My "Pardner" and I

“I am greatly astonished,” said Vance, “at your revelation. It is entirely contrary to my theory of the case. I am beginning to feel, however, that my judgment amounts to but very little in this western country, though I must say I have received great encouragement from your words, Mr. Donald, in regard to Waterville property. I will throw a bomb into the enemy’s camp by writing an editorial for the Prospector that will touch a tender place, if Mr. Casey is correct in his statement.”

It so happened that on the very day that Louise and her father were working in the mine, the Prospector was issued, and contained the following editorial:

THE RUFUS GRIM MURDER

The history of Rufus Grim’s demise, though still shrouded in mystery, will doubtless, when the facts are known, startle the people of Gold Bluff even more than the murder itself. It is true that Steve Gibbons is accused and languishes in the county jail, and that a warrant is out for the arrest of his old associate, Hank Casey. In the excitement of the hour, our people may have interpreted circumstantial evidence as proof of guilt. As a matter of fact, not one jot or tittle of damaging evidence, in the Prospector’s judgment, can be produced against these men.

The idea of suicide has been effectually set aside by the findings at the coroner’s inquest. No one doubts that it was a cold-blooded, cowardly murder. We believe the murderer is in Gold Bluff to-day, and like the wolf of old, is clad in sheep’s raiment.

Our people should understand the difference between circumstantial and real evidence. It is probably true that both Steve Gibbons and Hank Casey were on anything but friendly terms with Rufus Grim, but they were not his only enemies; indeed, there is one in Gold Bluff who was secretly, if not openly, a much greater enemy to the rich mine owner than either of the suspected parties.

It is time that prejudice gave way to reason, and that others, who profited much more by Rufus Grim’s removal, should not only be suspected, but subjected to the crucial test of a thorough investigation.

This article set the people of Gold Bluff agog. The entire camp, from center to circumference, seemed startled by the boldness of Vance Gilder’s double-leaded editorial. When J. Arthur Boast read the article, he was dazed by its audacity. He sent for his attorney, and throughout the afternoon a consultation that lasted far into the night was held.

Work on the Peacock was shut down the following morning at Boast’s request, and the men assembled at the company’s office. Boast, addressing the miners, said:

“You, doubtless, have read the editorial in yesterday’s Prospector, written by a stranger and interloper in our midst, Mr. Vance Gilder, who foully accuses me of murdering Rufus Grim.

I am now going down to the office of the Prospector, and shall demand an amende honorable. So many of you as see fit may accompany me.”

“Ay, ay!” the crowd shouted, “we are ready!” Indeed, the citizens of Gold Bluff almost to a man, sided with Boast, and said Vance was showing a cowardly venom at J. Arthur Boast’s unexpected success and good fortune, that was neither dignified nor just. Boast led the way to the Prospector office, and was followed by a throng of determined miners and angry citizens, who were in a frame of mind that boded no good for Vance Gilder.

Louise Bonifield had just come over to the Prospector office with a message from her father, and met Arthur Boast at the office door. Louise tripped lightly into the office and saluted Vance with a cheery smile and good morning, while Boast paused in the doorway.

“Good morning, Mr. Gilder,” said he, savagely.

“Good morning,” replied Vance.

“Who wrote this editorial?” asked Boast, striking vigorously a copy of the Prospector which he held in his hand. “I tell you,” continued Boast, “I never murdered Rufus Grim, and any man that says I did is a liar, abase scoundrel, and a contemptible whelp!”

"That’s right! Ay, ay!” exclaimed the mob that was standing behind Boast, ready at a moment’s notice to loot the printing office.

Vance was cool and collected. He noticed that Boast spoke in his old-time thin, piping voice, and his eyes were restless and glittered like a fiend’s. The element of manhood and of the philosopher had wholly disappeared.

Louise stepped quickly forward before Vance could make a reply, and laying her hand on Boast’s arm, said: “Arthur, you know I have always been your friend. I am sure Mr. Gilder has never accused you of murdering Mr. Grim. What do you mean?”

“But he has accused me,” retorted Boast. “Read this!”

Vance stepped hurriedly from behind the case, and drawing Louise gently back, stood face to face with Arthur Boast. He was calm and determined. “Where,” said he, “where have I accused you of murdering Rufus Grim? Point out the sentence in the article where your name even appears?”

“Well, you haven’t used my name, but you might as well have done so.”

“No,” said Vance, as his eyes gleamed with fiercest indignation and anger, “I have not accused you, Arthur Boast, but you, by this act, with your mob of hirelings behind you, have accused yourself. Now you must, and by the eternals, shall answer to the law. A guilty conscience,” he continued, “needs no accuser, and it is your accusing conscience that has prompted you to come here and publicly charge yourself with the crime. Neither you, nor your host of admirers on full pay, can intimidate me. If you can pass through the test of a thorough investigation, and can be proved innocent, then I will have no more to say, but until you do this, I shall publicly accuse you and denounce you as the murderer of Rufus Grim!”

Vance towered up like a giant before the writhing and shriveling form of J. Arthur Boast.

“Well, I don’t know that you have accused me in this editorial,” whined Boast, “and I don’t know as I need to take any steps of revenge until you dare to use my name in your paper. I guess I’ll wait and see what my lawyer advises. Fall back, boys, I have nothing farther to say at this interview.”

“But I have,” said Vance, in thundering tones, “and before long I shall have much to say.”

“Well, you won’t say it through the columns of the Gold Bluff Prospector. It is my property; I have the bill of sale in my pocket.”

“Yes,” said Vance, “yours is the weapon of a coward; the unholy use of the power of money, but your plan of securing possession of the Prospector has no terrors for me. The copy of the Prospector that you hold in your hand contains the last editorial I ever expect to write for the paper. It may please you to know that my last dollar is gone; I am penniless, and without interference from you the Prospector has been issued for the last time under my management. I have been typo, managing editor, devil, form setter, city editor, publisher and everything else, trying hard to make an honest living. I am now through. You and your host of satellites will oblige me by leaving the premises. Come to-morrow morning and take possession. You’ll not find me in the way.”

Boast turned, and facing his mob of backers said, with the forced laugh of a whipped man:

“I thought I would squelch him, boys; he had to cave in, you bet.” His voice was shrill and squeaky, and his braggadocio air, as he led his admirers away, hid but poorly his nervousness and agitation.

Vance and Louise were alone. Louise had stood by during the interview, startled and alarmed. She marvelled at Vance’s strength; at his grandeur; at his nobleness; and when she heard him say that now he was penniless, she remembered the sacrifices he had made to help her father. He turned toward her and their eyes met. It came to her like an inspiration, that her respect and admiration for him in times past had been but a prelude to the pulsing love she now felt for him. She reached out both her hands toward him; he took them, and a moment later she was sobbing on his breast. No word had been spoken, but volumes had been interchanged in that one look.

The doorway was darkened. They quickly looked up, Louise through her tears, and Vance with a beaming countenance. Colonel Bonifield was surveying the situation with a look of genuine surprise on his face.

“Yo’ almost pa’lyze me, suh,” said the Colonel, “indeed yo’ do. Why, Mr. Gilder, I sent my little girl oveh here to tell yo’ that I had a matteh of vehy great impo’tance to talk oveh with yo’, but she was gone so long, suh, that I became impatient and came oveh myself.”

“Oh, papa,” said Louise, “Mr. Gilder and Arthur have had a terrible quarrel!”

“A quarrel, suh; why, how is that?”

“I am always ready to talk with you, Colonel,” said Vance, in a confused way, and unconsciously retaining one of Louise’s hands.

“Well, now, if my little girl,” said the Colonel “God bless her! will go oveh home and see about preparin’ dinneh and lay an extra plate fo’ yo’, we’ll have our talk and come oveh a little lateh.”

While no word had been spoken between Vance and Louise, yet he believed that his great love had been understood and rewarded. He lifted her hand to his lips as she started to go, with that chivalrous respect so becoming in the knights of old. When she was gone, Vance turned and thought he saw a smile chasing rapidly over the Colonel’s face.

“Wait a moment, Colonel,” said Vance, “I have some choice cigars that were sent me from New York. Here, try this one.”

“Thank yo’,” said the Colonel, “I neveh felt mo’ like smokin’ in my life than I do this mawnin’ As they lit their cigars, they walked out in front of the printing office. The morning sun mellowed the crisp and invigorating mountain air. Vance narrated his interview with Boast. The Colonel’s face clouded with a troubled expression. Presently he said:

“Mr. Gilder, we have at last finished our work on Gray Rocks.”

“I am very glad,” was Vance’s reply.

“Yo’ fo’ced me, suh, at one time,” said the Colonel, “to make a promise. When I pledge my word of honor, suh, as I did to yo’, it is sacred. Heretofore yo’ most naturally, Mr. Gilder, have asked me what I advised. I now come to yo’ and ask, what do yo’ advise?”

“Colonel Bonifield,” said Vance, “I am glad you ask me what I advise. You know, Colonel, when you first came to New York city, you thought that if you could only get to the 300 foot level you would cross-cut into a mine of untold wealth.”

“Yes, suh,” replied the Colonel, “that is so, and yo’ freely gave me the money to push the work.”

“Yes,” said Vance, and unconsciously with the toe of his boot he dug in the sand as if he was seeking the 300 foot level, “at the 300 foot level your efforts were not rewarded. Then you started for the 400 foot level.”

"Yes, suh,” said the Colonel, “and again you gave me the money.”

“Yes, yes,” said Vance, as the toe of his boot dug still deeper in the sand, “but again you failed. Then I gave you the last dollar of ready money I had in the world to sink the shaft on down to the 500 foot level.”

“Vehy true,” said the Colonel, “and would have given me mo’ if yo’ had had it.”

“Most assuredly,” said Vance, as his boot struck the rock that lay beneath the sand. “Yes,” said he, planting his heel firmly on the rock, “you have at last reached the 500 foot level. Heretofore, I have listened to your advice, and now I hope you will be guided by mine. I have been away from New York over two years. I have not left Gold Bluff for more than a year. I have remained close to Gray Rocks, alternately hoping and doubting that you would be successful. Colonel Bonifield, I have no regrets. You have been earnest and sincere, though sadly mistaken, in regard to this mining venture.”

“Well, well, suh,” said the Colonel, as he waited for Vance to go on.

“I have something to say to you, Colonel – I love your daughter with my whole heart, and more devotedly, it seems to me, than ever man loved woman before. I have a beautiful home in New York city, with ample means to care for her and you. My advice is that you and your lovely daughter, with those dependent upon you, come with me and we will leave these western wilds, so associated with disappointment, and go to my city home. This morning, for the first time, I have had reason to believe that your daughter reciprocated the great love I bear her. You are now an old man, Colonel, and while I have not a doubt in the world that if you would sink your shaft to the 600 foot level, say, or, perhaps to the 700 foot level, you would strike the vein of gold you have been looking for so many years; yet, what is the use, Colonel Bonifield, what is the use? My love for your daughter is very great, and I believe it is unselfish. A home of plenty awaits us. Hardships and disappointment alone have been the reward of our earnest efforts. Why not go away from it all? Yes, let us go and forget the trials, hardships, and hopes deferred of a frontiersman’s life, and let me help you spend the remaining years of your life in quiet, peace, and contentment.”

“Yo’ do me honor, suh,” replied the Colonel, as he brushed a mist from his eyes, “bawn in the nawth, yet yo’ possess the true chivalry of a southern gentleman. Yes, suh, yo’ do, indeed. It is true we sunk the shaft to the 300 foot level, and finally, to the 500 foot level, and you, suh, have fu’nished the money fo’ this great work. I thought my men would stay with me and help cross-cut into the vein, but I found, when I spoke to them about the matteh, that they only had confidence in Gray Rocks so long as there was money in my purse to pay their wages every Saturday night. When they dese’ted me, suh, I worked away alone, and finally that little girl, Louise, went down with me yeste’day early in the mawnin’, and we didn’t get home until after nine o’clock last night.”

"What!” said Vance, “Louise been working down in the mine?”

“Yes, suh, the hardest day’s work I eveh put in on Gray Rocks was yeste’day.”

“Why did you not let me know?” asked Vance, “I would have come and helped you most cheerfully, rather than have let her do the work of a man, and 500 feet under ground at that.”

“Well, hold on, Mr. Gilder, let me tell yo’. We had a goodly portion of giant powder yeste’day mawnin’, and yo’ve no idea how much assistance Louise gave me. I took the measu’ments a dozen times, suh, durin’ the day, and it seemed to me that by workin’ a little late, we might finally blast through into the vein.”

“Yes, Colonel, ‘where the vein might have been,’.rdquo; said Vance, with a merry twinkle in his eye, while he struck his heel in an absent way against the rock. The Colonel paid no attention to the interruption.

“Finally, suh, we made our last, drill, and filled it up with every grain of powdeh we had left. My little Louise had to dust every powdeh can in ordeh to have enough to make the last blast. We retired, suh, as usual, afteh I had lit the fuse, and yo’ ought to have heard that last blast go off! My daughter, suh, God bless her, tried to dull the disappointment that she felt sure was awaitin’ our effo’ts by gettin’ me to promise not to be too much disappointed; but I had confidence; yes, suh, right up to the last. Well, suh, the smoke finally cleared away, and my God! suh, my old eyes wept for joy!”

“What!” exclaimed Vance.

“Look at this piece of ore, Mr. Gilder; richer, yes, suh, richer than anything ever discovered in the Peacock. Yes, suh, my deah Gilder, we have made our last blast, and Gray Rocks is worth two million dollars. The agent of a rich minin’ corporation of Butte City made me an offer of that sum this mawnin’.”

CHAPTER XXVII. – AT LAST!

THE EFFECT on the people of a mining camp of one of those fabulously rich “strikes” like Gray Recks mine proved to be, may be imagined but cannot be described in words. Shopkeeper, citizen and miner alike, go wild with enthusiasm over so important a discovery. Congratulations were showered upon Colonel Bonifield and Vance from every quarter. Every one in Gold Bluff felt it his privilege to call at Colonel Bonifield’s home and pay his respects to one who had lived so long in their midst, and who had so persistently and so patiently maintained unbounded confidence in a proposition that was looked upon by others as a money-losing venture.

Independent of the fortune left him by his father, Vance was now a millionaire. In his prosperity he did not forget his old friends. He called on the sheriff and again offered himself as bondsman for Steve Gibbons. The bond was accepted, and a half hour later, Gibbons was released. Hank Casey surrendered himself, and was also immediately bailed out of custody.

One evening the stage coach brought to Gold Bluff Homer Winthrop and his young bride, nee Virgie Bonifield. It was a great surprise to the Bonifield household.

"And this accounts,” said Vance to Homer, after he had congratulated him, “this accounts for Marcus Donald hastening away from Gold Bluff.”

“Yes,” said Homer, “I could not think of having the ceremony take place without my old friend and associate, Marcus Donald, being present. We have traveled together so long, in adversity as well as in prosperity, that we are quite inseparable.”

“He is a great character,” replied Vance, “his disinterested assistance and help I have recently seen demonstrated in a marked degree.”

“He is one of the ‘salt of the earth,’.rdquo; replied Winthrop, enthusiastically, “he is not only a sunny day friend, but one in the hour of need – indeed, he is a man among men. By the way,” he continued, “I want to congratulate you with all my heart on the great Gray Rocks strike.”

“Thank you,” replied Vance, “the prosperity could never have come at a more opportune time. My finances was reduced to the last dollar when Colonel Bonifield broke the news to me.”

“I received your letter, written some ten days ago,” said Winthrop, “and have sold those twenty-five lots your New York friends purchased.”

“Thank God for that!” ejaculated Vance.

“Yes, I sold them for $800 apiece, or $20,000. As they only paid $2,500 for them, I hardly think they can complain at the profits. Oh, you have no idea what a city Waterville has become. The great waterpower has been effectually harnessed, the streets are paved; electric car lines, planing mills, and scores of other manufacturing concerns are in full operation. Our population is now numbered by thousands, instead of hundreds, while busy activity and prosperity are apparent on every hand.”

“You quite astonish me, old fellow,” replied Vance, “indeed you do; but I needed no greater proof of Waterville’s prosperity than your report of the sale of lots belonging to my New York friends. Once, old fellow, I gave you my promise to wait five years before passing judgment on your enterprise. Hardly half that time has elapsed, yet it gives me pleasure to assure you that I am already better satisfied with Waterville than I ever dared hope for.”

“Thank you,” said Homer, “your ‘Two Honorable Exceptions’ article in the New York Banner was indeed prophetic.”

“Yes,” said Vance, “while the prophecies of Col. Alexander, B. Webster Legal, Gen. Ira House, and other members of your Waterville Town Company, have been more than realized.”

“My associates,” said Homer, “in the great work of building up Waterville, have at last met with a compensation which I cannot but feel is a just one. Taking it all and all, they are a grand lot of fellows, each one a study within himself; nevertheless, collectively a phalanx of strength.”

“By the way,” he continued, “it was my noble little wife, Virgie, that started the boom last spring. She learned in some mysterious way that a private school fund had been created for her special benefit, and in order to return the money, purchased the first lots that we had sold for months and months, and from that day the boom started, until now – well, you’ll have to see the place to realize the wonderful changes and improvements.”

"Hers,” said Vance, “is certainty a sweet and noble character.”

“Yes, indeed,” replied Winthrop, laughingly, “I still think she is the most practical member of the Bonifield family.”

“Indeed,” said Vance, “I remember the allusion, and I beg to assure you that my opinion remains unchanged in regard to Louise.”

“I notice,” said Winthrop, “that our old acquaintance, J. Arthur Boast, has had quite a rise in the world – at the head of the Peacock mine, I understand.”

“Yes,” replied Vance, while a sorrowful expression swept over his face, “I fear his rise preceeds a mighty fall. Gibbons and Casey have been arrested for the Grim murder, but have given bonds, and are waiting for their attorney, B. Webster Legal, and to use one of Steve Gibbons’ expressions, ‘Things are liable to be sizzlin’ hot for Boast before long. ‘”

“Why,” interrupted Winthrop, “you cannot mean – ”

“Yes,” continued Vance, “I do mean that J. Arthur Boast murdered Rufus Grim. I have the evidence. Hank Casey saw the act.”

“Why, you astonish me!”

“Casey,” continued Vance, “was at first afraid to report the matter, nor did he until he went to Waterville. You were away at the time, and he confided to Mr. Donald. His own and Steve Gibbons’ long years of warfare with Grim over the Peacock, he was afraid, would cause people to suspect them of the crime. He divined rightly. There is a great prejudice against both of them.”

“I never was more surprised in my life!” said Winthrop, "and while I never liked the fellow, yet I had no idea he would commit murder.”

The next day a warrant was issued for the arrest of J. Arthur Boast, charging him with the murder of Rufus Grim. A most diligent search was made, but the officer was unable to find him. His wife was in tears and prostrated with grief, declaring she had no idea of his whereabouts.

It was the morning before Thanksgiving that Vance received a certain letter. It was from Arthur Boast, and read as follows:

At Home.

Dear Sir:

Why I write to you above all others, is more than I can tell. An impulse, actuated by some wandering spirit from the regions of darkness and the damned, forces me to it. The things I want to do, I am unable to accomplish. The acts I loathe and abhor, I am made a cat’s-paw of to perform by some unknown impelling force.

It may be that some men can shape their own destiny – mine has been shaped for me.

I have never seen the time I did not fear you, and cannot remember the time I did not hate and despise you. I sought your friendship for protection. When I needed your support, you turned against me.

Rufus Grim was my evil genius in this life, and he is more unbearable dead than living. Every night since I murdered him – yes, it was I who did the deed – he has visited me in my dreams All night long he walks up and down my bed-room – back and forth – and curses me. Sometimes I pull the covers well over my head, and try to sleep, but he pulls them off and rubs his cold, clammy hands threateningly over my face. He has found out also that I robbed the stage coach and bribed the sheriff.

I am tired of it all. I have not slept for ten nights. My brain is on fire. You want vengeance, but I intend to cheat you – yes? I will cheat you – and in this way I find my only consolation.

An hour ago my attorney came to my hiding-place, and told me the higher courts had reversed the decision. When this is known all Gold Bluff will turn against me. Even now I can hear them hissing the words. Scoundrel! scoundrel! murderer! murderer! in tantalizing scorn.

My ambition has always been to be wealthy. Now I am so poor that if I continued to live and was not hunted down and sent to prison, I would not even have a crust of bread to eat.

Yes, Gibbons and Casey are now the owners of the Peacock mine – the higher courts have so decided. With their money, they’ll join you in persecuting me – but I’ll cheat them as well as you. Your longing for revenge shall not be satisfied.

At the old prospect shaft on the Peacock, where I struck the fatal blow that hurled Rufus Grim into eternity, you will find all that remains of the persecuted, despised and hated.

J. Arthur Boast.

To Vance Gilder.

A search was at once made, and his lifeless body found near the old prospect shaft.

A bullet wound in his temple, and the weapon still clutched in his hand, told of the maniac’s suicide.

The people of Gold Bluff were astonished at the rapidity with which history was being made. The sheriff was missing, and his absence gave color to Boast’s statement about the sheriff being an accomplice in the stage robbery.