“WE must have money,” said Glenister a few days later. “When McNamara jumped our safe he put us down and out. There’s no use fighting in this court any longer, for the Judge won’t let us work the ground ourselves, even if we give bond, and he won’t grant an appeal. He says his orders aren’t appealable. We ought to send Wheaton out to ’Frisco and have him take the case to the higher courts. Maybe he can get a writ1 of supersedeas.”
“I don’t rec’nize the name, but if it’s as bad as it sounds it’s sure horrible. Ain’t there no cure for it?”
“It simply means that the upper court would take the case away from this one.”
“Well, let’s send him out quick. Every day means ten thousand dollars to us. It ’ll take him a month to make the round trip, so I s’pose he ought to leave to-morrow on the Roanoke.”
“Yes, but where’s the money to do it with? McNamara has ours. My God! What a mess we’re in! What fools we’ve been, Dex! There’s a conspiracy2 here. I’m beginning to see it now that it’s too late. This man is looting our country under color of law, and figures on gutting3 all the mines before we can throw him off. That’s his game. He’ll work them as hard and as long as he can, and Heaven only knows what will become of the money. He must have big men behind him in order to fix a United States judge this way. Maybe he has the ’Frisco courts corrupted4, too.”
“If he has, I’m goin’ to kill him,” said Dextry. “I’ve worked like a dog all my life, and now that I’ve struck pay I don’t aim to lose it. If Bill Wheaton can’t win out accordin’ to law, I’m goin’ to proceed accordin’ to justice.”
During the past two days the partners had haunted the court-room where their lawyer, together with the counsel for the Scandinavians, had argued and pleaded, trying every possible professional and unprofessional artifice5 in search of relief from the arbitrary rulings of the court, while hourly they had become more strongly suspicious of some sinister6 plot—some hidden, powerful understanding back of the Judge and the entire mechanism8 of justice. They had fought with the fury of men who battle for life, and had grown to hate the lines of Stillman’s vacillating face, the bluster9 of the district-attorney, and the smirking10 confidence of the clerks, for it seemed that they all worked mechanically, like toys, at the dictates11 of Alec McNamara. At last, when they had ceased, beaten and exhausted12, they were too confused with technical phrases to grasp anything except the fact that relief was denied them; that their claims were to be worked by the receiver; and, as a crowning defeat, they learned that the Judge would move his court to St. Michael’s and hear no cases until he returned, a month later.
Meanwhile, McNamara hired every idle man he could lay hand upon, and ripped the placers open with double shifts. Every day a stream of yellow dust poured into the bank and was locked in his vaults13, while those mine-owners who attempted to witness the clean-ups were ejected from their claims. The politician had worked with incredible swiftness and system, and a fortnight after landing he had made good his boast to Struve, and was in charge of every good claim in the district, the owners were ousted14, their appeals argued and denied, and the court gone for thirty days, leaving him a clear field for his operations. He felt a contempt for most of his victims, who were slow-witted Swedes, grasping neither the purport15 nor the magnitude of his operation, and as to those litigants16 who were discerning enough to see its enormity, he trusted to his organization to thwart17 them.
The two partners had come to feel that they were beating against a wall, and had also come squarely to face the proposition that they were without funds wherewith to continue their battle. It was maddening for them to think of the daily robbery that they suffered, for the Midas turned out many ounces of gold at every shift; and more maddening to realize the receiver’s shrewdness in crippling them by his theft of the gold in their safe. That had been his crowning stroke.
“We MUST get money quick,” said Glenister. “Do you think we can borrow?”
“I met a feller this mornin’ that’s workin’ on the Midas,” the old man resumed. “He came in town fer a pair of gum boots, an’ he says they’ve run into awful rich ground—so rich that they have to clean up every morning when the night shift goes off ’cause the riffles clog20 with gold.”
“Think of it!” Glenister growled21. “If we had even a part of one of those clean-ups we could send Wheaton outside.”
In the midst of his bitterness a thought struck him. He made as though to speak, then closed his mouth; but his partner’s eyes were on him, filled with a suppressed but growing fire. Dextry lowered his voice cautiously:
Glenister stared back while his pulse pounded at something that lay in the other’s words.
“It belongs to us,” the young man said. “There wouldn’t be anything wrong about it, would there?”
Dextry sneered24. “Wrong! Right! Them is fine an’ soundin’ titles in a mess like this. What do they mean? I tell you, at midnight to-night Alec McNamara will have twenty thousand dollars of our money—”
“God! What would happen if they caught us?” whispered the younger, following out his thought. “They’d never let us get off the claim alive. He couldn’t find a better excuse to shoot us down and get rid of us. If we came up before this Judge for trial, we’d go to Sitka for twenty years.”
“Sure! But it’s our only chance. I’d ruther die on the Midas in a fair fight than set here bitin’ my hangnails. I’m growin’ old and I won’t never make another strike. As to bein’ caught—them’s our chances. I won’t be took alive—I promise you that—and before I go I’ll get my satisfy. Castin’ things up, that’s about all a man gets in this vale of tears, jest satisfaction of one kind or another. It ’ll be a fight in the open, under the stars, with the clean, wet moss25 to lie down on, and not a scrappin’-match of freak phrases and law-books inside of a stinkin’ court-room. The cards is shuffled27 and in the box, pardner, and the game is started. If we’re due to win, we’ll win. If we’re due to lose, we’ll lose. These things is all figgered out a thousand years back. Come on, boy. Are you game?”
“Am I game?” Glenister’s nostrils28 dilated29 and his voice rose a tone. “Am I game? I’m with you till the big cash-in, and Lord have mercy on any man that blocks our game to-night.”
“We’ll need another hand to help us,” said Dextry. “Who can we get?”
At that moment, as though in answer, the door opened with the scant30 ceremony that friends of the frontier are wont31 to observe, admitting the attenuated32, flapping, dome-crowned figure of Slapjack Simms, and Dextry fell upon him with the hunger of a wolf.
It was midnight and over the dark walls of the valley peered a multitude of stars, while away on the southern horizon there glowed a subdued33 effulgence34 as though from hidden fires beneath the Gold God’s caldron, or as though the phosphorescence of Bering had spread upward into the skies. Although each night grew longer, it was not yet necessary to light the men at work in the cuts. There were perhaps two hours in which it was difficult to see at a distance, but the dawn came early, hence no provision had been made for torches.
Five minutes before the hour the night-shift boss lowered the gates in the dam, and, as the rush from the sluices subsided35, his men quit work and climbed the bluff36 to the mess tent. The dwellings37 of the Midas, as has already been explained, sat back from the creek38 at a distance of a city block, the workings being thus partially39 hidden under the brow of the steep bank.
It is customary to leave a watchman in the pit during the noon and midnight hours, not only to see that strangers preserve a neutral attitude, but also to watch the waste-gates and water supply. The night man of the Midas had been warned of his responsibility, and, knowing that much gold lay in his keeping, was disposed to gaze on the curious-minded with the sourness of suspicion. Therefore, as a man leading a packhorse approached out of the gloom of the creek-trail, his eyes were on him from the moment he appeared. The road wound along the gravel40 of the bars and passed in proximity41 to the flumes. However, the wayfarer42 paid no attention to them, and the watchman detected an explanatory weariness in his slow gait.
“Some prospector43 getting in from a trip,” he thought.
The stranger stopped, scratched a match, and, as he undertook to light his pipe, the observer caught the mahogany shine of a negro’s face. The match sputtered44 out and then came impatient blasphemy45 as he searched for another.
“Evenin’, sah! You-all oblige me with a match?” He addressed the watcher on the bank above, and, without waiting a reply, began to climb upward.
No smoker46 on the trail will deny the luxury of a light to the most humble47, so as the negro gained his level the man reached forth48 to accommodate him. Without warning, the black man leaped forward with the ferocity of an animal and struck the other a fearful blow. The watchman sank with a faint, startled cry, and the African dragged him out of sight over the brow of the bank, where he rapidly tied him hand and foot, stuffing a gag into his mouth. At the same moment two other figures rounded the bend below and approached. They were mounted and leading a third saddle-horse, as well as other pack-animals. Reaching the workings, they dismounted. Then began a strange procedure, for one man clambered upon the sluices and, with a pick, ripped out the riffles. This was a matter of only a few seconds; then, seizing a shovel49, he transferred the concentrates which lay in the bottom of the boxes into canvas sacks which his companion held. As each bag was filled, it was tied and dumped into the cut. They treated but four boxes in this way, leaving the lower two-thirds of the flume untouched, for Anvil50 Creek gold is coarse and the heart of the clean-up lies where it is thrown in. Gathering51 the sacks together, they lashed52 them upon the pack-animals, then mounted the second string of sluices and began as before. Throughout it all they worked with feverish53 haste and in unbroken silence, every moment flashing quick glances at the figure of the lookout54 who stood on the crest55 above, half dimmed in the shadow of a willow56 clump57. Judging by their rapidity and sureness, they were expert miners.
From the tent came the voices of the night shift at table, and the faint rattle58 of dishes, while the canvas walls glowed from the lights within like great fire-flies hidden in the grass. The foreman, finishing his meal, appeared at the door of the mess tent, and, pausing to accustom59 his eyes to the gloom, peered perfunctorily towards the creek. The watchman detached himself from the shadow, moving out into plain sight, and the boss turned back. The two men below were now working on the sluices which lay close under the bank and were thus hidden from the tent.
McNamara’s description of Anvil Creek’s riches had fired Helen Chester with the desire to witness a clean-up, so they had ridden out from town in time for supper at the claim. She had not known whither he led her, only understanding that provision for her entertainment would be made with the superintendent’s wife. Upon recognizing the Midas, she had endeavored to question him as to why her friends had been dispossessed, and he had answered, as it seemed, straight and true.
The ground was in dispute, he said—another man claimed it—and while the litigation pended he was in charge for the court, to see that neither party received injury. He spoke60 adroitly61, and it satisfied her to have the proposition resolved into such simplicity62.
She had come prepared to spend the night and witness the early morning operation, so the receiver made the most of his opportunity. He showed her over the workings, explaining the many things that were strange to her. Not only was he in himself a fascinating figure to any woman, but wherever he went men regarded him deferentially63, and nothing affects a woman’s judgment64 more promptly65 than this obvious sign of power. He spent the evening with her, talking of his early days and the things he had done in the West, his story matching the picturesqueness66 of her canvas-walled quarters with their rough furnishings of skins and blankets. Being a keen observer as well as a finished raconteur67, he had woven a spell of words about the girl, leaving her in a state of tumult68 and indecision when at last, towards midnight, he retired69 to his own tent. She knew to what end all this was working, and yet knew not what her answer would be when the question came which lay behind it all. At moments she felt the wonderful attraction of the man, and still there was some distrust of him which she could not fathom70. Again her thoughts reverted71 to Glenister, the impetuous, and she compared the two, so similar in some ways, so utterly72 opposed in others.
It was when she heard the night shift at their meal that she threw a silken shawl about her head, stepped into the cool night, and picked her way down towards the roar of the creek. “A breath of air and then to bed,” she thought. She saw the tall figure of the watchman and made for him. He seemed oddly interested in her approach, watching her very closely, almost as though alarmed. It was doubtless because there were so few women out here, or possibly on account of the lateness of the hour. Away with conventions! This was the land of instinct and impulse. She would talk to him. The man drew his hat more closely about his face and moved off as she came up. Glenister had been in her thoughts a moment since, and she now noted73 that here was another with the same great, square shoulders and erect74 head. Then she saw with a start that this one was a negro. He carried a Winchester and seemed to watch her carefully, yet with indecision.
To express her interest and to break the silence, she questioned him, but at the sound of her voice he stepped towards her and spoke roughly.
“What!”
“Yass’m. I’m the watchman.”
She noted two other darkies at work below and was vaguely77 surprised, not so much at their presence, as at the manner in which they moved, for they seemed under stress of some great haste, running hither and yon. She saw horses standing7 in the trail and sensed something indefinably odd and alarming in the air. Turning to the man, she opened her mouth to speak, when from the rank grass under her feet came a noise which set her a-tingle, and at which her suspicions leaped full to the solution. It was the groan78 of a man. Again he gave voice to his pain, and she knew that she stood face to face with something sinister. Tales of sluice23 robbers had come to her, and rumors79 of the daring raids into which men were lured80 by the yellow sheen—and yet this was incredible. A hundred men lay within sound of her voice; she could hear their laughter; one was whistling a popular refrain. A quarter-mile away on every hand were other camps; a scream from her would bring them all. Nonsense, this was no sluice robbery—and then the man in the bushes below moaned for the third time.
“What is that?” she said.
Without reply the negro lowered the muzzle81 of his rifle till it covered her breast and at the same time she heard the double click of the hammer.
“Keep still and don’t move,” he warned. “We’re desperate and we can’t take any chances, Miss.”
“Oh, you are stealing the gold—”
She was wildly frightened, yet stood still while the lookout anxiously divided his attention between her and the tents above until his companions signalled him that they were through and the horses were loaded. Then he spoke:
“I don’t know what to do with you, but I guess I’ll tie you up.”
“What!” she said.
“I’m going to tie and gag you so you can’t holler.”
“Oh, don’t you dare!” she cried, fiercely. “I’ll stand right here till you’ve gone and I won’t scream. I promise.” She looked up at him appealingly, at which he dipped his head, so that she caught only a glimpse of his face, and then backed away.
“All right! Don’t try it, because I’ll be hidden in those bushes yonder at the bend and I’ll keep you covered till the others are gone.” He leaped down the bank, ran to the cavalcade82, mounted quickly, and the three lashed their horses into a run, disappearing up the trail around the sharp curve. She heard the blows of their quirts as they whipped the packhorses.
They were long out of sight before the girl moved or made sound, although she knew that none of the three had paused at the bend. She only stood and gazed, for as they galloped83 off she had heard the scrap26 of a broken sentence. It was but one excited word, sounding through the rattle of hoofs—her own name—“Helen”; and yet because of it she did not voice the alarm, but rather began to piece together, bit by bit, the strange points of this adventure. She recalled the outlines of her captor with a wrinkle of perplexity. Her fright disappeared entirely84, giving place to intense excitement. “No, no—it can’t be—and yet I wonder if it is!” she cried. “Oh, I wonder if it could be!” She opened her lips to cry aloud, then hesitated. She started towards the tents, then paused, and for many moments after the hoof-beats had died out she stayed undecided. Surely she wished to give the signal, to force the fierce pursuit. What meant this robbery, this defiance85 of the law, of her uncle’s edicts and of McNamara? They were common thieves, criminals, outlaws86, these men, deserving punishment, and yet she recalled a darker night, when she herself had sobbed87 and quivered with the terrors of pursuit and two men had shielded her with their bodies.
She turned and sped towards the tents, bursting in through the canvas door; instantly every man rose to his feet at sight of her pallid88 face, her flashing eyes, and rumpled89 hair.
“Sluice robbers!” she cried, breathlessly. “Quick! A hold-up! The watchman is hurt!”
A roar shook the night air, and the men poured out past her, while the day shift came tumbling forth from every quarter in various stages of undress.
“Where? Who did it? Where did they go?”
McNamara appeared among them, fierce and commanding, seeming to grasp the situation intuitively, without explanation from her.
“Come on, men. We’ll run ’em down. Get out the horses. Quick!”
He was mounted even as he spoke, and others joined him. Then turning, he waved his long arm up the valley towards the mountains. “Divide into squads90 of five and cover the hills! Run down to Discovery, one of you, and telephone to town for Voorhees and a posse.”
As they made ready to ride away, the girl cried:
“Stop! Not that way. They went down the gulch—three negroes.”
She pointed91 out of the valley, towards the dim glow on the southern horizon, and the cavalcade rode away into the gloom.
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1
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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2
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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3
gutting
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| n.去内脏v.毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的现在分词 )；取出…的内脏 | |
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corrupted
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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5
artifice
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| n.妙计，高明的手段；狡诈，诡计 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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bluster
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| v.猛刮；怒冲冲的说；n.吓唬，怒号；狂风声 | |
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10
smirking
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| v.傻笑( smirk的现在分词 ) | |
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dictates
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| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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13
vaults
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| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
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ousted
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| 驱逐( oust的过去式和过去分词 )； 革职； 罢黜； 剥夺 | |
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purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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litigants
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| n.诉讼当事人( litigant的名词复数 ) | |
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thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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clog
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| vt.塞满，阻塞；n.[常pl.]木屐 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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sluices
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| n.水闸( sluice的名词复数 )；（用水闸控制的）水；有闸人工水道；漂洗处v.冲洗( sluice的第三人称单数 )；（指水）喷涌而出；漂净；给…安装水闸 | |
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sluice
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| n.水闸 | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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effulgence
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| n.光辉 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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wayfarer
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| n.旅人 | |
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prospector
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| n.探矿者 | |
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44
sputtered
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| v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的过去式和过去分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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blasphemy
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| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
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smoker
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| n.吸烟者，吸烟车厢，吸烟室 | |
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47
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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anvil
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| n.铁钻 | |
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51
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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accustom
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| vt.使适应，使习惯 | |
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60
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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61
adroitly
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| adv.熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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62
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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deferentially
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| adv.表示敬意地，谦恭地 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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picturesqueness
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67
raconteur
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| n.善讲故事者 | |
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68
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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69
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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72
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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74
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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80
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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81
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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82
cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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83
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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84
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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85
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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86
outlaws
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| 歹徒，亡命之徒( outlaw的名词复数 )； 逃犯 | |
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87
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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88
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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89
rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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squads
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| n.（军队中的）班( squad的名词复数 )；（暗杀）小组；体育运动的运动（代表）队；（对付某类犯罪活动的）警察队伍 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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