The Girl of the Golden West

by David Belasco

  IV.

  In the space of six months one can do little or much harm. The youngbandit,--for he had kept his oath to his father,--flattered himselfthat he had done much. In all the mining camps of the Sierras the meremention of the name of Ramerrez brought forth execrations. Not a stagestarted out with its precious golden freight without its passengershaving misgivings that they would be held up before reaching Sacramento.Messengers armed with shotguns were always to be found at their postbeside the drivers; yet, despite all precautions, not a week passedwithout a report that the stage out of this or that camp, had beenattacked and the passengers forced to surrender their money andvaluables. Under no circumstances, however, were any of Ramerrez's owncountrymen molested. If, by any chance, the road agent made a mistakeand stopped a party of native Californians or Mexicans, they were atonce permitted to proceed on their way with the bandit-leader's profuseapologies.

  But it was altogether different with Americans. The men of that racewere compelled to surrender their gold; although so far as he wasconcerned, their women were exempt from robbery. As a matter of fact, hehad few chances to show his chivalry, since few women were living, atthat time, in the Sierras. Nevertheless, it happened in rare instancesthat a stage was held up which contained one or two of them, and theywere never known to complain of his treatment. And so far, at least, hehad contrived to avoid any serious bloodshed. Two or three messengers,it is true, had been slightly wounded; but that was the most that hisworst enemies could charge against him.

  As for Ramerrez's own attitude towards the life he was leading, it mustbe confessed that, the plunge once taken, his days and nights were toofull of excitement and adventure to leave him time to brood. Somewhatto his own surprise, he had inherited his father's power of irondomination. Young as he was, not one of his father's seasoned band ofcut-throats ever questioned his right or his ability to command. Atfirst, no doubt, they followed him through a rude spirit of loyalty;but after a short time it was because they had found in him all thequalities of a leader of men, one whose plans never miscarried. Fullytwo-thirds of the present band were vassals, as it were, in his family,while all were of Spanish or Mexican descent. In truth, Ramerrez himselfwas the only one among them who had any gringo blood in his veins.And hence not a tale of the outlaw's doings was complete without thenarrator insisting upon it that the leader of the band--the road agenthimself--closely resembled an American. One and all of his victimsagreed that he spoke with an American accent, while the few who had beenable to see his features on a certain occasion when the red bandanna,which he wore about his face, had fallen, never failed to maintain thathe looked like an American.

  As a matter of fact, Ramerrez not only bore the imprint of his mother'srace in features and in speech, but the more he made war upon them, themore he realised that it was without any real feeling of hostility. Inspite of his early training and in spite of his oath, he could not sharehis father's bitterness. True, the gringos had wrecked the fortunes ofhis house; it was due to them that his sole inheritance was an outlaw'sname and an outlaw's leadership. And yet, despite it all, there wasanother fact that he could not forget,--the fact that he himself was onehalf gringo, one half the same race as that of the unforgotten Girl whomhe had met on the road to Sacramento. Indeed, it had been impossibleto forget her, for she had stirred some depth in him, the existence ofwhich he had never before suspected. He was haunted by the thought ofher attractive face, her blue eyes and merry, contagious laugh. For thehundredth time he recalled his feelings on that glorious day when he hadintercepted her on the great highway. And with this memory would come asudden shame of himself and occupation,--a realisation of the barrierwhich he had deliberately put between the present and the past. Up tothe hour when he had parted from her, and had remained spellbound,seated on his horse at the fork of the roads, watching the vanishingcoach up to the last minute, he was still a Spanish gentleman, stillworthy in himself,--whatever his father had done,--to offer his love andhis devotion to a pure and honest girl. But now he was an outlaw, a roadagent going from one robbery to another, likely at any time to stain hishand with the life-blood of a fellow man. And this pretence that he wasstealing in a righteous cause, that he was avenging the wrongs that hadbeen done to his countrymen,--why, it was the rankest hypocrisy! He knewin his heart that vengeance and race hatred had nothing whatever to dowith it. It was because he loved it like a game, a game of unforeseen,unguessed danger. The fever of it was in his blood, like strong drink,--and with every day's adventure, the thirst for it grew stronger.

  Yet, however personally daring, Ramerrez was the last person in theworld to trust to chance for his operations, more than was absolutelynecessary. He handled his men with shrewd judgment and strictdiscipline. Furthermore, never was an attack made that was not theoutcome of a carefully matured plan. A prime factor in Ramerrez' successhad from the first been the information which he was able to obtain fromthe Mexicans, not connected with his band, concerning the places thatthe miners used as temporary depositories for their gold; and it wasinformation of this sort that led Ramerrez and his men to choose acertain Mexican settlement in the mountains as a base of operations:namely, the tempting fact that a large amount of gold was stored nightlyin the Polka Saloon, at the neighbouring camp on Cloudy Mountain.

  And there was still another reason.

  Despite the fact that his heart had been genuinely touched by the manyand unusual attractions of the Girl, it is not intended to convey theidea that he was austere or incapable of passion for anyone else. Forthat was not so. Although, to give the bandit his due, he had remainedquite exemplary, when one considers his natural charm as well as thefascination which his adventurous life had for his country-women.Unfortunately, however, in one of his weak moments, he had foolishlypermitted himself to become entangled with a Mexican woman--NinaMicheltorena, by name--whose jealous nature now threatened to prove aserious handicap to him. It was a particularly awkward situation inwhich he found himself placed, inasmuch as this woman had furnished himwith much valuable information. In fact, it was she who had called hisattention to the probable spoils to be had in the American camp nearby. It can readily be imagined, therefore, that it was not without apremonition of trouble to come that he sought the Mexican settlementwith the intention of paying her a hundred-fold for her valuableassistance in the past and then be through with her for good and all.

  The Mexican or greaser settlements had little in them that resembledtheir American neighbours. In the latter there were few women, for thelong distance that the American pioneers had to travel before reachingthe gold-fields of California, the hardships that they knew had to beencountered, deterred them from bringing their wives and daughters. Butwith the Mexicans it was wholly different. The number of women in theircamps almost equalled that of the men, and the former could alwaysbe seen, whenever the weather permitted, strolling about or sittingin the doorways chatting with their neighbours, while children wereeverywhere. In fact, everything about the Mexican settlements conveyedthe impression that they had come to stay--a decided contrast to thetransient appearance of the camps of the Americans.

  It was one evening late in the fall that Ramerrez and his bandhalted just outside of this particular Mexican settlement. And afterinstructing his men where they should meet him the following day, hesent them off to enjoy themselves for the night with their friends. For,Ramerrez, although exercising restraint over his band, never failed tosee to it that they had their pleasures as well as their duties--a traitin his character that had not a little to do with his great influenceover his men. And so it happened that he made his way alone up the mainstreet to the hall where a dance was going on.

  The scene that met his eyes on entering the long, low room was a gayone. It was a motley crowd gathered there in which the Mexicans,not unnaturally, predominated. Here and there, however, were nativeCalifornians, Frenchmen, Germans and a few Americans, the latterconspicuous by the absence of colour in their dress; for with theexception of an occasional coatless man
in a red or blue shirt, theywore faded, old, black coats,--frequently frock-coats, at that,--whichcertainly contrasted unfavourably, at least so far as heightening thegaiety of the scene was concerned, with the green velvet jackets,brilliant waistcoats with gold filigree and silver buttons and redsashes of the Mexicans. That there was not a man present but what wastogged out in his best and was armed, it goes without saying, evenif the weapons of the Mexicans were in the form of murderous knivesconcealed somewhere about their persons instead of belts with guns andknives openly displayed, as was the case with the Americans.

  At the time of the outlaw's entrance into the dance-hall the fandangowas over. But presently the fiddles, accompanied by guitars, struck up awaltz, and almost instantly some twenty or more men and women took thefloor; those not engaged in dancing surrounding the dancers, clappingtheir hands and shouting their applause. In order to see if the woman hesought was present, it was necessary for Ramerrez to push to the veryfront of the crowd of lookers-on, where he was not long in observingthat nearly all the women present were of striking appearance and dancedwell; likewise, he noted, that none compared either in looks or gracewith Nina Micheltorena who, he had to acknowledge, even if his feelingsfor her were dead, was a superb specimen of a woman.

  Good blood ran in the veins of Nina Micheltorena. It is not in theprovince of this story to tell how it was that a favourite in the bestcircles of Monterey came to be living in a Mexican camp in the Sierras.Suffice it to say that her fall from grace had been rapid, though herdissolute career had in no way diminished her beauty. Indeed, herfeatures were well-nigh perfect, her skin transparently clear, if dark,and her form was suppleness itself as she danced. And that she was theundisputed belle of the evening was made apparent by the number of menwho watched her with eyes that marvelled at her grace when dancing, andsurrounded her whenever she stopped, each pleading with her to accepthim as a partner.

  Almost every colour of the rainbow had a place in her costume forthe occasion: The bodice was of light blue silk; the skirt orange;encircling her small waist was a green sash; while her jet-black hairwas fastened with a crimson ribbon. Diamonds flashed from the earringsin her ears as well as from the rings on her fingers. All in all, it wasscarcely to be wondered at that her charms stirred to the very depthsthe fierce passion of the desperate characters about her.

  That Ramerrez dreaded the interview which he had determined to have withhis confederate can easily be understood by anyone who has ever tried tosever his relations with an enamoured woman. In fact the outlaw dreadedit so much that he decided to postpone it as long as he could. And so,after sauntering aimlessly about the room, and coming, unexpectedly,across a woman of his acquaintance, he began to converse with her,supposing, all the time, that Nina Micheltorena was too occupied withthe worshippers at her shrine to perceive that he was in the dance-hall.But it was decidedly a case of the wish being father to the thought: Nota movement had he made since he entered that she was not cognisant of itand, although she hated to acknowledge it to herself, deep down in herheart she was conscious that he was not as thoroughly under the sway ofher dark eyes as she would have wished. Something had happened in thelast few weeks that had brought about a change in him, but just what itwas she was unable to determine. There were moments when she saw plainlythat he was much more occupied with his daring plans than he was withthoughts of her. So far, it was true, there had been no evidences on hispart of any hesitation in confiding his schemes to her. Of that she waspositive. But, on the other hand, she had undoubtedly lost some of herinfluence over him. It did not lessen her nervousness to realise that hehad been in the hall for some time without making any effort to see her.Besides, the appointment had been of his own making, inasmuch as he hadsent word by one of his band that she should meet him to-night in thisplace. Furthermore, she knew that he had in mind one of the boldestprojects he had yet attempted and needed, to insure success, every scrapof knowledge that she possessed. In the meantime, while she waited forhim to seek her out, she resolved to show him the extent of her powerto fascinate others; and from that moment never had she seemed moreattractive and alluring to her admirers, in all of whom she appeared toexcite the fiercest of passions. In fact, one word whispered in an earby those voluptuous lips and marvellously sweet, musical voice, and therecipient would have done her bidding, even had she demanded a man'slife as the price of her favour.

  It is necessary, however, to single out one man as proving an exceptionto this sweeping assertion, although this particular person seemed noless devoted than the other men present. He was plainly an American andapparently a stranger to his countrymen as well as to the Mexicans. Hishair was white and closely cropped, the eyebrows heavy and very black,the lips nervous and thin but denoting great determination, and theface was tanned to the colour of old leather, sufficiently so as to benoticeable even in a country where all faces were tanned, swarthy, anddark. One would have thought that this big, heavy, but extremely-activeman whose clothes, notwithstanding the wear and tear of the road, wereplainly cut on "'Frisco patterns," was precisely the person calculatedto make an impression upon a woman like Nina Micheltorena; and, yet,oddly enough, he was the only man in the room whose attentions seemeddistasteful to her. It could not be accounted for on the ground ofhis nationality, for she danced gladly with others of his race. Nordid it look like caprice on her part. On the contrary, there was anexpression on her face that resembled something like fear when sherefused to be cajoled into dancing with him. At length, finding heradamant, the man left the room.

  But as time went by and still Ramerrez kept aloof, Nina Micheltorena'sexcitement began to increase immeasureably. To such a woman the outlaw'sneglect could mean but one thing--another woman. And, finally, unableto control herself any longer, she made her way to where the woman withwhom Ramerrez had been conversing was standing alone.

  "What has the Senor been saying to you?" she demanded, jealousy andungovernable passion blazing forth from her eyes.

  "Nothing of interest to you," replied the other with a shrug of hershoulders.

  "It's a lie!" burst from Nina's lips. "I heard him making love to you! Iwas standing near and heard every tone, every inflection of his voice! Isaw how he looked at you!" And so crazed was she by jealousy that herface became distorted and almost ugly, if such a thing were possible,and her great eyes filled with hatred.

  The other woman laughed scornfully.

  "Make your man stay away from me then--if you can," she retorted.

  At that the infuriated Nina drew a knife and cried:

  "Swear to me that you'll not see him to-night, or--"

  The sentence was never finished. Quick as lightning Ramerrez stepped inand caught Nina's up-raised arm. For one instant her eyes flashed fireat him; another, and submissive to his will, she slipped the knifesomewhere in the folds of her dress and the attention that she hadsucceeded in attracting was diverted elsewhere. Those who had rushed upexpecting a tragedy returned, once more, to their dancing.

  "I have been looking for you, Nina," he said, taking her to one side. "Iwant to speak with you."

  Nina laughed airily, but only another woman would have been able todetect the danger lurking in that laugh.

  "Have you just come in?" she inquired casually. "It is generally notdifficult to find me when there is dancing." And then with a significantsmile: "But perhaps there were so many men about me that I wascompletely hidden from the view of the Senor."

  Ramerrez bowed politely his belief in the truth of her words; then hesaid somewhat seriously:

  "I see a vacant table over in the corner where we can talk withoutdanger of being overheard. Come!" He led the way, the woman followinghim, to a rough table of pine at the farther end of the room where,immediately, a bottle and two glasses were placed before them. When theyhad pledged each other, Ramerrez went on to say, in a low voice, that hehad made the appointment in order to deliver to her her share for theinformation that led to his successful holdup of the stage at a placeknown as "The Forks," a fe
w miles back; and taking from his pocket asack of gold he placed it on the table before her.

  There was a silence in which Nina made no movement to pick up the gold;whereupon, Ramerrez repeated a little harshly:

  "Your share."

  Slowly the woman rose, picking up the sack as she did so, and with arequest that he await her, she made her way over to the bar where shehanded it to the Mexican in charge with a few words of instruction. Inanother moment she was again seated at the table with him.

  "Why did you send for me to meet you here?" she now asked. "Why did younot come to my room--surely you knew that there was danger here?"

  Carelessly, Ramerrez let his eyes wander about the room; no one waspaying the slightest attention to them and, apparently, there beingnothing to fear, he answered:

  "From whom?"

  For a brief space of time the woman looked at him as if she would ferretout his innermost thoughts; at length, she said with a shrug of theshoulders:

  "Few here are to be thoroughly trusted. The woman you were with--sheknows you?"

  "I never met her but once before," was his laconic rejoinder.

  Nina eyed him suspiciously; at last she was satisfied that he spoke thetruth, but there was still that cold, abstracted manner of his to beexplained. However, cleverly taking her cue from him she inquired inbusiness-like tones:

  "And how about The Polka Saloon--the raid on Cloudy Mountain Camp?"

  A shade of annoyance crossed Ramerrez' face.

  "I have decided to give that up--at least for a time."

  Again Nina regarded him curiously; when she spoke there was a suspiciousgleam in her eyes, though she said lightly:

  "Perhaps you're right--it will not be an easy job."

  "Far from it," quickly agreed the man. "But the real reason is, that Ihave planned to go below for a while."

  The woman's eyes narrowed.

  "You are going away then?"

  "Yes."

  "And what about me? Do I go with you?"

  Ramerrez laughed uneasily.

  "It is impossible. The fact is, it is best that this should be our lastmeeting." And seeing the change that came over her face he went on inmore conciliatory tones: "Now, Nina, be reasonable. It is time that weunderstood each other. This interview must be final."

  "And you came here to tell me this?" blazed the woman, scowling darklyupon him. And for the moment she looked all that she was reputed tobe--a dangerous woman!

  Receiving no answer, she spoke again.

  "But you said that you would love me always?"

  The man flushed.

  "Did I say that once? What a memory you have!"

  "And you never meant it?"

  "I suppose so--at the time."

  "Then you don't love me any more?"

  Ramerrez made no answer.

  For some moments Nina sat perfectly still. Her mind was busy tryingto determine upon the best course to pursue. At length she decided tomake one more attempt to see whether he was really in earnest. And ifnot . . .

  "But to-night," she hazarded, leaning far over the table and putting herface close to his, her eyes the while flooded with voluptuousness, "youwill come with me to my room?"

  Ramerrez shook his head.

  "No, Nina, all that is over."

  The woman bit her lips with vexation.

  "Are you made of stone? What is the matter with you to-night? Is thereanything wrong with my beauty? Have you seen anyone handsomer than Iam?"

  "No . . ."

  "Then why not come? You don't hate?"

  "I don't hate you in the least, but I won't go to your room."

  "So!"

  There was a world of meaning in that one word. For a while she seemedto be reflecting; suddenly with great earnestness she said:

  "Once for all, Ramerrez, listen to me. Rather than give you up to anyother woman I will give you up to death. Now do you still refuse me?"

  "Yes . . ." answered Ramerrez not unkindly and wholly unmoved by herthreat. "We've been good pals, Nina, but it's best for both that weshould part."

  In the silence that ensued the woman did some hard thinking. That a mancould ever tire of her without some other woman coming into his lifenever once entered into her mind. Something told her, nevertheless, thatthe woman with whom he had been conversing was not the woman that shesought; and at a loss to discover the person to whom he had transferredhis affections, her mind reverted to his avowed purpose of withdrawingfrom the proposed Cloudy Mountain expedition. The more Nina reflectedon that subject the more convinced she became that, for some reason orother, Ramerrez had been deceiving her. It was made all the more clearto her when she recalled that when Ramerrez' messenger had brought hismaster's message that she was to meet him, she had asked where theband's next rendezvous was to be, and that he, knowing full well thathis countrywoman had ever been cognizant of his master's plans, hadfreely given the desired information. Like a flash it came to her nowthat no such meeting-place would have been selected for any undertakingother than a descent upon Cloudy Mountain Camp. Nor was her intuition orreasoning at fault: Ramerrez had not given up his intention of gettingthe miners' gold that he knew from her to be packed away somewhere inThe Polka Saloon; but what she did not suspect, despite his peculiarbehaviour, was that he had taken advantage of the proximity of the twocamps to sever his relation, business and otherwise, with her. And yet,did he but know it, she was destined to play no small part in his lifefor the next few weeks!

  Nina Micheltorena had now decided upon her future course of action: Shewould let him think that his desire to break off all relations with herwould not be opposed. Ever a keen judge of men and their ways, she waswell aware that any effort to reclaim him to-night would meet withdisaster. And so when Ramerrez, surprised at her long silence, lookedup, he was met with a smiling face and the words:

  "So be it, Ramerrez. But if anything happens, remember you have onlyyourself to blame."

  Ramerrez was astounded at her cool dismissal of the subject. To judge bythe expression on his face he had indeed obtained his release far easierthan he had deemed it possible. As a matter of fact, her indifferenceso piqued him that before he was conscious of his words he had askedsomewhat lamely:

  "You wish me well? We part as friends?"

  Nina regarded him with well-simulated surprise, and replied:

  "Why, of course--the best of friends. Good luck, _amigo_!" And with thatshe rose and left him.

  And so it was that later that evening after assuring herself thatneither Ramerrez nor any of his band remained in the dance-hall, Nina,her face set and pale, exchanged a few whispered words with that samebig man towards whom, earlier in the evening, she had shown suchanimosity.

  The effect of these words was magical; the man could not suppress agrunt of intense satisfaction.

  "She says I'm to meet her to-morrow night at the Palmetto Restaurant,"said Ashby to himself after the woman had lost herself in a crowd ofher own countrymen. "She will tell where I can put my hands on thisRamerrez. Bah! It's too good to be true. Nevertheless, I'll be on hand,my lady, for if anyone knows of this fellow's movements I'll wager youdo."

  At that moment Ashby, the Wells Fargo Agent, was nearer than ever beforeto the most brilliant capture of all his career.

  Late the following afternoon, some five miles from the Mexicansettlement, on a small tableland high above a black ravine which wasthickly timbered with the giant trees of the Sierras, Ramerrez' band wasawaiting the coming of the _Maestro_. It was not to be a long wait andthey stood around smoking and talking in low tones. Suddenly, the soundof horses climbing was heard, and soon a horseman came in sight whoseappearance had the effect of throwing them instantly into a state ofexcitement, one and all drawing their guns and making a dash for theirhorses, which were tied to trees. A moment later, however, anotherhorseman appeared, and laughing boisterously at themselves they slidtheir guns back into their belts and retied their horses, for the manwhom they recognised so quickly, the individual who saved
the situation,as it were, was none other than Jose Castro, an ex-_padrona_ of thebull-fights and the second in command to Ramerrez. He was a wiry,hard-faced and shifty-eyed Mexican, but was as thoroughly devoted toRamerrez as he had been to the young leader's father. On the other hand,the man who had caused them to fear that a stranger had surprised them,and that they had been trapped, was Ramerrez or Johnson--the name thathe had assumed for the dangerous work he was about to engage in--andthey had failed to know him, dressed as he was in the very latestfashion prevailing among the Americans in Sacramento in '49. Nor was itto be wondered at, for on his head was a soft, brown hat--large, but notnearly the proportions of a sombrero; a plain, rough tweed coat and awaistcoat of a darker tan, which showed a blue flannel shirt beneath it;and his legs were encased in boots topped by dark brown leggings. In aword, his get-up resembled closely the type of American referred todisdainfully by the miners of that time as a Sacramento guy; whereas,the night before he had taken great pains to attire himself as gaudilyas any of the Mexicans at the dance, and he had worn a short blackjacket of a velvety material that was not unlike corduroy and coveredwith braid; his breeches were of the same stuff; above his boots wereleather gaiters; and around his waist was a red sash.

  It was now close to four o'clock in the afternoon and the band begantheir preparations for the raid. To the rear of the small, open spacewhere they had been waiting was a fairly good-sized cave, in the openingof which they deposited various articles unnecessary for the expedition.It took only a short time to do this, and within half an hour from thetime that their leader had so startled them by his strange appearance,the outlaws were ready to take the trail for Cloudy Mountain. Onecomprehensive glance the pseudo-American--and he certainly looked thepart--shot at his picturesque, if rough-looking followers, not a few ofwhom showed red bandannas under their sombreros or around their necks--and then with a satisfied expression on his face--for he had a leader'spride in his men--he gave the signal and led the way along and down thesteep trail from the tableland. And as from time to time he glanced backover his shoulders to where the men were coming along in single file, hecould see that in every eye was a glint of exultation at the prospect ofbooty.

  After they had gone about three miles they crossed the black ravine, andfrom there they began to ascend. Up and up they went, the path very hardon the horses, until finally they came to the top of a pass where ithad been arranged that the band should await further instructions, nonegoing on further save the two leaders. Here, saddle-girths and gunswere inspected, the last orders given, and with a wave of the hand inresponse to the muttered wishes of good luck, Johnson,--for as suchhe will be known from this time on,--followed by Castro, made his waythrough the forest towards Cloudy Mountain.

  For an hour or so Johnson rode along in that direction, checking thespeed of his horse every time the sun came into view and showed thatthere was yet some time before sunset. Presently, he made a sign toCastro to take the lead, for he had never been in this locality before,and was relying on his subordinate to find a spot from which he couldreconnoitre the scene of the proposed raid without the slightest dangerof meeting any of the miners.

  At a very sharp turn of the road to the left Castro struck off throughthe forest to the right and, within a few minutes, reached a place wherethe trees had thinned out and were replaced by the few scrubs that grewin a spot almost barren. A minute or so more and the two men, theirhorses tied, were able to get an uninterrupted view of Cloudy Mountain.

  The scene before them was one of grandeur. Day was giving place tonight, fall to winter, and yet at this hour all the winds were stilled.In the distance gleamed the snow-capped Sierras, range after range asfar as the eye could see to the northwest; in the opposite directionthere stood out against the steel-blue of the sky a succession of woodedpeaks ever rising higher and higher until culminating in the farawaywhite mountains of the south; and below, they looked upon a ravine thatwas brownish-green until the rays of the departing orb touched theleaves with opal tints.

  Now the fast-falling sun flung its banner of gorgeous colours across thewestern sky. Immediately a wonderful light played upon the fleecy cumuligathered in the upper heavens of the east and changed them from pearl tobrilliant scarlet. For a moment, also, the purple hills became wonderfulpiles of dull gold and copper; a moment more and the magic hand of theKing of Day was withdrawn.

  In front of them now, dark, gloomy and threatening rose Cloudy Mountain,from which the Mining Camp took its name; and on a plateau near itsbase the camp itself could plainly be seen. It consisted of a groupof miners' cabins set among pines, firs and manzaneta bushes with twolarger pine-slab buildings, and scattered around in various places wereshafts, whose crude timber-hoists appeared merely as vague outlines inthe fast-fading light. The distance to the camp from where they stoodwas not over three miles as the crow flies, but it appeared much less inthe rarefied atmosphere.

  As the two bandits stood on the edge of the precipice looking across andbeyond the intervening gulch or ravine, here and there a light twinkledout from the cabins and, presently, a much stronger illumination shotforth from one of the larger and more pretentious buildings. Castro wasquick to call his master's attention to it.

  "There--that place with the light is The Palmetto Hotel!" he exclaimed."And over there--the one with the larger light is The Polka Saloon!" Foreven as he spoke the powerful kerosene lamp of The Polka Saloon, flankedby a composition metal reflector, flashed out its light into the gloomenveloping the desolate, ominous-looking mountains.

  Johnson regarded this building long and thoughtfully. Then his eyes madeout a steep trail which zigzagged from The Polka Saloon up the barrenslopes of the mountain until it reached a cabin perched on the very top,the steps and porch of which were held up by poles made of trees. There,also, a light could be seen, but dimly. It was a strange place foranyone to erect a dwelling-place, and he found himself wondering whatmanner of person dwelt there. Of one thing he was certain: whoever itwas the mountains were loved for themselves, for no mere digger of goldwould think of erecting a habitation in view of those strange, vast, andsilent heights!

  And as he meditated thus, he perceived that the far off Sierras wereforming a background for a sinuous coil of smoke from the cabin. Forsome time he watched it curling up into the great arch of sky. It was asif he were hypnotised by it and, in a vague, shadowy way, he had a senseof being connected, somehow, with the little cabin and its recluse. Wasthis feeling that he had a premonition of danger? Was this a moment offoreboding and distrust of the situation yet to be revealed? For likemost venturesome men he always had a moment before every one of hisundertakings in which his instinct either urged him forward or held himback.

  Suddenly he became conscious that his eyes no longer saw the smoke. Hestared hard to glimpse it, but it was gone. And with a supreme effort hewrenched himself free from a sort of paralysis which was stealing awayhis senses.

  Now the light in the cabin disappeared, and since the shades of night,for which he had been waiting, had fallen, he called to the impatientand wondering Castro, and together they went back to the trail.

  But even as they crossed the gulch and reached the outskirts of the campa great white moon rose from behind the Sierras. To Castro, hidden nowin the pines, it meant nothing so long as it did not interfere with hispurpose. As a matter of fact he was already listening intently to thebursts of song and shouts of revelry that came every now and then fromthe nearby saloon. But his master, unaccountably under the spell of themoon's mystery and romance, watched it until it shed its silvery andmagic light upon the lone cabin on the top of Cloudy Mountain, whichFate had chosen for the decisive scene of his dramatic life.