THE CHALLENGE
We went out to see Yank, with the full intention of spending the evening
and cheering him up. He was dozing, restless, waking and sleeping by
fits and starts. We sat around in the awkward fashion peculiar to very
young boys in the sickroom; and then, to our vast relief, were shoved
out by Senora Morena. With her we held a whispered conversation outside,
and completed satisfactory arrangements for Yank's keep. She was a
chuckling, easy-going, motherly sort of creature, and we were very lucky
to have her. Then we returned in the gathering dusk to our camp under
the trees across the way.
A man rose from a seat against a tree trunk.
"_Good_ evenin', stranger," said he.
"Good evening," responded Johnny guardedly.
"You are the man who stuck up Scar-face Charley in Morton's place, ain't
you?"
"What's that to you?" replied Johnny. "Are you a friend of his?"
His habitual air of young carelessness had fallen from him; his eye was
steady and frosty, his face set in stern lines. Before my wondering eyes
he had grown ten years older in the last six hours. The other was
lounging toward us--a short, slight man, with flaxen moustache and
eyebrows, a colourless face, pale blue eyes, and a bald forehead from
which the hat had been pushed back. He was chewing a straw.
"Well, I was just inquirin' in a friendly sort of way," replied the
newcomer peaceably.
"I don't know you," stated Johnny shortly, "nor who you're friends to,
nor your camp. I deny your right to ask questions. Good night."
"Well, good night," agreed the other, still peaceable. "I reckon I
gather considerable about you, anyhow." He turned away. "I had a notion
from what I heard that you was sort of picked on, and I dropped round,
sort of friendly like; but Lord love you! I don't care how many of you
desperadoes kill each other. Go to it, and good riddance!" He cast his
pale blue eyes on Johnny's rigid figure. "Also, go to hell!" he remarked
dispassionately.
Johnny stared at him puzzled.
"Hold on!" he called, after a moment. "Then you're not a friend of this
Hound?"
The stranger turned in slow surprise.
"Me? What are you talking about?" He looked from one to the other of us,
then returned the few steps he had taken. "I believe you don't know me.
I'm Randall, Danny Randall."
"Yes?" puzzled Johnny.
"Of Sonoma," added Randall.
"I suppose I should know you, but I'm afraid I don't," confessed Johnny.
Randall turned back to the tree beneath which lay our effects.
"I believe I'll just have a cup of coffee with you boys," said he.
We blew up the fire, scoured the frying pan, made ourselves food.
Randall brought a pail of water. We all ate together, without much
conversation; then lit our pipes and piled on dry wood to make a
brighter friendship fire.
"Now, boys," said Randall, "I'm going to ask you some questions; and you
can answer me or not, just as you please. Only I'll say, it isn't just
curiosity."
Johnny, who was studying him covertly from beneath the shadow of his
hat, nodded briefly, but said nothing.
"How long have you been in the mines?"
"Since March."
"Since March!" echoed Randall, as though a little bewildered at this
reply. "Yet you never heard----What camp?"
Johnny studied a while.
"Hangman's Gulch for six weeks," said he. "Then just prospecting."
"Where?"
"I don't believe I'll answer that question," replied Johnny slowly.
"But somewhere back in the hills?" persisted Randall.
"Somewhere back in the hills," agreed Johnny.
"Seems to me----" I broke in, but Johnny silenced me with a gesture. He
was watching Randall intently, and thinking hard.
"Then you have been out of it for three months or so. That explains it.
Now I don't mind telling you I came up here this evening to size you up.
I heard about your row with Scar-face Charley, and I wanted to see
whether you were just another fighting desperado or an honest man. Well,
I'm satisfied. I'm not going to ask you if you have much gold with you,
for you wouldn't tell me; but if you have, keep it with you. If you
don't, you'll lose it. Keep in the middle of the road, and out of dark
places. This is a tough camp; but there are a lot of us good men, too,
and my business is to get us all to know each other. Things are getting
bad, and we've got to get together. That's why I came up to see you. Are
you handy with a gun?" he asked abruptly.
"Fair," said Johnny.
"You need to be. Let's see if you are. Stand up. Try to get the draw on
me. Now!"
Johnny reached for his pistol, but before his hand was fairly on the
butt, Randall had thrust the muzzle of a small revolver beneath his
nose. His pale blue eyes had lit with concentration, his bleached
eyebrows were drawn together. For an instant the thought flashed across
my mind that this was a genuine hold-up; and I am sure Johnny caught the
same suspicion, for his figure stiffened. Then Randall dropped his hand.
"Very pretty," said Johnny coolly. "How did you do that? I didn't catch
your motion."
"From the sleeve," said Randall. "It's difficult, but it's pretty, as
you say; and if you learn to draw from the sleeve, I'll guarantee you'll
get the draw on your man every time."
"Show me," said Johnny simply.
"That gun of yours is too big; it's a holster weapon. Here, take this."
He handed Johnny a beautifully balanced small Colt's revolver, engraved,
silver-plated, with polished rosewood handles. This he showed Johnny how
to stow away in the sleeve, how to arrange it, how to grasp it, and the
exact motion in snatching it away.
"It takes practice, lots of it, and then more of it," said Randall.
"It's worse than useless unless you get it just right. If you made a
mistake at the wrong time, the other man would get you sure."
"Where can I get one of these?" asked Johnny.
"Good!" Randall approved his decision. "You see the necessity. You
can't. But a derringer is about as good, and Jones has them for sale.
Now as for your holster gun: the whole trick of quick drawing is to
throw your right shoulder forward and _drag_ the gun from the
holster with one forward sweep. Don't lift it up and out. This way!" He
snapped his hand past his hip and brought it away armed.
"Pretty," repeated Johnny.
"Don't waste much powder and ball shooting at a mark," advised Randall.
"It looks nice to cut out the ace of hearts at ten yards, but it doesn't
mean much. If you can shoot at all, you can shoot straight enough to hit
a man at close range. Practise the draw." He turned to me. "You'd better
practise, too. Every man's got to take care of himself these days. But
you're not due for trouble same as your friend is."
"I'm obliged to you," said Johnny.
"You are not. Now it's up to you. I judged you didn't know conditions
here, and I thought it only right to warn you. There's lots of good
fellows in this camp; and some of the hard cases are a pretty good sort.
Just keep organized, that's all."
"Now I wonder who Danny Randall is!" speculated Johnny after our visitor
had departed. "He talked as though we ought to know all about it. I'm
going to find out the first fellow I get acquainted with."
Next morning we asked the Morenas who was Danny Randall.
"_El diabolo_," replied Morena shortly; and trudged obstinately
away to his work without vouchsafing further information.
"Which is interesting, but indefinite," said Johnny.
We found Yank easier in body, and embarked on the sea of patience in
which he was to float becalmed until his time was up. In reply to his
inquiries as to our plans, we told him we were resting a few days, which
was the truth. Then we went up to town and made two purchases; a small
tent, and a derringer pistol. They cost us three hundred and fifty
dollars. It was the quiet time of day; the miners had gone to work, and
most of the gentlemen of leisure were not yet about. Nevertheless a
dozen or so sat against the walls, smoking paper cigarettos. They all
looked at us curiously; and several nodded at Johnny in a brief,
tentative sort of fashion.
The rest of the day, and of several days following, we spent in putting
up our tent, ditching it, arranging our cooking affairs, building rough
seats, and generally making ourselves comfortable. We stretched these
things to cover as long a space of time as possible, for we secretly
dreaded facing the resumption of the old grind, and postponed it as long
as we could. A good deal of the time we spent at Yank's bedside,
generally sitting silent and constrained, to the mutual discomfort of
all three of us, I am sure. At odd intervals we practised
conscientiously and solemnly at the "draw." We would stand facing each
other, the nipples of our revolvers uncapped, and would, at the given
word, see who could cover the other first. We took turns at giving the
word. At first we were not far apart; but Johnny quickly passed me in
skill. I am always somewhat clumsy, but my friend was naturally quick
and keen at all games of skill or dexterity. He was the sort of man who
could bowl, or play pool, or billiards, or anything else rather better
than the average accustomed player the first time he tried. He turned
card tricks deftly. At the end of our three days' loafing he caught me
at the end of his pistol so regularly that there ceased to be any
contest in it. I never did get the sleeve trick; but then, I never
succeeded in fooling the merest infant with any of my attempts at
legerdemain. Johnny could flip that little derringer out with a twist of
his supple wrist as neatly as a snake darts its forked tongue. For ten
minutes at a time he practised it, over and over, as regularly as
well-oiled machinery.
"But that proves nothing as to how it would work out in real action,"
said Johnny thoughtfully.
The afternoon of the third day, while we were resting from the heat
beneath the shade of our tree, we were approached by three men.
[Illustration: "THE BIG MAN WHIRLED TO THE FLOOR"]
"Howdy, boys," said the first. "We hain't seen you around camp lately,
and thought mebbe you'd flew."
"We are still here," replied Johnny with smooth politeness. "As you see,
we have been fixing our quarters to stay here."
"Scar-face Charley is here, too," observed the spokesman, "and he wanted
me to tell you that he is going to be at the Bella Union at eight this
evenin', and he wants to know, will he see you? and to come heeled."
"Thank you, gentlemen," replied Johnny quietly. "If by accident you
should happen to see the desperado in question--who, I assume, can be in
no way your friend--I hope you will tell him that I, too, will be at the
Bella Union at eight o'clock, and that I will come heeled."
"You'll be comin' alone?" said the man, "or p'rhaps yore friend----"
"My friend, as you call him, is simply a miner, and has nothing to do
with this," interrupted Johnny emphatically.
"I thank you, sir," said the spokesman, rising.
The other two, who had throughout said no word, followed his example.
"Do you know Danny Randall?" asked Johnny as they moved off.
If he had presented his derringer under their noses, they could not have
stopped more suddenly. They stared at each other a moment.
"Is he a friend of yours?" inquired the spokesman after an uncertain
moment.
"He likes fair play," said Johnny enigmatically.
The trio moved off in the direction of town.
"We don't know any more about Danny Randall than we did," observed
Johnny, "but I tried a shot in the dark."
"Nevertheless," I told him, "I'm going to be there; and you want to make
up your mind to just that."
"You will come, of course," agreed Johnny. "I suppose I cannot keep you
from that. But Jim," he commanded earnestly, "you must swear to keep out
of the row, unless it develops into a general one; and you must swear
not to speak to me or make any sign no matter what happens. I must play
a lone hand."
He was firm on this point; and in the end I gave my promise, to his
evident relief.
"This is our visitors' day, evidently," he observed. "Here come two more
men. One of them is the doctor; I'd know that hat two miles."
"The other is our friend Danny Randall," said I.
Dr. Rankin greeted us with a cordiality I had not suspected in him.
Randall nodded in his usual diffident fashion, and slid into the oak
shadow, where he squatted on his heels.
"About this Scar-face Charley," he said abruptly, "I hear he's issued
his defi, and you've taken him up. Do you know anything about this sort
of thing?"
"Not a bit," admitted Johnny frankly. "Is it a duel; and are you
gentleman here to act as my seconds?"
"It is not," stated the downright doctor. "It's a barroom murder and you
cannot get around it; and I, for one, don't try. But now you're in for
it, and you've got to go through with it."
"I intend to," said Johnny.
"It's not precisely that," objected Danny Randall, "for, d'ye see, he's
sent you warning."
"It's about all the warning you'll get!" snorted the doctor.
"There's a sort of rule about it," persisted Randall. "And that's what
I'm here to tell you. He'll try to come up on you suddenly, probably
from behind; and he'll say 'draw and defend yourself,' and shoot you as
soon after that as he can. You want to see him first, that's all."
"Thanks," said Johnny.
"And," exploded the doctor, "if you don't kill that fellow, by the
Eternal, when you get a chance----"
"You'll give him a pill, Doctor," interrupted Randall, with a little
chuckle. "But look here," he said to Johnny, "after all, this sort of a
mess isn't required of you. You say the word and I'll take on this
Scar-face Charley and run him out of town. He's a good deal of a pest."
"Thank you," said Johnny stiffly; "I intend to paddle my own canoe."
Randall nodded.
"I don't know as we can help you any more," said he. "I just thought you
ought to be on to the way it's done."
"I'm obliged to you," said Johnny warmly. "The only doubt in my mind was
when I was privileged to open."
"I'd pot him through the window with a shotgun first chance I got,"
stated the doctor; "that sort of a ruffian is just like a mad dog."
"Of course you would, Doctor," said Randall with just the faintest
suspicion of sarcasm in his voice. "Well, I guess we'll be toddling."
But I wanted some information, and I meant to have it.
"Who is this Scar-face Charley," I asked.
"Got me," replied Randall; "you fellows seemed to recognize him. Only
he's one of the gang, undoubtedly."
"The gang?"
"Oh, the general run of hangers-on. Nobody knows how they live, but
every one suspects. Some of them work, but not many. There are a heap of
disappearances that no one knows anything about; and every once in a
while a man is found drowned and floating; _floating_ mind you!"
"What of that?" I asked; "drowned bodies usually float."
"There's no miner in these diggings but has gold enough in his belt to
sink him. If a man floats, he's been robbed, and you can tie to that
reasoning. And the fellows are all well mounted, and given to mysterious
disappearances."
"In other words," broke in the doctor, "they are an organized band of
cut-throats and highway robbers making this honest camp a headquarters."
"Pshaw, Doctor," said Randall, "that's by no means certain."
"It's certain enough," insisted the doctor.
"I should think the miners would drive them out," I said.
"Drive them out!" cried the doctor bitterly; "they're too busy, and
their own toes haven't been trodden on, and they're too willing to let
well enough alone so as not to be interrupted in their confounded
digging for gold."
"They're not organized and they are quite justly unwilling to get in a
row with that gang when they know they'd be killed," stated Randall
quietly. "They're getting on 'well enough,' and they'll continue to be
run by this lot of desperadoes until something desperate happens. They
want to be let alone."
The doctor recovered his equanimity with an effort.
"They present the curious spectacle," said he thoughtfully, "of the
individual man in a new untrammelled liberty trying to escape his moral
obligations to society. He escapes them for a while, but they are there;
and in the end he must pay in violence."
Randall laughed and arose.
"If the doctor is going to begin that sort of thing, I'm going," said
he.
Our visitors took their departure.
"Oh, Doctor, one moment!" I called; then, as he returned. "Tell me, who
and what is Danny Randall?"
"Danny Randall," said the doctor, a humorous twinkle coming into his
eyes, "is a gentleman of fortune."
"And now we know a lot more than we did before!" said Johnny, as we
watched the receding figures.