The Heritage of the Hills

by Arthur Preston Hankins

  CHAPTER XXIV

  IN THE DEER PATH

  The morning following the trip to Lime Rock, Oliver Drew sat at hislittle home-made desk, his mind not on the work before him. Tiltedagainst the ink bottle stood the long, tough envelope that Jessamy hadgiven him, its black-wax seals still unbroken. He stared at it withunseeing eyes.

  After they had left Lime Rock, Jessamy had given him a little moreinformation on the subject which now loomed so big in his life.

  She thought, she had said, that for years the Showut Poche-dakas hadsuspected Old Man Selden of knowing something of their secret. Theycould not have missed seeing the gophering that the old man had done onthe hillside above The Four Pools. She knew positively that the Indianshad kept a watchful eye on him, and it could be for no other reason.

  The episode concerning Oliver's bayonet wound had come as a completesurprise to her. It seemed now, she said, that Peter Drew hadcommunicated with Chupurosa not long before his death, and afterOliver's return from France, and had told him to be prepared for thecoming of his son and how to make sure that he was genuine. She had notknown that Peter Drew had been in the Poison Oak Country again, since heleft after entrusting her with a hand in guiding Oliver's future.

  She told of having overheard Adam Selden and Oliver's conversation thatnight at Poison Oak Ranch, and of the other eavesdropper who had stolendown from the spring. She was almost sure, she told him, that this manwas Digger Foss; but whether or not Foss knew of the treasure she couldnot determine. Apparently, though, he suspected something of the kind,and had been looking out for his own interests that night.

  Yes, it was the bridle and saddle and the gem-mounted _conchas_ that hadchanged Selden's attitude toward Oliver. The underlying reason for hiswishing Oliver off the Old Ivison Place had been the fear that thesearch for the gems, which he had carried on intermittently for so long,would be interrupted. But to his gang he had pretended that it was sheerdeviltry that caused him to contemplate driving the newcomer out.

  Then a sight of the gem-mounted _conchas_ of his old partner, and thefact that Oliver was at once taken into brotherhood by the ShowutPoche-dakas changed his plans. Oliver knew of the gems and had come toseek them. He either was Dan Smeed's son, or had been taken into DanSmeed's confidence. Oliver would become Watchman of the Dead. If he didnot already know the location of the stones, he soon might learn it fromthe Indians. His friendship must be cultivated by all means, so thatSelden might have the better chance of obtaining what he considered hisrightful share of the treasure.

  Oliver had then told Jessamy of the prospect holes on the hillside, ofDigger Foss's spying on the cabin, of Tommy My-Ma's strange actions, andof the lithia he had found.

  "Yes, lithia is an indication of gems," she had told him. "And it wouldappear that Digger knows of the treasure, after all. Perhaps sometimeSelden confided in him in a careless moment, to enlist his aid in thesearch. They're pretty confidential. Digger was watching your movements,to see if you had any definite idea of the location of the stones orwere searching for them blindly. That's it! He knows! But still he'ssuspicious of Old Man Selden. All of the Poison Oakers are now. Theythink he's double-crossing them some way, since he made friends withyou.

  "As for Tommy My-Ma trailing Digger, I'm not surprised. No doubt theShowut Poche-dakas are watching Old Man Selden and his gang as respectstheir attitude toward the new Watchman of the Dead. If the Poison Oakershad tried actually to molest you, I have an idea they'd have foundthey'd bitten off a chunk. I think they would have had fifty ShowutPoche-dakas on their backs before they had gone very far."

  All this passed through Oliver's mind again and again this morning, ashe sat there with pipe gone out and idle pencil in his fingers.

  What a romance that old father had woven about the life of his son! Howskilfully and craftily he had planned so that Oliver would be thrown onhis own resources for an answer when he came face to face with thequestion! How cleverly Jessamy had carried out the part entrusted toher, despite her aversion to intrigues and plottings! Step by step shehad led him on till at last the question confronted him, just as it hadconfronted his father before him.

  To gain possession of the gems would be a simple matter. They were onhis land somewhere--were his by every right in law. He had but to invokethe protection of the keepers of the peace against the Indians, breakthe seals of the long envelope, and dig in the place indicated by themap this envelope contained.

  But there was one thing which doubtless Peter Drew had not foreseen inhis careful planning. He could not have known that his son was to falldesperately in love with the guiding star that he had appointed for him.And Oliver Drew knew in his heart that if he robbed the Indians of thesegems, which were to them only a symbol and had no meaning connected withworldly wealth, he would lose the girl. The only thing that stoodbetween Jessamy and him, he now believed, was her uncertainty of whathis answer to the question would be. In her staunch heart she respectedthe belief of the Showut Poche-dakas, and to her the gems as a symbolwere as worthy of her reverence as the Sacred Book of the Christians. "Ihave as much reverence for a bareheaded Indian girl on her knees to theSun God as for a hooded nun counting her beads," she had said.

  Oliver stared at the inside of the cabin door, scarred and carved andfull of bullet holes--at JESSAMY, MY SWEETHEART.

  Peter Drew could not have foreseen this phase of the situation. Insecuring the gems Oliver Drew not only would lose his self-respect andmake his father's thirty years of sacrifice a mockery, but he would losethe girl he loved.

  So Oliver took small credit to himself when he rose from his desk ateleven o'clock, his mind made up.

  He placed the letter unopened in his shirt front, and went out andsaddled Poche. Then he rode to the backbone and wormed his way along ittoward Lime Rock.

  Jessamy was there ahead of him, sitting erect on White Ann's back,gazing upon the rugged objects of her daily adoration.

  "Well," she said, "you've come," and her level eyes searched him throughand through.

  "Yes," he replied, riding to her side, "I've come; and my mind's madeup."

  She raised her dark brows in an attempt to betoken a mild strugglebetween politeness and indifference; but the hand on her saddle horntrembled, and the red had gone out of her cheeks.

  "I must get out of here tomorrow," he said, "and go to Los Angeles. I'vejust about enough money to take me there and back; but I have theunbounded faith of an amateur in several farm articles now in editors'hands."

  She lowered black lashes over her eyes and nodded slowly up and down.

  "Exactly," she said. "You must carry out Peter Drew's instructions tothe letter."

  "But I can tell _you_ what my answer to Dad's lawyers is going to be.I--"

  "Don't!" she cried, raising a protesting hand. "Not a word to me. Myresponsibility ceased when I placed the envelope in your hands. I'm nolonger concerned in the matter. That is--" she hesitated.

  "Yes, go on."

  "Until after you have made your report to the attorneys," she added."Then, of course, I'll--I'll be sort of curious to know what your answeris."

  "Then I'll come straight back to tell you," he promised. "And--Why,what's the matter!"

  She had leaned forward suddenly in her saddle, and with wide eyes waslooking down the precipice. Then before she could answer there came toOliver's hearing the sound of a distant shot from the canyon.

  Now he saw a puff of white smoke above the willows on the river bank, athousand feet below them. Then a second, and by and by another ringingreport reached them, and the echoes of it went loping from wall to wallof the canyon.

  "Merciful heavens!" cried Jessamy. "It's Old Man Selden! He's shot! Lookat him reel in his saddle! Oh, horrors!... There he goes down on theground!... But he's not killed! There--he's on his feet and shooting!"

  Oliver, with open mouth, was staring down at the tragedy that hadsuddenly been staged for them in the river bed. Now several puffs ofwhite smoke hung over the trees, and riders rode hither a
nd thither likepigmies on pigmy horses. Now and then a stream of flame spurtedhorizontally, and at once another answered it. Then up barked thereports, followed by their mocking echoes.

  "It's come! It's come!" wailed Jessamy. "Obed Pence, likely as not, hasopened fire on Old Man Selden, and the boys are after him. Look--there'sChuck and Bolar and Jay and Winthrop--and, oh, most all of them! It's ageneral fight. Oh, I knew it would come! I knew it! Obed Pence has beenso nasty of late. They were all drunk last night. Poor mother! Oh, whatshall we do, Oliver? What can we do? We can't get down to them!"

  "And could do nothing if we did," he said tensely.

  Down below six-shooters still popped, and the balls of smoke continuedto grow in number over the willows. Horsemen dashed madly about,shouting, firing. The two watchers learned later that Obed Pence,supported by Muenster, Allegan, and Buchanan--all drunk for two days onthe fiery monkey rum--had lain in wait for Old Man Selden, and Pence hadridden out and confronted him as he rode down the river trail,supposedly alone. But the Selden boys for days had been hovering in thebackground, to see that their father got a square deal when he and ObedPence next met. Pence and Adam Selden had drawn simultaneously; but thehammer of the old man's Colt had caught in the fringe of his chaps, andObed had shot him through the left lung. Knowing their father to be amaster gunman, his sons, who had not been close enough to witness theencounter, had jumped to the conclusion that Pence had fired fromambush. They charged in accordingly, and opened fire on Pence, killinghim instantly. Then Pence's supporters had ridden forth in turn, and thegeneral gun fight was on.

  "I can't sit here and see them murdering one another!" Jessamy sobbedpiteously. "They--they all may need killing, but--but I've lived withthe old man and the boys, and--and--My mother!" The tears streamed downher cheeks as she made a trumpet of her hands and shouted down theprecipice:

  "Stop it! Stop it at once, I say!"

  Only the echoes of her piercing cry made answer, and she wrung her handsand beat her breast in anguish.

  "I'm going for help!" she cried abruptly. "They'll get behind treespretty soon, and fight from cover. I'll ride to Halfmoon Flat for theconstable and a posse to put a stop to this. Can't--can't you ride upthe trail and find a way down to them, Oliver? Old Man Selden maybe willlisten to you. Oh, maybe you can patch up peace between them!"

  "I'll try," said Oliver grimly.

  She wheeled White Ann and entered the narrow trail. Oliver followed.Recklessly she moved her mare at her rolling singlefoot along thedangerous trail, and eventually came out on the hillside. At once WhiteAnn leaped forward and sped over the hills, a streak of silver in thenoonday sun.

  Oliver loped Poche to an obscure deer path that led down to the river,and as swiftly as possible began negotiating it.

  He had not progressed twenty yards when the chaparral before himsuddenly parted, and Digger Foss confronted him, his wicked Colt heldwaist-high and levelled.

  "Stick 'em up!" he growled. "Be quick!"

  Thoroughly surprised, Oliver reined in, and Poche began to dance.Mechanically Oliver raised his hands above his head, then almostregretted that he had not tried to draw. But the picture of Henry Doddreeling against the legs of Jessamy's mare had been with him since hisfirst day in the Poison Oakers' country. He knew that the halfbreed'saim was sure, and that his heart was a reservoir of venom.

  The first shock passed, his composure returned in a measure. There stoodthe halfbreed, spread-legged in the path. The lids of his Mongolic eyeswere lowered, and the beads of jet glittered wickedly from under them.He was drunk as a lord, Oliver knew quite well from the augmentedinsolence of his cruel lips; but Oliver knew that he might be all themore deadly, and that some drunken gunmen can shoot better than whensober.

  "What is this?--a holdup?" he asked, and bit his lip as he noted thetremble in his tones.

  "A holdup is right," said Foss. "A holdup, an' a little business matteryou and me's got to attend to."

  "Well, let's get at it!" Oliver snapped.

  "I'm gonta kill you after our business is settled," Foss told him in amatter-of-fact tone.

  A cold chill ran along Oliver's spine. Should he make a dive for hisgun? Foss had every advantage, but--

  Foss was stepping lazily nearer, his eyes intent on the horseman, hissix-shooter ready.

  "Down there by the river they're fightin' it out all because o' youbuttin' into this country, where you ain't wanted." Foss had come to astop, and was leering up at him. "You've made trouble ever since youcome here. Old Man won't get rid o' you, but I'm goin' to today. Butfirst, where's them gems?"

  "I can't tell you," said Oliver.

  "You're a liar!"

  "Thank you. You have the advantage of me, you know. Slip your gun in theholster, and then call me a liar. I'll draw with you. My hands areup--you'll still have the advantage of having your hand closer to yourgun butt."

  "D'ye think you could draw with me?"

  "I know it. And before you. Try it and see!"

  Foss studied over this. "Maybe--maybe!" he said. "I never did throw downon a man without givin' 'im a chance. But you got no chance with me,kid. They don't make 'em that can get the drop on Digger Foss!"

  "I'll take a chance," said Oliver quietly.

  "We'll see about that later. But where's them stones?"

  "I don't know, I tell you."

  "What did you come up in this country for?"

  "On matters that concern me alone."

  "No doubt o' that--or so you think. But they're interestin' to me, too.What's in that letter Jess'my handed you at Lime Rock yesterday?"

  "Oh, you were sneaking about and saw that, were you! Through yourglasses, I suppose. Well, I haven't opened it, and don't know what's init. If I did I wouldn't tell you. My arms are growing a little tired.Will you holster your gun and give me a chance before my arms play out?"

  "I will if you come across with what you know about the gems. You mightas well. If I kill you, you won't be worryin' about gems. And if youcroak me, why, what if you did tell me?--I'm dead, ain't I?"

  "There's sound logic in that," said Oliver grimly. "I'll take you up.Put your gun in its holster and drop your hands to your sides. Thenwe'll draw, with your gun hand three feet nearer your gun than mine willbe. Come! I've got business down below."

  The halfbreed's eyes widened in unbelief. "D'ye really mean it, kid? Yousaw me shoot Henry Dodd--d'ye really wanta draw with me?"

  "I do."

  "But then you'll be dead, and I won't know nothin' about the gems.Unless that letter tells?"

  "Perhaps. You mustn't expect me to take _all_ the chances, you know."

  "Does the letter tell?"

  "I haven't opened it, I say."

  Foss studied in drunken seriousness. "And if you should happen to getme, why--why, where am I at again?" he puzzled.

  Oliver laughed outright. "You're an amusing creature," he said. "I don'tbelieve you're half the badman that you imagine you are." He believednothing of the sort, but his arms were growing desperately weary and hemust goad the drunken gunman into immediate action.

  "There's just one thing that's the matter with you," he gibed on, readyto descend to any speech that would cut the killer and break his deadlycalm. "That's my getting your girl away from you! It's not the gems;it's that that hurts you. Why, say, do you think she'd wipe her feet onyou!"

  Into the eyes of the halfbreed came a viperish light that almost stilledOliver's heartbeats. For an instant he feared that he had gone too far,that Foss was about to shoot him down in cold blood.

  Foss stood spread-legged in the path, as before, his face twisting withanger, the fingers of his left hand clinching and unclinchingthemselves. Then Oliver almost ceased to breathe as a silent, darkfigure slipped wraithlike from the chaparral and began stealing towardthe back of Digger Foss.

  "That settles it," said Foss. "I'll kill you for that, gems or no gems!Get ready! If you let down a hand while I'm puttin' up my gun I'll killyou like that!" He snapped the fingers of his left hand
.

  "I'll stick by my bargain," Oliver assured him, his glance strugglingbetween Foss and that silent figure slinking in his rear.

  What should he do? There was murder in the black eyes of the man whostole so stealthily upon the gunman's back. Should he shout to Foss? Hissense of fair play cried out that he should. But Foss might misinterpretthe meaning of his upraised voice, and fire. Should he--

  "Here goes! I'm puttin' up my gun. Get ready, kid! When I--"

  There was a leap, a flash of steel in the sunlight, a scream ofagonizing pain.

  Oliver's gun was out and levelled; but Foss was staggering from side toside, his arms limp before him, his head lopped forward as if hesearched for something on the ground. He collapsed and lay there gaspinghideously in the path, in a growing pool of blood.

  The chaparral opened and closed again; and then only Oliver and the manin his death throes were remaining.

  Even as Bolivio had died, so died Digger Foss, in a path in thewilderness, with the knife of a Showut Poche-daka in his back.