Gold

by Stewart Edward White

  CHAPTER XXXVII

  THE LAST STRAW

  This is a chapter I hate to write; and therefore I shall get it overwith as soon as possible.

  Yank had progressed from his bunk to the bench outside, and from that toa slow hobbling about near the Morena cabin. Two of the three monthsdemanded by Dr. Rankin had passed. Yank's leg had been taken from thesplint, and, by invoking the aid of stout canes, he succeeded inshifting around. But the trail to town was as yet too rough for him.Therefore a number of us were in the habit of spending our earlyevenings with him. We sat around the door, and smoked innumerable pipes,and talked sixty to the minute. Morena had a guitar to the accompanimentof which he sang a number of plaintive and sweet-toned songs. Three orfour of his countrymen occasionally came up from below. Then they, too,sang more plaintive songs; or played a strange game with especial cardswhich none of us "gringos" could ever fathom; or perhaps stepped agrave, formal sort of dance. Senora Morena, the only woman, wouldsometimes join in this. She was a large woman, but extraordinarily lighton her feet. In fact, as she swayed and balanced opposite her partnershe reminded me of nothing so much as a balloon tugging gently at itsstring.

  "But it ees good, the dance, eh, senores?" she always ended, her broad,kind face shining with pleasure.

  We Americans reciprocated with a hoe-down or so, to jigging strainsblasphemously evoked by one of our number from that gentle guitar; andperhaps a song or two. _Oh, Susannah!_ was revived; and other oldfavourites; and we had also the innumerable verses of a brand-newfavourite, local to the country. It had to do with the exploits anddeath of one Lame Jesse. I can recall only two of the many verses:

  "Lame Jesse was a hard old case; He never would repent. He ne'er was known to miss a meal-- He never paid a cent!

  "Lame Jesse, too, like all the rest, He did to Death resign; And in his bloom went up the flume In the days of Forty-nine."

  When the evening chill descended, which now was quite early, wescattered to our various occupations, leaving Yank to his rest.

  One Sunday in the middle of October two men trudged into town leadingeach a pack-horse.

  I was at the time talking to Barnes at his hotel, and saw them from adistance hitching their animals outside Morton's. They stayed there forsome time, then came out, unhitched their horses, led them as far as theEmpire, hesitated, finally again tied the beasts, and disappeared. Inthis manner they gradually worked along to the Bella Union, where atlast I recognized them as McNally and Buck Barry, our comrades of thePorcupine. Of course I at once rushed over to see them.

  I found them surrounded by a crowd to whom they were offering drinksfree-handed. Both were already pretty drunk, but they knew me as soon asI entered the door, and surged toward me hands out.

  "Well! well! well!" cried McNally delightedly. "And here's himself! Andwho'd have thought of seeing you here! I made sure you were in thevalley and out of the country long since. And you're just in time! Makea name for it? Better call it whiskey straight. Drink to us, my boy!Come, join my friends! We're all friends here! Come on, and here's toluck, the best luck ever! We've got two horse-loads of gold outthere--nothing but gold--and it all came from our old diggings. Youought to have stayed. We had no trouble. Bagsby was an old fool!" Allthe time he was dragging me along by the arm toward the crowd at thebar. Barry maintained an air of owlish gravity.

  "Where's Missouri Jones?" I inquired; but I might as well have asked thestone mountains. McNally chattered on, excited, his blue eyes dancing,bragging over and over about his two horse-loads of gold.

  The crowd took his whiskey, laughed with him, and tried shrewdly to pumphim as to the location of his diggings. McNally gave them nosatisfaction there; but even when most hilarious retained enough senseto put them off the track.

  As will be imagined, I was most uneasy about the whole proceeding, andtried quietly to draw the two men off.

  "No, sir!" cried McNally, "not any! Jes' struck town, and am goin' tohave a _time_!" in which determination he was cheered by all thebystanders. I did not know where to turn; Johnny was away on one of histrips, and Danny Randall was not to be found. Finally inspiration servedme.

  "Come down first and see Yank," I urged. "Poor old Yank is crippled andcan't move."

  That melted them at once. They untied their long-suffering animals, andwe staggered off down the trail.

  On the way down I tried, but in vain, to arouse them to a sense ofdanger.

  "You've let everybody in town know you have a lot of dust," I pointedout.

  McNally merely laughed recklessly.

  "Good boys!" he cried; "wouldn't harm a fly!" and I could veer him to noother point of view. Barry agreed to everything, very solemn and veryowlish.

  We descended on Yank like a storm. I will say that McNally at any timewas irresistible and irrepressible, but especially so in his cups. Welaughed ourselves sick that afternoon. The Morenas were enchanted. Underinstructions, and amply supplied with dust, Morena went to town andreturned with various bottles. Senora Morena cooked a fine supper. Inthe meantime, I, as apparently the only responsible member of the party,unsaddled the animals, and brought their burdens into the cabin.Although McNally's statement as to the loads consisting exclusively ofgold was somewhat of an exaggeration, nevertheless the _cantinas_were very heavy. Not knowing what else to do with them, I thrust themunder Yank's bunk.

  The evening was lively, I will confess it, and under the influence of itmy caution became hazy. Finally, when I at last made my way back to myown camp, I found myself vastly surprised to discover Yank hobblingalong by my side. I don't know why he came with me, and I do not thinkhe knew either. Probably force of habit. At any rate, we left the otherfour to sleep where they would. I remember we had some difficulty infinding places to lie.

  The sun was high when we awoke. We were not feeling very fresh, to saythe least; and we took some little time to get straightened around. Thenwe went down to the Morena cabin.

  I am not going to dwell on what we found there. All four of its inmateshad been killed with buckshot, and the place ransacked from end to end.Apparently the first volley had killed our former partners and SenoraMorena as they lay. Morena had staggered to his feet and halfway acrossthe room.

  The excitement caused by this frightful crime was intense. Every manquit work. A great crowd assembled. Morton as sheriff was very busy, andloud threats were uttered by his satellites as to the apprehension ofthe murderers. The temper of the crowd, however, was sullen. No mandared trust his neighbour, and yet every honest breast swelled withimpotent indignation at this wholesale and unprovoked massacre. No cluewas possible. Everybody remembered, of course, how broadcast andpublicly the fact of the gold had been scattered. Nobody dared utter hissuspicions, if he had any.

  The victims were buried by a large concourse, that eddied and hesitatedand muttered long after the graves had been filled in. Vaguely it wasfelt that the condition of affairs was intolerable; but no one knew howit was to be remedied. Nothing definite could be proved against any one,and yet I believe that every honest man knew to a moral certainty atleast the captains and instigators of the various outrages. A leadercould have raised an avenging mob--provided he could have survived thenecessary ten minutes!

  We scattered at last to our various occupations. I was too much upset towork, so I returned to where Yank was smoking over the fire. He had, asnear as I can remember, said not one word since the discovery of thetragedy. On my approach he took his pipe from his mouth.

  "Nothing done?" he inquired.

  "Nothing," I replied. "What is there to be done?"

  "Don't know," said he, replacing his pipe; then around the stem of it,"I was fond of those people."

  "So was I," I agreed sincerely. "Have you thought what a lucky escapeyou yourself had?"

  Yank nodded. We sat for a long time in silence. My thoughts turnedslowly and sullenly in a heavy, impotent anger. A small bird chirpedplaintively from the thicket near at hand. Except for the tinkle of ourlittle s
tream and the muffled roar of the distant river, this was theonly sound to strike across the dead black silence of the autumn night.So persistently did the bird utter its single call that at last itaroused even my downcast attention, so that I remarked on it carelesslyto Yank. He came out of his brown study and raised his head.

  "It's no bird, it's a human," he said, after listening a moment. "That'sa signal. Go see what it is. Just wander out carelessly."

  In the depths of the thicket I found a human figure crouched. It glidedto me, and I made out dimly the squat form of Pete, Barnes's negroslave, from the hotel.

  "Lo'_dee_, massa," whispered he, "done thought you nevah_would_ come."

  "What is it, Pete?" I asked in the same guarded tones.

  "I done got somefin' to tell you. While I ketchin' a lil' bit of sleep'longside that white trash Mo'ton's place, I done heah dey all plannin'to git out warrant for to arres' Massa Fairfax and Massa Pine and MassaMa'sh for a-killin' dem men las' week; and I heah dem say dey gwine ferto gib dem trial, and if dey fight dey gwine done shoot 'em."

  "That _is_ serious news, Pete," said I. "Who were talking?" ButPete, who was already frightened half to death, grew suddenly cautious.

  "I don' jest rightly know, sah," he said sullenly. "I couldn't tell.Jes' Massa Mo'ton. He say he gwine sw'ar in good big posse."

  "I can believe that," said I thoughtfully. "Pete," I turned on himsuddenly, "don't you know they'd skin you alive if they found out you'dbeen here?"

  Pete was shaking violently, and at my words a strong shudder wentthrough his frame, and his teeth struck faintly together.

  "Why did you do it?"

  "Massa Fairfax is quality, sah," he replied with a certain dignity. "Ijest a pore nigger, but I knows quality when I sees it, and I don't aimto have no pore white truck kill none of my folks if I can help it."

  "Pete," said I, fully satisfied, "you are a good fellow. Now get alongback."

  He disappeared before the words were fairly out of my mouth.

  "Yank," I announced, returning to the fire, "I've got to go uptown. Thatwas Pete, Barnes's nigger, to say that they've got out a legal warrantfor the express messengers' arrest for that killing last week. Neatlittle scheme."

  I found Danny Randall in his accustomed place. At a hint he sent for Dr.Rankin. To the two I unfolded the plot. Both listened in silence until Ihad quite finished. Then Danny leaped to his feet and hit the table withhis closed fist.

  "The fools!" he cried. "I gave them credit for more sense. Hit at DannyRandall's men, will they? Well, they'll find that Danny Randall canprotect his own! Forgotten that little point, have they?"

  The cool, impassive, mild little man had changed utterly. His teethbared, the muscles of his cheeks tightened, two deep furrows appearedbetween his eyes, which sparkled and danced. From the most inoffensivelooking creature possible to imagine he had become suddenly menacing anddangerous.

  "What do you intend, Randall?" asked Dr. Rankin. He was leaning slightlyforward, and he spoke in a gentle voice, but his hand was clenched onthe table, and his figure was rigid.

  "Do?" repeated Randall fiercely; "why, run that gang out of town, ofcourse!"

  "I thought you said the time was not ripe?"

  "We'll ripen it!" said Danny Randall.