“I see,” Roy mused. “So that’s it? How long ago did this happen?”
“Three months.”
“Man, that’s tough lines!” Roy breathed. “Poor fellow! He’s alone now, is he?”
“I’m with him,” Conroy flung back. “An’ I aims to stay with him, too! Well, I reckon I’d better help with them cows.”
CHAPTER XII
A Crack at Fortune
They were back at the X Bar X again. The cattle had been loaded and sent rumbling toward Chicago. Things were quiet, and the punchers, except those who were riding fence, occupied themselves with jobs about the ranch.
Mr. Manley observed Teddy’s face, took a look at Silent, and said nothing. He knew. And when he saw Teddy and Silent throwing a jackknife into a small ring on the side of the bunk-house, trying to see who could come closest to the center, he grinned widely and said to Mrs. Manley, who stood with him on the porch of the ranch house:
“See it, Barbara? Reckon Teddy’s made a new friend.”
Mrs. Manley smiled and laid a hand on her husband’s arm.
“Bardwell,” she said, “men are inexplicable creatures! Teddy and that other—Silent, they call him—had a fight, didn’t they?”
“And from all accounts it was some scrap! Why?” He was chuckling.
“It seems so strange that it should need that to bring them together. I should think—”
“Now, watch out for that thinkin’ business. People have been known to get headaches that-a-way,” the rancher chuckled again. “A good scrap once in a while is better than a spring tonic. Say, Mother—” his voice became serious—“Teddy and Roy haven’t said much, but I’ve got a hunch they’re hankerin’ for something—or rather, to take a little trip.”
“A trip? Where?”
“Well—” he turned toward her—“if you ask me, I’d say they were achin’ to take a crack at Nugget Camp.”
“The place where that man—Pop’s cousin—was shot? Bardwell, we can’t let them go there!”
“Now, sweetness, you got that wrong!” Mr. Manley protested. “Decker didn’t get shot at the camp. He was ridin’ away from it when he was held up. There’s no real danger. An’ the work here is pretty well under way. It would certainly be a grand experience for the boys.”
Mrs. Manley nodded and smiled.
“If you say so, Bardwell—and they aren’t really children any more, are they?”
“Children!” The long mustache trembled and a twinkle came into the blue eyes. “Children! Well, Mother, if you think they are—but we’ll let that go. Then you don’t mind if I tell them?”
“About Nugget Camp? No, Bardwell, as you say, it will probably be good for them—only I do hope they’ll be careful.”
“Now, Mother, you know they will! Never failed to come through anything they started, did they? You watch ’em carry home a hat full of gold!” He strode down the steps and went toward Teddy and Silent. They heard him coming and turned.
“Where’s Roy?” Mr. Manley asked.
“Helping Pop do something or other,” Teddy replied. Silent stood a bit to one side, his face expressionless.
“I’ve got something to tell him—to tell you, too, for that matter. Things pretty well cleaned up around here?”
“Yes, sir.” Teddy realized that his father knew exactly the condition of the ranch and recognized in the question an implication of his responsibility. Teddy and Roy were the real bosses of the X Bar X. Mr. Manley had put the affairs of the ranch into their hands.
“Well, then, I reckon it’s about time you an’ Roy took a trip, hey?” And Mr. Manley grinned.
“A trip?” Understanding came quickly. “You mean Nugget Camp?”
“I guess you know how much Roy and I would like to try it,” Teddy said eagerly. “But we haven’t said anything—we were needed here.”
“Yea! But now that we’ve got that shipment off, things are easin’ up some. So, if you want to—”
“If we want to! Wait till Roy hears this!” Teddy glanced over toward Silent. “Say, Dad,” he said awkwardly, “could you spare Silent here?”
“Silent?” Mr. Manley gazed at the puncher. “You want to go too?”
“Well, you see it’s this way,” Silent answered uneasily. “I heard there was two fellers hangin’ around Nugget Camp, that—I want to meet.” His voice became tense. “That I want to meet real bad! An’ if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to go along with Teddy an’ Roy, if they go. I’ve a reason.”
Mr. Manley nodded. Roy had told him privately the story of Silent’s recent tragedy, and the man understood and sympathized with the grim puncher.
“I reckon we can fix that,” he said after a moment. “Here’s what I thought. Suppose you, Teddy, an’ Roy an’ Nick make up a party an’ stake a few claims. I can spare you-all, I reckon. Four will be just about right. An’ you can start to-morrow, if you want to.”
“That’s great, Dad!” Teddy exclaimed. “Silent, let’s get Roy.”
The two hurried off, Mr. Manley watching them go. His eyes were tender, his lips half open.
“Teddy,” he muttered, “come back the way you go!” and he went into the house.
When he heard the news, Roy was as excited as his brother. Bug Eye declared that he was going straightway to ask Mr. Manley for time off.
“He don’t need me now,” the puncher from the 8 X 8 declared. “I might just as well go with you fellows. Say, I know what! My boss said I could take a vacation soon, an’ here’s where I take it! I was plannin’ to head for Nugget Camp myself, then when Mr. Ball heard from yore dad, Teddy, he asked me to fill in here, an’ of course I did. But things are easy—lettin’ up. So I can go, me an’ my Tin Lizzie! You wait!”
He ran toward the ranch house to interview Mr. Manley, and returned in five minutes with a broad grin on his face.
“O. K.,” he said loudly. “I’m with you! To-morrow mornin’ early I starts for the 8 X 8 to get an outfit.”
“Say, Bug Eye, while you’re there, ask Jerry Decker a few questions,” Roy suggested. “Where is a good place to locate, and so forth. He ought to know. He was at Nugget Camp nearly two years.”
“An’ get him to tell you how much fun gold minin’ is,” Pop, strolling up at that moment, said dryly. “Let him tell you about the picnic he had!”
“We’re not going for fun,” Teddy asserted. “Anyhow, Pop, you said there was a good chance to get some gold.”
“Oh, I ain’t goin’ back on that. Silent, here, knows somethin’ about minin’. Don’t you, Silent?”
The puncher nodded. “A little,” he said briefly. “I been on a few rushes.”
“Jack Conroy gonna stay here?” Pop asked.
“Yep.” Silent lit a cigarette. “I asked him to. The whole ranch can’t leave.”
“You’re right as rain there,” Pop agreed. “Then it’s you, Teddy, Roy, and Nick?”
“Bug Eye is figuring on coming too,” Teddy said. “Going to bring his flivver—hey, Bug Eye?”
“So that’s why you said you was goin’ back to-morrow,” Pop mused. “All I heard was the part about askin’ Jerry to tell you where to locate. Well, you’ll need all the advice you can get! It’s no joke, livin’ in a minin’ camp. Plenty can happen, an’ then some.”
“Maybe that’s the reason we’re going,” Teddy said, grinning.
“Me, I’m gonna’ get rich!” Bug Eye boasted. “Rich as Creosote. You-all heard of him, ain’t you? He found a whole hill full o’ di’monds!”
“Save it for some cold night at Nugget Camp,” Teddy advised. “We’ll need all the entertainment we can get.”
“Somethin’ tells me you’ll have plenty of entertainment,” Pop grunted. “I gotta be goin’. Got things to do. See you before you leave.”
“Queer cuss,” Silent declared. It was the first observation he had made in some minutes. “Good guy, though!”
“I’ll tell a maverick he is!” Roy agreed. “Pop’s all right. Don’t you forget, Bug Eye, to ask Jerry Decker a few questions. I wouldn’t bother him much if he isn’t feeling all right, but Pop told us he was much better.”
“Sure, I know,” Bug Eye declared. “Leave it to me. Yay boy! Nugget Camp! Gold! By golly, I’m gonna get me three new flivvers!”
“And then retire and live on the fat of the land, I suppose,” Teddy put in. “Anyhow, we’ll take a crack at fortune!”
“Here’s hopin’ she smiles,” the puncher muttered. “In fact, I wouldn’t kick if she grinned wide enough to split her mouth. See you later, boys!”
CHAPTER XIII
Off to Nugget Camp
That evening the sole topic of conversation on the X Bar X was the intended trip to Nugget Camp.
Strangely enough, the fact that Teddy and Roy and a few others were going did not tend to excite the rest of the punchers, or cause them to throw up their jobs and head for the gold fields. They felt, perhaps, that good jobs did not grow on every sagebush, and the reputation of the X Bar X ranch for fair treatment of the hands and for excellent food was known far and wide. Most of the new men decided to stay on, and let those who would test their luck in other lands.
Jack Conroy, when he learned that his partner, Silent, was going, at first declared his intention of accompanying him. But Silent took him to one side, and the result of the conference was that Jack remained at the ranch.
Pop, as garrulous as ever, spent the evening in telling those who would listen of the many times he had participated in gold rushes.
“Course, I knew more about it than most of them waddies,” he would say. “An’ as soon as I see those funny specks of yeller stuff I’d tell ’em to locate there. You bet they did, too.” He would hesitate a moment, and, reaching back, would tap the bunk-house wall. “Some of the rock was as soft as this wood. Softer, some of it.”
“And they found the gold?”
“Well, they did an’ they didn’t. I mind one time—”
But this was too much for his audience. It was the fourth time he had let loose that “Well, they did an’ they didn’t.” The punchers felt justified in ringing down the curtain, which they did by the simple process of tipping over the bench Pop was sitting on.
Teddy and Roy, who had been listening, wandered toward the house.
“I kind of wish he was coming with us,” Teddy chuckled. “Make it a little livelier.”
“He’ll be better on the ranch,” Roy replied. “Dad wants some one he can depend on. Boy, it sure is a grand and glorious feeling to know we’re going to take a crack at gold mining! And something tells me we’re going to be successful, too! Well, let’s see now—a house on Fifth Avenue, New York, a winter place in Florida, a shooting box in Canada for the fall months, a château in France, a—”
“Hey, how many seasons you think the year’s got?”
“Oh, well, personally, I’m going to live right here all year,” Roy said simply. “I just want those things, in case.”
“Uh-huh,” Teddy grunted. “You find the gold first. Baby, I’m tired! Let’s hit the hay. We have plenty to do to-morrow.”
In truth, there was “plenty to do” before the young prospectors could start for Nugget Camp. Bug Eye left early for the 8 X 8, and arranged to meet the others at the new strike within four days. Then Teddy and Roy began their preparations.
There were four of them from the X Bar X going—Teddy and Roy Manley, Nick Looker, and Silent Neville. Silent, who had been mining before, was called into consultation.
“Besides the broncs, we’ll need, say, three mules,” he declared. “That’s for our packs an’ stuff.”
“Going to take sluice-boxes?” Nick asked. Sluice-boxes are troughs, in sections twelve feet long, with screens and retaining cleats over which the gold-bearing material is worked by means of a constantly flowing stream of water.
“No. Not necessary. We can make them when we get there. What we need most are shovels, picks, pans, a few saws, some canned stuff, blankets, lanterns, and—say, what sort of a district is this Nugget Camp? Any timber around? Any water?” Silent inquired.
“Both,” Nick answered. “I rode through the place about eight months ago.”
“O.K. Then that’s settled. Now, how about sleeping? You got any tents?”
“Dad’s got two, I think,” Roy declared. “But they’re not so new.”
“They’ll do, I reckon. Two is better than one big one—easier to put up an’ better sleepin’. Long as we’re takin’ tents, we might as well cart a few folding cots.”
“I bet Dad’s got cots some place around,” Teddy asserted. “He used to do a lot of camping.”
“Then I reckon we’re all fixed up. Where can we get the mules?”
“Slim Bannister’s got a hoss farm ’bout ten miles away,” Nick said. “Got some mules there. He sells pretty cheap.”
After all was decided upon, Mr. Manley looked over the list and went to his office. When he returned he handed Roy a few bills of large denomination.
“Grub stake,” he said casually. “You pay me back when you strike it rich.”
“Right,” Roy answered. Mr. Manley grinned. His son was taking it like a veteran. None of this “thanks, Dad” stuff. All business.
“I suppose we go fifty-fifty?” the ranch owner asked innocently. “I reckon that’s the usual.”
“Sure,” Roy agreed. “Fifty-fifty. You’ll have four times as much as this when we get back.” He stuck the money into his pocket.
Mr. Manley nodded gravely. “Nothin’ like confidence,” he said. “Go ahead now. Don’t let me keep you. When you’re all set, come in an’ say good-bye to your mother an’ me.”
“You bet we will!” the boy exclaimed, relaxing for the moment. “And you know what this means to Teddy and me, Dad. I’m not going to—”
“Get along now,” Mr. Manley interrupted. “They’re waitin’ outside for you!”
He clapped his son on the shoulder and turned to his desk. Roy, head up, his eyes shining, strode toward the door. What a father he had!
Nick rode over to Bannister’s place and bought three mules. The moment he returned with them, the loading began. Mr. Manley considered Silent’s time of employment ended, so the puncher was relieved of all duties on the ranch. He superintended the preparations, as befitted his experience. Nick, while he knew something about mining from hearing the cowboys talk of it, had never actually lived in a mining camp.
At last the hour for departure came. The brothers, mounted on Star and Flash, were in the lead. Behind them came the three mules, well laden. Then Nick and Silent brought up the rear. It was a two or three days’ journey to Nugget Camp. Each man had a canteen of water on his saddle, besides a rifle, and on each belt hung a revolver.
Mr. and Mrs. Manley, Belle Ada, Pop, and Jack Conroy were on hand to see them off. Teddy and Roy had already said their goodbyes to their parents, both being cautioned against “wet feet, sleeping on the ground, and sitting in a draft when overheated” by Mrs. Manley. They grinned, and promised to do their best to obey all instructions.
“Hey, Teddy, bring me back a gold bracelet!” Belle called. “One with my initials on it.”
“Where you think we’re going—shopping?” Teddy replied. “Sure you don’t want a gold watch instead?”
“Bet you bring Curly something,” Belle rejoined mischievously. “All right—you wait! I know somebody who—”
“You’d better go to visit the 8 X 8, and see your friend Doc Ring,” Roy called. “He’s still making calls there, I understand, to treat Jerry Decker. Bet he misses you!”
“We’d better vamoose, after that crack,” Teddy laughed. “Come on, let’s go! So long, people!”
“So long! So long, Silent! Good luck!”
“Good-bye, boys!”
“So long, Dad, Mother! We’ll be rich when we get back!”
“Hey, Pop, you keep my bunk for me!” This from Nick. “An’ get a bushel basket ready to carry my gold in!”
“I got a pint measure that’ll do as well,” Pop replied shortly. “Anyhow, good luck to you.”
Teddy glanced over at Silent. The puncher was gazing straight ahead, as though he heard nothing of what was going on around him.
“What are you planning to do?” Teddy asked.
“Huh? Who, me?” Silent appeared startled. “Oh, you mean if I find gold?” He thought for a moment. “I tell you, boys,” he said finally. “There’s other things besides money in this here world. An’ there’s other things besides gold in a mining camp.” He touched his gun with his hand, then looked at the mules. “Get along there, you!”
CHAPTER XIV
Some Shooting
By eleven o’clock the Manley boys and their companions were twenty miles from the X Bar X, and on the first leg of their journey to Nugget Camp. The day was cool, and the riding was pleasant, even considering the slow pace they had to take on account of the mules. Silent himself seemed more cheerful and talked freely of mining conditions and what they might hope to find at the gold camp.
“Course, it won’t be like a new field. It’s been a mining camp before this, ain’t it?”
“Yes, it has,” Teddy answered. “But those who worked it barely made a living wage. Now that this has happened—”
“It’ll start the fireworks,” Nick drawled. “I reckon we’ll see Gus and the others. Hope so. Gus owes me three bucks.”
“Three bucks will be like nothing to you, once you start picking nuggets off the ground,” Roy laughed. “I understand they charge five dollars for a can of beans.”
“Not me, they won’t,” Nick declared forcibly. “I can get along without beans. Hey!” This to one of the mules. “Think you’re in a peerade? Step along there!”
“Don’t get him excited,” Roy cautioned.
“He’s got our food on his back. Good thing those cans don’t leak.”
“That reminds me—I saw one of ’em with what looked like a hole in it,” Nick said suddenly. “I meant to tell you when we were loadin’, only I forgot. It’s right on top.” He urged his pony close to the mules, and, reaching down, felt with his hand along the side of the bag carrying the canned goods. “Uh-huh! She does!”
“Then let’s get it out,” Roy suggested. He dismounted and carefully untied the bag. The faulty can was near the top, and he found it without much trouble. “Tomatoes,” he said, holding it up, after tying the bag again. “Don’t leak much, though.” He climbed into his saddle. “But I guess it isn’t so good, after air gets to it.”
“You’re right there,” Silent said mildly. “Might as well chuck it away. Let’s see it.”
Roy threw him the can. He looked at it, and nodded.
“Well, it’ll make a good target,” he declared. “O. K.?”
“Go on, pepper it,” Teddy said. “Let’s see what you can do.”
The puncher rode on ahead and hitched up his belt. He held the can in his right hand and drew back his arm.
“Let ’er ride!” Nick shouted.
Silent threw the can into the air. Then, so quickly that the eye could not follow him, he dragged his gun from the holster. The crack of the revolver awoke the echoes. Five times he fired, as fast as his finger could pull the trigger. The can bounded about in the air as though attached to a string.
“Wow!” Teddy gasped. “What a man!”
Silent stared at his smoking gun.
“I may have missed once,” he said casually. “I’ll take a look.”
He slid off his pony and walked to where the can lay.
“Yep,” he said sorrowfully. “Only five holes in it. One of ’em was there before. I missed a shot.”
“Well, for the love of Pete, you grousin’ about missin’ one in five?” Nick exclaimed. “Let’s see the can!”
Silent handed it to him. Nick’s eyes opened wide.
“Five nice, clean holes! Hey, you didn’t miss any! One of yore shots hit the hole that was in it already—it made it bigger! Look!”
Teddy and Roy went closer and gazed at the can. For every hole where the bullets went in, there was a corresponding one in the other side—one with the tin bent inward, one with it bent out—and as Nick had said, there was a hole directly opposite the original perforation.
“Five out of five!” Roy said admiringly. “Say, puncher, where’d you learn to shoot?”
“Didn’t learn. Had it drilled into me.” Silent responded. “My dad—” he stopped, and turned his head away. In a moment he had recovered himself and went on in an even tone: “My pop was one of the best shots in the West. So was my brother. They’re both dead now.”
“Yes, we know,” Roy said quietly. “Conroy told us.”
“He did?” Silent jerked around, his face pale. “I asked him—Well,” and his shoulders sank, “then you know. But it was my trouble, an’ I was aimin’ to keep it to myself. Hang it! For some reason, though, I ain’t sorry that you found out. Funny, that, ain’t it?” His face wore a puzzled look, as a child’s does when it cannot understand some emotion.
Teddy laid a hand on Silent’s shoulder.
“I reckon, Silent, it’s because you know we’re friends of yours,” the boy said. “I’m sorry—and that’s all I can say. If we ever get a chance—”
“Sure, I know,” Silent responded awkwardly. He got back on his horse. “You’re all right. Just my tough luck, that’s all. I got an idea, though. An’ you might as well know that’s the reason I wanted to hit Nugget Camp. I might get a look at a certain two waddies.” His voice grew bitter. “Two waddies who shoot men down in cold blood an’ who sport queer lookin’ guns.”
“Queer looking—” Teddy began, when Roy motioned to him for silence.
The incident served to depress the spirits of the party somewhat, and Nick, realizing this, took the opportunity a jack-rabbit afforded him to lighten their mood.
“Two bits I catch him!” he shouted. “Watch them mules!”
He brought his hand down sharply on his pony’s flank. The rabbit was about a hundred yards ahead, running easily.
“Wow!” Nick yelled. “Let’s go, bronc!”
The bronc went. At least, his head went up and his rear lowered. Nick spread his arms wide and slid gently to the ground.
“Well, you ole leather-bustin’ sidewinder!” Nick exclaimed in pretended anger. “Who told you to do that?”
The others watched him with amusement. A half smile came to Silent’s lips.
“Now look-a-here, you.” Nick went close to his pony and whispered into his ear. The horse nodded several times, aided by Nick’s hand on the bridle.
“Understand now? Then let’s go!”
With a bound Nick landed in the saddle. He yanked off his hat, slapped the pony—and promptly slid again to the ground. By this time the rabbit was miles away.
The horse stood quietly, eyeing his master with a surprised look in his eyes. Nick, from the ground, shook his fist wildly.
“So that’s it, hey? All right, then! All right!”
He leaped to his feet. As a man might toss a bag of meal, so Nick threw himself across the saddle, his arms on one side, his legs on the other. The pony, with a snort, started to run. But not in a straight line. His course was a circle, with the boys in the center. Faster and faster he ran, his master bouncing up and down.
Teddy, Roy, and Silent burst into a roar of laughter.
“Get some glue, Nick!”
“Want a rope?”
“Stick to him, kid!”
“Oh, what a bouncing baby boy!”
But Nick did not stick. The fifth time around he released his hold and catapulted to the ground, landing on his shoulders. The pony stopped stiff-legged, sliding three feet.
Nick rubbed his head, sat up, and stared at the horse, that stood a short distance away.
“Honey!”
The pony moved not.
“Sweetie!”
The horse still stood.
“Snookums!”
No sign from the bronc.
“Black Bottom, you ole, lantern-jawed, hook-eyed, son of a sea-cook, if you don’t trot over here so pronto that yore ears lay back I’ll knock yore fool carcass so far—”
The horse whinnied, bobbed his head, and walked over to Nick. Then he bent one knee in supplication.
“Atta baby! Now we’re all right! Hold still!”
Nick arose and climbed slowly into the saddle.
“Needs coaxin’,” he said, grinning. “You gotta talk nice to him if you want him to do you favors! Come on, baby—we’re off. Get along there, you mules, you!”
CHAPTER XV
Horsemen in the Storm
Darkness found the four riders with a little over a third of their journey completed. They selected a camp site near a running stream, and after watering and feeding the horses and mules they built a fire for the evening meal.
Silent, of his own accord, took charge of the cooking, which consisted mainly in boiling the coffee, frying bacon, and heating a can of beans. He had a way with him, however, and the food took on a certain flavor that agreed eminently with the boys’ palates.
“Was a cook, once,” Silent explained laconically, when complimented on the success of his meal. “In a cow camp, where the waddies either got good food or the cook had somethin’ comin’ to him. Believe me, you gotta learn to cook in a place like that.”
“You sure sling a wicked fryin’ pan,” Nick muttered, his mouth well filled with bacon sandwich. “Than which I have tasted no better. Snakes, my back’s itchy!”
“Oh, I meant to tell you,” Teddy said casually. “There’s an ants’ nest on the other side of the tree you’re leaning against, Nick.”
“An ants’ nest!” Nick leaped to his feet and shook himself violently. “So that’s it! I thought I felt somethin’ crawlin’ around my lily white skin. Why didn’t you tell me about it to-morrow morning, Teddy?”
Teddy grinned and went on with his eating. After a few violent moments Nick seated himself again, but this time at a distance from the tree.
“Certainly is noisy,” Roy remarked. “Listen!”
“What for?” Nick leaned forward, straining his ears.
“Just wanted to see if I could find out which leg that grasshopper was fiddling on. I can’t, though. Man, what a racket this silence makes!”
Those about him realized fully the sense of Roy’s remark. The silence really did “make a racket!” It crowded in upon them, beating a weird tune just over their heads. The night air pulsated with an intense stillness. It was Nick who, with a single sentence, shattered the mystery of it.
“I reckon,” he said calmly, “she’s goin’ to rain.”
Silent, squatting cross-legged a short distance from the fire, nodded in agreement.
“Before twelve to-night,” he declared.
“Stars are still out,” Teddy objected. “Millions of ’em.”
Roy arose, walked away from the fire and into the darkness of the woods. The camp had been pitched just on the edge of a small forest, through which ran the brook.
“Yes,” he called back after a moment, “lightning in the west. Wind’s blowing this way. We’ll get it, all right.”
“Then we might just as well tie them broncs up a little tighter,” Nick advised. “What do you think, Silent—shall we move ’em toward the open, or is it just as well to let ’em stay where they are?”
“Why move ’em?” Teddy broke in. “They’re all right there. But we can fasten ’em up a little better. Yes, sir, it is going to rain!”
A vivid flash of lightning just then lit the heavens for a moment, and those watching could see banks of clouds hastening to cover the stars. But as yet the thunder could not be heard.
Nick and Roy went to see to the mules and horses, while Teddy and Silent prepared the camp for the coming storm. The supplies were piled in one heap and covered with tarpaulins. A few stakes were driven along the edges of the stretched canvas, in case a strong wind should tear at the covering. The tents had not been set up.
“And that’s fixed!” Teddy exclaimed, as he straightened. “Bet we don’t get much sleep to-night.”
“It’ll be over by one, maybe,” Silent said. “Six hours’ sleep is plenty. That is, unless you want to start before seven.”
“Seven’s all right,” Roy agreed. “We need some rest. Feel that hot wind? It won’t be long now.”
A mutter of thunder rolled through the distant hills and the wind stopped as though a fan had been shut off. The storm was approaching rapidly.
“Well, I’m not goin’ to sit up an’ wait for it,” Nick declared. “I’m no welcoming committee, not me! Here’s where I go bye-bye.”
He spread his blanket on the ground and prepared to roll himself up in it. Just as he stretched out comfortably the first huge drops of rain plunged to the earth.
“Nice, agreeable weather,” Nick grumbled, sitting up again. “Durin’ the day it didn’t rain. Oh, no! Had to wait till everybody wants to go to sleep. Just like a baby, keepin’ people awake all night. Where’s them raincoats?”
“Ought to be under the edge of the tents,” Teddy replied. “I’ll look.”
“Here they are,” he said a few moments later. “Grab ’em.”
The raincoats, actually rain capes, were the most useful articles that the prospective miners carried with them. Not only would they serve for under-blankets, when the ground was wet, but, tied by each of the four corners to stakes set in the ground, made admirable bath-tubs, since they were of real rubber. The bottom would rest on the ground, of course.
But it was for another purpose they were to be used now, and the purpose for which they were originally intended—to keep out rain. The storm was collecting its powers, ready to hurl them toward the little band of adventurers gathered on the edge of the wood.
As the drops beat toward the earth, some of them struck the fire, hissing loudly. In another moment the watery bombardment would be well under way.
“Duck your heads,” Nick yelled, “’cause here she comes!”
“I should say!” ejaculated Teddy.
With a roar, the tempest pounced upon them. Tightly as the ponchos were wrapped about their bodies, some rain penetrated them, and the boys huddled beneath the branches of a tree.
“Better come out of that!” Silent shouted. “Better to get a little wet than to have one of those babies catch a bolt of lightning an’ fall on yore neck!”
“Some sense to that,” Roy agreed. “Anyway, I’m about soaked now.”
He stood away from the tree and threw back his head, the rain beating full in his face.
“Boy,” he gasped, “that’s wonderful! Some rain!”
“You just naturally crazy?” Teddy asked. “Wow! There goes a Big Bertha!”
A blinding flash was followed almost immediately by a crash of thunder. The bolt had struck near by.
“Them mules tied tight?” Silent yelled.
“Yep. They can’t get away without pullin’ the trees with ’em!” Nick shouted in answer. “Baby, listen at it!”
The wind swept through the woods fiercely, bending the branches toward the ground. The lightning was continual, enabling the wayfarers to see, a little distance from them, the animals crowding together for mutual protection. The horses’ pride was forgotten in the stress of the moment, and they fraternized with the mules.
“If Pop were here now, he’d call this a gentle shower, I suppose,” Teddy remarked. “Thank goodness we brought these coats! We’d be drowned without ’em. Even as it is, I’m no arid desert myself.”
The ground was gradually turning to a swamp beneath their feet, and Nick groaned when he thought of his lost rest.
“Somethin’ terrible,” he muttered. “Me, I’m delicate! Need the best of attention an’ regular sleep. My pop always told me—”
Roy, who was standing near him, seized him by the arm.
“Nick,” the boy said tensely, “do you hear something that has nothing to do with the storm?”
The puncher listened.
“A crashin’ in the bushes,” he answered, in a puzzled tone. “Sounds like a couple of horses threshin’ around. They ain’t our broncs, I know, ’cause they ain’t in that direction. Maybe—”
A flash of lightning illuminated the scene and Roy saw his brother standing perfectly still, his hand to his side.
“You hear it too?” Roy called.
“Yes, I sure do. Some animal, that’s sure. The noise is getting nearer.”
The crashing in the bushes did sound closer. It was a noise distinct from the storm, another sort altogether.
“Stick together,” Silent advised suddenly. “Something’s comin’.”
Their eyes glued to that spot of blackness before them, the boys waited, hands on revolver butts. Across the sky ripped a jagged stroke of lightning.
By its light the watchers saw a strange sight. About fifteen feet from them, framed in a network of dripping trees, were two horsemen. Their steeds were prancing wildly about, savage with fright. On one of the broncos was a man who sagged in the saddle, a man whose hat was gone and whose arm was bandaged rudely to his side. He held weakly to the reins with his other hand. His face was pallid, expressionless.
“Greyhound,” the other man shouted, “buck up! I can’t manage yore pony! This nag of mine—”
He stopped. Another flash of lightning had revealed the group in front of him, four men, each with a gun in his hand.
“Greyhound,” the man yelled again, “turn yore bronc! You gotta turn him! Watch out!”
A horse neighed shrilly, weirdly in that stormy darkness. The crack of a whip on flesh. A frantic crashing in the brush.
“Greyhound,” came faintly, “you gotta—”
Then the men were gone. The noise of their departure faded out. The storm resumed its rightful rule over the forest.
The four campers stood as though changed to stone. Was it real, this they had just seen and heard? Could they have been dreaming?
Silent it was who broke the spell. His voice came harshly, through set teeth.
“I stood there,” he gritted out, “I stood there an’ watched ’em! Me, I watched ’em get away! I knew ’em! I knew ’em in a minute!”
He took a deep breath and fought for self-control. When next he spoke his voice was toneless, dead.
“I reckon,” he said slowly, “the storm’s about over. It didn’t last long. Nope, not long.”
He walked toward the canvas that sheltered their supplies. As he bent down to examine the covering, Teddy heard him mutter:
“Not long! Not half long enough!”
CHAPTER XVI
His Night to Howl
If there was doubt in the listeners’ minds concerning the meaning of Silent’s remark, there was also doubt in the mind of the one who had uttered it. Actually, it meant nothing more than that the man was in the grip of a strong emotion and his tongue seized upon the phrase it had last spoken. For in those two horsemen, the two riders who had appeared like specters out of the night, Silent Neville had recognized the slayers of his father and brother.
Gradually the rain decreased, finally it ceased altogether. The fire was relit. Blankets were hung near it to dry. The animals were looked to. A pot of coffee was put on to boil.
Teddy walked to where Silent stood, staring into the flames. All around them they could hear the drip, drip of the water from the trees. Every now and again a distant roll of thunder, echoes of the departing storm, came to their ears.
“Forget it, Silent,” Teddy said in a low voice. “It’s all over. You’ll get your chance again.”
“Never like that, I won’t,” Silent responded dully, shaking his head. “Right there they stood, an’ me with my hand on my gun. Right there.”
“It happened too fast,” Teddy declared. “None of us had time to do a thing. Besides—” he stopped, then went on: “Funny, but I seem to have seen those two waddies before. Roy!”
“Yea?”
“Those two look familiar to you?”
“Well, Teddy, they did look like the rascals who knocked over Jerry Decker. But I only had a quick look. I can’t be sure.”
“That’s it! That’s who they were!” Teddy exclaimed excitedly. “Boy, they have got something to answer for!” He felt Silent’s hand upon his arm.
“They’ll answer to me,” the puncher said tersely.
“Right,” Teddy said. “Think there’s any use in—”
“Huntin’ them to-night? Not a chance. They’re miles from here already. They sort of knew who I was, I think. But I’ll get ’em some day!”
The remainder of the night passed uneventfully. The boys got about five hours of solid sleep and awoke with the sun streaming in their faces. Breakfast was eaten, and they set out again for Nugget Camp. Their second day was uneventful and the night passed quietly.
It was their intention to reach the mining camp by evening of the third day, and by hard riding they did it. The last of daylight was fading in the west when they got their first view of the place which was to be their headquarters for the next month or so.
The story of the vicissitudes of Nugget Camp had interested the Manley boys, since several times during the past fifteen or twenty years strikes had been reported there and a new rush started, only to dwindle to nothing when miners found the place practically empty of gold. The gold which they did discover had to be worked hard for, not taken in nuggets. For the last five years the name Nugget Camp had been almost a joke.
Then this new tale was circulated—of a man finding a huge fortune—and immediately those about the countryside, forgetting the many times “wolf” had been cried before, dropped the tools of their trade and headed for the gold field. Shacks which had been deserted for years once again had occupants. Tents sprang up like mushrooms. Two gambling houses were already under way, and saloons, officially “speakeasies,” flourished. The law had wisely let the camp govern itself, except for supervision over crimes of violence, for it would need a garrison of soldiers constantly on guard to make a refined city out of Nugget Camp.
This was the scene that confronted the four riders as, with their three beasts of burden, they approached the gold field. It was evening, and miners, some of them with their wives and children, sat on upturned buckets or boxes before the doors of their tents. Lanterns were hung on poles for street lights. At the far end of the camp were the gambling houses and saloons, and from that quarter came sounds of revelry—the whining strain of a violin, the heavier notes of an accordion. A miner carrying a bag of food in his arms stumbled into a tent, evidently having made a visit to a speakeasy on his way home. Dogs ran about, sniffing at the pile of cans which were thrown behind some of the tents. The work of the day was over. The miners were taking their rest.
Teddy, who was slightly ahead of his companions, suddenly exclaimed:
“Say, isn’t that Gus Tripp in front of that tent?”
“Looks like him,” Roy responded. “Hey, Gus!”
The man turned his head, then sprang to his feet.
“Teddy! An’ Roy! Hey, Nick! Well, for Pete’s sake!” He ran over and shook hands heartily with the new arrivals, expressing his pleasure at meeting Silent. “Say,” he went on eagerly, “when’d you get in? Just now, hey? How’s everybody back home?”
“O. K.,” Roy answered. “We got that bunch of beeves off to Chicago, and things are sort of quiet now. That’s how come you see us here.”
“I’m sure glad you came,” the puncher declared heartily. “You know, Roy, I felt mean leavin’ the ranch that-a-way. But snakes, I had to! If I let a chance like this slip by—”
“I know,” Roy laughed. “Dad understood. Said he didn’t blame you a bit. Said he’d do the same thing himself if he could. How you making out?”
“Find any big nuggets?” Nick broke in eagerly. “Real big ones?”
“Naw,” Gus responded. “Nary a nugget. Been gettin’ a fair amount of dust, though, by pannin’. Only that’s not what I came out here for.”
“It’s slow, but sure,” Silent said quietly. “The other is just luck.”
“An’ that’s just what I’m lookin’ for,” Gus declared. “Lady Luck! She can soak her socks in my coffee any time a-tall. Say, where you guys stayin’ to-night?”
“We’ve got to locate some place,” Teddy answered. “How about near you?”
“Fine! That spot big enough?” He pointed to a bare place at the side of his tent. It was amply large enough to accommodate the two tents.
“Fine,” Teddy asserted. “What do you say, Roy?”
“Suits me. Let’s get the mules unloaded.”
By the light of lanterns, the packs were removed, the tents spread and raised. Teddy and Roy had one, Silent and Nick the other. The mules were outspanned some distance from the street, and the horses were tied, after feeding and watering them, nearer the tents.
“Jim Casey an’ Nat Raymond got a tent over on the other side,” Gus told them when they had finished their labors. “They’ll be glad to hear you came. Say, ain’t you fellows hungry?”
“Hungry!” Nick almost shouted. “I could eat a brass doorknob—in fact, two brass doorknobs. Let’s get goin’.”
Since the new arrivals had not yet set up cooking stoves, Gus lent them his, and during the preparation and eating of the meal they told Gus of their adventure of the first night.
“One man shot, you say?” the puncher asked interestedly. “Now, that’s queer. Nat told me a man was shot a couple of days ago up at Hagerman’s—that’s one of our beauty spots, where you can get a drink of poison by askin’ for liquor. He pulled somethin’ funny.”
“Well, we can’t say whether this bird was shot or not,” Nick declared. “He was hurt some way, though. Maybe he got tossed off his bronc.”
“What sort of place is this, Gus?” Teddy asked. “I mean shall we tote these things”—he motioned to the gun at his side—“or not?”
“Well, it’s the only kind of life insurance we got,” Gus drawled. “I’d sort of hang on to ’em, if I was you. An’ the first thing in the mornin’ you boys’d better stake yore claims. There’s more people comin’ in here every day. Tell you, the best place, to my notion, is about one hundred an’ ten above discovery. That’s a quarter of a mile from here. Not many fellers locate near there, but I got a hunch it’s due for a strike, even if it is far up.”
“We’ll try it,” Teddy agreed. “Have you a claim near there?”
“Yep. But that ain’t no proof there’s gold there, ’cause I haven’t made out so well yet. But you wait. I tell you I got a hunch, boys.”
The meal was concluded, and Teddy and Roy decided to take a walk around Nugget Camp, to get their bearings. Silent and Nick concentrated on a game of double solitaire.
“Well, we’re here,” Teddy remarked, as the two strode down the street.
From the end of the street, where the gaming houses were located, came a wild shout.
“Somebody’s out for a good time. You’d think the men would leave their wives and children at home with that stuff going on.” Roy motioned to a tent outside of which sat a man, a woman, and two young girls. “But I suppose a lot of them pulled up stakes and hit out for good, with no intentions of returning. I’ll bet a lot of them will ride on within two weeks, broke.”
Teddy nodded. “That’s the luck of the game. Say, wouldn’t it be great if we could strike it good and rich and go home with a couple of thousand apiece? Baby! I’d like to be able to hand a bag of nuggets to dad and say: ‘See what your dutiful sons brought to you from afar. Here is ten thousand; take it and buy a race-horse.’”
“You know what dad would say to that,” Roy laughed. “He’d ask you who lent it to you. Anyhow, it’s nice to think about. Snakes! what is this, a free-for-all?”
They were opposite a large wooden shack, well lit, from which came excited cries. Suddenly a man burst through the door.
“Me, I am a bear, an’ it’s my night to howl!” he roared. “Who deposed the Russian Czar? Me, I done it! Who won the war? Me, again! And who is goin’ to—goin’ to—” he hesitated and took a deep breath. “I forget just what, but I’m goin’ to do it,” he muttered. “Right now, too!”
He turned, and saw Teddy and Roy. Slowly he pushed his hat back on his head, and by the light of a lantern which hung from a near-by pole the boys could see a livid scar running the length of his forehead.
“Ah, the Duke of York an’ his maid in waitin’,” he called ironically, bowing low. “Ladies, I greet you! Welcome to Buckingham Palace. What ho, the guard! Where’s the Lord Mayor? Where’s that Lord Mayor? He’s never around when I want him! I’ll have to do somethin’ about that. I’ll dock his pay, that’s what I’ll do! Yes, sir! Well, then I’m the welcomin’ committee. An’ here’s the way we welcome guests!”
Suddenly, without a word of warning, he drew his revolver and shot into the ground at Teddy’s feet!
CHAPTER XVII
The Lucky Shot
The attack was so absolutely unprovoked, and so sudden was it, that Teddy and Roy stood there while the bullets dug up the earth.
“Dance!” the man roared. “Step out, boys, afore I raise my sights on this here weapon! Dance! You hear the music? Well, don’t let it go to waste!”
At the sound of the revolver, men who had been making merry inside rushed from the hall. They saw the gleam of the gun and saw also that neither Teddy nor Roy was obeying the shouted commands to “dance!”
“Maryland, what do you think you’re doin’?” some one called.
“I’m givin’ myself a private show,” was the answer. “Strictly private!”
He had shot four times and had two bullets left in the gun. The four shots had followed so quickly on one another that the sound seemed continuous.
Then it was that Roy awoke. Slowly, with no attempt at haste, he drew his own revolver. Those watching from the steps of the dance hall saw him level it carefully.
“You,” he said quietly, “drop that gun!”
“Huh?” Maryland, to give him the title which had just been applied, stared at the boy. Was this kid, this half-baked kid, trying to face him down? Him, the terror of the mining camp?
“You heard me,” Roy went on, still in that even-toned voice. “I said drop the gun!”
“I’ll drop nothin’!” Rage came into Maryland’s face. “You fool kid, think you can get away with that? I’ll—” he jerked the revolver up. “By golly, I’ll—”
Once, only once, did Roy’s revolver speak. But Maryland’s weapon flew from his hand as though it had been pulled with a cord. One minute there stood a bullying braggart of a man whose gun was his champion; the next moment in his place was a frightened dazed wretch, his face white, rubbing the hand from which Roy had shot the revolver.
“I’ll admit,” Roy declared calmly, “that that was a lucky shot. I aimed at your wrist.”
A look of complete bafflement spread over Maryland’s features. He looked at the gun lying in the road, then at Roy, and then at the crowd on the steps of the hall.
“Don’t do no more shootin’,” he muttered. “I feel kinda sick.”
Roy and Teddy both grinned at this. The men on the steps roared with laughter.
“So you’re sick, Maryland?”
“Try a little gun grease—a spoonful after meals!”
“Maryland, my Maryland!”
The former gunman shuddered and glanced at Roy. There was a strange light in his eyes.
“Kin I,” he said, “get my gun? You got me licked.”
“Go on, get it,” Roy said shortly. “But you’ll give us no more funny work. My brother and I are out for a walk, and we intend to continue it. Understand?”
“There’ll be no more shootin’,” Maryland asserted. “I’m sober now—I wasn’t before.”
He walked toward his gun and picked it up. Then, while the boys watched him, he re-entered the hall, a different man than when he had come out. The crowd dispersed, after shouting congratulations to Roy for his nerve and marksmanship. The whole affair was taken by most of the men as a matter of course, just an item in the life of a mining camp.
“I reckon you got your welcome,” Teddy remarked, as he and Roy left the glow of light for the darkness of the farther end of the street. “They’ll know you now.”
“Maybe. You know, that was a lucky shot. Maryland was drunk, and there was no telling where his next bullet would go. I really tried to put his arm out of commission. But it served—hitting his gun.”
“Sure did!” Teddy agreed. “Maryland! That’s a fine name for a man!”
“I don’t believe he’s such a terror as he thinks he is. Did you hear the crowd jeer him?” asked Roy musingly.
“Yes. He’s the kind who goes wild all of a sudden and needs a good sock on the jaw to bring him to. No real harm in him when he’s sober, I guess. Golly! this is a real sure-enough mining camp, isn’t it? We no sooner get to it than we have to use guns. I suppose every man is his own police force here.”
“With reservations. The toughs know that if they shoot up the place the military will enter and put this camp under martial law. So they have to watch their step.”
“Uh-huh. Boy, I’m tired! What say we hit the hay? Lots to do to-morrow, and early, too.”
They turned and retraced their steps. As they passed the hall in front of which they had made the acquaintance of Maryland, they noticed that the noise had quieted somewhat. A number of men were coming down the steps on their way home. The evening festivities were over. Wise men sought their bunks, so that they might be alert in the morning for whatever gold Lady Luck might bring them.
Silent and Nick were still at their game of double solitaire, played in the tent under the yellow glow of a smoking lantern.
The brothers stood over Silent, gazing down at the box the two were using for a table.
“How you coming?” Teddy asked.
“Fair. Say,” he sniffed, and touched Roy’s gun. “Practicing?”
“What? Oh, you can tell it’s been fired? No, Silent, it wasn’t practice.” He told him and Nick of the occurrence. “We’ve got to expect those things, I reckon.”
“Uh-huh, reckon so. Nick an me’ll bunk here—that the idea?”
“That’s it. Well, pleasant dreams.”
Teddy and Roy walked out of the tent. Their shelter had been set up about ten feet away. They found their way to it and lit the lantern. Then, perhaps because they should have turned in immediately, they sat and talked until the flickering wick of their lantern recalled the time to them.
During their life on the plains, Teddy and Roy had slept under the stars about as often as under a roof. It was anything but a new experience to them, and yet, to-night, sleep seemed far from them. They lay on their cots, still talking.
“You know the reason Silent was so anxious to come out here?” Roy asked. Then, answering himself: “Oh, that’s right—he did tell you, didn’t he? Well, I’ll bet we never see the two horsemen again.”
“Now, my hunch is just the opposite,” Teddy replied. Turning on his side and reaching down he trailed his fingers through the grass. “I’ve got a feeling we’ll meet them again—and soon.”
Roy made no comment to this. After a moment:
“How about that fellow that peppered away at our toes? We have an enemy there, too?”
“I don’t think so,” Teddy declared. “He’ll forget all about it to-morrow. Me, I’d be willing to let it slide. Aren’t you?”
“Might as well.” Quiet now, except for the sounds of the night—a gentle wind rustling the trees, the insects grating out their songs, the stream gurgling in the distance.
“Wonder how Jerry Decker’s coming along,” Teddy said finally.
“And I wonder if Belle is at the 8 X 8,” said Roy. “If that doctor is still visiting Decker, she’ll sure be on hand.”
“And how she likes to be kidded—not!” Teddy laughed. “Anyway, I still have to catch her at a loss for a come-back. Say, Roy, it was mighty fine of dad to let us leave the ranch with so many of the hands gone.”
“I’ll tell a maverick!” Another period of silence. “But he can spare us now. And we may find gold.”
“Not only may, but will. Nothing like confidence. If we caught those scoundrels who robbed Decker, I wonder if we could get his nuggets back for him? He needs ’em. What a rotten break he got!”
“I’ll say! After working all that time, too! It would be different if he came like most of these others, and was lucky enough to strike it the first day or so. ‘Easy come, easy go.’ But his gold didn’t come easy. He worked for it.”
“And how! He deserved to find a fortune. And then to be robbed of it! Sure is tough luck.”
Roy pulled his blanket a bit closer about him. The night was chilly, with a hint of fall. Gradually, the eyes of Teddy and Roy closed, their breathing became regular. Jerry Decker, the two horsemen out of the storm, the thought of to-morrow with gold waiting for them, the encounter with Maryland—all these began to whirl around in their heads, each thought overlapping the other, none assuming any importance, and, finally, nothing. They slept.