Wunpost

by Dane Coolidge

  CHAPTER XXV

  THE CHALLENGE

  If love begets love and deceit begets deceit, then Wunpost was repaidaccording to his merits when Wilhelmina laid claim to his dog. She didit in a way that was almost coquettish, for coquetry is a form ofdeceit; but in the morning, when he was gone, she put his dog on histrail and followed along behind on her mule. And this, of course, wasrank treachery no less, for her purpose was to discover his mine. If shefound it, she had decided in the small hours of the night, she wouldlocate it and claim it all; and that would teach him not to make fun ofhonest poverty or to try to buy kisses with gold. Because kisses, as sheknew, could never be true unless they were given for love; and loveitself calls for respect, first of all--and who can respect a boaster?

  She reasoned in circles, as the best of us will when trying to justifydoubtful acts; but she traveled in a straight line when she picked upWunpost's trail and followed him over the rocks. He had ridden out inthe night, turning straight up the ridge where the mountain-sheep trailcame down; and Good Luck bounded ahead of her, his nose to the ground,his bobbed tail working like mad. There was a dew on the ground, for thenights had turned cold and, though he was no hound, Good Luck couldfollow the scent, which was only a few hours old. Wunpost had slept tillafter midnight and then silently departed, taking only Old Walker andhis mate; and the trail of their sharp-shod shoes was easily discernibleexcept where they went over smooth rocks. It was here that Wunpostcircled, to throw off possible pursuit; but busy little Good Luck wasfrantic to come up to him, and he smelled out the tracks and led on.

  Wunpost had traveled in the night, and, after circling a few times, histrail straightened out and fell into a dim path which had been traversedby mules once before. Up and up it led, until Tellurium was exhaustedand Wilhelmina had to get off and walk; and at last, when it was almostat the summit of the range, it entered a great stone patch and was lost.But the stone-patch was not limitless, and Wilhelmina wasdetermined--she rode out around it, and soon Good Luck dropped his noseand set out straight to the south. To the south! That would take himinto the canyon above Blackwater, where the pocket-miners had theirclaims; but surely the great Sockdolager was not over there, for thedistrict had been worked for years.

  Wilhelmina's heart stopped as she looked out the country from the highridge beyond the stone-patch--could it be that his mine was close? Wasit possible that his great strike was right there at their door whilethey had been searching for it clear across Death Valley? It was likethe crafty Wunpost always to head north when his mine was hidden safelyto the south; and yet how had it escaped the eyes of the prospectors whohad been combing the hills for months? Where was it possible for a mineto be hid in all that expanse of peaks? She sat down on the summit andconsidered.

  Happy Canyon lay below her, leading off to the west towards Blackwaterand the Sink, and beyond and to the south there was a jumble ofsharp-peaked hills painted with stripes of red and yellow and white. Itwas a rough country, and bone dry; perhaps the prospectors had avoidedit and so failed to find his lost mine. Or perhaps he was throwing acircle out through this broken ground to come back by Hungry Bill'sranch. Wilhelmina sat and meditated, searching the country with the veryglasses which Wunpost himself had given her; and Good Luck came back andwhined. He had found his master's trail, it led on to the south, and nowWilhelmina would not come. She did not even take notice of him, andafter watching her face Good Luck turned and ran resolutely on. He knewwhose dog he was, even if she did not; and after calling to himperfunctorily Wilhelmina let him go, for even this defection might beused.

  Wunpost was so puffed up with pride over the devotion of his dog that hewould be pleased beyond measure to have him follow, and from her lookouton the ridge she could watch where Good Luck went and spy out the trailfor miles. It was time to turn back if she was to reach home by dark,but that white, scurrying form was too good a marker and she followedhim through her glasses for an hour. He would go bounding up some ridgeand plunge down into the next canyon; and then, still running, he wouldtop another summit until at last he was lost in a black canyon. It wasdifferent from the rest, its huge flank veiled in shadow until it wasblack as the entrance to a cavern; and the piebald point that crownedits southern rim was touched with a broad splash of white. Wilhelminamarked it well and then she turned back with crazy schemes still chasingthrough her brain.

  Time and again Wunpost had boasted that his mine was not staked, andthat it lay there a prize for the first man who found it or trailed himto his mine. Well, she, Wilhelmina, had trailed him part way; and afterhe was gone she would ride to that black canyon and look for big chunksof gold. And if she ever found his mine she would locate it for herself,and have her claim recorded; and then perhaps he would change his waysand stop calling her Billy and Kid. She was not a boy, and she was not akid; but a grown-up woman, just as good as he was and, it might be, justas smart. And oh, if she could only find that hidden mine and dig out amule-load of gold! It would serve him right, when he came back from LosAngeles or from having a good time inside, to find that his mine hadbeen jumped by a girl and that she had taken him at his word. He hadchallenged her to find it, and dared her to stake it--very well, shewould show him what a desert girl can do, once she makes up her mind toplay the game.

  He was always exhorting her to play the game, and to forget all thatrighteousness stuff--as if being righteous was worse than a crime, and areflection upon the intelligence as well. But she would let him knowthat even the righteous can play the game, and if she could ever stakehis mine she would show him no mercy until he confessed that he had beenwrong. And then she would compel him to make his peace with Eellsand--but that could be settled later. She rode home in a whirl, nowimagining herself triumphant and laying down the law to him and Eells;then coming back to earth and thinking up excuses to offer when herlover returned. He might find her tracks, where she had followed on histrail--well, she would tell him about Good Luck, and how he had led herup the trail until at last he had run away and left her. And if hedemanded the kiss--instead of asking for it nicely--well, that would bea good time to quarrel.

  It was almost Machiavellian, the way she schemed and plotted, and uponher return home she burst into tears and informed her mother that GoodLuck was lost. But her early training in the verities now stood her ingood stead, for Good Luck was lost; so of course she was telling thetruth, though it was a long way from being the whole truth. And thetears were real tears, for her conscience began to trouble her themoment she faced her mother. Yet as beginners at poker often win throughtheir ignorance, and because nobody can tell when they will bluff, soWilhelmina succeeded beyond measure in her first bout at "playing thegame." For if her efforts lacked finesse she had a life-time oftruth-telling to back up the clumsiest deceit. And besides, theCampbells had troubles of their own without picking at flaws in theirdaughter. She had come to an age when she was restive of all restraintand they wisely left her alone.

  The second day of Wunpost's absence she went up to her father's mine andbrought back the burros, packed with ore; but on the third day shestayed at home, working feverishly in her new garden and watching forWunpost's return. His arm was not yet healed and he might injure it bydigging, or his mules might fly back and hurt him; and ever since hisdeparture she had thought of nothing else but those Apaches who hadtwice tried to murder him. What if they had spied him from the heightsand followed him to his mine, or waylaid him and killed him for hismoney? She had not thought of that when she had made their foolish bet,but it left her sick with regrets. And if anything happened to him shecould never forgive herself, for she would be the cause of it all. Shewatched the ridge till evening, then ran up to her lookout--and there hewas, riding in from the _north_. Her heart stood still, for whowould look for him there; and then as he waved at her she gathered upher hindering skirts and ran down the hill to meet him.

  He rode in majestically, swaying about on his big mule; and behind himfollowed his pack-mule, weighed down with two kyacks of ore, and Good
Luck was tied on the pack. Nothing had happened to him, he was safe--andyet something must have happened, for he was riding in from the north.

  "Oh, I'm so glad!" she panted as he dropped down to greet her, andbefore she knew it she had rushed into his arms and given him the kissand more. "I was afraid the Indians had killed you," she explained, andhe patted her hands and stood dumb. Something poignant was strivingwithin him for expression, but he could only pat her hands.

  "Nope," he said and slipped his arm around her waist, at whichWilhelmina looked up and smiled. She had intended to quarrel with him,so he would depart for Los Angeles and leave her free to go steal hismine--but that was aeons ago, before she knew her own heart or realizedhow wrong it would be.

  "You like me; don't you, kid?" he remarked at last, and she nodded andlooked away.

  "Sometimes," she admitted, "and then you spoil it all. You must takeyour arm away now."

  He took his arm away, and then it crept back again in a rapturous,bear-like hug.

  "Aw, quit your fooling, kid," he murmured in her ear, "you know you likeme a lot. And say, I'm going to ask you a leading question--will youpromise to answer 'Yes'?"

  He laughed and let her go, all but one hand that he held, and then hedrew her back.

  "You know what I mean," he said. "I want you to be my wife."

  He waited, but there was no answer; only a swaying away from him and areluctant striving against his grip. "Come on," he urged, "let's go into Los Angeles and you can help me spend my money. I've got lots of it,kid, and it's yours for the asking--the whole or any part of it. Butyou're too pretty a girl to be shut up here in Jail Canyon, working yourhands off at packing ore and slaving around like Hungry Bill'sdaughters----"

  "What do you mean?" she demanded, striking his hands aside and turningto face him angrily, and Wunpost saw he had gone too far.

  "Aw, now, Wilhelmina," he pleaded, then fell into a sulky silence as shetossed back her curls and spoke.

  "Don't you think," she burst out, "that I like to work for my father?Well, I do; and I ought to do more! And I'd like to know where HungryBill comes in----"

  "He don't!" stated Wunpost, who was beginning to see red; but she rushedon, undeterred.

  "----because you don't need to think I'm a _squaw_. We may be poor,but you can't buy _me_--and my father doesn't need to keep_watch_ of me. I guess I've been brought up to act like a lady, ifI did--oh, I just hate the sight of you!"

  She ended a little weakly, for the memory of that kiss made her blushand hang her head; but Wunpost had been trained to match hate with ahate, and he reared up his mane and stepped back.

  "Aw, who said you were a squaw?" he retorted arrogantly. "But you mightas well be, by grab! Only old Hungry Bill takes his girls down to town,but you never git to go nowhere."

  "I don't want to go!" she cried in a passion. "I want to stay here andhelp all I can. But all you talk about now is how much money you've got,as if nothing else in the world ever counts."

  "Well, forget it!" grumbled Wunpost, swinging up on his mule andstarting off up the canyon. "I'll go off and give you a rest. And maybethem girls in Los Angeles won't treat me quite so high-headed."

  "I don't care," began Wilhelmina--but she did, and so she stopped. Andthen the old plan, conceived aeons ago, rose up and took possession ofher mind. She followed along behind him, and already in her thoughts shewas the owner of the Sockdolager Mine. She held it for herself, withoutrecognizing his claims or any that Eells might bring; and while she dugout the gold and shoveled it into sacks they stood by and looked onenviously. But when her mules were loaded she took the gold away andgave it to her father for his road.

  "I don't care!" she repeated, and she meant it.