STRENGTH FROM THE HILLS
The night Siwash Bill and Windy Pete had been foiled in their dastardly
work within Buckskin Dan's cabin, they sat late in the store scheming
for a speedy revenge. They were tigers in human forms, and by the
flickering candle light their faces expressed the rage burning in their
hearts. Oaths of the most blood-curdling nature poured in a sulphurous
stream from their foul mouths. There was nothing about their appearance
to arouse even the slightest feeling of sympathy or approval. Through
years of baseness, guile and debauchery, they had extinguished the
faintest spark of nobleness within their hearts. Subject to no
restraint, free to follow the dictates of their own passions, they found
it now unbearable to be checked in their mad career.
They sat for hours, and the candle spluttered low ere they ceased.
Neither did they see two forms speeding swiftly and quietly from Dan's
cabin to the canoe by the river's bank.
At length Windy Pete yawned, rose and threw himself into a bunk in the
adjoining room, leaving Bill alone with the dying candle. The squaw
man's eyes often turned toward the door as if expecting it to open at
any minute, and that Nadu would enter. But as the night lengthened and
she did not appear, a sigh of relief escaped his lips. He was sure that
she had fulfilled his command, and had sped with the child down-stream.
A sense of elation swept over him as he mused upon the success of his
scheme. How easily he had cleared himself of the troublesome, suspicious
squaw. He had the field to himself now, and there was no one to
interfere with his design upon that woman at Old Meg's. She had repelled
him, it was true, but what of that? There were other ways, and he
thought with satisfaction upon her daily, lonely walk down the trail to
the river. There would be no Nadu prowling around, either. He would have
the beautiful woman to himself, and then he would see if she would scorn
him again. To-morrow she would be there. He would wait no longer. And so
he sat in the darkness, for the light had gone out. That kindly
ministrant had slowly flickered down to nothing, and night mercifully
blotted out the coarse passion-inflamed features of the wretched squaw
man sitting alone in the room.
No sleep came to his eyes, and at the earliest break of day he arose,
lighted the fire and prepared breakfast. Windy Pete still slept on,
unheeding the noise his companion was making. Occasionally the squaw man
went to the door and looked intently toward Buckskin Dan's cabin. The
trapper was an unusually early riser, and when an hour or two had
passed, and no smoke was seen issuing from the stovepipe stuck through
the roof, the squaw man was much surprised. He talked it over with Pete
when he awoke, and together the two watched the cabin for some sign of
life. They waited and watched for the greater part of the morning, and
observing nothing they went over to the building, and looked cautiously
through the small window into the room. Seeing no one, they tried the
door, and found it fastened.
Then from Bill's lips broke an exclamation of triumph.
"They've hiked, Pete! Ha, ha!" he cried. "We've routed the d-- skunks at
last. The place was gittin' too hot fer 'em. Oh, this is a good one.
Say, old man, let's go over to the store an' have a drink on it. That
was the best job we've done in a long time. I didn't think that spyin'
Yellow-leg would show sich a chicken liver so soon. How he did squak
last night when the light went out. Oh, oh, this is rich."
They retraced their steps, and had almost reached the store when their
attention was arrested by the clatter of hoofs some distance away.
Looking around they beheld Shifty Nick tearing down the trail, mounted
upon his lean and wiry cayuse. He reined up close to where they were
standing, with his characteristic brutality and string of oaths.
"Got the dough, Nick?" queried Bill.
"Dough be d--!" was the reply, as the rider leaped to the ground, tore
off saddle and bridle, and turned the much-abused animal loose to seek
for a meal as best it could. "Come inside, and we'll talk it over. I'm
dead beat, an' almost starved."
"They didn't bite," growled Shifty, as he gulped down his food. "How
many times have I got to tell ye that?"
"But didn't ye see anybody?" insisted Bill. "Did no one come near the
place where we ordered the money to be left?"
"Come? No. But I kept well out of sight, an' saw several d-- Yellow-legs
in the distance. They were on the lookout, but I kept close. They
thought somebody'd be squattin' like a fool by the rock, with folded
hands, an' meek eyes, waitin' fer the money. But Shifty knows a thing or
two. Good Lord! How my fingers itched and quivered to draw a bead on
their numbskulls."
"Oh, well, Nick," Bill replied, "don't feel too bad about it. We've got
the kid, an' as that old cuss Si didn't fork out, but set those hounds
of hell on us, it'll be some consolation to make 'im squirm. But I'd
like to see his face when he gits the news of what has happened to his
little tootsy-wootsie boy."
"Where is the kid, anyway?" questioned Nick. "I halted at Old Meg's, an'
she told me the news."
"Ha, ha," and Bill laughed outright. "We've got 'im cinched all right.
He's gone down to the Big Lakes. They'll keep 'im until called fer."
"An' ye sent the gal along to look after 'im, eh?"
"Sartin. I didn't want her pryin' around. She's been somewhat suspicious
of me lately, so I sent her to her own people with the two Injuns who
came spyin' upon Hishu."
"Oh, I don't mean your squaw, Bill. But the gal over yon."
"Why, what about her?" and the squaw man's eyes opened wide in wonder.
"She's gone, too. Haven't ye heard?"
"The divil!" and Bill leaped to his feet. "What are ye givin' us? Who's
stuffed ye with all this nonsense?"
"Ask Old Meg, then. She'll tell ye, fer she's more'n worked up over it;
said that the gal went away with the kid in the canoe. Guess them Big
Lakes must have an eye fer beauty, too, Bill, an' one of 'em needed a
white squaw. Ha, ha, that's a good one."
Siwash Bill hardly heard these closing words. He stood as in a dream. So
she was gone, and his plans were all upset. But why did they take her?
What did it all mean?
"How did Old Meg know of this, Nick?" he hoarsely asked. "We didn't hear
a word."
"Oh, that d-- Yellow-leg told her. He burst into her cabin like a
tornado. His eyes were starin' wild, an' his voice was like a roar of
thunder, so she said, when he asked her about the gal. Where is the cur
now, anyway?"
Siwash Bill was more mystified than ever. He stood looking at Shifty in
an abstracted manner, and then an angry snarl of rage broke from his
lips.
"We're fools, d-- fools!" he cried. "While we've been gloatin' over
Buckskin Dan an' that Yellow-leg, callin' 'em cowards an' all kinds of
names, they've been hikin' after them Injuns to save the boy an' that
gal. Oh, I see it all as plain as day."
The squaw man had been outwitted at his own game. His companions knew
when to be silent, and discreetly left him to his own thoughts. They
sauntered from the building, and discussed the matter outside. Within
the store sat Bill, alone, the very incarnation of baffled rage and
hatred. The day wore on, and he prowled around waiting for something to
happen. Mingled with his rage was a feeling of insecurity. He had
formerly believed that his word was law at Hishu; that his plans could
not be overturned, and that his commands would be obeyed. But his eyes
were being slowly opened. There was some undercurrent which was working
against him. The very air seemed ominous with unforeseen events.
The feeling of dread was deepened when toward evening he saw canoes
gliding down the river, filled with natives. He believed they would stop
at Hishu, but, instead, they pushed steadily on in deep silence. He ran
to the bank of the river, and watched them until they had disappeared
around a bend in the distance. He noted that one craft ran close to the
shore, and a tall, lithe figure stepped lightly in. He could not tell
who this passenger was, but it increased his anxiety. Why had not the
Hishus stopped? What did they mean by going by without a word? Had they,
too, turned against him? He felt that their action had something to do
with the stolen woman and child. But how could they know about it so far
off in the wilderness, while he, only a few hundred yards away, had
been in entire ignorance?
Anxiously now he discussed the whole question with his companions. Would
Dan and the constable return, and the Hishus with them? If so, their
position at the village would be unenviable. Or had the Indians gone
down to meet the Big Lakes? This latter idea gave them some relief.
Anyway, they considered it safer to be prepared, and if the worst came
they could fade away into the wilderness. A couple of cayuses, grazing
in a wild meadow, several miles from Hishu, were caught and brought to
the village to be held in readiness, while packs of food were made up
for a speedy departure. In addition to these precautions Shifty Nick
each day patrolled the river for miles below Hishu. He lived upon the
trail. By day he scanned the river for the slightest object, while at
night his alert ears were strained for the faintest paddle dip. It had
often been said that Shifty could sleep in the saddle, and could see
with his eyes closed.
Days passed and nothing happened. The river gave no sign, and the air
breathed no secrets. But late one afternoon Shifty rode madly into
Hishu, leaped from the cayuse, and burst into the store.
"They're comin'!" he shouted. "Five miles down river."
Siwash Bill dropped the rifle he was cleaning and stared.
"How many?" he gasped. "Injuns, too?"
"No, only one canoe. Injuns nowhere in sight. All whites but one, an'
that's Nadu. Now we've got to act, an' what's yer plan? Are ye goin' to
let 'em git through Hishu?"
"How long 'fore they'll git here, Nick?" questioned the squaw man, who
was now thinking deeply.
"'Bout two hours. Heavy tide that."
"Two hours. It'll be quite dark then," Bill mused, as he glanced toward
the window. "Two hours. Let me see. Thar's Dan; he's a divil, an' the
Yellow-leg's 'bout as bad. The rest'll be easy to handle, eh?"
"What's yer plan, Bill?"
"Listen," and the squaw man leaned over and spoke low. "See? Dead men
tell no tales. Night. Confusion. Cries of fright. River swift. Good
grave, eh? Easy. What? We kin do it. Three to one. It's our only way,
Nick. We'll have to do it later, so might as well settle the job now."
"But what about the Yellow-legs at Big Glen?" questioned Shifty.
"What about 'em? I care not fer the hull bunch. They can't prove
anything. We're desperate men, anyway, so a few lives more or less won't
matter, eh? Now you had better git down-stream early, in case they come
faster'n we expect. I'll be along later, fer I've got some things to
look after around the store. We'll have a big blowout when we git this
affair settled. I'll stand treat to-night, an' a good one it'll be, too.
So ye'd better be off at once."
Slowly the darkness deepened as the squaw man moved around the store. He
felt confident now that his plans would not miscarry. He could trust
his two companions to do the deed from which his cowardly heart shrank.
He had really nothing to detain him, and his excuse of work was only a
weak sham. But he resolved to be near, watching within the shadows, at
the right moment. Occasionally he went to the door to listen, hoping to
hear the report of rifles and the sounds of clamour down-stream. At
last, thinking it about time the canoe should be near, he seized his
cap, and was about to blow out the candle standing on the table, when a
peculiar noise fell upon his ears. He paused and listened. It was the
steady tramp of numerous feet approaching the building. He started, and
his face grew ashy white, for he recognised that sound. The prospectors
and miners had returned from the hills! But why were they coming so
soon? Formerly their arrival had always filled him with joy, for it had
meant big sales, and much drinking. Now, however, it was different. He
did not wish them near at this critical time, and, besides, something
warned him that they had returned for a special purpose.
He glanced quickly around, with the idea of flight, but at that instant
the store door was thrust open with a bang, and a number of men surged
into the room. To the squaw man trembling by the counter they seemed
like a veritable army of giants. And in fact they were splendid types of
men physically. No carpet knights these, but rugged pioneers and
pathfinders, who for long years had followed the lure of gold wherever
it beckoned with its mystic charm.
They entered without a word, and almost filled the store. Their silence
to the shrinking man was most ominous. Why had he remained behind? he
asked himself. Why had he not gone with his companions? He would have
had their assistance at any rate, and here he was alone to face these
men!
"Evenin', men," he at length blurted out. "It's g-good t' see ye. Yer
back early from the hills. Have a drink, eh? Free to all. It's my treat
t'night."
If he thought in this manner to win the good will of these men he was
sadly mistaken. He partly turned toward the black bottles standing on
the shelves, when certain sickening clicks caused him to wheel suddenly
about, and he found his eyes looking straight down the smooth barrels of
a dozen levelled revolvers.
"Fer heaven's sake!" he gasped. "What does this mean? What d'ye want?"
"Throw up your hands," came the stern command. "There, that's better.
Now look here, Bill," and the speaker took a step closer. "Where's that
kid you pinched from Big Glen?"
"K-kid! What kid?"
"Look, none of that. You can't fool with us. We've come too far to
listen to nonsense. So out with it at once."
The squaw man was in a trap, and he knew that to parley was useless.
"He's down river," he muttered. "I don't know whar he is now."
"But ye do know. Ye sent 'im, an' if ye don't cough up at once we'll
leave your d-- carcass here on the floor in the twinkling of an eye.
D'ye hear?"
Siwash Bill heard, and shaking with fear told briefly what he knew.
Muttered oaths and agitated movements greeted this contemptible story.
The speaker lifted his hand for silence.
"You mean, cowardly sneak," he cried, turning to the prisoner. "You
deserve to be tied to a stake and tortured to death. The men here are
just in the right mood for such a job, too. They left their claims,
tramped the whole distance to Hishu, and are hungry enough to be mad for
action."
"No, no, fer God's sake, don't do that!" gasped Bill.
"No, we won't do it just now. We'll reserve that for a little later.
There are two others to be dealt with, and we'll make one job of the
whole nasty affair. So you say Shifty and Windy are lying in wait
down-stream, eh?"
"Yes. They've been thar fer some time."
"Well, then, boys," ordered the speaker, "some stay here, and guard this
cur. The rest of us will step over to the landing. We'd like to have a
hand in that racket. I hope to God we're not too late."
At that instant the faint report of a rifle fell upon their ears. Then
another, and still another. At once a mad rush was made for the door,
while Siwash Bill was left in the safe-keeping of half a dozen
able-bodied prospectors.