The Campbells were poor; her father even lacked the money to buy powder to blast out his road, and so he struggled on, grading up the easy places and leaving Corkscrew Gorge untouched. That would call for heavy blasting and crews of hardy men to climb up and shoot down the walls, and even after that the jagged rock-bed must be covered and leveled to the semblance of a road. Now nothing but a trail led up through the dark passageway, where grinding boulders had polished the walls like glass; and until that gateway was opened Cole Campbell's road was useless; it might as well be all trail. But with five thousand dollars, or even less—with whatever she received from her stock—the gateway could be conquered, her father's dream would come true and all their life would be changed.

There would be a road, right past their house, where great trucks would lumber forth loaded down with ore from their mine, and return ladened with machinery from the railroad. There would be miners going by and stopping for a drink, and someone to talk to every day, and the loneliness which oppressed her like a physical pain would give place to gaiety and peace. Her father would be happy and stop working so hard, and her mother would not have to worry—all if she, Wilhelmina, could just sell her stock and salvage a pittance from the wreck.

She knew now what Wunpost had meant when he had described the outside world and the men they would meet at the rush, yet for all his hard-won knowledge he had gone down once more before Judson Eells and his gang. But he had spoken true when he said they would resort to murder to gain possession of their mine, and though he had yielded at last to the lure of strong drink, in her heart she could not blame him too much. It was not by wrongdoing that he had wrecked their high hopes, but by signing a contract long years before without reading what he called the fine print. He was just a boy, after all, in spite of his boasting and his vaunted knowledge of the world; and now in his trouble he had come back to her, to the one person he knew he could trust. She gazed a long time at the dwindling form till it was lost in the immensity of the plain; and then she gazed on, for dreams were all she had to comfort her lonely heart



CHAPTER VIII

THE BABES IN THE WOODS

Ever since David went forth and slew Goliath with his sling, youth has set its puny lance to strike down giants; and history, making much of the hotspurs who won, draws a veil over the striplings who were slain. And yet all who know the stern conditions of life must recognize that youth is a handicap, and if David had but donned the heavy armor of King Saul he too would have gone to his death. But instead he stepped forth untrammeled by its weight, with nothing but a stone and a sling, and because the scoffing giant refused to raise his shield he was struck down by the pebble of a child. But giant Judson Eells was in a baby-killing mood when he invited Wunpost and Wilhelmina to his den; and when they emerged, after signing articles of incorporation, he licked his chops and smiled.

It developed at the meeting that the sole function of a stockholder is to vote for the Directors of the Company; and, having elected Eells and Lapham and John C. Calhoun Directors, the stockholders' meeting adjourned. Reconvening immediately as a, Board of Directors, Judson Eells was elected President, John C. Calhoun, Vice-President and Phillip F. Lapham Secretary-treasurer—after which an assessment of ten cents a share was levied upon all the stock. Exit John C. Calhoun and Wilhelmina Campbell, stripped of their stock and all faith in mankind. For even if by some miracle they should raise the necessary sum Judson Eells and Phillip Lapham would immediately vote a second assessment, and so on, ad finitum. Holding a majority of the stock, Eells could control the Board of Directors, and through it the policies of the company; and any assessments which he himself might pay would but be transferred from one pocket to the other. It was as neat a job of baby-killing as Eells had ever accomplished, and he slew them both with a smile.

They had conspired in their innocence to gain stock in the company and to hawk it about the streets; but neither had thought to suggest the customary Article: "The stock of said company shall be non-assessable." The Articles of Incorporation had been drawn up by Phillip F. Lapham; and yet, after all his hard experiences, Wunpost was so awed by the legal procedure that he forgot all about the fine print. Not that it made any difference, they would have trimmed him anyway, but it was three times in the very same place! He cursed himself out loud for an ignorant baboon and left Wilhelmina in tears.

She had come down with her mother, her father being busy, and they had planned to take in the town; but after this final misfortune Wilhelmina lost all interest in the busy marts of trade. What to her were clothes and shoes when she had no money to buy them—and when overdressed women, none too chaste in their demeanor, stared after her in boorish amusement? Blackwater had become a great city, but it was not for her—the empty honor of having the Willie Meena named after her was all she had won from her mine. John C. Calhoun had been right when he warned her, long before, that the mining game was more like a dog fight than it was like a Sunday school picnic; and yet—well, some people made money at it. Perhaps they were better at reading the fine print, and not so precipitate about signing Articles of Incorporation, but as far as she was concerned Wilhelmina made a vow never to trust a lawyer again.

She returned to the ranch, where the neglected garden soon showed signs of her changing mood; but after the weeds had been chopped out and routed she slipped back to her lookout on the hill. It was easier to tear the weeds from a tangled garden than old memories from her lonely heart; and she took up, against her will, the old watch for Wunpost, who had departed from Blackwater in a fury. He had stood on the corner and, oblivious of her presence, had poured out the vials of his wrath; he had cursed Eells for a swindler, and Lapham for his dog and Lynch for his yellow hound. He had challenged them all, either individually or collectively, to come forth and meet him in battle; and then he had offered to fight any man in Blackwater who would say a good word for any of them. But Blackwater looked on in cynical amusement, for Eells was the making of the town; and when he had given off the worst of his venom Wunpost had tied up his roll and departed.

He had left as he had come, a single-blanket tourist, packing his worldly possessions on his back; and when last seen by Wilhelmina he was headed east, up the wash that came down from the Panamints. Where he was going, when he would return, if he ever would return, all were mysteries to the girl who waited on; and if she watched for him it was because there was no one else whose coming would stir her heart. Far up the canyon and over the divide there lived Hungry Bill and his family, but Hungry was an Indian and when he dropped in it was always to get something to eat. He had two sons and two daughters, whom he kept enslaved, forbidding them to even think of marriage; and all his thoughts were of money and things to eat, for Hungry Bill was an Indian miser.

He came through often now with his burros packed with fruit from the abandoned white-man's ranch that he had occupied; and even his wild-eyed daughters had more variety than Billy, for they accompanied him to Blackwater and Willie Meena. There they sold their grapes and peaches at exorbitant prices and came back with coffee and flour, but neither would say a word for fear of their old father, who watched them with intolerant eyes. They were evil, snaky eyes, for it was said that in his day he had waylaid many a venturesome prospector, and while they gleamed ingratiatingly when he was presented with food, at no time did they show good will. He was still a renegade at heart, shunned and avoided by his own kinsmen, the Shoshones who camped around Wild Rose; but it was from him, from this old tyrant that she despised so cordially, that Wilhelmina received her first news of Wunpost.

Hungry Bill came up grinning, on his way down from his ranch, and fixed her with his glittering black eyes.

"You savvy Wunpo?" he asked, "hi-ko man—busca gol'? Him sendum piece of lock!"

He produced a piece of rock from a knot in his shirt-tail and handed it over to her slowly. It was a small chunk of polished quartz, half green, half turquoise blue; and in the center, like a jewel, a crystal of yellow gold gleamed out from its matrix of blue. Wilhelmina gazed at it blankly, then flushed and turned away as she felt Hungry Bill's eyes upon her. He was a disreputable old wretch, who imputed to others the base motives which governed his own acts; and when she read his black heart Wilhelmina straightened up and gave him back the stone.

"No, you keepum!" protested Hungry. "Hi-ko ketchum plenty mo'."

But Wilhelmina shook her head.

"No!" she said, "you give that to my mother. Are those your girls down there? Well, why don't you let them come up to the house? You no good—I don't like bad Indians!"

She turned away from him, still frowning angrily, and strode on down to the creek; but the daughters of Hungry Bill, in their groveling way, seemed to share the low ideals of their father. They were tall and sturdy girls, clad in breezy calico dresses and with their hair down over their eyes; and as they gazed out from beneath their bangs a guilty smile contorted their lips, a smile that made Wilhelmina writhe.

"What's the matter with you?" she snapped, and as the scared look came back she turned on her heel and left them. What could one expect, of course, from Hungry Bill's daughters after they had been guarded like the slave-girls in a harem; but the joy of hearing from Wunpost was quite lost in the fierce anger which the conduct of his messengers evoked. He was up there, somewhere, and he had made another strike—the most beautiful blue quartz in the world—but these renegade Shoshones with their understanding smiles had quite killed the pleasure of it for her. She returned to the house where Hungry Bill, in the kitchen, was wolfing down a great pan of beans; but the sight of the old glutton with his mouth down to the plate quite sickened her and drove her away. Wunpost was up in the hills, and he had made a strike, but with that she must remain content until he either came down himself or chose a more highminded messenger.

Hungry Bill went on to Blackwater and came back with a load of supplies, which he claimed he was taking to "Wunpo"; and, after he had passed up the canyon, Wilhelmina strolled along behind him. At the mouth of Corkscrew Gorge there was a great pool of water, overshadowed by a rank growth of willows through whose tops the wild grapevines ran riot. Here it had been her custom, during the heat of the day, to paddle along the shallows or sit and enjoy the cool air. There was always a breeze at the mouth of Corkscrew Gorge, and when it drew down, as it did on this day, it carried the odors of dank caverns. In the dark and gloomy depths of this gash through the hills the rocks were always damp and cold; and beneath the great waterfalls, where the cloudbursts had scooped out pot-holes, there was a delicious mist and spray. She dawdled by the willows, then splashed on up the slippery trail until, above the last echoing waterfall, she stepped out into the world beyond.

The great canyon spread out again, once she had passed the waterworn Gorge, and peak after peak rose up to right and left where yawning side canyons led in. But all were set on edge and reared up to dizzying heights; and along their scarred flanks there lay huge slides of shaley rock, ready to slip at the touch of a hand. Vivid stripes of red and green, alternating with layers of blue and white, painted the sides of the striated ridges; and odd seams here and there showed dull yellows and chocolate browns like the edge of a crumbled layer-cake. Up the canyon the walls shut in again, and then they opened out, and so on for nine miles until Old Panamint was reached and the open valley sloped up to the summit.

Many a time in the old days when they had lived in Panamint had Wilhelmina scaled those far heights; the huge white wall of granite dotted with ball-like pinons and junipers, which fenced them from Death Valley beyond. It opened up like a gulf, once the summit was reached, and below the jagged precipices stretched long ridges and fan-like washes which lost themselves at last in the Sink. For a hundred miles to the north and the south it lay, a writhing ribbon of white, pinching down to narrow strips, then broadening out in gleaming marshes; and on both sides the mountains rose up black and forbidding, a bulwark against the sky. Wilhelmina had never entered it, she had been content to look down; and then she crept back to beautiful sheltered Panamint where father had his mine.

It was up on the ridge, where the white granite of the summit came into contact with the burnt limestone and schist; and, of all the rich mines, the Homestake was the best, until the cloudburst came along and spoiled all of them. Wilhelmina still remembered how the great flood had passed the town, moving boulders as if they were pebbles; but not until it reached the place where she stood had it done irretrievable damage. The roadbed was washed out, but the streambed remained, and the banks from which to fill in more dirt; but when the flood struck the Gorge it backed up into a lake, for the narrow defile was choked. Trees and rocks and rumbling boulders had piled up against its entrance, holding the waters back like a dam; and when they broke through they sluiced everything before them, gouging the canyon down to the bedrock. Now twelve years had passed by and only a hazardous trail threaded the Gorge which had once been a highway.

Wilhelmina gazed up the valley and sighed again, for since that terrific cloudburst she had been stranded in Jail Canyon like a piece of driftwood tossed up by the flood. Nothing happened to her, any more than to the pinon logs which the waters had wedged high above the stream, and as she returned home down the Gorge she almost wished for another flood, to float them and herself away. No one came by there any more, the trail was so poor, and yet her father still clung to the mine; but a flood would either fill up the Gorge with debris or make even him give up hope. She sank down by the cool pool and put her feet in the water, dabbling them about like a wilful child; but at a shout from below she rose up a grown woman, for she knew it was Dusty Rhodes.

He came on up the creekbed with his burros on the trot, hurling clubs at the laggards as he ran; and when they stopped short at the sight of Wilhelmina he almost rushed them over her. But a burro is a creature of lively imagination, to whom the unknown is always terrible; and at a fresh outburst from Dusty the whole outfit took to the brush, leaving him face to face with his erstwhile partner.

"Oh, hello, hello!" he called out gruffly. "Say, did Hungry Bill go through here? He was jest down to Blackwater, buying some grub at the store, and he paid for it with rock that was half gold! So git out of the road, my little girl—I'm going up to prospect them hills!"

"Don't you call me your little girl!" called back Billy angrily. "And Hungry Bill hasn't got any mine!"

"Oh, he ain't, hey?" mocked Dusty, leaving his burros to browse while he strode triumphantly up to her. "Then jest look at that, my—my fine young lady! I got it from the store-keeper myself!"

He handed her a piece of green and blue quartz, but she only glanced at it languidly. The memory of his perfidy on a previous occasion made her long to puncture his pride, and she passed the gold ore back to him.

"I've seen that before," she said with a sniff, "so you can stop driving those burros so hard. It came from Wunpost's mine."

"Wunpost!" yelled Dusty Rhodes, his eyes getting big; and then he spat out an oath. "Who told ye?" he demanded, sticking his face into hers, and she stepped away disdainfully.

"Hungry Bill," she said, and watched him writhe as the bitter truth went home. "You think you're so smart," she taunted at last, "why don't you go out and find one for yourself? I suppose you want to rush in and claim a half interest in his strike and then sell out to old Eells. I hope he kills you, if you try to do it—I would, if I were him. What'd you do with that five thousand dollars?"

"Eh—eh—that's none of your business," bleated Dusty Rhodes, whose trip to Los Angeles had proved disastrous. "And if Wunpost gave Hungry that sack of ore he stole it from some other feller's mine. I knowed all along he'd locate that Black P'int if I ever let him stop—I've had my eye on it for years—and that's why I hurried by. I discovered it myself, only I never told nobody—he must have heard me talking in my sleep!"

"Yes, or when you were drunk!" suggested Wilhelmina maliciously. "I hear you got robbed in Los Angeles. And anyhow I'm glad, because you stole that five thousand dollars, and no good ever came from stolen property."

"Oh, it didn't, hey?" sneered Dusty, who was recovering his poise, "well, I'll bet ye this rock was stolen! And if that's the case, where does your young man git off, that you think the world and all of? But you've got to show me that he ever saw this rock—I believe old Hungry was lying to you!"

"Well, don't let me keep you!" cried Billy, bowing mockingly. "Go on over and ask him yourself—but I'll bet you don't dare to meet Wunpost!"

"How come Hungry to tell you?" burst out Dusty Rhodes at last, and Wilhelmina smiled mysteriously.

"That's none of your business, my busy little man," she mimicked in patronizing tones, "but I've got a piece of that rock right up at the house. You go back there and mother will show it to you."

"I'm going on!" answered Dusty with instant decision; "can't stop to make no visit today. They's a big rush coming—every burro-man in Blackwater—and some of them are legging it afoot. But that thieving son of a goat, he never found no mine! I know it—it can't be possible!"



CHAPTER IX

A NEW DEAL

The rush of burro-men to Hungry Bill's ranch followed close in Dusty Rhodes' wake, and some there were who came on foot; but they soon came stringing back, for it was a fine, large country and Hungry Bill was about as communicative as a rattlesnake. All he knew, or cared to know, was the price of corn and fruit, which he sold at Blackwater prices; and the search for Wunpost had only served to show to what lengths a man will go for revenge. In some mysterious way Wunpost had acquired a horse and mule, both sharp-shod for climbing over rocks, and he had dallied at Hungry Bill's until the first of the stampeders had come in sight on the Panamint trail. Then he had set out up the ridge, riding the horse and packing the mule, and even an Indian trailer had given out and quit without ever bringing them in sight of him again. He had led them such a chase that the hardiest came back satisfied, and they agreed that he could keep his old mine.

The excitement died away or was diverted to other channels, for Blackwater was having a boom; and, just as Wilhelmina had given up hope of seeing him, John C. Calhoun came riding down the ridge. Not down the canyon, where the trail made riding easy, but down the steep ridge trail, where a band of mountain sheep was accustomed to come for water. Wilhelmina was in her tunnel, looking down with envious eyes at the traffic in the valley below; and he came upon her suddenly, so suddenly it made her jump, for no one ever rode up there.

"Hello!" he hailed, spurring his horse up to the portal and letting out his rope as he entered. "Kinder hot, out there in the sun. Well, how's tricks?" he inquired, sitting down in the shade and wiping the streaming sweat from his eyes. "Hungry Bill says you s-spurned my gold!"

"What did you tell that old Indian?" burst out Wilhelmina wrathfully, and Wunpost looked up in surprise.

"Why, nothing," he said, "only to get me some grub and give you that piece of polished rock. How was that for the real old high grade? From my new mine, up in the high country. What's the matter—did Hungry get gay?"

"Well—not that," hesitated Wilhelmina, "but he looked at me so funny that I told him to give it to Mother. What was it you told him about me?"

"Not a thing," protested Wunpost, "just to give you the rock. Oh, I know!" He laughed and slapped his leg. "He's scared some prospector will steal one of them gals, and I told him not to worry about me. Guess that gave him a tip, because he looked wise as a prairie dog when I told him to give that specimen to you." He paused and knocked the dust out of his battered old hat, then glanced up from under his eyebrows.

"Ain't mad, are you?" he asked, "because if you are I'm on my way——"

"Oh, no!" she answered quickly. "Where have you been all the time? Dusty Rhodes came through here, looking for you."

"Yes, they all came," he grinned, "but I showed 'em some sheep-trails before they got tired of chasing me. I knew for a certainty that those mugs would follow Hungry—they did the same thing over in Nevada. I sent in an Indian to buy me a little grub and they trailed me clean across Death Valley. Guess that ore must have looked pretty good."

"Where'd you get it?" she asked, and he rolled his eyes roguishly while a crafty smile lit up his face.

"That's a question," he said. "If I'd tell you, you'd have the answer. But I'm not going to show it to nobody!"

"Well, you don't need to think that I care!" she spoke up resentfully, "nobody asked you to show them your gold. And after what happened with the Willie Meena I wouldn't take your old mine for a gift."

"You won't have to," he replied. "I've quit taking in pardners—it's a lone hand for me, after this. I'm sure slow in the head, but I reckon I've learned my lesson—never go up against the other man's game. Old Eells is a lawyer and I tried to beat him at law. We've switched the deal now and he can play my game a while—hide-and-seek, up in them high peaks."

He waved his hand in the direction of the Panamints and winked at her exultantly.

"Look at that!" he said, and drew a rock from his shirt pocket which was caked and studded with gold. It was more like a chunk of gold with a little quartz attached to it, and as she exclaimed he leaned back and gloated. "I've got worlds of it!" he declared. "Let 'em get out and rustle for it—that's the way I made my start. By the time they've rode as far as I have they'll know she's a mountain sheep country. I located two mines right smack beside the trail and these jaspers came along and stole them both. All right! Fine! Fine! Let 'em look for the old Sockdolager where I got this gold, and the first man that finds it can have it! I'm a sport—I haven't even staked it!"

"And can I have it?" asked Billy, her eyes beginning to glow, "because, oh, we need money so bad!"

"What for, kid?" inquired Wunpost with a fatherly smile. "Ain't you got a good home, and everything?"

"Yes, but the road—Father's road. If I just had the money we'd start right in on it tomorrow."

"Hoo! I'll build you the road!" declared Wunpost munificently. "And it won't cost either one of us a cent. Don't believe it, eh? You think this is bunk? Then I'll tell you, kid, what I'll do. I'll make you a bet we'll have a wagon-road up that canyon before three months are up. And all by head-work, mind ye—not a dollar of our own money—might even get old Eells to build it. Yes, I'm serious; I've got a new system—been thinking it out, up in the hills—and just to show you how brainy I am I'll make this demonstration for nothing. You don't need to bet me anything, just acknowledge that I'm the king when it comes to the real inside work; and before I get through I'll have Judson Eells belly up and gasping for air like a fish. I'm going to trim him, the big fat slob; I'm going to give him a lesson that'll learn him to lay off of me for life; I'm going to make him so scared he'll step down into the gutter when he meets me coming down the sidewalk. Well, laugh, doggone it, but you watch my dust—I'm going to hang his hide on the fence!"

"That's what you told me before," she reminded him mischievously, "but somehow it didn't work out."

"It'll work out this time," he retorted grimly. "A man has got to learn. I'm just a kid, I know that, and I'm not much on book learning, but don't you never say I can't think! Maybe I can't beat them crooks when I play their own game, but this time I deal the hand! Do you git me? We've switched the deal! And if I don't ring in a cold deck and deal from the bottom it won't be because it's wrong. I'm out to scalp 'em, see, and just to convince you we'll begin by building that road. Your old man is wrong, he don't need no road and it won't do him any good when he gets it; but just to make you happy and show you how much I think of you, I'll do it—only you've got to stand pat! No Sunday school stuff, see? We're going to fight this out with hay hooks, and when I come back with his hair don't blame me if old Eells makes a roar. I'm going to stick him, see; and I'm not going to stick him once—I'm going to stick him three times, till he squeals like a pig, because that's what he did to me! He cleaned me once on the Wunpost, and twice on the Willie Meena, but before I get through with him he'll knock a corner off the mountain every time he sees my dust. He'll be gone, you understand—it'll be moving day for him—but I'll chase him to the hottest stope in hell. I'm going to bust him, savvy, just to learn these other dastards not to start any rough stuff with me. And now the road, the road! We'll just get him to build it—I've got it all framed up!"

He made a bluff to kiss her, then ran out and mounted his horse and went rollicking off towards Blackwater. Wilhelmina brushed her cheek and gazed angrily after him, then smiled and turned away with a sigh.



CHAPTER X

THE SHORT SPORTS

The booming mining camp of Blackwater stood under the rim of a high mesa, between it and an alkali flat, and as Wunpost rode in he looked it over critically, though with none too friendly eyes. Being laid out in a land of magnificent distances, there was plenty of room between the houses, and the broad main street seemed more suited for driving cattle than for accommodating the scant local traffic. There had been a time when all that space was needed to give swing-room to twenty-mule teams, but that time was past and the two sparse rows of houses seemed dwarfed and pitifully few. Yet there were new ones going up, and quite a sprinkling of tents; and down on the corner Wunpost saw a big building which he knew must be Judson Eells' bank.

It had sprung up in his absence, a pretentious structure of solid concrete, and as he jogged along past it Wunpost swung his head and looked it over scornfully. The walls were thick and strong, but that was no great credit, for in that desert country any man who would get water could mix concrete until he was tired. All in the world he had to do was to scoop up the ground and pour the mud into the molds, and when it was set he had a natural concrete, composed of lime and coarse gravel and bone-dry dust. Half the burro-corrals in Blackwater were built out of concrete, but Eells had put up a big false front. This had run into money, the ornately stamped tin-work having been shipped all the way from Los Angeles; and there were two plate-glass windows that framed a passing view of marble pillars and shining brass grilles. Wunpost took it all in and then hissed through his teeth—the money that had built it was his!

"I'll skin him!" he muttered, and pulled up down the street before Old Whiskers' populous saloon. Several men drifted out to speak to him as he tied his horse and pack, but he greeted them all with such a venomous glare that they shied off and went across the street. There there stood a rival saloon, rushed up in Wunpost's absence; but after looking it over he went into Whiskers' Place, which immediately began to fill up. The coming of Wunpost had been noted from afar, and a man who buys his grub with jewelry gold-specimens is sure to have a following. He slouched in sulkily and gazed at Old Whiskers, who was chewing on his tobacco like a ruminative billygoat and pretending to polish the bar. It was borne in on Whiskers that he had refused Wunpost a drink on the day he had walked out of camp, but he was hoping that the slight was forgotten; for if he could keep him in his saloon all the others would soon be vacated, now that Wunpost was the talk of the town. He had found one mine and lost it and gone out and found another one while the rest of them were wearing out shoe-leather; and a man like that could not be ignored by the community, no matter if he did curse their town. So Whiskers chewed on, not daring to claim his friendship, and Wunpost leaned against the bar.

"Gimme a drink," he said laying fifteen cents before him; and as several men moved forward he scowled at them in silence and tossed off his solamente. "Cr-ripes!" he shuddered, "did you make that yourself?" And when Whiskers, caught unawares, half acquiesced, Wunpost drew himself up and burst forth. "I believe it!" he announced with an oracular nod, "I can taste the burnt sugar, the fusel oil, the wood alcohol and everything. One drink of that stuff would strike a stone Injun blind if it wasn't for this dry desert air. They tell me, Whiskers, that when you came to this town you brought one barrel of whiskey with you—and that you ain't ordered another one since. That stuff is all right for those that like it—I'm going across the street."

He strode out the door, taking the fickle crowd with him and leaving Old Whiskers to chew the cud of brooding bitterness. In the saloon across the street a city barkeeper greeted Wunpost affably, and inquired what it would be. Wunpost asked for a drink and the discerning barkeeper set out a bottle with the seal uncut. It was bonded goods, guaranteed seven years in the wood, and Wunpost smacked his lips as he tasted it.

"Have one yourself," he suggested and while the crowd stood agape he laid down a nugget of gold.

That settled it with Blackwater, they threw their money on the bar and tried to get him drunk, but Wunpost would drink with none of them.

"No, you bunch of bootlickers!" he shouted angrily, "go on away, I won't have nothing to do with you! When I was broke you wouldn't treat me and now that I'm flush I reckon I can buy my own liquor. You're all sucking around old Eells, saying he made the town—I made your danged town myself! Didn't I discover the Willie Meena—and ain't that what made the town? Well, go chase yourselves, you suckers, I'm through with ye! You did me dirt when you thought I was cleaned and now you can all go to blazes!"

He shook hands with the friendly barkeeper, told him to keep the change, and fought his way out to the street. The crowd of boomers, still refusing to be insulted, trooped shamelessly along in his wake; and when he unpacked his mule and took out two heavy, heavy ore-sacks even Judson Eells cast aside his dignity. He had looked on from afar, standing in front of the plate-glass window which had "Willie Meena Mining Company" across it; but at a signal from Lynch, who had been acting as his lookout, he came running to demand his rights. The acquisition of The Wunpost and The Willie Meena properties had by no means satisfied his lust; and since this one crazy prospector—who of all men he had grubstaked seemed the only one who could find a mine—had for the third time come in with rich ore, he felt no compunctions about claiming his share.

"Where'd you get that ore?" he demanded of Wunpost as the crowd opened up before him and Wunpost glanced at him fleeringly.

"I stole it!" he said and went on sorting out specimens which he stuffed into his well-worn overalls.

"I asked you where!" returned Eells, drawing his lip up sternly, and Wunpost turned to the crowd.

"You see?" he jeered, "I told you he was crooked. He wants to go and steal some himself." He laughed, long and loud, and some there were who joined in with him, for Eells was not without his enemies. To be sure he had built the bank, and established his offices in Blackwater when he might have started a new town at the mine; but no moneylender was ever universally popular and Eells was ruthless in exacting his usury. But on the other hand he had brought a world of money in to town, for the Willie Meena had paid from the first; and it was his pay-roll and the wealth which had followed in his wake that had made the camp what it was; so no one laughed as long or as loud as John C. Calhoun and he hunched his shoulders and quit.

"Never you mind where I stole it!" he said to Eells, "I stole it, and that's enough. Is there anything in your contract that gives you a cut on everything I steal?"

"Why—why, no," replied Eells, "but that isn't the point—I asked you where you got it. If it's stolen, that's one thing, but if you've located another mine——"

"I haven't!" put in Wunpost, "you've broke me of that. The only way I can keep anything now is to steal it. Because, no matter what it is, if I come by it honestly, you and your rabbit-faced lawyer will grab it; but if I go out and steal it you don't dare to claim half, because that would make you out a thief. And of course a banker, and a big mining magnate, and the owner of the famous Willie Meena—well, it just isn't done, that's all."

He twisted up his lips in a wry, sarcastic smile but Eells was not susceptible to irony. He was the bulldog type of man, the kind that takes hold and hangs on, and he could see that the ore was rich. It was so rich indeed that in those two sacks alone there were undoubtedly several thousand dollars—and the mine itself might be worth millions. Eells turned and beckoned to Phillip F. Lapham, who was looking on with greedy eyes. They consulted together while Wunpost waited calmly, though with the battle light in his eyes, and at last Eells returned to the charge.

"Mr. Calhoun," he said, "there's no use to pretend that this ore which you have is stolen. We have seen samples of it before and it is very unusual—in fact, no one has seen anything like it. Therefore your claim that it is stolen is a palpable pretense, to deprive me of my rights under our constitution.

"Yes?" prompted Wunpost, dropping his hand on his pistol, and Eells paused and glanced at Lapham.

"Well," he conceded, "of course I can't prove anything and——"

"No, you bet you can't prove anything," spoke up Wunpost defiantly, "and you can't touch an ounce of my ore. It's mine and I stole it and no court can make me show where; because a man can't be compelled to incriminate himself—and if I showed you they could come out and pinch me. Huh! You've got a lawyer, have you? Well, I've got one myself and I know my legal rights and if any man puts out his hand to take away this bag, I've got a right to shoot him dead! Ain't that right now, Mr. Flip Flappum?"

"Well—the law gives one the right to defend his own property; but only with sufficient force to resist the attack, and to shoot would be excessive."

"Not with me!" asserted Wunpost, "I've consulted one of the best lawyers in Nevada and I'm posted on every detail. There's Pisen-face Lynch, that everybody knows is a gun-man in the employ of Judson Eells, and at the first crooked move I'd be justified in killing him and then in killing you and Eells. Oh, I'll law you, you dastards, I'll law you with a six-shooter—and I've got an attorney all hired to defend me. We've agreed on his fee and I've got it all buried where he can go get it when I give him the directions; and I hope he gets it soon because then there'll be just three less grafters, to rob honest prospectors of their rights."

He advanced upon Lapham, his great head thrust out as he followed his squirming flight through the crowd; and when he was gone he turned upon Eells who stood his ground with insolent courage.

"And you, you big slob," he went on threateningly, "you don't need to think you'll git off. I ain't afraid of your gun-man, and I ain't afraid of you, and before we get through I'm going to git you. Well, laugh if you want to—it's your scalp or mine—and you can jest politely go to hell."

He snapped his fingers in his face and, taking a sack in both hands, started off to the Wells Fargo office; and, so intimidated for once were Eells and his gun-fighter, that neither one followed along after him. Wunpost deposited his treasure in the Express Company's safe and went off to care for his animals and, while the crowd dispersed to the several saloons, Eells and Lapham went into conference. This sudden glib quoting of moot points of law was a new and disturbing factor, and Lapham himself was quite unstrung over the news of the buried retainer. It had all the earmarks of a criminal lawyer's work, this tender solicitude for his fee; and some shysters that Lapham knew would even encourage their client to violence, if it would bring them any nearer to the gold. But this gold—where did it come from? Could it possibly be high-graded, in spite of all the testimony to the contrary? And if not, if his claim that it was stolen was a blind, then how could they discover its whereabouts? Certainly not by force of law, and not by any violence—they must resort to guile, the old cunning of the serpent, which now differentiates man from the beasts of the field, and perhaps they could get Wunpost drunk!

Happy thought! The wires were laid and all Blackwater joined in with them, in fact it was the universal idea, and even the new barkeeper with whom Wunpost had struck up an acquaintance had promised to do his part. To get Wunpost drunk and then to make him boast, to pique him by professed doubts of his great find; and then when he spilled it, as he had always done before, the wild rush and another great boom! They watched his every move as he put his animals in a corral and stored his packs and saddles; and when, in the evening, he drifted back to The Mint, man after man tried to buy him a drink. But Wunpost was antisocial, he would have none of their whiskey and their canting professions of friendship; only Ben Fellowes, the new barkeeper, was good enough for his society and he joined him in several libations. It was all case goods, very soft and smooth and velvety, and yet in a remarkably short space of time Wunpost was observed to be getting garrulous.

"I'll tell you, pardner," he said taking the barkeeper by the arm and speaking very confidently into his ear, "I'll tell you, it's this way with me. I'm a Calhoun, see—John C. Calhoun is my name, and I come from the state of Kentucky—and a Kentucky Calhoun never forgets a friend, and he never forgets an enemy. I'm burned out on this town—don't like it—nothing about it—but you, now, you're different, you never done me any injury. You're my friend, ain't that right, you're my friend!"

The barkeeper reassured him and held his breath while he poured out another drink and then, as Wunpost renewed his protestations, Fellowes thanked him for his present of the nugget.

"What—that?" exclaimed Wunpost brushing the piece of gold aside, "that's nothing—here, give you a good one!" He drew out a chunk of rock fairly encrusted with gold and forced it roughly upon him. "It's nothing!" he said, "lots more where that came from. Got system, see—know how to find it. All these water-hole prospectors, they never find nothing—too lazy, won't get out and hunt. I head for the high places—leap from crag to crag, see, like mountain sheep—come back with my pockets full of gold. These bums are no good—I could take 'em out tonight and lead 'em to my mine and they'd never be able to go back. Rough country 'n all that—no trails, steep as the devil—take 'em out there and lose 'em, every time. Take you out and lose you—now say, you're my friend, I'll tell you what I'll do."

He stopped with portentous dignity and poured out another drink and the barkeeper frowned a hanger-on away.

"I'll take you out there," went on Wunpost, "and show you my mine—show you the place where I get all this gold. You can pick up all you want, and when we get back you give me a thousand dollar bill. That's all I ask is a thousand dollar bill—like to have one to flash on the boys—and then we'll go to Los and blow the whole pile—by grab, I'm a high-roller, right. I'm a good feller, see, as long as you're my friend, but don't tip off this place to old Eells. Have to kill you if you do—he's bad actor—robbed me twice. What's matter—ain't you got the dollar bill?"

"You said a thousand dollars!" spoke up the barkeeper breathlessly.

"Well, thousand dollar bill, then. Ain't you got it—what's the matter? Aw, gimme another drink—you're nothing but a bunch of short sports."

He shook his head and sighed and as the barkeeper began to sweat he caught the hanger-on's eye. It was Pisen-face Lynch and he was winking at him fiercely, meanwhile tapping his own pocket significantly.

"I can get it," ventured the barkeeper but Wunpost ignored him.

"You're all short sports," he asserted drunkenly, waving his hand insultingly at the crowd. "You're cheap guys—you can't bear to lose."

"Hey!" broke in the barkeeper, "I said I'd take you up. I'll get the thousand dollars, all right."

"Oh, you will, eh?" murmured Wunpost and then he shook himself together. "Oh—sure! Yes, all right! Come on, we'll start right now!"



CHAPTER XI

THE STINGING LIZARD

In a certain stratum of society, now about to become extinct, it is considered quite au fait to roll a drunk if circumstances will permit. And it was from this particular stratum that the barkeeper at The Mint had derived his moral concepts. Therefore he considered it no crime, no betrayal of a trust, to borrow the thousand dollars with which he was to pay John C. Calhoun from that prince of opportunists, Judson Eells. It is not every banker that will thrust a thousand dollar bill—and the only one he has on hand—upon a member of the bungstarters' brotherhood; but a word in his ear from Pisen-face Lynch convinced Fellowes that it would be well to run straight. Fate had snatched him from behind the bar to carry out a part not unconnected with certain schemes of Judson Eells and any tendency to run out on his trusting backers would be visited with summary punishment. At least that was what he gathered in the brief moment they had together before Lynch gave him the money and disappeared.

As for John C. Calhoun, a close student of inebriety might have noticed that he became sober too quick; but he invested their departure in such a wealth of mystery that the barkeeper was more than satisfied. A short ways out of town Wunpost turned out into the rocks and milled around for an hour; and then, when their trail was hopelessly lost, he led the way into the hills. Being a stranger in the country Fellowes could not say what wash it was, but they passed up some wash and from that into another one; and so on until he was lost; and the most he could do was to drop a few white beans from the pocketful that Lynch had provided. The night was very dark and they rode on interminably, camping at dawn in a shut-in canyon; and so on for three nights until his mind became a blank as far as direction was concerned. His liberal supply of beans had been exhausted the first night and since then they had passed over a hundred rocky hog-backs and down a thousand boulder-strewn canyons. As to the whereabouts of Blackwater he had no more idea than a cat that has been carried in a bag; and he lacked that intimate sense of direction which often enables the cat to come back. He was lost, and a little scared, when Wunpost stopped in a gulch and showed him a neat pile of rocks.

"There's my monument," he said, "ain't that a neat piece of work? I learned how to make them from a surveyor. This tobacco can here contains my notice of location—that was a steer when I said it wasn't staked. Git down and help yourself!"

He assisted his companion, who was slightly saddle-sore, to alight and inspect the monument and then he waited expectantly.

"Oh, the mine! The mine!" cried Wunpost gaily. "Come along—have you got your sack? Well, bring along a sack and we'll fill it so full of gold it'll bust and spill out going home. Be a nice way to mark the trail, if you should want to come back sometime—and by the way, have you got that thousand dollar bill?"

"Yes, I've got it," whined the barkeeper, "but where's your cussed mine? This don't look like nothing to me!"

"No, that's it," expounded Wunpost, "you haven't got my system—they's no use for you to turn prospector. Now look in this crack—notice that stuff up and down there? Well, now, that's where I'd look to find gold."

"Jee-rusalem!" exclaimed the barkeeper, or words to that effect, and dropped down to dig out the rock. It was the very same ore that Wunpost had shown when he had entered The Mint at Blackwater, only some of it was actually richer than any of the pieces he had seen. And there was a six-inch streak of it, running down into the country-rock as if it were going to China. He dug and dug again while Wunpost, all unmindful, unpacked and cooked a good meal. Fellowes filled his small sack and all his pockets and wrapped up the rest in his handkerchief; and before they packed to go he borrowed the dish-towel and went back for a last hoard of gold. It was there for the taking, and he could have all he wanted as long as he turned over the thousand dollar bill. Wunpost was insistent upon this and as they prepared to start he accepted it as payment in full.

"That's my idea of money!" he exclaimed admiringly as he smoothed the silken note across his knee. "A thousand dollar bill, and you could hide it inside your ear—say, wait till I pull that in Los! I'll walk up to the bar in my old, raggedy clothes and if the barkeep makes any cracks about paying in advance I'll just drop that down on the mahogany. That'll learn him, by grab, to keep a civil tongue in his head and to say Mister when he's speaking to a gentleman."

He grinned at the Judas that he had taken to his bosom but Fellowes did not respond. He was haunted by a fear that the simple-minded Wunpost might ask him where he got that big bill, since it is rather out of the ordinary for even a barkeeper to have that much money in his clothes; but the simple-minded Wunpost was playing a game of his own and he asked no embarrassing questions. It was taken for granted that they were both gentlemen of integrity, each playing his own system to win, and the barkeeper's nervous fear that the joker would pop up somewhere found no justification in fact. He had his gold, all he could carry of it, and Wunpost had his thousand dollar bill, and now nothing remained to hope for but a quick trip home and a speedy deliverance from his misery.

"Say, for cripes' sake," he wailed, "ain't they any short-cut home? I'm so lame I can hardly walk."

"Well, there is," admitted Wunpost, "I could have you home by morning. But you might take to dropping that gold, like you did them Boston beans, and I'd come back to find my mine jumped."

"Oh, I won't drop no gold!" protested Fellowes earnestly, "and them beans was just for a joke. Always read about it, you know, in these here lost treasure stories; but shucks, I didn't mean no harm!"

"No," nodded Wunpost, "if I'd thought you did I'd have ditched you, back there in the rocks. But I'll tell you what I will do—you let me keep you blindfolded and I'll get you out of here quick."

"You're on!" agreed Fellowes and Wunpost whipped out his handkerchief and bound it across his whole face. They rode on interminably, but it was always down hill and the sagacious Mr. Fellowes even noted a deep gorge through which water was rushing in a torrent. Shortly after they passed through it he heard a rooster crow and caught the fragrance of hay and not long after that they were out on the level where he could smell the rank odor of the creosote. Just at daylight they rode into Blackwater from the south, for Wunpost was still playing the game, and half an hour later every prospector was out, ostensibly hunting for his burros. But Wunpost's work was done, he turned his animals into the corral and retired for some much-needed sleep; and when he awoke the barkeeper was gone, along with everybody else in town.

The stampede was to the north and then up Jail Canyon, where there was the only hay ranch for miles; and then up the gorge and on almost to Panamint, where the tracks turned off up Woodpecker Canyon. They were back-tracking of course, for the tracks really came down it, but before the sun had set Wunpost's monument was discovered, together with the vein of gold. It was astounding, incredible, after all his early efforts, that he should let them back-track him to his mine; but that was what he had done and Pisen-face Lynch was not slow to take possession of the treasure. There was no looting of the paystreak as there had been at the Willie Meena, a guard was put over it forthwith; and after he had taken a few samples from the vein Lynch returned on the gallop to Blackwater.

The great question now with Eells was how Wunpost would take it, but after hearing from his scouts that the prospector was calm he summoned him to his office. It seemed too good to be true, but so it had seemed before when Calhoun had given up the Wunpost and the Willie Meena; and when Lynch brought him in Eells was more than pleased to see that his victim was almost smiling.

"Well, followed me up again, eh?" he observed sententiously, and Eells inclined his head.

"Yes," he said, "Mr. Lynch followed your trail and—well, we have already taken possession of the mine."

"Under the contract?" inquired Wunpost and when Eells assented Wunpost shut his lips down grimly. "Good!" he said, "now I've got you where I want you. We're partners, ain't that it, under our contract? And you don't give a whoop for justice or nothing as long as you get it all! Well, you'll get it, Mr. Eells—do you recognize this thousand dollar bill? That was given to me by a barkeep named Fellowes, but of course he received it from you. I knowed where he got it, and I knowed what he was up to—I ain't quite as easy as I look—and now I'm going to take it and give it to a lawyer, and start in to get my rights. Yes, I've got some rights, too—never thought of that, did ye—and I'm going to demand 'em all! I'm going to go to this lawyer and put this bill in his hand and tell him to git me my rights! Not part of 'em, not nine tenths of 'em—I want 'em all—and by grab, I'm going to get 'em!"

He struck the mahogany table a resounding whack and Eells jumped and glanced warningly at Lynch.

"I'm going to call for a receiver, or whatever you call him, to look after my interests at the mine; and if the judge won't appoint him I'm going to have you summoned to bring the Wunpost books into court. And I'm going to prove by those books that you robbed me of my interest and never made any proper accounting; and then, by grab, he'll have to appoint him, and I'll get all that's coming to me, and you'll get what's coming to you. You'll be shown up for what you are, a low-down, sneaking thief that would steal the pennies from a blind man; you'll be showed up right, you and your sure-thing contract, and you'll get a little publicity! I'll just give this to the press, along with some four-bit cigars and the drinks all around for the boys, and we'll just see where you stand when you get your next rating from Bradstreet—I'll put your tin-front bank on the bum! And then I'll say to my lawyer, and he's a slippery son-of-a-goat: 'Go to it and see how much you can get—and for every dollar you collect, by hook, crook or book, I'll give you back a half of it! Sue Eells for an accounting every time he ships a brick—make him pay back what he stole on the Wunpost—give him fits over the Willie Meena—and if a half ain't enough, send him broke and you can have it all! Do you reckon I'll get some results?"

He asked this last softly, bowing his bristling head to where he could look Judson Eells in the eye, and the oppressor of the poor took counsel. Undoubtedly he would get certain results, some of which were very unpleasant to contemplate, but behind it all he felt something yet to come, some counter-proposal involving peace. For no man starts out by laying his cards on the table unless he has an ace in the hole—or unless he is running a bluff. And he knew, and Wunpost knew, that the thing which irked him most was that sure-fire Prospector's Contract. There Eells had the high card and if he played his hand well he might tame this impassioned young orator. His lawyer was not yet retained, none of the suits had been brought, and perhaps they never would be brought. Yet undoubtedly Wunpost had consulted some attorney.

"Why—yes," admitted Eells, "I'm quite sure you'd get results—but whether they would be the results you anticipate is quite another question. I have a lawyer of my own, quite a competent man and one in whom I can trust, and if it comes to a suit there's one thing you can't break and that is your Prospector's Contract."

He paused and over Wunpost's scowling face there flashed a twinge that betrayed him—Judson Eells had read his inner thought.

"Well, anyhow," he blustered, "I'll deal you so much misery——"

"Not necessary, not necessary," put in Judson Eells mildly, "I'm willing to meet you half way. What is it you want now, and if it's anything reasonable I'll be glad to consider a settlement. Litigation is expensive—it takes time and it takes money—and I'm willing to do what is right."

"Well, gimme back that contract!" blurted out Wunpost desperately, "and you can keep your doggoned mine. But if you don't by grab I'll fight you!"

"No, I can't do that," replied Eells regretfully, "and I'll tell you, Mr. Calhoun, why. You're just one of forty-odd men that have signed those Prospector's Contracts, and there's a certain principle involved. I paid out thirty thousand dollars before I got back a nickel and I can't afford to establish a precedent. If I let you buy out, they will all want to buy out—that is, if they've happened to find a mine—and the result will be that there'll be trouble and litigation every time I claim my rights. When you were wasting my grubstake I never said a word, because that, in a way, was your privilege; and now that, for some reason, you are stumbling onto mines, you ought to recognize my rights. It is a part of my policy, as laid down from the first, under no circumstances to ever release anybody; otherwise some dishonest prospector might be tempted to conceal his find in the hope of getting title to it later. But now about this mine, which you have named The Stinging Lizard—what would be your top price for cash?"

"I want that contract," returned Wunpost doggedly but Judson Eells shook his head.

"How about ten thousand dollars?" suggested Eells at last, "for a quit-claim on the Stinging Lizard Mine?"

"Nothing doing!" flashed back Wunpost, "I don't sign no quit-claim—nor no other paper, for that matter. You might have it treated with invisible ink, or write something else in, up above. But—aw cripes, dang these lawyers, I don't want to monkey around—gimme a hundred thousand dollars and she's yours."

"The Stinging Lizard?" inquired Eells and wrote it absently on his blotter at which Wunpost began to sweat.

"I don't sign nothing!" he reminded him, and Eells smiled indulgently.

"Very well, you can acknowledge it before witnesses."

"No, I don't acknowledge nothing!" insisted Wunpost stubbornly, "and you've got to put the money in my hand. How about fifty thousand dollars and make it all cash, and I'll agree to get out of town."

"No-o, I haven't that much on hand at this time," observed Judson Eells, frowning thoughtfully. "I might give you a draft on Los Angeles."

"No—cash!" challenged Wunpost, "how much have you got? Count it over and make me an offer—I want to get out of this town." He muttered uneasily and paced up and down while Judson Eells, with ponderous surety, opened up the chilled steel vault. He ran through bundles and neat packages, totting up as he went, and then with a face as frozen as a stone he came out with the currency in his hands.

"I've got twenty thousand dollars that I suppose I can spare," he began as he spread out the money, but Wunpost cut him short.

"I'll take it," he said, "and you can have the Stinging Lizard—but my word's all the quit claim you get!"

He stuffed the money into his pockets without stopping to count it, more like a burglar than a seller of mines, and that night while the town gathered to gaze on in wonder he took the stage for Los Angeles. No one shouted good-by and he did not look back, but as they pulled out of Blackwater he smiled.



CHAPTER XII

BACK HOME

The dry heat of July gave way to the muggy heat of August and as the September storms began to gather along the summits Wunpost Calhoun returned to his own. It was his own country, after all, this land of desert spaces and jagged mountains reared up again the sky; and he came back in style, riding a big, round-bellied mule and leading another one packed. He had a rifle under his knee, a pistol on his hip and a pair of field glasses in a case on the horn; and he rode in on a trot, looking about with a knowing smile that changed suddenly to a smirk of triumph.

"Well, well!" he exclaimed as he saw Eells emerge from the bank, "how's the mine, Mr. Eells; how's the mine?"

And Judson Eells, who had rushed out at the rumor of his approach, drew up his lip and glared at him hatefully.

"You're a criminal!" he bellowed, "I could have you jailed for this—that Stinging Lizard mine was salted!"

"The hell you say!" shrilled Wunpost and then he laughed uproariously while he did a little jig in his stirrups. "Yeee—hoo!" he yelled, "say, that's pretty good! Have you any idee who done it?"

"You did it!" answered Eells, "and I could have you arrested for it, only I don't want to have any trouble. But you agreed to leave town and now I see you're back—what's the meaning of this, Mr. Calhoun?"

"Too slow inside," complained Mr. Calhoun, who was sporting a brand-new outfit, "so I thought I'd come back and shake hands with my friends and take another look at my mine. Costs money to live in Los Angeles and I bought me a dog—looky here, cost me eight hundred dollars!"

He reached down into a nest which he had hollowed out of the pack and held up a wilted fox terrier, and as Eells stood speechless he dropped it back into its cubby-hole and laid a loving hand on the mule.

"How's this for a mule?" he enquired ingenuously, "cost me five hundred dollars in Barstow. Fastest walker in the West—picked him out on purpose—and my pack mule can carry four hundred. How much did you lose on the Stinging Lizard?"

"I lost over thirty thousand dollars, with the road work and all," answered Eells with ponderous exactitude, and Wunpost laughed again.

"Thirty thousand!" he echoed. "I wish it was a million! But you can't say that I didn't warn you!"

"Warn me!" raged Eells, "you did nothing of the kind. It was a deliberate attempt to defraud me."

"Aw, cripes," scoffed Wunpost, "you can't win all the time—why don't you take your medicine like a sport? Didn't I name the danged hole The Stinging Lizard? Well, there was your warning—but you got stung!"

He laughed heartily at the joke and looked up the street, ignoring the staring crowd.

"Well, got to go!" he said. "Where is that road you built—like to go up and take a look at it!"

"It extends up Jail Canyon," returned the banker grimly. "I understand Mr. Campbell is using it."

"Pretty work!" exclaimed Wunpost, "won't be wasted, anyhow. That'll come in right handy for Cole. Why didn't you buy the old hassayamper out?"

"He won't sell!" grumbled Eells, "say, come in here a minute—I've got something I want to talk over."

He led the way into his inner office, where an electric fan was running, and Wunpost took off his big, black hat to loll before the breeze.

"Pretty nice," he pronounced, "they've got lots of 'em in Los. But I never suffered so much from heat in my life—the poor fools all wear coats! Gimme the desert, every time!"

"So you've come back to stay, eh?" inquired Eells unsociably, "I thought you'd left these parts."

"Yep—left and came back," replied Wunpost lightly. "Say, how much do you want for that contract? You might as well release me, because it'll never buy you anything—you've got all the mines you'll get."

"I'll never release you!" answered Judson Eells firmly. "It's against my principles to do it."

"Aw, put a price on it," burst out Wunpost bluffly, "you know you haven't got any principles. You're out for the dough, the same as the rest of us, and you figure you'll make more by holding on. But I'm here to tell you that I'm getting too slick for you and you might as well quit while you're lucky."

"Not for any money," responded Judson Eells solemnly, "I am in this as a matter of principle."

"Ahhr, principle!" scoffed Wunpost. "You're the crookedest dog that ever drew up a contract—and then talk to me about principle! Why don't you say what you mean and call it your system—like they use trying to break the roulette wheel? But I'm telling you your system is played out. I'll never locate another claim as long as I live, unless I'm released from that contract; so where do you figure on any more Willie Meenas? All you'll get will be Stinging Lizards."

He burst out into taunting laughter but Judson Eells sat dumb, his heavy lower lip drawn up grimly.

"That's all right," he said at last, "I have reason to believe that you have located a very rich mine—and the only way you personally can ever get a dollar out of it, is to come through and give me half!"

"The only way, eh?" jeered Wunpost, "well, where did I get the price to buy that swell pair of mules? Did I give you one half, or even a smell? Not much—and I got this, besides."

He slapped a wad of bills that he drew from his pocket, and Eells knew they were a part of his payment—the purchase price of the salted Stinging Lizard—but he only looked them over and scowled.

"Nothing doing, eh?" observed Wunpost rising up to go, "you won't sell that contract for no price. Going to follow me up, eh, and find this hidden treasure, and skin me out of it, too? Well, hop to it, Mr. Eells, and after you've got a bellyful perhaps you'll listen to reason. You got stung good and plenty when you bought the Stinging Lizard and I figure I'm pretty well heeled. Got two new mules, beside my other animals, and an eight hundred dollar watch-dog to keep me company; and I'm going to come back inside of a month with my mules loaded down with gold. Do you reckon your pet rabbit, Mr. Phillip F. Flappum, can make me come through with any part of it? Well, I consulted a lawyer before I left Los Angeles and he said—decidedly not! Your contract calls for claims, wherever located, but I haven't got any claim. This ore that I bring in may be dug from some claim, and then again it may be high-graded from some mine; but you've got to find that claim and prove that it exists before you can call for a cent. You've got to prove, by grab, where I got that gold, before you can claim that it's yours—and that's something you never can do. I'm going to say I stole it and if you sue for any part of it you make yourself out a thief!"

He slammed his hand on Eells' desk and slammed the door when he went out and mounted his big mule with a swagger. The citizens of Blackwater made way for him promptly, though many a lip curled in scorn, and he rode out of town sitting sideways in his saddle while he did a little jig in his stirrups. He had come into town and bearded their leading citizen and now he was on his way. If any wished to follow, that was their privilege as free citizens, and their efforts might lead them to a mine; but on the other hand they might lead them up some very rocky canyons and down through Death Valley in summer. But there was one man he knew would follow, for the stakes were high and Judson Eells was not to be denied—it was up to Lynch, who had claimed to be so bad, to prove himself a tracker and a desert-man.

Wunpost rode along slowly until the sun went down, for the heat-haze hung black over the Sink, and that evening about midnight he entered Jail Canyon on a road that was graded like a boulevard. It swung around the point well up above the creek, and then on along the wash to Corkscrew Gorge, and as he paused below the house Wunpost chuckled to himself as he thought of his boasts to Wilhelmina. He had bet her two months before that, without turning his hand over or spending a cent of money, he could build her father a road; and now here it was, laid out like a highway—a proof that his system would work. She had chosen to scoff when he had made his big talk; but here he was back with his clothes full of money, and Judson Eells had kindly built the road. He looked up at the moon, where it rose swimming through the haze, and laughed until he shook; then he camped and waited for day.

The dawn came in a wave of heat, preceding the sun like the breath from a furnace; and Wunpost woke up suddenly to hear his wilted terrier barking furiously as he raced towards the house. There was a moment of silence, then the spit and yell of a cat and as Wunpost stood grinning his dog came slinking back licking the blood from a scratch across his nose. He was a fullblooded fox terrier, but small and white and trembly; and the baby-blue in his eyes pleaded of youth and inexperience as he crouched before his stern master.

"Come here!" commanded Wunpost but as he reached down to slap him a voice called his name from above.

"Don't whip him!" it begged and Wunpost withheld his hand for Wilhelmina had been much in his mind. She came dancing down the trail, her curls tumbling about her face and down over the perennial bib-overalls, and when the pup saw her he left his scowling master and crept meechingly to take refuge at her feet.

"He was chasing Red," she dimpled, "and you know how fierce he is—why, Red isn't afraid of a wildcat! Where have you been? We've all been looking for you!"

"I've been in Los Angeles," responded Wunpost with a sigh, "but, by grab, I never thought that this dog of mine would get licked by an old yaller cat!"

"He isn't yellow—he's red!" corrected Wilhelmina briskly, "the desert makes all yellow cats red; but where'd you get your dog? And oh, yes; isn't it fine—how do you like our new road? They had it built up to your mine!"

"So I hear," returned Wunpost with a grim twinkle in his eye, "what do you think of my system now?"

"Why, what system?" asked Billy, staring blankly into his face, and Wunpost pulled down his lip. Was it possible that this fly-away had taken his words so lightly that she had forgotten his exposition and prophecy? Did she think that this road had come there by accident and not by deep-laid design? He called back his dog and made him lie down behind him and then he changed the subject.

"How's your father getting along?" he asked after a silence, "has he shipped out any ore? Well say, you tell 'im to get a move on. There's liable to be a cloudburst and wash the whole road out, and then where'd you be with your home stake?"

"Well, I guess there hasn't been one for over twelve years," answered Billy snapping her fingers enticingly to his dog, "and besides, it's so hot the trucks can't gull up the canyon—it makes their radiators boil. But we've got it all sacked and when Father gets his payment I'm going inside, to school. Isn't it fine, after all they said about Dad—calling him crazy and everything else—and now his mine is worth lots and lots of money! I knew all the time he would win! And Eells has been up here and offered us forty thousand dollars, but Father wouldn't even consider it."

She stepped over boldly and picked up the dog, who wriggled frantically and tried to lick her face, and Wunpost stood mumbling to himself. So now it was her father who was getting all the credit for this wonderful stroke of luck; and he and the others who had called old Cole crazy were proven by the event to be fools. And yet he had packed ore for over two weeks to salt the Stinging Lizard for Eells!

"Put your mules in the corral and come up to breakfast!" cried Billy starting off for the house; and then she dropped his dog, which ran capering along behind her—and Wunpost had named it Good Luck! If she stole his dog on top of everything else, he would learn about women from her.

There was a cordial welcome at the house from Mrs. Campbell, who was radiant with joy over their good fortune; but Wunpost avoided the subject of the sale of his mine, for of course she must know it was salted. Anyone would know that after they had dug down a ways for Wunpost had simply quarried out a vein of rotten quartz and filled the resultant fissure with high grade. But there is something in Latin about caveat emptor, which is short for "Let the buyer beware!" and if Judson Eells was so foolish as to build his road first that was certainly no fault of Wunpost's. All he had done was to locate the hole, and then Judson Eells had jumped it; and if, as a result thereof, Wunpost had trimmed him of twenty thousand, that was nothing to what Eells had done to him. And yet every time he met Mrs. Campbell's eye he felt that she had her reservations about him. He was a mine-salter, a crook, the same as Eells was a crook; but she welcomed him all the same. Perhaps she held it to his credit that he had given Billy a full half when he had discovered the Willie Meena Mine; but it might be, of course, that she was this way with everyone and simply tolerated him as she did Hungry Bill. He ate a good breakfast, but without saying much, and then he went back to his camp.

Wilhelmina tagged along, joyous as a child to have company and quite innocent of what is called maidenly reserve; and Wunpost dug down into his pack and gave her a bag of candy, at the same time patting her hand.

"Yours truly," he said, "sweets to the sweet, and all that. Say, what do you think this is?"

He held up a box, which might contain almost anything that was less than six inches square, and shook his head at all her guesses.

"Come on up to the lookout," he said at last and she followed along fearlessly behind him. There are maidens, of course, who would refuse to enter dark tunnels in the company of masterful young prospectors; but Wilhelmina had yet to learn both fear and feminine subterfuge and she made no pretty excuses. She was neither afraid of the dark, nor afflicted with vertigo, nor reminded of pressing home duties; and she was frankly interested both in the contents of the box and the ways of a man with a maid. He had given her some candy, and there was a gift in the little box—and once before he had made as if to kiss her; would he now, after bringing his lover's gifts, demand the customary tribute? And if so, should she permit it; and if not, why not?

It was very perplexing and yet Billy was determined not to evade any of the problems of life. All girls had their suitors; and yet few of them, she knew, were cast in the heroic mold of Wunpost. He was big and strong, with roving blue eyes and a smile that was both compelling and shy; and sometimes when he looked at her she felt a vague tumult, for of course he could kiss her if he would. When he had assaulted Old Whiskers and seized Dusty Rhodes by the throat, in the contest over their mine, she had stood in awe of his violence; but except for that one time when he had attempted to steal a kiss, he had reserved his rough violence for his enemies. Yet—and somehow the thought thrilled her—it might be, after all, that he was shy; and that playful, bear-like hug was only his boyish way of hinting at the wish in his heart.

It might even be that he was secretly in love with her, as she had read of other lovers in books; and that all the time, unknown to her, he was worshiping her beauty from afar. For she was beautiful, she knew it—and others had told her so—and there are few girls indeed that have curling hair and dimples, but Nature had given her both. And now if he did not kiss her, or speak from his heart, it would be because she was dressed like a boy; and she would have to lay aside her overalls forever. For no one can hope to retain everything in this world, and life is ours to be lived; and if worst came to worst, she might give up her freedom and consent to wear millinery and skirts. She sighed and followed on, and came safely to the portal which looked out on the great world below.

Wunpost sat down deliberately at the mouth of the tunnel, on the broad seat she had built along the wall, and handed Wilhelmina the package; and as she sank down beside him the panting fox terrier slumped down at her feet and wheezed. But Billy failed to notice this sign of affection, for as the package was broken open a dainty case was exposed and this in turn revealed a pair of glasses. Not ordinary, cheap field-glasses with rusty round barrels and lenses that refracted the colors of the rainbow; but exquisitely small ones, with square shoulders on the sides and quality showing in every line. She caught them up ecstatically and looked out across the Sink; and Wunpost let her gaze, though her focus was all wrong, while he made his little speech.

"Now," he said, "next time you see my dust you'll know whether it's a man or a dog."

"Oh, aren't they fine!" exclaimed Billy, swinging the glasses on Blackwater. "I can see every house in town. And there's a man on the trail—yes, and another one behind—I believe they're coming this way."

"Probably Pisen-face Lynch," observed Wunpost unconcernedly, "I expected him to be on my trail."

"Why, what for?" murmured Billy still struggling with the focus. "Oh, now I can see them fine! Oh, aren't these just wonderful—and such little things, too—are you going to use them to hunt horses?"

"No, they're yours!" returned Wunpost with a generous swagger, "I've got another pair of my own. I'll never forget how you picked me up that time, so this is a kind of present."

"A present!" gasped Wilhelmina and then she paused and blushed, for of course she had known it all the time. They were small glasses, for a lady, but it was nice of him to say it, and to mention her finding him on the desert. And now her mother would have to let her keep them, for, they were in remembrance of her saving his life.

"It's awful kind of you," she said, "and I'll never forget it—and now, won't you show me how they work?"

She drew a little closer, and as her curls brushed his cheek Wunpost reeled as if from a blow.

"Sure," he said and gave her a kiss just as if she had really asked for it.



CHAPTER XIII

WITH HAY HOOKS

It is no more than right that the first kiss should be forgiven, especially if no one is to blame, and Wilhelmina forgave him very sweetly; but there was a wild, hunted look in Wunpost's bold eyes and he wondered what would happen next. Something had come over him very suddenly and made him forget the restraint which all ladies, even in overalls, laid upon him; and when their hands had touched some great force had drawn them together and he had kissed her before she knew it. But instead of resisting she had yielded for a moment, and then pushed him away very slowly; and he still remembered, like part of a dream, her heart beating against his breast. But it was all over now, and she was toying with the field-glasses which he had brought from the city as a present.

"Isn't it wonderful," she said, "how we first came together? And the first place I looked for when you gave me these glasses was that wash where you made your two fires."

"If you'd had them then," ventured Wunpost at last, "you'd've been able to see me plain."

"Yes," she sighed, "but I found you anyhow. Doesn't it seem a long time ago? And it was only the end of last May."

"Something doing every minute," burst out Wunpost gaily, "say, I've found two mines this summer! What did old Eells think of the Stinging Lizard? I hooked him right on that—he'll be careful what he grabs next time. And when he jumps the next claim of mine I reckon he'll sink a few feet before he builds any more ten thousand dollar roads!"

He chuckled and ran his hand through his tumbled hair, which always stood straight on end, but Billy was looking at him curiously.

"Mr. Eells was up to see us," she said at last, "and he claims you salted that mine. And he even told Father that you located it up our canyon just on purpose so we could use his road!"

"And what did you say?" inquired Wunpost teasingly. "Didn't I tell you, right here, I was going to do it?"

"Oh, but you were just fooling!" she protested laughing, "and I told him you did nothing of the kind. And then Father stepped in, when he heard what we were talking about, and he told Mr. Eells what he thought of him."

"No, but I did salt the mine!" spoke up Wunpost quickly, "there wasn't any fooling there. And, being as I had to locate it somewhere—well, the chances are Eells was correct."

"Oh, that's just the way you talk!" she burst out incredulously; "did you honestly do it on purpose?"

"Well, I guess I did!" boasted Wunpost. "I just stopped over in Blackwater and told Mr. Eells all about it. So don't be worried on my account—and he built you a mighty good road."

"Yes, but do you think it was quite right," began Billy indignantly, "to make Father seem a party to a fraud? It's what some people would call a very shady transaction; but I suppose, of course, you're proud of it!"

"Why, sure I am!" returned Wunpost warmly, "and you don't need to be so high and mighty. I guess I'm just as good as your old man or anybody, and I notice he's using the road!"

"He won't though," answered Billy, "if I tell him what's happened! My father is honest, he works for what he gets, and that road is just the same as stolen!"

"Well, go ahead and tell him!" challenged Wunpost angrily. "We'll come to a show-down, right now. And anybody that's too good to use my road is too good to associate with me!" He brought down his big fist into the palm of his hand and Wilhelmina jumped at the smack. "Didn't I tell you," he demanded rising and pointing at her accusingly, "didn't I say I was going to build that road? Well, why didn't you kick about it then? You were game to follow me up and jump my mine so your father could build him a road; but the minute I trim old Eells, who has robbed you of a million, by grab, all of a sudden you get good! You can't bear to use a road that that old skinflint built, thinking he'd robbed me of another rich mine! No, that wouldn't be right, that's a shady transaction! All right then, don't use the doggoned road!"

He smashed his fist into his hand in a final sweeping gesture of disdain and Wilhelmina gazed at him fixedly.

"I thought you were just talking," she said at last, "but don't you ever tell Father what's happened. If you do he'll never use the road—or if he does, he'll pay Mr. Eells for it. He tries to be honest in everything."

"Yes, and look what it gets him!" cried Wunpost passionately, "he's spent half his life in this hell-hole of a canyon and you're chasing around here in overalls! And then when some crook like me comes along and gives him a ten thousand dollar road this is all the thanks he gets! I'm through—you can rustle for yourself!"

"Very well!" returned Billy with a wild gleam in her eye, "and if you don't like my overalls——"

"I do!" he broke in, "I like 'em fine—like 'em better than those flimsy danged skirts! But if you're too good to use my road——"

"It isn't that," interrupted Billy, "I'm glad you built the road, but Father looks at it differently. He told Mr. Eells he wouldn't be a party to any such scheme to defraud. But—now it's all built—don't tell him how you did it; because I want him to have a little happiness. He's been working so long and this came, as he said, just like an act of Providence; so let's not tell him, and when he's taken out his ore he can pay Mr. Eells, if he wishes to."

"If he's crazy!" corrected Wunpost. "What, pay that crook? Say, do you see those two men on the trail? They're hired by Eells to tag along behind me and trail me to my mine. Now what right has he got to claim that mine? Did he ever give me a dollar to spend, while I was up there in the high country looking for it? He did not, and he stole every dollar I had before I ever went out to prospect. Didn't he rob us both of the Willie Meena—take it all without giving us a cent? Well, what's the sense of trying to treat him white, when you know he's out to do you? His name is Eells and he skins 'em alive! But you wait—I'm out to skin him!"

"You're awfully convincing," conceded Billy smiling tremulously, "but somehow it doesn't seem right. Just because he robs you——"

"Aw, forget it; forget it!" exclaimed Wunpost impatiently, "didn't I tell you this is no Sunday school picnic? What're you going to do, let him go on robbing everybody until he has all the money in the world? No, you've got to play the game—go after him with the hay hooks and get his back hair if you can! I've trimmed him of twenty thousand and a ten thousand dollar road, but where did he get all that coin? He took it out of our mine, the old Willie Meena, and a whole lot more besides. Well, whose money was it, anyway—didn't I own the mine first? All right, then, I reckon it was mine!"

He patted his pocket, where his roll of bills lay, and smiled roguishly as he grabbed up the dog.

"Fine pup, eh?" he began, "well, he picked me out himself—followed along when I was going down the street. Tried to lose him and couldn't do it, he followed me everywhere, so I kept him and called him Good Luck. Get the idea? Luck is my pup, he lays down and rolls over whenever I say the word. Going to make a fine watch-dog if he lives through this hot weather—how'd you like to keep him a while?"

"Oh, I'd like to!" beamed Billy, "only I'm afraid you might be jealous——"

"Not of no pup, kid," returned Wunpost with his lordliest swagger, "and if you steal him, by grab you can have him!"

"Well, I'll bet I can do it!" answered Billy defiantly. "And are you still going to give me that mine?"

"If you can find it!" nodded Wunpost. "Or I'll give it to Mr. Lynch, if he'll promise to follow the leader. I see that's an Injun that he's got riding along behind him but I'm going to lose 'em both. These Shooshonnies ain't so much—I can out-trail 'em, any time—and I tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to lead Mr. Lynch and his rat-eating guide just as long as they're game to follow, and if they follow me two weeks I'll take 'em to my mine and tell 'em to help themselves. Now that's sporting, ain't it? Because the Sockdolager ain't staked and she's the richest hole I've struck."

"Yes, it's sporting," she admitted, "but why don't you stake it? Are you afraid they'll take it away from you?"

"Don't you think it!" he exclaimed, "if it was staked I'd have half of it! No, I'm doing this out of pride. I'm leaving that claim open and if Mr. Eells can find it he's welcome to it all! But I'm telling you, it'll never be found!"

He nodded impressively, with a wise, mysterious, smile, and Billy rose up impatiently.

"I believe you like to fight," she stated accusingly and Wunpost did not deny it.



CHAPTER XIV

POISONED BAIT

The fight for the Sockdolager Mine was on and Wunpost led off up the canyon with a swagger. His fast walking mule stepped off at a brisk pace and the pack-mule, well loaded with provisions and grain, followed along up Judson Eells' road. First it led through the Gorge, now clinging to one wall and now crossing perforce to the other, and as Wunpost saw the work of the powder-men above him he laughed and slapped his leg. Great masses of rock had been shot down from the sides, filling up the pot-holes which the cloudburst had dug; and then, along the sides, a grade had been constructed which gave clearance for loaded trucks. Past the Gorge, the work showed the signs of greater haste, as if Eells had driven his men to the limit; but to get through at all he had had to move much dirt, and that of course had run into money. Wunpost ambled along luxuriously, chuckling at each heavy job of blasting and at the spot where Cole Campbell's road turned in; and then he swung off up Woodpecker Canyon to where the Stinging Lizard Mine had been located.