THE BEST HEAD IN TOWN
What was Wiley Holman up to? Virginia paced the floor in a very
unloverlike mood; and at last she sat down and wrote a scathing letter
to the assayer, demanding her assay at once. She also enclosed one
dollar in advance to test the sample for gold and silver and then, as an
afterthought, she enclosed another bill and told him to test it for
copper, lead, and zinc. There was something in that rock--she knew it
just as well as she knew that Wiley was in love with her, and this was
no time to pinch dollars. For ten years and more they had stuck there in
Keno, waiting and waiting for something to happen, but now things had
come to such a pass that it was better to know even the worst. For if
the mine was barren and Wiley, after all, was only trying in his dumb
way to help, then she must pocket her pride and sell him her stock and
go away and hide her head. But if the white quartz was rich--well, that
would be different; there would be several things to explain.
Yet, if the quartz was barren, why did Wiley offer to buy her stock, and
if it was rich, why did he sell his tax deed? And if his father stood
ready to pay ten cents a share for two hundred thousand shares of stock
why did Wiley refuse to redeem her mother's holdings for a petty eight
hundred dollars? He must have the money, for his diamond ring alone was
worth well over a thousand dollars; and he had tried repeatedly to get
possession of this same stock which he now refused to accept as a gift.
Virginia thought it over until her head was in a whirl and at last she
stamped her foot. The assay would tell, and if he had been trying to
cheat her--she drew her lips to a thin, hard line and looked more than
ever like her mother.
The work at the Paymaster went on intermittently, but Blount's early
zest was lacking. For eight, yes, ten years he had waited patiently
for the moment when he should get control of the mine; but now that he
held it, without let or hindrance, somehow his enthusiasm flagged.
Perhaps it was the fact that the timbering was expensive and that his
gropings for the lost ore body came to nothing; but in the back of his
mind Blount's growing distrust dated from the day he had bought
Wiley's quit-claim. Wiley had come to the mine full of fury and
aggressiveness, as his combat with Stiff Neck George clearly showed;
but after he had gone down and inspected the workings he had sold out
for one hundred dollars. And Wiley Holman was a mining engineer, with
a name for Yankee shrewdness--he must have had a reason.
Blount recalled his men from the drifts where they had been working and
set them to crosscutting for the vein. It was too expensive, restoring
all the square-sets and clearing out the fallen rock; and he had learned
to his sorrow that Colonel Huff had blown up every heading with
dynamite. In that tangle of shattered timbers and caved-in walls the
miners made practically no progress, for the ground was treacherous and
ten years under water had left the wood soft and slippery. To be sure
the hidden chute lay at the breast of some such drift; but to clear them
all out, with his limited equipment and no regular engineer in charge,
would run up a staggering account. So Blount began to crosscut, and to
sink along the contact, but chiefly to cut down expenses.
With the railroad that had tapped the camp torn up and hauled away,
every foot of timber, every stick of powder, cost twice as much as it
ought. And then there was machinery, and gas and oil for the engine, and
valves and spare parts for the pumps, and the board of the men, and
overhead expenses--and not a single dollar coming in. Blount sat up late
in his office, adding total to total, and at the end he leaned back
aghast. At the very inside it was costing him two hundred dollars for
every day that he operated the mine. And what was it turning back?
Nothing. The mine had been gutted of every pound of ore that it would
pay to sack and ship, and unless something was done to locate the lost
ore body and give some guarantee of future values, well, the Paymaster
would have to shut down. Blount considered it soberly, as a business man
should, and then he sent for Wiley Holman.
There were others, of course, to whom he might appeal; but he sent for
Wiley first. He was a mining engineer, he had had his eye on the
property and--well, he probably knew something about the lost vein. So
he sent a wire, and then a man; and at last Holman, M. E., arrived. He
came under protest, for he had been showing a mine of his own to some
four-buckle experts from the east, and when Blount made his appeal he
snorted.
"Well, for the love of Miguel!" he exclaimed, starting up. "Do you think
I'm going to help you for nothing? I'm a mining engineer, and the least
it will cost you is five hundred dollars for a report. No, I don't think
anything; and I don't know anything; and I won't take your mine on
shares. I'm through--do you get me? I sold out my entire interest for
one hundred dollars, cash. That puts me ahead of the game, up to date;
and while I'm lucky I'll quit."
He stamped out of the office--Blount having moved into the bank building
where he had formerly officiated as president--and made a break for his
machine; but other eyes had marked his arrival in town and Death Valley
Charley button-holed him.
"Say," he said, "do you want something good--an option on ten
first-class claims? Well, come with me; I'll make you an offer that
you can't hardly, possibly refuse."
He led Wiley up an alley, then whisked him around corners and back to
his house behind the Widow's.
"Now, listen," he went on, when Wiley was in a chair and he had
carefully fastened the door, "I'm going to show you something good."
He reached under his bed and brought out ten sacks of samples which he
spread, one by one, on the table.
"Now, you see?" he said. "It's all that white quartz that you was after
on the Paymaster dump. I followed the outcrop, on an extension of the
Paymaster, and I took up ten, good, opened claims."
"Umm," murmured Wiley, and examined each sample with a careful,
appraising eye. "Yes, pretty good, Charley; I suppose you guarantee the
title? Well, how much do you want for your claims?"
"Oh, whatever you say," answered Charley modestly, "but I want two
hundred dollars down."
"And about a million apiece, I suppose, for the claims? It doesn't cost
_me_ anything, you know, on an option."
"Eh, heh, heh," laughed Charley indulgently and Heine, who had been
looking from face to face, jumped up and barked with delight. "Eh, heh;
yes, that's good; but you know me, Mr. Holman--I ain't so crazy as they
think. No, I don't talk millions with my mouth full of beans; all I want
is five hundred apiece. But I got to have two hundred down."
"Oh," observed Wiley, "that's two dollars for the marriage license and
the rest for the wedding journey. Well, if it's as serious as that----"
He reached for his check-book and Charley cackled with merriment.
"Yes, yes," he said, "then I _would_ be crazy. Do you know what the
Colonel told me?
"'Charley,' he says, 'whatever you do, don't marry no talking woman.
She'll drive you crazy, the same as I am; but don't you forget that
whiskey.'"
"Oh, sure," exclaimed Wiley, beginning to write out the option, "this
money is to buy whiskey for the Colonel!"
"That's it," answered Charley. "He's over across Death Valley--in the
Ube-Hebes--but I can't find my burros. They--Heine, come here, sir!"
Heine came up cringing and Charley slapped him soundly. "Shut up!" he
commanded and as Heine crept away Death Valley began to mutter to
himself. "No, of course not; he's dead," he ended ineffectively, and
Wiley looked up from his writing.
"Who's dead?" he inquired, but Charley shook his head and listened
through the wall.
"Look out," he said, "I can hear her coming--jest give me that two
hundred now."
"Well, here's twenty," replied Wiley, passing over the money, and then
there came a knock at the door.
"Come in!" called out Charley and, as he motioned Wiley to be silent,
Virginia appeared in the doorway.
"Oh!" she cried, "I didn't know you were here!" But something in the way
she fixed her eyes on him convinced Wiley that she had known, all the
same.
"Just a matter of business," he explained with a flourish, "I'm
considering an option on some of Charley's claims."
"Jest my bum claims!" mumbled Charley as Virginia glanced at him
reprovingly. "Jest them ten up north of the Paymaster."
"Oh," she said and drew back towards the door, "well, don't let me break
up a trade."
"You'd better sign as a witness," spoke up Wiley imperturbably, and she
stepped over and looked at the paper.
"What? All ten of those claims for five hundred apiece? Why, Charley,
they may be worth millions!"
"Well, put it down five million, then," suggested Wiley, grimly. "How
much do you want for them, Charley?"
"Five hundred dollars apiece," answered Charley promptly, "but they's
got to be two hundred down."
"Well?" inquired Wiley as Virginia still regarded him suspiciously, and
then he beckoned her outside. "Say, what's the matter?" he asked
reproachfully. "Let the old boy make his touch--he wants that two
hundred for grub."
"He does not!" she spat back. "I'm ashamed of you, Wiley Holman; taking
advantage of a crazy man like that!"
"Well, I don't know," he began in a slow, drawling tone that cut her to
the quick, "he may not be as crazy as you think. I've just been offered
a half interest in the Paymaster if I'll come out and take charge of
it."
"You _have_!" she cried, starting back and staring as he regarded
her with steely eyes. "Well, are you going to take it?"
"I don't know," he answered. "Thought I'd better see you first--it might
be taking advantage of Blount."
"Of Blount!" she echoed and then she saw his smile and realized that he
was making fun of her.
"Yes," went on Wiley, whose feelings had been ruffled, "he may be crazy,
too. He sure was looking the part."
"Now don't you laugh at me!" she burst out hotly. "This isn't as funny
as you think. What's going to happen to us if you take over that mine? I
declare, you've been standing in with Blount!"
"I knew it," he mocked. "You catch me every time. But what about Charley
here--does he get his money or not?" He turned to Death Valley, who was
standing in the doorway watching their quarrel with startled eyes. "I
guess you're right, Charley," he added, smiling wryly. "It must be
something in the air."
"Are you going to take that offer," demanded Virginia, wrathfully, "and
rob me and mother of our mine?"
"Oh, no," he answered, "I turned it down cold. I knew you wouldn't
approve."
"You knew nothing of the kind!" she came back sharply, the angry tears
starting in her eyes. "And I don't believe he ever made it."
"Well, ask him," suggested Wiley, and went back into the house,
whereupon Death Valley closed the door.
"Yes," whispered Charley, "it's in the air--there's electricity
everywhere. But what about that option?"
Wiley sat at the table, his eyes big with anger, his jaw set hard
against the pain, and then he reached for his pen.
"All right, Charley," he said, "but don't you let 'em kid you--you've
got the best business head in town."