The Last.
But a little cloud arose ere long on the horizon of Sweetwater Bluff.
Insignificant at first, it suddenly spread over the sky and burst in a
wild storm.
The first intimation of its approach came from Charlie Brooke one quiet
autumn evening, in that brief but delightful season known as the Indian
Summer.
Charlie entered his garden that evening with a fowling-piece on his
shoulder, and two brace of prairie hens at his girdle. May was seated
at her cottage door, basking in sunshine, chatting with her mother--who
was knitting of course--and Shank was conversing with Hunky Ben, who
rested after a day of labour.
"There, May, is to-morrow's dinner," said Charlie, throwing the birds at
his wife's feet, and sitting down beside her. "Who d'you think I passed
when I was out on the plains to-day, Hunky? Your old friend Crux the
Cowboy."
"He's no friend o' mine," said the scout, while something like a frown
flitted across his usually placid brow. "I'm not over-pleased to hear
that he's comin', for it's said that some old uncle or aunt o' his--I
forget which--has left him a lot o' dollars. I hope he ain't comin' to
spend 'em here, for he'd never git along without gamblin' an' drinkin'."
"Then, I can tell you that he _is_ just coming to stay here," returned
Charlie, "for he has several waggons with him, and a dozen men. I asked
him where he was going to, and he said, to locate himself as a
store-keeper at Sweetwater Bluff; but he did not seem inclined to be
communicative, so I left him and galloped on to report the news. What
d'you think about it?"
"I think it'll be a bad day for Sweetwater Bluff when Crux comes to
settle in it. Howsoever, this is a free country, an' we've no right to
interfere with him so long as he don't break the laws. But I doubt him.
I'm afeard he'll try to sell drink, an' there's some o' our people who
are longin' to git back to that."
The other members of the party, and indeed those heads of the town
generally who knew Crux, were of much the same opinion, but some of them
thought that, being in a free country, no one had a right to interfere.
The consequence was that Crux and his men were permitted to go to work.
They hired a shed in which to stow their goods, while they were engaged
in building a store, and in course of time this was finished; but there
was a degree of mystery about the ex-cowboy's proceedings which baffled
investigation, and people did not like to press inquiry too far; for it
was observed that all the men who had accompanied Crux were young and
powerful fellows, well armed with rifle and revolver.
At last however, the work was finished, and the mystery was cleared up,
for, one fine morning, the new store was opened as a drinking and
gambling saloon; and that same evening the place was in full swing--
sending forth the shouts, songs, cursing and demoniac laughter for which
such places are celebrated.
Consternation filled the hearts of the community, for it was not only
the men brought there by Crux who kept up their revels in the new
saloon, but a sprinkling of the spirited young fellows of the town also,
who had never been very enthusiastic in the temperance cause, and were
therefore prepared to fall before the first temptation.
At a conference of the chief men of the town it was resolved to try to
induce Crux to quit quietly, and for this end to offer to buy up his
stock-in-trade. Hunky Ben, being an old acquaintance, was requested to
go to the store as a deputation.
But the ex-cowboy was inexorable. Neither the offer of money nor
argument had any effect on him.
"Well, Crux," said the scout, at the conclusion of his visit, "you know
your own affairs best but, rememberin' as I do, what you used to be, I
thought there was more of fair-play about you."
"Fair-play! What d'ye mean?"
"I mean that when folk let _you_ alone, you used to be willin' to let
_them_ alone. Here has a crowd o' people come back all this way into
the Rockies to escape from the curse o' strong drink and gamblin', an'
here has Crux--a lover o' fair-play--come all this way to shove that
curse right under their noses. I'd thowt better of ye, Crux, lad."
"It don't matter much what you thowt o' me, old man," returned the
cowboy, somewhat sharply; "an', as to fair-play, there's a lot of men
here who don't agree wi' your humbuggin' notions about temperance an'
tee-totalism--more of 'em, maybe, than you think. These want to have
the drink, an' I've come to give it 'em. I see nothin' unfair in that."
Hunky Ben carried his report back to the council, which for some time
discussed the situation. As in the case of most councils, there was
some difference of opinion: a few of the members being inclined to carry
things with a high hand--being urged thereto by Captain Stride--while
others, influenced chiefly by Mr Reeves, were anxious to try peaceable
means.
At last a sub-committee was appointed, at Hunky Ben's suggestion, to
consider the whole matter, and take what steps seemed advisable. Hunky
was an adroit and modest man--he could not have been a first-rate scout
otherwise! He managed not only to become convener of the committee, but
succeeded in getting men chiefly of his own opinion placed on it. At
supper that night in Charlie's cottage, while enjoying May's cookery and
presence, and waited on by the amused and interested Buttercup, the
sub-committee discussed and settled the plan of operations.
"It's all nonsense," said Hunky Ben, "to talk of tryin' to persuade
Crux. He's as obstinate as a Texas mule wi' the toothache."
"Rubbish!" exclaimed Captain Stride, smiting the table with his fist.
"We mustn't parley with him, but heave him overboard at once! I said so
to my missus this very day. `Maggie,' says I--"
"And what do _you_ think, Charlie?" asked Mr Crossley.
"I think with Hunky Ben, of course. He knows Crux, and what is best to
be done in the circumstances. The only thing that perplexes me, is what
shall we do with the liquor when we've paid for it? A lot of it is good
wine and champagne, and, although useless as a beverage, it is useful as
a medicine, and might be given to hospitals."
"Pour it out!" exclaimed Shank, almost fiercely.
"Ay, the hospitals can look out for themselves," added Shank's father
warmly.
"Some hospitals, I've bin told, git on well enough without it
altogether," said Dick Darvall. "However, it's a subject that desarves
consideration.--Hallo! Buttercup, what is it that tickles your fancy
an' makes your mouth stretch out like that?"
Buttercup became preternaturally grave on the instant, but declined to
tell what it was that tickled her fancy.
Shortly after the party rose and left the house, Hunky Ben remarking,
with a quiet laugh, that deeds of darkness were best hatched at night.
What the conspirators hatched became pretty evident next day, for,
during the breakfast hour, a band of forty horsemen rode slowly down the
sloping road which led to the plains, and on the side of which Crux had
built his saloon.
Crux and his men turned out in some surprise to watch the cavalcade as
it passed. The band was led by Charlie Brooke, and the scout rode in
advance on Black Polly as guide.
"Is it the Reds or the Buffalo you're after to-day, Hunky, with such a
big crowd?" asked Crux.
"Halt!" cried Charlie, at that moment.
The forty men obeyed, and, turning suddenly to the left, faced the
saloon.
"Hands up!" said Charlie, whose men at the same moment pointed their
rifles at Crux and his men. These were all too familiar with the order
to dare to disobey it.
Our hero then ordered a small detachment of his men to enter the saloon
and fetch out all rifles and pistols, and those of Crux's people who
chanced to have their weapons about them, were disarmed. Another
detachment went off to the stables behind the saloon.
While they were thus engaged, Charlie addressed Crux.
"We have decided to expel you, Crux, from this town," he said, as he
drew an envelope from his pocket. "We have tried to convince you that,
as the majority of the people here don't want you, it is your duty to
go. As you don't seem to see this, we now take the law into our own
hands. We love fair-play, however, so you will find in this envelope a
cheque which we have reason to believe is fully equal to the value of
your saloon and all its contents. Your lost time and trouble is your
own affair. As you came without invitation, you must go without
compensation. Here are your rifles, and revolvers, emptied of
cartridges, and there are your horses saddled."
As he spoke, one detachment of his men handed rifles and revolvers to
the party, who were stricken dumb with amazement. At the same time,
their horses, saddled and bridled, were led to the front and delivered
to them.
"We have no provisions," said Crux, at last recovering the use of his
tongue; "and without ammunition we cannot procure any."
"That has been provided for," said our hero, turning to Hunky Ben.
"Ay, Crux," said the scout, "we don't want to starve you, though the
'arth wouldn't lose much if we did. At the other end o' the lake, about
five mile from here, you'll find a red rag flyin' at the branch of a
tree. In the hole of a rock close beside it, you'll find three days'
provisions for you and your men, an' a lot of ammunition."
"Now, mount and go," said Charlie, "and if you ever show face here
again, except as friends, your blood be on your own heads!"
Crux did not hesitate. He and his men saw that the game was up; without
another word they mounted their horses and galloped away.
While this scene was being enacted a dark creature, with darker designs,
entered the drinking saloon and descended to the cellar. Finding a
spirit-cask with a tap in it, Buttercup turned it on, then, pulling a
match-box out of her pocket she muttered, "I t'ink de hospitals won't
git much ob it!" and applied a light. The effect was more powerful than
she had expected. The spirit blazed up with sudden fury, singeing off
the girl's eyebrows and lashes, and almost blinding her. In her alarm
Buttercup dashed up to the saloon, missed her way, and found herself on
the stair leading to the upper floor. A cloud of smoke and fire forced
her to rush up. She went to the window and yelled, on observing that it
was far too high to leap. She rushed to another window and howled in
horror, for escape was apparently impossible.
Charlie heard the howl. He and his men had retired to a safe distance
when the fire was first observed--thinking the place empty--but the howl
touched a chord in our hero's sympathetic breast, which was ever ready
to vibrate. From whom the howl proceeded mattered little or nothing to
Charlie Brooke. Sufficient that it was the cry of a living being in
distress. He sprang at once through the open doorway of the saloon,
through which was issuing a volume of thick smoke, mingled with flame.
"God help him! the place'll blow up in a few minutes," cried Hunky Ben,
losing, for once, his imperturbable coolness, and rushing wildly after
his friend. But at that moment the thick smoke burst into fierce flame
and drove him back.
Charlie sprang up the staircase three steps at a time, holding his
breath to avoid suffocation. He reached the landing, where Buttercup
ran, or, rather, fell, almost fainting, into his arms. At the moment an
explosion in the cellar shook the building to its foundation, and,
shattering one of the windows, caused a draught of air to drive aside
the smoke. Charlie gasped a mouthful of air and looked round. Flames
were by that time roaring up the only staircase. A glance from the
nearest window showed that a leap thence meant broken limbs, if not
death, to both. A ladder up to a trap-door suggested an exit by the
roof. It might only lead to a more terrible leap, but meanwhile it
offered relief from imminent suffocation. Charlie bore the half-dead
girl to the top rung, and found the trap-door padlocked, but a thrust
from his powerful shoulder wrenched hasp and padlock from their hold,
and next moment a wild cheer greeted him as he stood on a corner of the
gable. But a depth of forty or fifty feet was below him with nothing to
break his fall to the hard earth.
"Jump!" yelled one of the onlookers. "No, don't!" cried another,
"you'll be killed."
"Hold your noise," roared Hunky Ben, "and lend a hand here--sharp!--the
house'll blow up in a minute."
He ran as he spoke towards a cart which was partly filled with hay.
Seizing the trams he raised them. Willing hands helped, and the cart
was run violently up against the gable--Hunky shouting to some of the
men to fetch more hay.
But there was no time for that. Another explosion took place inside the
building, which Charlie knew must have driven in the sides of more casks
and let loose fresh fuel. A terrible roar, followed by ominous cracking
of the roof, warned him that there was no time to lose. He looked
steadily at the cart for a moment and leaped. His friends held their
breath as the pair descended. The hay would not have sufficed to break
the fall sufficiently, but happily the cart was an old one. When they
came down on it like a thunderbolt, the bottom gave way. Crashing
through it the pair came to the ground, heavily indeed, but uninjured!
The fall, which almost stunned our hero, had the curious effect of
reviving Buttercup, for she muttered something to the effect that, "dat
was a mos' drefful smash," as they conveyed her and her rescuer from the
vicinity of danger.
This had scarcely been done when the house blew up--its walls were
driven outwards, its roof was blown off, its bottles were shattered, all
its baleful contents were scattered around, and, amid an appropriate
hurricane of blue fire, that drinking and gambling saloon was blown to
atoms.
Would that a like fate might overtake every similar establishment in the
world!
This was the first and last attempt to disturb the peace of Sweetwater
Bluff. It is said, indeed, that Crux and some of his men did, long
afterwards, make their appearance in that happy and flourishing town,
but they came as reformed men, not as foes--men who had found out that
in very truth sobriety tends to felicity, that honesty is the best
policy, and that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.