CHAPTER XV
THE PROOF OF CRIME
Winston sprang to his feet and ran back along the deserted tunnel,bending low to avoid collision with the sloping roof, striving to moverapidly, yet in silence. The intense darkness blinded him, but onehand touching the wall acted as safeguard. For a moment thebewildering surprise of this new situation left his brain in a whirl ofuncertainty. He could remember no spot in which he might hope tosecrete himself safely; the rock wall of that narrow passagewayafforded no possible concealment against the reflection of theforeman's glaring lamp. But he must get beyond sight and sound ofthose others before the inevitable meeting and the probable struggleoccurred. This became the one insistent thought which sent himscurrying back into the gloom, recklessly accepting every chance ofencountering obstacles in his haste. At the second curve he paused,panting heavily from the excitement of his hard run, and leaned againstthe face of the rock, peering anxiously back toward that fastapproaching flicker of light. The angry foreman came crunchingsavagely along, his heavy boots resounding upon the hard floor, thehickory club in his hand occasionally striking against the wall asthough he imagined himself already belaboring the recreant Swanson.About him, causing his figure to appear gigantic, his shadow grotesque,the yellow gleam of the light shone in spectral coloring. Winston sethis teeth determinedly, and noiselessly cocked his revolver. The manwas already almost upon him, a black, shapeless bulk, like some unrealshadow. Then the younger stepped suddenly forth into the open, the twomeeting face to face. The startled foreman stared incredulous, bendingforward as though a ghost confronted him, his teeth showing betweenparted lips.
"Drop that club!" commanded Winston coldly, the gleam of an upliftedsteel barrel in the other's eyes. "Lively, my man; this is ahair-trigger."
"What the hell--"
"Drop that club! We 'll discuss this case later. There--no, up withyour hands; both of them. Turn around slowly; ah, I see you don 'ttote a gun down here. So much the better, for now we can get along tobusiness with fewer preliminaries."
He kicked the released pick-helve to one side out of sight in thedarkness, his watchful eyes never straying from the Irishman's face.Burke stood sputtering curses, his hands held high, his fighting facered from impotent passion. The trembling light gave to the scene afantastic effect, grimly humorous.
"Who--who the divil be ye?" The surprised man thrust his head yetfarther forward in an effort to make the flame more clearly reveal theother's features. Winston drew the peak of his miner's cap lower.
"That will make very little difference to you, Jack Burke," he saidquietly, "if I have any occasion to turn loose this arsenal. However,stand quiet, and it will afford me pleasure to give you all necessaryinformation. Let us suppose, for instance, that I am a person to whomBiff Farnham desires to sell some stock in this mine; becominginterested, I seek to discover its real value for myself, and come downwith the night shift. Quite a natural proceeding on my part, is n'tit? Now, under such circumstances, I presume you, as foreman, would beperfectly willing to show me exactly what is being accomplished downhere?"
He paused, his lips smiling pleasantly, and Burke stared at him, withmouth wide open, his eyes mere black slits in the gloom. It was a fullminute before he regained control of his voice.
"Ye think Oi 'm a dommed fool?" he ejaculated, hoarsely.
"No; that is exactly what I do not think, Burke," and Winston smiledagain beneath his stern gray eyes. "That is precisely why I know youwill show me all I desire to see. A damn fool might possibly betempted to take chances with this gun, and get hurt, but you are smartenough to understand that I 've got the drop all right, and that I meanbusiness--I mean business." These words were uttered slowly,deliberately, and the foreman involuntarily dropped his lids as thoughfeeling them physically, the fingers of his uplifted hands clinching.
"What--what is it ye want to see?"
"That tunnel you 've got concealed by falsework."
Burke spat against the rock wall, the perspiration standing forth onhis forehead. But Irish pugnacity made him stubborn.
"Who tould ye that loie? Shure, an' it's not here ye 'll be apt tofoind the loikes o' that, me man."
Winston eyed him scornfully.
"You lie, Burke; I saw it with my own eyes just beyond that second turnyonder. You cannot play with me, and the sooner you master that factthe better. Now, you can take your choice--lead on as I order, andkeep your men away, or eat lead. It's one or the other within the nextsixty seconds. Turn around!"
No man in his senses would ever doubt the determined purpose lyingbehind those few low-spoken, earnest words. Whoever this man might be,whatever his purpose, he was assuredly not there in sport, and Burkewheeled about as though some concealed spring controlled his action.
"Good," commented Winston, briefly. "You can lower your hands. Now,walk straight forward, speaking only when I tell you, and never forgetthere is a gun-barrel within two feet of your back. The slightestmovement of treachery, and, God helping me, Burke, I 'll turn looseevery cartridge into your body. I don 't want to do it, but I will."
They moved slowly forward along the deserted tunnel, not unlike twoconvicts in lock-step. Burke sullenly growling, a burly, shapelessfigure under the light in his hat; Winston alert, silent, watchful fortreachery, the glimmer of the lamp full on his stern face. Theirshadows glided, ever changing in conformation, along the walls, theirfootfalls resounding hollow from the echoing passage. There were nowords wasted in either command or explanation. Without doubt, theforeman understood fairly well the purpose of this unknown invader; buthe realized, also, that the man had never lightly assumed such risk ofdiscovery, and he had lived long enough among desperate men tocomprehend all that a loaded gun meant when the eye behind was hard andcool. The persuasive eloquence of "the drop" was amply sufficient toenforce obedience. Farnham be hanged! He felt slight inclination atthat moment to die for the sake of Farnham. Winston, accustomed togauging men, easily comprehended this mental attitude of his prisoner,his eyes smiling in appreciation of the other's promptness, althoughhis glance never once wavered, his guarding hand never fell. Burke wassafe enough now, yet he was not to be trifled with, not to be trustedfor an instant, in the playing out of so desperate a game. At theangle the two halted, while the engineer cautiously reconnoitred thedimly revealed regions in front. He could perceive but little evidenceof life, excepting the faint radiance of constantly moving lights downNumber One tunnel. Burke stood sullenly silent, venturing upon nomovement except under command.
"Anybody down that other entry?"
The foreman shook his head, without glancing around, his jaws movingsteadily on the tobacco that swelled his cheek.
"Then lead on down it."
Winston stretched forth his unused left hand as they proceeded, hisfingers gliding along the wall, his observant eyes wandering slightlyfrom off the broad back of his prisoner toward the sides and roof ofthe tunnel. To his experience it was at once plainly evident thispreliminary cutting had been made through solid rock, not in thefollowing of any seam, but crossways. Here alone was disclosedevidence in plenty of deliberate purpose, of skilfully planneddepredation. He halted Burke, with one hand gripping his shoulder.
"Are you people following an ore-lead back yonder?" he asked sharply.
The Irishman squirmed, glancing back at his questioner. He saw nothingin that face to yield any encouragement to deceit.
"Sure," he returned gruffly, "we're follyin' it all down that NumberWan."
"What 's the nature of the ore body?"
"A bit low grade, wid a thrifle of copper, an' the vein is n't overlytick."
"How far have you had to cut across here before striking color?"
"'Bout thirty fate o' rock work."
"Hike on, you thief," commanded the engineer, his jaw settingthreateningly.
It proved a decidedly crooked passage, the top uneven in height,clearly indicating numerous faults in the vein, although none of t
hesewere sufficiently serious to necessitate the solution of any difficultmining problem. In spite of the turns the general direction could beascertained easily. The walls were apparently of some soft stone,somewhat disintegrated by the introduction of air, and the engineerquickly comprehended that pick and lever alone had been required todislodge the interlying vein of ore. At the extreme end of this tunnelthe pile of broken rock lying scattered about clearly proclaimed recentlabor, although no discarded mining tools were visible. Winstonexamined the exposed ore-vein, now clearly revealed by Burke'sflickering lamp, and dropped a few detached specimens into his pocket.Then he sat down on an outcropping stone, the revolver still gleamingwithin his fingers, and ordered the sullen foreman to a similar seatopposite. The yellow rays of the light sparkled brilliantly from offthe outcropping mass, and flung its radiance across the faces of thetwo men. For a moment the silence was so intense they could hear waterdrip somewhere afar off.
"Burke," asked the engineer suddenly, "how long have you fellows beenin here?"
The uneasy Irishman shifted his quid, apparently considering whether tospeak the truth or take the chances of a lie. Something withinWinston's face must have decided him against the suggested falsehood.
"Well, sorr, Oi 've only been boss over this gang for a matter o' threemonths," he said slowly, "an' they was well into this vein be then."
"How deep are we down?"
"Between sixty an' siventy fate, countin' it at the shaft."
"And this tunnel--how long do you make it?"
"Wan hundred an' forty-six fate, from the rock yonder."
Winston's gray eyes, grave with thought, were upon the man's face, butthe other kept his own concealed, lowered to the rock floor.
"Who laid out this work, do you know? Who did the engineering?"
"Oi think ut was the ould man hisself. Annyhow, that 's how thimSwades tell ut."
Winston drew a deep breath.
"Well, he knew his business, all right; it's a neat job," he admitted,a sudden note of admiration in his voice. His glance wandered towardthe dull sparkle of the exposed ore. "I suppose you know who all thisrightly belongs to, don 't you, Burke?"
The foreman spat reflectively into the dark, a grim smile bristling hisred moustache.
"Well, sorr, Oi 'm not mooch given up to thinkin'," he replied calmly."If it's them ide's yer afther, maybe it wud be Farnham ye'd bettherinterview, sure, an he 's the lad whut 'tinds to that end o' it forthis outfit. Oi 'm jist bossin' me gang durin' workin' hours, an'slapin' the rist o' the toime in the bunk-house. Oi 'm dommed if Oicare who owns the rock."
The two men sat in silence. Burke indifferently chewing on his quid.Winston shifted the revolver into his left hand, and began slowlytracing lines, and marking distances, on the back of an old envelope.The motionless foreman steadily watched him through cautiously loweredlashes, holding the lamp in his hat perfectly steady. Slowly, with noother muscle moving, both his hands stole upward along his body; inchby inch attaining to a higher position without awakening suspicion.His half-concealed eyes, as watchful as those of a cat, gleamedfeverishly beneath his hat-brim, never deserting Winston's partiallylowered face. Then suddenly his two palms came together, thesputtering flame of the lamp between them.
Beth Norvell: A Romance of the West Page 15