The Plunderer

by Roy Norton

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE DYNAMITER

  The men of the Croix d'Or slowly made their way upward toward thehigher crest of the range, spread out in an impatient fan whose narrowpoint was made up of the three experienced men. At times the trail wasalmost lost in the carpet of pine needles and heavy growths ofmountain grass, and again it would show plainly over long stretcheswhere the earth was exposed. It dipped down over a crest and sought ahollow in which ran a mountain stream, spread out over a rocky bed andrunning swiftly. At its bank they paused. It was plain that their manhad taken to the water to retard pursuit, if such came. The millmanthrew up his hand and called the others around him.

  "Before we go any farther," he said, "let's find out how many shootingirons are in this crowd. We may need 'em."

  The men looked blankly at one another, expressing by their actions thefact that in all the party there was not one who possessed a weapon.

  "Then it seems to me the best thing to do is for one man to go back tothe mine and get some," said Rogers, assuming leadership. "Who evergoes will find my gun hanging up at the head of my bunk in a holster.Bring that and the belt. There's cartridges in it."

  One after another told where a weapon might be found, and two menvolunteered to return for them. It was agreed that the others were tokeep on and that after leaving the stream men were to be posted atintervals to guide the messengers as they came up. Rogers provedsomething of a general in the disposition of his little army, andthen, with Sinclair on one bank of the stream and Chloride on theother, he plunged into the water and began an up-stream course.

  "It stands to reason," he argued, "that our man didn't go down streamunless it was for a blind. He wouldn't double back because it wouldbring him out almost where he started. He will keep on up this wayuntil she gets too small to travel in and then will hit off somewhereelse. You other fellers keep behind."

  They began a slow, painstaking course up the stream and began to fearthey had been mistaken in their surmise, when Sinclair gave a shout.He had found the trail again, a telltale footprint with the patchedsole. It broke upward on the other side of the canyon, and now men wereposted within shouting distance of one another and left behind tonotify the two men bringing weapons which way to go. Across spotswhere the trail was difficult or entirely lost, and still higher untilthe timber line was passed and bare gray rocks were everywhere, theman-hunters made their way, and another watchman was left on thehighest point. Down the other side and into the timber line again,directed only by a broken twig, a freshly turned bowlder, or now andthen a faint suggestion of a footprint, they plunged as rapidly asthey could and then through tangled brush until suddenly they came outto an old disused path. Unerringly they picked up the footprintsagain, and now these indicated that the quarry had felt himself secureagainst pursuit and made no further attempt at concealment.

  "He is heading out to the east, just as you said he would," the smithdeclared, as he sat down with the others to await the coming of themessengers. They were certain now that henceforth they would travelrapidly. They talked in low, angry voices among themselves, whileRogers, silent and grim, sat quietly on a bowlder and smoked. A shoutfrom the hilltop attracted their attention and they looked up to see agroup beginning to descend. The men with guns had returned and theoutposts doubled back on themselves as they came, adding a man atintervals, until they joined those waiting for them. Without delay themen strung out in single file along the path, with the old millman inthe lead. For the most part they went as quietly as would Indians onthe war-path, loping along now and then down declivities, or pantingupward when the trail climbed to higher altitudes. There was no doubtat all that the man who had dynamited the dam was certain of hishaving evaded all followers, and indeed he would have done so with menless trained and astute.

  "Does any one know this country here?" demanded Rogers, suddenlyhalting his little band.

  "I do," declared one of the drill runners. "I worked over here on thisside one time about two years ago. Why?"

  "Well, where does this trail go?"

  "To an old logging camp, first, then from there there is a roadleading over to Malapi."

  Rogers lowered his hand from his ear and looked thoughtful for amoment.

  "Many men at the camp?"

  "No, I think it's been abandoned for two or three years," replied thedrill runner. Rogers slapped his hand on his leg, and seemed confidentagain.

  "Then that's where we'll find him. In that old, abandoned camp," heexclaimed. "It's a ten-to-one bet that he got some supplies up theresome time within the last few days, when he made up his mind to dothis job, and that he plans to lay quiet there until it is safe forhim to get out of the country."

  The others nodded their heads sagely.

  "If you're sure of that," the drill runner said, "the best thing to dois for us to leave the trail over here a ways and come up to the oldcamp from behind it. He might be on the watch for this trail."

  "Good again!" asserted the millman. "Here, you take the lead now andwe'll follow."

  For another hour they plugged along the trail with an increasingalertness, and wondering how soon the drill runner would turn off. Atlast he looked back and gestured to them. They understood. He slippedoff the trail into the brush and began going slowly. Once he stoppedto whisper to them to be cautious, inasmuch as within a few hundredyards they would reach their goal. Now they began to exercise theutmost caution of movement, spreading out according to individualjudgment to avoid windfalls and thickets. Again the lead man stoppedand signaled them. He beckoned with his arm, and they closed up andpeered where he indicated.

  Out in the center of a clearing stood a big, rambling structure thathad done service and been abandoned. A slow wisp of smoke, gray andthin, floated upward from the rough chimney, a part of whose top rockshad been dislodged by winter storms. They dropped to the ground andheld a whispered consultation. They argued heatedly over the bestcourse to pursue. The millman favored surrounding the cabin, and thenpermitting him with two others to advance boldly to the door andendeavor to capture their man.

  The packer, Sinclair, suggested another course, which was nothing lessvalorous than a straight rush for the doors and windows; but Chloridefought that plan.

  "It ain't that I'm afraid to take my chances," he declared; "but if wedo that, some of us, with such a crowd, is sure to get shot. We don'twant to lose no lives on a skunk of a dynamiter like this feller mustbe. I'm for surroundin' the house, then callin' him out. If he's anhonest man, he'll come. If he ain't, he'll fight. Then we'll get himin the long run if we have to fire the cabin to-night."

  "And maybe burn a couple of million dollars worth of timber with it atthe same time," growled the drill runner. "That's a fine idea! I'm forJack's plan. First, line out around the cabin, out of sight of course,then two men walk up and get him. I'm one of 'em."

  "And I the other," declared Rogers. "Let's lose no time."

  Silently, as before, the party spread out until it had completed thering around the cabin and then, when all was in readiness, the millmanand the runner, with pistols loosened, stepped out into the open andwalked around to the door. There was a moment's tensity as they madethat march, neither they nor the watchers knowing when a shot mightsound and bring one of them to the ground. The runner rapped on thedoor, insistently. It creaked and gave back a sodden, hollow sound,but at first there was no response. He rapped again, and at the sametime tried to open it; but it was barred. A voice from inside called,"Hello! What do you want out there?"

  "Want to see you," the runner answered. "Open the door, can't you?"

  There was an instant's hesitation and then again the voice, "Well,what do you want? Who are you?"

  "Two men that ain't familiar with these parts," was the wary reply ofthe runner. "Want to talk it over with you."

  There was the creaking of a bar, and the door was opened cautiously.One eye applied to a crack scanned the runner, who stood there alert.Rogers was out of sight. Apparently the man in the cabin d
id notrecognize the runner, for now he flung the door wide and stepped out.As he did so he saw the millman, whom he recognized, and swiftlypulled a gun and shot at him. Even as he did so the younger man leapedupon him, caught his wrist and wrenched the weapon from his hand. Hedid the unexpected thing. Instead of fighting, or attempting to regainthe cabin, he deftly threw out a foot, tripped the runner againstRogers, leaped over both as they fell, and dashed headlong for theforest. Suddenly, as he gained the edge, several shots crackedviciously, but none of them seemed to have taken effect. He snarledloudly with excitement and plunged into the edge of the timber. Quiteas quickly as he gained it a man arose straight in his path, leapedforward, caught him around the waist, and brought him to the ground.Men came rushing forward, almost falling over one another, but arrivedtoo late to assist in the capture. Lying under and pinned to the earthby the huge blacksmith, struggling for release, and cursing betweenshut teeth, was the man who had been the watchman at the Croix d'Orwhen its new proprietor arrived, the man Wolff, whose past had beenexposed by The Lily in the presence of some of those who were now hiscaptors.

  "Might have guessed it," growled the smith. "It's like him, anyhow."

  Two others reached over and assisted him. They caught Wolff by hisarms and lifted him to his feet, where they held him. Another man ranhis hand over his clothes and took out a big hunting knife, sheathed.A further search revealed nothing save a small sum of money and a fewdynamite caps. The prisoner attempted to brazen it out.

  "What do you mean by this, anyhow?" he demanded. "Bein' held up, amI?"

  No one replied to him directly, but it was Rogers who said, "Lift hisfeet up there until we get a look at the shoes." Unceremoniously theyhoisted him clear of the ground, although in a sudden panic he kickedand struggled. There was no doubt of it. The shoes were identical withthose worn by the man who had dynamited the reservoir dam. Thehobnails had betrayed him. For the first time he seemed to losecourage and whined a protest.

  "Where were you last night?" demanded the smith, frowning in hisface.

  "Right here in this cabin. Been here two days now."

  They walked him between them back to the door and Chloride andSinclair went in. They inspected it closely. They dropped to theirknees and examined the deposit of dust. They walked over to thefireplace and inspected the ash surrounding the little blaze, whichhad been started less than an hour before, as far as they coulddecide. Below was a heap of mouldy ash that had been beaten down bywinter snows and summer rains falling through the broken chimney. Theothers watched the two inquisitors curiously through the open door.

  "If he has been here two days he has moved around the room scarcely atall," Sinclair declared, "because the dust isn't disturbed by morethan one or two trails. And, what's more, that fire is the first onethat has been built here in many a long month, and it wasn't startedvery long ago. It's too thin. He just got here! He's the man!"

  The prisoner was ringed round by accusing, scowling eyes. He shoved adry tongue out and wet his lips as if the nervous strain werebeginning to tell. He started to speak, but apparently decided to saynothing and stood looking at the ground.

  "Well," demanded Rogers, "what have you to say for yourself? You'veplainly lied about being here in the cabin. What did you do thatfor?"

  "I didn't say that I was in the cabin. I slept outside," Wolffgrowled.

  "Then take us to the place where you camped," suggested one of thedrill runners. A chorus of approving shouts seconded his request; butWolff began to appear more confused than ever and did not answer. Hetook refuge in a fierce burst of anger.

  "What do you fellows mean, anyhow?" he demanded. "I ain't donenothin'. What right have you to come up here and grab a man that way?Who are you lookin' for, anyhow?"

  "Wolff," said the old millman, steadily, "we are looking for the manthat blew up the Croix d'Or power-house and dam last night. And what'smore, we think we've got him. You're the man, all right!"

  His attempts to pretend ignorance and innocence were pitiful. Thisimpromptu court was trying him there in the open beside the cabin, andhe knew that its verdict would be a speedy one. He started to run thegamut of appeal, denial, and anger; but his hearers were inflexible.They silenced him at last.

  "We need just one thing more, boys," said Rogers, "and that is to besure that these are the same boots that made the tracks there by thedam. All we have to do to prove that is to take this fellow back withus. The tracks will still be there. If they are the same we can besure."

  "That's right," added the blacksmith. "That'd be proof enough. Let'smove out."

  They knotted their huge handkerchiefs and bound his arms at the elbowsand then his hands at the wrists, and started him forward. He foughtat first, but on being prodded sharply with the muzzle of a gun movedsullenly in their midst along the trail he had so lately come over.They trudged in a harsh silence, save now and then when he tried topersuade them of his innocence, only to convince them further that helied. Their return was made much faster than their coming, for nowthey had no need to seek a trail, nor to walk in a mountain stream.They forged ahead rapidly under the direction of the runner who hadbeen in that part of the mountains before, and yet it was almost duskwhen they came down the hill above the great wreck. They led him tothe big heap of broken masonry and then ordered him to sit down. Hehad to be thrown from his feet, after which they removed his shoes,and while two of them stood guard over him the others descended to theedge of the wall and found the clear-cut prints which had been firstnoted that morning and which, trailed, had led to his capture. Theystruck matches to be certain that there was no mistake and bent overwhile Rogers carefully pressed one of the shoes into the mud besidethat first imprint. They were undoubtedly the same. He then fitted theshoe into that track, and all further proof was unnecessary. Grimlythey passed back to where Wolff was being guarded.

  "Well, boys," said Rogers, gravely, "this is the man! There isn't adoubt of it. Now you all know who he is, what his past has been, whathe has done here, and I want to get your ideas what should be donewith him."

  The smith stepped forward and took off his hat. It was as if he knewthat he were the one to impose a death sentence.

  "There ain't but one thing for the likes of him. That's hangin'," hedeclared, steadily. "I vote to hang him. Here and now, across the endof the dam he shot out."

  He stepped back into the closely drawn circle. Rogers faced man afterman, calling the name of each. There was no dissenting voice. Theverdict was unanimous. So certain had been the outcome that one oftheir number had started along the pipe line to the wreck of thepower-house for a rope before ever they compared the imprints of thetelltale shoes, and now, almost by the time they had cast theirballot, this man returned.

  "Wolff, you've heard," said the old millman, with solemnity. "Ifyou've got any messages you want sent, we'll send them. If you wanttime to pray, this is your chance. There's nothing you can say isgoing to change it. You are as good as dead. Boys, some of you getone of those beams that's tore loose there at the side, fastenthe rope around the end, and shove it over the edge of the wallabove the canyon there for a few feet. He shall hang above the dam hedynamited."

  Wolff knew that they were in earnest. There was something moreinexorable in their actions than in a court of law. At the last heshowed some courage of a brute kind, reviling them all, sputteringforth his hatred, and interlarding it with a confession and threats ofwhat he wanted to do. They silenced him by leading him to the wall andadjusting the noose. Once more Rogers besought him to pray and then,when he again burst into oaths, they thrust him off. The fall was aseffective as ever hangman devised.

  "In the morning, boys," said the smith, "a half-dozen of us must be upearly and come back here. The hound is at least entitled to a half-waydecent burial. I'll call some of you to come with me."

  That was their sole comment. They had neither regrets, compunctions,nor rancor. They had finished their task according to their own ideasof justice, without hesitation.

  At the
Croix d'Or the partners, worried over their problems, andsomewhat astonished at the non-appearance of the force, sat on thebench by the mess-house, smoking and silent.

  In soft cadence they heard, as from the opposite side of the gulch,the tramping of feet. Swinging along in the dusk the men came,shadowy, unhalting, and homeward bound, like so many tired houndsreturning after the day's hunt. Their march led them past the bench;but they did not look up. There was an unusual gravity in theirsilence, a pronounced earnestness in their attitude.

  "Well," called Dick, "what did you learn?"

  It was the smith who answered, but the others never halted, continuingthat slow march to the bunk-house.

  "We got him."

  "Where is he, then?"

  "Hanging to a beam across the dam he blew up," was the remorselessresponse.

  He started as if to proceed after the others, then paused long enoughto add: "It was that feller that used to be watchman here; the fellerthat tried to shoot Bill that night. Found him in that old, desertedcabin near the Potlach. Had the shoe on him, and at last said he didit, and was sorry for just one thing, that he didn't get all of us.Said he'd 'a' blown the bunk-house and the office up in a week more,and that he'd tried to get you two with a bowlder and had killed yourburros--well, when we swung him off, he was still cursing every oneand everything connected with the Croix d'Or."

  He paused for an instant, then came closer, and lowered his voice.

  "And that ain't all. He said just before he went off--just likethis--mind you: 'I'd 'a' got Bully Presby, too, because he didn'ttreat me fair, after me doin' my best and a-keepin' my mouth shutabout what I knew of the big lead.' Now, what in hell do you supposehe meant by that?"