THE UNDERMINER.
As it came on nine o'clock, Lieutenant Joe and Dearborn took leave of
their superior and of the table.
The former of the pair seemed to be overpowered by sleepiness, for he
had been blinking like an owl during the conversation, and, were he
not so polite a man, would have fallen forward and slumbered among the
dishes, his head on his arms.
The guide had altered his purpose; on second thoughts, he preferred to
make the circuit outside the camping ground for the better security of
all. So he bade the captain good night after announcing his changed
resolve, and promising to be back a bit before sun-peep.
Joe shook himself up, still polite, and volunteered to take the guide
round and show him where the lookouts lay, in order he might not get
shot by them at the dawn. During this short jaunt the two spoke very
little, and what they said were commonplaces. They knew quite well
that they were under the eyes of the leader, who came out to the tent
mouth ostensibly to finish his cigar.
After bidding one another good night bluffly, hunter and gold seeker
parted. The Englishman leaped over the barricade and glided into the
shadows. As Joe retraced his steps, he saw the captain disappearing in
the tent, where the loose flap fell and hid him.
The second officer had a green bough shelter run up for him against a
rock. Thither he proceeded and insinuated himself within; but, despite
the cold, he left the wagon tailboard, which might flatteringly be
styled the door, on one side. He would not have a fire, and showed no
light. He pulled out a horsehair covered trunk, sat on it, folded his
arms, and appeared to await being frozen stiff.
Not only, though, had all semblance of drowsiness quitted his features,
but, judging by his eyes, he was as wide awake as ever; these were
directed on the captain's tent. Its opening and that of his shed
faced, so that he could spy into it, protected himself by the complete
darkness in which he was lodged.
Kidd kept a lamp burning for quite half an hour. Joe tried his best
to see what he was doing, but that was not possible. Nevertheless, he
persevered in studying the tent which contained so many mysteries for
him. At length, the attraction of curiosity was so strong as to become
irresistible. He left his seat, and, stealing forth, scanned the scene
without.
Deep stillness reigned over the darkened camp, for a fine, cold rain
had lowered the fires. Rolled up in their blankets, the gold grabbers
had packed into shelter and slumbered soundly. The watchers themselves,
with only their noses and eyes exposed, were shrunk up into the best
covering the bushes and palisades afforded against the wet.
But the light still glittered in the captain's tent.
The Carcajieu would hold back no more.
And yet he knew that when the chief retired for the night, he blocked
himself in so that it was impossible to get at him without his leave or
knowledge. As for peering and prying, no one had tried what would lead
to discovery. Besides, what could the curious make of it; the tent was
double; there was full three inches space between the outer jacket and
inner canvas, a precaution taken along with others for serious reasons,
to the end that, when the captain did shut himself up, he could be
delivered of daily constraint and be himself unfettered.
Such were the more or less plausible suppositions to which Corky Joe
had arrived since he formed part of the expedition. He had often sought
without success to discover this puzzling mystery. But his repeated
failures, far from calming his curiosity, by proving the uselessness
of his abortive attempts, so pricked him on, that he determined at any
cost to tear the heart out of the enigma. The present occasion struck
him as so favourable, that he made up his mind to try again, whatever
the consequences, if he ran into a trap.
Sharp as was Kidd, Joe reckoned himself to be on a par with him. At
least, he rarely acted without forethought, sound, though not long,
perhaps. He was patient, preparing in advance the means for carrying
out his plans. He had never yet been taken in an unguarded moment.
Whenever he had failed, he set down the loss to chance, fate, or
whatever name it goes by.
Since too long a time had the faithless lieutenant been planning out to
learn what went on in the captain's snuggery when he was closeted in
for him not to have a better result, because he profited by previous
mischances.
Matters stood as follows this time--
Every time the train started the lieutenant took the advance with a
dozen picked men. Not only did they scout and roughly clear a road, but
they pushed on to the night camping ground. There they chopped bushes
and trees, built fires, or even lit them to warm the ground and drive
away vermin, as all small game is called, and put up the tents for Doña
Rosario, the women, and the leader. These they carried on led mules,
the cloth wrapped round their tools and eatables, so that part of the
load was exhausted on the way and at the end of the journey. When the
main body came up, it moved into position already traced, and completed
the entrenchment with the wagons and loads. A few shanties were knocked
together, and that was all. If the pickets had much of a start, they
did so much work whilst waiting, that the rest often did not have to
delay half an hour before meals.
The first act of the chief was to see if his tent was pitched to suit.
If not, he would have the site shifted, and overlook this being done
in person; this was of rare occurrence, but it had happened. Though,
in the beginning, his men had been curious about the tent, two months'
fatigue had blunted the feeling. Besides, what interest had tired men,
wet and muddy with fording, in puzzling out matters of no value to
them?--To say nothing of Kidd, notably "sudden with his pistol," being
always on the lookout. Besides, as he had often reflected, he was sure
enough of the relatively devoted nature of the principals of his band.
If he had to do with mere inquisitiveness his reasoning would have been
correct. Even Paul Pry will get fagged out in the end, but it was not
such a paltry nature that was pitted against him.
The Carcajieu had potent grounds for persevering in unearthing his
secret. Therefore, he would never stop till that secret lay under his
feet, or he was stretched dead upon it.
The captain was ignorant of this, and could not even dream of it.
He never once thought of doubting Joe, and conjecturing that he was
undermining him like a mole. Surrounding circumstances also forced him
to bestow on his second as much trust as lay in so wary a character.
On pushing ahead to the camping place, Joe had set his pioneers to use
their axes upon the brushwood, whilst he examined the land.
The position was intelligently selected by Dearborn, healthy and
easy to defend. It was an opening "park," in the midst of a thick
wood climbing the abrupt foothills of the Rockies. On the right, an
uncracked block of stone rose up sheer to an incalculable height, and
forefended any attack from that quarter.
Like the broken arch of a natural stone bridge, a huge rock, hollowed
out by water in ancient days, covered about a third of the clearing,
to the height of a score yards. On the left the mountain sides, well
wooded, gently sloped down.
The Carcajieu scanned the rocks alluded to. Hurled from the mountain
crest in some horrible cataclysm, they had crashed together
chaotically, and cheating moss and shrubs seemed to have knit them into
a solid mass. In reality, though nothing but a wonder of balancing kept
them in their arrangement. There was another discovery made by the
lieutenant, that almost forced him to whoop for joy, and did force the
whistling of a lively dance tune in an undertone.
When the bush work was formed, he went on usually to have the fires
laid and the tents reared.
The captain was set up under the natural arch, in a most advantageous
spot. Behind and on both sides the canvas was superfluous, for it was
in the hollow of the rock.
Kidd was so delighted with this solid nook for his night's lodging,
that he warmly thanked and congratulated his lieutenant, a surprising
thing to "the boys," as they knew him to be chary of compliments. Joe
bowed himself out of the flowers of speech in a modest way, and went
and hid his blushes in his greenwood shanty.
Scarcely had Joe, about to essay his dangerous undertaking, left his
ambush before he spied a shadow cross his path.
"Hist?" he demanded, putting his knife in readiness.
"Only me, the Drudge, master, coming to report," was the whispered
reply of the youth Leon.
"Oh, that's all right. What have you been about, boy?"
"Carrying out your orders, lieutenant," continued he, approaching.
"After lending the Foxface a hand to bandage up Lottery Paul, I
pretended to forget the camphorated spirits, as you instructed me."
"Good boy! What next?"
"I laid by to see what they would do. Just as you foresaw, lieutenant,
Foxface took up the keg, which was still pretty nigh full, and
laughingly showed it to the Frenchman. The next thing was, they swilled
at it, turn and turn about, making fun of me."
"How has it ended?"
"The keg is ended, lieutenant, that's a sure fact, and both the
scoundrels are dead drunk, not even snoring."
"Good; they are on the shelf. How about the others?"
"All are sleeping. There is nobody afoot but you and me, and the
captain, I reckon."
"Are you sure?"
"Quite; the sentinels are sawing gourds in the Land of Nod too."
"Very nice. You know what you are to do?"
"I do, lieutenant."
"Then get about it, my lad, and bear in mind that, in strictly
following my instructions, you are working for your good and your
freedom."
"I know that, lieutenant, and so you may rely on me doing anything you
direct."
"I know that too! Good, good--'tis time. You will see me ere long,
Leon."
The Drudge went his way without further observations.
"Now I am left to myself," remarked Joe, sliding his bowie knife in its
sheath and feeling that his revolvers were capped. "I shall never get
such another chance to shine or be snuffed out. If I do not succeed
in finding out some certainty to work upon, why, I'll--No, no, 'it'll
never do to gib it up so, Mr. Brown!'" he concluded, humming a nigger
minstrel song, which teaches the very American moral of Never Despair.
He took a full "square" look at the eternal lamp in the captain's
dwelling, but, instead of crossing the camp towards it, he turned away
and skirted the rocks. As soon as he reached a thorny bush rather
thick, he parted the twigs at the risk of tearing his hands, and
slipped into the very centre, as if, like the fools in the nursery
jingle, he meant to scratch out his eyes.
As one sometimes finds among those old natives of the Southwest, who
sit up all night at the gambling table, Joe was a true _noctambulist:_
he had the wild beasts' gift to see at night. Otherwise, it were
difficult to explain the unerring step with which he progressed through
the dusk. Probably he had clearly traced in his mind the line he was
following.