Wunpost

He did a little dance and Billy smiled back feebly, for it was all very bewildering to her. She had expected, of course, a certain amount of lawless conduct; but that Dusty Rhodes, an old friend of their family, should conspire to deprive her of her claim was almost inconceivable. And that Wunpost should instantly seize him by the throat and force him to renounce his claims was even more surprising. But of course he had warned her, he had told her all about it, and predicted even bolder attempts; and yet here he was, digging out the best of his ore to give to these same Nevada burglars.

“What do you give them all the ore for?” she asked at last. “Why don’t you keep it, and we can pound out the gold?”

“We have to play the game, kid,” he answered with a shrug. “That’s the way they always do.”

“Yes, but I should think it would only make them worse. When they see how rich it is maybe someone will try to jump us–do you think Judson Eells will come?”

“Sure he’ll come,” answered Wunpost. “He’ll be one of the first.”

“And will you give him a specimen?”

“Surest thing–I’ll give him a good one. I believe that’s a machine, up the wash.”

He shaded his eyes, and as they gazed up the winding canyon a monster automobile swung around the curve. A flash and it was gone, only to rush into view a second time and come bubbling and thundering down the wash. It drew up before the point and four men leapt out and headed straight for the hole; not a word was said, but they seemed to know by instinct just where to find the mine. Wunpost strode to meet them and greeted them by name, they came up and looked at the ground; and then, as another machine came around the point, they asked him his price, for cash.

“Nothing doing, gentlemen,” answered Wunpost. “It’s too good to sell. It’ll pay from the first day it’s worked.”

He went down to meet the second car of stampeders, and his answer to them was the same. And each time he said it he turned to Wilhelmina, who gravely nodded her head. It was his mine; he had found it and only given her a share of it, and of course they must stand together; but as machine after machine came whirling down the canyon and the bids mounted higher and higher a wistful look came into Wilhelmina’s eye and she went down and sat with her father. It was for him that she wanted the money that was offered her–to help him finish the road he had been working on so long–but she did not speak, and he too sat silent, looking on with brooding eyes. Something seemed to tell them both that trouble was at hand, and when, after the first rush, a single auto rumbled in, Billy rose to her feet apprehensively. A big man with red cheeks, attired in a long linen duster, descended from the curtained machine, and she flew to the side of Wunpost.

It was Judson Eells; she would know him anywhere from the description that Wunpost had given, and as he came towards the hole she took in every detail of this man who was predestined to be her enemy. He was big and fat, with a high George the Third nose and the florid smugness of a country squire, and as he returned Wunpost’s greeting his pendulous lower lip was thrust up in arrogant scorn. He came on confidently, and behind him like a shadow there followed a mysterious second person. His nose was high and thin, his cheeks gaunt and furrowed, and his eyes seemed brooding over some terrible wrong which had turned him against all mankind. At first glance his face was terrifying in its fierceness, and then the very badness of it gave the effect of a caricature. His eyebrows were too black, his lips too grim, his jaw too firmly set; and his haggard eyes looked like those of a woman who is about to burst into hysterical tears. It was Pisen-face Lynch, and as Wunpost caught his eye he gave way to a mocking smirk.

“Ah, good morning, Mr. Eells,” he called out cordially, “good morning, good morning Mr. Lynch! Well, well, glad to see you–how’s the bad man from Bodie? Meet my partner, Miss Wilhelmina Campbell!”

He presented her gallantly and as Wilhelmina bowed she felt their hostile eyes upon her.

“Like to look at our mine?” rattled on Wunpost affably. “Well, here it is, and she’s a world-beater. Take a squint at that rock–you won’t need no glasses–how’s that, Mr. Eells, for the pure quill?”

Eells looked at the specimen, then looked at it again, and slipped it into his pocket.

“Yes, rich,” he said in a deep bass voice, “very rich–it looks like a mine. But–er–did I understand you to say that Miss Campbell was your partner? Because really you know─”

“Yes, she’s my partner,” replied Wunpost. “We hold the controlling interest. Got a couple more partners that own a third.”

“Because really,” protested Eells, “under the terms of our contract─”

“Oh, to hell with your contract!” burst out Wunpost scornfully. “Do you think that will hold over here?”

“Why, undoubtedly!” exclaimed Eells. “I hope you didn’t think–but no matter, I claim half of this mine.”

“You won’t get it,” answered Wunpost. “This is over in California. Your contract was made for Nevada.”

“It was made in Nevada,” corrected Judson Eells promptly, “but it applied to all claims, wherever found! Would you like to see a copy of the contract?” He turned to the automobile, and like a jack-in-the-box a little lean man popped out.

“No!” roared Wunpost, and looked about wildly, at which Cole Campbell stepped up beside him.

“What’s the trouble?” he asked, and as Wunpost shouted into his ear Campbell shook his head and smiled dubiously.

“Let’s look at the contract,” he suggested, and Wunpost, all unstrung, consented. Then he grabbed him back and yelled into his ear:

“That’s no good now–he’s used it once already!”

“How do you mean?” queried Campbell, still reaching for the contract; and the jack-in-the-box thrust it into his hands.

“Why, he used that same paper to claim the Wunpost–he can’t claim every mine I find!”

“Well, we’ll see,” returned Campbell, putting on his glasses, and Wunpost flew into a fury.

“Git out of here!” he yelled, making a kick at Pisen-face Lynch; “git out, or I’ll be the death of ye!”

But Pisen-face Lynch recoiled like a rattlesnake and stood set with a gun in each hand.

“Don’t you think it,” he rasped, and Wunpost turned away from him with a groan of mortal agony.

“What does it say?” he demanded of Campbell. “Can he claim this mine, too? But say, listen; I wasn’t working for him! I was working for myself, and furnishing my own grub–and I’ve never been through here before! He can’t claim I found it when I was under his grubstake, because I’ve never been into this country!”

He stopped, all a-tremble, and looked on helplessly while Cole Campbell read on through the “fine print”; and, not being able to read the words, he watched the face of the deaf man like a criminal who hopes for a reprieve. But there was no reprieve for Wunpost, for the paper he had signed made provision against every possible contingency; and the man who had drawn it stood there smiling triumphantly–the jack-in-the-box was none other than Lapham. Wunpost watched till he saw his last hope flicker out, then whirled on the gloating lawyer. Phillip F. Lapham was tall and thin, with the bloodless pallor of a lunger, but as Wunpost began to curse him a red spot mounted to each cheek-bone and he pointed his lanky forefinger like a weapon.

“Don’t you threaten me!” he cried out vindictively, “or I’ll have you put under bond. The fault is your own if you failed to read this contract, or failed to understand its intent. But there it stands, a paper of record and unbeatable in any court in the land. I challenge you to break it–every provision is reciprocal–it is sound both in law and equity! And under clause seven my client, Mr. Eells, is entitled to one-half of this claim!”

“But I only own one-third of it!” protested Wunpost desperately. “I located it for myself and Wilhelmina Campbell, and then we gave Dusty Rhodes a third.”

“That’s beside the point,” answered Lapham briefly. “If you were the original and sole discoverer, Mr. Eells is entitled to one-half, and any agreements which you have made with others will have to be modified accordingly.”

“What do you mean?” yelled a voice, and Dusty Rhodes, who had been listening, now jumped into the center of the arena. “I’ll have you to understand,” he cried in a fury, “that I’m entitled to a full half in this claim. I was with this man Wunpost when he made the discovery, and according to mining law I’m entitled to one-half of it–I don’t give that for you and your contract!”

He snapped his fingers under the lawyer’s nose and Lapham drew back, startled.

“Then in that case,” stated Wunpost, “I don’t get anything– and I’m the man that discovered it! But I’ll tell you, my merry men, there’s another law yet, when a man is sure he’s right!”

He tapped his six-shooter and even Lynch blenched, for the fighting light had come into his eyes. “No,” went on Wunpost, “you can’t work that on me. I found this mine and I’m going to have half of it or shoot it out with the bunch of ye!”

“You can have my share,” interposed Wilhelmina tremulously, and he flinched as if struck by a whip.

“I don’t want it!” he snarled. “It’s these high-binders I’m after. You, Dusty, you don’t get anything now. If this big fat slob is going to claim half my mine, you can law us–he’ll have to pay the bills. Now git, you old dastard, and if you horn in here again I’ll show you where you head out!” He waved him away, and Dusty Rhodes slunk off, for a guilty conscience makes cowards of us all; but Judson Eells stood solid as adamant, though his lawyer was whispering in his ear.

“Go and see him,” nodded Eells, and as Lapham followed Rhodes he turned to the excited Wunpost.

“Mr. Calhoun,” he began, “I see no reason to withdraw from my position in regard to this claim. This contract is legal and was made in good faith, and moreover I can prove that I paid out two thousand dollars before you ever located a claim. But all that can be settled in court. If you have given Miss Campbell a third, her share is now a sixth, because only half of the mine was yours to give; and so on with the rest, though if Mr. Rhodes’ claim is valid we will allow him his original one-third. Now what would you say if I should allow you one-third, of which you can give Miss Campbell what you wish, and I will keep the other, allowing Mr. Rhodes the last–each one of us to hold a third interest?”

“I would say─” burst out Wunpost, and then he stopped, for Wilhelmina was tugging at his arm. She spoke quickly into his ear, he flared up and then subsided, and at last he turned sulkily to Eells.

“All right,” he said, “I’ll take the third. I see you’ve got me cinched.”

CHAPTER VII

MORE DREAMS

In four days time Wunpost had seen his interest dwindle from full ownership to a mere sixth of the Willie Meena. First he had given Billy half, then they had each given Rhodes a sixth; and now Judson Eells had stepped in with his contract and trimmed their holdings by a half. In another day or so, if the ratio kept up, Wunpost’s sixth would be reduced to a twelfth, a twenty-fourth, a forty-eighth, a ninety-sixth–and he had discovered the mine himself! What philosophy or sophistry can reconcile a man to such buffets from the hand of Fate? Wunpost cursed and turned to raw whiskey. It was the infamy of it all; the humiliation, the disgrace, the insult of being trimmed by a lawyer–twice! Yes, twice in the same place, with the same contract, the same system; and now this same Flip Flappum was busy as a hunting dog trying to hire one of his partners to sell him out!

Wunpost towered above Old Whiskers, and so terrible was his presence that the saloon-keeper never hinted at pay. He poured out drink after drink of the vitriolic whiskey, which Whiskers made in the secrecy of his back-room; and as Wunpost drank and shuddered the waspish Phillip F. Lapham set about his complete undoing. First he went to Dusty Rhodes, who still claimed a full half, and browbeat him until he fell back to a third; and then, when Dusty priced his third at one million, he turned to the disillusioned Billy. Her ideas were more moderate, as far as values were concerned, but her loyalty to Wunpost was still unshaken and she refused to even consider a sale. Back and forth went the lawyer like a shuttle in its socket, from Dusty Rhodes to Wilhelmina and then back once more to Rhodes; but Dusty would sign nothing, sell nothing, agree to nothing, and Billy was almost as bad. She placed a cash value of twenty thousand dollars on her interest in the Willie Meena Mine, but the sale was contingent upon the consent of John C. Calhoun, who had drowned his sorrows at last. So they waited until morning and Billy laid the matter before him when her father brought the drunken man to their tent.

Wunpost was more than drunk, he was drugged and robbed of reason by the poison which Old Whiskers had brewed; but even with this handicap his mind leapt straight to the point and he replied with an emphatic “No!”

“Twenty thousand!” he repeated, “twenty thousand devils–twenty thousand little demons from hell! What do you want to sell me out for–didn’t I give you your interest? Well, listen, kid–you ever been to school? Then how much is one-sixth and one-third–add ’em together! Makes three-sixths, don’t it–well, ain’t that a half? I ain’t educated, that’s all right; but I can think, kid, can’t I? Flip Flappum he wants to get control. Give him a half, under my contract, and he can take possession–and then where do I git off? I git off at the same place I got off over at Wunpost; he’s trying to freeze me out. So if you want to do me dirt, kid, when I’ve always been your friend, go to it and sell him your share. Take your paltry twenty thousand and let old Wunpost rustle–serves him right, the poor, ignorant fool!”

He swayed about and Billy drew away from him, but her answer to Lapham was final. She would not sell out, at any price, without the consent of Wunpost. Lapham nodded and darted off–he was a man who dealt with facts and not with the moonshine of sentiment–and this time he fairly flew at Dusty Rhodes. He took him off to one side, where no one could listen in, and at the end of half an hour Mr. Rhodes had signed a paper giving a quit-claim to his interest in the mine. Old Whiskers was summoned from his attendance on the bottles, the lawyer presented his case; and, whatever the arguments, they prevailed also with the saloon-keeper, who signed up and took his check. Presumably they had to do with threats of expensive litigation and appeals to the higher courts, with a learned exposition of the weakness of their case and the air-tight position of Judson Eells; the point is, they prevailed, and Eells took possession of the mine, placing Pisen-face Lynch in charge.

Old Whiskers folded his tent and returned to Blackwater, where many of the stampeders had preceded him; and Dusty Rhodes, with a guilty grin, folded his check and started for the railroad. Cole Campbell and his daughter, when they heard the news and found themselves debarred from the property, packed up and took the trail home, and when John C. Calhoun came out of his coma he was left without a friend in the world. The rush had passed on, across the Sink to Blackwater and to the gulches in the mountains beyond; for the men from Nevada had not been slow to comprehend that the Willie Meena held no promise for them.

It was a single rich blow-out in a country otherwise barren; and the tales of the pocket miners, who held claims back of Blackwater, had led to a second stampede. The Willie Meena was a prophecy of what might be expected if a similar formation could be found, but it was no more than the throat of an extinct volcano, filled up with gold-bearing quartz. There was no fissure-vein, no great mother lode leading off through the country for miles; only a hogback of black quartz and then worlds and worlds of desert as barren as wash boulders could make it. So they rose and went on, like birds in full flight after they have settled for a moment on the plain, and when Wunpost rose up and rubbed his eyes his great camp had passed away like a dream.

Two days later he walked wearily across the desert from Blackwater, with a two gallon canteen under his arm, and at the entrance to Jail Canyon he paused and looked in doubtfully before he shambled up to the house. He was broke, and he knew it, and added to that shame was the greater shame that comes from drink. Old Whiskers’ poisonous whiskey had sapped his self-respect, and yet he came on boldly. There was a fever in his eye like that of the gambler who has lost all, yet still watches the fall of the cards; and as Wilhelmina came out he winked at her mysteriously and beckoned her away from the house.

“I’ve got something good,” he told her confidentially; “can you get off to go down to Blackwater?”

“Why, I might,” she said. “Father’s working up the canyon. Is it something about the mine?”

“Yes, it is,” he answered. “Say, what d’ye think of Dusty? He sold us out for five thousand dollars! Five thousand–that’s all–and Old Whiskers took the same, giving Judson Eells full control. They cleaned us, Billy, but we’ll get our cut yet–do you know what they’re trying to do? Eells is going to organize a company and sell a few shares in order to finance the mine; and if we want to, kid, we can turn in our third interest and get the pro rata in stock. We might as well do it, because they’ve got the control and otherwise we won’t get anything. They’ve barred us off the property and we’ll never get a cent if it produces a million dollars. But look, here’s the idea–Judson Eells is badly bent on account of what he lost at Wunpost, and he’s crazy to organize a company and market the treasury stock. We’ll go in with him, see, and as soon as we get our stock we’ll peddle it for what we can get. That’ll net us a few thousand and you can take your share and help the old man build his road.”

The stubborn look on Billy’s face suddenly gave place to one of doubt and then to one of swift decision.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “We don’t need to see Father–just tell them that I’ve agreed. And when the time comes, send an Indian up to notify me and I’ll ride down and sign the papers.”

“Good enough!” exclaimed Wunpost with a hint of his old smile. “I’ll come up and tell you myself. Have you heard the news from below? Well, every house in Blackwater is plumb full of boomers–and them pocket-miners are all selling out. The whole country’s staked, clean back to the peaks, and old Eells says he’s going to start a bank. There’s three new saloons, a couple more restaurants, and she sure looks like a good live camp–and me, the man that started it and made the whole country, I can’t even bum a drink!”

“I’m glad of it,” returned Billy, and regarded him so intently that he hastened to change the subject.

“But you wait!” he thundered. “I’ll show ’em who’s who! I ain’t down, by no manner of means. I’ve got a mine or two hid out that would make ’em fairly scream if I’d show ’em a piece of the rock. All I need is a little capital, just a few thousand dollars to get me a good outfit of mules, and I’ll come back into Blackwater with a pack-load of ore that’ll make ’em all sit up and take notice.”

He swung his fist into his hand with oratorical fervor and Mrs. Campbell appeared suddenly at the door. Her first favorable impression of the gallant young Southerner had been changed by the course of events and she was now morally certain that the envious Dusty Rhodes had come nearer the unvarnished truth. To be sure he had apologized, but Wunpost himself had said that it was only to gain a share in the mine–and how lamentably had Wunpost failed, after all his windy boasts, when it came to a conflict with Judson Eells. He had weakened like a schoolboy, all his arguments had been puerile; and even her husband, who was far from censorious, had stated that the whole affair was badly handled. And now here he was, after a secret conference with her daughter, suddenly bursting into vehement protestations and hinting at still other hidden mines. Well, his mines might be as rich as he declared them to be, but Mrs. Campbell herself was dubious.

“Wilhelmina,” she called, “don’t stand out in the sun! Why don’t you invite Mr. Calhoun to the house?”

The hint was sufficient, Mr. Calhoun excused himself hastily and went striding away down the canyon; and Wilhelmina, after a perfunctory return to the house, slipped out and ran up to her lookout. Not a word that he had said about the rush to Blackwater was in any way startling to her; she had seen every dust-cloud, marked each automobile as it rushed past, and even noted the stampede from the west. For the natural way to Blackwater was not across Death Valley from the distant Nevada camps, but from the railroad which lay only forty miles to the west and was reached by an automobile stage. The road came down through Sheep-herder Canyon, on the other side of the Sink, and every day as she looked across its vastness she saw the long trailers of dust. She knew that the autos were rushing in with men and the slow freighters were hauling in supplies–all the real news for her was the number of saloons and restaurants, and that Eells was starting a bank.

A bank! And in Blackwater! The only bank that Blackwater had ever had or needed was the safe in Old Whiskers’ saloon; and now this rich schemer, this iron-handed robber, was going to start a bank! Billy lay inside the portal of her gate of dreams and watched Wunpost as he plodded across the plain, and she resolved to join with him and do her level best to bring Eells’ plans to naught. If he was counting on the sale of his treasury stock to fill up the vaults of his bank he would find others in the market with stock in both hands, peddling it out to the highest bidder. And even if the mine was worth into the millions, she, for one, would sell every share. It was best, after all, since Eells owned the control, to sell out for what they could get; and if this was merely a deep-laid scheme to buy in their stock for almost nothing they would at least have a little ready cash.

The Campbells were poor; her father even lacked the money to buy powder to blast out his road, and so he struggled on, grading up the easy places and leaving Corkscrew Gorge untouched. That would call for heavy blasting and crews of hardy men to climb up and shoot down the walls, and even after that the jagged rock-bed must be covered and leveled to the semblance of a road. Now nothing but a trail led up through the dark passageway, where grinding boulders had polished the walls like glass; and until that gateway was opened Cole Campbell’s road was useless; it might as well be all trail. But with five thousand dollars, or even less–with whatever she received from her stock–the gateway could be conquered, her father’s dream would come true and all their life would be changed.

There would be a road, right past their house, where great trucks would lumber forth loaded down with ore from their mine, and return ladened with machinery from the railroad. There would be miners going by and stopping for a drink, and someone to talk to every day, and the loneliness which oppressed her like a physical pain would give place to gaiety and peace. Her father would be happy and stop working so hard, and her mother would not have to worry–all if she, Wilhelmina, could just sell her stock and salvage a pittance from the wreck.

She knew now what Wunpost had meant when he had described the outside world and the men they would meet at the rush, yet for all his hard-won knowledge he had gone down once more before Judson Eells and his gang. But he had spoken true when he said they would resort to murder to gain possession of their mine, and though he had yielded at last to the lure of strong drink, in her heart she could not blame him too much. It was not by wrongdoing that he had wrecked their high hopes, but by signing a contract long years before without reading what he called the fine print. He was just a boy, after all, in spite of his boasting and his vaunted knowledge of the world; and now in his trouble he had come back to her, to the one person he knew he could trust. She gazed a long time at the dwindling form till it was lost in the immensity of the plain; and then she gazed on, for dreams were all she had to comfort her lonely heart

CHAPTER VIII