GORDON PROSPECTS SNAKE'S FALL
It was a blazing day. The dust of the prairie street smothered boots
and trouser-legs with a fine gray powder which even rose high enough to
get into the throats of pedestrians, and drive them headlong to the
nearest place where they could hope to quench a raging thirst.
There was no shelter from the sun, unless it were to be found upon the
verandas with which many of the Snake's Fall houses were fronted.
Gordon's face was rapidly blistering as he idly wandered through the
town. Great streams of perspiration coursed from beneath his soft felt
hat. His double collar felt sticky, and suggested imminent collapse.
To all of which discomforts were now added a swarm of flies buzzing
about his moist face with a distracting persistence which tried even
his patience.
Gordon was abroad fairly early. He was abroad for several reasons. He
possessed a haunting dread of the rapid passing of time. He had slept
healthily, if not altogether comfortably. Nor had he yet made up his
mind whether the floor of his room would not be preferable to his bed
for the passing of future nights. The floor was smooth, there were no
hummocks on it. Then, too, the sorely tried and thoroughly slack
bed-springs would be avoided, and the horrible groans of a protesting
frame would remain silent. It was a matter to be given consideration
before the day ended, and, being really of a very thorough nature, he
decided to consider it after supper.
He had lain awake for a long time that first night under the shelter of
Peter McSwain's hospitable roof, and in the interim of dodging the
flock hummocks he had closely considered his future movements.
He argued, if things were as he had been told they were in Snake's
Fall, he did not see how he could do better than throw his lot in with
the crowd of "ground sharks" awaiting the boom. Having convinced
himself in this direction, he felt that at the very earliest
opportunity he must reassure himself of Peter McSwain's veracity. He
felt that no member of the get-rich-quick brigade could dare to ignore
the claims of a great coal discovery about to boom. Besides, the whole
thing had been pitched into his lap; or rather it was he who had been
pitched. Nor did the roughness of the method of his arrival detract
from the chances spreading out before his astonished eyes.
Now he was searching the place for those signs which were to tell him
of the accuracy of his information. Nor was it long before he realized
that such a search on his part was scarcely likely to prove productive.
His knowledge of coal had never been more intimate than the payment of
certain fuel bills presented to him at intervals in the past by the
faithful Harding. While as for indications of a boom--well, he had
heard that a boom came along, everybody robbed everybody else, and in
the end a number of widows and orphans found themselves deprived of
their savings, and a considerable body of attorneys had increased their
year's income out of all proportion to their just deserts. He felt his
weakness keenly. However, he persisted. He felt the only thing was to
attack the problem with an open mind. He did so, and it quickly became
filled with a humorous interest that had nothing to do with his purpose.
Surveying his surroundings, he thought that never in his life had he
even imagined such a quaint collection of habitations. The long,
straight street, running parallel to the railroad track suggested a row
of jagged, giant teeth. Each building was set in its own section of
jawbone, distinct from its nearest neighbor. Then they reared their
heads and terminated in a pointed fang or a flat, clean-cut edge of
high boarding. Sometimes they possessed a mere sloping roof, like a
well-worn tooth, and, here and there, a half-wrecked building, with its
roof fallen in, stood out like a severely decayed molar.
Most of the stores--and he counted a dozen or more--suggested a
considerable trade. In this direction he noted a hardware store
particularly. A drug store, too, with an ice-cream soda fountain,
seemed to be in high favor, as also did several dry-goods stores,
judging by the number of females in attendance. But the small candy
stores were abandoned to the swarming flies.
The people were interesting. There certainly was a considerable number
about, in spite of the heat. They, anyway the men, all looked hot like
himself, but seemed to be surcharged with an energy that appeared to
him somewhat artificial. They hurried unnecessarily. They paused and
spoke quickly, and passed on. Here and there they fell into groups,
and their boisterous laughter suggested the inevitable funny story or
risque tale. There were a great number of vehicles rattling
about--buggies, buckboards, democrat wagons--while several times he was
passed by speeding saddle-horses which smothered him in the dust raised
by their unshod hoofs.
At last he came to the end of the street, and turned to retrace his
steps. It was all too interesting to be readily abandoned on this his
first day beyond the conventions of life as his father's son.
Just outside a large livery barn he came to an abrupt halt, and stood
stupidly staring at the entrance of the largest dry-goods store in the
street. The whole thing had caught and held him in a moment. He
seemed to remember having seen something of the sort in a moving
picture once; perhaps it was years ago. But in real life--never.
A great chestnut saddle-horse had dashed up to the tying-post outside
the store. It had reined up with a jerk, and its rider had flung out
of the saddle with the careless abandon he had read about or seen in
the pictures. Hooking the reins over a peg, the rider hurried towards
the store. It was then Gordon obtained a full view.
In a moment the flies were forgotten and the heat of the day meant
nothing to him. What a vision was revealed! The coiled masses of
auburn hair, the magnificent hazel eyes and the delightful sun-tanned
oval of the face, the trim figure and perfect carriage, the costume!
The long habit coat and loose riding-breeches terminated in the
daintiest of tan riding-boots and silver spurs. Splendid! What a
picture for his admiring eyes! A picture of grace, and health, and
beauty.
But the vision was gone in a moment. The girl had passed into the
store, and it was only left to the enthusiastic spectator to turn to
the magnificent chestnut horse she had so unconcernedly left waiting
for her.
Almost immediately, however, his attention was diverted into another
direction. A dark, sallow-faced man had promptly taken up his position
at the entrance of the store, and stood gazing in after the vanished
figure of the girl.
For some absurd reason Gordon took an intense dislike to the man. He
looked unhealthy, and he hated that look in a man. Besides, the
impertinence of standing there spying upon a lady who was doubtless
simply bent on an ordinary shopping expedition. It was most
exasperating. All unconsciously he straightened his great figure and
squared his shoulders. It would not have required much to have made
him go and ask the man what he meant by it.
He was rapidly working himself up into a superlative rage, when the
girl in the fawn riding-costume reappeared. A delightful smile broke
over his good-looking face, but only to be promptly swallowed up in a
scowl. The girl had paused, and was speaking to the anaemic creature
whose presence he felt to be an outrage.
He noted her smile. What a delightful smile! Yes, he could distinctly
make out two dimples beyond the corners of her pretty mouth. His
dislike of the favored man merged into a regret for himself.
Hello! The smile had gone from the girl's face. Her beautiful hazel
eyes were sparkling with resentment. The man was looking angry, too.
Gordon rubbed his hands. Then he began to grin like a revengeful and
malicious schoolboy. The girl had moved on to her horse, and in doing
so it almost looked as if she had deliberately pushed past the
white-livered creature attempting to detain her.
She leaped into the saddle and swung the horse about almost on its
haunches. The next moment she was lost in a cloud of dust as she raced
down the street.
"Mighty fine horsemanship that," said a voice, as Gordon gazed
open-mouthed after the girlish vision. "A smart gal, too, eh?"
Gordon turned. A small man was sitting at the open doors of the livery
barn upon an upturned box. He was leaning forward lazily, with his
elbows on his knees and his hands clutching his forearms. His towzled,
straw-colored hair stuck out under the brim of his prairie hat, and a
chew of tobacco bulged one thin, leathery cheek. His trousers were
fastened about his waist with a strap, and his only upper garment was a
dirty cotton shirt which disclosed an expanse of mahogany-colored chest
below the neck.
"Smart gal?" retorted Gordon enthusiastically. "That don't say a
thing. She might have stepped right out of the pages of a book." Then
he added, as an afterthought, "And it would have to be a mighty good
book, too."
"Sure," nodded the other in agreement.
"Who is she?"
The man grinned and spat.
"Why, that's Miss Hazel. Every feller in this city knows Miss Hazel.
If you need eddication you want to see her astride of an unbroken colt.
Ther' never was a cowpuncher a circumstance aside o' her. She's the
dandiest horseman out."
"I'd say you're right, all right."
"Right? Guess ther' ain't no argument. Hosses is my trade. I was
born an' raised with 'em. It don't take me guessin' twice 'bout a
horseman. I got forty first-class hosses right here in this barn, an'
I got a bunch runnin' on old Mallinsbee's grazin'. Y'see, a livery
barn is a mighty busy place when a city starts to think o' booming.
All them rigs an' buggies you see chasin' around are hired right here,"
he finished up proudly.
Gordon became interested. He felt the man was talking because he
wanted to talk. He was talking out of the prevailing excitement which
seemed to actuate everybody on the subject of the coming boom. He
encouraged him.
"I'd say a livery barn should be a mighty fine speculation under these
conditions," he said, while the keen gray eyes of the barn proprietor
quietly sized him up. "There ought to be a pile hanging to it."
"Ye-es."
The man's demur roused the other's curiosity.
"Not?" he inquired.
"'Tain't that. Ther's dollars to it, but--they don't come in bunches.
Y'see, I'm out after a wad--quick. We all are. When the railroad
talks we'll know where we are. But it's best to be in before. See?
Oh, I guess the barn's all right. 'Tain't that. Say, I'd hand you
this barn right here, every plug an' every rig I got, if you could jest
answer me one question--right."
"And the question?" Gordon smiled.
"Wher' is the bloomin' depot to be? Here, or yonder to the west at
Buffalo Point? Answer that right, an' you can have this caboose a
present."
The little man sighed, and Gordon began to understand the strain of
waiting for these people looking for a big pile quick. He shook his
head.
"I'm beginning to think I'd like to know myself. Say, I s'pose you
figure this is a great place to make money? I s'pose you fancy it's a
sure thing?"
The man unfolded his arms and waved one hand in a comprehensive gesture.
"Do you need to ask me that?" he inquired, almost scornfully. "What
does them big coal seams tell you? Can you doubt? Hev' you got two
eyes to your head which don't convey no meaning to your brain? Them
coal seams could stoke hell till kingdom come, an' shares 'ud still be
at a premium. That's the backbone. Wal, we ain't got shares in that
corporation, but the quickest road to the pile o' dollars we're
yearning for is in town plots. An'," he added regretfully, "every day
brings in more sharps, an' every new sharp makes it harder. It's that
blamed railroad we're waiting for, an' that railroad needs to graft its
way in before it'll talk."
"Graft? Graft again," laughed Gordon.
"Why, cert'nly." The livery man opened his eyes in astonishment.
"Folks don't do nothin' for nix that I ever heard. Specially
railroads. That depot 'll be built where their interests lie, an'
we'll have to go on guessin' till they get things fixed."
"I see."
"Which says you ain't blind."
"No, I don't think I'm blind exactly. It's just--lack of experience.
I must get a peek at those seams. Mallinsbee's the man who'll know
about things as soon as anybody, I s'pose. He owns all the land along
the railroad, doesn't he?"
The man rubbed his hands and grinned.
"Sure. He'll know, an' through him us as he's let in on the ground
floor. Say, he's a heap of a good feller--an' bright. Y'see, him an'
us, some of us fellers who been here right along before the coal was
found, are good friends. There's some of us got stakes down Buffalo
Point way as well as up here. See? O' course, our pile lies Buffalo
Point way, an' we're hopin' he'll fix the railroad corporation that
way. If he does, gee! he's the feller we're gamblin' on."
Gordon's interest had become almost feverish as he listened. He was
gathering the corroboration he needed with an ease he had never
anticipated.
"I suppose one hundred thousand dollars would be nothing to make
if--things go right?"
"If things go our way, I'd say a hundred thousand wouldn't be a
circumstance," cried the man enthusiastically. "I'd make that out of a
few hundred dollars without a worry--if things went right. But it
ain't the way of things to go right when you figger up."
"No, I s'pose it's a matter of chance. The chance comes, and you've
just got to grab it right and hold it."
"Sure. Chance! If chance hits you, why, don't go to hit back. Jest
hug it--same as you would your best gal."
Gordon laughed and peered into the shadowy interior of the barn.
"Guess that's good talk," he said, "and I'm going to listen. I've got
right hold of that chance, and I'm hugging it. Seems to me I'll need
to get out and get a peek at Silas Mallinsbee's coal. Can you hire me
a rig?"
"I got a dandy top buggy an' team," cried the man, now alert and ready
for business. "Ten dollars to supper-time. How?"
Gordon nodded, and the man vanished within the barn.
Left alone, he reflected on the rapidity of the movement of events. He
had had a luck that he surely could not have anticipated. Why, under
the influence of the prevailing enthusiasm of the place, he seemed to
feel that the whole thing was too utterly simple. He wondered what his
father would have said had he been there. It would be a glorious coup
to return home with that one hundred thousand dollars well before the
expiry of his time limit.
From the dark interior of the barn came the sounds of horses' hoofs
clattering on the boarded floor.
Presently his thoughts drifted from the important matters in hand to a
far less consequent matter. It was not in his nature to be long
enamored of the hunt for fortune, no matter what the consequences
attached to it.
He began to think of the vision in fawn-colored riding-costume. So her
name was Hazel. Hazel--what? he wondered. A pretty name, and well
suited to her. Hazel. Those eyes, and the gorgeous masses of her
hair! He sighed. For a moment he thought of inquiring of the livery
man her other name. Then he smilingly shook his head and decided to
let that remain a secret for the present. It added to the romance of
the thing. Of one thing he was certain: he must contrive to see her
again, and get to know her. Fortune or no fortune, if his father were
to cut him off with the proverbial shilling as a spendthrift and
waster, if he never saw a partnership in the greatest financial
corporation in the United States, that girl could not be allowed to
flash into his life like a ray of spring sunshine, and pass out of it
again because he hadn't the snap to get to know her.
He had known so many women in his own set at home. He had admired, he
had flirted harmlessly enough, he had shed presents and given parties,
but somehow he felt that amongst all those society beauties there had
not been one comparable to this wild rose of the foothills.
"Say, it's a bright team an' 'll need handlin'," said the doubtful
voice of the livery man.
"Don't worry," returned Gordon, shocked into the affairs of the moment
by the anxious voice.
"Good." The man sounded relieved.
"Which is the best way?"
"Why, chase the trail straight away west. You can't miss it. I'll
take that ten dollars."
Gordon paid and climbed into the buggy. The next moment the vehicle
rolled out of the barn.