HIGH STAKES
Before many days had passed Angela realized how wisely Jim had traded in
Vancouver. At the time she had wondered why he had been so prodigal in the
matter of food. It seemed to her sheer lunacy to travel over icy mountains
with what appeared to be enough food for a traveling circus. Now she saw
that but for his foresight they might have felt the fine edge of
starvation as others were doing.
With remarkable suddenness the cold had vanished and the thermometer
mounted daily. A dank, warm atmosphere embraced the country. Under the
vanishing snow were green buds that burst into bloom at the first direct
rays of the sun. An unwelcome visitor invaded the camp--the mosquito. He
rose from the swampy river in myriads, and made life a torture.
Jim had got his usual hustle on. Very quickly he became a popular figure
in the town. But two days after his arrival he met an old friend--a gaunt,
lanky figure, with a beard a foot long.
"Why, darn me if it ain't Colorado Jim!"
He turned and saw Dan, late owner of the Medicine Bow Hotel, looking
wonderfully prosperous and happy.
"Hello, Dan!"
"Gosh, you ain't altered none. Come and hev' some poison."
They pushed their way into a crowded saloon, and Dan flung down a small
poke of gold-dust for a bottle of whisky, from which he received no
change.
"What's your lay, Jim?"
"Prospectin'."
"Wal, yore sure a queer cuss. Why in hell d'ye want to go prospectin' with
a million of the best in the bank?"
Jim laughed.
"I'm broke, Dan."
"What!"
"Yep. An' I'm married."
Dan nearly choked. Then he clapped his hand on his leg and roared with
delight.
"Married. Wal, I guess she's a lucky gal, even if you are bust. But how'd
it happen?"
"Bad speculation. But I'm through with that. See here, Dan, I'm wantin' to
stake a couple of claims, but every darn piece of dirt seems pegged out."
Dan stroked his beard.
"Yore late. I got wise to what it'd be like, so I hiked up here early.
Staked twenty-two on Bonanza and sold out yesterday to the Syndicate. Five
hundred thousand I got, and never thawed out more'n a square yard of dirt.
And now I'm mushing for the bright lights."
Jim's face contracted.
"I hope you'll like 'em, Dan. They sure gave me the croup. Maybe I ain't
built that way, and you are. 'Pears to me that the Klondyke is a
mission-hall compared to London or New York. They'll take the gold filling
from yore false teeth out there."
Dan surveyed him carefully.
"What's wrong, Jim? You seem kinder moody like. Someone kicked you in the
hip?"
"You got it."
"Wal, I guess you'll git over it," said Dan philosophically. "Mebbe you'd
like me to take some message back, eh?"
"She ain't back there," said Jim. "She's right here."
Dan looked as though he had been shot.
"What's that? You ain't telling me----?"
"Why not?"
"This is a hell of a place for ladies."
Jim frowned. He knew that perfectly well. Now and again a feeling of
self-reproach came, but he strangled it by reflecting upon the trick that
had been played upon him. After all, he had bought her at her own price,
and he meant to keep her.
Two or three of Dan's lucky friends were scanning Jim's enormous figure
with obvious interest.
"Say, boys, 'member I told you about a husky guy at Medicine Bow who made
a pile and sold out?"
"Sure!"
"Wal, this is him all right. Ain't he a beaut?"
They shook hands with Jim and ordered more whisky. Like Dan they were
overburdened with money, and remarkably free with it. They were beguiling
the time in innocent "jags" pending the arrival of the boat in the river
that was to take them out of the Klondyke.
"Looking for a claim?" inquired one of them.
"Thet's so."
"Nothin' doing this side of Blackwater, but there's a dinky little creek
five mile up-river. What do they call that creek where Dave staked,
Whitey?"
"Red Ruin," replied Whitey.
"Yep, Red Ruin. There's a mile or so at the lower end unstaked, and if
there ain't gold there, my name ain't what it is. Dave staked 250 feet
yesterday, and he's sure nuts on gold."
Dan nodded.
"You hike there, Jim, afore it goes to someone else."
"Ain't a healthy sort of name--Red Ruin," said Jim with a laugh.
"Names don't count."
Jim was finally persuaded to try his luck there. He left the party,
followed by their best wishes for success, and made for the camp up the
hill. He found Angela in a fit of revolt. She had done nothing since he
left that morning. Dirty pans and dishes littered the ground and blankets
were lying in heaps all round.
"Angela!"
She looked at him.
"You ain't bin hustling overmuch."
She flared up in an instant.
"I'm sick of this. You brought me here by brute force. I won't go on with
it. Do you understand? I've tramped over that icy wilderness with you.
I've suffered until I can suffer no longer. You never were a gentleman,
and ordinary courtesy and respect for a woman are unknown to you, but
surely you have a heart somewhere within you. Can't you see this is
killing me? Do you want to break my heart?"
"Hearts are hearts, ain't they? And breaking one ain't no worse than
breaking another. No, I'm no gentleman--not the kind you bin used to.
That's why I came here--because here they're only men, and I'd jest as
soon be a man as anything else on earth. I reckon that where a man goes
his woman should go too."
She flushed at the appellation "woman."
"You talk like a barbarian. I'm not your woman--you understand? Not your
woman."
"Figure out how you may," he retorted, "when you buy a thing, you buy it,
and it's yours until someone pays you to git it, or someone is hefty
enough to take it from you. As for that, if any guy thinks about cuttin'
in, he's welcome to try."
The true sense of his position was made patent. His rough philosophy was
good. Had she been his by mere conquest, no man in the Klondyke would have
disputed it. Being his wife, legally, his position was doubly strong. Only
cunning could win through. She meant to exercise that faculty as soon as
opportunity presented itself. And the opportunity was close at hand.
"I'm going up-river to-morrow," he said, "to prospect a creek, and to
stake two claims if it's a promising place. I'll be back before
sundown.... Ain't you goin' to git supper?"
She was on the point of refusing to carry out the necessary abhorrent
domestic work, but the chance of escape which his words gave rise to
brought discretion to the forefront. She cooked a dish of beans and opened
some canned fruit, and they took their meal, thrusting it beneath the
shielding mosquito-nets which seldom left their heads.
Half an hour later they made ready for sleep, in very close proximity to
the hard ground, with a hanging canvas curtain between them.
"Good-night, Angela!" he said.
She returned no answer.
Down in the town things were just beginning to wake up. No one worried
about time in Dawson City. The nights were like the days, the only
difference being that the nights were more noisy. Time was stretched and
manipulated with as much ease as an elastic band. Men went to bed at eight
in the morning, and woke up to take their breakfast at three or four in
the afternoon. Thereafter came dancing, drinking, mirth, and boisterous
song. The conditions of the northern summer aided and abetted this queer
juggling with time, for it was never dark, and 3 A.M. was not much
different to 3 P.M. And as a rule, the life of the saloons was too busy a
thing to take notice of any changes in the position of the sun.
The next morning Jim, armed with a pick and shovel and some stakes, left
for Red Ruin. Angela watched him disappear over a bluff, and immediately
prepared to put into operation her scheme for escape. She packed a small
sack with the few things she would require, and wrote a short note which
she pinned to the flap of the tent.
"I warned you I should go. There is no other way but this.--ANGELA."
She took the sack and descended to the crowded town. The river was still
belching ice into the Bering Sea, but the last floes were leaving the
upper reaches, and she knew that in a few hours navigation would be
possible, up-stream. Whilst many parties were content to wait for the
steamer's arrival, others, less patient, were preparing to "make out" up
the river and lakes and over the Chilcoot.
She began to put out a few furtive inquiries, and secured the names of
several men who were preparing for immediate departure. She was wise
enough to take a look at these worthies before committing herself to their
charge, and most of them did not please her. Wandering in the back areas
at noon, she noticed a rough shack bearing an obviously new announcement
"For Sale." Already a queue of prospective purchasers was lining up. When
the owner--a sallow man of about fifty--appeared, he was besieged. The
shack was sold in a few minutes to the highest bidder. Angela, nervous but
determined, interrogated the sallow man.
"Excuse me, but are you leaving?"
He ran his keen eyes over her, immediately impressed by her beauty and her
bearing.
"I am."
"Soon?"
"To-morrow morning if the river's clear."
"Alone?"
"No--two others."
Angela breathed a sigh of relief. There was safety in numbers.
"I want to go to England--or to New York. Will you take me? I've no money
or food, but I'll pay you well when I get away."
The man stared.
"As soon as I can cable to my people they will send me money," she
resumed. "Take me as far as the first cable station, and in forty-eight
hours I will get money to recompense you," she added quickly.
His brows contracted.
"What's the hurry?"
"I want to get away from someone."
"Ah--I see."
"Will you--will you take me? I'll work."
He looked at her soft, exquisite face and figure, and grinned as he
reflected that the work she could do was negligible; but the suggestion
had its fascination. She was beautiful--and beautiful women were rare in
the Klondyke. He opened the door of the shack and called "Tom!" Tom
appeared in his shirt-sleeves--a big awry figure with a face like a
chimpanzee.
"Got a grub-staker. What do you say?"
Tom's face relaxed into a smirking smile as he also took a long survey of
Angela.
"Canoe's purty full up, but I dare say we can find room. Where'd ye want
to go?"
"Anywhere out of this. Some place from where I can cable to England--for
money."
He looked at "Connie," the sallow man, and nodded. The latter turned to
Angela.
"We're off in the morning. Is that your grip?"
"Yes."
"Better leave it in the shack. There's a small room at the back you kin
hev' to sleep in to-night."
She thanked him and went inside the shack. Big bundles lay on the floor
ready for the journey, and from the window in the back room she saw a
long, newly made canoe. She put down her sack, and decided to get some
food in the town with the few dollars she possessed, before taking refuge
in the shack from Jim, who would doubtless return by the evening.
When she returned the third man was present. She smiled at the three of
them as pleasantly as she knew how, and repaired to the back room. She
imagined Jim's amazement and wrath when he discovered she had gone. But it
was extremely doubtful if he would find her in the short time that
remained before her departure.
Time passed slowly enough. From outside came the sound of low voices. She
crept to the keyhole and saw her three future companions sitting round
the rough table engrossed in a game of cards--poker. Close to hand were
two bottles and three mugs. Now and again a low curse came to her ears.
She began to wish the door possessed a lock and key!
She went back to the mattress and endeavored to get to sleep, but her
brain was too full of the impending adventure to permit its flight into
unconsciousness. Moreover, the card party began to get boisterous. She
wondered if they were going to keep it up all night. A few minutes later
there was a loud crash. She sat up and heard fierce arguments proceeding
from the inner room. All three of them were talking at once, and she could
not hear any intelligent sentence, but it was all to do with the "deal."
She went again to the keyhole just as they settled down again to play.
To her amazement they were playing with matches. The big chimpanzee man,
Tom, had a huge pile in front of him. In the center of the table was
another pile. She saw Tom put down his cards and growl "Three Queens,"
picking up the matches in the pool with a triumphant laugh.
"Last deal," said Connie.
"Yep. It's between me and you, Connie, _but I guess she's mine_."
"Chickens ain't hatched yet."
"She ain't no chicken--she's peaches. Gee--some stake that!"
Angela suddenly felt sick as the truth came to her. She saw now the
meaning of those matches. They were not playing for money, _but for her_!
She sprang to the window, but escape that way was impossible, for it was
not more than a foot square. Her heart beat in terrible suspense. She
realized her dreadful position--out here, a mile or more from the town,
she was utterly at the mercy of these brutes. They considered her fair
prey, as most women were considered in the Klondyke at that time. Pleading
a husband would make no difference. A woman ought to know better than to
leave her husband. Unwittingly she had placed herself in that position.
There was only one way out, and that way lay through the inner room. She
resolved to take it. She took the small sack and approached the door. A
look through the keyhole revealed them engrossed in the decisive "hand."
With heaving bosom she turned the handle and walked swiftly through the
door.
She was almost past the table before they recovered from their surprise.
Then the chimpanzee man put out a huge arm and caught her by the wrist.
"'Ere, what's this?"
"Let me go."
He grinned maliciously.
"I _should_ say. Why, I've jest won you!"
She struggled in vain in his iron grip.
"Git back to thet room!" he ordered, and flung her towards the door.
It was the first time any man had laid hands on her, and it aroused the
devil. Her face and neck went crimson. Some of the fear vanished under
this storm of violent repugnance. She noticed a naked hunting-knife on a
ledge by the window. She flew to it and gripped it menacingly.
She came nearer and raised it to strike any obstructors. Then Connie's
lean figure leapt forward. The knife rattled to the floor and her wrist
ached from the blow he had dealt it. He took her by the shoulders.
"Cut that! Tom's won you, and you'd better get wise to that."
"You brutes! Do you think you can----"
Her voice petered out as she saw the horrible expression in Tom's eyes.
There was no hope of mercy there. Words were lost on this monster. All the
evening he had dwelled with rapture upon the object of the gamble. He took
her from Connie and held her fast in his arms. Connie laughed.
"You allus had the luck. Wal, perhaps she'll transfer her affections
later!"
"Let me go!" she cried, now thoroughly panic-stricken. "Oh, God!--let me
go!"
The chimpanzee-man merely gurgled in his throat. He lifted her from the
ground and made for the inner room. One of her hands became free. She
seized a bunch of his hair until it was wrenched from his hard scalp.
"Ugh!" he grunted. "Go on--it's my turn in a minnit."
"You monster!"
"Good-night--boys!" he cried mockingly.
"Happy dreams!" sneered Connie. "Don't forget we start----"
The third man, a silent, morose individual, suddenly gave a gasp as the
outer door was flung open. The others turned and saw the enraged face of
Colorado Jim behind a big six-shooter.