9239
ANCE knew [231] nothing of Colonel Bonifield’s discouraging labors in
the mine. Indeed, he had been so busy with other matters that he had not
found time to call on the Bonifield’s for over a week—a very unusual
occurrence.
A few days prior to Louise’s experience in her father’s mine, Vance
had been routed up by some one knocking on his window in the middle
of the night. It proved to be none other than the missing Hank Casey,
accompanied by Marcus Donald of Waterville. A consultation that lasted
several hours followed. An understanding was finally reached, and it
was agreed that Hank Casey should remain concealed during the daytime in
Vance’s room, and await developments.
“I may be laying myself liable to the law,” said Vance, laughingly,
“in concealing a man for whom a warrant has been issued, but,
nevertheless, I believe what you tell me, and on our mutual friend,
Marcus Donald’s advice, I shall act my part unflinchingly.”
“Of course,” said Marcus Donald, “it’s none of my affairs in one
sense of the word, but when Mr. Casey came to Waterville, having walked
all the way from Gold Bluff by a circuitous route, in order to avoid
meeting any [232] one, and told me that Mr. Gibbons was about to be
unjustly arrested for murder, I at once became interested, especially
with Mr. Casey’s knowledge of the affair.”
“Ye see, pardner,” said Hank Casey, addressing Vance, “I ‘lowed
things was goin’ to be pipin’ hot in these ‘ere diggin’s, fer I
heered a rumour that Steve an’ I was both to be arrested. I knowed’
t’wan’t no use fer both of us to lay ‘round here till our hands
an’ feet were tied, so, sez I to Steve Gibbons, sez I, ‘Steve, you
make your perch here in Gold Bluff, an’ don’t you run nary an inch,
and I’ll scoot out an’ try an’ scare up some help an’ turn the
tables on these ‘ere chaps. Of course, nuther of us liked Rufus Grim
any too well; that is, we had no hankerin’ love for him; but I ‘low
were not quite low enough down to commence murderin’ people, even if
they did cheat us out of a rich mine like the Peacock. This game ain’t
out yet,” he went on, “the higher courts may reverse the decision of
the court below, and in that event Steve an’ I will yet have justice,
though it s been dangnation slow ‘bout comin’.”
“I am greatly astonished,” said Vance, “at your revelation. It
is entirely contrary to my theory of the case. I am beginning to feel,
however, that my judgment amounts to but very little in this western
country, though I must say I have received great encouragement from your
words, Mr. Donald, in regard to Waterville property. I will throw a bomb
into the enemy’s camp by writing an editorial for the Prospector that
will touch a tender place, if Mr. Casey is correct in his statement.”
It so happened that on the very day that Louise and her father were
working in the mine, the Prospector was issued, and contained the
following editorial: [233] THE RUFUS GRIM MURDER.
The history of Rufus Grim’s demise, though still shrouded in mystery,
will doubtless, when the facts are known, startle the people of Gold
Bluff even more than the murder itself. It is true that Steve Gibbons is
accused and languishes in the county jail, and that a warrant is out for
the arrest of his old associate, Hank Casey. In the excitement of the
hour, our people may have interpreted circumstantial evidence as
proof of guilt. As a matter of fact, not one jot or tittle of damaging
evidence, in the Prospector’s judgment, can be produced against these
men.
The idea of suicide has been effectually set aside by the findings
at the coroner’s inquest. No one doubts that it was a cold-blooded,
cowardly murder. We believe the murderer is in Gold Bluff to-day, and
like the wolf of old, is clad in sheep’s raiment.
Our people should understand the difference between circumstantial and
real evidence. It is probably true that both Steve Gibbons and Hank
Casey were on anything but friendly terms with Rufus Grim, but they
were not his only enemies; indeed, there is one in Gold Bluff who was
secretly, if not openly, a much greater enemy to the rich mine owner
than either of the suspected parties.
It is time that prejudice gave way to reason, and that others, who
profited much more by Rufus Grim’s removal, should not only
be suspected, but subjected to the crucial test of a thorough
investigation.
This article set the people of Gold Bluff agog. The entire camp, from
center to circumference, seemed startled by the boldness of Vance
Gilder’s double-leaded editorial. When J. Arthur Boast read the
article, he was dazed by its audacity. He sent for his attorney, and
throughout the afternoon a consultation that lasted far into the night
was held.
Work on the Peacock was shut down the following [234] morning at
Boast’s request, and the men assembled at the company’s office.
Boast, addressing the miners, said:
“You, doubtless, have read the editorial in yesterday’s Prospector,
written by a stranger and interloper in our midst, Mr. Vance Gilder, who
foully accuses me of murdering Rufus Grim.
9242
I am now going down to the office of the Prospector, and shall demand an
amende honorable. So many of you as see fit may accompany me.”
“Ay, ay!” the crowd shouted, “we are ready!” Indeed, the
citizens of Gold Bluff almost to a man, sided with Boast, and said Vance
was showing a cowardly venom at J. Arthur Boast’s unexpected success
and good fortune, that was neither dignified nor just. Boast led the
way to the Prospector office, and was followed by a throng of determined
miners and angry citizens, who were in a frame of mind that boded no
good for Vance Gilder.
Louise Bonifield had just come over to the Prospector office with a
message from her father, and met Arthur Boast at the office door. Louise
tripped lightly into the office and saluted Vance with a cheery smile
and good morning, while Boast paused in the doorway.
“Good morning, Mr. Gilder,” said he, savagely.
“Good morning,” replied Vance.
“Who wrote this editorial?” asked Boast, striking vigorously a copy
of the Prospector which he held in his hand. “I tell you,” continued
Boast, “I never murdered Rufus Grim, and any man that says I did is a
liar, abase scoundrel, and a contemptible whelp!”
[235] “That’s right! Ay, ay!” exclaimed the mob that was standing
behind Boast, ready at a moment’s notice to loot the printing office.
Vance was cool and collected. He noticed that Boast spoke in his
old-time thin, piping voice, and his eyes were restless and glittered
like a fiend’s. The element of manhood and of the philosopher had
wholly disappeared.
Louise stepped quickly forward before Vance could make a reply, and
laying her hand on Boast’s arm, said: “Arthur, you know I have
always been your friend. I am sure Mr. Gilder has never accused you of
murdering Mr. Grim. What do you mean?”
“But he has accused me,” retorted Boast. “Read this!”
Vance stepped hurriedly from behind the case, and drawing Louise gently
back, stood face to face with Arthur Boast. He was calm and determined.
“Where,” said he, “where have I accused you of murdering Rufus
Grim? Point out the sentence in the article where your name even
appears?”
“Well, you haven’t used my name, but you might as well have done
so.”
“No,” said Vance, as his eyes gleamed with fiercest indignation and
anger, “I have not accused you, Arthur Boast, but you, by this act,
with your mob of hirelings behind you, have accused yourself. Now
you must, and by the eternals, shall answer to the law. A guilty
conscience,” he continued, “needs no accuser, and it is your
accusing conscience that has prompted you to come here and publicly
charge yourself with the crime. Neither you, nor your host of admirers
on full pay, can intimidate me. If you can pass through the test of a
thorough investigation, and can be proved innocent, then I will have
[236] no more to say, but until you do this, I shall publicly accuse you
and denounce you as the murderer of Rufus Grim!”
Vance towered up like a giant before the writhing and shriveling form of
J. Arthur Boast.
0244
“Well, I don’t know that you have accused me in this editorial,”
whined Boast, “and I don’t know as I need to take any steps of
revenge until you dare to use my name in your paper. I guess I’ll wait
and see what my [237] lawyer advises. Fall back, boys, I have nothing
farther to say at this interview.”
“But I have,” said Vance, in thundering tones, “and before long I
shall have much to say.”
“Well, you won’t say it through the columns of the Gold Bluff
Prospector. It is my property; I have the bill of sale in my pocket.”
“Yes,” said Vance, “yours is the weapon of a coward; the unholy
use of the power of money, but your plan of securing possession of the
Prospector has no terrors for me. The copy of the Prospector that you
hold in your hand contains the last editorial I ever expect to write for
the paper. It may please you to know that my last dollar is gone; I am
penniless, and without interference from you the Prospector has been
issued for the last time under my management. I have been typo, managing
editor, devil, form setter, city editor, publisher and everything else,
trying hard to make an honest living. I am now through. You and
your host of satellites will oblige me by leaving the premises. Come
to-morrow morning and take possession. You’ll not find me in the
way.”
Boast turned, and facing his mob of backers said, with the forced laugh
of a whipped man:
“I thought I would squelch him, boys; he had to cave in, you bet.”
His voice was shrill and squeaky, and his braggadocio air, as he led his
admirers away, hid but poorly his nervousness and agitation.
Vance and Louise were alone. Louise had stood by during the interview,
startled and alarmed. She marvelled at Vance’s strength; at his
grandeur; at his nobleness; and when she heard him say that now he was
penniless, she remembered the sacrifices he had made to help her
father. He turned toward her and their eyes met. It came to her like an
inspiration, that her respect and admiration for him in times past had
been but a prelude to the pulsing love she now felt for him. She reached
out both her hands toward him; he took them, and a moment later she was
sobbing on his breast. No word had been spoken, but volumes had been
interchanged in that one look.
The doorway was darkened. They quickly looked up, Louise through her
tears, and Vance with a beaming countenance. Colonel Bonifield was
surveying the situation with a look of genuine surprise on his face.
“Yo’ almost pa’lyze me, suh,” said the Colonel, “indeed yo’
do. Why, Mr. Gilder, I sent my little girl oveh here to tell yo’ that
I had a matteh of vehy great impo’tance to talk oveh with yo’, but
she was gone so long, suh, [238] that I became impatient and came oveh
myself.”
“Oh, papa,” said Louise, “Mr. Gilder and Arthur have had a
terrible quarrel!”
“A quarrel, suh; why, how is that?”
“I am always ready to talk with you, Colonel,” said Vance, in a
confused way, and unconsciously retaining one of Louise’s hands.
“Well, now, if my little girl,” said the Colonel “God bless her!
will go oveh home and see about preparin’ dinneh and lay an extra
plate fo’ yo’, we’ll have our talk and come oveh a little
lateh.”
While no word had been spoken between Vance and Louise, yet he believed
that his great love had been understood and rewarded. He lifted her
hand to his lips as she started to go, with that chivalrous respect
so becoming in the knights of old. When she was gone, Vance turned and
thought he saw a smile chasing rapidly over the Colonel’s face.
“Wait a moment, Colonel,” said Vance, “I have some choice cigars
that were sent me from New York. Here, try this one.”
“Thank yo’,” [239] said the Colonel, “I neveh felt mo’ like
smokin’ in my life than I do this mawnin’ As they lit their cigars,
they walked out in front of the printing office. The morning sun
mellowed the crisp and invigorating mountain air. Vance narrated his
interview with Boast. The Colonel’s face clouded with a troubled
expression. Presently he said:
“Mr. Gilder, we have at last finished our work on Gray Rocks.”
“I am very glad,” was Vance’s reply.
“Yo’ fo’ced me, suh, at one time,” said the Colonel, “to make
a promise. When I pledge my word of honor, suh, as I did to yo’, it is
sacred. Heretofore yo’ most naturally, Mr. Gilder, have asked me what
I advised. I now come to yo’ and ask, what do yo’ advise?”
“Colonel Bonifield,” said Vance, “I am glad you ask me what I
advise. You know, Colonel, when you first came to New York city, you
thought that if you could only get to the 300 foot level you would
cross-cut into a mine of untold wealth.”
“Yes, suh,” replied the Colonel, “that is so, and yo’ freely
gave me the money to push the work.”
“Yes,” said Vance, and unconsciously with the toe of his boot he dug
in the sand as if he was seeking the 300 foot level, “at the 300 foot
level your efforts were not rewarded. Then you started for the 400 foot
level.”
[240] “Yes, suh,” said the Colonel, “and again you gave me the
money.”
“Yes, yes,” said Vance, as the toe of his boot dug still deeper in
the sand, “but again you failed. Then I gave you the last dollar of
ready money I had in the world to sink the shaft on down to the 500 foot
level.”
“Vehy true,” said the Colonel, “and would have given me mo’ if
yo’ had had it.”
“Most assuredly,” said Vance, as his boot struck the rock that lay
beneath the sand. “Yes,” said he, planting his heel firmly on the
rock, “you have at last reached the 500 foot level. Heretofore, I have
listened to your advice, and now I hope you will be guided by mine. I
have been away from New York over two years. I have not left Gold Bluff
for more than a year. I have remained close to Gray Rocks, alternately
hoping and doubting that you would be successful. Colonel Bonifield,
I have no regrets. You have been earnest and sincere, though sadly
mistaken, in regard to this mining venture.”
“Well, well, suh,” said the Colonel, as he waited for Vance to go
on.
“I have something [241] to say to you, Colonel—I love your daughter
with my whole heart, and more devotedly, it seems to me, than ever man
loved woman before. I have a beautiful home in New York city, with ample
means to care for her and you. My advice is that you and your lovely
daughter, with those dependent upon you, come with me and we will leave
these western wilds, so associated with disappointment, and go to
my city home. This morning, for the first time, I have had reason to
believe that your daughter reciprocated the great love I bear her. You
are now an old man, Colonel, and while I have not a doubt in the world
that if you would sink your shaft to the 600 foot level, say, or,
perhaps to the 700 foot level, you would strike the vein of gold you
have been looking for so many years; yet, what is the use, Colonel
Bonifield, what is the use? My love for your daughter is very great,
and I believe it is unselfish. A home of plenty awaits us. Hardships and
disappointment alone have been the reward of our earnest efforts.
Why not go away from it all? Yes, let us go and forget the trials,
hardships, and hopes deferred of a frontiersman’s life, and let me
help you spend the remaining years of your life in quiet, peace, and
contentment.”
“Yo’ do me honor, suh,” replied the Colonel, as he brushed a mist
from his eyes, “bawn in the nawth, yet yo’ possess the true chivalry
of a southern gentleman. Yes, suh, yo’ do, indeed. It is true we sunk
the shaft to the 300 foot level, and finally, to the 500 foot level, and
you, suh, have fu’nished the money fo’ this great work. I thought
my men would stay with me and help cross-cut into the vein, but I found,
when I spoke to them about the matteh, that they only had confidence
in Gray Rocks so long as there was money in my purse to pay their wages
every Saturday night. When they dese’ted me, suh, I worked away alone,
and finally that little girl, Louise, went down with me yeste’day
early in the mawnin’, and we didn’t get home until after nine
o’clock last night.”
[242] “What!” said Vance, “Louise been working down in the mine?”
“Yes, suh, the hardest day’s work I eveh put in on Gray Rocks was
yeste’day.”
“Why did you not let me know?” asked Vance, “I would have come and
helped you most cheerfully, rather than have let her do the work of a
man, and 500 feet under ground at that.”
“Well, hold on, Mr. Gilder, let me tell yo’. We had a goodly portion
of giant powder yeste’day mawnin’, and yo’ve no idea how much
assistance Louise gave me. I took the measu’ments a dozen times, suh,
durin’ the day, and it seemed to me that by workin’ a little late,
we might finally blast through into the vein.”
“Yes, Colonel, ‘where the vein might have been,’.rdquo; said
Vance, with a merry twinkle in his eye, while he struck his heel in
an absent way against the rock. The Colonel paid no attention to the
interruption.
“Finally, suh, we made our last, drill, and filled it up with every
grain of powdeh we had left. My little Louise had to dust every powdeh
can in ordeh to have enough to make the last blast. We retired, suh, as
usual, afteh I had lit the fuse, and yo’ ought to have heard that
last blast go off! My daughter, suh, God bless her, tried to dull
the disappointment that she felt sure was awaitin’ our effo’ts
by gettin’ me to promise not to be too much disappointed; but I had
confidence; yes, suh, right up to the last. Well, suh, the smoke finally
cleared away, and my God! suh, my old eyes wept for joy!”
“What!” exclaimed Vance.
“Look at this piece of ore, Mr. Gilder; richer, yes, suh, richer than
anything ever discovered in the Peacock. [243] Yes, suh, my deah
Gilder, we have made our last blast, and Gray Rocks is worth two million
dollars. The agent of a rich minin’ corporation of Butte City made me
an offer of that sum this mawnin’.”