with a shack outside where the cooking was done. In the large room were
a dozen bunks; half of them in a very dishevelled state, giving sleeping
accommodation for the company, while the other half were ready in case
of an accession of help, should the mine prosper.
The cabin was as securely built as a fortress, of the rugged stone which
had been blasted from the rocks in opening the mine. The mine itself was
situated about five hundred yards to the south of this edifice, but
instead of being dug downwards, as Stranleigh expected, it extended
westward on the level toward the heart of the mountain, so that a rudely
built truck could carry out the debris, and dump it down the steep hill.
To his aesthetic fancy this seemed a pity, because a short distance south
from the opening of the mine, the river formed a cascade descending a
hundred feet or more; a cascade of entrancing beauty, whose loveliness
would be more or less destroyed as the mining operations progressed.
The rising sun illumined the tunnel to its final wall, and Stranleigh
found no difficulty in exploring it to the remotest corner. He passed
the abandoned truck partly turned over beside an assortment of picks,
shovels, hand-drills and the like. To his unpractised eye there was no
sign of silver on walls, floor or ceiling. At the extreme end was piled
up a quantity of what appeared to be huge cartridges.
Before entering the cavern he had noticed three or four of the miners
standing in front of the bunk house, evidently watching him, but he paid
no attention to them, and while he was inside, the roar of the cataract
prevented him from hearing approaching footsteps. As he came out to the
lip of the mine, he found Jim and three others waiting for him. Each had
a rifle on his shoulder.
"Inspecting the property?" said Jim, casually.
"Yes," replied Stranleigh.
"What do you think of it?"
"My opinion would be of very little value. I know nothing of mining."
"The deuce you don't!" said Jim. "What are you doing with that lump of
rock in your hand?"
"Oh, that," said Stranleigh, "I happened to pick up. I wanted to examine
it in clear daylight. Is there silver in it?"
"How should I know?" replied Jim, gruffly. "I'm not a mining engineer. I
only take a hand at the drill or the pick, as the case may be. But when
you throw that back where you got it, throw it carefully, and not too
far."
"I don't intend to throw it," said Stranleigh. "I'm going to take it
down to the house."
"Oh, you think you're not going to throw it, but you are. We've just
come up to explain that to you."
"I see. If it is compulsory, why shouldn't I throw it as far as I can?"
"Because," explained Jim, politely, "there's a lot of dynamite stored
in the end of that hole, and dynamite isn't a thing to fool with, you
know."
Stranleigh laughed.
"I rather fancy you're right, though I know as little about dynamite as
I do about mines. But to be sure of being on the right side, I will
leave the tossing of the stone to you. Here it is," whereupon he handed
the lump of rock to Jim, who flung it carelessly into the mine again,
but did not join in his visitor's hilarity.
"You seem to regard me as a dangerous person?"
"Oh, not at all, but we do love a man that attends to his own business.
We understood that you came here for shooting and fishing."
"So I did, but other people were out shooting before I got a chance. A
man who's had a bullet through his shoulder neither hunts nor fishes."
"That's so," admitted Jim, with the suavity of one who recognises a
reasonable statement, "but now that you are better, what do you come
nosing round the mine for? Why don't you go on with your shooting and
your fishing?"
"Because Mr. Armstrong was to be my guide, and he, I regret to say, has
not yet returned home. As he is tramping from Chicago to the ranch, no
one knows when he will put in an appearance."
"Well, Mr. Stranleigh, we are plain, ordinary backwoods folks, that have
no reason for loving or trusting people who come from the city, as you
do. You say that shooting is your game. Now, we can do a bit of shooting
ourselves, and I tell you plainly that if any stranger was found
prowling around here, he'd have got a bullet in a more vital spot than
you did. Do you understand me?"
"Your meaning, sir, is perfectly plain. What do you want me to do? Go
away from here before Mr. Armstrong returns?"
"No; we don't say that, but we draw an imaginary line, such as they tell
me the equator is, past this end of the farm house, and we ask you not
to cross it westward. There's all the fishing you want down stream, but
there's none up here by the waterfall, neither is there any game to
shoot, so you see we're proposing no hardship if your intentions are
what you say they are."
"Sir, you speak so beautifully that I must address you less familiarly
than I am doing. My own name is Ned, but few take the liberty of calling
me by that title. I don't know that I should like it if they did. You
are already aware, perhaps, that I answer to the name of Stranleigh. May
I enquire what your name is?"
"I'm James Dean."
"Ah, the Dean of the Faculty? You are leader of this band of brothers?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"Are they unanimous in restricting my liberty on this ranch?"
"You bet!"
"You've no right to do such a thing, and besides, it is inhospitable. I
came to this ranch properly accredited, with a letter of introduction to
Mr. Armstrong. He happens to be away; if he had been here, and I had
seen that my visit was unwelcome to him, I should instantly have taken
my leave, but I refuse to have my liberty restricted by Mr. Armstrong's
hired men."
"That's exactly where you're wrong, Mr. Stranleigh. In the first place,
we're not hired men; we're Mr. Armstrong's partners, and we don't
restrict your liberty on the ranch."
"A partner contributes his share to the expenses of the combination. I
understand Mr. Armstrong bears the burden alone."
"We contribute our labour, which is cash in another form, therefore
whether Mr. Armstrong is here, or whether he is away, we mean to defend
our property. So when you cross the imaginary line I spoke of, you are
trespassing, and no jury will convict a man who shoots a trespasser
after he has been fully warned, as we warn you."
"Well, Mr. Dean, I admit that you have right on your side, even if there
is not much wisdom at the back of it. There is just one more thing I
should like to know. Why do you treat me as an enemy?"
"As a possible enemy," corrected Dean.
"As a possible enemy, then?"
"Because we don't like your actions, and we don't think much of you.
You're a city man, and we don't trust any such."
"But Mr. Banks, who gave me the letter to your chief, is not only a city
man, but a lawyer. He has been here, and spoke highly of his reception."
"That was before the mine was opened, and as for being a lawyer, we hate
'em, of course, but they're like rattlesnakes. In some seasons of the
year they are harmless. The opening of the silver mine opened the
rattlesnake season, and that's why this lawyer snake in Bleachers is
trying to cheat Armstrong out of his ranch. He came over here with a
mining engineer and learnt the whole value of the ground. How do we know
you're not a mining engineer?"
"I regret to say I'm nothing so useful."
"And didn't you send Miss Armstrong into Bleachers to see that villain
Ricketts? What connection have you with him?"
"None at all, Mr. Dean. I never saw Ricketts in my life, and never heard
of him before the day you mistook me for the sheriff."
Dean glanced at his companions, who had taken no part in the colloquy,
but who listened with an interest at once critical and suspicious. It
was evident that their distrust could not be dissipated, or even
mitigated, by strenuous talk, and for a moment Stranleigh was tempted to
tell them that he had lent three thousand dollars to Miss Armstrong, in
the hope that this money, added to her own, would gain some sort of
concession from the obdurate lawyer. But he remembered that the girl was
in constant communication with these men, and if she had not already
informed them of his futile assistance, it was because she did not want
them to know.
Dean pondered for a few moments before he spoke. He seemed to have
gathered in the purport of his men's thoughts without the necessity for
words. At last he said:
"May I take it you agree hereafter to attend to your own business?"
Stranleigh laughed.
"There would be no use in my making that promise, for I have never in my
life attended to my own business. My business affairs are all looked
after by men who are experts. They live in New York and in London, and
although I make a decision now and then, I do that as seldom as
possible. It fatigues me."
"So you are a loafer?"
"That's it exactly, Mr. Dean, and I freely give you my promise not to
loaf about your silver mine."
"Are you so rich as all that?"
"You are not consistent, Mr. Dean. How can you ask me to attend to my
business if you do not attend to yours? Whether I am rich or poor is
none of your affair?"
"Quite true," agreed Jim, nonchalantly, "we will let it go at that."
Stranleigh, with a smile, bowed courteously to the group.
"I wish you a very good day," he said, and turning, strolled down to the
house at a leisurely gait, quite in keeping with his self-declared
character of loafer. His back offered an excellent target, but no man
raised his rifle, and Stranleigh never looked over his shoulder, never
hurried a step, but walked as one very sure of himself, and in no fear
of attack.
"Stuck up cuss," said Jim to his comrades. "I'd like to take that chap
down a peg. Let's get back to the bunk house and talk it over," so they,
too, left the pit mouth, and returned to their cabin.
When the Earl of Stranleigh entered the house, he was accosted by Miss
Armstrong, on whose fair face were traces of deep anxiety, which his
lordship thought were easily accounted for by the fact that the
homestead was to be sold in less than a fortnight.
"I have been anxious to see you, Mr. Stranleigh," she said. "Won't you
come out on the verandah where we can talk?"
"With great pleasure, Miss Armstrong."
When they were seated, she continued--
"You have been talking with the men?"
"Yes; we had a little chat together."
"Did they tell you anything of their intentions?"
"No; except in so far as they were determined not to let me examine the
mine."
"Ah; they have distrusted you from the first. Did you insist on visiting
it?"
"I have visited it."
"Without asking one of them to accompany you?"
"I regarded them as hired men. They say they are your father's
partners."
"So they are."
"Ah, well, if that is really the case, I must apologise to them. I
thought when you ordered Dean to bring in my luggage, and he obeyed with
such docility, that he was your servant. I intended to offer him some
money for that service, but I suppose I must not."
"Certainly not. Those men will do anything for a friend, but nothing for
one of whom they are suspicious. Their distrust, once aroused, is not
easily removed. I am sure, however, you were tactful with them."
Stranleigh smiled ruefully.
"I am not so certain of that myself. I fear I failed in diplomacy."
"I do wish my father were here," she said, ignoring his last remark. "I
am very much worried about the men."
"What do they know of your trouble with that man Ricketts?"
"They know all about it, and they now threaten to march into Bleachers
in a body and, as we say, shoot up the town, including Ricketts, of
course."
"When do they intend to do this?"
"On the day of the auction sale."
"Don't they understand that that would be futile?"
"It would cause an infinite amount of harm, and ultimately might result
in their being wiped out themselves. Not that Bleachers could do such a
thing, but because they would be pitting themselves against the United
States Government, which is a mere name to those men, carrying no
authority. All their lives have been spent in camps, where the only law
is that of the mob. I have tried my best to influence them, but they
regard me merely as a woman, and a woman from the East at that, who has
no knowledge of practical affairs, so I have every reason for wishing my
father were here."
"I should not trouble about that if I were you, Miss Armstrong. If they
intended to carry out their resolution to-morrow, or next day, there
might be reason for anxiety, but we have luckily plenty of time in which
to act. The one immediate thing is to find your father. I'll undertake
that task. He's travelling somewhere between here and Chicago, on foot.
May I see the latest letter he wrote you?"
The girl brought it to him.
"Might I take this with me?"
"Yes. What do you intend to do?"
Stranleigh smiled.
"Oh, I never do anything. As I was telling your men, who wished me to
mind my own business, I always have people to do that for me. I am a
great believer in the expert. Now, America seems to be the land of
experts, and the man to deal with this case is Detective Burns, of New
York. I shall get into touch with him by telegraph, and if he cannot
attend to the matter himself, he will select the best substitute that is
to be had, and as Burns and his men invariably track down anyone they
want, even though he be seeking to elude them, it will be an easy task
to find your father, who is tramping the straightest possible line
between Chicago and this ranch. I shall give instructions for two or
three hundred dollars to be handed to Mr. Armstrong, with directions to
take the next train to Bleachers, as we need his presence here. I shall
do nothing but send a telegram, and Mr. Burns will do the rest. Now, if
you will assist me by ordering out my horse, I shall be ready to start
within ten minutes. I'd order the horse myself, but I don't think your
men would obey me."
In less than the time mentioned, Jim brought the horse to the door.
All his men were standing in front of their cabin, looking on. They
quite naturally believed that their guest had taken alarm, and was
making off to some district where he would be in less danger. When his
lordship came downstairs and out to the front, Jim was overcome with
astonishment. His lordship was accoutred amazingly, after the fashion of
the English horseman. He had dressed himself in a riding costume such as
an English gentleman would wear at home. Jim and his comrades had never
seen such an outfit before, and they greeted his appearance with a roar
of laughter.
Stranleigh sprang into his saddle with the agility of a cowboy, and
smiling good-humouredly at his audience, raised his hat to them, and
rode off.
As Stranleigh's horse entered the forest the young man began to ponder
over the problem that confronted him. When the unfortunate Armstrong
borrowed money from Ricketts, he had, of course, fully explained the
situation. The lender had examined the property in company with a mining
engineer, and this expert doubtless took away with him some ore to
analyse at his leisure. Ricketts, being in possession of the engineer's
estimate of the pit's value, had probably formed a syndicate, or
perhaps made arrangements with other capitalists, to see him through
with the speculation. Undoubtedly Ricketts expected no competition when
the estate was put up at auction, but if he was a shrewd man, as was
almost certain to be the case, events had occurred which might stimulate
thought regarding his position.
Miss Armstrong had ridden out to Bleachers, having in her possession
five thousand dollars, the face value of the notes. Ricketts would
wonder how she had obtained the money. She possessed only two thousand
dollars on her first visit, as he knew from the fact that she had
offered it to him for refraining from action until her father returned.
Who could have given her the extra three thousand? Whoever had done so
must have known the girl could offer no security for its repayment. He
was therefore a rich man, or he could not afford to throw away a sum so
considerable.
It was likely that such reflections as these had put Ricketts on the
alert, and the sudden advent in Bleachers of a smartly costumed
stranger, a stranger coming from the direction of the ranch, would
almost certainly convince Ricketts that here was his opponent. In
Bleachers, too, each inhabitant very probably knew every one else's
business. That he could elude the astute Ricketts was therefore
exceedingly doubtful, and Stranleigh already knew enough about the
lawlessness of the district to believe that he might ride into
considerable danger. In that sparsely-settled country, people were not
too scrupulous in their methods of getting rid of an enemy.
He wondered how far down the line the next town was, for he was certain
that any telegraphing he did from Bleachers would speedily be known to
Ricketts. Would it be possible to deflect his course, and make for the
next station eastwards? He possessed no map of the State, however, and
there was little chance of meeting anyone, so there seemed nothing for
it but to push on to Bleachers.
At this point his meditations were interrupted by the dimly heard sound
of horses' hoofs on the trail behind him. He pulled up and listened.
Pausing for a few minutes, he heard nothing more, and so went on again,
with an uneasy feeling of being followed. He determined not to camp out
when night overtook him, but to hurry on until he reached Bleachers. He
had made a two days' journey to reach the ranch, but that was because
the laden mules were slow. Before dark he would be on the high road, and
after that he could not lose his way. After all, perhaps it was better
to reach Bleachers at night, and trust to rousing up the people in the
one tavern of the place.
It was after midnight when his task was accomplished, and having seen to
the accommodation of a very tired and hungry horse, Stranleigh threw
himself down, dressed as he was, upon the bed to which he was shown by a
sleepy ostler. He had had quite enough equestrian exercise for one day.
Ten o'clock had struck next morning before he woke, and went down to
breakfast. His mind had become clarified, and he knew now exactly what
he meant to do. To avoid the cognizance of Ricketts was impossible; of
that he was certain. His first object, then, was to draw a red herring
across the trail, so he enquired from the hotel-keeper the whereabouts
of Ricketts' office, and was directed to it.
He crossed the street and ascended a stair. Ricketts kept neither clerk
nor office boy, so Stranleigh knocked at the door, was gruffly commanded
to enter, and obeyed.
Silas A. Ricketts was seated at a large table strewn with books and
legal-looking documents, and he stared in astonishment at the figure
which presented itself. He, like the men on the ranch, had never seen
such a costume before.
"Are you Mr. Ricketts?" asked his lordship.
"Yes, sir."
"My name is Stranleigh. I took the liberty of calling upon you to learn,
if possible, the whereabouts of Mr. Stanley Armstrong."
"Why should I know anything of his whereabouts?" demanded Ricketts.
"Permit me to explain----"
"Now, before we go any further," interrupted the lawyer, "I want you to
know that this is a business office, and I'm a business man. My time is
valuable. I thought when you came in that you were a client. If you
have come here for aimless gossip, I'm not your man. I have my own
affairs to look after."
"You state the case very lucidly, Mr. Ricketts, and I congratulate your
clients. My own time is far from precious, for I'm here after sport. How
valuable is your time? How much does an hour's conference with you
cost?"
"It all depends on the business transacted."
"I can't agree with you, Mr. Ricketts. An hour is an hour. I want to buy
sixty minutes of your time and attention. What do you ask for it?"
"Five dollars!" snapped Ricketts.
Stranleigh drew forth a five-dollar bill, and placed it on the table.
"May I sit down?" he enquired. "No healthy man should be tired in the
morning, but I endured a long horseback ride yesterday, and had an
indifferent night's rest."
"Where did you come from?"
"I have been living for the past few days at Armstrong's ranch."
"Are you the man who was shot last week?"
"Yes; by mistake for your estimable sheriff I understand. You see, I
came here from New York with a letter of introduction to Mr. Armstrong,
being told that I might enjoy some good fishing and a little shooting,
while Armstrong was described as a most admirable guide to these sports.
I waited at the ranch day after day, hoping that Armstrong would return,
but nobody seems to know yet where he is, or when he will return, so I
came out here, hoping to get into telegraphic communication with him.
I'm well enough now to take part in the chase, and I am loth to return
to New York without having had any sport."
"I still don't understand why you come to me about the matter."
"I was told by his daughter that Armstrong had written to you. She does
not know in the least where he is, and so on the chance of your having
received a recent letter, I have called to enquire."
"I see. Armstrong's letter to me was written from Chicago. It was a
request for money. I had already loaned him a considerable sum and was
unable to accede to his further demand. I answered to this effect, but
have heard no more from him. It is likely that his own people have
received word since the letter to me was written. Of course, you don't
know the date of their last letter from him?"
"Yes, I do," said Stranleigh, "I have the letter with me. It contains
all the data of which Miss Armstrong is possessed, and she gave me the
letter to assist me in my search."
He drew the letter from his pocket, and showed the date to the lawyer,
who consulted his file, and then said--
"It is just as I expected. That letter was written ten days later than
the one I received. Sorry I am unable to give you any definite
assistance, Mr. Stranleigh."
Stranleigh rose.
"I am sorry also. I suppose there wouldn't be much use in telegraphing
to the address he gives in Chicago?"
"I see no object in that. The place is probably a boarding-house, and
he's not there."
"Thank you, Mr. Ricketts. Good morning."
Stranleigh went slowly down the steep stairs, and reaching the sidewalk,
almost fell into the arms of Jim Dean. Here, then, was the man who had
been following him.
"Good morning, Mr. Dean."
"Morning," snarled Jim, briefly.
"I've just been up to see Mr. Ricketts, whom I think you mentioned the
other day."
"So I supposed," agreed Dean.
"I expected to get some information from him about Mr. Armstrong, but he
doesn't appear to know very much."
"Well, you're the first man I ever heard say that S. A. Ricketts doesn't
know very much, but I think by and by you will find that others know a
great deal."
"Perhaps they know a great deal that is not so; there's a lot of
knowledge of that kind lying around loose."
"Very likely," remarked Jim, laconically, then turned on his heel and
walked down the street, while Stranleigh went towards the depot to
enlist the services of a telegraph operator, and learn when the next
train left for the east.
Stranleigh found the telegraph operator dozing in a wooden chair tilted
back against the wall, his soft hat drawn over his eyes, his feet
resting on a rung of the chair. It was a hot day, and the commercial
inactivity of Bleachers called for very little exertion on the part of
the telegraphist. The young man slowly roused himself as the door opened
and shut. His unexpected customer nodded good morning to him.
"Could you oblige me with some forms?" asked the newcomer.
"Forms? Forms of what?" The operator's feet came down with a crash on
the board floor as he rose from his chair.
"Well, telegraph blanks, perhaps I should have said."
"Oh, certainly."
The young man fished one out from a drawer, and flung it on the counter.
"This will do excellently for a beginning," said Stranleigh, "but you'd
better let me have a dozen to go on with."
The young man was waking up. He supplied the demand, and with
ever-increasing amazement, watched his client write.
Stranleigh gave the New York detective particulars in great detail so
far as he possessed them, asked him to spare no expense, and requested
that Armstrong, when found, should be presented with two hundred dollars
or more, as he required, with admonition to take the first train home,
where his presence was urgently needed.
"Great Scott!" cried the operator, "is that all one message?"
"Yes," said Stranleigh.
"Where is it going?"
"I've written the address as plainly as I can. It's going to New York."
"I say, stranger," protested the telegraphist, "have you any idea what
it costs to send a message across the Continent to New York?"