Silver and Gold: A Story of Luck and Love in a Western Mining Camp

by Dane Coolidge

  CHAPTER XXI

  BROKE AGAIN

  The industry of four jumpers, digging in like gophers on the best ofBunker Hill's claims, was brought to an abrupt termination by theappearance of one man with a gun. He came on unconcernedly, Dave'ssix-shooter at his hip and the strength of a lion in his stride; and thefirst of the gun-men, after looking him over, jumped out of his hole andmade off. Denver tore down his notice and posted the old one, with acopy of his original affidavit that the annual work had been done; andwhen he toiled up to the remaining three claims the jumpers had fledbefore him. They knew him all too well, and the gun at his hip; and theycounted it no disgrace to give way before the man who had conquered DaveChatwourth with rocks. So Denver changed the notices and came backlaughing and Bunker Hill made over the claims.

  "Denver," he said clasping him warmly by the hand, "I swow, you're thebest danged friend I've got. For the last time, now, will you come todinner?"

  "Sure," grinned Denver, "but cut out that 'friend' talk. It makes mekind of nervous."

  "I'll do it!" promised Bunker, "I'll do anything you ask me. You savedmy bacon on them claims. That snooping Dutch Professor tipped themjumpers off that I'd promised my wife not to shoot, but I guess whenthey see you come rambling up the gulch they begin to feel like DaveyCrockett's coon.

  "'Don't shoot, Davey,' he says, 'I know you'll get me.' And he cameright down off the limb." Old Bunker laughed uproariously and slappedDenver on the back, after which he took him over to the house andannounced a guest for dinner.

  "Sit down, boy, sit down," he insisted hospitably as Denver spoke ofgoing home to dress, "you're company just the way you are. As LordChesterfield says: 'A clean shirt is half of full dress.' And a pair ofoveralls, I reckon, is the rest of it. Say, did you hear what Murraysaid when we took Dave over there, looking like something that the cathad brought in?

  "'My Gawd,' he says, 'what has happened to the _mine_?'

  "That was something like a deacon that I worked for one time when he wasfixing to paint his barn. He slung a ladder on an old, rotten rope andsent me up on it to work and about half an hour afterwards the rope gaveway and dropped me, ladder and all, to the ground. The deacon was at thehouse when he heard the crash and he came running with his coat-tailsstraight out.

  "'Goodness gracious!' he hollered, 'did you spill the paint?'

  "'No,' I says, 'but I will!' And I kicked all his paint-cans over.

  "Well, old Murray is like that deacon; you touch his pocket and youtouch his heart--he's always thinking about money. He'd been planningfor months to slip in and jump these claims and here you come along anddo the assessment work and knock him out of five of 'em. The boys sayhe's sure got blood in his eye and is cussing you out a blue streak.That's a nice gun you got off of Dave--how many notches has it got onthe butt? Only three, eh? Well, say, if he ever sends over to ask for itI've got another one that I'll loan you. You want to go heeled,understand? Murray's busy right now bossing those three shifts of minersthat are driving that adit tunnel, but when he gets the time he'll leavehis glass eye on a fence post and come over to see what we're doing.Didn't you ever hear about Murray's glass eye?

  "Well, they say he lost his good one looking for a dollar that hedropped; but here's the big joke about the fence-post. He got his startdown in the valley, raising alfalfa and feeding stock, and he alwayshired Indians whenever he could because they spent all their time-checksat the store. A Mexican or a white man might hold out a few dollars, orspend the whole wad for booze; but Indians are barred from getting drunkand they've only got one use for money. Yes, they believe it was made tospend, not to bury alongside of some fence-post. And speaking offence-posts brings me back to the point--Old Murray had a bunch of big,lazy Apaches working by the day cleaning out a ditch. He was down thereat daylight and watched 'em like a hawk, but every time he'd go intotown the whole bunch would sit down for a talk. Well, he _had_ togo to town so one day he called 'em up and made 'em a little talk.

  "'Boys,' he says, 'I've got to go to town but I'm going to watch you,all the same. Sure thing, now,' he says, 'you can laugh all you want to,but I'll see everything that you do.' Then he took out his glass eye andset it on a fence-post where it looked right down the ditch, and startedoff for town. You know these Apaches--superstitious as hell--they got inand worked like niggers. Kinder scared 'em, you see, ain't used to glasseyes; but there was one old boy that was foxy. He dropped down in theditch where the eye wouldn't see him and crept up behind that fence-postlike a snake, and then he picked up an empty tin can and slapped it downover the eye. There was a boy over at the ranch that saw the wholebusiness and he says them Indians never did a lick of work till they sawBible-Back's dust down the road. Pretty slick, eh, for an Indian? Andsome people will try to tell you that the untutored savage can't think.

  "Well, that's the kind of an hombre that we're up against--he'd skin aflea for his hide and taller. As old Spud Murphy used to say, he'd rob apoor tumble-bug of his ball of manure and put him on the wrong roadhome. He's mean, and it sure hurt his feelings to have you hop in andwin back your mine. And knocking Dave on the head took the pip out ofthese other jumpers--I'm looking for the whole bunch to fade."

  "Well, they might as well," said Denver, "because their claims are notworth fighting for and there's a Miners' Committee going to call on 'em.I'm going along myself in an advisory capacity, and my advice will be tobeat it. And if you'll take a tip from me you'll hire a couple of minersand put them to work on your claims."

  "I'll do it to-morrow," agreed Bunker enthusiastically. "I've got acouple of nibbles from some real mining men--not some of these little,one-candle power promoters but the kind that pay with certifiedchecks--and if I can open up those claims and just get a color of copperI'm fixed, boy, that's all there is to it. Come on now, let's go in todinner."

  The memory of that dinner, and of the music that followed it, remainedlong in Denver's mind; and later in the evening, when the lights werelow and her parents had gone to their rest, Drusilla sang the"Barcarolle" from Hoffmann. She sang it very softly, so as not todisturb them, but the look in her eyes recalled something to Denver andas he was leaving he asked her a question. It was not if she loved him,for that would be unfair and might spoil an otherwise perfect evening;but he had been wondering as he listened whether she had not seen himthat first time--when he had slipped down and listened from the shadows.

  And when he asked her she smiled up at him tremulously and nodded herhead very slowly; and then she whispered that she had always loved himfor it, just for listening and going away. She had been downcast thatnight but his presence had been a comfort--it had persuaded her at lastthat she could sing. She had sung the "Barcarolle" again, on that othernight, when he had stepped out so boldly from the shadows; but it wasthe first time that she loved him for it, when he was still a totalstranger and had come just to hear her sing. There was more that shesaid to him and when he had to go she smiled again and gave him herhand, but he did not suggest a kiss. She was keeping that for him, untilshe had been to New York and run the gauntlet of the tenors.

  This was the high spot in Denver's life, when he had stood uponParnassus and beheld everything that was good and beautiful; but in themorning he put on his old digging clothes again and went to work in themine. He had seen her and it was enough; now to break out the ore andwin her for his own. For he was poor, and she was poor, and how couldshe succeed without money? But if he could open up his mine and blockout a great ore body then her claims and Bunker's, that touched it onboth sides, would take on a speculative value. They could be sold forcash and she could go East in style, to take lessons from the ten-dollarteacher who had influence with directors and impresarios. Denver put ina round of holes and blasted his way into the mountain; but as he cameout in the evening, dirty and grimed and pale from powder sickness,Drusilla paled too and almost shrank away. She had strolled up before,only to hear the clank of his steel and the muffled thud of his blows;and now as she stood waiting, attired as daintily
as a bride, thedream-hero of her memories was banished. He was a miner again, a sweaty,toiling animal, dead to all the finer things of life; but if Denver readher thoughts he did not notice, for he remembered what Mother Trigedgohad told him.

  Two weeks passed by and Labor Day came near, when all the hardy minersforegathered in Globe and Miami and engaged in the sports of their kind.A circular came to Denver, announcing the drilling contests and givinghis name as one of the contestants; then a personal letter from theCommittee on Arrangements, requesting him to send in his entry; and atlast there came a messenger, a good hard-rock man named Owen, to suggestthat they go in together. But Denver was driving himself to the limit,blasting out ore that grew richer each day; and at thought of Bible-BackMurray, waiting to pounce upon his mine, he sent back a reluctantrefusal. Yet they published his name, with the partner's place leftvacant, and advertised that he would participate; for on the Fourth ofJuly, with Slogger Meacham for a partner, he had won the title ofchampion.

  The decision to go was forced upon him suddenly on the day before theevent, though he had almost lost track of time. Every morning atday-break he had been up and cooking, after breakfast he had gone to themine; and, between mucking out the tunnel and putting in new shots, theweeks had passed like days. But when he went to Bunker on the eighth ofSeptember and asked for a little more powder Bunker took him to thepowder-house and showed him a space where the boxes of dynamite hadbeen. Then he took him behind the counter and showed him the money-tilland Denver awoke from his dream.

  In spite of the stampede and the activity all about them the whole Pinaldistrict was not producing a cent, and would not for months to come.Every dollar that was spent there had to come in from the outside, andthe men who held the claims were all poor. Even after driving off thejumpers and regaining their lost claims the majority had gone home aftermerely scratching up their old dumps in a vain pretense at doing theassessment work.

  The promoters were not buying, they were simply taking options andwaiting on Murray's tunnel; and until he drove in and actually tappedthe copper ore there would be no steady boom. He had organized a companyand was selling a world of stock, even using it to pay off his men: andit was whispered about that his strike was a fake, for he still refusedto exhibit the drill cores. But whether his strike was a bona fidediscovery or merely a ruse to sell stock, the fact could not be blinkedthat Denver and Bunker Hill had reached the end of their rope. They werebroke again and Denver set out for Globe, leaving Bunker to hold downhis claim.