GRAFT
John and his fellow prospector were working with hammer and drill on
their quartz claims, three weeks after they had staked them, when Hugh
Spencer and Corte paid them a first visit. Hugh scrutinized the quartz
his friends had mined.
"Well, this is poverty rock, for sure; why don't you quit it?"
"That's what we've been thinking lately," George confessed; "but what
shall we do--go to work for wages?"
"Better earn ten dollars a day than get nothing here after blowing in
your money buying grub and powder; but why not take a chance in the new
stampede to Australia Creek, that runs into Dominion Creek on the Indian
River side of the Divide? That's what we hunted you up for."
John and George gazed at one another. Not a word was said. John walked
to the tent and began taking it down. Four packs were made of the camp
and the equipment, and the party, well-loaded, returned to Dawson. So
John passed from a place of many dreams.
Hugh had already made his plans.
"Australia Creek is already taken up," he said, "and, besides, it is too
far away. It's two days' trip out there, about sixty miles. My idea is
to hunt up a creek for ourselves. I hear the grafters in the Gold
Commissioner's office already refuse applications on the grounds that
the creek is all applied for. There was some sort of a row in the office
when the discoverers came in to record. Things is getting pretty bad
when even a discoverer is refused a record!"
"He, he! it's about time for Uncle Sam to come along," chaffed Frank,
exploiting once more his set theory.
The party reached the home-camp, deposited their loads, and passed on
into the town to make purchases for their projected trip. As they passed
up the main street they saw a crowd collected, yelling itself hoarse.
Revolvers were being fired in the air, and a frenzy of passion seemed to
govern a number of individuals. A man, wild of eye, and with a
disordered beard, came running down the street.
" ... man Dooey (Dewey) has knocked hell out of the Spaniards at
Manilla!" he shouted.
Frank gave a cock-crow, and was off at a dive into the crowd, where a
man, standing on a pile of lumber, was reading a newspaper. He would
read a line, then yell and wave the paper over his head. He would again
and again return to the headlines and shout them out. "Biggest sea
battle since Trafalgar!"--yells--cheers--revolver shots!--"Dooey ranks
with Nelson!"--more uproar!--"Rebels cut the cables, but the
_Eye-Opener_ gets account by special dispatch boat!"
When exhaustion had overtaken the first reader another took his place,
till the owner of the newspaper was inspired to claim it and cry,
"To the Pioneer Hall, boys, and hear the full account of the biggest sea
fight that was ever pulled off!--admission only one dollar."
It is said that the celebration of Admiral Dewey's victory at Manilla
caused the dogs in Dawson, numbering many thousands, to leave for the
hills and stay there for the space of three days!
Having bought the supplies, the next problem before the companions was
to find Frank. They entered the Borealis: he was not there. Hugh
suggested that his two companions should wait in the saloon while he
sought the truant in other places of revelry. They remained, glad to
sit, watch, and smoke, in the shaded comfort of a curtained recess.
Presently a man of giant heavy figure, with face coarse and brutal in
every line, stalked into the motley crowd. His massive forehead
suggested a power of brain; while his lower face showed the lines of a
masterful spirit. A part of his left ear was missing; and, from the size
and shape of the cut, one could readily believe the popular legend that
this disfigurement had been gained in a camp brawl, and was caused by
another man's teeth! To complete this awesome personality, there was a
cast in one eye.
A whisper went through the crowd--"Poo-Bah!"
This, then, was the prince of grafters, the all-powerful of that region.
As Poo-Bah walked towards the dancers every eye was on him; and if any
face denoted anything save disgust and loathing, it was fear. A girl
slid up to him and said, in a tone of confident familiarity, "Hullo!
Poo-Bah. How's my baby to-night?"
"I told you not to call me that!" he answered fiercely.
"What--baby?"
"No, Poo-Bah!"
"That's what they call you," she said with a strange affectation of
simplicity.
"Well, they won't make friends with me by doing so," he boomed, "and I'm
a pretty good friend to have."
"Ain't you going to buy the wine?"
"I suppose so; but ain't you got that thirst of yours wet up yet?"
"I've got to live."
Just then Poo-Bah and the girl, popularly known as "Round-Eyes," were
joined by two men. One was a strong big fellow with a bronzed face, who
had been a master-mariner. The other was Hardman, the record clerk of
the Gold Commissioner's office, evil-looking and a weakling. His small
black eyes were watery.
"Hullo, fellows! The lady has suggested wine. Will you help us clean up
a bottle or two?"
"Sure thing!" replied the "Cap."
Hardman was glad to agree. His eyes were watching the face of his lord,
with the same expression as shines in the eyes of a hungry cur watching
his master feast. Both the Cap and he had tales of woe to tell: their
troubles lay sore upon them.
The party entered the booth against which John and George were sitting.
As they entered and seated themselves, the two friends could hear their
voices through the hangings. At first there was nothing in the words
they spoke that their brazen natures would not have willingly advanced
to all the world--at least, to all Dawson's world; but later the wine
made them forget. They had not realized that the wall of their
compartment was only a blanket.
"Two bottles of wine!" Poo-Bah demanded. The waiter brought the bottles
and glasses, and Poo-Bah signed the "tab."
"Now you pay that tab, or I don't get no percentage," said the girl.
"Suppose I don't pay," answered he: "you know these damn fools from the
creeks will buy all kinds of wine just to have the honour of drinking
with my girl--ain't that right?"
"I guess it is," she answered, with a cold unpleasant laugh. "Because
men are fools makes life easy for you and me--ain't that right?"
"Look here, I've got a kick coming," said the mariner, thumping his knee
with a fist like mahogany.
"What's the matter, Cap?"
"I wrote the doctor to get me appointed as Collector of Royalty."
"You did, sure; and I backed you up: but I heard you got your
appointment in the mail that got in to-day."
"Sure thing, I did."
"Well--what are you growling about? You don't want to be told how to
make a dollar or two on a job like that!"
"It's going all wrong."
"What's the trouble?"
"I went down to see Smoothbore" (Smoothbore was the nickname of the head
of the police), "and told him I had orders for him to put me on
collecting. I guess I may have looked a little bit as if I thought I
owned the earth; but I sure reckoned myself on easy street as soon as I
got collecting! Well, Smoothbore, he sizes me up a bit. I guess he kind
of felt I knew how to take a few ounces out of a poke and make up the
weight in black sand--and then he says: 'I guess I'll send you to
Thistle Creek'--Thistle Creek!--hell! They won't clean up a hundred
dollars in that creek this summer; and if you'll show me how I can work
a graft there, I'll be obliged."
"Anyhow, two hundred and fifty dollars a month will keep you going till
something better turns up."
"Two hundred and fifty dollars a month ain't even a flea-bite, seeing
what it costs to live like a gentleman in Dawson. You can't eat under
ten dollars a day!" His voice faded in a growl. Poo-Bah took up the
running.
"The thing is, we've got to get Smoothbore relieved from command here.
He puts backbone even into Hi-u Bill" (Hi-u Bill was the District
Commissioner). "We've got to get a putty man."
The others agreed cordially. John and his companion, who had before felt
like going, looked at each other, and silently decided to stay.
"What kick have you got, Hardie?" they heard Poo-Bah ask.
"Kick!" whined the little man. "I've got lots of kick. We had a row in
the office to-day."
"I heard something of that. What was the row?"
"Some Australians came in." John and George looked at each other and
grimly smiled. "I sized it up that they had staked something rich. I
tried to tell them that the creek they wanted to record on was all taken
up--intending, of course, to put you in on discovery."
"Yes, yes."
"Well--the cockneys just pulled five guns and said, 'Record those
claims.' I made a break as if to get the books, intending to get out the
back door; but the old man comes out of his office and catches on. He
turns white around the gills, and says, 'Record those claims.' Of
course, I just had to give record!"
"But where does Smoothbore come in?"
"He comes in all right. I'm just from him now. I went down after supper
to see him to find out if an example could not be made of the
cockneys--thinking if we got them on the wood-pile[9] we would have a
chance at their claims after all. He was alone, walking up and down the
mess. 'Sit down,' he says, and I sits. 'What is it?' I had to tell him
the story straight. You see, he is a hard man to lie to, and I knew he
already had the story. After I got down to telling him of the old man
ordering me to record the claims, he says, 'And you recorded them?'
'Yes,' says I. 'The men did not ask you for any money?' 'No.' 'In fact,
they only desired to assist your memory to the point that you had never
before recorded the claims they asked for?' 'I guess so,' says I. 'This
is what you must say if you give evidence against them.' And then I
thinks a bit, and I says, 'You couldn't give them twenty-four hours to
get out of the country, could you?' 'No,' says he; 'if I do anything I
arrest them and bring them to trial, which I will do as soon as you
swear out information.' 'I guess I won't do that,' I says. Now, look
here, Poo-B----, oh, all right, Smoothbore ain't with us, he's against
us, and it's up to you to get him fired." Hardman had ended his long
speech.
[9] In jail.
"It might not be easy," said the heavy man thoughtfully.
"Yes, it will; Laurier will do anything our boss says these days: you
fix it!"
"That's right," the Cap put in. "Hardie's right again!"
"You'd be a long time in Nova Scotia before you'd earn two hundred and
fifty dollars a month! Eh, Cap?" sneered the girl.
"Earn! How much do you earn here? You graft same as the rest of us."
"Quit fighting," Poo-Bah broke in, and their querulous voices
ceased. "Cap, I think I see how you can make a dollar or two: and
you'll be near our friend, Hardie, here; besides being in a position
to pick up information for the benefit of yours truly. I'll see the
Gold Commissioner, and get you put on as special door-keeper instead
of a policeman. Guess your dignity will stand up under this! You
will have the right to let fellows into the office on special
appointment--see?--which will cost a ten or a twenty!"
"Not so bad!" slowly muttered the Cap, while the girl gurgled her
appreciation. "The thing looks to have possibilities, and I guess my
dignity will stand it."
Just then Hugh, with Frank at his heels, came in.
"Wait till I have just one dance," cried Frank, and was off to the room
where music was to be heard. John motioned to Hugh to be still. They
listened eagerly.
"Now, I've got some news--blamed noise those people make!--came in the
mail to-day," went on Poo-Bah. "Orders have come from Ottawa throwing
open the hillside claims of Dominion. I won't mind you fellows getting a
claim or two; but I want to get a bunch."
"You'll get hold of yours before the news is made public," suggested the
Cap.
"No, that won't hardly do," drawled Poo-Bah; "you see there'll be hell
enough raised when it is found I get a bunch of claims; and while Ottawa
is ready enough to take our explanation of things, there is such a thing
as being too coarse, even here--besides, it ain't necessary. No, in a
few days the news will be made public: till then keep your heads shut,
see?"
"We'll trust you to work the graft," said the girl.
"You can certainly rely on me! Now, people, I've got to pull my
freight."
Hugh gripped John's arm, but he released it as he saw the party were
leaving the box. The friends shrank back further into the shadows. When
they were gone he whispered,
"Did you hear that? Dominion hillsides to be thrown open! Some of the
richest ground in the country."
"I heard them talking about grafts, and I heard complaints about
Smoothbore--who ever that may be."
"The Colonel at the Barracks."
"They appear to find him in the way." John hurriedly gave some account
of what they had overheard. Hugh's eyes glistened.
"Sure thing! Smoothbore is in the way. He's straight; but this last
about Dominion is the news. We'll get in on the hillsides of Dominion,
and do our best to hold them."
It was late enough for rest, especially for weary workers such as they:
so they passed through the streets directly for the home-camp. Dawson
was now the home of twenty thousand people, ninety-nine per cent. adult
males. Its streets were a wide range of strange sights and wild scenes.
Its outskirts were of tents, and yet more tents.
They went to bed with the waking dreams of wealth very close to them.
John Berwick, who had some qualms at taking advantage of what he had
overheard, felt it was an unsatisfactory condition of things in which
such a malefactor as Poo-Bah could swagger and flourish.