9226
HE next [218] day Rufus Grim was missed from the Peacock. His manager
could not understand it. Never before had he absented himself from his
office without giving the most detailed instructions in regard to work
in the mine. When the following morning came and he was still absent,
the manager’s fears ripened into genuine alarm and soon all the
people of Gold Bluff were discussing the mystery of Rufus Grim’s
disappearance.
A vigorous search was instituted, which resulted a few days later in
finding his lifeless body at the bottom of the old prospect shaft. At
the coroner’s inquest it was decided that he had been murdered, as was
evidenced by peculiar wounds on the back of his head.
He was laid to rest by the side of his deceased wife, with a
demonstration that far excelled any funeral that had ever taken place in
Gold Bluff. Such a cowardly murder excited the sympathy of all who knew
him. They forgot the pompous, over-bearing owner of the Peacock, in
listening to the minister’s pious words of commendation over the
mangled remains of Rufus Grim, the citizen.
The mystery surrounding his demise appealed to all law-abiding citizens
to help hunt down the assassin. In [219] the feverish excitement it was
remembered that Hank Casey and Steve Gibbons were sworn enemies of the
rich mine owner; indeed, the latter had even threatened his life in the
presence of numerous witnesses.
The sheriff who had so ignominiously failed in running down the stage
robbers, took the lead in trying to ferret out the murderer and bring
him to justice. A few days after this, warrants were sworn out for the
arrest of Steve Gibbons and Hank Casey, charging them with the crime.
Gibbons was arrested, but Hank Casey could not be found. He had
disappeared a few days after the murder, and no one knew where he had
gone. Gibbons maintained a dogged silence and seemed much subdued and
humiliated that not one of his many supposed friends came forward to
sign his bond. Handcuffed and accompanied by the sheriff, heavily armed,
he appealed in vain to many, but without success. Vance made himself
quite unpopular by offering to sign Steve Gibbons’ bond. The people
were indignant and said it was carrying his ill-feeling toward Rufus
Grim entirely too far. As he had no property excepting an interest in
Gray Rocks mine, which was undeveloped, he was considered incompetent as
a bondsman and promptly rejected.
One evening Vance worked very late setting type on the Prospector. It
was past midnight when he went to his sleeping room. He was about to
retire when he heard some one knocking at the printing office door. He
admitted the visitor and found it to be J. Arthur Boast.
“Good evening, Mr. Gilder,” said he, “I have come to see you on a
little matter of great importance to myself.”
“Come in,” said Vance, “I have no light in this room; come on into
my bedroom.”
[220] “You will remember a conversation we had,” said Boast, “some
time ago at the hotel.” Vance assented that he did. “Well, I have
come tonight to claim a little of the reciprocal friendship which you
promised me.”
“Circumstances,” said Boast, “indeed, shape the destiny of man. Of
this I am more and more convinced. To think of us sitting down together
as friends a month ago would have been preposterous, and yet I am happy
to know we meet as such to-night. What impelled me to send for you the
night you visited me at the hotel, I am unable to explain; an impulse
that I was not strong enough to overcome, compelled me to do it. I feel,
Mr. Gilder, that I have much to be thankful for in your friendship, and
yet it has all been brought about by a circumstance over which I had
no control. It was not the result of a premeditated judgment, but the
outcome of an impulse.”
“I hope,” said Vance, as he reached Boast a cigar and lit one
himself, “that you have no regrets in regard to our late friendly
understanding.”
“No, indeed,” replied Boast, “on the contrary I feel that I am one
of the most fortunate men living. By the way,” he continued, “this
is an excellent cigar.”
“Yes,” replied Vance, “I received a box from one of my New York
friends. It is a luxury that I am not able to indulge in very freely,
unless some old chum happens to remember my isolation in these Western
mountains and takes pity on me.”
“Have I told you,” asked Boast, “that I have quit drinking?”
“No!” replied Vance, in some surprise.
“Yes, I have given up red liquor altogether. The habit got a pretty
strong hold on me and I was going down hill at a very rapid pace;
indeed, I had quite given up any hope of ever being anything but a hard
drinker. Scarcely had I reconciled myself to that belief, than a whim,
a caprice, an impulse, or whatever you may call it, took hold of me and
said, ‘No more [221] liquor, J. Arthur Boast; not another drop,’ and
from that day to this I have not tasted the abominable stuff.”
9229
Vance assured him he was glad to hear of the reformation.
“I am in love; desperately so,’.rdquo; said Boast.
“In love?” repeated Vance.
“Yes, I am in love with my cousin, Bertha Allen, and she reciprocates
my own tender affection. On her account, if not for my own, I am indeed
glad the red liquor craze has been overcome, and that reminds me of the
object of my visit.
“Bertha is such [222] a stickler on formalities and so sensitive that
I have had hard work to convince her our marriage should take place
so soon after her mother’s death. Our arrangements were made to be
married the day after to-morrow. Her step-father’s death, of course,
complicated matters a little, and she thought we ought to postpone the
affair. As usual, however,” continued Boast, “I have convinced her
that she is wrong and I am right, and have finally gained her consent,
on one condition, that you and Miss Louise will favor us with your
presence and act as groomsman and bridesmaid.”
Vance was non-plussed at Boast’s remarks, and for a moment did not
know what to say.
“It will be a very quiet affair,” continued Boast, “immediate
relatives and all that—she has none, and neither have I, save my
father and mother. We are to be married at my father’s. There’s no
one Bertha thinks so much of as Louise. They have been chums for many
years, and since you profess friendship for me, I feel sure you’ll not
refuse my request.”
Vance promised to consider the matter and let him know the next day,
after consulting Louise.
“Very well,” said Boast, “I will call to-morrow. It’s really too
bad,” he went on, “that a weak little woman like Bertha should have
had so much suffering during the last few months. Actuated by sympathy
as well as love, I feel it my duty to set formalities aside, marry her,
and thus insure to myself the privilege of protecting and caring for her
as she deserves.”
“Yes,” said [223] Vance, “she has had a great deal to endure. By
the way, Mr. Boast, do you believe Steve Gibbons guilty of Mr. Grim’s
murder?”
Boast relit his cigar before answering. “Mr. Gilder,” said he, after
deliberating, “I hope Mr. Gibbons is innocent. I have tried to look
calmly at his case, shrouded in mystery as it is. I have tried to blunt
my ears to whisperings and prejudices and not jump with the multitude
toward a hasty conclusion Of course, the circumstantial evidence
against Mr. Gibbous is rather damaging. Mr. Casey’s disappearance and
Gibbon’s continued silence as to his whereabouts, makes it look still
worse. The probabilities are that nine out of ten of the people of
Gold Bluff believe him to be guilty. They have built up a wall of
circumstantial evidence that seems to be impregnable, and unless the
public pulse is permitted to cool before his trial comes off, they very
likely will convict him, To me, mercy seems much more preferable than
a hasty judgment, Well, good-night, Mr. Gilder. I am sorry to have been
compelled to call on you at such a late hour, but you know,” said he,
with a jocular laugh, “it is an urgent case, and when you are as near
to your nuptials as I am, I’ll forgive you if you should rout me out
of bed at all hours of the night.”
“A strange man!” said Vance to himself when Boast was gone, “he
talks like a philosopher. His judgment is seasoned with mercy. How could
I have misunderstood him as I did? It’s rather odd that he and Bertha
Allen are to be married. I know Louise will be surprised. After all,
it’s best that he should marry Miss Allen, and the very fact that
he makes her his wife at this time when she is left completely alone,
really ennobles the fellow to me.”
The following day a favorable answer was given to Boast, and the
marriage took place the next evening. It was indeed a quiet affair.
Whether Colonel Boast and his wife approved of their only son marrying
his cousin or not, Vance was unable to satisfactorily decide in his own
mind; but he and Louise both acknowledged that they felt freed from an
indescribable restraint after taking their departure.
Almost simultaneously with the announcement of J. Arthur Boast’s
marriage was the discovery that Bertha Allen was the heiress of all the
vast possessions of the murdered mine owner. Rufus Grims attorney
became Arthur Boast’s trusted adviser. Work in the great Peacock mine
continued, and within a week J. Arthur Boast was in control of affairs;
indeed, he seemed a changed [224] man. His responsibilities seemed to
subdue without irritating him. The people were quick to discover new
elements of strength in the controller of the Peacock, and vied with
each other in giving him encouragement.
Work on Gray Rocks had not been progressing so smoothly. Old Colonel
Bonifield, fired with the enthusiasm of a Ponce de Leon, believed the
forty odd men employed in cross-cutting the drift shaft from the 500
foot level would remain with him, although his finances were exhausted.
It was on Saturday night that he called his men about him and explained
his temporary embarrassments.
8232
He paid them off in full, and assured them that three or four more
days’ work with their united assistance, was all that was necessary
to reach the gold he had been looking for so many weary years, and
expressed confidence, in his chivalrous way, that all his employes would
report the next Monday morning for work, and stay with him until the
drift was finished. The following Monday morning, however, found but
a half dozen men reporting for work, much to Colonel Bonifield’s
surprise and disappointment.
The old Colonel went into the mine with his faithful adherents,
and encouraged them by his undaunted energy. What could have been
accomplished by forty men in the space of three days, would require
fifteen or twenty days with his half dozen assistants. They lessened the
size of the drift shaft, however, and this would make quite a saving of
time. Throughout the week, the Colonel, with his handful of assistants,
labored incessantly. When the next Monday morning came around, he found
that only three reported for duty. This was indeed discouraging, but
with a determination that knew no brooking, he went on.
Two days later, [225] his three assistants advised him that their
families were in want of the necessities of life, and while they
still had unbounded faith in Gray Rocks, yet they owed a duty to their
families first and before all else, and could not remain with him any
longer.
After this, the engineer and fireman took turns in helping the Colonel.
One man remaining in the engine room performed the work of both. After
a couple of days of monotonous drilling and blasting, the Colonel one
evening told Louise of his great discouragement.
“My deah daughter,” said the Colonel, “they have all dese’ted
me; I am left alone to finish the work in the mine as best I can. It’s
pow’ful humiliatin’ to be dese’ted just when I am reachin’ fo’
the last round in the laddeh.” Louise had slipped her arms around his
neck while he was speaking.
“My dear father,” she said, “why not go to Mr. Gilder; he has been
so true to you, and I am sure, now that you are so near finishing your
work, he will give you what assistance is needed.”
The old man stroked his daughter’s hair affectionately. “Yes,
suh, yo’ are right; he would help me if he could. No one seems to
undehstand me, Louise, my deah child, except’n’ yo’self and Mr.
Gilder. I may as well tell yo’ that I called on Mr. Gilder sev’al
days ago fo’ a little mo’ money, and he told me the $6,000 which he
had given us was practically every dollar he had in the world. It made
my old heart bleed to see the pained expression on the [226] noble
young fellow’s face—pained because he couldn’t help me mo’. I
explained to him that it made no diff’ence; that my men—the rascals
who have so shamefully dese’ted me—had confidence in Gray Rocks, and
that they would stand by me fo’ a few days longeh.”
The Colonel walked back and forth in an agitated way, and held his head
between his hands. “My God, it will drive me crazy,” he exclaimed,
“if the work is not finished.” Louise was startled at his manner.
She noticed that he appeared older than ever before, and condemned
herself for not giving him more encouragement and help.
“Father, how can I help you?” she asked, imploringly.
“There is no way, my precious little child; come here to me.” He
seated himself and she nestled on his lap.
“To-morrow morning, father,” said she, “now listen, for I am going
to have my way—to-morrow morning I am going with you down to the 500
foot level and help you with the work. I’m not afraid, and I’m very
strong, too.”
“Why, what [227] would Mr. Gilder say if he knew my little girl
was down in a mine workin’.” said the Colonel, half amused at her
earnestness, while he pressed her close and closer to him.
“Mr. Gilder?” repeated Louise, looking dreamily into the bed of red
coals in the open grate, “we won’t tell him. How heroic it was of
him to give you every dollar he had in the world! Tell me, father, do
you think any one else would have done so much?”
“No, suh,” replied the Colonel, “there’s betteh blood
cou’sin’ through his veins than any man I eveh saw. To be sure,
he’s a nawth’n man—that is, he was bawn in the nawth; but even the
old state of Virginia neveh produced a manlier man.”
True to her promise, the next morning found Louise with her father in
the drift shaft, 500 feet underground. They had carried with them
a well-filled lunch basket, and worked with a determination born of
despair. Holes were drilled deep in the solid rock and filled with giant
powder, then after lighting the fuse, they would retreat until the blast
resounded in hollow mockery through the caverns of the earth. No sooner
would the smoke clear away than they would drill again.
While Louise was drilling and putting forth all her strength in work
that would have tried the courage of the hardiest miner, her father
would take turns with her, and again he would measure the distance from
the shaft to see how much farther they had to drift.
It was late in the evening, and they had been working on some time in
silence, when the Colonel, after making a last measurement, shouted out
in the stillness, “Well finish it to-night! Bring the powdeh, while
I drill!” and presently another blast resounded like a death knell to
hope, tearing away great sections of the adamantine rock. On, on they
worked—drilling and blasting.
Louise had become well-nigh exhausted, and rested for a moment, when the
Colonel shouted: “Drill on! Drill on! There’s no time to lose!”
“But, father,” cried Louise, “the powder is all gone. Shall we
not send the engineer for more? There’s hardly enough for more than
another blast.”
“No!” yelled the Colonel, almost like a maniac in vehemence, “I
have no money fo’ mo’ powdeh. [228] Let us use what we have. Scrape
the cans and put it all in one great blast. I will drill.”
0236
Louise was frightened. She feared her father was losing his mind. It
might be, after all, that instead of benefitting him by her constant
encouragement and belief in Gray Rocks, she had but added to his vain
hallucination, and the shock of another failure might dethrone his
reason. While she was thinking, she industriously applied herself to
gathering from the different cans that had contained the giant powder
all that was left into one. Yes, there was enough for one more blast,
but not enough for two.
“Where is the powdeh?” cried the Colonel. She looked at her father,
whose face was almost as white as the disheveled hair of his uncovered
head. He had thrown aside his hat and coat, and was wrought up to the
highest pitch of excitement.
“A moment, father,” said Louise, laying her hand on his arm.
“Let me alone, I have no time to wait,” he said.
“But listen, father, won’t you? Listen to me just a moment.”
“Well, what is it?” said he, impatiently, wiping the perspiration
from his brow.
“For thirteen years, father, you’ve been striving and striving to
find gold in Gray Rocks; what if you are no nearer now than you were
thirteen years ago? Will you be so terribly disappointed, father? Come,
tell me you will not.” She had her arms about his neck and was looking
pleadingly up into his face. He pushed her from him.
“Yo’ talk as if yo’ [229] doubted,” said he. “I’m thirteen
years nearer success to-night than the day I commenced. It’s vehy
humiliatin’ to me to think that yo’, Louise, should doubt yo’r
old father’s judgment. Have yo’ forgotten that my blood cou’ses in
yo’r veins? Are yo’, too, turnin’ against me at the vehy last?”
“Oh, father,” cried Louise, as she clung to him and buried her head
on his breast, sobbing wildly, “don’t speak to me so harshly! It
will kill me! Have I not,” said she, between her sobs, “stood by
you and believed [230] with you, though all others, unless it was Mr.
Gilder, turned against you? I believe now that you are right,
father, but it may be deeper down, and I was only trying to make the
disappointment less hard in case disappointment should again be the
result of our efforts.”
“There, there, little girl,” said the Colonel, stroking her head
affectionately, “I do forgive yo’, and yo’ must forgive yo’r
old, excitable father. Let us put in the powdeh; let us make the last
blast, and let its resoundin’ peals tell the whole world that we’ve
done our best!”
“Yes, father; that we have indeed done our utmost; and after this
blast we will go home and still have faith in Gray Rocks, though the
whole world disbelieves.”
“We have plenty of powdeh here,” said the old Colonel, picking up
the can, “to tear ten tons of rock into shreds.”
The fuse was lighted and they retired for protection until the powder
should ignite. Presently there was a deafening roar, as if the mountains
were being split asunder. The Colonel grasped his daughter’s hand with
such a vise-like grip that it almost made her cry out with pain.
“The last blast!” shouted the old Colonel, when the reverberations
had ceased, “the smoke will soon clear away, and then we shall see,
yes, suh, we shall see!”