VAN'S PARTNERS
The Monte Cristo mining property comprised a tunnel in the hill, a
glory hole, a little toy quartz-mill--five stamps strong--the
bunk-house, kitchen, blacksmith-shop, stable, corral, and four human
beings. These latter were a Chinese cook named Algy, a Piute Indian
half-breed called Cayuse, and two rare souls--Napoleon G. Blink and
"Gettysburg"--miners, and boastful old worthies, long partnered and
beloved by Van.
Just at present the tunnel was empty, the glory-hole was deserted, and
the quartz-mill was silent. The mine had proved a failure. Van had
expended many thousands of dollars and ten months of time to
demonstrate the facts; and now, in possession of much new experience,
an indomitable spirit, two tired partners, and a brand-new claim, he
was facing his fate, as heretofore, with a wonderful boyish cheer.
Not all this knowledge was vouchsafed to Beth when she and her maid
were presently put in possession of the place. With the utmost gravity
Van introduced her by old Dave's appellation, Miss Laughing Water. The
maid he merely called Elsa. His explanation as to whence they hailed,
whither they were bound, why he had taken them in charge, and how he
had lost the pinto pony, was notable chiefly for its brevity. He and
his charges were hungry and somewhat pressed for time, he announced,
and he therefore urged Algy to haste.
Dinner had been promptly served at twelve. Algy was therefore in
despair--for Algy was proud of his art. He still had good red beans,
most excellent coffee, corn-fed bacon, the best of bread and butter, a
hunger-inspiring stew of lamb, white potatoes, fine apple sauce, and
superlative gingerbread on hand in great abundance, however, but in
spite of it all he spluttered.
"What's mallah you, Van?" he demanded several times. "Wha' for no tell
me blingee ladies? How you s'plose I gettee dinner? Sominagot, you
come like this, that velly superstich."
He would readily have laid down his very life for Van, but he laid a
good dinner instead. During its preparation Beth and her maid sat down
on a bench beside the bunk-house, in the presence of Cayuse, Napoleon,
and Gettysburg, while Van led the horses to the stable for refreshment,
and Algy talked to himself in pigeon English.
It was an odd situation for the girl from New. York, but she found
herself amused. Both Napoleon and Gettysburg had been cast for amusing
roles, which they did not always fill. Neither, as might be supposed
from his name, had ever even smelled the faintest suggestion of things
military. Napoleon had once been a sailor, or, to be more accurate, a
river boatman. He was fat, short, red-headed, red-necked, red-nosed,
and red-eyed. His hands were freckled, his arms were hairy. He turned
his head to one side like a bird--and promptly fell in love with demure
little Elsa.
Gettysburg was as thin as Napoleon was fat. He had a straggling gray
beard, a very bald pate, high cheek bones, and a glass eye. This eye
he turned towards the maid, perhaps because it was steady. He also had
a nervous way of drawing one hand down his face till he lowered his jaw
prodigiously, after which, like the handle of a knocker, it would fall
back to place with quite a thump. He did this twice as he stared at
Beth, and then he remarked:
"Quite a hike yit, down to Goldite."
"I suppose it is," said Beth in her interesting way. "How far is it,
really, from here?"
"'Bout twenty miles of straight ahead, and two miles of straight up,
and three of straight down--if a feller could go straight," said
Gettysburg gravely, "but he can't."
Beth looked very much concerned. She had hoped they were almost there,
and no more hills to climb or descend. She felt convinced they had
ridden over twenty miles already, and the horseman had assured her it
was thirty at the most, from the station so far behind the mountains.
"But--Mr. Van can't walk so far as that," she said. "I'm sure I don't
see what----"
She was interrupted by the reappearance of Van himself.
"Isn't there a horse on the place?" he asked his partners collectively.
"What have you done with the sorrel?"
Gettysburg arose. "Loaned him to A. C., yistiddy," said he. "But the
outlaw's on the job."
"Not Vesuvius?" Van replied incredulously. "You don't mean to say he's
turned up again unslaughtered?"
"Cayuse here roped him, up to Cedar flat," imparted Gettysburg.
"Cornered him there in natural corral and fetched him home fer fun."
Napoleon added: "But Cayuse ain't been on board, you bet. He likes
something more old-fashioned than Suvy. Split my bowsprit, I wouldn't
tow no horse into port which I was afraid to board. When I was bustin'
bronchos I liked 'em to be bad."
"Yes," agreed Gettysburg, "so bad they couldn't stand up."
A bright glitter came for a moment in Van's blue eyes.
"If Suvy's the only equine paradox on the place, he and I have got to
argue things out this afternoon," he said, "but I'll have my dinner
first."
Beth was listening intently, puzzled to know precisely what the talk
implied. She was vaguely suspicious that Van, for the purpose of
escorting her on, would find himself obliged to wage some manner of war
with a horse of which the Indian was afraid.
Further discussion of the topic was interrupted now by the cook, who
appeared to announce his dinner served. Beth and her maid were,
therefore, directed by Van to a table set for two, while he, with
Napoleon and Gettysburg for company, repaired to a place in the kitchen.
Beth was hungry. She ate with all the relish of a mountaineer. Algy,
moreover, was a kitchen magician in the art of transforming culinary
commonplaces into viands of toothsome delight. Elsa became
speechlessly busy. Despite her wishes in the matter, Beth could hear
the men talking beyond.
"So them convicts has hiked over this way already," said the voice of
Gettysburg distinctly. "We heard from A. C. about the prison break,
but he wasn't on to which ones they was."
"One is Matt Barger," Van informed them. "He's the only one I know."
"Matt Barger! Not _your_ Matt Barger?" demanded Gettysburg sharply.
Van nodded. "Mine when I had him."
Gettysburg arose excitedly.
"He ain't come hunting fer you as quick as this?" he inquired uneasily.
"That ain't what's fetched him over to the desert?"
"Haven't asked him," answered Van. "He promised to look me up if ever
he got out alive."
"Look you up!" Gettysburg was obviously over-wrought by the mere
intelligence that Barger was at liberty. "You know what he'll do! You
know him, boy! You know he'll keep his word. You can't go foolin'
around alone. You've got to be----"
"Pass the beans," Van interrupted. He added more quietly: "Sit down,
Gett, and shut the front door of your face."
Napoleon was eating, to "keep Van company." He pushed away his plate.
"Just our luck if these here derelicts was to foul us, skipper and
crew," he observed ruefully. "Just our luck."
Gettysburg sat down, adding: "Why can't you wait, Van, wait till the
whole kit and boodle of us can move to the bran'-new claim?"
Van finished half a cup of coffee.
"I told you I should continue on without delay. The horses will
probably come to-night for all of you to follow me to-morrow."
"Then why don't you wait and go with us?" repeated Gettysburg. "We'll
git there by noon, and you ain't got nuthin' to ride."
The horseman answered: "Suvy's the prettiest gaited thing you ever
saw--when he gaits."
"Holy toads!" said the older man apprehensively, "you ain't
sure-a-goin' to tackle the outlaw today?"
"I've always felt we'd come to it soon or late," was Van's reply. "And
I've got to have a horse this afternoon. We can't kill each other but
once."
"Supposen he stoves in your pilot-house," said Napoleon. "What shall
we do about the claim, and all this cargo, and everything?"
"The claim? Work it, man, work it," Van responded. "What's a mining
claim for but to furnish good hard work for a couple of old ring-tailed
galoots who've shirked it all their lives?"
"Work it, yep, but what on?" asked Gettysburg. "We're as broke as a
hatched-out egg."
"Haven't you worked on shinbones and heavenly hopes before?" inquired
the busy leader of the partnership. "And that reminds me, Algy, what
about you?" he added to the Chinese cook. "We can't afford a
tippe-bob-royal chef of your dimensions after this. I guess you'll
have to poison somebody else."
"What's mallah you, Van?" Algy demanded aggressively. "You makee me
velly sick. You get velly lich I cook your glub. You go bloke, I cook
alle same. Sominagot, I b'long go with you all time. You no got good
luck I never want the money, you savvy? You go hell--go anywhere--I go
same place--that's all. You talkee big fool, that velly superstich."
He looked at Van fiercely to disguise a great alarm, a fear that he
might, after all, be dismissed in the break-up impending.
Van shrugged his shoulders.
"Sentenced for life. All right, Algy, if your cooking kills us off, at
least, as the brave young husband remarked, it will all be in the
family."
Algy still looked as fierce as one of his heathen idols.
"You t'ink velly smart," he said, still concealing his feelings.
"Lats!" and with that he went out to chop some wood.
"Batten me into the pantry!" said Napoleon. "I'll bet old Algy'd board
the outlaw himself, fer you, Van, squall and all."
"That horse ain't human," Gettysburg exploded anew. "Van, you can't
ride no such Fourth-of-July procession!"
"Shut up!" murmured Van, with a gesture towards the room where Beth and
her maid were dining. He added aloud: "The chances are we'll find he's
a cheap Sunday-school picnic. Napoleon, you and Cayuse go out and
prepare his mind for work."
"Aye, aye," said Napoleon rising to go, "but I wish we had some
soothin' syrup, skipper."
He and the Indian were heard to depart, by Beth, sitting back in her
chair. She was greatly alarmed by all she had heard of vengeful
convicts and the vicious horse, and could eat no more for nervous dread.
"That horse has killed his man, and you know it," said Gettysburg in a
whisper that the girl distinctly overhead. "Boy, boy, let the Injun
ride him first."
"There, there, ease off," Van answered quietly. "You keep the women
entertained about the mill while Suvy and I are debating."
He gulped down a last drink of coffee, silenced the miner's further
remonstrances, and departed by way of the kitchen door.
Beth arose hurriedly and hastened forth, intent upon immediate
prevention, if possible, of any further ordeals undertaken in behalf of
herself. She was thoroughly frightened. A prescience of something
ominous impending seemed to grip her very heart. She glanced about,
helplessly, unfamiliar with the place. Van was nowhere in sight. She
started to run around the cabin when Gettysburg appeared in her path.
"Well, well," said he nervously, "now who'd a-thought you'd finished
eatin'?"
"Oh please," she said, "please go tell Mr. Van I'd rather he wouldn't
attempt to ride _any_ horse again to-day. Will you please go tell him
that?"
"You bet your patent leathers!" said Gettysburg. "You just go over and
globe-trot the quartz-mill while I'm gone, and we'll fix things right
in a shake."
He strode off in haste. Beth watched him go. She made no move towards
the quartz-mill, which Gettysburg had indicated, over on the slope.
She soon grew restive, awaiting his return. Elsa came out and sat
down. The old miner failed to reappear.
At length, unable to endure any longer her feeling of alarm and
suspense, Beth resolutely followed where Gettysburg had gone, and soon
came in sight of the stable and high corral. Then her heart struck a
blow of excitement in her breast, and her knees began to weaken beneath
her.