A BATTLE WITH SMUGGLERS
After supper that same evening the violence of Ralph Darrell's rage
had so subsided that his daughter ventured to inquire concerning its
cause. When he had informed her, she said:
"Why should you let a little thing like that worry you, papa? Surely
you can engage plenty more miners if you want them. I don't see why
you should bother with the old mine, though. It don't seem to be worth
anything."
"Not worth anything!" cried the old man, standing up in his
excitement. "Why, child, it is worth millions! It is one of the
richest copper properties in the world, and in one week's time it will
be all my own. Rather, it will be yours, since it is for you alone
that I have lived in this wilderness all these years, thereby saving
it from destruction, and warding off the conspiracy that would reduce
you to beggary. For your sake only have I so guarded the secret of its
wealth that no living soul suspects it. Even the men who delve in its
depths know not the value of the material in which they toil, for I
have not told them. Nor have I allowed an assay to be made of its
smallest fragment; but I know its worth, its fabulous value, that will
make the owner of the Copper Princess one of the richest heiresses in
the world."
"Who is the Copper Princess, papa?" asked the girl, who, though
bewildered by the old man's extravagant statements, could not help but
be interested in them.
"You are, my darling, you are a copper princess; but the name also
applies to your mine, and was given to it before you were born.
'Darrell's Folly' is what men, in their ignorance, call it now, but in
one week's time it may assume its rightful title, and thereafter the
fame of the Copper Princess will spread far and wide."
"But why not let people call the mine by its real name now, papa? What
difference will one week make?"
"Because," replied Ralph Darrell, bending towards his daughter, and
lowering his voice almost to a whisper, as though fearful of being
overheard, "in one week's time--only one week from this very day--the
contract will expire, and the heirs of Richard Peveril can make no
claim."
"Richard Peveril!" cried the girl, with a sudden recollection; "why,
papa, that is the name of the young man who was in the cavern to-day,
for he told me so himself. He is the same, you know, who came for your
logs."
For an instant the old man glared at his daughter with an expression
so terrible that she shrank from him frightened. Then it cleared, and
in his ordinary tone he said, gently:
"I wish, dear, you would go and change your dress. I don't like to
have you wear this boy's costume in the evening."
With only a moment of hesitation the girl obeyed him and left the
room.
She had no sooner disappeared than the strange expression that he had
so successfully banished for a minute returned to the man's face, and,
possessing himself of a revolver, he proceeded to load it. As he did
so he muttered:
"I must do it for her sake, though she must never know. Richard
Peveril shall not be given an opportunity for making his claim. If he
is really in the cavern he must not be allowed to escape from it
alive."
So saying, the old man left the room, while Mary Darrell, who had been
anxiously watching his movements through a crack of the opposite
doorway, followed swiftly after him.
In the cavern, at that moment, two groups of men were confronting each
other suspiciously, but hesitating as to what attitude they should
assume. The expected schooner had reached the coast that evening, and,
assured of safety by the single light displayed from the cliffs, had
run boldly in to her accustomed anchorage. As the operations of the
smugglers were necessarily conducted with great promptness, a portion
of her valuable cargo was immediately transferred to a small boat, and
four men accompanied it to the usual landing-place on the black
ledge. Here the goods were taken out, and two of the men returned to
the schooner with the boat while the others remained on shore. These
became so impatient at not receiving the usual intimation from above
that all was in readiness for hoisting, nor any answer to their
repeated signals, that they finally decided to avail themselves of the
tackle hanging ready beside them to go up and investigate. The captain
of the schooner, who was an Englishman, went first, and the other, who
was a French Canadian, followed closely after him.
[Illustration: A WILD-LOOKING MAN LEVELLED A PISTOL AT PEVERIL]
To their amazement they found the cavern, which they had been told was
never entered except by old man Darrell or his son, in possession of
two strangers, who appeared equally surprised at seeing them.
"What are you chaps doing 'ere?" demanded the Englishman.
"Oui. By gar! vat you do in zis place?" added his follower.
"I was about to ask that same question," said Peveril. "What are _you_
doing here?"
"Yes, be jabers! That's what _we_ want to know. What be _yous_ doing
here?" chimed in Mike Connell.
At that moment a wild-looking, white-headed figure suddenly appeared
on the scene, and, with one searching glance at Peveril, who stood
fully revealed in the light of Mike Connell's lantern, levelled a
pistol full at him. As he did so, a cry of terror rang through the
rock-hewn chamber, and a pair of soft arms were flung about the old
man from behind. By this his aim was so disconcerted that, though the
shot still rang out with startling effect in that confined space, its
bullet flew wide of the intended mark, and Peveril stood unharmed.
In another second the schooner's captain had sprung upon the madman
and wrenched the pistol from his hand, crying out:
"No, no, Mr. Darrell! There must be no murder connected with this
business. It is bad enough, God knows, without having that added!"
"C'est vrai! Certainment! By gar!" shouted the Canadian.
"You bet your sweet life, old man! That sort of thing don't go down in
the copper country, and it's mighty lucky for you that the young
feller was on hand to kape you from carrying out your murderous
intentions," said Mike Connell, sternly.
Peveril, seeing that the man, whom he had already recognized, was
rendered harmless by the loss of his pistol, remained coolly silent,
waiting for some cue by which his own course of action might be
determined.
"I see I have made a mistake, gentlemen," said Ralph Darrell, changing
his tactics with all a madman's cunning and readiness. "And I beg
Mister--a--"
"Peveril," said the young man--"Richard Peveril is my name, sir."
"Yes, of course; and, as I was saying, I beg Mr. Richard Peveril's
pardon for being so hasty; but my daughter here, having informed me of
his suspicious presence in the vicinity of this warehouse, I came to
protect my property from possible depredation. Finding him in the very
place that I was most anxious to guard, I very naturally took him for
a burglar, and acted accordingly. I am sorry, of course, if I have
made a mistake; but, if I remember rightly, I have already had
occasion to accuse Mr. Peveril of trespassing, and to order him from
my premises."
"You did, sir, and I refused to go until I had recovered certain
property to which I have a claim."
"Do you refuse to go now, when I tell you that the property in
question has been removed beyond your reach?"
"I do not."
"Will you promise never to return?"
"I will not."
"Will you go with these men on their schooner?"
"Certainly not, unless compelled by force, for I have no inclination
to trust myself with a gang of smugglers."
By this time two more of the schooner's crew, who had reached the
ledge with a second boat-load of goods in time to be attracted by the
pistol-shot in the cavern, had made their appearance on the scene, and
stood wonderingly behind their captain.
To this individual the old man whispered: "I will give you one
thousand dollars to capture this spy, who threatens to break up our
business. Carry him on board your schooner, and keep him there for one
week--one whole week, remember. Five hundred down, and the remainder
at the end of the week, if you have him still on board."
"Done!" said the captain, eagerly; and, turning to his men, he
muttered a few words to them in a low tone.
Peveril and Connell watched this by-play with considerable anxiety,
for they had no idea what action would be best to take. It would be
folly to make an attack on so strong a force, especially as they had
no direct provocation for so doing. Even should they succeed in
driving them from the cavern, they had no clear idea of what would be
gained. At the same time they did not relish the idea of waiting
quietly while the others carried on their secret consultation.
"The divils mean mischief, Mister Peril," whispered Connell. "Kape
your eye on them; and mind, if we get separated in the shindy, I'm not
the lad to desert a friend. Look out! Here they come! Take that, you
imps of Satan!"
With this final exclamation, the Irishman hurled his lighted lantern
full into the faces of the group at that moment rushing towards them.
It struck with a crash of glass, and then everything was enveloped in
darkness.
The fight was fierce, but short-lived. Peveril found himself striking
out wildly, was conscious of delivering several telling blows, and of
receiving twice as many in return. Then he was overwhelmed by numbers,
and, still fighting stoutly, was borne to the rocky floor.
When all was over and a lantern was brought, it revealed several
bloody faces and blackened eyes. Peveril was lying flat on his back,
with three men holding him down. Connell had disappeared, and so had
Mary Darrell, who was still looked upon by all present, except her
father, as being a boy. The old man held the lighted lantern, and the
captain of the schooner, swearing savagely, was holding his hands to
his face, which had been badly cut by the Irishman's missile.
A cord was brought, the very one that had lowered the lunch-basket,
and with it Peveril was trussed like a fowl for roasting. Then he was
swung down to the ledge at the base of the cliffs, tossed into a boat,
and rowed away. A few minutes later he was handed aboard the schooner,
taken below, and chucked into a small, evil-smelling state-room, the
door of which was locked behind him.
It was a very unpleasant position to occupy, and yet his thoughts were
not dwelling half so much upon it as they were upon the fact that the
young person in golf costume who had saved his life that evening had
been spoken of as a _daughter_.