The day opened as the day before had opened. A bellow from Shanty Moir,
and Reivers strapped MacGregor into his harness again and they tumbled
out to their rude morning meal. Again Moir stood a distance away, the
big six-shooter balanced easily in his hand. But this morning Joey and
Tammy, over by the pit-mouth, also were awaiting the appearance of their
two beasts of burden, and Reivers instantly sensed something new and
sinister afoot. At the sight of MacGregor's decrepitude, as, stiff and
tottering, he made his way to his meal, Joey and Tammy strove vainly to
conceal the wolfish grins that appeared on their ugly faces.
"Aye, Shanty, art quite right. Is worth his keep no longer," said Tammy.
"Hast been a fair animal for a Scotch jackass, but does not thrive on
his oats no more."
"One fair day's work left in him," said Joey, appraising MacGregor
shrewdly. "Will knock off a little early, eh, Shanty, so's to have tuh
light to see him swim."
"Would not miss tuh sight of that for a pound of dust," replied Shanty,
and the three roared fiendishly together.
"You poor, misbegotten spawn," said MacGregor, quietly beginning to eat,
eyeing them one after the other. "I'll live to spit on the shamed
corpses of the lot of you."
As the day's work began, Reivers started to calculate each move that he
and Moir made with a view to discovering the opportunity he was looking
for. All that he wished was a chance to rush Shanty without giving the
latter an opportunity to use his gun.
The odds of three to one against him, and Joey and Tammy armed with
knives, he accepted as a matter of course. But a six-shooter in the
hands of a man who could use one as Shanty Moir could was a shade too
much even for him to venture against. The manner in which Moir had shot
up the tin cup the morning before proved how alert and sure was his
trigger-finger. To make the suspicion of a move toward him, with the gun
in his hand, would have spelled instant ruin.
As he watched now, Reivers saw that Moir was more vigilant than ever. He
kept far away from the pit-mouth. The gun either was in his hand or
hanging ready in the holster. And when Reivers saw the first load of
sand he understood why.
The pay-streak had paid out. They were winnowing the drippings of dust
washed down from the pocket now, and this job soon would be done. Moir
was not taking any chances of losing at this stage of affairs. The
fortune was in his grasp; he would break camp and be off in the same
hour that the sand began to run low-grade.
He took no part in the work to-day. He merely stood and watched. And
Reivers watched back, and the hours passed, and the short day began to
draw to a close, and still not the slightest chance to rush Shanty Moir
and live had presented itself.
As the early twilight began to creep down into the cavern, the ugly
grins with which Joey and Tammy regarded MacGregor began to increase.
Suddenly Tammy, washing a pan of sand in the brook, threw up both hands.
"Not a trace in the last load, Shanty!" he shouted.
"All out!" came Moir's bellow, as if he had been waiting for the signal.
Joey and Tammy threw down their tools and came over and stood behind
Reivers and MacGregor who came up dragging a loaded sledge behind them.
"Take that load down yonder!" ordered Moir, pointing to the black tunnel
into which the creek disappeared in leaving the cavern.
Tammy and Joey followed, grinning, two paces behind the sledge. Moir,
gun in hand, walked ten feet behind them.
"Whoa!" he laughed when Reivers and MacGregor had drawn up against the
cliff beside the stream's exit. "You can unhitch tuh old jackass now, ma
sons. Then over with it quick."
With a yelp Tammy and Joey tore loose MacGregor's traces. They held him
between them, and in his bound and weakened condition he was unable to
struggle or turn around.
Before Reivers could move they had hurled MacGregor into the deep water
in the tunnel. He sank like a stone and the current sucked him in.
"Good-by, MacGregor of the big boasts!" laughed Moir, but he laughed a
trifle too soon.
In the instant that the current bore MacGregor into the darkness of the
tunnel his face bobbed up above the waters. He looked up, and looked
straight into Reivers's eyes. It was not a look of appeal; it was the
same look that had been in the eyes of Hattie MacGregor the day when
Reivers had left her cabin.
Then Hell-Camp Reivers felt himself going mad. He hit Tammy so hard and
true that he flew through the air and struck against Moir. The next
instant Reivers was diving like a flash into the black water, groping
for MacGregor, while the current swept him into the total darkness.
He heard the bullet from Moir's revolver strike the water behind him in
the instant that his hands found MacGregor; heard mocking laughter as he
pulled the old man's head above water; then the current whirled him and
his burden away. It whisked him downstream with a power irresistible. It
threw him from side to side against the ragged rock walls. It sucked him
and the load he bore down in deep whirlpools and spewed them up again.
He bumped his head against the stone roof of the tunnel and swore. The
roof was a scant foot above the water. He put his hand up. The roof was
getting closer to the water with every yard. Soon there was only room
for their upturned faces above the water.
Reivers laughed heartily. So this was to be the end! The joke was on
him. After all he had gone through, he was to drown like a silly fool
through a fool's impulse.
Presently roof and water came together. For a moment Reivers fought with
his vast strength, holding his own for an instant against the current,
hanging on to the last few seconds of life with a fury of effort. The
current proved too strong. It sucked them under; the water closed above
them. They were whirled and buffeted to the last breath of life in them,
and then suddenly their heads slipped above water and they were looking
straight up at the gray Winter sky.