THE SEARCH
A stiff breeze was swinging through the night as the Vigilance
Committee left the saloon and started for the nearest cabin. The stars
were hidden, and the weather had moderated, presaging a storm. The
wind was soughing in the trees like a wandering spirit, while far in
the distance the faint howl of a wolf was heard. The line of rough
buildings stood indistinct in the darkness, unrelieved by one ray of
light. They sent a chill to the hearts of several of the men by their
gloomy silence. In one of these, perhaps, the stolen treasure was
lying, the innocent cause of the disturbance.
It had been arranged that the rest of the men should remain in the
saloon while the cabins were being searched. Then, if nothing came to
light, a new line of action was to be entered upon. Only Tim Fleeters
accompanied the searchers. He would be necessary, it was considered,
to recognize the poke.
"Ugh!" exclaimed Mickie O'Toole, as they entered the first house, and
lighted a candle. "This place makes me crape, it's so still and
death-loike." Every nook was examined; the small box, the blankets,
while even the stove, from which the fire had died out, was not
overlooked. One by one the cabins were entered, and the same
monotonous work continued. Some of these Keith had never entered
before, and their bareness appalled him. What was there, he wondered,
in this golden lure, which could induce men to abandon every comfort,
and undergo such hardships in that desolate land? Was the uncertain
game worth it all? He could not believe it. At length the last house
was searched, the one which stood by the trail leading to the Indian
village. Nothing, so far, had been discovered, and the men peered at
one another through the darkness.
"Well," said Perdue, "we've had all this work for nothing, and I'm sick
of the job."
"But we're not through yet," replied Pritchen sharply. "There are
several more to visit, your own, the Radhurst cabin, and the mission
house, to say nothing of the Indian shacks."
"But ye wouldn't bother the old man and his daughter this time of the
night, surely," responded the saloonkeeper.
"I'd as soon distarb me mither's grave," said Mickie, "as to frighten
the swate-faced lady up yon by our presence to-night."
"Umph! I guess she won't mind," sneered Pritchen, "especially if the
parson's along."
The blood rushed into Keith's face, as he listened to these remarks.
It was hard for him to stand quietly there and hear these men speak so
lightly of one whose image was enshrined in his heart, and who was
becoming dearer to him every day. Her pure face and large, wondering
eyes rose before him, and when Pritchen uttered his coarse sneer he
turned suddenly upon him.
"What do you mean by those words?" he demanded.
"Anything you like," returned Pritchen.
"That's not an answer to my question. You named me in connection with
Miss Radhurst, and I want you to explain."
"You seem mighty interested."
"Yes, I am. And wouldn't any man with the slightest spark of chivalry
be interested if he heard insinuations about one, especially a woman,
who is as innocent and pure as the flower of the field? Refer to her
again as you did lately, and you'll see how interested I am."
The tone in Keith's voice warned Pritchen and the rest that the less
said about the matter the better, so an awkward pause ensued. Perdue
was the first to speak.
"Let's search the mission house now," he suggested, "and leave the
Radhurst cabin till the last."
This plan was at once agreed upon, and, in no agreeable frame of mind,
Keith followed his companions up the narrow trail leading to the house.
How often he had traversed that very path during the long years of
regular duty. Time and again had he looked up at the Indian village on
the brow of the hill above him, and a spirit of joy always thrilled his
being. The children who used to run to meet him were ever sure of a
hearty greeting. How dear they had become to him--the lambs of his
flock. Upon every one he had sprinkled the few drops of water, and
sealed them with the sign of the cross in Holy Baptism. His flock he
knew all by name, from the youngest to the oldest, and he was their
spiritual father.
But on this night no such feelings possessed his soul. A heavy weight
oppressed him in some mysterious manner. He tried to shake it off, but
in vain. The gliding figures before him assumed the appearance of evil
spirits luring him on to a doom over which he had no control. Why had
Pritchen chosen him as one of the committee unless he had some hidden
motive in view? Had a trap been laid by this wily serpent in which to
entangle him? He was not superstitious; yet as they drew near the
cabin a chill passed through his body. A feeble light was shining
through the window, from the candle which was struggling bravely in the
last throes of life.
They opened the door and entered. The room was cold, for the fire had
gone out. As in the other cabins, they at once set to work and the
place was thoroughly searched. Several tried the lid of the chest,
but, finding it locked, desisted. At length Pritchen drew near, and
seized the cover with both hands.
"Hello! this is locked!" he exclaimed. "Let's have the key."
Keith had thought of the chest, and the picture lying within. As
Pritchen turned to him his face flushed in a confused manner, which
Perdue, who was watching, observed.
"The key, I say!" repeated Pritchen in a sharp voice. "Let's have the
key to this chest.
"It must be in the lock," replied Keith. "I left it there when I went
out, and did not turn it, either."
"Look for yourself, then," and Pritchen stepped back to make room for
the missionary.
Keith stooped down and examined it carefully. He tried the lid, but it
was fastened. He placed his hand to his forehead and tried to think.
"Maybe you locked it and put the key in your pocket," suggested one.
Keith ran his hands through every pocket, and into each corner, but all
in vain; the key was nowhere to be found.
"Very strange," muttered Pritchen. "A chest in the cabin, a strong one
at that--locked, and the owner unable to find the key! What do you
keep in such a precious box?"
Keith heard him, but heeded not. He was trying to think. Yes, he had
placed the picture there before he left the building, and closed the
lid down without turning the key. He was sure of that.
He was aroused from his reverie by Pritchen asking for an axe.
"There," and Keith pointed to a corner of the room.
At first an attempt was made to pry up the cover, by forcing the axe
under the edge, but in this they failed.
"Let's smash the d-- thing!" cried Pritchen. "We can't waste the whole
night here, and we must see into this box."
Suiting the action to the word, he drove the blade into the smooth lid,
and in a short time the cover was in splinters.
In silence Keith beheld the work of destruction. What could he do?
Every blow seemed to strike at his own heart, telling him of impending
trouble.
"Hello! what's this? A woman's face! Well, I'll be damned! Look,
boys," and Pritchen pointed to the sketch lying in full view.
The weak candle light fell tremblingly upon the fair face as Perdue
bent over the box to examine the picture more closely. Then he seized
it roughly in his hand, and held it up for a better inspection. It was
not the little laugh given by one of the men which stirred Keith so
intensely, but the wink he caught Pritchen tipping to Perdue. It was
that quick telegraphic message, the base innuendo which stung and
lashed him more than a thousand words. The hot blood, recoiling at the
silent insult, surged back to the body's secret depths, leaving the
face as white as drifted snow. Keith's eyes flashed danger as he
reached out one long tense arm.
"Give that to me," he demanded, restraining himself with a great
effort. "It has nothing to do with your business here."
"It's interesting, though," replied Perdue.
"Innocent and pure as the flower of the field," sneered Pritchen,
quoting the missionary's own words.
Scarcely had he ceased when Keith, throwing discretion to the wind,
leaped upon him, and with one blow sent him reeling back over a small
bench standing near. Regaining his feet as quickly as possible, with a
terrible oath, Pritchen rushed for his antagonist, only to go down
again before that clinched sledge-hammer fist. This time he did not
attempt to rise, but lay on the floor, giving vent to the most
blood-curdling oaths. Keith towered above him, awaiting his further
movement.
"Lie there, then, you serpent!" he cried, spurning him with his foot.
"It's your natural position, anyway."
An exclamation of surprise from Perdue caused him to glance quickly
around, and the sight which met his gaze was one never to be forgotten.
Over the chest stood the saloonkeeper, holding in his hand a
well-filled moose-skin poke, which he had just lifted from the bottom
of the box.
"Is that yours, Tim?" he asked.
"Yes," came the reply. "Don't you see my initials, 'T. F.' worked in
the poke? I did it myself, and could swear to it anywhere."
"And what's this?" exclaimed Mickie O'Toole, holding up another poke,
which was empty. "See, and here are letters, too, 'K. R.', so, Tim,
you're not the only one who's been pinched."
"Maybe the parson kin throw some light on the subject," and Perdue
turned towards the missionary with a malicious light in his eye.
But Keith did not answer. He stood as if rooted to the floor. What
did it all mean? Was he dreaming? He placed his hand to his forehead.
No, no, it was no dream, but a terrible reality. A base, cowardly
trick had been imposed upon him; he felt sure of that.
"God help me!" he inwardly groaned. "What am I to do?"
"No wonder the box was locked and the key gone," he heard some one say,
but it moved him not. His thoughts were elsewhere. What would she
think? What would his flock think? Their pastor a base thief! It was
terrible. Why had such a cross been laid upon him? What had he done
to deserve it all? He thought of another, of One, sinless and pure,
who had borne His cross alone; who had been mocked, laughed at, and
spit upon. He would not desert him now, anyway, in his time of trial.
The idea comforted him somewhat. A new feeling took possession of him,
a strength which he had seldom experienced before. He felt a Presence
very near, some unseen influence giving him a marvellous calmness and
courage. He looked at the men, and listened to their cruel words
unmoved. He saw Pritchen standing by, with Satanic delight stamped
upon his features, but it affected him not.
Base and sordid though they were, his companions could not fail to
recognize the dignified, lofty bearing of the man before them, and the
new light which illumined his face. Mickie O'Toole paused in the midst
of a jocular remark, reverently crossed himself, and forgot to finish
his sentence. Perdue remained silent, and even Pritchen failed to pour
forth his quota of filth and blasphemy. They all felt, though none
would have acknowledged it, that some mysterious power was in that
room, before which their guilty souls shrank and feared. Keith, alone,
knew that One who said, "Lo, I am with you alway," had not deserted him
in the hour of distress.
It was only after they had left the house and moved down the hill
through the gloomy night that the miners recovered from their temporary
fear. When at length they thrust Keith into the saloon among the
astonished waiting men, the vilest words in the English language were
none too strong with which to introduce the wretched man.