CHAPTER XXXI
MCCOPPET BUSIES HIS MIND
Unfortunately for Bostwick he knew no ruffians in the camp--none of theTrimmers who would, perhaps, accept a sum of money to waylay a man,bash him over the head, and filch required letters from his pocket. Hewas not precisely willing, moreover, to broach such an undertaking tothe gambler. This, after all, was his private affair, to be sharedwith no one he knew.
The man had arrived at the truth concerning the letters withcommendable skill in deduction. He had himself destroyed Beth'searlier letter to her brother, for reasons of policy. He had found herconduct cold, if not suspicious, this morning. How far she had beenexcited to distrust himself or the mails he could not estimate. He wascertain, however, she had sent a request to Van Buren to carry a letterto Glen.
Her reasons for taking precautions so extraordinary were undoubtedlysignificant. He was galled; his anger against Van Buren was consuming.But first and foremost he must block the harm Beth's letter to herbrother might accomplish. For two days more young Kent and Beth mustremain in ignorance of what was being done through the use of hermoney--of the fact that no mine of Glen's discovery was the object ofthe scheme he was working, and that none of his own alleged money wasbeing employed in the game.
He made up his mind to go to Starlight himself--to be on hand when VanBuren should arrive. With Glenmore ill, or injured, in his bed, thecase might offer simple handling, Further neglect of Glenmore might,indeed, be fatal, at a juncture so delicate. From every possibleviewpoint the thing to do was to intercept Van Buren.
He found McCoppet just returned from launching Lawrence forth upon hiswork. Three of the gambler's chosen men had accompanied theGovernment's surveyor. They had taken Bostwick's car. Instructionshad been simple enough. Push over the reservation line to cover the"Laughing Water" claim, by night of the following day.
Searle was taken to the private den. McCoppet imparted his informationwith the utmost brevity.
"Nothing for us to do but to wait till six o'clock, day after to-morrowmorning," he concluded, "then play our cards--and play 'em quick."
"You've taken my car?" said Bostwick, whose personal plans were throwninto utter confusion, for the moment. "I wanted that car for my ownuse. I've got to go to Starlight to-morrow."
"Sit down," said McCoppet, throwing away his unsmoked cigar and takinganother from his pocket. "What's going on at Starlight?"
Bostwick had no intention of divulging his personal affairs, but therewas something in this that trenched upon "company" concerns.
"Van Buren's going over there, to see young Kent," he admitted. "I'vegot to see him first."
McCoppet looked up at him sharply.
"Young Kent ain't next to anything?" he demanded.
"Not yet."
"Look here," said the gambler, whose wits were inordinately keen, "isanything leaking, Bostwick? What about the girl--the young chump'ssister? You're not putting her wise to the layout?"
"Certainly not!" said Bostwick. "She knows nothing. But it wouldn'tbe safe for this mix-up to occur. At any rate, I propose to be therewhen Van Buren arrives."
McCoppet arose, plunged his hands in his pockets, and paced up and downreflectively.
"Someways I'm glad Van Buren's going," he said. "I've been trying tofigure how I could play the game to have him away when we come to takethe trick. He's hostile in a fight. I guess it's all right. Don'tneed you here. You can copper any possible harm down there atStarlight, and meantime I'll see if there's any known way of delayingVan Buren's return."
"But how am I going to get down there and back?" said Bostwick, intentupon the need for haste. "I can't get around without a car."
"Don't get tropical," said McCoppet calmly. "I can get you a car infifteen minutes. It ain't as good as yours, but we needed the one thatwas surest to keep on its legs. If you ain't got anything more on yourmind, I want to chase around for a lumberman--a friend of mine--beforehe gits any drunker."
Bostwick arose.
"Arrange for that car to take me to-night, after dinner. I thinkthat's all."
He repaired to his room to attend to a dozen small affairs, then wentonce more to Beth's. She was not in the least surprised to hear himsay he meant to return to Starlight and to Glen that night, on businessof importance to them all, but she did not believe him in the least.He remained in the hope of entrapping her into some sort ofself-betrayal as to what she had recently done, but without avail.
The hour that he spent at Mrs. Dick's was dull for them both--dull anddistasteful to the girl, growing so rapidly to hate and distrust him,dull and aggravating to Bostwick, with jealousy increasing upon him.His one consolation lay in the fact that in less than two days VanBuren would be no better off than a pauper at best with scarcely ashelter for his head.
One of the interesting and vital chapters in the whole affair wasmeanwhile in McCoppet's hands and receiving his attention. Trimmer hadbeen captured, far more sober than the gambler could have hoped. Thetwo were in the den once more, the lumberman smoking an excellent cigaras if it had been a stick of candy.
McCoppet came to his subject promptly.
"Look here, Larry," he said, "you know Van Buren when you see him."
Trimmer glanced up sharply, ready in an instant to resent what he feltto partake of the nature of a personal affront.
"Don't git funny, Opal. If ever I fight Van Buren when I'm sober I'lleat him alive. I was drunk when he licked me, and you know it!"
McCoppet leaned back in his chair and half closed his eyes.
"I didn't know but what you'd like to sober up and lick him."
Trimmer stared, shifted uneasily in his seat, and demanded:
"Where? Where is he at?"
"He's going to Starlight to-morrow--from up by the reservation--fromhis claim. If he don't git back for a couple of days--I could make itworth your while; and you could cash in for that time he licked youwhen you wasn't in condition."
Again Trimmer fidgeted. "I guess he licked me fair enough. I admithe's all right in a scrap. I ain't holdin' nuthin' agin him.Goldite's good enough fer me."
McCoppet knew the creature was afraid to meet his man--that Trimmer'sattack on Van Buren, once before, had been planned with muchdeliberation, had amounted to an ambush, in point of fact, resulting indisaster to the bully.
"I counted on you to help me, Larry," he said, drumming on the tablewith his fingers. "You're the only man of your kind with brains in allthe camp."
Trimmer had smoked his cigar to within an inch of his mouth. Heextinguished the fire and chewed up the stump voraciously.
"Say!" he suddenly ejaculated, leaping to his feet and coming aroundthe table, "I can fix him all right," and he lowered his voice to awhisper. "Barger would give up a leg to git a show at Van Buren!"
"Barger?" echoed McCoppet. "Matt? But they got him! Got 'em all."
"Got nuthin'," the lumberman ejaculated. "What's the good of allthese lyin' papers when I seen Matt myself, readin' the piece about himgoin' back to the pen?"
McCoppet rose, went to the window, and returned again.
"Larry, you're all right," he said. "Where's Barger now?"
Trimmer winked. "That's his business, and mine."
"All right--that's all right," agreed the gambler. "Wouldn't he takeit as a favor if you passed him some money and the word about VanBuren's hike to Starlight?"
Trimmer got out a new cigar, lit up, and began to smoke as before.
"I was goin' to pass him some of mine," he confessed. "Yours will suitme just as good."
"Five hundred ought to help him some," said the gambler. "Come out tothe bar."
At dark the lumberman left the camp on foot, heading for the mountains.Bostwick departed in the borrowed car at eight. The whole town wasablaze with light, and tumultuous with sound. Glare and disturbancetogether, however, only faintly symbolized the excitement and fever inthe camp. A thousand men were making final preparations for t
he rushso soon to come--the mad stampede upon the reservation ground, barelymore than a day removed.
Miners with outfits, gamblers with their paraphernalia, saloon men withcase on case of liquors, assayers, lawyers, teamsters, cooks--even ahalf dozen women--comprised the heterogeneous army making ready for thecharge. The streets were filled with horses, men, and mules. Thesaloons were jammed to suffocation. Musical discord filled the air.Only the land, the silent old hills, the ancient, burned-out furnace ofgold, was absolutely calm. Overhead a few clouds blurred the sky.Beyond them the eternal march of the stars proceeded in the majesty ofspace, with billions of years in which to fulfil the cosmic cycle ofexistence.