CHAPTER XV.
A DESPERATE SITUATION.
Morning in the Enchanted Valley. Bart Hodge was standing in front of anewly constructed cabin. His ear was turned to listen for sounds oflabor from the lower end of the valley, where a crew of men was supposedto be at work building other cabins. The valley was strangely still.
"They're not working," muttered Hodge, a dark frown on his face. "Theyhave quit. What will this day bring? Oh, if Frank were only here!"
Finally, as he stood there, to his ears from far down the valley came afaint sound of hoarse voices singing.
"I know the meaning of that!" he declared. "They're drinking. At lastBland has given them the liquor. They're getting ready for their work."
He turned back into the cabin, the door of which stood open. From a pegon the wall he took down a Winchester rifle and carefully examined it,making sure the magazine was filled and the weapon in perfect workingorder. He also looked over a brace of revolvers, which he carried readyfor use.
Tossing the rifle in the hollow of his left arm, he left the cabin andturned toward the end of the valley where the men were engaged. Heobserved some caution in approaching that portion of the valley. At lasthe reached a point amid some bowlders from which he could look down intoa slight hollow, where stood some half-constructed cabins upon which themen had been working.
Not one of them was at work now. They were lying around carelessly, orsitting in such shade as they could find, smoking and drinking. Severalbottles were being passed from hand to hand. Already two or three ofthem seemed much under the influence of liquor, and one bowlegged fellowgreatly amused the others by an irregular, unsteady dance, during whichhe kicked out first with one foot and then with the other, like a skirtdancer. At intervals some of them sang a melancholy sort of song.
"The miserable dogs!" grated Bart. "They're ready to defy me now andcarry out their treacherous plans."
A tall man, with a black mustache and imperial, stepped among theothers, saying a word now and then and seeming to be their leader.
"You're the one, Texas Bland!" whispered Hodge. "You have led them intothis!"
As he thought of this his fingers suddenly gripped the rifle, and helonged to lean over the bowlder before him, steady his aim, and send abullet through Texas Bland. Bart was unaware that two men wereapproaching until they were close upon him. This compelled him, if hewished to escape observation, to draw back somewhat, and he did so. Hedid not crouch or make any great effort at hiding, for such a thing hedisdained to do. He was not observed, however, although the men stoppedwithin a short distance.
"Well, what do yer think o' this game, Dug?" said one of them, who wassquat and sandy.
"I reckons the boss has it all his own way, Bight," retorted the other,a leathery-faced chap with tobacco-stained beard.
"The boss!" exclaimed Bight. "Mebbe you tells me who is the boss?"
"Why, Bland, of course," said Dug. "He is the boss."
"Mebbe he is, and then--mebbe again," returned the sandy one.
"Well, we takes our orders from him."
"Sartin; but I reckons he takes his orders from some one else."
Bight pulled out a bottle.
"Now," he said, "he furnished plenty o' this. My neck is getting dry.How is yourn, Dug?"
"Ready to squeak," returned Dug, grasping the bottle his comradeextended.
When they had lowered its contents until very little was left, Bightobserved:
"I s'pose Bland he's going to chaw up this yere chap, Hodge?"
"Sure thing," nodded Dug. "Pretty soon he calls Hodge down yere on apretense o' business or something, and then he kicks up a fuss with him.He has it all fixed for several of the boys to plug him as soon as thefuss starts. That settles his hash."
The eyes of Bart Hodge gleamed savagely.
"I wonder how he gits onter it that anything's up?" questioned Dug."Mebbe that sneak, Colvin, tells him."
"Mebbe so," nodded Bight. "Anyhow, nobody trusts Colvin none, and Iopines he'd been polished off here ef he'd stayed."
"And he'll sartin never git very fur," declared Dug. "Them boys arterhim will sure run him down and make buzzard bait o' him."
Hearing this, Hodge knew for the first time that there were men inpursuit of Colvin, his messenger, who had slipped out of the valley theprevious night. Colvin had sworn, if he lived, to carry the message forFrank to the nearest telegraph station and send it. But he was pursuedby ruffians who meant to slay him. It was doubtful if he reached atelegraph office. If he failed, of course Merriwell would remainuninformed as to the situation in the Enchanted Valley and would nothurry about returning there.
Even if Colvin succeeded, it might be too late. Bart believed itprobable that Merry was in San Diego or that vicinity, and therefore itwould take him some time to reach Prescott and travel by horse fromPrescott to the valley. Long before he could make such a journey themutineers would be able to accomplish their evil design.
"Who do you s'pose is back of this yere business, Dug?" said Bight. "Youthinks Bland is not behind it, does yer?"
"Dead sartin. Bland he never does this fer hisself. He wouldn't dare. Itwouldn't do him no good."
"Why not?"
"Because he can't hold this yere mine and work it. Somebody locates him,and he has to evaporate, for his record counts agin' him. Howsomever, hecan jump the mine for some other gent and git paid fer doing the trick,arter which he ambles into the distance and gently disappears. This ishis little game, and I will bet on it."
"I wonders some who the gent is behind it."
"That's nothing much ter us as long as we gits our coin."
"Does we git it sure?"
"You bet I gits mine. Ef I don't, there'll be blazes a-roaring aroundyere."
"Why, you don't buck up agin' Bland none?" half laughed the other. "Youknows better than ter do that."
"I don't do it by my lonesome; but if I raises a holler there is othersdoes the same thing. But I will git my dust, all right. Don't you worryabout that."
At this point several of the men in the vicinity of the unfinishedcabins set up a wild yell of laughter. One of their number had attemptedto imitate the awkward motions of the former dancer and had fallensprawling on his stomach. Immediately after this burst of laughter themen began to sing again.
"That oughter bring this yere Hodge over this way," said Dug, with ahoarse laugh. "Ordinarily he comes a-whooping to see what is up, and heraises thunder. He sets himself up as a boss what is to be obeyed, and Ireckons so far he has had the boys jumping when he gives orders."
"If he comes over now," observed Bight, "he gits his medicine in ahurry. I don't care any about shooting him up, so I am for staying awayfrom the rest of the bunch."
"Oh! what ails yer?" growled Dug.
"It's murder!" said Bight.
"Well, I opines you has cooked yer man afore this?"
"Ef I ever has," retorted Bight, "it certain was in self-defense."
"I reckon you're something of a squealer, pard," sneered Dug. "You wantsto git your share o' the dust without taking no part in the danger. Youtells how you raises a roar if you don't git your coin, but what doesyer do to earn it?"
"Well, I fights some when I has to," returned Bight, rather savagely."Mebbe you talks too much to me, Dug, and you gits yourself into sometrouble."
Bight was ugly now, and his companion involuntarily retreated a step,for the squat chap had a reputation as a fighter.
"Go slow, pard!" exclaimed Dug. "I am not a-picking trouble with you."
"All right, all right," nodded Bight, "Only just be a little keerful--alittle keerful. Don't think just because a gent don't keer aboutshooting another gent down promiscuous-like that he is soft and easy.There's Texas Bland out yander. He has a reputation as a bad man. Well,partner, I picks no quarrels with him, but if he stomps on my tail hegets my claws."
"What's that?" exclaimed Dug, in astonishment. "You ain't a-giving itter me that you bucks up agin' Bland, are yer?"
"I am a-giving it ter yer that I does in case I has to. I don't proposeany ter have ter do it. I jines in with this yer move because it seemspopular with the gang, and I am none anxious ter work myself. This yereis a nice bunch o' miners, now, ain't it? Why, the gent what hires thisoutfit and brings it yere had a whole lot better stick to his sailoringbusiness! He may know how to pick out seamen, but it's right certain hemakes a mess of it when it comes to engaging miners."
"That's right," agreed Dug. "And he certain is the biggest liar it everwere my pleasure to harken unto. The way he can tell things to make agaloot's eyes bug out is a whole lot remarkable. Whither he gits hislively imagination I cannot surmise. Let's see, whatever was his name?"
"Wiley--Cap'n Wiley he calls himself."
"Well, however does he happen to be hiring men for this yere mine? Idon't judge any that he is interested in it."
"Not a whole lot. The mine is owned by a gent named Merriwell, and bythis yere Hodge. Them two locates it."
"Relocates it, you mean. I onderstand it were located original byanother gent what is dead now. And I reckons some that it is throughthis other gent's action that the man that is back o' this yere jumpingmovement is going to stake his claim to the mine. I hears one o' theboys say that if Bland ain't back o' the game, it sartin is a gent withheaps o' money--one o' them yere money kings we hears about."
This conversation was of no simple interest to Hodge, for, although itdid not reveal the instigator of the movement, it satisfied him that theplot did not originate among the men themselves. Some enemy of FrankMerriwell must be behind it all. As Sukes was dead, it was not easy forBart to conjecture who this new enemy was.
After a few moments more the two ruffians finished the contents of thebottle and moved slowly away. This gave Hodge an opportunity to turnback toward his cabin, and he hastened to get away from that dangerouslocality.
"It's well for me that I suspected what was up," he muttered, as hehurried along. "Under ordinary circumstances, failing to hear the men atwork and hearing their singing and shouts, I should have hastened overand demanded to know the meaning of it. As a result they would havefinished me in short order. Now I am prepared for them. But what can Ido? What can I do alone?"
The situation seemed desperate and hopeless.
Another fellow in Bart's position, and realizing his desperate peril,might have lost no time in getting out of the valley. Even though hehappened to be a courageous person, his judgment might have led him topursue such a course, for certainly it seemed a wild and hopeless planto think of remaining there alone and contending against those ruffians.
Bart, however, was an obstinate chap and one in whom fear was an emotionseldom experienced. Not that he had always been fearless, for as a boyhe had sometimes felt the thrill of terror; but his iron will hadconquered, and time after time he had refused to submit to the approachof the slightest timidity, until at last fear seemed banished from hisheart. Now, as he hastened back to the cabin, he revolved in his mindcertain thoughts in regard to the situation; but not once did heentertain the idea of leaving the valley and abandoning it to thosedesperadoes.
"I will stay," he muttered. "I will stay as long as I am able to shoot.While I live they will never gain full possession of the valley. Merryleft me here to guard this property, and I will do it with my life. Butfor Wiley's carelessness----"
He stopped, suddenly struck by a startling suspicion.
"Was it carelessness?" he asked himself.
An instant later he was ashamed of the suspicion, for he remembered howon other occasions he had suspected Wiley, and each time had foundhimself wrong.
"No, no," murmured Hodge; "it was simply a blunder, on Wiley's part. Heremembered Merriwell's thirty, and thought he was doing the right thingin engaging men of similar calibre. The cap'n is on the level."
Still troubled and perplexed by his thoughts, he grew, if possible, morefixed in his determination to defend the mines single-handed. Heapproached the cabin, the door of which was still standing open as heleft it. Hurrying in, he stopped, suddenly turned to stone as he sawsitting on the floor, with his back against the wall, a human being, whowas calmly smoking a long pipe.
A moment later the muzzle of Bart's revolver covered this figure, which,however, did not stir or lift a hand. Coming, as he did, from the brightlight outside into the shadows within the cabin, Hodge failed at firstto note more than that the smoker who sat thus was wrapped in an oldblanket. After a moment or two, however, he finally saw that he was faceto face with an aged, wrinkled, leathery-skinned Indian. The littlesharp eyes of the old savage were fixed steadily on Bart's face, and hebetrayed not a symptom of alarm as Hodge brought the rifle to bear uponhim. With stoical calmness he deliberately pulled at his pipe.
"What in thunder are you doing here?" demanded Hodge, in astonishment.
"Ugh!" was the only reply vouchsafed.
Somehow that grunt seemed familiar. Bart had heard it before, but itsimply increased his amazement. Lowering the rifle, he staredwonderingly.
"Great Scott!" he breathed. "Is it possible? Are you old Joe?"
"Heap same," was the curt answer.
In a twinkling Bart dropped the rifle on the table and strode forward toshake the hand of an old friend.
"Old Joe Crowfoot!" he shouted. "Where under the stars did you dropfrom?"
"Joe he come visit. How, how!"
"Why, you amazing old Nomad!" cried Bart, in delight. "You're alwaysturning up just when you're wanted the most, and if ever you were wantedit is now."
"Frank him not here?"
"No."
"Joe he want see Frank."
"If that's the case, you will have to wait a while."
"Strong Heart he better be here," declared the aged redskin. "Heap loto' trouble pretty soon."
"That's right, Joe. But how do you know anything about it?"
"Joe he know. Him no fool. Him find out."
Bart had extended his hand, and now he assisted the old man to his feet.Although old Joe tried to conceal the fact, he seemed rather stiff inhis joints just then.
"What's the matter, Crowfoot?" questioned Bart. "Rheumatism troubles youagain?"
"Debble got old Joe in his bones," indignantly returned the savage. "OldJoe him no good any more. Make old Joe mad when him think he no good."
Under other circumstances the indignation of the redskin over hisinfirmities might have been somewhat amusing.
"But tell me--tell me how you came to be here at this time," questionedHodge. "We last saw you away up in Wyoming. You said then that you'dnever travel south again."
"Heap think so then. When winter he come Joe have debble ache in hisbones plenty bad. Sabe?"
"And so the rheumatism and cold weather drove you south, eh?"
"One time," said the redskin, drawing his blanket about his shoulderswith an air of dignity, "Joe him face cold and never feel um. One timehim no care how cold. One time he laugh at snow and ice. Then all himbones be good. Then old Joe a heap strong to hunt. Now it ain't thesame. Once Joe him hunt the grizzly bear for game; now he hunt poker."
In spite of himself, Bart was forced to smile. He knew something of theskill of old Joe at the white man's game of poker, and the thought ofthe old Indian who had once tracked the grizzly now turned to gamblingwas both amusing and remarkable.
"So that is what brought you south. You turned this way to escape thecold and to find at the same time the kind of game you were after?"
"Heap so," nodded Crowfoot, as he produced from beneath his blanket agreasy pack of cards. "I came to play some. Mebbe I find um good playershere."
"I don't know where, Joe," said Hodge.
"Mebbe over yon," suggested the Indian, waving his hand toward thesouthern end of the valley.
"See here, Joe," said Bart, "those men down there are my enemies. Theyhave betrayed me. There are valuable mines in this valley, and theybelong to Frank Merriwell and myself. These ruffians mean to seize them.Even now they are ready to shoot me on si
ght, and intend to drop Frankwhen he appears."
"Heap bad," observed Joe, without betraying the slightest emotion.
"Bad!" cried Hodge. "I should say so!"
"Too many for you, Black Eyes," asserted the redskin. "Mebbe you pull upstake and lope?"
"Not by a blamed sight!" grated Hodge. "I will stay here and defendthese mines as long as I am able to lift a weapon."
The Indian shook his head.
"Heap young, heap young," he declared, as if speaking to himself. "Bloodhot. Joe him know. Once him blood hot."
"Well, you don't suppose I'd let them drive me out, do you?" indignantlydemanded Hodge. "You don't think I'd betray Frank like that! He left mehere in charge of the property, and here I will remain. I want you tostick by me, Joe."
"Ugh!" grunted the old fellow noncommittally. "Mebbe not much differenceto old Joe. I may croak pretty soon now. Mebbe only make it somequicker."
"Perhaps that's right," said Hodge slowly. "I have no right to ask youto lose your life in helping me fight against overwhelming odds. It'snot your quarrel, Joe. You can do as you please."
"Joe him think it over," said the Indian. "No like to see Frank lose ummines, but him have plenty more."
Bart turned away, not without a feeling of disappointment. As he did so,through the still open door he caught a glimpse of a man who wasadvancing toward the cabin. Instantly he strode toward the door, and hiseyes rested on Texas Bland, who was several rods away.
"Oh, Mr. Hodge!" Bland called at once. "I want yer ter come over yon.The men has quit work, and they refuse to strike another stroke."
Trying to repress and conceal his indignation, Bart asked, as if whollyunsuspicious of the real situation:
"What's the matter, Bland?"
"I dunno," lied the scoundrel. "I can't make 'em work; perhaps you can,sir."
Suddenly, almost without being aware of what was happening, Bartpermitted his hot indignation to get the best of his judgment.Instantly, as he stepped out of the cabin, he blazed:
"You're lying, Bland, and I know it! I am on to the whole dastardlygame! You're at the bottom of it, too! You have incited the men tomutiny. I know your plot, you treacherous whelp! I know you meant to getme over there for the purpose of assassinating me. The end of thisbusiness will be a rope for you, Bland. Go back and tell your dogs I amonto their game. Go back and bring them here. They will meet a hotreception!"
Texas Bland had been astonished, but now, quick as a flash, he whippedout a revolver for the purpose of taking a shot at Hodge, whose handswere empty. Rapid though he was in his movements, he was not quickenough, for within the cabin sounded the loud report of a rifle, and thebullet knocked Bland's pistol from his hand, smashing two of hisfingers.
Frank Merriwell's Triumph; Or, The Disappearance of Felicia Page 16