The Golden Woman: A Story of the Montana Hills

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE SECRET OF THE HILL

  It was the morning following the great storm, a perfect day ofcloudless sunshine, and the Padre and Buck were on their way from thefur fort to the camp. Their mission was to learn the decision of itsinhabitants as to their abandonment of the valley; and in the Padre'spocket was a large amount of money for distribution.

  The elder man's spirits were quietly buoyant. Nor did there seem to bemuch reason why they should be. But the Padre's moods, even to hisfriends, were difficult to account for. Buck, on the contrary, seemedlost in a reverie which held him closely, and even tended to make hismanner brusque.

  But his friend, in the midst of his own cheerful feelings, would notallow this to disturb him. Besides, he was a far shrewder man than hissimple manner suggested.

  "It's well to be doing, lad," he said, after some considerablesilence. "Makes you feel good. Makes you feel life's worth a biggerprice than we mostly set it at."

  His quiet eyes took the other in in a quick, sidelong glance. He sawthat Buck was steadily, but unseeingly, contemplating the black slopesof Devil's Hill, which now lay directly ahead.

  "Guess you aren't feeling so good, boy?" he went on after a moment'sthoughtful pause.

  The direct challenge brought a slow smile to Buck's face, and heanswered with surprising energy--

  "Good? Why, I'm feelin' that good I don't guess even--even Beasleycould rile me this mornin'."

  The Padre nodded with a responsive smile.

  "And Beasley can generally manage to rile you."

  "Yes, he's got that way, surely," laughed Buck frankly. "Y' seehe's--he's pretty mean."

  "I s'pose he is," admitted the other. Then he turned his snow-whitehead and glanced down at the lean flanks of Caesar as the horse walkedeasily beside his mare.

  "And that boy, Kid, was out in all that storm on your Caesar," he wenton, changing the subject quickly from the man whom he knew bore him anabsurd animosity. "A pretty great horse, Caesar. He's looking none theworse for fetching that whisky either. Guess the boys'll be gettingover their drunk by now. And it's probably done 'em a heap of good.You did right to encourage 'em. Maybe there's folks would thinkdifferently. But then they don't just understand, eh?"

  "No."

  Buck had once more returned to his reverie, and the Padre smiled. Hethought he understood. He had listened overnight to a full account ofthe arrival of the new owner of their farm, and had gleaned somedetails of her attractiveness and youth. He knew well enough howsurely the isolated mountain life Buck lived must have left him opento strong impressions.

  They set their horses at a canter down the long declining trail whichran straight into the valley above which Devil's Hill reared its uglyhead. And as they went the signs of the storm lay everywhere aboutthem. Their path was strewn with debris. The havoc was stupendous.Tree trunks were lying about like scattered nine-pins. Riven trunks,split like match-wood by the lightning, stood beside the trail, gauntand hopeless. Partially-severed limbs hung drooping, their weepingfoliage appealing to the stricken world about them for a sympathywhich none could give. Even the hard, sun-baked trail, hammered andbeaten to an iron consistency under a hundred suns of summer, wasscored with now dry water-courses nearly a foot deep. With all hisknowledge and long experience of the mountains even the Padre wasfilled with awe at the memory of what he had witnessed.

  "Makes you think, Buck, doesn't it?" he said, pointing at a statelyforest giant stretched prone along the edge of the trail, its proudhead biting deeply into the earth, and its vast roots lifting twentyand more feet into the air. "I was out in the worst of it, too," hewent on thoughtfully. Then he smiled at the recollection of his punyaffairs while the elements had waged their merciless war. "I wastaking a golden fox out of a trap, 'way back there on the side of thethird ridge. While I was doing it the first two crashes came. Ahundred and more yards away two pines, big fellers, guess they wereplanted before the flood, were standing out solitary on a big rockoverhanging the valley below. They were there when I first bent overthe trap. When I stood up they were gone--rock and all. It made methink then. Guess it makes me think more now."

  "It surely was a storm," agreed Buck absently.

  They reached the open valley, and here the signs were less, so, takingadvantage of the clearing, they set their horses at a fast gallop.Their way took them skirting the great slope of the hill-base, andevery moment was bearing them on toward the old farm, for that way,some distance beyond, lay the ford which they must cross to reach thecamp.

  Neither seemed inclined for further talk. Buck was looking straightout ahead in the direction of the farm, and his preoccupation hadgiven place to a smile of anticipation. The Padre was intent upon theblack slopes of the hill. Farther along, the hill turned away towardthe creek, and the trail bore to the left, passing on the hither sideof a great bluff of woods which stretched right up to the very corralsof the farm. It was here, too, where the overhang of the suspendedlake came into view, where Yellow Creek poured its swift, shallowtorrent in the shadowed twilight of the single-walled tunnel and thegold-seekers held their operations in a vain quest of fortune.

  They had just come abreast of this point and the Padre was observingthe hill with that never-failing interest with which the scene alwaysfilled him. He believed there was nothing like it in all the world,and regarded it as a stupendous example of Nature's engineering. Butnow, without warning, his interest leapt to a pitch of wonderment thatset his nerves thrilling and filled his thoughtful eyes with anunaccustomed light of excitement. One arm shot out mechanically,pointing at the black rocks, and a deep sigh escaped him.

  "Mackinaw!" he cried, pulling his horse almost on to its haunches."Look at that!"

  Buck swung round, while Caesar followed the mare's example so abruptlythat his master was almost flung out of the saddle.

  He, too, stared across in the direction indicated. And his whisperedexclamation was an echo of the other's astonishment.

  "By the----!"

  Then on the instant an almost unconscious movement, simultaneouslyexecuted, set their horses racing across the open in the direction ofthe suspended lake.

  The powerful Caesar, with his lighter burden, was the first to reachthe spot. He drew up more than two hundred yards from where the domedroof forming the lake bed hung above the waters of the creek. He couldapproach no nearer, and his rider sat gazing in wonder at thespectacle of fallen rock and soil, and the shattered magnificence ofthe acres of crushed and broken pine woods which lay before him.

  The whole face of the hill for hundreds and hundreds of feet alongthis side had been ruthlessly rent from its place and flung broadcasteverywhere, and, in the chaos he beheld, Buck calculated that hundredsof thousands of tons of the blackened rock and subsoil had beendislodged by the tremendous fall.

  Just for an instant the word "washout" flashed through his mind. Buthe dismissed it without further consideration. How could a washoutsever such rock? Even he doubted the possibility of lightning causingsuch destruction. No, his thoughts flew to an earth disturbance ofsome sort. But then, what of the lake? He gazed up at where the rockyarch jutted out from the parent hill, and apprehension made himinvoluntarily move his horse aside. But his observation had killed thetheory of an earth disturbance. Anything of that nature must havebrought the lake down. For the dislodgment began under its veryshadow, and had even further deepened the yawning cavern beneath itsbed.

  The Padre's voice finally broke his reflections, and its tonesuggested that he was far less awed, and, in consequence, his thoughtswere far more practical.

  "Their works are gone," he said regretfully. "I'd say there's not asluice-box nor a conduit left. Maybe even their tools are lost. Poordevils!"

  The man's calm words had their effect. Buck at once responded to thepractical suggestion.

  "They don't leave their tools," he said. Then he pointed up at thelake. "Say, what if that had come down? What if the bowels o' thathill had opened up an' the water been turned loose?
What o' the camp?What o' the women an'--the kiddies?"

  His imagination had been stirred again. Again the Padre's practicebrought him back.

  "You don't need to worry that way, boy. It hasn't fallen. Guess theearth don't fancy turning her secrets loose all at once."

  Buck sighed.

  "Yet I'd say the luck sure seems rotten enough."

  There was no answer, and presently the Padre pointed at the face ofthe hill.

  "It was a washout," he said with quiet assurance. "See that face? It'ssoftish soil. Some sort of gravelly stuff that the water got at. Sortof gravel seam in the heart of the rock."

  Buck followed the direction indicated and sat staring at it. Thenslowly a curious look of hope crept into his eyes. It was the fancifulhope of the imaginative.

  "Here," he cried suddenly, "let's get a peek at it. Maybe--maybe theluck ain't as bad as we think." And he laughed.

  "What d'you mean?" asked the Padre sharply.

  For answer he had to put up with a curt "Come on." And the next momenthe was following in Caesar's wake as he picked his way rapidly amongstthe trees skirting the side of the wreckage. Their way lay inland fromthe creek, for Buck intended to reach the cliff face on the westernside of the fall. It was difficult going, but, at the distance, safeenough. Not until they drew in toward the broken face of the hillwould the danger really begin. There it was obvious enough to anybody.The cliff was dangerously overhanging at many points. Doubtless thesaturation which had caused the fall had left many of those greatprojections sufficiently loose to dislodge at any moment.

  Buck sought out what he considered to be the most available spot anddrew his horse up. The rest must be done on foot. No horse could hopeto struggle over such a chaotic path. At his suggestion both animalswere tethered within the shelter of trees. At least the trees wouldafford some slight protection should any more of the cliff give way.

  In less than a quarter of an hour they stood a hundred feet from theactual base of the cliff, and Buck turned to his friend.

  "See that patch up there," he said, pointing at a spread of reddishsurface which seemed to be minutely studded with white specks. "Guessa peek at it won't hurt. Seems to me it's about ten or twelve feet up.Guess ther' ain't need for two of us climbin' that way. You best waitright here, an' I'll git around again after a while."

  The Padre surveyed the patch, and his eyes twinkled.

  "Ten or twelve feet?" he said doubtfully. "Twenty-five."

  "May be."

  "You think it's----?"

  Buck laughed lightly.

  "Can't say what it is--from here."

  The other sat down on an adjacent rock.

  "Get right ahead. I'll wait."

  Buck hurried away, and for some moments the Padre watched his slimfigure, as, scrambling, stumbling, clinging, he made his way to wherethe real climb was to begin. Nor was it until he saw the tall figurehalt under an overhanging rock, which seemed to jut right out over hishead, and look up for the course he must take in the final climb, thatBuck's actual danger came home to the onlooker. He was very littlemore given to realizing personal danger than Buck himself, but now asudden apprehension for the climber gripped him sharply.

  He stirred uneasily as he saw the strong hands reach up and clutch thejutting facets. He even opened his mouth to offer a warning as he sawthe heavily-booted feet mount to their first foothold. But herefrained. He realized it might be disconcerting. A few breathlessmoments passed as Buck mounted foot by foot. Then came the thing thePadre dreaded. The youngster's hold broke, and a rock hurtled by himfrom under his hand and very nearly dislodged him altogether.

  In an instant the Padre was on his feet with the useless intention ofgoing to his aid, but, even as he stood up, his own feet shot fromunder him, and he fell back heavily upon the rock from which he hadjust risen.

  With an impatient exclamation he looked down to discover the cause ofhis mishap. There it lay, a loose stone of yellowish hue. He stoopedto remove it, and, in a moment, his irritation was forgotten. In amoment everything else was forgotten. Buck was forgotten. The peril ofthe hill. The cliff itself. For the moment he was lifted out ofhimself. Years had passed away, his years of life in those hills. Andsomething of the romantic dreams of his early youth thrilled him onceagain.

  He stood up bearing the cause of his mishap clasped in his two handsand stared down at it. Then, after a long while, he looked up at theclimbing man. He stood there quite still, watching his movements withunseeing eyes. His interest was gone. The danger had somehow becomenothing now. There was no longer any thought of the active figuremoving up the face of the hill with cat-like clinging hands and feet.There was no longer thought for his success or failure.

  Buck reached his goal. He examined the auriferous facet with closescrutiny and satisfaction. Then he began the descent, and in twominutes he stood once more beside the Padre.

  "It's high-grade quartz," he cried jubilantly as he came up.

  The Padre nodded, his mind on other things.

  "I'd say the luck's changed," Buck went on, full of his own discoveryand not noticing the other's abstraction. He was enjoying the thoughtof the news he had to convey to the starving camp. "I'd say there'sgold in plenty hereabouts and the washout----"

  The Padre suddenly thrust out his two hands which were still graspingthe cause of his discomfiture. He thrust them out so that Buck couldnot possibly mistake the movement.

  "There surely is--right here," he said slowly.

  Buck gasped. Then, with shining eyes, he took what the other washolding into his own two hands.

  "Gold!" he cried as he looked down upon the dull yellow mass.

  "And sixty ounces if there's a pennyweight," added the Padreexultantly. "You see I--I fell over it," he explained, his quiet eyestwinkling.