CHAPTER XX
LOUISIANA!
On the following morning, De Launay, finding his patients doing well,once more left the camp after seeing that everything was in order andfood for the invalids prepared and set to their hands. Among Solange'seffects he had found a pair of prism binoculars, which he slung overhis shoulder. Then he made his way on foot to the lower end of thevalley, up the encircling cliffs and out on the ridge which surroundedthe crater.
Here he hunted until he came upon a narrow, out-jutting ledge whichoverlooked the country below and the main backbone of the range to thesouthward and eastward. From here he could see over the bench at thebase of the cliff, with its maze of tangled, down timber, and on tothe edge of Shoestring Canyon, though he could not see down into thatgulch. Above Shoestring, however, he could see the rough trail whichwound out of the canyon on the opposite side and up toward the crest ofthe range, where it was lost among the timber-clad gorges and peaks ofthe divide. Over this trail came such folk as crossed the range fromthe direction of Maryville. All who came from the Idaho side wouldhead in by way of Shoestring and come up the canyon.
That day, although he swept the hills assiduously with his glasses, hesaw nothing. The dark smears and timber, startlingly black against thesnow, remained silent, brooding and inviolate, as though the presenceof man had never stirred their depths.
He did not remain long. Fearing that he would be needed at the cabin,he returned before noon. Solange was progressing bravely, though shewas still weak. Sucatash, however, was in worse shape and evidentlywould not be fit to move for several days.
The next day he did not go to his post, but on the third morning,finding Sucatash improving, he again took up his vigil. On that daybanked clouds hovered over the high peaks and nearly hid them fromview. A chill and biting wind almost drove him from his post.
Seeing nothing, he was about to return, but, just as a heavy flurry ofsnow descended upon him, he turned to give one last look toward thedivide and found it lost in mist which hung down into the timber.Under this fleecy blanket, the canyon and the lower part of the trailstood forth clearly.
Just as De Launay was about to lower his glasses, a man rode out ofthe timber, driving before him a half dozen pack horses. The soldierwatched him as he dropped below the rim of the canyon and, althoughdistant, thought he detected signs of haste in his going.
This man had been gone hardly more than ten minutes when a secondhorseman rode down the trail. There might have been doubt in the caseof the first rider, but it was certain that the second was in a hurry.He urged his horse recklessly, apparently in pursuit of the first man,whom he followed below the canyon's rim.
De Launay was earlier than usual at his post the next day. Yet he wasnot too early to meet the evidence of activity which was even morealert than his. But before he could settle himself he saw the trailacross the canyon alive with moving men and beasts. In ones, twos, andthrees they came. Some rode singly and without outfit, while othersurged on pack animals. But one and all were in a hurry.
He counted more than twoscore travelers who dropped into Shoestringwithin an hour and a half. Then there was a pause in the rush. For anhour no more came.
After that flowed in another caravan. His glasses showed these werebetter equipped than the first comers though he was too far away toget any accurate idea of what they carried. Still a dim suspicion wasfilling his mind, and as each of the newcomers rushed down the trailand over the canyon rim his suspicion took more vivid form until itbecame conviction and knowledge.
"By heavens! It's a mining rush!"
His mind worked swiftly. He jumped at the evidence he had seen whereBanker had staked a claim. The prospector had ridden to Maryville torecord the claims. He had been followed, and in an incredibly shorttime here were veritable hordes rushing into Shoestring Canyon. If thiswas the vanguard what would be the main body? It must have been astrike of fabulous proportions that had caused this excitement. Andthat strike must be----
"French Pete's Bonanza!" he almost yelled.
The thing was astounding and it was true. In naming a rendezvous he,himself, had directed these men to the very spot--because there was noother spot. The obvious, as usual, had been passed by for years whilethe seekers had sought in the out-of-the-way places. But where wouldPete find a mine when he was returning to the ranch with his flock?Surely not in the out-of-the-way places, for he would not be leadinghis sheep by such ways. He would be coming through the range by theshortest and most direct route, the very route that was the mostfrequented--and that was the trail over the range and down ShoestringCanyon.
De Launay wanted to shout with laughter as he thought of the search ofyears ending in this fashion: the discovery of the Bonanza, under thevery nose of the dead man's daughter, by the very man who had murderedhim!
But his impulse was stifled as his keen mind cast back over the pastdays. He recalled the rescue of Solange and the ambush from the top ofthe great, flat outcrop. Vague descriptions of Pete's location, heardin casual talks with Solange, came to him. The old sheep-herder hadbeen able to describe his find as having been made where he had eatenhis noonday meal "on a rock." That rock--the Lunch Rock, as it hadbeen called, had even given the mine a name in future legend, as thePeg Leg had been named.
But there had been no rock that could answer the description near thecamp. At least there had been only one, and that one had been the flatoutcrop on which Banker had lain at length and from which he hadattempted to shoot De Launay.
Then swiftly he recalled Solange's cry of warning and his own swiftreaction. He had fired at the eyes and forehead appearing above theedge of the rock and he had hit the edge of the rock itself. He hadlaughed to see the mad prospector clawing at his eyes, filled with thepowdered rock, and had laughed again to see his later antics as hestood upright, while De Launay rode away, waving his arms in the airand yelling.
He saw now what had caused those frantic gestures and shouts. It hadbeen he, De Launay, who had uncovered to the prospector's gaze thegold which should have been mademoiselle's.
No wonder he had no desire to laugh as he turned back into the valley.He was weighted down with the task that was his. He had to tellSolange that the quest on which she had come was futile. That her minewas found--but by another, and through his own act. He visualizedthose wonderful eyes which had, of late, looked upon him with suchsoft fire, dulling under the chilling shock of disappointment, mutelyreproaching him for her misfortune and failure.
The wild Vale of Avalon, which had seemed such a lovely haven forMorgan _la f?e_, had lost its charm. He plodded downward and acrossthe rank grass, going slowly and reluctantly to the cabin. Enteringit, he went first to Sucatash, asking him how he felt.
The cow-puncher raised himself with rapidly returning strength, notingthe serious expression on De Launay's face.
"I'm getting right hearty," he answered. "I'll drag myself out and situp to-night, I reckon. But you don't look any too salubrious yourself,old-timer. Aimin' to answer sick call?"
"No," said De Launay. "Thinking about mademoiselle. You remember thosestakes we saw?"
"Banker's claim? Sure."
"Well, he's struck something. There is a small army pouring intoShoestring from Maryville. It's a regular, old-time gold rush."
"Damn!" said Sucatash, decisively.
He pondered the news a moment.
"In these days," he finally said, "with gold mines bein' shut downbecause it don't pay to work 'em, there wouldn't be no rush unlesshe'd sure struck something remarkable."
"You've guessed it!" said De Launay.
"It's French Pete's mine?"
"I don't see any other explanation."
Again Sucatash was silent for a time. Then:
"That little girl is sure out o' luck!" he said. There was a deep noteof sympathy in the casual comment. And the cow-puncher looked at DeLaunay in a manner which the soldier readily interpreted.
"No mine, no means of support, no friends within five thousand mile
s;nothing--but a husband she doesn't want! Is that what you'rethinking?"
"Not meaning any offense, it was something like that," said Sucatash,candidly.
"She'll get rid of the incumbrance, without trouble," said De Launay,shortly.
"Well, she ain't quite shy of friends, neither. I ain't got no goldmines--never took no stock in them. But I've got a bunch of cows andthe old man's got a right nice ranch. If it wasn't for one thing, I'djust rack in and try my luck with her."
"What's the one thing?"
"You," said Sucatash, briefly.
"I've already told you that I don't count. Her marriage was merely aformality and she'll be free within a short time."
Sucatash grinned. "I hate to contradict you, old-timer. In fact, Isure wish you was right. But, even if she don't know it herself, Iknow. It sure beats the deuce how much those eyes of hers can say evenwhen they don't know they're sayin' it."
De Launay nodded. He was thinking of the lights in them when she hadturned them on him of late.
"They told _me_ something, not very long ago--and I'm gamblin' therewon't be any divorce, pardner."
"There probably won't," De Launay replied, shortly. "It won't benecessary."
He got up and went into the other room where Solange reclined on thebunk. He found her sitting up, dressed once more in leather breechesand flannel shirtwaist, and looking almost restored to full strength.Her cheeks were flushed again, but this time with the color of health.The firelight played on her hair, glowing in it prismatically. Hereyes, as she turned them on him, caught the lights and drew them intotheir depths. They were once more fathomless and hypnotic.
But De Launay did not face them. He sat down on a rude stool besidethe fire and looked into the flame. His face was set and indifferent.
"Monsieur," said Solange, "you are changed again, it seems. It is notpleasant to have you imitate the chameleon, in this manner. What hashappened?"
"Your mine has been found," said De Launay, shortly.
Solange started, half comprehending. Then, as his meaning caught hold,she cried out, hesitating, puzzled, not knowing whether his mannermeant good news or bad.
"But--if it has been found, that is good news? Why do you look sogrim, monsieur? Is it that you are grieved because it has beenfound?"
De Launay had half expected an outburst of joyous questions whichwould have made his task harder. In turn, he was puzzled. The girl didnot seem either greatly excited or overjoyed. In fact, she appeared tobe doubtful. Probably she could not realize the truth all at once.
"It has been found," he went on, harshly, "by Banker, the prospectorfrom whom I rescued you."
Solange remained still, staring at him. He sat with elbows on hisknees, his face outlined in profile by the fire. Clean and fine linedit was, strong with a thoroughbred strength, a face that a woman wouldtrust and a man respect. As she looked at it, noting the sombersuppression of emotion, she read the man's reluctance anddisappointment for her. She guessed that he buried his feelings underthat mask and she wondered wistfully how deep those feelings were.
"Then," she said, at last, "it is not likely that this MonsieurBanker would acknowledge my claim to the mine?"
"The mine is his under the law. I am afraid that you have no claim toit. Your father never located it nor worked it. As for Banker----"
He paused until she spoke.
"Well? And what of this Banker?"
"He will not hold it long. But he has heirs, no doubt, who would notacknowledge your claim. Still, I will do my best. Sucatash will backus up when we jump the claim."
"Jump the claim? What is that?"
He explained briefly the etiquette of this form of sport.
"But," objected Solange, "this man will resist, most certainly. Thatwould mean violence."
A faint smile curled the man's mouth under the mustache. "I amsupposed to be a violent man," he reminded her. "I'll do the killing,and you and Sucatash will merely have to hold the claim. The sympathyof the miners will be with you, and there should be little difficultyunless it turns out that some one has a grubstake interest."
He had to explain again the intricacies of this phase of mining.Solange listened intently, sitting now on the edge of the bunk. Whenhe was done, she slid to her feet and took position beside him, layingher hand on his shoulder. Behind her, by the side of the bunk, was ashort log, set on end as a little table, on which rested theholstered automatic which De Launay had left with her.
"It appears then," she said, when he had finished, "that, in any eventI have no right to this mine. In order to seize it, you would have tofight and perhaps kill some one. But, monsieur, I am not one who wouldwish you to be a common bravo--a desperado--for me. This mine, it isnothing. We shall think no more of it."
Again De Launay was mildly surprised. He had supposed that the loss ofthe mine would affect her poignantly and yet she was dismissing itmore lightly than he could have done had she not been concerned. Andin her expression of consideration for him there was a sweetness thatstirred him greatly. He lifted his hand to hers where it rested on hisshoulder, and she did not withdraw from his touch.
"And yet," he said, "there is no reason that you should concernyourself lest I act like a desperado. There are those who would saythat I merely lived up to my character. The General de Launay you haveheard of, I think?"
"I have heard of him as a brave and able man," answered Solange.
"And as a driver of flesh and blood beyond endurance, a butcher ofmen. It was so of the colonel, the _commandant_, the _capitaine_. And,of the _l?gionnaire_, you have heard what has always been heard. We ofthe _L?gion_ are not lap dogs, mademoiselle."
"I do not care," said Solange.
"And before the _L?gion_, what? There was the cow-puncher, the rangebully, the gunman; the swashbuckling flourisher of six-shooters; thenotorious Louisiana."
He heard her breath drawn inward in a sharp hiss. Then, with startlingsuddenness, her hand was jerked from under his but not before he hadsensed an instant chilling of the warm flesh. Wondering, he turned tosee her stepping backward in slow, measured steps while her eyes,fixed immovably upon him, blazed with a fell light, mingled of grief,horror and rage. Her features were frozen and pale, like a death mask.The light of the fire struck her hair and seemed to turn it into awheel of angry flame.
There was much of the roused fury in her and as much of a lost anddespairing soul.
"Louisiana!" she gasped. "You! You are Louisiana?"