CHAPTER XI
CONCERNING SPRINGS AND SHOWUT POCHE-DAKA
It was evident to Oliver Drew that Clinker Creek was lowering fast, asDamon Tamroy had predicted that it would do. He feared that it would goentirely dry just when certain vegetables would need it most. Again,also following Tamroy's prophecy, the flow from his spring provedinsufficient to keep all of his plantings alive, even though he hadimpounded the surplus in a small clay-lined reservoir.
He stood with hands on hips today, frowning at the tinkling stream ofwater running from the rusty length of pipe into the reservoir.
"There's just one thing to do," he remarked to it, "and that's to see ifI can't increase your putter-putter. I want to write an article onmaking the most of a flow of spring water, anyway; and I guess I'll useyou for a foundation."
Whereupon he secured pick and shovel and sledge and set about removingthe box he had so carefully set in the ground to hold his domesticwater.
When the box was out he enlarged the hole, and, when the water hadcleared, studied the flow. It seeped out from a fissure in thebedrock--or what he supposed was the bedrock--and it seemed a difficultmatter to "get at it." However, he began digging above the point ofegress in the resistant blue clay, and late that afternoon was down tobedrock again.
And now when he had washed off the rock he discovered a strange thing.This was that the supposed bedrock was not bedrock at all, but a wall oflarge stones built by the hand of man. Through a crevice in this wallthe water seeped, and when he had gouged out the puttylike blue clay theflow increased fivefold.
He sat down and puzzled over it, expecting the flow to return to normalafter some tiny unseen reservoir had been drained of its surplus. But itdid not lessen, and had not lessened when night came.
At midnight, thinking about it in bed and unable to sleep, he arose,lighted a lantern, and went down to the spring. The water was flowingjust the same as when he had left it.
He was not surprised to find the work of human hands in and about hisspring, but this wall of stones was highly irregular. It appeared that,instead of having been built to conserve the water, it was designed todam up the flow entirely. The old flow was merely seepage through thewall.
He was at it again early next morning, and soon had torn down the wallentirely and thrown out the stones. At least five times as much waterwas running still. He recalled that Damon Tamroy had said the spring hadgiven more water in Tabor Ivison's day than now.
There was but one answer to the puzzle. For some strange reason somebodysince Tabor Ivison's day had seen fit to try to stop the flow from thespring altogether. But who would go to such pains to do this, and hidethe results of his work, as these had been hidden? And, above all, why?
It is useless to deny that Oliver Drew at once thought of the PoisonOakers. But what excuse could they produce for such an act? Surely, withthe creek dry and the American River several miles away, they wouldencourage the flow of water everywhere in the Clinker Creek Country fortheir cattle to drink.
It was beyond him then and he gave it up. He laid more pipe and coveredit all to the land level again, and viewed with satisfaction theincreased supply of water for the dry summer months to come. And it wasnot until a week later that Jessamy Selden unconsciously gave him ananswer to the question.
He was scrambling up the hill to the west of the cabin that day toanother bee tree that he had discovered, when he heard her shrillshouting down below. He turned and saw her and the white mare before thecabin, and the girl was looking about for him.
He returned her shout, and stood on a blackened stump in the chaparral,waving his hat above the foliage.
"I get you!" she shrilled at last. "Stay there! I'm coming up!"
Fifteen minutes later, panting, now on hands and knees, now crawlingflat, she drew near to him. A bird can go through California "locked"chaparral if it will be content to hop from twig to twig, but theponderous human animal must emulate Nebuchadnezzar if he or she wouldpenetrate its mysteries.
"What a delightful route you chose for your morning crawl," she puffed,as at last she lay gasping at the foot of the stump on which he sat andlaughed at her.
Oliver lighted a cigarette and inhaled indolently as he watched herlying there with heaving breast, her arms thrown wide. She dideverything as naturally as does a child. She wore fringed leather chapstoday, and remarked, when she sat up and dusted the trash from her hair,that she was glad she had done so since he had made her come crawling tohis feet.
"And that reminds me of something that I've decided to ask you," sheadded. "Has it occurred to you that I am throwing myself at you?" Shelooked straight into his face as she put the naive question to him.
"Why do you ask that?" he countered, eyes on the tip of his cigarette.
"I'll tell you why when you've answered."
"Then of course not."
"I suppose I _am_ a bit crude," she mused. "At least it must look thatway to the natives here-about. I was fairly confident, though, that youwouldn't think me unmaidenly. I sought you out deliberately. I waslonely and wanted a friend. I had heard that you were a University man.You told Mr. Tamroy, you know. It's perfectly proper deliberately to tryand make a friend of a person, isn't it?--if you think both of you maybe benefited. And does it make a great deal of difference if the subjectchances to be of the other sex?"
"I'm more than satisfied, so far as I come in on the deal," Oliverassured her.
"I thank you, sir. And now I've been accused to my face of throwingmyself at you--which expression means a lot and which you doubtlessfully understand."
"Who is your accuser?"
"The author of 'Jessamy, My Sweetheart.'"
"Digger Foss, eh?"
She closed both eyes tightly and bobbed her head up and down severaltimes, then opened her eyes. "He's a free man again--tried andacquitted."
"No!"
"Didn't I tell you how it would be?"
He puffed his cigarette meditatively. "Doesn't it strike you as strangethat you and I were not subpoenaed as witnesses?"
"I've been expecting that from you. No, sir--it doesn't. Digger'scounsel didn't want you and me as witnesses."
"But the prosecuting attorney."
"_He_ didn't want us either."
"Then there's corruption."
"If I could think of a worse word than corruption I'd correct you, soI'll let that stand. Digger Foss is Old Man Selden's right hand; and OldMan Selden is Pythias to the prosecuting attorney of this man's county."
Oliver's eyes widened.
"Elmer Standard is the gentleman in question. What connection there canbe between him and Adam Selden is too many for me; but Selden goes tosee him whenever he rides to the county seat. Only the right witnesseswere allowed to take the stand, you may be confident. I knew thehalfbreed's acquittal was a foregone conclusion before the smoke fromhis gat had cleared."
Both were silent for a time, then she said: "Elmer Standard runs thingsdown at the county seat. I've heard that he allows open gambling, andthat he personally finances three saloons and several gaming places."
"But there are no saloons now."
"Indeed!" she said with mock innocence. "I didn't know. I never havefrequented them, so you'll overlook my ignorance. Anyway, Digger Foss isas free as the day he was born; and Henry Dodd, the man he murdered,lies in the little cemetery in the pines near Halfmoon Flat. But there'sanother piece of news: Adam Selden has--"
"Pardon my interrupting you," he put in, "but you haven't finished withDigger Foss."
"Oh, that! Well, I met him on the trail between Clinker Creek and theAmerican yesterday. He accused me of being untrue to him while he was injail."
"Yes?"
"I admitted my guilt. Never having had the slightest inclination to betrue to him, I told him, it naturally followed that I was untrue tohim--and wasn't it a glorious day? How on earth the boy ever got theidea that he has the right to consider me in the light that he does isbeyond me. I don't scold him, and I don't send him packing
--nor do Igive him the least encouragement. I simply treat him civilly when heapproaches me on a commonplace matter, and ignore him when he tries toget funny. And he's probably so dense that all this encourages him. Howcan he be so stupid! I haven't been superior enough with him--but I hateto be superior, even to a halfbreed. And he's quarter Chinaman. Heavens,what am I coming to!"
"How did the meeting end?" queried Oliver.
"Well, we both went a little further this time than ever before. Heattempted to kiss me, and I attempted to cut his face open with myquirt. Both of us missed by about six inches, I'm thankful to say. Andthe grand climax took the form of a dire threat against you. By the way,I've never seen you pack a gun, Mr. Drew."
He shrugged. "I used to down on the cow ranch in San Bernardino County,but I think I grew up over in France."
"You have one, of course."
"Yes--a 'forty-five."
"Can you handle a gun fairly well?"
"I know which end to look into to see if it's loaded."
"Can you spin a dollar in air with your left hand, draw, and hit itbefore it strikes the ground?"
"Aw, let's be sensible!" he cried. "I'm after another colony of bees.Come on up and look at 'em."
"Sit still," she ordered. "Can you do what I asked about?"
"I don't know--I've never tried."
"Digger Foss can," she claimed.
"Well, that's shooting."
"It is. I'd strap that gun on if I were you and practice up a bit."
"Cartridges are too high-priced," he laughed. "What's the rest of thenews?"
"The store up at Cliffbert, about fourteen miles from here and off therailroad, was broken into three days ago and robbed of cutlery,revolvers, and other things to the tune of several hundred dollars."
"M'm-m! Do they have any idea who did it?"
"Oh, yes. The Poison Oakers."
"They know it?"
"Of course--everybody knows it. But it can't be proved. It's nothingnew."
"I didn't know the gang ever went to such a limit."
"Humph!" she sniffed significantly. "And the next piece of news is thatSulphur Spring has gone dry for the first time in many years. And hereit's only May!"
"Where is Sulphur Spring?"
"About a mile below your south line, in this canyon. I heard Old ManSelden complaining about it last night, and thought I'd ride around thatway this morning. It's as he said--entirely dry, so far as new waterrunning into the basin is concerned."
"Well," said Oliver, "my piece of news is just the opposite of that. Myspring is running a stream five times as large as heretofore--"
She straightened. "What caused that?" she demanded quickly.
He explained in detail.
"So!" she murmured. "So! I understand. Listen: I have heard the menfolksat the ranch say that all these canyon springs are connected. That is,they all are outbreaks from one large vein that follows the canyon. Ifyou shut off one, then, you may increase the flow of the next one belowit. And if you open one up and increase its output, the next below itmay go entirely dry. The flow from yours has been cut off in time goneby to increase the flow of Sulphur Spring. And now that you've takenaway the obstruction, your spring gets all the water, while SulphurSpring gets none."
"I believe you're right," asserted Oliver. "And do you think it mighthave been the Poison Oakers who closed my spring to increase the flowdown there?"
"Undoubtedly."
"But why? They were running cows on my land, too, before I came.Wouldn't it be handier to have a good flow of water in both places?"
"No doubt of that," she answered. "And I can't enlighten you, I'm sorryto say. All I know is that Old Man Selden is hopping mad--angrier thanthe situation seems to call for, as springs are by no means scarce inClinker Canyon."
Jessamy's disclosures had ended now, so they scrambled on up the hilltoward the bee tree.
The colony had settled in a dead hollow white-oak. The tree had beenbroken off close to the ground by high winds after the colony had takenup residence therein. The hole by which they made entrance to the hollowtrunk, however, was left uppermost after the fall, and apparently thelittle zealots had not been seriously disturbed.
Anyway, here they were still winging their way to and from the prostratetree, the sentries keeping watch at the entrance to their increasingstore of honey.
Oliver had found the tree two weeks before, purely by accident. At thattime the hole at which the workers entered had been unobstructed. Now,though, tall weeds had grown up about the tree, making a screen beforethe hole and preventing the nectar-laden insects from entering readily.
"This won't do at-all-at-all," he said to Jessamy, as she took her seaton a limb of the bee tree. "There must be nothing to obstruct them inentering, for sometimes they drop with their loads when they havedifficulty in winging directly in, and can't get up again."
"Uh-huh," she concurred.
She had unlaid one of her black braids and was replaiting it again afterthe havoc wrought by the prickly bushes.
Oliver lighted his bee-smoker and sent several soft puffs into the holeto quiet the bees. Then without gloves or veil, which the experiencedbeeman seldom uses, he laid hold of the tall weeds and began uprootingthem. Thus engaged, he kneeled down and reached under the tree trunk toget at the roots of certain obstinate plants; and in that instant hefelt a sharp sting in the fleshy part of his wrist.
"Ouch! Holy Moses!" he croaked. "I didn't expect to find a bee underthere!"
"Get stung?"
"Did I! Mother of Mike! I've been stung many times, but that lady musthave been the grandmother of--Why, I'm getting sick--dizzy!--"
He came to a pause, swayed on his knees, and closed his eyes. Then camethat heart-chilling sound which, once heard, will never be forgotten,and will ever bring cold terror to mankind--the rattlebone_whir-r-r-r-r_ of the diamond-back rattlesnake.
Oliver caught himself, licked dry lips, and was gazing in horror at twobleeding, jagged incisions in his wrist. The girl, with a scream ofcomprehension, darted toward him. He balanced himself and smiled grimlyas she grabbed his arm with shaking hands.
"Got me," he said, "the son-of-a-gun! And I'd have stuck my hand rightback for another dose if he hadn't rattled."
Jessamy grabbed him by both shoulders and tried to force him to theground.
"Sit down and keep quiet!" she ordered, sternly, her nerves now firm andsteady, her face white and determined. "No, not that way!"
She grasped him under the arms and with the strength of a young Amazonslued him about as if he had been a sack of flour.
Deftly she bound his handkerchief about his arm, drawing it taut withall her strength. Something found its way into his left hand.
"Drink that!" she commanded. "All of it. Pour it down!"
Then her lips sought the flaming wound; and she clamped her white teethin his flesh and began sucking out the poison.
At intervals she raised her head for breath and to spit out the deadlyfluid.
"Drink!" she would urge then. "And don't worry. Not a chance in theworld of your being any the worse after I get through with you."
Oliver obeyed her without question, taking great swallows from the flaskof fiery liquor and closing his eyes after each. His senses swam and hefelt weak and delirious, though he could not tell whether this last wasbecause of the poison or the liquor he had consumed.
At last Jessamy leaned back and fumbled in a pocket of her chaps. Sheproduced a tiny round box, from which she took a bottle of drypermanganate of potash and a small lancet. With the keen instrument shehacked a deep x in his arm, just over the wound. Then she wet the redpowder with saliva and worked a paste into the cuts with the lancet.
This done, she sat back and regarded her patient complacently.
"Just take it easy," she counselled. "And, whatever you do, don't worry.You won't know you were bitten in an hour. Sip that whisky now and then.It won't kill the poison, as some folks seem to believe, but it willmake you light-hearted a
nd you'll forget to worry. That's the part itplays in a case like this. Now if I can trust you to keep quiet andserene, I'll seek revenge."
He nodded weakly.
She arose, and presently again came that sickening _whir-r-r-r-r-r_miscalled a rattle, followed immediately by a vicious _thud-thud-thud_.
"There, you horrid creature!" he heard in a low, triumphant tone. "Youthought I was afraid of you, did you? Bring total collapse on all yourfictitious traditions and bite before you rattle, will you! _Requiescatin pace_, Mr. Showut Poche-daka!"
Half an hour afterward Oliver Drew was on his feet, but he staggereddrunkenly. To this day he is not just sure whether he was intoxicated orraving from the effects of the snakebite. Anyway, as Jessamy took holdof him to steady him, his reason left him, and he swept her into hisarms and kissed her lips time and again, though she struggled valiantlyto free herself.
Ultimately she ducked under his arms and sprang away from him backward,her face crimson, her bosom heaving.
"Sit down again!" she ordered chokingly. "Shame on you, to takeadvantage of me like that!"
"Won't sit down!" he babbled, reaching about for her blindly. "I loveyou an' I'm gonta have you!"
"You're out of your head! Sit down again! Please, now." Her tone changedto a soothing note. "You're--I'm afraid you're drunk."
He was groping for her, staggering toward a threatening outcropping ofrock. With a rapid leap she closed in on him unexpectedly, heaveddesperately to the right and left, and threw him flat on his back. Thenshe scrambled on top of his knees as he strove to rise again.
"Now, looky-here, mister," she warned, "you've gone just about farenough! In a second I'll get that bee-smoker and put you out ofbusiness. Please--please, now, be good!"
He seemed partially stunned by the fall, for he lay now without a move,eyes closed, his mind wandering dreamily. And thus he lay for half anhour longer, when he suddenly raised his head and looked at her, stillpropped up on his knees, with eyes that were sane.
"Golly!" he breathed.
"Golly is right," she agreed drolly. "Were you drunk or crazy?"
"Both, I guess. I'm--mighty sorry." His face was red as fire.
"Do you wish to get up?"
"If you please."
He stood on his feet. He was still weak and pale and dizzy.
"Heavens! That liquor!" he panted. "What is it? Where did you get it?"
"At home. Old Adam gave me the flask over a year ago. It's only whisky.I always carry a flask for just such an emergency as this. And I nevergo a step out of the house in the summer without my snakebite kit.Nobody ought to in the West."
He shook his head. "That's not whisky," he said. "I'm not exactly astranger to the taste of whisky. That's brimstone!"
"I was told it was whisky," she replied. "I know nothing about whisky.I've never even tasted it."
He held the flask to the sun, but it was leather-covered and no lightshone through. He unscrewed the metal cap and poured some of the liquorinto it.
It was colourless as water.
"Moonshine!" he cried. "And I know now why the flow from my spring wascut off. A still calls for running water!"
"You may be right," she said without excitement. "You will remember thatI told you there is another reason besides Selden's covetousness of yourgrass land why you are wanted out of the Clinker Creek Country."
The Heritage of the Hills Page 11