A RARE CLUB STORY.
Then, under the plea of illness, Miss Travenion seeks her little room in
the hotel, to get away from the sight of this man whom she has suddenly
grown to loathe--she hardly fears him--the idea that has come to her
about him seems so preposterous.
Some two hours afterwards, her father knocking on her door, asks if she
is well enough to see him. Being told to enter, he does so, whispering
to her: "Speak low! Sound passes easily from one room to another."
Then he informs her he has received his deed from Kruger, and has
forwarded the deed of Zion's Co-operative Mining Company to Captain
Lawrence, remarking: "This will bring your young springald down here
very suddenly, I imagine," playfully chuckling Erma under the chin with
a father's pride.
"Do not deceive yourself!" answers the girl. "Captain Lawrence is not
engaged to me. He has never said one word of love to me. He will now
probably never say one of love to me. YOU ARE MY FATHER!" This last with
a sigh is a fearful reproach to this Mormon bishop, who in the misery of
his child is repenting of his sins.
A moment after he whispers: "Be careful of what you say before Kruger.
Though we have travelled together for many a day and many a night, I
fear in case of apostasy that to Lot Kruger's hand is given my cutting
off."
With this caution he leaves her.
In this case, Travenion's subtle mind has guessed the truth. For the
heads of the Mormon Church have thought it wise to place this matter
entirely in Kruger's hands. They fear the apostasy of R. H. Tranyon.
They fear _more_, the loss of the vote of his stock in the Utah Central
Railway--that will lose them the control in that road. They have
determined to prevent it.
But with the Jesuitism that has always governed the policy of the Mormon
theocracy, they have told Kruger--whom they have had on such business
before, together with his old chum Danites, Porter Rockwell and Bill
Hickman--to take the affair in his hands, and if he finds beyond
peradventure and doubt that R. H. Tranyon, capitalist and bishop, is
going to apostatize, to do "_what the Lord tells him to do_," which they
know means Tranyon's destruction, because Kruger is an old-time Mormon
fanatic, and will do the work of the Lord, by the old methods of the
days of the so-called Reformation, when "blood atonement" was preached
openly from their pulpits, and death followed all who doubted or
apostatized. They have also made up their minds, if trouble comes to
them through what Kruger does, to sacrifice him to Gentile justice, and,
if necessary, secure Mormon witnesses that will bear evidence against
him, and a Mormon jury who will convict him, as they are making ready to
do with Kruger's old friend and associate, Bishop John D. Lee, of the
Mountain Meadow massacre.
This commission delights Lot very much. He doesn't think his friend
Tranyon an apostate, but he does think Tranyon's daughter, this Eastern
butterfly, as beautiful as the angels of paradise, and he has accepted
his mission gleefully.
All the way driving down to Tintic, he has been rubbing his hands and
muttering to himself: "It's lucky they didn't see her in the Tithing
Office or the Endowment House, or there would have been a rush of
apostles for this beauty, who shall become a lamb of Zion, and be sealed
by the Lord in plural marriage unto Lot Kruger."
It is with this idea that he has come to Tintic, and, still believing
Tranyon to be Mormon zealot like himself, thinks Ralph will regard it as
no more dishonor to give his daughter into polygamy to a brother bishop;
than he, Lot Kruger, would think, of turning over any of his numerous
progeny to make an additional help-mate to any of his co-apostles.
Being confident of this, Lot imagines he can wait patiently till "Ermie
sees the good that is in him."
Therefore, they all sit down to a waiting game; for Tranyon believes
himself safer in this mining camp than anywhere else in Utah, and dare
not leave so long as Kruger is by his side.
This delay is not utterly unbearable to Miss Travenion, because every
day she thinks the incoming stage, or some private buckboard, or light
wagon, will bear into town the man she is looking for--Captain Harry
Lawrence--who, at least, should come filled with gratitude to Ralph
Travenion, though he may despise Bishop Tranyon.
So she passes her time, driving to Silver City, Diamond and Homansville
with her father, who, under the pretence of settling various demands of
business, lingers in Tintic Mining District; now and then reading a
novel, for Ralph has thoughtfully sent to Salt Lake and provided her
with some books. Altogether, she is not uncomfortable, as she has
brought a sufficiency of clothing with her, though most of her trunks
have been left at the Townsend House. Her father, who has never
forgotten his old sybaritic life, sees that their table is supplied with
every luxury which can be obtained in the place, sending Mormon boys to
Utah Lake for trout, and to Payson for late fruits, and securing from
Salt Lake City wines of the best vintages of France.
The air is fresh, and growing colder, and the young lady's cheeks are
very rosy, though they have been browned by the sun. There is some
little excitement in the place, also. The litigation between the Big
Eureka and the King David has come to trial by battle, and these
companies have each imported armed fighters from Pioche, Nevada, the
most ferocious mining camp in the West.
Thus time runs into November, but the girl's heart is getting heavier
and heavier, for the man she is looking for, and who has occupied most
of her thoughts for the last six weeks, has not yet arrived.
Then one day, quite late in the month, she gets a shock, for she hears
he has left the Territory, having sold his mine to an English company
for a large sum of money, and that they have even now come to take
possession of it.
Travenion, having also got the same news, says to her, shortly:
"Generosity did not do much good with young Mr. Harry Ingrate--did it?"
And she, being stung with misery, jeers her father, and herself also,
for that matter, "Yes, the daughter of Tranyon, the Mormon bishop, has
no longer a hold upon the Gentile's heart! Perchance he thinks I should
wed in my own faith?"
Then she falters out of the house, and, alone by herself, among some
pinon-pines that grow on the hillside, tears come into her lovely eyes,
for she feels herself cut off forever from the bright world in which she
once lived, and mutters: "Is this rough mining camp a dream; or were
Newport yachting parties and Delmonico balls hallucinations?"
But this brings the matter first to climax and then to catastrophe. The
girl treats with great _hauteur_ and angry scorn Kruger, who would be
devoted to her, if she would but let him, for, curiously enough, this
old polygamist, for the first time in his life, is in love, as much as a
Mormon can be, with this elusive butterfly who dodges his net and mocks
his pursuit. Under the plea of business he suddenly goes away.
Then Ralph, coming to Erma, says: "Now is our time. We leave in a day or
two!"
But before they have completed their preparations, Kruger, who has
driven rapidly to Salt Lake City, and as rapidly returned, comes
suddenly into Travenion's mining office, where he and his daughter have
been discussing their preparations for departure.
Perhaps some evidences of their intentions are about the room, for Lot
jovially remarks: "Packing up, Ralph! That's right; they will be wanting
ye in Salt Lake soon. I've brought a communication from the head of the
Church."
"Oh!" says Travenion, feigning a lightness that he does not feel. "What
does the Lord say, through Brigham Young, his prophet? Erma, just wait
for me outside. I'll go down with you to the hotel in a moment."
Acting on the hint, Miss Travenion leaves the house, and stands waiting
for her father; and waits, and waits until darkness comes upon the
scene, and voices in excitement come out of the thinly boarded building.
Actuated by an anxious curiosity she cannot control, the young lady
draws nearer to the house, and through its thin walls come to her these
words: "It's no good discussin' the matter further, Bishop Tranyon. The
Church orders you two things. One is to pay the one hundred thousand
dollars tithing you owe to it----"
"Haven't I told you that I have no ready money?" cries Ralph. "Isn't
this lawsuit taking every cent I can spare?"
"Yer duty to yer Church is fust, my friend!" answers Lot. "Besides, what
yer tellin' me ain't true. Up at the city they know you've discontinued
the lawsuit, and have given that d--mned Captain Lawrence"--he grinds
the words out between his clenched teeth--"a quit-claim deed to his
mine. Perhaps you thought you'd give him yer darter also; but he's gone
away to Europe, I reckon, and busted that plan."
Ralph does not answer him, and he goes on: "The Church says it will take
yer one hundred thousand dollars tithing in stock of the Utah Central at
fifty."
"At fifty!" screams Travenion, forgetting himself in rage. "Why, it's
worth one hundred and fifty. I've been offered that for it by the--" But
he remembers, and says no more.
"By the Union Pacific Railway!" ejaculates Kruger sternly. "Ye've been
dickering with them for that stock! Ye want to sell the Church out of
control of that road!"
"As God is above me, that is not true!"
"Swear it, R. H. Tranyon! Swear it by Joseph Smith, the prophet of the
Lord!" cries Kruger, in his fanaticism prescribing an oath that is very
easy for Travenion to take.
"I do," he answers, "by Joseph Smith, the prophet of the Lord!"
"Then I believe ye. No one could take that affidavit and lie!" says Lot,
devoutly.
A second after, he goes on suddenly and suspiciously: "But it is
reported, among the Saints in the city, you're getting lukewarm in the
faith, R. H."
"And you, Lot--what did you say?" asks Travenion anxiously.
"I said it was a confounded lie! That there wa'n't a truer Mormon than
R. H. Tranyon on the 'arth! Tell me so yerself;" and the voice of the
man becomes pleading as he continues: "We have been pards so long I
wouldn't like to cut ye off."
"I swear it!" gasps Ralph. "I'm a true Mormon!" For now he is sure that
the man appointed to be his destroying angel stands before him.
"You can prove it!"
"How?"
"You've a little lamb down here----"
"My God!"
"Make a sacrifice of her to the Lord! Let Ermie take her endowments, and
the Church and I will believe ye're true to the faith of Joseph Smith,
the prophet, and Hyrum, his brother."
To this Tranyon makes no reply for one second. Then he mutters suddenly
and brokenly: "Tell them I'll pay my tithing with the Utah Central
stock."
"At fifty?"
"Yes, at any figure they like; only, for God's sake, leave my daughter
out of this business. I'll bring it with me!"
"Ah, that 'ere stock's down here!" says Kruger suddenly. "Now you're
coming round, bishop, to the demands of the Church, I'll tell you some
good news I have for you. They're goin' to make you a missionary to
England!"
"Aha! before the election in the Utah Central?"
"Yes; the Church will vote the rest of yer stock for ye."
"But my daughter!" falters Travenion. "I can't leave her!"
"Don't have no fear for her, bishop! I'll look after her as if she was
my own." And Kruger's orbs light with sudden passion. "I've been keepin'
my eyes on her. She's a----"
But he says no more, for Erma Travenion sweeps in between the men, with
such a look in her blazing eyes that they both fall back from her.
She cries, "Father, you pay _no_ tithing to the Mormon Church. Your
daughter takes _none_ of its vile mysteries of endowment!"
"Quit yer blasphemy of the Church of Zion!" yells Kruger to the girl.
Then he turns on Travenion and rebukes him sternly, "Bishop, your
darter's been brought up wrong! She's too high-spir'ted and wayward! I
never 'low no woman in my household--wife or darter--to lift up her
voice ag'in me and my doin's. If Miss Upity were my gal I'd take the
blaspheming out of her with a heavy hand."
But here astonishment comes on Erma. Her father says: "Kruger, you're
right! My daughter has been brought up wrong! I now see my error in not
bringing her into the true faith. She shall take her endowments!"
"First kill me!" cries the girl, who cannot believe what she hears.
"Kill ye!" answers Lot. "Why, it will be the making of ye. Saving yer
soul from perdition, is yer daddy's duty, my child."
"Saving my soul?" screams Erma. "Saving my soul?--by making me one of
your horrible sect that degrades both women and men also by its bestial
creed!" And indignation makes her beauty greater than it was before--so
great that fanatic Lot's eyes grow as bright as hers, though with a
different gleam.
But her father stops more, by saying hastily: "Kruger, go up to Salt
Lake. Tell them I'll pay my tithing in the Central stock at their
figure. Tell them I'll vote the balance as they please, and my daughter
_shall_ take her endowments!"
"Swear 't as you hope for Heaven!" cries Lot.
"As I hope for the Mormon paradise!" answers Travenion.
At this the girl gives two awful gasps; one--"Deserted by the man I once
thought loved me!"--the other--"Betrayed by my father."
And the two men leaving her, she sinks down, dumb with despair. After a
moment their footsteps pass down the trail.
In a few minutes, thought and movement coming to their victim, she
rises, and staggering to the door to make some wild effort to fly, is
met by her father, who whispers to her: "Forgive me!"
"Promising me to the degradation of the Mormon Church. How can I forgive
that?" Then she sighs, "How could my father do this?"
"For both our lives!" he whispers. "Kruger has gone to Salt Lake. I have
a certain plan for our escape;" and would put his arms about her and
soothe her.
But the girl bursts from him, sobbing wildly. And he bends over her,
trying to comfort her, and sobbing also: "It was for both our lives!
Erma, darling, could you not see it? Don't you know that I would die for
you!" Then he mutters, "It would have been a pity if, for a few words,
we had lost our opportunity to--defeat this Mormon rustic--we, whose
intellects have been sharpened in the outside world. What is pride
against success? Be a woman of sense as well as of emotions. Pardon me
using diplomacy in my extremity. Aid me to carry out my plan!"
And she remembering that this man is her father and has, up to the
present time, treated her as the daughter of his pride and love,
queries, "How? What plan?" then mutters despairingly: "What matter; you
have given him your oath."
"Pish! By my hope of the Mormon Heaven," he jeers; then whispers in a
voice whose earnestness compels attention: "Kruger has gone to Salt Lake
to tell them of my submission. To-morrow morning you leave, _without
me_, for Salt Lake City; with you shall go my stock in the Utah Central
Railroad. When there, express that stock to my order at San Francisco,
by Wells, Fargo & Co., taking their receipt for the same by certificate
numbers and valuing it at five hundred thousand dollars. I'll risk W.
F. & Co. standing the Mormon Church off for half a million, for I'll pay
no more tithing to Brigham Young." And he grinds his teeth, thinking of
what he has already paid.
"But I may be cut off on the road!" falters Erma.
"No, there is no chance of that," he answers; next cries: "Good God! you
don't think I would put peril on you! Listen how I have guarded you."
Then he hastily explains that she is to travel _via_ Tooele, which will
prevent any chance of Kruger's meeting her as he returns from his
errand--for Lot always comes to Tintic by the shorter Lake road; that
two Gentile miners, whom Ralph can trust, will guard her to Salt Lake
City; that Kruger, on his return to Eureka, will find them both gone,
and will try to follow his, Travenion's, track, for he will, of course,
imagine they have fled _together_; that he will be sure to follow him,
for Bishop R. H. Tranyon can be easily tracked, being well known all
over the Territory, having time and again preached at Conference to
Mormons who have come to the Tabernacle from the south and the north,
the east and the west. "In finding me he will think to find you--so you
at least will be safe," chuckles Ralph. Then he says earnestly: "As soon
as you are in Salt Lake, take the train to Ogden, and then the U. P.
Railroad, and get to New York as quickly as you can. There I will meet
you!"
"But you--what of you? While I seek safety, you sacrifice yourself?"
dissents the young lady, noting her father's idea tends to her escape,
not his.
"That is the craftiness of my plan!" grins Travenion. "When Lot returns
to Tintic I shall have also disappeared!"
"Where?"
"Into the bottom of my deserted mine!" chuckles her father. "No one will
think of looking for me there. I have already stored the place with all
the luxuries and comforts of life. While Kruger is seeking for me all
over the Territory, arousing his Mormon fanatics to inflict upon me 'the
vengeance of the Lord,' I shall be having a very comfortable time of
it," sneers Ralph. "After he has gone, perhaps to the far southern
settlements, to cut me off there, I shall come out and drive very
quietly to the railroad, and take train for California or Omaha,
whichever seems most safe."
"But they may recognize you in Salt Lake City!" suggests Erma.
"Hardly. I shall travel at night the entire way to Ogden, not even
entering Salt Lake. Besides, the Church has put this matter into
Kruger's hands, and will not interfere in his business, and Kruger will
be away. I know the peculiar methods my saintly associates have in these
affairs--they want to punish only at second hand. No suspicion must fall
upon apostles' heads; that might mean punishment from the government of
the United States. Now," he says shortly, "will you do what I have
explained to you for my sake--for your own safety?"
And the girl cries eagerly: "Yes! Anything to escape from this accursed
land."
That night Ralph makes his preparations, and before daylight next
morning he says to his daughter, who has already breakfasted, "Come with
me. The wagon is at the foot of the hill."
Getting into the street, which is dark and deserted at this early hour
and has quite a little fall of snow on it, November having far advanced,
and Thanksgiving day being already celebrated, they move along the road
towards Silver City; the only noise coming to them being occasional
firing from Eureka Hill, where the fighting men of that company are
exchanging playful shots with the guards of the King David, just to
remind their employers that a raise in their salaries will be
agreeable.
After fifteen minutes' walk they come to the hill on which the Zion's
Co-operative deserted mine is located. At the foot of this is
Travenion's light express wagon, drawn by a strange team of broncos, two
men standing by it. Then Ralph says easily: "This is Patsey Bolivar, and
this, Pioche George. Gentlemen, this is my daughter whom you have
promised to take care of."
"We'll see the young lady through," remarks Patsey, taking off his hat.
And noting Erma has started back, for she has recognized her selected
escorts as two of the most ferocious fighters in the camp, Pioche
George, as he doffs his sombrero, remarks: "We look a leetle rough,
miss, but you'll find us very tender of you, and very tough to your
enemies--eh, Patsey?"
To which Bolivar cries cheerily: "No coppers on us!"
"Oh, papa's selection proves that," says Miss Travenion, who has looked
into these gentlemen's eyes and feels confident of them as she gives
these two fighting men her hand, so affably and trustfully that she
binds them to her--even to life and death.
Then Ralph remarks: "I wish to take my daughter with me up to my mine;
would one of you come with us to take her down? I shall bid her
good-bye, there."
"With pleasure, bishop," replies one desperado.
But the other laughs, "Quit calling him bishop. He's repented and become
a Christian like us!"
For Travenion has been compelled to take these men partially into his
trust, which he has done quite confidently, knowing he has paid them
well, and after having taken his money they can be bought by no one
else, the code of morals of the Western mine fighter being very definite
on this point.
So, followed by Pioche George, Patsey Bolivar remaining to look after
the team, Ralph assists Erma up the hill.
In a few minutes father and daughter are standing in the ore house on
the dump pile of the now deserted Zion's Co-operative Mine, their
accompanying fighting man remaining outside, "to give 'em a chance to be
confidential."
Ralph whispers, "I'll go down and get the stock."
But Erma says suddenly, "Let me go with you. I must see that you are
comfortable during your retreat from the world."
"I rather think I've looked out for myself pretty thoroughly," laughs
Travenion, who seems in very good spirits, the strain of waiting having
passed from his mind. Then he goes on earnestly, "God bless you, Erma,
for thinking of me. Come down and see what I've done for myself. I can
give you the stock there just as well as here."
So, lighting a candle for her, and guiding her steps very carefully,
Ralph assists his daughter down the incline, and the two shortly come to
the station, and turning along the level that runs away from the Mineral
Hill Mine, Ralph pauses at the fourth set of timbers and laughs, "What
do you say to this for a bachelor's apartment?"
To this his daughter cries, "Oh, sybarite!--you've even got champagne
and dried buffalo tongues."
As he has, a dozen pints of Veuve Clicquot, likewise Chateau Margaux, as
well as a couple of boxes of rare Havanas, and canned provisions; a soft
mattress and warm blankets; a chair to sit upon, half a dozen novels and
some current literature to kill time with, lots of candles to illuminate
his retreat, and plenty of water in a small barrel.
"I'll be pretty comfortable here, I imagine," he says, contemplatively.
"No, you'll be cold," answers the young lady.
"Cold?--a hundred feet under the ground? This depth is the perfection of
climate. It is neither too warm in summer nor too frigid in winter. I
shall be very snug down here," he remarks; then chuckles, "while my
friend Kruger is hunting for me through snow-storms and blizzards on the
outer earth."
"Still it seems horrible," mutters the girl with a shudder, "for you to
be buried under the ground. The air----"
"Is excellent!" interrupts Ralph, tapping the tin air-pipe with his
hand. "This is a natural draught--not enough for twenty or thirty men
working down here unless the fan is in operation, but lots for two or
three. See how brightly my candles burn!" Then he says sharply, "We've
no time to lose. Pioche George will be getting impatient up-stairs. Hold
a candle for me, my darling!"
With a pick-axe he has brought down with him, he exhumes from underneath
the fourth set of timbers a small iron box, strongly secured by padlock,
and giving it with its key to Erma, says: "Do as I have directed with
this. It is the Utah Central stock."
Then, for the parting is coming, she falters: "Father, when will you
join me?"
"As soon as you are surely safe and out of this accursed Territory, and
Kruger has disappeared, pursuing me with his Mormon bloodhounds."
A second after, he bursts out, as if a great relief has come upon him,
from throwing off the bonds that have held him so long: "Oh, how I have
scoffed them in my heart, as I have preached their religious bosh at
Conference and ward meeting, all these years. Won't this be a great
story to tell in the Unity Club, New York, to my old chums, De Punster
and Van Beekman, Travis and Larry Jerry, and the rest of the boys? How
they will shriek at Ralph Travenion, the swell, having been a Mormon!
Won't the champagne flow to my plural marriages? Egad! it's worth while
to take these risks, to have such a royal story to tell!"
"Hush!" cries his daughter, sternly. "Remember the poor women you are
deserting." A moment after she says more slowly, "They must be provided
for as soon as you are safe."
"Oh, they will have plenty," answers Ralph. Then he bursts out again, "I
leave too much behind. When I think of what I have paid, year by year,
as tithing to the infernal Mormon Church, I curse it. But they are
tricked at the last. I'll sell the control of their pet railroad out of
their hands. Hang them, I could dance for joy!"
With these words, the old beau skips with a waltz step to the bottom of
the incline. Then they ascend, the rope aiding their steps, and the
pitch not being very steep, to the outer air, and the time has come to
say farewell.
Pointing to a white-topped wagon at the bottom of the hill, Travenion
says: "Quick! Give your father a kiss, and pray for his safety."
The girl answers: "One hundred!" and throws herself into his arms, and
murmuring: "You are the only man who ever loved me--the only one! Mormon
that you have been--polygamist that you are--you are the only one who's
left to me!"
For she has been looking at the shaft of the Mineral Hill Mine, upon
which the English company are now commencing to work, and her thoughts
are on the man who she feels has deserted her.
Then, as Ralph embraces her, a shudder runs through her; but it is not
of cold, though snow is falling, but it is the chill of her heart as she
thinks: "But for this man, whose lips are now pressed to mine, Harry
Lawrence would not despise me!"
But Travenion mutters in her ear: "It is late now--you must leave at
once, for the days are quite short!" and beckons Pioche George to
approach.
"You can trust us, bishop, to take her through," George remarks,
noticing the old man's agitation as he gives the daughter of his heart
his last kiss.
Then Erma hurries down the hill, and he, sitting on the deserted dump
pile of his mine, watches her until Pioche George lifts her into the
wagon and it drives away over the snow-white road, making across the
West Tintic Valley, and so towards Ophir and Tooele, for Travenion has
directed them to go by this somewhat roundabout road, to avoid any
chance of meeting Kruger, perhaps even now returning from his errand to
the heads of the Mormon theocracy in Salt Lake.
Looking on this he says: "She is safe!" and laughs: "I will be safe
myself, shortly! Now for my bachelor quarters!" and goes slowly again
into the mine.
About half way down the incline he starts, pauses, and listens,
muttering: "I thought I heard a noise." Then sneers at himself, "Some
stone touched by your foot--you're weak-kneed, Ralph."
Continuing his descent and holding his candle in front of him, he comes
to his quarters, where he says, looking about: "This is a pretty
comfortable spot to kill time by champagne, a weed, and a novel."
Which he does, lighting one or two more candles, to give him better
illumination, then gently sipping the Clicquot, between puffs of a
Bouquet Especial, as he turns over the leaves of a new French romance,
which seems to amuse him greatly.
And all the while, from the darkness of the level, beyond the incline,
two red eyes glare at this sybarite as he chuckles over the jokes of
Monsieur Paul de Kock.
Turning his back to the incline, in order to get a better light upon
his novel, Ralph sits chuckling over the queer conceits of the gifted
Frenchman--the red eyes all the while coming nearer to him.
As Travenion laughs again, a heavy step sounds behind him, and the great
red eyes are at his shoulder, looking over the volume with him, and he
springs up with a shriek, for Kruger's voice is in his ears crying,
"Doomed by the Church!"
Then this Mormon fanatic is upon him, seizing his arms, and bruising his
more tender flesh, chuckling: "What's champagne muscle to grass-fed
muscle, you dainty cur of New York!"
And though Travenion fights as men only fight who are fighting for their
lives, he pinions him and makes him helpless, and dashes him brutally
down.
Looking at him, the old club man, who was once a Mormon bishop, tries
his last diplomacy. He gasps between white lips and chattering teeth:
"This--to a man who has been your chum--your companion--who is your
brother in the Church."
"Who _was_ my brother in the Church!" cries Lot. "But we'll discuss the
affair a leetle. With ye're permission, I'll liquor."
Knocking the head off a bottle of Clicquot, he quaffs it greedily; the
one Ralph was drinking from having been thrown down in the struggle.
Throwing the bottle away; as it crashes to the other end of the level,
he remarks with a hideous leer: "Now we'll come to biz once more!"
But Ralph answers him nothing.
Then Lot laughs: "You walked into yer own trap. You thought I'd gone to
Salt Lake, but I reckoned from yer break-out of last night that yer Utah
Central stock, which the Mormon Church needs and will have, was here in
yer possession, an' made up my mind to locate it. I knew it wa'n't in
yer safe, 'cause I'd seen that open too often lately. I reckoned it was
right in this mine, and I'd been hunting over this place all night
without success. But in the mornin' I heard a noise on the trail, and I
seed ye and yer darter comin' up, an' I knowed what yer'd come for! An'
when yer come down in the mine, I come down a _leetle_ ahead of yer, and
spied on yer from that drift, an' seed yer give that stock to Ermie to
take away. But I'll 'tend to her afterwards."
To this Travenion sighs: "My daughter!"
But Kruger goes on savagely: "I would have shot yer while yer were
profanin', if it hadn't been I didn't want to shock her by her seein'
yer die. But now, I love yer so well, R. H. Tranyon, I'm goin' to fix
ye!"
With this, he takes the case of wine and hurls it to the other end of
the incline. There's a crash, and Margaux and Clicquot trickle over the
stones of the mine.
Then he cries: "Yer won't need this!" and throwing over the keg of
water, it runs to waste upon the earth.
"Neither will ye want pervisions!" and he tosses the old club man's
dainties into the sink of the mine at the bottom of the incline, keeping
a big buffalo tongue, which he bites and eats, talking after this, with
his mouth full, which makes him more hideous and awful, as he jeers: "I
ain't had no breakfast--I'm foragin' on the enemy of the Lord."
"My God! What do you mean to do?" gasps Travenion, who has looked on
with eyes that are growing bloodshot.
"Cut ye off behind the ears--make a blood atonement of ye! You've been
so crafty about this, no one will ever know you're down here to hunt ye
up."
Then running up the incline, Lot loads the two cars standing at the
surface, with great masses of rock and boulders, fanaticism giving him
increased strength. Letting them run down, he unloads them, and once
more does the same, unheeding the cries of the man helpless in the level
below.
When he has done enough of this, he cuts the cars loose at the surface,
and they come crashing down, and block up the incline. Then he comes
down again himself and piles the boulders he has already let down, on
top of the wrecked cars, blocking Travenion from the outer world.
Noting his purpose, Ralph staggers up, bound as he is, and prays: "Not
that! Shoot me--kill me another way! For God's sake, NOT THAT!"
But Kruger cries: "Powder and lead cost money! The Church is too poor to
give ye an easy atonement." And he piles the rocks up to the pleading
wretch's shoulders.
A moment after, he blows out every candle, save one, to light him in the
finishing touches of his awful work; when, desperately struggling,
Travenion drags himself to the barrier, and screams: "My God! You are
mad--you don't know what you do! I'm your old friend and chum!"
"I'm sacrificin' you here on the altar, where I heerd ye blaspheme your
religion an' your prophets! That's what I'm doin'!"
"Mercy! Not this death!" gasp the white lips, and bloodshot eyes beseech
the executioner, looking over the barrier rising steadily between them.
"Ye've been given into my hands by Jehovah and Brigham, both of whom
ye've blasphemed!" cries Kruger, piling the barrier up to the shuddering
man's neck.
Then he goes on in savage mockery. "Ye'll tell no funny anecdotes and
sacrilegious jokes about our president, Brigham Young, and our prophet,
Joseph Smith! Champagne won't flow over yer infamous apostasy, in the
Unity Club. It will be a rare tale to tell yer chums Von Punster and De
Beekman, and Travis, an' Larry Jerry, of how yer made a mockery of our
sainted religion, an' jeered us, even when ye preached from our altars!
But ye'll never tell it! 'DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES!'"
Then the barrier is up to Ralph Travenion's face, which is now pale as
the flickering candle that lights its agonies. Over this face comes one
pang more cruel than the others, and the white lips sigh, "My daughter!"
"Yer darter--that's the p'int! I'll look after her salvation. She shall
be a lamb of Zion. I'll take her right into my sheepfold."
"Powers of Heaven! What do you mean?" And the wall now rises above his
mouth.
"I sha'n't be hard on her," mocks Kruger. "I'll spare her herding and
cattle work. She shall do chores round the house. I'll be light on her,
I will, bishop, for I mean--" He whispers three words into the fainting
wretch's ear, who reels back from him and shrieks: "MY GOD! NOT THAT!"
To his scream, the crashing sounds of rocks and a big boulder make
answer, and the light of this outer world leaves Ralph Travenion, and
footsteps are heard passing away along the echoing level, and up the
incline, and the old club exquisite, bound and helpless, is left alone
in darkness--not to the torture of hunger, for of that he thinks
not--not to the torment of thirst, for of that he cares not--not to the
despair of certain death, though that has come upon him--but to the
agony of fearing that the daughter of his heart may by some art or trick
taste the awful degradation of plural marriage, such as he as Mormon
bishop has preached and sanctified and has meted out to the daughters of
other men.
BOOK III.
OUT OF A STRANGE COUNTRY.
CHAPTER XV.
THE SNOW-BOUND PULLMAN.
As this horror is taking place inside the earth, Miss Travenion and her
two escorts on its surface are speeding over the snow towards Tooele.
The consideration and respect with which she is treated by these two
rough-and-ready fighters of many a desperate mining battle is almost
oppressive: they are so exceedingly polite.
Every time he addresses her, Patsey Bolivar takes off his hat. Chancing
in one of his remarks to use the word "infernal" (which is a very mild
expression for this gentleman), Pioche George suavely suggests: "Don't
ye mind Patsey's high-flown remarks, miss. I've told him if he uses any
stronger expression than a plain 'damn' in yer presence, that I'll
perforate him."
"Would you rob me of one of my guards?" gasps the girl.
"No," replies George. "Patsey an' I have arranged that any discussion
between us shall take place after we've seen ye safe through--as we
will; though I reckon we've more to fear from snow than anything else on
this trip, for it seems as if a blizzard was a-blowin' up."
So Miss Travenion journeys on, Patsey sitting on the front seat and
driving, and Pioche George, who is beside him, turning round to her and
regaling Erma with anecdotes of his frontier experience, some of which
are amusing, and nearly all of them horrible.
About two hours after, Kruger also drives furiously out of Eureka, but
does not travel the same route as the young lady he is in pursuit
of--going up through Homansville towards Salt Lake City--the most direct
route--but, strange to say, leaving it, and taking the road to his
right, which leads on to Goshen, then Payson and Provo, for he intends
to go up the Provo Canyon to Heber City, having some curious affidavits
to make that he dare only indulge in before a Mormon judge. From this
place he will journey rapidly as horseflesh can take him to Park City,
and then to Echo Station on the Union Pacific Railway, which is also in
the Territory of Utah, and subject to the domination of its judges.
He expects to encounter Miss Travenion at that point, though the snow
that delays her on her trip will hinder him a great deal more, going up
Provo Canyon and over the divide to Heber City. But he is a sturdy old
Mormon, and though it means an all-night drive--part of the way,
perhaps, in a sleigh--he does not care much for the storm, for he has a
plot in his head that makes him rub his hands and chuckle, even when the
wind blows the fiercest and the snow drifts the strongest.
Shortly after he has turned from the main road to Salt Lake, a wagon
coming down from that city carries Harry Lawrence, who is very happy,
and Ferdinand Chauncey, who is very tired: for they have made an
all-night drive, and had they been five minutes earlier, would have
encountered Kruger, to his astonishment, and, perhaps, to theirs.
As they come up to the canyon leading to Homansville, Harry cries:
"Ferdie, in half an hour I'll see her!" then mutters: "My Heaven! what a
monster of ingratitude she must think me now!"
"Oh, I'll fix that for you, easy enough!" says Ferdie confidently. "I'll
tell her how you've been wandering all over California after us,
thinking she was in our party. I think my word will carry you through."
Curiously enough, this is the fact. Lawrence, full of hope, has reached
San Francisco, to find the Livingston party is not there. They have gone
to Belmont to spend a few days, the clerk at the Grand Hotel informs
him, at the house of Mr. Ralston, the banker; a gentleman who, at this
time, was pouring out hospitality with a lavish hand to prominent
visitors to California.
Not having an invitation, Harry is compelled to remain, and await their
return, but they come not. After a week or two, he discovers that they
have gone straight from Belmont to the Yosemite, which is a long trip,
as there are few railroads in the State at this time.
Notwithstanding this, he follows them, and after four days of staging
and rough riding, finds he has missed them entirely; for now he cannot
discover where they have gone, on leaving the valley of the cataracts.
As a matter of fact, they have journeyed to Southern California, and
have spent a couple of weeks at the great cattle ranch of Mr. Beale,
near the Tejon Pass.
So, after a fruitless visit to the Big Trees, Lawrence concludes to
return to San Francisco, knowing that the Livingston party must
ultimately find their way there, before they return to the East.
In this place, which was just beginning to get excited over the great
mining boom in the Belcher and Crown Point, which three years afterwards
gave way to the still greater one of the Consolidated Virginia and
California, in which many fortunes were won, and more fine ones were
lost, he passes two anxious weeks.
Being known to several mining men, and receiving telegram from Garter
that the first one hundred thousand dollars had been paid upon his mine
by the English company, and he can draw on him for fifty thousand
dollars at sight, he goes to driving away thoughts of his errant
sweetheart, by taking flyers in the securities of the San Francisco
Stock Board, and one afternoon, purchasing a couple of hundred shares of
"Belcher" at about fifty--its ruling price in the market at that
time--he pays for them, and puts them in his pocket, hoping to sell them
on the morrow at a few dollars a share advance, and strolls up to the
Grand Hotel, for that is where the Livingstons have stopped before, and
will probably stay on their return to San Francisco. Therefore he makes
it his headquarters.
Here he is delighted to find Mr. Ferdinand Chauncey playing billiards.
"By Jove, Harry! What are you doing here?" cries this young gentleman,
who has become very familiar with the man who has saved his life.
"Hunting for you," replies Lawrence, returning Ferdie's warm grip very
cordially.
"Ah, you've come to tell us the news, I suppose," laughs Mr. Chauncey.
Then he amazes Lawrence with the query: "How is she?"
"Who?"
"Erma Travenion, of course--how is she getting along with her many
step-mammas?"
"What do you mean?" ejaculates Harry, thinking Mr. Chauncey has gone
daft.
"I mean what I say. Innocence won't do. Has old Tranyon given you his
mine as well as his daughter? Ollie and his mother quarrel every day
over his desertion of the heiress. The widow says that she and Louise
won't be able to live on their income now, and Oliver has turned sullen,
and says if they can't, Louise can go into a Protestant nunnery. So that
young lady is in despair."
"What the dickens do you mean?" gasps Harry. Then he says: "Are you
crazy?" and looking into Ferdie's face, and seeing sanity there,
suddenly seizes him, leads him apart, and commands: "Tell me what you're
driving at!"
Then Mr. Chauncey, guessing from Lawrence's manner that he does not know
what has happened, tells him what took place in Salt Lake the evening
before their departure, to which Harry listens with staring eyes.
As Ferdie closes, he suddenly breaks out: "Now I understand!--Tranyon's
deed to me--it was that angel's doing!" Then mutters: "My God! She'll
think me a monster of ingratitude! A prig, like that scalliwag
up-stairs;" he turns up his thumb towards where Mr. Livingston is
supposed to be.
To this Mr. Chauncey says nothing, though his eyes have grown very
large.
After a second's thought, Lawrence continues very earnestly: "You say I
saved your life. May I ask you a favor in return?"
"Anything!" cries Ferdie.
"Very well! You can explain this matter to Erma Travenion, so that she
will know that I followed her for love, all over California, and did not
desert her for pride, because she was the daughter of a Mormon, in Utah.
Will you come with me, and make that explanation?"
"Yes--when?"
"Now! The train leaves in an hour."
"I will," cries Ferdie. "I only want fifteen minutes to pack my trunk
and explain my sudden departure to the Livingstons."
Which he does, and the two make their exit from San Francisco on the
afternoon train, and two days afterwards find themselves in Salt Lake
City, where Ferdinand would like to lay over for a night, but Lawrence
says, "No rest while she thinks me ungrateful!"
Despite some demur on the part of Mr. Chauncey, he puts him into a light
wagon, and the two drive all night so as to make Eureka in the morning,
which they do, some two hours after Mr. Kruger has left it.
At the hotel, seeing neither Tranyon nor his daughter, Lawrence drags
Ferdie, who is very tired, with him up the trail to the office of Zion's
Co-operative Mine, and says: "You go in, my young diplomat, and tell
her; I'll wait down here out of the way."
Which he does; but a few minutes after Chauncey comes back and reports:
"There's no one there!"
"Nobody?"
"Not a living soul!"
Lawrence investigating this and finding it true, they return to the
hotel again; but to Harry's anxious inquiries, no one can give him any
information of the whereabouts this day of Bishop Tranyon or his
daughter till, after two hours' search, some one suggests: "They may be
up at the mine."
"They're not working that now?" says Harry.
"No, but I saw the bishop and his daughter go that way very early this
morning."
This information is enough for the impetuous Lawrence, and he again
drags Mr. Chauncey up the trail with him, past the office; and one
hundred yards beyond they come to the dump of the Zion's Co-operative
Mine, but the place seems deserted.
"I expect, with your usual luck," suggests Ferdie, "the bishop and his
daughter have gone back to Salt Lake City, and we have missed them on
the way. Miss Erma seems a pretty hard butterfly for you to track."
But Lawrence suddenly interrupts him, whispering: "Listen! There's some
one in the mine. Perhaps they're down below."
"What makes you think that?"
"I hear them."
"I don't."
"But I do! Right through this air-pipe," cries Harry, and he springs to
it, and disconnecting the fan from it, puts his ear to it. A moment
afterwards he exclaims: "There's somebody in trouble down there!" and
the next moment, disregarding the danger of foul air, is well on his way
down the incline.
Three minutes after, he re-appears, and says: "There's been an accident
of some kind. Cars have broken loose and are smashed down there at the
bottom, and boulders and loose rock are piled up, cutting off somebody.
He's alive yet! I heard him moaning."
Then he suddenly whispers, growing very pale: "My God--if it is she!"
Lovers are always fearful. Next he cries: "Run, Ferdie, up to the
Mineral Hill--it's only three hundred feet from here--tell them to send
down half a dozen miners like lightning!"
And Chauncey flying on his errand, a sudden idea coming into Lawrence's
mind, he steps to the air-pipe, and using it as a speaking-tube, shouts
down: "Halloo there! Who are you? Are you too much injured to speak?"
And listening, there comes up to him from the depths faintly, through
the tube: "I'm uninjured, but am bound and helpless."
"Who are you?"
"R. H. Tranyon."
To this, Harry suddenly screams back: "Your daughter!--for God's sake,
tell me where she is!"
"Why should I tell you that?"
"Because I'm Harry Lawrence!"
And through the tube comes faintly up to him: "Thank God! You are here
to save her!"
"From what? My Heaven! From what?" shrieks Lawrence down the tube.
"From Lot Kruger, bishop in the Mormon Church, who has buried me
here--who is now pursuing her!"
"Good God! For what?"
"To marry her!"
"Don't fear for that!" cries Harry. Then he grinds out between his
clenched teeth: "The accursed polygamist'll be dead before that
happens!" A second after he shouts down: "Give me the particulars," and
gets them up the tube. Finally he says: "How long have you been there?"
"I can't tell. It seems days. I was buried here on December 1st, early
in the morning."
"Why," cries Harry, joyfully: "it's December 1st now. You haven't been
there five hours." Then he goes on: "Kruger's only four hours ahead of
me. You rest quietly. The miners will have you out in two or three
hours. You make up your mind your daughter's safe, if it's in human
power! She might die, but never marry Kruger."
Here Ferdie, coming back with some miners, is very much astonished to
hear Lawrence say hurriedly to him: "Get the men down that incline.
Remove the rocks and get Tranyon out!"
"And you," cries Chauncey, "where are you going?" for Harry has already
turned to leave the dump pile.
"To save his daughter!" And before the last word is out of his mouth,
Lawrence is speeding down the trail to Eureka, where in twenty minutes
he gets a fresh team, and driving through the storm, which has now
become blinding, and through the night, which comes on too soon, and
being compelled to go very slowly, for the snow is drifting heavily, he
makes Salt Lake City early in the morning.
Going straight to the Townsend House, Harry says to the clerk: "Don't
make any mistake this time, young man, in your information. Miss
Travenion is here?"
"No, not here!"
"Good Heavens!"
"She was here last night," says the clerk, with a grin, "but drove away,
five minutes ago, to catch the train for Ogden," and is astonished at
the hurried "Thank you" he gets, as Lawrence runs out to his wagon
again.
Clapping a ten dollar bill into the sleepy driver's hands, Harry cries:
"That'll wake you up! Utah Central depot like lightning!"
He gets there just in time to board the train as it runs out of the
station, to make connection with the Union Pacific that will leave Ogden
this morning.
She is not in his car, but Harry looks into the next one, and seeing the
young lady asleep, mutters: "She is tired also. I'll not wake her," then
suddenly thinks: "By George! How shall I begin the business? She must
despise me now!" and wishes he had brought Ferdie with him; though he
laughs to himself: "I suppose it would have killed that future Harvard
athlete--two nights' steady driving and no rest between!"
Sitting down to think over this matter, and being overcome with
weariness himself, sleep comes upon Harry also, and he doesn't wake even
after the train has arrived at Ogden, till he is roused by the brakeman.
Looking about him, he gives a start. Miss Travenion has disappeared.
Muttering to himself: "I'm a faithful guardian--I keep my word to her
father well! I have a very sharp eye out on my sweetheart!" he runs
across to the Union depot, and is relieved to see that the young lady
is in the office of Wells, Fargo & Co., expressing a package.
This has come about in this way: Erma Travenion had arrived safely in
Salt Lake City at ten o'clock on the night before. Wells, Fargo & Co.
being of course closed, she could not deposit the Utah Central stock
that night.
Knowing that speed is vital to her, and that she must have money for her
trip East, she drives to the house of Mr. Bussey, the banker, and he
very kindly rushes about town for her and gleans up from friends of his
sufficient for her trip East, charging her for same on her letter of
credit.
Asking his advice about an express package that she wishes to
send--though Erma doesn't state its contents--he says: "Take it with
you, my child, to Ogden. At that time, before the Union Pacific train
leaves, Wells, Fargo & Co. will be open. Express it from there. Their
receipt will be just as good in Ogden as in Salt Lake City."
This she is doing while Lawrence is looking at her. Her appearance makes
him sigh. Not that she isn't as beautiful as when he last saw her, for
she is more lovely, only so much more ethereal. Her eyes are too
brilliant, and there is a little apprehension in them, and a few lines
of pain on her face, some of which, Harry has a wild hope, are perhaps
caused by him; though he grieves over them just the same.
As she comes out of Wells, Fargo's, having finished her business with
the express company--which has taken some five minutes, the transaction
being a heavy one, and the receipt very formal--Lawrence, with rapture
in his heart, and love in his eye, approaches to speak to his divinity,
and to his intense chagrin, gets the very neatest kind of a cut. The
girl looks him straight in the face--with haughty eyes that never
flinch, though there is no recognition in them.
So passing on her way, she buys her tickets, and makes arrangements for
her sleeping-car.
This catastrophe has been brought about as follows: While standing
waiting for the receipt from Wells, Fargo & Co., Erma has caught the
conversation of two men who are standing just outside its door.
One of them says: "Who is she?" for Miss Travenion's beauty has
attracted his attention.
The other, a mining man who has seen her with the bishop in Eureka,
answers: "Tranyon the boss Mormon's daughter."
"Impossible!"
"Fact, I assure you," laughs the second man. "From the airs she puts on,
you'd think she was a New York or St. Louis belle. But I believe she's
booked for the seventh wife of old Kruger. These Mormon girls have no
brains! I guess readin', writin', an' 'rithmetic's about the extent of
her education."
This decidedly slurring description of the belle of Newport's last
season makes the girl think every one despises her; and seeing Lawrence,
and remembering his desertion, she sighs: "He despises me also--but he
shall never show it to me--NEVER!" And so passes him as if she had never
seen him.
Striving to eat, but finding she has no appetite, Erma goes almost
timidly to the train, where she has engaged a stateroom, for she thinks
the whole world is talking about her father and herself, in about the
same language she has heard, and shrinks from public gaze and public
scoff. She is happy to get to the privacy of her stateroom
unnoticed--which is not difficult, every one about the station being
excited and busy.
The snow is still falling heavily on the tracks, and the Central Pacific
is behind time. Finally, getting a telegram that the train on the more
western road has been detained by snow on the Sierra Nevada and Pequop
Mountains, and is ten hours late, the Union Pacific pulls out of the
station, one hour behind its time.
Just then the privacy of Miss Travenion's stateroom is invaded by Buck
Powers, on his business tour through the train.
He says in resonant voice: "How are you off for peanuts? They're the
only fruit that's in season now."
"I don't wish any," she replies, quietly.
"Won't you have some candy, or chewing gum? You look as if you needed
somethin'."
Seeing this is declined by a shake of the head, he suggests: "That fire
must have given you the blues, like it did me."
"What do you mean?" asks Erma, a little startled.
"Why," cries Buck, "don't you know it's been burnt down six weeks? There
ain't no Chicago, but it made the highest old fire the world has ever
seen."
"Oh, that's what you're referring to!" murmurs the young lady, who in
her own troubles has failed to remember the destruction of the great
Western city. Then she astounds the news-agent by adding, "I had
forgotten that it was burnt."
"You--had--forgotten--the Chicago fire! Great Scott! You'd do for a
museum!" he gasps. Then he says interrogatively: "You remember me, Buck
Powers, don't you?"
She answers: "Yes, very well,--you're the news-boy who was injured by
accident on the train. Captain Lawrence saved you."
"Well, I'm relieved that you ain't forgot everything!" he returns, and a
moment after leers at her and says: "The Cap's on the train. I reckoned
when I saw you he wouldn't be very far away," and goes off whistling
merrily, though he leaves a sad heart behind him.
As for Lawrence, for one moment he has savagely thought, "She is safe on
this Union Pacific train. Why should I follow her, to get more cuts?"
But the next second he remembers: "She does not know,--she thinks me
worse than Livingston, for he is only a prig to her, while I seem an
ingrate. She practically gave me fortune. Shall I desert her for a snub
that she thinks I deserve? Never!"
After a little, joy comes to him again; he remembers: "Her father said
'Thank God!' when he heard my name. She told him of me six weeks ago.
She shall think of me again!"
So he has bought tickets for the East, and boarded the train, which is
now running up Weber Canyon rather slowly, as the grade is quite heavy,
and the snow-drifts are multiplying and piling up on the road at a great
rate.
An hour afterwards, going into the smoking-car, to kill time by a cigar,
Harry looks out of the window, and they are at Echo.
As the train begins to move again he suddenly starts and mutters: "By
George! I did right to come! He _is_ on her track!"
For just as the train is pulling out of this station, he sees dashing
down the old stage road from Park City a sleigh drawn by two horses, in
which four men are gesticulating for the conductor to hold up. But that
official, who is standing near Lawrence, says grimly: "What! Pull the
check line for Mormon mossbacks who'll get off at the next station, when
the train is two hours late and snow-drifts ahead--not much!" And the
train rolls on, followed by some very savage curses from the men in the
sleigh.
One of these, Harry notes, is Kruger, and he chuckles to himself: "Left
behind! He won't overtake us this side of Chicago! However, it's just as
well I'm on board!"
An hour after they pass the Utah line, and come into Evanston two and a
half hours late. Here they take dinner, and meet the train from the East
that left Green River in the morning. This reports very heavy snows on
Aspen Hill.
Lawrence, however, makes no attempt at further communication with Miss
Travenion, reflecting savagely: "Perhaps before this trip is over, Miss
Haughty may need my aid, and call on me, and then I'll explain."
So they pass up the valley of the Bear, the storm getting wilder, and
the snow deeper, as they pull up the heavy grades, and it is night
before they reach Aspen, though they have two strong locomotives
dragging them.
Then they come to the Aspen Y, which is the top of the divide, and from
which there is a down grade running almost to Green River.
But this part of the road is a difficult one to get over. Two
locomotives are not considered too much for its grade when there is no
snow on the track; now they can just handle the train, the track being
slippery, and the snow-drifts heavy and increasing.
It is usual to make a flying switch at this point--one engine detaching
itself from the train and entering the Y; leaving one locomotive, which
is amply sufficient under ordinary circumstances, to take care of a
train on the steep down grade, which begins at this place.
To-night the two locomotives should both remain attached to the train,
and pull it entirely over the divide together--the helping engine being
compelled, of course, to go on as far as the next station, Piedmont.
But the conductor, being a man of routine, does it in his ordinary
summer way, by the flying switch, and sends the helping locomotive
away. This giving its warning toot, uncouples from the second engine,
runs ahead of it, and making a switch into the Y, is ready for its
return to Evanston.
But the single locomotive now attached to the train has not steam to
carry it over the divide; its wheels gradually revolve more slowly, the
efforts of the great iron beast become more and more labored, and
finally the train comes to a dead standstill, fifty yards from where the
grade commences to descend.
Then, when too late, the other locomotive comes back and goes to its
assistance; but the train has stopped--the drifts gradually closing in
round the wheels--and now both locomotives cannot move what they could
have together carried certainly over the mountain.
Though the attempt is made again and again, the train is stalled, and
the snow comes down faster and faster and drifts deeper and deeper.
Fortunately, the failure of the Central Pacific to connect, has produced
a very light passenger list. Harry notices there are only three in his
sleeper--a consumptive, going to Colorado, and a lady tourist and her
child, a boy of about ten, who have been seeing Salt Lake City.
On the Pullman occupied by Miss Travenion there is only one other
traveller--a young girl who is being forwarded to an Eastern school by
Gentile parents connected with the Union Pacific Railway, in Ogden.
These, however, after a little, set up a wail. It is for supper, which
the conductor grimly informs them is waiting for them at Green River,
ninety miles away.
Then comes the triumph of Chicago business methods, and Buck Powers,
issuing from the baggage car, cries dominantly: "PIES!! Beefsteak
pies!--Mutton pies!--Dried-apple pies! PIES!!"
Going to him, Lawrence says anxiously: "Have you looked after her?"
"Do you think I'd let Miss Beauty starve?" utters the boy in stern
reproach. "I have provisioned her stateroom for two days. She's got
three beefsteak pies, two mutton hash pasties, two pork turnovers, and
six assorted jam and fruit tarts, as well as a dozen apples. I have done
my duty to her, though you haven't. You've left her alone all
to-day--you ain't been near to jolly her up. She needs chinning, she
does. I have had to step into your shoes and comfort her!"
"Oh, you have, have you?" returns Harry. "Thank you!"
"Well, I'm right glad you're grateful!" remarks Buck. "More so, perhaps,
than she is, for when I asked her if she'd seen Brother Brigham at Salt
Lake, and how she thought she'd like to be a Mormon--I always ask these
questions of tourists coming from Salt Lake--she rose up, a kind of
mixture of the Statue of Liberty and my old schoolmarm in Indianie, and
said, 'Please continue your business tour at once!' So I got a move on,
quick. The next time I passed by, her eyes were red, as if she'd been
crying. I don't think you've been doing your duty, Cap!"
With this the boy goes on his way, leaving Lawrence rather elated at his
information, for he shrewdly guesses that if Miss Travenion is in any
very great trouble, she is more likely to call upon him than any one
else to help her out of it. Knowing that she is well provisioned and
taken care of, some hour or two after this, he having nothing else to
do, goes to bed, something the other passengers have already done.
Next morning, looking out of the car window, Harry finds the snow deeper
than ever, and still falling, and the train stalled more hopelessly than
ever at the Aspen Y, now known on railroad maps as Tapioca.
CHAPTER XVI.
"TO THE GIRL I LOVE!"
Getting dressed, Lawrence negotiates with Buck Powers for another pie
for breakfast.
That worthy informs him that "provisions has riz" during the night.
"There ain't enough for another round," he says. "If you weren't the Cap
I should charge you double."
"Then we shall all be hungry soon--unless relief comes?" asks Harry, as
he briskly attacks a pork turn-over, for the crisp, snowy air produces a
mountain appetite.
"All but her," remarks Buck. "She's fixed as I told you!"
Thinking he will see what chance there is of immediate relief from their
present predicament, Lawrence lights a cigar, and steps off the train
into a snow-drift. A hasty examination shows there is no chance of the
train being moved, until it is shovelled out by hand, though he is
pleased to note that the sun has come out, shining brightly, and the
snow has ceased falling for the present.
A moment after, he gives an exclamation of delight, for the view is a
very beautiful one.
To the south, standing out against the horizon, and looking much nearer
than they are, stand the Uintah Mountains, dark blue at their base line
with pine forests, and white with eternal snow on their peaks. From
them, right to his feet, an unbroken tableland of one solid mass of
white. Midway between these mountains and himself, runs the Utah line,
and somehow--though the idea hardly forms itself in his mind--he would
sooner, on account of the young lady he is protecting, it were further
away, especially when he remembers that it is but very little over
twenty miles by the railroad over which they have come, from the
boundaries of the Mormon Territory. He doesn't think long of this, as he
gets interested in watching the movements of the locomotives.
These are now both switched on the Y and are moving about slowly, with a
view of keeping themselves what is technically called "alive"--that is,
their steam up, sufficient to give them power of motion. Every now and
again one is run off the Y and down the main track towards Green River
and the east, keeping that portion of the road open, as far as the mouth
of a long snow shed, which begins a little way from where Harry stands,
and disappears in the distance towards Piedmont.
Towards the east and north he can see a long distance, as the descent is
quite rapid to the big plateaus that run to Green River, but there is
nothing given to his eye save snow--snow everywhere.
A moment after, the conductor comes tramping through the drifts, and
knowing Captain Lawrence by reputation, stops to speak to him.
"I presume," says Harry, "you wired our situation to Evanston last
night."
"Of course, and a nice tramp I had of it to the telegraph station. It's
over a mile back, and the drifts made it seem five. Every one from here
to Ogden, along the track, by this time knows our position."
"I suppose they'll be sending up a relief train soon."
"I hardly think so, before to-morrow," replies the conductor. "They have
got all they can take care of, down below at Evanston, just at present.
In fact, I imagine we've not seen the worst of it."
And this is a shrewd prediction, because, though he doesn't know it,
this is just the beginning of the great snow blockade of '71 and '72, on
the Union Pacific Railway, when some trains were delayed for thirty
days between Ogden and Omaha--the usual time being less than three.
"Fortunately, we've not got a heavy train to move," remarks Lawrence,
who is anxious to look on the best side of everything.
"And, thank God! no great amount of passengers," replies the conductor.
"Otherwise there would have been a howl for grub before now. We've only
got two outside those on the sleepers, and one is a woman, and the other
a little girl, the daughter of the engineer of the helping locomotive.
He's got her in his arms now, as he stands by his engine. Come over and
see what he thinks," adds the autocrat of the train, as he trudges off
through the snow towards one of the locomotives on the Y.
Harry has taken a step to follow him, when he suddenly pauses.
He is just outside Miss Travenion's Pullman car, and now, through a
window that is slightly open, comes the voice of his divinity, who is
seated at one of the organs those cars sometimes had in those days.
Curiously enough, the girl whom Buck had reported as having the blues
last night, is singing the brightest and merriest of ditties this
morning.
"By George! It must be because she has plenty to eat," cogitates
Lawrence, lighting another cigar on the question.
But a few minutes after, in his own car, Mr. Powers chancing to come
along, he gets some information which he thinks elucidates the matter.
"She's kind o' joyous in there, ain't she, Cap?" says Buck, with a grin.
"An' I reckon I did it!"
"How?"
"Well, this morning, even over her breakfast, which was a long way ahead
of any one else's on the train, she didn't have no appetite, and seemed
in the dumps; whereupon, I suggested that I had hinted to you that she'd
kind o' like company probably."
"You infernal--!" cries Lawrence, fire coming into his eye.
"If you take hold o' me, Cap, I won't tell you the rest!" remarks the
boy, retreating a little before Harry's anger. Then he goes on: "She
took it something like you--she got red in the face and said: 'Please
don't mention the matter!' quite haughty. Whereupon I thought I'd
guessed the p'int, and suggested: 'You an' the Cap must have been havin'
a smash-up in California!' And then she got real anxious and nervous,
and cried out at me: 'In California!--what do you mean?' So I told her
how I'd seen you at Ogden, four or five days after her party left for
California, and that I'd told you she'd gone West, and you took the
journey, I reckoned, to catch up to her."
"And she--" says Lawrence, eagerly.
"Oh, she kept on questioning, and the more I told her, the better
pleased she looked, and since then she has been quite chirpy, so I
reckon I produced her high spirits."
"God bless you, Buck!" cries Harry, slapping the boy on the shoulder,
and the astonished Arab of the railway moves off with a five-dollar
greenback in his hand, wondering what made the Cap so liberal.
As for Lawrence, it has suddenly occurred to him that Buck Powers has
given Miss Travenion the exact information he had taken Ferdie from
California to tell her.
A moment's cogitation and he says to himself: "She was wounded because I
hadn't come to Tintic after her. I'll chance a walk through the car, and
see if the darling'll cut me again."
Acting on this impulse, he gets off the train, and walks to the forward
end of her car, Miss Travenion's stateroom being at its rear.
"I'll give her the length of the car to meditate upon me," he thinks.
As he enters the main portion of the Pullman, her stateroom door is
open, and as he comes down the aisle, Erma rises. He knows she has seen
him--something in her face tells him that.
Then intense surprise falls upon him:--the young lady steps out with
extended hand, and says brightly: "So you have discovered I was on the
train _at last_? I had been expecting a visit from you all yesterday."
At this tremendous but most feminine prevarication, Lawrence fairly
gasps. A second after, he discovers the wonderful tact displayed in it,
which calls for an explanation from him, and does not require one from
her.
However, he is too awfully happy to stand on little points, and seizing
the taper fingers of the young lady, and giving her tact for tact, and
prevarication for prevarication, remarks: "You most certainly would
have, Miss Travenion, but I only discovered that you were on board this
morning, from Buck Powers."
"Why," cries Erma, "I saw you at--" She checks herself suddenly, biting
her lips a little, and then goes on: "We've been near each other a whole
day, and have not spoken."
"That's a great pity! But we'll make up for lost time, now!" answers
Lawrence, gallantly. Then he suggests: "What did you breakfast on?"
"Pies!"
"So did I--our tastes are similar," he laughs, for there is something in
the radiant face looking into his that makes him think this snow
blockade, privations and all, is the very nicest thing that has come
into his life.
A moment after, for he is too earnest for any more light comedy
fencing, he comes to the point with masculine abruptness, remarking:
"Mr. Powers told you--God bless him!--that I have been in California?"