TRIBUTE
The demonstration of force, as organized by Berwick, had taken place
according to schedule. The display was plainly seen from the Barracks,
and its intent generally known throughout the town, wherein it became
the one topic of conversation. The dance-halls were but half patronized,
the gambling-tables seemed to have lost their popularity on that
Wednesday night.
Not that any fear was felt. The men of Dawson were generally not of the
fearing type. They were thirsty for news; their interest was so stirred
that they must let off steam by talking.
In the Borealis the woman nicknamed Roundeyes stood apart. Of all the
faces present hers alone showed apprehension, for she had a real regard
for Poo-Bah, the Prince of Grafters, whose domination at last was
threatened.
Suddenly her eyes lit up. A big hulk of a man came stumbling into the
place. Poo-Bah! Her face grew white as she ran up and caught his arm.
"What--what will they do with you?" she asked.
"Nothing, I guess." He laughed in a rambling manner. "What do they want
me for?"
"Some fellow you have done up will take a shot at you now there is no
danger of the yellow-legs!"
Until the present crisis the prestige of the police had been so great
that the possibility of any one seeking and gratifying personal revenge
had never crossed Poo-Bah's mind. What would happen now? With all his
confidence the question asked by the girl would repeat itself. He knew
he was not popular. Many a man owed the wreck of his fortune to him, and
would enjoy a chance of shooting him. His hands clenched for a minute,
but he put the thought away. It was the spirit of the voyageur, the
custom of the country, to brush aside the disagreeable. The thought of
death and of what may come after death was resolutely set aside.
"Oh, hell! Come and have a drink." So he endeavoured to disperse his own
and the woman's fears. She was not so easily satisfied. She caught him
again by the arm, bowed her head against his shoulder, and sobbed,
"Oh, my baby! my baby! Somebody will blow daylight through you!"
Poo-Bah drew his arm roughly from her with the single word "Quit!" and
strode towards a curtained recess, Roundeyes meekly following. In a
minute or two a champagne bottle popped, and there was laughter,
expressing the wild spirits of the underworld.
Meanwhile, on the Dome, John Berwick paced up and down, a prey to
conflicting motives. He was now full in the vortex of civil strife; a
few short days and hostilities in all probability would open. He had no
doubts now as to the spirit to be shown by the Police Commandant.
On Point Lookout sat Constable Hope, with his face towards the Upper
Yukon. To the left he could see the Klondike Valley; to the right were
the Police Barracks, with Dawson beyond them. His back was to the Dome.
He sat still; a project was in his mind; he was thinking hard.
At the same time Smoothbore was in his office with Hi-u Bill, the
Commissioner, and Inspector Herbert. Sergeant Galbraith stood at
attention before them.
"You have ordered your men to be in readiness to fall back upon the
Barracks. The orders for additional commissariat are placed with the
different companies? The men, I suppose, pretty well understand what is
in the wind?"
"Yes, sir," Galbraith answered to every question.
"And the men are in good spirits?"
"I have told them, sir, you intend to fight."
"And how do they seem to take it?"
"One of the fellows said he'd go to hell for you, sir."
"Well, that would seem satisfactory." The Commandant smiled grimly. "Our
best hope is dissension among the rebels, and I have no idea how that
may be brought about. That will do, Sergeant."
After the policeman had left there was silence for some time, which was
at last broken by Hi-u Bill.
"I don't fancy they will do anything to me, and as I'm not called upon
to fight I'm out of it. I am--and I suppose I may say it in modesty--a
bit of a shot; but one has others to consider as well as himself."
The Commissioner was in the habit of spending his afternoons at target
practice, which was not altogether appreciated by those whose business
with him was pressing.
"I'm afraid you are altogether too modest; you know you're a famous
shot."
Under usual circumstances Hi-u Bill was quite ready to receive
compliments on his shooting, but the present circumstances were
extraordinary, and he was undoubtedly perturbed. But the Commandant was
merciless, for he continued,
"Of course, I am letting it be understood that I shall welcome all
volunteers who desire to lend their aid at the present crisis."
"Yes, yes; no doubt there will be many who will avail themselves of the
opportunity." Hi-u Bill was not over enthusiastic as he said this.
"Indeed, I think I could make my friends fairly comfortable under the
circumstances."
"Certainly, quite so. My cabin at the North End is quite comfortable,
and so close under the Dome that they could not shoot at me unless they
came half-way down, in which case they would expose themselves to your
fire. Capital idea that of yours, securing the long range sporting
rifles. I almost feel sorry that I could not be with you here, as well
as at my cabin, just to try a shot or two; but you see I think I had
better stay outside. I have many friends among the old-timers, and
nobody has ever accused me of doing anything serious. I certainly am not
rich on ill-gotten gains." Hi-u Bill rubbed his hands nervously and cast
a look at the Dome.
"Of course if you feel"--Smoothbore was choosing his words--"there is
fear of any of the unsuccessful attributing their failure to you and
wreaking vengeance on you I shall be quite happy to give you our
protection."
"Oh, no, no. I prefer to run my chances outside; really I do."
Herbert, who was distressed equally at the irony of his Chief and the
determined density of the Commissioner, diverted the conversation to
another channel.
"In case of a siege, sir, there will be the question of water supply."
"Yes, I have thought of that. We shall have a supply from the river
before hostilities break out, and after that a well may be sunk in
twenty-four hours; the earth is not frozen here. But then if something
turns up----"
"Something turns up!" ejaculated Hi-u Bill, almost rising from his seat.
"What could turn up? It would take an army eighteen months to get here
across country, even by the Stikeen route; it will be close upon winter
by the time news of this reaches Ottawa, and by the earliest time a
force could be fitted out the Passes would be oceans deep in snow."
"I know--there's the luck of the British Empire!" There was a quiet
smile on Smoothbore's lips. "Something always has turned up to save the
British--except, except in the case of Gordon. That was the exception to
the rule."
There was a sharp knock at the door, and the "Come in" was answered by
Constable Hope--his face flushed. He was evidently very excited. The
idea--on which for long he had been brooding--had come to maturity!
"I have a plan, sir, which will save us, I think. To carry it out I
shall require gold, within limits, but the more the better."
Gold! The Commandant should have large quantities, the proceeds of
royalty collections. Hi-u Bill pricked up his ears, bethought him of the
fact, and asked directly,
"What have you done with all your gold?"
"I've had it buried. The plan of the exact spot will reach the
authorities if we go under. But Forty Mile royalty came in to-day and
has not yet been buried. How much do you want?" he asked. Constable
Hope's heart gave a great leap as he realized he was going to be
trusted.
"At least twenty thousand dollars, sir. Down River gold will do."
"Your plan will take that much?"
"I shall need that much, sir, but shall return it all, or nearly all."
"Very good, here it is." With the words the Commandant took a bag of
gold out of a rough chest and handed it to the policeman.
"Thank you, sir, I----"
"That will do, Hope."
"Very good, sir." With the best salute he was master of the youth left
the office.
Hi-u Bill had both eyes wide open, staring at Smoothbore. "What the
devil----"
"That is just a tribute to the gods; I may not bribe our enemies, but
the fates----"
"A bag of gold you can hardly lift! Why, your man will go down the River
and stay down. You know the Yanks would afford him every protection,
seeing that he stole from our Government."
"He won't steal the gold," replied Smoothbore.
"He won't! How do you know he won't?"
"I know my men!"
An unusual thing had happened. For a private to ask his Commanding
Officer for the loan of twenty thousand dollars in gold, for that
Commanding Officer to entrust it to him for some unexpressed purpose was
strange--but many strange things happen on the frontier, and this was a
time of crisis.