by Roy Norton
CHAPTER XI
BELLS' VALIANT FIGHT
"We'll get there as soon as we can," Dick said. "It may not do anygood; but we'll demand a word and give them an argument. I haven'ttime to thank you now, Mrs. Meredith, but some day----"
"You owe me no thanks," was her rejoinder. "It is I who owe you. Turnabout, you know."
The big man said nothing, but took a step nearer to her horse, andlooked up into her face with his penetrating eyes. He reached up andclosed his hand over both of hers, and held them for an instant, andthen whirled back into the cabin to get his hat. The horse pivoted andstarted away.
"If I see Bells before you do," a voice floated up from the shadowsbelow, where the moon had not yet penetrated, "I'll tell him you'recoming. So long."
As the partners dog-trotted down the trail, she was already a long wayin advance. Now and then, as they panted up the steep path leadingaway behind the Rattler, whose lights glowed dimly, they heard faintsounds telling them that she was hastening back to Goldpan. Thewinding of the trail took them away from the immediate roar of thestamp mill behind, and they were still in the gloom, when they saw thehorse and rider outlined for a moment high above them on the crest ofthe divide and they thought she stopped for a moment and looked back.Then the silhouette seemed to float down out of sight, and was gone.
At the top, wordless, and sweating with effort, they filled theirlungs, hitched their belts tighter, and plunged into the shadowsleading toward the straggling rows of lights far below. They ran now,doggedly, hoping to arrive in the camp before the meeting came to anend.
"All we want," Bill said jerkily, as his feet pounded on the lastdecline, "is a chance to argue it out with the men themselves beforethis Denver feller gets his work in. I'm entitled to talk to 'em. I'vegot my own card, and am as good a union man as any of 'em. The boys'llbe reasonable if they stop to think."
They hastened up the roadway of the street, which was, as at any hourof the night, filled with moving men and clamorous with sound. Theyknew that the miners' hall was at its farthest end over the Golden AgeSaloon, and so lost no time in directing their steps toward it. Agroup in the roadway compelled them to turn out; and they werehurrying past, when a high, angry voice arrested them.
"And that's what they did to me--me, old Bells Park, who issixty-four!"
Dick turned into the crowd, followed by his partner, and began forcinghis way through. Bells was screaming and sobbing now in anger, andventing a tirade of oaths. "If I'd been younger they couldn't havedone it so easily. If I'd 'a' had my gun, I'd 'a' killed some of 'em,I would!"
As the partners gained the little opening around him, the light from awindow disclosed the white-headed, little man. Two men werehalf-holding him up. His face was a mass of blood, which one of hissupporters was endeavoring to wipe away with a handkerchief, and fromall sides came indignant, sympathetic mutterings.
"Who did that?" roared the heavy, infuriated voice of Bill as heturned to those around him.
Bells, whose eyes were swollen shut, recognized the voice, and lurchedforward.
"Some fellers backin' up that Denver thug," he wailed. "I was tryin'to hold 'em till you come. He had the meetin' packed with a lot ofbums I never saw before, and, when I told 'em what I thought of 'emand him, he ordered me thrown out. I tore my card to pieces andchucked 'em in his fat face, and then one of the fellers that camewith him hit me. They threw me down the stairs, and might 'a' killedme if there hadn't been one or two of my friends there. They call'emselves union miners! The dirty loafers!" And his voice screamedaway again into a line of objurgations and anathemas until Billquieted him.
"Here, Dick," he said, "give us a hand. We'll take him over to Lily'srooms and have her get Doc Mills."
His voice was unusually calm and contained. Dick had heard him usethat tone but once before, when he made a proposition to a man in anArizona camp that the road was wide, the day fine, and each wellarmed. He had helped bury the other man after that meeting, so nowread the danger note.
"I'll go get The Lily to come up and open the door," one of Bells'supporters said; "and won't you go for Doc?" He addressed the man onthe other side of the engineer.
"Sure!" replied the other.
Within five minutes they were in Mrs. Meredith's rooms again; and itseemed to Dick, as he looked around its dainty fittings, that it wasforever to be a place of tragedy; for the memory of that terriblyburned victim of the fire was still there, and he seemed to see herlying, scorched and unconscious, on the white counterpane.
"His nose is busted, I think," his partner said to The Lily, whoseonly comment was an abrupt exclamation: "What a shame! The cowards!"
He turned to the woman with his set face, and, still speaking in thatcalm, deadly voice, said: "Do you happen to have your gun up here?"
Her eyes opened wider, and Dick was about to interpose, when sheanswered understandingly: "Yes; but I'll not give it to you, BillMathews."
"I'm sorry," he said, as quietly as if his request or her refusal hadbeen mere desultory conversation. "I might need one in a pinch; butif you can't spare it, I reckon the boy and me can do what we have todo without one."
He turned and walked from the room and Dick followed, hoping to arguehim from that dangerous mood.
"Say, Bill," he said, "isn't it about bad enough without any moretrouble?"
"What? You don't mean to say you're not with me?" exclaimed the miner,suddenly turning on him and stopping abruptly in the street. "Are youfor lettin' 'em get away with it? Of course you ain't! You alwaysstick. Come on."
They saw that the lights in the miners' hall were out, and began asteady tour of the saloons in the vicinity. One of their own men wasin one of them--Smuts, the blacksmith, cursing loudly and volubly asthey entered.
"Them boys has always treated us white clean through," he bawled,banging his fist on the bar, "and a lot of you pikers that don't knownothin' about the case sit around like a lot of yaps and let thisDenver bunch pack the meetin' and declare a strike. Then you let thesame Denver bunch jump on poor old Bells, and hammer him to a pulpafter they've hustled him out of the door, instead of follerin' out tosee that he don't get the worst of it. Bah! I'm dead sick of you."
The partners had paused while listening to him, and he now saw them.
"Come out here, Smuts," Dick said, turning toward the door, and thesmith followed them.
"So they've ordered a strike on us, have they?" Dick asked.
"Yes," was the blacksmith's heated response; "but it don't go for me!I stick."
"Then if you're with us, where is that Denver bunch?" Bill asked; andDick knew that any effort to deter his partner from his purpose wouldprove useless.
"They all went down to the High Light," the smith answered. "Have youseen Bells?"
"Yes, and taken care of him. Now I'm goin' to take care of the manthat done it."
The blacksmith banged a heavy hand on the superintendent's shoulder.
"Bully for you! I'm with you. We'll go together!" he exclaimed, and atonce led the way toward the flaming lights of the High Light but a fewdoors below.
Dick nerved himself for the inevitable, and grimly walked with them asthey entered the doors. As they stood there, with the big miner infront, a sudden hush invaded the babel of noise, and men began to lookin their direction. The grim, determined man in the lead, glaring hereand there with cold, terrible eyes, was too noticeable a figure toescape observation. The set face of his partner, scarcely lessdetermined, and the smith, with brawny, clenched hands, and bushy,black brows drawn into a fierce scowl, completed the picture of adesperate trio come to avenge.
"You're the man I'm after," suddenly declared Bill, pointing a fingerat Thompson, of Denver, who had been the center of an admiring group."You're the one that's responsible for old Bells. Let's see if you orany of your bunch are as brave with a younger man. Come outside, won'tyou?"
When first he began to speak, in that silky, soft rumble, Thompson,who was nearly as large as Mathews, assumed an air of amus
ed disdain;but before the speech was ended his face went a little white.
"Oh, go on away, you drunken loafers!" he said, half-turning, as if toresume his conversation.
Instantly Bill sprang at him; and it seemed that he launched hissinewy bulk with a tiger's directness and deadliness straight throughthe ten feet intervening. He drove his fist into the face of theDenver man, and the latter swept back against those behind him. Againhe lifted the merciless fist, and now began striking with both withincredible rapidity. The battered Thompson was driven back, to fallagainst a faro layout. The miner bent him backward over the tableuntil he was resting on the wildly scattered gold and silver coins,and struck again, and this time the blood spurted in a stream, to runacross the green cloth, the staring card symbols, and the case rack.
"Don't kill him, Bill, don't kill him!" Dick's shout arose above theshouts of men and the screams of dance-hall women. He had barely timeto observe, in a flash, that Bill had picked the limp form of Thompsonup, and heavy as it was, lifted it high above his head and thrown itviolently into a vacant corner back of the table in a crumpled heap,when he was almost felled to the floor by a blow from behind, andturned to fight his own battle with one of the Denver bullies.
His old gymnasium training stood him in good stead; for, half-dazed bythe blow, he could only reel back and block the heavy fists that weresmashing toward him, when there came a sudden pause, and he saw thatthe smith had forced his way forward and lunged, with his heavy, slowarm, a deadly punch that landed under his assailant's ear, and senthim limp and dazed to the floor. The smith jumped forward and liftedhis heavy boot to kick the weaving face; but Dick caught him by thearm, and whirled him back in time to prevent needless brutality.
"There's another of 'em that hit Bells," the smith yelled, pointing toa man who began desperately edging toward the door.
All the rage of the primitive was aroused in Dick by this time, thebattle lust that dwells, placidly through life, perhaps, in every man,but which breaks loose in a torrent when once unleashed. He leapedafter the retreating man, seized him by the collar, and gave a wrenchthat tore coat, collar, and tie from the man's throat. He drove a blowinto the frightened face, and yelled: "That for old Bells Park! Andthat!"
The room had become a pandemonium. Men seemed striking everywhere.Fists were flying, the bartenders and gamblers shouting for order; andDick looked back to where Smuts and Bill were clearing a wide circleas they went after individual members of Thompson's supporters whowere edging in. Suddenly he saw a man leap on the bar, and recognizedin him the man who had been watchman at the Croix d'Or. Even in thattempestuous instant Dick wondered at his temerity in entering theplace.
Something glistened in the light, and he saw that the watchman held adrawn revolver, and was leveling it at Bill. The motion of the fightwas all that prevented the shot, as Mathews leaped to and fro. A dozenmen were between Dick and the watchman; but almost under his hand, atthe edge of the bar, stood a whisky bottle. He dove for it, brought itup, and threw. The watchman, struck fairly on the side of the head,dropped off backward, and fell to the floor behind the bar, and hispistol exploded harmlessly upward.
Instantly there came a change. From terrific uproar the room became asstill as a solitude. Brutal and deadly as had been that fierce minuteor two of battle in which all men fought, or strove to protectthemselves from the maddened ones nearest, the sound of the shotbrought them to their senses. A fight was one thing, a shootinganother. Gunmen as many of them were, they dreaded the results iffirearms were resorted to in that dense mass of excited men, and eachone stood still, panting, listening, calmed.
"I think Bells Park has played even," came a calm, steady voice at thedoor.
They turned in surprise. Standing in the doorway, motionless,scornful, and immaculate, with her white hat still on her head, as ifshe had just entered from the street, stood The Lily.
"Poor old Bells! Poor old man!" she said, in that panting silence, andthen for what seemed a long time looked at the floor. "Bells Park,"she said at last, lifting her eyes, "is dead!"
Suddenly, and before any one could speak, she clenched her hands ather sides, her eyes blazed, her face twisted, and went white.
"Oh," she said bitterly, in a voice low-pitched and tortured withpassion, "I hate you! I hate you! You brutes of Goldpan. You gamblingdogs! You purchasers of women. From this time, forever, I am done withyou!"
She lifted her arms, opened her hands, and made one wide, sweeping,inclusive gesture, and turned and walked out into the night.
"Dead! Dead! Bells is dead!"
Dick heard an unutterably sorrowful voice exclaim; and Bill,half-denuded, his blue shirt in shreds, his face puffed from blows,and his cut knuckles dripping a slow, trickling red, plunged towardhim, followed by the smith. No one blocked their way as they went,the three together, as they had come. Behind them, the room broke intohushed, awed exclamations, and began to writhe and twist, as menlifted and revived the fallen, and took stock of their injuries.
Two men came running down the street with weapons in hand; and themoonlight, which had lifted until it shone white and clear into thesqualors of the camp, picked out dim blazes from the stars on theirbreasts. They were the town marshal and a deputy sheriff, summonedfrom some distant saloon by the turmoil, and hastening forward toarrest the rioters, not suspecting that men were wanted for a graveroffense. Standing alone in the moonlight, in the middle of the road,with her hands clenched before her, the three men discerned anotherfigure, and, when they gained it, saw that in the eyes of The Lilyswam unshed tears.
Dick and the smith hastened onward toward her rooms; but Bill abruptlyturned, after they had passed her, and spoke. They did not hear whathe said. They scarcely noted his pause, for in but two or three stepshe was with them again, grimly hurrying to where lay the man they hadcome to love.
