"TO QUIT."
When Vipan narrated the events of the last chapter to his friend and
partner, the latter looked grave.
"I know the chap you dropped," he said, "and he'll be no loss to this
territory, nohow. He's one o' them desperate, hard-drinkin', cussin'
bullies that a whole township--ay, and many a township 'll be only too
glad to see laid. But then, you see, there are his mates to reckon
with; bullies, all of 'em, like himself. I'm afraid if they light upon
the trail we shall have some warm work along."
"But they won't light on it, Bill, thanks to this friendly blizzard.
Why, the snow'll be there for the next three months, but most, if not
all, of my late friend won't. He'll be pretty evenly distributed among
the wolves and crows by that time," was the grim reply. And the speaker
kicked the logs into a blaze, and took a long pull at his whisky-horn.
"Besides," he added, "I took all precautions. If they do strike the
trail, they'll credit the whole business to the red brother."
The scout puffed earnestly at his pipe for some little while, his
features in no wise relaxing their gravity.
"See here, Vipan," he said, at length; "that's one side of the affair
I've been cudgelling over. Most of the chaps located around have got a
notion that you're too thick with the reds, and they're pretty mad.
I've run against several of 'em, and have been hearin' some tall talk
among 'em while you were away down there. Now, the best thing we can do
is to clear out our _caches_ [Note 1] as soon as the weather lifts, and
git."
"No, no, Bill; that's not my line at all. It's no part of my idea to be
choused out of the goose with the golden eggs just as I've brought that
biped home, not to mention being obliged to sneak away from a lot of
yapping curs, any one of whom I'm ready to meet, how, when, and where he
chooses." And Vipan's face was a picture of contemptuous resentment.
"Whatever they are, old pard, they can shoot--they can. I don't know
what's to stand in the way of a straight volley just any time we hap to
be on the move, even if not when we poke our noses out of our own door.
But if your mind's set on stayin' on, I'll just dry up."
The other's face softened. This staunch and loyal comrade of his was
prepared, as a matter of course, to stand by him and equally share the
peril in which the jealous resentment of the incensed miners placed or
might place himself.
"Now, look here, old chum," he said, "I'll just tell you what sort of a
prospecting I've made. I always maintained the upper bend of Burntwood
Creek was worth tapping. It's my private opinion we've at last struck
the real yellow, and if you don't think it worth following up after what
I'm going to show you, why I'll fall in with your idea, and light out
now for some where else. Look at this," and he placed in his friend's
hand the paper which he had taken from the pocket of one of the dead
miners whom he had helped to bury.
Smokestack Bill studied the plan thoughtfully for a few moments.
"It's tarnation vague," he said at length: "`Forkt pine, Red Peak,
blarsted tree, and the creek where half-buried rock.' Why, there's
parks of forked pines, and as for the blasted tree it's like enough to
be some stem against which one o' them chaps was squelched by his mule,
and known only to them. And the creek's just chock full of half-buried
rocks."
"Ha, ha, ha! Bill, my boy, I've located them all--all but the
half-buried rock, that is. The tree's a scathed pine all right, close
to where the two fellows were scalped. I was just going to locate the
creek part of the business, when that unhung skulker `jumped' me. You
may just bet your bottom dollar we'll light upon something rich."
"Well, well, I'll see you through it," said the other in a tone as if he
began to think there might be something in it. "But seems to me we
shan't be much the better for a lot of gold even if we find it. You're
bent on a rush to Great Britain, Vipan, I can see that. Well, my boy,
if we light on a find, you can take the bigger half, and go and pay off
old scores with the party that's tricked you. I've not much use for the
stuff, I reckon."
"Bill, old friend, you're an extraordinary production of your day and
species--a thoroughly unselfish specimen of humanity to wit. Now, do
you think it in the least likely that I should agree to any such
arrangement? No, no; share and share alike is the motto between
partners. If we make a good thing of it we'll take our jaunt together."
"'M, p'raps. Cities don't like me, and I don't like cities. If it were
otherwise I should be jingling my tens of thousands of dollars to-day,
instead of owning nought but a good rifle, a good horse, and a _cache_
full of pelts. There's mighty mean tricks done in cities, and those
done in a lawyer's office ain't the least mean. My old dad was in that
line, and though a good chap in other ways, I saw queer things done in
that office of his. I couldn't stand it, and I couldn't stand the life,
so I kicked over the stool and struck out West. I got blown up in a
Missouri steamboat first thing, and came down on a chunk of the
smokestack into the mud on the Nebraska side--leastways, that's what the
boys declared, and that's why they call me Smokestack Bill, though I
reckon I must have got astride of the smokestack while I was half
drowning. And now my brother Seth, who took kindly to lawyering, is the
richest man in Carson County."
"But that you are thoroughly happy as a plainsman, Bill, I should say
you had made a mistake," answered Vipan, in whom the other's story
seemed to have touched a sympathetic chord. "Otherwise the man who
sacrifices wealth--beggars himself for a principle--is a consummate ass,
and deserves all he condemns himself to; that is, a lifetime spent in
regretting it," he added, with an unwonted bitterness. "But never mind
that," resuming his normal tone. "When the snow melts we'll go down and
prospect Burntwood Creek, and as it's unlucky--deuced unlucky--to
discount one's successes beforehand, we'll just dismiss the subject out
of hand until then. Meanwhile, life being uncertain, we'll _cache_ the
cipher in some snug place in case anything should happen to me."
Three months went by. All the rigours of winter had set in upon the
Black Hills. Everywhere the snow lay in an unbroken sheet, attaining in
many places such prodigious depths as almost to bury the brakes and
thickets of a shorter growth. The dark foliage of the great pines
afforded some relief from the dazzling whiteness around, but even that
was almost concealed by the huge masses of snow which had there effected
lodgment. And here and there a mighty cliff of red sandstone stood
forth from the surrounding snow, its face half draped with glistening
icicles. But the weather was glorious, and the air as exhilarating as
champagne. The peaks, shining like frosted silver, rearing their heads
to the ever-cloudless blue--that marvellous combination of subtle shades
of the richest azure, tempered with green, which is produced by contrast
with a snow-enshrouded earth--the smooth face of each great precipice,
frowning beneath its brow of dark and bristling pines; the muffled roar
of the mountain torrent struggling for freedom, far down under its
successively imprisoning layers of ice; the wild cry of bird or beast,
even more at fault in the icebound rigours of its native waste than its
artificial enemy, man--all this went to make up an engraving from the
scenes of Nature in her winter magnificence, in all her savage primeval
beauty, in her unsurpassable and most stately grandeur.
In the midst of it all our two friends were thoroughly comfortable.
They trapped a good deal and hunted occasionally. Many a valuable fur
of silver fox and marten and beaver were added to their stores, and the
thick coat of the great white wolf, and the tawny one of the cougar, or
mountain lion. Two grizzlies of gigantic size also bit the dust--the
redoubted "Old Ephraim" standing no chance whatever before the rifles of
two such dead shots--while deer, both black-tailed and red, unable to
make much running in the deep snow, fell an easy prey.
The entrance to their cabin was all but buried in snow, but within it
was thoroughly warm and snug. Here, before a blazing fire, they would
lounge at night. Stores of every kind were plentiful--flour, coffee,
and sugar, whisky, warm furs, and abundance of tobacco--and surrounded
by every creature comfort they would sit and smoke their long pipes,
after a day of hard and healthful exercise, while the wind shrieked
without, and all the voices of the weird wilderness were abroad, and the
great mountains reverberated ever and anon the thunderous boom of some
mighty mass of snow which, dislodged by the wind or its own weight,
roared down the slopes, perchance to plunge with a crash over a huge
cliff. Now and then old Shanks would lift his shaggy head and growl as
the dismal yell of a cougar would be borne upon the night, but he was
well-used to the sounds of the forest, and quickly subsided again. And
the ghostly hooting of owls, and the shrill barking of foxes, in the
dark pine forest mingled with the ravening howl of the wolves in
ceaseless chorus from the frozen and wind-swept slopes.
Sometimes an Indian, belated on his hunt, would take advantage of their
hospitality, and on such occasions Vipan would delight to "draw" his
savage guest, with the result that the red-skinned warrior, replete with
good cheer and good humour, would lie back on his furs, puffing out huge
clouds of tobacco smoke, and narrate--with that absence of reserve which
characterises the savage when so engaged--many a strange tale of love
and war, and among them, here and there, an instance of such fiendish
and ruthless atrocity as would have caused the ordinary listener's hair
to stand on end with horror and repulsion, not swerving in the smallest
degree from his smiling and good-humoured imperturbability during the
narration. But Vipan was wholly proof against any such ordinary
weakness. The way to know Indians, he said, was first to get them to
talk, and then to let them talk. _He_ wanted to know Indians
thoroughly, and reckoned by this time he had about succeeded. So in him
the red warrior found an attentive, not to say appreciative, listener.
Thus the months went by, and when the crocuses and soldanellas began to
appear from beneath the melting snow, and the torrents and creeks ran
red in the first spring freshets, an impatience, a feverish longing to
be up and doing came upon Vipan, rendering him moody, and at times
irritable. But until the rivers should have run off the melted snows
nothing could be done. In vain his comrade preached philosophy.
"I judge you'll get no good by tearing your shirt, old pard," said the
honest scout. "See here, now. Did you ever set your heart on a single
thing, that when you got it you wondered how the snakes you could ever
have been so hot on gettin' it? No, you didn't. About this _placer_.
Maybe we shall find plenty of stuff--maybe little--maybe none at all.
But whatever we find or don't find, it's no part of good sense to tear
our shirts a' thinkin' of it."
"No, it isn't," agreed the other. "But--`many a slip,' etc."
"'M, yes. What's the odds, though? We can always light on fresh
ground. And if the reds go on the war-path soon as the grass grows,
it'd do us both good to get a scouting berth with the command for a
spell."
Vipan's forebodings were destined to be realised. A few mornings later
the two occupants of the winter cabin were awakened by the trampling of
many hoofs. With their minds full of the threats of those around them,
both seized their rifles and stood ready for any emergency. But with no
body of jealous and exasperated miners had they now to deal. Cautiously
peering forth, their gaze fell upon the trappings and accoutrements of a
cavalry patrol.
A furious curse escaped Vipan's lips. His plans were ruined.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. A _cache_ is a sort of underground storeroom or place of
concealment--generally jar-shaped--wherein peltries and other goods are
deposited, pending their convenient removal.