Gold

by Stewart Edward White

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  THE RULE OF THE LAWLESS

  No concerted attempt was made by the roughs to avenge the execution oftheir comrades. Whether they realized that such an attempt would belikely to solidify the decent element, or whether that sort of warfarewas not their habit, the afternoon and night wore away without trouble.

  "Danger's over," announced Johnny the following morning.

  "What next?" I asked.

  "We'll go up to town," said Johnny.

  This they proceeded to do, negativing absolutely my desire to accompanythem.

  "You stay out of this," said Johnny. "Go and wash gold as usual."

  I was immensely relieved that afternoon when they returned safe andsound. Afterward I heard that they had coolly visited every saloon andgambling place, had stopped in each to chat with the barkeepers andgamblers, had spent the morning seated outside the Bella Union, and hadbeen in no manner molested.

  "They'll be all right as long as they stick together and keep in theopen," Yank assured me. "That gang will sooner assassinate than fight."

  Although for the moment held in check by the resolute front presented bythese three boys, the rough element showed that it considered it had wona great victory, and was now entitled to run the town. Members of thegang selected what goods they needed at any of the stores, making nopretence of payment. They swaggered boldly about the streets at alltimes, infested the better places such as the Bella Union, elbowed asideinsolently any inoffensive citizen who might be in their way, andgenerally conducted themselves as though they owned the place. Robberiesgrew more frequent. The freighters were held up in broad daylight;rumours of returning miners being relieved of their dust drifted up fromthe lower country; mysterious disappearances increased in number. Hardlyan attempt was made to conceal the fact that the organized gang thatconducted these operations had its headquarters at Italian Bar. Strangemen rode up in broad daylight, covered with red dust, to confer withMorton or one of the other resident blackguards. Mysteriously everydesperado in the place began to lay fifty-dollar octagonal slugs on thegaming tables, product of some lower country atrocity.

  The camp soon had a concrete illustration of the opinion the roughs heldof themselves. It was reported quietly among a few of us that several ofour number had been "marked" by the desperadoes. Two of these were JoeThompson, who had acted as counsel for the prosecution in the latetrial, and Tom Cleveland, who had presided, and presided well, over thecourt. Thompson kept one of the stores, while Cleveland was proprietorof the butcher shop. No overt threats were made, but we understood thatsomehow these men were to be put out of the way. Of course they were atonce warned.

  The human mind is certainly a queer piece of mechanism. It would seemthat the most natural thing to have done, in the circumstances, wouldhave been to dog these men's footsteps until an opportunity offered toassassinate them quietly. That is just what would have been done had theintended victims been less prominently in the public eye. The murder ofcourt officials, however, was a very different matter from the findingof an unknown miner dead in his camp or along the trail. In the formercase there could be no manner of doubt as to the perpetrators of thedeed--the animus was too directly to be traced. And it is a matter forcurious remark that in all early history, whether of California in theforties, or of Montana in the bloodier sixties, the desperadoes, nomatter how strong they felt themselves or how arrogantly they ran thecommunity, nevertheless must have felt a great uncertainty as to theactual power of the decent element. This is evidenced by the fact thatthey never worked openly. Though the identity of each of them as arobber and cut-throat was a matter of common knowledge, so that anyminer could have made out a list of the members of any band, the factwas never formally admitted. And as long as it was not admitted, and aslong as actual hard proof was lacking, it seemed to be part of the gamethat nothing could be done. Moral certainties did not count until someseries of outrages resulted in mob action.

  Now consider this situation, which seemed to me then as it seems to menow, most absurd in every way. Nobody else considered it so. Everybodyknew that the rough element was out to "get" Thompson and Cleveland.Everybody, including both Thompson and Cleveland themselves, was prettycertain that they would not be quietly assassinated, the argument inthat case being that the deed would be too apt to raise the community.Therefore it was pretty well understood that some sort of a quarrel orpersonal encounter would be used as an excuse. Personally I could notsee that that would make much essential difference; but, as I said, thehuman mind is a curious piece of mechanism.

  Among the occasional visitors to the camp was a man who called himselfHarry Crawford. He was a man of perhaps twenty-five years, tall, ratherslender, with a clear face and laughing blue eyes. Nothing in hisappearance indicated the desperado; and yet we had long known him as oneof the Morton gang. This man now took up his residence in camp; and wesoon discovered that he was evidently the killer. The first afternoon hepicked some sort of a petty quarrel with Thompson over a purchase, butcooled down instantly when unexpectedly confronted by a half dozenminers who came in at the opportune moment. A few days afterward in theslack time of the afternoon Thompson, while drinking at the bar of theEmpire and conversing with a friend, was approached by a well-knownsodden hanger-on of the saloons.

  "What 'n hell you fellows talking about?" demanded this man impudently.

  "None of your business," replied Thompson impatiently, for the man was apublic nuisance, and besides was deep in Thompson's debt.

  The man broke into foul oaths.

  "I'll dare you to fight!" he cried in a furious passion.

  Facing about, Thompson saw Crawford standing attentively among thelisteners, and instantly comprehended the situation.

  "You have the odds of me with a pistol," said Thompson, who notoriouslyhad no skill with that weapon. "Why should I fight you?"

  "Well, then," cried the man, "put up your fists; that'll show who is thebest man!"

  He snatched off his belt and laid it on the bar. Thompson did the same.

  "Come on!" cried the challenger, backing away.

  Thompson, thoroughly angry, reached over and slapped his antagonist. Thelatter promptly drew another revolver from beneath his coat, but beforehe could aim it Thompson jumped at his throat and disarmed him. At thismoment Crawford interfered, apparently as peacemaker. Thompson was latertold secretly by the barkeeper that the scheme was to lure him into apistol fight in the street, when Crawford would be ready to shoot him assoon as the first shot was fired.

  On the strength of his interference Crawford next pretended tofriendship, and spent much of his time at Thompson's store. Thompson wasin no way deceived. This state of affairs continued for two days. Itterminated in the following manner: Crawford, sitting half on thecounter, and talking with all the great charm of which he was master,led the subject to weapons.

  "This revolver of mine," said he, at the same time drawing the weaponfrom its holster, "is one of the old navy model. You don't often seethem nowadays. It has a double lock." He cocked it as though toillustrate his point, and the muzzle, as though by accident, swepttoward the other man. He looked up from his affected close examinationto find that Thompson had also drawn his weapon and that the barrel waspointing uncompromisingly in his direction.

  For a moment the two stared each other in the eye. Then Crawfordsheathed his pistol with an oath.

  "What do you mean by that?" he cried.

  "I mean," said Thompson firmly, "that I do not intend you shall get theadvantage of me. You know my opinion of you and your gang. I shall notbe shot by any of you, if I can help it."

  Crawford withdrew quietly, but later in the day approached a big groupof us, one of which was Thompson.

  "There's a matter between you and me has got to be settled!" he cried.

  "Well, I can't imagine what it is," replied Thompson. "I'm not awarethat I've said or done anything to you that needs settlement."

  "You needn't laugh!" replied Crawford, with a string o
f insulting oaths."You're a coward; and if you're anything of a man you will step out ofdoors and have this out."

  "I am, as you say, a coward," replied Thompson quietly, "and I see noreason for going out of doors to fight you or anybody else."

  After blustering and swearing for a few moments Crawford withdrew. Hemade no attempt to fight, nor do I believe his outburst had any otherpurpose than to establish the purely personal character of the quarrelbetween Thompson and himself. At any rate, Thompson was next morningfound murdered in his bunk, while Crawford had disappeared. I do notknow whether Crawford had killed him or not; I think not.

  About this time formal printed notices of some sort of election wereposted on the bulletin board at Morton's place. At least they were saidto have been posted, and were pointed out to all comers the day afterelection. Perhaps they were there all the time, as claimed, but nobodypaid much attention to them. At any rate, we one day awoke to the factthat we were a full-fledged community, with regularly constituted courtofficers, duly qualified officials, and a sheriff. The sheriff wasMorton, and the most worthy judges were other members of his gang!

  This move tickled Danny Randall's sense of humour immensely.

  "That's good head work," he said approvingly. "I didn't think Morton hadit in him."

  "It's time something was done to run that gang out of town," fumed Dr.Rankin.

  "No; it is not time," denied Danny, "any more than it was time when youand Johnny and the rest of you had your celebrated jury trial."

  "I'd like to know what you are driving at!" fretted the worthy doctor.

  Danny Randall laughed in his gentle little fashion. I will confess thatjust at that time I was very decidedly wondering what Danny Randall wasat. In fact, at moments I was strongly inclined to doubt hisaffiliations. He seemed to stand in an absolutely neutral position,inclining to neither side.

  Tom Cleveland was killed in the open street by one of the Empirehangers-on. The man was promptly arrested by Morton in his capacity ofsheriff, and confined in chains. Morton, as sheriff, selected those whowere to serve on the jury. I had the curiosity to attend the trial,expecting to assist at an uproarious farce. All the proceedings, on thecontrary, were conducted with the greatest decorum, and with minuteattention to legal formalities. The assassin, however, was acquitted.

  From that time the outrages increased in number and in boldness. No manknown to be possessed of any quantity of gold was safe. It was dangerousto walk alone after dark, to hunt alone in the mountains, to live alone.Every man carried his treasure about with him everywhere he went. No mandared raise his voice in criticism of the ruling powers, for it waspretty generally understood that such criticism meant death.

  It would be supposed, naturally, by you in our modern and civilizeddays, that such a condition of affairs would cast a fear and gloom overthe life of the community. Not at all. Men worked and played and gambledand drank and joked and carried on the light-hearted, jolly existence ofthe camps just about the same as ever. Outside a few principals likeMorton and his immediate satellites, there was no accurate demarkationbetween the desperadoes and the miners. Indeed, no one was ever quitesure of where his next neighbour's sympathies lay. We all mingledtogether, joked, had a good time--and were exceedingly cautious. It wasa polite community. Personal quarrels were the product of the moment,and generally settled at the moment or soon after. Enmities were mattersfor individual adjustment.

  Randall's express messengers continued to make their irregular tripswith the gold dust. They were never attacked, though they wereconvinced, and I think justly, that on numerous occasions they had onlyjust escaped attack. Certainly the sums of money they carried were morethan sufficient temptation to the bandits. They knew their country,however, and were full of Indian-like ruses, twists, doublings and turnswhich they employed with great gusto. How long they would have succeededin eluding what I considered the inevitable, I do not know; but at thistime occurred the events that I shall detail in the next chapter.