THE WIT OF AN ADVENTURESS
Up creek the three negroes fled, past other camps, to where the stream
branched. Here they took to the right and urged their horses along a
forsaken trail to the head-waters of the little tributary and over the
low saddle. They had endeavored to reach unfrequented paths as soon as
possible in order that they might pass unnoticed. Before quitting the
valley they halted their heaving horses, and, selecting a stagnant
pool, scoured the grease paint from their features as best they could.
Their ears were strained for sounds of pursuit, but, as the moments
passed and none came, the tension eased somewhat and they conversed
guardedly. As the morning light spread they crossed the moss-capped
summit of the range, but paused again, and, removing two saddles, hid
them among the rocks. Slapjack left the others here and rode southward
down the Dry Creek Trail towards town, while the partners shifted part
of the weight from the overloaded pack-mules to the remaining
saddle-animals and continued eastward along the barren comb of hills on
foot, leading the five horses.
"It don't seem like we'll get away this easy," said Dextry, scanning
the back trail. "If we do, I'll be tempted to foller the business
reg'lar. This grease paint on my face makes me smell like a minstrel
man. I bet we'll get some bully press notices to-morrow."
"I wonder what Helen was doing there," Glenister answered,
irrelevantly, for he had been more shaken by his encounter with her
than at his part in the rest or the enterprise, and his mind, which
should have been busied with the flight, held nothing but pictures of
her as she stood in the half darkness under the fear of his Winchester.
"What if she ever learned who that black ruffian was!" He quailed at
the thought.
"Say, Dex, I am going to marry that girl."
"I dunno if you be or not," said Dextry. "Better watch McNamara."
"What!" The younger man stopped and stared. "What do you mean?"
"Go on. Don't stop the horses. I ain't blind. I kin put two an' two
together."
"You'll never put those two together. Nonsense! Why, the man's a
rascal. I wouldn't let him have her. Besides, it couldn't be. She'll
find him out. I love her so much that--oh, my feelings are too big to
talk about." He moved his hands eloquently. "You can't understand."
"Um-m! I s'pose not," grunted Dextry, but his eyes were level and held
the light of the past.
"He may be a rascal," the old man continued, after a little; "I'll put
in with you on that; but he's a handsome devil, and, as for manners, he
makes you look like a logger. He's a brave man, too. Them three
qualities are trump-cards and warranted to take most any queen in the
human deck--red, white, or yellow."
"If he dares," growled Glenister, while his thick brows came forward
and ugly lines hardened in his face.
In the gray of the early morning they descended the foot-hills into the
wide valley of the Nome River and filed out across the rolling country
to the river bluffs where, cleverly concealed among the willows, was a
rocker. This they set up, then proceeded to wash the dirt from the
sacks carefully, yet with the utmost speed, for there was serious
danger of discovery. It was wonderful, this treasure of the richest
ground since the days of '49, and the men worked with shining eyes and
hands a-tremble. The gold was coarse, and many ragged, yellow lumps,
too large to pass through the screen, rolled in the hopper, while the
aprons bellied with its weight. In the pans which they had provided
there grew a gleaming heap of wet, raw gold.
Shortly, by divergent routes, the partners rode unnoticed into town,
and into the excitement of the hold-up news, while the tardy still
lingered over their breakfasts. Far out in the roadstead lay the
Roanoke, black smoke pouring from her stack. A tug was returning from
its last trip to her.
Glenister forced his lathered horse down to the beach and questioned
the longshoremen who hung about.
"No; it's too late to get aboard--the last tender is on its way back,"
they informed him. "If you want to go to the 'outside' you'll have to
wait for the fleet. That only means another week, and--there she blows
now."
A ribbon of white mingled with the velvet from the steamer's funnel and
there came a slow, throbbing, farewell blast.
Glenister's jaw clicked and squared.
"Quick! You men!" he cried to the sailors. "I want the lightest dory on
the beach and the strongest oarsmen in the crowd. I'll be back in five
minutes. There's a hundred dollars in it for you if we catch that ship."
He whirled and spurred up through the mud of the streets. Bill Wheaton
was snoring luxuriously when wrenched from his bed by a dishevelled man
who shook him into wakefulness and into a portion of his clothes, with
a storm of excited instructions. The lawyer had neither time nor
opportunity for expostulation, for Glenister snatched a valise and
swept into it a litter of documents from the table.
"Hurry up, man," he yelled, as the lawyer dived frantically about his
office in a rabbit-like hunt for items. "My Heavens! Are you dead? Wake
up! The ship's leaving." With sleep still in his eyes Wheaton was
dragged down the street to the beach, where a knot had assembled to
witness the race. As they tumbled into the skiff, willing hands ran it
out into the surf on the crest of a roller. A few lifting heaves and
they were over the bar with the men at the oars bending the white ash
at every swing.
"I guess I didn't forget anything," gasped Wheaton as he put on his
coat. "I got ready yesterday, but I couldn't find you last night, so I
thought the deal was off."
Glenister stripped off his coat and, facing the bow, pushed upon the
oars at every stroke, thus adding his strength to that of the oarsmen.
They crept rapidly out from the beach, eating up the two miles that lay
towards the ship. He urged the men with all his power till the sweat
soaked through their clothes and, under their clinging shirts, the
muscles stood out like iron. They had covered half the distance when
Wheaton uttered a cry and Glenister desisted from his work with a
curse. The Roanoke was moving slowly.
The rowers rested, but the young man shouted at them to begin again,
and, seizing a boat-hook, stuck it into the arms of his coat. He waved
this on high while the men redoubled their efforts. For many moments
they hung in suspense, watching the black hull as it gathered speed,
and then, as they were about to cease their effort, a puff of steam
burst from its whistle and the next moment a short toot of recognition
reached them. Glenister wiped the moisture from his brow and grinned at
Wheaton.
A quarter of an hour later, as they lay heaving below the ship's steel
sides, he thrust a heavy buckskin sack into the lawyer's hand.
"There's money to win the fight, Bill. I don't know how much, but it's
enough. God bless you. Hurry back!"
A sailor cast them a whirling rope, up which Wheaton clambered; then,
tying the gripsack to its end, they sent it after.
"Important!" the young man yelled at the officer on the bridge.
"Government business." He heard a muffled clang in the engine-room, the
thrash of the propellers followed, and the big ship glided past.
As Glenister dragged himself up the beach, upon landing, Helen Chester
called to him, and made room for him beside her. It had never been
necessary to call him to her side before; and equally unfamiliar was
the abashment, or perhaps physical weariness, that led the young man to
sink back in the warm sand with a sigh of relief. She noted that, for
the first time, the audacity was gone from his eyes.
"I watched your race," she began. "It was very exciting and I cheered
for you."
He smiled quietly.
"What made you keep on after the ship started? I should have given
up--and cried."
"I never give up anything that I want," he said.
"Have you never been forced to? Then it is because you are a man. Women
have to sacrifice a great deal."
Helen expected him to continue to the effect that he would never give
her up--it was in accordance with his earlier presumption--but he was
silent; and she was not sure that she liked him as well thus as when he
overwhelmed her with the boldness of his suit. For Glenister it was
delightful, after the perils of the night, to rest in the calm of her
presence and to feel dumbly that she was near. She saw him secretly
caress a fold of her dress.
If only she had not the memory of that one night on the ship. "Still,
he is trying to make amends in the best way he can," she thought.
"Though, of course, no woman could care for a man who would do such a
thing." Yet she thrilled at the thought of how he had thrust his body
between her and danger; how, but for his quick, insistent action, she
would have failed in escaping from the pest ship, failed in her
mission, and met death on the night of her landing. She owed him much.
"Did you hear what happened to the good ship Ohio?" she asked.
"No; I've been too busy to inquire. I was told the health officers
quarantined her when she arrived, that's all."
"She was sent to Egg Island with every one aboard. She has been there
more than a month now and may not get away this summer."
"What a disappointment for the poor devils on her!"
"Yes, and only for what you did, I should be one of them," Helen
remarked.
"I didn't do much," he said. "The fighting part is easy. It's not half
so hard as to give up your property and lie still while--"
"Did you do that because I asked you to--because I asked you to put
aside the old ways?" A wave of compassion swept over her.
"Certainly," he answered. "It didn't come easy, but--"
"Oh, I thank you," said she. "I know it is all for the best. Uncle
Arthur wouldn't do anything wrong, and Mr. McNamara is an honorable
man."
He turned towards her to speak, but refrained. He could not tell her
what he felt certain of. She believed in her own blood and in her
uncle's friends--and it was not for him to speak of McNamara. The rules
of the game sealed his lips.
She was thinking again, "If only you had not acted as you did." She
longed to help him now in his trouble as he had helped her, but what
could she do? The law was such a confusing, intricate, perplexing thing.
"I spent last night at the Midas," she told him, "and rode back early
this morning. That was a daring hold-up, wasn't it?"
"What hold-up?"
"Why, haven't you heard the news?"
"No" he answered, steadily. "I just got up."
"Your claim was robbed. Three men overcame the watchman at midnight and
cleaned the boxes."
His simulation of excited astonishment was perfect and he rained a
shower of questions upon her. She noted with approval that he did not
look her in the eye, however. He was not an accomplished liar. Now
McNamara had a countenance of iron. Unconsciously she made comparison,
and the young man at her side did not lose thereby.
"Yes, I saw it all," she concluded, after recounting the details. "The
negro wanted to bind me so that I couldn't give the alarm, but his
chivalry prevented. He was a most gallant darky."
"What did you do when they left?"
"Why, I kept my word and waited until they were out of sight, then I
roused the camp, and set Mr. McNamara and his men right after them down
the gulch."
"DOWN the gulch!" spoke Glenister, off his guard.
"Yes, of course. Did you think they went UP-stream?" She was looking
squarely at him now, and he dropped his eyes. "No, the posse started in
that direction, but I put them right." There was an odd light in her
glance, and he felt the blood drumming in his ears.
She sent them down-stream! So that was why there had been no pursuit!
Then she must suspect--she must know everything! Glenister was stunned.
Again his love for the girl surged tumultuously within him and demanded
expression. But Miss Chester, no longer feeling sure that she had the
situation in hand, had already started to return to the hotel. "I saw
the men distinctly," she told him, before they separated, "and I could
identify them all."
At his own house Glenister found Dextry removing the stains of the
night's adventure.
"Miss Chester recognized us last night," he announced.
"How do you know?"
"She told me so just now, and, what's more, she sent McNamara and his
crowd down the creek instead of up. That's why we got away so easily."
"Well, well--ain't she a brick? She's even with us now. By-the-way, I
wonder how much we cleaned up, anyhow--let's weigh it." Going to the
bed, Dextry turned back the blankets, exposing four moose-skin sacks,
wet and heavy, where he had thrown them.
"There must have been twenty thousand dollars with what I gave
Wheaton," said Glenister.
At that moment, without warning, the door was flung open, and as the
young man jerked the blankets into place he whirled, snatched the
six-shooter that Dextry had discarded, and covered the entrance.
"Don't shoot, boy!" cried the new-comer, breathlessly. "My, but you're
nervous!"
Glenister dropped his gun. It was Cherry Malotte; and, from her heaving
breast and the flying colors in her cheeks, the men saw she had been
running. She did not give them time to question, but closed and locked
the door while the words came tumbling from her:
"They're on to you, boys--you'd better duck out quick. They're on their
way up here now."
"What!"
"Who?"
"Quick! I heard McNamara and Voorhees, the marshal, talking. Somebody
has spotted you for the hold-ups. They're on their way now, I tell you.
I sneaked out by the back way and came here through the mud. Say, but
I'm a sight!" She stamped her trimly booted feet and flirted her skirt.
"I don't savvy what you mean," said Dextry, glancing at his partner
warningly. "We ain't done nothin'."
"Well, it's all right then. I took a long chance so you could make a
get-away if you wanted to, because they've got warrants for you for
that sluice robbery last night. Here they are now." She darted to the
window, the men peering over her shoulder. Coming up the narrow walk
they saw Voorhees, McNamara, and three others.
The house stood somewhat isolated and well back on the tundra, so that
any one approaching it by the planking had an unobstructed view of the
premises. Escape was impossible, for the back door led out into the
ankle-deep puddles of the open prairie; and it was now apparent that a
sixth man had made a circuit and was approaching from the rear.
"My God! They'll search the place," said Dextry, and the men looked
grimly in each other's faces.
Then in a flash Glenister stripped back the blankets and seized the
"pokes," leaping into the back room. In another instant he returned
with them and faced desperately the candid bareness of the little room
that they lived and slept in. Nothing could be hidden; it was folly to
think of it. There was a loft overhead, he remembered, hopefully, then
realized that the pursuers would search there first of all.
"I told you he was a hard fighter," said Dextry, as the quick footsteps
grew louder. "He ain't no fool neither. 'Stead of our bein' caught in
the mountains, I reckon we'll shoot it out here. We should have cached
that gold somewhere."
He spun the cylinder of his blackened Colt, while his face grew hard
and vulture-like.
Meanwhile, Cherry Malotte watched the hunted look in Glenister's face
grow wilder and then stiffen into the stubbornness of a man at bay. The
posse was at the door now, knocking. The three inside stood rigid and
strained. Then Glenister tossed his burden on the bed.
"Go into the back room, Cherry; there's going to be trouble."
"Who's there?" inquired Dextry through the door, to gain time.
Suddenly, without a word, the girl glided to the hot-blast heater, now
cold and empty, which stood in a corner of the room. These stoves, used
widely in the North, are vertical iron cylinders into which coal is
poured from above. She lifted the lid and peered in to find it a
quarter full of dead ashes, then turned with shining eyes and parted
lips to Glenister. He caught the hint, and in an instant the four sacks
were dropped softly into the feathery bottom and the ashes raked over.
The daring manoeuvre was almost as quick as the flash of woman's wit
that prompted it, and was carried through while the answer to Dextry's
question was still unspoken.
Then Glenister opened the door carelessly and admitted the group of men.
"We've got a search-warrant to look through your house," said Voorhees.
"What are you looking for?"
"Gold-dust from Anvil Creek."
"All right--search away."
They rapidly scoured the premises, covering every inch, paying no heed
to the girl, who watched them with indifferent eyes, nor to the old
man, who glared at their every movement. Glenister was carelessly
sarcastic, although he kept his right arm free, while beneath his
sang-froid was a thoroughly trained alertness.
McNamara directed the search with a manner wholly lacking in his former
mock courtesy. It was as though he had been soured by the gall of
defeat. The mask had fallen off now, and his character
showed--insistent, overbearing, cruel. Towards the partners he
preserved a contemptuous silence.
The invaders ransacked thoroughly, while a dozen times the hearts of
Cherry Malotte and her two companions stopped, then lunged onward, as
McNamara or Voorhees approached, then passed the stove. At last
Voorhees lifted the lid and peered into its dark interior. At the same
instant the girl cried out, sharply, flinging herself from her
position, while the marshal jerked his head back in time to see her
dash upon Dextry.
"Don't! Don't!" She cried her appeal to the old man. "Keep cool. You'll
be sorry, Dex--they're almost through."
The officer had not seen any movement on Dextry's part, but doubtless
her quick eye had detected signs of violence. McNamara emerged,
glowering, from the back room at that moment.
"Let them hunt," the girl was saying, while Dextry stared dazedly over
her head. "They won't find anything. Keep cool and don't act rash."
Voorhees's duties sat uncomfortably upon him at the best, and, looking
at the smouldering eyes of the two men, he became averse to further
search in a powdery household whose members itched to shoot him in the
back.
"It isn't here," he reported; but the politician only scowled, then
spoke for the first time directly to the partners:
"I've got warrants for both of you and I'm tempted to take you in, but
I won't. I'm not through yet--not by any means. I'll get you--get you
both." He turned out of the door, followed by the marshal, who called
off his guards, and the group filed back along the walk.
"Say, you're a jewel, Cherry. You've saved us twice. You caught
Voorhees just in time. My heart hit my palate when he looked into that
stove, but the next instant I wanted to laugh at Dextry's expression."
Impulsively Glenister laid his hands upon her shoulders. At his look
and touch her throat swelled, her bosom heaved, and the silken lids
fluttered until she seemed choked by a very flood of sweet womanliness.
She blushed like a little maid and laughed a timid, broken laugh; then
pulling herself together, the merry, careless tone came into her voice
and her cheeks grew cool and clear.
"You wouldn't trust me at first, eh? Some day you'll find that your old
friends are the best, after all."
And as she left them she added, mockingly:
"Say, you're a pair of 'shine' desperadoes. You need a governess."