The Spoilers
_By_ REX E. BEACH
[Illustration: colophon]
With Four Illustrations
By CLARENCE F. UNDERWOOD
A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK.
Copyright, 1905, by REX E. BEACH.
_All rights reserved._
Published April, 1906.
THIS BOOK
IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED TO
MY MOTHER
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE ENCOUNTER 1
II. THE STOWAWAY 13
III. IN WHICH GLENISTER ERRS 22
IV. THE KILLING 33
V. WHEREIN A MAN APPEARS 48
VI. AND A MINE IS JUMPED 59
VII. THE “BRONCO KID’S” EAVESDROPPING 68
VIII. DEXTRY MAKES A CALL 80
IX. SLUICE ROBBERS 94
X. THE WIT OF AN ADVENTURESS 107
XI. WHEREIN A WRIT AND A RIOT FAIL 120
XII. COUNTERPLOTS 132
XIII. IN WHICH A MAN IS POSSESSED OF A DEVIL 149
XIV. A MIDNIGHT MESSENGER 168
XV. VIGILANTES 183
XVI. IN WHICH THE TRUTH BEGINS TO BARE ITSELF 201
XVII. THE DRIP OF WATER IN THE DARK 218
XVIII. WHEREIN A TRAP IS BAITED 236
XIX. DYNAMITE 249
XX. IN WHICH THREE GO TO THE SIGN OF THE SLED AND BUT TWO RETURN 268
XXI. THE HAMMER-LOCK 285
XXII. THE PROMISE OF DREAMS 300
THE SPOILERS
CHAPTER I
THE ENCOUNTER
Glenister gazed out over the harbor, agleam with the lights of anchored
ships, then up at the crenelated mountains, black against the sky. He
drank the cool air burdened with its taints of the sea, while the blood
of his boyhood leaped within him.
“Oh, it’s fine--fine,” he murmured, “and this is my country--my country,
after all, Dex. It’s in my veins, this hunger for the North. I grow. I
expand.”
“Careful you don’t bust,” warned Dextry. “I’ve seen men get plumb drunk
on mountain air. Don’t expand too strong in one spot.” He went back
abruptly to his pipe, its villanous fumes promptly averting any danger
of the air’s too tonic quality.
“Gad! What a smudge!” sniffed the younger man. “You ought to be in
quarantine.”
“I’d ruther smell like a man than talk like a kid. You desecrate the
hour of meditation with rhapsodies on nature when your æsthetics ain’t
honed up to the beauties of good tobacco.”
The other laughed, inflating his deep chest. In the gloom he stretched
his muscles restlessly, as though an excess of vigor filled him.
They were lounging upon the dock, while before them lay the _Santa
Maria_ ready for her midnight sailing. Behind slept Unalaska, quaint,
antique, and Russian, rusting amid the fogs of Bering Sea. Where, a week
before, mild-eyed natives had dried their cod among the old bronze
cannon, now a frenzied horde of gold-seekers paused in their rush to the
new El Dorado. They had come like a locust cloud, thousands strong,
settling on the edge of the Smoky Sea, waiting the going of the ice that
barred them from their Golden Fleece--from Nome the new, where men found
fortune in a night.
The mossy hills back of the village were ridged with graves of those who
had died on the out-trip the fall before, when a plague had gripped the
land--but what of that? Gold glittered in the sands, so said the
survivors; therefore men came in armies. Glenister and Dextry had left
Nome the autumn previous, the young man raving with fever. Now they
returned to their own land.
“This air whets every animal instinct in me,” Glenister broke out again.
“Away from the cities I turn savage. I feel the old primitive
passions--the fret for fighting.”
“Mebbe you’ll have a chance.”
“How so?”
“Well, it’s this way. I met Mexico Mullins this mornin’. You mind old
Mexico, don’t you? The feller that relocated Discovery Claim on Anvil
Creek last summer?”
“You don’t mean that ‘tin-horn’ the boys were going to lynch for
claim-jumping?”
“Identical! Remember me tellin’ you about a good turn I done him once
down Guadalupe way?”
“Greaser shooting-scrape, wasn’t it?”
“Yep! Well, I noticed first off that he’s gettin’ fat; high-livin’ fat,
too, all in one spot, like he was playin’ both ends ag’in the centre.
Also he wore di’mon’s fit to handle with ice-tongs.
“Says I, lookin’ at his side elevation, ‘What’s accented your middle
syllable so strong, Mexico?’
“‘Prosperity, politics, an’ the Waldorf-Astorier,’ says he. It seems Mex
hadn’t forgot old days. He claws me into a corner an’ says, ‘Bill, I’m
goin’ to pay you back for that Moralez deal.’
“‘It ain’t comin’ to me,’ says I. ‘That’s a bygone!’
“‘Listen here,’ says he, an’, seein’ he was in earnest, I let him run
on.
“‘How much do you value that claim o’ yourn at?’
“‘Hard tellin’,’ says I. ‘If she holds out like she run last fall,
there’d ought to be a million clear in her.’
“‘How much ’ll you clean up this summer?’
“‘’Bout four hundred thousand, with luck.’
“‘Bill,’ says he, ‘there’s hell a-poppin’ an’ you’ve got to watch that
ground like you’d watch a rattle-snake. Don’t never leave ’em get a grip
on it or you’re down an’ out.’
“He was so plumb in earnest it scared me up, ’cause Mexico ain’t a gabby
man.
“‘What do you mean?’ says I.
“‘I can’t tell you nothin’ more. I’m puttin’ a string on my own neck,
sayin’ _this_ much. You’re a square man, Bill, an’ I’m a gambler, but
you saved my life oncet, an’ I wouldn’t steer you wrong. For God’s sake,
don’t let ’em jump your ground, that’s all.’
“‘Let who jump it? Congress has give us judges an’ courts an’
marshals--’ I begins.
“‘That’s just it. How you goin’ to buck that hand? Them’s the best cards
in the deck. There’s a man comin’ by the name of McNamara. Watch him
clost. I can’t tell you no more. But don’t never let ’em get a grip on
your ground.’ That’s all he’d say.”
“Bah! He’s crazy! I wish somebody would try to jump the Midas; we’d
enjoy the exercise.”
The siren of the _Santa Maria_ interrupted, its hoarse warning throbbing
up the mountain.
“We’ll have to get aboard,” said Dextry.
“Sh-h! What’s that?” the other whispered.
At first the only sound they heard was a stir from the deck of the
steamer. Then from the water below them came the rattle of rowlocks and
a voice cautiously muffled.
“Stop! Stop there!”
A skiff burst from the darkness, grounding on the beach beneath. A
figure scrambled out and up the ladder leading to the wharf. Immediately
a second boat, plainly in pursuit of the first one, struck on the beach
behind it.
As the escaping figure mounted to their level the watchers perceived
with amazement that it was a young woman. Breath sobbed from her lungs,
and, stumbling, she would have fallen but for Glenister, who ran forward
and helped her to her feet.
“Don’t let them get me,” she panted.
He turned to his partner in puzzled inquiry, but found that the old man
had crossed to the head of the landing ladder up which the pursuers were
climbing.
“Just a minute--you there! Back up or I’ll kick your face in.” Dextry’s
voice was sharp and unexpected, and in the darkness he loomed tall and
menacing to those below.
“Get out of the way. That woman’s a runaway,” came from the one highest
on the ladder.
“So I jedge.”
“She broke qu--”
“Shut up!” broke in another. “Do you want to advertise it? Get out of
the way, there, ye damn fool! Climb up, Thorsen.” He spoke like a bucko
mate, and his words stirred the bile of Dextry.
Thorsen grasped the dock floor, trying to climb up, but the old miner
stamped on his fingers and the sailor loosened his hold with a yell,
carrying the under men with him to the beach in his fall.
“This way! Follow me!” shouted the mate, making up the bank for the
shore end of the wharf.
“You’d better pull your freight, miss,” Dextry remarked; “they’ll be
here in a minute.”
“Yes, yes! Let us go! I must get aboard the _Santa Maria_. She’s leaving
now. Come, come!”
Glenister laughed, as though there were a humorous touch in her remark,
but did not stir.
“I’m gettin’ awful old an’ stiff to run,” said Dextry, removing his
mackinaw, “but I allow I ain’t too old for a little diversion in the way
of a rough-house when it comes nosin’ around.” He moved lightly, though
the girl could see in the half-darkness that his hair was silvery.
“What do you mean?” she questioned, sharply.
“You hurry along, miss; we’ll toy with ’em till you’re aboard.” They
stepped across to the dock-house, backing against it. The girl followed.
Again came the warning blast from the steamer, and the voice of an
officer:
“Clear away that stern line!”
“Oh, we’ll be left!” she breathed, and somehow it struck Glenister that
she feared this more than the men whose approaching feet he heard.
“_You_ can make it all right,” he urged her, roughly. “You’ll get hurt
if you stay here. Run along and don’t mind us. We’ve been thirty days on
shipboard, and were praying for something to happen.” His voice was
boyishly glad, as if he exulted in the fray that was to come; and no
sooner had he spoken than the sailors came out of the darkness upon
them.
During the space of a few heart-beats there was only a tangle of
whirling forms with the sound of fist on flesh, then the blot split up
and forms plunged outward, falling heavily. Again the sailors rushed,
attempting to clinch. They massed upon Dextry only to grasp empty air,
for he shifted with remarkable agility, striking bitterly, as an old
wolf snaps. It was baffling work, however, for in the darkness his blows
fell short or overreached.
Glenister, on the other hand, stood carelessly, beating the men off as
they came to him. He laughed gloatingly, deep in his throat, as though
the encounter were merely some rough sport. The girl shuddered, for the
desperate silence of the attacking men terrified
[Illustration: “WHAT I WANT--I TAKE,” AND THEN, TURNING, HE KISSED HER
SOFTLY, FIERCELY, FULL UPON THE LIPS
[See p. 32]
her more than a din, and yet she stayed, crouched against the wall.
Dextry swung at a dim target, and, missing it, was whirled off his
balance. Instantly his antagonist grappled with him, and they fell to
the floor, while a third man shuffled about them. The girl throttled a
scream.
“I’m goin’ to kick ’im, Bill,” the man panted hoarsely. “Le’ me fix
’im.” He swung his heavy shoe, and Bill cursed with stirring eloquence.
“Ow! You’re kickin’ me! I’ve got ’im, safe enough. Tackle the big un.”
Bill’s ally then started towards the others, his body bent, his arms
flexed yet hanging loosely. He crouched beside the girl, ignoring her,
while she heard the breath wheezing from his lungs; then silently he
leaped. Glenister had hurled a man from him, then stepped back to avoid
the others, when he was seized from behind and felt the man’s arms
wrapped about his neck, the sailor’s legs locked about his thighs. Now
came the girl’s first knowledge of real fighting. The two spun back and
forth so closely entwined as to be indistinguishable, the others holding
off. For what seemed many minutes they struggled, the young man striving
to reach his adversary, till they crashed against the wall near her and
she heard her champion’s breath coughing in his throat at the tightening
grip of the sailor. Fright held her paralyzed, for she had never seen
men thus. A moment and Glenister would be down beneath their stamping
feet--they Would kick his life out with their heavy shoes. At thought of
it, the necessity of action smote her like a blow in the face. Her
terror fell away, her shaking muscles stiffened, and before realizing
what she did she had acted.
The seaman’s back was to her. She reached out and gripped him by the
hair, while her fingers, tense as talons, sought his eyes. Then the
first loud sound of the battle arose. The man yelled in sudden terror;
and the others as suddenly fell back. The next instant she felt a hand
upon her shoulder and heard Dextry’s voice.
“Are ye hurt? No? Come on, then, or we’ll get left.” He spoke quietly,
though his breath was loud, and, glancing down, she saw the huddled form
of the sailor whom he had fought.
“That’s all right--he ain’t hurt. It’s a Jap trick I learned. Hurry up!”
They ran swiftly down the wharf, followed by Glenister and by the groans
of the sailors in whom the lust for combat had been quenched. As they
scrambled up the _Santa Maria’s_ gang-plank, a strip of water widened
between the boat and the pier.
“Close shave, that,” panted Glenister, feeling his throat gingerly, “but
I wouldn’t have missed it for a spotted pup.”
“I’ve been through b’iler explosions and snow-slides, not to mention a
triflin’ jail-delivery, but fer real sprightly diversions I don’t recall
nothin’ more pleasin’ than this.” Dextry’s enthusiasm was boylike.
“What kind of men are you?” the girl laughed nervously, but got no
answer.
They led her to their deck cabin, where they switched on the electric
light, blinking at each other and at their unknown guest.
They saw a graceful and altogether attractive figure in a trim, short
skirt and long, tan boots. But what Glenister first saw was her eyes;
large and gray, almost brown under the electric light. They were active
eyes, he thought, and they flashed swift, comprehensive glances at the
two men. Her hair had fallen loose and crinkled to her waist, all
agleam. Otherwise she showed no sign of her recent ordeal.
Glenister had been prepared for the type of beauty that follows the
frontier; beauty that may stun, but that has the polish and chill of a
new-ground bowie. Instead, this girl with the calm, reposeful face
struck a note almost painfully different from her surroundings,
suggesting countless pleasant things that had been strange to him for
the past few years.
Pure admiration alone was patent in the older man’s gaze.
“I make oration,” said he, “that you’re the gamest little chap I ever
fought over, Mexikin, Injun, or white. What’s the trouble?”
“I suppose you think I’ve done something dreadful, don’t you?” she said.
“But I haven’t. I had to get away from the _Ohio_ to-night for--certain
reasons. I’ll tell you all about it to-morrow. I haven’t stolen
anything, nor poisoned the crew--really I haven’t.” She smiled at them,
and Glenister found it impossible not to smile with her, though dismayed
by her feeble explanation.
“Well, I’ll wake up the steward and find a place for you to go,” he said
at length. “You’ll have to double up with some of the women, though;
it’s awfully crowded aboard.”
She laid a detaining hand on his arm. He thought he felt her tremble.
“No, no! I don’t want you to do that. They mustn’t see me to-night. I
know I’m acting strangely and all that, but it’s happened so quickly I
haven’t found myself yet. I’ll tell you to-morrow, though, really. Don’t
let any one see me or it will spoil everything. Wait till to-morrow,
please.”
She was very white, and spoke with eager intensity.
“Help you? Why, sure Mike!” assured the impulsive Dextry, “an’, see
here, Miss--you take your time on explanations. We don’t care a cuss
what you done. Morals ain’t our long suit, ’cause ‘there’s never a law
of God or man runs north of Fifty-three,’ as the poetry man remarked,
an’ he couldn’t have spoke truer if he’d knowed what he was sayin’.
Everybody is privileged to ‘look out’ his own game up here. A square
deal an’ no questions asked.”
She looked somewhat doubtful at this till she caught the heat of
Glenister’s gaze. Some boldness of his look brought home to her the
actual situation, and a stain rose in her cheek. She noted him more
carefully; noted his heavy shoulders and ease of bearing, an ease and
looseness begotten of perfect muscular control. Strength was equally
suggested in his face, she thought, for he carried a marked young
countenance, with thrusting chin, aggressive thatching brows, and mobile
mouth that whispered all the changes from strength to abandon. Prominent
was a look of reckless energy. She considered him handsome in a heavy,
virile, perhaps too purely physical fashion.
“You want to stowaway?” he asked.
“I’ve had a right smart experience in that line,” said Dextry, “but I
never done it by proxy. What’s your plan?”
“She will stay here to-night,” said Glenister quickly. “You and I will
go below. Nobody will see her.”
“I can’t let you do that,” she objected. “Isn’t there some place where I
can hide?” But they reassured her and left.
When they had gone, she crouched trembling upon her seat for a long
time, gazing fixedly before her. “I’m afraid!” she whispered; “I’m
afraid. What am I getting into? Why do men look so at me? I’m
frightened. Oh, I’m sorry I undertook it.” At last she rose wearily. The
close cabin oppressed her; she felt the need of fresh air. So, turning
out the lights, she stepped forth into the night. Figures loomed near
the rail and she slipped astern, screening herself behind a life-boat,
where the cool breeze fanned her face.
The forms she had seen approached, speaking earnestly. Instead of
passing, they stopped abreast of her hiding-place; then, as they began
to talk, she saw that her retreat was cut off and that she must not
stir.
“What brings her here?” Glenister was echoing a question of Dextry’s.
“Bah! What brings them all? What brought ‘the Duchess,’ and Cherry
Malotte, and all the rest?”
“No, no,” said the old man. “She ain’t that kind--she’s too fine, too
delicate--too pretty.”
“That’s just it--too pretty! Too pretty to be alone--or anything except
what she is.”
Dextry growled sourly. “This country has plumb ruined you, boy. You
think they’re all alike--an’ I don’t know but they are--all but this
girl. Seems like she’s different, somehow--but I can’t tell.”
Glenister spoke musingly:
“I had an ancestor who buccaneered among the Indies, a long time
ago--so I’m told. Sometimes I think I have his disposition. He comes and
whispers things to me in the night. Oh, he was a devil, and I’ve got his
blood in me--untamed and hot--I can hear him saying something
now--something about the spoils of war. Ha, ha! Maybe he’s right. I
fought for her to-night--Dex--the way he used to fight for his
sweethearts along the Mexicos. She’s too beautiful to be good--and
‘there’s never a law of God or man runs north of Fifty-three.’”
They moved on, his vibrant, cynical laughter stabbing the girl till she
leaned against the yawl for support.
She held herself together while the blood beat thickly in her ears, then
fled to the cabin, hurling herself into her berth, where she writhed
silently, beating the pillow with hands into which her nails had bitten,
staring the while into the darkness with dry and aching eyes.