CHAPTER XI
JIM BANKER HITS THE TRAIL
When Jim Banker, the prospector, hurried from the hotel, he wassingularly agitated for a man merely suffering from the shyness of thedesert wanderer in the presence of a pretty woman. His furtive looksand the uneasy glances he cast behind him, no less than the panickycharacter of his flight, might have aroused further question on thepart of those he left, had they been in a position to observe theman.
He made no pause until he had gained the comparative seclusion ofJohnny the Greek's place, which he found almost deserted after theriot of which De Launay had been the center. Johnny had succeeded ingetting rid of the officers without the discovery of his illicitoperations, and Snake Murphy was once more in his place ready todispense hospitality. Few remained to accept it, however, the imminentmemory of the police having frightened all others away. A liberaldispensation of money and the discovery that De Launay's coat andshoes were of excellent make and more valuable than those he had lost,had secured the silence of the man whom De Launay had robbed, and hehad departed some time since.
Banker sidled into the upstairs room and made his way to the end ofthe bar, where he called huskily for whisky. Having gulped a couple offiery drinks, he shivered and straightened up, his evil eyes losingtheir look of fright.
"Say, Murph," he whispered, hoarsely. "They's the devil to pay!"
"How come?" asked Murphy, yawning.
"You remember French Pete, who was killed back in nineteen hundred?"
"The Basco? Sure I do. I got a reminder, hain't I? Louisiana done shotme up before he went out an' beefed Pete--if he did beef him."
"_If_ he did? Whatever makes you say that? If he _didn't_--who did?"Jim blurted out the question in a gasp, as though fairly forcingutterance of the words. Murphy flicked a sidelong look at him and thenbent his absent gaze across the room.
"Oh--I dunno. Never knew Louisiana to use a rifle, though. Thedare-devil! I can hear him now, ridin' off a-laughin' and a-chortlin'
"Back to Whisky Chitto; to Beau Regarde bayou; To my Louisiana--Louisiana Lou.
"Remember the feller's singin', Jim?"
The few men in the place had turned startled eyes as Murphy whined thedoggerel ballad nasally. It was strange to them, but Banker shiveredand shrank from the grinning bartender.
"Stop it, yuh darn fool! yuh gi' me the creeps! W'at's the matter witheverything to-day? Everywhere I go some one starts gabblin' aboutmines and French Pete an' this all-fired--Louisiana! It's a damn goodthing there ain't any more like him around here."
"W'at's that about mines--an' French Pete? Yuh was the one thatmentioned _him_."
Banker leaned confidentially nearer. "Snake, d'yuh think old IkeBrandon didn't know where the mine was?"
Snake regarded him contemptuously. "Yuh reckon Ike would have livedand died pore as a heifer after a hard winter if he'd a knowed? You'reloco, Jim: plumb, starin', ravin' loco!"
But Jim only leaned closer and dropped his voice until it was almostinaudible.
"Maybe so. But did you or any one else ever know what language themBascos talks?"
"French, I reckon," said Snake, indifferently.
"French, no, sir! Charlie Grandjean, that used to ride fer Perkins &Company was French and he told me once that they didn't talk no Frenchnor nothin' like it. They talks their own lingo and there ain't nobodybut a Basco that knows this Basco talk."
"Well," said Snake, easily. "What's the answer? I'll bite."
"French Pete's gal has lit in here all spraddled out an' lookin' ferFrench Pete's mine," croaked Banker, impressively. Snake was owlishlydense.
"His gal? Never knew he had a gal."
"He had one, a plenty: sort of a gashly critter like a witch, withteeth all same like a lobo. Kind 'at'd stick a knife in yuh quick aslook at yuh."
"I reckon I won't go sparkin' her none, then. Well, how's this hereBasco lady with the enchantin' ways allow she's goin' to find Pete'smine?"
"That's what I'm askin' yuh? How's she goin' to find it? Yuh reckonshe comes pirootin' out here all the way from Basco regions just onthe hunch that she can shut her eyes an' walk to it?"
"Maybe--if she's full o' witchcraft. I reckon she stands as good achance that a way as any one does. Drink up and ferget it, Jim."
"I been a-thinkin', Snake. Brandon didn't know where it was. But maybePete leaves a writin', say, which he tells Ike to send to his folks.It's in Basco, see, and Ike can't read it nor nobody else, so theysends it to this Basco place and the gal gits it. If that ain't rightwhy ever does this Basco lady come a-runnin' out here?"
"If it is right, why does she delay all these years?" asked Snake,pertinently.
"Which yuh ain't seen her, Snake. I makes a guess this gal ain'tmore'n risin' two or three years when she gets that Basco note. Shehas to grow up, and when she gets big enough the war done come alongand keeps her holed up until now. Yuh can gamble she knows where thatmine was."
Snake pondered this theory thoughtfully. "Yuh may be right at that,"he admitted, an expression of wonder passing over his features. "Butyuh been to see her? What she say about it?"
"Huh! She was askin' _me_ if I knowed where it was. But that was justa blind to put me off'n the track--an' she probably wanted to makesure no one else had found it. She was quizzin' that Pettis girl, too,makin' sure Ike hadn't told _her_ nothin'."
"Yuh may be right," admitted Snake again. "God-dlemighty! Yuh reckonshe'll find it?"
Jim leered evilly at him. "No, I don't reckon she will. But she mighthelp _me_ find it."
"Howzzat?" Snake was startled.
"I gotta have a grubstake, Snake. How about it?"
"Jest outline this here project, Jim. Let me git the slant on it."
The two heads, one slick and black, though with streaks of gray, theother shaggy, colorless, and unkempt, came together and a growl ofhoarse and carefully guarded whispers murmured at that end of the bar.After ten minutes' talk, Snake went to the safe and returned with aroll of bills and a piece of paper, pen, and ink. He laboriously madeout a document, which Banker as laboriously signed. Then Snakesurrendered the money and the two rascals shook hands.
Banker at once became all furtive activity. For a few hours he slunkfrom store to store, buying necessaries for his trip. By nighttime hewas ready, and before the moon had risen in the cold November sky hewas hazing his burros southward toward the Nevada line.
Although he was mounted on a fairly good horse, his progress wasnecessarily slow, as he had to accommodate his pace to that of thesedate burros. He was in no hurry, however. With true, desert-bornpatience, he plodded along, making camp that night about ten milesfrom Sulphur Falls. The following day he resumed his snaillike pace,crawling out of the fertile valley to the grasslands beyond, and so onand on until the night found him in the salt pan and the alkali. Hepassed the Brandon ranch at Three Creek, long since sold and nowoccupied by a couple of Basques who had built up from sheep-herdingfor wages until they now owned and ran a fair flock of sheep. Here hedid not stop, hazing his burros past as though he had suddenlyacquired a reason for haste. When Twin Forks was a couple of miles tothe rear he reverted to his former sluggish pace.
The next day was a repetition. He plodded on stolidly, making withouthesitation for some spot which was ahead of him. Finally, thatevening, he made camp about three miles north of Wallace's Lazy YRanch, near Willow Spring, and not very far from the gap in the wallof the Esmeraldas which marked the entrance to Shoestring Creek andCanyon.
The next morning he did not break camp, but lolled around all dayuntil about three o'clock in the afternoon. At that time his acuteears caught the murmur of a motor long before the car came in sight inthe rolling ground.
When it passed he was sitting stolidly by his camp fire, apparentlyoblivious to his surroundings. He did not seem to look up or noticethe car, but, in reality, not a detail of it escaped him. He saw theoccupants turn and look at him and heard their comments, though thewords escaped him.
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nbsp; He muttered an imprecation, strangely full of hate and, in the mannerof lonely desert rats, grumbled in conversation with himself.
"I gotta do it. She never come all this way without he told hersomethin'. Fer all I know he might ha' seen more'n I thought. An'she'd do what she said, quicker'n look at yuh. She ain't right, nohow.Why don't she show her face? An' Charlie Grandjean says them Basquesis uncanny, that a way. She _knows_! There ain't no gettin' around it.Even if he never told her, she _knows_!"
The car had passed and he now openly looked after it, mouthing andmuttering. He had observed the driver, a hired chauffeur from thetown, and he deduced that the car was going back. Indeed, there wasno road by which it could have gone into the mountains at this point.He saw that young Wallace, nicknamed Sucatash from the color of hishair, and Dave MacKay, another of the Lazy Y riders, were in the carwith their saddles, and that the veiled Basque girl was seated withthem, while her luggage was piled high between the seats.
"Goin' to git hosses and outfit at Wallace's and go in from there.Course, they'll have to go into Shoestring. It's the only way. They'llstop at Wallace's and it'll take a day to git the cavvy up and ready.They'll be movin' day after to-morrow 'nless they want to git caughtin the snow. Proves she knows right where to go or she wouldn't headin there this time o' year."
He gloomed some more.
"That girl ain't right. She's one o' these here hypnotis', er amedium, er some kind o' witch. But she ain't goin' to git away withit. She ain't goin' to git the best of old Jim Banker after nineteenyears. She ain't goin' to git her knife into Jim. No more'n oldPanamint did. I fixed _him_--an' I'll fix her, too. Old Betsy's stillgood fer a couple a' hunderd yards, I reckon. I'll let her lead me toit--er maybe I'll git a chance to ketch her alone."
This thought gave him pleasure for a while and he mumbled over it foran hour or two. Then he ate his evening meal and went to sleep. In hissleep he moaned a good deal and tossed about, dreaming of mysterious,ghostlike, veiled figures which threatened him and mocked him.
The next day he remained where he was. About noon he was puzzled atthe sight of another motor car northward bound. He recognized in thedriver the lawyer who had been present when he had been interviewed bythe French girl, but he did not know what brought him there.Manifestly, he was on the way back to Sulphur Falls, and Bankerfinally concluded that he had been to Maryville, the county seat southof the Esmeraldas, on some legal business. In this he was right,though he could not guess what the business was nor how it favored hisown designs.
On the following day he resumed his march. Now he followed the trailof the motor car which had brought Solange until he came oppositeWallace's ranch. From here he took up another trail, that of aconsiderable train of pack horses and three saddle animals. It ledstraight to the steep gully in the rim of the Esmeraldas, whereShoestring Creek cut its way to the plain.
He noted, but hardly considered, an older trail that underlay thisone. It was of a rider and two pack animals who had passed a day ortwo before.