ROCKY GULCH AND NEIGHBORHOOD.
It was a bright day one week from the stirring events just narrated.
The scene has changed from the bustling little Western town of
Sackville to the wilds of the State of Montana.
The exact spot was a point three miles southeast of a rough-and-ready
mining settlement known as Rocky Gulch, and seven miles, as the crow
flies, from the town of Trinity on the North Branch of the Cheyenne
River.
On one side was a rocky hill, pierced at this particular locality by a
rude opening, which might correctly be termed a cave, though it looked
more like a hole in the wall of rock than anything else.
On the other side was the head of a wide creek, to which the name of
Beaver had been applied, and a narrow, circuitous stream ran into it
from its source somewhere in the hills beyond.
Two men--one of whom bore a strong likeness to Otis Clymer, the other
to Dave Plunkett--were standing midway between the cave and the creek.
“This must be the place,” said the former, referring to a slip of paper
he held in his hand.
“Where’s the mine?” asked Plunkett, in a tone which showed he was not
wholly pleased with the outlook.
“That hole yonder must be the entrance to it,” suggested Clymer.
“If you think so, then the sooner we look into it and find out whether
it is or not, the better I’ll be pleased. Before I plank up the dust I
want to know what I’m investing in.”
“That’s all right,” returned Clymer. “But you didn’t expect to pick up
a full-grown mine all in working order, with machinery on the ground,
for a paltry two or three hundred dollars, did you?”
“I don’t say that I did,” asserted Plunkett; “but I ain’t goin’ to buy
a hole in the ground without I’ve some idea of what’s behind it. If
you can show me real copper in there, that’ll be proof the man’s story
wasn’t all moonshine. Then we’ll go and hunt up this fellow Sanders and
make it an object for him to forget he ever gave an option to somebody
else, and buy him out.”
“Come along, then. We’ve got torches which, when lighted, will show us
the way through the darkness.”
The two schemers walked over to the opening in the rock and entered the
crevice.
They were out of sight for perhaps an hour, and when they emerged
into the light of day once more it was apparent their quest had been
satisfactory, for their eyes burned with an eager glow.
“I hope you’re satisfied,” said Otis Clymer, triumphantly.
“Satisfied!” exclaimed Plunkett. “Well, I guess I am--more’n satisfied.
That there mine is a mint for us two. I’m with you hand and glove from
this minute, but it must be halves--share and share alike, do you
understand?”
“But you agreed to take a third in the first place,” protested Clymer,
half angrily. “The risk of getting those papers has all been mine. I
ought to have the larger share.”
“Can’t help that,” replied Plunkett, doggedly. “You can’t do nothing
without money, and I’ve got the dust. I’ve made up my mind to be an
equal partner, and so halves it’s got to be.”
“But I hold the option on the ground,” insisted Otis.
“Pooh! What good is it to you? It ain’t in your name, and if it was you
haven’t the money to complete the deal. What you want to do with that
option is to destroy it; then it won’t turn up to put us in a hole, may
be. I’m goin’ to look up Jim Sanders right away. If he’s the soak you
say he is, I shan’t have much trouble in gettin’ a bill of sale for
that hill out of him. Now let us settle the thing right here. Are we
even partners, or are we not?”
“You’ve got me where the shoe pinches, so I have to agree,” said
Clymer, reluctantly.
“Now you’re talkin’ sensibly. I never like to go into a deal where
the other man has the bulge on me. I’m treatin’ you perfectly fair,
for money counts every time, and it’ll take money to put this thing
through. You don’t know what trouble we may be up against if that
fellow Prawle turns up out here and makes a squeal. Without me at your
back you would be lost. Now that we’re equal partners in the enterprise
I’ll see you out of it same as myself, no matter what the consequences
happen to be. So shake hands on it.”
Otis Clymer saw that Plunkett was really master of the situation, and
he had sense enough to understand that he couldn’t do a thing without
his companion’s backing, so he held out his hand in an apparently
cordial way, and the compact between the two was sealed then and there.
Plunkett produced a big flat bottle from one of his hip pockets, and
they both drank success to the scheme in which they were embarked.
Then they took the back track, which brought them to the trail a mile
distant, and the trail landed them in Rocky Gulch in the course of an
hour.
The Gulch was a settlement of perhaps three hundred inhabitants.
It was not greatly different from some hundreds of other mining camps
which have from time to time sprung up in the western wilderness in
a night, flourished for a brief time, and then disappeared as the
occasion for their existence passed away.
It had its stores, saloons, assay offices, so-called hotels, and all
the business establishments that characterize such places.
It was picturesque and novel in its way, though life here was perhaps a
sterner reality than in more civilized communities.
Many of the buildings were constructed of wood brought from Trinity,
but by far the majority were of canvas, being both cheaper and more
readily moved.
The stores, saloons and hotels were ranged side by side along what
might be considered the main thoroughfare, while the canvas dwellings
were pitched here and there irregularly.
The majority of the men at Rocky Gulch were industrious miners; but,
as might be expected, there were not a few disreputable characters
also--gamblers, whisky sellers and loafers, who lived on the sweat of
other men’s brows.
Though Trinity, the river town, was not far away, Rocky Gulch had found
it necessary to elect a vigilance committee to preserve a semblance
of order, and this committee had a repressing effect on the lawless
element.
Many dangerous and worthless characters had been run out of the camp
time and again, but for all that the inhabitants with one accord always
went about armed, for no one could say when he might be up against
trouble.
When Otis Clymer and Dave Plunkett came over from Trinity that morning
to look up the copper mine they first put up at the Rocky Gulch Hotel.
This establishment, the most pretentious by the way in the place,
consisted of three good-sized rooms, constructed of timber.
The front room, facing on the street, was occupied by a small office
and a big bar; the middle apartment as a kitchen and dining-room, while
the rear room was lined with rough bunks, without bedding of any kind,
for the guests to spread their own blankets and sleep as best they
could.
It was dinner time when the two schemers got back to Rocky Gulch, and
after that meal they lost no time striking up acquaintance with many of
the habitues with the view of finding out the present whereabouts of
Jim Sanders.
But not one whom they accosted could say where Sanders might be found,
though the general opinion seemed to be that Jim was blind drunk
somewhere in Trinity.
He had disappeared from Rocky Gulch on the day he had received the
hundred dollars from Gideon Prawle, and given that individual the
option on his property.
That was all Clymer and Plunkett could learn, and they were grievously
disappointed.
They were extremely anxious to settle up the business right away, lest
Prawle appear on the scene and cause trouble.
“I don’t see but that we must go back to Trinity,” said Clymer. “The
man doesn’t seem to be here.”
And so to Trinity they returned and began a search for Sanders there.