AWAY TO THE WEST
By the general regulations of the United States army there is granted
three months' leave of absence to graduated cadets of the Military
Academy, to be taken advantage of immediately after graduation. It is
given to these young men after their four years of rigorous discipline
and hard study, that they may have abundant time to visit home and
friends, and to enjoy a period of rest before reporting for duty again
to begin their careers as officers of the army.
For nearly two weeks since Graham's graduation day the mother had had
him for her very own, busying herself in the choice of his modest
outfit, and taking it not a little to heart that he declined to order
his uniform and equipment until, as he said, he knew where he was
going. She longed to see him in his "regimentals," yet shrank from it
as a reminder that all too soon he would be taken from her side to wear
it day after day with his comrades in arms. She could not think of that
parting to come late in September. She would think only of the glory
that was hers in having him here, having him now, with no bugle-call to
tear him from her side. She was just beginning to realize her
possession, her happiness, when that hateful telegram told of disaster
at the mines, and urged her husband to have a representative at the
spot. Within one hour of its receipt, George had come to say that he
would be that representative, and within two hours, with at least his
father's full consent, her dream was at an end and her boy was gone.
That night toward ten he and McCrea were spinning away up the west
shore under the lofty, rock-ribbed scarp of Crow Nest and Storm King,
to ferry over to Fishkill from Newburg, and there take the Pacific
express, making its first stop out of New York City. Each had hurriedly
packed such store of clothing as seemed most appropriate to the region
and the business to which he was bound. There was no vestige of uniform
or badge of rank and station. Geordie took with him his favorite rifle,
and in his valise, to be exhumed when they reached the Rockies, was a
revolver he knew, rather better than his classmates, how to use, for he
had learned as a lad on the plains. Each had his ticket for Chicago,
where they were to change for Denver. Each had a money belt and a
modest sum in currency. Each had his hopes of rescuing something if not
all of the imperilled property, and neither had even a vague idea of
the peril, difficulty, and treachery he was destined to encounter.
Everything had promised well when Silver Shield was first exploited.
Its promoters and agents showed high-grade ore, and reports of expert
mining engineers promised abundance of it. All that was needed was
development. "Come in now, on the ground-floor, and you'll be coining
money in a year's time," said Mr. Breifogle, and to the number of seven
the commissioned force at Fort Reynolds had "come." So long as they
remained close to the spot all seemed going well. But Graham had been
ordered to the Point, and the regiment over in the Oklahoma country.
Then came trouble.
It seemed odd that stock held so high should so soon have to be
assessed. But "some expensive machinery was necessary." Then came a
second and larger demand. Silver Shield was so valuable that envious
eyes had been directed to it, and fraudulent claims and claimants were
constantly turning up. Threatened litigation would be long and
expensive. It would be cheaper far to buy off the litigants. So Graham,
with a sigh and sore premonition of trouble, obtained the necessary
amount on his personal note. McCrea, with inward misgiving, borrowed
and sent it. Officers at Reno sent up what they could, but it wasn't
enough, and in May came a third appeal. The secretary wrote that
litigation had begun, and there was reason to believe the courts were
being "approached" by the enemy. It was absolutely essential that
"these parties should be bought off," and quite a sum would be
necessary. The First National Bank of Argenta (which had once been
robbed of a great sum by road-agents, who were run down and captured by
officers and men of the --th, and the money recovered) ought in all
conscience to be grateful to its benefactors, yet when Graham, McCrea,
and Major Lawrence wrote, begging advice in the premises, the bank was
non-committal. Some of its customers were among the litigants, as was
later discovered. And so it resulted that not until near the end of
June did it dawn upon the officers involved that the whole matter was
nothing more nor less than a well-conceived, but rascally, scheme to
"milk them dry," as was the expression, secure their shares at a
sacrifice, or drive them out entirely.
And they, the absentees, were only seven against seventy or more, who
were experienced in all the crafts and devices by which mines have been
dug at the expense of the many and then made to enrich the few.
It was late at night when the fellow-travellers reached Denver. McCrea
was depressed and silent, Geordie eager to push ahead. The former had
had time to think over the situation, and in Chicago, while waiting for
the Pacific express to start, he had had a fifteen-minute talk with a
relative, a Western business man, to whom mining and undermining were
matters well understood, and what this expert said had filled him with
dismay. "You've simply been bled until you could bleed no more," said
he. "Now they've no further use for you. What they want is your stock
at five cents on the dollar, to sell to some new gudgeon at fifty. Why
on earth, Mac, when you were considering this, didn't you consult me?"
Why, indeed! Like many another man, Mac's eyes had been blinded, his
ears deafened to everything but the wiles of the charmer. But with
Geordie it was different. He had come because his father was bound to
the wheel of duty and could not. Moreover, barring inexperience and
youth, Geordie was better fitted to go and do than was his father, the
doctor.
He would waste no time with agents. He would employ no lawyer--that was
simply waste of both time and money. Of the former they had little and
of the latter even less. But his brain was active and fertile. He had
slept but little on their swift westward way until after crossing the
Mississippi. His mother's grief at parting, and her speechless anxiety
as to the dangers that might beset him, had affected him deeply, and at
first his silence and preoccupation were due to that. But the fighting
blood of the Graeme was in his veins, and against the abominable wrong
these "sharks" would do his father and his scattered friends the young
fellow was bent on giving valiant battle; and he thought he saw his way
to strike and to strike hard.
McCrea had given him the names of most of the sergeants of the old
regiment who, when their time expired, had taken their discharge and
gone to the mines. Among them were three on whom he believed he could
count to back him in a pinch. Among them was the veteran Nolan, on whom
he _knew_ he could count.
McCrea had wired ahead to an old and trusted friend, a resident of
Denver and a successful railway engineer. He was at the station waiting
when the two alighted from their train. It was McCrea's plan to spend
one day in Denver in consultation with certain officials, and then to
spring a surprise on the "board" at Argenta two days later. He had
wired to Fort Reno on the way, urging that one officer, at least, of
those most interested should hasten to Denver and meet him, and in the
hands of Mr. Warden, their engineer friend, was the reply: Captain Lee
would be with them in the morning. To register at a prominent hotel
would simply advertise their coming. Warden had seen to that and
engaged quarters for them near his own. Thither they were to go at
once, and, valises in hand, they followed Warden's lead, McCrea and
their guide talking eagerly together, Geordie following, silent and
observant. Toward the iron gateway they pressed, jostled and elbowed by
hurrying passengers.
"It's but a few blocks' walk," Warden was saying. "I've a cart to take
your grips and we can chat as we go. I thought you'd be glad of a bite
or a cup of tea or something before turning in. Mr. Ross, who wired Dr.
Graham, is here, and he'll meet us at the restaurant. He thinks they
are following him--shadowing him."
"Who?" asked McCrea.
"Why, the crowd that are trying to get control there of Silver Shield.
Some of them live in Argenta, he says, and found out he had been in
correspondence with the doctor, and that it was he who had given
warning." Then, glancing over his shoulder as they neared the gate, and
speaking to Geordie, he continued, "What is the name of the brewer up
there who wanted your place at the Point for his son?"
"Breifogle."
"That's the man," answered Warden. "Ross says he's one of the leaders
of the move. Most of his money has been made by freezing out other
men."
And just at that moment, moving leisurely along in the rear of the
train-load of belated passengers, they reached the exit gate, and the
instant they came under the broad, blue-white glare of the electric
globe overhead there was a sudden stir in the little gathering along
the iron fence. A burly young man darted swiftly away, and in his haste
tripped backward over an empty baby carriage. In a second he was
floundering on the floor, his bowler hat rolling one way, his stick
flying another. A shrill voice began to berate him as he struggled to
his feet, but he paused neither to explain nor listen. He swooped for
his hat and shot for a dark passage, but not before Geordie had caught
a glimpse of his face.
"That was young Breifogle," said he.