his step that not even a limp could +obliterate; and at every stride the great muscles in his chest played and +rippled beneath his shirt. He was a fine figure of a man, tall and straight as +an Apollo, and yet he was a hobo. Never before had Bunker Hill seen a better +built man or one more open-faced and frank, but he came down the trail with the +familiar hobo-limp and Bunker set his jaws and waited. It was such men as this, +young and strong and full of blood, who had kept him poor for years. Hobo +miners, the most expert of their craft, and begging their grub on the trail!</p> + +<p>“Good morning,” nodded Hill and squinted down his eyes as the +young man boggled at his words.</p> + +<p>“Good morning,” replied the hobo and then, after a pause, he +straightened up and came to the point. “What’s the chance to get a +little something to eat?” he inquired with a twisted smile and Bunker Hill +sprang his bomb.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span>“Danged +poor,” he returned, and as the hobo blinked he spoke his piece with a +rush. “I’ve got a store over there where you can buy what you want; +but I’ve quit, absolutely, feeding every hobo that comes by and batters my +door for grub. I’m an old man myself and you’re young and +strong–why the hell don’t you get out and work?”</p> + +<p>“Never you mind,” answered the hobo, his eyes glowing angrily; +and as Old Bunk went on with his tirade the miner’s lip curled with scorn. +“That’s all right, old-timer,” he broke in with cold +politeness–“no offense–don’t let me deprive you. I +don’t make a practice of battering on back doors. But, say, I’m +looking for a fellow with a big, black mustache–did you see him come by +this way?”</p> + +<p>“Did I <i>see</i> him?” yelled Hill flying into a fury, +“well you’re danged whistling I did! He came in last night and +bummed his supper–my wife had to cook it special–and I gave him his +bed and breakfast; and this morning when he left he didn’t even say: +‘Thanks!’ That’s how grateful these hoboes are! And when I went out +to pick up his blankets a thumping big purse dropped out!”</p> + +<p>“Holy Joe!” exclaimed the hobo looking up with sudden interest, +“say, how long ago did he leave?”</p> + +<p>“Not half an hour! No, not ten minutes ago–and if my wife +hadn’t been there to hold me down I’d have run him till he dropped. +And when I opened that purse it was full of money–there was eight hundred +and twenty-five dollars–and him trying to tell me he was broke!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span>“That’s +him, all right,” declared the hobo. “Well, so long; I’ll be on +my way.”</p> + +<p>He started off down the trail at a long, swinging stride, then turned +abruptly back.</p> + +<p>“I’ll get a drink,” he suggested, “if there’s +no objection. Don’t charge for your water, I reckon.”</p> + +<p>It was all said politely and yet there was an edge to it which cut Old Bunk +to the quick. He, Bunker Hill, who had fed hoboes for years and had never taken +a cent, to be insulted like this by the first sturdy beggar that he declined to +serve with a meal! He reached for his gun, but just at that moment his wife laid +a hand on his arm. She had not been far away, just up on the porch where she +could watch what was going on, and she turned to the hobo with a smile.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Hill is just angry,” she explained good-naturedly, “on +account of that other man; but if you’ll wait a few minutes I’ll +cook you some breakfast and─”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, ma’am,” returned the miner, taking off his hat +civilly, “I’ll just take a drink and go.”</p> + +<p>He hurried back to the well and, picking up the bucket, drank long and deep +of the water; then he threw away the rest and with practiced hands drew up a +fresh bucket from the depths.</p> + +<p>“You’d better fill a bottle,” called Bunker Hill, whose +anger was beginning to evaporate, “it’s sixteen miles to the next +water.”</p> + +<p>The hobo said nothing, nor did he fill a bottle, and as he came back past +them there was a set to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_10'></a>10</span>his jaw that was eloquent of rage and disdain. It was +the custom of the country–of that great, desert country where houses are +days’ journeys apart–to invite every stranger in; and as Bunker Hill +gazed after him he saw his good name held up to execration and scorn. This boy +was a Westerner, he could tell by his looks and the way he saved on his words, +perhaps he even lived in those parts; and in a sudden vision Hill beheld him +spreading the news as he followed the long trail to the railroad. He would come +dragging in to Whitlow’s Wells, the next station down the road, so weak he +could hardly walk and when they enquired into his famished condition he would +unfold some terrible tale. And the worst of it was that the boys would believe +it and repeat it to all who passed. Men would hear in distant cow camps, far +back in the Superstitions, that Old Bunk had driven a starving man from his door +and he had nearly perished on the desert.</p> + +<p>“Hey!” called Bunker Hill taking a step or two after him, +“wait a minute–I’ll give you a lunch.”</p> + +<p>“You can keep your lunch,” said the man over his shoulder and +strode doggedly on up the hill.</p> + +<p>“Gimme something to take to him,” rapped out Hill to his wife, +but the hobo’s sharp ears had caught the words and he wheeled abruptly in +his tracks.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t take your danged lunch if it was the last grub on +earth,” he shouted in a towering <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_11'></a>11</span>rage; and while they stood gazing he turned his back +and passed on over the hill.</p> + +<p>“Let ’im go!” grumbled Bunker pacing up and down and +avoiding his helpmeet’s eye, but at last he ripped out a smothered oath +and racked off down the street to his stable. This was an al fresco affair, +consisting of a big stone corral within the walls of what had once been the +dancehall, and as he saddled up his horse and rode out the narrow gate he found +his wife waiting with a lunch.</p> + +<p>“Don’t crush the doughnuts,” she murmured anxiously and +patted his hand approvingly.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he said and, putting spurs to his horse, he galloped +off over the hill.</p> + +<p>The old town of Pinal lay on a bench above the creek bed, with high cliffs to +the east and north; but south and west the country fell off rapidly in a series +of rolling ridges. Over these the road to the railroad climbed and dipped with +wearisome regularity until at last it dropped down into the creek-bed again and +followed its dry, sandy course. Not half an hour had passed from the time the +second hobo left till Old Bunk had started after him, yet so fast had he +traveled that he was almost to the creek bed before Bunker Hill caught sight of +him.</p> + +<p>“Ay, Chihuahua!” he ejaculated in shrill surprise and reined in +his horse to gaze. The young hobo was running and, not far ahead, the Ground Hog +was fleeing before him. They ran through bushy gulches and over cactus-crowned +ridges where the sahuaros rose up like giant sentinels; until at last, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span>as he came to the sandy +creek-bed, the black hobo stood at bay.</p> + +<p>“They’re fighting!” exclaimed Bunker with a joyous chuckle +and rode down the trail like the wind.</p> + +<p>After twenty wild years in Old Mexico, there were times when Bunker Hill +found Arizona a trifle tame; but here at last there was staged a combat that +promised to take a place in local history. When he rode up on the fight the +young miner and the Ground Hog were standing belt to belt, exchanging blows with +all their strength, and as the young man reeled back from a right to the jaw the +Ground Hog leapt in to finish him.</p> + +<p>“Here! None of that!” spoke up Bunker Hill menacing the black +hobo with his quirt; but the battered young Apollo waved him angrily aside and +flew at his opponent again.</p> + +<p>“I’ll show you, you danged dog!” he cursed exultantly as +the Ground Hog went down before him, “I’ll show you how to run out +on me! Come on, you big stiff, and if I don’t make you holler quit you can +have every dollar you stole!”</p> + +<p>“Hey, what’s the matter, Big Boy? What’s going on +here?” demanded Bunker of the blond young giant. “I thought you +fellers were pardners.”</p> + +<p>“Pardners, hell!” spat Big Boy, whose mouth was beginning to +bleed. “He robbed me of all my money. We won eight hundred dollars in the +drilling contest at Globe and he collected the stakes and beat it!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_13'></a>13</span>“You’re a liar!” retorted the Ground +Hog standing sullenly on his guard, and once more Big Boy went after him. They +roughed it back and forth, neither seeking to avoid the blows but swinging with +all their might; until at last the Ground Hog landed a mighty smash that knocked +his opponent to the ground. “Now lay there,” he jeered, and, +stepping over to one side, he picked up a purse from the ground.</p> + +<p>It was the same bulging purse that he had forgotten that morning in his hurry +to get over the hill, and as Bunker Hill gazed at it two things which had misled +him became suddenly very plain. The day before had been the Fourth of July, when +the miners had their contests in Globe, and these two powerful men were a team +of double-jackers who had won the first prize between them. Then the Ground Hog +had stolen the total proceeds, which accounted for his show of great wealth; and +Big Boy, on the other hand, being left without a cent, had been compelled to beg +for his breakfast. A wave of righteous anger rose up in Old Bunk’s breast +at the monstrous injustice of it all and, whipping out his pistol, he threw down +on the Ground Hog and ordered him to put up his hands.</p> + +<p>“And now lay down that purse,” he continued briefly, +“before I shoot the flat out of your eye.”</p> + +<p>The hobo complied, but before he could retreat the young miner raised himself +up.</p> + +<p>“Say, you butt out of this!” he said to Bunker <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span>Hill, waggling his head to +shake off the blood. “I’ll ’tend to this yap +myself.”</p> + +<p>He turned his gory front to the Ground Hog, who came eagerly back to the +fray; and once more like snarling animals they heaved and slugged and grunted, +until once more poor Big Boy went down.</p> + +<p>“I can whip him!” he panted rising up and clearing his eyes. +“I could clean him in a minute–only I’m starved.”</p> + +<p>He staggered and the heart of Bunker Hill smote him when he remembered how he +had denied the man food. Yet he bored in resolutely, though his blows were weak, +and the Ground Hog’s pig eyes gleamed. He abated his own blows, standing +with arms relaxed and waiting; and when he saw the opening he struck. It was +aimed at the jaw, a last, smashing hay-maker, such a blow as would stagger an +ox; but as it came past his guard the young Apollo ducked, and then suddenly he +struck from the hip. His whole body was behind it, a sharp uppercut that caught +the hurtling Ground Hog on the chin; and as his head went back his body lurched +and followed and he landed in a heap in the dirt.</p> + +<p>“He’s out!” shouted Bunker and Big Boy nodded grimly; but +the Ground Hog was pawing at the ground. He rose up, and fell, then rose up +again; and as they watched him half-pityingly he scrambled across the sand and +made a grab at the purse.</p> + +<p>“You stand back!” he blustered clutching the purse to his breast +and snapping open the blade of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_15'></a>15</span>a huge jack-knife; but before Old Bunk could intervene +Big Boy had caught up a rock.</p> + +<p>“You drop that knife,” he shouted fiercely, “or I’ll +bash out your brains with this stone!” And as the Ground Hog gazed into +his battle-mad eyes he weakened and dropped the knife. “Now gimme that +purse!” ordered the masterful Big Boy and, cringing before the rock, the +beaten Ground Hog slammed it down on the ground with a curse.</p> + +<p>“I’ll git you yet!” he burst out hoarsely as he shambled +off down the trail, “I’ll learn you to git gay with me!”</p> + +<p>“You’ll learn me nothing,” returned the young miner +contemptuously and gathered up the spoils of battle.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span><a id='link_3'></a>CHAPTER III<br /><span class='h2fs'>HOBO STUFF</span></h2> + +<p>“Young man,” began Bunker Hill after a long and painful silence +in which Big Boy completely ignored him, “I want to ask your pardon. And +anything I can do─”</p> + +<p>“I’m all right,” cut in the hobo wiping the blood out of +one eye and feeling tenderly of a tooth, “and I don’t want nothing +to do with you.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t blame ye, can’t blame ye,” answered Old Bunk +judicially. “I certainly got you wrong. But as I was about to say, Mrs. +Hill sent this lunch and she said she hoped you’d accept it.”</p> + +<p>He untied a sack from the back of his saddle, and as he caught the fragrance +of new-made doughnuts Big Boy’s resolution failed.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he said, making a grab for the lunch. “Much +obliged!” And he chucked him a bill.</p> + +<p>“Hey, what’s this for?” exclaimed Bunker Hill grievously. +“Didn’t I ask your pardon already.”</p> + +<p>“Well, maybe you did,” returned the hobo, “but after that +call down you gave me this morning I’m going to pay my way. It’s too +danged bad,” he murmured sarcastically as he opened up the lunch. <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span>“Sure hard luck to +see a good woman like that married to a pennypinching old walloper like +you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” observed Old Bunk, gazing doubtfully at +the bill, but at last he put it in his pocket.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s right,” he agreed with an indulgent smile, +“she’s an awful good cook–and an awful good woman, too. +I’ll just give her this money to buy some little present–she told me +I was wrong, all the time. But I want to tell you, pardner–you can believe +it or not–I never turned a man down before.”</p> + +<p>The hobo grunted and bit into a doughnut and Bunker Hill settled down beside +him.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he began in an easy, conversational tone, “did you +ever hear about the hobo that was walking the streets in Globe? Well, he was +broke and up against it–hadn’t et for two days and the rustling was +awful poor–but as he was walking along the street in front of that big +restaurant he saw a new meal ticket on the sidewalk. His luck had been so bad he +wouldn’t even look at it but at last when he went by he took another slant +and see that it was good–there wasn’t but one meal punched +out.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, rats,” scoffed Big Boy, “are you still telling that +one? There was a miner came by just as he reached down to grab it and punched +out every meal with his hob-nails.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the story,” admitted Bunker, “but say, +here’s another one–did you ever hear of the hobo <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span>Mark Twain? Well, he was a +well-known character in the old days around Globe–kinder drifted around +from one camp to the other and worked all his friends for a dollar. That was his +regular graft, he never asked for more and he never asked the same man twice, +but once every year he’d make the rounds and the old-timers kind of put up +with him. Great story-teller and all that and one day I was sitting talking with +him when a mining man came into the saloon. He owned a mine, over around Mammoth +somewhere, and he wanted a man to herd it. It was seventy-five a month, with all +expenses paid and all you had to do was to stick around and keep some outsider +from jumping in. Well, when he asked for a man I saw right away it was just the +place for old Mark and I began to kind of poke him in the ribs, but when he +didn’t answer I hollered to the mining man that I had just the feller he +wanted. Well, the mining man came over and put it up to Mark, and everybody +present began to boost. He was such an old bum that we wanted to get rid of him +and there wasn’t a thing he could kick on. There was plenty of grub, a +nice house to live in and he didn’t have to work a tap; but in spite of +all that, after he’d asked all kinds of questions, Old Mark said +he’d have to think it over. So he went over to the bar and began to figger +on some paper and at last he came back and said he was sorry but he +couldn’t afford to take it.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, why not?’ we asks, because we knowed he was a bum, but he +says: ‘Well gentlemen, I’ll <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_19'></a>19</span>tell ye, it’s this way. I’ve got twelve +hundred friends in Arizona that’s worth a dollar apiece a year; but this +danged job only pays seventy-five a month–I’d be losing three +hundred a year.”</p> + +<p>“Huh, huh,” grunted Big Boy, picking up some folded tarts, +“your mind seems to be took up with hoboes.”</p> + +<p>“Them’s my wife’s pay-streak biscuits,” grinned +Bunker Hill, “or at least, that’s what I call ’em. The bottom +crust is the foot-wall, the top is the hanging-wall, and the jelly in the middle +is the pay streak.”</p> + +<p>“Danged good!” pronounced the hobo licking the tips of his +fingers and Old Bunk tapped him on the knee.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he said, “seeing the way you whipped that jasper +puts me in mind of a feller back in Texas. He was a big, two-fisted hombre, one +of these Texas bad-men that was always getting drunk and starting in to clean up +the town; and he had all the natives bluffed. Well, he was in the saloon one +day, telling how many men he’d killed, when a little guy dropped in that +had just come to town, and he seemed to take a great interest. He kept edging up +closer, sharpening the blade of his jack-knife on one of these here little +pocket whetstones, until finally he reached over and cut a notch in the bad +man’s ear.</p> + +<p>“There,” he says, “you’re so doggoned bad–next +time I see you I’ll know you!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span>“Yeh, some +guy,” observed Big Boy, “and I see you’re some story-teller, +but what’s all this got to do with me?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing, nothing,” answered Old Bunk hastily, “only I +thought while you were eating─”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you told me two stories about a couple of hoboes and then another +one about taming down a bad man; but I want to tell you right now, before you go +any further, that I’m no hobo nor bad man neither. I’m a danged good +miner–one of the best in Globe─”</p> + +<p>“Aw, no no!” burst out Bunker holding up both hands in protest, +“you’ve got me wrong entirely.”</p> + +<p>“Well, your stories may be all right,” responded Big Boy shortly, +“but they don’t make a hit with me. And I’ve took about +enough, for one day.”</p> + +<p>He started back up the trail and Bunker Hill rode along behind him going over +the events of the day. Some distinctly evil genius seemed to have taken +possession of him from the moment he got out of bed and, try as he would, it +seemed absolutely impossible for him to square himself with this Big Boy.</p> + +<p>“Hey, git on and ride,” he shouted encouragingly, but Big Boy +shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Don’t want to,” he answered and once more Bunker Hill was +left to ponder his mistakes. The first, of course, was in taking too much for +granted when Big Boy had walked into town; and the second was in ever refusing a +hobo when he asked <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_21'></a>21</span>for something to eat. True it amounted in the +aggregate to a heart-breaking amount–almost enough to support his +family–but a man lost his luck when he turned a hobo down and Old Bunk +decided against it. Never again, he resolved, would he restrain his good wife +from following the dictates of her heart, and that meant that every hobo that +walked into town would get a square meal in his kitchen. Where the cash was +coming from to buy this expensive food and pay for the freighting across the +desert was a matter for the future to decide, but as he dwelt on his problem a +sudden ray of hope roused Bunker Hill from his reverie. Speaking of money, the +ex-hobo, walking along in front of him, had over eight hundred dollars in his +hip pocket–and he claimed to be a miner!</p> + +<p>“Say!” began Bunker as they came in sight of town, “d’ye +see those old workings over there? That’s the site of the celebrated Lost +Burro Mine–turned out over four millions in silver!”</p> + +<p>“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” answered Big Boy wearily, +“been closed down though, for twenty years.”</p> + +<p>“I’m the owner of that property,” went on Bunker pompously. +“Andrew Hill is my name and I’d be glad to show you +round.”</p> + +<p>“Nope,” said the future prospect, “I’m too danged +tired. I’m going down to the crick and rest.”</p> + +<p>“Come up to the house,” proposed Bunker Hill cordially, +“and meet my wife and family. I’m sure <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span>Mrs. Hill will be glad to see you +back–she was afraid that something might happen to you.”</p> + +<p>The hobo glanced up with a swift, cynical smile and turned off down the trail +to the creek.</p> + +<p>“I see you’ve got your eye on my roll,” he observed and +Bunker Hill shrugged regretfully.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span><a id='link_4'></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><span class='h2fs'>CASH</span></h2> + +<p>It was evident to Bunker Hill that no common measures would serve to interest +this young capitalist in his district; and yet there he was, a big husky young +miner, with eight hundred dollars in his pocket. That eight hundred dollars, if +wisely expended, might open up a bonanza in Pinal; and in any case, if it was +spent with him, it would help to pay the freight. Old Bunk chopped open a bale +of hay with an ax and gave his horse a feed; and, after he had given his +prospect time to rest, he drifted off down towards the creek.</p> + +<p>The creek at Pinal was one of those vagrant Western streams that appear and +disappear at will. Where its course was sandy it sank from sight, creeping along +on the bed-rock below; but where as at Pinal the bed-rock came to the surface, +then the creek, perforce, rushed and gurgled. From the dark and windy depths of +Queen Creek Canyon it came rioting down over the rocks and where the trail +crossed there was a mighty sycamore that almost dammed its course. With its +gnarled and swollen roots half dug from their crevices by the tumultuous +violence of cloudbursts, it clung like <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_24'></a>24</span>an octopus to a shattered reef of rocks and sucked up +its nourishment from the water. In the pool formed by its roots the minnows +leapt and darted, solemn bull-frogs stared forth from dark holes, and in a +natural seat against the huge tree trunk Big Boy sat cooling his feet. He looked +younger now, with the blood washed off his face and the hard lines of hunger +ironed out, and as Bunker Hill made some friendly crack he showed his white +teeth in a smile.</p> + +<p>“Pretty nice down here,” he said and Bunker nodded gravely.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, “nice place for frogs. Say, did you ever +hear the story about Spud Murphy’s frog farm? Well Spud was an old-timer, +awful gallant to the ladies, especially when he’d had a few drinks, and +every time he’d get loaded about so far he’d get out an old flute +and play it. But it sounded so sad and mournful that everybody kicked, and one +time over at a dance when Spud was about to play some ladies began to jolly him +about it.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, I’ll tell you,’ says Spud, ‘there’s a story +connected with that flute. The only time I ever stood to make a fortune I +spoiled it by playing that sad music.’</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, tell us about it,’ they all says at once; so Spud began on +his tale.</p> + +<p>“It seems he was over around Clifton when some French miners came in +and, knowing their weakness, Spud dammed up the creek and got ready to have a +frog farm. He sent back to Arkansaw and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_25'></a>25</span>got three carloads of bull-frogs–thoroughbreds +old Spud said they was–and turned them loose in the creek; and every +evening, to keep them from getting lonely, he’d play ’em a few tunes +on his flute. Well, they were doing fine, getting used to the dry country and +beginning to get over being homesick, when one night Murph went up there and +played them the Arkansaw Traveler.</p> + +<p>“Well, of course that was the come-on–Old Spud stopped his +story–and finally one lady bit.</p> + +<p>“‘Yes, but how did you lose your fortune?’ she asks and Spud he +shakes his head.</p> + +<p>“‘By playing that tune,’ he says. ‘Them frogs got so homesick +they started right out for Arkansaw–and every one perished on the +desert.’”</p> + +<p>“Huh!” grunted Big Boy, who had been listening intolerantly. +“Say, is that all you do–sit around and tell stories for a living? +Why the hell don’t you git out and work?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you got me again, kid,” admitted Old Bunk mournfully, +“I’m sure sorry I made you that talk. But I was so doggoned sore at +that pardner of yours that I kinder went out of my head.”</p> + +<p>“Well, all right,” conceded Big Boy, “if that’s the +way you feel about it there’s no use rubbing it in, but you certainly lost +out with me. My hands may be big, but I never broadened my knuckles by battering +on other people’s back doors. At the same time if I have to ask a man for +a meal I expect to be treated civil. When I’m working around town and a +miner strikes me for a stake I give him a <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_26'></a>26</span>dollar to eat on, and if I happen to be broke when I +land in a new camp I work my face the same way. That’s the custom of the +country, and when a man asks me why I don’t work─”</p> + +<p>“Aw, forget it!” pleaded Bunker, “didn’t I ask your +pardon? Didn’t my wife tell you why I said it? But I’ll bet you, all +the same, if you’d fed as many as I have you’d throw a fit once in a +while, yourself. Here’s the whole camp shut down, only one outfit working +and they’re just running a diamond drill–and at the same time I have +to feed every hobo that comes through, whether he’s got any money or not. +How’d you like to buy your grub at these war-time prices and run a hotel +for nothing, and at the same time keep up the assessment work on fifteen or +twenty claims? Maybe you’d get kind of peevish when a big bum laid in his +blankets and wouldn’t even get up for breakfast!”</p> + +<p>“Ah, that man Meacham!” burst out Big Boy scornfully. “Say +do you know what that yap did to me? We were drilling pardners in the +double-jack contest–it was just yesterday, over in Globe–and in the +last few minutes he began to throw off on me, so I had to win the money myself. +Practically did all the work, and while they were giving me a rub-down +afterwards he collected the money and beat it. I’d put up every dollar I +had in side bets, and the first prize was seven hundred dollars; but he +collected it all and then, when I began looking for him, he took out over this +trail. Well, I <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span>was so +doggoned mad when I found out what he’d done that I didn’t even stop +to eat, and I followed him on the run until dark. When I ran out of matches to +look for his tracks I laid down and slept in the trail and this morning when I +got up I was so stiff and weak that I couldn’t hardly crawl. But I caught +the big jasper and believe me, old-timer, he’ll think twice before he robs +me again!”</p> + +<p>“He will that,” nodded Bunker, “but say, tell me +this–ain’t half of that money his?”</p> + +<p>“Not a bean!” declared Big Boy. “We fought for the purse, +the winner to take it all. He saw I was weak or he’d never have stood up +to me–that’s why he was so sore when he lost.”</p> + +<p>“I’d never’ve let him hurt you!” protested Old Bunk +vehemently, “I had my gun on him, all the time. And if I’d had my +way you’d never have fought him–I’d have taken the purse away +from him.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s it, you see–that’s what he was fishing +for–he wanted you to make it a draw! But I knew all the time I could lick +him with one hand–and I did, too, and got the money!”</p> + +<p>“You did danged well!” praised Bunker roundly, “I never see +a gamier fight; but I thought at the end he sure had you beat–you could +hardly hold up your hands.”</p> + +<p>“All a stall!” exclaimed Big Boy proudly. “I began fighting +his way at first, but I saw I was too weak to slug; so, just for a come-on, I +pulled my blows and when he made a swing I downed him.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span>“Well, +well!” beamed Old Bunk, “you certainly are a wise one–you know +how to use your head. I wouldn’t have believed it, but if you’re as +smart as all that you’ve got no business working as a miner. You’ve +got a little stake–why don’t you buy a claim and make a play for big +money? Look at the rich men in the West–take Clark and Douglas and +Wingfield–how did they all get their money? Every one of them made it out +of mining. Some started in as bankers, or store-keepers or saloon-keepers; but +they got their big money, just the same as you or I will, out of a four-by-six +hole in the ground. That’s the way I dope it out and I’ve spent +fifteen years of my life just playing that system to win. Me and old Bible-Back +Murray, the store-keeper down in Moroni, have been working in this district for +years; and, sooner or later, one or the other of us will strike it and +we’ll pile up our everlasting fortunes. I hate the Mormon-faced old +dastard, he’s such a sanctified old hypocrite, but I always treat him +white and if his diamond drill hits copper he’ll make the two of us rich. +Anyhow, that’s what I’m waiting for.”</p> + +<p>Big Boy looked up at the striated hills which lay like a section of layer +cake between the base of the mountains and the creek and then he shook his +head.</p> + +<p>“Nope,” he said, “it don’t look good to me. The +formation runs too regular. What you need for a big mineral deposit is some +fissure veins, where the country has been busted up more.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span>“Oh, it +don’t look like a mineral country at all, eh?” enquired Bunker Hill +sarcastically. “Well, how do you figure it out then that they took out +four million dollars’ worth of silver from that little hill right up the +creek?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t know,” answered Big Boy, “but you +couldn’t work it now, with silver down to fifty-two cents. It’s +copper that’s the high card now.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and look what happened to copper when the war broke out?” +cried Bunker Hill derisively, “it went down to eleven cents. But is it +down to eleven now? Well, not so you’d notice it–thirty-one would be +more like it–and all on account of the metal trust. They smashed copper +down, then bought it all up, and now they’re boosting the price. Well, +they’ll do the same with silver.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, you’re crazy,” came back Big Boy, “they need +copper to make munitions to sell to those nations over in Europe; but what can +you make out of silver?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing,” jeered Bunker, “but I’ll tell you what +you <i>can</i> do–you can use it to pay for your copper! You hadn’t +figured that out, now had you? Well, here now, let me tell <i>you</i> a few +things. These people that are running the metal-buying trust are smart, +see–they look way ahead. They know that after we’ve grabbed all the +gold away from Europe those nations will have to have some other metal to stand +behind their money–and that metal is going to be silver. The big operators +up in Tonopah ain’t selling their silver now, they’re storing <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> it away in vaults, because +they know in a little while all the nations in the world are going to be bidding +for silver. And say, do you see that line of hills? There’s silver enough +buried underneath them to pay the national debt of the world.”</p> + +<p>He paused and nodded his head impressively and Big Boy broke into a grin.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he said, “you must have some claim for sale, like an +old feller I met over in New Mex.</p> + +<p>“‘W’y, young man,’ he says when I wouldn’t bite, +‘you’re passing up the United States Mint. If you had Niagara Falls to +furnish the power, and all hell to run the blast furnace, and the whole State of +Texas for a dump, you couldn’t extract the copper from that property +inside of a million years. It’s big, I’m telling you, it’s +big!’ And all he wanted for his claim was a thousand dollars, +down.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, you make me tired,” confessed Bunker Hill frankly, now that +he saw his sale gone glimmering, “I see you’re never going to get +very far. You’ll tramp back to Globe and blow in your money and go back to +polishing a drill. W’y, a young man like you, if he had any ambition, could buy +one of these claims for little or nothing and maybe make a fortune. I’ll +tell you what I’ll do–you stay around here a while and look at some +of my claims; and if you see something you like─”</p> + +<p>“Nope,” said Big Boy, “you can’t work me +now–you lost your horse-shoe this morning. I was a hobo then and you told +me to go to hell, but now when you see I’ve got eight hundred dollars +you’re <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span>trying +to bunco me out of it. I know who you are, I’ve heard the boys tell about +you–you’re one of these blue-bellied Yankees that try to make a +living swapping jack-knives. You got your name from that Bunker Hill monument +and they shortened it down to Bunk. Well, you lose–that’s all +I’ll say; I wouldn’t buy your claims if they showed twenty dollar +gold pieces, with everything on ’em but the eagle-tail. And the formation +is no good here, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it ain’t, hey?” came back Bunk thrusting out his jaw +belligerently, “well take a look up at that cliff. That Apache Leap is +solid porphyry─”</p> + +<p>“Apache Leap!” broke in Big Boy suddenly sitting erect and +looking all around, “by grab, is this the place?”</p> + +<p>“This is the place,” replied Old Bunk wagging his head and +smiling wisely, “and that cap is solid porphyry.”</p> + +<p>“Gee, boys!” exclaimed Big Boy getting up on his feet, +“say, is that where they killed all those Indians?”</p> + +<p>“The very place,” returned Bunker Hill proudly, “you can +find their skeletons there to this day.”</p> + +<p>“Well, for cripe’s sake,” murmured Big Boy at last and +looked up at the cliff again.</p> + +<p>“Some jump-off,” observed Bunker, but Big Boy did not hear +him–he was looking up at the sun.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he said, “when the sun rises in the morning how far +out does that shadow come?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span>“What +shadow?” demanded Bunker Hill. “Oh, of Apache Leap? It goes way out +west of town.”</p> + +<p>“And does it throw its shadow on these hills where your claims are? +Well, old-timer, I’ll just take a look at them.”</p> + +<p>He climbed out purposefully and began to put on his shoes and Old Bunk +squinted at him curiously. There was something going on that he did not know +about–some connection between the Leap and his mines; he waited, and the +secret popped out.</p> + +<p>“Say,” said Big Boy after a long minute of silence, “do you +believe in fortune-tellers?”</p> + +<p>“Sure thing!” spoke up Bunker, suddenly taking a deep breath and +swallowing his Adam’s apple solemnly, “I believe in them phenomena +implicitly. And, as I was about to say, you can have any claim I’ve got +for eight hundred dollars–cash.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span><a id='link_5'></a>CHAPTER V<br /><span class='h2fs'>MOTHER TRIGEDGO</span></h2> + +<p>“Well, I’ll tell you,” confided Big Boy, moving closer to +Old Bunk and lowering his voice mysteriously, “I know you’ll think +I’m crazy, but there’s something to that stuff. Maybe we don’t +understand it, and of course there’s a lot of fakes, but I got this from +Mother Trigedgo. She’s that Cornish seeress, that predicted the big cave +in the stope of the Last Chance mine, and now I <i>know</i> she’s good. She +tells fortunes by cards and by pouring water in your hand and going into a +trance. Then she looks into the water and sees a kind of vision of all that is +going to happen. Well, here’s what she said for me–and she wrote it +down on a paper.</p> + +<p>“‘You will soon make a journey to the west and there, in the shadow of +a place of death, you will find two treasures, one of silver and the other of +gold. Choose well between the two and─”</p> + +<p>“By grab, that’s right, boy!” exclaimed Old Bunk +enthusiastically, “she described this place down to a hickey. You came +west from Globe and when you went by here the shadow was still on those hills; +and as for a place of death, Apache Leap got its <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span>name from the Indians that jumped over +that cliff. Say, you could hunt all over Arizona and not find another place that +came within a mile of it!”</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” mused Big Boy, “but I was thinking +all the time that that place of death would be a graveyard.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, but how could a graveyard cast a shadow–they’re +always on level ground. No, I’m telling you, boy, that there cliff is the +place–lemme tell you how it got its name. A long time ago when the Indians +were bad they had a soldiers’ post right here where this town stands, and +they kept a lookout up on the Picket Post butte, where they could heliograph +clear down to Tucson. Well, every time a bunch of Indians would go down out of +the hills to raid some wagon-train on the trail this lookout would see them and +signal Tucson and the soldiers would do the rest. It got so bymeby the Indians +couldn’t do anything and at last Old Cochise got together about eight +hundred Apaches and came over to wipe out the post. It looked easy at the time, +because there was less than two hundred men, but the major in command was a +fighting fool and didn’t know when he was whipped. The Apaches all +gathered up on the top of those high cliffs–it’s flat on the upper +side–and one night when their signal fires had burned down the soldiers +sneaked around behind them. And then, just at dawn, they fired a volley and made +a rush for the camp; and before they knowed it about two hundred Indians had +jumped clean over the cliff. They killed the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_35'></a>35</span>rest of them–all but two or three bucks that +fought their way through the line–and now, by grab, you couldn’t get +an Indian up there if you’d offer him a quart of whiskey. It’s sure +bad medicine for Apaches.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it wonderful!” exclaimed Big Boy, +“there’s no use talking–this sure is the place of death. And +say, next time you go over to Globe you go and see Mother Trigedgo–I just +want to tell you what she did!”</p> + +<p>“All right,” sighed Old Bunk, who preferred to talk business, and +he settled down to listen.</p> + +<p>“This Mother Trigedgo,” began Big Boy, “isn’t an +ordinary, cheap fortune-teller. Those people are all fakes because they’re +just out for the dollar and tell you what they think you want to know. But +Mother Trigedgo keeps a Cousin-Jack boarding house and only prophesies when she +feels the power. Sometimes she’ll go along for a week or more and never +tell a fortune; and then, when she happens to be feeling right, she’ll +tell some feller what’s coming to him. Those Cousin Jacks are crazy about +what she can do, but I never went to a seeress in my life until after we had +that big cave. I’m a timber man, you see, and sometimes I take contracts +to catch up dangerous ground; and the best men in the world when it comes to +that work are these old-country Cousin Jacks. They’re nervy and yet +they’re careful and so I always hire ’em; but when we were doing +this work down in the stope of the Last Chance, they began talking about <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span>Mother Trigedgo. It seems +she’d told the fortune of a boy or two–they were all of them +boarding at her house–and she was so worried she could hardly cook on +account of them working in this mine. It was swelling ground and there were a +lot of old workings where the timbering had given way; and to tell you the truth +I didn’t like it myself, although I wouldn’t admit it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it was the twenty-second of April, and all that morning we could +hear the ground working over head and when it came noon we went up above, as we +says, for a breath of fresh air. But while we were eating, there was a Cousin +Jack named Chambers fetched up this old talk about Mother Trigedgo, and how +she’d predicted he’d be killed in a cave if he didn’t quit +working in the stope; and when our half-hour’s nooning was up he says: +‘I’ll not go down that shaft!’</p> + +<p>“We were all badly scared, because that ground was always moving, and +finally we agreed that we’d take a full hour off and work till five +o’clock. Well, we waited till after one before we went to the collar and +just as I was stepping into the cage the whole danged stope caved in!”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, I went back to my room and got every dollar I had and gave +Mother Trigedgo the roll. I could easy earn more but if I’d been caught in +that cave they’d never even tried to dig me out. That was the least I +could do, considering what she’d done for me; but Mother Trigedgo took on +so much about it that I told her it was to have my <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span>fortune told. Well, she tried the cards +and dice and consulted the signs of the Zodiac; and then one day when she felt +the power strong she poured a little water in my hand. That made a kind of pool, +like these crystal-gazers use, and when she looked into it she began to talk and +she told me all about my life. Or that is, she told me what she thought I ought +to know, and gave me a copy of the Book of Fate that Napoleon always consulted. +And here it ain’t three months till I make this journey west and find the +place she prophesied.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and silver, too!” added Old Bunk portentously, “she +hit it, down to a hickey. And now, if you’d like to inspect those +claims─”</p> + +<p>“No, hold on,” protested Big Boy still pondering on his fate, +“I’ve got to find these treasures myself. And one of them was of +gold. What’s the chances around here for that?”</p> + +<p>“Danged poor,” grumbled Bunker as he saw his hopes gone +glimmering, “don’t remember to have seen a color. But say, old Bible +Back is drilling for copper and that’s a good deal like gold. Same color, +practically, and you know all these prophecies have a kind of symbolical +meaning. A golden treasure don’t necessarily mean gold, and I’ve got +a claim─”</p> + +<p>“Say, who’s that up there?” broke in Big Boy uneasily and +Old Bunk looked around with a jerk.</p> + +<p>An old, white-haired man, wearing a battered cork helmet, was peering over +the bank and when he perceived that his presence was discovered he <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span>came shuffling down the +trail. He was a short, fat man, in faded shirt and overalls; and on his feet he +wore a pair of gunboat brogans, thickly studded on the bottom with hob-nails. A +space of six inches between the tops of his shoes and the worn-off edge of his +trousers exposed his shrunken shanks, and he carried a stick which might serve +for cane or club as circumstances demanded. He came down briskly with his broad +toes turned out in grotesque resemblance to a duck and when Bunker Hill saw him +he snorted resentfully and rose up from his seat.</p> + +<p>“Have you seen my burros?” demanded the old man, half defiantly, +“I can’t find dose rascals nowhere. Ah, so; here’s a stranger +come to camp! Good morning, I’m glad to know you.”</p> + +<p>“Good morning,” returned Big Boy glancing doubtfully at Bunker +Hill, “my name is Denver Russell.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, excuse <i>me</i>!” spoke up Bunker with a sarcastic drawl, +“Mr. Russell, this is Professor Diffenderfer, the eminent buttinsky and +geologist.”</p> + +<p>“Ah–so!” beamed the Professor overlooking the fling in the +excitement of the meeting, “I take it you’re a mining man? Vell, if +it’s golt you’re looking for I haf a claim up on dat hill dat is +rich in auriferous deposits.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” broke in Bunker giving Big Boy a sly wink, “you +ought to inspect that tunnel–it’s unique in the annals of mining. +You see the Professor here is an educated man–he’s learned all the +big <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span>words in the +dictionary, and he’s learned mining from reading Government reports. +We’re quite proud of his achievements as a mining engineer, but you ought +to see that tunnel. It starts into the hill, takes a couple of corkscrew twists +and busts right out into the sunshine.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, never mind <i>him</i>!” protested the Professor as Bunker +burst into a roar, “he will haf his choke, of course. But dis claim I +speak of─”</p> + +<p>“And that ain’t all his accomplishments,” broke in Bunker +Hill relentlessly, “Mr. Diffenderfer is a count–a German +count–sometimes known as Count No-Count. But as I was about to say, his +greatest accomplishments have been along tonsorial lines.”</p> + +<p>A line of pain appeared between the Professor’s eyes–but he stood +his ground defiantly. “Yes,” went on Bunker thrusting out his jaw in +a baleful leer at his rival, “for many years he has had the proud +distinction of being the Champion Rough-Riding Barber of Arizona.”</p> + +<p>“Vell, I’ve got to go,” murmured the Professor hastily, +“I’ve got to find dem burros.”</p> + +<p>He started off but at the plank across the creek he stopped and cleared his +throat. “Und any time,” he began, “dat you’d like to +inspect dem claims─”</p> + +<p>“The Champeen–Rough-Riding–Barber!” repeated Old Bunk +with gusto, “he won his title on the race-track at Tucson, before safety +razors was invented.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span>“Shut +up!” snapped the Professor and, crossing the plank with waspish quickness, +he went squattering off down the creek. Yet one ear was turned back and as +Bunker began to speak he stopped in the trail to listen.</p> + +<p>“He took a drunken cowboy up in the saddle before him,” went on +Bunker with painful distinctness, “and gave him a close shave while the +horse was bucking, only cutting his throat three times.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a liar!” yelled the Professor and, stamping his +foot, he hustled vengefully off down the trail.</p> + +<p>“Say, who is that old boy?” enquired Big Boy curiously, “he +might know where I’d find that gold.”</p> + +<p>“Who–him?” jeered Bunker, “why, that old stiff +wouldn’t know a chunk of gold if he saw it. All he does is to snoop around +and watch what <i>I’m</i> doing, and if he ever thinks that I’ve +picked up a live one he butts in and tries to underbid me. Now I’ll tell +you what I’ll do, I’ll get you a horse and show you all over the +district, and any claim I’ve got that you want to go to work on, you can +have for five hundred dollars. Now, that’s reasonable, ain’t it? And +yet, the way things are going, I’m glad to let you in on it. If you strike +something big, here I’ve got my store and mine, and plenty of other +claims, to boot; and if there’s a rush I stand to make a clean-up on some +of my other properties. So come up to the house and meet my <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> wife and daughter, and we’ll try to +make you comfortable. But that old feller─”</p> + +<p>“Nope,” said Big Boy, “I think I’d rather +camp–who lives in those cave-houses up there?”</p> + +<p>He jerked his head at some walled-up caves in the bluff not far across the +creek and Old Bunk scowled reproachfully.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nobody,” he said, “except the rattle-snakes and +pack-rats. Why don’t you come up to the house?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t need to go to your house,” returned Big Boy +defiantly. “I’ve got money to buy what I need.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but come up anyway and meet my wife and daughter. Drusilla is a +musician–she’s studied in Boston at the celebrated Conservatory of +Music─”</p> + +<p>“I’ve got me a phonograph,” answered Big Boy shortly, +“if I can ever get it over here from Globe.”</p> + +<p>“Well, go ahead and get it, then,” said Bunker Hill tartly, +“they’s nobody keeping you, I’m sure.”</p> + +<p>“No, and you bet your life there won’t be,” came back Big +Boy, starting off, “I’m playing a lone hand to win.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span><a id='link_6'></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE ORACULUM</span></h2> + +<p>The palpitating heat lay like a shimmering fleece over the deserted camp of +Pinal and Denver Russell, returning from Globe, beheld it as one in a dream. +Somewhere within the shadow of Apache Leap were two treasures that he was +destined to find, one of gold and one of silver; and if he chose wisely between +them they were both to be his. And if he chose unwisely, or tried to hold them +both, then both would be lost and he would suffer humiliation and shame. Yet he +came back boldly, fresh from a visit with Mother Trigedgo who had blessed him +and called him her son. She had wept when they parted, for her burdens had been +heavy and his gift had lightened her lot; but though she wished him well she +could not control his fate, for that lay with the powers above. Nor could she +conceal from him the portion of evil which was balanced against the good.</p> + +<p>“Courage and constancy will attend you through life’” she +had written in her old-country scrawl; “but in the end will prove your +undoing, for you will meet your death at the hands of your dearest +friend.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span>That was the doom +that hung over him like a hair-suspended sword–to be killed by his dearest +friend–and as he paused at the mouth of Queen Creek Canyon he wished that +his fortune had not been told. Of what good to him would be the two hidden +treasures–or even the beautiful young artist with whom he was destined to +fall in love–if his life might be cut off at any moment by some man that +he counted his friend? <i>When</i> his death should befall, Mother Trigedgo had +not told, for the signs had been obscure; but when it did come it would be by +the hand of the man that he called his best friend. A swift surge of resistance +came over him again as he gazed at the promised land and he shut his teeth down +fiercely. He would have no friends, no best of friends, but all men that he met +he would treat the same and so evade the harsh hand of fate. Forewarned was +forearmed, he would have no more pardners such as men pick up in rambling +around; but in this as in all else he would play a lone hand and so postpone the +evil day.</p> + +<p>He strode on down the trail into the silent town where the houses stood +roofless and bare, and as he glanced at the ancient gallows-frame above the +abandoned mine fresh courage came into his heart. This city of the dead should +come back to life if what the stars said was true; and the long rows of adobes +now stripped of windows and doors, would awaken to the tramp of miners’ +boots. He would find two treasures and, if he chose well between them, both the +silver and the gold would be his. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_44'></a>44</span>But neither wily Bunker Hill nor the palavering +Professor should pull him this way or that; for Mother Trigedgo had given him a +book, to consult on all important occasions. It was Napoleon’s Oraculum, +or Book of Fate; and as Denver had glanced at the key–with its thirty-two +questions covering every important event in human life–a thrill of +security had passed over him. With this mysterious Oraculum, the Man of Destiny +had solved the many problems of his life; and in question thirteen, that +sinister number, was a test that would serve Denver well:</p> + +<p>“Will the FRIEND I most reckon upon prove faithful or +treacherous?”</p> + +<p>How many times must that great, aloof man have put some friend’s +loyalty to the test; and if the answer was in the negative how often had he +avoided death by foreknowledge of impending treachery! Yet such friends as he +had retained had all proved loyal, his generals had been devoted to his cause; +and with the aid of his Oraculum he had conquered all his enemies–until at +last the Book of Fate had been lost. At the battle of Leipsic, in the confusion +of the retreat, his precious Dream Book had been left behind. Kings and Emperors +had used it since, and seeresses as well; and now, after the lapse of a hundred +years, it was published in quaint cover and lettering, for the guidance of all +and sundry. And Old Mother Trigedgo, coming all the way from Cornwall, had +placed the Book of Fate in his hands! There was destiny in <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span>everything, and this woman who had saved +his life could save it again with her Oraculum.</p> + +<p>Denver turned to the Mexican who, with two heavily-packed mules, stood +patiently awaiting his pleasure; and with a brief nod of the head he strode down +the trail while the mules minced along behind him. Past the old, worked-out +mine, past the melted-down walls of abandoned adobe ruins, he led on to the +store and the cool, darkened house which sheltered the family of Andrew Hill; +but even here he did not stop, though Old Bunk beckoned him in. His life, which +had once been as other people’s lives, had been touched by the hand of +fate; and gayeties and good cheer, along with friendship and love, had been +banished to the limbo of lost dreams. So he turned across the creek and led the +way to the cave that was destined to be his home.</p> + +<p>It was an ancient cavern beneath the rim of a low cliff which overlooked the +town and as Denver was helping to unlash the packs Bunker Hill came toiling up +the trail.</p> + +<p>“Got back, hey?” he greeted stepping into the smoke-blackened +cave and gazing dubiously about, “well, it’ll be cool inside here, +anyway.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s what I figured on,” responded Denver briefly, +and as he cleaned out the rats’ nests and began to make camp Old Bunk sat +down in the doorway and began a new cycle of stories.</p> + +<p>“This here cave,” he observed, “used to be occupied by the +cliff-dwellers–them’s their hand-marks, up on the wall; and then I +reckon the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span>Apaches +moved in, and after them the soldiers; but when the Lost Burro began turning out +the ore, I’ll bet it was crowded like a bar-room. Them was the days, +I’m telling you–you couldn’t walk the street for miners out +spending their money–and a cliff-house like this with a good, tight roof, +would bring in a hundred dollars a night, any time that it happened to rain. All +them melted-down adobes was plumb full of people, the saloons were running full +blast, and the miner that couldn’t steal ten dollars a day had no business +working underground. They took out chunks of native silver as big as your head, +and it all ran a thousand ounces to the ton, but even at that them worthless +mule-skinners was throwing pure silver at their teams. They had mounted guards +to ride along with the wagons and keep them from stealing the ore, but you can +pick up chunks yet where them teamsters threw them off and never went back to +find ’em.</p> + +<p>“Did you ever hear how the Lost Burro was found? Well, the name, of +course, tells the story. If one of these prospectors goes out to find his burros +he runs across a mine; and if he goes out the next day to look for another mine +he runs across his burros. The most of them are like the old Professor down +here, they wouldn’t know mineral if they saw it; but of course when they +grab up a chunk of pure silver and start to throw it at a jackass they +can’t help taking notice. Well, that’s the way this mine was found. +A prospector that was camping here went up on that little hill to <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span>rock his old burro back to +camp and right on top he found a piece of silver that was so pure you could cut +it with your knife. That guy was honest, he gave the credit to his burro, and, +if the truth was known, half the mines in the west would be named after some +knot-headed jackass. That’s how much intellect it takes to be a +prospector.”</p> + +<p>“No, I’ll tell you what’s the matter with these +prospectors,” returned Denver with a miner’s scorn, “they do +everything in the world but dig. They’ll hike, and hunt burros and go out +across the desert; but anything that calls for a few taps of work they’ll +pass it right up, every time. And I’ll tell you, old-timer, all the mines +on top of ground have been located long ago. That’s why you hear so much +about ‘Swede luck’ these days–the Swede ain’t too lazy to +sink.</p> + +<p>“That’s my motto–sink! Get down to bed-rock and see what +there is on the bottom; but these danged prospectors just hang around the +water-holes and play pedro until they eat up their grub-stakes.”</p> + +<p>“Heh, heh; that’s right,” responded Bunker reminiscently, +“say, did you ever hear of old Abe Berg? He used to keep a store down +below in Moroni; and there was one of these old prospectors that made a living +that way, used to touch him up regular for a grub-stake. Old Abe was about as +easy as Bible-Back Murray when you showed him a rich piece of ore and after this +prospector had et up all his grub he’d drift back to town for more. But on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span>the way in, like all +of them fellers, he’d stop at some real good mine; and after he’d +stole a few chunks of high-grade ore he’d take it along to show to Abe. +But after a while Old Abe got suspicious–he didn’t fall for them big +stories any more–and at last he began to enquire just where this bonanza +was, that the prospector was reporting on so favorable. Well, the feller told +him and Abe he scratched his head and enquired the name of the mine.</p> + +<p>“‘Why, I call it the Juniper,’ says the old prospector kind of +innocent; and Abe he jumped right up in the air.</p> + +<p>“‘Vell, dat’s all right,’ he yells, tapping himself on the +chest, ‘but here’s one Jew, I betcher, dat you von’t nip +again!’ Get the point–he thought the old prospector was making a +joke of it and calling his mine the Jew-Nipper!”</p> + +<p>“Yeah, I’m hep,” replied Russell, “say who is this +feller that you call Bible-Back Murray–has he got any claims around +here?”</p> + +<p>“Claims!” repeated Bunker, “well, I guess he has. +He’s got a hundred if I’ve got one–this whole upper district +is located.”</p> + +<p>“What–this whole country?” exclaimed Denver in sudden +dismay, “the whole range of hills–all that lays in the shadow of the +Leap?”</p> + +<p>“Jest about,” admitted Bunker, “but as I told you before, +you can have any of mine for five hundred.”</p> + +<p>“Oh hell,” burst out Denver and then he roused up and a challenge +crept into his voice. “Do you mean to tell me,” he said, “that +he’s kept up his <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_49'></a>49</span>assessment work? Has he done a hundred dollars worth +of work on every claim? No, you know danged well he +hasn’t–you’ve just been doing lead-pencil work.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” returned Bunker, “we’ve got +a gentlemen’s agreement to respect each others monuments; and you’ll +find our sworn statements that the work has been done on file with the County +Recorder.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and now I know,” grumbled Russell rebelliously, “why +the whole danged district is dead. You and Murray and this old Dutchman have +located all the ground and you’re none of you doing any work. But when a +miner like me blows into the camp and wants to prospect around he’s stuck +for five hundred dollars. How’m I going to buy my powder and a little grub +and steel if I give up my roll at the start? No, I’ll look this country +over and if I find what I want─”</p> + +<p>“You’ll pay for it, young man,” put in Bunker Hill +pointedly, “that is, if it belongs to me.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I will if it’s worth it,” answered Russell +grudgingly, “but you’ve got to show me your title.”</p> + +<p>“Sure I will,” agreed Bunker, “the best title a man can +have–continuous and undisputed possession. I’ve been here fifteen +years and I’ve never had a claim jumped yet.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s this Bible-Back Murray?” demanded Denver, “has +he got a clean title to his ground?”</p> + +<p>“You bet he has,” replied Bunker Hill, “and he’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span>got my name as a +witness that his yearly assessment work’s been done.”</p> + +<p>“And you, I suppose,” suggested Denver sarcastically, “have +got <i>his</i> name, as an affidavit man, to prove that <i>your</i> work has been +done. And when I look around I’ll bet there ain’t a hole anywhere +that’s been sunk in the last two years.”</p> + +<p>“Yes there is!” contradicted Bunker, “you go right up that +wash that comes down from them north hills and you’ll find one +that’s down twelve hundred feet. And there’s a diamond drill outfit +sinking twenty feet a day, and has been for the last six months. At five dollars +a foot–that’s the contract price–Old Bible-Back is paying a +hundred dollars a day. Now–how many days will that drill have to run to do +the annual work? No, you’re all right, young man, and I like your nerve, +but you don’t want to take too much for granted.”</p> + +<p>“Judas priest!” exclaimed Russell, “twelve hundred feet +deep? What does the old boy think he’s got?”</p> + +<p>“He’s drilling for copper,” nodded Bunker significantly, +“and for all you and I know, he’s got it. He’s got an armed +guard in charge of that drill, and no outsider has been allowed anywhere near it +for going on to six months. The cores are all stored away in boxes where nobodv +can get their hands on them and the way old Bible-Back is sweating blood I +reckon they’re close to the ore. But a hundred dollars a day–say, +the way things are now that’ll make or break old Murray. He’s been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span>blowing in money for +ten or twelve years trying to develop his silver properties; but now he’s +crazy as a bed-bug over copper–can’t talk about anything +else.”</p> + +<p>“Is that so?” murmured Denver and as he went about his work his +brain began to seethe and whirl. Here was something he had not known of, an +element of chance which might ruin all his plans; for if the diamond drill broke +into rich copper ore his chance at the two treasures would be lost. There would +be a big rush and the price of claims would soar to thousands of dollars. The +country looked well for copper, with its heavy cap of dacite and the manganese +filling in the veins; and it was only a day’s journey in each direction +from the big copper camps of Ray and Globe. He turned impulsively and reached +for his purse, but as he was about to plank down his five hundred dollars in +advance he remembered Mother Trigedgo’s words.</p> + +<p>“Choose well between the two and both shall be yours. But if you choose +unwisely, then both will be lost and you will suffer humiliation and +shame.”</p> + +<p>“Say,” blurted out Denver, “your claims are all +silver–haven’t you got a gold prospect anywhere?”</p> + +<p>“No, I haven’t,” answered Old Bunk, his eye on the +bank-roll, “but I’ll accept a deposit on that offer. Any claim +I’ve got–except the Lost Burro itself–for five hundred +dollars, cash.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span>“How long is +that good for?” enquired Russell cautiously and Bunker slapped his leg for +action.</p> + +<p>“It’s good for right now,” he said, “and not a minute +after!”</p> + +<p>“But I’ve got to look around,” pleaded Denver desperately, +“I’ve got to find both these treasures–one of silver and one +of gold–and make my choice between them.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s your business,” said Bunker rising up +abruptly. “Will you take that offer or not?”</p> + +<p>“No,” replied Denver, putting up his purse and Old Bunk glanced +at him shrewdly.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll give you a week on it,” he said, smiling +grimly, and stood up to look down the trail. Denver looked out after him and +there, puffing up the slope, came Professor Diffenderfer, the eminent buttinsky +and geologist.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span><a id='link_7'></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE EMINENT BUTTINSKY</span></h2> + +<p>That there was no love lost between Bunker Hill and Professor Diffenderfer +was evident by their curt greetings, but as they began to bandy words Denver +became suddenly aware that he was the cause of their feud. He and his eight +hundred dollars, a sum so small that a shoestring promoter would hardly notice +it; and yet these two men with their superfluity of claims were fighting for his +favor like pawn-brokers. Bunker Hill had seen him first and claimed him as his +right; but Professor Diffenderfer, ignoring the ethics of the game, was out to +make a sale anyway. He carried in one hand a large sack of specimens, and under +his arm were some weighty tomes which turned out to be Government reports. He +came up slowly, panting and sweating in the heat, and when he stepped in Bunk +was waiting for him.</p> + +<p>“O-ho,” he said, “here comes the Professor. The only German +count that ever gave up his title to become an American barber. Well, Professor, +you’re just the man I’m looking for–I want to ask your +professional opinion. If two white-bellied <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_54'></a>54</span>mice ran down the same hole would the one with the +shortest tail get down first?”</p> + +<p>The Professor staggered in and sat down heavily while he wiped the sweat from +his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Russell,” he began, ignoring the grinning Bunker, “I +vant to expound to you the cheology of dis country–I haf made it a +lifelong study.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you want to get this,” put in Bunker <i>sotto voce</i>, +“he knows every big word in them books.”</p> + +<p>“I claim,” went on the Professor, slapping the books together +vehemently, “I claim dat in dis district we haf every indication of a +gigantic deposit of copper. The morphological conditions, such as we see about +us everywhere, are distinctly favorable to metalliferous deposition; and the +genetic influences which haf taken place later─”</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s off,” sighed Bunker rising wearily up and +ambling over towards the door, “so long, Big Boy, I’ll see you +to-morrow. Never could understand broken English.”</p> + +<p>“Dat’s all righd!” spat back the Professor with spiteful +emphasis, “I’m addressing my remarks to dis +<i>chentleman</i>!”</p> + +<p>“Ah–so!” mimicked Bunker. “Vell, shoodt id indo him! +And say, tell him about that tunnel! Tell him how you went in until the air got +bad and came out up the hill like a gopher. Took a double circumbendibus and, +after describing a parabola─”</p> + +<p>“Dat’s all righd!” repeated the Professor, +“now–you think you’re so smart–I’m going to prove +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span><i>you</i> a liar! I +heard you the other day tell dis young man here dat dere vas no golt in dis +district. Vell! All righd! We vill see now–joost look! Vat you call +<i>dat</i> now, my goot young friend?” He dumped out the contents of his +canvas ore-sack and nodded to Denver triumphantly. “I suppose dat aindt +golt, eh! Maybe I try to take advantage of you and show you what dey call fools +gold–what mineralogists call pyrites of iron? No? It aindt dat? Vell, let +me ask you vun question den–am I righd or am I wrong?”</p> + +<p>“You’re right, old man,” returned Denver eagerly as he held +a specimen to the light; and when he looked up Bunker Hill was gone.</p> + +<p>“You see?” leered the Professor jerking his thumb towards the +door, “dot man vas trying to <i>do</i> you. He don’t like to haf me +show you dis golt. He vants you to believe dat here is only silver; but I am a +cheologist–I know!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, this is gold,” admitted Denver, wetting the thin strip of +quartz, “but it don’t look like much of a vein. Whereabouts did you +get these specimens?”</p> + +<p>“From a claim dat I haf, not a mile south of here,” burst out the +Professor in great excitement; and while Denver listened in stunned amazement he +went into an involved and sadly garbled exposition of the geological history of +the district.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sure,” broke in Denver when he came to a pause, +“I’ll take your word for all that. What I want to know is where this +claim is located. If its <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_56'></a>56</span>inside the shadow of Apache Leap, I’ll go down +and take a look at it; but─”</p> + +<p>“But vat has the shadow of the mountain to do with it?” inquired +the Professor with ponderous dignity. “The formation, as I vas telling +you, is highly favorable to an extensive auriferous deposit─”</p> + +<p>“Aw, can the big words,” broke in Denver impatiently, “I +don’t give a dang for geology. What I’m looking for is a mine, in +the shadow of that big cliff, and─”</p> + +<p>“Ah, ah! Yes, I see!” exclaimed the Professor delightedly, +“it must conform to the vords of the prophecy! Yes, my mine is in the +shadow of Apache Leap, where the Indians yumped over and were killed.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll look at it,” responded Denver coldly, +“but who told you about that prophecy? It kinder looks to me as +if─”</p> + +<p>“Oh, vell,” apologized the Professor, “I vas joost going by +and I couldn’t help but listen. Because dis Bunker Hill, he is alvays +spreading talk dat I am not a cheologist. But him, now; <i>him</i>! Do you know +who he is? He is nothing but an ignorant cowman. Ven dis mine vas closed down I +vas for some years the care-taker, vat you call the custodian of the plant; and +dis Bunker Hill, ven I happened to go avay, he come and take the job. I am a +consulting cheologist and my services are very valuable, but he took the job for +fifty dollars a month and came here to run his cattle. For eight <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span>or ten years he lived right +in dat house and took all dat money for nothing; and den, when the Company +can’t pay him no more, he takes over the property on a lien. Dat fine, +valuable mine, one of the richest in the vorld, and vot you think he done with +it? He and Mike McGraw, dat hauls up his freight, dey tore it all down for junk! +All dat fine machinery, all dem copper plates, all the vater-pipe, the vindows +and doors–they tore down everything and hauled it down to Moroni, vere +they sold it for nothing to Murray!</p> + +<p>“Do you know vot I would do if I owned dat mine?” demanded the +Professor with rising wrath. “I vould organize a company and pump oudt the +vater and make myself a millionaire. But dis Bunker Hill, he’s a big bag +of vind–all he does is to sit around and talk! A t’ousand times I haf told +him repeatedly dat dere are millions of dollars in dat mine, and a t’ousand +times he tells me I am crazy. For fifteen years I haf begged him for the +privilege to go into pardners on dat mine. I haf written reports, describing the +cheology of dis district, for the highest mining journals in the country; I haf +tried to interest outside capital; and den, for my pay, when some chentleman +comes to camp, he tells him dat I am a barber!”</p> + +<p>The Professor paused and swallowed fiercely, and as Denver broke into a grin +the old man choked with fury.</p> + +<p>“Do you know what dat man has been?” he demanded, shaking a +trembling finger towards <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_58'></a>58</span>Bunker’s house, “he has been everything +but an honest man–a faro-dealer, a crook, a gambler! He vas +nothing–a bum–when his vife heard about him and come here from +Boston to marry him! Dey vas boy-und-girl sveetheart, you know. And righdt avay +he took her money and put it into cows, and the drought come along and killed +them; and now he has nothing, not so much as I haf, and an expensive daughter +besides!”</p> + +<p>He paused and wagged his head and indulged in a senile grin.</p> + +<p>“Und pretty, too–vat? The boys are all crazy, but she von’t +have a thing to do with them. She von’t come outdoors when the cowboys +ride by and stop to buy grub at the store. No, she’s too good to talk to +old mens like me, and with cowboys what get forty a month; but she spends all +her time playing tunes on the piano and singing scales avay up in G. You vait, +pretty soon you hear her begin–dat scale-singing drives me +madt!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, sings scales, eh?” said Denver suddenly beginning to take an +interest, “must be studying to become a singer.”</p> + +<p>“Dat’s it,” nodded the old man shaking his finger solemnly, +“her mother vas a singer before her. But after they have spent all their +money to educate her the teacher says she lacks the temperament. She can never +sing, he says, because she is too <i>dumf</i>; too–what you call +it–un-feeling. She lacks the fire of the vonderful Gadski–she has +not the g-great heart of Schumann-Heink. She is an <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span>American, you see, and dat is the end of +it, so all their money is spent.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” defended Denver warmly, +“what’s the matter with Nordica, and Mary Garden and Farrar? +They’re Americans, all right, and I’ve got some of their records +that simply can’t be beat! You wait till I get out my +instrument.”</p> + +<p>He broke open a box in which was packed with many wrappings a polished and +expensive phonograph, but as he was clearing a space on a rickety old table the +Professor broke into a cackle.</p> + +<p>“Dere! Dere!” he cried, “don’t you hear her now? ‘Ah, +ah, ah, oo, oo, oo, oo!’ Vell, dat’s what we get from morning till +night–by golly, it makes me sick!”</p> + +<p>“Aw, that’s all right,” said Denver after listening +critically, “she’s just getting ready to sing.”</p> + +<p>“Getting ready!” sneered the Professor, “don’t you +fool yourself dere–she’ll keep dat going for hours. And in the +morning she puts on just one thin white dress and dances barefoot in the garden. +I come by dere one time and looked over the vall–and, psst, listen, she +don’t vare no corsets! She ought to be ashamed.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what about you, you danged old stiff?” inquired Denver +with ill-concealed scorn. “If Old Bunk had seen you he’d have killed +you.”</p> + +<p>“Ah–him?” scoffed the Professor, “no, he von’t +hurt nobody. Lemme tell you something–now dis is a fact. When he married +his vife–and she’s an awful fine lady–all she asked vas dat +he’d stop his <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_60'></a>60</span>tammed fighting. You see? I know +everyt’ing–every little t’ing–I been around dis place too long. She +came right out here from the East and offered to marry him, but he had to give +up his fighting. He was a bad man–you see? He was quick with a gun, and +she was afraid he’d go out and get killed. So I laugh at him now and he +goes avay and leaves me–but he von’t let me talk with his vife. +She’s an awful nice woman but─”</p> + +<p>“Danged right she is!” put in Denver with sudden warmth and after +a rapid questioning glance the Professor closed his mouth.</p> + +<p>“Vell, I guess I’ll be going,” he said at last and Denver +did not urge him to stay.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span><a id='link_8'></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE SILVER TREASURE</span></h2> + +<p>As evening came on and the red eye of the sun winked and closed behind a +purple range of mountains Denver Russell came out of his cliff-dwelling cave and +looked at the old town below. Mysterious shadows were gathering among the ruins, +the white walls stood out ghostly and still, and as a breeze stirred the +clacking leaves of the sycamores a voice mounted up like a bird’s. It rose +slowly and descended, it ran rippling arpeggios and lingered in flute-like +trills; but it was colorless, impersonal, void of feeling.</p> + +<p>It was more like a flute than like the voice of a bird that pours out its +soul for joy; it was perfect, but it was not moving. Only as the spirit of the +desolate town–as of some lost soul, pure and passionless–did it find +its note of appeal and Denver sighed and sat silent in the darkness. His +thoughts strayed far away, to his boyhood in the mountains, to his wanderings +from camp to camp; they leapt ahead to the problem that lay before him, the +choice between the silver and gold treasures; and then, drowsy and oblivious, he +left the voice still singing and groped to his bed in the cave.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span>All night the +prying pack-rats, dispossessed of their dwelling, raced and gnawed and despoiled +his provisions; but when the day dawned Denver left them to do their worst, for +his mind was on greater things. At another time, when he was not so busy, he +would swing some rude cupboards on wires and store his food out of reach; but +now he only stopped to make a hasty breakfast and started off up the trail. When +the sun rose, over behind Apache Leap, and cast its black shadow among the +hills, Denver was up on the rim-rock, looking out on the promised land that +should yield him two precious treasures.</p> + +<p>The rim where he stood was uptilted and broken, a huge stratified wall like +the edge of a layer cake or the leaves of some mighty book. They lay one upon +the other, these ledges of lime and sandstone, some red, some yellow, some +white; and, heaped upon the top like a rich coating of chocolate, was the +brownish-black cap of the lava. In ages long past each layer had been a mud bank +at the bottom of a tropic sea, until the weight of waters had pressed them down +and time had changed them to stone. Then Mother Earth had breathed and in a +slow, century-long heave, they had emerged from the bottom of the sea, there to +be broken and shattered by the pent-up forces of the fire which was raging in +her breast.</p> + +<p>Great rents had been formed, igneous rocks had boiled up through them; and +then in a grand, titanic effort the fire had forced its way up. For centuries +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span>this extinct volcano +had belched forth its lava, building up the frowning heights of Apache Leap; and +then once more the earth had subsided and the waters of the ocean had rushed in. +The edge of the rim-rock had been sheered by torrential floods, erosion had +fashioned the far heights; until once more, with infinite groanings, the earth +had risen from the depths. There it stayed, cracking and trembling, as the inner +fires cooled down and the fury of the conflict died away; and boiling waters +bearing ores in solution burst like geysers from every crack. And there atom by +atom, combined with quartz and acids, the metals of the earth were brought to +the surface and deposited on the sides of the cracks. Copper and gold and silver +and lead, and many a rarer metal, all spewed up from the molten heart of the +world to be sought out and used by man.</p> + +<p>All this Denver sensed as he gazed at the high cliff where the volcano had +overflowed the earth, and at the layers and layers of sedimentary rock that +protruded from beneath its base; but his eyes, though they sensed it, cared +nothing for the great Cause–what they looked for was the fruit of all that +labor. Where along this shattered rim-rock, twisted and hacked and uptilted, +were the hidden cracks, the precious fissure veins, that had brought up the ore +from the depths? There at his feet lay one, the gash through the rim where Queen +Creek took its course; and further to the north, where the rim-rock was wrenched +to the west, was <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_64'></a>64</span>another likely place. To the south there was another, +a deep, sharp canyon that broke through the formation to the heights; and over +them all, like a sheltering hand, lay the dark, moving shadow of Apache Leap. He +traced out its line as it crept back towards the town and then, big eyed and +silent, he started down the trail, still looking for some sign that might guide +him.</p> + +<p>But other eyes than his had been sweeping the rim and as he came up the trail +Bunker Hill appeared and walked along beside him.</p> + +<p>“I’ll just show you those claims,” he said smiling +genially, “it’ll save you a little time, and maybe a pair of shoes. +And just to prove that I’m on the square I’ll take you to the best +one first.”</p> + +<p>He led on up the street and as they passed a stone cabin the door was yanked +violently open and then as suddenly slammed shut.</p> + +<p>“That’s the Dutchman,” grinned Bunker, “he wakes up +grouchy every morning. What did you think of that rock he showed you?”</p> + +<p>“Good enough,” replied Denver, “it was rotten with gold. +But from the looks of the pieces it’s only a stringer–I doubt if it +shows any walls.”</p> + +<p>“No, nor anything else much,” answered Bunker slightingly, +“you can’t even call it a stringer. It’s a kind of broken +seam, going flat into the hill–the Mexicans have been after it for years. +Every time there’s a rain the Professor will go up there and wash out a +little gold in the gulch; but a Chinaman couldn’t work it, and make it +show a profit, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span>if he +had to dig out his ore. Of course it’s all right, if you think gold is the +ticket, but you wait till I show you this claim of mine–next to the famous +Lost Burro Mine.</p> + +<p>“You know the Lost Burro–there she lays, right there–and +they took out four million dollars in silver before the bonanza pinched out. At +first they hauled their ore to the Gulf of California and shipped it to Swansea, +Wales, and afterwards they built a kind of furnace and roasted their ore right +here. It was refractory ore, mixed up with zinc and antimony; but with +everything against them, and all kinds of bum management, she paid from the very +first day. All full of water now, or I’d show you around; but some mine in +its time, believe me. I wouldn’t sell it for a million dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Five hundred is my limit,” observed Denver with a grin and +Bunker slapped his leg.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he said, “did I tell you that story about the deacon +that got stung in a horse-trade? Well, this was back east, where I used to live, +before I emigrated for the good of the country, and there was an old Methodist +deacon that was as smart as they make ’em when it came to driving a +bargain. He and the livery-stable keeper had made a few swaps and one was about +as sharp as the other; until finally it got to be a matter of pride between +’em to cut each other’s throats in some horse-trade They would talk +and haggle, and drive away and come back, and jockey each other for months; but +they always paid cash and if one of ’em got stuck <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span>he’d trade the horse off to some +woman. Well, one day the livery-stable man drove past the deacon’s house +with a fine, free, high-stepping bay; and every afternoon for about a week +he’d go by at a pretty good clip. The deacon he’d rush out and try +to flag him, but the livery-stable keeper wouldn’t stop; until finally the +deacon’s curiosity got the best of his judgment and he went out and laid +in wait for him.</p> + +<p>“‘How much do you want for that hoss?’ he says when the +livery-stable man came to a stop.</p> + +<p>“‘Two hundred dollars,’ says the livery-stable keeper.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ll give you fifty!’ barks the deacon coming out to look +him over and the livery-stable man tossed him the reins.</p> + +<p>“‘The hoss is yours,’ he says, and the deacon knowed he was +stung.</p> + +<p>“Quick work,” said Denver, “but I’m not like the +deacon. I’m going to look around.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, sure, sure!” protested Bunker, “take all the time you +want, but this offer is only good for one week. I’ve got a special reason +for wanting to make a sale or I’d never let you look at this claim. Why, +the Professor himself has told me a thousand times that it’s a better +proposition than the Burro, so you can see that I am making it attractive. And I +ain’t pretending that I’m making you the offer for any bull-con +reason. I might say that I wanted you to do some work, or to open up the +district; but the fact of the matter is I need the five hundred <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span>dollars. I’ve seen +times before this war when a hundred thousand cash wouldn’t pry me loose +from that claim, but now it’s yours for five hundred dollars if you +honestly think it’s worth it. And if you don’t, that’s all +right, there’s no hard feeling between us and you can go and buy from the +Professor. You wasn’t born yesterday and you’re a good, hard-rock +miner; so enough said, there’s the claim, right there.”</p> + +<p>He waved his hand at the steep shoulder of the hill, where the canyon had cut +through the rim-rock; and as Denver looked at the formation of the ground a +gleam came into his eyes. The claim took in the silted edge of the rim, where +the strata had been laid bare, and along through the middle of the varicolored +layers there ran a broad streak of iron-red. Into this a streak of +copper-stained green had been pinched by the lateral fault of the canyon and +where the two joined–just across the creek–was the discovery hole of +the claim.</p> + +<p>“Let’s go over and look at it,” he said and, crossing the +creek on the stones, he clambered up to the hole. It was an open cut with a +short tunnel at the end and, piled up about the location monument, were some +samples of the rock. Denver picked one up and at sight of the ore he glanced +suspiciously at Bunker.</p> + +<p>“Where did this come from?” he asked holding up a chunk that was +heavy with silver and lead, “is this some high-grade from the famous Lost +Burro?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_68'></a>68</span>“Nope,” returned Bunker, +“’bout the same kind of rock, though. That comes from the tunnel in +there.”</p> + +<p>“Like hell!” scoffed Denver with a swift look at the specimen, +“and for sale for five hundred dollars? Well, there’s something +funny here, somewhere.”</p> + +<p>He stepped into the tunnel and there, across the face, was a four inch vein +of the ore. It lay between two walls, as a fissure vein should; but the dip was +almost horizontal, following the level of the uptilted strata. Except for that +it was as ideal a prospect as a man could ask to see–and for sale for five +hundred dollars! A single ton of the ore, if it was as rich as it looked, ought +easily to net five hundred dollars.</p> + +<p>Denver knocked off some samples with his prospector’s pick and carried +them out into the sun.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you work this?” he asked as he caught the gleam +of native silver in the duller gray of the lead and Old Bunk hunched his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Little out of my line,” he suggested mildly, “I leave all +that to the Swedes. Say, did you ever hear that one about the Swede and the +Irishman–you don’t happen to be Irish, do you?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Denver and as he waited for the story he +remembered what the Professor had told him. This long, gangly Yankee, with his +drooping red mustache and his stories for every occasion, was nothing but a +store-keeper and a cowman. He knew nothing about mining or the value of mines +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span>but like many another +old-timer simply held down his claims and waited–and to cover up his +ignorance of mining he told stories about Irishmen and Swedes. “No,” +said Denver, “and you’re no Swede, or you’d drift in there and +see what you’ve got.”</p> + +<p>“A mule can work,” observed Bunker oracularly, “but +here’s one I heard sprung on an Irishman. He was making a big talk about +Swedes and Swede luck, and after he’d got through a feller made the +statement that the Swedes were the greatest people in the world.</p> + +<p>“‘In the wur-rold!’ yells the Irishman, like he was out of his +head, ‘well, how do you figure thot out?’</p> + +<p>“‘Well, I’ll tell you,’ says the feller, ‘the Swedes +invented the wheel-barrow–and then they learned you Irish to stand on your +hind legs and run it!’ Har, har, har; he had him going that time–the +Mick couldn’t think what else to do so he went to heaving +bricks.”</p> + +<p>“Yes–sure,” nodded Denver, “that was one on the +Irish. But say, have you got a clean title to this claim? Because if you +have─”</p> + +<p>“You bet I have!” spoke up Bunker, now suddenly strictly +business; but as he waited expectantly there was a shout from the trail and +Professor Diffenderfer came rushing up.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I heard you!” he cried shaking a trembling fist at Bunker. +“I heard vot you said about my claim! Und now, Mister Bunk, I’ll +have my say–no sir, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_70'></a>70</span>you haf no goot title. You haf not done your yearly +assessment vork on dis or any oder claims!”</p> + +<p>“Say, who called you in on this?” inquired Bunker Hill coldly. +“You danged, bat-headed Dutchman, you keep butting in on my deals and +I’ll forget and bust you on the jaw!”</p> + +<p>His long, sharp chin was suddenly thrust out, one eye had a dangerous droop; +but the Professor returned his gaze with an insolent stare and a triumphant toss +of the head.</p> + +<p>“Dat’s all right!” he said, “you say my golt mine is +a stringer–I say your silver mine is nuttings. You haf no title, according +to law, but only by the custom of the country.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you poor, ignorant baboon,” burst out Bunker in a fury, +“what better title do you want? The claim is mine, everybody knows it and +acknowledges it; and I’ve got your signature, sworn before a notary +public, that the annual work was done!”</p> + +<p>“Just a form, just a form,” returned the Professor with a shrug, +“I do like everyone else. But dis claim dat I haf–and my tunnel on +the hill–on dem the vork is done. And now, Mr. Russell, if you haf +finished looking here, I will take you to see my mine.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know,” began Denver still gazing at the +silver ore, “this looks pretty good, right here.”</p> + +<p>“But the prophecy!” exclaimed the Professor with a knowing smirk, +“don’t it tell you to choose between the two? And how can you tell +if you <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span>don’t +even look–whether the golt or the silver is better?”</p> + +<p>“Aw, go down and look at it!” broke in Bunker Hill angrily as +Denver scratched his head, “go and see what he calls a mine–and if +you don’t come running back and put your money in my hand you ain’t +the miner I think you are. But by the holy, jumping Judas, I’m going to +forget myself some day and knock the soo-preme pip out of this Dutchman!” +He turned abruptly away and went striding back towards the town and the +Professor leered at Denver.</p> + +<p>“Vot I told you?” he boasted, “I ain’t scared of dat +mens–he promised his vife he von’t fight!”</p> + +<p>“Good enough,” said Denver, “but don’t work it too +hard. Now come on and let’s look at your mine.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span><a id='link_9'></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><span class='h2fs'>BIBLE-BACK MURRAY</span></h2> + +<p>As a matter of form Denver went with the Professor and inspected his boasted +mine but all the time his mind was far away and his heart was beating fast. The +vein of silver that Bunker Hill had shown him was worth a thousand dollars +anywhere; but, situated as it was on the next claim to the Lost Burro, it was +worth incalculably more. It was too good a claim to let get away and as he +listened perfunctorily to the Professor’s patter he planned how he would +open it up. First he would shoot off the face, to be sure there was no salting, +and send off some samples to the assayer; and then he would drive straight in on +the vein as long as his money lasted. And if it widened out, if it dipped and +went down, he would know for a certainty that it was the silver treasure that +good old Mother Trigedgo had prophesied. But to carry out the prophecy, to +choose well between the two, he gazed gravely at the Professor’s strip of +gold-ore.</p> + +<p>It was a knife-blade stringer, a mere seam of rotten quartz running along the +side of a canyon; and yet not without its elements of promise, for it <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span>was located near another +big fault. In geological days the rim-rock had been rent here as it had at Queen +Creek Canyon and this stringer of quartz might lead to a golden treasure that +would far surpass Bunker’s silver. But the signs were all against it and +as Denver turned back the Professor read the answer in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Vell, vat you t’ink?” he demanded insistently, “vas I +right or vas I wrong? Ain’t I showed you the golt–and I’ll +tell you anodder t’ing, dis mine vill pay from the start. You can pick out dat +rich quartz and pack it down to the crick and vash out the pure quill golt; but +dat ore of Old Bunk’s is all mixed oop with lead and zinc, and with +antimonia too. You vil haf to buy the sacks, and pay the freight, and the +smelter charges, too; and dese custom smelters they penalize you for everyt’ing, +and cheat you out of what’s left. Dey’re nutting but a bunch of +t’ieves and robbers─”</p> + +<p>“Aw, that’s all right,” broke in Denver impatiently, +“for cripe’s sake, give me a chance. I haven’t bought your +mine nor Bunk’s mine either, and it don’t do any good to talk. +I’m going to rake this country with a fine-tooth comb for claims that show +silver and gold, and when I’ve seen ’em all I’ll buy or I +won’t, so you might as well let me alone.”</p> + +<p>“Very vell, sir,” began the Professor bristling with offended +dignity and, seeing him prepared with a long-winded explanation, Denver turned +up the hill and quit him. He clambered up to the rim, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span>dripping with sweat at every step, and all +that day, while the heat waves blazed and shimmered, he prospected the face of +the rim-rock. The hot stones burned his hands, he fought his way through thorns +and catclaws and climbed around yuccas and spiny cactus; but at the end of the +long day, when he dragged back to camp, he had found nothing but barren holes. +The country was pitted with open cuts and shallow prospect-holes, mostly dug to +hold down worthless claims; and the second day and the third only served to +raise his opinion of the claim that Bunker had showed him.</p> + +<p>On the fourth day he went back to it and prospected it thoroughly and then he +kept on around the shoulder of the hill and entered the country to the north. +Here the sedimentary rim-rock lay open as a book and as he followed along its +face he found hole after hole pecked into one copper-stained stratum. It was the +same broad stratum of quartzite which, on coming to the creek, had dipped down +into Bunker’s claim; and now Denver knew that others beside himself +thought well of that mineral-bearing vein. For the country was staked out +regularly and in each location monument there was the name Barney B. Murray.</p> + +<p>The steady panting of a gas-engine from somewhere in the distance drew Denver +on from point to point and at last, in the bottom of a deep-cleft canyon, he +discovered the source of the sound. Huge dumps of white waste were spewed out +along the hillside, there were houses, a big tent and <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span>criss-crossed trails; but the only sign of +life was that <i>chuh</i>, <i>chuh</i>, of the engine and the explosive +<i>blap</i>, <i>blaps</i> of an air compressor. It was Murray’s camp, and +the engine and the compressor were driving his diamond drill.</p> + +<p>Denver looked about carefully for some sign of the armed guard and then, not +too noisily, he went down the trail and followed along up the gulch. The drill, +which was concealed beneath the big, conical tent, was set up in the very notch +of the canyon, where it cut through the formation of the rim-rock; and Denver +was more than pleased to see that it was fairly on top of the green quartzite. +He kept on steadily, still looking for the guard, his prospector’s pick +well in front; and, just down the trail from the tented drill, he stopped and +cracked a rock.</p> + +<p>“Hey! Get off this ground!” shouted a voice from the tent and as +Denver looked up a man stepped out with a rifle in his hand. “What are you +doing around here?” he demanded angrily and, as Denver made no answer, +another man stepped out from behind. Then with a word to the guard he came down +the trail and Denver knew it was Murray himself.</p> + +<p>He was a tall, bony man with a flowing black beard and, hunched up above his +shoulders, was the rounded hump which had given him the name of +“Bible-Back.” To counterbalance this curvature his head was craned +back, giving him a bristling, aggressive air, and as he strode down towards +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span>Denver his long, +gorilla arms, extended almost down to his knees.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing here, young man?” he challenged harshly, +“don’t you know that this ground is closed?”</p> + +<p>“Why, no,” bluffed Denver, “you haven’t got any signs +out. What’s all the excitement about?”</p> + +<p>Bible-Back Murray paused and looked him over, and his prospector’s pick +and ore-sack, and a glint came into one eye. The other eye remained fixed in a +cold, rheumy stare, and Denver sensed that it was made of glass.</p> + +<p>“Who are you working for?” rasped Murray and as he raised his +voice the guard started down the dump.</p> + +<p>“I’m not working for anybody,” answered Denver boldly, +“I’m out prospecting along the edge of the rim.”</p> + +<p>“Oh–prospecting,” said Murray suddenly moderating his +voice; and then, as the guard stood watching them narrowly, he gave way to a +fatherly smile. “Well, well,” he exclaimed, “it’s pretty +hot for prospecting–you can’t see very well in this glare. +Whereabouts have you made your camp?”</p> + +<p>“Over on the crick,” answered Denver. “What have you got +here, anyway? Is this that diamond drill?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, now!” put in the guard who, anticipating a call-down +for his negligence, was in a distinctly hostile mood, “you know danged +well it is!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span>“Oh, I do, +do I?” retorted Denver, “well, all right pardner, if you say so; but +you don’t need to call me a liar!”</p> + +<p>He returned the guard’s glare with an insulting sneer and Murray made +haste to intercede.</p> + +<p>“Now, now,” he said, “let’s not have any trouble. But +of course you’ve no business on this ground.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” defended Denver, “that +don’t give him a license to pull any ranicky stuff. I’m as peaceable +as anybody, but you can tell your hired man he don’t look bad to +me.”</p> + +<p>“That will do, Dave,” nodded Murray and after another look at +Denver, the guard turned back towards the tent.</p> + +<p>“Judas priest,” observed Denver thrusting out his lip at the +guard, “he’s a regular gun-fighting boy. You must have something +pretty good hid away here somewhere, to call for a guard like that.”</p> + +<p>“He’s a dangerous man,” replied Murray briefly, +“I’d advise you not to rouse him. But what do you think of our +district, Mister–er─”</p> + +<p>“Russell,” said Denver promptly, “my name is Denver +Russell. I just came over from Globe.”</p> + +<p>“Glad to meet you,” answered Murray extending a hairy hand, +“my name is B. B. Murray. I’m the owner of all this +ground.”</p> + +<p>“’S that so?” murmured Denver, “well don’t let +me keep you.”</p> + +<p>And he started off down the trail.</p> + +<p>“Hey, wait a minute!” protested Murray, “you <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span>don’t need to go off +mad. Sit down here in the shade–I want to have a talk with you.”</p> + +<p>He stepped over to the shade of an abandoned cabin and Denver followed +reluctantly. From the few leading questions which Mr. Murray had propounded he +judged he was a hard man to evade; and, until he had got title to the claim on +Queen Creek, it was advisable not to talk too much.</p> + +<p>“So you’re just over from Globe, eh?” began Murray affably, +“well, how are things over in that camp? Yes, I hear they are +booming–were you working in the mines? What do you think of this country +for copper?”</p> + +<p>“It sure looks <i>good</i>!” pronounced Denver unctuously, +“I never saw a place that looked better. All this gossan and porphyry, and +that copper stain up there–and just look at that dacite cap!”</p> + +<p>He waved his hand at the high cliff behind and Murray’s eye became +beady and bright.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said rubbing his horny hands together and gazing at +Denver benevolently, “we think the indications are good–were you +thinking of locating in these parts?”</p> + +<p>“No, just going through,” answered Denver slowly. “I was +camping by the crick and saw that copper-stain, so I thought I’d follow it +up. How far are you down with your drill?”</p> + +<p>“Quite a ways, quite a ways,” responded Murray evasively. +“You don’t look like an ordinary prospector–who’d you +say it was you were working for?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span>Denver turned and +looked at him, and grunted contemptuously.</p> + +<p>“J. P. Morgan,” he said and after a silence Murray answered with +a thin-lipped smile.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, that’s all right,” he said with a +cackle. “No hard feeling–I just wanted to know. You’re an +honest young man, but there are others who are not, and we naturally like to +inquire. Are you staying with Mr. Hill?”</p> + +<p>“Well, not so you’d notice it,” replied Denver brusquely. +“I’m camped in that cave across the crick.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, is that so?” purred Murray driving relentlessly on in his +quest for information, “did he show you any of his claims?”</p> + +<p>“He showed me one,” answered Denver and, try as he would, he +could not keep his voice from changing.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I see,” said Murray suddenly smiling triumphantly, “he +showed you that claim by the creek.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the one,” admitted Denver, “and it sure +looked good. Have you got any interests over there?”</p> + +<p>“Not at present,” returned Murray with a touch of asperity, +“but let me tell you a little about that claim. You’re a stranger in +these parts and it’s only fair to warn you that the assessment work has +never been done. He has no title, according to law; so you can govern your +actions accordingly.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span>“You +mean,” suggested Denver, “that all I have to do is to go in and jump +the claim?”</p> + +<p>“Hell–no!” exclaimed Bible-Back startled out of his +piosity. “I mean that you had better not buy it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, thanks,” drawled Denver, “this is danged considerate +of you. Shall I tell him you’ll take it yourself?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not!” snapped back Murray, “I’ve enough +claims, already. I’m just warning you for your own good.”</p> + +<p>“Danged considerate,” repeated Denver with a sarcastic smile, +“and now let me ask <i>you</i> something. Who told you I wanted to +buy?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind!” returned Murray, “I’ve warned you, and +that is enough.”</p> + +<p>“Well, all right,” agreed Denver, “but if you don’t +want it yourself─”</p> + +<p>“Young man!” exclaimed Murray suddenly rising to his feet and +crooking his neck like a crane, “I guess you know who I am. I can make or +break any man in this country, and I’m telling you now–don’t +you buy!”</p> + +<p>“I get you,” answered Denver, and without arguing the point he +rose up and went down the trail.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span><a id='link_10'></a>CHAPTER X<br /><span class='h2fs'>SIGNS AND OMENS</span></h2> + +<p>When a man like Bible-Back Murray, the biggest man in the country–a +sheep-owner, a store-keeper, a political power–goes out of his way to +break up a trade there is something significant behind it. Denver had come to +Pinal in response to a prophecy, in search of two hidden treasures between which +he must make his choice; and now, added to that, was the further question of +whether he should venture to oppose Murray. If he did, he could proceed in the +spirit of the prophecy and choose between the silver and gold treasures; but if +he did not there would be no real choice at all, but simply an elimination. He +must turn away from the silver treasure, that precious vein of metal which led +so temptingly into the hill, and take the little stringer of quartz which the +Professor had offered as a gold mine. Denver thought it all over out in front of +his cave that night and at last he came back to the prophecy.</p> + +<p>“Courage and constancy,” it said, “will attend you through +life, but in the end will prove your undoing, for you will meet your death at +the hands of your dearest friend.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span>Denver’s +heart fell again at the thought of that hard fate but it did not divert him from +his purpose. Mother Trigedgo had said that he should be brave, +nevertheless–very well then, he would dare oppose Murray. But now to +choose between the two, between the Professor’s stringer of gold and +Bunker’s vein of silver–with the ill will of Murray attached. Denver +pondered them well and at last he lit a candle and referred it to +Napoleon’s Oraculum.</p> + +<p>In the front of the Book of Fate were thirty-two questions the answers to +which, on the succeeding pages, would give counsel on every problem of life. The +questions, at first sight, seemed more adapted to love-sick swains than to the +practical problem before Denver, but he came back to number nine.</p> + +<p>“Shall I be SUCCESSFUL in my present undertaking?”</p> + +<p>All he had to do was to decide to buy the silver claim and then put the +matter to the test. He spread a sheet of fair paper on the clear corner of his +table and made five rows of short lines across it, each containing more than the +requisite twelve marks. Then he counted each row and, opposite every one that +came even, he placed two dots; opposite every line that came odd, one dot. This +made a series of five dots, one above the other, of which the first two were +double and the last three single, and he turned to the fateful Key.</p> + +<p>It was spread across two pages, a solid mass of signs and letters, arranged +in a curious order; and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_83'></a>83</span>along the side were the numbers of the questions, +across the top the different combinations of dots. Against the thirty-two +questions there were thirty-two combinations in which the odd and even dots +could be arranged, and Denver’s series was the seventh in order. The +number of his question was nine. Where the seventh line from the side met the +ninth from the top there occurred the letter O. Denver turned to the Oraculum +and on the page marked O he found thirty-two answers, each starred with a +different combination of dots. The seventh answer from the top was the one he +sought–it said:</p> + +<p>“Fear not, if thou are prudent.”</p> + +<p>“Good enough!” exclaimed Denver, shutting the book with a slap; +but as he went out into the night a sudden doubt assailed him–what did it +mean by: “If thou art prudent?”</p> + +<p>“Fear not!” he understood, it was the first and only motto in the +bright, brief lexicon of his life; but what was the meaning of +“prudent?” Did it mean he was to refrain from opposing Old +Bible-Back, or merely that he should oppose him within reason? That was the +trouble with all these prophecies–you never could tell what they meant. +Take the silver and golden treasures–how would he know them when he saw +them? And he had to choose wisely between the two. And now, when he referred the +whole business to the Oraculum it said: “Fear not, if thou art +prudent.”</p> + +<p>He paced up and down on the smooth ledge of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_84'></a>84</span>rock that made up the entrance to his home and as he +sunk his head in thought a voice came up to him out of the blackness of the town +below. It was the girl again, singing, high and clear as a flute, as pure and +ethereal as an angel, and now she was singing a song. Denver roused up and +listened, then lowered his head and tramped back and forth on the ledge. The +voice came again in a song that he knew–it was one that he had on a +record–and he paused in his impatient striding. She could sing, this girl +of Bunk’s, she knew something besides scales and running up and down. It +was a song that he knew well, only he never remembered the names on the records. +They were in German and French and strange, foreign languages, while all that he +cared for was the music. He listened again, for her singing was different; and +then, as she began another operatic selection he started off down the trail. It +was a rough one at best and he felt his way carefully, avoiding the cactus and +thorns; but as he crossed the creek he suddenly took shame and stopped in the +shadow of the sycamore.</p> + +<p>What if the Professor, that old prowler, should come along and find him, +peeping in through Bunker’s open door? What if the ray of light which +struck out through the door-frame should reveal him to the singer within? And +yet he was curious to see her. Since his first brusque refusal to go in and meet +her, Bunker had not mentioned his daughter again–perhaps he remembered +what <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span>was said. For +Denver had stated that he had plenty of music himself, if he could ever get his +phonograph from Globe. Yet he had had the instrument for nearly a week and never +unpacked the records. They were all good records, no cheap stuff or rag-time; +but somehow, with her singing, it didn’t seem right to start up a machine +against her. And especially when he had refused to come down and meet +her–a fine lady, practicing for grand opera.</p> + +<p>He sat down in the black shadow of the mighty sycamore and strained his ears +to hear; but a chorus of tree-frogs, silenced for the moment by his coming, +drowned the music with their eerie refrain. He hurled a rock into the depths of +the pool and the frog chorus ceased abruptly, but the music from the house had +been clearer from his cave-mouth than it was from the bed of the creek. For half +an hour he sat, gazing out into the ghostly moonlight for some sign of the +snooping Diffenderfer; and then by degrees he edged up the trail until he stood +in the shadow of the store. The music was impressive–it was +Marguerite’s part, in “Faust,” sung consecutively, aria by +aria–and as Denver lay listening it suddenly came over him that life was +tragic and inexorable. He felt a great longing, a great unrest, a sense of +disaster and despair; and then abruptly the singing ceased, and with it passed +the mood.</p> + +<p>There was a murmur of voices, a strumming <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_86'></a>86</span>on the piano, a passing of shadows to and fro; and +then from the doorway there came gay and spritely music–and at last a song +that he knew. Denver listened intently, trying to remember the record which had +contained this lilting air. He had it–the “Barcarolle,” the +boat-song from the “Tales of Hoffmann!” And she was singing the +words in English. He left the shadow and stepped out into the open, forgetful of +everything but the singer, and the words came out to him clearly.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p> “Night divine, O night of +love,<br /> O smile on our enchantment;<br /> + Moon and stars keep watch above<br /> + This radiant night of love!”</p> </div> + +<p>She came to the end, riding up and down in an ecstatic series of +“Ahs!” and as the song floated away into piano and pianissimo Denver +braved the light to see her.</p> + +<p>She was standing by the piano, swaying like a flower to the music; and a lamp +behind made her face like a cameo, her hair like a mass of gold. That was all he +saw in the swift, stolen moment before he retreated in a panic to his cave. It +was she, the beautiful woman that the seeress had predicted, the one he should +fall in love with! She had won his heart before he even saw her, but how could +he hope to win her? She was a singer, an artist as Mother Trigedgo had said, and +he was a hobo miner. He stood by his cavern looking down on the town and up at +the moon and stars <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_87'></a>87</span>and the words of her song came back to his ears in a +continual, haunting refrain.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p> “Ah! smile on our +enchantment,<br /> Night of Love, O night of +love!<br /> Ah, Ah! Ah, Ah! Ah, Ah! Ah, Ah!”</p> +</div> + +<p>It floated away in a lilting diminuendo, a joyous, mocking refrain; and long +after the night was quiet again the music still ran through his head. It +possessed him, it broke his sleep, it followed him in dreams; and with it all +went the vision of the singer, surrounded like St. Cecilia with a golden halo of +light. He woke up at dawn with a fire in his brain, a tumult of unrest in his +breast; and like a buck when he feels the first sting of a wound he turned his +face towards the heights. The valley seemed to oppress him, to cabin him in; but +up on the cliffs where the eagles soared there was space and the breath of free +winds. He toiled up tirelessly, a fierce energy in his limbs, a mill-race of +thoughts in his mind, and at last on the summit he turned and looked down on the +house that sheltered his beloved.</p> + +<p>She was the woman, he knew it, for his heart had told him long before he had +thought of the prophecy; and now the choice between the gold and silver +treasures seemed as nothing compared to winning her. Of all the admonitions +which had been laid upon him by the words of the Cornish seeress, none seemed +more onerous than this about the woman that he would love.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span>“You will +fall in love with a beautiful woman who is an artist,” Mother Trigedgo had +written, “but beware how you reveal your affection or she will confer her +hand upon another.”</p> + +<p>On another! This woman, whom he had worshipped from the moment he had seen +her, would flaunt him if he revealed his love! That was the thought which had +tortured him and driven him to the heights, where he could wrestle with his +problem alone. How could he meet her without her reading in his eyes the secret +he must not reveal? And yet he was possessed with a mad desire to see +her–to see her and hear her sing. All her scales and roulades, her runs +and trills, had passed by him like so much smoke; but when the mood had come and +she had sung her song-of-songs he had lost his heart to her instantly. But if, +in her presence, he revealed this new love she would confer her hand upon +another!</p> + +<p>He stood on the edge of Apache Leap and gazed down at the valley below, then +he looked far away where peak piled on peak and the desert sloped away to the +horizon. It was hot, barren land, every ridge spiked with giant cactus, every +gulch a bruising tangle of brush and rocks; but Pinal lay sleeping in the cool +shadow of the Leap, and Drusilla slept there too. But who would think to look +for her in a place like that, or for the treasures of silver and gold? The +finger of destiny had pointed him plain, for he stood on the Place of Death. It +was lifeless yet, save for the uneasy eagles who watched <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span>him from a splintered crag; and the clean, +black shadow that lapped out over the plain held the woman and the treasures in +its compass.</p> + +<p>A sense of awe, of religious exaltation, came over Denver as he considered +the prophecy, and from somewhere within him there came a new strength which +stilled the fierce tumult in his breast. Since the stars had willed it that he +should have this woman if he veiled his love from her eyes he would be brave +then, and constant, and steel his boy’s heart to resist her matchless +charms. He would watch over her from afar, feeding his love in secret, and when +the time came he would reap his reward and the prophecy would be fulfilled. And +while he stood aloof, stealing a glimpse of her at night or listening to the +magic of her songs; he must win the two treasures, both the silver and the gold, +to lay as an offering at her feet.</p> + +<p>The shadow of the Leap drew back from the town, leaving the houses sun-struck +and bare, and as his mind went back to the choice between the treasures he +watched the moving objects below. He saw a steer wandering down the empty +street, and Old Bunk going across to the store; and then in the walled garden +that lay behind the house he beheld a woman’s form. It was draped in white +and it moved about rhythmically, bending slowly from side to side; and then with +the graceful ethereal lightness it leapt and whirled in a dance. In the +profundity of the distance all was lost but the grace of it, the fairy-like +flitting to and fro; <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_90'></a>90</span>and, as Denver watched, the tears leapt to his eyes at +the thought of her perfect beauty.</p> + +<p>She was a woman from another world, which a horny-handed miner could hardly +hope to enter; yet if he won the two treasures, which would make them both rich, +the doors would swing open before him. All it needed was a wise choice between +the silver and the gold, and destiny would attend to the rest. Well–if he +chose the gold he would offend her own father, who was urgently in need of +funds; and if he chose the silver he would offend Bible-Back Murray, and +Diffenderfer as well. He considered the two claims from every standpoint, +looking hopefully about for some sign; and as he stepped to the edge and looked +down into the depths, the male eagle left his crag.</p> + +<p>Riding high on the wind which, striking against the face of the cliff, +floated him up into the spaces above; he wheeled in a smooth circle, turning his +head from side to side as he watched the invader of his eyrie. And at each turn +of his head Denver caught the flash of gold, though he was loath to accept it as +a sign. He waited, fighting against it, marshaling reasons to sustain him; and +then, folding his wings, the eagle descended like a plummet, shooting past him +with a shrill, defiant scream. Denver flinched and stepped back, then he leaned +forward eagerly to watch where the bird’s flight would take him. No Roman +legionary, going into unequal battle with his war eagle wheeling above its +standard, ever watched its swift course with <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_91'></a>91</span>higher hopes or believed more fully in the omen. The +eagle spread his wings and glided off to the west, flying low as he approached +the plain; and as he passed over Pinal and the claim by Queen Creek, Denver +laughed and slapped his leg.</p> + +<p>“It’s a go!” he exulted, “the silver wins!”</p> + +<p>And he bounded off down the trail.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span><a id='link_11'></a>CHAPTER XI<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE LADY OF THE SYCAMORES</span></h2> + +<p>A weight like that of Pelion and Ossa seemed lifted from Denver’s +shoulders as he hurried down from Apache Leap and, with his wallet in his hip +pocket, he strode straight to Bunker’s house. The eagle had chosen for +him, and chosen right, and the last of his troubles was over. There was nothing +to do now but buy the claim and make it into a mine–and that was the +easiest thing he did. Pulling ground was his specialty–with a good man to +help he could break his six feet a day–and now that the choice had been +made between the treasures he was tingling to get to work.</p> + +<p>“Here’s your money,” he said as soon as Bunker appeared, +“and I’d like to order some powder and steel. Just write me out a +quit-claim for that ground.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well,” beamed Bunker pushing up his reading glasses and +counting over the roll of bills, “this will make quite a stake for +Drusilla. Come in, Mr. Russell, come in!”</p> + +<p>He held the door open and Denver entered, blinking his eyes as he came in +from the glare. The room was a large one, with a grand piano at one <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span>end and music and books +strewn about; and as Bunker Hill shouted for his wife and daughter Denver stared +about in astonishment. From the outside the house was like any other, except +that it was covered with vines; but here within it was startling in its +elegance, fitted up with every luxury. There was a fireplace with bronze +andirons, massive furniture, expensive rugs; and the walls were lined with +stands and book-shelves that overflowed with treasures.</p> + +<p>“Oh Drusilla!” thundered Bunker and at last she came running, +bounding in through the garden door. She was attired in a filmy robe, caught up +for dancing, and her feet were in Grecian sandals; and at sight of Denver she +drew back a step, then stood firm and glanced at her father.</p> + +<p>“Here’s that five hundred dollars,” said Bunker briefly and +put the roll in her hand.</p> + +<p>“Oh–did you sell it?” she demanded in dismay “did you +sell that Number One claim?”</p> + +<p>“You bet I did,” answered her father grimly, “so take your +money and beat it.”</p> + +<p>“But I told you not to!” she went on reproachfully, ignoring +Denver entirely. “I told you not to sell it!”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” grumbled Bunker, “you’re +going to get your chance, if it takes the last cow in the barn. I know +you’ve got it in you to be a great singer–and this’ll take you +back to New York.”</p> + +<p>“Well, all right,” she responded tremulously, “I <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span>did want just one more +chance. But if I don’t succeed I’m going to teach school and pay +every dollar of this back.”</p> + +<p>She turned and disappeared out the garden door and Bunker Hill reached for +his hat.</p> + +<p>“Come on over to the store,” he said and Denver followed in a +daze. She was not like any woman he had ever dreamed of, nor was she the woman +he had thought. In the night, when she was singing, she had seemed slender and +ethereal with her swan’s neck and piled up hair; but now she was +different, a glorious human animal, strong and supple yet with the lines of a +girl. And her eyes were still the eyes of a child, big and round and innocently +blue.</p> + +<p>“Here comes the Professor,” muttered Bunker gloomily, as he +unlocked the heavy door, “he’s hep, I reckon, the way he +walks.”</p> + +<p>The Professor was waddling with his queer, duck-like steps down the middle of +the deserted street and every movement of his gunboat feet was eloquent of +offended dignity.</p> + +<p>“Vell,” he began as he burst into the store and stopped in front +of Denver, “I vant an answer, right avay, on dat property I showed you the +udder day. I joost got a letter from a chentleman in Moroni inquiring about an +option on dat claim and─”</p> + +<p>“You can give it to him,” cut in Denver, “I’ve just +closed with Mr. Hill for that Number One claim up the crick.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span>“So!” +exploded the Professor, “vell, I vish you vell of it!” And he flung +violently out the door.</p> + +<p>“Takes it hard,” observed Bunker, “never was a good loser. +You want to watch out for him, now–he’s going over to report to +Murray.”</p> + +<p>“So that’s the combination,” nodded Denver. “I was +over there yesterday and Murray knew all about me–gave me a tip not to buy +this property.”</p> + +<p>“Danged right he’s working for him,” returned Old Bunk +grimly. “He runs to him with everything he hears. It’s a wonder I +haven’t killed that little tub of wienies–he crabs every trade I +start to make. What’s the matter with Old Bible-Back now?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing,” answered Denver, “but if it’s all the +same to you I’d like to just locate that ground. Then I’ll do my +discovery work and if there ever comes up a question I’ll have your +quit-claim to boot.”</p> + +<p>“Suit yourself,” growled Bunker, “but I want to tell you +right now I’ve got a perfect title to that property. I’ve held it +continuously for fifteen years and─”</p> + +<p>“Give me a quit-claim then; because Murray questions your title and I +don’t want to take any chances. He says you haven’t kept up your +work.”</p> + +<p>“He does, hey!” challenged Bunker thrusting out his jaw +belligerently, “well, I’d like to see somebody jump me. I’m +living on my property, and possessory title is the very best title there is. By +grab, if I thought that Mormon-faced old devil was <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span>thinking of jumping my +ground─” He went off into uneasy mutterings and wrote out the +quit-claim absently; then they went up together and, after going over the lines, +Denver relocated the mine and named it the Silver Treasure.</p> + +<p>“Think you guessed right, do you?” inquired Bunker with a grin. +“Well, I hope you make a million. And if you do you’ll never hear no +kick from me–you’ve bought it and paid my price.”</p> + +<p>“Fair enough!” exclaimed Denver and shook hands on the trade, +after which he bought some second-hand tools and went to work on a trail. Not a +hundred feet down-stream from where the vein cropped out, the main trail crossed +to the east side of the creek, leaving the mine on the side of a steep hill. A +few days’ work, while he was waiting for his powder, would clear out the +worst of the cactus and catclaws and give him free access to his hole. Then he +could clean out the open cut, set up a little forge and prepare for the driving +of his tunnel. The sun was blazing hot, not a breath of wind was stirring and +the sweat splashed the rocks as he toiled; but there was a song in +Denver’s heart that made his labors light and he hummed the +“Barcarolle” as he worked. She was scornful of him now and thought +only of her music; but the time would come when she would know him as her equal, +for a miner can be an artist, too. And at swinging a double-jack or driving +uppers Denver Russell was as good as any man. He worked for the joy of it <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span>and took pride in his +craft–and that marks the true artist everywhere.</p> + +<p>Yet now that his sale had been consummated and he had the money he needed, +Bunker Hill suddenly lost all interest in Denver and retired into his shell. He +had invited Denver once to come down to his house and share the hospitality of +his home; but, after Denver’s brusque, almost brutal refusal, Old Bunk had +never been the same. He had shown Denver his claim and stated the price and told +a few stories on the side, but he had shown in many ways that his pride had been +hurt and that he did not fully approve. This was made the more evident by the +careful way in which he avoided introducing his wife; and it became apparent +beyond a doubt in that tense ecstatic minute when Drusilla had come in from the +garden.</p> + +<p>Then, if ever, was the moment when Denver should have been introduced; but +Bunker had pointedly neglected the opportunity and left him still a stranger. +And all as a reward for his foolish words and his refusal of well-meaning +hospitality. Denver realized it now, but his pride was touched and he refrained +from all further advances. If he was not good enough to know Old Bunker’s +family he was not good enough to associate with him; and so for three days he +lived without society, for the Professor, too, was estranged. He passed Denver +now with eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing even to recognize his presence; +and, cut off for the time <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_98'></a>98</span>from all human intercourse, Denver turned at last to +his phonograph.</p> + +<p>The stars had come out in the velvety black sky, the hot stillness of evening +had come, and from the valley below no sound came up but the eerie, <i>eh</i>, +<i>eh</i>, <i>eh</i>, of tree toads. They were sitting by the stream and in +cracks among the rocks, puffing out their pouched throats like toy balloons and +raising, a shrill, haunting chorus. Their thin voices intermingled in an +insistent, unearthly refrain as if the spirits of the dead had come again to +gibber by the pool. Even the scales and trills of Drusilla had ceased, so hot +and close was the night.</p> + +<p>Denver set up his phonograph with its scrollwork front and patent filing +cases and looked over the records which he had bought at great expense while the +other boys were buying jazz. He was proud of them all but the one he valued most +he reserved for another time. It was the “Barcarolle” from +“Les Contes D’ Hoffmann,” sung by Farrar and Scotti, and he +put on instead a tenor solo that had cost him three dollars in Globe. Then a +violin solo, “Tambourin Chinois,” by some man with a foreign name; +and at last the record that he liked the best, the “Cradle Song,” by +Schumann-Heink. And as he played it again he saw Drusilla come out and stand in +the doorway, listening.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful song, very sweet, very tender, and sung with the feeling +of an artist; yet something about it seemed to displease Drusilla, for she +turned and went into the house. Perhaps, hearing <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span>the song, she was reminded of the singers, +stepping forward in a blare of trumpets to meet the applause of vast audiences; +or perhaps again she felt the difference between her efforts and theirs; but all +the next day, when she should have been practicing, Drusilla was strangely +silent. Denver paused in his work from time to time as he listened for the +familiar roulades, then he swung his heavy sledge as if it were a feather-weight +and beat out the measured song of steel on steel. He picked and shoveled, +tearing down from above and building up the trail below; and as he worked he +whistled the “Cradle Song,” which was running through his brain. But +as he swung the sledge again he was conscious of a presence, of someone watching +from the sycamores; and, glancing down quickly he surprised Drusilla, looking up +from among the trees. She met his eyes frankly but he turned away, for he +remembered what the seeress had told him. So he went about his work and when he +looked again his lady of the sycamores had fled.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span><a id='link_12'></a>CHAPTER XII<br /><span class='h2fs'>STEEL ON STEEL</span></h2> + +<p>The stifling summer heat fetched up wind from the south and thundercaps +crowned the high peaks; then the rain came slashing and struck up the dust +before it lifted and went scurrying away. The lizards gasped for breath, +Drusilla ceased to sing, all Pinal seemed to palpitate with heat; but through +heat and rain one song kept on–Denver’s song of steel on steel. In +the cool of his tunnel he drove up-holes and down, slugging manfully away until +his round of holes was done and then shooting away the face. As the sun sank low +he sat on the dump, sorting and sacking the best of his ore; and one evening as +he worked Drusilla came by, walking slowly as if in deep thought.</p> + +<p>He was down on his knees, a single-jack in his right hand a pile of quartzite +at his left, and as she came to the forks he went on cracking rocks without so +much as a stare. She glanced at him furtively, looked back towards the town, +then turned off and came up his trail.</p> + +<p>“Good evening,” she began and as he nodded silently she seemed at +a loss for words. “–I just wanted to ask you,” she burst out +hurriedly, “if <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_101'></a>101</span>you’d be willing to sell back the mine? I +brought up the money with me.”</p> + +<p>She drew out the sweaty roll of bills which he had paid to her father and as +Denver looked up she held it out to him, then clutched it convulsively back.</p> + +<p>“I don’t mean,” she explained, “that you have to take +it. But I thought perhaps–oh, is it very rich? I’m sorry I let him +sell it.”</p> + +<p>“Why, no,” answered Denver with his slow, honest smile, while his +heart beat like a trip-hammer in his breast, “it isn’t so awful +rich. But I bought it, you know–well, I was sent here!”</p> + +<p>“What, by Murray?” she cried aghast, “did he send you in to +buy it?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think it!” returned Denver. “I’m +working for myself and–well, I don’t want to sell.”</p> + +<p>“No, but listen,” she pleaded, her eyes beginning to fill, +“I–I made a great mistake. This was father’s best claim, he +shouldn’t have sold it; and so–won’t you sell it +back?”</p> + +<p>She smiled, and Denver reached out blindly to accept the money, but at a +thought he drew back his hand.</p> + +<p>“No!” he said, “I was sent, you know–a fortune-teller +told me to dig here.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, did he?” she exclaimed in great disappointment. +“Won’t some other claim do just as well? No, I don’t mean +that; but–tell me how it all came about.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_102'></a>102</span>“Well,” began Denver, avoiding her eyes; +and then he rose up abruptly and brushed off the top of a powder-box. “Sit +down,” he said, “I’d sure like to accommodate you, but +here’s how I come to buy it. There’s a woman over in +Globe–Mother Trigedgo is her name–and she saved the lives of a lot +of us boys by predicting a cave in a mine. Well, she told my fortune and +here’s what she said:</p> + +<p>“You will soon make a journey to the west and there, within the shadow +of a place of death, you will find two treasures, one of silver and the other of +gold. Choose well between them and both shall be yours, but–well, I +don’t need to tell you the rest. But this is my choice, see? And so, of +course─”</p> + +<p>“Oh, do you believe in those people?” she inquired incredulously, +“I thought─”</p> + +<p>“But not this one!” spoke up Denver stoutly, “I know that +the most of them are fakes. But this Mother Trigedgo, she’s a regular +seeress–and it’s all come true, every word! Apache Leap up there is +the place of death. I came west after that fellow that robbed me; and this mine +here and that gold prospect of the Professor’s are both in the shadow of +the peaks!”</p> + +<p>“But maybe you guessed wrong,” she cried, snatching at a straw. +“Maybe this isn’t the one, after all. And if it isn’t, oh, +won’t you let me buy it back for father? Because I’m not going to +New York, after all.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span>“Well, +what good would it do <i>him</i>?” burst out Denver vehemently. +“He’s had it for fifteen years! If he thought so much of it why +didn’t he work it a little and ship out a few sacks of ore?”</p> + +<p>“He’s not a miner,” protested Drusilla weakly and Denver +grunted contemptuously.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said, “you told the truth that time–and +that’s what the matter with the whole district. The ground is all held by +lead-pencil work and nobody’s doing any digging. And now, when I come in +and begin to find some ore, your old man wants his mining claim back.”</p> + +<p>“He does not!” retorted Drusilla, “he doesn’t know +I’m up here. But he hasn’t been the same since he sold his claim, +and I want to buy it back. He sold it to get the money to send me to New York, +and it was all an awful mistake. I can never become a great singer.”</p> + +<p>“No?” inquired Denver, glad to change the subject, “I +thought you were doing fine. That evening when you─”</p> + +<p>“Well, so did I!” she broke in, “until you played all those +records; and then it came over me I couldn’t sing like that if I tried a +thousand years. I just haven’t got the temperament. Those continental +people have something that we lack–they’re so Frenchy, so emotional, +so full of fire! I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I just can’t do +it–I just can’t interpret those parts!”</p> + +<p>She stamped her foot and winked very fast and Denver forgot he was a +stranger. He had heard <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_104'></a>104</span>her sing so often that he seemed to know her well, +to have known her for years and years, and he ventured a comforting word.</p> + +<p>“Oh well, you’re young yet,” he suggested shame-facedly, +“perhaps it will come to you later.”</p> + +<p>“No, it won’t!” she flared back, “I’ve got to +give it up and go to teaching school!”</p> + +<p>She stomped her foot more impatiently than ever and Denver went to cracking +rocks.</p> + +<p>“What do you think of that?” he inquired casually, handing over a +chunk of ore; but she gazed at it uncomprehendingly.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t there anything I can do?” she began at last, +“that will make you change your mind? I might give you this much money now +and then pay you more later, when I go to teaching school.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what do you want it back for?” he demanded irritably, +“it’s been lying here idle for years. I’d think you’d be +glad to have somebody get hold of it that would do a little work.”</p> + +<p>“I just want to give it back–and have it over with!” she +exclaimed with an embittered smile. “I’ve practiced and I’ve +practiced but it doesn’t do any good, and now I’m going to +quit.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, if that’s all,” jeered Denver, “I’ll +locate another claim, and let you give that back. What good would it do him if +you did give it back–he’d just sit in the shade and tell +stories.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you talk that way about my father!” she exclaimed, +“he’s the nicest, kindest man that ever lived! He’s not strong +enough to work in this <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_105'></a>105</span>awful hot weather but he intended to open this up in +the fall.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s opened up already,” announced Denver grimly. +“You just show him that piece of rock.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, have you found something?” she cried snatching up the chunk +of ore. “Why, this doesn’t look like silver!”</p> + +<p>“No, it isn’t,” he said, and at the look in his eyes she +leapt up and ran down the trail.</p> + +<p>She came back immediately with her father and mother and, after a moment of +pop-eyed staring, the Professor came waddling along behind.</p> + +<p>“Where’d you get this?” called Bunker as he strode up the +trail and Denver jerked his thumb towards the tunnel.</p> + +<p>“At the breast,” he said. “Looks pretty good, don’t +it? I <i>thought</i> it would run into copper!”</p> + +<p>“Vot’s dat? Vot’s dat?” clamored the Professor from +the fork of the trail and Bunker gave Denver the wink.</p> + +<p>“Aw, that ain’t copper,” he declared, “it’s +just this green hornblende. We have it around here everywhere.”</p> + +<p>“All right”, answered Denver, “you can have it your own +way–but I call it copper, myself.”</p> + +<p>“Vot–<i>copper</i>?” demanded the Professor making a clutch +at the specimen and examining it with his myopic eyes, and then he broke into a +roar. “Vot–dat copper?” he cried, “you think dat is +copper? Oh, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span>ho, ho! +Oh, vell! Dis is pretty rich. It is nutting but manganese!”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” returned Denver, “you can think +whatever you please; but I’ve worked underground in too many copper +mines─”</p> + +<p>“Where’d you get this?” broke in Bunker, giving Denver a +dig, and as they went into the tunnel he whispered in his ear: “Keep it +dark, or he’ll blab to Murray!”</p> + +<p>“Well, let him blab,” answered Denver, “it’s nothing +to me. But all the same, pardner,” he added <i>sotto voce</i>, “if I +was in your place I wouldn’t bank too much on holding them claims with a +lead-pencil.”</p> + +<p>“I’m holding ’em with a six-shooter,” corrected +Bunker, “and Murray or nobody else don’t dare to jump a claim. +I’m known around these parts.”</p> + +<p>“Suit yourself,” shrugged Denver as they came to the face, +“I guess this ore won’t start no stampede. That seam in the hanging +wall is where it comes in–I’m looking for the veins to come +together.”</p> + +<p>“Judas priest!” exclaimed Bunker jabbing his candlestick into the +copper streak, “say, this is showing up good. And your silver vein is +widening out, too. Nothing to it, boy; you’ve got a mine!”</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” said Denver, “but wait till she dips. This is +nothing but a blanket vein, so far; but if she dips and goes down then look out, +old-timer, she’s liable to turn out a bonanza.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span>“Well, +who’d a thought it,” murmured Old Bunk turning somberly away, +“and I’ve been holding her for fifteen years!”</p> + +<p>He led the way out, stooping down to avoid the roof; and outside the stoop +still remained.</p> + +<p>“Where’s the Professor?” he asked, suddenly looking about, +“has he gone to tell Murray, already? Well, by grab then, he knew it +was.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>was</i> it copper?” quavered Drusilla catching hold of his +hand and looking up into his tired eyes, “and you sold it for five hundred +dollars! But that’s all right,” she smiled, drawing his head down +for a kiss. “I’ll just have to succeed now–and I’m going +to!”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span><a id='link_13'></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>SWEDE LUCK</span></h2> + +<p>As the sun set that evening in a trailing blaze of glory Denver Russell came +out and sat with bared arms, looking lazily down at the town. The news of his +strike had roused them at last, these easy-going, do-nothing old-timers; and +now, from an outcast, a crack-brained hobo miner, he was suddenly accepted as an +equal. They spoke to him, they recognized him, they rushed up to his mine and +stared at the ore he had dug; and even the Professor had purloined a specimen to +take over and show to Murray. And all because, while the rest of them loafed, he +had drifted in on his vein until he cut the stringer of copper. It was Swede +luck again–the luck of that great people who invented the wheel-barrow, +and taught the Irish to stand erect and run it.</p> + +<p>Denver could smile a little, grimly, as he recalled Old Bunker’s +stories and his fleering statement that a mule could work; but, now that he had +struck copper at the breast of his tunnel, the mule was suddenly a gentleman. He +was good enough to speak to, and for Bunker’s daughter to speak to, and +for his wife to invite to supper; and all on <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_109'></a>109</span>account of a vein of copper that was scarcely two +inches thick. It was rich and it widened out, instead of pinching off as a +typical gash-vein would; and while it would take a fortune to develop it, it was +copper, and copper was king. Silver and gold mines were nothing now, for silver +was down and gold was losing its purchasing power; but the mining journals were +full of articles about copper, and it had risen to thirty cents a pound.</p> + +<p>Thirty cents, when a few years ago it had dropped as low as eleven! And it +was still going up, for the munition factories were clamoring for it and the +speculators were bidding up futures. Even Bible-Back Murray, who had a +reputation as a pincher, had suddenly become prodigal with his money and was +working day and night, trying to tap a hidden copper deposit. He had caught the +contagion, the lure of tremendous profits, and he was risking his all on the +venture. What would he have to say now if his diamond drill tapped nothing and a +hobo struck it rich over at Queen Creek? Well, he could say what he pleased, for +Denver was determined not to sell for a million dollars. He had come there with +a purpose, in answer to a prophecy, and there yet remained to win the golden +treasure and the beautiful woman who was an artist.</p> + +<p>Every little thing was coming as the seeress had predicted–good Old +Mother Trigedgo with her cards and astrology–and all that was necessary +was to follow her advice and the beautiful Drusilla <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span>would be his. He must treat her at first +like any young country girl, as if she had no beauty or charm; and then in some +way, unrevealed as yet, he would win her love in return. He had schooled himself +rigidly to resist her fascination, but when she had looked up at him with her +beseeching blue eyes and asked him to sell back the mine, only a miracle of +intercession had saved him from yielding and accepting back the five hundred +dollars. He was like clay in her hands–her voice thrilled him, her eyes +dazzled him, her smile made him forget everything else–yet just at the +moment when he had reached out for the money the memory of the prophecy had come +back to him. And so he had refused, turning a deaf ear to her entreaties, and +scoffing at her easy-going father; and she had gone off down the trail without +once looking back, promising Bunker she would become a great singer.</p> + +<p>Denver smiled again dreamily as he dwelt upon her beauty, her hair like +fine-spun gold, her eyes that mirrored every thought; and with it all, a +something he could not name that made his heart leap and choke him. He could not +speak when she first addressed him, his brain had gone into a whirl; and so he +had sat there, like a great oaf of a miner, and refused to give her anything. It +was rough, yet the Cornish seeress had required it; and doubtless, being a woman +herself, she understood the feminine heart. At the end of his long reverie +Denver sighed again, for the ways of astrologers were beyond him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span>In the morning +he rose early, to muck out the rock and clear the tunnel for a new round of +holes; and each time as he came out with a wheel-barrow full of waste he cocked +his eye to the west. Bible-Back Murray would be coming over soon, if he was +still at his camp around the hill. Yet the second day passed before he arrived, +thundering in from the valley in his big, yellow car; and even then he made some +purchases at the store before he came up to the mine.</p> + +<p>“Good morning!” he hailed cheerily, “they tell me +you’ve struck ore. Well, well; how does the vein show up?”</p> + +<p>“’Bout the same,” mumbled Denver and glanced at him curiously. He +had expected a little fireworks.</p> + +<p>“About the same, eh?” repeated Murray, flicking his rebellious +glass eye, which had a tendency to stare off to one side, “is this a +sample of your ore? Well, I will say, it looks promising–would you mind if +I go into the tunnel?”</p> + +<p>“Nope,” returned Denver; and then, after a moment’s pause: +“How’s that gun-man of yours getting along?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dave? He’s all right. I’ll ask you over sometime and +let you get better acquainted.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” answered Denver, “I know him all I want to. +And if I catch him on my ground I’ll sure make him jump–I +don’t like the way he talked to me.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s rough, but he’s good hearted,” <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span>observed Murray +pacifically. “I’m sorry he spoke to you that way–shall we go +in now and look at the vein?”</p> + +<p>Denver grunted non-committally and led Murray into the tunnel, which had +turned now to follow the ore. Whatever his game was it was too deep for Denver, +so he looked on in watchful silence. Murray seemed well acquainted with +mining–he looked at the foot-wall and hanging-wall and traced out the +course of both veins; and then, without offering to take any samples, he turned +and went out to the dump.</p> + +<p>“Yes, very good,” he said, but without any enthusiasm, “it +certainly looks very promising. Well, good day, Mr. Russell; much +obliged.”</p> + +<p>He started down the trail, leaving Denver staring, and then he turned +hurriedly back.</p> + +<p>“Oh, by the way,” he said, “I buy and sell ore. When you +get enough sacked you might send it down by McGraw and I’ll give you a +credit at the store.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, all right,” assented Denver and stood looking after him +till he cranked up and went roaring away. Not a word about the title, nothing +said about his warning; and no mention made of his well-known ability to break +any man in the county. The facts, apparently, were all that interested him +then–but he might make an offer later. When the vein was opened up and he +had made his first shipment, when it began to look like a mine! Denver <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span>went back to work and as +he drove in day by day he was careful to save all the ore.</p> + +<p>He hadn’t had it assayed, because assaying is expensive and his +supplies had cost more than he expected, but from the size of the button when he +made his rough fire-tests, he knew that it ran high in silver. Probably eight +hundred ounces, besides the lead; and he had sorted out nearly a ton. About the +time he was down to his bottom dollar he would ship and get another grub-stake. +Then, when that was gone, if his vein opened up, he would ship to the smelter +direct; but the first small shipment could be easier handled by a man who made +it a business. Of course Murray would gouge him, and overcharge him on +everything, but the main idea was to get Denver to start an account and take +that much trade away from Hill. Denver figured it all out and then let it pass, +for there were other things on his mind.</p> + +<p>On the evening of his strike the house below had been silent; but early the +next morning she had begun again, only this time she was not singing scales. It +was grand opera now, in French and Italian; with brilliant runs and trills and +high, sustained crescendos that seemed almost to demand applause; and +high-pitched, agitato recitatives. She was running through the scores of the +standard operas–“La Traviata,” “Il Trovatore,” +“Martha”–but as the week wore along she stopped singing again +and Denver saw her down among the sycamores. She paid no attention to him, +wandering up <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span>and +down the creek bed or sitting in gloomy silence by the pools; but at last as he +stood at the mouth of his tunnel breaking ore with the great hammer he loved, +she came out on the trail and gazed across at him wistfully, though he feigned +not to notice her presence. He was young and vigorous, and the sledge hammer was +his toy; and as Drusilla, when she was practicing, gloried in the range of her +voice and her effortless bravuras and trills, so Denver, swinging his sledge, +felt like Thor of old when he broke the rocks with his blows. Drusilla gazed at +him and sighed and walked pensively past him, then returned and came back up his +trail.</p> + +<p>“Good evening,” she said and Denver greeted her with a smile for +he saw that her mood was friendly. She had resented, at first, his brusque +refusal and his rough, straight-out way of speaking; but she was lonely now, and +he knew in his heart that all was not well with her singing.</p> + +<p>“You like to work, don’t you?” she went on at last as he +stood sweating and dumb in her presence, “don’t you ever get tired, +or anything?”</p> + +<p>“Not doing this,” he said, “I’m a driller, you know, +and I like to keep my hand in. I compete in these rock-drilling +contests.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, father was telling me,” she answered quickly. +“That’s where you won all that money–the money to buy the +mine.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and I’ve won other money before,” he boasted. +“I won first place last year in the single-handed contest–but +that’s too hard on your <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_115'></a>115</span>arm. You change about, you know, in the +double-handed work–one strikes while the other turns–but in single +jacking it’s just hammer, hammer, hammer, until your arm gets dead to the +shoulder.”</p> + +<p>“It must be nice,” she suggested with a half-concealed sigh, +“to be able to make money so easily. Have you always been a +miner?”</p> + +<p>“No, I was raised on a ranch, up in Colorado–but there’s +lots more money in mining. I don’t work by the day, I take contracts by +the foot where there’s difficult or dangerous work. Sometimes I make forty +dollars a day. There’s a knack about mining, like everything +else–you’ve got to know just how to drive your holes in order to +break the most ground–but give me a jack-hammer and enough men to muck out +after me and I can sink from sixteen to twenty feet a day, depending on the +rock. But here, of course, I’m working lone-handed and only make about +three feet a day.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” she murmured with a mild show of interest and Denver picked +up his hammer. Mother Trigedgo had warned him not to be too friendly, and now he +was learning why. He set out a huge fragment that had been blasted from the face +and swung his hammer again.</p> + +<p>“Did you ever hear the ‘Anvil Chorus’?” she asked watching +him curiously. “It’s in the second act of ‘Il +Trovatore.’”</p> + +<p>“Sure!” exclaimed Denver, “I heard Sousa’s band play +it! I’ve got it on a record somewhere.”</p> + +<p>“No, but in a real opera–you’d be fine for that <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span>part. They have a row of +anvils around the back of the stage and as the chorus sing the gypsy blacksmiths +beat out the time by striking with their hammers. Back in New York last year +there was a perfectly huge man and he had a hammer as big as yours that he swung +with both hands while he sang. You reminded me of him when I saw you +working–don’t you get kind of lonely, sometimes?”</p> + +<p>“Too busy,” replied Denver turning to pick up another rock, +“don’t have time for anything like that.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I wish I was that way,” she sighed after a silence and +Denver smote ponderously at the rock.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you work?” he asked at last and Drusilla’s +eyes flashed fire.</p> + +<p>“I do!” she cried, “I work all the time! But that +doesn’t do me any good. It’s all right, perhaps, if you’re +just breaking rocks, or digging dirt in some mine; but I’m trying to +become a singer and you can’t succeed that way–work will get you +only so far!”</p> + +<p>“’S that so!” murmured Denver, and at the unspoken +challenge the brooding resentment of Drusilla burst forth.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it is!” she exclaimed, “and, just because +you’ve struck ore, that doesn’t prove that you’re right in +everything. I’ve worked and I’ve worked, and that’s all the +good it’s done me–I’m a failure, in spite of +everything.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span>“Oh, I +don’t know,” responded Denver with a superior smile, +“you’ve still got your five hundred dollars. A man is never whipped +till he thinks he’s whipped–why don’t you go back and take a +run at it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, what’s the use of talking?” she cried jumping up, +“when you don’t know a thing about it? I’ve tried and +I’ve tried and the best I could ever do was to get a place in the chorus. +And there you simply ruin your voice without even getting a chance of +recognition. Oh, I get so exasperated to see those Europeans who are nothing but +big, spoiled children go right into a try-out and take a part away from me that +I know I can render perfectly. But that’s it, you see, they’re +perfectly undisciplined, but they can throw themselves into the part; and the +director just takes my name and address and says he’ll call me up if he +needs me.”</p> + +<p>Denver grunted and said nothing and as he swung his hammer again the leash to +her passions gave way.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and I hate you!” she burst out, “you’re so big +and self-satisfied. But I guess if you were trying to break into grand opera you +wouldn’t be quite so intolerant!”</p> + +<p>“No?” commented Denver stopping to shift his grip and she stamped +her foot in fury.</p> + +<p>“No, you wouldn’t!” she cried half weeping with rage as she +contemplated the wreck of her hopes, “don’t you know that Mary +Garden and Schumann-Heink and Geraldine Farrar and all of them, that <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span>are now our greatest +stars, had to starve and skimp and wait on the impresarios before they could get +their chance? There’s a difference between digging a hole in the ground +and moving a great audience to tears; so just because you happen to be +succeeding right now, don’t think that you know it all!”</p> + +<p>“All right,” agreed Denver, “I’ll try to remember +that. And of course I’m nothing but a miner. But there’s one thing, +and I know it, about all those great stars–they didn’t any of them +quit. They might have been hungry and out of a job but they never <i>quit</i>, +or they wouldn’t be where they are.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, they didn’t, eh?” she mocked looking him over with +slow scorn. “And I suppose that <i>you</i> never quit, either?”</p> + +<p>“No, I never did,” answered Denver truthfully. “I’ve +never laid down yet.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you’re young yet,” she said mimicking his +patronizing tones, “perhaps that will come to you later.”</p> + +<p>She smiled with her teeth and stalked off down the trail, leaving Denver with +something to think about.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span><a id='link_14'></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE STRIKE</span></h2> + +<p>Denver Russell <i>was</i> young, in more ways than one, but that did not prove +he was wrong. Perhaps he was presumptuous in trying to tell an artist how to +gain a foothold on the stage, but he was still convinced that, in grand opera as +in mining, there was no big demand for a quitter. As for that swift, back stab, +that veiled intimation that he might live to be a quitter himself, Denver +resolved then and there not to quit working his mine until his last dollar was +gone. And, while he was doing that, he wondered if Drusilla could boast as much +of her music. Would she weaken again, as she had twice already, and declare that +she was a miserable failure; or would she toil on, as he did, day by day, +refusing to acknowledge she was whipped?</p> + +<p>Denver returned to his cave in a defiant mood and put on a record by +Schumann-Heink. There was one woman that he knew had fought her way through +everything until she had obtained a great success. He had read in a magazine how +she had been turned away by a director who had told her <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span>her voice was hopeless; and how later, +after years of privation and suffering, she had come back to that same director +and he had been forced to acknowledge her genius. And it was all there, in her +voice, the sure strength that comes from striving, the sweetness that comes from +suffering; and as Denver listened to her “Cradle Song” he remembered +what he had read about her children. Every night, in those dark times when, +deserted and alone, she sang in the chorus for her bread, she had been compelled +for lack of a nursemaid to lock her children in her room; and evening after +evening her mother’s heart was tormented by fears for their safety. What +if the house should burn down and destroy them all? All the fear and love, all +the anguished tenderness which had torn her heart through those years was +written on the stippled disc, so deeply had it touched her life.</p> + +<p>Denver put them all on, the best records he had by singers of world renown, +and then at the end he put on the “Barcarolle,” the duet from the +“Love Tales of Hoffmann.” For him, that was Drusilla’s song, +the expression of her gayest, happiest self. Its lilt and flow recalled her to +his thoughts like the embroidered motifs that Wagner used to anticipate the +coming of his characters. It was a light song, in a way, not the greatest of +music; but while she was singing it he had seen her for the first time and it +had become the motif of her coming. When he heard it he saw a vision of a +beautiful young girl, singing and swaying like a <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span>slender flower; and all about her was a +golden radiance like the halo of St. Cecelia. And to him it was a prophecy of +her ultimate success, for when she sung it she had won his heart. So he played +it over and over, but when he had finished there was silence from the old town +below.</p> + +<p>Yet if Drusilla was silent it was not from despair for in the morning as +Denver was mucking out his tunnel he heard her clear voice mount up like the +light of some bird.</p> + +<p>“Ah, <i>Ah-h-h-h</i>, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.”</p> + +<p>It was the old familiar exercise, rising an octave at the first bound and +then fluttering down like some gorgeous butterfly of sound till it rested on the +octave below. And at each renewed flight it began a note higher until it climbed +at last to high C. Then it ran up in roulades and galloping bravuras, it trilled +and sought out new flights; yet always with the pellucid tones of the flute, the +sweet, virginal purity of a child. She was right–there was something +missing, a something which she groped for and could not find, a something which +the other singers had. Denver sensed the lack dimly but he could not define it, +all he knew was that she left out herself. In the brief glimpse he had of her +she had seemed torn by dark passions, which caused her at times to brood among +the sycamores and again to seek a quarrel with him; yet all this youthful +turbulence was left out of her singing–she had not learned to express her +emotions.</p> + +<p>Denver listened every morning as he came out of <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span>his dark hole, pushing the wheel-barrows +of ore and waste before him, and then he bade farewell to sun, air and music and +went into the close, dark tunnel. By the light of a single candle, thrust into +its dagger-like miner’s candlestick and stabbed into some seam in the +wall, he smashed and clacked away at his drill until the whole face was +honeycombed with holes. At the top they slanted up, at the bottom down, to keep +the bore broken clean; but along the sides and in the middle they followed no +system, more than to adapt themselves to the formation. When his round of holes +was drilled he cut his fuse and loaded each hole with its charge; after which +with firm hands he ignited each split end and hurried out of the tunnel. There +he sat down on a rock and listened to the shots; first the short holes in the +center, to blow out the crown; then the side holes, breaking into the opening; +and the top-holes, shooting the rock down from above; and then, last and most +powerful, the deep bottom holes that threw the dirt back down the tunnel and +left the face clear for more work.</p> + +<p>As the poisonous smoke was drifting slowly out of the tunnel mouth Denver +fired up his forge and re-sharpened his drills; and then, along towards evening, +when the fumes had become diffused, he went in to see what he had uncovered. +Sometimes the vein widened or developed rich lenses, and sometimes it pinched +down until the walls enclosed nothing but a narrow streak of talc; but always it +dipped down, and that was a good sign, a prophecy of the <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span>true fissure vein to come. The ore that +he mined now was a mere excrescence of the great ore-body he hoped to find, but +each day the blanket-vein turned and dipped on itself until at last it folded +over and led down. In a huge mass of rocks, stuck together by crystals of silica +and stained by the action of acids, the silver and copper came together and +intermingled at the fissure vent which had produced them both. Denver stared at +it through the powder smoke, then he grabbed up some samples and went to see +Bunker Hill.</p> + +<p>Not since that great day when Denver had struck the copper had Bunker shown +any interest in the mine. He sat around the house listening to Drusilla while +she practiced and opening the store for chance customers; but towards Denver he +still maintained a grim-mouthed reserve, as if discouraging him from asking any +favors. Perhaps the fact that Denver’s money was all gone had a more or +less direct bearing on the case; but though he was living on the last of his +provisions Denver had refrained from asking for credit. His last shipment of +powder and blacksmith’s coal had cost twenty per cent more than he had +figured and he had sent for a few more records; and after paying the two bills +there was only some small change left in the wallet which had once bulged with +greenbacks. But his pride was involved, for he had read Drusilla a lecture on +the evils of being faint-hearted, so he had simply stopped buying at the little +store and lived on what he had left. But now–well, with <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span>that fissure vein opened +up and a solid body of ore in sight, he might reasonably demand the customary +accommodations which all merchants accord to good customers.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve struck it,” he said when he had Bunker in the +store, “just take a look at <i>that</i>!”</p> + +<p>He handed over a specimen that was heavy with copper and Bunker squinted down +his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Yes, looks good,” he observed and handed it somberly back.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got four feet of it,” announced Denver gloating over +the specimens, “and the vein has turned and gone down. What’s the +chances for some grub now, on account? I’m going to ship that sacked +ore.”</p> + +<p>“Danged poor–with me,” answered Bunker with decision. +“You’d better try your luck with Murray.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, boosting for Murray, eh?” remarked Denver sarcastically. +“Well, I may take you up on that, but it’s too far to walk now and +I’ve been living on beans for a week. I guess I’m good for a few +dollars’ worth.”</p> + +<p>“Sure you’re good for it,” agreed Bunker, “but that +ain’t the point. The question is–when will I get my +money?”</p> + +<p>“You’ll get it, by grab, as soon as I do,” returned Denver +with considerable heat. “What’s the matter? Ain’t that ore +shipment good enough security?”</p> + +<p>“Well, maybe it is,” conceded Bunker, “but you’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span>have a long wait +for your money. And to tell you the truth, the way I’m fixed now, I +can’t sell except for cash.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! Cash, eh?” sneered Denver suddenly bristling with +resentment. “It seems like I’ve heard that before. In fact, every +time that I ask you for a favor you turn me down like a bum. I came through +here, one time, so danged weak I could hardly crawl and you refused to even give +me a meal; and now, when I’ve got a mine that’s worth millions, +you’ve still got your hand out for the money.”</p> + +<p>“Well, now don’t get excited,” spoke up Bunker pacifically, +“you can have what grub you want. But I’m telling you the +truth–those people down below won’t give me another dollar’s +worth on tick. These are hard times, boy, the hardest I’ve ever seen, and +if you’d offer me that mine back for five hundred cents I couldn’t +raise the money. That shows how broke I am, and I’ve got a family to +support.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s different,” said Denver. “If +you’re broke, that settles it. But I’ll tell you one thing, +old-timer, you won’t be broke long. I’m going to open up a mine here +that will beat the Lost Burro. I’ve got copper, and that beats ’em +all.”</p> + +<p>“Sure does,” agreed Bunker, “but it’s no good for +shipping ore. It takes millions to open up a copper property.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and it brings back millions!” boasted Denver with a +swagger. “I’m made, if I can only hold onto it. But I’ll tell +you right now, if you <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_126'></a>126</span>want to hold your claims you’d better do a +little assessment work. There’s going to be a rush, when this strike of +mine gets out, that’ll make your ground worth millions.”</p> + +<p>Old Bunk smiled indulgently and took a chew of tobacco and Denver came back +to earth.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” proposed Denver after a +silence, “I’ll take a contract to do your assessment work for ten +dollars a claim, in trade. I’ll make an open cut that’s four by six +by ten, and that’s held to be legal work anywhere. Come on now, I’m +tired of beans.”</p> + +<p>“Well, come down to supper,” replied Bunker at last, “and +we’ll talk it over there.”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t want any supper,” returned Denver resentfully, +“you’ve got enough hoboes to feed. You can give me an answer, right +now.”</p> + +<p>“All right–I won’t do it,” replied Bunker promptly +and turned to go out the door; but it had opened behind them and Drusilla stood +there smiling, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“What are you two men quarreling about?” she demanded +reprovingly, “we could hear you clear over to the house.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I asked him over to supper,” began Bunker in a rage, +“and─”</p> + +<p>“That’s got nothing to do with it,” broke in Denver hotly, +“I’m making him a business proposition. But he’s so danged +bull-headed he’d rather kill some jumper than comply with the law as it +stands. He’s been holding down these claims with a lead-pencil <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span>and a six-shooter just +about as long as he can and─”</p> + +<p>“Oh, have you made another strike?” asked Drusilla eagerly and +when she heard the news she turned to her father with a sudden note of gladness +in her voice. “Then you’ll have to do the work,” she said, +“because I’ll never be happy till you do. Ever since you sold your +claim I’ve been sorry for my selfishness but now I’m going to pay +you back. I’m going to take my five hundred dollars and hire this +assessment work done and then─”</p> + +<p>“It won’t cost any five hundred,” put in Denver hastily. +“I’m kinder short, right now, and I offered to do it for ten dollars +a claim, in trade.”</p> + +<p>“Ten dollars? Why, how can you do it for that? I thought the law +required a ten foot hole, or the same amount of work in a tunnel.”</p> + +<p>“Or an open cut,” hinted Denver. “Leave it to me–I +can do it and make money, to boot.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you’re hired, then!” cried Drusilla with a rush of +enthusiasm, “but you have to go to work to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Well–ll,” qualified Denver, “I wanted to look over +my strike and finish sacking that ore. Wouldn’t the next day do just as +well?”</p> + +<p>“No, it wouldn’t,” she replied. “You can give me an +answer, right now.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll go you!” said Denver and Old Bunker grunted and +regarded them with a wry, knowing smile.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span><a id='link_15'></a>CHAPTER XV<br /><span class='h2fs'>A NIGHT FOR LOVE</span></h2> + +<p>There was music that evening in the Bunker Hill mansion but Denver Russell +sat sulking in his cave with no company but an inquisitive pack-rat. He +regretted now his curt refusal to join the Hills at supper, for Drusilla was +singing gloriously; but a man without pride is a despicable creature and Old +Bunk had tried to insult him. So he went to bed and early in the morning, while +the shadow of Apache Leap still lay like a blanket across the plain, he set out +to fulfill his contract. Across one shoulder he hung a huge canteen of water, on +the other a sack of powder and fuse; and, to top off his burden, he carried a +long steel churn-drill and a spoon for scooping out the muck.</p> + +<p>The discovery hole of Bunker’s Number Two claim was just up the creek +from his own and, after looking it over, Denver climbed up the bank and measured +off six feet from the edge. Then, raising the steel bar, he struck it into the +ground, churning it rhythmically up and down; and as the hole rapidly deepened +he spooned it out and poured in a little more water. It was the same +uninteresting work that he had seen men do when they were <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span>digging a railroad cut; and the object +was the same, to shoot down the dirt with the minimum of labor and powder. But +with Denver it became a work of art, a test of his muscle and skill, and at each +downward thrust he bent from the hips and struck with a deep-chested +“Huh!”</p> + +<p>An hour passed by, and half the length of the drill was buried at the end of +the stroke; and then, as he paused to wipe the sweat from his eyes, Denver saw +that his activities were being noted. Drusilla was looking on from the trail +below, and apparently with the greatest interest. She was dressed in a corduroy +suit, with a broad sombrero against the sun; and as she came up the slope she +leapt from rock to rock in a heavy pair of boys’ high boots. There was +nothing of the singer about her now, nor of the filmy-clad barefooted dancer; +the jagged edge of old Pinal would permit of nothing so effeminate. Yet, over +the rocks as on the smooth trails, she had a grace that was all her own, for +those hillsides had been her home.</p> + +<p>“Well, how’s the millionaire?” she inquired with a smile +that made his fond heart miss a beat. “Is <i>this</i> the way you do it? +Are you just going to drill one hole?”</p> + +<p>“That’s the dope,” replied Denver, “sink it down ten +feet and blow the whole bank off with one shot. It’s as easy as shooting +fish.”</p> + +<p>“Why, you’re down half-way, already!” she cried in +amazement. “How long before you’ll be done?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span>“Oh, half +an hour or so,” said Denver. “Want to wait and see the blast? I +learned this system on the railroad.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll be through, then, before noon!” she exclaimed. +“You’re actually making money.”</p> + +<p>“Well, a little,” admitted Denver, “but, of course, if +you’re not satisfied─”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m satisfied,” she protested, “I was only +thinking–but then, it’s always that way. There are some people, of +course, who can make money anywhere. How does it feel to be a +millionaire?”</p> + +<p>“Fine!” grinned Denver, chugging away with his drill, “this +is the way they all got their start. The Armstrong method–and that’s +where I shine; I can break more ground than any two men.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I believe you can,” she responded frankly, “and I +hope you have a great success. I didn’t like it very well when you called +me a quitter, but I can see now what you meant. Did you ever study music at +all?”</p> + +<p>Denver stopped his steady churning to glance at her quickly and then he +nodded his head.</p> + +<p>“I played the violin, before I went to mining. Had to quit +then–it stiffens up your fingers.”</p> + +<p>“What a pity!” she cried. “But that explains about your +records–I knew you’d heard good music somewhere.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and I’m going to hear more,” he answered +impressively, “I’m not going to blow my money. I’m going back +to New York, where all those singers live. The other boys can have the +booze.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_131'></a>131</span>“Don’t you drink at all?” she +questioned eagerly. “Don’t you even smoke? Well, I’m going +right back and tell father. He told me that all miners spent their money in +drinking–why wouldn’t you come over to supper?”</p> + +<p>She shot the question at him in the quick way she had, but Denver did not +answer it directly.</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” he said, “but I will tell you one +thing–I’m not a hobo miner.”</p> + +<p>“No, I knew you weren’t,” she responded quickly. +“Won’t you come over to supper to-night? I might sing for +you,” she suggested demurely; but Denver shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Nope,” he said, “your old man took me for a hobo and he +can’t get the idea out of his head. What did he say when you gave me this +job?”</p> + +<p>“Well, he didn’t object; but I guess, if you don’t mind, +we’ll only do three or four claims. He says I’ll need the money back +East.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you will,” agreed Denver. “Five hundred isn’t +much. If I was flush I’d do this for nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” she protested, “I couldn’t allow that. But +if there <i>should</i> be a rush, and father’s claims should be +jumped─”</p> + +<p>“You’d have the best of them, anyway. I wouldn’t tempt old +Murray too far.”</p> + +<p>“No,” she said, “and that reminds me–I hear that +he’s made a strike. But say, here’s a good joke on the Professor. +You know he thinks he’s a mining expert, and he’s been crazy to look +at the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span>diamond +drill cores; and the other day the boss driller was over and he told me how he +got rid of him. You know, in drilling down they run into cavities where the lime +has been leached away, and in order to keep the bore intact they pour them full +of cement. Well, when the Professor insisted upon seeing the core and +wouldn’t take no for an answer, Mr. Menzger just gave him a section of +concrete, where they’d bored through a filled-up hole. And Mr. +Diffenderfer just looked so wise and examined it through his microscope, and +then he said it was very good rock and an excellent indication of copper. +Isn’t that just too rich for anything?”</p> + +<p>“Yeh,” returned Denver with a thin-lipped smile. And then, before +he thought how it sounded: “Say, who is this Mr. Menzger, +anyway?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’s a friend of ours,” she answered drooping her +eyelashes coquettishly. “He gets lonely sometimes and comes down to hear +me sing–he’s been in New York and everywhere.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, he must be a funny guy,” observed Denver mirthlessly. +“Any relation to that feller they call Dave?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Chatwourth? No, he’s from Kentucky–they say +he’s the last of his family. All the others were killed in one of those +mountain feuds–Mr. Menzger says he’s absolutely fearless.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what did he leave home for, then?” inquired Denver +arrogantly. “He don’t look very bad to me, I guess if he was +fearless he’d be back in <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_133'></a>133</span>Kentucky, shooting it out with the rest of the +bunch.”</p> + +<p>“No, it seems that his father on his dying bed commanded him to leave +the country, because there were too many of the others against him. But Mr. +Menzger tells me he’s a professional killer, and that’s why Old +Murray hired him. Do you think they would jump our claims?”</p> + +<p>“They would if they struck copper,” replied Denver bluntly. +“And old Murray warned me not to buy from your father–that shows +he’s got his eye on your property. It’s a good thing we’re +doing this work.”</p> + +<p>“Weren’t you afraid, then?” she asked, putting the +wonder-note into her voice and laying aside her frank manner, +“weren’t you afraid to buy our claim? Or did you feel that you were +guided to it, and all would be for the best?”</p> + +<p>“That’s it!” exclaimed Denver suddenly putting down his +drill to gaze into her innocent young eyes. “I was guided, and so I bought +it anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I think it’s so romantic!” she murmured with a sigh, +“won’t you tell me how it happened?”</p> + +<p>And then Denver Russell, forgetting the seeress’ warning at the very +moment he was discussing her, sat down on a rock and gave Drusilla the whole +story of his search for the gold and silver treasures. But at the end–when +she questioned him about the rest of the prophecy–he suddenly recalled +Mother Trigedgo’s admonition: “Beware how you <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span>reveal your affection or she will confer +her hand upon another.”</p> + +<p>A shadow came into his blue eyes and his boyish enthusiasm was stilled; and +Drusilla, who had been practicing her stage-learned wiles, suddenly found her +technique at fault. She chattered on, trying subtly to ensnare him, but +Denver’s heart was now of adamant and he failed to respond to her +approaches. It was not too late yet to heed the words of the prophecy, and he +drilled on in thoughtful silence.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you get lonely?” she burst out at last, +“living all by yourself in that cave? Why, even these old prospectors have +to have some pardner–don’t you ever feel the need of a +friend?”</p> + +<p>There it was–he felt it coming–the appeal to be just friends. But +another girl had tried it already, and he had learned about women from her.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said shortly, “I don’t need no friends. Say, +I’m going to load this hole now.”</p> + +<p>“Well, go on!” she challenged, “I’m not afraid. +I’ll stay here as long as you do.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” he said lowering his powder down the hole and +tamping it gently with a stick, “I see I can’t scare +<i>you</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you thought you could scare me!” she burst out mockingly, +“I suppose you’re a great success with the girls.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” he mocked back, “a good-looking fellow like +me─” And then he paused and grinned slyly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span>“Oh, +what’s the use!” she exclaimed, rising up in disgust, “I might +as well quit, right now.”</p> + +<p>“No, don’t go off mad!” he remonstrated gallantly. +“Stay and see the big explosion.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care <i>that</i> for your explosion!” she answered +pettishly and snapped her fingers in the air.</p> + +<p>It was the particular gesture with which the coquettish Carmen was wont to +dismiss her lovers; but as she strode down the hill Drusilla herself was +heart-broken, for her coquetry had come to naught. This big Western boy, this +unsophisticated miner, had sensed her wiles and turned them upon her–how +then could she hope to succeed? If her eyes had no allure for a man like him, +how could she hope to fascinate an audience? And Carmen and half the heroines of +modern light opera were all of them incorrigible flirts. They flirted with +servants, with barbers, with strolling actors, with their own and other +women’s husbands; until the whole atmosphere fairly reeked of intrigue, of +amours and coquettish escapades. To the dark-eyed Europeans these wiles were +instinctive but with her they were an art, to be acquired laboriously as she had +learned to dance and sing. But flirt she could not, for Denver Russell had +flouted her, and now she had lost his respect.</p> + +<p>A tear came to her eye, for she was beginning to like him, and he would think +that she flirted with everyone; yet how was she to learn to succeed in her art +if she had no experience with men? <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_136'></a>136</span>It was that, in fact, which her teacher had hinted +at when he had told her to go out and live; but her heart was not in it, she +took no pleasure in deceit–and yet she longed for success. She could sing +the parts, she had learned her French and Italian and taken instruction in +acting; but she lacked the verve, the passionate abandon, without which she +could never succeed. Yet succeed she must, or break her father’s heart and +make his great sacrifice a mockery. She turned and looked back at Denver +Russell, and that night she sang–for him.</p> + +<p>He was up there in his cave looking down indifferently, thinking himself +immune to her charms; yet her pride demanded that she conquer him completely and +bring him to her feet, a slave! She sang, attired in filmy garments, by the +light of the big, glowing lamp; and as her voice took on a passionate +tenderness, her mother looked up from her work. Then Bunker awoke from his +gloomy thoughts and glanced across at his wife; and they sat there in silence +while she sang on and on, the gayest, sweetest songs that she knew. But +Drusilla’s eyes were fixed on the open doorway, on the darkness which lay +beyond; and at last she saw him, a dim figure in the distance, a presence that +moved and was gone. She paused and glided off into her song of songs, the +“Barcarolle” from “Love Tales of Hoffman,” and as her +voice floated out to him Denver rose up from his hiding and stepped boldly into +the moonlight. He stood there like a <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_137'></a>137</span>hero in some Wagnerian opera, where men take the +part of gods, and as she gazed the mockery went out of her song and she sang of +love alone. Such a love as women know who love one man forever and hold all his +love in return, yet the words were the same as those of false Giuletta when she +fled with the perfidious Dapertutto.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p> “Night divine, O night of +love,<br /> O smile on our enchantment<br /> + Moon and stars keep watch above<br /> + This radiant night of love!”</p> </div> + +<p>She floated away in the haunting chorus, overcome by the madness of its +spell; and when she awoke the song was ended and love had claimed her too.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span><a id='link_16'></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /><span class='h2fs'>A FRIEND</span></h2> + +<p>A new spirit, a strange gladness, had come over Drusilla and parts which had +been difficult became suddenly easy when she took up her work the next day; but +when she walked out in the cool of the evening the sombrero and boy’s +boots were gone. She wore a trailing robe, such as great ladies wear when they +go to keep a tryst with knightly lovers, and she went up the trail to where +Denver was working on the last of her father’s claims. He was up on the +high cliff, busily tamping the powder that was to blast out the side of the +hill, and she waited patiently until he had fired it and come down the slope +with his tools.</p> + +<p>“That makes four,” he said, “and I’m all out of +powder.” But she only answered with a smile.</p> + +<p>“I’ll have to wait, now,” he went on bluffly, “until +McGraw comes up again, before I can do any more work.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she answered and smiled again; a slow, expectant +smile.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” he demanded and then his face changed +and he fumbled with the strap of his canteen. And when he looked up his eyes met +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span>hers and there was +no longer any secret between them.</p> + +<p>“You can rest a few days, then,” she suggested softly, +“I’d like to hear some of your records.”</p> + +<p>“Yes–sure, sure,” he burst out hastily and they walked down +the trail together. She went on ahead with the quick step of a dancer and Denver +looked up at an eagle in the sky, as if in some way it could understand. But the +eagle soared on, without effort and without ceasing, and Denver could only be +glad. In some way, far beyond him, she had divined his love; but it was not to +be spoken of–now. That would spoil it all, the days of sweet communion, +the pretence that nothing had changed; yet they knew it had changed and in the +sharing of that great secret lay the tie that should bind them together. Denver +looked from the eagle to the glorious woman and remembered the prophecy again. +Even yet he must beware, he must veil every glance, treat her still like a +simple country child; for the seeress had warned him that his fate hung in the +balance and she might still confer her hand upon another.</p> + +<p>In the happy days that followed he did no more work, further than to sack his +ore and ship it; but all his thoughts were centered upon Drusilla who was +friendly and elusive by turns. On that first precious evening she came up with +her father and inspected his smoke-blackened cave, and over his new records +there sprang up a conversation that held him entranced for hours. She had been +to the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span>Metropolitan +and the Boston Opera Houses and heard the great singers at their best; she +understood their language, whether it was French or Italian or the now +proscribed German of Wagner, and she listened to the records again and again, +trying to steal the secret of their success. But through it all she was gentle +and friendly, and all her old quarrelsomeness was gone.</p> + +<p>A week passed like a day, full of dreams and half-uttered confidences and +long, contented silences; and then, as they sat in the shade of the giant +sycamore Denver let his eyes that had been fixed upon Drusilla, stray and sweep +the lower road.</p> + +<p>“What are you looking for now?” she demanded impatiently and he +turned back with a guilty grin.</p> + +<p>“McGraw,” he said and she frowned to herself for at last the +world had come between them. For a week he had been idle, a heaven-sent +companion in the barren loneliness of life; but now, when his powder and mining +supplies arrived, he would become the old hard-working miner. He would go into +his dark tunnel before the sun was up and not come out till it was low in the +west, and instead of being clean and handsome as a young god he would come forth +like a groveling gnome. His face would be grimy, his hands gnarled with +striking, his digging-clothes covered with candle-grease: and his body would +reek with salty sweat and the rank, muggy odor of powder fumes. And he would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span>crawl back to his +cave like an outworn beast of burden, to sleep while she sang to him from +below.</p> + +<p>“Will you go back to work?” she asked at last and he nodded and +stretched his great arms.</p> + +<p>“Back to work!” he repeated, “and I guess it’s about +time. I wonder how much credit Murray gave me?”</p> + +<p>Drusilla said nothing. She was looking far away and wondering at the thing we +call life.</p> + +<p>“Why do you work so hard?” she inquired, half complainingly. +“Is that all there is in the world?”</p> + +<p>“No, lots of other things,” he answered carelessly, “but +work is the only way to get them. I’m on my way, see? I’ve just +begun. You wait till I open up that mine!”</p> + +<p>“Then what will you do?” she murmured pensively, “go ahead +and open up another mine?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I might,” he admitted. “Don’t you remember +that other treasure? There’s a gold-mine around here, +somewhere.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, is that all you think about?” she protested with a smile. +“There are lots of other treasures, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but this one was prophesied,” returned Denver doggedly. +“I’m bound to find it, now.”</p> + +<p>“But Denver,” she insisted, “don’t you see what I +mean? These fortune-tellers never tell you, straight out. Yours said, ‘a golden +treasure,’ but that doesn’t mean a gold mine. There are other +treasures, besides.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span>“For +instance?” he suggested and she looked far away as if thinking of some she +might name.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she said at length, “there are opals, for one. They +are beautiful, and look like golden fire. Or it might be a rare old violin that +would bring back your music again. I saw one once that was golden +yellow–wouldn’t you like to play while I sing? But if you spend all +your life trying to grub out more riches you will lose your appreciation of +art.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but wait,” persisted Denver, “I’m just getting +started. I haven’t got a dollar to my name. If Murray don’t send me +the supplies that I ordered I’ll have to go to work for my grub. The +jewels can wait, and the yellow violins, but I know that she meant a mine. It +would have to be a mine or I couldn’t choose between them–and when I +make my stake I’m going to buy out the Professor and see what he’s +got underground. Of course, it’s only a stringer now +but─”</p> + +<p>“Oh dear,” sighed Drusilla and then she rose up, but she did not +go away. “Aren’t you glad,” she asked, “that we’ve +had this week together? I suppose I’m going to miss you, now. That’s +the trouble with being a woman–we get to be so dependent. Can I play over +your records, sometimes?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Denver, “say, I’m going up there now to +see if McGraw isn’t in sight. Would you like to come along too? We can sit +outside in the shade and watch for his dust, down the road.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I ought to be studying,” she assented <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span>reluctantly, “but I guess I can go +up–for a while.”</p> + +<p>They clambered up together over the ancient, cliff-dwellers’ trail, +where each foothold was worn deep in the rock; but as they sat within the shadow +of the beetling cliff Drusilla sighed again.</p> + +<p>“Do you think?” she asked, “that there will be a great rush +when they hear about your strike down in Moroni? Because then I’ll have to +go–I can’t practice the way I have been with the whole town filled +up with miners. And everything will be changed–I’d almost rather it +wouldn’t happen, and have things the way they are now. Of course +I’ll be glad for father’s sake, because he’s awfully worried +about money; but sometimes I think we’re happier the way we are than we +will be when we’re all of us rich. What will be the first thing +you’ll do?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” began Denver, his eyes still on the road, “the +first thing is to open her up. There’s no use trying to interest outside +capital until you’ve got some ore in sight. Then I’ll go over to +Globe to a man that I know and come back with a hundred thousand dollars. +That’s right–I know him well, and he knows me–and he’s +told me repeatedly if I find anything big enough he’s willing to put that +much into it. He came up from nothing, just an ordinary miner, but now +he’s got money in ten different banks, and a hundred thousand dollars is +nothing to him. But his time is valuable, can’t stop to look at prospects; +so the first thing I do is to open up that mine until I can show a big deposit +of copper. The silver and lead will pay all the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_144'></a>144</span>expenses–and you wait, when that ore gets down +to the smelter I’ll bet there’ll be somebody coming up here. It runs +a thousand ounces to the ton or I’m a liar, the way I’ve sorted it +out; but of course old Murray and the rest of ’em will rob me. I +don’t expect more than three hundred dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it wonderful,” murmured Drusilla, “and to +think it all happened just from having your fortune told! I’m going over +to Globe before I start back East and get her to tell my fortune, too; but of +course it can’t be as wonderful as yours–you must have been just +born lucky.”</p> + +<p>“Well, maybe I was,” said Denver with a shrug, “but it +isn’t all over yet–I still stand a chance to lose. And she told me +some other things that are not so pleasant–sometimes I wish I’d +never gone near her.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, what are they?” she asked in a hushed eager voice; but +Denver ignored the question. Never, not even to his dearest friend, would he +tell the forecasting of his death; and as for dearest friends, if he ever had +another pardner he could never trust him a minute. The chance slipping of a +pick, a missed stroke with a hammer, any one of a thousand trivial accidents, +and the words of the prophecy would come to pass–he would be killed before +his time. But if he favored one man no more than another, if he avoided his +former pardners and friends, then he might live to be one of the biggest mining +men in the country and to win Drusilla for his wife.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_145'></a>145</span>“I’ll tell you,” he said +meditatively, “you’d better keep away from her. A man does better +without it. Suppose she’d tell you, for instance, that you’d get +killed in a cave like she did Jack Chambers over in Globe; you’d be scared +then, all the time you were under ground–it ruins a man for a miner. No, +it’s better not to know it at all. Just go ahead, the best you know how, +and play your cards to win, and I’ll bet it won’t be but a year or +two until you’re a regular operatic star. They’ll be selling your +records for three dollars apiece, and all those managers will be bidding for +you; but if Mother Trigedgo should tell you some bad news it might hurt +you–it might spoil your nerve.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, did she tell you something?” cried Drusilla apprehensively. +“Do tell me what it was! I won’t breathe it to a soul; and if you +could share it with some friend, don’t you think it would ease your +mind?”</p> + +<p>Denver looked at her slowly, then he turned away and shook his head in +refusal.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Denver!” she exclaimed as she sensed the significance of it, +and before he knew it she was patting his work-hardened hand. “I’m +sorry,” she said, “but if ever I can help you I want you to let me +know. Would it help to have me for a friend?”</p> + +<p>“A friend!” he repeated, and then he drew back and the horror +came into his eyes. She was his friend already, the dearest friend he +had–was she destined then to kill him?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_146'></a>146</span>“No!” he said, “I don’t want +any friends. Come on, I believe that’s McGraw.”</p> + +<p>He rose up hastily and held out his hand to help her but she refused to +accept his aid. Her lips were trembling, there were tears in her eyes and her +breast was beginning to heave; but there was no explanation he could give. He +wanted her, yes, but not as a friend–as his beloved, his betrothed, his +wife! By any name, but not by the name of friend. He drew away slowly as her +head bowed to her knees; and at last he left her, weeping. It was best, after +all, for how could he comfort her? And he could see McGraw’s dust down the +road.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to meet McGraw!” he called back from the steps +and went bounding off down the trail.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span><a id='link_17'></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /><span class='h2fs'>BROKE</span></h2> + +<p>McGraw, the freighter, was a huge, silent man from whom long years on the +desert had almost taken the desire for speech. He came jangling up the road, his +wagons grinding and banging, his horses straining wearily in their collars; and +as Denver ran to meet him he threw on the brakes and sat blinking solemnly at +his inquisitor.</p> + +<p>“Where’s my powder?” demanded Denver looking over the load, +“and say, didn’t you bring that coal? I don’t see that steel I +ordered, either!”</p> + +<p>“No,” said McGraw and then, after a silence: “Murray +wouldn’t receive your ore.”</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t receive it!” yelled Denver, “why, what was +the matter with it–did the sacks get broke going down?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered McGraw, “the sacks were all right. He said +the ore was no good.”</p> + +<p>“Like hell!” scoffed Denver, “that ore that I sent him? It +would run a thousand ounces to the ton!”</p> + +<p>McGraw wrinkled his brows and looked up at the sun.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “I guess I’ll be going.”</p> + +<p>“But–hey, wait!” commanded Denver, scarcely <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span>believing his ears, +“didn’t he send me any grub, or anything?”</p> + +<p>“Nope,” answered McGraw, “he wouldn’t give me +nawthin’. He said the ore was no good. Come, boys!” And he threw off +the brakes with a bang.</p> + +<p>The chains tightened with a jerk, the wheelers set their feet; then the lead +wagon heaved forward, the trail-wagon followed and Denver was alone on the road. +His brain was in a whirl, he had lost all volition, even the will to control his +wild thoughts; until suddenly he burst out in a fit of cursing–of Murray, +of McGraw, of everything. McGraw had been a fool, he should have demanded the +supplies anyway; and Murray was just trying to job him. He knew he was broke and +had not had the ore assayed, and he was taking advantage of the fact. He had +refused the ore in order to leave him flat and compel him to abandon his mine; +and then he, Murray, would slip over with his gun-man and take possession +himself. Denver struck his leg and looked up and down the road, and then he +started off for Moroni.</p> + +<p>It was sixty miles, across a scorching desert with only two wells on the +road; but Denver arrived at Whitlow’s an hour after sunset, and he was at +Desert Wells before dawn. A great fire seemed to consume him, to drive him on, +to fill his body with inexhaustible strength; and, against the advice of the +station man, he started on in the heat for Moroni. All he wanted was a show-down +with Bible-Back Murray, to meet him face to face; and <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span>no matter if he had the whole county in +his pocket he would tell him what he thought of him. And he would make him take +that ore, according to his agreement, or answer to him personally; and then he +would return to Pinal, where he had left Drusilla crying. But he could not face +her now, after all his boasting and his tales of fabulous wealth. He could never +face her again.</p> + +<p>The sun rose up higher, the heat waves began to shimmer and the landscape to +blur before his eyes; and then an automobile came thundering up behind him and +halted on the flat.</p> + +<p>“Get in!” called the driver throwing the door open hospitably; +and in an hour’s time Denver was set down in Moroni, but with the fever +still hot in his brain. His first frenzy had left him, and the heat madness of +the desert with its insidious promptings to violence; but the sense of injustice +still rankled deep and he headed for Murray’s store. It was a huge, brick +building crowded from basement to roof with groceries and general merchandise. +Busy clerks hustled about, waiting on Mexicans and Indians and slow-moving, +valley ranchers; and as Denver walked in there was a man there to meet him and +direct him to any department. It showed that Bible-Back was efficient, at +least.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to see Mr. Murray,” announced Denver shortly and +the floor-walker glanced at him again before he answered that Mr. Murray was +out. It was the same at the bank, and out at his house; and at last in disgust +Denver went down to the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_150'></a>150</span>station, where he had been told his ore was lying. +The stifling heat of the valley oppressed him like a blanket, the sweat poured +down his face in tiny streams; and at each evasion his anger mounted higher +until now he was talking to himself. It was evident that Murray was trying to +avoid him–he might even have started back to the mine–but his ore +was there, on a heavily timbered platform, where it could be transferred from +wagon to car without lifting it up and down. There was other ore there too, each +consignment by itself, taken in by the store-keeper in exchange for supplies and +held to make up a carload. The same perfect system, efficiency in all +things–efficiency and a hundred per cent profit.</p> + +<p>Denver leapt up on the platform and cut open a sack, but as he was pouring a +generous sample of the ore into his handkerchief a man stepped out of the next +warehouse.</p> + +<p>“Hey!” he called, “what are you doing, over there? You get +down and leave that ore alone!”</p> + +<p>“Go to hell!” returned Denver, tying a knot in his handkerchief, +and the man came over on the run.</p> + +<p>“Say!” he threatened, “you put that ore back or +you’ll find yourself in serious trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I will, hey?” replied Denver with his most tantalizing +smile. “Whose ore do you think this is, anyway?”</p> + +<p>“It belongs to Mr. Murray, and you’d better put it back or +I’ll report the matter at once.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span>“Well, +report it,” answered Denver. “My name is Denver Russell and +I’m taking this up to the assayer.”</p> + +<p>“There’s Mr. Murray, now,” exclaimed the man and as Denver +looked up he saw a yellow automobile churning rapidly along through the dust. +Murray himself was at the wheel and, sitting beside him, was another man equally +familiar–it was Dave, his hired gun-man.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing here, Mr. Russell?” demanded Murray with +asperity and Denver became suddenly calm. Old Murray had been hiding from him, +but they had summoned him by telephone, and he had brought along Dave for +protection. But that should not keep him from having his way and forcing Murray +to a show-down.</p> + +<p>“I just came down for a sample of that ore I sent you,” answered +Denver with a sarcastic grin. “McGraw said you claimed it was no good, so +I thought I’d have it assayed.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” observed Murray and for a minute he sat silent while Dave +and Denver exchanged glances. The gun-man was slight and insignificant looking, +with small features and high, boney cheeks; but there was a smouldering hate in +his deep-set eyes which argued him in no mood for a jest, so Denver looked him +over and said nothing.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Murray at last, “the ore is yours. Go +ahead and have it assayed. But with the price of silver down to forty-five cents +I doubt if that stuff will pay smelter charges. I’ll ship it, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span>if you say so, along with +this other, if only to make up a carload; but it will be at your own risk and if +the returns show a deficit, your mine will be liable for the balance.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s the racket, eh?” suggested Denver. +“You’ve got your good eye on my mine. Well, I’d just like to +tell you─”</p> + +<p>“No, I haven’t,” snapped back Murray, his voice harsh and +strident, “I wouldn’t accept your mine as a gift. Your silver is +practically worthless and there’s no copper in the district; as I know all +too well, to my sorrow. I’ve lost twenty thousand dollars on better ground +than yours and ordered the whole camp closed down–that shows how much I +want <i>your</i> mine.”</p> + +<p>He started his engine and glided on to the warehouse and Denver stood staring +down the road. Then he raised his sample, tied up in his handkerchief, and +slammed it into the dirt. His mine was valueless unless he had money, and Murray +had abandoned the district. More than ever Denver realized how much it had meant +to him, merely to have that diamond drilling running and a big man like Murray +behind it. It was indicative of big values and great expectations; but now, with +Murray out of the running, the district was absolutely dead. There was no longer +the chance of a big copper strike, such as had been rumored repeatedly for +weeks, to bring on a stampede and make every claim in the district worth +thousands of dollars as a gamble.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span>No, Pinal was +dead; the Silver Treasure was worthless; and he, Denver Russell, was broke. He +had barely the price of a square meal. He started up-town, and turned back +towards the warehouse where Murray was wrangling with his hireling; then, +cursing with helpless rage, he swung off down the railroad track and left his +broken dreams behind him.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span><a id='link_18'></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE HAND OF FATE</span></h2> + +<p>The swift hand of fate, which had hurled Denver from the heights into the +depths of dark despair, suddenly snatched him up out of the abyss again and +whisked him back to Globe. When he walked out of Moroni his mind was a blank, so +overcome was his body with heat and toil and the astounding turns of his +fortune; but at the next station below, as he was trying to steal a ride, a man +had dropped off the train and dragged him, willy nilly, into his Pullman. It was +a mining superintendent who had seen him in action when he was timbering the +Last Chance stope, and in spite of his protests he paid his fare to Globe and +put him to work down a shaft.</p> + +<p>At the bottom of this shaft was millions of dollars worth of copper and level +after level of expensive workings; and some great stirring of the earth was +cutting it off, crushing the bottle off at the neck. Every night, every shift, +the swelling ground moved in, breaking stulls and square-sets like tooth-picks; +and now with solid steel and quick-setting concrete they were fighting for the +life of the mine. It was a dangerous job, such as few <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span>men cared to tackle; but to Denver it +was a relief, a return to his old life after the delirium of an ugly dream. Even +yet he could not trace the flaw in his reasoning which had brought him to earth +with such a thump; but he knew, in general, that his error was the common one of +trying to run a mine on a shoestring. He had set up in business as a mining +magnate on eight hundred dollars and his nerve, and Bible-Back Murray had busted +him.</p> + +<p>Upon that point, at least, Denver suffered no delusion; he knew that his +downfall had been planned from the first and that he had bit like a sucker at +the bait. Murray had dropped a few words and spit on the hook and Denver had +shipped him his ore. The rest, of course, was like shooting fish in the +Pan-handle–he had refused to buy the ore, leaving Denver belly-up, to +float away with other human débris. But there was one thing yet that he could +not understand–why had Murray closed down his own mine? That was pulling +it pretty strong, just to freeze out a little prospector and rob him of a ton or +two of ore; and yet Denver had proof that it was true. He had staked a hobo who +had come over the trail and the hobo had told him what he knew. The diamond +drill camp was closed down and all the men had left, but the guard was still +herding the property. And the hobo had seen a girl at Pinal. She was easy to +look at but hard to talk to, so he had passed and hit the trail for Globe.</p> + +<p>Denver worked like a demon with a gang of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_156'></a>156</span>Cousin Jacks, opposing the swelling ground with +lengths of railroad steel and pouring in the concrete behind them; but all the +time, by fits and snatches, the old memories would press in upon him. He would +think of Mother Trigedgo and her glowing prophecies, which had turned out so +wonderfully up to a certain point and then had as suddenly gone wrong; and then +he would think of the beautiful artist with whom he was fated to fall in love, +and how, even there, his destiny had worked against him and led him to sacrifice +her love. For how could one hope to win the love of a woman if he denied her his +friendship first? And yet, if he accepted her as his dearest friend, he would +simply be inviting disaster.</p> + +<p>It was all wrong, all foolish–he dismissed it from his mind as unworthy +of a thinking man–yet the words of the prophecy popped up in his head like +the memories of some evil dream. His hopes of sudden riches were blasted +forever, he had given up the thought of Drusilla; but the one sinister line +recurred to him constantly–“at the hands of your dearest +friend.” Never before in his life had he been without a pardner, to share +his ramblings and adventures, but now in that black hole with the steel rails +coming down and death on every hand, superstition overmastered him and he +rebuffed the hardy Cornishmen, refusing to take any man for his friend. Nor +would he return to Mother Trigedgo’s boarding house, for her prophecies +had ruined his life.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span>He worked on for +a week, trying to set his mind at rest, and then a prompting came over him +suddenly to go back and see Drusilla. If death must come, if some friend must +kill him, in whose hands would he rather entrust his life than in those of the +woman he loved? Perhaps it was all false, like the rest of the prophecy, the +gold and silver treasures and the rest; and if he was brave he might win her at +last and have her for more than a friend. But how could he face her, after all +he had said, after boasting as he had of his fortune? And he had refused her +friendship, when she had endeavored to comfort him and to exorcise this +fear-devil that pursued him. He went back to work, determined to forget it all, +but that evening he drew his time. It came to ninety dollars, for seven shifts +and over-time, and they offered him double to stay; but the desire to see +Drusilla had taken possession of him and he turned his face towards Pinal.</p> + +<p>It was early in the morning when he rode out of Globe and took the trail over +the divide; and as he spurred up a hill he overtook another horseman who looked +back and grinned at him wisely.</p> + +<p>“Going to the strike?” he asked and Denver’s heart leapt, +though he kept his quirt and spurs working.</p> + +<p>“What strike?” he said and the man burst into a laugh as if +sensing a hidden jest.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” he answered, “I guess +you’re hep–they say it runs forty per cent copper.”</p> + +<p>“How’d <i>you</i> hear about it?” inquired Denver, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> fishing cautiously for +information. “Where you going–over to Pinal?”</p> + +<p>“You’re whistling,” returned the man, quite off his guard. +“Say, stake me a claim when you get there, if old Bible-Back hasn’t +jumped them all.”</p> + +<p>“Say, what are you talking about?” demanded Denver, suddenly +reining in his horse. “Is Murray jumping claims?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind!” replied the man, shutting up like a clam, and +Denver spurred on and left him.</p> + +<p>There was a strike then in Pinal, Old Murray had tapped the vein and it ran +up to forty per cent copper! That would make the claim that Denver had abandoned +the week before worth thousands and thousands of dollars. It would make him rich +and Bunker Hill rich and–yes, it would prove the prophecy! He had chosen +the silver treasure and the gold treasure had been added to it–for the +copper ore which had come in later was almost the color of gold. As old Bunk had +said, all these prophecies were symbolical, and he had done Mother Trigedgo an +injustice. And there was one claim that he knew of–yes, and four others, +too–that Murray would never jump. That was his own Silver Treasure and the +four claims of Bunker’s that he had done the annual work on himself.</p> + +<p>Denver’s heart leapt again as he raced his horse across the flats and +led him scrambling with haste up the steep hills, and before the sun was three +hours high he had plunged into the box canyon of Queen Creek. Here the trail +wound in and out, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_159'></a>159</span>crossing and recrossing the shrunken stream and +mounting with painful zigzags over the points; but he rioted through it all, +splashing the water out of the crossings as he hurried to claim his own. The box +canyon grew deeper, the walls more precipitous, the creek bottom more dark and +cavernous; until at last it opened out into broad flats and boulder patches, +thickly covered with alders and ash trees. And then as he swung around the +final, rocky point he saw his own claim in the distance. It was nothing but a +hole in the side of the rocky hillside, a slide of gray waste down the slope; +but to him it was a beacon to light his home-coming, a proof that some dreams do +come true. He galloped down the trail where Drusilla and he had loitered and let +out an exultant whoop.</p> + +<p>But as Denver came opposite his mine a sinister thing happened–a head +rose up against the black darkness of the tunnel and a man looked stealthily +out. Then he drew back his head like some snake in a hole and Denver stopped and +stared. A low wall of rocks had been built across the cut and the man was +crouching behind it–Denver jogged down and turned up the trail. A glimpse +at Pinal showed the streets full of automobiles and a huddle of men by the store +door, and as he rode up towards his mine Bunker Hill came running out and +beckoned him frantically back.</p> + +<p>“Come back here!” he hollered and Denver turned and looked at him +but kept on up the narrow trail. The mine was his, without a doubt, both by +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span>purchase and by +assessment work done; and he had no fear of dispossession by a jumper who was so +obviously in the wrong.</p> + +<p>“Hello, there!” he hailed, reining in before the tunnel; and +after a minute the man rose up with his pistol poised over his shoulder. It was +Dave, Murray’s gun-man, and at sight of his enemy Denver was swept with a +gust of passion. From the moment he had first met him, this narrow-eyed, +sneering bad-man had roused all the hate that was in him; but now it had gone +beyond instinct. He found him in adverse possession of his property and with a +gun raised ready to shoot.</p> + +<p>“What are <i>you</i> doing here?” demanded Denver insolently but +Chatwourth did not move. He stood like a statue, his gun balanced in the air, a +thin, evil smile on his lips, and Denver gave way to his fury. “You get +out of there!” he ordered. “Get off my property! Get off or +I’ll put you off!”</p> + +<p>Chatwourth twirled his gun in a contemptuous gesture; and then, like a flash, +he was shooting. He threw his shots low, between the legs of the horse, which +reared and whirled in a panic; and with the bang of the heavy gun in his ears, +Denver found himself headed down the trail. A high derisive yell, a whoop of +hectoring laughter, followed after him as he galloped into the open; and he was +fighting his horse in a cloud of dust when Bunker Hill and the crowd came +up.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span><a id='link_19'></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE MAN-KILLER</span></h2> + +<p>“Did he hit ye?” yelled Bunker when Denver had conquered his +pitching horse and set him back on his haunches. “Hell’s bells, boy, +I told you to stay out of there!”</p> + +<p>“Well, you lend me a gun!” shouted Denver in a fury, “and +I’ll go back and shoot it out with that dastard! It’s him or +me–that’s all!”</p> + +<p>“Here’s a gun, pardner,” volunteered a long-bearded +prospector handing up a six-shooter with tremulous eagerness; but Bunker Hill +struck the long pistol away and took Denver’s horse by the bit.</p> + +<p>“Not by a jugful, old-timer,” he said to the prospector. +“Do you want to get the kid killed? Come on back to the meeting and +we’ll frame up something on these jumpers that’ll make ’em +hunt their holes. But this boy here is my friend, understand?”</p> + +<p>He held the prancing horse, which had been spattered with glancing lead, +until Denver swung down out of the saddle; and then, while the crowd followed +along at their heels, he led the way back to the store.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_162'></a>162</span>“What’s going on here?” demanded +Denver, looking about at the automobile and the men who had popped up like +magic, “has Murray made a strike?”</p> + +<p>“Danged right,” answered Bunker, “he made a strike last +month–and now he has jumped all our claims. Or at least, it’s his +men, because Dave there’s the leader; but Murray claims they’re +working for themselves. He’s over at his camp with a big gang of miners, +driving a tunnel in to tap the deposit–it run forty per cent pure +copper.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’re made then,” exulted Denver, “if we can +get back our claims. Come on, let’s run these jumpers off!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s what <i>I</i> said, a few hours ago,” grumbled +Bunker biting savagely at his mustache, “and I never was so hacked in my +life. We went up to this Dave and all pulled our guns and ordered him out of the +district, and I’m a dadburned Mexican if he didn’t pull <i>his</i> +gun and run the whole bunch of us away. He’s nervy, there’s no use +talking; and I promised Mrs. Hill that I’d keep out of these shooting +affrays. By grab, it was downright disgraceful!”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” returned Denver, “he don’t +look bad to me. You just lend me a gun and─”</p> + +<p>“He’ll kill ye!” warned Bunker, “I know by his eye. +He’s a killer if ever there was one. So don’t go up against him +unless you mean business, because you can’t run no blazer on +<i>him</i>!”</p> + +<p>“Well–oh hell, then,” burst out Denver, “what’s +the use of getting killed! Isn’t there anything else <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span>we can do? I don’t need to eject +him because he’s got no title, anyway. How about these lead-pencil fellows +that haven’t done their work for years?”</p> + +<p>“That’s it,” explained Bunker, “we were having a +meeting when we seen you horn in on Dave. These gentlemen are all men that have +held their ground for years and it don’t seem right they should lose it. +At the same time it’ll take something more than a slap on the wrist to +make these blasted jumpers let go. They’ve staked all the good claims and +are up doing the work on them and the question is–what can we +do?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” spoke up the old +prospector vindictively as the crowd surged into the store, “I’ll +get up on the Leap and shoot down on them jumpers until I chase the last one of +’em off. They can’t run no rannikaboo on me!”</p> + +<p>He wagged his long beard and spat impressively but nobody paid any attention +to him. They realized at last that they were up against gun-fighters–men +picked for quick shooting and iron nerves and working under the orders of one +man. That man was Dave Chatwourth, nominally dismissed by Murray but undoubtedly +still in his pay, and until they could devise some plan to eliminate him it was +useless to talk of violence. So they resumed their meeting and, as Denver owned +a claim, he found himself included in the membership. It was a belated revival +of the old-time Miners’ Meeting, at one time the supreme law in Western +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span>mining camps; and +Bunker Hill, as Recorder of the district, presided from his perch on the +counter.</p> + +<p>From his seat in the corner Denver listened apathetically as the miners +argued and wrangled, and the longer they talked the more it became apparent that +nothing was going to be done. The encounter with Dave had cooled their courage, +and more and more the sentiment began to lean towards an appeal to the power of +the law. But then it came out that the law was an instrument which might operate +as a two-edged sword; for possession, and diligence in working the claim, are +the two big points in mining law and just at that moment a legal decision would +be all in favor of the jumpers. And if Murray was behind them, as all the +circumstances seemed to indicate, he would hire the most expensive lawyers in +the country and fight the case to a finish. No, if anything was to be done they +must find out some other way, or they would be playing right into his hands.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you,” proposed Bunker as the talk swung back to +action, “let’s go back unarmed and talk to Dave again and find out +what he thinks he’s doing. He can’t hold Denver’s claim, and +those claims of mine, because the work has just been done; and then, if we can +talk him into vacating our ground, maybe these other jaspers will +quit.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll go you!” said Denver rising up impatiently, +“and if he won’t vacate my claim I’ll try some other means and +see if we can’t persuade him.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the talk!” quavered the old prospector, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span>slapping him heartily on +the back. “Lord love you, boy, if I was your age I’d be right up in +front there, shooting. Why, up in the Bradshaws in +Seventy-three─”</p> + +<p>“Never mind what you’d do if you had the nerve,” broke in +Bunker Hill sarcastically. “Just because you’ve got a claim that +you’d like to get back is no reason for stirring up trouble. No, I’m +willing to go ahead and do all the talking; but I want you to +understand–this is <i>peaceable</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Well, all right,” agreed the miners and, laying aside their +pistols, they started up the street for Denver’s mine; but as Bunker led +off a voice called from the porch and his wife came hurrying after him. Behind +her followed Drusilla, reluctantly at first; but as her father kept on, despite +the entreaties of her mother, she ran up and caught him by the sleeve.</p> + +<p>“No, don’t go, father!” she cried appealingly and as Bunker +replied with an evasive laugh she turned her anger upon Denver.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you get back your own mine?” she demanded, +“instead of dragging my father into it?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, now,” protested Bunker, “we ain’t going +to have no trouble–we just want to have a friendly talk. This has nothing +to do with Denver or his mine–all we want is a few words with +Dave.”</p> + +<p>“He’ll shoot you!” she insisted. “Oh, I just know +something will happen. Well, all right, then; I’m going along +too!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span>“Why, +sure,” smiled Bunker, “always glad to have company–but +you’d better stay back with your mother.”</p> + +<p>“No, I’m going to stay right here,” she answered +stubbornly, giving Denver a hateful glance, “because I don’t believe +a word you say.”</p> + +<p>“Ve-ry well, my dear,” responded Bunker indulgently and took her +under his arm.</p> + +<p>“I’m going ahead!” she burst out quickly as they came to +the turn in the trail; and before he could stop her she slipped out of his +embrace and went running to the entrance of the cut. But there she halted +suddenly and when they came up they found her pale and trembling. “Oh, go +back!” she gasped. “He’s in there–he’ll shoot you. +I know something awful will happen!”</p> + +<p>“You’d better go back, now,” suggested her father quietly, +and then he turned to the barrier. “Don’t start anything, +Dave–we’ve come peaceable, this time; so come out and let’s +have a talk.”</p> + +<p>There was a long, tense silence and then the muzzle of a gun stirred uneasily +and revealed the hiding place of Dave. He was crouched behind the rocks which he +had piled up across the cut where it entered the slope of the hill, and his long +barrelled six-shooter was thrust out through a crack just wide enough to serve +for a loop-hole.</p> + +<p>“Don’t want to talk,” he answered at last. “So go on, +now; get off of my property.”</p> + +<p>“Well, now listen,” began Bunker shaking off Drusilla’s +grasp, “we acknowledge we made a slight <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_167'></a>167</span>mistake. We tried to run a whizzer and you called us +good and plenty–all right then, now let’s have a talk. If you can +show title to this ground you’re holding, we’ll leave you in +peaceful possession; and if you can’t, you’re just wasting your time +and talents, because there’s plenty more claims that ain’t took. +It’s a cinch you can’t hide in that hole forever, so you might as +well have it out now.”</p> + +<p>“Well what d’ye want?” snarled Chatwourth irritably. “By +cripes, I’ll kill the first man that comes a step nearer. I won’t +stand no monkey-business from nobody.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, sure, sure,” soothed Bunker, “we know you’re the +goods–nerviest gun-man, I believe, I ever saw. But here’s the +proposition, you ain’t here for your health, you must figure on making a +winning somehow. Well, if your title’s good you’ve got a good mine, +but if it ain’t you’re out of luck. Now I sold this claim for five +hundred dollars to Mr. Russell, that you met a while ago; and we think it +belongs to him yet. I gave him a clear title and he’s done his work, +so─”</p> + +<p>“Your title was no good!” contradicted Chatwourth from his rock +pile, “you hadn’t done your work for years. I’ve located this +claim and the man don’t live─”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right!” spoke up Denver, “but I located +it before you did. I didn’t <i>buy</i> this claim. I paid for a quit-claim +and then relocated it myself–and my papers are on record in +Moroni.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span>“Who +called you in on this?” burst out Chatwourth abusively, rising up with his +gun poised to shoot. “Now you git, dam’ your heart, and if you say +another word─”</p> + +<p>“You don’t dare to shoot me!” answered Denver in a passion, +standing firm as the crowd surged back. “I’m unarmed, and you +don’t dare to shoot me!”</p> + +<p>“Here, here!” exclaimed Bunker grabbing hastily at Denver’s +arm but Denver struck him roughly aside.</p> + +<p>“Never mind, now,” he said, “just get those folks +away–I don’t want any of my friends to get hurt. But I’ll tell +you right now, either I throw that man out or he’ll have to shoot me down +in cold blood.”</p> + +<p>He backed away panting and the miners ran for cover, but Bunker Hill held his +ground.</p> + +<p>“No, now listen, Denver,” he admonished gently, “you +don’t know what you’re doing. This man will kill you, as sure as +hell.”</p> + +<p>“He will not!” cried Denver grabbing up a heavy stone and +advancing on the barricade, “I’m destined to be killed by my dearest +friend–that’s what old Mother Trigedgo told me! But this bastard +ain’t my friend and never was─”</p> + +<p>He paused, for Chatwourth’s gun came down and pointed straight at his +heart.</p> + +<p>“Stand back!” he shrilled and Denver leapt forward, hurling the +rock with all his strength. Then he plunged through the smoke, swinging his arms +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span>out to clutch, and +as he crashed through the barrier he stumbled over something that he turned back +and pounced on like a cat. It was Chatwourth, but his body was limp and +senseless–the stone had struck him in the head.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span><a id='link_20'></a>CHAPTER XX<br /><span class='h2fs'>JUMPERS AND TENORS</span></h2> + +<p>They led Denver away as if he were a child, for the revulsion from his anger +had left him weak; but Chatwourth, the killer, was carried back to town with his +head lolling forward like a dead man’s. The smash of the stone had caught +him full on the forehead, which sloped back like the skull of a panther; and the +blood, oozing down from his lacerated scalp, made him look more murderous than +ever. But his hard, fighting jaw was hanging slack now and his dangerous eyes +were closed; and the miners, while they carried him with a proper show of +solicitude, chuckled and muttered among themselves. In a way which was nothing +short of miraculous Denver Russell had walked in on Murray’s boss jumper +and knocked him on the head with a rock–and the shot which Chatwourth had +fired in return had never so much as touched him.</p> + +<p>They put Chatwourth in an automobile and sent him over to Murray’s +camp; and then with broad smiles they gathered about Denver and took turns in +slapping him on the back. He was a wonder, a terror, a proper fighting fool, the +kind that would <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_171'></a>171</span>charge into hell itself with nothing but a bucket of +water; and would he mind, when he felt a little stronger, just walking with them +to their claims? Just a little, friendly jaunt, as one friend with another; but +if Murray’s hired junipers saw him coming up the trail that was all that +would be required. They would go, and be quick about it, for they had been +watching from afar and had seen what happened to Dave–but Denver brushed +them aside and went up to his cave where he could be by himself and think.</p> + +<p>If he had ever doubted the virtue of Mother Trigedgo’s prophecy he put +the unworthy thought behind him. He knew it now, knew it absolutely–every +word of the prophecy was true. He had staked his life to prove the blackest line +of it, and Chatwourth’s bullet had been turned aside. No, the silver +treasure was his, and the golden treasure also, and no man but his best friend +could kill him; but the beautiful artist with whom he had fallen in +love–would she now confer her hand upon another? He had come back to Pinal +to set the prophecy at defiance and ask her to be his dearest friend; but now, +well, perhaps it would be just as well to stick to the letter of his horoscope. +“Beware how you reveal your affections,” it said–and he had +been rushing back to tell her! And besides, she had met his advances +despitefully, and practically called him a coward. Denver brushed off the dust +from his shiny phonograph and put on the “Anvil Chorus.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span>The next +morning, early, he was up at his mine, with Chatwourth’s gun slung low on +his leg; and while he remained there, to defend it against all comers, he held +an impromptu reception. There was a rush of miners, to look at the mine and +inspect the specimens of copper; and then shoestring promoters began to arrive, +with proposals to stock the property. The Professor came up, his eyes staring +and resentful; and old Bunker, overflowing with good humor; and at last, when +nobody else was there, Drusilla walked by on the trail. She glanced up at him +hopefully; then, finding no response, she heaved a great sigh and turned up his +path to have it over and done with.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she said, “I suppose you despise me, but I’m +sorry–that’s all I can say. And now that I know all about your +horoscope I don’t blame you for treating me so rudely. That is, I +don’t blame you so much. But don’t you think, Denver, when you went +away and left me, you might have written back? We’d always been such +friends.”</p> + +<p>She checked herself at the word, then smiled a sad smile and waited to hear +what he would say. And Denver, in turn, checked what was on his lips and +responded with a solemn nod. It had come to him suddenly to rise up and clasp +her hands and whisper that he’d take a chance on it, yet–that is, if +they could still be friends–but the significance of the prophecy had been +proved only yesterday, and miracles can happen both ways. The same fate, the +same destiny, which had fended off the bullet <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_173'></a>173</span>when Chatwourth had aimed at his heart, might turn +the merest accident to the opposite purpose and make Drusilla his unwilling +slayer.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, apropos of nothing, “you see now how +I’m fixed. Don’t dare to have any friends.”</p> + +<p>“No, but Denver,” she pouted, “you might say you were +sorry–that’s different from being friends. But after we’d been +so–oh, do you believe all that? Do you believe you’ll be killed by +your dearest friend, and that nobody else can harm you? Because that, you know, +is just superstition; it’s just like the ancient Greeks when they +consulted the oracle, and the Indians, and Italians and such people. But +educated people─”</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with the Greeks?” spoke up Denver +contentiously. “Do you mean to say they were ignorant? Well, I talked with +an old-timer–he was a Professor in some university–and he said it +would take us a thousand years before we even caught up with them. Do you think +that I’m superstitious? Well, listen to this, now; here’s one that +he told me, and it comes from a famous Greek play. There was a woman back in +Greece that was like Mother Trigedgo, and she prophesied, before a man was born, +that he’d kill his own father and marry his own mother. What do you think +of that, now? His father was a king and didn’t want to kill him, so when +he was born he pierced his feet and put him out on a cliff to die. But a +shepherd came along and found this baby and named him Edipus, which means +swelled feet; and when the kid grew <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_174'></a>174</span>up he was walking along a narrow pass when he met +his father in disguise. They got into a quarrel over who should turn out and +Epidus killed his father. Then he went on to the city where his mother was queen +and there was a big bird, the Sphinx, that used to come there regular and ask +those folks a riddle: What is it that is four-footed, three-footed and +two-footed? And every time when they failed to give the answer the Sphinx would +take one of them to eat. Well, the queen had said that whoever guessed that +riddle could be king and have her for his wife, and Epidus guessed the answer. +It’s a <i>man</i>, you see, that crawls when he is a baby, stands on two +legs when he’s grown and walks with a cane when he is old. Epidus married +the queen, but when he found out what he’d done he went mad and put his +own eyes out. But don’t you see he couldn’t escape it.”</p> + +<p>“No, but listen,” she smiled, “that was just a legend, and +the Greeks made it into a play. It was just like the German stories of Thor and +the Norse gods that Wagner used in his operas. They’re wonderful, and all +that, but folks don’t take them seriously. They’re just–why, +they’re fairy tales.”</p> + +<p>“Well, all right,” grumbled Denver, “I expect you think I +am crazy, but what about Mother Trigedgo? Didn’t she send me over here to +find this mine? And wasn’t it right where she told me? Doesn’t it +lie within the shadow of a place of death, and wasn’t the gold added to +it?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span>“Why, +no!” exclaimed Drusilla, “did you find the gold, too? I +thought─”</p> + +<p>“That referred to the copper,” answered Denver soberly. “It +was your father that gave me the tip. When I first came over here I was +inquiring for gold, because I knew I had to make a choice; but he pointed out to +me that these horoscopes are symbolical and that the golden treasure might be +copper. It looks a whole lot like gold, you know; and now just look what +happened! I chose the silver, see–I chose the right treasure–and +when I drifted in, this vein of chalcopyrites appeared and was added to the +silver. It followed along in the hanging wall until the whole formation dipped +and then─”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t care about that!” burst out Drusilla +fretfully, “it’s easy to explain anything, afterwards! But of course +if you think more of gold and silver than you do of having me for a +friend─”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t,” interposed Denver, gently taking her hand. +“Sit down here and let’s talk this over.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” sighed Drusilla and then, winking back the tears, she +sank down in the shade beside him.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want you to think,” went on Denver tenderly, +without weighing very carefully what he said, “I don’t want you to +think I don’t like you, because–say, if you’ll kiss me, +I’ll take a chance.”</p> + +<p>“Oh–would you?” she beamed her eyes big with wonder, +“would you take a chance on my killing you?”</p> + +<p>“If it struck me dead!” declared Denver gallantly, but she did +not yield the kiss.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_176'></a>176</span>“No,” she said, “I don’t +believe in kisses–have you kissed other girls before? And besides, I just +wanted to be friends again, the way we were before.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess you don’t want to be friends very bad,” +observed Denver with a disgruntled smile. “When do you expect to start for +the East?”</p> + +<p>“Pretty soon,” she answered. “Will you be sorry?”</p> + +<p>Denver shrugged his shoulders and began snapping pebbles at an ant.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” he said and she drew away from him.</p> + +<p>“You won’t!” she burst out resentfully.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’ll be sorry,” he repeated, “but it +won’t make much difference–I don’t expect to last very long. +I’ve always had a pardner, some feller to ramble around with and borrow +all my money when he was broke, and I’m getting awful lonesome without +one. Sooner or later, I reckon, I’ll pick up another one and the crazy +danged fool will kill me. Drop a timber hook on my head or some stunt like +that–I wish I’d never seen old Mother Trigedgo! What you don’t +know never hurt anyone; but now, by grab, I’m afraid of every man I throw +in with. For the time being, at least, he’s the best friend I’ve +got; and–oh, what’s the use, anyway, it’ll get you, sooner or +later–I might as well go out like a sport.”</p> + +<p>“You were awful brave,” she murmured admiringly, “when you +fought with Mr. Chatwourth <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_177'></a>177</span>yesterday. Weren’t you honestly afraid he +would kill you?”</p> + +<p>“No, I wasn’t!” declared Denver. “He didn’t +look bad to me–don’t now and never did–and as long as the +cards are coming my way I don’t let no alleged bad-man run it over me. +Here’s the gun that I took away from him.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I noticed it,” she said. “But when he comes back for +it are you going to give it up?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” answered Denver, “just show me a rock-pile and +I’ll run him out of town like a rabbit.”</p> + +<p>“And you fought him with <i>rocks</i>!” she said half to herself, +“I wish I were as brave as that.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s all in your mind,” expounded Denver. +“Some people are afraid to crack an egg but I’m game to try anything +once.”</p> + +<p>“So am I!” she defended looking him boldly in the eye but he +shook his head and smiled.</p> + +<p>“Nope,” he said, “you don’t believe in kisses. But I +was willing to take a chance on getting killed.”</p> + +<p>“No,” she said, “a kiss means more than that. It +means–well, it means that you love someone.”</p> + +<p>“It means what you want it to mean,” he corrected. +“Don’t you have to kiss the tenor in these operas?”</p> + +<p>“Well that’s different,” she responded blushing. +“That’s why I’m afraid I’ll never succeed! Of course +we’re taught to do stage kisses, but somehow I can’t bring myself to +it. But oh, I do so love to sing! I like it all, except just that part of +it–and the singers are not all nice men. Some of them <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span>just make a business of flattering +pretty girls and offering to get them a hearing. That’s why some girls +succeed and get such big parts–they have an understanding with someone +that can use his influence with the directors. They don’t take the best +singers and actors at all, it’s all done by intrigue and money. Oh, I wish +some real <i>nice</i> man would start a new company and invite me to take a +part. I’ve heard one was being organized–a traveling company that +will sing in all the big cities–and I’ve written to my music teacher +about it. But if I don’t get some position my money will all be gone in no +time and then–well, what will I do?”</p> + +<p>She looked at him bravely and he saw in her eyes the calmness that goes with +desperation.</p> + +<p>“You write to me,” he said, “and I’ll send you the +last dollar I’ve got.”</p> + +<p>“No, I didn’t mean that,” she replied, “I can earn my +living at something. But father and mother have spent all their money in +training me to be a great singer and I just can’t bear to disappoint them. +It’s cost ten thousand dollars to bring me where I am, and this five +hundred dollars is nothing. Why the great vocal teachers, who can use their +influence to get their pupils a hearing, charge ten dollars for a half-hour +lesson; and if I don’t go to them then every door is closed–unless +I’m willing to pay the price.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I take it all back then,” spoke up Denver at last, +“there are different kinds of bravery. But you go on back there and do +your best and maybe <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_179'></a>179</span>we can make a raise. I’ll just take my gun and +go up to your father’s claims and jump out that bunch of +bad-men─”</p> + +<p>“No! No, Denver!” she broke in very earnestly, “I +don’t want you to do that again. I heard last night that Dave said he +would get you–and if he did, why then I’d be to blame. You’d +be doing it for me, and if one of those men killed you–well, it would be +just the same as me.”</p> + +<p>“Nope!” denied Denver, “there was no figure of speech about +that. It said: ‘at the <i>hands</i> of your dearest friend.’ These jumpers +ain’t my friends and never was–come on, let’s take a chance. +I’ll run ’em off the claims if your father will give you half of +’em, and then you can turn around and sell out for cash and go back to New +York like a queen. You stand off the tenors and I’ll stand off the +jumpers; and then, perhaps–but we won’t talk about that now. Come +on, will you shake hands on the deal?”</p> + +<p>She looked at him questioningly, his powerful hand reached out to help her, +the old, boyish laughter in his eyes, and then she smiled back as bravely.</p> + +<p>“All right,” she said, “but you’ll have to be +careful–because now I’m your dearest friend.”</p> + +<p>“I’m game,” he cried, “and you don’t have to +kiss me either. But if some Dago tenor─”</p> + +<p>“No,” she promised looking up at him wistfully. +“I’ll–I’ll save the kiss for you.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span><a id='link_21'></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /><span class='h2fs'>BROKE AGAIN</span></h2> + +<p>The industry of four jumpers, digging in like gophers on the best of Bunker +Hill’s claims, was brought to an abrupt termination by the appearance of +one man with a gun. He came on unconcernedly, Dave’s six-shooter at his +hip and the strength of a lion in his stride; and the first of the gun-men, +after looking him over, jumped out of his hole and made off. Denver tore down +his notice and posted the old one, with a copy of his original affidavit that +the annual work had been done; and when he toiled up to the remaining three +claims the jumpers had fled before him. They knew him all too well, and the gun +at his hip; and they counted it no disgrace to give way before the man who had +conquered Dave Chatwourth with rocks. So Denver changed the notices and came +back laughing and Bunker Hill made over the claims.</p> + +<p>“Denver,” he said clasping him warmly by the hand, “I swow, +you’re the best danged friend I’ve got. For the last time, now, will +you come to dinner?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” grinned Denver, “but cut out that ‘friend’ +talk. It makes me kind of nervous.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_181'></a>181</span>“I’ll do it!” promised Bunker, +“I’ll do anything you ask me. You saved my bacon on them claims. +That snooping Dutch Professor tipped them jumpers off that I’d promised my +wife not to shoot, but I guess when they see you come rambling up the gulch they +begin to feel like Davey Crockett’s coon.</p> + +<p>“‘Don’t shoot, Davey,’ he says, ‘I know you’ll get +me.’ And he came right down off the limb.” Old Bunker laughed +uproariously and slapped Denver on the back, after which he took him over to the +house and announced a guest for dinner.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, boy, sit down,” he insisted hospitably as Denver spoke +of going home to dress, “you’re company just the way you are. As +Lord Chesterfield says: ‘A clean shirt is half of full dress.’ And a pair +of overalls, I reckon, is the rest of it. Say, did you hear what Murray said +when we took Dave over there, looking like something that the cat had brought +in?</p> + +<p>“‘My Gawd,’ he says, ‘what has happened to the +<i>mine</i>?’</p> + +<p>“That was something like a deacon that I worked for one time when he +was fixing to paint his barn. He slung a ladder on an old, rotten rope and sent +me up on it to work and about half an hour afterwards the rope gave way and +dropped me, ladder and all, to the ground. The deacon was at the house when he +heard the crash and he came running with his coat-tails straight out.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span>“‘Goodness +gracious!’ he hollered, ‘did you spill the paint?’</p> + +<p>“‘No,’ I says, ‘but I will!’ And I kicked all his +paint-cans over.</p> + +<p>“Well, old Murray is like that deacon; you touch his pocket and you +touch his heart–he’s always thinking about money. He’d been +planning for months to slip in and jump these claims and here you come along and +do the assessment work and knock him out of five of ’em. The boys say +he’s sure got blood in his eye and is cussing you out a blue streak. +That’s a nice gun you got off of Dave–how many notches has it got on +the butt? Only three, eh? Well, say, if he ever sends over to ask for it +I’ve got another one that I’ll loan you. You want to go heeled, +understand? Murray’s busy right now bossing those three shifts of miners +that are driving that adit tunnel, but when he gets the time he’ll leave +his glass eye on a fence post and come over to see what we’re doing. +Didn’t you ever hear about Murray’s glass eye?</p> + +<p>“Well, they say he lost his good one looking for a dollar that he +dropped; but here’s the big joke about the fence-post. He got his start +down in the valley, raising alfalfa and feeding stock, and he always hired +Indians whenever he could because they spent all their time-checks at the store. +A Mexican or a white man might hold out a few dollars, or spend the whole wad +for booze; but Indians are barred from getting drunk and they’ve only got +one use for money. Yes, they believe it <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_183'></a>183</span>was made to spend, not to bury alongside of some +fence-post. And speaking of fence-posts brings me back to the point–Old +Murray had a bunch of big, lazy Apaches working by the day cleaning out a ditch. +He was down there at daylight and watched ’em like a hawk, but every time +he’d go into town the whole bunch would sit down for a talk. Well, he +<i>had</i> to go to town so one day he called ’em up and made ’em a +little talk.</p> + +<p>“‘Boys,’ he says, ‘I’ve got to go to town but I’m +going to watch you, all the same. Sure thing, now,’ he says, ‘you can +laugh all you want to, but I’ll see everything that you do.’ Then he +took out his glass eye and set it on a fence-post where it looked right down the +ditch, and started off for town. You know these Apaches–superstitious as +hell–they got in and worked like niggers. Kinder scared ’em, you +see, ain’t used to glass eyes; but there was one old boy that was foxy. He +dropped down in the ditch where the eye wouldn’t see him and crept up +behind that fence-post like a snake, and then he picked up an empty tin can and +slapped it down over the eye. There was a boy over at the ranch that saw the +whole business and he says them Indians never did a lick of work till they saw +Bible-Back’s dust down the road. Pretty slick, eh, for an Indian? And some +people will try to tell you that the untutored savage can’t think.</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s the kind of an hombre that we’re up +against–he’d skin a flea for his hide and taller. As old Spud Murphy +used to say, he’d rob a poor <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_184'></a>184</span>tumble-bug of his ball of manure and put him on the +wrong road home. He’s mean, and it sure hurt his feelings to have you hop +in and win back your mine. And knocking Dave on the head took the pip out of +these other jumpers–I’m looking for the whole bunch to +fade.”</p> + +<p>“Well, they might as well,” said Denver, “because their +claims are not worth fighting for and there’s a Miners’ Committee +going to call on ’em. I’m going along myself in an advisory +capacity, and my advice will be to beat it. And if you’ll take a tip from +me you’ll hire a couple of miners and put them to work on your +claims.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do it to-morrow,” agreed Bunker enthusiastically. +“I’ve got a couple of nibbles from some real mining men–not +some of these little, one-candle power promoters but the kind that pay with +certified checks–and if I can open up those claims and just get a color of +copper I’m fixed, boy, that’s all there is to it. Come on now, +let’s go in to dinner.”</p> + +<p>The memory of that dinner, and of the music that followed it, remained long +in Denver’s mind; and later in the evening, when the lights were low and +her parents had gone to their rest, Drusilla sang the “Barcarolle” +from Hoffmann. She sang it very softly, so as not to disturb them, but the look +in her eyes recalled something to Denver and as he was leaving he asked her a +question. It was not if she loved him, for that would be unfair and might spoil +an otherwise perfect evening; but he <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_185'></a>185</span>had been wondering as he listened whether she had +not seen him that first time–when he had slipped down and listened from +the shadows.</p> + +<p>And when he asked her she smiled up at him tremulously and nodded her head +very slowly; and then she whispered that she had always loved him for it, just +for listening and going away. She had been downcast that night but his presence +had been a comfort–it had persuaded her at last that she could sing. She +had sung the “Barcarolle” again, on that other night, when he had +stepped out so boldly from the shadows; but it was the first time that she loved +him for it, when he was still a total stranger and had come just to hear her +sing. There was more that she said to him and when he had to go she smiled again +and gave him her hand, but he did not suggest a kiss. She was keeping that for +him, until she had been to New York and run the gauntlet of the tenors.</p> + +<p>This was the high spot in Denver’s life, when he had stood upon +Parnassus and beheld everything that was good and beautiful; but in the morning +he put on his old digging clothes again and went to work in the mine. He had +seen her and it was enough; now to break out the ore and win her for his own. +For he was poor, and she was poor, and how could she succeed without money? But +if he could open up his mine and block out a great ore body then her claims and +Bunker’s, that touched it on both sides, would take on a speculative +value. They could be sold for cash and she could go East <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span>in style, to take lessons from the +ten-dollar teacher who had influence with directors and impresarios. Denver put +in a round of holes and blasted his way into the mountain; but as he came out in +the evening, dirty and grimed and pale from powder sickness, Drusilla paled too +and almost shrank away. She had strolled up before, only to hear the clank of +his steel and the muffled thud of his blows; and now as she stood waiting, +attired as daintily as a bride, the dream-hero of her memories was banished. He +was a miner again, a sweaty, toiling animal, dead to all the finer things of +life; but if Denver read her thoughts he did not notice, for he remembered what +Mother Trigedgo had told him.</p> + +<p>Two weeks passed by and Labor Day came near, when all the hardy miners +foregathered in Globe and Miami and engaged in the sports of their kind. A +circular came to Denver, announcing the drilling contests and giving his name as +one of the contestants; then a personal letter from the Committee on +Arrangements, requesting him to send in his entry; and at last there came a +messenger, a good hard-rock man named Owen, to suggest that they go in together. +But Denver was driving himself to the limit, blasting out ore that grew richer +each day; and at thought of Bible-Back Murray, waiting to pounce upon his mine, +he sent back a reluctant refusal. Yet they published his name, with the +partner’s place left vacant, and advertised that he would participate; for +on the Fourth of July, with <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_187'></a>187</span>Slogger Meacham for a partner, he had won the title +of champion.</p> + +<p>The decision to go was forced upon him suddenly on the day before the event, +though he had almost lost track of time. Every morning at day-break he had been +up and cooking, after breakfast he had gone to the mine; and, between mucking +out the tunnel and putting in new shots, the weeks had passed like days. But +when he went to Bunker on the eighth of September and asked for a little more +powder Bunker took him to the powder-house and showed him a space where the +boxes of dynamite had been. Then he took him behind the counter and showed him +the money-till and Denver awoke from his dream.</p> + +<p>In spite of the stampede and the activity all about them the whole Pinal +district was not producing a cent, and would not for months to come. Every +dollar that was spent there had to come in from the outside, and the men who +held the claims were all poor. Even after driving off the jumpers and regaining +their lost claims the majority had gone home after merely scratching up their +old dumps in a vain pretense at doing the assessment work.</p> + +<p>The promoters were not buying, they were simply taking options and waiting on +Murray’s tunnel; and until he drove in and actually tapped the copper ore +there would be no steady boom. He had organized a company and was selling a +world of stock, even using it to pay off his men: and it was whispered about +that his strike was a fake, for he still <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_188'></a>188</span>refused to exhibit the drill cores. But whether his +strike was a bona fide discovery or merely a ruse to sell stock, the fact could +not be blinked that Denver and Bunker Hill had reached the end of their rope. +They were broke again and Denver set out for Globe, leaving Bunker to hold down +his claim.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span><a id='link_22'></a>CHAPTER XXII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE ROCK-DRILLING CONTEST</span></h2> + +<p>The main street of Globe was swarming with men, from the court-house square +down past the viaduct to where the Bohunks dwelt. And the men were all miners, +deep-chested and square-shouldered, but white from working underground. They +were gathered in knots before the soft-drink emporiums that before had all been +saloons and as Denver rode in they shouted a hoarse welcome and followed on to +Miners’ Hall. There the Committee of Arrangements was sitting in state but +when Denver strode in a huge form bulked up before him and Slogger Meacham +grinned at him evilly. Two months before, on the Fourth of July, they had been +partners in the winning team; but now Meacham had taken on with a Cornishman +from Miami and they counted the money as good as won.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing here?” demanded the Slogger insolently, +“do you think you’re going to compete?”</p> + +<p>“Danged right I am, if the judges will let me,” answered Denver +shoving resolutely past; and at sight of their lost champion the committee +brightened <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span>up, +though they glanced at each other anxiously. But what they wanted was a contest, +something that would bring out the crowd and make the great day a success, and +they waited upon Denver expectantly.</p> + +<p>“Well, here’s where you get left then,” spoke up Meacham +with a sneer, “the entries were closed at noon.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, hell!” cursed Denver and was turning to go when the chairman +called him back.</p> + +<p>“Just a minute,” he said, “didn’t you send in your +entry? I believe we’ve got it here, somewhere.” He began to fumble +industriously through a pile of papers and Denver caught his breath. For a +moment he had seen his dreams brought to nothing, his last chance at the +prize-money gone; but at this tentative suggestion on the part of the chairman +he suddenly took heart of grace. They wanted him to compete, it had been +advertised in all the papers, and they were willing to meet him half-way. But +Denver was no liar, he shook his head and sighed, then turned back at a sudden +thought.</p> + +<p>“Maybe Tom Owen made the entry?” he burst out eagerly, “he +was over to see me, you know.”</p> + +<p>“That was it!” exclaimed the chairman as if clutching at a straw, +“say, where is that blank of theirs, Joe?”</p> + +<p>“Search me,” answered Joe, “it’s around here, +somewhere. Oh, I know!” And he went out into the back room. +“Ain’t this it?” he inquired returning <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span>with a paper and the chairman snatched +it away from him.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, “how’d it get out there? Well, no +matter–that’s all right, Mr. Russell!”</p> + +<p>“No it ain’t!” blurted out Meacham making a grab for the +paper; but the chairman struck away his hand.</p> + +<p>“You keep out of this!” he said. “What d’ye think +you’re trying to do? You keep out or I’ll put you out!”</p> + +<p>“It’s a flim-flam!” raged Meacham, “you’re +trying to job me. He never made no entry.”</p> + +<p>“I never claimed to,” retorted Denver boldly and Meacham turned +on him, his pig eyes blazing with fury.</p> + +<p>“I’ll fix you, for this!” he burst out hoarsely, +“I’ll get you if I have to kill you. You robbed me once, but you +won’t do it again; so I give you fair warning–pull out!”</p> + +<p>“You robbed <i>me</i>!” came back Denver, “and these boys +all know it. But I fought you fair for the whole danged roll─”</p> + +<p>“You did naht!” howled Meacham, “you had a feller with +ye─”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll fight you right now, then,” volunteered Denver +accommodatingly but the Slogger did not put up his hands.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” he said backing sullenly away, +“but remember what I told you–I’ll git ye!”</p> + +<p>“You’ll git nothing!” returned Denver and laughed him out +the door, though there were others <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_192'></a>192</span>who muttered warnings in his ears. Slogger Meacham +was a fighter as well as a driller and his flight with the prize-money was not +the first time that he had lapsed from the ways of strict rectitude. He had +killed a man during the riots at Goldfield and had been involved in several ugly +brawls; but his record as a bad man did not deter Denver from opposing him and +he went out to hunt up Owen.</p> + +<p>Tom Owen was a good man, and he was also a good driller, but there was one +thing that Denver held against him–he had been a drinking man when Arizona +was wet. And a man who has drunk, no matter when, is never quite the same in a +contest. He has lost that narrow margin of vital force, those last few ounces of +strength and stamina which win or lose at the finish. Yet even at that he was a +better man than Meacham, who had laid down like a yellow dog. Denver remembered +that too and when he found his man he told him they were due to win. Then he +borrowed some drills and a pair of eight-pound hammers and they went through a +try-out together. Owen was quick and strong, he made the changes like lightning +and struck a heavy blow; but when it was over and he was rolling a cigarette +Denver noticed that his hand was trembling. The strain of smashing blows had +over-taxed his nerves, though they had worked but three or four minutes.</p> + +<p>“Well, do the best you can,” said Denver at last, “and for +cripes sake, keep away from this boot-leg.”</p> + +<p>There was plenty of it in town on this festive <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span>occasion, a nerve-shattering mixture +that came in from New Mexico and had a kick like a mule. It was circulating +about in hip pockets and suit-cases and in automobiles with false-bottomed +seats, and Denver knew too well from past experience what the temptation was +likely to be; yet for all his admonitions when he met Owen in the morning he +caught the bouquet of whisky. It was disguised with sen-sen and he pretended not +to notice it but his hopes of first money began to wane. They went out again to +the backyard of an old saloon where a great block of granite was embedded and +while their admirers looked on they practiced their turn, for they had never +worked together. A Cornish miner, a champion in his day, volunteered to be their +coach and at each call of: “Change!” they shifted from drill to +hammer without breaking the rhythm of their stroke.</p> + +<p>“You’ll win, lads,” said the Cornishman, patting them +affectionately on the back and Denver led them off for their rub-down.</p> + +<p>The band began to play in the street below and the Miners’ Union +marched past, after which they banked in about a huge block of granite and the +drilling contests began. The drilling rock was placed on a platform of heavy +timbers at the lower side of the court-house square, and the slope above it and +the windows of all the buildings were crowded with shouting miners. First the +men who were to compete in the single-jack contests mounted the platform one by +one; and the sharp, <i>peck</i>, <i>peck</i>, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_194'></a>194</span>of their hammers made music that the miners knew +well. Then, as their holes were cleaned out and the depth of each measured, the +first team of double-jackers climbed up to the platform amid the frantic +plaudits of the crowd. The announcer introduced them, they laid out their drills +and the hammer-man poised his double-jack; then at the word from the umpire they +leapt into action, striking and turning like men gone mad.</p> + +<p>There were five teams entered, of which Denver’s was the last, but when +Meacham and his partner were announced as the next contestants his impatience +would not brook further delay. With his own precious drills tied securely in a +bundle and Owen and the coach behind him he fought his way to the base of the +platform and sat down where he could watch every blow. They came on together, a +team hard to match; Meacham stripped to the waist, his ponderous head thrust +forward, the muscles swelling to great knots in his arms. His partner wore the +heavy, yellow undershirt of a miner, his trousers draped low on his hips; and to +hold them up he had a strand of black fuse twisted loosely in place of a belt. +He was a hard, hairy man, with grim, deep-set eyes and a jaw that jutted out +like a crag and as he raised his hammer to strike Denver saw that he was out to +win.</p> + +<p>“Go!” called the umpire and the hammer smote the drill-head till +it made the blue granite smoke; and then for thirty seconds he flailed away +while Slogger Meacham turned the short starter-drill.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_195'></a>195</span>“Change!” called their coach and with a +single swoop Meacham flung his drill back into the crowd and caught up his +hammer to strike. His partner dropped his hammer and chucked in a fresh +drill–<i>smash</i>, the hammer struck it into the rock–and so they +turned and struck while the ramping miners below them looked on in envious +amazement. As each drill was thrown out it was brought back from where it fell +and examined by the quick-eyed coach, and as he called off the half minutes he +announced their probable depth as indicated by the mud marks on the drills. +Across the block from the two drillers knelt a man with a rubber tube who poured +water into the churning hole; and at each blow of the hammer the gray mud leapt +up, splashing turner and hammer-man alike.</p> + +<p>At the end of five minutes they were down fifteen inches, at ten they still +held their pace; but as Denver glanced doubtfully at his coach and Owen the +sound of the drilling changed. There was a grating noise, a curse from the +turner, and as he flung out the drill and thrust in another a murmur went up +from the crowd. They had broken the bit from the brittle edge of their drill and +the new drill was grinding away on the fragment, which dulled the keen edge of +the steel. The quick ears of the miners could sense the different sound as the +drill champed the fragment to pieces, and when the next change was made the +mud-marks on the drill showed that over an inch had been lost. A team working at +top speed averaged three inches to the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_196'></a>196</span>minute, driving down through hard Gunnison granite; +but Meacham and his partner had lost their fast start and they had yet four +minutes to go. The tall Cornishman’s eyes gleamed–he struck harder +than ever–but Meacham had begun to lose heart. The accident upset him, and +the grate of the broken steel as the drill bit down on chance fragments; and as +his coach urged him on he glanced up from his turning with a look that Denver +knew well. It was the old pig-eyed glare, the look of unreasoning resentment, +that he had seen on the Fourth of July.</p> + +<p>“He’s quitting,” chuckled Owen when Meacham rose to strike; +but when the hole was measured it came to forty-three and fifteen-sixteenths of +an inch. The big Cornishman had done it in spite of his partner, he had refused +to accept defeat; and now, with only two more teams to compete, they led by +nearly an inch.</p> + +<p>“You can beat it!” cried Denver’s coach, “I’ve +done better than that myself! Forty-four! You can make forty-six!”</p> + +<p>“I’m game,” answered Denver, “but it takes two to +win. Do you think you can stick it out, Tom?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be up there, trying,” returned Owen grimly and Denver +nodded to the coach.</p> + +<p>The next team did no better, for it is a heart-breaking test and the sun was +getting hot, and when Denver and Owen mounted up on the platform a hush fell +upon the crowd. Denver Russell they knew, but Owen was a new man; and a drilling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span>contest is won on +pure nerve. Would he crack, like Meacham, as the end approached, or would he +stand up to the punishment? They looked on in silence as Denver spread out his +drills–a full twenty, oil-tempered, of the best Norway steel, each +narrower by a hair than its predecessor. The starter was short and heavy, with +an inch-and-a-quarter bit; and the last long drill had a seven-eighths bit, +which would just cut a one-inch hole. They were the best that money could buy +and a famous tool-sharpener in Miami had tempered their edges to perfection. +Denver picked up his starter, all the officials left the platform, and Owen +raised his hammer.</p> + +<p>“Are the drillers ready?” challenged the umpire. “Then +<i>go</i>!” he shouted, and the double-jack descended with a smash. For +thirty seconds while the drill leapt and bounded, Denver held it firmly in its +place, and at the call of “Change!” he chucked it over his shoulder +and swung his own hammer in the air. Owen popped in a new drill, the hammer +struck it squarely and the crowd set up a cheer. Denver was working hard, +striking faster than his partner; and in every stroke there was a smashing +enthusiasm, a romping joy in the work, that won the hearts of the miners. He was +what they had been before drink and bad air had sapped the first freshness of +their strength, or dust and hot stopes had broken their wind, or accidents had +crippled them up–he was a miner, young and hardy, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span>putting his body behind each blow yet +striking like a tireless automaton.</p> + +<p>“Change!” cried the coach, his voice ringing with pride; and as +the drill came flying back he shouted out the depth which was better than three +inches for the minute. At five minutes it was sixteen, at ten, thirty-three; but +at eleven the pace slackened off and at twelve they had lost an inch. Tom Owen +was weakening, in spite of his nerve, in spite of his dogged persistence; he +struck the same, but his blows had lost their drive, the drill did not bite so +deep. At every stroke, as Denver twisted the long drill loose and turned it by +so much in the hole, he raised it up and struck it against the bottom, to add to +the weight of the blows. The mud and muck from the hole splashed up into his +face and painted his body a dull gray, but at thirteen minutes they had lost +their lead and Tom Owen was striking wild. Then he missed the steel and a great +voice rose up in mocking, stentorian laughter.</p> + +<p>“Ho! Ho!” it roared, and Denver knew it well–it was Slogger +Meacham, exulting.</p> + +<p>“Here–you turn!” he said flinging out his drill, and as +Owen sank down on his knees by the hole Denver caught up his double-jack and +struck. For a half minute, a minute, he flailed away at the steel; while Owen, +his shoulders heaving, turned the drill like clock-work and gasped to win back +his strength.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span>“Thirteen +and a half!” announced the coach at last and then he shouted: +“Change!”</p> + +<p>“No–<i>turn</i>!” panted Denver, never missing a stroke; +and Owen sank back to his place by the hole while the battery of blows kept +on.</p> + +<p>“Fourteen!” proclaimed the coach, “you’re about an +inch behind. How about it–do you want to change?”</p> + +<p>“No–turn!” choked Denver. “I’ll finish +it–<i>turn</i>!” And as Owen straightened his back Denver struck +like a mad-man while the sweat poured down in a shower. The official umpire +leapt up on the platform to toll off the last sixty seconds, but the rise and +fall of Denver’s body was faster by far than his count. A frenzy seemed to +seize him as the half minute was called and Owen slipped in their last drill; +and with hoarse, coughing grunts he smashed it deeper and deeper while the +miners surged forward with a cheer.</p> + +<p>“Fifty-eight–fifty-nine–<i>sixty</i>!” cried the +umpire, slapping him sharply on the back to stop, and Denver fell like dead +across the stone. His great strength had left him, completely, on the instant; +and when he raised his head there was a grinning crowd around him as his coach +was measuring the last drill.</p> + +<p>“The poor, dom fool!” he exclaimed commiseratingly, “and to +think of him wurruking like thot. He’s ahead by two inches and +more.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span><a id='link_23'></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE HEART OF HIS BELOVED</span></h2> + +<p>There was a celebration that day which warmed Denver’s heart and sent +Slogger Meacham cursing out of the camp, but as soon as it was over and he had +his prize money in his hand Denver remembered his unguarded claim. Bunker Hill +was there, of course, but the spiteful Professor had heralded his pledge afar; +and a man who has promised his wife not to fight is ill-fitted to herd a mine. +No, the Silver Treasure lay open for Dave or Murray to jump, if they felt like +contesting his claim; and, weak as he was, Denver took no rest until he was back +where he could fight for his own. He rode in late and slept like the dead, but +in the morning he was up and down at the store as soon as Old Bunk came out.</p> + +<p>“I win!” he announced holding up the roll of bills, “first +money–can you get me some powder?”</p> + +<p>“W’y, you lucky fool!” exclaimed Bunker admiringly, “seems +like <i>nothing</i> can keep you down. Sure I’ll get your powder, and just +to show you what <i>I</i> can do–how’s that for a healthy little +roll?” He drew out a roll of bills twice the size of Denver’s and +fingered them over lovingly. “A thousand dollars,” he murmured, +“for an option on half the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_201'></a>201</span> Lost Burro. A party came up yesterday and took one +look at it and grabbed it right off the bat, and as soon as old Murray gets in +to his ore they’re going to capitalize the Burro for a million. Fine name +that, for stock-selling–known all over the world, in England, Paris and +everywhere–but I made ’em come through with a thousand dollars cash, +so Drusilla could have a good stake. She’s thinking of going East, +soon.”</p> + +<p>“’S that so?” said Denver, trying to take it all in, +“are these parties going to do any work?”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s an unfair question, as Pecos Edwards used to say +when they asked him if all Texans was cow-thieves; but you know how these +promoters work. There’ll be lots of work done; but mostly by lawyers, and +publicity men and such. There’s a whole lot of water in the workings of +the Lost Burro that’ll have to be pumped out first, and then there’s +a little job of timbering that’ll cost a world of money. No, I sold them +that mine on the ore in your tunnel–I will say, it shows up splendid. If +you’d’ve been here yesterday you might have made a deal that +would─”</p> + +<p>“Not on your life!” broke in Denver, “I don’t sell to +anybody. But say, but what did they think of my mine?”</p> + +<p>“Think!” exclaimed Bunker, “they stopped thinking right +here, when I showed ’em that big vein of copper! They went crazy, just +like lunatics; because it ain’t often, I’m telling you, that you +find sixty-per-cent copper on the surface.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span>“Not in a +fissure vein–no,” agreed Denver emphatically, “I +wouldn’t sell out for a million. Did those promoters take away any +samples?”</p> + +<p>“Well, yes; a few,” responded Bunker apologetically, “I +didn’t think you’d object.”</p> + +<p>“Why, of course not,” answered Denver, “it’ll +advertise the district and bring in some outside people. And now that I’ve +got another stake I’m going to sack my ore and make a trial shipment to +the smelter. But you bet your boots, after what Murray put over on me, I’m +going to have some assaying done first.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and keep some samples,” advised Bunker wisely. “Keep +a sample out of every bag.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll just mix that ore up,” said Denver cautiously, +“and cut it down, the way they do at the mill. Throw out every tenth +shovel and mix ’em up again and then cut the pile down smaller until +you’ve got a control, like the ore brokers take at the smelter. And then +I’ll send a sample to the assayer–say, there’s Drusilla over +there, trying to call you.”</p> + +<p>“She’s trying to call you,” answered Bunker Hill shortly +and went on into the store.</p> + +<p>“Well, be sure and order that powder,” shouted Denver after him. +“And say, I’ll want the rest of those ore-sacks.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” replied Bunker and Denver turned to the house where +Drusilla was waiting on the porch.</p> + +<p>“Did you hear the news?” she asked dancing <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span>ecstatically to and fro; as if she were +a Delilah, leading the Philistine maidens in the “Spring Song,” and +he were another Samson. “I’m expecting to go East now, +soon.”</p> + +<p>“Good!” exclaimed Denver. “Well, I won’t see you much +then–I’m going to work in the mine.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, isn’t it grand?” she cried. “Everything is +coming out fine–but you must come down to dinner to-night. I’m going +to sing, just for you.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be there,” smiled Denver, and then he stopped. +“But let’s not make it to-night,” he said, “I’m +dead on my feet for sleep.”</p> + +<p>“Well, sleep then,” she laughed, “and get rested from your +contest–I’m awfully glad you won. And then─”</p> + +<p>“Nope, can’t come to-night,” he answered soberly, “I +want to get that ore sacked to-day. And I’m stiff as a strip of burnt +raw-hide.”</p> + +<p>“Well, to-morrow night,” she said, “unless you don’t +want to come. But you’ll have to come soon or─”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I want to come, all right,” interposed Denver hastily, +“you know that, without telling. But my partner played out on me before +the end of the contest and I had to finish the striking myself. And then I rode +hard to get back here, before Dave or some gun-man jumped my claim.”</p> + +<p>“Then to-morrow night,” she smiled, “but don’t you +forget, because if you do I’ll never forgive you.”</p> + +<p>She danced away into the house and Denver <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_204'></a>204</span>turned in his tracks and went to look over his +ore-sacks. They were old and torn, what was left of a big lot that Bunker had +got in a trade; but Denver picked out the best and wheeled them up to his dump, +where his picked ore lay waiting for shipment. He had a big lot, much larger +than he had thought, and it was just as it had been shot down from the breast. +Some was silver-lead; and there was copper to boot, though that would hardly do +to ship. Yet at thirty cents a pound copper was almost a precious metal, and a +report from the smelter would be a check. He would know from that how the ore +really ran and how much he would be penalized for the zinc. So he picked out the +best of it and broke it up fine, for the rough chunks would not do to sack; and +before he had more than got started with his sampling the sun had gone down +behind the ridge. And he was tired–too tired to eat.</p> + +<p>There was music that night at the big house below but Denver could not hold +up his head. Nature had drugged him with sleep, like a romping child that takes +no thought of its strength, and in the morning he woke up in a sort of stupor +that could not be worked off. Yet he worked, worked hard, for McGraw had arrived +and the ore must be loaded that day; so they threw in together, Denver sacking +the heavy ore and McGraw wheeling it out to the wagon. They toiled on till dark, +for McGraw started early and the work could not be put off till to-morrow; and +when it was over Denver staggered <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_205'></a>205</span>up to his cave like an old and outworn man. He was +reeking with sweat, his hands were like talons, the ore-dust had left his face +gray; and all he thought of was sleep. For a moment he roused up, as if he +remembered some new duty–something pleasant, yet involving further +effort–and then his candle went out. He fell asleep in his chair and when +he awoke it was only to stumble to his bed.</p> + +<p>The sun was over the Leap when he opened his heavy eyes and gazed at the rude +squalor of his cave. The dishes were unwashed, the floor was dirty, a +long-tailed rat hung balanced on the table-edge–and he was tired, tired, +tired. He heaved himself up and reached for the water-bucket but he had +forgotten to fill it at the creek. Now he grabbed it up impatiently and started +down the trail, every joint of his body protesting, and when he had climbed back +he was weak from the effort–his bank account with Mother Nature was +overdrawn. He was worn out, at last; and his poor, tired brain took no thought +how to make up the deficit. All he wanted was rest, something to eat, a drink of +water. A drink of water anyway, and sleep. He drank deep and bathed his face, +then sank back on the bed and let the world whirl on.</p> + +<p>It was late in the day when he awoke again and hunger was gnawing his vitals; +but the slow stupor was gone, he was himself again and the cramps had gone out +of his limbs. He rose up luxuriously and cut a can of tomatoes, drinking the +juice and eating the fruit, and then he lit a fire and boiled <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span>some strong coffee and +cooked up a great mess of food. There was two cans of corn and a can of corned +beef, heated together in a swimming sea of bacon grease and eaten direct from +the frying-pan. It went to the spot and his drooping shoulders straightened, the +spring came back into his step; yet as he cleaned up the dishes and changed to +decent clothes the weight of some duty seemed to haunt him. Was it McGraw? No, +he had loaded the last sack and sent him on his way. It was Drusilla–she +had been going to sing for him.</p> + +<p>Denver stepped to the door and looked down at the house and his heart sank +low at the thought. They had invited him to dinner and he had forgotten to come, +he had gone home and fallen asleep. And no one had come to call him–or to +inquire what had kept him away. A heavy guilt came over him as he gazed down at +the house with its broad porch and trailing Virginia creepers, the Hills would +take it very ill to have their invitation ignored. Old Bunk had told him the +time before, when he had invited him in to dinner: “Now, for the last +time, Denver─” and it would take more than mere words to ever mend +that breach. Denver paced back and forth, undecided what to do, and at last he +decided to do nothing. As the sun went down he ate another supper and drugged +his sorrows with sleep.</p> + +<p>The next morning he rose early and shaved and bathed and put on his last +clean shirt, and then he walked down to the town; but the store was <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span>locked, there was no +voices from the house, only a smoke from the kitchen stove. He went on to his +mine and looked it over, and as he passed the Professor leered out at him; there +was something that he knew, some bad news or spiteful gossip, for he found +pleasure only in evil. Denver came back down the street, that was now as +deserted as it had been before the stampede, and once more the Professor looked +out.</p> + +<p>“Vell,” he said, “so you haf lost your sveetheart!” +And he chuckled and shut the door softly.</p> + +<p>Denver stopped and stood staring, hardly crediting the news, yet conscious of +the sinister exulting. The Professor was glad, therefore the news was bad; but +what did he mean by those words? Had Drusilla gone away or had she thrown him +over for neglecting to keep his engagement? She had probably spoken her mind as +she watched for him at the doorway and the Professor had been out there, +eavesdropping.</p> + +<p>“What are you talking about?” he demanded at last but the +Professor only tittered. Then he dropped the heavy bar across his door and +Denver took the hint to move on. He went down past the house and looked it over +hopefully, but as no one came out he pocketed his pride and knocked, like a hobo +battering the door for a meal, Mrs. Hill came out slowly as if preoccupied with +other things, but when he saw her eyes he knew she had been crying and that +Drusilla had really gone.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry,” he began and then he stopped; there <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span>was nothing that he could +say. “Has Drusilla gone?” he asked at length and Mrs. Hill answered +him, almost kindly.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said, “she was summoned by a telegram. Her +father took her down this morning.”</p> + +<p>He stood thinking a minute, then he shook his head regretfully and started +off down the steps.</p> + +<p>“She was sorry not to have seen you,” she added gently but Denver +made no reply. He was weak again now and inadequate to life; he could only crawl +back like some dumb, wounded animal, to the sheltering gloom of his cave. But as +he sat there stolidly, now trying to make some plan, now endeavoring to become +reconciled to his fate, a rage swept over him like a storm-wind that shakes a +tree and he burst into gusty oaths. The fates had turned against him, his +horoscope had come to nothing; he had followed the admonitions of Mother +Trigedgo and this was the result of her advice. She had told him to beware how +he revealed his affection, but nothing about what to do when he had fallen +asleep while his beloved sang only for him.</p> + +<p>He drew out the Oraculum, by which the Man of Destiny had ordered the least +affairs of his life, and read down through the thirty-two questions. Only once +on each day could he consult the mystic oracle, and once only in each month on +the same subject, lest the fates be outworn by his insistence. At first it was +Number Thirteen that appealed to his fancy:</p> + +<p>“Will the FRIEND I most reckon upon prove <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span>faithful or TREACHEROUS?” But he +knew without asking that, whatever her failings, Drusilla would never prove +treacherous. No, since he had taken her for his friend he would never question +her faithfulness; Number Twenty-six was more to his liking:</p> + +<p>“Does the person whom I love, LOVE and regard me?”</p> + +<p>He spread out a sheet of paper on his littered table and dashed off the five +series of lines, and then he counted each carefully and made the dots at the +end–two dots for the two lines that came even and one for those that came +odd. The first two came odd, the next two even, the last one odd again; and +under that symbol the Oraculum Key referred him to section B for his answer. He +turned to the double pages with its answers, good and bad, and his brain whirled +while he read these words:</p> + +<p>“Thy heart of thy beloved yearneth toward thee.”</p> + +<p>He closed the book religiously and put it away, and his heart for the moment +was comforted.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span><a id='link_24'></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br /><span class='h2fs'>COLONEL DODGE</span></h2> + +<p>Denver doubted it, himself, for human nature is much the same in man and +woman and Drusilla had been sorely slighted; but the Oraculum had said that her +heart was yearning towards him and the Book of Fate had always spoken true. +Perhaps women <i>were</i> different, but if it had been done to him, he would +have called down black curses instead. Yet women were different, one could never +guess their moods, and perhaps Drusilla would forgive him. Not right away, of +course, but after her blood had cooled and he had written a proper letter. He +would let it go awhile, until he had framed up some excuse or decided to tell +her the truth, and in the meantime there was plenty of work to do that would +help him forget his sorrow. There was his mine, and McGraw had brought up some +powder.</p> + +<p>There was something in the air which seemed to whisper to Denver of +portentous happenings to come, and as he was sharpening up his steel for a fresh +assault upon the ore-body a big automobile came into town. It stopped and a big +man wearing a California sombrero and a pair of six-buckle boots <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span>leapt out and led the way +to the Lost Burro. Behind him followed three men attired as gentlemen miners and +as Denver listened he could hear the big man as he recited the history of the +mine. Undoubtedly it was the buyer of the Lost Burro Mine, with a party of +“experts” and potential backers who had come up to look over the +ground; yet something told Denver that there was more behind it all. He felt +their eyes upon him. They spent a few minutes looking over the old workings, and +then they came stringing up his trail.</p> + +<p>“Good afternoon, sir,” hailed the promoter, “are you the +owner of this property? Well, I’d like with your permission to show my +friends some of your ore–why, what’s this, have you hauled it +away?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I shipped it out yesterday,” answered Denver briefly and +the big man glanced swiftly at his friends.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m Colonel Dodge–H. Parkinson Dodge–you may +have heard the name. I’m your neighbor here on the south–we’ve +taken over the Lost Burro property. Yes, glad to know you, Mr. Russell.” +He shook hands and introduced his friends all around, after which he came to the +point. “We’ve been looking at the Lost Burro and one of the +gentlemen suggested that it might be well to enlarge our property. That would +make it more attractive to worth-while buyers and at the same time prevent any +future litigation in case our ore-bodies should join. You understand what I +mean–there’s such a thing as apex decision and of <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span>course you hold the +higher ground. Well, before we do any work or tie up our money we would like to +know just exactly where we stand in relation to surrounding properties. What +price do you put on your claim?”</p> + +<p>“No price,” answered Denver. “I don’t want to sell. +Are you thinking of opening up the Lost Burro?”</p> + +<p>“That will all depend,” hinted the Colonel darkly, “upon +the attitude of the people in the district. If we meet with encouragement we +intend to form a company and spend hundreds of thousands of dollars; but if not, +why we will charge up our option money to profit and loss and seek out a less +backward community. What is your lowest price on your claim?”</p> + +<p>“A million dollars–cash,” responded Denver cheerfully. +“Now you come through and make me an offer.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” began the Colonel, and then he stopped and glanced +suggestively at the tunnel. “We’d like to look it over +first.”</p> + +<p>“Fair enough,” replied Denver and, giving each a candle, he led +them into the tunnel. They looked the ore over, making indifferent comments and +asking permission to take samples, and then Colonel Dodge took one of his +experts aside and they conferred in muffled tones.</p> + +<p>“Er–we’d rather not make an offer just now,” said the +Colonel at last; and in a silent procession they returned to the daylight, +leaving Denver to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_213'></a>213</span>follow behind. The atmosphere of the group was now +reeking with gloom but after a long conference the Colonel came back, summoning +up the ghost of a smile. “Well, I’ll tell you, Mr. Russell,” +he began apologetically, “we saw some of your ore before we came up and we +were all of us most enthusiastic. The copper in particular was very promising +but the gentleman I was talking with is our consulting engineer and he advises +me not to buy the property.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” answered Denver, “you don’t have to buy +it. I never saw one of these six-buckle men yet that wouldn’t knock a good +claim.” He turned back angrily to his job of tool-sharpening and the +Colonel followed after him solicitously.</p> + +<p>“Don’t misunderstand me,” he said, “there’s +nothing I’d like better than to buy in this neighboring property–if +I could get it at a reasonable figure; but Mr. Shadd advises me that your ore +lies in a gash-vein, which will undoubtedly pinch out at depth.”</p> + +<p>“A gash-vein!” echoed Denver, “why the poor, ignorant +fool–can’t you see that the vein is getting bigger? Well, how can it +be a gash-vein when it’s between two good walls and increasing in width +all the time? Your friend must think I’m a prospector.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” protested the Colonel smiling feebly at the joke, +“but–well, he advises me not to buy. The fact that the ore is so +rich on the surface is against its continuance at depth. All gash-veins, as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span>you know, are very +rich at the surface; so in this case the fact is against you. But I tell you +what I will do–just to protect my other property and avoid any future +complications–I’ll give you a thousand dollars for your +claim.”</p> + +<p>“Whooo!” jeered Denver, “I’ll get more than that for +the ore I just sent to the smelter. No, I’m no thousand-dollar man, Mr. +Dodge. I’ve got a fissure vein and it’s increasing at depth, so I +guess I’ll just hold on a while. You wait till old Murray begins to +ship!”</p> + +<p>“Ah–er–well, I’ll give you fifteen hundred,” +conceded the Colonel drawing out his check-book and pen. “That’s the +best I can possibly do.”</p> + +<p>“Well save your check then, because I’m a long ways from broke. +What d’ye think of that for a roll?” Denver drew out his roll of prize +money, with a hundred dollar bill on top, and flickered the edges of the +twenties. “I guess I can wait a while,” he grinned. “Come +around again, when I’m broke.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you a thousand dollars down and nine thousand in six +months,” burst out the Colonel with sudden vehemence. “Now +it’s that or absolutely nothing. If you try to hold me up I’ll +abandon my option and withdraw entirely from the district.”</p> + +<p>“Sorry to lose you, old-timer,” returned Denver genially, +“but I guess we can’t do business. Come around in about a +month.”</p> + +<p>A sudden flash came into the Colonel’s bold eyes and he opened his +mouth to speak–then he paused and shut his mouth tight.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span>“Not on +your life, Mr. Russell,” he said with finality, “if I go I will not +come back. Now give me your lowest cash price for the property. Will you accept +ten thousand dollars?”</p> + +<p>“No, I won’t,” answered Denver, “nor a hundred +thousand, either. I’m a miner–I know what I’ve got.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, Mr. Russell,” replied Colonel Dodge crisply and, +bowing haughtily, he withdrew.</p> + +<p>Denver looked after him laughing, but something about his stride suddenly +wiped away the grin from Denver’s face–the Colonel was going +somewhere. He was going with a purpose, and he walked like a man who was +perfectly sure of his next move–like a man who has seen a snake in the +road and turns back to cut a club. It was distinctly threatening and a light +dawned on Denver when the automobile turned off towards Murray’s camp. +That was it, he was an agent of Murray.</p> + +<p>Denver sharpened up his steel and put in a round of holes but all that day +and the next his uneasiness grew until he jumped at every sound. He felt the +hostility of Colonel Dodge’s silence more than any that words could +express; and when, on the second day, he saw Professor Diffenderfer approaching +he stopped his work to watch him.</p> + +<p>“Vell, how are you?” began the Professor, trying to warm up their +ancient friendship; and then, seeing that Denver merely bristled the more, he +cast off his cloak of well-wishing. “I vas yoost <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span>over to Murray’s camp,” he +burst out vindictively, “and Dave said he vanted his gun.”</p> + +<p>“Tell ’im to come over and get it,” suggested Denver and +then he unbuckled his belt. “All right,” he said handing over the +gun and cartridges, “here it is; I don’t need it, anyhow.” The +Professor blinked and looked again, then reached out and took the belt +doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“Vot you mean?” he asked at last as his curiosity got the better +of him, “have you got anudder gun somevhere? Dot Dave, he svears he vill +kill you.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” replied Denver, “just give him +his gun–I’ll take him on any day, with rocks.”</p> + +<p>“How you mean ‘take him on?’” inquired the Professor all +excitement but Denver waved him away.</p> + +<p>“Go on now,” he said, “and give him his gun. I guess +he’ll know what I mean.”</p> + +<p>But if Chatwourth understood the hidden taunt he did not respond to the +challenge and Denver’s mind reverted to H. Parkinson Dodge and his +flattering offers for the mine. Ten thousand dollars cash, from a mining +promoter, was indeed a princely sum; better by far than the offer of half a +million shares that went with Bunker’s option. For stock is the sop that +is thrown to poor miners in lieu of the good hard cash, but ten thousand dollars +was a lot of money for a promoter to pay for a claim. It showed that there were +others beside himself who believed in the value of his property, yet who this +Colonel Dodge was or who were <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_217'></a>217</span>his backers was a question that only Bunker could +answer. Denver waited in a sweat, now wondering if Bunker would speak to him, +nor exulting in the offer for his mine; and when at last he saw Bunker Hill +drive in he threw down his tools and hurried towards him.</p> + +<p>But Bunker Hill was surly, he barely glanced at Denver and went on caring for +his horses; and Denver did not crowd him. He waited, and at last Old Bunk looked +up with jaw thrust grimly out.</p> + +<p>“Well?” he said, and Denver forgot everything but the question +that was on his tongue.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he burst out, “who is this Colonel Dodge that came +up and bought your mine? Is he working for Murray, or what?”</p> + +<p>“Search me,” grumbled Bunker, “I got his thousand dollars, +and that’s about all I know.”</p> + +<p>“He was up here to see me the same day you left, with a whole load of +six-buckle experts; and say, he offered me a check for ten thousand dollars if +I’d sell him the Silver Treasure claim. And when I refused it he got into +his machine and went right over to Murray’s. I’ll bet you +you’re sold out to Bible-Back.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s stuck then,” said Bunker. “I guess you +haven’t heard the news–Murray’s closed down his camp for +good.”</p> + +<p>“He has!” exclaimed Denver, and then he laughed heartily. +“He’s a foxy old dastard, isn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“You said it,” returned Bunker. “Never did have <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span>any ore. Just pretended +he had in order to sell stock and recoup what he’d lost on the drilling. +They’re offering the stock for nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s offering it?” demanded Denver suddenly taking the +matter seriously. “I’ll bet you it’s nothing but a +fake!”</p> + +<p>“All right,” shrugged Bunker, “but I met a bunch of miners +and they were swapping stock for matches. Old Tom Buchanan down at Desert Wells +won’t accept it at any price–that shows how much it’s a +fake.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, he pulled that once before,” answered Denver contemptuously, +“but he don’t fool me again. Like as not he’s made a strike +and is just shutting down so he can buy back the stock he sold.”</p> + +<p>Bunker looked up and grunted, then gathered together his purchases and ambled +off towards the house.</p> + +<p>“That’s all you think about, ain’t it?” he said at +parting. “I’ll mention it when I write to Drusilla.”</p> + +<p>“Oh–oh, yes,” stammered Denver suddenly reminded of his +dereliction, “say, how did she happen to go? And I want to get her address +so I can explain how it happened–I wouldn’t have missed seeing her +for anything!”</p> + +<p>“No, of course not,” growled Bunker, “not for anything but +your own interests. You can go to hell for your address.”</p> + +<p>“Why, what do you mean?” demanded Denver; but as Bunker did not +answer he fell back and let him go on.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span><a id='link_25'></a>CHAPTER XXV<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE ANSWER</span></h2> + +<p>There are some kinds of questions which require no answers and others which +answer themselves. Denver had asked Bunker what he meant when he refused +Drusilla’s address and intimated that he was unworthy of her friendship, +but after a gloomy hour in the deepening twilight the question answered itself. +Bunker had taken his daughter across the desert, on her way to the train and New +York, and his curt remarks were but the reflex of her’s as she discussed +Denver’s many transgressions. He thought more of mines and of his own +selfish interests than he did of her and her art, and so she desired to hear no +more of him or his protestations of innocence. That was what the words meant and +as Denver thought them over he wondered if it was not true.</p> + +<p>Drusilla had greeted him cordially when he had returned from Globe and had +invited him to dinner that same night, but he had refused because he needed the +sleep and begrudged the daylight to take it. And the next day he had worked even +harder than before and had forgotten her invitation entirely. She was to sing +just for him and, after <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_220'></a>220</span>the singing, she would have told him all her plans; +and then perhaps they might have spoken of other things and parted as lovers +should. But no, he had spoiled it by his senseless hurry in getting his ore off +with McGraw; and now, with all the time in the world on his hands, the valley +below was silent. Not a scale, not a trill, not a run or roulade; only silence +and the frogs with their devilish insistence, their ceaseless <i>eh</i>, +<i>eh</i>, <i>eh</i>. He rose up and heaved a stone into the creek-bed below, +then went in and turned on his phonograph.</p> + +<p>They were real people to him now, these great artists of the discs; Drusilla +had described them as she listened to the records and even the places where they +sang. She had pictured the mighty sweep of the Metropolitan with its horse-shoe +of glittering boxes; the balconies above and the standing-room below where the +poor art-students gathered to applaud; and he had said that when he was rich he +would subscribe for a box and come there just to hear her sing. And now he was +broke, and Drusilla was going East to run the perilous gauntlet of the tenors. +He jerked up the stylus in the middle of a record and cursed his besotted +industry. If he had let his ore go, and gone to see her like a gentleman, +Drusilla might even now be his. She might have relented and given him a +kiss–he cursed and stumbled blindly to bed.</p> + +<p>In the morning he went to work in the close air of the tunnel, which sadly +needed a fan, and then he hurled his hammer to the ground and felt <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span>his way out to daylight. +What was the use of it all; where did it get him to, anyway; this ceaseless, +grinding toil? Murray’s camp had shut down, the promoters had vanished, +Pinal was deader than ever; he gathered up his tools and stored them in his +cave, then sat down to write her a letter. Nothing less than the truth would win +her back now and he confessed his shortcomings humbly; after which he told her +that the town was too lonely and he was leaving, too. He sealed it in an +envelope and addressed it with her name and when he was sure that Old Bunk was +not looking he slipped in and gave it to her mother.</p> + +<p>“I’m going away,” he said, “and I may not be back. +Will you send that on to Drusilla?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she smiled and hid it in her dress; but as he started for +the door she stopped him.</p> + +<p>“You might like to know,” she said, “that Drusilla has +received an engagement. She is substitute soprano in a new Opera Company that is +being organized to tour the big cities. I’m sorry you didn’t see +her.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Denver, “I’m sorry myself–but +that never bought a man anything. Just send her the letter and–well, +goodby.”</p> + +<p>He blundered out the door and down the steps, and there stretched the road +before him. In the evening he was as far as Whitlow’s Well and a great +weight seemed lifted from his breast. He was free again, free to wander where he +pleased, free to make friends with any that he met–for if the <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span>prophecy was not true in +regard to his mine it was not true regarding his friends. And how could any +woman, by cutting a pack of cards and consulting the signs of the zodiac, +predict how a man would die? Denver made himself at home with a party of hobo +miners who had come in from the railroad below, and that night they sat up late, +cracking jokes and telling stories of every big camp in the West. It was the old +life again, the life that he knew and loved, drifting on from camp to camp with +every man his friend. Yet as he stretched out that night by the flickering fire +he almost regretted the change. He was free from the great fear, free to make +friends with whom he would; but, to win back the love of the beautiful young +artist, he would have given up his freedom without a sigh.</p> + +<p>His sleep that night was broken by strange dreams and by an automobile that +went thundering by, and in the morning as they cooked a mulligan together he saw +two great motor trucks go past. They were loaded with men and headed up the +canyon and Denver began to look wild. A third machine appeared and he went out +to flag it but the driver went by without stopping; and so did another, and +another. He rushed after the next one and caught it on the hill but the men +pushed him roughly from the running board. They were armed and he knew by their +hard-bitten faces that it was another party of jumpers.</p> + +<p>“Where are you going?” he yelled but they left him by the road +without even a curse for an <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_223'></a>223</span>answer. Well, he knew then; they were going to +Final, and Murray had fooled him again. Denver had suspected from the first that +Murray’s shutdown was a ruse, to shake down the public for their stock; +and now he knew it, and that if his mine was jumped again it would be held +against all comers. Another automobile whirled by; and then came men that he +knew, the miners who owned claims in the district.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” he called but they would not stop to +talk, simply shouted and beckoned him on. Denver started, right then, without +stopping for breakfast or to pick up his hobo’s pack; and soon he caught a +ride with a party of prospectors whose claims he had once freed from +jumpers.</p> + +<p>“It’s a big strike!” they clamored, hauling him in and +rushing on. “Old Murray struck copper in his tunnel! <i>Rich?</i> Hell, +yes!” And they gave him all the details as the machine lurched along up +the road.</p> + +<p>Murray had struck another ore-body, entirely different from the first +one–the copper had come out the drill-holes like pure metal–and then +he had shut down and rushed the machine-men away before they could tell of the +strike. But they had got loose down in Moroni and showed the drill-dust and +every man that saw it had piled into his machine and joined the rush for +Murray’s.</p> + +<p>“Jumped again!” muttered Denver and when he arrived in Pinal he +found his mine swarming with men. They had built a barricade and run a pipe +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span>line down the hill +to pump up water from the creek, and when he appeared they ordered him off +without showing so much as a head. And he went, for the swiftness of the change +had confused him; he was whipped before he began. There was no use to fight or +to put up a bluff, the men behind the wall were determined; and while, according +to law, they held no title the law was far away. It was a weapon for rich men +who could afford to pay the price; but how could he, a poor man, hope to win +back his claim when it was held by Bible-Back Murray? He went down to the store, +where the Miners’ Meeting was assembled, and beckoned Bunker aside.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Hill,” he said, “you promised me one time to give me +the loan of a gun. Well, now is the time I need it.”</p> + +<p>“Nope,” warned Bunker, “you ain’t got a chance. Them +fellers are just up here to get you.”</p> + +<p>“Well, for self-defense!” protested Denver, “Dave sent word +he’d kill me.”</p> + +<p>“Keep away, then,” advised Bunker, “don’t give him no +chance. But if them fellers should jump on you, just run to my house and +I’ll slip you the old Injun-tamer.”</p> + +<p>Denver went out on the street, now swarming with traffic, and looked up +toward his mine; and as he gazed he walked up closer until he stopped at the +fork of the trails. The men behind the wall were watching him grimly, without +letting their faces be seen; but as he stood there looking they <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span>began to bandy jests and +presently to taunt him openly. But Denver did not answer, for he divined their +evil purpose, and at last he turned quietly away.</p> + +<p>“Hey! Come back here!” roared a voice and Denver whirled in his +tracks for he knew it was Slogger Meacham’s. He was standing there now, +looking across the barricade, and as Denver met his gaze he laughed.</p> + +<p>“Ho! Ho!” he rumbled folding his arms across his breast and +thrusting out his huge black mustache. “Well, how do you feel about it +now?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” returned Denver and, leaving him gloating, he +hurried away down the trail. Old Bunk was right, they had come there to get him, +and there was no use playing into their hands; yet at thought of Slogger Meacham +his hair began to bristle and he muttered half-formed threats. The Slogger had +come to get him–and Dave Chatwourth was behind there, too–the whole +district was dominated by their gang; but the times would change and with inrush +of other men the jumpers would soon be out-numbered. It was better then to wait, +to let the excitement die down and law and order return; and then, with a deputy +sheriff at his back, he could eject them by due process of law. The claim was +his, his papers were recorded and no lawyer could question their +validity–no, the best thing was to let the jumpers rage, to say nothing +and keep out of sight. That was all that he had to do.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span>But to avoid +them was not so easy, for as the day wore on and no attempt was made to oust +them, the jumpers walked boldly into town. At first it was Chatwourth, to buy +some tobacco and break in on the Miners’ Meeting; and then Slogger +Meacham, a huge mountain of a man, came ambling down the street. He slouched +down on the store platform and leered about him evilly, but Denver had retreated +to his cave under the cliff and the Slogger returned to the mine. Then they came +down in a body, Chatwourth and Meacham and all the jumpers; but though his mine +was left open Denver refrained from going near it, for their purpose was +becoming very plain. They were trying to inveigle him into openly opposing them, +after which they would have a pretext for resorting to actual violence. But +their plans went no further for he remained in retirement and the Miners’ +Meeting adjourned. Soon the street was deserted, except for their own numbers, +and they returned to the mine with shrill whoops.</p> + +<p>From his lookout above Denver watched them with a smile, for his nerve had +come back to him now. Now that Murray had made his strike, and increased the +value of the Silver Treasure by a thousand per cent over night, Denver’s +mind had swung back like a needle to the pole to his former belief in the +prophecy. He had doubted it twice and renounced it twice, but each time as if by +an act of Providence he was rebuked for his lack of faith. Now he <i>knew</i> it +was so–that the mine <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_227'></a>227</span> would be restored and that only his dearest friend +could kill him. So he smiled almost pityingly at the loud-mouthed jumpers and +went boldly down the trail.</p> + +<p>The hush of evening was in the air when he knocked at Bunker Hill’s +door and after a look about Old Bunk went back into the house and brought out a +heavy pistol. It was an old-fashioned six-shooter of the Indian-tamer +type–a single action, wooden-handled forty-five–and Bunker fingered +it lovingly as he handed it over to Denver.</p> + +<p>“For self-defense, understand,” he said beneath his breath, +“and look out, that bunch is sure ranicky.”</p> + +<p>“Much obliged,” responded Denver and tested the action before he +slipped the gun in its belt. He was starting for his cave, when from his cabin +up the street the Professor came out and beckoned him.</p> + +<p>“What do you want?” called Denver; then, receiving no answer, he +strode impatiently up the street.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” urged the Professor touching his nose for secrecy, +“come in, I vant to show you some-t’ing.”</p> + +<p>“Well, show it to me here,” answered Denver but the Professor +drew him inside the house.</p> + +<p>“You look oudt vat you do,” he warned mysteriously, “dem +joompers are liable to see you.”</p> + +<p>“I should worry,” said Denver and, whipping out <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span>the gun, he made the +motions of fanning the hammer.</p> + +<p>“Now, now,” reproved Diffenderfer drawing back in a panic; and +then he laughed, but nervously.</p> + +<p>“Well, what do you want to show me?” demanded Denver bluntly. +“Hurry up now–I hear somebody coming.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nutting–come again!” exclaimed the Professor +apprehensively. “Come to-morrow–I show you everyt’ing!”</p> + +<p>“You’ll show me now,” returned Denver imperturbably, +“I’m not afraid of the whole danged bunch. Come on, what have you +got–a bottle?”</p> + +<p>“Yoost a piece of copper from Murray’s tunnel–Mein Gott, I +hear dem boys coming!”</p> + +<p>He sprang to the door and dropped the heavy bar but Denver struck it up and +stepped out.</p> + +<p>“What the hell are you trying to do?” he demanded suspiciously +and the door slammed to behind him.</p> + +<p>“Run! Run!” implored the Professor staring out through his +peep-hole but Denver lolled negligently against the house. A crowd of men, +headed by Slogger Meacham, were coming down the street; but it was not for him +to fly. He had a gun now, as well as they, and his back was against the wall. +They could pass by or stop, according to their liking; but the show-down had +come, there and now.</p> + +<p>They came on in a bunch down the middle of the street, ignoring his watchful +glances; but as the rest <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_229'></a>229</span>trampled past Slogger Meacham turned his head and +came to a bristling halt.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “out for a little airing?” And the +jumpers swung in behind him.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Denver regarding him incuriously and the Slogger +moved a step or two closer.</p> + +<p>“You start anything around here,” he went on significantly, +“and you’ll be airing the smoke out of your clothes. We got your +number, see, and we’re here to put your light out if you start to make a +peep.”</p> + +<p>“Is that so?” observed Denver still standing at a crouch and one +or two of the men walked off.</p> + +<p>“Come on, boys,” they said but Meacham stood glowering and +Chatwourth stepped out in front of him. “I hear,” he said to Denver, +“that you’ve been making your brag that you kin whip me with a +handful of stones.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, now,” replied Denver, “I’m not looking +for trouble. You go on and leave me alone.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll go when I damned please!” cried Chatwourth in a +passion and as he advanced on Denver the crowd behind him suddenly gave a +concerted shove. Denver saw the surge coming and stepped aside to avoid it, +undetermined whether to strike out or shoot; but as he was slipping away Slogger +Meacham made a rush and struck him a quick blow in the neck. He whirled and +struck back at him, the air was full of fists and guns, swung like clubs to rap +him on the head; and then he went down <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_230'></a>230</span>with Meacham on top of him and a crashing blow +ringing in his ears. When he came to his senses he was stripped and mauled and +battered, and a stranger stood over him with a gun.</p> + +<p>“You’re my prisoner,” he said and Denver sat up +startled.</p> + +<p>“Why–what’s the matter?” he asked looking about at +the crowd that had gathered on the scene of the fight, “what’s the +matter with that jasper over there?”</p> + +<p>“He’s dead–that’s all,” answered the officer +laughing shortly, “you hit him over the head with this gun.”</p> + +<p>“I did not!” burst out Denver, “I never even drew it. Say, +who is that fellow, anyway?”</p> + +<p>“Name was Meacham,” returned the officer, “come +on.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span><a id='link_26'></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE COURSE OF THE LAW</span></h2> + +<p>As he lay in his cell in the county jail at Moroni it was borne in upon +Denver that he was caught in some great machine that ground out men as a mill +grinds grain. It had laid a cold hand on him in the person of an officer of the +law, it had inched him on further when a magistrate had examined him and +Chatwourth and his jumpers had testified; and now, as he awaited his day in +court, he wondered whither it was taking him. The magistrate had held him, the +grand jury had indicted him–would the judge and jury find him guilty? And +if so, would they send him to the Pen? His heart sank at that, for the name of +“ex-convict” is something that cannot be laid. No matter what the +crime or the circumstances of the trial, once a man is convicted and sent to +prison that name can always be hurled at him–and Denver knew that he was +not guilty.</p> + +<p>He had no recollection of even drawing his gun, to say nothing of striking at +Meacham; and yet Chatwourth and his gang would swear him into prison if +something was not done to stop them. They had come before the magistrate all +agreeing <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span>to the +same story–that Denver had picked a fight with his old enemy, Meacham, and +struck him over the head with his six-shooter. And then they showed +Denver’s pistol; the one he had borrowed from Bunker, all gory with hair +and blood. It was a frame-up and he knew it, for they had all been striking at +him and one of them had probably hit Meacham; but how was he to prove to the +satisfaction of the court that Murray’s hired gun-men were trying to hang +him? His only possible witness was Professor Diffenderfer, and he would not +testify to anything.</p> + +<p>In his examination before the magistrate Denver had called upon the Professor +to explain the cause of his being there; but Diffenderfer had protested that he +had been hiding in his cabin and knew nothing whatever about the fight. Yet if +the facts could be proved, Denver had not gone up the street to shoot it out +with the jumpers; he had gone at the invitation of this same Professor +Diffenderfer who now so carefully avoided his eye. He had been called to the +Professor’s cabin to look at a specimen of the copper from Murray’s +tunnel; but as Denver thought it over a shrewd suspicion came over him that he +had been lured into a well-planned trap. They had never been over-friendly so +why should this Dutchman, after opposing him at every turn, suddenly beckon him +up the street and into his cabin just as Chatwourth and his gang came down? And +why, if he was innocent of any share in the plot, did Diffenderfer refuse to +testify to the facts? <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_233'></a>233</span>Denver ground his teeth at the thought of his own +impotence, shut up there like a dog in the pound. He was helpless, and his +lawyer would do nothing.</p> + +<p>The first thing he had done when he was brought to Moroni was to hire a +second-rate lawyer but, after getting his money, the gentleman had spent his +time in preparing some windy brief. What Denver needed was some witnesses, to +swear to his good character, and Diffenderfer to swear to the facts; and no +points of law were going to make a difference as long as the truth was +suppressed. Old Bunk alone stood by him, though he could do little besides +testifying to his previous good character. Day after day Denver lay in jail and +sweated, trying to find some possible way out; but not until the morning before +his trial did he sense the real meaning of it all. Then a visitor was announced +and when he came to the bars he found Bible-Back Murray awaiting him.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, young man,” began Murray smiling grimly, “I +was just passing by and I thought I’d drop in and talk over your case for +a moment.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said Denver looking out at him dubiously, and the great +man smiled again. He <i>was</i> a great man, as Denver had discovered to his +sorrow, for no one in the country dared oppose him.</p> + +<p>“I regret very much,” went on Murray pompously, “to find +you in this position, and if there’s anything I can do that is just and +right I shall be glad to use my influence. We have, as you know, here in the +State of Arizona one of the most <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_234'></a>234</span>enlightened governments in the country; and a word +from me, if spoken in time, might possibly save you from conviction. Or, in case +of conviction, our prison law is such that you might immediately be released +under parole. But before I take any action─” he lowered his +voice–“you might give me a quit-claim for that mine.”</p> + +<p>“Oh” said Denver, and then it was that the great ray of light +came over him. He could see it all now, from Murray’s first warning to +this last bold demand for his mine; but two months in jail had broken his spirit +and he hesitated to defy the county boss. His might be the hand that held +Diffenderfer back, and it certainly was the one that paid Chatwourth; he +controlled the county and, if what he said was true, had no small influence in +the affairs of the state. And now he gave him the choice between going to prison +or giving up the Silver Treasure.</p> + +<p>“What is this?” inquired Denver, “a hold-up or a +frame-up?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” answered +Murray curtly, “but if you’re still in a mood for +levity─” He turned away but as Denver did not stop him he returned +of his own will to the bars.</p> + +<p>“Now see here,” he said, “this has gone far enough, if you +expect to keep out of prison. I came down here to befriend you and all I ask in +return is a clear title to what is already mine. Perhaps you don’t realize +the seriousness of your position, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_235'></a>235</span>but I tell you right now that no power on earth can +save you from certain conviction. The District Attorney has informed me that he +has an airtight case against you but, rather than see your whole life ruined, I +am giving you this one, last chance. You are young and headstrong, and hardly +realized what you were doing; and so I say, why not acknowledge your mistake and +begin life over again? I have nothing but the kindest feelings towards you, but +I can’t allow my interests to be jeopardized. Think it +over–can’t you see it’s for the best?”</p> + +<p>“No, I can’t,” answered Denver, “because I never +killed Meacham and I don t believe any jury will convict me. If they do, +I’ll know who was behind it all and govern myself accordingly.”</p> + +<p>“Just a slight correction,” put in Murray sarcastically, +“you will not govern yourself at all. You will become a ward of the State +of Arizona for the rest of your natural life.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s all right then,” burst out Denver, +wrathfully, “but I can tell you one thing–you won’t get no +quit-claim for your mine. I’ll lay in jail and rot before I’ll come +through with it, so you can go as far as you like. But if I ever get +out─”</p> + +<p>“That will do, young man,” said Murray stepping back, “I +see you’re becoming abusive. Very well, let the law take its +course.”</p> + +<p>He straightened up his wry neck, put his glass eye into place and stalked +angrily out of the jail; <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_236'></a>236</span>and in the hard week that followed Denver learned +what he meant, for the wheels of the law began to grind. First the District +Attorney, in making his charge, denounced him like a mad-man; then he brought on +his witnesses, a solid phalanx, and put them through their parts; and every +point of law that Denver’s attorney brought up he tore it to pieces in an +instant. He knew more law in a minute than the lawyer would learn in a +life-time, he could think circles around him and not try; and when +Denver’s witnesses were placed on the stand he cross-examined them until +he nullified their testimony. Even grim-eyed Bunker Hill, after testifying to +Denver’s character, was compelled to admit that the first time he saw him +he was engaged in a fight with Meacham. And so it went on until the jury filed +back with a verdict of “Guilty of manslaughter.”</p> + +<p>Thus the law took its course over the body and soul of what had once been a +man; and when it was over Denver Russell was a Number with eighteen years before +him. Eighteen years more or less, according to his conduct, for the laws of the +State of Arizona imposed an indeterminate sentence which might be varied to fit +any case. As Murray had intimated, under the new prison law a man could be +paroled the day after he was sentenced, though he were in for ninety-nine years. +That was the law, and it was just, for no court is infallible and injustice must +be rectified somewhere. After the poor man and his poor lawyer had matched <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span>their puny wits against +those of a fighting District Attorney then mercy must intervene in the name of +society and equalize the sentence. For the District Attorney is hired by the +county to send every man to prison, but no one is hired to defend the innocent +or to balance the scales of justice.</p> + +<p>Denver went to prison like any other prisoner, a rebel against society; but +after a lonely day in his cell he rose up and looked about him. Here were men +like himself–nay, old, hardened criminals–walking about in civilian +clothes, and the gates opened up before them. They passed out of the walled yard +and into the prison fields where there were cattle and growing crops; and they +came back fresh and earthy, after hours of honest toil with no one to watch or +guard them. It was the honor system which he had read about for years, but now +he saw it working; and after a week he sent word to the Warden that he would +give his word not to escape. That was all they asked of him, his word as a man; +and a great hope came over him and soothed the deep wound that the merciless law +had torn. He raised his head, that had been bowed on his breast, and the +strength came back into his limbs; and when the Warden saw him with a +sledge-hammer in his hands he smiled and sent him up to the road-camp.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span><a id='link_27'></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br /><span class='h2fs'>LIKE A HOG ON ICE</span></h2> + +<p>A month had wrought great changes in the life of Denver Russell, raising him +up from a prisoner, locked up like a mad dog, to the boss of a gang of +road-makers. He was free again, as far as bolts and bars were concerned; all +that kept him to his place was the word he had given and his pride as an honest +man. And now he was out, doing an honest man’s work and building a highway +for the state; and by the irony of fate the road he was improving was the one +that led to Pinal. For time had wrought other changes while he lay in prison and +the rough road up the canyon was swarming with traffic going and coming from +Murray’s camp. It was called “Murray” now, and a narrow-gauge +railroad was being rushed to haul out the ore. Teams and motor trucks swung by, +hauling in timbers and machinery, auto stages came and went like the wind; and +old Mike McGraw, who had hauled all the freight for years, looked on in wonder +and awe.</p> + +<p>Yes, Murray was a live camp, a copper camp with millions of dollars behind +it; and Bible-Back himself was a king indeed, for he had tapped the <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span>rich body of ore. It was +his courage and aggressiveness that had made the camp, and the papers all +sounded his praise; but still he was not satisfied and as he passed by Denver +Russell he glanced at him almost appealingly. Here was a man he had broken in +order to get his way, and his efforts had come to nothing; for the Silver +Treasure lay idle, waiting the clearing of its title before the work could go +on. And Denver Russell, swinging his double-jack on a drill, never once returned +the glance. He was stiff-necked and stubborn, though Murray had sent +intermediaries and practically promised to get him a parole.</p> + +<p>A legal point had come up, after Denver had been imprisoned, which Murray had +failed to foresee; the fact that a convict is legally dead until he has served +his term. He cannot transfer property or enter into a contract or transact any +business whatever–nor, on the other hand, can his mining claims be jumped. +As a ward of the State his property is held in trust until his term has expired. +Then he gains back his identity, if not his citizenship; and with the passing of +his number and the resumption of his name he can enter into contracts once more. +Murray’s lawyer had known all this, but Murray had not; and when he +suggested a suit to quiet title to the Silver Treasure old Bible-Back received a +great blow. After all his efforts he found himself balked–his work must +even be undone. Denver Russell must be pardoned, or at least paroled, and as the +price of his freedom he <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_240'></a>240</span>must give his word not to contest the title to his +mine. No papers would be necessary, in fact they would not be legal; but if his +word would prevent him from escaping from the road-camp it would keep him from +claiming his mine.</p> + +<p>Murray attended to the matter himself, for he was in a fever to begin work; +and then Denver Russell struck back–he refused to apply for parole. Though +he was pleasant and amenable, never breaking the prison rules and holding his +gang to their duty, when the kindly parole clerk offered to present his case to +the Board he had flatly and unconditionally refused. The smouldering fire of his +resentment had blazed up and overmastered him as he sensed the hidden hand of +his enemy, and he had cursed the black name of Murray. That was the beginning, +and now when Murray passed, his glance was almost beseeching. The price of +silver was going up, there were consolidation plans in sight, and Denver’s +claim apexed all the rest–Murray pocketed his pride and, after a word with +the guard, drew Denver out of hearing of the gang.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Russell,” he said trying to appear magnanimous, “that +offer of mine holds good. I’ll get you a parole to-morrow if you’ll +give me a quit-claim to your claim.”</p> + +<p>“How can I give you a quit-claim?” inquired Denver defiantly, +“a convict can’t give title to anything!”</p> + +<p>“Just give me your word then,” suggested Murray suavely and +Denver laughed in his face.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span>“You +glass-eyed old dastard,” he burst out contemptuously, “I know what +you’re up to, too well. You’re trying to get me paroled so you can +take my mine away from me and I won’t dare to raise a hand. But I’ll +fool you, old-timer; I’ll just serve my term out and then–well, +I’ll get back my mine.”</p> + +<p>“Is that a threat?” demanded Murray but Denver only smiled and +toyed with his heavy hammer. “Because if it is,” went on Murray, +“just for self-protection, I’ll see that you don’t get +out.”</p> + +<p>“No, it isn’t a threat,” answered Denver quietly. “If +I wanted to kill you I’d swing this sledge and knock you on the head, +right now. No, I don’t intend to kill you; but a man would be a sucker to +play right into your hands.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” asked Murray trying to argue the matter, but +Denver refused to indulge him.</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” he said, “you railroaded me to the +Pen’, but by grab you can’t get me out. I’ll just show you +I’m as independent as a hog on ice–if I can’t stand up +I’ll lay down.”</p> + +<p>“Then you intend, just to spite me, to remain on in prison when you +might be a free man to-morrow? I can’t believe that–it doesn’t +seem reasonable.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I can’t stand here talking,” answered Denver +impatiently and went off and left him staring.</p> + +<p>It certainly was unbelievable that any reasoning creature should prefer +confinement and disgrace to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_242'></a>242</span>freedom, but the iron had burned deep into +Denver’s soul and his one desire now was revenge. He had been deprived of +his property and branded a convict by this man who boasted of his powers; but, +like a thrown mule, if he could not have his way he could at least refuse to get +up. He was down and out; but by a miracle of Providence, a hitch in the wording +of the law, the slave-driver Murray could not proceed with his chariot until +this balky mule got up. Denver knew his rights as a prisoner of the state and +his status before the law; and bowed his head and took the beating stubbornly, +punishing himself a hundred times over to thwart his enemy’s plans. As he +worked on the road old friends came by and tried to argue him out of his mood, +even Bunker Hill suggested a compromise; but he only listened sulkily, a slow +smile on his lips, a gleam of smouldering hatred in his eyes.</p> + +<p>So the winter passed by and as spring came on the road-gang drew near to +Murray. From the hills above their camp Denver could see the dumps and hoists, +and the mill that was going up below, and as the ore-trains glided by on the +newly finished narrow-gauge he picked up samples of the copper. It was the same +as his vein, a brassy yellow chalcopyrites with chunks of red native copper, and +he forgot the daily heart-ache and the ignominy of his task as he contemplated +the wealth that awaited him. Yes, the mine was still his, though he was herded +with common felons and compelled to build <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_243'></a>243</span>a road for Murray; it was his and the law would +protect him, the same law that had sent him to prison. And he was a prisoner by +choice now for both the warden and the parole clerk had recommended him heartily +for parole.</p> + +<p>They treated him like a friend, like a big, wrong-headed boy who was still +sound and good at heart; and he knew that when he went to them and applied for a +parole they would recommend it at once to the Board. But he was playing a deep +game, one that had come to him suddenly when Murray had suggested a parole, for +by refusing to accept his freedom he made the state his guardian and the +receiver of his coveted property. It was safe, and he could wait; and when the +time was ripe he could apply to the Governor for a pardon. A pardon would remove +the taint of dishonor and restore him to honest citizenship; but a paroled man +was known for an ex-con everywhere–he might as well be back in the +road-gang. Yet it was hard on his pride when the automobiles rushed past and the +passengers looked back and stared, it was hard to have the guard always watching +the gang for fear that some crook might decamp; and only the thought that he was +working out his destiny gave him courage to play out his hand.</p> + +<p>But how wonderfully had the prophecy of Mother Trigedgo been justified by the +course of events! Not a year before he had come over the Globe trail in pursuit +of Slogger Meacham, and had discovered the Place of Death. It rose before him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span>now, a solid black +wall, and within its shadow lay the mine of the prophecy, the precious Silver +Treasure. He had chosen the silver treasure, and the yellow chalcopyrites had +added its wealth of copper. And now he but awaited the end of his long ordeal +and the reward of his courage and constancy. Both the silver and gold treasures +were destined to be his; and Drusilla–but there he paused. Old Bunk had +avoided him, Drusilla had not written; yet he had been careful not to reveal his +affection. Not once had he asked for her, only once had he written; yet perhaps +that one letter had defeated him. He had acknowledged his love, humbly admitted +his faults, and begged her to try to forgive him. Even that might have cost him +her love.</p> + +<p>The spring came on warmer, all the palo verde trees burst out in masses of +brilliant yellow, the mezquites hung out tassels of golden fuzz and the giant +cactus donned its crown of orange blossoms. Even the iron-woods flaunted bloom +and the barren, sandy washes turned green with six-weeks grass. It was a time +when rabbits gamboled, when mockingbirds sang by moonlight and all the world +turned young. Denver chafed at his confinement, one of his Mexicans broke his +parole, the hobo miners went swinging past; and just as the last of his courage +was waning Bunker Hill came riding down the road. He was on his big bay, yet not +out after cattle–he was coming straight towards him. Denver caught his +breath, and waited.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span><a id='link_28'></a>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>PAROLE</span></h2> + +<p>“Mornin’, Denver,” said Bunker Hill, “here’s a +letter that come for you–I forgot to send it down.”</p> + +<p>He fumbled in his pocket and Denver’s heart stood still, but it was +only his check from the smelter. He slipped it into his shirt without even +glancing at the big total and looked up at Bunker expectantly.</p> + +<p>“Well?” he prompted and Old Bunk twisted in the saddle before he +began to talk.</p> + +<p>“How much did you get for your shipment?” he inquired but Denver +shrugged impatiently.</p> + +<p>“What do I give a damn?” he demanded. “What’s up? +What you got on your mind?”</p> + +<p>“Big stuff,” replied Bunker, “but I want you to listen to +me–they’s no use running off at the head.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s running off at the head? Go on and shoot your wad. Is it +something about my mine?”</p> + +<p>“Yes–and mine,” answered Bunker. “I don’t know +whether you know it, but your property apexes the Lost Burro. And another thing, +silver has gone up. But Pinal is just as dead as it was a year ago. The whole +camp is waiting on you.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span>“Well, +what do you want me to do? Get a parole and give Murray my mine?”</p> + +<p>“No, just get a parole–and then we’ll get you a pardon. +I’ll tell you, Denver, the Dutchman has begun to talk and it seems he saw +your fight. He’s told several people that you never pulled your gun, just +struck out at the crowd with your fists. And if hints and winks count for +anything with him he knows who it was that killed Meacham. He says he was hit +from behind. I’ve tried everything, Denver, to make that Dutchman talk or +put something down on paper; but he’s scared so bad of Murray, and mebbe +of his gun-men, that he won’t say a word, unless he’s drunk. Now +here’s the proposition–old Murray has had you railroaded, and +he’s sure going to squeeze you until you let go of that claim. Why not +sell out for a good price, if he’ll make the Professor talk and help get +you a pardon from the Governor? You know the Governor, he’ll pardon most +anybody, but you’ve got to give him some excuse. Well, the Professor has +got the evidence to get you out to-morrow–if Murray will just tell him to +talk.”</p> + +<p>“What d’ye call a good price?” inquired Denver suspiciously. +“Did Murray put you up to this?”</p> + +<p>“No!” snapped Bunker, “but he named ten thousand dollars as +the most he could possibly give. He owns the Colonel Dodge’s interest in +the Lost Burro Mining Company now.”</p> + +<p>“Your pardner, eh?” sneered Denver. “Well, where would I +get off if I took this friendly tip? I’d <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_247'></a>247</span>lose my mine, that’s worth a million, at +least; and get ten thousand dollars and a parole. A paroled man can’t +locate a claim–nor an ex-convict, neither. The Silver Treasure is the last +claim that I’ll ever get; and I’m going to hold onto it, by +grab!”</p> + +<p>“You’re crazy,” declared Bunker, “didn’t I say +we’d get you a pardon? Well, a pardon restores you to +citizenship–you can locate all the claims you want.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sure; <i>if</i> I’m pardoned! But I know that danged +Dutchman–he wouldn’t turn a hand to get me out of the Pen’ if +you’d give him a hundred thousand dollars. He’s got it in for me, +for not buying his claim when I took the Silver Treasure from you; and +more’n that, he’s afraid of me, because if I ever get +out─”</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t be a dammed fool all the rest of your life,” +burst out Bunker Hill impatiently. “If you’d quiet down a little and +quit fighting your head, maybe your friends would be able to help you. I might +as well tell you that I’ve been to the Governor and told him the facts of +the case; and he’s practically promised, if the Professor will come +through, to give you a full pardon with citizenship. Now be reasonable, Denver, +and quit trying to whip the world, and we’ll get you out of this jack-pot. +Give old Murray your mine–you can never law it away from him–and +take your ten thousand dollars; then move to another camp and make a fresh start +where there’s nobody working against you. Of course I’m +Murray’s pardner–he put one over on <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_248'></a>248</span>me–but at the same time I reckon I’m +your friend. Now there’s the proposition and you can take it or leave +it–I ain’t going to bother you again.”</p> + +<p>“Nope, it don’t look good to me,” answered Denver promptly, +“there’s too many ifs and ands. And I’ll stay here till I rot +before Bible-Back Murray will ever get that mine from <i>me</i>. He hired that +bunch of gun-men to jump my claim twice when he had no title to the mine, and +then he hired Chatwourth and Slogger Meacham to get me in the door and kill me. +They made a slight mistake and got the wrong man, then sent me to the Pen’ +for murder. That’s the kind of a dastard you’ve got for a pardner +but you can tell him I’ll never give up. I’ll fight till I die, and +if I ever get out─”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there you go again,” burst out Bunker Hill bitterly, +“you ain’t got the brain of a mule. If I wasn’t to blame for +loaning you that gun and leaving you out of my sight, I’d pass up your +case for good. But I didn’t have no better sense than to slip you my old +six-shooter, and now Mrs. Hill can’t hardly git over it so I’ll give +you another try. My daughter, Drusilla, is coming home next week and she +hasn’t even heard about this trouble. Now–are you going to stay here +and meet her as a convict, or will you come and meet her like a gentleman. This +ain’t my doin’s–I’d see you in hell, first–but +Mrs. Hill says when you get out on parole we’ll be glad to receive you as +our guest.”</p> + +<p>Denver stopped and considered, smiling and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_249'></a>249</span>frowning by turns, but at last he shook his head +mournfully.</p> + +<p>“No,” he muttered, “what will she care for a poor ex-con? +No, I’m down and out,” he went on to Bunker, “and she’ll +hear about it, anyhow. It’s too late now to pretend I’m a +gentleman–my number has burned in like a brand. All these other prisoners +know me and they’ll turn me up anywhere; if I go to the China Coast one of +’em would show up, sooner or later, and bawl me out for a convict. No, +I’m ruined as a gentleman, and old Murray did it; but by God, if I live, +I’ll teach him to regret it–and he won’t make a dollar out of +me. That claim is tied up till John D. Rockefeller himself couldn’t get it +away from me now; and it’ll lay right there until I serve out my sentence +or get a free pardon from the Governor. I won’t agree to anything +and─”</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly and looked away, after which he reached out his hand.</p> + +<p>“Well, much obliged, Bunk,” he said, trying to smile, +“I’m sorry I can’t accommodate you. Just thank Mrs. Hill for +what she has done and–and tell her I’ll never forget it.”</p> + +<p>He went back to his work and old Bunk watched him wonderingly, after which he +rode solemnly away. Then the road-making dragged on–clearing away brush, +blasting out rock, filling in, grading up, making the crown–but now the +road-boss was absent minded and oblivious and his pride in the job was gone. He +let the men lag and leave rough <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_250'></a>250</span>ends, and every few moments his eyes would stray +away and look down the canyon for the stage. And as the automobiles came up he +scanned the passengers hungrily–until at last he saw Drusilla. There was +the fluttering of a veil, the flash of startled eyes, a quick belated wave, and +she was gone. Denver stood in the road, staring after her blankly, and then he +threw down his pick.</p> + +<p>“Send me back to the Pen’” he said to the guard, +“I’m going to apply for parole.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span><a id='link_29'></a>CHAPTER XXIX<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE INTERPRETATION THEREOF</span></h2> + +<p>After all his suffering, his oaths, his refusals, his rejection of each +friendly offer, Denver had changed his mind in the fraction of a second when he +saw Drusilla whirl past. He forgot his mine, the fierce battles, the +prophecy–all he wanted was to see her again. Placed on his honor for the +trip he started down the road, walking fast when he failed to catch a ride, and +early the next morning he reported at the prison to apply for an immediate +parole. But luck was against him and his heart died in his breast, for the Board +of Prison Directors had met the week before and would not meet again for three +weeks. Three weeks of idle waiting, of pacing up and down and cursing the slow +passage of time; and then, perhaps, delays and disappointments and obstructions +from Bible-Back Murray. He sat with bowed head, then rose up suddenly and wrote +a brief letter to Murray.</p> + +<p>“Get me a pardon,” he scrawled, “and I’ll give you a +quit-claim. This goes, if you do it quick.”</p> + +<p>He put it in the mail, with a special delivery stamp, and watched the endless +hours creep by. She was there in Pinal, running her scales, practicing <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span>her exercises, singing +arias from the operas at night; and he was shut in by the gray concrete walls +where the guards looked down from the towers. He could not trust himself now +outside of the yard, his nerve was gone and he would head for Pinal like a +homing bird to its mate. And then it came, quicker than he had ever thought or +hoped for, though he had offered the Silver Treasure in return for it–a +full pardon from the Governor, with his citizenship restored and a letter +expressing confidence in his innocence. Denver clutched it to his breast and +started out across the desert with his eyes on distant Pinal.</p> + +<p>It lay in the shadow of Apache Leap, that blue wall that loomed to the east, +and he hardly stopped to shake hands with the Warden in his haste to get out on +the road. There he stopped the first automobile that was going up the canyon and +demanded a ride as his right, and so earnest was his manner that the driver took +him in and even speeded up his machine. But at the fork of the ways, where the +new road turned off to Murray, Denver thanked him and got off to walk. The sun +was low but he did not hurry–he had begun to doubt his welcome. A hot +shame swept over him at his convict’s shirt, his worn shoes and battered +hat; and he wondered suddenly if it was not all a mistake, if he had not thrown +his mine away. She was an opera singer now, returning from a season which must +have given her a taste of success–what use would she have for him?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span>Up the wash to +the west, where the automobile road went, a big camp had sprung up in his +absence; but when he topped the hill and gazed down on Pinal nothing had +changed, it was just the same. The street was broad and empty, the houses still +in ruins, his cave still there across the creek; and from the chimney of +Bunker’s house a column of smoke mounted up to show that supper was being +cooked. Yes, it was the same old town that he had entered the year before when +Old Bunk had taken him for a hobo; but now he was hobo and ex-convict both, +though the pardon had restored him to citizenship. His broad shoulders drooped, +he turned back and crossed the creek and slunk like a thief to his cave.</p> + +<p>The door was chained but he wrenched it open and slipped in out of sight. +Bunker Hill had closed up the cave and covered all his things, and his bed was +spread with clean, white sheets; the floor was swept and the dishes washed, and +he knew whose hands had done it. It was Mrs. Hill’s, that kindest of all +women; who had even invited him to their home. Denver started a fire and cooked +a hasty supper from the canned goods that were left in his boxes and then he +looked down on the town. The sun had set now and a single bright star glowed +solemnly in the west, but the valley was silent except for the frogs that made +the air palpitate with their chorus. Old Bunk came out and went over to the +store; someone struck a chord in the house, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_254'></a>254</span>and as Denver listened hungrily a voice rose up, +clear and flute-like, yet somehow changed.</p> + +<p>It was her’s, it was Drusilla’s, and yet it was not; the year had +made a change. There was a difference in her singing; a new note of tenderness, +of yearning, of sadness, of love. Yes, he recognized it now, it had the quality +of the Cradle Song that she had listened to so enviously on his phonograph. She +had caught it, at last, that secret, subtle something which gives Schumann-Heink +her power; and which comes only from love–and suffering. Denver rose up, +startled; he had not thought of it before, but Drusilla must have suffered, too. +Not as tragically as he but in other ways, fighting her way against the whole +world. He went in hastily and lit his lamp but even when he was dressed his +courage failed him and he bowed his head on the table. He dared not face +her–now.</p> + +<p>The singing had ceased, the frog chorus seemed to mock him, to din his +convict’s shame into his ears; but as he yielded to despair a hand fell on +his shoulders and he looked up to see Drusilla. She was more beautiful than +ever, dressed in the soft yellow gown that she had worn when first he saw her, +but her eyes were reproachful and near to tears and she drew her hand away.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” she asked. “Can’t you ever care for me? +Must I make every single advance? Oh, Denver, after I’d come clear home to +see you–why wouldn’t you come down to the house?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span>He roused up +startled, unable to comprehend her, his mind in a whirl of emotions.</p> + +<p>“I was afraid you didn’t want me,” he said at last and she +sank down on the bench beside him.</p> + +<p>“Not want you?” she repeated. “Why, haven’t I done +everything to get you out of prison? Didn’t I go to the Professor and beg +and plead with him and sing all my German songs; didn’t I go to the +Governor and take him with me, and go through everything to have you +pardoned?”</p> + +<p>“Pardoned!” burst out Denver and then he stopped and shook his +head regretfully. “No,” he said, “I wish you had, though. I +traded my mine for it–to Murray!”</p> + +<p>“Why, Denver!” she cried, “you did nothing of the kind. I +got you that pardon myself! And then, after all that–and after I’d +played, and sung, and waited for you–you wouldn’t even come down to +see me!”</p> + +<p>“Why, sure I would!” he protested brokenly, “I’d do +anything for you, Drusilla! But I was afraid you wouldn’t want me. +I’ve been in prison, you know, and it makes a difference. They call me an +ex-con now.”</p> + +<p>“No, but Denver,” she entreated, “surely you didn’t +think–why, we <i>asked</i> you to come and stay with us.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know,” he said but the sullen look had come back; he +could not forget so soon. “I know,” he went on, “but it +wouldn’t be right–I guess we’ve made a mistake. I wanted to +see you, Drusilla; <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_256'></a>256</span>I gave everything I had, just to get here before you +went─”</p> + +<p>“Did you really?” she asked taking him gently by the hand and +looking deep into his eyes, “did you give up your mine–for +me?”</p> + +<p>“Just to see you,” answered Denver, “but after I got +here─”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m so glad!” she sighed, “and you haven’t +lost your mine. I got to the Governor first.”</p> + +<p>“You did?” he cried and then he sat up and the old fire came back +into his eyes. “That’s right,” he laughed, “you must +have beat him to it–I thought that pardon came quick! This’ll cost +old Murray a million.”</p> + +<p>“No, you haven’t lost your mine,” she went on, smiling +curiously. “You think a lot of it, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know,” grumbled Denver, “whether I do +or not now. I believe that mine was a Jonah. I believe I made a mistake and +chose the wrong treasure–I should have taken the gold.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Denver!” she beamed, “do you really think so? +I’ve always just hated that mine. I’ve always had the feeling that +you thought more of it than you did of me–or anybody.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I did,” confessed Denver, “it seemed to kind of draw +me–to make me forget everything else. And Drusilla, I’m sorry I +didn’t come down–that night when you went away.”</p> + +<p>“It was the mine,” she frowned, “I believe it was accursed. +It always came between us. But <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_257'></a>257</span>you must sell it now, and not work for a +while–I want you to entertain me.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do it!” exclaimed Denver, “I’ll sell out +for what I can get and then we can be together. How did you get along on your +trip?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, fine!” she burst out radiantly, “Oh, I had such +<i>luck</i>. I was only the understudy, and doing minor parts, when the soprano +was taken ill in the second act and I went in and scored a triumph. It was ‘Love +Tales of Hoffmann’ and when I sang the ‘Barcarolle’ they recalled me +seven times! That is they recalled us both–it’s sung as a duet, you +know.”</p> + +<p>“Um,” nodded Denver and listened in glum silence as she related +the details of her premier. “And how about those tenors?” he asked +at last, “did any of ’em steal my kiss?”</p> + +<p>“No–or that is–well, we won’t talk about that now. +But of course I have to act my parts.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, sure, sure!” he answered rebelliously and a triumphant +twinkle came into her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Do you still believe in the prophecy?” she asked, “and in +all that Mother Trigedgo told you? Because if you do, I’ve got some +news–you won’t die until you’re past eighty.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t?” challenged Denver and then he stopped and waited +as she smiled back at him mischievously.</p> + +<p>“She’s a nice old woman,” went on Drusilla demurely, +“but I wouldn’t take her too seriously. She told me, for instance, +that I’d give up a great career <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_258'></a>258</span>in order to marry for love. Yes, I went over to see +her, myself.”</p> + +<p>“But what about me?” demanded Denver eagerly, “did she say +I’d live till I was eighty?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she did; and she told me some other things, including the color +of your eyes. But don’t you see, Denver, that you made a mistake when you +took what she said so seriously? Why, you wouldn’t even speak to me or let +us be friends for fear that I’d rise up and kill you; and now it appears +that it was all a mistake and you’re going to live till you’re +eighty.”</p> + +<p>“Well, all the same,” responded Denver sighing and stretching his +great arms, “I’m awful glad she said it. And a man could live to be +eighty and still be killed by his friend. No, I believe that prophecy was +true!”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” she assented, “but you don’t need to +worry about our friendship, and that’s the principal thing. I just did it +to set your mind at rest.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it <i>was</i> true,” he went on rousing up from a reverie, +“but I was wrong–I should have taken the gold.”</p> + +<p>“Is that all you think of?” she asked impatiently, “is +there nothing but silver and gold?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there is,” he acknowledged, “but–say, Drusilla +I’m going to buy out the Dutchman. I believe that stringer of his is +rich.”</p> + +<p>“What stringer?” she demanded looking up from her own musings and +then she nodded and sighed. “Yes, I know,” she said, +“you’re back at your <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_259'></a>259</span>mining–but you promised you’d think only +of me. I may not be here long and you want to be nice to me; because I almost +hated you, once. Now listen, Denver, and let <i>me</i> +interpret–don’t you know you’ve got everything +wrong?”</p> + +<p>“No!” declared Denver, “it has all come out perfectly. +I’ve lived clear through it, already. Only I chose the wrong treasure and +so I lost them both and suffered a great disgrace. I should have taken the +gold.”</p> + +<p>“No; listen Denver,” she went on patiently, “and +don’t always be thinking of <i>things</i>. A golden treasure isn’t +necessarily of gold, it might be even–me.”</p> + +<p>“You?” echoed Denver and then he clutched his hands and stared +about him wildly.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” she answered evenly, “haven’t you noticed +my hair? Other men are not so blind–and one of them said it reminded him +of fine-spun gold. Yes, I was the golden treasure in the shadow of Apache Leap, +but all you could think of was mines. The mine was your silver treasure, and you +had to choose between us–and you always chose the mine. No matter how I +sang, or did up my hair or came around where you were at work; you always went +into that black, hateful hole, and I used to go home and cry. But–no, +listen, Denver–when you saw me come back, and you wanted to see me, and +there was no other way to do it; then you threw away your mine and told Murray +to take it–and I knew that you really loved me. You <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_260'></a>260</span>loved me even more than your mine, and +so you won us both. Do you like your golden treasure?”</p> + +<p>“I was a fool!” moaned Denver but she stroked his rumpled hair +and raised his face from his hands.</p> + +<p>“We’ve both of us been foolish,” she whispered, “I +nearly hated you once, and nearly gave your kiss to a tenor. But–oh +Denver, I’ll never sing with those men again! I know you wouldn’t +like it.”</p> + +<p>“No, I wouldn’t,” he admitted, “and if you’ll +only─”</p> + +<p>“There it is,” she interrupted, giving him the long-treasured +kiss. “I saved it just for you.”</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SILVER AND GOLD***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 30572-h.txt or 30572-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/5/7/30572">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/5/7/30572</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30572-h/images/illus-emb.jpg b/30572-h/images/illus-emb.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..696b3ad --- /dev/null +++ b/30572-h/images/illus-emb.jpg diff --git a/30572.txt b/30572.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4b8cf90 --- /dev/null +++ b/30572.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7261 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Silver and Gold, by Dane Coolidge + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Silver and Gold + A Story of Luck and Love in a Western Mining Camp + + +Author: Dane Coolidge + + + +Release Date: December 2, 2009 [eBook #30572] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SILVER AND GOLD*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +SILVER AND GOLD + + * * * * * + +BY THE SAME AUTHOR + +THE FIGHTING FOOL: + +A Tale of the Western Frontier + +Cloth, 12mo. with a wrapper drawn by Edward Borein + +$1.75 net + +E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY + +NEW YORK + + * * * * * + + +SILVER AND GOLD + +A Story of Luck and Love in a Western Mining Camp + +by + +DANE COOLIDGE + +Author of "The Fighting Fool" Etc. + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + +"Gold is where you find it, and Silver in high places." + --_Miners' Saying_. + + +New York +E. P. Dutton & Company +681 Fifth Avenue + +Copyright, 1919 +By E. P. Dutton & Company +All Rights Reserved + +Printed in the United States of America + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. The Ground-Hog 1 + II. Big Boy 7 + III. Hobo Stuff 16 + IV. Cash 23 + V. Mother Trigedgo 33 + VI. The Oraculum 42 + VII. The Eminent Buttinsky 53 + VIII. The Silver Treasure 61 + IX. Bible-Back Murray 72 + X. Signs and Omens 81 + XI. The Lady of the Sycamores 92 + XII. Steel on Steel 100 + XIII. Swede Luck 108 + XIV. The Strike 119 + XV. A Night for Love 128 + XVI. A Friend 138 + XVII. Broke 147 + XVIII. The Hand of Fate 154 + XIX. The Man-Killer 161 + XX. Jumpers--and Tenors 170 + XXI. Broke Again 180 + XXII. The Rock-Drilling Contest 189 + XXIII. The Heart of his Beloved 200 + XXIV. Colonel Dodge 210 + XXV. The Answer 219 + XXVI. The Course of the Law 231 + XXVII. Like a Hog on Ice 238 + XXVIII. Parole 245 + XXIX. The Interpretation Thereof 251 + + + + +SILVER AND GOLD + + + + +_THE PROPHECY_ + +"You will make a long journey to the West and there, within the +shadow of a Place of Death, you will find two treasures, one of Silver +and the other of Gold. Choose well between them and both shall be Yours, +but if you choose unwisely you will lose them Both and suffer a great +disgrace. You will fall in love with a beautiful woman who is an artist, +but beware how you reveal your affection or she will confer her hand +upon Another. Courage and constancy will attend you through life but in +the end will prove your undoing, for you will meet your death at the +hands of your Dearest Friend." + + + + +SILVER AND GOLD + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE GROUND-HOG + + +The day had dawned on the summit of Apache Leap and a golden eagle, +wheeling high above the crags, flashed back the fire of the sun from his +wings; but in the valley below where old Pinal lay sleeping the heat had +not begun. A cool wind drew down from the black mouth of Queen Creek +Canyon, stirring the listless leaves of the willows, and the shadow of +the great cliff fell like a soothing hand on the deserted town at its +base. In the brief freshness of the morning there was a smell of +flaunting green from the sycamores along the creek, and the tang of +greasewood from the ridges; and then, from the chimney of a massive +stone house, there came the odor of smoke. A coffee mill began to purr +from the kitchen behind and a voice shouted a summons to breakfast, but +the hobo miner who lay sprawling in his blankets did not answer the +peremptory call. He raised his great head, turned his pig eyes toward +the house, then covered his face from the flies. + +There was a clatter of dishes, a long interval of silence, and then the +sun like a flaming disc topped the mountain wall to the east. The square +adobe houses cast long black shadows across the whitened dust of the +street and as the man burrowed deeper to keep out the light the door of +the stone house slammed. The day seldom passed when Bunker Hill's wife +did not cook for three or four hoboes but when Old Bunk called a man in +to breakfast he expected him to come. He stood for a minute, tall and +rangy and grizzled, a desert squint in one eye; and then with a muttered +oath he strode across the street. + +"Hey!" he called prodding the blankets with his boot and the hobo came +alive with a jump. + +"You look out!" he snarled, bounding violently to his feet and dropping +back to a crouch; but when he met Bunker Hill's steely eyes he mumbled +something and lowered his hands. + +"All right, pardner," observed Hill, "I'll do all of that; but if you +figure on getting any breakfast you'd better come in and eat it." + +"Huh!" responded the hobo scowling and blinking at the sun and then +without a word he started for the house. He was a big, hulking man, with +arms like a bear and bulging, bench-like legs; but the expression on his +face above his enormous black mustache was that of a disgruntled +ground-hog. His nose was tipped up, his eyes were small and stubborn and +as he ate a hurried breakfast he glanced about uneasily as if fearful of +some trap; yet if Bunker Hill had any reservations about his guest he +did not abate his hospitality. The coffee was still hot, there was +plenty of everything and when the miner rose to go Old Bunk accompanied +him to the door. + +"Going to be hot," he observed as the heat struck through their clothes; +but the hobo omitted even a nod of assent in his haste to be off down +the trail. + +"Well, the dadblasted bum!" exclaimed Bunker in a rage as the miner +passed over the first hill and, stumping across the street, he rolled up +the tumbled blankets. "The dirty dog!" he grumbled vindictively, +hoisting the bed upon his shoulders; but as he started back to the house +he heard something drop from the roll. He paused and looked back and +there on the ground lay a wallet, stuffed with bills. It was the miner's +purse, which he had put under his pillow and forgotten in his sudden +departure. + +"O-ho!" observed Bunker as he picked it up. "O-ho, I thought you was +broke!" He opened the purse with great deliberation, laying bare a great +sheaf of bills, and as his wife and daughter came hurrying down the +steps he counted the hobo's hoard. + +"Over eight hundred dollars," he announced with ominous calm. "Some +roll, when a man is bumming his meals and can't even stop to say +thanks----" + +"He's coming back for it," broke in his wife anxiously. "And now, +Andrew, please don't----" + +"Never mind," returned her husband, slipping the wallet into his pocket, +and she sighed and folded her hands. The hobo was walking fast, coming +back down the hill, and when he saw Hill by the blankets he broke into a +ponderous trot. + +"Say," he called, "you didn't see a purse, did ye? I left one under my +blankets." + +"A purse!" exclaimed Bunker with exaggerated surprise. "Why I thought +you was broke--what business have _you_ got with a purse?" + +"Well, I had a few keep-sakes and----" + +"You're a liar!" rapped out Bunker and his sharp lower jaw suddenly +jutted out like a crag. "You're a liar," he repeated, as the hobo let it +pass, "you had eight hundred and twenty-five dollars." + +"Well, what's that to you?" retorted the miner defiantly. "It's mine, so +gimme it back!" + +"Oh, I don't know," drawled Bunker hauling the purse from his pocket and +looking over the bills, "I don't know whether I will or not. You came in +here last night and told me you were broke, but right here is where I +collect. It'll cost you five dollars for your supper and breakfast and +five dollars more for your bed--that's my regular price to transients." + +"No, you don't!" exclaimed the hobo, but as Bunker looked up he drew +back a step and waited. + +"That's ten dollars in all," continued Hill, extracting two bills from +the purse, "and next time you bum your breakfast I'd advise you to thank +the cook." + +"Hey, you give me that money!" burst out the miner hoarsely, holding out +a threatening hand, and Bunker Hill rose to his full height. He was six +feet two when he stooped. + +"W'y, sure," he said handing over the wallet; but as the miner turned to +go Hill jabbed him in the ribs with a pistol. "Just a moment, my +friend," he went on quietly, "I just want to tell you a few things. I've +been feeding men like you for fifteen years, right here in this old +town, and I've never turned one away yet; but you can tell any bo that +you meet on the trail that the road-sign for this burg is changed. I +used to be easy, but so help me Gawd, I'll never feed a hobo again. Here +my wife has been slaving over a red-hot stove cooking grub for you +hoboes for years and the first bum that forgets and leaves his purse has +eight hundred dollars--cash! Now you git, dad-burn ye, before I do the +world a favor and fill you full of lead!" He motioned him away with the +muzzle of his pistol while his wife laid a hand on his arm, and after +one look the hobo turned and loped over the top of the hill. + +"Now Andrew, please," expostulated Mrs. Hill, and, still breathing hard, +Old Bunk put up his gun and reached for a chew of tobacco. + +"Well, all right," he growled, "but you heard what I said--that's the +last doggoned hobo we feed." + +"Well--perhaps," she conceded, but Bunker Hill was roused by the memory +of years of ingratitude. + +"No 'perhaps' about it," he asserted firmly, "I'll run every last one of +them away. Do you think I'm going to work my head off for my family, +only to be et out of house and home? Do you think I'm going to have you +cooking meals for these miners when they're earning their five dollars a +day? Let 'em buy a lunch at the store!" + +"No, but Andrew," protested Mrs. Hill, who was a large, motherly soul +and not to be bowed down by work, "I'm sure that some of them are +worthy." + +"Yes, I know you are," he answered, smiling grimly, "that's what you +always say. But you hear me, now; I'm through. Don't you feed another +man." + +He turned to his daughter for support, but his bad luck had just begun. +Drusilla was shading her eyes from the sun and staring up the trail. + +"Oh, here comes another one," she cried in a hushed voice and pointed up +the creek. He stood at the mouth of the black-shadowed canyon where the +trail comes in from Globe--a young man with wind-blown hair, looking +doubtfully down at the town; but when he saw them he stepped boldly +forth and came plodding down the trail. + +"Oh, not this one!" pleaded Mrs. Hill when she saw his boyish face; but +Bunker Hill thrust out his jaw. + +"Every one of 'em," he muttered, "the whole works--all of 'em! You women +folks go into the house." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +BIG BOY + + +He was a big, fair-haired boy, blue-eyed and clean limbed, and as he +came down the trail there was a spring to his step that not even a limp +could obliterate; and at every stride the great muscles in his chest +played and rippled beneath his shirt. He was a fine figure of a man, +tall and straight as an Apollo, and yet he was a hobo. Never before had +Bunker Hill seen a better built man or one more open-faced and frank, +but he came down the trail with the familiar hobo-limp and Bunker set +his jaws and waited. It was such men as this, young and strong and full +of blood, who had kept him poor for years. Hobo miners, the most expert +of their craft, and begging their grub on the trail! + +"Good morning," nodded Hill and squinted down his eyes as the young man +boggled at his words. + +"Good morning," replied the hobo and then, after a pause, he +straightened up and came to the point. "What's the chance to get a +little something to eat?" he inquired with a twisted smile and Bunker +Hill sprang his bomb. + +"Danged poor," he returned, and as the hobo blinked he spoke his piece +with a rush. "I've got a store over there where you can buy what you +want; but I've quit, absolutely, feeding every hobo that comes by and +batters my door for grub. I'm an old man myself and you're young and +strong--why the hell don't you get out and work?" + +"Never you mind," answered the hobo, his eyes glowing angrily; and as +Old Bunk went on with his tirade the miner's lip curled with scorn. +"That's all right, old-timer," he broke in with cold politeness--"no +offense--don't let me deprive you. I don't make a practice of battering +on back doors. But, say, I'm looking for a fellow with a big, black +mustache--did you see him come by this way?" + +"Did I _see_ him?" yelled Hill flying into a fury, "well you're +danged whistling I did! He came in last night and bummed his supper--my +wife had to cook it special--and I gave him his bed and breakfast; and +this morning when he left he didn't even say: 'Thanks!' That's how +grateful these hoboes are! And when I went out to pick up his blankets a +thumping big purse dropped out!" + +"Holy Joe!" exclaimed the hobo looking up with sudden interest, "say, +how long ago did he leave?" + +"Not half an hour! No, not ten minutes ago--and if my wife hadn't been +there to hold me down I'd have run him till he dropped. And when I +opened that purse it was full of money--there was eight hundred and +twenty-five dollars--and him trying to tell me he was broke!" + +"That's him, all right," declared the hobo. "Well, so long; I'll be on +my way." + +He started off down the trail at a long, swinging stride, then turned +abruptly back. + +"I'll get a drink," he suggested, "if there's no objection. Don't charge +for your water, I reckon." + +It was all said politely and yet there was an edge to it which cut Old +Bunk to the quick. He, Bunker Hill, who had fed hoboes for years and had +never taken a cent, to be insulted like this by the first sturdy beggar +that he declined to serve with a meal! He reached for his gun, but just +at that moment his wife laid a hand on his arm. She had not been far +away, just up on the porch where she could watch what was going on, and +she turned to the hobo with a smile. + +"Mr. Hill is just angry," she explained good-naturedly, "on account of +that other man; but if you'll wait a few minutes I'll cook you some +breakfast and----" + +"Thank you, ma'am," returned the miner, taking off his hat civilly, +"I'll just take a drink and go." + +He hurried back to the well and, picking up the bucket, drank long and +deep of the water; then he threw away the rest and with practiced hands +drew up a fresh bucket from the depths. + +"You'd better fill a bottle," called Bunker Hill, whose anger was +beginning to evaporate, "it's sixteen miles to the next water." + +The hobo said nothing, nor did he fill a bottle, and as he came back +past them there was a set to his jaw that was eloquent of rage and +disdain. It was the custom of the country--of that great, desert country +where houses are days' journeys apart--to invite every stranger in; and +as Bunker Hill gazed after him he saw his good name held up to +execration and scorn. This boy was a Westerner, he could tell by his +looks and the way he saved on his words, perhaps he even lived in those +parts; and in a sudden vision Hill beheld him spreading the news as he +followed the long trail to the railroad. He would come dragging in to +Whitlow's Wells, the next station down the road, so weak he could hardly +walk and when they enquired into his famished condition he would unfold +some terrible tale. And the worst of it was that the boys would believe +it and repeat it to all who passed. Men would hear in distant cow camps, +far back in the Superstitions, that Old Bunk had driven a starving man +from his door and he had nearly perished on the desert. + +"Hey!" called Bunker Hill taking a step or two after him, "wait a +minute--I'll give you a lunch." + +"You can keep your lunch," said the man over his shoulder and strode +doggedly on up the hill. + +"Gimme something to take to him," rapped out Hill to his wife, but the +hobo's sharp ears had caught the words and he wheeled abruptly in his +tracks. + +"I wouldn't take your danged lunch if it was the last grub on earth," he +shouted in a towering rage; and while they stood gazing he turned his +back and passed on over the hill. + +"Let 'im go!" grumbled Bunker pacing up and down and avoiding his +helpmeet's eye, but at last he ripped out a smothered oath and racked +off down the street to his stable. This was an al fresco affair, +consisting of a big stone corral within the walls of what had once been +the dancehall, and as he saddled up his horse and rode out the narrow +gate he found his wife waiting with a lunch. + +"Don't crush the doughnuts," she murmured anxiously and patted his hand +approvingly. + +"All right," he said and, putting spurs to his horse, he galloped off +over the hill. + +The old town of Pinal lay on a bench above the creek bed, with high +cliffs to the east and north; but south and west the country fell off +rapidly in a series of rolling ridges. Over these the road to the +railroad climbed and dipped with wearisome regularity until at last it +dropped down into the creek-bed again and followed its dry, sandy +course. Not half an hour had passed from the time the second hobo left +till Old Bunk had started after him, yet so fast had he traveled that he +was almost to the creek bed before Bunker Hill caught sight of him. + +"Ay, Chihuahua!" he ejaculated in shrill surprise and reined in his +horse to gaze. The young hobo was running and, not far ahead, the Ground +Hog was fleeing before him. They ran through bushy gulches and over +cactus-crowned ridges where the sahuaros rose up like giant sentinels; +until at last, as he came to the sandy creek-bed, the black hobo stood +at bay. + +"They're fighting!" exclaimed Bunker with a joyous chuckle and rode down +the trail like the wind. + +After twenty wild years in Old Mexico, there were times when Bunker Hill +found Arizona a trifle tame; but here at last there was staged a combat +that promised to take a place in local history. When he rode up on the +fight the young miner and the Ground Hog were standing belt to belt, +exchanging blows with all their strength, and as the young man reeled +back from a right to the jaw the Ground Hog leapt in to finish him. + +"Here! None of that!" spoke up Bunker Hill menacing the black hobo with +his quirt; but the battered young Apollo waved him angrily aside and +flew at his opponent again. + +"I'll show you, you danged dog!" he cursed exultantly as the Ground Hog +went down before him, "I'll show you how to run out on me! Come on, you +big stiff, and if I don't make you holler quit you can have every dollar +you stole!" + +"Hey, what's the matter, Big Boy? What's going on here?" demanded Bunker +of the blond young giant. "I thought you fellers were pardners." + +"Pardners, hell!" spat Big Boy, whose mouth was beginning to bleed. "He +robbed me of all my money. We won eight hundred dollars in the drilling +contest at Globe and he collected the stakes and beat it!" + +"You're a liar!" retorted the Ground Hog standing sullenly on his guard, +and once more Big Boy went after him. They roughed it back and forth, +neither seeking to avoid the blows but swinging with all their might; +until at last the Ground Hog landed a mighty smash that knocked his +opponent to the ground. "Now lay there," he jeered, and, stepping over +to one side, he picked up a purse from the ground. + +It was the same bulging purse that he had forgotten that morning in his +hurry to get over the hill, and as Bunker Hill gazed at it two things +which had misled him became suddenly very plain. The day before had been +the Fourth of July, when the miners had their contests in Globe, and +these two powerful men were a team of double-jackers who had won the +first prize between them. Then the Ground Hog had stolen the total +proceeds, which accounted for his show of great wealth; and Big Boy, on +the other hand, being left without a cent, had been compelled to beg for +his breakfast. A wave of righteous anger rose up in Old Bunk's breast at +the monstrous injustice of it all and, whipping out his pistol, he threw +down on the Ground Hog and ordered him to put up his hands. + +"And now lay down that purse," he continued briefly, "before I shoot the +flat out of your eye." + +The hobo complied, but before he could retreat the young miner raised +himself up. + +"Say, you butt out of this!" he said to Bunker Hill, waggling his head +to shake off the blood. "I'll 'tend to this yap myself." + +He turned his gory front to the Ground Hog, who came eagerly back to the +fray; and once more like snarling animals they heaved and slugged and +grunted, until once more poor Big Boy went down. + +"I can whip him!" he panted rising up and clearing his eyes. "I could +clean him in a minute--only I'm starved." + +He staggered and the heart of Bunker Hill smote him when he remembered +how he had denied the man food. Yet he bored in resolutely, though his +blows were weak, and the Ground Hog's pig eyes gleamed. He abated his +own blows, standing with arms relaxed and waiting; and when he saw the +opening he struck. It was aimed at the jaw, a last, smashing hay-maker, +such a blow as would stagger an ox; but as it came past his guard the +young Apollo ducked, and then suddenly he struck from the hip. His whole +body was behind it, a sharp uppercut that caught the hurtling Ground Hog +on the chin; and as his head went back his body lurched and followed and +he landed in a heap in the dirt. + +"He's out!" shouted Bunker and Big Boy nodded grimly; but the Ground Hog +was pawing at the ground. He rose up, and fell, then rose up again; and +as they watched him half-pityingly he scrambled across the sand and made +a grab at the purse. + +"You stand back!" he blustered clutching the purse to his breast and +snapping open the blade of a huge jack-knife; but before Old Bunk could +intervene Big Boy had caught up a rock. + +"You drop that knife," he shouted fiercely, "or I'll bash out your +brains with this stone!" And as the Ground Hog gazed into his battle-mad +eyes he weakened and dropped the knife. "Now gimme that purse!" ordered +the masterful Big Boy and, cringing before the rock, the beaten Ground +Hog slammed it down on the ground with a curse. + +"I'll git you yet!" he burst out hoarsely as he shambled off down the +trail, "I'll learn you to git gay with me!" + +"You'll learn me nothing," returned the young miner contemptuously and +gathered up the spoils of battle. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +HOBO STUFF + + +"Young man," began Bunker Hill after a long and painful silence in which +Big Boy completely ignored him, "I want to ask your pardon. And anything +I can do----" + +"I'm all right," cut in the hobo wiping the blood out of one eye and +feeling tenderly of a tooth, "and I don't want nothing to do with you." + +"Can't blame ye, can't blame ye," answered Old Bunk judicially. "I +certainly got you wrong. But as I was about to say, Mrs. Hill sent this +lunch and she said she hoped you'd accept it." + +He untied a sack from the back of his saddle, and as he caught the +fragrance of new-made doughnuts Big Boy's resolution failed. + +"All right," he said, making a grab for the lunch. "Much obliged!" And +he chucked him a bill. + +"Hey, what's this for?" exclaimed Bunker Hill grievously. "Didn't I ask +your pardon already." + +"Well, maybe you did," returned the hobo, "but after that call down you +gave me this morning I'm going to pay my way. It's too danged bad," he +murmured sarcastically as he opened up the lunch. "Sure hard luck to see +a good woman like that married to a pennypinching old walloper like +you." + +"Oh, I don't know," observed Old Bunk, gazing doubtfully at the bill, +but at last he put it in his pocket. + +"Yes, that's right," he agreed with an indulgent smile, "she's an awful +good cook--and an awful good woman, too. I'll just give her this money +to buy some little present--she told me I was wrong, all the time. But I +want to tell you, pardner--you can believe it or not--I never turned a +man down before." + +The hobo grunted and bit into a doughnut and Bunker Hill settled down +beside him. + +"Say," he began in an easy, conversational tone, "did you ever hear +about the hobo that was walking the streets in Globe? Well, he was broke +and up against it--hadn't et for two days and the rustling was awful +poor--but as he was walking along the street in front of that big +restaurant he saw a new meal ticket on the sidewalk. His luck had been +so bad he wouldn't even look at it but at last when he went by he took +another slant and see that it was good--there wasn't but one meal +punched out." + +"Aw, rats," scoffed Big Boy, "are you still telling that one? There was +a miner came by just as he reached down to grab it and punched out every +meal with his hob-nails." + +"That's the story," admitted Bunker, "but say, here's another one--did +you ever hear of the hobo Mark Twain? Well, he was a well-known +character in the old days around Globe--kinder drifted around from one +camp to the other and worked all his friends for a dollar. That was his +regular graft, he never asked for more and he never asked the same man +twice, but once every year he'd make the rounds and the old-timers kind +of put up with him. Great story-teller and all that and one day I was +sitting talking with him when a mining man came into the saloon. He +owned a mine, over around Mammoth somewhere, and he wanted a man to herd +it. It was seventy-five a month, with all expenses paid and all you had +to do was to stick around and keep some outsider from jumping in. Well, +when he asked for a man I saw right away it was just the place for old +Mark and I began to kind of poke him in the ribs, but when he didn't +answer I hollered to the mining man that I had just the feller he +wanted. Well, the mining man came over and put it up to Mark, and +everybody present began to boost. He was such an old bum that we wanted +to get rid of him and there wasn't a thing he could kick on. There was +plenty of grub, a nice house to live in and he didn't have to work a +tap; but in spite of all that, after he'd asked all kinds of questions, +Old Mark said he'd have to think it over. So he went over to the bar and +began to figger on some paper and at last he came back and said he was +sorry but he couldn't afford to take it. + +"'Well, why not?' we asks, because we knowed he was a bum, but he says: +'Well gentlemen, I'll tell ye, it's this way. I've got twelve hundred +friends in Arizona that's worth a dollar apiece a year; but this danged +job only pays seventy-five a month--I'd be losing three hundred a year." + +"Huh, huh," grunted Big Boy, picking up some folded tarts, "your mind +seems to be took up with hoboes." + +"Them's my wife's pay-streak biscuits," grinned Bunker Hill, "or at +least, that's what I call 'em. The bottom crust is the foot-wall, the +top is the hanging-wall, and the jelly in the middle is the pay streak." + +"Danged good!" pronounced the hobo licking the tips of his fingers and +Old Bunk tapped him on the knee. + +"Say," he said, "seeing the way you whipped that jasper puts me in mind +of a feller back in Texas. He was a big, two-fisted hombre, one of these +Texas bad-men that was always getting drunk and starting in to clean up +the town; and he had all the natives bluffed. Well, he was in the saloon +one day, telling how many men he'd killed, when a little guy dropped in +that had just come to town, and he seemed to take a great interest. He +kept edging up closer, sharpening the blade of his jack-knife on one of +these here little pocket whetstones, until finally he reached over and +cut a notch in the bad man's ear. + +"There," he says, "you're so doggoned bad--next time I see you I'll know +you!" + +"Yeh, some guy," observed Big Boy, "and I see you're some story-teller, +but what's all this got to do with me?" + +"Oh, nothing, nothing," answered Old Bunk hastily, "only I thought while +you were eating----" + +"Yes, you told me two stories about a couple of hoboes and then another +one about taming down a bad man; but I want to tell you right now, +before you go any further, that I'm no hobo nor bad man neither. I'm a +danged good miner--one of the best in Globe----" + +"Aw, no no!" burst out Bunker holding up both hands in protest, "you've +got me wrong entirely." + +"Well, your stories may be all right," responded Big Boy shortly, "but +they don't make a hit with me. And I've took about enough, for one day." + +He started back up the trail and Bunker Hill rode along behind him going +over the events of the day. Some distinctly evil genius seemed to have +taken possession of him from the moment he got out of bed and, try as he +would, it seemed absolutely impossible for him to square himself with +this Big Boy. + +"Hey, git on and ride," he shouted encouragingly, but Big Boy shook his +head. + +"Don't want to," he answered and once more Bunker Hill was left to +ponder his mistakes. The first, of course, was in taking too much for +granted when Big Boy had walked into town; and the second was in ever +refusing a hobo when he asked for something to eat. True it amounted in +the aggregate to a heart-breaking amount--almost enough to support his +family--but a man lost his luck when he turned a hobo down and Old Bunk +decided against it. Never again, he resolved, would he restrain his good +wife from following the dictates of her heart, and that meant that every +hobo that walked into town would get a square meal in his kitchen. Where +the cash was coming from to buy this expensive food and pay for the +freighting across the desert was a matter for the future to decide, but +as he dwelt on his problem a sudden ray of hope roused Bunker Hill from +his reverie. Speaking of money, the ex-hobo, walking along in front of +him, had over eight hundred dollars in his hip pocket--and he claimed to +be a miner! + +"Say!" began Bunker as they came in sight of town, "d'ye see those old +workings over there? That's the site of the celebrated Lost Burro +Mine--turned out over four millions in silver!" + +"Yeah, so I've heard," answered Big Boy wearily, "been closed down +though, for twenty years." + +"I'm the owner of that property," went on Bunker pompously. "Andrew Hill +is my name and I'd be glad to show you round." + +"Nope," said the future prospect, "I'm too danged tired. I'm going down +to the crick and rest." + +"Come up to the house," proposed Bunker Hill cordially, "and meet my +wife and family. I'm sure Mrs. Hill will be glad to see you back--she +was afraid that something might happen to you." + +The hobo glanced up with a swift, cynical smile and turned off down the +trail to the creek. + +"I see you've got your eye on my roll," he observed and Bunker Hill +shrugged regretfully. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CASH + + +It was evident to Bunker Hill that no common measures would serve to +interest this young capitalist in his district; and yet there he was, a +big husky young miner, with eight hundred dollars in his pocket. That +eight hundred dollars, if wisely expended, might open up a bonanza in +Pinal; and in any case, if it was spent with him, it would help to pay +the freight. Old Bunk chopped open a bale of hay with an ax and gave his +horse a feed; and, after he had given his prospect time to rest, he +drifted off down towards the creek. + +The creek at Pinal was one of those vagrant Western streams that appear +and disappear at will. Where its course was sandy it sank from sight, +creeping along on the bed-rock below; but where as at Pinal the bed-rock +came to the surface, then the creek, perforce, rushed and gurgled. From +the dark and windy depths of Queen Creek Canyon it came rioting down +over the rocks and where the trail crossed there was a mighty sycamore +that almost dammed its course. With its gnarled and swollen roots half +dug from their crevices by the tumultuous violence of cloudbursts, it +clung like an octopus to a shattered reef of rocks and sucked up its +nourishment from the water. In the pool formed by its roots the minnows +leapt and darted, solemn bull-frogs stared forth from dark holes, and in +a natural seat against the huge tree trunk Big Boy sat cooling his feet. +He looked younger now, with the blood washed off his face and the hard +lines of hunger ironed out, and as Bunker Hill made some friendly crack +he showed his white teeth in a smile. + +"Pretty nice down here," he said and Bunker nodded gravely. + +"Yes," he said, "nice place for frogs. Say, did you ever hear the story +about Spud Murphy's frog farm? Well Spud was an old-timer, awful gallant +to the ladies, especially when he'd had a few drinks, and every time +he'd get loaded about so far he'd get out an old flute and play it. But +it sounded so sad and mournful that everybody kicked, and one time over +at a dance when Spud was about to play some ladies began to jolly him +about it. + +"'Well, I'll tell you,' says Spud, 'there's a story connected with that +flute. The only time I ever stood to make a fortune I spoiled it by +playing that sad music.' + +"'Oh, tell us about it,' they all says at once; so Spud began on his +tale. + +"It seems he was over around Clifton when some French miners came in +and, knowing their weakness, Spud dammed up the creek and got ready to +have a frog farm. He sent back to Arkansaw and got three carloads of +bull-frogs--thoroughbreds old Spud said they was--and turned them loose +in the creek; and every evening, to keep them from getting lonely, he'd +play 'em a few tunes on his flute. Well, they were doing fine, getting +used to the dry country and beginning to get over being homesick, when +one night Murph went up there and played them the Arkansaw Traveler. + +"Well, of course that was the come-on--Old Spud stopped his story--and +finally one lady bit. + +"'Yes, but how did you lose your fortune?' she asks and Spud he shakes +his head. + +"'By playing that tune,' he says. 'Them frogs got so homesick they +started right out for Arkansaw--and every one perished on the desert.'" + +"Huh!" grunted Big Boy, who had been listening intolerantly. "Say, is +that all you do--sit around and tell stories for a living? Why the hell +don't you git out and work?" + +"Well, you got me again, kid," admitted Old Bunk mournfully, "I'm sure +sorry I made you that talk. But I was so doggoned sore at that pardner +of yours that I kinder went out of my head." + +"Well, all right," conceded Big Boy, "if that's the way you feel about +it there's no use rubbing it in, but you certainly lost out with me. My +hands may be big, but I never broadened my knuckles by battering on +other people's back doors. At the same time if I have to ask a man for a +meal I expect to be treated civil. When I'm working around town and a +miner strikes me for a stake I give him a dollar to eat on, and if I +happen to be broke when I land in a new camp I work my face the same +way. That's the custom of the country, and when a man asks me why I +don't work----" + +"Aw, forget it!" pleaded Bunker, "didn't I ask your pardon? Didn't my +wife tell you why I said it? But I'll bet you, all the same, if you'd +fed as many as I have you'd throw a fit once in a while, yourself. +Here's the whole camp shut down, only one outfit working and they're +just running a diamond drill--and at the same time I have to feed every +hobo that comes through, whether he's got any money or not. How'd you +like to buy your grub at these war-time prices and run a hotel for +nothing, and at the same time keep up the assessment work on fifteen or +twenty claims? Maybe you'd get kind of peevish when a big bum laid in +his blankets and wouldn't even get up for breakfast!" + +"Ah, that man Meacham!" burst out Big Boy scornfully. "Say do you know +what that yap did to me? We were drilling pardners in the double-jack +contest--it was just yesterday, over in Globe--and in the last few +minutes he began to throw off on me, so I had to win the money myself. +Practically did all the work, and while they were giving me a rub-down +afterwards he collected the money and beat it. I'd put up every dollar I +had in side bets, and the first prize was seven hundred dollars; but he +collected it all and then, when I began looking for him, he took out +over this trail. Well, I was so doggoned mad when I found out what he'd +done that I didn't even stop to eat, and I followed him on the run until +dark. When I ran out of matches to look for his tracks I laid down and +slept in the trail and this morning when I got up I was so stiff and +weak that I couldn't hardly crawl. But I caught the big jasper and +believe me, old-timer, he'll think twice before he robs me again!" + +"He will that," nodded Bunker, "but say, tell me this--ain't half of +that money his?" + +"Not a bean!" declared Big Boy. "We fought for the purse, the winner to +take it all. He saw I was weak or he'd never have stood up to me--that's +why he was so sore when he lost." + +"I'd never've let him hurt you!" protested Old Bunk vehemently, "I had +my gun on him, all the time. And if I'd had my way you'd never have +fought him--I'd have taken the purse away from him." + +"Yes, that's it, you see--that's what he was fishing for--he wanted you +to make it a draw! But I knew all the time I could lick him with one +hand--and I did, too, and got the money!" + +"You did danged well!" praised Bunker roundly, "I never see a gamier +fight; but I thought at the end he sure had you beat--you could hardly +hold up your hands." + +"All a stall!" exclaimed Big Boy proudly. "I began fighting his way at +first, but I saw I was too weak to slug; so, just for a come-on, I +pulled my blows and when he made a swing I downed him." + +"Well, well!" beamed Old Bunk, "you certainly are a wise one--you know +how to use your head. I wouldn't have believed it, but if you're as +smart as all that you've got no business working as a miner. You've got +a little stake--why don't you buy a claim and make a play for big money? +Look at the rich men in the West--take Clark and Douglas and +Wingfield--how did they all get their money? Every one of them made it +out of mining. Some started in as bankers, or store-keepers or +saloon-keepers; but they got their big money, just the same as you or I +will, out of a four-by-six hole in the ground. That's the way I dope it +out and I've spent fifteen years of my life just playing that system to +win. Me and old Bible-Back Murray, the store-keeper down in Moroni, have +been working in this district for years; and, sooner or later, one or +the other of us will strike it and we'll pile up our everlasting +fortunes. I hate the Mormon-faced old dastard, he's such a sanctified +old hypocrite, but I always treat him white and if his diamond drill +hits copper he'll make the two of us rich. Anyhow, that's what I'm +waiting for." + +Big Boy looked up at the striated hills which lay like a section of +layer cake between the base of the mountains and the creek and then he +shook his head. + +"Nope," he said, "it don't look good to me. The formation runs too +regular. What you need for a big mineral deposit is some fissure veins, +where the country has been busted up more." + +"Oh, it don't look like a mineral country at all, eh?" enquired Bunker +Hill sarcastically. "Well, how do you figure it out then that they took +out four million dollars' worth of silver from that little hill right up +the creek?" + +"Don't know," answered Big Boy, "but you couldn't work it now, with +silver down to fifty-two cents. It's copper that's the high card now." + +"Yes, and look what happened to copper when the war broke out?" cried +Bunker Hill derisively, "it went down to eleven cents. But is it down to +eleven now? Well, not so you'd notice it--thirty-one would be more like +it--and all on account of the metal trust. They smashed copper down, +then bought it all up, and now they're boosting the price. Well, they'll +do the same with silver." + +"Aw, you're crazy," came back Big Boy, "they need copper to make +munitions to sell to those nations over in Europe; but what can you make +out of silver?" + +"Oh, nothing," jeered Bunker, "but I'll tell you what you _can_ +do--you can use it to pay for your copper! You hadn't figured that out, +now had you? Well, here now, let me tell _you_ a few things. These +people that are running the metal-buying trust are smart, see--they look +way ahead. They know that after we've grabbed all the gold away from +Europe those nations will have to have some other metal to stand behind +their money--and that metal is going to be silver. The big operators up +in Tonopah ain't selling their silver now, they're storing it away in +vaults, because they know in a little while all the nations in the world +are going to be bidding for silver. And say, do you see that line of +hills? There's silver enough buried underneath them to pay the national +debt of the world." + +He paused and nodded his head impressively and Big Boy broke into a +grin. + +"Say," he said, "you must have some claim for sale, like an old feller I +met over in New Mex. + +"'W'y, young man,' he says when I wouldn't bite, 'you're passing up the +United States Mint. If you had Niagara Falls to furnish the power, and +all hell to run the blast furnace, and the whole State of Texas for a +dump, you couldn't extract the copper from that property inside of a +million years. It's big, I'm telling you, it's big!' And all he wanted +for his claim was a thousand dollars, down." + +"Aw, you make me tired," confessed Bunker Hill frankly, now that he saw +his sale gone glimmering, "I see you're never going to get very far. +You'll tramp back to Globe and blow in your money and go back to +polishing a drill. W'y, a young man like you, if he had any ambition, +could buy one of these claims for little or nothing and maybe make a +fortune. I'll tell you what I'll do--you stay around here a while and +look at some of my claims; and if you see something you like----" + +"Nope," said Big Boy, "you can't work me now--you lost your horse-shoe +this morning. I was a hobo then and you told me to go to hell, but now +when you see I've got eight hundred dollars you're trying to bunco me +out of it. I know who you are, I've heard the boys tell about +you--you're one of these blue-bellied Yankees that try to make a living +swapping jack-knives. You got your name from that Bunker Hill monument +and they shortened it down to Bunk. Well, you lose--that's all I'll say; +I wouldn't buy your claims if they showed twenty dollar gold pieces, +with everything on 'em but the eagle-tail. And the formation is no good +here, anyhow." + +"Oh, it ain't, hey?" came back Bunk thrusting out his jaw belligerently, +"well take a look up at that cliff. That Apache Leap is solid +porphyry----" + +"Apache Leap!" broke in Big Boy suddenly sitting erect and looking all +around, "by grab, is this the place?" + +"This is the place," replied Old Bunk wagging his head and smiling +wisely, "and that cap is solid porphyry." + +"Gee, boys!" exclaimed Big Boy getting up on his feet, "say, is that +where they killed all those Indians?" + +"The very place," returned Bunker Hill proudly, "you can find their +skeletons there to this day." + +"Well, for cripe's sake," murmured Big Boy at last and looked up at the +cliff again. + +"Some jump-off," observed Bunker, but Big Boy did not hear him--he was +looking up at the sun. + +"Say," he said, "when the sun rises in the morning how far out does that +shadow come?" + +"What shadow?" demanded Bunker Hill. "Oh, of Apache Leap? It goes way +out west of town." + +"And does it throw its shadow on these hills where your claims are? +Well, old-timer, I'll just take a look at them." + +He climbed out purposefully and began to put on his shoes and Old Bunk +squinted at him curiously. There was something going on that he did not +know about--some connection between the Leap and his mines; he waited, +and the secret popped out. + +"Say," said Big Boy after a long minute of silence, "do you believe in +fortune-tellers?" + +"Sure thing!" spoke up Bunker, suddenly taking a deep breath and +swallowing his Adam's apple solemnly, "I believe in them phenomena +implicitly. And, as I was about to say, you can have any claim I've got +for eight hundred dollars--cash." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MOTHER TRIGEDGO + + +"Well, I'll tell you," confided Big Boy, moving closer to Old Bunk and +lowering his voice mysteriously, "I know you'll think I'm crazy, but +there's something to that stuff. Maybe we don't understand it, and of +course there's a lot of fakes, but I got this from Mother Trigedgo. +She's that Cornish seeress, that predicted the big cave in the stope of +the Last Chance mine, and now I _know_ she's good. She tells +fortunes by cards and by pouring water in your hand and going into a +trance. Then she looks into the water and sees a kind of vision of all +that is going to happen. Well, here's what she said for me--and she +wrote it down on a paper. + +"'You will soon make a journey to the west and there, in the shadow of a +place of death, you will find two treasures, one of silver and the other +of gold. Choose well between the two and----" + +"By grab, that's right, boy!" exclaimed Old Bunk enthusiastically, "she +described this place down to a hickey. You came west from Globe and when +you went by here the shadow was still on those hills; and as for a place +of death, Apache Leap got its name from the Indians that jumped over +that cliff. Say, you could hunt all over Arizona and not find another +place that came within a mile of it!" + +"That's right," mused Big Boy, "but I was thinking all the time that +that place of death would be a graveyard." + +"Sure, but how could a graveyard cast a shadow--they're always on level +ground. No, I'm telling you, boy, that there cliff is the place--lemme +tell you how it got its name. A long time ago when the Indians were bad +they had a soldiers' post right here where this town stands, and they +kept a lookout up on the Picket Post butte, where they could heliograph +clear down to Tucson. Well, every time a bunch of Indians would go down +out of the hills to raid some wagon-train on the trail this lookout +would see them and signal Tucson and the soldiers would do the rest. It +got so bymeby the Indians couldn't do anything and at last Old Cochise +got together about eight hundred Apaches and came over to wipe out the +post. It looked easy at the time, because there was less than two +hundred men, but the major in command was a fighting fool and didn't +know when he was whipped. The Apaches all gathered up on the top of +those high cliffs--it's flat on the upper side--and one night when their +signal fires had burned down the soldiers sneaked around behind them. +And then, just at dawn, they fired a volley and made a rush for the +camp; and before they knowed it about two hundred Indians had jumped +clean over the cliff. They killed the rest of them--all but two or three +bucks that fought their way through the line--and now, by grab, you +couldn't get an Indian up there if you'd offer him a quart of whiskey. +It's sure bad medicine for Apaches." + +"Isn't it wonderful!" exclaimed Big Boy, "there's no use talking--this +sure is the place of death. And say, next time you go over to Globe you +go and see Mother Trigedgo--I just want to tell you what she did!" + +"All right," sighed Old Bunk, who preferred to talk business, and he +settled down to listen. + +"This Mother Trigedgo," began Big Boy, "isn't an ordinary, cheap +fortune-teller. Those people are all fakes because they're just out for +the dollar and tell you what they think you want to know. But Mother +Trigedgo keeps a Cousin-Jack boarding house and only prophesies when she +feels the power. Sometimes she'll go along for a week or more and never +tell a fortune; and then, when she happens to be feeling right, she'll +tell some feller what's coming to him. Those Cousin Jacks are crazy +about what she can do, but I never went to a seeress in my life until +after we had that big cave. I'm a timber man, you see, and sometimes I +take contracts to catch up dangerous ground; and the best men in the +world when it comes to that work are these old-country Cousin Jacks. +They're nervy and yet they're careful and so I always hire 'em; but when +we were doing this work down in the stope of the Last Chance, they began +talking about Mother Trigedgo. It seems she'd told the fortune of a boy +or two--they were all of them boarding at her house--and she was so +worried she could hardly cook on account of them working in this mine. +It was swelling ground and there were a lot of old workings where the +timbering had given way; and to tell you the truth I didn't like it +myself, although I wouldn't admit it." + +"Well, it was the twenty-second of April, and all that morning we could +hear the ground working over head and when it came noon we went up +above, as we says, for a breath of fresh air. But while we were eating, +there was a Cousin Jack named Chambers fetched up this old talk about +Mother Trigedgo, and how she'd predicted he'd be killed in a cave if he +didn't quit working in the stope; and when our half-hour's nooning was +up he says: 'I'll not go down that shaft!' + +"We were all badly scared, because that ground was always moving, and +finally we agreed that we'd take a full hour off and work till five +o'clock. Well, we waited till after one before we went to the collar and +just as I was stepping into the cage the whole danged stope caved in!" + +"Well, sir, I went back to my room and got every dollar I had and gave +Mother Trigedgo the roll. I could easy earn more but if I'd been caught +in that cave they'd never even tried to dig me out. That was the least I +could do, considering what she'd done for me; but Mother Trigedgo took +on so much about it that I told her it was to have my fortune told. +Well, she tried the cards and dice and consulted the signs of the +Zodiac; and then one day when she felt the power strong she poured a +little water in my hand. That made a kind of pool, like these +crystal-gazers use, and when she looked into it she began to talk and +she told me all about my life. Or that is, she told me what she thought +I ought to know, and gave me a copy of the Book of Fate that Napoleon +always consulted. And here it ain't three months till I make this +journey west and find the place she prophesied." + +"Yes, and silver, too!" added Old Bunk portentously, "she hit it, down +to a hickey. And now, if you'd like to inspect those claims----" + +"No, hold on," protested Big Boy still pondering on his fate, "I've got +to find these treasures myself. And one of them was of gold. What's the +chances around here for that?" + +"Danged poor," grumbled Bunker as he saw his hopes gone glimmering, +"don't remember to have seen a color. But say, old Bible Back is +drilling for copper and that's a good deal like gold. Same color, +practically, and you know all these prophecies have a kind of symbolical +meaning. A golden treasure don't necessarily mean gold, and I've got a +claim----" + +"Say, who's that up there?" broke in Big Boy uneasily and Old Bunk +looked around with a jerk. + +An old, white-haired man, wearing a battered cork helmet, was peering +over the bank and when he perceived that his presence was discovered he +came shuffling down the trail. He was a short, fat man, in faded shirt +and overalls; and on his feet he wore a pair of gunboat brogans, thickly +studded on the bottom with hob-nails. A space of six inches between the +tops of his shoes and the worn-off edge of his trousers exposed his +shrunken shanks, and he carried a stick which might serve for cane or +club as circumstances demanded. He came down briskly with his broad toes +turned out in grotesque resemblance to a duck and when Bunker Hill saw +him he snorted resentfully and rose up from his seat. + +"Have you seen my burros?" demanded the old man, half defiantly, "I +can't find dose rascals nowhere. Ah, so; here's a stranger come to camp! +Good morning, I'm glad to know you." + +"Good morning," returned Big Boy glancing doubtfully at Bunker Hill, "my +name is Denver Russell." + +"Oh, excuse _me_!" spoke up Bunker with a sarcastic drawl, "Mr. +Russell, this is Professor Diffenderfer, the eminent buttinsky and +geologist." + +"Ah--so!" beamed the Professor overlooking the fling in the excitement +of the meeting, "I take it you're a mining man? Vell, if it's golt +you're looking for I haf a claim up on dat hill dat is rich in +auriferous deposits." + +"Yes," broke in Bunker giving Big Boy a sly wink, "you ought to inspect +that tunnel--it's unique in the annals of mining. You see the Professor +here is an educated man--he's learned all the big words in the +dictionary, and he's learned mining from reading Government reports. +We're quite proud of his achievements as a mining engineer, but you +ought to see that tunnel. It starts into the hill, takes a couple of +corkscrew twists and busts right out into the sunshine." + +"Oh, never mind _him_!" protested the Professor as Bunker burst +into a roar, "he will haf his choke, of course. But dis claim I speak +of----" + +"And that ain't all his accomplishments," broke in Bunker Hill +relentlessly, "Mr. Diffenderfer is a count--a German count--sometimes +known as Count No-Count. But as I was about to say, his greatest +accomplishments have been along tonsorial lines." + +A line of pain appeared between the Professor's eyes--but he stood his +ground defiantly. "Yes," went on Bunker thrusting out his jaw in a +baleful leer at his rival, "for many years he has had the proud +distinction of being the Champion Rough-Riding Barber of Arizona." + +"Vell, I've got to go," murmured the Professor hastily, "I've got to +find dem burros." + +He started off but at the plank across the creek he stopped and cleared +his throat. "Und any time," he began, "dat you'd like to inspect dem +claims----" + +"The Champeen--Rough-Riding--Barber!" repeated Old Bunk with gusto, "he +won his title on the race-track at Tucson, before safety razors was +invented." + +"Shut up!" snapped the Professor and, crossing the plank with waspish +quickness, he went squattering off down the creek. Yet one ear was +turned back and as Bunker began to speak he stopped in the trail to +listen. + +"He took a drunken cowboy up in the saddle before him," went on Bunker +with painful distinctness, "and gave him a close shave while the horse +was bucking, only cutting his throat three times." + +"You're a liar!" yelled the Professor and, stamping his foot, he hustled +vengefully off down the trail. + +"Say, who is that old boy?" enquired Big Boy curiously, "he might know +where I'd find that gold." + +"Who--him?" jeered Bunker, "why, that old stiff wouldn't know a chunk of +gold if he saw it. All he does is to snoop around and watch what +_I'm_ doing, and if he ever thinks that I've picked up a live one +he butts in and tries to underbid me. Now I'll tell you what I'll do, +I'll get you a horse and show you all over the district, and any claim +I've got that you want to go to work on, you can have for five hundred +dollars. Now, that's reasonable, ain't it? And yet, the way things are +going, I'm glad to let you in on it. If you strike something big, here +I've got my store and mine, and plenty of other claims, to boot; and if +there's a rush I stand to make a clean-up on some of my other +properties. So come up to the house and meet my wife and daughter, and +we'll try to make you comfortable. But that old feller----" + +"Nope," said Big Boy, "I think I'd rather camp--who lives in those +cave-houses up there?" + +He jerked his head at some walled-up caves in the bluff not far across +the creek and Old Bunk scowled reproachfully. + +"Oh, nobody," he said, "except the rattle-snakes and pack-rats. Why +don't you come up to the house?" + +"I don't need to go to your house," returned Big Boy defiantly. "I've +got money to buy what I need." + +"Yes, but come up anyway and meet my wife and daughter. Drusilla is a +musician--she's studied in Boston at the celebrated Conservatory of +Music----" + +"I've got me a phonograph," answered Big Boy shortly, "if I can ever get +it over here from Globe." + +"Well, go ahead and get it, then," said Bunker Hill tartly, "they's +nobody keeping you, I'm sure." + +"No, and you bet your life there won't be," came back Big Boy, starting +off, "I'm playing a lone hand to win." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE ORACULUM + + +The palpitating heat lay like a shimmering fleece over the deserted camp +of Pinal and Denver Russell, returning from Globe, beheld it as one in a +dream. Somewhere within the shadow of Apache Leap were two treasures +that he was destined to find, one of gold and one of silver; and if he +chose wisely between them they were both to be his. And if he chose +unwisely, or tried to hold them both, then both would be lost and he +would suffer humiliation and shame. Yet he came back boldly, fresh from +a visit with Mother Trigedgo who had blessed him and called him her son. +She had wept when they parted, for her burdens had been heavy and his +gift had lightened her lot; but though she wished him well she could not +control his fate, for that lay with the powers above. Nor could she +conceal from him the portion of evil which was balanced against the +good. + +"Courage and constancy will attend you through life'" she had written in +her old-country scrawl; "but in the end will prove your undoing, for you +will meet your death at the hands of your dearest friend." + +That was the doom that hung over him like a hair-suspended sword--to be +killed by his dearest friend--and as he paused at the mouth of Queen +Creek Canyon he wished that his fortune had not been told. Of what good +to him would be the two hidden treasures--or even the beautiful young +artist with whom he was destined to fall in love--if his life might be +cut off at any moment by some man that he counted his friend? +_When_ his death should befall, Mother Trigedgo had not told, for +the signs had been obscure; but when it did come it would be by the hand +of the man that he called his best friend. A swift surge of resistance +came over him again as he gazed at the promised land and he shut his +teeth down fiercely. He would have no friends, no best of friends, but +all men that he met he would treat the same and so evade the harsh hand +of fate. Forewarned was forearmed, he would have no more pardners such +as men pick up in rambling around; but in this as in all else he would +play a lone hand and so postpone the evil day. + +He strode on down the trail into the silent town where the houses stood +roofless and bare, and as he glanced at the ancient gallows-frame above +the abandoned mine fresh courage came into his heart. This city of the +dead should come back to life if what the stars said was true; and the +long rows of adobes now stripped of windows and doors, would awaken to +the tramp of miners' boots. He would find two treasures and, if he chose +well between them, both the silver and the gold would be his. But +neither wily Bunker Hill nor the palavering Professor should pull him +this way or that; for Mother Trigedgo had given him a book, to consult +on all important occasions. It was Napoleon's Oraculum, or Book of Fate; +and as Denver had glanced at the key--with its thirty-two questions +covering every important event in human life--a thrill of security had +passed over him. With this mysterious Oraculum, the Man of Destiny had +solved the many problems of his life; and in question thirteen, that +sinister number, was a test that would serve Denver well: + +"Will the FRIEND I most reckon upon prove faithful or treacherous?" + +How many times must that great, aloof man have put some friend's loyalty +to the test; and if the answer was in the negative how often had he +avoided death by foreknowledge of impending treachery! Yet such friends +as he had retained had all proved loyal, his generals had been devoted +to his cause; and with the aid of his Oraculum he had conquered all his +enemies--until at last the Book of Fate had been lost. At the battle of +Leipsic, in the confusion of the retreat, his precious Dream Book had +been left behind. Kings and Emperors had used it since, and seeresses as +well; and now, after the lapse of a hundred years, it was published in +quaint cover and lettering, for the guidance of all and sundry. And Old +Mother Trigedgo, coming all the way from Cornwall, had placed the Book +of Fate in his hands! There was destiny in everything, and this woman +who had saved his life could save it again with her Oraculum. + +Denver turned to the Mexican who, with two heavily-packed mules, stood +patiently awaiting his pleasure; and with a brief nod of the head he +strode down the trail while the mules minced along behind him. Past the +old, worked-out mine, past the melted-down walls of abandoned adobe +ruins, he led on to the store and the cool, darkened house which +sheltered the family of Andrew Hill; but even here he did not stop, +though Old Bunk beckoned him in. His life, which had once been as other +people's lives, had been touched by the hand of fate; and gayeties and +good cheer, along with friendship and love, had been banished to the +limbo of lost dreams. So he turned across the creek and led the way to +the cave that was destined to be his home. + +It was an ancient cavern beneath the rim of a low cliff which overlooked +the town and as Denver was helping to unlash the packs Bunker Hill came +toiling up the trail. + +"Got back, hey?" he greeted stepping into the smoke-blackened cave and +gazing dubiously about, "well, it'll be cool inside here, anyway." + +"Yes, that's what I figured on," responded Denver briefly, and as he +cleaned out the rats' nests and began to make camp Old Bunk sat down in +the doorway and began a new cycle of stories. + +"This here cave," he observed, "used to be occupied by the +cliff-dwellers--them's their hand-marks, up on the wall; and then I +reckon the Apaches moved in, and after them the soldiers; but when the +Lost Burro began turning out the ore, I'll bet it was crowded like a +bar-room. Them was the days, I'm telling you--you couldn't walk the +street for miners out spending their money--and a cliff-house like this +with a good, tight roof, would bring in a hundred dollars a night, any +time that it happened to rain. All them melted-down adobes was plumb +full of people, the saloons were running full blast, and the miner that +couldn't steal ten dollars a day had no business working underground. +They took out chunks of native silver as big as your head, and it all +ran a thousand ounces to the ton, but even at that them worthless +mule-skinners was throwing pure silver at their teams. They had mounted +guards to ride along with the wagons and keep them from stealing the +ore, but you can pick up chunks yet where them teamsters threw them off +and never went back to find 'em. + +"Did you ever hear how the Lost Burro was found? Well, the name, of +course, tells the story. If one of these prospectors goes out to find +his burros he runs across a mine; and if he goes out the next day to +look for another mine he runs across his burros. The most of them are +like the old Professor down here, they wouldn't know mineral if they saw +it; but of course when they grab up a chunk of pure silver and start to +throw it at a jackass they can't help taking notice. Well, that's the +way this mine was found. A prospector that was camping here went up on +that little hill to rock his old burro back to camp and right on top he +found a piece of silver that was so pure you could cut it with your +knife. That guy was honest, he gave the credit to his burro, and, if the +truth was known, half the mines in the west would be named after some +knot-headed jackass. That's how much intellect it takes to be a +prospector." + +"No, I'll tell you what's the matter with these prospectors," returned +Denver with a miner's scorn, "they do everything in the world but dig. +They'll hike, and hunt burros and go out across the desert; but anything +that calls for a few taps of work they'll pass it right up, every time. +And I'll tell you, old-timer, all the mines on top of ground have been +located long ago. That's why you hear so much about 'Swede luck' these +days--the Swede ain't too lazy to sink. + +"That's my motto--sink! Get down to bed-rock and see what there is on +the bottom; but these danged prospectors just hang around the +water-holes and play pedro until they eat up their grub-stakes." + +"Heh, heh; that's right," responded Bunker reminiscently, "say, did you +ever hear of old Abe Berg? He used to keep a store down below in Moroni; +and there was one of these old prospectors that made a living that way, +used to touch him up regular for a grub-stake. Old Abe was about as easy +as Bible-Back Murray when you showed him a rich piece of ore and after +this prospector had et up all his grub he'd drift back to town for more. +But on the way in, like all of them fellers, he'd stop at some real good +mine; and after he'd stole a few chunks of high-grade ore he'd take it +along to show to Abe. But after a while Old Abe got suspicious--he +didn't fall for them big stories any more--and at last he began to +enquire just where this bonanza was, that the prospector was reporting +on so favorable. Well, the feller told him and Abe he scratched his head +and enquired the name of the mine. + +"'Why, I call it the Juniper,' says the old prospector kind of innocent; +and Abe he jumped right up in the air. + +"'Vell, dat's all right,' he yells, tapping himself on the chest, 'but +here's one Jew, I betcher, dat you von't nip again!' Get the point--he +thought the old prospector was making a joke of it and calling his mine +the Jew-Nipper!" + +"Yeah, I'm hep," replied Russell, "say who is this feller that you call +Bible-Back Murray--has he got any claims around here?" + +"Claims!" repeated Bunker, "well, I guess he has. He's got a hundred if +I've got one--this whole upper district is located." + +"What--this whole country?" exclaimed Denver in sudden dismay, "the +whole range of hills--all that lays in the shadow of the Leap?" + +"Jest about," admitted Bunker, "but as I told you before, you can have +any of mine for five hundred." + +"Oh hell," burst out Denver and then he roused up and a challenge crept +into his voice. "Do you mean to tell me," he said, "that he's kept up +his assessment work? Has he done a hundred dollars worth of work on +every claim? No, you know danged well he hasn't--you've just been doing +lead-pencil work." + +"That's all right," returned Bunker, "we've got a gentlemen's agreement +to respect each others monuments; and you'll find our sworn statements +that the work has been done on file with the County Recorder." + +"Yes, and now I know," grumbled Russell rebelliously, "why the whole +danged district is dead. You and Murray and this old Dutchman have +located all the ground and you're none of you doing any work. But when a +miner like me blows into the camp and wants to prospect around he's +stuck for five hundred dollars. How'm I going to buy my powder and a +little grub and steel if I give up my roll at the start? No, I'll look +this country over and if I find what I want----" + +"You'll pay for it, young man," put in Bunker Hill pointedly, "that is, +if it belongs to me." + +"Well, I will if it's worth it," answered Russell grudgingly, "but +you've got to show me your title." + +"Sure I will," agreed Bunker, "the best title a man can have--continuous +and undisputed possession. I've been here fifteen years and I've never +had a claim jumped yet." + +"Who's this Bible-Back Murray?" demanded Denver, "has he got a clean +title to his ground?" + +"You bet he has," replied Bunker Hill, "and he's got my name as a +witness that his yearly assessment work's been done." + +"And you, I suppose," suggested Denver sarcastically, "have got +_his_ name, as an affidavit man, to prove that _your_ work has +been done. And when I look around I'll bet there ain't a hole anywhere +that's been sunk in the last two years." + +"Yes there is!" contradicted Bunker, "you go right up that wash that +comes down from them north hills and you'll find one that's down twelve +hundred feet. And there's a diamond drill outfit sinking twenty feet a +day, and has been for the last six months. At five dollars a +foot--that's the contract price--Old Bible-Back is paying a hundred +dollars a day. Now--how many days will that drill have to run to do the +annual work? No, you're all right, young man, and I like your nerve, but +you don't want to take too much for granted." + +"Judas priest!" exclaimed Russell, "twelve hundred feet deep? What does +the old boy think he's got?" + +"He's drilling for copper," nodded Bunker significantly, "and for all +you and I know, he's got it. He's got an armed guard in charge of that +drill, and no outsider has been allowed anywhere near it for going on to +six months. The cores are all stored away in boxes where nobodv can get +their hands on them and the way old Bible-Back is sweating blood I +reckon they're close to the ore. But a hundred dollars a day--say, the +way things are now that'll make or break old Murray. He's been blowing +in money for ten or twelve years trying to develop his silver +properties; but now he's crazy as a bed-bug over copper--can't talk +about anything else." + +"Is that so?" murmured Denver and as he went about his work his brain +began to seethe and whirl. Here was something he had not known of, an +element of chance which might ruin all his plans; for if the diamond +drill broke into rich copper ore his chance at the two treasures would +be lost. There would be a big rush and the price of claims would soar to +thousands of dollars. The country looked well for copper, with its heavy +cap of dacite and the manganese filling in the veins; and it was only a +day's journey in each direction from the big copper camps of Ray and +Globe. He turned impulsively and reached for his purse, but as he was +about to plank down his five hundred dollars in advance he remembered +Mother Trigedgo's words. + +"Choose well between the two and both shall be yours. But if you choose +unwisely, then both will be lost and you will suffer humiliation and +shame." + +"Say," blurted out Denver, "your claims are all silver--haven't you got +a gold prospect anywhere?" + +"No, I haven't," answered Old Bunk, his eye on the bank-roll, "but I'll +accept a deposit on that offer. Any claim I've got--except the Lost +Burro itself--for five hundred dollars, cash." + +"How long is that good for?" enquired Russell cautiously and Bunker +slapped his leg for action. + +"It's good for right now," he said, "and not a minute after!" + +"But I've got to look around," pleaded Denver desperately, "I've got to +find both these treasures--one of silver and one of gold--and make my +choice between them." + +"Well, that's your business," said Bunker rising up abruptly. "Will you +take that offer or not?" + +"No," replied Denver, putting up his purse and Old Bunk glanced at him +shrewdly. + +"Well, I'll give you a week on it," he said, smiling grimly, and stood +up to look down the trail. Denver looked out after him and there, +puffing up the slope, came Professor Diffenderfer, the eminent buttinsky +and geologist. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE EMINENT BUTTINSKY + + +That there was no love lost between Bunker Hill and Professor +Diffenderfer was evident by their curt greetings, but as they began to +bandy words Denver became suddenly aware that he was the cause of their +feud. He and his eight hundred dollars, a sum so small that a shoestring +promoter would hardly notice it; and yet these two men with their +superfluity of claims were fighting for his favor like pawn-brokers. +Bunker Hill had seen him first and claimed him as his right; but +Professor Diffenderfer, ignoring the ethics of the game, was out to make +a sale anyway. He carried in one hand a large sack of specimens, and +under his arm were some weighty tomes which turned out to be Government +reports. He came up slowly, panting and sweating in the heat, and when +he stepped in Bunk was waiting for him. + +"O-ho," he said, "here comes the Professor. The only German count that +ever gave up his title to become an American barber. Well, Professor, +you're just the man I'm looking for--I want to ask your professional +opinion. If two white-bellied mice ran down the same hole would the one +with the shortest tail get down first?" + +The Professor staggered in and sat down heavily while he wiped the sweat +from his eyes. + +"Mr. Russell," he began, ignoring the grinning Bunker, "I vant to +expound to you the cheology of dis country--I haf made it a lifelong +study." + +"Yes, you want to get this," put in Bunker _sotto voce_, "he knows +every big word in them books." + +"I claim," went on the Professor, slapping the books together +vehemently, "I claim dat in dis district we haf every indication of a +gigantic deposit of copper. The morphological conditions, such as we see +about us everywhere, are distinctly favorable to metalliferous +deposition; and the genetic influences which haf taken place later----" + +"Well, he's off," sighed Bunker rising wearily up and ambling over +towards the door, "so long, Big Boy, I'll see you to-morrow. Never could +understand broken English." + +"Dat's all righd!" spat back the Professor with spiteful emphasis, "I'm +addressing my remarks to dis _chentleman_!" + +"Ah--so!" mimicked Bunker. "Vell, shoodt id indo him! And say, tell him +about that tunnel! Tell him how you went in until the air got bad and +came out up the hill like a gopher. Took a double circumbendibus and, +after describing a parabola----" + +"Dat's all righd!" repeated the Professor, "now--you think you're so +smart--I'm going to prove _you_ a liar! I heard you the other day +tell dis young man here dat dere vas no golt in dis district. Vell! All +righd! We vill see now--joost look! Vat you call _dat_ now, my goot +young friend?" He dumped out the contents of his canvas ore-sack and +nodded to Denver triumphantly. "I suppose dat aindt golt, eh! Maybe I +try to take advantage of you and show you what dey call fools gold--what +mineralogists call pyrites of iron? No? It aindt dat? Vell, let me ask +you vun question den--am I righd or am I wrong?" + +"You're right, old man," returned Denver eagerly as he held a specimen +to the light; and when he looked up Bunker Hill was gone. + +"You see?" leered the Professor jerking his thumb towards the door, "dot +man vas trying to _do_ you. He don't like to haf me show you dis +golt. He vants you to believe dat here is only silver; but I am a +cheologist--I know!" + +"Yes, this is gold," admitted Denver, wetting the thin strip of quartz, +"but it don't look like much of a vein. Whereabouts did you get these +specimens?" + +"From a claim dat I haf, not a mile south of here," burst out the +Professor in great excitement; and while Denver listened in stunned +amazement he went into an involved and sadly garbled exposition of the +geological history of the district. + +"Yes, sure," broke in Denver when he came to a pause, "I'll take your +word for all that. What I want to know is where this claim is located. +If its inside the shadow of Apache Leap, I'll go down and take a look at +it; but----" + +"But vat has the shadow of the mountain to do with it?" inquired the +Professor with ponderous dignity. "The formation, as I vas telling you, +is highly favorable to an extensive auriferous deposit----" + +"Aw, can the big words," broke in Denver impatiently, "I don't give a +dang for geology. What I'm looking for is a mine, in the shadow of that +big cliff, and----" + +"Ah, ah! Yes, I see!" exclaimed the Professor delightedly, "it must +conform to the vords of the prophecy! Yes, my mine is in the shadow of +Apache Leap, where the Indians yumped over and were killed." + +"Well, I'll look at it," responded Denver coldly, "but who told you +about that prophecy? It kinder looks to me as if----" + +"Oh, vell," apologized the Professor, "I vas joost going by and I +couldn't help but listen. Because dis Bunker Hill, he is alvays +spreading talk dat I am not a cheologist. But him, now; _him_! Do +you know who he is? He is nothing but an ignorant cowman. Ven dis mine +vas closed down I vas for some years the care-taker, vat you call the +custodian of the plant; and dis Bunker Hill, ven I happened to go avay, +he come and take the job. I am a consulting cheologist and my services +are very valuable, but he took the job for fifty dollars a month and +came here to run his cattle. For eight or ten years he lived right in +dat house and took all dat money for nothing; and den, when the Company +can't pay him no more, he takes over the property on a lien. Dat fine, +valuable mine, one of the richest in the vorld, and vot you think he +done with it? He and Mike McGraw, dat hauls up his freight, dey tore it +all down for junk! All dat fine machinery, all dem copper plates, all +the vater-pipe, the vindows and doors--they tore down everything and +hauled it down to Moroni, vere they sold it for nothing to Murray! + +"Do you know vot I would do if I owned dat mine?" demanded the Professor +with rising wrath. "I vould organize a company and pump oudt the vater +and make myself a millionaire. But dis Bunker Hill, he's a big bag of +vind--all he does is to sit around and talk! A t'ousand times I haf told +him repeatedly dat dere are millions of dollars in dat mine, and a +t'ousand times he tells me I am crazy. For fifteen years I haf begged +him for the privilege to go into pardners on dat mine. I haf written +reports, describing the cheology of dis district, for the highest mining +journals in the country; I haf tried to interest outside capital; and +den, for my pay, when some chentleman comes to camp, he tells him dat I +am a barber!" + +The Professor paused and swallowed fiercely, and as Denver broke into a +grin the old man choked with fury. + +"Do you know what dat man has been?" he demanded, shaking a trembling +finger towards Bunker's house, "he has been everything but an honest +man--a faro-dealer, a crook, a gambler! He vas nothing--a bum--when his +vife heard about him and come here from Boston to marry him! Dey vas +boy-und-girl sveetheart, you know. And righdt avay he took her money and +put it into cows, and the drought come along and killed them; and now he +has nothing, not so much as I haf, and an expensive daughter besides!" + +He paused and wagged his head and indulged in a senile grin. + +"Und pretty, too--vat? The boys are all crazy, but she von't have a +thing to do with them. She von't come outdoors when the cowboys ride by +and stop to buy grub at the store. No, she's too good to talk to old +mens like me, and with cowboys what get forty a month; but she spends +all her time playing tunes on the piano and singing scales avay up in G. +You vait, pretty soon you hear her begin--dat scale-singing drives me +madt!" + +"Oh, sings scales, eh?" said Denver suddenly beginning to take an +interest, "must be studying to become a singer." + +"Dat's it," nodded the old man shaking his finger solemnly, "her mother +vas a singer before her. But after they have spent all their money to +educate her the teacher says she lacks the temperament. She can never +sing, he says, because she is too _dumf_; too--what you call +it--un-feeling. She lacks the fire of the vonderful Gadski--she has not +the g-great heart of Schumann-Heink. She is an American, you see, and +dat is the end of it, so all their money is spent." + +"Oh, I don't know," defended Denver warmly, "what's the matter with +Nordica, and Mary Garden and Farrar? They're Americans, all right, and +I've got some of their records that simply can't be beat! You wait till +I get out my instrument." + +He broke open a box in which was packed with many wrappings a polished +and expensive phonograph, but as he was clearing a space on a rickety +old table the Professor broke into a cackle. + +"Dere! Dere!" he cried, "don't you hear her now? 'Ah, ah, ah, oo, oo, +oo, oo!' Vell, dat's what we get from morning till night--by golly, it +makes me sick!" + +"Aw, that's all right," said Denver after listening critically, "she's +just getting ready to sing." + +"Getting ready!" sneered the Professor, "don't you fool yourself +dere--she'll keep dat going for hours. And in the morning she puts on +just one thin white dress and dances barefoot in the garden. I come by +dere one time and looked over the vall--and, psst, listen, she don't +vare no corsets! She ought to be ashamed." + +"Well, what about you, you danged old stiff?" inquired Denver with +ill-concealed scorn. "If Old Bunk had seen you he'd have killed you." + +"Ah--him?" scoffed the Professor, "no, he von't hurt nobody. Lemme tell +you something--now dis is a fact. When he married his vife--and she's an +awful fine lady--all she asked vas dat he'd stop his tammed fighting. +You see? I know everyt'ing--every little t'ing--I been around dis place +too long. She came right out here from the East and offered to marry +him, but he had to give up his fighting. He was a bad man--you see? He +was quick with a gun, and she was afraid he'd go out and get killed. So +I laugh at him now and he goes avay and leaves me--but he von't let me +talk with his vife. She's an awful nice woman but----" + +"Danged right she is!" put in Denver with sudden warmth and after a +rapid questioning glance the Professor closed his mouth. + +"Vell, I guess I'll be going," he said at last and Denver did not urge +him to stay. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SILVER TREASURE + + +As evening came on and the red eye of the sun winked and closed behind a +purple range of mountains Denver Russell came out of his cliff-dwelling +cave and looked at the old town below. Mysterious shadows were gathering +among the ruins, the white walls stood out ghostly and still, and as a +breeze stirred the clacking leaves of the sycamores a voice mounted up +like a bird's. It rose slowly and descended, it ran rippling arpeggios +and lingered in flute-like trills; but it was colorless, impersonal, +void of feeling. + +It was more like a flute than like the voice of a bird that pours out +its soul for joy; it was perfect, but it was not moving. Only as the +spirit of the desolate town--as of some lost soul, pure and +passionless--did it find its note of appeal and Denver sighed and sat +silent in the darkness. His thoughts strayed far away, to his boyhood in +the mountains, to his wanderings from camp to camp; they leapt ahead to +the problem that lay before him, the choice between the silver and gold +treasures; and then, drowsy and oblivious, he left the voice still +singing and groped to his bed in the cave. + +All night the prying pack-rats, dispossessed of their dwelling, raced +and gnawed and despoiled his provisions; but when the day dawned Denver +left them to do their worst, for his mind was on greater things. At +another time, when he was not so busy, he would swing some rude +cupboards on wires and store his food out of reach; but now he only +stopped to make a hasty breakfast and started off up the trail. When the +sun rose, over behind Apache Leap, and cast its black shadow among the +hills, Denver was up on the rim-rock, looking out on the promised land +that should yield him two precious treasures. + +The rim where he stood was uptilted and broken, a huge stratified wall +like the edge of a layer cake or the leaves of some mighty book. They +lay one upon the other, these ledges of lime and sandstone, some red, +some yellow, some white; and, heaped upon the top like a rich coating of +chocolate, was the brownish-black cap of the lava. In ages long past +each layer had been a mud bank at the bottom of a tropic sea, until the +weight of waters had pressed them down and time had changed them to +stone. Then Mother Earth had breathed and in a slow, century-long heave, +they had emerged from the bottom of the sea, there to be broken and +shattered by the pent-up forces of the fire which was raging in her +breast. + +Great rents had been formed, igneous rocks had boiled up through them; +and then in a grand, titanic effort the fire had forced its way up. For +centuries this extinct volcano had belched forth its lava, building up +the frowning heights of Apache Leap; and then once more the earth had +subsided and the waters of the ocean had rushed in. The edge of the +rim-rock had been sheered by torrential floods, erosion had fashioned +the far heights; until once more, with infinite groanings, the earth had +risen from the depths. There it stayed, cracking and trembling, as the +inner fires cooled down and the fury of the conflict died away; and +boiling waters bearing ores in solution burst like geysers from every +crack. And there atom by atom, combined with quartz and acids, the +metals of the earth were brought to the surface and deposited on the +sides of the cracks. Copper and gold and silver and lead, and many a +rarer metal, all spewed up from the molten heart of the world to be +sought out and used by man. + +All this Denver sensed as he gazed at the high cliff where the volcano +had overflowed the earth, and at the layers and layers of sedimentary +rock that protruded from beneath its base; but his eyes, though they +sensed it, cared nothing for the great Cause--what they looked for was +the fruit of all that labor. Where along this shattered rim-rock, +twisted and hacked and uptilted, were the hidden cracks, the precious +fissure veins, that had brought up the ore from the depths? There at his +feet lay one, the gash through the rim where Queen Creek took its +course; and further to the north, where the rim-rock was wrenched to the +west, was another likely place. To the south there was another, a deep, +sharp canyon that broke through the formation to the heights; and over +them all, like a sheltering hand, lay the dark, moving shadow of Apache +Leap. He traced out its line as it crept back towards the town and then, +big eyed and silent, he started down the trail, still looking for some +sign that might guide him. + +But other eyes than his had been sweeping the rim and as he came up the +trail Bunker Hill appeared and walked along beside him. + +"I'll just show you those claims," he said smiling genially, "it'll save +you a little time, and maybe a pair of shoes. And just to prove that I'm +on the square I'll take you to the best one first." + +He led on up the street and as they passed a stone cabin the door was +yanked violently open and then as suddenly slammed shut. + +"That's the Dutchman," grinned Bunker, "he wakes up grouchy every +morning. What did you think of that rock he showed you?" + +"Good enough," replied Denver, "it was rotten with gold. But from the +looks of the pieces it's only a stringer--I doubt if it shows any +walls." + +"No, nor anything else much," answered Bunker slightingly, "you can't +even call it a stringer. It's a kind of broken seam, going flat into the +hill--the Mexicans have been after it for years. Every time there's a +rain the Professor will go up there and wash out a little gold in the +gulch; but a Chinaman couldn't work it, and make it show a profit, if he +had to dig out his ore. Of course it's all right, if you think gold is +the ticket, but you wait till I show you this claim of mine--next to the +famous Lost Burro Mine. + +"You know the Lost Burro--there she lays, right there--and they took out +four million dollars in silver before the bonanza pinched out. At first +they hauled their ore to the Gulf of California and shipped it to +Swansea, Wales, and afterwards they built a kind of furnace and roasted +their ore right here. It was refractory ore, mixed up with zinc and +antimony; but with everything against them, and all kinds of bum +management, she paid from the very first day. All full of water now, or +I'd show you around; but some mine in its time, believe me. I wouldn't +sell it for a million dollars." + +"Five hundred is my limit," observed Denver with a grin and Bunker +slapped his leg. + +"Say," he said, "did I tell you that story about the deacon that got +stung in a horse-trade? Well, this was back east, where I used to live, +before I emigrated for the good of the country, and there was an old +Methodist deacon that was as smart as they make 'em when it came to +driving a bargain. He and the livery-stable keeper had made a few swaps +and one was about as sharp as the other; until finally it got to be a +matter of pride between 'em to cut each other's throats in some +horse-trade They would talk and haggle, and drive away and come back, +and jockey each other for months; but they always paid cash and if one +of 'em got stuck he'd trade the horse off to some woman. Well, one day +the livery-stable man drove past the deacon's house with a fine, free, +high-stepping bay; and every afternoon for about a week he'd go by at a +pretty good clip. The deacon he'd rush out and try to flag him, but the +livery-stable keeper wouldn't stop; until finally the deacon's curiosity +got the best of his judgment and he went out and laid in wait for him. + +"'How much do you want for that hoss?' he says when the livery-stable +man came to a stop. + +"'Two hundred dollars,' says the livery-stable keeper. + +"'I'll give you fifty!' barks the deacon coming out to look him over and +the livery-stable man tossed him the reins. + +"'The hoss is yours,' he says, and the deacon knowed he was stung. + +"Quick work," said Denver, "but I'm not like the deacon. I'm going to +look around." + +"Oh, sure, sure!" protested Bunker, "take all the time you want, but +this offer is only good for one week. I've got a special reason for +wanting to make a sale or I'd never let you look at this claim. Why, the +Professor himself has told me a thousand times that it's a better +proposition than the Burro, so you can see that I am making it +attractive. And I ain't pretending that I'm making you the offer for any +bull-con reason. I might say that I wanted you to do some work, or to +open up the district; but the fact of the matter is I need the five +hundred dollars. I've seen times before this war when a hundred thousand +cash wouldn't pry me loose from that claim, but now it's yours for five +hundred dollars if you honestly think it's worth it. And if you don't, +that's all right, there's no hard feeling between us and you can go and +buy from the Professor. You wasn't born yesterday and you're a good, +hard-rock miner; so enough said, there's the claim, right there." + +He waved his hand at the steep shoulder of the hill, where the canyon +had cut through the rim-rock; and as Denver looked at the formation of +the ground a gleam came into his eyes. The claim took in the silted edge +of the rim, where the strata had been laid bare, and along through the +middle of the varicolored layers there ran a broad streak of iron-red. +Into this a streak of copper-stained green had been pinched by the +lateral fault of the canyon and where the two joined--just across the +creek--was the discovery hole of the claim. + +"Let's go over and look at it," he said and, crossing the creek on the +stones, he clambered up to the hole. It was an open cut with a short +tunnel at the end and, piled up about the location monument, were some +samples of the rock. Denver picked one up and at sight of the ore he +glanced suspiciously at Bunker. + +"Where did this come from?" he asked holding up a chunk that was heavy +with silver and lead, "is this some high-grade from the famous Lost +Burro?" + +"Nope," returned Bunker, "'bout the same kind of rock, though. That +comes from the tunnel in there." + +"Like hell!" scoffed Denver with a swift look at the specimen, "and for +sale for five hundred dollars? Well, there's something funny here, +somewhere." + +He stepped into the tunnel and there, across the face, was a four inch +vein of the ore. It lay between two walls, as a fissure vein should; but +the dip was almost horizontal, following the level of the uptilted +strata. Except for that it was as ideal a prospect as a man could ask to +see--and for sale for five hundred dollars! A single ton of the ore, if +it was as rich as it looked, ought easily to net five hundred dollars. + +Denver knocked off some samples with his prospector's pick and carried +them out into the sun. + +"Why don't you work this?" he asked as he caught the gleam of native +silver in the duller gray of the lead and Old Bunk hunched his +shoulders. + +"Little out of my line," he suggested mildly, "I leave all that to the +Swedes. Say, did you ever hear that one about the Swede and the +Irishman--you don't happen to be Irish, do you?" + +"No," answered Denver and as he waited for the story he remembered what +the Professor had told him. This long, gangly Yankee, with his drooping +red mustache and his stories for every occasion, was nothing but a +store-keeper and a cowman. He knew nothing about mining or the value of +mines but like many another old-timer simply held down his claims and +waited--and to cover up his ignorance of mining he told stories about +Irishmen and Swedes. "No," said Denver, "and you're no Swede, or you'd +drift in there and see what you've got." + +"A mule can work," observed Bunker oracularly, "but here's one I heard +sprung on an Irishman. He was making a big talk about Swedes and Swede +luck, and after he'd got through a feller made the statement that the +Swedes were the greatest people in the world. + +"'In the wur-rold!' yells the Irishman, like he was out of his head, +'well, how do you figure thot out?' + +"'Well, I'll tell you,' says the feller, 'the Swedes invented the +wheel-barrow--and then they learned you Irish to stand on your hind legs +and run it!' Har, har, har; he had him going that time--the Mick +couldn't think what else to do so he went to heaving bricks." + +"Yes--sure," nodded Denver, "that was one on the Irish. But say, have +you got a clean title to this claim? Because if you have----" + +"You bet I have!" spoke up Bunker, now suddenly strictly business; but +as he waited expectantly there was a shout from the trail and Professor +Diffenderfer came rushing up. + +"Oh, I heard you!" he cried shaking a trembling fist at Bunker. "I heard +vot you said about my claim! Und now, Mister Bunk, I'll have my say--no +sir, you haf no goot title. You haf not done your yearly assessment vork +on dis or any oder claims!" + +"Say, who called you in on this?" inquired Bunker Hill coldly. "You +danged, bat-headed Dutchman, you keep butting in on my deals and I'll +forget and bust you on the jaw!" + +His long, sharp chin was suddenly thrust out, one eye had a dangerous +droop; but the Professor returned his gaze with an insolent stare and a +triumphant toss of the head. + +"Dat's all right!" he said, "you say my golt mine is a stringer--I say +your silver mine is nuttings. You haf no title, according to law, but +only by the custom of the country." + +"Well, you poor, ignorant baboon," burst out Bunker in a fury, "what +better title do you want? The claim is mine, everybody knows it and +acknowledges it; and I've got your signature, sworn before a notary +public, that the annual work was done!" + +"Just a form, just a form," returned the Professor with a shrug, "I do +like everyone else. But dis claim dat I haf--and my tunnel on the +hill--on dem the vork is done. And now, Mr. Russell, if you haf finished +looking here, I will take you to see my mine." + +"Well, I don't know," began Denver still gazing at the silver ore, "this +looks pretty good, right here." + +"But the prophecy!" exclaimed the Professor with a knowing smirk, "don't +it tell you to choose between the two? And how can you tell if you don't +even look--whether the golt or the silver is better?" + +"Aw, go down and look at it!" broke in Bunker Hill angrily as Denver +scratched his head, "go and see what he calls a mine--and if you don't +come running back and put your money in my hand you ain't the miner I +think you are. But by the holy, jumping Judas, I'm going to forget +myself some day and knock the soo-preme pip out of this Dutchman!" He +turned abruptly away and went striding back towards the town and the +Professor leered at Denver. + +"Vot I told you?" he boasted, "I ain't scared of dat mens--he promised +his vife he von't fight!" + +"Good enough," said Denver, "but don't work it too hard. Now come on and +let's look at your mine." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +BIBLE-BACK MURRAY + + +As a matter of form Denver went with the Professor and inspected his +boasted mine but all the time his mind was far away and his heart was +beating fast. The vein of silver that Bunker Hill had shown him was +worth a thousand dollars anywhere; but, situated as it was on the next +claim to the Lost Burro, it was worth incalculably more. It was too good +a claim to let get away and as he listened perfunctorily to the +Professor's patter he planned how he would open it up. First he would +shoot off the face, to be sure there was no salting, and send off some +samples to the assayer; and then he would drive straight in on the vein +as long as his money lasted. And if it widened out, if it dipped and +went down, he would know for a certainty that it was the silver treasure +that good old Mother Trigedgo had prophesied. But to carry out the +prophecy, to choose well between the two, he gazed gravely at the +Professor's strip of gold-ore. + +It was a knife-blade stringer, a mere seam of rotten quartz running +along the side of a canyon; and yet not without its elements of promise, +for it was located near another big fault. In geological days the +rim-rock had been rent here as it had at Queen Creek Canyon and this +stringer of quartz might lead to a golden treasure that would far +surpass Bunker's silver. But the signs were all against it and as Denver +turned back the Professor read the answer in his eyes. + +"Vell, vat you t'ink?" he demanded insistently, "vas I right or vas I +wrong? Ain't I showed you the golt--and I'll tell you anodder t'ing, dis +mine vill pay from the start. You can pick out dat rich quartz and pack +it down to the crick and vash out the pure quill golt; but dat ore of +Old Bunk's is all mixed oop with lead and zinc, and with antimonia too. +You vil haf to buy the sacks, and pay the freight, and the smelter +charges, too; and dese custom smelters they penalize you for everyt'ing, +and cheat you out of what's left. Dey're nutting but a bunch of t'ieves +and robbers----" + +"Aw, that's all right," broke in Denver impatiently, "for cripe's sake, +give me a chance. I haven't bought your mine nor Bunk's mine either, and +it don't do any good to talk. I'm going to rake this country with a +fine-tooth comb for claims that show silver and gold, and when I've seen +'em all I'll buy or I won't, so you might as well let me alone." + +"Very vell, sir," began the Professor bristling with offended dignity +and, seeing him prepared with a long-winded explanation, Denver turned +up the hill and quit him. He clambered up to the rim, dripping with +sweat at every step, and all that day, while the heat waves blazed and +shimmered, he prospected the face of the rim-rock. The hot stones burned +his hands, he fought his way through thorns and catclaws and climbed +around yuccas and spiny cactus; but at the end of the long day, when he +dragged back to camp, he had found nothing but barren holes. The country +was pitted with open cuts and shallow prospect-holes, mostly dug to hold +down worthless claims; and the second day and the third only served to +raise his opinion of the claim that Bunker had showed him. + +On the fourth day he went back to it and prospected it thoroughly and +then he kept on around the shoulder of the hill and entered the country +to the north. Here the sedimentary rim-rock lay open as a book and as he +followed along its face he found hole after hole pecked into one +copper-stained stratum. It was the same broad stratum of quartzite +which, on coming to the creek, had dipped down into Bunker's claim; and +now Denver knew that others beside himself thought well of that +mineral-bearing vein. For the country was staked out regularly and in +each location monument there was the name Barney B. Murray. + +The steady panting of a gas-engine from somewhere in the distance drew +Denver on from point to point and at last, in the bottom of a deep-cleft +canyon, he discovered the source of the sound. Huge dumps of white waste +were spewed out along the hillside, there were houses, a big tent and +criss-crossed trails; but the only sign of life was that _chuh_, +_chuh_, of the engine and the explosive _blap_, _blaps_ +of an air compressor. It was Murray's camp, and the engine and the +compressor were driving his diamond drill. + +Denver looked about carefully for some sign of the armed guard and then, +not too noisily, he went down the trail and followed along up the gulch. +The drill, which was concealed beneath the big, conical tent, was set up +in the very notch of the canyon, where it cut through the formation of +the rim-rock; and Denver was more than pleased to see that it was fairly +on top of the green quartzite. He kept on steadily, still looking for +the guard, his prospector's pick well in front; and, just down the trail +from the tented drill, he stopped and cracked a rock. + +"Hey! Get off this ground!" shouted a voice from the tent and as Denver +looked up a man stepped out with a rifle in his hand. "What are you +doing around here?" he demanded angrily and, as Denver made no answer, +another man stepped out from behind. Then with a word to the guard he +came down the trail and Denver knew it was Murray himself. + +He was a tall, bony man with a flowing black beard and, hunched up above +his shoulders, was the rounded hump which had given him the name of +"Bible-Back." To counterbalance this curvature his head was craned back, +giving him a bristling, aggressive air, and as he strode down towards +Denver his long, gorilla arms, extended almost down to his knees. + +"What are you doing here, young man?" he challenged harshly, "don't you +know that this ground is closed?" + +"Why, no," bluffed Denver, "you haven't got any signs out. What's all +the excitement about?" + +Bible-Back Murray paused and looked him over, and his prospector's pick +and ore-sack, and a glint came into one eye. The other eye remained +fixed in a cold, rheumy stare, and Denver sensed that it was made of +glass. + +"Who are you working for?" rasped Murray and as he raised his voice the +guard started down the dump. + +"I'm not working for anybody," answered Denver boldly, "I'm out +prospecting along the edge of the rim." + +"Oh--prospecting," said Murray suddenly moderating his voice; and then, +as the guard stood watching them narrowly, he gave way to a fatherly +smile. "Well, well," he exclaimed, "it's pretty hot for prospecting--you +can't see very well in this glare. Whereabouts have you made your camp?" + +"Over on the crick," answered Denver. "What have you got here, anyway? +Is this that diamond drill?" + +"Never mind, now!" put in the guard who, anticipating a call-down for +his negligence, was in a distinctly hostile mood, "you know danged well +it is!" + +"Oh, I do, do I?" retorted Denver, "well, all right pardner, if you say +so; but you don't need to call me a liar!" + +He returned the guard's glare with an insulting sneer and Murray made +haste to intercede. + +"Now, now," he said, "let's not have any trouble. But of course you've +no business on this ground." + +"That's all right," defended Denver, "that don't give him a license to +pull any ranicky stuff. I'm as peaceable as anybody, but you can tell +your hired man he don't look bad to me." + +"That will do, Dave," nodded Murray and after another look at Denver, +the guard turned back towards the tent. + +"Judas priest," observed Denver thrusting out his lip at the guard, +"he's a regular gun-fighting boy. You must have something pretty good +hid away here somewhere, to call for a guard like that." + +"He's a dangerous man," replied Murray briefly, "I'd advise you not to +rouse him. But what do you think of our district, Mister--er----" + +"Russell," said Denver promptly, "my name is Denver Russell. I just came +over from Globe." + +"Glad to meet you," answered Murray extending a hairy hand, "my name is +B. B. Murray. I'm the owner of all this ground." + +"'S that so?" murmured Denver, "well don't let me keep you." + +And he started off down the trail. + +"Hey, wait a minute!" protested Murray, "you don't need to go off mad. +Sit down here in the shade--I want to have a talk with you." + +He stepped over to the shade of an abandoned cabin and Denver followed +reluctantly. From the few leading questions which Mr. Murray had +propounded he judged he was a hard man to evade; and, until he had got +title to the claim on Queen Creek, it was advisable not to talk too +much. + +"So you're just over from Globe, eh?" began Murray affably, "well, how +are things over in that camp? Yes, I hear they are booming--were you +working in the mines? What do you think of this country for copper?" + +"It sure looks _good_!" pronounced Denver unctuously, "I never saw +a place that looked better. All this gossan and porphyry, and that +copper stain up there--and just look at that dacite cap!" + +He waved his hand at the high cliff behind and Murray's eye became beady +and bright. + +"Yes," he said rubbing his horny hands together and gazing at Denver +benevolently, "we think the indications are good--were you thinking of +locating in these parts?" + +"No, just going through," answered Denver slowly. "I was camping by the +crick and saw that copper-stain, so I thought I'd follow it up. How far +are you down with your drill?" + +"Quite a ways, quite a ways," responded Murray evasively. "You don't +look like an ordinary prospector--who'd you say it was you were working +for?" + +Denver turned and looked at him, and grunted contemptuously. + +"J. P. Morgan," he said and after a silence Murray answered with a +thin-lipped smile. + +"That's all right, that's all right," he said with a cackle. "No hard +feeling--I just wanted to know. You're an honest young man, but there +are others who are not, and we naturally like to inquire. Are you +staying with Mr. Hill?" + +"Well, not so you'd notice it," replied Denver brusquely. "I'm camped in +that cave across the crick." + +"Oh, is that so?" purred Murray driving relentlessly on in his quest for +information, "did he show you any of his claims?" + +"He showed me one," answered Denver and, try as he would, he could not +keep his voice from changing. + +"Oh, I see," said Murray suddenly smiling triumphantly, "he showed you +that claim by the creek." + +"That's the one," admitted Denver, "and it sure looked good. Have you +got any interests over there?" + +"Not at present," returned Murray with a touch of asperity, "but let me +tell you a little about that claim. You're a stranger in these parts and +it's only fair to warn you that the assessment work has never been done. +He has no title, according to law; so you can govern your actions +accordingly." + +"You mean," suggested Denver, "that all I have to do is to go in and +jump the claim?" + +"Hell--no!" exclaimed Bible-Back startled out of his piosity. "I mean +that you had better not buy it." + +"Well, thanks," drawled Denver, "this is danged considerate of you. +Shall I tell him you'll take it yourself?" + +"Certainly not!" snapped back Murray, "I've enough claims, already. I'm +just warning you for your own good." + +"Danged considerate," repeated Denver with a sarcastic smile, "and now +let me ask _you_ something. Who told you I wanted to buy?" + +"Never mind!" returned Murray, "I've warned you, and that is enough." + +"Well, all right," agreed Denver, "but if you don't want it +yourself----" + +"Young man!" exclaimed Murray suddenly rising to his feet and crooking +his neck like a crane, "I guess you know who I am. I can make or break +any man in this country, and I'm telling you now--don't you buy!" + +"I get you," answered Denver, and without arguing the point he rose up +and went down the trail. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SIGNS AND OMENS + + +When a man like Bible-Back Murray, the biggest man in the country--a +sheep-owner, a store-keeper, a political power--goes out of his way to +break up a trade there is something significant behind it. Denver had +come to Pinal in response to a prophecy, in search of two hidden +treasures between which he must make his choice; and now, added to that, +was the further question of whether he should venture to oppose Murray. +If he did, he could proceed in the spirit of the prophecy and choose +between the silver and gold treasures; but if he did not there would be +no real choice at all, but simply an elimination. He must turn away from +the silver treasure, that precious vein of metal which led so temptingly +into the hill, and take the little stringer of quartz which the +Professor had offered as a gold mine. Denver thought it all over out in +front of his cave that night and at last he came back to the prophecy. + +"Courage and constancy," it said, "will attend you through life, but in +the end will prove your undoing, for you will meet your death at the +hands of your dearest friend." + +Denver's heart fell again at the thought of that hard fate but it did +not divert him from his purpose. Mother Trigedgo had said that he should +be brave, nevertheless--very well then, he would dare oppose Murray. But +now to choose between the two, between the Professor's stringer of gold +and Bunker's vein of silver--with the ill will of Murray attached. +Denver pondered them well and at last he lit a candle and referred it to +Napoleon's Oraculum. + +In the front of the Book of Fate were thirty-two questions the answers +to which, on the succeeding pages, would give counsel on every problem +of life. The questions, at first sight, seemed more adapted to love-sick +swains than to the practical problem before Denver, but he came back to +number nine. + +"Shall I be SUCCESSFUL in my present undertaking?" + +All he had to do was to decide to buy the silver claim and then put the +matter to the test. He spread a sheet of fair paper on the clear corner +of his table and made five rows of short lines across it, each +containing more than the requisite twelve marks. Then he counted each +row and, opposite every one that came even, he placed two dots; opposite +every line that came odd, one dot. This made a series of five dots, one +above the other, of which the first two were double and the last three +single, and he turned to the fateful Key. + +It was spread across two pages, a solid mass of signs and letters, +arranged in a curious order; and along the side were the numbers of the +questions, across the top the different combinations of dots. Against +the thirty-two questions there were thirty-two combinations in which the +odd and even dots could be arranged, and Denver's series was the seventh +in order. The number of his question was nine. Where the seventh line +from the side met the ninth from the top there occurred the letter O. +Denver turned to the Oraculum and on the page marked O he found +thirty-two answers, each starred with a different combination of dots. +The seventh answer from the top was the one he sought--it said: + +"Fear not, if thou are prudent." + +"Good enough!" exclaimed Denver, shutting the book with a slap; but as +he went out into the night a sudden doubt assailed him--what did it mean +by: "If thou art prudent?" + +"Fear not!" he understood, it was the first and only motto in the +bright, brief lexicon of his life; but what was the meaning of +"prudent?" Did it mean he was to refrain from opposing Old Bible-Back, +or merely that he should oppose him within reason? That was the trouble +with all these prophecies--you never could tell what they meant. Take +the silver and golden treasures--how would he know them when he saw +them? And he had to choose wisely between the two. And now, when he +referred the whole business to the Oraculum it said: "Fear not, if thou +art prudent." + +He paced up and down on the smooth ledge of rock that made up the +entrance to his home and as he sunk his head in thought a voice came up +to him out of the blackness of the town below. It was the girl again, +singing, high and clear as a flute, as pure and ethereal as an angel, +and now she was singing a song. Denver roused up and listened, then +lowered his head and tramped back and forth on the ledge. The voice came +again in a song that he knew--it was one that he had on a record--and he +paused in his impatient striding. She could sing, this girl of Bunk's, +she knew something besides scales and running up and down. It was a song +that he knew well, only he never remembered the names on the records. +They were in German and French and strange, foreign languages, while all +that he cared for was the music. He listened again, for her singing was +different; and then, as she began another operatic selection he started +off down the trail. It was a rough one at best and he felt his way +carefully, avoiding the cactus and thorns; but as he crossed the creek +he suddenly took shame and stopped in the shadow of the sycamore. + +What if the Professor, that old prowler, should come along and find him, +peeping in through Bunker's open door? What if the ray of light which +struck out through the door-frame should reveal him to the singer +within? And yet he was curious to see her. Since his first brusque +refusal to go in and meet her, Bunker had not mentioned his daughter +again--perhaps he remembered what was said. For Denver had stated that +he had plenty of music himself, if he could ever get his phonograph from +Globe. Yet he had had the instrument for nearly a week and never +unpacked the records. They were all good records, no cheap stuff or +rag-time; but somehow, with her singing, it didn't seem right to start +up a machine against her. And especially when he had refused to come +down and meet her--a fine lady, practicing for grand opera. + +He sat down in the black shadow of the mighty sycamore and strained his +ears to hear; but a chorus of tree-frogs, silenced for the moment by his +coming, drowned the music with their eerie refrain. He hurled a rock +into the depths of the pool and the frog chorus ceased abruptly, but the +music from the house had been clearer from his cave-mouth than it was +from the bed of the creek. For half an hour he sat, gazing out into the +ghostly moonlight for some sign of the snooping Diffenderfer; and then +by degrees he edged up the trail until he stood in the shadow of the +store. The music was impressive--it was Marguerite's part, in "Faust," +sung consecutively, aria by aria--and as Denver lay listening it +suddenly came over him that life was tragic and inexorable. He felt a +great longing, a great unrest, a sense of disaster and despair; and then +abruptly the singing ceased, and with it passed the mood. + +There was a murmur of voices, a strumming on the piano, a passing of +shadows to and fro; and then from the doorway there came gay and +spritely music--and at last a song that he knew. Denver listened +intently, trying to remember the record which had contained this lilting +air. He had it--the "Barcarolle," the boat-song from the "Tales of +Hoffmann!" And she was singing the words in English. He left the shadow +and stepped out into the open, forgetful of everything but the singer, +and the words came out to him clearly. + + "Night divine, O night of love, + O smile on our enchantment; + Moon and stars keep watch above + This radiant night of love!" + +She came to the end, riding up and down in an ecstatic series of "Ahs!" +and as the song floated away into piano and pianissimo Denver braved the +light to see her. + +She was standing by the piano, swaying like a flower to the music; and a +lamp behind made her face like a cameo, her hair like a mass of gold. +That was all he saw in the swift, stolen moment before he retreated in a +panic to his cave. It was she, the beautiful woman that the seeress had +predicted, the one he should fall in love with! She had won his heart +before he even saw her, but how could he hope to win her? She was a +singer, an artist as Mother Trigedgo had said, and he was a hobo miner. +He stood by his cavern looking down on the town and up at the moon and +stars and the words of her song came back to his ears in a continual, +haunting refrain. + + "Ah! smile on our enchantment, + Night of Love, O night of love! + Ah, Ah! Ah, Ah! Ah, Ah! Ah, Ah!" + +It floated away in a lilting diminuendo, a joyous, mocking refrain; and +long after the night was quiet again the music still ran through his +head. It possessed him, it broke his sleep, it followed him in dreams; +and with it all went the vision of the singer, surrounded like St. +Cecilia with a golden halo of light. He woke up at dawn with a fire in +his brain, a tumult of unrest in his breast; and like a buck when he +feels the first sting of a wound he turned his face towards the heights. +The valley seemed to oppress him, to cabin him in; but up on the cliffs +where the eagles soared there was space and the breath of free winds. He +toiled up tirelessly, a fierce energy in his limbs, a mill-race of +thoughts in his mind, and at last on the summit he turned and looked +down on the house that sheltered his beloved. + +She was the woman, he knew it, for his heart had told him long before he +had thought of the prophecy; and now the choice between the gold and +silver treasures seemed as nothing compared to winning her. Of all the +admonitions which had been laid upon him by the words of the Cornish +seeress, none seemed more onerous than this about the woman that he +would love. + +"You will fall in love with a beautiful woman who is an artist," Mother +Trigedgo had written, "but beware how you reveal your affection or she +will confer her hand upon another." + +On another! This woman, whom he had worshipped from the moment he had +seen her, would flaunt him if he revealed his love! That was the thought +which had tortured him and driven him to the heights, where he could +wrestle with his problem alone. How could he meet her without her +reading in his eyes the secret he must not reveal? And yet he was +possessed with a mad desire to see her--to see her and hear her sing. +All her scales and roulades, her runs and trills, had passed by him like +so much smoke; but when the mood had come and she had sung her +song-of-songs he had lost his heart to her instantly. But if, in her +presence, he revealed this new love she would confer her hand upon +another! + +He stood on the edge of Apache Leap and gazed down at the valley below, +then he looked far away where peak piled on peak and the desert sloped +away to the horizon. It was hot, barren land, every ridge spiked with +giant cactus, every gulch a bruising tangle of brush and rocks; but +Pinal lay sleeping in the cool shadow of the Leap, and Drusilla slept +there too. But who would think to look for her in a place like that, or +for the treasures of silver and gold? The finger of destiny had pointed +him plain, for he stood on the Place of Death. It was lifeless yet, save +for the uneasy eagles who watched him from a splintered crag; and the +clean, black shadow that lapped out over the plain held the woman and +the treasures in its compass. + +A sense of awe, of religious exaltation, came over Denver as he +considered the prophecy, and from somewhere within him there came a new +strength which stilled the fierce tumult in his breast. Since the stars +had willed it that he should have this woman if he veiled his love from +her eyes he would be brave then, and constant, and steel his boy's heart +to resist her matchless charms. He would watch over her from afar, +feeding his love in secret, and when the time came he would reap his +reward and the prophecy would be fulfilled. And while he stood aloof, +stealing a glimpse of her at night or listening to the magic of her +songs; he must win the two treasures, both the silver and the gold, to +lay as an offering at her feet. + +The shadow of the Leap drew back from the town, leaving the houses +sun-struck and bare, and as his mind went back to the choice between the +treasures he watched the moving objects below. He saw a steer wandering +down the empty street, and Old Bunk going across to the store; and then +in the walled garden that lay behind the house he beheld a woman's form. +It was draped in white and it moved about rhythmically, bending slowly +from side to side; and then with the graceful ethereal lightness it +leapt and whirled in a dance. In the profundity of the distance all was +lost but the grace of it, the fairy-like flitting to and fro; and, as +Denver watched, the tears leapt to his eyes at the thought of her +perfect beauty. + +She was a woman from another world, which a horny-handed miner could +hardly hope to enter; yet if he won the two treasures, which would make +them both rich, the doors would swing open before him. All it needed was +a wise choice between the silver and the gold, and destiny would attend +to the rest. Well--if he chose the gold he would offend her own father, +who was urgently in need of funds; and if he chose the silver he would +offend Bible-Back Murray, and Diffenderfer as well. He considered the +two claims from every standpoint, looking hopefully about for some sign; +and as he stepped to the edge and looked down into the depths, the male +eagle left his crag. + +Riding high on the wind which, striking against the face of the cliff, +floated him up into the spaces above; he wheeled in a smooth circle, +turning his head from side to side as he watched the invader of his +eyrie. And at each turn of his head Denver caught the flash of gold, +though he was loath to accept it as a sign. He waited, fighting against +it, marshaling reasons to sustain him; and then, folding his wings, the +eagle descended like a plummet, shooting past him with a shrill, defiant +scream. Denver flinched and stepped back, then he leaned forward eagerly +to watch where the bird's flight would take him. No Roman legionary, +going into unequal battle with his war eagle wheeling above its +standard, ever watched its swift course with higher hopes or believed +more fully in the omen. The eagle spread his wings and glided off to the +west, flying low as he approached the plain; and as he passed over Pinal +and the claim by Queen Creek, Denver laughed and slapped his leg. + +"It's a go!" he exulted, "the silver wins!" + +And he bounded off down the trail. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE LADY OF THE SYCAMORES + + +A weight like that of Pelion and Ossa seemed lifted from Denver's +shoulders as he hurried down from Apache Leap and, with his wallet in +his hip pocket, he strode straight to Bunker's house. The eagle had +chosen for him, and chosen right, and the last of his troubles was over. +There was nothing to do now but buy the claim and make it into a +mine--and that was the easiest thing he did. Pulling ground was his +specialty--with a good man to help he could break his six feet a +day--and now that the choice had been made between the treasures he was +tingling to get to work. + +"Here's your money," he said as soon as Bunker appeared, "and I'd like +to order some powder and steel. Just write me out a quit-claim for that +ground." + +"Well, well," beamed Bunker pushing up his reading glasses and counting +over the roll of bills, "this will make quite a stake for Drusilla. Come +in, Mr. Russell, come in!" + +He held the door open and Denver entered, blinking his eyes as he came +in from the glare. The room was a large one, with a grand piano at one +end and music and books strewn about; and as Bunker Hill shouted for his +wife and daughter Denver stared about in astonishment. From the outside +the house was like any other, except that it was covered with vines; but +here within it was startling in its elegance, fitted up with every +luxury. There was a fireplace with bronze andirons, massive furniture, +expensive rugs; and the walls were lined with stands and book-shelves +that overflowed with treasures. + +"Oh Drusilla!" thundered Bunker and at last she came running, bounding +in through the garden door. She was attired in a filmy robe, caught up +for dancing, and her feet were in Grecian sandals; and at sight of +Denver she drew back a step, then stood firm and glanced at her father. + +"Here's that five hundred dollars," said Bunker briefly and put the roll +in her hand. + +"Oh--did you sell it?" she demanded in dismay "did you sell that Number +One claim?" + +"You bet I did," answered her father grimly, "so take your money and +beat it." + +"But I told you not to!" she went on reproachfully, ignoring Denver +entirely. "I told you not to sell it!" + +"That's all right," grumbled Bunker, "you're going to get your chance, +if it takes the last cow in the barn. I know you've got it in you to be +a great singer--and this'll take you back to New York." + +"Well, all right," she responded tremulously, "I did want just one more +chance. But if I don't succeed I'm going to teach school and pay every +dollar of this back." + +She turned and disappeared out the garden door and Bunker Hill reached +for his hat. + +"Come on over to the store," he said and Denver followed in a daze. She +was not like any woman he had ever dreamed of, nor was she the woman he +had thought. In the night, when she was singing, she had seemed slender +and ethereal with her swan's neck and piled up hair; but now she was +different, a glorious human animal, strong and supple yet with the lines +of a girl. And her eyes were still the eyes of a child, big and round +and innocently blue. + +"Here comes the Professor," muttered Bunker gloomily, as he unlocked the +heavy door, "he's hep, I reckon, the way he walks." + +The Professor was waddling with his queer, duck-like steps down the +middle of the deserted street and every movement of his gunboat feet was +eloquent of offended dignity. + +"Vell," he began as he burst into the store and stopped in front of +Denver, "I vant an answer, right avay, on dat property I showed you the +udder day. I joost got a letter from a chentleman in Moroni inquiring +about an option on dat claim and----" + +"You can give it to him," cut in Denver, "I've just closed with Mr. Hill +for that Number One claim up the crick." + +"So!" exploded the Professor, "vell, I vish you vell of it!" And he +flung violently out the door. + +"Takes it hard," observed Bunker, "never was a good loser. You want to +watch out for him, now--he's going over to report to Murray." + +"So that's the combination," nodded Denver. "I was over there yesterday +and Murray knew all about me--gave me a tip not to buy this property." + +"Danged right he's working for him," returned Old Bunk grimly. "He runs +to him with everything he hears. It's a wonder I haven't killed that +little tub of wienies--he crabs every trade I start to make. What's the +matter with Old Bible-Back now?" + +"Oh, nothing," answered Denver, "but if it's all the same to you I'd +like to just locate that ground. Then I'll do my discovery work and if +there ever comes up a question I'll have your quit-claim to boot." + +"Suit yourself," growled Bunker, "but I want to tell you right now I've +got a perfect title to that property. I've held it continuously for +fifteen years and----" + +"Give me a quit-claim then; because Murray questions your title and I +don't want to take any chances. He says you haven't kept up your work." + +"He does, hey!" challenged Bunker thrusting out his jaw belligerently, +"well, I'd like to see somebody jump me. I'm living on my property, and +possessory title is the very best title there is. By grab, if I thought +that Mormon-faced old devil was thinking of jumping my ground----" He +went off into uneasy mutterings and wrote out the quit-claim absently; +then they went up together and, after going over the lines, Denver +relocated the mine and named it the Silver Treasure. + +"Think you guessed right, do you?" inquired Bunker with a grin. "Well, I +hope you make a million. And if you do you'll never hear no kick from +me--you've bought it and paid my price." + +"Fair enough!" exclaimed Denver and shook hands on the trade, after +which he bought some second-hand tools and went to work on a trail. Not +a hundred feet down-stream from where the vein cropped out, the main +trail crossed to the east side of the creek, leaving the mine on the +side of a steep hill. A few days' work, while he was waiting for his +powder, would clear out the worst of the cactus and catclaws and give +him free access to his hole. Then he could clean out the open cut, set +up a little forge and prepare for the driving of his tunnel. The sun was +blazing hot, not a breath of wind was stirring and the sweat splashed +the rocks as he toiled; but there was a song in Denver's heart that made +his labors light and he hummed the "Barcarolle" as he worked. She was +scornful of him now and thought only of her music; but the time would +come when she would know him as her equal, for a miner can be an artist, +too. And at swinging a double-jack or driving uppers Denver Russell was +as good as any man. He worked for the joy of it and took pride in his +craft--and that marks the true artist everywhere. + +Yet now that his sale had been consummated and he had the money he +needed, Bunker Hill suddenly lost all interest in Denver and retired +into his shell. He had invited Denver once to come down to his house and +share the hospitality of his home; but, after Denver's brusque, almost +brutal refusal, Old Bunk had never been the same. He had shown Denver +his claim and stated the price and told a few stories on the side, but +he had shown in many ways that his pride had been hurt and that he did +not fully approve. This was made the more evident by the careful way in +which he avoided introducing his wife; and it became apparent beyond a +doubt in that tense ecstatic minute when Drusilla had come in from the +garden. + +Then, if ever, was the moment when Denver should have been introduced; +but Bunker had pointedly neglected the opportunity and left him still a +stranger. And all as a reward for his foolish words and his refusal of +well-meaning hospitality. Denver realized it now, but his pride was +touched and he refrained from all further advances. If he was not good +enough to know Old Bunker's family he was not good enough to associate +with him; and so for three days he lived without society, for the +Professor, too, was estranged. He passed Denver now with eyes fixed +straight ahead, refusing even to recognize his presence; and, cut off +for the time from all human intercourse, Denver turned at last to his +phonograph. + +The stars had come out in the velvety black sky, the hot stillness of +evening had come, and from the valley below no sound came up but the +eerie, _eh_, _eh_, _eh_, of tree toads. They were sitting +by the stream and in cracks among the rocks, puffing out their pouched +throats like toy balloons and raising, a shrill, haunting chorus. Their +thin voices intermingled in an insistent, unearthly refrain as if the +spirits of the dead had come again to gibber by the pool. Even the +scales and trills of Drusilla had ceased, so hot and close was the +night. + +Denver set up his phonograph with its scrollwork front and patent filing +cases and looked over the records which he had bought at great expense +while the other boys were buying jazz. He was proud of them all but the +one he valued most he reserved for another time. It was the "Barcarolle" +from "Les Contes D' Hoffmann," sung by Farrar and Scotti, and he put on +instead a tenor solo that had cost him three dollars in Globe. Then a +violin solo, "Tambourin Chinois," by some man with a foreign name; and +at last the record that he liked the best, the "Cradle Song," by +Schumann-Heink. And as he played it again he saw Drusilla come out and +stand in the doorway, listening. + +It was a beautiful song, very sweet, very tender, and sung with the +feeling of an artist; yet something about it seemed to displease +Drusilla, for she turned and went into the house. Perhaps, hearing the +song, she was reminded of the singers, stepping forward in a blare of +trumpets to meet the applause of vast audiences; or perhaps again she +felt the difference between her efforts and theirs; but all the next +day, when she should have been practicing, Drusilla was strangely +silent. Denver paused in his work from time to time as he listened for +the familiar roulades, then he swung his heavy sledge as if it were a +feather-weight and beat out the measured song of steel on steel. He +picked and shoveled, tearing down from above and building up the trail +below; and as he worked he whistled the "Cradle Song," which was running +through his brain. But as he swung the sledge again he was conscious of +a presence, of someone watching from the sycamores; and, glancing down +quickly he surprised Drusilla, looking up from among the trees. She met +his eyes frankly but he turned away, for he remembered what the seeress +had told him. So he went about his work and when he looked again his +lady of the sycamores had fled. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +STEEL ON STEEL + + +The stifling summer heat fetched up wind from the south and thundercaps +crowned the high peaks; then the rain came slashing and struck up the +dust before it lifted and went scurrying away. The lizards gasped for +breath, Drusilla ceased to sing, all Pinal seemed to palpitate with +heat; but through heat and rain one song kept on--Denver's song of steel +on steel. In the cool of his tunnel he drove up-holes and down, slugging +manfully away until his round of holes was done and then shooting away +the face. As the sun sank low he sat on the dump, sorting and sacking +the best of his ore; and one evening as he worked Drusilla came by, +walking slowly as if in deep thought. + +He was down on his knees, a single-jack in his right hand a pile of +quartzite at his left, and as she came to the forks he went on cracking +rocks without so much as a stare. She glanced at him furtively, looked +back towards the town, then turned off and came up his trail. + +"Good evening," she began and as he nodded silently she seemed at a loss +for words. "--I just wanted to ask you," she burst out hurriedly, "if +you'd be willing to sell back the mine? I brought up the money with me." + +She drew out the sweaty roll of bills which he had paid to her father +and as Denver looked up she held it out to him, then clutched it +convulsively back. + +"I don't mean," she explained, "that you have to take it. But I thought +perhaps--oh, is it very rich? I'm sorry I let him sell it." + +"Why, no," answered Denver with his slow, honest smile, while his heart +beat like a trip-hammer in his breast, "it isn't so awful rich. But I +bought it, you know--well, I was sent here!" + +"What, by Murray?" she cried aghast, "did he send you in to buy it?" + +"Don't you think it!" returned Denver. "I'm working for myself +and--well, I don't want to sell." + +"No, but listen," she pleaded, her eyes beginning to fill, "I--I made a +great mistake. This was father's best claim, he shouldn't have sold it; +and so--won't you sell it back?" + +She smiled, and Denver reached out blindly to accept the money, but at a +thought he drew back his hand. + +"No!" he said, "I was sent, you know--a fortune-teller told me to dig +here." + +"Oh, did he?" she exclaimed in great disappointment. "Won't some other +claim do just as well? No, I don't mean that; but--tell me how it all +came about." + +"Well," began Denver, avoiding her eyes; and then he rose up abruptly +and brushed off the top of a powder-box. "Sit down," he said, "I'd sure +like to accommodate you, but here's how I come to buy it. There's a +woman over in Globe--Mother Trigedgo is her name--and she saved the +lives of a lot of us boys by predicting a cave in a mine. Well, she told +my fortune and here's what she said: + +"You will soon make a journey to the west and there, within the shadow +of a place of death, you will find two treasures, one of silver and the +other of gold. Choose well between them and both shall be yours, +but--well, I don't need to tell you the rest. But this is my choice, +see? And so, of course----" + +"Oh, do you believe in those people?" she inquired incredulously, "I +thought----" + +"But not this one!" spoke up Denver stoutly, "I know that the most of +them are fakes. But this Mother Trigedgo, she's a regular seeress--and +it's all come true, every word! Apache Leap up there is the place of +death. I came west after that fellow that robbed me; and this mine here +and that gold prospect of the Professor's are both in the shadow of the +peaks!" + +"But maybe you guessed wrong," she cried, snatching at a straw. "Maybe +this isn't the one, after all. And if it isn't, oh, won't you let me buy +it back for father? Because I'm not going to New York, after all." + +"Well, what good would it do _him_?" burst out Denver vehemently. +"He's had it for fifteen years! If he thought so much of it why didn't +he work it a little and ship out a few sacks of ore?" + +"He's not a miner," protested Drusilla weakly and Denver grunted +contemptuously. + +"No," he said, "you told the truth that time--and that's what the matter +with the whole district. The ground is all held by lead-pencil work and +nobody's doing any digging. And now, when I come in and begin to find +some ore, your old man wants his mining claim back." + +"He does not!" retorted Drusilla, "he doesn't know I'm up here. But he +hasn't been the same since he sold his claim, and I want to buy it back. +He sold it to get the money to send me to New York, and it was all an +awful mistake. I can never become a great singer." + +"No?" inquired Denver, glad to change the subject, "I thought you were +doing fine. That evening when you----" + +"Well, so did I!" she broke in, "until you played all those records; and +then it came over me I couldn't sing like that if I tried a thousand +years. I just haven't got the temperament. Those continental people have +something that we lack--they're so Frenchy, so emotional, so full of +fire! I've tried and I've tried and I just can't do it--I just can't +interpret those parts!" + +She stamped her foot and winked very fast and Denver forgot he was a +stranger. He had heard her sing so often that he seemed to know her +well, to have known her for years and years, and he ventured a +comforting word. + +"Oh well, you're young yet," he suggested shame-facedly, "perhaps it +will come to you later." + +"No, it won't!" she flared back, "I've got to give it up and go to +teaching school!" + +She stomped her foot more impatiently than ever and Denver went to +cracking rocks. + +"What do you think of that?" he inquired casually, handing over a chunk +of ore; but she gazed at it uncomprehendingly. + +"Isn't there anything I can do?" she began at last, "that will make you +change your mind? I might give you this much money now and then pay you +more later, when I go to teaching school." + +"Well, what do you want it back for?" he demanded irritably, "it's been +lying here idle for years. I'd think you'd be glad to have somebody get +hold of it that would do a little work." + +"I just want to give it back--and have it over with!" she exclaimed with +an embittered smile. "I've practiced and I've practiced but it doesn't +do any good, and now I'm going to quit." + +"Oh, if that's all," jeered Denver, "I'll locate another claim, and let +you give that back. What good would it do him if you did give it +back--he'd just sit in the shade and tell stories." + +"Don't you talk that way about my father!" she exclaimed, "he's the +nicest, kindest man that ever lived! He's not strong enough to work in +this awful hot weather but he intended to open this up in the fall." + +"Well, it's opened up already," announced Denver grimly. "You just show +him that piece of rock." + +"Oh, have you found something?" she cried snatching up the chunk of ore. +"Why, this doesn't look like silver!" + +"No, it isn't," he said, and at the look in his eyes she leapt up and +ran down the trail. + +She came back immediately with her father and mother and, after a moment +of pop-eyed staring, the Professor came waddling along behind. + +"Where'd you get this?" called Bunker as he strode up the trail and +Denver jerked his thumb towards the tunnel. + +"At the breast," he said. "Looks pretty good, don't it? I _thought_ +it would run into copper!" + +"Vot's dat? Vot's dat?" clamored the Professor from the fork of the +trail and Bunker gave Denver the wink. + +"Aw, that ain't copper," he declared, "it's just this green hornblende. +We have it around here everywhere." + +"All right", answered Denver, "you can have it your own way--but I call +it copper, myself." + +"Vot--_copper_?" demanded the Professor making a clutch at the +specimen and examining it with his myopic eyes, and then he broke into a +roar. "Vot--dat copper?" he cried, "you think dat is copper? Oh, ho, ho! +Oh, vell! Dis is pretty rich. It is nutting but manganese!" + +"That's all right," returned Denver, "you can think whatever you please; +but I've worked underground in too many copper mines----" + +"Where'd you get this?" broke in Bunker, giving Denver a dig, and as +they went into the tunnel he whispered in his ear: "Keep it dark, or +he'll blab to Murray!" + +"Well, let him blab," answered Denver, "it's nothing to me. But all the +same, pardner," he added _sotto voce_, "if I was in your place I +wouldn't bank too much on holding them claims with a lead-pencil." + +"I'm holding 'em with a six-shooter," corrected Bunker, "and Murray or +nobody else don't dare to jump a claim. I'm known around these parts." + +"Suit yourself," shrugged Denver as they came to the face, "I guess this +ore won't start no stampede. That seam in the hanging wall is where it +comes in--I'm looking for the veins to come together." + +"Judas priest!" exclaimed Bunker jabbing his candlestick into the copper +streak, "say, this is showing up good. And your silver vein is widening +out, too. Nothing to it, boy; you've got a mine!" + +"Not yet," said Denver, "but wait till she dips. This is nothing but a +blanket vein, so far; but if she dips and goes down then look out, +old-timer, she's liable to turn out a bonanza." + +"Well, who'd a thought it," murmured Old Bunk turning somberly away, +"and I've been holding her for fifteen years!" + +He led the way out, stooping down to avoid the roof; and outside the +stoop still remained. + +"Where's the Professor?" he asked, suddenly looking about, "has he gone +to tell Murray, already? Well, by grab then, he knew it was." + +"Oh, _was_ it copper?" quavered Drusilla catching hold of his hand +and looking up into his tired eyes, "and you sold it for five hundred +dollars! But that's all right," she smiled, drawing his head down for a +kiss. "I'll just have to succeed now--and I'm going to!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +SWEDE LUCK + + +As the sun set that evening in a trailing blaze of glory Denver Russell +came out and sat with bared arms, looking lazily down at the town. The +news of his strike had roused them at last, these easy-going, do-nothing +old-timers; and now, from an outcast, a crack-brained hobo miner, he was +suddenly accepted as an equal. They spoke to him, they recognized him, +they rushed up to his mine and stared at the ore he had dug; and even +the Professor had purloined a specimen to take over and show to Murray. +And all because, while the rest of them loafed, he had drifted in on his +vein until he cut the stringer of copper. It was Swede luck again--the +luck of that great people who invented the wheel-barrow, and taught the +Irish to stand erect and run it. + +Denver could smile a little, grimly, as he recalled Old Bunker's stories +and his fleering statement that a mule could work; but, now that he had +struck copper at the breast of his tunnel, the mule was suddenly a +gentleman. He was good enough to speak to, and for Bunker's daughter to +speak to, and for his wife to invite to supper; and all on account of a +vein of copper that was scarcely two inches thick. It was rich and it +widened out, instead of pinching off as a typical gash-vein would; and +while it would take a fortune to develop it, it was copper, and copper +was king. Silver and gold mines were nothing now, for silver was down +and gold was losing its purchasing power; but the mining journals were +full of articles about copper, and it had risen to thirty cents a pound. + +Thirty cents, when a few years ago it had dropped as low as eleven! And +it was still going up, for the munition factories were clamoring for it +and the speculators were bidding up futures. Even Bible-Back Murray, who +had a reputation as a pincher, had suddenly become prodigal with his +money and was working day and night, trying to tap a hidden copper +deposit. He had caught the contagion, the lure of tremendous profits, +and he was risking his all on the venture. What would he have to say now +if his diamond drill tapped nothing and a hobo struck it rich over at +Queen Creek? Well, he could say what he pleased, for Denver was +determined not to sell for a million dollars. He had come there with a +purpose, in answer to a prophecy, and there yet remained to win the +golden treasure and the beautiful woman who was an artist. + +Every little thing was coming as the seeress had predicted--good Old +Mother Trigedgo with her cards and astrology--and all that was necessary +was to follow her advice and the beautiful Drusilla would be his. He +must treat her at first like any young country girl, as if she had no +beauty or charm; and then in some way, unrevealed as yet, he would win +her love in return. He had schooled himself rigidly to resist her +fascination, but when she had looked up at him with her beseeching blue +eyes and asked him to sell back the mine, only a miracle of intercession +had saved him from yielding and accepting back the five hundred dollars. +He was like clay in her hands--her voice thrilled him, her eyes dazzled +him, her smile made him forget everything else--yet just at the moment +when he had reached out for the money the memory of the prophecy had +come back to him. And so he had refused, turning a deaf ear to her +entreaties, and scoffing at her easy-going father; and she had gone off +down the trail without once looking back, promising Bunker she would +become a great singer. + +Denver smiled again dreamily as he dwelt upon her beauty, her hair like +fine-spun gold, her eyes that mirrored every thought; and with it all, a +something he could not name that made his heart leap and choke him. He +could not speak when she first addressed him, his brain had gone into a +whirl; and so he had sat there, like a great oaf of a miner, and refused +to give her anything. It was rough, yet the Cornish seeress had required +it; and doubtless, being a woman herself, she understood the feminine +heart. At the end of his long reverie Denver sighed again, for the ways +of astrologers were beyond him. + +In the morning he rose early, to muck out the rock and clear the tunnel +for a new round of holes; and each time as he came out with a +wheel-barrow full of waste he cocked his eye to the west. Bible-Back +Murray would be coming over soon, if he was still at his camp around the +hill. Yet the second day passed before he arrived, thundering in from +the valley in his big, yellow car; and even then he made some purchases +at the store before he came up to the mine. + +"Good morning!" he hailed cheerily, "they tell me you've struck ore. +Well, well; how does the vein show up?" + +"'Bout the same," mumbled Denver and glanced at him curiously. He had +expected a little fireworks. + +"About the same, eh?" repeated Murray, flicking his rebellious glass +eye, which had a tendency to stare off to one side, "is this a sample of +your ore? Well, I will say, it looks promising--would you mind if I go +into the tunnel?" + +"Nope," returned Denver; and then, after a moment's pause: "How's that +gun-man of yours getting along?" + +"Oh, Dave? He's all right. I'll ask you over sometime and let you get +better acquainted." + +"Never mind," answered Denver, "I know him all I want to. And if I catch +him on my ground I'll sure make him jump--I don't like the way he talked +to me." + +"Well, he's rough, but he's good hearted," observed Murray pacifically. +"I'm sorry he spoke to you that way--shall we go in now and look at the +vein?" + +Denver grunted non-committally and led Murray into the tunnel, which had +turned now to follow the ore. Whatever his game was it was too deep for +Denver, so he looked on in watchful silence. Murray seemed well +acquainted with mining--he looked at the foot-wall and hanging-wall and +traced out the course of both veins; and then, without offering to take +any samples, he turned and went out to the dump. + +"Yes, very good," he said, but without any enthusiasm, "it certainly +looks very promising. Well, good day, Mr. Russell; much obliged." + +He started down the trail, leaving Denver staring, and then he turned +hurriedly back. + +"Oh, by the way," he said, "I buy and sell ore. When you get enough +sacked you might send it down by McGraw and I'll give you a credit at +the store." + +"Yes, all right," assented Denver and stood looking after him till he +cranked up and went roaring away. Not a word about the title, nothing +said about his warning; and no mention made of his well-known ability to +break any man in the county. The facts, apparently, were all that +interested him then--but he might make an offer later. When the vein was +opened up and he had made his first shipment, when it began to look like +a mine! Denver went back to work and as he drove in day by day he was +careful to save all the ore. + +He hadn't had it assayed, because assaying is expensive and his supplies +had cost more than he expected, but from the size of the button when he +made his rough fire-tests, he knew that it ran high in silver. Probably +eight hundred ounces, besides the lead; and he had sorted out nearly a +ton. About the time he was down to his bottom dollar he would ship and +get another grub-stake. Then, when that was gone, if his vein opened up, +he would ship to the smelter direct; but the first small shipment could +be easier handled by a man who made it a business. Of course Murray +would gouge him, and overcharge him on everything, but the main idea was +to get Denver to start an account and take that much trade away from +Hill. Denver figured it all out and then let it pass, for there were +other things on his mind. + +On the evening of his strike the house below had been silent; but early +the next morning she had begun again, only this time she was not singing +scales. It was grand opera now, in French and Italian; with brilliant +runs and trills and high, sustained crescendos that seemed almost to +demand applause; and high-pitched, agitato recitatives. She was running +through the scores of the standard operas--"La Traviata," "Il +Trovatore," "Martha"--but as the week wore along she stopped singing +again and Denver saw her down among the sycamores. She paid no attention +to him, wandering up and down the creek bed or sitting in gloomy silence +by the pools; but at last as he stood at the mouth of his tunnel +breaking ore with the great hammer he loved, she came out on the trail +and gazed across at him wistfully, though he feigned not to notice her +presence. He was young and vigorous, and the sledge hammer was his toy; +and as Drusilla, when she was practicing, gloried in the range of her +voice and her effortless bravuras and trills, so Denver, swinging his +sledge, felt like Thor of old when he broke the rocks with his blows. +Drusilla gazed at him and sighed and walked pensively past him, then +returned and came back up his trail. + +"Good evening," she said and Denver greeted her with a smile for he saw +that her mood was friendly. She had resented, at first, his brusque +refusal and his rough, straight-out way of speaking; but she was lonely +now, and he knew in his heart that all was not well with her singing. + +"You like to work, don't you?" she went on at last as he stood sweating +and dumb in her presence, "don't you ever get tired, or anything?" + +"Not doing this," he said, "I'm a driller, you know, and I like to keep +my hand in. I compete in these rock-drilling contests." + +"Oh, yes, father was telling me," she answered quickly. "That's where +you won all that money--the money to buy the mine." + +"Yes, and I've won other money before," he boasted. "I won first place +last year in the single-handed contest--but that's too hard on your arm. +You change about, you know, in the double-handed work--one strikes while +the other turns--but in single jacking it's just hammer, hammer, hammer, +until your arm gets dead to the shoulder." + +"It must be nice," she suggested with a half-concealed sigh, "to be able +to make money so easily. Have you always been a miner?" + +"No, I was raised on a ranch, up in Colorado--but there's lots more +money in mining. I don't work by the day, I take contracts by the foot +where there's difficult or dangerous work. Sometimes I make forty +dollars a day. There's a knack about mining, like everything +else--you've got to know just how to drive your holes in order to break +the most ground--but give me a jack-hammer and enough men to muck out +after me and I can sink from sixteen to twenty feet a day, depending on +the rock. But here, of course, I'm working lone-handed and only make +about three feet a day." + +"Oh," she murmured with a mild show of interest and Denver picked up his +hammer. Mother Trigedgo had warned him not to be too friendly, and now +he was learning why. He set out a huge fragment that had been blasted +from the face and swung his hammer again. + +"Did you ever hear the 'Anvil Chorus'?" she asked watching him +curiously. "It's in the second act of 'Il Trovatore.'" + +"Sure!" exclaimed Denver, "I heard Sousa's band play it! I've got it on +a record somewhere." + +"No, but in a real opera--you'd be fine for that part. They have a row +of anvils around the back of the stage and as the chorus sing the gypsy +blacksmiths beat out the time by striking with their hammers. Back in +New York last year there was a perfectly huge man and he had a hammer as +big as yours that he swung with both hands while he sang. You reminded +me of him when I saw you working--don't you get kind of lonely, +sometimes?" + +"Too busy," replied Denver turning to pick up another rock, "don't have +time for anything like that." + +"Well, I wish I was that way," she sighed after a silence and Denver +smote ponderously at the rock. + +"Why don't you work?" he asked at last and Drusilla's eyes flashed fire. + +"I do!" she cried, "I work all the time! But that doesn't do me any +good. It's all right, perhaps, if you're just breaking rocks, or digging +dirt in some mine; but I'm trying to become a singer and you can't +succeed that way--work will get you only so far!" + +"'S that so!" murmured Denver, and at the unspoken challenge the +brooding resentment of Drusilla burst forth. + +"Yes, it is!" she exclaimed, "and, just because you've struck ore, that +doesn't prove that you're right in everything. I've worked and I've +worked, and that's all the good it's done me--I'm a failure, in spite of +everything." + +"Oh, I don't know," responded Denver with a superior smile, "you've +still got your five hundred dollars. A man is never whipped till he +thinks he's whipped--why don't you go back and take a run at it?" + +"Oh, what's the use of talking?" she cried jumping up, "when you don't +know a thing about it? I've tried and I've tried and the best I could +ever do was to get a place in the chorus. And there you simply ruin your +voice without even getting a chance of recognition. Oh, I get so +exasperated to see those Europeans who are nothing but big, spoiled +children go right into a try-out and take a part away from me that I +know I can render perfectly. But that's it, you see, they're perfectly +undisciplined, but they can throw themselves into the part; and the +director just takes my name and address and says he'll call me up if he +needs me." + +Denver grunted and said nothing and as he swung his hammer again the +leash to her passions gave way. + +"Yes, and I hate you!" she burst out, "you're so big and self-satisfied. +But I guess if you were trying to break into grand opera you wouldn't be +quite so intolerant!" + +"No?" commented Denver stopping to shift his grip and she stamped her +foot in fury. + +"No, you wouldn't!" she cried half weeping with rage as she contemplated +the wreck of her hopes, "don't you know that Mary Garden and +Schumann-Heink and Geraldine Farrar and all of them, that are now our +greatest stars, had to starve and skimp and wait on the impresarios +before they could get their chance? There's a difference between digging +a hole in the ground and moving a great audience to tears; so just +because you happen to be succeeding right now, don't think that you know +it all!" + +"All right," agreed Denver, "I'll try to remember that. And of course +I'm nothing but a miner. But there's one thing, and I know it, about all +those great stars--they didn't any of them quit. They might have been +hungry and out of a job but they never _quit_, or they wouldn't be +where they are." + +"Oh, they didn't, eh?" she mocked looking him over with slow scorn. "And +I suppose that _you_ never quit, either?" + +"No, I never did," answered Denver truthfully. "I've never laid down +yet." + +"Well, you're young yet," she said mimicking his patronizing tones, +"perhaps that will come to you later." + +She smiled with her teeth and stalked off down the trail, leaving Denver +with something to think about. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE STRIKE + + +Denver Russell _was_ young, in more ways than one, but that did not +prove he was wrong. Perhaps he was presumptuous in trying to tell an +artist how to gain a foothold on the stage, but he was still convinced +that, in grand opera as in mining, there was no big demand for a +quitter. As for that swift, back stab, that veiled intimation that he +might live to be a quitter himself, Denver resolved then and there not +to quit working his mine until his last dollar was gone. And, while he +was doing that, he wondered if Drusilla could boast as much of her +music. Would she weaken again, as she had twice already, and declare +that she was a miserable failure; or would she toil on, as he did, day +by day, refusing to acknowledge she was whipped? + +Denver returned to his cave in a defiant mood and put on a record by +Schumann-Heink. There was one woman that he knew had fought her way +through everything until she had obtained a great success. He had read +in a magazine how she had been turned away by a director who had told +her her voice was hopeless; and how later, after years of privation and +suffering, she had come back to that same director and he had been +forced to acknowledge her genius. And it was all there, in her voice, +the sure strength that comes from striving, the sweetness that comes +from suffering; and as Denver listened to her "Cradle Song" he +remembered what he had read about her children. Every night, in those +dark times when, deserted and alone, she sang in the chorus for her +bread, she had been compelled for lack of a nursemaid to lock her +children in her room; and evening after evening her mother's heart was +tormented by fears for their safety. What if the house should burn down +and destroy them all? All the fear and love, all the anguished +tenderness which had torn her heart through those years was written on +the stippled disc, so deeply had it touched her life. + +Denver put them all on, the best records he had by singers of world +renown, and then at the end he put on the "Barcarolle," the duet from +the "Love Tales of Hoffmann." For him, that was Drusilla's song, the +expression of her gayest, happiest self. Its lilt and flow recalled her +to his thoughts like the embroidered motifs that Wagner used to +anticipate the coming of his characters. It was a light song, in a way, +not the greatest of music; but while she was singing it he had seen her +for the first time and it had become the motif of her coming. When he +heard it he saw a vision of a beautiful young girl, singing and swaying +like a slender flower; and all about her was a golden radiance like the +halo of St. Cecelia. And to him it was a prophecy of her ultimate +success, for when she sung it she had won his heart. So he played it +over and over, but when he had finished there was silence from the old +town below. + +Yet if Drusilla was silent it was not from despair for in the morning as +Denver was mucking out his tunnel he heard her clear voice mount up like +the light of some bird. + +"Ah, _Ah-h-h-h_, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah." + +It was the old familiar exercise, rising an octave at the first bound +and then fluttering down like some gorgeous butterfly of sound till it +rested on the octave below. And at each renewed flight it began a note +higher until it climbed at last to high C. Then it ran up in roulades +and galloping bravuras, it trilled and sought out new flights; yet +always with the pellucid tones of the flute, the sweet, virginal purity +of a child. She was right--there was something missing, a something +which she groped for and could not find, a something which the other +singers had. Denver sensed the lack dimly but he could not define it, +all he knew was that she left out herself. In the brief glimpse he had +of her she had seemed torn by dark passions, which caused her at times +to brood among the sycamores and again to seek a quarrel with him; yet +all this youthful turbulence was left out of her singing--she had not +learned to express her emotions. + +Denver listened every morning as he came out of his dark hole, pushing +the wheel-barrows of ore and waste before him, and then he bade farewell +to sun, air and music and went into the close, dark tunnel. By the light +of a single candle, thrust into its dagger-like miner's candlestick and +stabbed into some seam in the wall, he smashed and clacked away at his +drill until the whole face was honeycombed with holes. At the top they +slanted up, at the bottom down, to keep the bore broken clean; but along +the sides and in the middle they followed no system, more than to adapt +themselves to the formation. When his round of holes was drilled he cut +his fuse and loaded each hole with its charge; after which with firm +hands he ignited each split end and hurried out of the tunnel. There he +sat down on a rock and listened to the shots; first the short holes in +the center, to blow out the crown; then the side holes, breaking into +the opening; and the top-holes, shooting the rock down from above; and +then, last and most powerful, the deep bottom holes that threw the dirt +back down the tunnel and left the face clear for more work. + +As the poisonous smoke was drifting slowly out of the tunnel mouth +Denver fired up his forge and re-sharpened his drills; and then, along +towards evening, when the fumes had become diffused, he went in to see +what he had uncovered. Sometimes the vein widened or developed rich +lenses, and sometimes it pinched down until the walls enclosed nothing +but a narrow streak of talc; but always it dipped down, and that was a +good sign, a prophecy of the true fissure vein to come. The ore that he +mined now was a mere excrescence of the great ore-body he hoped to find, +but each day the blanket-vein turned and dipped on itself until at last +it folded over and led down. In a huge mass of rocks, stuck together by +crystals of silica and stained by the action of acids, the silver and +copper came together and intermingled at the fissure vent which had +produced them both. Denver stared at it through the powder smoke, then +he grabbed up some samples and went to see Bunker Hill. + +Not since that great day when Denver had struck the copper had Bunker +shown any interest in the mine. He sat around the house listening to +Drusilla while she practiced and opening the store for chance customers; +but towards Denver he still maintained a grim-mouthed reserve, as if +discouraging him from asking any favors. Perhaps the fact that Denver's +money was all gone had a more or less direct bearing on the case; but +though he was living on the last of his provisions Denver had refrained +from asking for credit. His last shipment of powder and blacksmith's +coal had cost twenty per cent more than he had figured and he had sent +for a few more records; and after paying the two bills there was only +some small change left in the wallet which had once bulged with +greenbacks. But his pride was involved, for he had read Drusilla a +lecture on the evils of being faint-hearted, so he had simply stopped +buying at the little store and lived on what he had left. But now--well, +with that fissure vein opened up and a solid body of ore in sight, he +might reasonably demand the customary accommodations which all merchants +accord to good customers. + +"Well, I've struck it," he said when he had Bunker in the store, "just +take a look at _that_!" + +He handed over a specimen that was heavy with copper and Bunker squinted +down his eyes. + +"Yes, looks good," he observed and handed it somberly back. + +"I've got four feet of it," announced Denver gloating over the +specimens, "and the vein has turned and gone down. What's the chances +for some grub now, on account? I'm going to ship that sacked ore." + +"Danged poor--with me," answered Bunker with decision. "You'd better try +your luck with Murray." + +"Oh, boosting for Murray, eh?" remarked Denver sarcastically. "Well, I +may take you up on that, but it's too far to walk now and I've been +living on beans for a week. I guess I'm good for a few dollars' worth." + +"Sure you're good for it," agreed Bunker, "but that ain't the point. The +question is--when will I get my money?" + +"You'll get it, by grab, as soon as I do," returned Denver with +considerable heat. "What's the matter? Ain't that ore shipment good +enough security?" + +"Well, maybe it is," conceded Bunker, "but you'll have a long wait for +your money. And to tell you the truth, the way I'm fixed now, I can't +sell except for cash." + +"Oh! Cash, eh?" sneered Denver suddenly bristling with resentment. "It +seems like I've heard that before. In fact, every time that I ask you +for a favor you turn me down like a bum. I came through here, one time, +so danged weak I could hardly crawl and you refused to even give me a +meal; and now, when I've got a mine that's worth millions, you've still +got your hand out for the money." + +"Well, now don't get excited," spoke up Bunker pacifically, "you can +have what grub you want. But I'm telling you the truth--those people +down below won't give me another dollar's worth on tick. These are hard +times, boy, the hardest I've ever seen, and if you'd offer me that mine +back for five hundred cents I couldn't raise the money. That shows how +broke I am, and I've got a family to support." + +"Well, that's different," said Denver. "If you're broke, that settles +it. But I'll tell you one thing, old-timer, you won't be broke long. I'm +going to open up a mine here that will beat the Lost Burro. I've got +copper, and that beats 'em all." + +"Sure does," agreed Bunker, "but it's no good for shipping ore. It takes +millions to open up a copper property." + +"Yes, and it brings back millions!" boasted Denver with a swagger. "I'm +made, if I can only hold onto it. But I'll tell you right now, if you +want to hold your claims you'd better do a little assessment work. +There's going to be a rush, when this strike of mine gets out, that'll +make your ground worth millions." + +Old Bunk smiled indulgently and took a chew of tobacco and Denver came +back to earth. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do," proposed Denver after a silence, "I'll +take a contract to do your assessment work for ten dollars a claim, in +trade. I'll make an open cut that's four by six by ten, and that's held +to be legal work anywhere. Come on now, I'm tired of beans." + +"Well, come down to supper," replied Bunker at last, "and we'll talk it +over there." + +"No, I don't want any supper," returned Denver resentfully, "you've got +enough hoboes to feed. You can give me an answer, right now." + +"All right--I won't do it," replied Bunker promptly and turned to go out +the door; but it had opened behind them and Drusilla stood there +smiling, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. + +"What are you two men quarreling about?" she demanded reprovingly, "we +could hear you clear over to the house." + +"Well, I asked him over to supper," began Bunker in a rage, "and----" + +"That's got nothing to do with it," broke in Denver hotly, "I'm making +him a business proposition. But he's so danged bull-headed he'd rather +kill some jumper than comply with the law as it stands. He's been +holding down these claims with a lead-pencil and a six-shooter just +about as long as he can and----" + +"Oh, have you made another strike?" asked Drusilla eagerly and when she +heard the news she turned to her father with a sudden note of gladness +in her voice. "Then you'll have to do the work," she said, "because I'll +never be happy till you do. Ever since you sold your claim I've been +sorry for my selfishness but now I'm going to pay you back. I'm going to +take my five hundred dollars and hire this assessment work done and +then----" + +"It won't cost any five hundred," put in Denver hastily. "I'm kinder +short, right now, and I offered to do it for ten dollars a claim, in +trade." + +"Ten dollars? Why, how can you do it for that? I thought the law +required a ten foot hole, or the same amount of work in a tunnel." + +"Or an open cut," hinted Denver. "Leave it to me--I can do it and make +money, to boot." + +"Well, you're hired, then!" cried Drusilla with a rush of enthusiasm, +"but you have to go to work to-morrow." + +"Well--ll," qualified Denver, "I wanted to look over my strike and +finish sacking that ore. Wouldn't the next day do just as well?" + +"No, it wouldn't," she replied. "You can give me an answer, right now." + +"Well, I'll go you!" said Denver and Old Bunker grunted and regarded +them with a wry, knowing smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A NIGHT FOR LOVE + + +There was music that evening in the Bunker Hill mansion but Denver +Russell sat sulking in his cave with no company but an inquisitive +pack-rat. He regretted now his curt refusal to join the Hills at supper, +for Drusilla was singing gloriously; but a man without pride is a +despicable creature and Old Bunk had tried to insult him. So he went to +bed and early in the morning, while the shadow of Apache Leap still lay +like a blanket across the plain, he set out to fulfill his contract. +Across one shoulder he hung a huge canteen of water, on the other a sack +of powder and fuse; and, to top off his burden, he carried a long steel +churn-drill and a spoon for scooping out the muck. + +The discovery hole of Bunker's Number Two claim was just up the creek +from his own and, after looking it over, Denver climbed up the bank and +measured off six feet from the edge. Then, raising the steel bar, he +struck it into the ground, churning it rhythmically up and down; and as +the hole rapidly deepened he spooned it out and poured in a little more +water. It was the same uninteresting work that he had seen men do when +they were digging a railroad cut; and the object was the same, to shoot +down the dirt with the minimum of labor and powder. But with Denver it +became a work of art, a test of his muscle and skill, and at each +downward thrust he bent from the hips and struck with a deep-chested +"Huh!" + +An hour passed by, and half the length of the drill was buried at the +end of the stroke; and then, as he paused to wipe the sweat from his +eyes, Denver saw that his activities were being noted. Drusilla was +looking on from the trail below, and apparently with the greatest +interest. She was dressed in a corduroy suit, with a broad sombrero +against the sun; and as she came up the slope she leapt from rock to +rock in a heavy pair of boys' high boots. There was nothing of the +singer about her now, nor of the filmy-clad barefooted dancer; the +jagged edge of old Pinal would permit of nothing so effeminate. Yet, +over the rocks as on the smooth trails, she had a grace that was all her +own, for those hillsides had been her home. + +"Well, how's the millionaire?" she inquired with a smile that made his +fond heart miss a beat. "Is _this_ the way you do it? Are you just +going to drill one hole?" + +"That's the dope," replied Denver, "sink it down ten feet and blow the +whole bank off with one shot. It's as easy as shooting fish." + +"Why, you're down half-way, already!" she cried in amazement. "How long +before you'll be done?" + +"Oh, half an hour or so," said Denver. "Want to wait and see the blast? +I learned this system on the railroad." + +"You'll be through, then, before noon!" she exclaimed. "You're actually +making money." + +"Well, a little," admitted Denver, "but, of course, if you're not +satisfied----" + +"Oh, I'm satisfied," she protested, "I was only thinking--but then, it's +always that way. There are some people, of course, who can make money +anywhere. How does it feel to be a millionaire?" + +"Fine!" grinned Denver, chugging away with his drill, "this is the way +they all got their start. The Armstrong method--and that's where I +shine; I can break more ground than any two men." + +"Well, I believe you can," she responded frankly, "and I hope you have a +great success. I didn't like it very well when you called me a quitter, +but I can see now what you meant. Did you ever study music at all?" + +Denver stopped his steady churning to glance at her quickly and then he +nodded his head. + +"I played the violin, before I went to mining. Had to quit then--it +stiffens up your fingers." + +"What a pity!" she cried. "But that explains about your records--I knew +you'd heard good music somewhere." + +"Yes, and I'm going to hear more," he answered impressively, "I'm not +going to blow my money. I'm going back to New York, where all those +singers live. The other boys can have the booze." + +"Don't you drink at all?" she questioned eagerly. "Don't you even smoke? +Well, I'm going right back and tell father. He told me that all miners +spent their money in drinking--why wouldn't you come over to supper?" + +She shot the question at him in the quick way she had, but Denver did +not answer it directly. + +"Never mind," he said, "but I will tell you one thing--I'm not a hobo +miner." + +"No, I knew you weren't," she responded quickly. "Won't you come over to +supper to-night? I might sing for you," she suggested demurely; but +Denver shook his head. + +"Nope," he said, "your old man took me for a hobo and he can't get the +idea out of his head. What did he say when you gave me this job?" + +"Well, he didn't object; but I guess, if you don't mind, we'll only do +three or four claims. He says I'll need the money back East." + +"Yes, you will," agreed Denver. "Five hundred isn't much. If I was flush +I'd do this for nothing." + +"Oh, no," she protested, "I couldn't allow that. But if there +_should_ be a rush, and father's claims should be jumped----" + +"You'd have the best of them, anyway. I wouldn't tempt old Murray too +far." + +"No," she said, "and that reminds me--I hear that he's made a strike. +But say, here's a good joke on the Professor. You know he thinks he's a +mining expert, and he's been crazy to look at the diamond drill cores; +and the other day the boss driller was over and he told me how he got +rid of him. You know, in drilling down they run into cavities where the +lime has been leached away, and in order to keep the bore intact they +pour them full of cement. Well, when the Professor insisted upon seeing +the core and wouldn't take no for an answer, Mr. Menzger just gave him a +section of concrete, where they'd bored through a filled-up hole. And +Mr. Diffenderfer just looked so wise and examined it through his +microscope, and then he said it was very good rock and an excellent +indication of copper. Isn't that just too rich for anything?" + +"Yeh," returned Denver with a thin-lipped smile. And then, before he +thought how it sounded: "Say, who is this Mr. Menzger, anyway?" + +"Oh, he's a friend of ours," she answered drooping her eyelashes +coquettishly. "He gets lonely sometimes and comes down to hear me +sing--he's been in New York and everywhere." + +"Yes, he must be a funny guy," observed Denver mirthlessly. "Any +relation to that feller they call Dave?" + +"Oh, Mr. Chatwourth? No, he's from Kentucky--they say he's the last of +his family. All the others were killed in one of those mountain +feuds--Mr. Menzger says he's absolutely fearless." + +"Well, what did he leave home for, then?" inquired Denver arrogantly. +"He don't look very bad to me, I guess if he was fearless he'd be back +in Kentucky, shooting it out with the rest of the bunch." + +"No, it seems that his father on his dying bed commanded him to leave +the country, because there were too many of the others against him. But +Mr. Menzger tells me he's a professional killer, and that's why Old +Murray hired him. Do you think they would jump our claims?" + +"They would if they struck copper," replied Denver bluntly. "And old +Murray warned me not to buy from your father--that shows he's got his +eye on your property. It's a good thing we're doing this work." + +"Weren't you afraid, then?" she asked, putting the wonder-note into her +voice and laying aside her frank manner, "weren't you afraid to buy our +claim? Or did you feel that you were guided to it, and all would be for +the best?" + +"That's it!" exclaimed Denver suddenly putting down his drill to gaze +into her innocent young eyes. "I was guided, and so I bought it anyhow." + +"Oh, I think it's so romantic!" she murmured with a sigh, "won't you +tell me how it happened?" + +And then Denver Russell, forgetting the seeress' warning at the very +moment he was discussing her, sat down on a rock and gave Drusilla the +whole story of his search for the gold and silver treasures. But at the +end--when she questioned him about the rest of the prophecy--he suddenly +recalled Mother Trigedgo's admonition: "Beware how you reveal your +affection or she will confer her hand upon another." + +A shadow came into his blue eyes and his boyish enthusiasm was stilled; +and Drusilla, who had been practicing her stage-learned wiles, suddenly +found her technique at fault. She chattered on, trying subtly to ensnare +him, but Denver's heart was now of adamant and he failed to respond to +her approaches. It was not too late yet to heed the words of the +prophecy, and he drilled on in thoughtful silence. + +"Don't you get lonely?" she burst out at last, "living all by yourself +in that cave? Why, even these old prospectors have to have some +pardner--don't you ever feel the need of a friend?" + +There it was--he felt it coming--the appeal to be just friends. But +another girl had tried it already, and he had learned about women from +her. + +"No," he said shortly, "I don't need no friends. Say, I'm going to load +this hole now." + +"Well, go on!" she challenged, "I'm not afraid. I'll stay here as long +as you do." + +"All right," he said lowering his powder down the hole and tamping it +gently with a stick, "I see I can't scare _you_." + +"Oh, you thought you could scare me!" she burst out mockingly, "I +suppose you're a great success with the girls." + +"Well," he mocked back, "a good-looking fellow like me----" And then he +paused and grinned slyly. + +"Oh, what's the use!" she exclaimed, rising up in disgust, "I might as +well quit, right now." + +"No, don't go off mad!" he remonstrated gallantly. "Stay and see the big +explosion." + +"I don't care _that_ for your explosion!" she answered pettishly +and snapped her fingers in the air. + +It was the particular gesture with which the coquettish Carmen was wont +to dismiss her lovers; but as she strode down the hill Drusilla herself +was heart-broken, for her coquetry had come to naught. This big Western +boy, this unsophisticated miner, had sensed her wiles and turned them +upon her--how then could she hope to succeed? If her eyes had no allure +for a man like him, how could she hope to fascinate an audience? And +Carmen and half the heroines of modern light opera were all of them +incorrigible flirts. They flirted with servants, with barbers, with +strolling actors, with their own and other women's husbands; until the +whole atmosphere fairly reeked of intrigue, of amours and coquettish +escapades. To the dark-eyed Europeans these wiles were instinctive but +with her they were an art, to be acquired laboriously as she had learned +to dance and sing. But flirt she could not, for Denver Russell had +flouted her, and now she had lost his respect. + +A tear came to her eye, for she was beginning to like him, and he would +think that she flirted with everyone; yet how was she to learn to +succeed in her art if she had no experience with men? It was that, in +fact, which her teacher had hinted at when he had told her to go out and +live; but her heart was not in it, she took no pleasure in deceit--and +yet she longed for success. She could sing the parts, she had learned +her French and Italian and taken instruction in acting; but she lacked +the verve, the passionate abandon, without which she could never +succeed. Yet succeed she must, or break her father's heart and make his +great sacrifice a mockery. She turned and looked back at Denver Russell, +and that night she sang--for him. + +He was up there in his cave looking down indifferently, thinking himself +immune to her charms; yet her pride demanded that she conquer him +completely and bring him to her feet, a slave! She sang, attired in +filmy garments, by the light of the big, glowing lamp; and as her voice +took on a passionate tenderness, her mother looked up from her work. +Then Bunker awoke from his gloomy thoughts and glanced across at his +wife; and they sat there in silence while she sang on and on, the +gayest, sweetest songs that she knew. But Drusilla's eyes were fixed on +the open doorway, on the darkness which lay beyond; and at last she saw +him, a dim figure in the distance, a presence that moved and was gone. +She paused and glided off into her song of songs, the "Barcarolle" from +"Love Tales of Hoffman," and as her voice floated out to him Denver rose +up from his hiding and stepped boldly into the moonlight. He stood there +like a hero in some Wagnerian opera, where men take the part of gods, +and as she gazed the mockery went out of her song and she sang of love +alone. Such a love as women know who love one man forever and hold all +his love in return, yet the words were the same as those of false +Giuletta when she fled with the perfidious Dapertutto. + + "Night divine, O night of love, + O smile on our enchantment + Moon and stars keep watch above + This radiant night of love!" + +She floated away in the haunting chorus, overcome by the madness of its +spell; and when she awoke the song was ended and love had claimed her +too. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A FRIEND + + +A new spirit, a strange gladness, had come over Drusilla and parts which +had been difficult became suddenly easy when she took up her work the +next day; but when she walked out in the cool of the evening the +sombrero and boy's boots were gone. She wore a trailing robe, such as +great ladies wear when they go to keep a tryst with knightly lovers, and +she went up the trail to where Denver was working on the last of her +father's claims. He was up on the high cliff, busily tamping the powder +that was to blast out the side of the hill, and she waited patiently +until he had fired it and come down the slope with his tools. + +"That makes four," he said, "and I'm all out of powder." But she only +answered with a smile. + +"I'll have to wait, now," he went on bluffly, "until McGraw comes up +again, before I can do any more work." + +"Yes," she answered and smiled again; a slow, expectant smile. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded and then his face changed and he +fumbled with the strap of his canteen. And when he looked up his eyes +met hers and there was no longer any secret between them. + +"You can rest a few days, then," she suggested softly, "I'd like to hear +some of your records." + +"Yes--sure, sure," he burst out hastily and they walked down the trail +together. She went on ahead with the quick step of a dancer and Denver +looked up at an eagle in the sky, as if in some way it could understand. +But the eagle soared on, without effort and without ceasing, and Denver +could only be glad. In some way, far beyond him, she had divined his +love; but it was not to be spoken of--now. That would spoil it all, the +days of sweet communion, the pretence that nothing had changed; yet they +knew it had changed and in the sharing of that great secret lay the tie +that should bind them together. Denver looked from the eagle to the +glorious woman and remembered the prophecy again. Even yet he must +beware, he must veil every glance, treat her still like a simple country +child; for the seeress had warned him that his fate hung in the balance +and she might still confer her hand upon another. + +In the happy days that followed he did no more work, further than to +sack his ore and ship it; but all his thoughts were centered upon +Drusilla who was friendly and elusive by turns. On that first precious +evening she came up with her father and inspected his smoke-blackened +cave, and over his new records there sprang up a conversation that held +him entranced for hours. She had been to the Metropolitan and the Boston +Opera Houses and heard the great singers at their best; she understood +their language, whether it was French or Italian or the now proscribed +German of Wagner, and she listened to the records again and again, +trying to steal the secret of their success. But through it all she was +gentle and friendly, and all her old quarrelsomeness was gone. + +A week passed like a day, full of dreams and half-uttered confidences +and long, contented silences; and then, as they sat in the shade of the +giant sycamore Denver let his eyes that had been fixed upon Drusilla, +stray and sweep the lower road. + +"What are you looking for now?" she demanded impatiently and he turned +back with a guilty grin. + +"McGraw," he said and she frowned to herself for at last the world had +come between them. For a week he had been idle, a heaven-sent companion +in the barren loneliness of life; but now, when his powder and mining +supplies arrived, he would become the old hard-working miner. He would +go into his dark tunnel before the sun was up and not come out till it +was low in the west, and instead of being clean and handsome as a young +god he would come forth like a groveling gnome. His face would be grimy, +his hands gnarled with striking, his digging-clothes covered with +candle-grease: and his body would reek with salty sweat and the rank, +muggy odor of powder fumes. And he would crawl back to his cave like an +outworn beast of burden, to sleep while she sang to him from below. + +"Will you go back to work?" she asked at last and he nodded and +stretched his great arms. + +"Back to work!" he repeated, "and I guess it's about time. I wonder how +much credit Murray gave me?" + +Drusilla said nothing. She was looking far away and wondering at the +thing we call life. + +"Why do you work so hard?" she inquired, half complainingly. "Is that +all there is in the world?" + +"No, lots of other things," he answered carelessly, "but work is the +only way to get them. I'm on my way, see? I've just begun. You wait till +I open up that mine!" + +"Then what will you do?" she murmured pensively, "go ahead and open up +another mine?" + +"Well, I might," he admitted. "Don't you remember that other treasure? +There's a gold-mine around here, somewhere." + +"Oh, is that all you think about?" she protested with a smile. "There +are lots of other treasures, you know." + +"Yes, but this one was prophesied," returned Denver doggedly. "I'm bound +to find it, now." + +"But Denver," she insisted, "don't you see what I mean? These +fortune-tellers never tell you, straight out. Yours said, 'a golden +treasure,' but that doesn't mean a gold mine. There are other treasures, +besides." + +"For instance?" he suggested and she looked far away as if thinking of +some she might name. + +"Well," she said at length, "there are opals, for one. They are +beautiful, and look like golden fire. Or it might be a rare old violin +that would bring back your music again. I saw one once that was golden +yellow--wouldn't you like to play while I sing? But if you spend all +your life trying to grub out more riches you will lose your appreciation +of art." + +"Yes, but wait," persisted Denver, "I'm just getting started. I haven't +got a dollar to my name. If Murray don't send me the supplies that I +ordered I'll have to go to work for my grub. The jewels can wait, and +the yellow violins, but I know that she meant a mine. It would have to +be a mine or I couldn't choose between them--and when I make my stake +I'm going to buy out the Professor and see what he's got underground. Of +course, it's only a stringer now but----" + +"Oh dear," sighed Drusilla and then she rose up, but she did not go +away. "Aren't you glad," she asked, "that we've had this week together? +I suppose I'm going to miss you, now. That's the trouble with being a +woman--we get to be so dependent. Can I play over your records, +sometimes?" + +"Sure," said Denver, "say, I'm going up there now to see if McGraw isn't +in sight. Would you like to come along too? We can sit outside in the +shade and watch for his dust, down the road." + +"Well, I ought to be studying," she assented reluctantly, "but I guess I +can go up--for a while." + +They clambered up together over the ancient, cliff-dwellers' trail, +where each foothold was worn deep in the rock; but as they sat within +the shadow of the beetling cliff Drusilla sighed again. + +"Do you think?" she asked, "that there will be a great rush when they +hear about your strike down in Moroni? Because then I'll have to go--I +can't practice the way I have been with the whole town filled up with +miners. And everything will be changed--I'd almost rather it wouldn't +happen, and have things the way they are now. Of course I'll be glad for +father's sake, because he's awfully worried about money; but sometimes I +think we're happier the way we are than we will be when we're all of us +rich. What will be the first thing you'll do?" + +"Well," began Denver, his eyes still on the road, "the first thing is to +open her up. There's no use trying to interest outside capital until +you've got some ore in sight. Then I'll go over to Globe to a man that I +know and come back with a hundred thousand dollars. That's right--I know +him well, and he knows me--and he's told me repeatedly if I find +anything big enough he's willing to put that much into it. He came up +from nothing, just an ordinary miner, but now he's got money in ten +different banks, and a hundred thousand dollars is nothing to him. But +his time is valuable, can't stop to look at prospects; so the first +thing I do is to open up that mine until I can show a big deposit of +copper. The silver and lead will pay all the expenses--and you wait, +when that ore gets down to the smelter I'll bet there'll be somebody +coming up here. It runs a thousand ounces to the ton or I'm a liar, the +way I've sorted it out; but of course old Murray and the rest of 'em +will rob me. I don't expect more than three hundred dollars." + +"Isn't it wonderful," murmured Drusilla, "and to think it all happened +just from having your fortune told! I'm going over to Globe before I +start back East and get her to tell my fortune, too; but of course it +can't be as wonderful as yours--you must have been just born lucky." + +"Well, maybe I was," said Denver with a shrug, "but it isn't all over +yet--I still stand a chance to lose. And she told me some other things +that are not so pleasant--sometimes I wish I'd never gone near her." + +"Oh, what are they?" she asked in a hushed eager voice; but Denver +ignored the question. Never, not even to his dearest friend, would he +tell the forecasting of his death; and as for dearest friends, if he +ever had another pardner he could never trust him a minute. The chance +slipping of a pick, a missed stroke with a hammer, any one of a thousand +trivial accidents, and the words of the prophecy would come to pass--he +would be killed before his time. But if he favored one man no more than +another, if he avoided his former pardners and friends, then he might +live to be one of the biggest mining men in the country and to win +Drusilla for his wife. + +"I'll tell you," he said meditatively, "you'd better keep away from her. +A man does better without it. Suppose she'd tell you, for instance, that +you'd get killed in a cave like she did Jack Chambers over in Globe; +you'd be scared then, all the time you were under ground--it ruins a man +for a miner. No, it's better not to know it at all. Just go ahead, the +best you know how, and play your cards to win, and I'll bet it won't be +but a year or two until you're a regular operatic star. They'll be +selling your records for three dollars apiece, and all those managers +will be bidding for you; but if Mother Trigedgo should tell you some bad +news it might hurt you--it might spoil your nerve." + +"Oh, did she tell you something?" cried Drusilla apprehensively. "Do +tell me what it was! I won't breathe it to a soul; and if you could +share it with some friend, don't you think it would ease your mind?" + +Denver looked at her slowly, then he turned away and shook his head in +refusal. + +"Oh, Denver!" she exclaimed as she sensed the significance of it, and +before he knew it she was patting his work-hardened hand. "I'm sorry," +she said, "but if ever I can help you I want you to let me know. Would +it help to have me for a friend?" + +"A friend!" he repeated, and then he drew back and the horror came into +his eyes. She was his friend already, the dearest friend he had--was she +destined then to kill him? + +"No!" he said, "I don't want any friends. Come on, I believe that's +McGraw." + +He rose up hastily and held out his hand to help her but she refused to +accept his aid. Her lips were trembling, there were tears in her eyes +and her breast was beginning to heave; but there was no explanation he +could give. He wanted her, yes, but not as a friend--as his beloved, his +betrothed, his wife! By any name, but not by the name of friend. He drew +away slowly as her head bowed to her knees; and at last he left her, +weeping. It was best, after all, for how could he comfort her? And he +could see McGraw's dust down the road. + +"I'm going to meet McGraw!" he called back from the steps and went +bounding off down the trail. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +BROKE + + +McGraw, the freighter, was a huge, silent man from whom long years on +the desert had almost taken the desire for speech. He came jangling up +the road, his wagons grinding and banging, his horses straining wearily +in their collars; and as Denver ran to meet him he threw on the brakes +and sat blinking solemnly at his inquisitor. + +"Where's my powder?" demanded Denver looking over the load, "and say, +didn't you bring that coal? I don't see that steel I ordered, either!" + +"No," said McGraw and then, after a silence: "Murray wouldn't receive +your ore." + +"Wouldn't receive it!" yelled Denver, "why, what was the matter with +it--did the sacks get broke going down?" + +"No," answered McGraw, "the sacks were all right. He said the ore was no +good." + +"Like hell!" scoffed Denver, "that ore that I sent him? It would run a +thousand ounces to the ton!" + +McGraw wrinkled his brows and looked up at the sun. + +"Well," he said, "I guess I'll be going." + +"But--hey, wait!" commanded Denver, scarcely believing his ears, "didn't +he send me any grub, or anything?" + +"Nope," answered McGraw, "he wouldn't give me nawthin'. He said the ore +was no good. Come, boys!" And he threw off the brakes with a bang. + +The chains tightened with a jerk, the wheelers set their feet; then the +lead wagon heaved forward, the trail-wagon followed and Denver was alone +on the road. His brain was in a whirl, he had lost all volition, even +the will to control his wild thoughts; until suddenly he burst out in a +fit of cursing--of Murray, of McGraw, of everything. McGraw had been a +fool, he should have demanded the supplies anyway; and Murray was just +trying to job him. He knew he was broke and had not had the ore assayed, +and he was taking advantage of the fact. He had refused the ore in order +to leave him flat and compel him to abandon his mine; and then he, +Murray, would slip over with his gun-man and take possession himself. +Denver struck his leg and looked up and down the road, and then he +started off for Moroni. + +It was sixty miles, across a scorching desert with only two wells on the +road; but Denver arrived at Whitlow's an hour after sunset, and he was +at Desert Wells before dawn. A great fire seemed to consume him, to +drive him on, to fill his body with inexhaustible strength; and, against +the advice of the station man, he started on in the heat for Moroni. All +he wanted was a show-down with Bible-Back Murray, to meet him face to +face; and no matter if he had the whole county in his pocket he would +tell him what he thought of him. And he would make him take that ore, +according to his agreement, or answer to him personally; and then he +would return to Pinal, where he had left Drusilla crying. But he could +not face her now, after all his boasting and his tales of fabulous +wealth. He could never face her again. + +The sun rose up higher, the heat waves began to shimmer and the +landscape to blur before his eyes; and then an automobile came +thundering up behind him and halted on the flat. + +"Get in!" called the driver throwing the door open hospitably; and in an +hour's time Denver was set down in Moroni, but with the fever still hot +in his brain. His first frenzy had left him, and the heat madness of the +desert with its insidious promptings to violence; but the sense of +injustice still rankled deep and he headed for Murray's store. It was a +huge, brick building crowded from basement to roof with groceries and +general merchandise. Busy clerks hustled about, waiting on Mexicans and +Indians and slow-moving, valley ranchers; and as Denver walked in there +was a man there to meet him and direct him to any department. It showed +that Bible-Back was efficient, at least. + +"I'd like to see Mr. Murray," announced Denver shortly and the +floor-walker glanced at him again before he answered that Mr. Murray was +out. It was the same at the bank, and out at his house; and at last in +disgust Denver went down to the station, where he had been told his ore +was lying. The stifling heat of the valley oppressed him like a blanket, +the sweat poured down his face in tiny streams; and at each evasion his +anger mounted higher until now he was talking to himself. It was evident +that Murray was trying to avoid him--he might even have started back to +the mine--but his ore was there, on a heavily timbered platform, where +it could be transferred from wagon to car without lifting it up and +down. There was other ore there too, each consignment by itself, taken +in by the store-keeper in exchange for supplies and held to make up a +carload. The same perfect system, efficiency in all things--efficiency +and a hundred per cent profit. + +Denver leapt up on the platform and cut open a sack, but as he was +pouring a generous sample of the ore into his handkerchief a man stepped +out of the next warehouse. + +"Hey!" he called, "what are you doing, over there? You get down and +leave that ore alone!" + +"Go to hell!" returned Denver, tying a knot in his handkerchief, and the +man came over on the run. + +"Say!" he threatened, "you put that ore back or you'll find yourself in +serious trouble." + +"Oh, I will, hey?" replied Denver with his most tantalizing smile. +"Whose ore do you think this is, anyway?" + +"It belongs to Mr. Murray, and you'd better put it back or I'll report +the matter at once." + +"Well, report it," answered Denver. "My name is Denver Russell and I'm +taking this up to the assayer." + +"There's Mr. Murray, now," exclaimed the man and as Denver looked up he +saw a yellow automobile churning rapidly along through the dust. Murray +himself was at the wheel and, sitting beside him, was another man +equally familiar--it was Dave, his hired gun-man. + +"What are you doing here, Mr. Russell?" demanded Murray with asperity +and Denver became suddenly calm. Old Murray had been hiding from him, +but they had summoned him by telephone, and he had brought along Dave +for protection. But that should not keep him from having his way and +forcing Murray to a show-down. + +"I just came down for a sample of that ore I sent you," answered Denver +with a sarcastic grin. "McGraw said you claimed it was no good, so I +thought I'd have it assayed." + +"Oh," observed Murray and for a minute he sat silent while Dave and +Denver exchanged glances. The gun-man was slight and insignificant +looking, with small features and high, boney cheeks; but there was a +smouldering hate in his deep-set eyes which argued him in no mood for a +jest, so Denver looked him over and said nothing. + +"Very well," said Murray at last, "the ore is yours. Go ahead and have +it assayed. But with the price of silver down to forty-five cents I +doubt if that stuff will pay smelter charges. I'll ship it, if you say +so, along with this other, if only to make up a carload; but it will be +at your own risk and if the returns show a deficit, your mine will be +liable for the balance." + +"Oh, that's the racket, eh?" suggested Denver. "You've got your good eye +on my mine. Well, I'd just like to tell you----" + +"No, I haven't," snapped back Murray, his voice harsh and strident, "I +wouldn't accept your mine as a gift. Your silver is practically +worthless and there's no copper in the district; as I know all too well, +to my sorrow. I've lost twenty thousand dollars on better ground than +yours and ordered the whole camp closed down--that shows how much I want +_your_ mine." + +He started his engine and glided on to the warehouse and Denver stood +staring down the road. Then he raised his sample, tied up in his +handkerchief, and slammed it into the dirt. His mine was valueless +unless he had money, and Murray had abandoned the district. More than +ever Denver realized how much it had meant to him, merely to have that +diamond drilling running and a big man like Murray behind it. It was +indicative of big values and great expectations; but now, with Murray +out of the running, the district was absolutely dead. There was no +longer the chance of a big copper strike, such as had been rumored +repeatedly for weeks, to bring on a stampede and make every claim in the +district worth thousands of dollars as a gamble. + +No, Pinal was dead; the Silver Treasure was worthless; and he, Denver +Russell, was broke. He had barely the price of a square meal. He started +up-town, and turned back towards the warehouse where Murray was +wrangling with his hireling; then, cursing with helpless rage, he swung +off down the railroad track and left his broken dreams behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE HAND OF FATE + + +The swift hand of fate, which had hurled Denver from the heights into +the depths of dark despair, suddenly snatched him up out of the abyss +again and whisked him back to Globe. When he walked out of Moroni his +mind was a blank, so overcome was his body with heat and toil and the +astounding turns of his fortune; but at the next station below, as he +was trying to steal a ride, a man had dropped off the train and dragged +him, willy nilly, into his Pullman. It was a mining superintendent who +had seen him in action when he was timbering the Last Chance stope, and +in spite of his protests he paid his fare to Globe and put him to work +down a shaft. + +At the bottom of this shaft was millions of dollars worth of copper and +level after level of expensive workings; and some great stirring of the +earth was cutting it off, crushing the bottle off at the neck. Every +night, every shift, the swelling ground moved in, breaking stulls and +square-sets like tooth-picks; and now with solid steel and quick-setting +concrete they were fighting for the life of the mine. It was a dangerous +job, such as few men cared to tackle; but to Denver it was a relief, a +return to his old life after the delirium of an ugly dream. Even yet he +could not trace the flaw in his reasoning which had brought him to earth +with such a thump; but he knew, in general, that his error was the +common one of trying to run a mine on a shoestring. He had set up in +business as a mining magnate on eight hundred dollars and his nerve, and +Bible-Back Murray had busted him. + +Upon that point, at least, Denver suffered no delusion; he knew that his +downfall had been planned from the first and that he had bit like a +sucker at the bait. Murray had dropped a few words and spit on the hook +and Denver had shipped him his ore. The rest, of course, was like +shooting fish in the Pan-handle--he had refused to buy the ore, leaving +Denver belly-up, to float away with other human debris. But there was +one thing yet that he could not understand--why had Murray closed down +his own mine? That was pulling it pretty strong, just to freeze out a +little prospector and rob him of a ton or two of ore; and yet Denver had +proof that it was true. He had staked a hobo who had come over the trail +and the hobo had told him what he knew. The diamond drill camp was +closed down and all the men had left, but the guard was still herding +the property. And the hobo had seen a girl at Pinal. She was easy to +look at but hard to talk to, so he had passed and hit the trail for +Globe. + +Denver worked like a demon with a gang of Cousin Jacks, opposing the +swelling ground with lengths of railroad steel and pouring in the +concrete behind them; but all the time, by fits and snatches, the old +memories would press in upon him. He would think of Mother Trigedgo and +her glowing prophecies, which had turned out so wonderfully up to a +certain point and then had as suddenly gone wrong; and then he would +think of the beautiful artist with whom he was fated to fall in love, +and how, even there, his destiny had worked against him and led him to +sacrifice her love. For how could one hope to win the love of a woman if +he denied her his friendship first? And yet, if he accepted her as his +dearest friend, he would simply be inviting disaster. + +It was all wrong, all foolish--he dismissed it from his mind as unworthy +of a thinking man--yet the words of the prophecy popped up in his head +like the memories of some evil dream. His hopes of sudden riches were +blasted forever, he had given up the thought of Drusilla; but the one +sinister line recurred to him constantly--"at the hands of your dearest +friend." Never before in his life had he been without a pardner, to +share his ramblings and adventures, but now in that black hole with the +steel rails coming down and death on every hand, superstition +overmastered him and he rebuffed the hardy Cornishmen, refusing to take +any man for his friend. Nor would he return to Mother Trigedgo's +boarding house, for her prophecies had ruined his life. + +He worked on for a week, trying to set his mind at rest, and then a +prompting came over him suddenly to go back and see Drusilla. If death +must come, if some friend must kill him, in whose hands would he rather +entrust his life than in those of the woman he loved? Perhaps it was all +false, like the rest of the prophecy, the gold and silver treasures and +the rest; and if he was brave he might win her at last and have her for +more than a friend. But how could he face her, after all he had said, +after boasting as he had of his fortune? And he had refused her +friendship, when she had endeavored to comfort him and to exorcise this +fear-devil that pursued him. He went back to work, determined to forget +it all, but that evening he drew his time. It came to ninety dollars, +for seven shifts and over-time, and they offered him double to stay; but +the desire to see Drusilla had taken possession of him and he turned his +face towards Pinal. + +It was early in the morning when he rode out of Globe and took the trail +over the divide; and as he spurred up a hill he overtook another +horseman who looked back and grinned at him wisely. + +"Going to the strike?" he asked and Denver's heart leapt, though he kept +his quirt and spurs working. + +"What strike?" he said and the man burst into a laugh as if sensing a +hidden jest. + +"That's all right," he answered, "I guess you're hep--they say it runs +forty per cent copper." + +"How'd _you_ hear about it?" inquired Denver, fishing cautiously +for information. "Where you going--over to Pinal?" + +"You're whistling," returned the man, quite off his guard. "Say, stake +me a claim when you get there, if old Bible-Back hasn't jumped them +all." + +"Say, what are you talking about?" demanded Denver, suddenly reining in +his horse. "Is Murray jumping claims?" + +"Never mind!" replied the man, shutting up like a clam, and Denver +spurred on and left him. + +There was a strike then in Pinal, Old Murray had tapped the vein and it +ran up to forty per cent copper! That would make the claim that Denver +had abandoned the week before worth thousands and thousands of dollars. +It would make him rich and Bunker Hill rich and--yes, it would prove the +prophecy! He had chosen the silver treasure and the gold treasure had +been added to it--for the copper ore which had come in later was almost +the color of gold. As old Bunk had said, all these prophecies were +symbolical, and he had done Mother Trigedgo an injustice. And there was +one claim that he knew of--yes, and four others, too--that Murray would +never jump. That was his own Silver Treasure and the four claims of +Bunker's that he had done the annual work on himself. + +Denver's heart leapt again as he raced his horse across the flats and +led him scrambling with haste up the steep hills, and before the sun was +three hours high he had plunged into the box canyon of Queen Creek. Here +the trail wound in and out, crossing and recrossing the shrunken stream +and mounting with painful zigzags over the points; but he rioted through +it all, splashing the water out of the crossings as he hurried to claim +his own. The box canyon grew deeper, the walls more precipitous, the +creek bottom more dark and cavernous; until at last it opened out into +broad flats and boulder patches, thickly covered with alders and ash +trees. And then as he swung around the final, rocky point he saw his own +claim in the distance. It was nothing but a hole in the side of the +rocky hillside, a slide of gray waste down the slope; but to him it was +a beacon to light his home-coming, a proof that some dreams do come +true. He galloped down the trail where Drusilla and he had loitered and +let out an exultant whoop. + +But as Denver came opposite his mine a sinister thing happened--a head +rose up against the black darkness of the tunnel and a man looked +stealthily out. Then he drew back his head like some snake in a hole and +Denver stopped and stared. A low wall of rocks had been built across the +cut and the man was crouching behind it--Denver jogged down and turned +up the trail. A glimpse at Pinal showed the streets full of automobiles +and a huddle of men by the store door, and as he rode up towards his +mine Bunker Hill came running out and beckoned him frantically back. + +"Come back here!" he hollered and Denver turned and looked at him but +kept on up the narrow trail. The mine was his, without a doubt, both by +purchase and by assessment work done; and he had no fear of +dispossession by a jumper who was so obviously in the wrong. + +"Hello, there!" he hailed, reining in before the tunnel; and after a +minute the man rose up with his pistol poised over his shoulder. It was +Dave, Murray's gun-man, and at sight of his enemy Denver was swept with +a gust of passion. From the moment he had first met him, this +narrow-eyed, sneering bad-man had roused all the hate that was in him; +but now it had gone beyond instinct. He found him in adverse possession +of his property and with a gun raised ready to shoot. + +"What are _you_ doing here?" demanded Denver insolently but +Chatwourth did not move. He stood like a statue, his gun balanced in the +air, a thin, evil smile on his lips, and Denver gave way to his fury. +"You get out of there!" he ordered. "Get off my property! Get off or +I'll put you off!" + +Chatwourth twirled his gun in a contemptuous gesture; and then, like a +flash, he was shooting. He threw his shots low, between the legs of the +horse, which reared and whirled in a panic; and with the bang of the +heavy gun in his ears, Denver found himself headed down the trail. A +high derisive yell, a whoop of hectoring laughter, followed after him as +he galloped into the open; and he was fighting his horse in a cloud of +dust when Bunker Hill and the crowd came up. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE MAN-KILLER + + +"Did he hit ye?" yelled Bunker when Denver had conquered his pitching +horse and set him back on his haunches. "Hell's bells, boy, I told you +to stay out of there!" + +"Well, you lend me a gun!" shouted Denver in a fury, "and I'll go back +and shoot it out with that dastard! It's him or me--that's all!" + +"Here's a gun, pardner," volunteered a long-bearded prospector handing +up a six-shooter with tremulous eagerness; but Bunker Hill struck the +long pistol away and took Denver's horse by the bit. + +"Not by a jugful, old-timer," he said to the prospector. "Do you want to +get the kid killed? Come on back to the meeting and we'll frame up +something on these jumpers that'll make 'em hunt their holes. But this +boy here is my friend, understand?" + +He held the prancing horse, which had been spattered with glancing lead, +until Denver swung down out of the saddle; and then, while the crowd +followed along at their heels, he led the way back to the store. + +"What's going on here?" demanded Denver, looking about at the automobile +and the men who had popped up like magic, "has Murray made a strike?" + +"Danged right," answered Bunker, "he made a strike last month--and now +he has jumped all our claims. Or at least, it's his men, because Dave +there's the leader; but Murray claims they're working for themselves. +He's over at his camp with a big gang of miners, driving a tunnel in to +tap the deposit--it run forty per cent pure copper." + +"Well, we're made then," exulted Denver, "if we can get back our claims. +Come on, let's run these jumpers off!" + +"Yes, that's what _I_ said, a few hours ago," grumbled Bunker +biting savagely at his mustache, "and I never was so hacked in my life. +We went up to this Dave and all pulled our guns and ordered him out of +the district, and I'm a dadburned Mexican if he didn't pull _his_ +gun and run the whole bunch of us away. He's nervy, there's no use +talking; and I promised Mrs. Hill that I'd keep out of these shooting +affrays. By grab, it was downright disgraceful!" + +"That's all right," returned Denver, "he don't look bad to me. You just +lend me a gun and----" + +"He'll kill ye!" warned Bunker, "I know by his eye. He's a killer if +ever there was one. So don't go up against him unless you mean business, +because you can't run no blazer on _him_!" + +"Well--oh hell, then," burst out Denver, "what's the use of getting +killed! Isn't there anything else we can do? I don't need to eject him +because he's got no title, anyway. How about these lead-pencil fellows +that haven't done their work for years?" + +"That's it," explained Bunker, "we were having a meeting when we seen +you horn in on Dave. These gentlemen are all men that have held their +ground for years and it don't seem right they should lose it. At the +same time it'll take something more than a slap on the wrist to make +these blasted jumpers let go. They've staked all the good claims and are +up doing the work on them and the question is--what can we do?" + +"I'll tell you what I'll do," spoke up the old prospector vindictively +as the crowd surged into the store, "I'll get up on the Leap and shoot +down on them jumpers until I chase the last one of 'em off. They can't +run no rannikaboo on me!" + +He wagged his long beard and spat impressively but nobody paid any +attention to him. They realized at last that they were up against +gun-fighters--men picked for quick shooting and iron nerves and working +under the orders of one man. That man was Dave Chatwourth, nominally +dismissed by Murray but undoubtedly still in his pay, and until they +could devise some plan to eliminate him it was useless to talk of +violence. So they resumed their meeting and, as Denver owned a claim, he +found himself included in the membership. It was a belated revival of +the old-time Miners' Meeting, at one time the supreme law in Western +mining camps; and Bunker Hill, as Recorder of the district, presided +from his perch on the counter. + +From his seat in the corner Denver listened apathetically as the miners +argued and wrangled, and the longer they talked the more it became +apparent that nothing was going to be done. The encounter with Dave had +cooled their courage, and more and more the sentiment began to lean +towards an appeal to the power of the law. But then it came out that the +law was an instrument which might operate as a two-edged sword; for +possession, and diligence in working the claim, are the two big points +in mining law and just at that moment a legal decision would be all in +favor of the jumpers. And if Murray was behind them, as all the +circumstances seemed to indicate, he would hire the most expensive +lawyers in the country and fight the case to a finish. No, if anything +was to be done they must find out some other way, or they would be +playing right into his hands. + +"I'll tell you," proposed Bunker as the talk swung back to action, +"let's go back unarmed and talk to Dave again and find out what he +thinks he's doing. He can't hold Denver's claim, and those claims of +mine, because the work has just been done; and then, if we can talk him +into vacating our ground, maybe these other jaspers will quit." + +"I'll go you!" said Denver rising up impatiently, "and if he won't +vacate my claim I'll try some other means and see if we can't persuade +him." + +"That's the talk!" quavered the old prospector, slapping him heartily on +the back. "Lord love you, boy, if I was your age I'd be right up in +front there, shooting. Why, up in the Bradshaws in Seventy-three----" + +"Never mind what you'd do if you had the nerve," broke in Bunker Hill +sarcastically. "Just because you've got a claim that you'd like to get +back is no reason for stirring up trouble. No, I'm willing to go ahead +and do all the talking; but I want you to understand--this is +_peaceable_." + +"Well, all right," agreed the miners and, laying aside their pistols, +they started up the street for Denver's mine; but as Bunker led off a +voice called from the porch and his wife came hurrying after him. Behind +her followed Drusilla, reluctantly at first; but as her father kept on, +despite the entreaties of her mother, she ran up and caught him by the +sleeve. + +"No, don't go, father!" she cried appealingly and as Bunker replied with +an evasive laugh she turned her anger upon Denver. + +"Why don't you get back your own mine?" she demanded, "instead of +dragging my father into it?" + +"Never mind, now," protested Bunker, "we ain't going to have no +trouble--we just want to have a friendly talk. This has nothing to do +with Denver or his mine--all we want is a few words with Dave." + +"He'll shoot you!" she insisted. "Oh, I just know something will happen. +Well, all right, then; I'm going along too!" + +"Why, sure," smiled Bunker, "always glad to have company--but you'd +better stay back with your mother." + +"No, I'm going to stay right here," she answered stubbornly, giving +Denver a hateful glance, "because I don't believe a word you say." + +"Ve-ry well, my dear," responded Bunker indulgently and took her under +his arm. + +"I'm going ahead!" she burst out quickly as they came to the turn in the +trail; and before he could stop her she slipped out of his embrace and +went running to the entrance of the cut. But there she halted suddenly +and when they came up they found her pale and trembling. "Oh, go back!" +she gasped. "He's in there--he'll shoot you. I know something awful will +happen!" + +"You'd better go back, now," suggested her father quietly, and then he +turned to the barrier. "Don't start anything, Dave--we've come +peaceable, this time; so come out and let's have a talk." + +There was a long, tense silence and then the muzzle of a gun stirred +uneasily and revealed the hiding place of Dave. He was crouched behind +the rocks which he had piled up across the cut where it entered the +slope of the hill, and his long barrelled six-shooter was thrust out +through a crack just wide enough to serve for a loop-hole. + +"Don't want to talk," he answered at last. "So go on, now; get off of my +property." + +"Well, now listen," began Bunker shaking off Drusilla's grasp, "we +acknowledge we made a slight mistake. We tried to run a whizzer and you +called us good and plenty--all right then, now let's have a talk. If you +can show title to this ground you're holding, we'll leave you in +peaceful possession; and if you can't, you're just wasting your time and +talents, because there's plenty more claims that ain't took. It's a +cinch you can't hide in that hole forever, so you might as well have it +out now." + +"Well what d'ye want?" snarled Chatwourth irritably. "By cripes, I'll +kill the first man that comes a step nearer. I won't stand no +monkey-business from nobody." + +"Oh, sure, sure," soothed Bunker, "we know you're the goods--nerviest +gun-man, I believe, I ever saw. But here's the proposition, you ain't +here for your health, you must figure on making a winning somehow. Well, +if your title's good you've got a good mine, but if it ain't you're out +of luck. Now I sold this claim for five hundred dollars to Mr. Russell, +that you met a while ago; and we think it belongs to him yet. I gave him +a clear title and he's done his work, so----" + +"Your title was no good!" contradicted Chatwourth from his rock pile, +"you hadn't done your work for years. I've located this claim and the +man don't live----" + +"That's all right!" spoke up Denver, "but I located it before you did. I +didn't _buy_ this claim. I paid for a quit-claim and then relocated +it myself--and my papers are on record in Moroni." + +"Who called you in on this?" burst out Chatwourth abusively, rising up +with his gun poised to shoot. "Now you git, dam' your heart, and if you +say another word----" + +"You don't dare to shoot me!" answered Denver in a passion, standing +firm as the crowd surged back. "I'm unarmed, and you don't dare to shoot +me!" + +"Here, here!" exclaimed Bunker grabbing hastily at Denver's arm but +Denver struck him roughly aside. + +"Never mind, now," he said, "just get those folks away--I don't want any +of my friends to get hurt. But I'll tell you right now, either I throw +that man out or he'll have to shoot me down in cold blood." + +He backed away panting and the miners ran for cover, but Bunker Hill +held his ground. + +"No, now listen, Denver," he admonished gently, "you don't know what +you're doing. This man will kill you, as sure as hell." + +"He will not!" cried Denver grabbing up a heavy stone and advancing on +the barricade, "I'm destined to be killed by my dearest friend--that's +what old Mother Trigedgo told me! But this bastard ain't my friend and +never was----" + +He paused, for Chatwourth's gun came down and pointed straight at his +heart. + +"Stand back!" he shrilled and Denver leapt forward, hurling the rock +with all his strength. Then he plunged through the smoke, swinging his +arms out to clutch, and as he crashed through the barrier he stumbled +over something that he turned back and pounced on like a cat. It was +Chatwourth, but his body was limp and senseless--the stone had struck +him in the head. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +JUMPERS AND TENORS + + +They led Denver away as if he were a child, for the revulsion from his +anger had left him weak; but Chatwourth, the killer, was carried back to +town with his head lolling forward like a dead man's. The smash of the +stone had caught him full on the forehead, which sloped back like the +skull of a panther; and the blood, oozing down from his lacerated scalp, +made him look more murderous than ever. But his hard, fighting jaw was +hanging slack now and his dangerous eyes were closed; and the miners, +while they carried him with a proper show of solicitude, chuckled and +muttered among themselves. In a way which was nothing short of +miraculous Denver Russell had walked in on Murray's boss jumper and +knocked him on the head with a rock--and the shot which Chatwourth had +fired in return had never so much as touched him. + +They put Chatwourth in an automobile and sent him over to Murray's camp; +and then with broad smiles they gathered about Denver and took turns in +slapping him on the back. He was a wonder, a terror, a proper fighting +fool, the kind that would charge into hell itself with nothing but a +bucket of water; and would he mind, when he felt a little stronger, just +walking with them to their claims? Just a little, friendly jaunt, as one +friend with another; but if Murray's hired junipers saw him coming up +the trail that was all that would be required. They would go, and be +quick about it, for they had been watching from afar and had seen what +happened to Dave--but Denver brushed them aside and went up to his cave +where he could be by himself and think. + +If he had ever doubted the virtue of Mother Trigedgo's prophecy he put +the unworthy thought behind him. He knew it now, knew it +absolutely--every word of the prophecy was true. He had staked his life +to prove the blackest line of it, and Chatwourth's bullet had been +turned aside. No, the silver treasure was his, and the golden treasure +also, and no man but his best friend could kill him; but the beautiful +artist with whom he had fallen in love--would she now confer her hand +upon another? He had come back to Pinal to set the prophecy at defiance +and ask her to be his dearest friend; but now, well, perhaps it would be +just as well to stick to the letter of his horoscope. "Beware how you +reveal your affections," it said--and he had been rushing back to tell +her! And besides, she had met his advances despitefully, and practically +called him a coward. Denver brushed off the dust from his shiny +phonograph and put on the "Anvil Chorus." + +The next morning, early, he was up at his mine, with Chatwourth's gun +slung low on his leg; and while he remained there, to defend it against +all comers, he held an impromptu reception. There was a rush of miners, +to look at the mine and inspect the specimens of copper; and then +shoestring promoters began to arrive, with proposals to stock the +property. The Professor came up, his eyes staring and resentful; and old +Bunker, overflowing with good humor; and at last, when nobody else was +there, Drusilla walked by on the trail. She glanced up at him hopefully; +then, finding no response, she heaved a great sigh and turned up his +path to have it over and done with. + +"Well," she said, "I suppose you despise me, but I'm sorry--that's all I +can say. And now that I know all about your horoscope I don't blame you +for treating me so rudely. That is, I don't blame you so much. But don't +you think, Denver, when you went away and left me, you might have +written back? We'd always been such friends." + +She checked herself at the word, then smiled a sad smile and waited to +hear what he would say. And Denver, in turn, checked what was on his +lips and responded with a solemn nod. It had come to him suddenly to +rise up and clasp her hands and whisper that he'd take a chance on it, +yet--that is, if they could still be friends--but the significance of +the prophecy had been proved only yesterday, and miracles can happen +both ways. The same fate, the same destiny, which had fended off the +bullet when Chatwourth had aimed at his heart, might turn the merest +accident to the opposite purpose and make Drusilla his unwilling slayer. + +"Yes," he said, apropos of nothing, "you see now how I'm fixed. Don't +dare to have any friends." + +"No, but Denver," she pouted, "you might say you were sorry--that's +different from being friends. But after we'd been so--oh, do you believe +all that? Do you believe you'll be killed by your dearest friend, and +that nobody else can harm you? Because that, you know, is just +superstition; it's just like the ancient Greeks when they consulted the +oracle, and the Indians, and Italians and such people. But educated +people----" + +"What's the matter with the Greeks?" spoke up Denver contentiously. "Do +you mean to say they were ignorant? Well, I talked with an old-timer--he +was a Professor in some university--and he said it would take us a +thousand years before we even caught up with them. Do you think that I'm +superstitious? Well, listen to this, now; here's one that he told me, +and it comes from a famous Greek play. There was a woman back in Greece +that was like Mother Trigedgo, and she prophesied, before a man was +born, that he'd kill his own father and marry his own mother. What do +you think of that, now? His father was a king and didn't want to kill +him, so when he was born he pierced his feet and put him out on a cliff +to die. But a shepherd came along and found this baby and named him +Edipus, which means swelled feet; and when the kid grew up he was +walking along a narrow pass when he met his father in disguise. They got +into a quarrel over who should turn out and Epidus killed his father. +Then he went on to the city where his mother was queen and there was a +big bird, the Sphinx, that used to come there regular and ask those +folks a riddle: What is it that is four-footed, three-footed and +two-footed? And every time when they failed to give the answer the +Sphinx would take one of them to eat. Well, the queen had said that +whoever guessed that riddle could be king and have her for his wife, and +Epidus guessed the answer. It's a _man_, you see, that crawls when +he is a baby, stands on two legs when he's grown and walks with a cane +when he is old. Epidus married the queen, but when he found out what +he'd done he went mad and put his own eyes out. But don't you see he +couldn't escape it." + +"No, but listen," she smiled, "that was just a legend, and the Greeks +made it into a play. It was just like the German stories of Thor and the +Norse gods that Wagner used in his operas. They're wonderful, and all +that, but folks don't take them seriously. They're just--why, they're +fairy tales." + +"Well, all right," grumbled Denver, "I expect you think I am crazy, but +what about Mother Trigedgo? Didn't she send me over here to find this +mine? And wasn't it right where she told me? Doesn't it lie within the +shadow of a place of death, and wasn't the gold added to it?" + +"Why, no!" exclaimed Drusilla, "did you find the gold, too? I +thought----" + +"That referred to the copper," answered Denver soberly. "It was your +father that gave me the tip. When I first came over here I was inquiring +for gold, because I knew I had to make a choice; but he pointed out to +me that these horoscopes are symbolical and that the golden treasure +might be copper. It looks a whole lot like gold, you know; and now just +look what happened! I chose the silver, see--I chose the right +treasure--and when I drifted in, this vein of chalcopyrites appeared and +was added to the silver. It followed along in the hanging wall until the +whole formation dipped and then----" + +"Oh, I don't care about that!" burst out Drusilla fretfully, "it's easy +to explain anything, afterwards! But of course if you think more of gold +and silver than you do of having me for a friend----" + +"But I don't," interposed Denver, gently taking her hand. "Sit down here +and let's talk this over." + +"Well," sighed Drusilla and then, winking back the tears, she sank down +in the shade beside him. + +"I don't want you to think," went on Denver tenderly, without weighing +very carefully what he said, "I don't want you to think I don't like +you, because--say, if you'll kiss me, I'll take a chance." + +"Oh--would you?" she beamed her eyes big with wonder, "would you take a +chance on my killing you?" + +"If it struck me dead!" declared Denver gallantly, but she did not yield +the kiss. + +"No," she said, "I don't believe in kisses--have you kissed other girls +before? And besides, I just wanted to be friends again, the way we were +before." + +"Well, I guess you don't want to be friends very bad," observed Denver +with a disgruntled smile. "When do you expect to start for the East?" + +"Pretty soon," she answered. "Will you be sorry?" + +Denver shrugged his shoulders and began snapping pebbles at an ant. + +"Sure," he said and she drew away from him. + +"You won't!" she burst out resentfully. + +"Yes, I'll be sorry," he repeated, "but it won't make much difference--I +don't expect to last very long. I've always had a pardner, some feller +to ramble around with and borrow all my money when he was broke, and I'm +getting awful lonesome without one. Sooner or later, I reckon, I'll pick +up another one and the crazy danged fool will kill me. Drop a timber +hook on my head or some stunt like that--I wish I'd never seen old +Mother Trigedgo! What you don't know never hurt anyone; but now, by +grab, I'm afraid of every man I throw in with. For the time being, at +least, he's the best friend I've got; and--oh, what's the use, anyway, +it'll get you, sooner or later--I might as well go out like a sport." + +"You were awful brave," she murmured admiringly, "when you fought with +Mr. Chatwourth yesterday. Weren't you honestly afraid he would kill +you?" + +"No, I wasn't!" declared Denver. "He didn't look bad to me--don't now +and never did--and as long as the cards are coming my way I don't let no +alleged bad-man run it over me. Here's the gun that I took away from +him." + +"Yes, I noticed it," she said. "But when he comes back for it are you +going to give it up?" + +"Sure," answered Denver, "just show me a rock-pile and I'll run him out +of town like a rabbit." + +"And you fought him with _rocks_!" she said half to herself, "I +wish I were as brave as that." + +"Well, it's all in your mind," expounded Denver. "Some people are afraid +to crack an egg but I'm game to try anything once." + +"So am I!" she defended looking him boldly in the eye but he shook his +head and smiled. + +"Nope," he said, "you don't believe in kisses. But I was willing to take +a chance on getting killed." + +"No," she said, "a kiss means more than that. It means--well, it means +that you love someone." + +"It means what you want it to mean," he corrected. "Don't you have to +kiss the tenor in these operas?" + +"Well that's different," she responded blushing. "That's why I'm afraid +I'll never succeed! Of course we're taught to do stage kisses, but +somehow I can't bring myself to it. But oh, I do so love to sing! I like +it all, except just that part of it--and the singers are not all nice +men. Some of them just make a business of flattering pretty girls and +offering to get them a hearing. That's why some girls succeed and get +such big parts--they have an understanding with someone that can use his +influence with the directors. They don't take the best singers and +actors at all, it's all done by intrigue and money. Oh, I wish some real +_nice_ man would start a new company and invite me to take a part. +I've heard one was being organized--a traveling company that will sing +in all the big cities--and I've written to my music teacher about it. +But if I don't get some position my money will all be gone in no time +and then--well, what will I do?" + +She looked at him bravely and he saw in her eyes the calmness that goes +with desperation. + +"You write to me," he said, "and I'll send you the last dollar I've +got." + +"No, I didn't mean that," she replied, "I can earn my living at +something. But father and mother have spent all their money in training +me to be a great singer and I just can't bear to disappoint them. It's +cost ten thousand dollars to bring me where I am, and this five hundred +dollars is nothing. Why the great vocal teachers, who can use their +influence to get their pupils a hearing, charge ten dollars for a +half-hour lesson; and if I don't go to them then every door is +closed--unless I'm willing to pay the price." + +"Well, I take it all back then," spoke up Denver at last, "there are +different kinds of bravery. But you go on back there and do your best +and maybe we can make a raise. I'll just take my gun and go up to your +father's claims and jump out that bunch of bad-men----" + +"No! No, Denver!" she broke in very earnestly, "I don't want you to do +that again. I heard last night that Dave said he would get you--and if +he did, why then I'd be to blame. You'd be doing it for me, and if one +of those men killed you--well, it would be just the same as me." + +"Nope!" denied Denver, "there was no figure of speech about that. It +said: 'at the _hands_ of your dearest friend.' These jumpers ain't +my friends and never was--come on, let's take a chance. I'll run 'em off +the claims if your father will give you half of 'em, and then you can +turn around and sell out for cash and go back to New York like a queen. +You stand off the tenors and I'll stand off the jumpers; and then, +perhaps--but we won't talk about that now. Come on, will you shake hands +on the deal?" + +She looked at him questioningly, his powerful hand reached out to help +her, the old, boyish laughter in his eyes, and then she smiled back as +bravely. + +"All right," she said, "but you'll have to be careful--because now I'm +your dearest friend." + +"I'm game," he cried, "and you don't have to kiss me either. But if some +Dago tenor----" + +"No," she promised looking up at him wistfully. "I'll--I'll save the +kiss for you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +BROKE AGAIN + + +The industry of four jumpers, digging in like gophers on the best of +Bunker Hill's claims, was brought to an abrupt termination by the +appearance of one man with a gun. He came on unconcernedly, Dave's +six-shooter at his hip and the strength of a lion in his stride; and the +first of the gun-men, after looking him over, jumped out of his hole and +made off. Denver tore down his notice and posted the old one, with a +copy of his original affidavit that the annual work had been done; and +when he toiled up to the remaining three claims the jumpers had fled +before him. They knew him all too well, and the gun at his hip; and they +counted it no disgrace to give way before the man who had conquered Dave +Chatwourth with rocks. So Denver changed the notices and came back +laughing and Bunker Hill made over the claims. + +"Denver," he said clasping him warmly by the hand, "I swow, you're the +best danged friend I've got. For the last time, now, will you come to +dinner?" + +"Sure," grinned Denver, "but cut out that 'friend' talk. It makes me +kind of nervous." + +"I'll do it!" promised Bunker, "I'll do anything you ask me. You saved +my bacon on them claims. That snooping Dutch Professor tipped them +jumpers off that I'd promised my wife not to shoot, but I guess when +they see you come rambling up the gulch they begin to feel like Davey +Crockett's coon. + +"'Don't shoot, Davey,' he says, 'I know you'll get me.' And he came +right down off the limb." Old Bunker laughed uproariously and slapped +Denver on the back, after which he took him over to the house and +announced a guest for dinner. + +"Sit down, boy, sit down," he insisted hospitably as Denver spoke of +going home to dress, "you're company just the way you are. As Lord +Chesterfield says: 'A clean shirt is half of full dress.' And a pair of +overalls, I reckon, is the rest of it. Say, did you hear what Murray +said when we took Dave over there, looking like something that the cat +had brought in? + +"'My Gawd,' he says, 'what has happened to the _mine_?' + +"That was something like a deacon that I worked for one time when he was +fixing to paint his barn. He slung a ladder on an old, rotten rope and +sent me up on it to work and about half an hour afterwards the rope gave +way and dropped me, ladder and all, to the ground. The deacon was at the +house when he heard the crash and he came running with his coat-tails +straight out. + +"'Goodness gracious!' he hollered, 'did you spill the paint?' + +"'No,' I says, 'but I will!' And I kicked all his paint-cans over. + +"Well, old Murray is like that deacon; you touch his pocket and you +touch his heart--he's always thinking about money. He'd been planning +for months to slip in and jump these claims and here you come along and +do the assessment work and knock him out of five of 'em. The boys say +he's sure got blood in his eye and is cussing you out a blue streak. +That's a nice gun you got off of Dave--how many notches has it got on +the butt? Only three, eh? Well, say, if he ever sends over to ask for it +I've got another one that I'll loan you. You want to go heeled, +understand? Murray's busy right now bossing those three shifts of miners +that are driving that adit tunnel, but when he gets the time he'll leave +his glass eye on a fence post and come over to see what we're doing. +Didn't you ever hear about Murray's glass eye? + +"Well, they say he lost his good one looking for a dollar that he +dropped; but here's the big joke about the fence-post. He got his start +down in the valley, raising alfalfa and feeding stock, and he always +hired Indians whenever he could because they spent all their time-checks +at the store. A Mexican or a white man might hold out a few dollars, or +spend the whole wad for booze; but Indians are barred from getting drunk +and they've only got one use for money. Yes, they believe it was made to +spend, not to bury alongside of some fence-post. And speaking of +fence-posts brings me back to the point--Old Murray had a bunch of big, +lazy Apaches working by the day cleaning out a ditch. He was down there +at daylight and watched 'em like a hawk, but every time he'd go into +town the whole bunch would sit down for a talk. Well, he _had_ to +go to town so one day he called 'em up and made 'em a little talk. + +"'Boys,' he says, 'I've got to go to town but I'm going to watch you, +all the same. Sure thing, now,' he says, 'you can laugh all you want to, +but I'll see everything that you do.' Then he took out his glass eye and +set it on a fence-post where it looked right down the ditch, and started +off for town. You know these Apaches--superstitious as hell--they got in +and worked like niggers. Kinder scared 'em, you see, ain't used to glass +eyes; but there was one old boy that was foxy. He dropped down in the +ditch where the eye wouldn't see him and crept up behind that fence-post +like a snake, and then he picked up an empty tin can and slapped it down +over the eye. There was a boy over at the ranch that saw the whole +business and he says them Indians never did a lick of work till they saw +Bible-Back's dust down the road. Pretty slick, eh, for an Indian? And +some people will try to tell you that the untutored savage can't think. + +"Well, that's the kind of an hombre that we're up against--he'd skin a +flea for his hide and taller. As old Spud Murphy used to say, he'd rob a +poor tumble-bug of his ball of manure and put him on the wrong road +home. He's mean, and it sure hurt his feelings to have you hop in and +win back your mine. And knocking Dave on the head took the pip out of +these other jumpers--I'm looking for the whole bunch to fade." + +"Well, they might as well," said Denver, "because their claims are not +worth fighting for and there's a Miners' Committee going to call on 'em. +I'm going along myself in an advisory capacity, and my advice will be to +beat it. And if you'll take a tip from me you'll hire a couple of miners +and put them to work on your claims." + +"I'll do it to-morrow," agreed Bunker enthusiastically. "I've got a +couple of nibbles from some real mining men--not some of these little, +one-candle power promoters but the kind that pay with certified +checks--and if I can open up those claims and just get a color of copper +I'm fixed, boy, that's all there is to it. Come on now, let's go in to +dinner." + +The memory of that dinner, and of the music that followed it, remained +long in Denver's mind; and later in the evening, when the lights were +low and her parents had gone to their rest, Drusilla sang the +"Barcarolle" from Hoffmann. She sang it very softly, so as not to +disturb them, but the look in her eyes recalled something to Denver and +as he was leaving he asked her a question. It was not if she loved him, +for that would be unfair and might spoil an otherwise perfect evening; +but he had been wondering as he listened whether she had not seen him +that first time--when he had slipped down and listened from the shadows. + +And when he asked her she smiled up at him tremulously and nodded her +head very slowly; and then she whispered that she had always loved him +for it, just for listening and going away. She had been downcast that +night but his presence had been a comfort--it had persuaded her at last +that she could sing. She had sung the "Barcarolle" again, on that other +night, when he had stepped out so boldly from the shadows; but it was +the first time that she loved him for it, when he was still a total +stranger and had come just to hear her sing. There was more that she +said to him and when he had to go she smiled again and gave him her +hand, but he did not suggest a kiss. She was keeping that for him, until +she had been to New York and run the gauntlet of the tenors. + +This was the high spot in Denver's life, when he had stood upon +Parnassus and beheld everything that was good and beautiful; but in the +morning he put on his old digging clothes again and went to work in the +mine. He had seen her and it was enough; now to break out the ore and +win her for his own. For he was poor, and she was poor, and how could +she succeed without money? But if he could open up his mine and block +out a great ore body then her claims and Bunker's, that touched it on +both sides, would take on a speculative value. They could be sold for +cash and she could go East in style, to take lessons from the ten-dollar +teacher who had influence with directors and impresarios. Denver put in +a round of holes and blasted his way into the mountain; but as he came +out in the evening, dirty and grimed and pale from powder sickness, +Drusilla paled too and almost shrank away. She had strolled up before, +only to hear the clank of his steel and the muffled thud of his blows; +and now as she stood waiting, attired as daintily as a bride, the +dream-hero of her memories was banished. He was a miner again, a sweaty, +toiling animal, dead to all the finer things of life; but if Denver read +her thoughts he did not notice, for he remembered what Mother Trigedgo +had told him. + +Two weeks passed by and Labor Day came near, when all the hardy miners +foregathered in Globe and Miami and engaged in the sports of their kind. +A circular came to Denver, announcing the drilling contests and giving +his name as one of the contestants; then a personal letter from the +Committee on Arrangements, requesting him to send in his entry; and at +last there came a messenger, a good hard-rock man named Owen, to suggest +that they go in together. But Denver was driving himself to the limit, +blasting out ore that grew richer each day; and at thought of Bible-Back +Murray, waiting to pounce upon his mine, he sent back a reluctant +refusal. Yet they published his name, with the partner's place left +vacant, and advertised that he would participate; for on the Fourth of +July, with Slogger Meacham for a partner, he had won the title of +champion. + +The decision to go was forced upon him suddenly on the day before the +event, though he had almost lost track of time. Every morning at +day-break he had been up and cooking, after breakfast he had gone to the +mine; and, between mucking out the tunnel and putting in new shots, the +weeks had passed like days. But when he went to Bunker on the eighth of +September and asked for a little more powder Bunker took him to the +powder-house and showed him a space where the boxes of dynamite had +been. Then he took him behind the counter and showed him the money-till +and Denver awoke from his dream. + +In spite of the stampede and the activity all about them the whole Pinal +district was not producing a cent, and would not for months to come. +Every dollar that was spent there had to come in from the outside, and +the men who held the claims were all poor. Even after driving off the +jumpers and regaining their lost claims the majority had gone home after +merely scratching up their old dumps in a vain pretense at doing the +assessment work. + +The promoters were not buying, they were simply taking options and +waiting on Murray's tunnel; and until he drove in and actually tapped +the copper ore there would be no steady boom. He had organized a company +and was selling a world of stock, even using it to pay off his men: and +it was whispered about that his strike was a fake, for he still refused +to exhibit the drill cores. But whether his strike was a bona fide +discovery or merely a ruse to sell stock, the fact could not be blinked +that Denver and Bunker Hill had reached the end of their rope. They were +broke again and Denver set out for Globe, leaving Bunker to hold down +his claim. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE ROCK-DRILLING CONTEST + + +The main street of Globe was swarming with men, from the court-house +square down past the viaduct to where the Bohunks dwelt. And the men +were all miners, deep-chested and square-shouldered, but white from +working underground. They were gathered in knots before the soft-drink +emporiums that before had all been saloons and as Denver rode in they +shouted a hoarse welcome and followed on to Miners' Hall. There the +Committee of Arrangements was sitting in state but when Denver strode in +a huge form bulked up before him and Slogger Meacham grinned at him +evilly. Two months before, on the Fourth of July, they had been partners +in the winning team; but now Meacham had taken on with a Cornishman from +Miami and they counted the money as good as won. + +"What are you doing here?" demanded the Slogger insolently, "do you +think you're going to compete?" + +"Danged right I am, if the judges will let me," answered Denver shoving +resolutely past; and at sight of their lost champion the committee +brightened up, though they glanced at each other anxiously. But what +they wanted was a contest, something that would bring out the crowd and +make the great day a success, and they waited upon Denver expectantly. + +"Well, here's where you get left then," spoke up Meacham with a sneer, +"the entries were closed at noon." + +"Oh, hell!" cursed Denver and was turning to go when the chairman called +him back. + +"Just a minute," he said, "didn't you send in your entry? I believe +we've got it here, somewhere." He began to fumble industriously through +a pile of papers and Denver caught his breath. For a moment he had seen +his dreams brought to nothing, his last chance at the prize-money gone; +but at this tentative suggestion on the part of the chairman he suddenly +took heart of grace. They wanted him to compete, it had been advertised +in all the papers, and they were willing to meet him half-way. But +Denver was no liar, he shook his head and sighed, then turned back at a +sudden thought. + +"Maybe Tom Owen made the entry?" he burst out eagerly, "he was over to +see me, you know." + +"That was it!" exclaimed the chairman as if clutching at a straw, "say, +where is that blank of theirs, Joe?" + +"Search me," answered Joe, "it's around here, somewhere. Oh, I know!" +And he went out into the back room. "Ain't this it?" he inquired +returning with a paper and the chairman snatched it away from him. + +"Yes," he said, "how'd it get out there? Well, no matter--that's all +right, Mr. Russell!" + +"No it ain't!" blurted out Meacham making a grab for the paper; but the +chairman struck away his hand. + +"You keep out of this!" he said. "What d'ye think you're trying to do? +You keep out or I'll put you out!" + +"It's a flim-flam!" raged Meacham, "you're trying to job me. He never +made no entry." + +"I never claimed to," retorted Denver boldly and Meacham turned on him, +his pig eyes blazing with fury. + +"I'll fix you, for this!" he burst out hoarsely, "I'll get you if I have +to kill you. You robbed me once, but you won't do it again; so I give +you fair warning--pull out!" + +"You robbed _me_!" came back Denver, "and these boys all know it. +But I fought you fair for the whole danged roll----" + +"You did naht!" howled Meacham, "you had a feller with ye----" + +"Well, I'll fight you right now, then," volunteered Denver +accommodatingly but the Slogger did not put up his hands. + +"That's all right," he said backing sullenly away, "but remember what I +told you--I'll git ye!" + +"You'll git nothing!" returned Denver and laughed him out the door, +though there were others who muttered warnings in his ears. Slogger +Meacham was a fighter as well as a driller and his flight with the +prize-money was not the first time that he had lapsed from the ways of +strict rectitude. He had killed a man during the riots at Goldfield and +had been involved in several ugly brawls; but his record as a bad man +did not deter Denver from opposing him and he went out to hunt up Owen. + +Tom Owen was a good man, and he was also a good driller, but there was +one thing that Denver held against him--he had been a drinking man when +Arizona was wet. And a man who has drunk, no matter when, is never quite +the same in a contest. He has lost that narrow margin of vital force, +those last few ounces of strength and stamina which win or lose at the +finish. Yet even at that he was a better man than Meacham, who had laid +down like a yellow dog. Denver remembered that too and when he found his +man he told him they were due to win. Then he borrowed some drills and a +pair of eight-pound hammers and they went through a try-out together. +Owen was quick and strong, he made the changes like lightning and struck +a heavy blow; but when it was over and he was rolling a cigarette Denver +noticed that his hand was trembling. The strain of smashing blows had +over-taxed his nerves, though they had worked but three or four minutes. + +"Well, do the best you can," said Denver at last, "and for cripes sake, +keep away from this boot-leg." + +There was plenty of it in town on this festive occasion, a +nerve-shattering mixture that came in from New Mexico and had a kick +like a mule. It was circulating about in hip pockets and suit-cases and +in automobiles with false-bottomed seats, and Denver knew too well from +past experience what the temptation was likely to be; yet for all his +admonitions when he met Owen in the morning he caught the bouquet of +whisky. It was disguised with sen-sen and he pretended not to notice it +but his hopes of first money began to wane. They went out again to the +backyard of an old saloon where a great block of granite was embedded +and while their admirers looked on they practiced their turn, for they +had never worked together. A Cornish miner, a champion in his day, +volunteered to be their coach and at each call of: "Change!" they +shifted from drill to hammer without breaking the rhythm of their +stroke. + +"You'll win, lads," said the Cornishman, patting them affectionately on +the back and Denver led them off for their rub-down. + +The band began to play in the street below and the Miners' Union marched +past, after which they banked in about a huge block of granite and the +drilling contests began. The drilling rock was placed on a platform of +heavy timbers at the lower side of the court-house square, and the slope +above it and the windows of all the buildings were crowded with shouting +miners. First the men who were to compete in the single-jack contests +mounted the platform one by one; and the sharp, _peck_, +_peck_, of their hammers made music that the miners knew well. +Then, as their holes were cleaned out and the depth of each measured, +the first team of double-jackers climbed up to the platform amid the +frantic plaudits of the crowd. The announcer introduced them, they laid +out their drills and the hammer-man poised his double-jack; then at the +word from the umpire they leapt into action, striking and turning like +men gone mad. + +There were five teams entered, of which Denver's was the last, but when +Meacham and his partner were announced as the next contestants his +impatience would not brook further delay. With his own precious drills +tied securely in a bundle and Owen and the coach behind him he fought +his way to the base of the platform and sat down where he could watch +every blow. They came on together, a team hard to match; Meacham +stripped to the waist, his ponderous head thrust forward, the muscles +swelling to great knots in his arms. His partner wore the heavy, yellow +undershirt of a miner, his trousers draped low on his hips; and to hold +them up he had a strand of black fuse twisted loosely in place of a +belt. He was a hard, hairy man, with grim, deep-set eyes and a jaw that +jutted out like a crag and as he raised his hammer to strike Denver saw +that he was out to win. + +"Go!" called the umpire and the hammer smote the drill-head till it made +the blue granite smoke; and then for thirty seconds he flailed away +while Slogger Meacham turned the short starter-drill. + +"Change!" called their coach and with a single swoop Meacham flung his +drill back into the crowd and caught up his hammer to strike. His +partner dropped his hammer and chucked in a fresh drill--_smash_, +the hammer struck it into the rock--and so they turned and struck while +the ramping miners below them looked on in envious amazement. As each +drill was thrown out it was brought back from where it fell and examined +by the quick-eyed coach, and as he called off the half minutes he +announced their probable depth as indicated by the mud marks on the +drills. Across the block from the two drillers knelt a man with a rubber +tube who poured water into the churning hole; and at each blow of the +hammer the gray mud leapt up, splashing turner and hammer-man alike. + +At the end of five minutes they were down fifteen inches, at ten they +still held their pace; but as Denver glanced doubtfully at his coach and +Owen the sound of the drilling changed. There was a grating noise, a +curse from the turner, and as he flung out the drill and thrust in +another a murmur went up from the crowd. They had broken the bit from +the brittle edge of their drill and the new drill was grinding away on +the fragment, which dulled the keen edge of the steel. The quick ears of +the miners could sense the different sound as the drill champed the +fragment to pieces, and when the next change was made the mud-marks on +the drill showed that over an inch had been lost. A team working at top +speed averaged three inches to the minute, driving down through hard +Gunnison granite; but Meacham and his partner had lost their fast start +and they had yet four minutes to go. The tall Cornishman's eyes +gleamed--he struck harder than ever--but Meacham had begun to lose +heart. The accident upset him, and the grate of the broken steel as the +drill bit down on chance fragments; and as his coach urged him on he +glanced up from his turning with a look that Denver knew well. It was +the old pig-eyed glare, the look of unreasoning resentment, that he had +seen on the Fourth of July. + +"He's quitting," chuckled Owen when Meacham rose to strike; but when the +hole was measured it came to forty-three and fifteen-sixteenths of an +inch. The big Cornishman had done it in spite of his partner, he had +refused to accept defeat; and now, with only two more teams to compete, +they led by nearly an inch. + +"You can beat it!" cried Denver's coach, "I've done better than that +myself! Forty-four! You can make forty-six!" + +"I'm game," answered Denver, "but it takes two to win. Do you think you +can stick it out, Tom?" + +"I'll be up there, trying," returned Owen grimly and Denver nodded to +the coach. + +The next team did no better, for it is a heart-breaking test and the sun +was getting hot, and when Denver and Owen mounted up on the platform a +hush fell upon the crowd. Denver Russell they knew, but Owen was a new +man; and a drilling contest is won on pure nerve. Would he crack, like +Meacham, as the end approached, or would he stand up to the punishment? +They looked on in silence as Denver spread out his drills--a full +twenty, oil-tempered, of the best Norway steel, each narrower by a hair +than its predecessor. The starter was short and heavy, with an +inch-and-a-quarter bit; and the last long drill had a seven-eighths bit, +which would just cut a one-inch hole. They were the best that money +could buy and a famous tool-sharpener in Miami had tempered their edges +to perfection. Denver picked up his starter, all the officials left the +platform, and Owen raised his hammer. + +"Are the drillers ready?" challenged the umpire. "Then _go_!" he +shouted, and the double-jack descended with a smash. For thirty seconds +while the drill leapt and bounded, Denver held it firmly in its place, +and at the call of "Change!" he chucked it over his shoulder and swung +his own hammer in the air. Owen popped in a new drill, the hammer struck +it squarely and the crowd set up a cheer. Denver was working hard, +striking faster than his partner; and in every stroke there was a +smashing enthusiasm, a romping joy in the work, that won the hearts of +the miners. He was what they had been before drink and bad air had +sapped the first freshness of their strength, or dust and hot stopes had +broken their wind, or accidents had crippled them up--he was a miner, +young and hardy, putting his body behind each blow yet striking like a +tireless automaton. + +"Change!" cried the coach, his voice ringing with pride; and as the +drill came flying back he shouted out the depth which was better than +three inches for the minute. At five minutes it was sixteen, at ten, +thirty-three; but at eleven the pace slackened off and at twelve they +had lost an inch. Tom Owen was weakening, in spite of his nerve, in +spite of his dogged persistence; he struck the same, but his blows had +lost their drive, the drill did not bite so deep. At every stroke, as +Denver twisted the long drill loose and turned it by so much in the +hole, he raised it up and struck it against the bottom, to add to the +weight of the blows. The mud and muck from the hole splashed up into his +face and painted his body a dull gray, but at thirteen minutes they had +lost their lead and Tom Owen was striking wild. Then he missed the steel +and a great voice rose up in mocking, stentorian laughter. + +"Ho! Ho!" it roared, and Denver knew it well--it was Slogger Meacham, +exulting. + +"Here--you turn!" he said flinging out his drill, and as Owen sank down +on his knees by the hole Denver caught up his double-jack and struck. +For a half minute, a minute, he flailed away at the steel; while Owen, +his shoulders heaving, turned the drill like clock-work and gasped to +win back his strength. + +"Thirteen and a half!" announced the coach at last and then he shouted: +"Change!" + +"No--_turn_!" panted Denver, never missing a stroke; and Owen sank +back to his place by the hole while the battery of blows kept on. + +"Fourteen!" proclaimed the coach, "you're about an inch behind. How +about it--do you want to change?" + +"No--turn!" choked Denver. "I'll finish it--_turn_!" And as Owen +straightened his back Denver struck like a mad-man while the sweat +poured down in a shower. The official umpire leapt up on the platform to +toll off the last sixty seconds, but the rise and fall of Denver's body +was faster by far than his count. A frenzy seemed to seize him as the +half minute was called and Owen slipped in their last drill; and with +hoarse, coughing grunts he smashed it deeper and deeper while the miners +surged forward with a cheer. + +"Fifty-eight--fifty-nine--_sixty_!" cried the umpire, slapping him +sharply on the back to stop, and Denver fell like dead across the stone. +His great strength had left him, completely, on the instant; and when he +raised his head there was a grinning crowd around him as his coach was +measuring the last drill. + +"The poor, dom fool!" he exclaimed commiseratingly, "and to think of him +wurruking like thot. He's ahead by two inches and more." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE HEART OF HIS BELOVED + + +There was a celebration that day which warmed Denver's heart and sent +Slogger Meacham cursing out of the camp, but as soon as it was over and +he had his prize money in his hand Denver remembered his unguarded +claim. Bunker Hill was there, of course, but the spiteful Professor had +heralded his pledge afar; and a man who has promised his wife not to +fight is ill-fitted to herd a mine. No, the Silver Treasure lay open for +Dave or Murray to jump, if they felt like contesting his claim; and, +weak as he was, Denver took no rest until he was back where he could +fight for his own. He rode in late and slept like the dead, but in the +morning he was up and down at the store as soon as Old Bunk came out. + +"I win!" he announced holding up the roll of bills, "first money--can +you get me some powder?" + +"W'y, you lucky fool!" exclaimed Bunker admiringly, "seems like +_nothing_ can keep you down. Sure I'll get your powder, and just to +show you what _I_ can do--how's that for a healthy little roll?" He +drew out a roll of bills twice the size of Denver's and fingered them +over lovingly. "A thousand dollars," he murmured, "for an option on half +the Lost Burro. A party came up yesterday and took one look at it and +grabbed it right off the bat, and as soon as old Murray gets in to his +ore they're going to capitalize the Burro for a million. Fine name that, +for stock-selling--known all over the world, in England, Paris and +everywhere--but I made 'em come through with a thousand dollars cash, so +Drusilla could have a good stake. She's thinking of going East, soon." + +"'S that so?" said Denver, trying to take it all in, "are these parties +going to do any work?" + +"Well, that's an unfair question, as Pecos Edwards used to say when they +asked him if all Texans was cow-thieves; but you know how these +promoters work. There'll be lots of work done; but mostly by lawyers, +and publicity men and such. There's a whole lot of water in the workings +of the Lost Burro that'll have to be pumped out first, and then there's +a little job of timbering that'll cost a world of money. No, I sold them +that mine on the ore in your tunnel--I will say, it shows up splendid. +If you'd've been here yesterday you might have made a deal that +would----" + +"Not on your life!" broke in Denver, "I don't sell to anybody. But say, +but what did they think of my mine?" + +"Think!" exclaimed Bunker, "they stopped thinking right here, when I +showed 'em that big vein of copper! They went crazy, just like lunatics; +because it ain't often, I'm telling you, that you find sixty-per-cent +copper on the surface." + +"Not in a fissure vein--no," agreed Denver emphatically, "I wouldn't +sell out for a million. Did those promoters take away any samples?" + +"Well, yes; a few," responded Bunker apologetically, "I didn't think +you'd object." + +"Why, of course not," answered Denver, "it'll advertise the district and +bring in some outside people. And now that I've got another stake I'm +going to sack my ore and make a trial shipment to the smelter. But you +bet your boots, after what Murray put over on me, I'm going to have some +assaying done first." + +"Yes, and keep some samples," advised Bunker wisely. "Keep a sample out +of every bag." + +"I'll just mix that ore up," said Denver cautiously, "and cut it down, +the way they do at the mill. Throw out every tenth shovel and mix 'em up +again and then cut the pile down smaller until you've got a control, +like the ore brokers take at the smelter. And then I'll send a sample to +the assayer--say, there's Drusilla over there, trying to call you." + +"She's trying to call you," answered Bunker Hill shortly and went on +into the store. + +"Well, be sure and order that powder," shouted Denver after him. "And +say, I'll want the rest of those ore-sacks." + +"All right," replied Bunker and Denver turned to the house where +Drusilla was waiting on the porch. + +"Did you hear the news?" she asked dancing ecstatically to and fro; as +if she were a Delilah, leading the Philistine maidens in the "Spring +Song," and he were another Samson. "I'm expecting to go East now, soon." + +"Good!" exclaimed Denver. "Well, I won't see you much then--I'm going to +work in the mine." + +"Yes, isn't it grand?" she cried. "Everything is coming out fine--but +you must come down to dinner to-night. I'm going to sing, just for you." + +"I'll be there," smiled Denver, and then he stopped. "But let's not make +it to-night," he said, "I'm dead on my feet for sleep." + +"Well, sleep then," she laughed, "and get rested from your contest--I'm +awfully glad you won. And then----" + +"Nope, can't come to-night," he answered soberly, "I want to get that +ore sacked to-day. And I'm stiff as a strip of burnt raw-hide." + +"Well, to-morrow night," she said, "unless you don't want to come. But +you'll have to come soon or----" + +"Oh, I want to come, all right," interposed Denver hastily, "you know +that, without telling. But my partner played out on me before the end of +the contest and I had to finish the striking myself. And then I rode +hard to get back here, before Dave or some gun-man jumped my claim." + +"Then to-morrow night," she smiled, "but don't you forget, because if +you do I'll never forgive you." + +She danced away into the house and Denver turned in his tracks and went +to look over his ore-sacks. They were old and torn, what was left of a +big lot that Bunker had got in a trade; but Denver picked out the best +and wheeled them up to his dump, where his picked ore lay waiting for +shipment. He had a big lot, much larger than he had thought, and it was +just as it had been shot down from the breast. Some was silver-lead; and +there was copper to boot, though that would hardly do to ship. Yet at +thirty cents a pound copper was almost a precious metal, and a report +from the smelter would be a check. He would know from that how the ore +really ran and how much he would be penalized for the zinc. So he picked +out the best of it and broke it up fine, for the rough chunks would not +do to sack; and before he had more than got started with his sampling +the sun had gone down behind the ridge. And he was tired--too tired to +eat. + +There was music that night at the big house below but Denver could not +hold up his head. Nature had drugged him with sleep, like a romping +child that takes no thought of its strength, and in the morning he woke +up in a sort of stupor that could not be worked off. Yet he worked, +worked hard, for McGraw had arrived and the ore must be loaded that day; +so they threw in together, Denver sacking the heavy ore and McGraw +wheeling it out to the wagon. They toiled on till dark, for McGraw +started early and the work could not be put off till to-morrow; and when +it was over Denver staggered up to his cave like an old and outworn man. +He was reeking with sweat, his hands were like talons, the ore-dust had +left his face gray; and all he thought of was sleep. For a moment he +roused up, as if he remembered some new duty--something pleasant, yet +involving further effort--and then his candle went out. He fell asleep +in his chair and when he awoke it was only to stumble to his bed. + +The sun was over the Leap when he opened his heavy eyes and gazed at the +rude squalor of his cave. The dishes were unwashed, the floor was dirty, +a long-tailed rat hung balanced on the table-edge--and he was tired, +tired, tired. He heaved himself up and reached for the water-bucket but +he had forgotten to fill it at the creek. Now he grabbed it up +impatiently and started down the trail, every joint of his body +protesting, and when he had climbed back he was weak from the +effort--his bank account with Mother Nature was overdrawn. He was worn +out, at last; and his poor, tired brain took no thought how to make up +the deficit. All he wanted was rest, something to eat, a drink of water. +A drink of water anyway, and sleep. He drank deep and bathed his face, +then sank back on the bed and let the world whirl on. + +It was late in the day when he awoke again and hunger was gnawing his +vitals; but the slow stupor was gone, he was himself again and the +cramps had gone out of his limbs. He rose up luxuriously and cut a can +of tomatoes, drinking the juice and eating the fruit, and then he lit a +fire and boiled some strong coffee and cooked up a great mess of food. +There was two cans of corn and a can of corned beef, heated together in +a swimming sea of bacon grease and eaten direct from the frying-pan. It +went to the spot and his drooping shoulders straightened, the spring +came back into his step; yet as he cleaned up the dishes and changed to +decent clothes the weight of some duty seemed to haunt him. Was it +McGraw? No, he had loaded the last sack and sent him on his way. It was +Drusilla--she had been going to sing for him. + +Denver stepped to the door and looked down at the house and his heart +sank low at the thought. They had invited him to dinner and he had +forgotten to come, he had gone home and fallen asleep. And no one had +come to call him--or to inquire what had kept him away. A heavy guilt +came over him as he gazed down at the house with its broad porch and +trailing Virginia creepers, the Hills would take it very ill to have +their invitation ignored. Old Bunk had told him the time before, when he +had invited him in to dinner: "Now, for the last time, Denver----" and +it would take more than mere words to ever mend that breach. Denver +paced back and forth, undecided what to do, and at last he decided to do +nothing. As the sun went down he ate another supper and drugged his +sorrows with sleep. + +The next morning he rose early and shaved and bathed and put on his last +clean shirt, and then he walked down to the town; but the store was +locked, there was no voices from the house, only a smoke from the +kitchen stove. He went on to his mine and looked it over, and as he +passed the Professor leered out at him; there was something that he +knew, some bad news or spiteful gossip, for he found pleasure only in +evil. Denver came back down the street, that was now as deserted as it +had been before the stampede, and once more the Professor looked out. + +"Vell," he said, "so you haf lost your sveetheart!" And he chuckled and +shut the door softly. + +Denver stopped and stood staring, hardly crediting the news, yet +conscious of the sinister exulting. The Professor was glad, therefore +the news was bad; but what did he mean by those words? Had Drusilla gone +away or had she thrown him over for neglecting to keep his engagement? +She had probably spoken her mind as she watched for him at the doorway +and the Professor had been out there, eavesdropping. + +"What are you talking about?" he demanded at last but the Professor only +tittered. Then he dropped the heavy bar across his door and Denver took +the hint to move on. He went down past the house and looked it over +hopefully, but as no one came out he pocketed his pride and knocked, +like a hobo battering the door for a meal, Mrs. Hill came out slowly as +if preoccupied with other things, but when he saw her eyes he knew she +had been crying and that Drusilla had really gone. + +"I'm sorry," he began and then he stopped; there was nothing that he +could say. "Has Drusilla gone?" he asked at length and Mrs. Hill +answered him, almost kindly. + +"Yes," she said, "she was summoned by a telegram. Her father took her +down this morning." + +He stood thinking a minute, then he shook his head regretfully and +started off down the steps. + +"She was sorry not to have seen you," she added gently but Denver made +no reply. He was weak again now and inadequate to life; he could only +crawl back like some dumb, wounded animal, to the sheltering gloom of +his cave. But as he sat there stolidly, now trying to make some plan, +now endeavoring to become reconciled to his fate, a rage swept over him +like a storm-wind that shakes a tree and he burst into gusty oaths. The +fates had turned against him, his horoscope had come to nothing; he had +followed the admonitions of Mother Trigedgo and this was the result of +her advice. She had told him to beware how he revealed his affection, +but nothing about what to do when he had fallen asleep while his beloved +sang only for him. + +He drew out the Oraculum, by which the Man of Destiny had ordered the +least affairs of his life, and read down through the thirty-two +questions. Only once on each day could he consult the mystic oracle, and +once only in each month on the same subject, lest the fates be outworn +by his insistence. At first it was Number Thirteen that appealed to his +fancy: + +"Will the FRIEND I most reckon upon prove faithful or TREACHEROUS?" But +he knew without asking that, whatever her failings, Drusilla would never +prove treacherous. No, since he had taken her for his friend he would +never question her faithfulness; Number Twenty-six was more to his +liking: + +"Does the person whom I love, LOVE and regard me?" + +He spread out a sheet of paper on his littered table and dashed off the +five series of lines, and then he counted each carefully and made the +dots at the end--two dots for the two lines that came even and one for +those that came odd. The first two came odd, the next two even, the last +one odd again; and under that symbol the Oraculum Key referred him to +section B for his answer. He turned to the double pages with its +answers, good and bad, and his brain whirled while he read these words: + +"Thy heart of thy beloved yearneth toward thee." + +He closed the book religiously and put it away, and his heart for the +moment was comforted. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +COLONEL DODGE + + +Denver doubted it, himself, for human nature is much the same in man and +woman and Drusilla had been sorely slighted; but the Oraculum had said +that her heart was yearning towards him and the Book of Fate had always +spoken true. Perhaps women _were_ different, but if it had been +done to him, he would have called down black curses instead. Yet women +were different, one could never guess their moods, and perhaps Drusilla +would forgive him. Not right away, of course, but after her blood had +cooled and he had written a proper letter. He would let it go awhile, +until he had framed up some excuse or decided to tell her the truth, and +in the meantime there was plenty of work to do that would help him +forget his sorrow. There was his mine, and McGraw had brought up some +powder. + +There was something in the air which seemed to whisper to Denver of +portentous happenings to come, and as he was sharpening up his steel for +a fresh assault upon the ore-body a big automobile came into town. It +stopped and a big man wearing a California sombrero and a pair of +six-buckle boots leapt out and led the way to the Lost Burro. Behind him +followed three men attired as gentlemen miners and as Denver listened he +could hear the big man as he recited the history of the mine. +Undoubtedly it was the buyer of the Lost Burro Mine, with a party of +"experts" and potential backers who had come up to look over the ground; +yet something told Denver that there was more behind it all. He felt +their eyes upon him. They spent a few minutes looking over the old +workings, and then they came stringing up his trail. + +"Good afternoon, sir," hailed the promoter, "are you the owner of this +property? Well, I'd like with your permission to show my friends some of +your ore--why, what's this, have you hauled it away?" + +"Yes, I shipped it out yesterday," answered Denver briefly and the big +man glanced swiftly at his friends. + +"Well, I'm Colonel Dodge--H. Parkinson Dodge--you may have heard the +name. I'm your neighbor here on the south--we've taken over the Lost +Burro property. Yes, glad to know you, Mr. Russell." He shook hands and +introduced his friends all around, after which he came to the point. +"We've been looking at the Lost Burro and one of the gentlemen suggested +that it might be well to enlarge our property. That would make it more +attractive to worth-while buyers and at the same time prevent any future +litigation in case our ore-bodies should join. You understand what I +mean--there's such a thing as apex decision and of course you hold the +higher ground. Well, before we do any work or tie up our money we would +like to know just exactly where we stand in relation to surrounding +properties. What price do you put on your claim?" + +"No price," answered Denver. "I don't want to sell. Are you thinking of +opening up the Lost Burro?" + +"That will all depend," hinted the Colonel darkly, "upon the attitude of +the people in the district. If we meet with encouragement we intend to +form a company and spend hundreds of thousands of dollars; but if not, +why we will charge up our option money to profit and loss and seek out a +less backward community. What is your lowest price on your claim?" + +"A million dollars--cash," responded Denver cheerfully. "Now you come +through and make me an offer." + +"Well," began the Colonel, and then he stopped and glanced suggestively +at the tunnel. "We'd like to look it over first." + +"Fair enough," replied Denver and, giving each a candle, he led them +into the tunnel. They looked the ore over, making indifferent comments +and asking permission to take samples, and then Colonel Dodge took one +of his experts aside and they conferred in muffled tones. + +"Er--we'd rather not make an offer just now," said the Colonel at last; +and in a silent procession they returned to the daylight, leaving Denver +to follow behind. The atmosphere of the group was now reeking with gloom +but after a long conference the Colonel came back, summoning up the +ghost of a smile. "Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Russell," he began +apologetically, "we saw some of your ore before we came up and we were +all of us most enthusiastic. The copper in particular was very promising +but the gentleman I was talking with is our consulting engineer and he +advises me not to buy the property." + +"All right," answered Denver, "you don't have to buy it. I never saw one +of these six-buckle men yet that wouldn't knock a good claim." He turned +back angrily to his job of tool-sharpening and the Colonel followed +after him solicitously. + +"Don't misunderstand me," he said, "there's nothing I'd like better than +to buy in this neighboring property--if I could get it at a reasonable +figure; but Mr. Shadd advises me that your ore lies in a gash-vein, +which will undoubtedly pinch out at depth." + +"A gash-vein!" echoed Denver, "why the poor, ignorant fool--can't you +see that the vein is getting bigger? Well, how can it be a gash-vein +when it's between two good walls and increasing in width all the time? +Your friend must think I'm a prospector." + +"Oh, no," protested the Colonel smiling feebly at the joke, "but--well, +he advises me not to buy. The fact that the ore is so rich on the +surface is against its continuance at depth. All gash-veins, as you +know, are very rich at the surface; so in this case the fact is against +you. But I tell you what I will do--just to protect my other property +and avoid any future complications--I'll give you a thousand dollars for +your claim." + +"Whooo!" jeered Denver, "I'll get more than that for the ore I just sent +to the smelter. No, I'm no thousand-dollar man, Mr. Dodge. I've got a +fissure vein and it's increasing at depth, so I guess I'll just hold on +a while. You wait till old Murray begins to ship!" + +"Ah--er--well, I'll give you fifteen hundred," conceded the Colonel +drawing out his check-book and pen. "That's the best I can possibly do." + +"Well save your check then, because I'm a long ways from broke. What +d'ye think of that for a roll?" Denver drew out his roll of prize money, +with a hundred dollar bill on top, and flickered the edges of the +twenties. "I guess I can wait a while," he grinned. "Come around again, +when I'm broke." + +"I'll give you a thousand dollars down and nine thousand in six months," +burst out the Colonel with sudden vehemence. "Now it's that or +absolutely nothing. If you try to hold me up I'll abandon my option and +withdraw entirely from the district." + +"Sorry to lose you, old-timer," returned Denver genially, "but I guess +we can't do business. Come around in about a month." + +A sudden flash came into the Colonel's bold eyes and he opened his mouth +to speak--then he paused and shut his mouth tight. + +"Not on your life, Mr. Russell," he said with finality, "if I go I will +not come back. Now give me your lowest cash price for the property. Will +you accept ten thousand dollars?" + +"No, I won't," answered Denver, "nor a hundred thousand, either. I'm a +miner--I know what I've got." + +"Very well, Mr. Russell," replied Colonel Dodge crisply and, bowing +haughtily, he withdrew. + +Denver looked after him laughing, but something about his stride +suddenly wiped away the grin from Denver's face--the Colonel was going +somewhere. He was going with a purpose, and he walked like a man who was +perfectly sure of his next move--like a man who has seen a snake in the +road and turns back to cut a club. It was distinctly threatening and a +light dawned on Denver when the automobile turned off towards Murray's +camp. That was it, he was an agent of Murray. + +Denver sharpened up his steel and put in a round of holes but all that +day and the next his uneasiness grew until he jumped at every sound. He +felt the hostility of Colonel Dodge's silence more than any that words +could express; and when, on the second day, he saw Professor +Diffenderfer approaching he stopped his work to watch him. + +"Vell, how are you?" began the Professor, trying to warm up their +ancient friendship; and then, seeing that Denver merely bristled the +more, he cast off his cloak of well-wishing. "I vas yoost over to +Murray's camp," he burst out vindictively, "and Dave said he vanted his +gun." + +"Tell 'im to come over and get it," suggested Denver and then he +unbuckled his belt. "All right," he said handing over the gun and +cartridges, "here it is; I don't need it, anyhow." The Professor blinked +and looked again, then reached out and took the belt doubtfully. + +"Vot you mean?" he asked at last as his curiosity got the better of him, +"have you got anudder gun somevhere? Dot Dave, he svears he vill kill +you." + +"That's all right," replied Denver, "just give him his gun--I'll take +him on any day, with rocks." + +"How you mean 'take him on?'" inquired the Professor all excitement but +Denver waved him away. + +"Go on now," he said, "and give him his gun. I guess he'll know what I +mean." + +But if Chatwourth understood the hidden taunt he did not respond to the +challenge and Denver's mind reverted to H. Parkinson Dodge and his +flattering offers for the mine. Ten thousand dollars cash, from a mining +promoter, was indeed a princely sum; better by far than the offer of +half a million shares that went with Bunker's option. For stock is the +sop that is thrown to poor miners in lieu of the good hard cash, but ten +thousand dollars was a lot of money for a promoter to pay for a claim. +It showed that there were others beside himself who believed in the +value of his property, yet who this Colonel Dodge was or who were his +backers was a question that only Bunker could answer. Denver waited in a +sweat, now wondering if Bunker would speak to him, nor exulting in the +offer for his mine; and when at last he saw Bunker Hill drive in he +threw down his tools and hurried towards him. + +But Bunker Hill was surly, he barely glanced at Denver and went on +caring for his horses; and Denver did not crowd him. He waited, and at +last Old Bunk looked up with jaw thrust grimly out. + +"Well?" he said, and Denver forgot everything but the question that was +on his tongue. + +"Say," he burst out, "who is this Colonel Dodge that came up and bought +your mine? Is he working for Murray, or what?" + +"Search me," grumbled Bunker, "I got his thousand dollars, and that's +about all I know." + +"He was up here to see me the same day you left, with a whole load of +six-buckle experts; and say, he offered me a check for ten thousand +dollars if I'd sell him the Silver Treasure claim. And when I refused it +he got into his machine and went right over to Murray's. I'll bet you +you're sold out to Bible-Back." + +"Well, he's stuck then," said Bunker. "I guess you haven't heard the +news--Murray's closed down his camp for good." + +"He has!" exclaimed Denver, and then he laughed heartily. "He's a foxy +old dastard, isn't he?" + +"You said it," returned Bunker. "Never did have any ore. Just pretended +he had in order to sell stock and recoup what he'd lost on the drilling. +They're offering the stock for nothing." + +"Who's offering it?" demanded Denver suddenly taking the matter +seriously. "I'll bet you it's nothing but a fake!" + +"All right," shrugged Bunker, "but I met a bunch of miners and they were +swapping stock for matches. Old Tom Buchanan down at Desert Wells won't +accept it at any price--that shows how much it's a fake." + +"Aw, he pulled that once before," answered Denver contemptuously, "but +he don't fool me again. Like as not he's made a strike and is just +shutting down so he can buy back the stock he sold." + +Bunker looked up and grunted, then gathered together his purchases and +ambled off towards the house. + +"That's all you think about, ain't it?" he said at parting. "I'll +mention it when I write to Drusilla." + +"Oh--oh, yes," stammered Denver suddenly reminded of his dereliction, +"say, how did she happen to go? And I want to get her address so I can +explain how it happened--I wouldn't have missed seeing her for +anything!" + +"No, of course not," growled Bunker, "not for anything but your own +interests. You can go to hell for your address." + +"Why, what do you mean?" demanded Denver; but as Bunker did not answer +he fell back and let him go on. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE ANSWER + + +There are some kinds of questions which require no answers and others +which answer themselves. Denver had asked Bunker what he meant when he +refused Drusilla's address and intimated that he was unworthy of her +friendship, but after a gloomy hour in the deepening twilight the +question answered itself. Bunker had taken his daughter across the +desert, on her way to the train and New York, and his curt remarks were +but the reflex of her's as she discussed Denver's many transgressions. +He thought more of mines and of his own selfish interests than he did of +her and her art, and so she desired to hear no more of him or his +protestations of innocence. That was what the words meant and as Denver +thought them over he wondered if it was not true. + +Drusilla had greeted him cordially when he had returned from Globe and +had invited him to dinner that same night, but he had refused because he +needed the sleep and begrudged the daylight to take it. And the next day +he had worked even harder than before and had forgotten her invitation +entirely. She was to sing just for him and, after the singing, she would +have told him all her plans; and then perhaps they might have spoken of +other things and parted as lovers should. But no, he had spoiled it by +his senseless hurry in getting his ore off with McGraw; and now, with +all the time in the world on his hands, the valley below was silent. Not +a scale, not a trill, not a run or roulade; only silence and the frogs +with their devilish insistence, their ceaseless _eh_, _eh_, +_eh_. He rose up and heaved a stone into the creek-bed below, then +went in and turned on his phonograph. + +They were real people to him now, these great artists of the discs; +Drusilla had described them as she listened to the records and even the +places where they sang. She had pictured the mighty sweep of the +Metropolitan with its horse-shoe of glittering boxes; the balconies +above and the standing-room below where the poor art-students gathered +to applaud; and he had said that when he was rich he would subscribe for +a box and come there just to hear her sing. And now he was broke, and +Drusilla was going East to run the perilous gauntlet of the tenors. He +jerked up the stylus in the middle of a record and cursed his besotted +industry. If he had let his ore go, and gone to see her like a +gentleman, Drusilla might even now be his. She might have relented and +given him a kiss--he cursed and stumbled blindly to bed. + +In the morning he went to work in the close air of the tunnel, which +sadly needed a fan, and then he hurled his hammer to the ground and felt +his way out to daylight. What was the use of it all; where did it get +him to, anyway; this ceaseless, grinding toil? Murray's camp had shut +down, the promoters had vanished, Pinal was deader than ever; he +gathered up his tools and stored them in his cave, then sat down to +write her a letter. Nothing less than the truth would win her back now +and he confessed his shortcomings humbly; after which he told her that +the town was too lonely and he was leaving, too. He sealed it in an +envelope and addressed it with her name and when he was sure that Old +Bunk was not looking he slipped in and gave it to her mother. + +"I'm going away," he said, "and I may not be back. Will you send that on +to Drusilla?" + +"Yes," she smiled and hid it in her dress; but as he started for the +door she stopped him. + +"You might like to know," she said, "that Drusilla has received an +engagement. She is substitute soprano in a new Opera Company that is +being organized to tour the big cities. I'm sorry you didn't see her." + +"Yes," answered Denver, "I'm sorry myself--but that never bought a man +anything. Just send her the letter and--well, goodby." + +He blundered out the door and down the steps, and there stretched the +road before him. In the evening he was as far as Whitlow's Well and a +great weight seemed lifted from his breast. He was free again, free to +wander where he pleased, free to make friends with any that he met--for +if the prophecy was not true in regard to his mine it was not true +regarding his friends. And how could any woman, by cutting a pack of +cards and consulting the signs of the zodiac, predict how a man would +die? Denver made himself at home with a party of hobo miners who had +come in from the railroad below, and that night they sat up late, +cracking jokes and telling stories of every big camp in the West. It was +the old life again, the life that he knew and loved, drifting on from +camp to camp with every man his friend. Yet as he stretched out that +night by the flickering fire he almost regretted the change. He was free +from the great fear, free to make friends with whom he would; but, to +win back the love of the beautiful young artist, he would have given up +his freedom without a sigh. + +His sleep that night was broken by strange dreams and by an automobile +that went thundering by, and in the morning as they cooked a mulligan +together he saw two great motor trucks go past. They were loaded with +men and headed up the canyon and Denver began to look wild. A third +machine appeared and he went out to flag it but the driver went by +without stopping; and so did another, and another. He rushed after the +next one and caught it on the hill but the men pushed him roughly from +the running board. They were armed and he knew by their hard-bitten +faces that it was another party of jumpers. + +"Where are you going?" he yelled but they left him by the road without +even a curse for an answer. Well, he knew then; they were going to +Final, and Murray had fooled him again. Denver had suspected from the +first that Murray's shutdown was a ruse, to shake down the public for +their stock; and now he knew it, and that if his mine was jumped again +it would be held against all comers. Another automobile whirled by; and +then came men that he knew, the miners who owned claims in the district. + +"What's the matter?" he called but they would not stop to talk, simply +shouted and beckoned him on. Denver started, right then, without +stopping for breakfast or to pick up his hobo's pack; and soon he caught +a ride with a party of prospectors whose claims he had once freed from +jumpers. + +"It's a big strike!" they clamored, hauling him in and rushing on. "Old +Murray struck copper in his tunnel! _Rich?_ Hell, yes!" And they +gave him all the details as the machine lurched along up the road. + +Murray had struck another ore-body, entirely different from the first +one--the copper had come out the drill-holes like pure metal--and then +he had shut down and rushed the machine-men away before they could tell +of the strike. But they had got loose down in Moroni and showed the +drill-dust and every man that saw it had piled into his machine and +joined the rush for Murray's. + +"Jumped again!" muttered Denver and when he arrived in Pinal he found +his mine swarming with men. They had built a barricade and run a pipe +line down the hill to pump up water from the creek, and when he appeared +they ordered him off without showing so much as a head. And he went, for +the swiftness of the change had confused him; he was whipped before he +began. There was no use to fight or to put up a bluff, the men behind +the wall were determined; and while, according to law, they held no +title the law was far away. It was a weapon for rich men who could +afford to pay the price; but how could he, a poor man, hope to win back +his claim when it was held by Bible-Back Murray? He went down to the +store, where the Miners' Meeting was assembled, and beckoned Bunker +aside. + +"Mr. Hill," he said, "you promised me one time to give me the loan of a +gun. Well, now is the time I need it." + +"Nope," warned Bunker, "you ain't got a chance. Them fellers are just up +here to get you." + +"Well, for self-defense!" protested Denver, "Dave sent word he'd kill +me." + +"Keep away, then," advised Bunker, "don't give him no chance. But if +them fellers should jump on you, just run to my house and I'll slip you +the old Injun-tamer." + +Denver went out on the street, now swarming with traffic, and looked up +toward his mine; and as he gazed he walked up closer until he stopped at +the fork of the trails. The men behind the wall were watching him +grimly, without letting their faces be seen; but as he stood there +looking they began to bandy jests and presently to taunt him openly. But +Denver did not answer, for he divined their evil purpose, and at last he +turned quietly away. + +"Hey! Come back here!" roared a voice and Denver whirled in his tracks +for he knew it was Slogger Meacham's. He was standing there now, looking +across the barricade, and as Denver met his gaze he laughed. + +"Ho! Ho!" he rumbled folding his arms across his breast and thrusting +out his huge black mustache. "Well, how do you feel about it now?" + +"Never mind," returned Denver and, leaving him gloating, he hurried away +down the trail. Old Bunk was right, they had come there to get him, and +there was no use playing into their hands; yet at thought of Slogger +Meacham his hair began to bristle and he muttered half-formed threats. +The Slogger had come to get him--and Dave Chatwourth was behind there, +too--the whole district was dominated by their gang; but the times would +change and with inrush of other men the jumpers would soon be +out-numbered. It was better then to wait, to let the excitement die down +and law and order return; and then, with a deputy sheriff at his back, +he could eject them by due process of law. The claim was his, his papers +were recorded and no lawyer could question their validity--no, the best +thing was to let the jumpers rage, to say nothing and keep out of sight. +That was all that he had to do. + +But to avoid them was not so easy, for as the day wore on and no attempt +was made to oust them, the jumpers walked boldly into town. At first it +was Chatwourth, to buy some tobacco and break in on the Miners' Meeting; +and then Slogger Meacham, a huge mountain of a man, came ambling down +the street. He slouched down on the store platform and leered about him +evilly, but Denver had retreated to his cave under the cliff and the +Slogger returned to the mine. Then they came down in a body, Chatwourth +and Meacham and all the jumpers; but though his mine was left open +Denver refrained from going near it, for their purpose was becoming very +plain. They were trying to inveigle him into openly opposing them, after +which they would have a pretext for resorting to actual violence. But +their plans went no further for he remained in retirement and the +Miners' Meeting adjourned. Soon the street was deserted, except for +their own numbers, and they returned to the mine with shrill whoops. + +From his lookout above Denver watched them with a smile, for his nerve +had come back to him now. Now that Murray had made his strike, and +increased the value of the Silver Treasure by a thousand per cent over +night, Denver's mind had swung back like a needle to the pole to his +former belief in the prophecy. He had doubted it twice and renounced it +twice, but each time as if by an act of Providence he was rebuked for +his lack of faith. Now he _knew_ it was so--that the mine would be +restored and that only his dearest friend could kill him. So he smiled +almost pityingly at the loud-mouthed jumpers and went boldly down the +trail. + +The hush of evening was in the air when he knocked at Bunker Hill's door +and after a look about Old Bunk went back into the house and brought out +a heavy pistol. It was an old-fashioned six-shooter of the Indian-tamer +type--a single action, wooden-handled forty-five--and Bunker fingered it +lovingly as he handed it over to Denver. + +"For self-defense, understand," he said beneath his breath, "and look +out, that bunch is sure ranicky." + +"Much obliged," responded Denver and tested the action before he slipped +the gun in its belt. He was starting for his cave, when from his cabin +up the street the Professor came out and beckoned him. + +"What do you want?" called Denver; then, receiving no answer, he strode +impatiently up the street. + +"Come in," urged the Professor touching his nose for secrecy, "come in, +I vant to show you some-t'ing." + +"Well, show it to me here," answered Denver but the Professor drew him +inside the house. + +"You look oudt vat you do," he warned mysteriously, "dem joompers are +liable to see you." + +"I should worry," said Denver and, whipping out the gun, he made the +motions of fanning the hammer. + +"Now, now," reproved Diffenderfer drawing back in a panic; and then he +laughed, but nervously. + +"Well, what do you want to show me?" demanded Denver bluntly. "Hurry up +now--I hear somebody coming." + +"Oh, nutting--come again!" exclaimed the Professor apprehensively. "Come +to-morrow--I show you everyt'ing!" + +"You'll show me now," returned Denver imperturbably, "I'm not afraid of +the whole danged bunch. Come on, what have you got--a bottle?" + +"Yoost a piece of copper from Murray's tunnel--Mein Gott, I hear dem +boys coming!" + +He sprang to the door and dropped the heavy bar but Denver struck it up +and stepped out. + +"What the hell are you trying to do?" he demanded suspiciously and the +door slammed to behind him. + +"Run! Run!" implored the Professor staring out through his peep-hole but +Denver lolled negligently against the house. A crowd of men, headed by +Slogger Meacham, were coming down the street; but it was not for him to +fly. He had a gun now, as well as they, and his back was against the +wall. They could pass by or stop, according to their liking; but the +show-down had come, there and now. + +They came on in a bunch down the middle of the street, ignoring his +watchful glances; but as the rest trampled past Slogger Meacham turned +his head and came to a bristling halt. + +"Well," he said, "out for a little airing?" And the jumpers swung in +behind him. + +"Yes," answered Denver regarding him incuriously and the Slogger moved a +step or two closer. + +"You start anything around here," he went on significantly, "and you'll +be airing the smoke out of your clothes. We got your number, see, and +we're here to put your light out if you start to make a peep." + +"Is that so?" observed Denver still standing at a crouch and one or two +of the men walked off. + +"Come on, boys," they said but Meacham stood glowering and Chatwourth +stepped out in front of him. "I hear," he said to Denver, "that you've +been making your brag that you kin whip me with a handful of stones." + +"Never mind, now," replied Denver, "I'm not looking for trouble. You go +on and leave me alone." + +"I'll go when I damned please!" cried Chatwourth in a passion and as he +advanced on Denver the crowd behind him suddenly gave a concerted shove. +Denver saw the surge coming and stepped aside to avoid it, undetermined +whether to strike out or shoot; but as he was slipping away Slogger +Meacham made a rush and struck him a quick blow in the neck. He whirled +and struck back at him, the air was full of fists and guns, swung like +clubs to rap him on the head; and then he went down with Meacham on top +of him and a crashing blow ringing in his ears. When he came to his +senses he was stripped and mauled and battered, and a stranger stood +over him with a gun. + +"You're my prisoner," he said and Denver sat up startled. + +"Why--what's the matter?" he asked looking about at the crowd that had +gathered on the scene of the fight, "what's the matter with that jasper +over there?" + +"He's dead--that's all," answered the officer laughing shortly, "you hit +him over the head with this gun." + +"I did not!" burst out Denver, "I never even drew it. Say, who is that +fellow, anyway?" + +"Name was Meacham," returned the officer, "come on." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE COURSE OF THE LAW + + +As he lay in his cell in the county jail at Moroni it was borne in upon +Denver that he was caught in some great machine that ground out men as a +mill grinds grain. It had laid a cold hand on him in the person of an +officer of the law, it had inched him on further when a magistrate had +examined him and Chatwourth and his jumpers had testified; and now, as +he awaited his day in court, he wondered whither it was taking him. The +magistrate had held him, the grand jury had indicted him--would the +judge and jury find him guilty? And if so, would they send him to the +Pen? His heart sank at that, for the name of "ex-convict" is something +that cannot be laid. No matter what the crime or the circumstances of +the trial, once a man is convicted and sent to prison that name can +always be hurled at him--and Denver knew that he was not guilty. + +He had no recollection of even drawing his gun, to say nothing of +striking at Meacham; and yet Chatwourth and his gang would swear him +into prison if something was not done to stop them. They had come before +the magistrate all agreeing to the same story--that Denver had picked a +fight with his old enemy, Meacham, and struck him over the head with his +six-shooter. And then they showed Denver's pistol; the one he had +borrowed from Bunker, all gory with hair and blood. It was a frame-up +and he knew it, for they had all been striking at him and one of them +had probably hit Meacham; but how was he to prove to the satisfaction of +the court that Murray's hired gun-men were trying to hang him? His only +possible witness was Professor Diffenderfer, and he would not testify to +anything. + +In his examination before the magistrate Denver had called upon the +Professor to explain the cause of his being there; but Diffenderfer had +protested that he had been hiding in his cabin and knew nothing whatever +about the fight. Yet if the facts could be proved, Denver had not gone +up the street to shoot it out with the jumpers; he had gone at the +invitation of this same Professor Diffenderfer who now so carefully +avoided his eye. He had been called to the Professor's cabin to look at +a specimen of the copper from Murray's tunnel; but as Denver thought it +over a shrewd suspicion came over him that he had been lured into a +well-planned trap. They had never been over-friendly so why should this +Dutchman, after opposing him at every turn, suddenly beckon him up the +street and into his cabin just as Chatwourth and his gang came down? And +why, if he was innocent of any share in the plot, did Diffenderfer +refuse to testify to the facts? Denver ground his teeth at the thought +of his own impotence, shut up there like a dog in the pound. He was +helpless, and his lawyer would do nothing. + +The first thing he had done when he was brought to Moroni was to hire a +second-rate lawyer but, after getting his money, the gentleman had spent +his time in preparing some windy brief. What Denver needed was some +witnesses, to swear to his good character, and Diffenderfer to swear to +the facts; and no points of law were going to make a difference as long +as the truth was suppressed. Old Bunk alone stood by him, though he +could do little besides testifying to his previous good character. Day +after day Denver lay in jail and sweated, trying to find some possible +way out; but not until the morning before his trial did he sense the +real meaning of it all. Then a visitor was announced and when he came to +the bars he found Bible-Back Murray awaiting him. + +"Good morning, young man," began Murray smiling grimly, "I was just +passing by and I thought I'd drop in and talk over your case for a +moment." + +"Yes?" said Denver looking out at him dubiously, and the great man +smiled again. He _was_ a great man, as Denver had discovered to his +sorrow, for no one in the country dared oppose him. + +"I regret very much," went on Murray pompously, "to find you in this +position, and if there's anything I can do that is just and right I +shall be glad to use my influence. We have, as you know, here in the +State of Arizona one of the most enlightened governments in the country; +and a word from me, if spoken in time, might possibly save you from +conviction. Or, in case of conviction, our prison law is such that you +might immediately be released under parole. But before I take any +action----" he lowered his voice--"you might give me a quit-claim for +that mine." + +"Oh" said Denver, and then it was that the great ray of light came over +him. He could see it all now, from Murray's first warning to this last +bold demand for his mine; but two months in jail had broken his spirit +and he hesitated to defy the county boss. His might be the hand that +held Diffenderfer back, and it certainly was the one that paid +Chatwourth; he controlled the county and, if what he said was true, had +no small influence in the affairs of the state. And now he gave him the +choice between going to prison or giving up the Silver Treasure. + +"What is this?" inquired Denver, "a hold-up or a frame-up?" + +"I don't know what you're talking about," answered Murray curtly, "but +if you're still in a mood for levity----" He turned away but as Denver +did not stop him he returned of his own will to the bars. + +"Now see here," he said, "this has gone far enough, if you expect to +keep out of prison. I came down here to befriend you and all I ask in +return is a clear title to what is already mine. Perhaps you don't +realize the seriousness of your position, but I tell you right now that +no power on earth can save you from certain conviction. The District +Attorney has informed me that he has an airtight case against you but, +rather than see your whole life ruined, I am giving you this one, last +chance. You are young and headstrong, and hardly realized what you were +doing; and so I say, why not acknowledge your mistake and begin life +over again? I have nothing but the kindest feelings towards you, but I +can't allow my interests to be jeopardized. Think it over--can't you see +it's for the best?" + +"No, I can't," answered Denver, "because I never killed Meacham and I +don t believe any jury will convict me. If they do, I'll know who was +behind it all and govern myself accordingly." + +"Just a slight correction," put in Murray sarcastically, "you will not +govern yourself at all. You will become a ward of the State of Arizona +for the rest of your natural life." + +"Well, that's all right then," burst out Denver, wrathfully, "but I can +tell you one thing--you won't get no quit-claim for your mine. I'll lay +in jail and rot before I'll come through with it, so you can go as far +as you like. But if I ever get out----" + +"That will do, young man," said Murray stepping back, "I see you're +becoming abusive. Very well, let the law take its course." + +He straightened up his wry neck, put his glass eye into place and +stalked angrily out of the jail; and in the hard week that followed +Denver learned what he meant, for the wheels of the law began to grind. +First the District Attorney, in making his charge, denounced him like a +mad-man; then he brought on his witnesses, a solid phalanx, and put them +through their parts; and every point of law that Denver's attorney +brought up he tore it to pieces in an instant. He knew more law in a +minute than the lawyer would learn in a life-time, he could think +circles around him and not try; and when Denver's witnesses were placed +on the stand he cross-examined them until he nullified their testimony. +Even grim-eyed Bunker Hill, after testifying to Denver's character, was +compelled to admit that the first time he saw him he was engaged in a +fight with Meacham. And so it went on until the jury filed back with a +verdict of "Guilty of manslaughter." + +Thus the law took its course over the body and soul of what had once +been a man; and when it was over Denver Russell was a Number with +eighteen years before him. Eighteen years more or less, according to his +conduct, for the laws of the State of Arizona imposed an indeterminate +sentence which might be varied to fit any case. As Murray had intimated, +under the new prison law a man could be paroled the day after he was +sentenced, though he were in for ninety-nine years. That was the law, +and it was just, for no court is infallible and injustice must be +rectified somewhere. After the poor man and his poor lawyer had matched +their puny wits against those of a fighting District Attorney then mercy +must intervene in the name of society and equalize the sentence. For the +District Attorney is hired by the county to send every man to prison, +but no one is hired to defend the innocent or to balance the scales of +justice. + +Denver went to prison like any other prisoner, a rebel against society; +but after a lonely day in his cell he rose up and looked about him. Here +were men like himself--nay, old, hardened criminals--walking about in +civilian clothes, and the gates opened up before them. They passed out +of the walled yard and into the prison fields where there were cattle +and growing crops; and they came back fresh and earthy, after hours of +honest toil with no one to watch or guard them. It was the honor system +which he had read about for years, but now he saw it working; and after +a week he sent word to the Warden that he would give his word not to +escape. That was all they asked of him, his word as a man; and a great +hope came over him and soothed the deep wound that the merciless law had +torn. He raised his head, that had been bowed on his breast, and the +strength came back into his limbs; and when the Warden saw him with a +sledge-hammer in his hands he smiled and sent him up to the road-camp. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +LIKE A HOG ON ICE + + +A month had wrought great changes in the life of Denver Russell, raising +him up from a prisoner, locked up like a mad dog, to the boss of a gang +of road-makers. He was free again, as far as bolts and bars were +concerned; all that kept him to his place was the word he had given and +his pride as an honest man. And now he was out, doing an honest man's +work and building a highway for the state; and by the irony of fate the +road he was improving was the one that led to Pinal. For time had +wrought other changes while he lay in prison and the rough road up the +canyon was swarming with traffic going and coming from Murray's camp. It +was called "Murray" now, and a narrow-gauge railroad was being rushed to +haul out the ore. Teams and motor trucks swung by, hauling in timbers +and machinery, auto stages came and went like the wind; and old Mike +McGraw, who had hauled all the freight for years, looked on in wonder +and awe. + +Yes, Murray was a live camp, a copper camp with millions of dollars +behind it; and Bible-Back himself was a king indeed, for he had tapped +the rich body of ore. It was his courage and aggressiveness that had +made the camp, and the papers all sounded his praise; but still he was +not satisfied and as he passed by Denver Russell he glanced at him +almost appealingly. Here was a man he had broken in order to get his +way, and his efforts had come to nothing; for the Silver Treasure lay +idle, waiting the clearing of its title before the work could go on. And +Denver Russell, swinging his double-jack on a drill, never once returned +the glance. He was stiff-necked and stubborn, though Murray had sent +intermediaries and practically promised to get him a parole. + +A legal point had come up, after Denver had been imprisoned, which +Murray had failed to foresee; the fact that a convict is legally dead +until he has served his term. He cannot transfer property or enter into +a contract or transact any business whatever--nor, on the other hand, +can his mining claims be jumped. As a ward of the State his property is +held in trust until his term has expired. Then he gains back his +identity, if not his citizenship; and with the passing of his number and +the resumption of his name he can enter into contracts once more. +Murray's lawyer had known all this, but Murray had not; and when he +suggested a suit to quiet title to the Silver Treasure old Bible-Back +received a great blow. After all his efforts he found himself +balked--his work must even be undone. Denver Russell must be pardoned, +or at least paroled, and as the price of his freedom he must give his +word not to contest the title to his mine. No papers would be necessary, +in fact they would not be legal; but if his word would prevent him from +escaping from the road-camp it would keep him from claiming his mine. + +Murray attended to the matter himself, for he was in a fever to begin +work; and then Denver Russell struck back--he refused to apply for +parole. Though he was pleasant and amenable, never breaking the prison +rules and holding his gang to their duty, when the kindly parole clerk +offered to present his case to the Board he had flatly and +unconditionally refused. The smouldering fire of his resentment had +blazed up and overmastered him as he sensed the hidden hand of his +enemy, and he had cursed the black name of Murray. That was the +beginning, and now when Murray passed, his glance was almost beseeching. +The price of silver was going up, there were consolidation plans in +sight, and Denver's claim apexed all the rest--Murray pocketed his pride +and, after a word with the guard, drew Denver out of hearing of the +gang. + +"Mr. Russell," he said trying to appear magnanimous, "that offer of mine +holds good. I'll get you a parole to-morrow if you'll give me a +quit-claim to your claim." + +"How can I give you a quit-claim?" inquired Denver defiantly, "a convict +can't give title to anything!" + +"Just give me your word then," suggested Murray suavely and Denver +laughed in his face. + +"You glass-eyed old dastard," he burst out contemptuously, "I know what +you're up to, too well. You're trying to get me paroled so you can take +my mine away from me and I won't dare to raise a hand. But I'll fool +you, old-timer; I'll just serve my term out and then--well, I'll get +back my mine." + +"Is that a threat?" demanded Murray but Denver only smiled and toyed +with his heavy hammer. "Because if it is," went on Murray, "just for +self-protection, I'll see that you don't get out." + +"No, it isn't a threat," answered Denver quietly. "If I wanted to kill +you I'd swing this sledge and knock you on the head, right now. No, I +don't intend to kill you; but a man would be a sucker to play right into +your hands." + +"What do you mean?" asked Murray trying to argue the matter, but Denver +refused to indulge him. + +"Never mind," he said, "you railroaded me to the Pen', but by grab you +can't get me out. I'll just show you I'm as independent as a hog on +ice--if I can't stand up I'll lay down." + +"Then you intend, just to spite me, to remain on in prison when you +might be a free man to-morrow? I can't believe that--it doesn't seem +reasonable." + +"Well, I can't stand here talking," answered Denver impatiently and went +off and left him staring. + +It certainly was unbelievable that any reasoning creature should prefer +confinement and disgrace to freedom, but the iron had burned deep into +Denver's soul and his one desire now was revenge. He had been deprived +of his property and branded a convict by this man who boasted of his +powers; but, like a thrown mule, if he could not have his way he could +at least refuse to get up. He was down and out; but by a miracle of +Providence, a hitch in the wording of the law, the slave-driver Murray +could not proceed with his chariot until this balky mule got up. Denver +knew his rights as a prisoner of the state and his status before the +law; and bowed his head and took the beating stubbornly, punishing +himself a hundred times over to thwart his enemy's plans. As he worked +on the road old friends came by and tried to argue him out of his mood, +even Bunker Hill suggested a compromise; but he only listened sulkily, a +slow smile on his lips, a gleam of smouldering hatred in his eyes. + +So the winter passed by and as spring came on the road-gang drew near to +Murray. From the hills above their camp Denver could see the dumps and +hoists, and the mill that was going up below, and as the ore-trains +glided by on the newly finished narrow-gauge he picked up samples of the +copper. It was the same as his vein, a brassy yellow chalcopyrites with +chunks of red native copper, and he forgot the daily heart-ache and the +ignominy of his task as he contemplated the wealth that awaited him. +Yes, the mine was still his, though he was herded with common felons and +compelled to build a road for Murray; it was his and the law would +protect him, the same law that had sent him to prison. And he was a +prisoner by choice now for both the warden and the parole clerk had +recommended him heartily for parole. + +They treated him like a friend, like a big, wrong-headed boy who was +still sound and good at heart; and he knew that when he went to them and +applied for a parole they would recommend it at once to the Board. But +he was playing a deep game, one that had come to him suddenly when +Murray had suggested a parole, for by refusing to accept his freedom he +made the state his guardian and the receiver of his coveted property. It +was safe, and he could wait; and when the time was ripe he could apply +to the Governor for a pardon. A pardon would remove the taint of +dishonor and restore him to honest citizenship; but a paroled man was +known for an ex-con everywhere--he might as well be back in the +road-gang. Yet it was hard on his pride when the automobiles rushed past +and the passengers looked back and stared, it was hard to have the guard +always watching the gang for fear that some crook might decamp; and only +the thought that he was working out his destiny gave him courage to play +out his hand. + +But how wonderfully had the prophecy of Mother Trigedgo been justified +by the course of events! Not a year before he had come over the Globe +trail in pursuit of Slogger Meacham, and had discovered the Place of +Death. It rose before him now, a solid black wall, and within its shadow +lay the mine of the prophecy, the precious Silver Treasure. He had +chosen the silver treasure, and the yellow chalcopyrites had added its +wealth of copper. And now he but awaited the end of his long ordeal and +the reward of his courage and constancy. Both the silver and gold +treasures were destined to be his; and Drusilla--but there he paused. +Old Bunk had avoided him, Drusilla had not written; yet he had been +careful not to reveal his affection. Not once had he asked for her, only +once had he written; yet perhaps that one letter had defeated him. He +had acknowledged his love, humbly admitted his faults, and begged her to +try to forgive him. Even that might have cost him her love. + +The spring came on warmer, all the palo verde trees burst out in masses +of brilliant yellow, the mezquites hung out tassels of golden fuzz and +the giant cactus donned its crown of orange blossoms. Even the +iron-woods flaunted bloom and the barren, sandy washes turned green with +six-weeks grass. It was a time when rabbits gamboled, when mockingbirds +sang by moonlight and all the world turned young. Denver chafed at his +confinement, one of his Mexicans broke his parole, the hobo miners went +swinging past; and just as the last of his courage was waning Bunker +Hill came riding down the road. He was on his big bay, yet not out after +cattle--he was coming straight towards him. Denver caught his breath, +and waited. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +PAROLE + + +"Mornin', Denver," said Bunker Hill, "here's a letter that come for +you--I forgot to send it down." + +He fumbled in his pocket and Denver's heart stood still, but it was only +his check from the smelter. He slipped it into his shirt without even +glancing at the big total and looked up at Bunker expectantly. + +"Well?" he prompted and Old Bunk twisted in the saddle before he began +to talk. + +"How much did you get for your shipment?" he inquired but Denver +shrugged impatiently. + +"What do I give a damn?" he demanded. "What's up? What you got on your +mind?" + +"Big stuff," replied Bunker, "but I want you to listen to me--they's no +use running off at the head." + +"Who's running off at the head? Go on and shoot your wad. Is it +something about my mine?" + +"Yes--and mine," answered Bunker. "I don't know whether you know it, but +your property apexes the Lost Burro. And another thing, silver has gone +up. But Pinal is just as dead as it was a year ago. The whole camp is +waiting on you." + +"Well, what do you want me to do? Get a parole and give Murray my mine?" + +"No, just get a parole--and then we'll get you a pardon. I'll tell you, +Denver, the Dutchman has begun to talk and it seems he saw your fight. +He's told several people that you never pulled your gun, just struck out +at the crowd with your fists. And if hints and winks count for anything +with him he knows who it was that killed Meacham. He says he was hit +from behind. I've tried everything, Denver, to make that Dutchman talk +or put something down on paper; but he's scared so bad of Murray, and +mebbe of his gun-men, that he won't say a word, unless he's drunk. Now +here's the proposition--old Murray has had you railroaded, and he's sure +going to squeeze you until you let go of that claim. Why not sell out +for a good price, if he'll make the Professor talk and help get you a +pardon from the Governor? You know the Governor, he'll pardon most +anybody, but you've got to give him some excuse. Well, the Professor has +got the evidence to get you out to-morrow--if Murray will just tell him +to talk." + +"What d'ye call a good price?" inquired Denver suspiciously. "Did Murray +put you up to this?" + +"No!" snapped Bunker, "but he named ten thousand dollars as the most he +could possibly give. He owns the Colonel Dodge's interest in the Lost +Burro Mining Company now." + +"Your pardner, eh?" sneered Denver. "Well, where would I get off if I +took this friendly tip? I'd lose my mine, that's worth a million, at +least; and get ten thousand dollars and a parole. A paroled man can't +locate a claim--nor an ex-convict, neither. The Silver Treasure is the +last claim that I'll ever get; and I'm going to hold onto it, by grab!" + +"You're crazy," declared Bunker, "didn't I say we'd get you a pardon? +Well, a pardon restores you to citizenship--you can locate all the +claims you want." + +"Yes, sure; _if_ I'm pardoned! But I know that danged Dutchman--he +wouldn't turn a hand to get me out of the Pen' if you'd give him a +hundred thousand dollars. He's got it in for me, for not buying his +claim when I took the Silver Treasure from you; and more'n that, he's +afraid of me, because if I ever get out----" + +"Oh, don't be a dammed fool all the rest of your life," burst out Bunker +Hill impatiently. "If you'd quiet down a little and quit fighting your +head, maybe your friends would be able to help you. I might as well tell +you that I've been to the Governor and told him the facts of the case; +and he's practically promised, if the Professor will come through, to +give you a full pardon with citizenship. Now be reasonable, Denver, and +quit trying to whip the world, and we'll get you out of this jack-pot. +Give old Murray your mine--you can never law it away from him--and take +your ten thousand dollars; then move to another camp and make a fresh +start where there's nobody working against you. Of course I'm Murray's +pardner--he put one over on me--but at the same time I reckon I'm your +friend. Now there's the proposition and you can take it or leave it--I +ain't going to bother you again." + +"Nope, it don't look good to me," answered Denver promptly, "there's too +many ifs and ands. And I'll stay here till I rot before Bible-Back +Murray will ever get that mine from _me_. He hired that bunch of +gun-men to jump my claim twice when he had no title to the mine, and +then he hired Chatwourth and Slogger Meacham to get me in the door and +kill me. They made a slight mistake and got the wrong man, then sent me +to the Pen' for murder. That's the kind of a dastard you've got for a +pardner but you can tell him I'll never give up. I'll fight till I die, +and if I ever get out----" + +"Yes, there you go again," burst out Bunker Hill bitterly, "you ain't +got the brain of a mule. If I wasn't to blame for loaning you that gun +and leaving you out of my sight, I'd pass up your case for good. But I +didn't have no better sense than to slip you my old six-shooter, and now +Mrs. Hill can't hardly git over it so I'll give you another try. My +daughter, Drusilla, is coming home next week and she hasn't even heard +about this trouble. Now--are you going to stay here and meet her as a +convict, or will you come and meet her like a gentleman. This ain't my +doin's--I'd see you in hell, first--but Mrs. Hill says when you get out +on parole we'll be glad to receive you as our guest." + +Denver stopped and considered, smiling and frowning by turns, but at +last he shook his head mournfully. + +"No," he muttered, "what will she care for a poor ex-con? No, I'm down +and out," he went on to Bunker, "and she'll hear about it, anyhow. It's +too late now to pretend I'm a gentleman--my number has burned in like a +brand. All these other prisoners know me and they'll turn me up +anywhere; if I go to the China Coast one of 'em would show up, sooner or +later, and bawl me out for a convict. No, I'm ruined as a gentleman, and +old Murray did it; but by God, if I live, I'll teach him to regret +it--and he won't make a dollar out of me. That claim is tied up till +John D. Rockefeller himself couldn't get it away from me now; and it'll +lay right there until I serve out my sentence or get a free pardon from +the Governor. I won't agree to anything and----" + +He stopped abruptly and looked away, after which he reached out his +hand. + +"Well, much obliged, Bunk," he said, trying to smile, "I'm sorry I can't +accommodate you. Just thank Mrs. Hill for what she has done and--and +tell her I'll never forget it." + +He went back to his work and old Bunk watched him wonderingly, after +which he rode solemnly away. Then the road-making dragged on--clearing +away brush, blasting out rock, filling in, grading up, making the +crown--but now the road-boss was absent minded and oblivious and his +pride in the job was gone. He let the men lag and leave rough ends, and +every few moments his eyes would stray away and look down the canyon for +the stage. And as the automobiles came up he scanned the passengers +hungrily--until at last he saw Drusilla. There was the fluttering of a +veil, the flash of startled eyes, a quick belated wave, and she was +gone. Denver stood in the road, staring after her blankly, and then he +threw down his pick. + +"Send me back to the Pen'" he said to the guard, "I'm going to apply for +parole." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE INTERPRETATION THEREOF + + +After all his suffering, his oaths, his refusals, his rejection of each +friendly offer, Denver had changed his mind in the fraction of a second +when he saw Drusilla whirl past. He forgot his mine, the fierce battles, +the prophecy--all he wanted was to see her again. Placed on his honor +for the trip he started down the road, walking fast when he failed to +catch a ride, and early the next morning he reported at the prison to +apply for an immediate parole. But luck was against him and his heart +died in his breast, for the Board of Prison Directors had met the week +before and would not meet again for three weeks. Three weeks of idle +waiting, of pacing up and down and cursing the slow passage of time; and +then, perhaps, delays and disappointments and obstructions from +Bible-Back Murray. He sat with bowed head, then rose up suddenly and +wrote a brief letter to Murray. + +"Get me a pardon," he scrawled, "and I'll give you a quit-claim. This +goes, if you do it quick." + +He put it in the mail, with a special delivery stamp, and watched the +endless hours creep by. She was there in Pinal, running her scales, +practicing her exercises, singing arias from the operas at night; and he +was shut in by the gray concrete walls where the guards looked down from +the towers. He could not trust himself now outside of the yard, his +nerve was gone and he would head for Pinal like a homing bird to its +mate. And then it came, quicker than he had ever thought or hoped for, +though he had offered the Silver Treasure in return for it--a full +pardon from the Governor, with his citizenship restored and a letter +expressing confidence in his innocence. Denver clutched it to his breast +and started out across the desert with his eyes on distant Pinal. + +It lay in the shadow of Apache Leap, that blue wall that loomed to the +east, and he hardly stopped to shake hands with the Warden in his haste +to get out on the road. There he stopped the first automobile that was +going up the canyon and demanded a ride as his right, and so earnest was +his manner that the driver took him in and even speeded up his machine. +But at the fork of the ways, where the new road turned off to Murray, +Denver thanked him and got off to walk. The sun was low but he did not +hurry--he had begun to doubt his welcome. A hot shame swept over him at +his convict's shirt, his worn shoes and battered hat; and he wondered +suddenly if it was not all a mistake, if he had not thrown his mine +away. She was an opera singer now, returning from a season which must +have given her a taste of success--what use would she have for him? + +Up the wash to the west, where the automobile road went, a big camp had +sprung up in his absence; but when he topped the hill and gazed down on +Pinal nothing had changed, it was just the same. The street was broad +and empty, the houses still in ruins, his cave still there across the +creek; and from the chimney of Bunker's house a column of smoke mounted +up to show that supper was being cooked. Yes, it was the same old town +that he had entered the year before when Old Bunk had taken him for a +hobo; but now he was hobo and ex-convict both, though the pardon had +restored him to citizenship. His broad shoulders drooped, he turned back +and crossed the creek and slunk like a thief to his cave. + +The door was chained but he wrenched it open and slipped in out of +sight. Bunker Hill had closed up the cave and covered all his things, +and his bed was spread with clean, white sheets; the floor was swept and +the dishes washed, and he knew whose hands had done it. It was Mrs. +Hill's, that kindest of all women; who had even invited him to their +home. Denver started a fire and cooked a hasty supper from the canned +goods that were left in his boxes and then he looked down on the town. +The sun had set now and a single bright star glowed solemnly in the +west, but the valley was silent except for the frogs that made the air +palpitate with their chorus. Old Bunk came out and went over to the +store; someone struck a chord in the house, and as Denver listened +hungrily a voice rose up, clear and flute-like, yet somehow changed. + +It was her's, it was Drusilla's, and yet it was not; the year had made a +change. There was a difference in her singing; a new note of tenderness, +of yearning, of sadness, of love. Yes, he recognized it now, it had the +quality of the Cradle Song that she had listened to so enviously on his +phonograph. She had caught it, at last, that secret, subtle something +which gives Schumann-Heink her power; and which comes only from +love--and suffering. Denver rose up, startled; he had not thought of it +before, but Drusilla must have suffered, too. Not as tragically as he +but in other ways, fighting her way against the whole world. He went in +hastily and lit his lamp but even when he was dressed his courage failed +him and he bowed his head on the table. He dared not face her--now. + +The singing had ceased, the frog chorus seemed to mock him, to din his +convict's shame into his ears; but as he yielded to despair a hand fell +on his shoulders and he looked up to see Drusilla. She was more +beautiful than ever, dressed in the soft yellow gown that she had worn +when first he saw her, but her eyes were reproachful and near to tears +and she drew her hand away. + +"What is it?" she asked. "Can't you ever care for me? Must I make every +single advance? Oh, Denver, after I'd come clear home to see you--why +wouldn't you come down to the house?" + +He roused up startled, unable to comprehend her, his mind in a whirl of +emotions. + +"I was afraid you didn't want me," he said at last and she sank down on +the bench beside him. + +"Not want you?" she repeated. "Why, haven't I done everything to get you +out of prison? Didn't I go to the Professor and beg and plead with him +and sing all my German songs; didn't I go to the Governor and take him +with me, and go through everything to have you pardoned?" + +"Pardoned!" burst out Denver and then he stopped and shook his head +regretfully. "No," he said, "I wish you had, though. I traded my mine +for it--to Murray!" + +"Why, Denver!" she cried, "you did nothing of the kind. I got you that +pardon myself! And then, after all that--and after I'd played, and sung, +and waited for you--you wouldn't even come down to see me!" + +"Why, sure I would!" he protested brokenly, "I'd do anything for you, +Drusilla! But I was afraid you wouldn't want me. I've been in prison, +you know, and it makes a difference. They call me an ex-con now." + +"No, but Denver," she entreated, "surely you didn't think--why, we +_asked_ you to come and stay with us." + +"Yes, I know," he said but the sullen look had come back; he could not +forget so soon. "I know," he went on, "but it wouldn't be right--I guess +we've made a mistake. I wanted to see you, Drusilla; I gave everything I +had, just to get here before you went----" + +"Did you really?" she asked taking him gently by the hand and looking +deep into his eyes, "did you give up your mine--for me?" + +"Just to see you," answered Denver, "but after I got here----" + +"Oh, I'm so glad!" she sighed, "and you haven't lost your mine. I got to +the Governor first." + +"You did?" he cried and then he sat up and the old fire came back into +his eyes. "That's right," he laughed, "you must have beat him to it--I +thought that pardon came quick! This'll cost old Murray a million." + +"No, you haven't lost your mine," she went on, smiling curiously. "You +think a lot of it, don't you?" + +"Well, I don't know," grumbled Denver, "whether I do or not now. I +believe that mine was a Jonah. I believe I made a mistake and chose the +wrong treasure--I should have taken the gold." + +"Oh, Denver!" she beamed, "do you really think so? I've always just +hated that mine. I've always had the feeling that you thought more of it +than you did of me--or anybody." + +"Well, I did," confessed Denver, "it seemed to kind of draw me--to make +me forget everything else. And Drusilla, I'm sorry I didn't come +down--that night when you went away." + +"It was the mine," she frowned, "I believe it was accursed. It always +came between us. But you must sell it now, and not work for a while--I +want you to entertain me." + +"I'll do it!" exclaimed Denver, "I'll sell out for what I can get and +then we can be together. How did you get along on your trip?" + +"Oh, fine!" she burst out radiantly, "Oh, I had such _luck_. I was +only the understudy, and doing minor parts, when the soprano was taken +ill in the second act and I went in and scored a triumph. It was 'Love +Tales of Hoffmann' and when I sang the 'Barcarolle' they recalled me +seven times! That is they recalled us both--it's sung as a duet, you +know." + +"Um," nodded Denver and listened in glum silence as she related the +details of her premier. "And how about those tenors?" he asked at last, +"did any of 'em steal my kiss?" + +"No--or that is--well, we won't talk about that now. But of course I +have to act my parts." + +"Oh, sure, sure!" he answered rebelliously and a triumphant twinkle came +into her eyes. + +"Do you still believe in the prophecy?" she asked, "and in all that +Mother Trigedgo told you? Because if you do, I've got some news--you +won't die until you're past eighty." + +"I won't?" challenged Denver and then he stopped and waited as she +smiled back at him mischievously. + +"She's a nice old woman," went on Drusilla demurely, "but I wouldn't +take her too seriously. She told me, for instance, that I'd give up a +great career in order to marry for love. Yes, I went over to see her, +myself." + +"But what about me?" demanded Denver eagerly, "did she say I'd live till +I was eighty?" + +"Yes, she did; and she told me some other things, including the color of +your eyes. But don't you see, Denver, that you made a mistake when you +took what she said so seriously? Why, you wouldn't even speak to me or +let us be friends for fear that I'd rise up and kill you; and now it +appears that it was all a mistake and you're going to live till you're +eighty." + +"Well, all the same," responded Denver sighing and stretching his great +arms, "I'm awful glad she said it. And a man could live to be eighty and +still be killed by his friend. No, I believe that prophecy was true!" + +"Very well," she assented, "but you don't need to worry about our +friendship, and that's the principal thing. I just did it to set your +mind at rest." + +"Yes, it _was_ true," he went on rousing up from a reverie, "but I +was wrong--I should have taken the gold." + +"Is that all you think of?" she asked impatiently, "is there nothing but +silver and gold?" + +"Yes, there is," he acknowledged, "but--say, Drusilla I'm going to buy +out the Dutchman. I believe that stringer of his is rich." + +"What stringer?" she demanded looking up from her own musings and then +she nodded and sighed. "Yes, I know," she said, "you're back at your +mining--but you promised you'd think only of me. I may not be here long +and you want to be nice to me; because I almost hated you, once. Now +listen, Denver, and let _me_ interpret--don't you know you've got +everything wrong?" + +"No!" declared Denver, "it has all come out perfectly. I've lived clear +through it, already. Only I chose the wrong treasure and so I lost them +both and suffered a great disgrace. I should have taken the gold." + +"No; listen Denver," she went on patiently, "and don't always be +thinking of _things_. A golden treasure isn't necessarily of gold, +it might be even--me." + +"You?" echoed Denver and then he clutched his hands and stared about him +wildly. + +"Why, yes," she answered evenly, "haven't you noticed my hair? Other men +are not so blind--and one of them said it reminded him of fine-spun +gold. Yes, I was the golden treasure in the shadow of Apache Leap, but +all you could think of was mines. The mine was your silver treasure, and +you had to choose between us--and you always chose the mine. No matter +how I sang, or did up my hair or came around where you were at work; you +always went into that black, hateful hole, and I used to go home and +cry. But--no, listen, Denver--when you saw me come back, and you wanted +to see me, and there was no other way to do it; then you threw away your +mine and told Murray to take it--and I knew that you really loved me. +You loved me even more than your mine, and so you won us both. Do you +like your golden treasure?" + +"I was a fool!" moaned Denver but she stroked his rumpled hair and +raised his face from his hands. + +"We've both of us been foolish," she whispered, "I nearly hated you +once, and nearly gave your kiss to a tenor. But--oh Denver, I'll never +sing with those men again! I know you wouldn't like it." + +"No, I wouldn't," he admitted, "and if you'll only----" + +"There it is," she interrupted, giving him the long-treasured kiss. "I +saved it just for you." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SILVER AND GOLD*** + + +******* This file should be named 30572.txt or 30572.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/5/7/30572 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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