Sam Kirby's outfit was one of the largest, one of the costliest, and
one of the most complete that had ever been landed on the Dyea beach,
for Kirby was a man who did things in a large way. He was a plunger; he
had long since become case-hardened to risks and he knew how to weigh
probabilities; hence the fact that he had staked his all upon one throw
did not in the least disturb him. Many a time he had done the same and
the dice had never failed to come out for him. Possessing a wide
practical knowledge of new countries, he had shrewdly estimated the
Klondike discovery at its true worth and had realized that the
opportunity for a crowning triumph, a final clean-up, had come his way.
This accounted for the energetic manner in which he had set about
improving it.
Most men are successful in direct proportion to their ability to select
and retain capable assistants. Fortune had favored Sam Kirby by
presenting him with a daughter whose caution and good sense admirably
supplemented his own best qualities, and he was doubly blessed in
possessing the intense, nay, the ferocious, loyalty of one Danny Royal,
a dependable retainer who had graduated from various minor positions
into a sort of castellan, an Admirable Crichton, a good left hand to
replace that missing member which Kirby had lost during the white-hot
climax of a certain celebrated feud--a feud, by the way, which had
added a notch to the ivory handle of Sam's famous six-shooter. This
Danny Royal was all things. He could take any shift in a
gambling-house, he was an accomplished fixer, he had been a jockey and
had handled the Kirby string of horses. He was a miner of sorts, too,
having superintended the Rouletta Mine during its brief and prosperous
history; as a trainer he was without a peer. He had made book on many
tracks; he it was who had brought out the filly Rouletta, Sam Kirby's
best-known thoroughbred, and "mopped up" with her. Both mine and mare
Danny had named after Kirby's girl, and under Danny's management both
had been quick producers. All in all, Royal was considered by those who
knew him best as a master of many trades and a Jack of none. He was an
irreligious man, but he possessed a code which he lived up to strictly;
epitomized it ran as follows, "Sam Kirby's will be done!" He believed
in but one god, and that Rouletta Kirby was his profit.
Equipped with the allegiance of such a man as Royal, together with
several tons of high-proof spirits, a stock of case-goods and cigars,
some gambling paraphernalia, and a moderate bank roll with which to
furnish the same, old Sam felt safe in setting out for any country
where gold was mined and where the trails were new.
Of course he took his daughter with him. Sooner than leave her behind
he would have severed his remaining hand. Rouletta and Agnes, they
constituted the foundation upon which the Kirby fortunes rested, they
were the rocks to which Sam clung, they were his assets and his
liabilities, his adjuncts and his adornments. Agnes was his gun.
Having seen his freight safely ashore, Kirby left Royal in charge of
it, first impressing upon him certain comprehensive and explicit
instructions; then he and Rouletta and Agnes went up the trail and over
the Chilkoot. Somehow, between the three of them, they intended to have
a scow built and ready when Danny landed the last pound of merchandise
at Linderman.
Mr. Royal was an energetic little person. He began an immediate hunt
for packers, only to discover that another outfit was ahead of his and
that no men were immediately available. He was resourceful, he was in
the habit of meeting and overcoming obstacles, hence this one did not
greatly trouble him, once he became acquainted with the situation.
Two days and nights enabled the Countess Courteau to strip the Northern
Hotel, to assemble the movable appurtenances thereto, and to pack them
into boxes, bales, and bundles, none of which weighed more than one
hundred pounds. This lapse of time likewise enabled the Indians whom
Pierce had hired to finish their contracts and return to the coast. In
spite of the appalling amount of freight, Pierce believed he had enough
men to move it in two trips, and when the hour came to start the
Countess complimented him upon his thorough preparations. As swiftly as
might be he formed his packers in line, weighed their burdens, and sent
them on their journey. These preparations occasioned much confusion and
a considerable crowd assembled. Among the onlookers was a bright-eyed,
weazened little man who attached himself to the chief and engaged him
in conversation.
When the last burden-bearer had departed the Countess directed Lucky
Broad and Kid Bridges to stay in the hotel and stand guard over the
remainder of her goods.
"Take six-hour shifts," she told them. "I'll hold you responsible for
what's here."
"It's as safe as wheat," Broad assured her.
"I'll camp at the Scales with the stuff that has gone forward, and
Pierce will bring the Indians back."
"D'you think you can ride herd on it?" Bridges inquired. "I understand
there's a lawless element at large."
The Countess smiled. "I'm sort of a lawless element myself when I
start," she said. Her eyes twinkled as she measured Mr. Bridges' burly
proportions. "You're going to miss your alfalfa bed before I get you to
Linderman."
The Kid nodded seriously. "I know," said he. "Serves me right for
quittin' a profession for a trade, but I got to look over this Dawson
place. They say it's soft pickin'. Lucky is taking his stock in trade
along, all three of 'em, so maybe we'll tear off a penny or two on the
way."
Pierce's pack consisted of a tent for the Countess, some bedding, and
food; with this on his back he and his employer set out to overtake
their train. This they accomplished a short distance below the first
crossing of the river. Already the white packers, of whom there were
perhaps a score, had drawn together; the Indians were following them in
a long file. Having seen his companion safely across the stream, Pierce
asked her, somewhat doubtfully:
"Do you think Broad and his partner are altogether trustworthy?"
"Nobody is that," she told him. "But they're at least intelligent. In
this kind of a country I prefer an intelligent crook to an honest fool.
Most people are honest or dishonest when and as they think it is to
their advantage to be so. Those men want to get to Dawson, and they
know the Police would never let them across the Line. I'm their only
chance. They'll stand assay."
It was mid-forenoon when the Countess halted Pierce, who was a short
distance ahead of her, saying: "Wait! Didn't you hear somebody calling
us?"
They listened. They were about to move onward when there came a faint
hallo, and far down the trail behind them they saw a figure
approaching. After a moment of scrutiny Pierce declared:
"Why, it's Broad!"
"Something has happened!" The Countess stepped upon a fallen log and
through her cupped palms sent forth an answering call. Mr. Broad waved
his hat and broke into a run. He was wet with sweat, he was muddy and
out of breath, when he finally overtook them.
"Whew!" he panted. "Thought I'd never run you down ... Well, set
yourselves."
"What's wrong?" demanded the woman.
"Plenty. You've been double-crossed, whip-sawed. Your noble red men
have quit you; they dumped your stuff at the river and made a deal at
double rates to move Sam Kirby's freight. They're back in Dyea now, the
whole works."
The Countess Courteau exploded with a man's oath. Her face was purple;
her eyes were blazing.
"Danny Royal, Kirby's man, done it. Sam's gone on to Linderman to build
a boat. I saw Danny curled up on the chief's ear while you were
loading. After you'd gone him and the old pirate followed. Me 'n'
Bridges never thought anything about it until by and by back came the
whole party, empty. Danny trooped 'em down to the beach and begun
packin' 'em. I know him, so I asked him what the devil. 'Hands off!'
says he. 'Sam Kirby's got a rush order in ahead of yours, and these
refreshments is going through by express. I've raised your ante. Money
no object, understand? I'll boost the price again if I have to, and
keep on boosting it.' Then he warned me not to start anything or he'd
tack two letters onto the front of my name. He'd do it, too. I took it
on the run, and here I am."
"Sam Kirby, eh?" The Countess' flaming rage had given place to a cool,
calculating anger.
Pierce protested violently. "I hired those Indians. We agreed on a
price and everything was settled."
"Well, Danny unsettled it. They're workin' for him and he intends to
keep 'em."
"What about our white packers?" the woman inquired of Broad.
"They must have crossed before Danny caught up, or he'd have had them,
too. 'Money no object,' he said. I'm danged if I'd turn a trick like
that."
"Where's our stuff?"
"At the Crossing."
The Countess turned back down the trail and Pierce followed her. "I'll
settle this Royal," he declared, furiously.
"Danny's a bad boy," Lucky Broad warned, falling into step. "If old Sam
told him to hold a buzz-saw in his lap he'd do it. Maybe there wouldn't
be much left of Danny, but he'd of hugged it some while he lasted."
Little more was said during the swift return to the river. It was not a
pleasant journey, for the trail was miserable, the mud was deep, and
there was a steady upward flow of traffic which it was necessary to
stem. There were occasional interruptions to this stream, for here and
there horses were down and a blockade had resulted. Behind it men lay
propped against logs or tree-trunks, resting their tired frames and
listening apathetically to the profanity of the horse-owners. Rarely
did any one offer to lend a helping hand, for each man's task was equal
to his strength. In one place a line of steers stood belly deep in the
mire, waiting the command to plow forward.
Broken carts, abandoned vehicles of various patterns, lined the way;
there were many swollen carcasses underfoot, and not infrequently
pedestrians crossed mud-holes by stepping from one to another, holding
their breaths and battling through swarms of flies. Much costly
impedimenta strewed the roadside--each article a milestone of despair,
a monument to failure. There were stoves, camp furniture, lumber,
hardware, boat fittings. The wreckage and the wastage of the stampede
were enormous, and every ounce, every dollar's worth of it, spoke
mutely of blasted hopes. Now and then one saw piles of provisions, some
of which had been entirely abandoned. The rains had ruined most of them.
When the Countess came to her freight she paused. "You said Royal was
loading his men when you left?" She faced Broad inquiringly.
"Right!"
"Then he'll soon be along. We'll wait here." Of Phillips she asked, "Do
you carry a gun?"
Pierce shook his head. "What are you going to do?" He could see that
she was boiling inwardly, and although his own anger had increased at
every moment during the return journey, her question caused him genuine
apprehension.
Avoiding a direct answer, the woman said: "If Royal is with the
Indians, you keep your eye on him. I want to talk to them."
"Don't inaugurate any violent measures," Mr. Broad cautioned,
nervously. "Danny's a sudden sort of a murderer. Of course, if worse
comes to worst, I'll stick, but--my rating in the community ain't A 1.
There's a lot of narrow-minded church members would like to baptize me
at high tide. As if that would get their money back!"
A suggestion of a smile crept to the Countess' lips and she said, "I
knew you'd stick when I hired you." Then she seated herself upon a box.
Danny Royal did accompany his packers. He did so as a precaution
against precisely such a coup as he himself had engineered, and in
order to be doubly secure he brought the head Indian with him. The old
tribesman had rebelled mildly, but Royal had been firm, and in
consequence they were the first two to appear when the procession came
out of the woods.
The chief halted at sight of Phillips, the man who had hired him and
his people, but at a word from Royal he resumed his march. He averted
his eyes, however, and he held his head low, showing that this
encounter was not at all to his liking. Royal, on the contrary, carried
off the meeting easily. He grinned at Lucky Broad and was about to pass
on when the Countess Courteau rose to her feet and stepped into the
trail.
"Just a minute!" she said. Of Royal's companion she sternly demanded,
"What do you mean by this trick?"
The old redskin shot her a swift glance; then his face became
expressionless and he gazed stolidly at the river.
"What do you mean?" the woman repeated, in a voice quivering with fury.
"Him people--" the chief began, but Royal spoke for him. Removing his
hat, he made a stiff little bow, then said, courteously enough:
"I'm sorry to hold you up, ma'am, but--"
"You're not holding me up; I'm holding you up," the woman broke in.
"What do you take me for, anyhow?" She stared at the white man so
coldly, there was such authority and such fixity of purpose in her tone
and her expression, that his manner changed.
"I'm on orders," said he. "There's no use to argue. I'd talk plainer to
you if you was a man."
But she had turned her eyes to the chief again. "You lying scoundrel!"
she cried, accusingly. "I made a straight deal with you and your people
and I agreed to your price. I'm not going to let you throw me down!"
The wooden-faced object of her attack became inexplicably stupid; he
strove for words. "Me no speak good," he muttered. "Me no savvy--"
"Perhaps you'll savvy this." As the Countess spoke she took from her
pocket a short-barreled revolver, which she cocked and presented in a
capable and determined manner so close to the old native's face that he
staggered backward, fending off the attack. The woman followed him.
"Look here!" Danny Royal exploded. He made a movement with his right
hand, but Pierce Phillips and Lucky Broad stepped close to him. The
former said, shortly:
"If you make a move I'll brain you!"
"That's me," seconded Mr. Broad. "Lift a finger, Danny, and we go to
the mat."
Royal regarded the two men searchingly. "D'you think I'll let you
people stick me up?" he queried.
"You're stuck up!" the Countess declared, shortly. "Make sure of
this--I'm not bluffing. I'll shoot. Here--you!" she called to one of
the packers at the rear of the line who had turned and was making off.
"Get back where you were and stay there." She emphasized this command
with a wave of her weapon and the Indian obeyed with alacrity. "Now
then, Mr. Royal, not one pound of Sam Kirby's freight will these people
carry until mine is over the pass. I don't recognize you in this deal
in any way. I made a bargain with the chief and I'll settle it with
him. You keep out. If you don't, my men will attend to you."
It was surprising what a potent effect a firearm had upon the aged
shaman. His mask fell off and his knowledge of the English language was
magically refreshed. He began a perfectly intelligible protest against
the promiscuous display of loaded weapons, particularly in crowded
localities. He was a peaceful man, the head of a peaceful people, and
violence of any sort was contrary to his and their code. "This was no
way in which to settle a dispute--"
"You think not, eh? Well, it's my way," stormed the Countess. "I'll
drop the first man who tries to pass. If you think I won't, try me. Go
ahead, try me!" Mr. Royal undertook to say something more, but without
turning her head the woman told Phillips, "Knock him down if he opens
his mouth."
"WILL I?" Pierce edged closer to his man, and in his face there was a
hunger for combat which did not look promising to the object of his
attentions.
Lucky Broad likewise discouraged the ex-jockey by saying, "If you call
her hand, Danny, I'll bust you where you're biggest."
The Countess still held the muzzle of her revolver close to the chief's
body. Now she said, peremptorily: "You're going to end this joke right
now. Order their packs off, QUICK!"
This colloquy had been short, but, brief as the delay had been, it had
afforded time for newcomers to arrive. Amazed at the sight of a raging
woman holding an army of red men at bay, several "mushers" dropped
their burdens and came running forward to learn the meaning of it. The
Countess explained rapidly, whereupon one exclaimed:
"Go to it, sister!"
Another agreed heartily. "When you shoot, shoot low. We'll see you
through."
"I don't need any assistance," she told them. "They'll keep their
agreement or they'll lose their head man. Give the word, Chief."
The old redskin raised his voice in expostulation, but one of the
late-comers broke in upon him:
"Aw, shut up, you robber! You're gettin' what you need."
"I'm going to count three," the woman said, inflexibly. Her face had
grown very white; her eyes were shining dangerously. "At four I shoot.
One! Two--!"
The wrinkled Indian gave a sign; his tribesmen began to divest
themselves of their loads.
"Pile it all up beside the trail. Now get under my stuff and don't
let's have any more nonsense. The old price goes and I sha'n't raise it
a penny." Turning to Danny Royal, she told him: "You could have put
this over on a man, but women haven't any sense. I haven't a bit. Every
cent I own is tied up in this freight and it's going through on time. I
think a lot of it, and if you try to delay it again I'm just foolish
enough to blow a hole in this savage--and you, too. Yes, and a miners'
meeting would cheer me for doing it."
There was a silence; then Mr. Royal inquired: "Are you waiting for me
to speak? Well, all I've got to say is if the James boys had had a
sister they'd of been at work yet. I don't know how to tackle a woman."
"Are you going to keep hands off?"
"Sure! I'm licked. You went about it in the right way. You got me tied."
"I don't know whether you're lying or not. But just to make sure I'm
going to have Lucky walk back to town with you to see that you don't
get turned around."
Danny removed his hat and made a sweeping bow; then he departed in
company with his escort. The Indians took up those burdens which they
had originally shouldered, and the march to the Chilkoot was resumed.
Now, however, the Countess Courteau brought up the rear of the
procession and immediately in advance of her walked the head man of the
Dyea tribe.