Bob Hampton of Placer

  CHAPTER IV

  SILENT MURPHY

  Brant sprang forward, all doubt regarding this young woman instantlydissipated by those final words of mischievous mockery. She had beenplaying with him as unconcernedly as if he were a mere toy sent for heramusement, and his pride was stung.

  But pursuit proved useless. Like a phantom she had slipped away amidthe underbrush, leaving him to flounder blindly in the labyrinth. Onceshe laughed outright, a clear burst of girlish merriment ringingthrough the silence, and he leaped desperately forward, hoping tointercept her flight. His incautious foot slipped along the steep edgeof the shelving bank, and he went down, half stumbling, half sliding,until he came to a sudden pause on the brink of the little stream. Thechase was ended, and he sat up, confused for the moment, and halfquestioning the evidence of his own eyes.

  A small tent, dirty and patched, stood with its back against the slopeof earth down which he had plunged. Its flap flung aside revealedwithin a pile of disarranged blankets, together with some scatteredarticles of wearing apparel, while just before the opening, his backpressed against the supporting pole, an inverted pipe between hisyellow, irregular teeth, sat a hideous looking man. He was a withered,dried-up fellow, whose age was not to be guessed, having a skin asyellow as parchment, drawn in tight to the bones like that of a mummy,his eyes deep sunken like wells, and his head totally devoid of hair,although about his lean throat there was a copious fringe of iron-graybeard, untrimmed and scraggy. Down the entire side of one cheek ran alivid scar, while his nose was turned awry.

  He sat staring at the newcomer, unwinking, his facial expression devoidof interest, but his fingers opening and closing in apparentnervousness. Twice his lips opened, but nothing except a peculiargurgling sound issued from the throat, and Brant, who by this time hadattained his feet and his self-possession, ventured to address him.

  "Nice quiet spot for a camp," he remarked, pleasantly, "but a bad placefor a tumble."

  The sunken eyes expressed nothing, but the throat gurgled againpainfully, and finally the parted lips dropped a detached word or two."Blame--pretty girl--that."

  The lieutenant wondered how much of their conversation this old mummyhad overheard, but he hesitated to question him. One inquiry, however,sprang to his surprised lips. "Do you know her?"

  "Damn sight--better--than any one around here--know her--real name."

  Brant stared incredulously. "Do you mean to insinuate that that youngwoman is living in this community under an assumed one? Why, she isscarcely more than a child! What do you mean, man?"

  The soldier's hat still rested on the grass where it had fallen, itsmilitary insignia hidden.

  "I guess--I know--what I--know," the fellow muttered. "What's--your--regiment?"

  "Seventh Cavalry."

  The man stiffened up as if an electric shock had swept through his limpframe. "The hell!--and--did--she--call you--Brant?"

  The young officer's face exhibited his disgust. Beyond doubt thatsequestered nook was a favorite lounging spot for the girl, and thisdisreputable creature had been watching her for some sinister purpose.

  "So you have been eavesdropping, have you?" said Brant, gravely. "Andnow you want to try a turn at defaming a woman? Well, you have come toa poor market for the sale of such goods. I am half inclined to throwyou bodily into the creek. I believe you are nothing but a commonliar, but I 'll give you one chance--you say you know her real name.What is it?"

  The eyes of the mummy had become spiteful.

  "It's--none of--your damn--business. I'm--not under--your orders."

  "Under my orders! Of course not; but what do you mean by that? Whoand what are you?"

  The fellow stood up, slightly hump-backed but broad of shoulder, hisarms long, his legs short and somewhat bowed, his chin protrudingimpudently, and Brant noticed an oddly shaped black scar, as if burnedthere by powder, on the back of his right hand.

  "Who--am I?" he said, angrily. "I'm--Silent--Murphy."

  An expression of bewilderment swept across the lieutenant's face."Silent Murphy! Do you claim to be Custer's scout?"

  The fellow nodded. "Heard--of me--maybe?"

  Brant stood staring at him, his mind occupied with vague garrisonrumors connected with this odd personality. The name had long been afamiliar one, and he had often had the man pictured out before him,just such a wizened face and hunched-up figure, half crazed, at timesmalicious, yet keen and absolutely devoid of fear; acknowledged as thebest scout in all the Indian country, a daring rider, an incomparabletrailer, tireless, patient, and as tricky and treacherous as the wilysavages he was employed to spy upon. There could remain no reasonabledoubt of his identity, but what was he doing there? What purposeunderlay his insinuations against that young girl? If this was indeedSilent Murphy, he assuredly had some object in being there, and howeverhastily he may have spoken, it was not altogether probable that hedeliberately lied. All this flashed across his mind in that singleinstant of hesitation.

  "Yes, I've heard of you,"--and his crisp tone instinctively became thatof terse military command,--"although we have never met, for I havebeen upon detached service ever since my assignment to the regiment. Ihave a troop in camp below," he pointed down the stream, "and am incommand here."

  The scout nodded carelessly.

  "Why did you not come down there, and report your presence in thisneighborhood to me?"

  Murphy grinned unpleasantly. "Rather be--alone--no report--beenover--Black Range--telegraphed--wait orders."

  "Do you mean you are in direct communication with headquarters, withCuster?"

  The man answered, with a wide sweep of his long arm toward thenorthwest. "Goin' to--be hell--out there--damn soon."

  "How? Are things developing into a truly serious affair--a realcampaign?"

  "Every buck--in the--Sioux nation--is makin'--fer the--bad lands," andhe laughed noiselessly, his nervous fingers gesticulating. "I--guessthat--means--business."

  Brant hesitated. Should he attempt to learn more about the young girl?Instinctively he appreciated the futility of endeavoring to extractinformation from Murphy, and he experienced a degree of shame at thusseeking to penetrate her secret. Besides, it was none of his affair,and if ever it should chance to become so, surely there were morerespectable means by which he could obtain information. He glancedabout, seeking some way of recrossing the stream.

  "If you require any new equipment," he said tersely, "we can probablysupply you at the camp. How do you manage to get across here?"

  Murphy, walking stiffly, led the way down the steep slope, and silentlypointed out a log bridging the narrow stream. He stood watching whilethe officer picked his steps across, but made no responsive motion whenthe other waved his hand from the opposite shore, his sallow facelooking grim and unpleasant.

  "Damn--the luck!" he grumbled, shambling back up the bank. "Itdon't--look--right. Three of 'em--all here--at once--in this--cussedhole. Seems if--this yere world--ought ter be--big 'nough--ter keep'em apart;--but hell--it ain't. Might make--some trouble--ifthem--people--ever git--their heads--tergether talkin'. Hell of anote--if the boy--falls in love with--her. Likely to do it--too.Curse such--fool luck. Maybe I--better talk--it over again--withRed--he's in it--damn near--as deep as--I am." And he sank down againin his old position before the tent, continuing to mutter, his chinsunk into his chest, his whole appearance that of deep dejection,perhaps of dread.

  The young officer marched down the road, his heedless feet kicking upthe red dust in clouds, his mind busied with the peculiar happenings ofthe morning, and that prospect for early active service hinted at inthe brief utterances of the old scout. Brant was a thorough soldier,born into the service and deeply enamored of its dangers; yet beyondthis he remained a man, a young man, swayed by those emotions whichwhen at full tide sweep aside all else appertaining to life.

  Just now the vision of that tantalizing girl continued to haunt hismemory, and would not down even to the glorious hope of
a comingcampaign. The mystery surrounding her, her reticence, the mutteredinsinuation dropping from the unguarded lips of Murphy, merely servedto render her the more attractive, while her own naive witchery ofmanner, and her seemingly unconscious coquetry, had wound about him amagic spell, the full power of which as yet remained but dimlyappreciated. His mind lingered longingly upon the marvel of the darkeyes, while the cheery sound of that last rippling outburst of laughterreechoed in his ears like music.

  His had been a lonely life since leaving West Point and joining hisregiment--a life passed largely among rough men and upon the desolateplains. For months at a time he had known nothing of refinement, norenjoyed social intercourse with the opposite sex; life had thus grownas barren and bleak as those desert wastes across which he rode at thecommand of his superiors. For years the routine of his military dutieshad held him prisoner, crushing out the dreams of youth. Yet, beneathhis mask of impassibility, the heart continued to beat with fiercedesire, biding the time when it should enjoy its own sweet way.Perhaps that hour had already dawned; certainly something new,something inspiring, had now come to awaken an interest unfelt before,and leave him idly dreaming of shadowed eyes and flushed, roundedcheeks.

  He was in this mood when he overtook the Rev. Howard Wynkoop and markedthe thoughtful look upon his pale face.

  "I called at your camp," explained Wynkoop, after the first words ofgreeting had been exchanged, "as soon as I learned you were here incommand, but only to discover your absence. The sergeant, however, wasvery courteous, and assured me there would be no difficulty inarranging a religious service for the men, unless sudden orders shouldarrive. No doubt I may rely on your cooeperation."

  "Most certainly," was the cordial response, "and I shall also permitthose desiring to attend your regular Sunday services so long as we arestationed here. How is your work prospering?"

  "There is much to encourage me, but spiritual progress is slow, andthere are times when my faith falters and I feel unworthy of theservice in which I am engaged. Doubtless this is true of all labor,yet the minister is particularly susceptible to these influencessurrounding him."

  "A mining camp is so intensely material seven days of the week that itmust present a difficult field for the awakening of any religioussentiment," confessed Brant sympathetically, feeling not a littleinterested in the clear-cut, intellectual countenance of the other. "Ihave often wondered how you consented to bury your talents in such aplace."

  The other smiled, but with a trace of sadness in his eyes. "I firmlybelieve that every minister should devote a portion of his life to thedoing of such a work as this. It is both a religious and a patrioticduty, and there is a rare joy connected with it."

  "Yet it was surely not joy I saw pictured within your face when we met;you were certainly troubled over some problem."

  Wynkoop glanced up quickly, a slight flush rising in his pale cheeks."Perplexing questions which must be decided off-hand are constantlyarising. I have no one near to whom I can turn for advice in unusualsituations, and just now I scarcely know what action to take regardingcertain applications for church membership."

  Brant laughed. "I hardly consider myself a competent adviser inmatters of church polity," he admitted, "yet I have always beeninformed that all so desiring are to be made welcome in religiousfellowship."

  "Theoretically, yes." And the minister stopped still in the road,facing his companion. "But this special case presents certainpeculiarities. The applicants, as I learn from others, are not leadinglives above reproach. So far as I know, they have never even attendedchurch service until last Sunday, and I have some reason to suspect anulterior motive. I am anxious to put nothing in the way of anyhonestly seeking soul, yet I confess that in these cases I hesitate."

  "But your elders? Do not they share the responsibility of passing uponsuch applications?"

  The flush on Mr. Wynkoop's cheeks deepened, and his eyes fell."Ordinarily, yes; but in this case I fear they may prove unduly harsh.I--I feel--that these applications came through the specialintercession of a certain young lady, and I am anxious not to hurt herfeelings in any way, or to discourage her enthusiasm."

  "Oh, I see! Would you mind telling me the names of the two gentlemen?"

  "Mr. John Moffat and Mr. William McNeil. Unfortunately, I know neitherpersonally."

  "And the young lady?"

  "A Miss Phoebe Spencer; she has but lately arrived from the East totake charge of our new school--a most interesting and charming youngwoman, and she is proving of great assistance to me in church work."

  The lieutenant cleared his throat, and emitted a sigh of suddenlyawakened memory. "I fear I can offer you no advice, for if, as I beginto suspect,--though she sought most bravely to avoid the issue anddespatch me upon a false trail,--she prove to be that same fascinatingyoung person I met this morning, my entire sympathies are with thegentlemen concerned. I might even be strongly tempted to do likewiseat her solicitation."

  "You? Why, you arrived only this morning, and do you mean to say youhave met already?"

  "I at least suspect as much, for there can scarcely exist two in thistown who will fill the description. My memory holds the vision of afair young face, vivacious, ever changing in its expression, yetconstantly both piquant and innocent; a perfect wealth of hair, a pairof serious eyes hiding mysteries within their depths, and lips whichseem made to kiss. Tell me, is not this a fairly drawn portrait ofyour Miss Spencer?"

  The minister gripped his hands nervously together. "Your descriptionis not unjust; indeed, it is quite accurate from a mere outer point ofview; yet beneath her vivacious manner I have found her thoughtful, andpossessed of deep spiritual yearnings. In the East she was acommunicant of the Episcopal Church."

  Brant did not answer him at once. He was studying the minister'sdowncast face; but when the latter finally turned to depart, heinquired, "Do you expect to attend the reception to-morrow evening?"

  Wynkoop stammered slightly. "I--I could hardly refuse under thecircumstances; the committee sent me an especially urgent invitation,and I understand there is to be no dancing until late. One cannot betoo straight-laced out here."

  "Oh, never mind apologizing. I see no reason why you need hesitate toattend. I merely wondered if you could procure me an invitation."

  "Did she tell you about it?"

  "Well, she delicately hinted at it, and, you know, things are prettyslow here in a social way. She merely suggested that I might possiblymeet her again there."

  "Of course; it is given in her honor."

  "So I understood, although she sought to deceive me into the beliefthat she was not the lady. We met purely by accident, you understand,and I am desirous of a more formal presentation."

  The minister drew in his breath sharply, but the clasp of his extendedhand was not devoid of warmth. "I will have a card of invitation sentyou at the camp. The committee will be very glad of your presence;only I warn you frankly regarding the lady, that competition will bestrong."

  "Oh, so far as that is concerned I have not yet entered the running,"laughed Brant, in affected carelessness, "although I must confess mysporting proclivities are somewhat aroused."

  He watched the minister walking rapidly away, a short, erect figure,appearing slender in his severely cut black cloth. "Poor little chap,"he muttered, regretfully. "He's hard hit. Still, they say all's fairin love and war."