CHAPTER XXVII
IN THE TOILS
Curly reached Big Draw only a couple of hours ahead of Reynolds andSconda. He had travelled fast, impelled by a burning rage, eager toimpart to others as vile as himself the story he had concocted in hisvenomous mind. He was seated in the roadhouse, surrounded by hisfavorite gang, as Reynolds and his guide rode into camp. He remindedhis hearers how the former had gone with Frontier Samson in quest ofgold, and that the old prospector had mysteriously disappeared. Heinformed them that he had met Reynolds at Glen West with Jim Weston'sdaughter, and that they had both sneered at him.
"I was walking along the street," the liar continued, "when I saw thetwo standing together, an' very chummy. When Reynolds saw me he triedto hurry away into an Indian's shack. But I stopped him, an' asked himwhat he had done with Frontier Samson. This made him mad, an' he toldme it was none of my business, an' if I didn't leave Glen West at oncehe'd set the Indians upon me."
"What did you do?" one of the listeners eagerly asked, as Curly pausedand lighted a cigarette.
"Oh, I just laughed an' told him that I didn't care a rip for him orthe Indians, an' that I would leave when I got ready. Then he an' thegirl made fun of me, told me I was a queer looking guy, an' if I wasanxious about the old prospector I had better go an' hunt for himmyself. I left them at that, an' strolled about the place for a while.But that night didn't the Indians come upon me. They took me down intothe woods, tied me to a tree, an' were all ready to burn me alive.Say, it was hell fer a while, an' I thought sure I was a goner. Butjust as a big devil stooped to light the dry wood at my feet, JimWeston arrived, beat them off, an' set me free. An' all the time I wastied to that tree, didn't Reynolds stand by an' make fun of me. Hesaid he would shut my mouth once an' for all about Frontier Samson.When I told him I was certain he had killed the old man, he flew into arage an' cursed like a pirate. That's what he did, the cuss. Hand meover a drink, Tom; I'm thirsty."
While Curly and his gang were talking and drinking, across the streetReynolds was recording three double claims, for Jim Weston, GlenWeston, and himself, as discoverers. He produced a specimen of thegold which he carried in his pocket, and explained the exact positionwhere the claims were situated. This work completed, he went at onceto the roadhouse, and asked for his mail. He saw Curly and hiscompanions, but paid no heed to them. He was more interested in theletters awaiting him, for there were two, and from his friend theeditor, at that.
"You've been a long time away," Shorty remarked, as he looked curiouslyat the young man.
"Yes, I suppose I have," was the absent-minded reply, for Reynolds waslooking at his letters.
"Strike anything?"
"I believe so. But, say, is Frontier Samson here? Have you seen himlately?"
"W-why, no," Shorty stammered. He had overheard Curly's remarks, sothis unexpected question somewhat embarrassed him. "He went with you,didn't he?"
"He certainly did, but I got lost out in the hills, and haven't seenthe old man since. I hope nothing has happened to him."
Not a word of this escaped the men at the table, and when Reynolds hadleft the building they stared at one another for a few seconds.
"Did ye hear what he said about the gold?" Curly eagerly asked. "Ibelieve he's struck it rich, an' most likely he has put Samson out ofthe way."
"But he asked about him, though," one of the men replied.
"Oh, that was just a ruse, an' nothing more. He wanted to find out ifwe suspect anything. I say, Shorty, bring us something," he ordered."This is my treat."
When the liquor had been brought, the men drank and talked in lowvoices. What they said Shorty could not hear, although he strained hisears in an effort to catch the drift of the conversation. After awhile other men entered the room, and these were soon acquainted withReynolds' return, the gold he had discovered, and the mysteriousdisappearance of Frontier Samson. A few agreed with Curly that it wasstrange that the old prospector had not been seen for some time, andthat his partner had returned alone. Where was the discovery made?they wanted to know.
"Near the Tasan," a man replied. "I've just been to the RecordingOffice, and found that three double claims have been entered there inthe names of Jim Weston, Glen Weston, and Thomas Reynolds. But I don'tput any stock in that. Why, I've cruised all over that region, and sohave others. There's not enough gold there to fill the eye-tooth of amouse. I've been on too many fool stampedes of late, and I'm sick ofthem. What does that chechahco know about gold?"
"But Jim Weston is in with him," Curly reminded. "What d'ye make ofthat?"
"H'm, Jim Weston knows more about robbing Indians than he does aboutmining. He wouldn't know the real stuff from 'fool's gold.' No doubtthat's what they've found."
The talk now became general and continued for some time. Severalthought it worth while to go and see what the new discovery was like,but others scoffed at the idea. They also discussed the disappearanceof Frontier Samson, and even hinted that perhaps his partner knew morethan he was willing to tell. Curly suggested that he should be broughtbefore them and questioned. This met with considerable favor, althoughno one seemed inclined to take upon himself such a responsibility. Itwas late when the men at length left the store, and took themselves offto their various cabins. Curly and his band went together, and for therest of the night they communed and plotted in a lonely shack somedistance up the creek.
With no idea that he was the centre of such interest, Reynolds sleptsoundly in his own little tent, for he was tired after his experiencesin the hills. It was late when he awoke in the morning, and after hehad eaten his frugal breakfast, he went over to the roadhouse for asupply of tobacco. Shorty was the only one present, for most of theminers were busy up the creek. Curly and his companions were stillasleep after their night's vigil, and evidently would not showthemselves for several hours. Shorty tried to learn from Reynoldssomething about the gold he had discovered, and also asked aboutFrontier Samson. But so little information did he gain, that he wasmuch annoyed and became suspicious as well.
Reynolds went back to his tent, filled and lighted his pipe, andbrought forth the two letters he had received, and read them again.They interested him, for they contained scraps of news of the outsideworld. But they were mostly filled with the editor's expressions ofregret that Reynolds was wasting his time in the north, when he mightbe off on the great quest which was so near his heart.
"I hope you will return soon," he wrote, "and begin the search forHenry Redmond. Only yesterday I received what I consider a clue as tohis whereabouts. I met a man who has been overseas, and telling himabout Redmond, he informed me that he believed he knew where he was.He said that while in Switzerland he came across an old man and hisdaughter. The girl was about eighteen or nineteen years of age, andthat corresponds with the age of the child Redmond took with him, forshe was only three or four at the time of his disappearance. He saidthat the man had plenty of money, lived in a house beautifullyfurnished, and possessed a good library. But he was most reticentabout himself, although he acknowledged that he was acquainted withCanada, and had lived here for some time. So you see, I have reasonfor believing that the man is Henry Redmond, and that you should go atonce and hunt him out. Even after you meet him, your task will stillbristle with difficulties, for he is evidently hard to approach."
Reynolds smiled as he read these words. He knew how anxious the editorwas for him to return that he might start at once upon the search. Buthe had no idea of going to Switzerland, or anywhere else for thatmatter, while the northland held such attractions. He decided to writeand tell his old friend to be patient a while longer, and then perhapshe would receive the greatest surprise of his life. He tried topicture the look upon the editor's face should he unexpectedly walkinto his office with Glen by his side. He believed that he would begreatly pleased, for could any man in his right mind resist the girl'scharms? He knew that Harmon would be somewhat annoyed, for a womanwould ruin his hope of ever fin
ding the missing Henry Redmond.
Reynolds spent part of the afternoon writing a long letter to theeditor. He had much to tell him about the country, his experiences inthe wilderness, and the mysterious ruler of Glen West. But of Glen hesaid little, nothing, in fact, that would in any way arouse Harmon'ssuspicion of the writer's deep interest in the girl.
When the letter was finished he took it over to the roadhouse to mail,and then spent the rest of the afternoon upon the creek in an effort tolearn, if possible, something about Frontier Samson. But although hequestioned all the miners he saw, not one could enlighten him in theleast degree. He thought that several looked at him curiously when heasked about the old prospector, and he wondered what they meant.
He spent some time far up the creek, and ate the lunch he had broughtwith him in a quiet place near the stream which flowed down the valley,and provided the necessary water for the sluice-boxes where theprecious gold was washed out. He enjoyed the seclusion, as it gave himan opportunity to think over what the editor had written, and alsoabout Glen. He intended to leave early the next morning for Glen Westby way of Crooked Trail, and he knew that Glen would be waiting andeager to greet him. Her face stood out clear and distinct in his mind,and he recalled the words she had spoken, and her charming manner. Hisheart beat fast as he thought of her, and he believed that she lovedhim. He chided himself for not pouring out his heart to her thatevening as they stood by the side of the inland lake. The expressionin her eyes and the tone of her voice were those of a woman whose heartmust be filled with love, so he reasoned. Yes, he would speak to herjust as soon as he reached Glen West. The way would be short, for shewas his guiding star, and he would speed swiftly to the one he loved.
It was dusk when he at length rose to his feet and started down thecreek. He did not hurry as he had the whole evening before him, andthere was no one awaiting his coming. But there would be someonetomorrow, and his heart thrilled, and his eyes shone with animation ashe thought of the girl beyond the Golden Crest.
Part way down Big Draw valley, and on the left side, was a sharp breakin the bank, where a small creek met the larger one. This in ages pasthad evidently been a river, whose bed was now dry. It was up thiscreek that the trail led out into the hills, the one that Reynolds hadalways taken when he went forth on his hunting expeditions. Theentrance to this draw was now wrapped in semi-darkness, for the hightree-clad banks shouldered toward each other, thus shutting out the dimlight of departing day.
Reynolds reached this place, and with a glance up the trail which hewould take in the morning, he had almost reached the opposite side,when, without a word of warning, a light was flashed into his eyes, andin an instant he was swept from his feet, hurled to the ground, and hisarms securely bound. He had no chance to defend himself, foreverything happened so quickly. There seemed to be quite a crowd ofmen holding him fast, some sitting upon his body, while others held hishands and feet. Although He strained and struggled desperately to freehimself, his efforts were of no avail, and he soon realised that hemight as well reserve his strength for whatever lay ahead.
"Now get on yer feet, an' be d---- quick about it, too." It wasCurly's voice, and Reynolds knew that the villain was at the bottom ofthis affair.
He made no reply, however, but at once struggled to a standing positionand looked around. There appeared to be more than a dozen men, and bythe dim light he recognized several. They had been drinking, he couldeasily tell, and were in a quarrelsome mood, and wrangled with oneanother as to what they should do with their captive. One was forstringing him up to a tree; another was for shooting him; while a thirdsuggested that they should pitch him head first down one of themining-shafts. But Curly would not listen to these propositions, andgave orders that the prisoner should be taken up the creek in thedirection of Crooked Trail.
"It's safer there," he told them, "an' we don't want our fun spoiled bythe Police."
"There's none in camp to-night," one explained. "They're all off onthe trail."
"An' lucky fer us," Curly replied. "Anyway, let's hustle an' get outof this."
Reynolds was immediately seized and hurried up the creek. He tried tothink and plan some way of escape. He realised that the situation wasserious, for with Curly, devilish and full of revenge, and at the headof a band of half-drunken men as reckless as himself, there was noknowing what he might do. But he was determined to be game, and awaitfurther developments as calmly as possible.
As they moved forward he partly learned from the men's conversation whythey had waylaid him. He found out that Curly had been filling hiscompanions' minds with gross lies, and now inflamed with impure whiskeythey were willing tools in the hands of their revengeful leader.