The Furnace of Gold

by Philip Verrill Mighels

  CHAPTER XLI

  SUVY PROVES HIS LOVE

  If a single ray of far-off hope had lingered in Van's meditationsconcerning Beth, and the various occurrences involving himself and hismining property, it vanished when he told her of the letter he had seenand beheld her apparent look of guilt.

  One thing the interview had done: it had cleared his decks for action.He had lain half stunned, as it were, till now, while Bostwick held the"Laughing Water" claim and worked it for its gold. A look that wasgrim and a heat that would brook no resistance had come together uponhim.

  That claim was his, by right of purchase, by right of discovery as toits worth! He had earned it by hardships, privations, suffering! Hemeant to have it back! If the law could avail him, well and good! Ifnot, he'd make a law!

  McCoppet he knew for a thief--a "law-abiding" criminal of the subtlesttype. Bostwick, he was certain, was a crook. Behind these two laypossibilities of crime in all its forms. That suddenly ordered surveyof the line was decidedly suspicious. Bostwick and his fiancee hadcome prepared for some such coup--and money was a worker of miraclessuch as no man might obstruct.

  Van became so loaded full of fight that had anyone scratched a matchupon him he might have exploded on the spot. He thought of thesimplest thing to do--hire a private survey of the reservation line,either to confirm or disprove the work that Lawrence had done, and thenmap out his course. The line, however, was long, surveyors were fairlyswamped with work, not a foot could be traveled without some ready cash.

  He went to Rickart of the bank. Rickart listened to his plan ofcampaign and shook his head.

  "Don't waste your money, Van," he said. "The Government wouldn'taccept the word of any man you could hire. Lawrence would have to bediscredited. Nobody doubts his ability or his squareness. Thereservation boundary was wholly a matter of guess. You'll find itincludes that ground--and the law will be against you. I'd gladly lendyou the money if I could, but the bank people wouldn't stand behind me.And every bean I've got of my own I've put in the Siwash lease."

  Van was in no mood for begging.

  "All right, Rick," he said. "But I'll have that line overhauled if Ihave to hold up a private surveyor and put him over the course at thefront of a gun." He went out upon the street, more hot than before.

  In two days time he was offered twenty dollars--a sum he smilinglyrefused. He was down and out, in debt all over the camp. He could noteven negotiate a loan. From some of his "friends" he would not haveaccepted money to preserve his soul.

  Meantime, spurred to the enterprise by little Mrs. Dick, oldGettysburg, Napoleon, and Dave accepted work underground and began tocount on their savings for the fight.

  At the "Laughing Water" claim, during this period, tremendous elationexisted. Not only had three lines of sluices been installed, withthree shifts of men to shovel night and day, but a streak of gravel ofsensational worth had been encountered in the cove. The clean-up atsunset every day was netting no less than a thousand dollars in goldfor each twenty-four hours at work.

  This news, when it "leaked," begot another rush, and men by thehundreds swarmed again upon the hills, in all that neighborhood,panning the gravel for their lives. Wild-catting started with animpetus that shook the State itself. And Van could only grit his teethand continue, apparently, to smile.

  All this and more came duly to the ears of Glenmore Kent and Beth. Thegirl was in despair as the days went by and nothing had beenaccomplished. The meager fact that Lawrence had run and corrected thereservation line, at Searle's behest, was all that Glen had learned.

  But of all the men in Goldite he was doubtless best equipped withknowledge concerning Bostwick's Eastern standing. He knew that Searlehad never had the slightest Government authority to order the surveymade--and therein lay the crux of all the matter. It was all he had togo upon, but he felt it was almost enough.

  The wires to New York were tapped again, and Beth was presently a localbank depositor with a credit of twenty thousand dollars. In a quiet,effective manner, Glen then went to work to secure a surveyor on hisown account, or rather at Beth's suggestion.

  With the fact of young Kent's advent in the town Van was early madeacquainted. When Beth procured the transfer of her money from New Yorkto Goldite, Rickart promptly reported the news. It appeared to Van aconfirmation of all his previous suspicions. He could not fight awoman, and Bostwick and McCoppet remained upon the claim. Searle wrotenearly every day to Beth, excusing his absence, relating his success,and declaring the increase of his love.

  On a Wednesday morning Glenmore's man arrived by stage from Starlight,instruments and all. His name was Pratt. He was a tall, slow-moving,blue-eyed man, nearly sixty years of age, but able still to carry athirty-pound transit over the steepest mountain ever built. Glen methim by appointment at the transportation office and escorted him atonce to Mrs. Dick's.

  Already informed as to what would be required, the surveyor wasprovided with all the data possible concerning the reservation limits.

  Beth was tremendously excited. "I'm glad you've come," she told himcandidly. "Can you start the work to-day?"

  "You will want to keep this quiet," he said. "I need two men we cantrust, and then I'm ready to start."

  "Two?" said Glen. "That's awkward. I thought perhaps you could getalong with little me."

  Beth, in her tumult of emotions, was changing color with bewilderingrapidity.

  "Why--I expected to go along, of course," she said. "I've got asuit--I've done it before--I mean, I expect to dress as you are, Glen,and help to run the line."

  Pratt grinned good-naturedly. "Keeps it all in the family. That's oneadvantage."

  "All right," said Glen. "Hike upstairs and don your splendors."

  He had hired a car and stocked it with provisions, tents, and bedding.He hastened off and returned with the chauffeur to the door.

  Beth, in the costume she had worn on the day when Van found her lost inthe desert, made a shy, frightened youth, when at length she appeared,but her courage was superb.

  At ten o'clock they left the town, and rolled far out to the westwardon their course.

  Van learned of their departure. He was certain that Beth had gone tothe "Laughing Water" claim, perhaps to be married to Bostwick. Threetimes he went to the hay-yard that day, intent upon saddling hisbroncho, riding to the claim himself, and fighting out his rights bythe methods of primitive man.

  On the third of his visits he met a stranger who offered to purchaseSuvy on the spot at a price of two hundred dollars.

  "Don't offer me a million or I might be tempted," Van told him gravely."I'll sell you my soul for a hundred."

  The would-be purchaser was dry.

  "I want a soul I can ride."

  Van looked him over critically.

  "Think you could ride my cayuse?"

  "This broach?" said the man. "Surest thing you know."

  "I need the money," Van admitted. "I'll bet you the pony against yourtwo hundred you can't."

  "You're on."

  Van called to his friend, the man who ran the yard.

  "Come over here, Charlie, and hold the stakes. Here's a man who wantsto ride my horse."

  Charlie came, heard the plan of the wager, accepted the money, andwatched Van throw on the saddle.

  "I didn't know you wanted to sell," he said. "You know I want thatanimal."

  "If he goes he sells himself," said Van. "If he doesn't, you're next,same terms."

  "Let me have that pair of spurs," said the stranger, denoting a pairthat hung upon a nail. "I guess they'll fit."

  He adjusted the spurs as one accustomed to their use. Van merelyglanced around. Nevertheless, he felt a sinking of the heart. Fivehundred dollars, much as he needed money, would not have purchased hishorse. And inasmuch as luck had been against him, he suddenly fearedhe might be on the point of losing Suvy now for a price he would havescorned.

  "Boy," he said in a murmur to the broncho, "if I t
hought you'd let anybleached-out anthropoid like that remain on deck, I wouldn't want youanyway--savvy that?"

  Suvy's ears were playing back and forth in excessive nervousness andquestioning. He had turned his head to look at Van with evident joy atthe thought of bearing him away to the hills--they two afar offtogether. Then came a disappointment.

  "There you are," said Van, and swinging the bridle reins towards thewaiting man, he walked to a feed-trough and leaned against itcarelessly.

  "Thanks," said the stranger. He threw away a cigarette, caught up thereins, adjusted them over Suvy's neck, rocked the saddle to test itsfirmness, and mounted with a certain dexterity that lessened Van'sconfidence again. After all, Suvy was thoroughly broken. He hadquietly submitted to be ridden by Beth. His war-like spirit might begone--and all would be lost.

  Indeed, it appeared that Suvy was indifferent--that a cow would haveshown a manner no less docile or resigned. He did look at Van with acertain expression of surprise and hurt, or so, at least, the horsemanhoped. Then the man on his back shook up the reins, gave a prick withthe spurs, and Suvy moved perhaps a yard.

  The rider pricked again, impatiently. Instantly Suvy's old-timefulminate was jarred into violent response. He went up in the airprodigiously, a rigid, distorted thing of hardened muscles andengine-like activities. He came down like a new device for breakingrocks--and the bucking he had always loved was on, in a fury ofresentment.

  "Good boy!" said Van, who stood up stiffly, craning and bending towatch the broncho's fight.

  But the man in the saddle was a rider. He sat in the loose security ofmen who knew the game. He gave himself over to becoming part of thebroncho's very self. He accepted Suvy's momentum, spine-disturbingjolts, and sudden gyrations with the calmness and art of a master.

  All this Van beheld, as the pony bucked with warming enthusiasm, andagain his heart descended to the depths. It was not the bucking he hadhoped to see. It was not the best that lay in Suvy's thongs. Thebeating he himself had given the animal, on the day when theirfriendship was cemented, had doubtless reduced the pony's confidence ofwinning such a struggle, while increasing his awe of man. Some minerspassing saw the dust as the conflict waged in the yard. They hastenedin to witness the show. Then from everywhere in town they appeared topour upon the scene. The word went around that the thing was abet--and more came running to the scene.

  Meantime, Suvy was rocketing madly all over the place. Chasing acouple of cows that roamed at large, charging at a monster pile ofhousehold furnishings, barely avoiding the feed-trough, set in thecenter of the place, scattering men in all directions, and raising adust like a concentrated storm, the broncho waxed more and more hot inthe blood, more desperately wild to fling his rider headlong throughthe air. But still that rider clung.

  Van had lost all sense save that of worry, love for his horse, anddesire to see him win this vital struggle. A wild passion for Suvy'sresponse to himself--for a proving love in the broncho'sbeing--possessed his nature. He leaned far forward, awkwardly,following Suvy about.

  "I'm ashamed of you, Suvy!" he began to cry. "Suvy! Suvy, where'syour pride? Why don't you do him, boy? Why don't you show them?Where's your pride? My boy! my boy!--don't you love me any more?You're a baby, Suvy! You're a baby!" He paused for a moment,following still and watching narrowly. "Suvy! Suvy! You're gone ifyou let him ride you, lad! If you love me, boy, don't break my heartwith shame!"

  Suvy and a hundred men heard his wild, impassioned appeal. The menresponded as if in some pain of the heart they could not escape, thusto see Van Buren so completely wrapped up in his horse. Then some allbut groaned to behold the bucking cease.

  It seemed as if Suvy had quit. The man in the saddle eased.

  "Boy!" yelled Van, in a shrill, startling cry that made the ponyshiver. He had seen some sign that no one but himself couldunderstand. "Boy! not that! not that!"

  Already Suvy had started to rise, to drop himself backwards on hisrider.

  He heard and obeyed. He went up no more than to half his height, thenseemed to be struck by a cyclone. Had all the frightful dynamic of anearthquake abruptly focused in his being, the fearful convulsion of hismuscles could scarcely have been greater. It was all so sudden, soswift and terrible, that no man beheld how it was done. It was simplya mad delirium of violence, begun and ended while one tumultuousshudder shook the crowd.

  Everyone saw something loose and twisting detached from the pony'sback. Everyone witnessed a blur upon the air and knew it was the man.He was flung with catapultic force against a frightened cow. He struckwith arms and legs extended. He clung like a bur to the bovine's side,for a moment before he dropped--and everyone roared unfeelingly, inrelief of the tension on the nerves.

  The next they knew Van was there with his horse, shaking the animal'smuzzle.

  "My boy!" he said. "My boy! My luck has changed!"

  Apparently it had. The man who had thought he could ride the horselimped weakly to a blanket-roll, and sat himself down to gather up thepieces of his breath and consciousness. He wanted no more. He felt itwas cheap at the price he had paid to escape with a hint of his life.

  Van waited for nothing, not even the money that Charlie of the hay-yardwas holding. He mounted to the saddle that had been the seat of hell,and in joy unspeakable Suvy walked away, in response to the pressure ofhis knees.