KNOCKOUT INN
“Wasn’t there gold in Mr. Chase’s mine after all?” asked Ruth eagerly.
Mr. Knowles looked troubled and rubbed a blue-veined hand across his
forehead.
“That’s what I don’t know and what I have come all this way to find
out,” he confessed.
He relapsed into one of his thoughtful pauses, and eager as Ruth was
to hear the rest of this remarkable story she did not hurry him. She
knew that eventually he would tell her everything, for he was even
more eager to disclose the facts than she was to hear them.
“Mary herself wrote to me,” he said, after a moment. “She wrote to
tell me of her father’s death and the fact that she and her sister
Ellen were in desperate trouble.”
“How old are they?” Ruth interrupted long enough to ask.
“Mary has just come of age,” returned the old gentleman. “She seems
to be a sturdy, courageous young person, however, and from her
letter to me it appears she is following in the footsteps of her
father, and with her younger sister Ellen and with the help of three
miners who were friends of her father, is trying to operate the mine
herself.”
“Are the girls all alone—are they living alone?” asked Ruth
breathlessly.
“Yes. But that it not the worst of it,” said Mr. Knowles. He sat
up straight and his thin face flushed with indignation. “These
two plucky children—for they are hardly more—have enemies, wicked
conniving enemies, who are plotting to get the mining claim away from
them.”
“Ah!” Ruth’s eyes were bright. “Then that at least seems to show one
thing!”
“What?” asked the old gentleman, in a puzzled way.
“That there is real gold on the claim. Otherwise these enemies,
whoever they are, would not be so anxious to get hold of it!”
“Yes, I have thought of that,” said Mr. Knowles, and he had never
looked so pathetically helpless as at the moment when he made that
admission. “But even though there is gold in the mine, that will do
the girls little good if their enemies succeed in taking it away from
them before I get there.
“And after all,” he added, with a pitiful shrug of his shoulders,
“what can an old man like me do against such villains as these
probably are? I know nothing of mines or of the laws of the Yukon
country. A sorry protector the girls will find in me, I fear, even
when I have reached them.”
Though Ruth tried to encourage the old gentleman and reassure him as
well as she could, in her heart she was convinced that he had spoken
very near the truth. An unworldly, gentle, dreaming old man, no
matter how kind-hearted and desirous of serving, could probably avail
little against the cold-blooded, hardened type of pioneer buccaneer
who would deliberately attempt to wrest a lawful claim from two
orphaned and defenseless girls.
What Mary and Ellen Chase undoubtedly needed was a young and virile
defender, preferably one acquainted with the ways of the gold country
and so would be best qualified to cope with the kind of pirates these
poor young things were facing.
Mr. Knowles did not again refer to the story during the trip. Ruth
told the sad story to Helen, who expressed the hope that they would
run into the unfortunate girls during their own adventures and
perhaps be able to do something to help them.
Then came the day when the travelers could actually look forward to
landing within a few hours at St. Michael. At that disturbing center
they were to take a smaller steamer for points up the Yukon.
Their ultimate destination was Knockout Point, a little settlement
not far from Dawson City. This was the spot Ruth had chosen for
the filming of the greater part of the picture. It would form, she
thought, a splendid setting full of local color for the main outdoor
scenes of “The Girl of Gold.” If she found it necessary later to take
steamer for the filming of some scenes farther up the river, that all
could be arranged for in due time.
Meanwhile, Knockout Point was their appointed destination.
Good connections were made at St. Michael. The small steamer on which
Tom had taken passage for his party was almost ready to leave as the
great liner docked.
Their quarters aboard the smaller ship were not as commodious as
those they had enjoyed aboard the liner. But once aboard, no one
cared particularly, since the longest part of the journey was now
over and their destination almost in sight.
The one thing Ruth regretted was that, in the excitement of landing,
she had lost sight of her elderly friend, Mr. Knowles. She thought
of him constantly during the rest of the trip and wondered what his
ultimate destination really was.
Then, a few days later, came the great moment when they all gathered
on deck to watch the approach to Knockout Point. As the steamer plied
steadily up the broad river, the excitement of players, cameramen,
and directors grew.
It seemed as though Ruth was everywhere at once, exhorting cameramen
to make sure that precious films and cameras reached shore safely,
seeing that every one had packed and was ready for the landing.
Knockout Point was a straggling settlement, extending along the bank
of the broad Yukon for a quarter of a mile or more. It had several
docks, one about ready to fall apart, and a dusty, straggling main
street of one and two story buildings. It had, in years gone by,
gained its name from a fierce fight between a gold hunter and a
desperado of that vicinity, in which the desperado had gotten the
worst of the combat.
“Doesn’t look much like New York, does it?” remarked Chess.
“New York!” cried Helen. “Why, it can’t compare with—with Cheslow!”
“Some pretty high mountains in the background,” went on the young man.
“Yes, and they look grand, don’t they? I suppose we’ll do some
mountain climbing while we are here.”
Ruth thought of and wondered about Mary and Ellen Chase. She wished
she had asked Mr. Knowles more about them. The old gentleman had not
said in just what part of Alaska their mine was located, except that
it was near Snow Mountain.
However, he had known that her destination was Knockout Point and
had mentioned the possibility of her meeting with these unfortunate
girls. Was Snow Mountain and the property of Mary and Ellen Chase,
then, somewhere in the neighborhood of Knockout Point?
Unable to answer the question to her satisfaction, Ruth was sorry
that she had not found more time to spend with the old gentleman
during the last days of the trip. He had seemed so lonesome and
bewildered and troubled! If only she had found out definitely the
location of the Chase mine, she or Tom or some of the rest of them
might have found a way to help the girls and the old gentleman at the
same time.
Well, it was too late now! They had reached the dock and from that
time on other and more important duties claimed her attention.
Tom was bargaining with an evil-looking person, whose huge mustache
and overhanging eyebrows seemed to Helen to proclaim him a desperado
of the worst sort, an opinion she confided in an undertone to Ruth.
The name of this dangerous-looking individual was Sandy Banks, and
the girls were later to learn that the only fierce part of Sandy
was his appearance. In reality he was the simplest and gentlest of
men, always ready to do a service for his fellow men, and an ardent
admirer and champion of all women.
When Tom presented him to Ruth and Helen, this gallant cavalier bent
low over the hand of each of them, his mustache sweeping upward in a
grand and impressive manner.
Helen suppressed a giggle. But Ruth only smiled, for she had seen the
simple friendliness in the eyes of this great hulking fellow and knew
at once just what type of man he was.
Besides, her mind was working busily along professional lines. This
Sandy Banks would contribute excellent local color to her picture
if he could be persuaded to act for a day or two as an extra. Ruth
stowed this thought away in a corner of her brain to be brought
forward again when the time was ripe.
Meanwhile Sandy readily agreed to transport the motion picture
company and its paraphernalia to Knockout Inn, where Tom had already
telegraphed ahead for reservations.
“You purty nigh scairt Slick Jones into his grave,” said their new
acquaintance, with a deep-chested chuckle. “You come near fillin’ up
his hull place—which ain’t worryin’ Slick none, since he leaves nigh
onto every cent he kin scrape together down to The Big Chance. Well,
sir, where do you want them things stowed?”
Tom gave instructions in regard to the trunks and other luggage, but
the cameramen decided to carry their precious cameras with them.
“So far from home it ain’t any use taking chances with them, Miss
Fielding,” said Schultz, with a grin.
Finding that Knockout Inn was not far from the river front, they all
determined to walk, leaving only the luggage to Sandy Banks’ rattling
old wagon and dispirited horse.
So they filed along behind this equipage, keeping at a safe distance
from the dust flung up by its wheels, quite willing that Sandy should
take the lead and that he should proceed as slowly as possible. It
was glorious to be on land again after the long ship journey, and
every one was in high spirits. Every one, that is, except the dwarf
who brought up the rear in a sort of sulky isolation, seeming like a
dark blot upon the gayety of the party.
They found Knockout Inn a typical settlement building, a long low,
one-story structure with more sheds and outhouses than there was
building itself.
The proprietor came out to meet them in person as Sandy drew his
horse to a standstill before the door. The motion picture company
straggled up, feeling, and perhaps looking, like a band of gypsies on
the trail.
There was a smile on the habitually doleful countenance of Slick
Jones and his hair, black and sleek, brushed straight back from a
rather low and bulging forehead, shone with unusual brilliance. Slick
was famous among his neighbors for this style of hair dressing, for
no matter how careless the rest of his attire might be, Slick’s hair
was always sleek and polished like a piece of patent leather.
“Glad to meet you!” he said now, with a manner that was evidently
intended to match his hair. “My place ain’t much on looks, but I’m
aimin’ to make it comfortable. Sandy, there! Step lively, my lad.
This way, ladies and gents! This way!”