STARTLING NEWS
Frank saw that the situation was a grave one. The rough men of the
mining camp naturally believed that their demands had been refused by
the stern overseer, Mr. Riley, with the approval of Colonel Haywood.
And their anger must, in that event, be more or less inflamed against
the principal owner of the mine.
Such turbulent spirits, once they got started, would be capable of
doing almost any terrible thing in order to satisfy their desire to
get even.
Frank, however, knew that there was a way to manage even the most
riotous crowd, provided the men had not gone beyond all restraint.
A few half-way sensible spirits among the crowd could sway them the
right way. Here was McCoy, who could be placed in that list; but the
question was, were there any others?
“McCoy,” he said to the engineer, as the miners came trooping
forward, with ominous looks and cries, “back me up in anything that
I’m going to say. And if you happen to know of several decent fellows
among the lot, call on them to stand by us when the pinch comes. I’m
going to carry the day!”
The Scotchman looked admiringly at the boy, as he observed quickly:
“Now, I wouldn’t be surprised if ye do, Frank. Anyhow, ye can depend
on Sandy McCoy to stand by ye, come what may. And sometimes a soft
word does more than all the threats in the wide world.”
“I believe you, Sandy,” replied Frank.
There was really little time for saying anything more. The surging
mob had by now drawn close to them. Bob could see the ugly faces of
the men, and he found himself wondering whether the fact of their
carrying repeating rifles was going to help matters any.
Frank had made not the slightest move looking toward his gun. He sat
in the saddle, and smiled, as he waved a hand toward the approaching
miners.
“Hello! men,” he called out.
A perfect howl went up, so that if Frank had intended saying anything
more it would have been drowned in the racket. He sat there, still
smiling, as though waiting for a chance to speak. A few of the miners
were seen to be turning on their point, and several scowled at Sandy,
as though trying to enforce silence. Above the clamor Bob heard one
fellow say:
“Keep still, and let the boy have a chance! Give him a square deal,
and listen to what he’s got to say afore ye howl him down. Silence!”
By slow degrees the noise began to subside. Some stopped shouting
because they were influenced by these arguments, and a sense of fair
play; others on account of a shortage of breath.
Then the last shout died out, and silence ensued.
“Men,” said Frank, as firmly as he could, though doubtless his heart
was beating like a trip-hammer under the excitement, “A good friend
of yours, Sandy McCoy here, managed to send word to my father that
there was some trouble at the mine, and asked him to come on to talk
matters over with you, so that if anything was wrong it might be
righted.”
A few angry cries interrupted Frank at this point, and several
scowled at Sandy, as though they suspected him of having sought to
betray them.
“Wait! Listen to what else I have to say!” shouted Frank, holding up
his hand.
Again those men who had asked for a fair hearing before influenced
the others, and the unruly ones were hushed, so that the boy could
continue.
“My father would have come himself to meet you, only he is suffering
from a broken leg. He sent me instead, with my chum, whose father
also owns many shares in the good old Cherry Blossom mine. And, men,
you can see for yourselves that we came to meet you as friends,
because we are alone. There is no armed force back of us to threaten
you. I have been sent to hear your grievances, and if they seem to be
just, to settle the trouble here.”
Again all sorts of cries broke out. Some of the men cheered; others,
who feared that the chances for rioting might be reduced to nothing,
gave evidence of their hostility. But Frank saw with satisfaction
that by a large majority the crowd was coming to look on him in the
light of a friend, and not a foe.
“Where is Mr. Riley?” he asked.
One of the men who had demanded a hearing for the boy stepped forward.
“He’s barricaded himself in the engine house,” he declared, grimly;
“and says he’ll shoot down every striker who tries to enter. I reckon
the men were only waiting for night to come to rush his fort, and put
everything to the torch!”
“Then it seems that I didn’t get here any too soon,” remarked Frank.
“Listen to me, men; I’ve got full authority from my father to hear
your complaints, and to offer you a remedy, no matter what it may
cost the company. We want our men here at the Cherry Blossom to be
satisfied!”
“Hear! hear!” arose many shouts, while a few hats were thrown into
the air.
Some of the trouble makers tried to stir up the passion of the mob.
“He’s only giving you taffy, men!” they called. “Don’t believe what
the kid says. All he wants is to hoodwink us, ’till the force from
the ranch gets within striking distance. Then it’ll be bullets
instead of soft words!”
But these few were quickly made to understand they were in the
minority, and that the crowd was ready to give Frank the chance he
asked for.
“How about the boss—Riley?” shouted one.
“Yes, we never can work under him again, and there’s no use talkin’,”
cried another.
“Wait!” said Frank. “Perhaps there may be a change here. Perhaps my
father has another position on his ranch for Mr. Riley, and you may
have a new foreman! How would Sandy McCoy suit you, men?” and he laid
a hand on the shoulder of the brawny young engineer as he spoke.
At this the shouts that rang out were deafening. Doubtless Gustave
Riley, entrenched behind the barricade he had erected at the engine
house of the mining camp, was sorely puzzled by the strange sounds
that came to his ears. He might have imagined that the mutineers were
getting ready to use dynamite, in order to blow every building in
the place to pieces, to satisfy their desire for revenge.
Frank held up his hand to ask for further silence, and when he could
be heard went on:
“Depend on it, men, everything is going to be made right. Stick by
us, and there will be no cause for any further trouble. If you had
sent a committee to my father before going to extremes all this might
have been avoided, because he has the name of being a square man. Are
we going to be friends, men?”
Like magic the temper of the mob had changed. Those rough men had
come out filled with anger toward Colonel Haywood and his entire
family. Now they had swung around to the other extreme. Nearly to a
man they pressed forward to shake hands with the saddle boys. Even
those who had appeared to be ugly toward Frank thought best to hide
their real feelings and go with the tide.
“Now, what do you think, Sandy?” asked Frank, more than a little
excited by the success that had attended his peace move.
“It’s just wonderful how things have changed around, Frank,” replied
the other. “But would ye mind telling me whether your father knew
what ye were going to do about makin’ a change here in overseers?”
“Oh! we talked it all over, Sandy,” replied the boy. “He’s been
convinced that a change would do good here, and that Riley was too
severe with the men. So he is going to offer him a fine position on
the ranch, for he needs just such a man there. I hope Riley takes the
job, for he is all right, if a little too pig-headed.”
“And did your father mention my name, Frank?” asked the pleased
engineer.
“You may be sure he did the same, Sandy. Long ago he had his eye on
you, and told me you were going to get this billet if ever there was
a change made. But come, I’d like to talk with the overseer. Suppose
we go to the engine house, Sandy.”
Frank and Bob jumped to the ground, leaving their horses to be looked
after by some of the men, who were only too eager to curry favor this
way. Accompanied by McCoy, and followed by two dozen of the miners,
they pushed through the camp, heading toward the buildings.
A head was thrust out of an opening, and a voice hailed them.
“Keep back, every man of you! If a single one crosses that dead line,
I shoot!”
“Hold on, Mr. Riley,” the miner’s son called. “Look again, and you’ll
see that it’s Frank Haywood.”
“Why, so it is, for a fact!” cried the prisoner of the engine house,
in a surprised tone. “Whatever brings you here, and right now when
there’s going to be all sorts of trouble breaking loose?”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Riley,” answered Frank, as,
accompanied by his two companions, he continued to advance. “I’ve
been sent here by dad, whose broken leg prevented his coming, to look
into matters, and settle the same to the satisfaction of the men.”
“Does that mean your father is going to give in to them?” demanded
the obstinate foreman. “If that’s the case just count me out. I
resign on the spot. I’d fight the whole camp before I’d knuckle down
to a lot of rascals.”
“All right, Mr. Riley; your resignation is accepted,” said Frank, as
the door opened, and he stepped into the building. “My father has
seen for some time that you and the men here had bad blood between
you; and he wants you on the ranch, if you will come, to fill a
position that pays better than being overseer at the mine.”
Riley, who was certainly a fighter, looked uncertain.
“Well,” said he, “it sure does make me tired to think these plotters
are going to soft-soap Colonel Haywood; but perhaps, after all, its
best. They would burn the buildings down, and cause a big loss. But
see here, Frank, who will be boss after I’m gone?”
Frank turned and looked smilingly at McCoy.
“Dad has had this gentleman in his eye for some little time; how do
you think he’d fill the bill, Mr. Riley?” he asked.
The deposed overseer waited for a minute, as though trying to conquer
the natural feeling of bitterness that almost overwhelmed him. Then
he impulsively thrust out his hand to Sandy.
“You couldn’t do better,” he said. “I honestly believe Sandy McCoy
will make good. Besides, I reckon he’s got the confidence of the men,
and that’s what I was never able to get.”
“Then it’s all right, Mr. Riley,” Frank remarked. “As you find the
time, please put the new overseer in touch with all the affairs of
the company that he ought to know. And when that is done my father
will want to see you at the ranch.”
“Very good, Frank,” said Mr. Riley. “You got here just in the nick
of time. From the way things were going I’m afraid there’d have been
warm work before another sun came up. I had six guns back of me, with
one man and two boys to help. But now we’ll try and forget all about
the trouble. I suppose you’ll have the men get a committee together,
formulate their demands, and then pass on ’em?”
“That’s about what I expect to do, Mr. Riley,” remarked Frank,
gleefully. “And since they already trust me, I expect to have little
trouble in patching up a lasting truce with the men of the Cherry
Blossom mine. Why, perhaps in a day or two, my chum and I will be
taking the back trail to Circle Ranch.”
The deposed foreman looked around him cautiously, and Bob was struck
by something of mystery in his actions. Then he leaned forward, and
plucked Frank by the sleeve.
“It might be you will not be leaving for home as soon as you thought,
Frank,” he said, suggestively.
“Why not, Mr. Riley; what’s to hinder us?” asked the boy, earnestly.
“Why, I’m thinking that perhaps you’d feel inclined to stay a little
while longer, and see if you couldn’t recover it,” Mr. Riley remarked.
“Recover what?” Frank asked.
“The treasure that has been stolen from the strong room in the office
of Cherry Blossom mine,” came the astonishing reply.
“Treasure!” echoed Frank. “Do you mean to tell me there has been a
robbery as well as a strike here?”
“Just that, Frank,” replied the other, moodily. “All the clean-up of
the month, some two hundred pounds of gold, has been stolen, and the
robbers are by now far away from here!”