Bob Hampton of Placer

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER IX

  AT THE OCCIDENTAL

  Hampton slowly picked his way back through the darkness down the silentroad, his only guide those dim yellow lights flickering in thedistance. He walked soberly, his head bent slightly forward, absorbedin thought. Suddenly he paused, and swore savagely, his disgust at thesituation bursting all bounds; yet when he arrived opposite the beam oflight streaming invitingly forth from the windows of the first saloon,he was whistling softly, his head held erect, his cool eyes filled withreckless daring.

  It was Saturday night, and the mining town was already alive. The onelong, irregular street was jammed with constantly moving figures, thenumerous saloons ablaze, the pianos sounding noisily, the shuffling offeet in the crowded dance-halls incessant. Fakers were everywhereindustriously hawking their useless wares and entertaining theloitering crowds, while the roar of voices was continuous. Cowboysfrom the wide plains, miners from the hidden gulches, ragged, hopefulprospectors from the more distant mountains, teamsters, and half-nakedIndians, commingled in the restless throng, passing and repassing fromdoor to door, careless in dress, rough in manner, boisterous inlanguage. Here and there amid this heterogeneous population of toilersand adventurers, would appear those attired in the more conventionalgarb of the East,--capitalists hunting new investments, or chancetravellers seeking to discover a new thrill amid this strange life ofthe frontier. Everywhere, brazen and noisy, flitted women, bold ofeye, painted of cheek, gaudy of raiment, making mock of their sacredwomanhood. Riot reigned unchecked, while the quiet, sleepy town of theafternoon blossomed under the flickering lights into a saturnalia ofunlicensed pleasure, wherein the wages of sin were death.

  Hampton scarcely noted this marvellous change; to him it was nouncommon spectacle. He pushed his way through the noisy throng witheyes ever watchful for the faces. His every motion was that of a manwho had fully decided upon his course. Through the widely opened doorsof the Occidental streams of blue and red shirted men were constantlyflowing in and out; a band played strenuously on the wide balconyoverhead, while beside the entrance a loud-voiced "barker" proclaimedthe many attractions within. Hampton swung up the broad wooden stepsand entered the bar-room, which was crowded by jostling figures, theever-moving mass as yet good-natured, for the night was young. At thelower end of the long, sloppy bar he stopped for a moment to nod to thefellow behind.

  "Anything going on to-night worth while, Jim?" he questioned, quietly.

  "Rather stiff game, they tell me, just started in the back room," wasthe genial reply. "Two Eastern suckers, with Red Slavin sitting in."

  The gambler passed on, pushing rather unceremoniously through thethrong of perspiring humanity. He appeared out of place amid the roughelement jostling him, and more than one glanced at him curiously, a fewswearing as he elbowed them aside. Scarcely noticing this, he drew acigar from his pocket, and stuck it unlighted between his teeth. Thelarge front room upstairs was ablaze with lights, every game in fulloperation and surrounded by crowds of devotees. Tobacco smoke inclouds circled to the low ceiling, and many of the players were noisyand profane, while the various calls of faro, roulette, keno, andhigh-ball added to the confusion and to the din of shuffling feet andexcited exclamations. Hampton glanced about superciliously, shrugginghis shoulders in open contempt--all this was far too coarse, too small,to awaken his interest. He observed the various faces at the tables--ahabit one naturally forms who has desperate enemies in plenty--and thenwalked directly toward the rear of the room. A thick, dingy redcurtain hung there; he held back its heavy folds and stepped within thesmaller apartment beyond.

  Three men sat at the single table, cards in hand, and Hamptoninvoluntarily whistled softly behind his teeth at the first glimpse ofthe money openly displayed before them. This was apparently not so badfor a starter, and his waning interest revived. A red-bearded giant,sitting so as to face the doorway, glanced up quickly at his entrance,his coarse mouth instantly taking on the semblance of a smile.

  "Ah, Bob," he exclaimed, with an evident effort at cordiality; "beenwondering if you wouldn't show up before the night was over. You'rethe very fellow to make this a four-handed affair, provided you carrysufficient stuff."

  Hampton came easily forward into the full glow of the swinging oillamp, his manner coolly deliberate, his face expressionless. "I feelno desire to intrude," he explained, quietly, watching the upliftedfaces. "I believe I have never before met these gentlemen."

  Slavin laughed, his great white fingers drumming the table.

  "It is an acquaintance easily made," he said, "provided one can affordto trot in their class, for it is money that talks at this tableto-night. Mr. Hampton, permit me to present Judge Hawes, of Denver,and Mr. Edgar Willis, president of the T. P. & R. I have no idea whatthey are doing in this hell-hole of a town, but they are dead-gamesports, and I have been trying my best to amuse them while they'rehere."

  Hampton bowed, instantly recognizing the names.

  "Glad to assist," he murmured, sinking into a vacant chair. "Whatlimit?"

  "We have had no occasion to discuss that matter as yet," volunteeredHawes, sneeringly. "However, if you have scruples we might settle uponsomething within reason."

  Hampton ran the undealt pack carelessly through his fingers, his lipssmiling pleasantly. "Oh, never mind, if it chances to go above my pileI 'll drop out. Meanwhile, I hardly believe there is any cause for youto be modest on my account."

  The play opened quietly and with some restraint, the faces of the menremaining impassive, their watchful glances evidencing nothing eitherof success or failure. Hampton played with extreme caution for sometime, his eyes studying keenly the others about the table, seeking somedeeper understanding of the nature of his opponents, their strong andweak points, and whether or not there existed any prior arrangementbetween them. He was there for a purpose, a clearly defined purpose,and he felt no inclination to accept unnecessary chances with thefickle Goddess of Fortune. To one trained in the calm observation ofsmall things, and long accustomed to weigh his adversaries with care,it was not extremely difficult to class the two strangers, and Hamptonsmiled softly on observing the size of the rolls rather ostentatiouslyexhibited by them. He felt that his lines had fallen in pleasantplaces, and looked forward with serene confidence to the enjoyment of aroyal game, provided only he exercised sufficient patience and theother gentlemen possessed the requisite nerve. His satisfaction was innoways lessened by the sound of their voices, when incautiously raisedin anger over some unfortunate play. He immediately recognized them asthe identical individuals who had loudly and vainly protested over hisoccupancy of the best rooms at the hotel. He chuckled grimly.

  But what bothered him particularly was Slavin. The cool gray eyes,glancing with such apparent negligence across the cards in his hands,noted every slight movement of the red-bearded gambler, in expectationof detecting some sign of trickery, or some evidence that he had beenselected by this precious trio for the purpose of easy plucking.Knavery was Slavin's style, but apparently he was now playing astraight game, no doubt realizing clearly, behind his impassive mask ofa face, the utter futility of seeking to outwit one of Hampton'senviable reputation.

  It was, unquestionably, a fairly fought four-handed battle, and atlast, thoroughly convinced of this, Hampton settled quietly down,prepared to play out his game. The hours rolled on unnoted, the mentireless, their faces immovable, the cards dealt silently. The stakesgrew steadily larger, and curious visitors, hearing vague rumorswithout, ventured in, to stand behind the chairs of the absorbedplayers and look on. Now and then a startled exclamation evidenced thedepth of their interest and excitement, but at the table no one spokeabove a strained whisper, and no eye ventured to wander from the board.Several times drinks were served, but Hampton contented himself with agulp of water, always gripping an unlighted cigar between his teeth.He was playing now with apparent recklessness, never hesitating over acard, his eye as watchful as that of a hawk, his betting quick,confid
ent, audacious. The contagion of his spirit seemed to affect theothers, to force them into desperate wagers, and thrill the lookers-on.The perspiration was beading Slavin's forehead, and now and then anoath burst unrestrained from his hairy lips. Hawes and Willis satwhite-faced, bent forward anxiously over the table, their fingersshaking as they handled the fateful cards, but Hampton played withoutperceptible tremor, his utterances few and monosyllabic, his calm facebetraying not the faintest emotion.

  And he was steadily winning. Occasionally some other hand drew in thegrowing stock of gold and bank notes, but not often enough to offsetthose continued gains that began to heap up in such an alluring pileupon his portion of the table. The watchers began to observe this, andgathered more closely about his chair, fascinated by the luck withwhich the cards came floating into his hands, the cool judgment of hiscritical plays, the reckless abandon with which he forced success. Thelittle room was foul with tobacco smoke and electric with ill-repressedexcitement, yet he played on imperturbably, apparently hearing nothing,seeing nothing, his entire personality concentrated on his play.Suddenly he forced the fight to a finish. The opportunity came in ajack-pot which Hawes had opened. The betting began with a coolthousand. Then Hampton's turn came. Without drawing, his cards yetlying face downward before him on the board, his calm features asimmovable as the Sphinx, he quietly pushed his whole accumulated pileto the centre, named the sum, and leaned back in his chair, his eyescold, impassive. Hawes threw down his hand, wiping his streaming facewith his handkerchief; Willis counted his remaining roll, hesitated,looked again at the faces of his cards, flung aside two, drawing tofill, and called loudly for a show-down, his eyes protruding. Slavin,cursing fiercely under his red beard, having drawn one card, hisperplexed face instantly brightening as he glanced at it, went backinto his hip pocket for every cent he had, and added his profane demandfor a chance at the money.

  A fortune rested on the table, a fortune the ownership of which was tobe decided in a single moment, and by the movement of a hand. Thecrowd swayed eagerly forward, their heads craned over to see moreclearly, their breathing hushed. Willis was gasping, his whole bodyquivering; Slavin was watching Hampton's hands as a cat does a mouse,his thick lips parted, his fingers twitching nervously. The lattersmiled grimly, his motions deliberate, his eyes never wavering.Slowly, one by one, he turned up his cards, never even deigning toglance downward, his entire manner that of unstudied indifference.One--two--three. Willis uttered a snarl like a stricken wild beast,and sank back in his chair, his eyes closed, his cheeks ghastly. Four.Slavin brought down his great clenched fist with a crash on the table,a string of oaths bursting unrestrained from his lips. Five. Hampton,never stirring a muscle, sat there like a statue, watching. His righthand kept hidden beneath the table, with his left he quietly drew inthe stack of bills and coin, pushing the stuff heedlessly into the sidepocket of his coat, his gaze never once wandering from those strickenfaces fronting him. Then he softly pushed back his chair and stooderect. Willis never moved, but Slavin rose unsteadily to his feet,gripping the table fiercely with both hands.

  "Gentlemen," said Hampton, gravely, his clear voice sounding like thesudden peal of a bell, "I can only thank you for your courtesy in thismatter, and bid you all good-night. However, before I go it may be ofsome interest for me to say that I have played my last game."

  Somebody laughed sarcastically, a harsh, hateful laugh. The speakerwhirled, took one step forward; there was the flash of an extended arm,a dull crunch, and Red Slavin went crashing backward against the wall.As he gazed up, dazed and bewildered, from the floor, the lightsglimmered along a blue-steel barrel.

  "Not a move, you red brute," and Hampton spurned him contemptuouslywith his heel. "This is no variety show, and your laughter was in poortaste. However, if you feel particularly hilarious to-night I 'll giveyou another chance. I said this was my last game; I'll repeatit--_this was my last game_! Now, damn you! if you feel like it,laugh!"

  He swept the circle of excited faces, his eyes glowing like twodiamonds, his thin lips compressed into a single straight line.

  "Mr. Slavin appears to have lost his previous sense of humor," heremarked, calmly. "I will now make my statement for the thirdtime--_this was my last game_. Perhaps some of you gentlemen also maydiscover this to be amusing."

  "Mr. Slavin appears to have lost his previous sense ofhumor," he remarked, calmly.]

  The heavy, strained breathing of the motionless crowd was his onlyanswer, and a half smile of bitter contempt curled Hampton's lips, ashe swept over them a last defiant glance.

  "Not quite so humorous as it seemed to be at first, I reckon," hecommented, dryly. "Slavin," and he prodded the red giant once morewith his foot, "I'm going out; if you make any attempt to leave thisroom within the next five minutes I 'll kill you in your tracks, as Iwould a mad dog. You stacked cards twice to-night, but the last time Ibeat you fairly at your own game."

  He held aside the heavy curtains with his left hand and backed slowlyout facing them, the deadly revolver shining ominously in the other.Not a man moved: Slavin glowered at him from the floor, an impotentcurse upon his lips. Then the red drapery fell.

  While the shadows of the long night still hung over the valley, Naida,tossing restlessly upon her strange bed within the humble yellow houseat the fork of the trails, was aroused to wakefulness by the poundingof a horse's hoofs on the plank bridge spanning the creek. She drewaside the curtain and looked out, shading her eyes to see clearerthrough the poor glass. All she perceived was a somewhat deeper smudgewhen the rider swept rapidly past, horse and man a shapeless shadow.Three hours later she awoke again, this time to the full glare of day,and to the remembrance that she was now facing a new life. As she laythere thinking, her eyes troubled but tearless, far away on thesun-kissed uplands Hampton was spurring forward his horse, alreadybeginning to exhibit signs of weariness. Bent slightly over the saddlepommel, his eyes upon these snow-capped peaks still showing blurred anddistant, he rode steadily on, the only moving object amid all thatwide, desolate landscape.