CHAPTER VIII.--MR. WILLETT AND HANK TIMS.
Mr. Willett and his friend and fellow prisoner, Hank Tims, were keptsecurely guarded in a tent situated in about the center of thestraggling habitations that went to make up the camp at Hurley's Gulch.
Hank, who knew the country and the climate better than any white man init, was well aware, from the continuence and violence of the storm, thatit was spread over a wide area, and that the heavy rainfall and theconsequent melting of snow on the crests of the higher mountains wouldflood all the streams flowing into the great Colorado.
He did not wish voluntarily to confess his fears to Mr. Willett, and yethe felt that it was only right that that gentleman should know whateffect the storm might have on their own lives.
"Do you know what I have been thinking ever since night came and therain has been dashing on the canvas over our heads, as if determined toget in?" said Mr. Willett, along toward morning, on the day followingthe departure of Ulna for Gold Cave Camp.
"Mebbe ye've been thinkin' that this is a powerful stormy night,"answered Hank, at a venture.
"Yes, and that the storm will be apt to flood the canyon where the boysare."
"Wa'al," drawled Hank, as if weighing his words, "this yar rain'll bemighty apt to raise the creeks in the bottoms of the canyons."
"What if Ulna should not be able to get across?"
"He'll get across, no fear of that," said Hank. "But thar's anotherimportant pint in the case."
"What is that, Hank?"
"It's can Ulna git back an' fetch yer son with him."
"And what do you think about that, Hank?"
"I don't know what to think."
"But, surely, you have some idea."
"Oh, yes," said Hank, his hand to his ear to measure the sound of thepouring rain, and his gray eyes intently fixed on the ceiling, as if hewere trying to find out when the flood would break through and drenchthem.
"Well," said Mr. Willett, nervously, "what's your opinion?"
"I don't really think that Ulna, or Sam, ken git back to Hurley's fordays. Cos why, they can't cross the flood to the trail, an' no mancould, onless he chanced to be rigged with wings, like a bird, an' up tothis time I ain't run acrost a human mortal fixed in that way, thoughI'll allow that sich an addition would be powerful convenient at times."
"But if my son can't come here, what then?"
"You mean, how will it fare with us?"
"Yes, Hank, that is what I mean."
"Wa'al, it'll depend on many pints."
"Give me some of them."
"If the men in these diggins keep sober, we ken hope for fair treatment,but if they don't it'll go hard on us. But all that depends on thestorm," said Hank, with great deliberation.
"On the storm?" repeated Mr. Willett.
"Yes; that's what I said. Of course, you understand that if the rainkeeps on an' raises the creek har at Hurley's, then the miners won't beable to work for days an' days?"
"I understand that, Hank."
"Wa'al, if they don't work, an' have somethink to okerpy their minds, doyou know what they will do?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," said Mr. Willett.
"Why, they'll crowd into the saloons an' git drunk. When even awell-meanin' man is drunk he's a beast, but when these rough fellowsdrink that devil's broth, whisky, why it makes 'em reg'lar out and outfiends."
"I understand you," said Mr. Willett sadly.
The two men relapsed into silence and again lay down on the blanketsthat had been given them by the vigilance committee.
Hank Tims was right in his surmise.
Morning brought no cessation to the storm, and as a consequence theminers could not work, for Hurley's Gulch was transformed from a littlestream into a raging torrent.
As has been before stated, a majority of these miners were industrious,honest men; and their vigilance committee, though apt to do wrong in itsefforts to be just, had a repressing effect on the lawless element.
These men were honest in the belief that Mr. Willett and his companionwere responsible for the death of Tom Edwards, and it must be confessedthat all the circumstances--circumstances that were strengthened by thedying man's statements, pointed that way.
The "Grand Union Hotel," the most important establishment at Hurley'sGulch, was composed of three tents, and old dilapidated tents at that.
The front tent was occupied by a bar, the center tent as a kitchen anddining room, and the rear canvas afforded space for the guests to spreadtheir own blankets and sleep as best they might.
Frank Shirley and Badger had their headquarters at the Grand Union.Here, the following day, the miners gathered to discuss the effect thestorm might have on the return of the messenger with the paper that wasto show that Mr. Willett had paid Edwards in full for his claim at GoldCave Camp.
A few men believed Mr. Willett's story, but yet, in deference to thewishes of the majority they were willing to have a trial, but not till asufficient time had passed for the floods to subside so that themessenger might have a chance to return.
Frank Shirley saw the drift of affairs, and, without seeming to do so,he made up his mind to direct it.
He was well supplied with money, and feeling that he had a large fortuneto fall back on, if he managed his game properly, he decided to giveevery man, for nothing, all the whisky he could drink, and then when hehad the camp crazed with liquor to turn them at once against Mr.Willett.
In carrying out this monstrous scheme, Frank Shirley was ably secondedby Badger.
The storm continued throughout the day, but the sound of its fury wasgradually deadened by the uproar of the drunken men in and about theGrand Union Hotel.
From being a well-meaning crowd of miners, they gradually became a mobof fierce and profane drunken men, with no more moral conception oftheir conduct than the inmates of a mad-house.
By the time night came again, they had forgotten their promise to givethe accused men a hearing, and were resolved to slay them at once.