_The Devil's Elbow_
If Firmstone had flattered himself that his firm but just treatment of
Luna in the case of the stolen ore had cleared his path of difficulties
he would have been forced by current events to a rude awakening. He had
been neither flattered nor deceived. He knew very well that a prop put
under an unstable boulder may obscure the manifestation of gravity; but
he never deceived himself with the thought that it had been eliminated.
The warming-up process, recommended by Pierre, was being actively
exploited. Scarcely a day passed but some annoying accident at the mine
or mill occurred, frequently necessitating prolonged shut-downs. Day by
day, by ones, by twos, by threes, his best men were leaving the mine.
There was no need to ask them why, even if they would have given a
truthful answer. He knew very well why. Yet he was neither disheartened
nor discouraged. He realised the fact clearly, as he had written to his
Eastern employers that it would take time and much patient endeavour to
restore order where chaos had reigned so long undisturbed. There was
another element impeding his progress which he by no means ignored--that
was the Blue Goose.
He had no tangible evidence against the resort beyond its obvious
pretensions. He had no need of the unintentional but direct evidence of
Elise's words that the habitues of the Blue Goose there aired their
grievances, real or imagined, and that both Pierre and Morrison were
assiduously cultivating this restlessness by sympathy and counsel. He
was morally certain of another fact--that the Blue Goose was indirectly,
at least, at the bottom of the extensive system of thieving, in offering
a sure market for the stolen gold. This last fact had not especially
troubled him, for he felt sure that the careful system of checks which
he had inaugurated at the outset would eventually make the stealing so
dangerous that it would be abandoned.
So far in the history of the camp, when once the plates were cleaned and
gold, as ingots, was in possession of the company, it had been perfectly
safe. No attempts at hold-ups had ever been made. Yet Firmstone had
provided, in a measure, safeguards against this possibility. The ingots
had been packed in a small steel safe and shipped by stage to the
nearest express office, about ten miles distant. Shipments had not been
made every day, of course. But every day Firmstone had sent the safe,
loaded with pigs of lead. The next day the safe was returned, and in it
was the agent's receipt. Whether the safe carried gold or lead, the
going and the returning weight was the same. If the safe carried gold
enough lead was added by the express agent to make the returning weight
the same. This fact was generally known, and even if a stage hold-up
should be attempted, the chances were thirty to one that a few pounds of
lead would be the only booty of the robbers.
This afternoon Firmstone was at his office-desk in a meditative and
relieved frame of mind. He was meditative over his troubles that, for
all his care, seemed to be increasing. Relieved in that, but an hour
before, $50,000 in bullion had been loaded into the stage, and was now
rolling down the canon on the way to its legitimate destination. His
meditations were abruptly broken, and his sense of relief violently
dissipated, when the office-door was thrust open, and hatless, with
clothing torn to shreds, the stage-driver stood before him, his beard
clotted with blood which flowed from a jagged cut that reached from his
forehead across his cheek.
Firmstone sprang to his feet with a startled exclamation. The driver
swept his hand over his blood-clotted lips.
"No; 'tain't a hold-up; just a plain, flat wreck. The whole outfit went
over the cliff at the Devil's Elbow. I stayed with my job long's I
could, but that wa'n't no decades."
Firmstone dragged the man into his laboratory, and carefully began to
wash the blood from his face.
"That's too long a process, gov'ner." The driver soused his head into
the bucket of cold water which Firmstone had drawn from the faucet.
"Can you walk now?" Firmstone asked.
"Reckon I'll try it a turn. Been flyin', for all I know. Must have been,
to get up the cliff. I flew down; that much I know. Lit on a few places.
That's where I got this." He pointed to the cut.
Firmstone led the man to his own room adjoining the office, and opening
a small chest, took out some rolls of plaster and bandages. He began
drying the wound.
The office-door again opened and the bookkeeper entered.
"Go tell Bennie to come down right away," Firmstone ordered, without
pausing in his work.
Satisfied that the man's skull was not fractured, he drew the edges of
the wound together and fastened them with strips of plaster. A few
minutes later Bennie, followed by Zephyr, hurriedly entered the office.
Paying no attention to their startled exclamations, Firmstone said:
"I wish you would look after Jim. He's badly hurt. He'll tell you about
it. You said at the Devil's Elbow?" turning to the driver.
Zephyr glanced critically at the man; then, making up his mind that he
was not needed, he said:
"I'll go along with you. Are you heeled?"
Firmstone made no audible reply, but took down his revolver and
cartridge-belt, and buckled them on.
"'Tain't the heels you want; it's wings and fins. They won't be much
good, either. The whole outfit's in the San Miguel. I followed it that
far, and then pulled out." The driver was attempting to hold out gamely,
but the excitement and the severe shaking-up were evidently telling on
him.
Firmstone and Zephyr left the office and followed the wagon-trail down
the canon. Neither spoke a word.
They reached the scene of the wreck and, still silent, began to look
carefully about. A hundred feet below them the San Miguel, swollen by
melting snows, foamed and roared over its boulder-strewn bed. Near the
foot of the cliff one of the horses was impaled on a jagged rock; its
head and shoulders in the lapping water. In mid-stream and further down
the other was pressed by the current against a huge rock that lifted
above the flood. No trace of the stage was to be seen. That, broken into
fragments by the fall, had been swept away.
The spot where the accident occurred was a dangerous one at best. For
some distance after leaving the mill the trail followed a nearly level
bench of hard slate rock, then, dipping sharply downward, cut across a
long rock-slide that reached to the summit of the mountain a thousand
feet above. On the opposite side a square-faced buttress crowded the
trail to the very brink of the canon. The trail followed along the foot
of this buttress for a hundred feet or more, and at the edge it again
turned from the gorge at an acute angle. At the turning-point a cleft,
twenty feet wide, cut the cliff from the river-bed to a point far above
the trail. A bridge had spanned the cleft, but it was gone. The accident
had been caused by the giving way of the bridge when the stage was on
it.
"Well, what do you make of it?" Firmstone turned to Zephyr and Zephyr
shook his head.
"That's a superfluous interrogation. Your thinks and mine on this
subject under consideration are as alike as two chicks hatched from a
double-yolked egg."
"This is no accident." Firmstone spoke decidedly.
Zephyr nodded deliberately.
"That's no iridescent dream, unless you and I have been hitting the same
pipe."
"The question is," resumed Firmstone, "was the safe taken from the stage
before the accident?" He looked at Zephyr inquiringly.
"That depends on Jim Norwood." Zephyr whistled meditatively, then spoke
with earnest decision. "That safe's in the river. The Blue Goose has
been setting for some time. This ain't the first gosling that's pipped
its shell, and 'tain't going to be the last one, either, unless the nest
is broken up."
"That's what I think." Firmstone spoke slowly. "But this is a dangerous
game. I didn't think it would go so far."
"It's up to you hard; but that isn't the worst of it. It's going to be
up to you harder yet. They never reckoned on Jim's getting out of this
alive." Zephyr seated himself, and his hand wandered unconsciously to
his shirt. Then, changing his mind, he spoke without looking up. "You
don't need this, Goggles, but I'm going to give it to you, just the
same. You're heavier calibre and longer range than the whole crowd. But
I am with you, and there are others. The gang haven't landed their
plunder yet, and, what's more, they aren't going to, either. I'll see to
that. You just _restez tranquille_, and give your mind to other things.
This little job is about my size."
Firmstone made no reply to Zephyr. He knew his man, knew thoroughly the
loyal sense of honour that, though sheltered in humourous, apparently
indifferent cynicism, was ready to fight to the death in defence of
right.
"I think we might as well go back to the mill. We've seen all there is
to be seen here."
They walked back in silence. At the office-door Zephyr paused.
"Won't you come in?" asked Firmstone.
"I think not, dearly beloved. The spirit moveth me in sundry places. In
other words, I've got a hunch. And say, Goggles, don't ask any
embarrassing questions, if your grub mysteriously disappears. Just
charge it up to permanent equipment account, and keep quiet, unless you
want to inquire darkly whether anyone knows what's become of that fellow
Zephyr."
"Don't take any risks, Zephyr. A man's a long time dead. You know as
well as I the gang you're up against. I think I know what you're up to,
and I also think I can help you out."
Firmstone entered the office with no further words. It was the hardest
task of many that he had had, to send a report of the disaster to the
company, but he did not shrink from it. He made a plain statement of the
facts of the case, including the manner in which the bridge had been
weakened to the point of giving way when the weight of the stage had
been put upon it. He also added that he was satisfied that the purpose
was robbery, and that he knew who was at the bottom of the whole
business, that steps were being taken to recover the safe; but that the
conviction of the plotters was another and a very doubtful proposition.
Above all things, he asked to be let alone for a while, at least. The
driver, he stated, had no idea that the wrecking of the stage was other
than it appeared on the face, an accident pure and simple. The letter
was sealed and sent by special messenger to the railroad.
One thing troubled Firmstone. He was very sure that his request to be
let alone would not be heeded. Hartwell, the Eastern manager of the
company, was a shallow, empty-headed man, insufferably conceited. He
held the position, partly through a controlling interest in the shares,
but more through the nimble use of a glib tongue that so man[oe]uvred
his corporal's guard of information that it appeared an able-bodied
regiment of knowledge covering the whole field of mining.
If Firmstone had any weaknesses, one was an open contempt of flatterers
and flattery, the other an impolitic, impatient resentment of patronage.
There had been no open breaks between the manager and himself; in fact,
the manager professed himself an admiring friend of Firmstone to his
face. At directors' meetings "Firmstone was a fairly promising man who
only needed careful supervision to make in time a valuable man for the
company." Firmstone had strongly opposed the shipping of bullion by
private conveyance instead of by a responsible express company. In this
he was overruled by the manager. Being compelled to act against his
judgment, he had done his best to minimise the risk by making dummy
shipments each day, as has been explained.
The loss of the month's clean-up was a very serious one, and he had no
doubt but that it would result in a visit from the manager, and that the
manager would insist upon taking a prominent part in any attempt to
recover the safe, if indeed he did not assume the sole direction. The
opportunity to add to his counterfeit laurels was too good to be lost.
In the event of failure, Firmstone felt that no delicate scruples would
prevent the shifting of the whole affair upon his own shoulders.
Firmstone had not made the mistake of minimising the crafty cunning of
Pierre, nor of interpreting his troubles at the mine and mill at their
obvious values. Cunningly devised as was the wreck of the stage, he felt
sure that there was another object in view than the very obvious and
substantial one of robbery. With the successful wrecking of the stage
there were yet large chances against the schemers getting possession of
the safe and its contents. Still, there was a chance in their favour. If
neither Pierre nor the company recovered the bullion, Pierre's scheme
would not have miscarried wholly. The company would still be in
ignorance of the possibilities of the mine. Firmstone arranged every
possible detail clearly in his mind, from Pierre's standpoint. His
thorough grasp of the entire situation, his unwearying application to
the business in hand made further stealing impossible. Pierre was bound
to get him out of his position. The agitation inaugurated by Morrison
was only a part of the scheme by means of which this result was to be
accomplished. A whole month's clean-up had been made. If this reached
the company safely, it would be a revelation to them. Firmstone's
position would be unassailable, and henceforth Pierre would be compelled
to content himself with the yield of the gambling and drinking at the
Blue Goose. Whether the bullion ever found its way to the Blue Goose or
not, the wrecking of the stage would be in all likelihood the
culminating disaster in Firmstone's undoing.
Firmstone's indignation did not burn so fiercely against Pierre and
Morrison--they were but venomous reptiles who threatened every decent
man--as at the querulous criticisms of his employers, which were a
perpetual drag, clogging his every movement, and threatening to
neutralise his every effort in their behalf. He recalled the words of an
old and successful mine manager:
"You've got a hard row of corn. When you tackle a mine you've got to
make up your mind to have everyone against you, from the cook-house
flunkey to the president of the company, and the company is the hardest
crowd to buck against."
Firmstone's face grew hard. The fight was on, and he was in it to win.
That was what he was going to do.
Zephyr, meantime, had gone to the cook-house. He found Bennie in his
room.
"How's Jim?" he asked.
"Sleeping. That's good for him. He'll pull out all right. Get on to
anything at the bridge?" Bennie was at sharp attention.
"Nothing to get on to, Julius Benjamin. The bridge is gone. So's
everything else. It's only a matter of time when Goggles will be gone,
too. This last will fix him with the company." Zephyr glanced slyly at
Bennie with the last words. "The jig is up. The fiddle's broke its last
string, and I'm going, too."
Bennie's eyes were flaming.
"Take shame to yourself for those words, you white-livered frog-spawn,
with a speck in the middle for the black heart of you! You're going?
Well, here's the bones of my fist and the toe of my boot, to speed you!"
"You'll have to put me up some grub, Benjamin."
"Grub! It's grub, is it? I'll give you none. Stay here a bit and I'll
grub you to more purpose. I'll put grit in your craw and bones in your
back, and a sup of glue, till you can stand straight and stick to your
friends. Lacking understanding that God never gave you, I'll point them
out to you!"
Zephyr's eyes had a twinkle that Bennie's indignation overlooked.
"The Lord never passed you by on the other side, Julius. He put a heavy
charge in your bell-muzzle. You're bound to hit something when you go
off. If He'd only put a time-fuse on your action, 'twould have only
perfect. Not just yet, Julius Benjamin!" Zephyr languidly lifted a
detaining hand as Bennie started to interrupt. "I'm going a long journey
for an uncertain time. This is for the public. But, Julius, if you'll
take a walk in the gloaming each day, and leave an edible bundle in the
clump of spruces above the Devil's Elbow you'll find it mysteriously
disappears. From which you may infer that I'm travelling in a circle
with a small radius. And say, Julius, heave over some of your wind
ballast and even up with discretion. You're to take a minor part in a
play, with Goggles and me as stars."
"It's lean ore you're working in your wind-mill. Just what does it
assay?" Bennie was yet a little suspicious.
"For a man of abundant figures, Julius, you have a surprising appetite
for ungarnished speech. But here's to you! The safe's in the river.
There's fifty thousand in bullion in the safe that's in the river. The
Blue Goose crowd is after the bullion that's in the safe that's in the
river. Say, Julius Benjamin, this is hard sledding. It's the story of
the House that Jack Built, adapted to present circumstances. I'm going
to hang out in the canon till the river goes down, or till I bag some of
the goslings from the Blue Goose. Your part is to work whom it may
concern into the belief that I've lit out for my health, and meantime to
play raven to my Elijah. Are you on?"
"Yes, I'm on," growled Bennie. "On to more than you'll ever be. You have
to empty the gab from your head to leave room for your wits."