Some of the hunters carried packs, silent witnesses brought to appear
against the hunted; and at the end of the procession eight men
staggered, four of them leaning to one side, and four to the other.
Before these had advanced into the open, a cyclonic spout of wind swept
over the northern cliffs, rushed down, and broke upon us. The torrent
swept and roared through Hanafin, so that none of us could determine
the nature of the burden that the eight men carried.
Then the night became terrible. One man might stand holding another,
yet neither would be able to see the other; the snow-dust choked the
wind and lashed upon our faces with cold ice-pricks; above us, around,
and below the grey sea of wind and snow roared, and rushed, and smote.
A great crowd had massed in Front Street, surging to and fro, jostling
and pushing, but each separate individual in that crowd could feel
himself alone in that arctic tempest. The voices were heard no longer,
because in her insanity Nature can roar louder than a million madmen.
Now and again a light goggled out of the grey whirl, to disappear in
an instant.
That crowd drifted towards the doors of the big saloon, and I was
carried with them, my face smarting under the lash of ice. Already the
great hall appeared choked, and yet I believe hundreds were packed
in after I tumbled inside. The space used for dancing was a sea of
humanity, and, like the sea, it roared and heaved; the gambling-tables
had been folded up and set aside; the bar was thronged. Still the
men came, with here and there a woman who had long ago abandoned
self-respect, and the passion of the assembly became greater. Everyone
was wildly shouting, and I could gather nothing from the tumult.
A great voice sounded over us, and this voice rolled from end to end in
the order, “Quit yer noise!”
A silence fell into the crowd, but outside the arctic storm went
yelling on its way.
A chair had been placed upon the bar counter, and on this chair
Moccasin Bill seated his spare figure. To his right stood MacInnes, the
mayor; to his left the man who had become a stranger to me, my former
partner MacCaskill. These three looked down upon us.
“Shet the doors,” commanded Moccasin Bill, “an’ keep ’em shet. The rest
uv the citizens must get away home, ’cause there ain’t room for ’em en
here. Make a space right there.”
He pointed down, and the sea of men heaved back, until I found it hard
to draw breath.
Grizzled Bill rose solemnly.
“Citizens,” he proclaimed, pulling off his fur cap and holding it out,
“ye know as well as me that we’re on British territory, where the law
ain’t jest what it is en minin’ towns over the line. Ther’ the miners
make their own law, an’ pays out their own justice. Right here the law
is the law uv the country, an’ ’tis administered by the judge uv the
Court. I ain’t for sayin’ anything ’gainst that. We ain’t all British
be any manner uv means, but while we’re en Hanafin City we’re subjects
o’ Queen Victoria. Citizens, I say this is a case where we’re entitled
to take the law inter our own hands.”
The voices answered him with a great shout of approval.
“I’ve ben appointed judge,” went on the old man solemnly. “An’ me
bowers are the mayor uv this city an’ Factor MacCaskill, the first
miner inter Bonanza. I’ve ben judge afore this, boys, an’ I’ve jedged
fair, I’ve ben told, and, ’fore God, I’ll judge fair again.”
The old man bent forward, and peered over the upturned faces rising and
falling beneath.
“Bring up that prisoner!” he called, and the crowd swayed to and fro,
and my heart began to thud.