NATE UPSHUR'S WORK.
On the night of the storm, Nathan Upshur sat apart from his two
comrades, noiselessly smoking his pipe. That he was not in the best of
humor was plainly evident.
It was only several hours since they had come on the whereabouts of
Wythe and his companions, after an arduous search of several days'
duration. But yet, short as was the time, Upshur had proposed a
bloody plan to Chicot and Dooley--nothing less than murdering the
gold-hunters, and then taking their treasure.
His ill-humor now was caused by their flat refusal to enter into
any thing of the sort. They had counted the cost, and were willing
to enforce their rights to a portion of the placer, if need be,
by an appeal to arms, but it must be in open fight, not midnight
assassination. But Upshur objected to this. It savored too much of
personal danger, and that he did not greatly fancy. So he sat brooding
over the matter, sour and sullen.
"It's jest this," quoth Chicot, settling the ashes in his pipe. "They
_must_ let us in on shar's. I'll tell 'em that I knew of it fust--last
year, an' that I on'y j'ined the train so's to git to the place. They
cain't deny it--or, ef they do, they cain't prove that I lie. _Then_ ef
they cut up rusty, let 'em. We kin make 'em sick o' the job, I reckon.
But I won't hev no onderhand work--no rubbin' out in the dark--mind
_that_, Nate Upshur."
They were encamped upon the hillside, in a deep crevice in the rocks
that overhung their heads, where the tiny camp-fire was hidden from any
one unless within a half-score yards of the spot. And, as he stated his
position, Paul Chicot lay down to sleep, unmindful of the coming storm.
But that night was not to pass without disturbance, even with them.
Suddenly the clear report of fire-arms broke upon the air, coming, as
all knew, from the gold-hunters' camp.
Peering over the rocks, they saw a strange, luminous light moving above
the valley, but before they could guess its meaning, the light suddenly
vanished. While still gazing down, they heard a rapid footfall just
above them, and then a strangely-shaped, dark figure bounded past them,
up the rocks. It seemed the form of a man, bearing an unwieldy bundle
upon his shoulder, dark, and dimly-outlined.
Little slumber visited their eyes that night, and his curiosity
excited, Chicot plunged through the storm on a reconnoitering
expedition. He soon returned, saying that the three gold-hunters were
still in their shanty.
Then who or what was the dark figure? Were there still other parties in
the valley? Others after the golden hoard that lay beneath the sands?
Awaiting other developments, Chicot and his companions, early in the
morning, saw the three friends start forth as if with some definite
purpose in view. They hastily passed over the rocky ridge, unconscious
of the eyes that so closely watched them.
"Now's our time," eagerly muttered Upshur. "We can go and dig up their
gold and be off before they get back."
"Not yet," firmly replied Chicot, who seemed to possess a little more
conscience than his comrades. "We don't know how soon they may be back,
and I don't want to be caught stealin', jest yet. Le's watch and see
what they're about, fust."
Grumblingly Upshur submitted, and the trio crept up to the ridge, and
peered over it, keeping well screened. From there they saw the others
discover the double trail and closely examine it. Then separating,
Duplin and Wythe took one course, Jack Tyrrel the other.
"They're trailin' the critter we see'd, most likely," muttered Chicot.
"Le's watch until they git out o' sight, then we'll go fer the gold."
Impatiently they watched the tardy progress of the adventurers, for now
that a chance seemed open for them to effect their object, they were
one and all eager to handle the gold. From their position the valley
below them was visible for nearly a mile in either direction, bare and
treeless, desolate and dreary-looking.
"My eyes hain't as good as they war once, but, onless I'm mightily
mistook, they's trouble waitin' fer Jack, over yon'. I'm 'most sure
I sighted a human on them rocks. But it's gone, now. This's gittin'
interestin'--seems like we're goin' to hev two separate gangs to deal
with."
With curiosity fully aroused, the trio watched Tyrrel's progress, and
as he passed round the point of rocks indicated by Chicot, the watchers
fairly held their breath with suspense.
Then came the sounds that had so deeply alarmed Duplin and Wythe--two
quickly-succeeding pistol-shots, then a cry for help.
"I told ye so," muttered Chicot, excitedly. "Tyrrel's in trouble 'th
_some_thin'! Down--quick! See, thar comes t'other fellers. Ef they
sight us, it's fight, then, shore. They'd think _we_ was at the bottom
o' the deviltry. Hunker down, I say!"
"Now's our chance to get hold o' the gold," muttered Nate Upshur,
eagerly. "We'll have time."
"No--I'm goin' to see this a'fa'r out fust. It's best that we know jest
what an' who we've got to work ag'in', an' we'll never hev a better
chaince to find out. Come--keep along behind the ridge. We kin git up
opposite the spot where Jack was, afore t'others. Keerful--don't show
your head 'bove the ridge."
Though having the longest and by far the roughest road, Chicot and his
companions gained the desired point ahead of Duplin and Wythe, owing to
the latter having to follow Tyrrel's trail. But, though they closely
scrutinized the opposite ridge, nothing in human form was to be seen.
"The boy's gone, an' so's whoever he run ag'inst. Mebbe he's rubbed
out, an' the fellers is layin' fer t'others."
"We'll soon see, for there comes Duplin and Wythe," added Upshur.
In silence the trio watched and waited. Every movement of the two
comrades was noted. What they were the reader already knows.
For a time the watchers were puzzled, but then as the two men began
gathering dried sticks from under the sheltered rocks, the truth
gradually became plain. Paul Chicot gave vent to a long, low whistle.
"They've holed the game!"
"Surely the fools ain't going to venture in?"
"It _is_ foolish, but they show plenty o' grit. You see now what you
wanted to buck ag'inst."
"If they go in there, the game's in our hands!" exultantly muttered
Upshur, his eyes glowing wickedly.
"What d'y' mean by that?"
"Can't we _block them in_? Then they'll have a good chance to fight it
out with those they are hunting, while we can take our time about the
gold. In that way we get rid ef them without killing them, and just as
effectually too."
"I don't see much difference, if ye l'ave them there to starve," slowly
commented Tim Dooley, for the first time for hours giving his opinion,
in this respect being very different from the popular idea of an
Irishman.
"If you're so cursed tender-hearted, why don't you go an offer to help
_them_? Had I known what a milksop you were I'd never have lifted a
finger to help you to a fortune."
"Nor would ye, only ye wanted help. But best kape a bridle on yer
tongue, my fri'nd. I don't take black words from anybody," quietly
added Dooley.
"Dry up--quit yer quarrelin'. Whar's the use? It don't do no good, an'
only makes bad blood. We're workin' in harness now, an' each must keep
up his eend. Fust work--then pleasure. Fight then as much as ye please.
But I think that's a good idea o' your'n, Upshur. We kin block 'em in,
s'posin' they give us a chaince, an' then, when we're ready to travel,
we kin set 'em free. But mind ye, this we've got to do. I won't take a
step in the matter onless this is all onderstood."
"Nayther will I."
"Just as you like about that," impatiently added Upshur. "But we're
losing valuable time. That may be but a small den, and we be too late.
Then if they see us, it _must_ come to blows."
"Ef they begin, why we'll give 'em the best we've got, in course. Come,
then, le's travel."
Descending the ridge, the three men ran hastily across the level
valley, and soon gained the second hill. As the reader knows, this
danger was not suspected by either Duplin or Wythe.
"You and Tim see if you can roll over that big rock above there,"
muttered Upshur, kneeling down beside a bowlder. "I'll agree that they
shall not disturb your work, if they hear you too soon. I can keep them
back, I guess."
At that moment, as he covered the entrance to the cave with a revolver
in either hand, cocked and ready, Nathan Upshur ardently hoped that
the two men he hated with such venomous animosity would appear. A good
shot, he felt that the path before him would soon be cleared, and the
stain of the midnight murder fairly fixed upon the innocent Burr Wythe.
Exerting their strength to the utmost, the two men at length succeeded
in toppling over the bowlder, that must have weighed many tons. Had it
not been so nicely poised, their efforts would have been in vain.
As the huge mass settled fairly over the hole, Nate Upshur laughed
aloud in diabolical glee. He knew that mortal hands could not remove
the rock, without the aid of strong tools. In the excitement of the
moment, neither Chicot nor Dooley had thought of this, and they now
felt a pang of regret. It seemed as though they had been committing a
cowardly murder.
"That's one job done--and well done, too, I call it," and Upshur
chuckled. "Now for the other. We alone are the owners of this famous
golden bed that Duplin raved about. Come--I am in haste to know the
extent of our fortune. Don't look so grum--you should laugh instead,
man."
"I feel like a dog that's caught sheep-killin', or aig-suckin',"
muttered Chicot. "We've mebbe rubbed out two settlers as is a durned
sight better men than either o' us, in a cowardly way, too."
"Bah! I suppose you'll be too conscientious to touch any of the gold
they've dug, won't you?" sneered Upshur.
"I don't know--if they _be_ gone, why I s'pose I might as well hev some
o' what they left, as for _you_ to git it all."
"I thought so! But come--the sooner we finish this job, the better.
There _may_ be another outlet to the cave, and these fools may stumble
upon it, and come back in time to make us trouble. But once let us get
clutches on their pile, and I think we can hold it."
With hasty steps, the three men recrossed the little valley, and
from the other ridge, carefully reconnoitered the deserted camp. No
one appeared to be near it, and their hearts thrilled wildly as they
realized that they were now sole masters of the golden secret. Even
Chicot forgot his scruples, in the dream of fabulous wealth that filled
his mind.
"It's ours--all ours, now!" muttered Upshur, as he darted down the
rough hillside at reckless speed, slowly followed by his comrades.
In a few minutes more they stood within the rude brush shanty. Eagerly
they gazed around, as though expecting to discover great heaps of the
precious metal. Then Upshur laughed--harshly and discordantly.
"Bah! what fools! Of course they've hid it. But what one hides, another
can find. They've changed the gold to another place--for there's where
it has been."
All could see as much, but the gold was not there. Still, it must be
hidden near at hand.