CHAPTER XX.—THE STAGE IS ROBBED.

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HE [168] next morning Vance met his old acquaintance, Hank Casey.

“Good morning, Mr. Casey,” said Vance, cheerily.

“Hello, pardner,” was the laconic and somewhat dejected reply.

“I haven’t seen you for some time,” said Vance.

“No, I’ve been prospectin’ round these ‘ere diggin’s, but I

guess I won’t stay much longer. The court decided agin Steve Gibbons

an’ me. I think I’ll go back to Butte City afore long. She’s the

pertest minin’ camp in the ‘hull country.”

“You say the court has decided against you?” repeated Vance.

“Yes,” he replied, “Steve Gibbons an’ we had a law suit agin’

Rufus Grim over the Peacock. B. Webster Legal is a pretty cute lawyer,

an’ for a time he made it bilin’ hot for old Grim, but somehow on

the show-down we got done up. It don’t make much difference how cute a

feller’s lawyer is, when the court’s prejudiced all out o’ shape.

I sometimes think old Grim has a ‘nuf sight better title to the court

of this ‘ere district than he has to the Peacock mine.”

“Your friend Gibbons,” said Vance, “told me sonnies [169] thing of

this law suit, and I rather expected, with the assistance of an attorney

like B. Webster Legal, you would succeed in establishing your claim. You

have my sympathy if an injustice has been done you.”

“Oh, it wa’n’. no fault of Lawyer Legal, I can tell you, he’s

a hummer, and a mighty social chap in the bargain; but this ‘ere game

isn’t played to a finish yet, pardner, not by several great, big moves

on the chess board. You see, we’ve appealed it to the higher courts,

but they’re so dangnation slow that a feller had better get a hustle

on hisself while he’s waitin’ for a decision or he’ll starve.

When old Grim has his neck broken, honest people may then get their just

deserts.” He seemed dejected, and soon after took his leave, saying

that he was going into the mountains to do a little prospecting.

The Peacock mine was constantly increasing its output of the yellow

metal. Nearly every stage carried shipments of gold bullion to the

mints. Rufus Grim was growing richer and more pompous. His satellites

and admirers noticeably increased after the courts had decided in his

favor.

In the meantime the pumps in Gray Rocks had broken down and delayed the

work several weeks. Vance was in a state of feverish anxiety. He longed

to be relieved from the mental strain and know whether he was a half

owner in a gold mine that produced in paying quantities, or only a half

owner in a worthless shaft in the mountain side.

He retired one evening at an early hour, tired out and thoroughly

disgusted with his achievements in the west. He was awakened about two

o’clock in the morning by a great commotion going on below. Hastily

dressing himself, he went down to the bar-room, where he found

everything was wild with excitement. [170] The stage coach had

been robbed, and it was reported that Steve Gibbons was dead. Hasty

preparations were being made to form a posse and start in pursuit of the

highwaymen.

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The express company had some heavy consignments of gold bullion sent

from the Peacock mine, and it was reported missing. Vance signified his

willingness to join in the pursuit, and was furnished with a horse, and

soon after they started pell-mell down the mountain road from Gold Bluff

in the direction of Waterville, to the point where the robbery had taken

place.

Rufus Grim offered $1,000 for the capture of the perpetrators, which,

together with a large sum offered by the express company, stimulated a

feverish interest in the chase.

The sun was just coming up when they reached the place where the robbers

had sallied forth from a neighboring mountain gorge the morning before

and committed their lawless work. About two miles beyond, they found the

only two passengers of the ill-fated stage coach. A gentleman and his

wife from the east had been visiting Colonel Boast, the rich rancher

who lived near Gold Bluff, and were returning to their eastern home. The

gentleman had been relieved of his wallet, containing some $2,000, also

his watch, diamond pin, and his wife of her jewelry. They were left in

a destitute condition, and were waiting to take the next stage back to

Gold Bluff to secure such aid from Colonel Boast as would enable them to

continue their homeward journey.

They said there were [171] five of the robbers. When they commanded

Steve Gibbons to stop, he whipped up his horses, and received a bullet

through his body for his attempted bravery. He fell from the stage coach

and sustained serious injuries.

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The robbers quickly stopped the horses, relieved the two passengers

of their possessions, secured the express matter and started for the

mountain wilds, taking with them the four dapple-gray horses that Steve

Gibbons had prided himself so much in driving.

Gibbons had been carefully cared for by the mountain rancher and his

wife, where the two passengers were [172] stopping. A physician had been

sent for and dressed his wounds. He said Gibbons would get well; the

bullet had struck a rib and glanced off.

After learning these meager details, the posse pushed on into the

mountains in hot pursuit. They were under command of the sheriff of the

county. The trail of the desperadoes was easily followed. Along in the

afternoon, the sheriff called a halt for refreshments. The horses were

tethered with lariats to some trees that grew near a mountain stream,

and permitted to graze while the men refreshed themselves with lunches

which they had brought along.

“We’re twenty-four hours behind the rascals,” said the sheriff,

“and I don’t know whether we’ll overtake them or not.” Some of

the men were eager to go on, and others were ready to give up the chase.

After a rest of an hour or such a matter, the order was given to again

mount, and the trail was followed until darkness set in. Sleeping on the

ground with the starry canopy for a covering was a new experience for

Vance, but he was determined not to show the white feather. What others

endured he would endure.

About ten o’clock the next morning, they came to a mountain gorge and

followed the trail to a point where it seemed quite impossible for a

horseman to ascend, it was so steep and rugged. The sheriff and a few of

his men dismounted and went on ahead, looking for the trail. They found

horses’ tracks, but where could they have gone? The grass was deep and

heavy in the center of the gulch, and fringed with trees and boulders

on either side. Finally the sheriff returned and reported the trail as

lost. [173] “They have evidently come into this ‘pocket’ of a canon

to throw us off their trail. We will have to return to the mouth of the

gorge and see in what other direction the trail leads.”

The afternoon was spent in searching for the lost trail. Night overtook

the party again, and rations were very short. Their meal was a frugal

one, and far from satisfying the hunger of men who had ridden hard all

day. The horses were securely fastened and the party lay down to

sleep. Vance made his bed on some bunch grass that grew under the

wide-spreading branches of a mountain pine. He could plainly hear the

rippling of a stream which ran near by, and when deep silence settled

down over the landscape, save the occasional snort of one of the horses,

the singing of the stream grew louder and louder. The smell of pine

added to the deliciousness of his novel and strange surroundings.

Weariness soon overcame the discomforts of his improvised bed, and he

sank to sleep. Suddenly he awoke in the middle of the night, but found

everyone else was deep in slumber, save the two guards that had been

left on duty a few yards from the camp. The stars were winking at him

from above; a wolf was howling a dismal cadence, and was answered by

another far away in a different direction. An owl hooted its discordant

strain from the dead branch of a tree a short distance away.

He closed his eyes, and thought of the wonderful change that a few

months had brought into his life; but these thoughts one after another

vanished; and still other fancies went pell-mell through his imagination

in the panorama of thought. Presently a face appeared on this mental

canvas—so sweet, so tender, so trusting, and [174] wreathed in

that smile he knew so well. He started, opened his eye and murmured,

“Louise.”

The wolf howled again in the distance, and he thought he detected a

snappish twang in its concluding barks, and wondered if it foreboded

danger. Occasionally one of the horses would snort and stamp on the

ground, and then go on munching, munching, the grass on which they were

feeding. Finally he dozed again and slept. He thought it was only a

moment afterward, when someone shook his shoulder and told him to get

up. He opened his eyes and found it was morning.

He hastily sprang up and found there was considerable excitement among

his associates. The sheriff was missing. About a half hour later he came

into camp and said he had been out looking for the trail, but could find

nothing of it. He said they might as well return home.

Vance was not sorry of this decision, for he was hungry and tired and

sore. There were mutterings, however, among some of the sheriff’s

posse, and they whispered among themselves as if they suspected their

chief of crooked work.

It took them two days to return to Gold Bluff. They found Steve Gibbons

at the hotel, and able to sit up. The robbers had all worn masks, and

it was impossible for him to give a description of any of them. The

representative of the express company was evidently disappointed that

the sheriff had not been able to find the desperadoes; $10,000 of gold

bullion had been stolen, as well as other valuable express matter.

A few days later, Steve Gibbons declared that he was able to resume his

place on the stage coach, but it transpired that two of his bondsmen

had asked to be relieved [175] This was an insinuation that some one

regarded him as an accomplice in the unfortunate stage robbery. He

investigated and found it was Rufus Grim who had advised two of his

bondsmen to be a little careful. During the day, through Vance’s

assistance, Gibbons succeeded in giving a satisfactory bond.

That evening, a little the worse for drink, he accosted Rufus Grim at

the post office, where the Gold bluff villagers were wont to congregate

on the arrival of the evening coach.

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Steve Gibbons was evidently the agressor. “Look’ee here, Mr.

Grim,” said Steve Gibbons, approaching him, “you’ve been

interferin’ with me for a good many years, and it’s time you was

lettin’ up.”

“I don’t know, Mr. Gibbons,” said Grim, “that I have ever

interfered with you. I have plenty of business of my own to look after,

without bothering with other people’s.”

“That’s all right, pardner,” said Gibbons, “but there’s

somebody likely to wish they’d never been born if they don’t quit

foolin’ with me. You advised some of my bondsmen to take their names

off from the bond, but I’ve got other friends, and jes’ as many of

‘em as you have, and don’t you forget it!”

“There must be some mistake, Mr. Gibbons,” said Grim, very coolly.

“I know,” said Gibbons, “jes’ what I’m talkin’ about. You

have tried to infer that I was mixed up in the robbery of the stage

coach, and I say you are an unprincipled old scoundrel, and a liar in

the bargain. If I was as strong as I was before I was shot, I’d maul

the [176] earth with you. You stole the Peacock mine from Hank Casey

an’ me, an’ I’ve my suspicions that you bought judge and jury to

beat us in our law suit.”

One would have thought that Grim would have become very angry, but

instead, he tried to pacify the irate and angry Steve Gibbons. It seemed

to anger Gibbons beyond description that he could not disturb the even

temper of Rufus Grim, and finally, in a burst of anger at Grim,

Gibbons said: “You’d better have your life insured, old man, for

somebody’s goin’ to be revenged, and the day of judgment ain’t

very far ‘way, nuther.”

At this threat, Grim turned quickly and reached for his revolver.

Gibbons was unarmed. A moment later, Grim seemed to master himself, and

turning away, walked down the street.

Hank Casey put his arm through Steve Gibbon’s and led him to the

hotel. Gibbons was hilarious, but Casey felt that in his hilarity he had

been very indiscreet. The next morning, however, he mounted the stage

coach on his regular run between Gold Bluff and Waterville.

My "Pardner" and I (Gray Rocks): A Story of the Middle-West · 第 20 / 27 章