THE MAN OF THE SIEGE
Down in the valley that night there was commotion and uproar for hours,
but there was quiet at Silver Shield. One after another furious
speeches were made in foreign tongues, speeches in which the murderous
occupants of the mine buildings were doomed to an eternity of torment,
and the would-be murderous element among the miners was lauded to the
skies and urged to further effort.
But the astonishing repulse, the fact that they had been met in the
open as well as in the dark, and that a swift and sudden fire had been
poured into their very midst, had shattered the nerve of men already
shaken, although it later turned out that only three of their number
had really been shot (two of them in the back), and that twoscore had
been trampled and torn by their own people, while some thirty or more
were missing, "left dead on the hill," said their fellows, in the mad
rush for safety that followed the first flash. That sharp, stern order
and the instant response had started the rumor that soldiers, regulars,
had come up from the fort. It was pointed out that while the
Transcontinental was blocked down the Run, no one had thought to
cripple the Narrow Gauge over in the valley beyond. The road was open
to Miners' Joy, the road by which young Breifogle had made his escape,
and by this roundabout route had succor reached the besieged garrison.
All that liquor and eloquence could do was tried on the raging townsmen
that night, but not until broad daylight could they be induced to make
another trial, and by that time few were able to keep their feet on the
level.
Less than half a dozen shots from each of five Winchesters had been
enough, combined with darkness, to utterly rout the mass of rioters.
Mindful of the lesson well learned at the Point--to instantly follow a
staggering blow--Graham had sprung from his cover, called to his
fellows to "come on," and so, shouting and shooting at the very heels
of the panic, had not only chased them in headlong flight, but,
returning, had picked up half a dozen terrified prisoners and herded
them back to Nolan for such reassurance and comfort as that grim old
trooper saw fit to administer. When morning broke the depths of the
valley were still shrouded in mist and gloom. Up on the heights the
brilliant hues of the dawn shone far and wide on rocky peak and
pinnacle and, above the wooden tower of the office building, on the
fluttering folds of an American flag.
That was a grewsome day on Lance Creek. Four of the mines, temporarily
bereft of hands, had fired up and gone to work with such force as they
had, and declined to take back the men who had quit. The managers,
superintendents, bosses, and owners held council together and started
out with what they termed a relief expedition to rescue the garrison of
Silver Shield. They were seen as they came solemnly marching uphill,
waving a white flag by way of assurance, and were met on the roadway
by Nolan and Geordie. Cawker was taking a much-needed nap.
"Are you all safe?" was the eager question from below.
"Safe from what?" asked Nolan, from above.
"Why, the mob, the rioters. Didn't they try to clean you out last
night?"
"Did they?" asked Nolan turning to his silent young friend the fireman.
"Was that what those fellows were thinking of that you chased off the
hill? Why, maybe it was! But here, what we came down to find out was
about Shiner's boy. How's he?"
Then the rescuers looked at one another in some bewilderment. The
leaders were friends of Cawker. They hardly knew Nolan. They did not
know his companion the fireman.
"D'you mean to tell us you've had no trouble up there?" was the eager
demand.
"Why, lots of it, four days ago--'t least _I_ had," answered Nolan,
grimly, "but nothin' worth mention last night."
"Why, man," cried the manager of the White Eagle, "there were a
thousand riotous Bohemians and Dagoes, and Lord knows what all, went up
there last night to burn those buildings over your heads and you with
'em."
"Why, cert'nly," said Nolan, with preternatural gravity and a wink at
his comrade, who was doing his utmost to keep a straight face. "It must
have been some of those fellows _you_ blew in about ten o'clock. But
say," he broke off, as though this matter bored him, "what we want to
know is about Shiner's boy. They didn't seem to have time to talk."
By which time it dawned upon the officials present that Nolan was
having fun with them, and though the spokesmen were nettled, many
others, with genuine American sense of humor, felt that he couldn't be
blamed.
"Your name is Nolan, I think," said a man from the Denver. "We've heard
of you. Shiner's boy is better, though still weak. You mustn't feel we
left you to shift for yourselves up there. Our men were all out, and
we didn't know how soon they'd be swooping on us. 'Twasn't until last
night it was generally known that you were back, and that you and your
friends were what saved Cawker and the Silver Shield yesterday. How's
_he_?"
"Cawker? Oh, Cawker's probably about got dinner ready for you gentlemen
by this time. If you are sure about Shiner we won't go down."
"Go down? Why, Nolan, they'd murder you!"
But there came a sudden shot, and then a shout, from somewhere uphill.
On the edge of the dump a man was eagerly waving his hat, pointing away
to the northeast along the massive slope of the mountain.
"Well, Mr. Fireman," said Nolan, "I guess we'll have to go back. But
you are sure about Shiner, are you?"--this again to the visitors, as he
persisted in calling them. "Well, come right along up and see the old
man himself. Dinner ought to be ready now."
But, once back at the buildings, Nolan left to Cawker and his guard
the pleasure of receiving the crowd from across the creek. He and
Geordie were needed at once at the lookout on top of the office, the
little tower above which fluttered the flag. Down on the platform
anxious faces were upturned, for the sentry had seen a countless throng
of men, so he said, coming over from Miners' Joy. To Cawker and his
fellows it meant but one thing: The miners in the northward valley,
more numerous than these along Lance Creek, reinforced, probably, by a
swarm of the idlers from Hatch's Cove, were coming to the aid of their
friends and fellow-countrymen in the strike at Silver Shield.
For two miles out the road from the village meandered up a winding
ravine, then went twisting and turning along the eastward face of the
mountain until it dipped out of sight over the massive divide. Down in
the depths of the gorge little dots of men could be seen hurrying away
up the trail as though going to meet the coming concourse. Away out
along the mountain-side not to exceed three or four vehicles and a
scant dozen of horsemen could dimly be made out, crawling slowly
southward, coming gingerly towards them. Where, then, was the
"countless throng"?
"They were in sight on yonder ridge," said the lookout, "not ten
minutes ago. They must be hiding in the hollows, waiting for the others
to catch up," whereupon Nolan, looking daggers, had called him a
scarehead, and Geordie shouted for Cawker's glass. It was sent up the
stairway in less than a minute and focussed on Porphyry Point, a
massive buttress overhanging the farther valley. For long seconds
Geordie steadied the binocular against the staff and peered silently
through. At last he said: "Some riders and two or three livery-rigs are
coming, but I see no men afoot." Then, turning over his shoulder to
Cawker, standing in the midst of his friends and fellow-managers, and
looking eagerly aloft, he called: "Better have dinner now, if it's
ready. It will take 'em an hour to get here."
"Who is that young fellow, anyhow?" asked Townsend, of the Vanguard
Mine, and the ears of a score of men awaited the answer.
"That young feller," said Cawker, in low tone, and impressively, "was a
stranger to every one here, except old Nolan and Shiner, just
twenty-four hours ago. Now there ain't one of 'em but swears by him. I
don't know him from Adam, and Nolan won't tell, but, gentlemen--that
young feller's a dandy!"
And this of a youth in grimy cap, flannels, and overalls, with a pair
of smouched soldier gauntlets hiding the white of his hands, and a
coating of coal-dust and smudge hiding all but the clear, healthy white
of his eyes!
But an hour later came at least partial enlightenment. Picking their
way, afoot and a few in saddle, welcomed by shouts from the lately
besieged, and escorted by a deputation sent forward to meet them, there
began to arrive certain citizens well known to the neighborhood by name
and reputation.
There was the sheriff of Yampah, with a small squad of deputies. There
was the mayor of Argenta, a director in the mines, and with him,
puffing prodigiously and slowly up the ramp from the wagon-road, two
brother directors away out from Denver. There were certain prominent
citizens of Argenta and Hatch's Cove. There were certain railway men,
with men and tools at their back and no time to waste. There were two
men in civilian dress whom many a man of Silver Run knew for soldiers
at once, for as such had they known them before--Captain Lee and
Quartermaster McCrea of the old --th Cavalry--and there had been a
remarkable meeting and hand-shaking between them and Nolan, and a
whispered confabulation, at the end of which the two dove into the
office building where Shiner still lay, comforted by better news of his
boy, by good surgical aid, and by a skilful and competent nurse who,
for more than one reason, preferred to keep out of sight for the time
being. There had been a face-to-face meeting between sergeant and
sheriff when Nolan came forth from a rapturous scene at old Shiner's
bedside. But this time the sheriff looked sheepish, and there was no
talk of arrest. Young Breifogle, it seems, would not die of his
wounds. One of the culprits had "split" and the real assailants were
known.
And there had been a fine shower of congratulation on Cawker for his
heroic defence and determined stand against tremendous odds, and the
three magnates present of Silver Shield had begun with much unction to
talk of reward and appreciation, and very probably Cawker felt both
heroic and deserving, and quite ready to accept all credit and pay, but
there were too many witnesses, too many wise men, too many suggestive
smiles and snickers and audible remarks, and Cawker had sense to see
and then to rise manfully to the occasion.
"We did the best we knew how, gentlemen," said he, "but I am bound to
say Silver Shield would have been in ruins this minute, and most of us
dead, if it hadn't been for Nolan--the man you ordered thrown out."
There was a silence almost dramatic for a moment.
"Who ordered him thrown out?" asked Mr. Stoner, of Denver.
"The directors, sir, unless young Mr. Breifogle lied. These men are my
witnesses."
And the answer came straightway.
"No such orders were given by the board. If Mr. Breifogle gave them,
they were his alone."
Whereupon a shout went up that shook the roof. But the end was not yet.
Nolan was dragged forward to be grasped by the hand and smothered with
congratulations, and old Nolan, in turn, would have none of it. A dozen
men had seized Geordie Graham, even as his classmates and comrades had
chaired him a few weeks back at the Point, and black, grimy, and
protesting, he was heaved forward and deposited in front of the
astonished trio. But the shout that went up from all sides was
significant. Lee and McCrea were shouting, too.
"More heroes?" asked Mr. Stoner, wide-eyed and uncomprehending.
"Well--er, Nolan, they told us on the way over that there must be a
hundred soldiers here."
"That's about right, sir," grinned Nolan; then, reaching forth, he laid
a hand lightly on Graham's broad shoulder, "and here stands--most of
'em."