The Three Partners

by Bret Harte

  Produced by Donald Lainson

  THE THREE PARTNERS

  By Bret Harte

  PROLOGUE.

  The sun was going down on the Black Spur Range. The red light it hadkindled there was still eating its way along the serried crest, showingthrough gaps in the ranks of pines, etching out the interstices ofbroken boughs, fading away and then flashing suddenly out again likesparks in burnt-up paper. Then the night wind swept down the wholemountain side, and began its usual struggle with the shadows upclimbingfrom the valley, only to lose itself in the end and be absorbed in theall-conquering darkness. Yet for some time the pines on the long slopeof Heavy Tree Hill murmured and protested with swaying arms; but as theshadows stole upwards, and cabin after cabin and tunnel after tunnelwere swallowed up, a complete silence followed. Only the sky remainedvisible--a vast concave mirror of dull steel, in which the stars did notseem to be set, but only reflected.

  A single cabin door on the crest of Heavy Tree Hill had remained open tothe wind and darkness. Then it was slowly shut by an invisible figure,afterwards revealed by the embers of the fire it was stirring. At firstonly this figure brooding over the hearth was shown, but as the flamesleaped up, two other figures could be seen sitting motionless before it.When the door was shut, they acknowledged that interruption by slightlychanging their position; the one who had risen to shut the door sankback into an invisible seat, but the attitude of each man was one ofprofound reflection or reserve, and apparently upon some common subjectwhich made them respect each other's silence. However, this was at lastbroken by a laugh. It was a boyish laugh, and came from the youngest ofthe party. The two others turned their profiles and glanced inquiringlytowards him, but did not speak.

  "I was thinking," he began in apologetic explanation, "how mighty queerit was that while we were working like niggers on grub wages, withoutthe ghost of a chance of making a strike, how we used to sit here, nightafter night, and flapdoodle and speculate about what we'd do if we everDID make one; and now, Great Scott! that we HAVE made it, and are justwallowing in gold, here we are sitting as glum and silent as if we'dhad a washout! Why, Lord! I remember one night--not so long ago,either--that you two quarreled over the swell hotel you were going tostop at in 'Frisco, and whether you wouldn't strike straight out forLondon and Rome and Paris, or go away to Japan and China and round byIndia and the Red Sea."

  "No, we didn't QUARREL over it," said one of the figures gently; "therewas only a little discussion."

  "Yes, but you did, though," returned the young fellow mischievously,"and you told Stacy, there, that we'd better learn something of theworld before we tried to buy it or even hire it, and that it was justas well to get the hayseed out of our hair and the slumgullion off ourboots before we mixed in polite society."

  "Well, I don't see what's the matter with that sentiment now," returnedthe second speaker good-humoredly; "only," he added gravely, "we didn'tquarrel--God forbid!"

  There was something in the speaker's tone which seemed to touch a commonchord in their natures, and this was voiced by Barker with sudden andalmost pathetic earnestness. "I tell you what, boys, we ought to swearhere to-night to always stand by each other--in luck and out of it! Weought to hold ourselves always at each other's call. We ought to havea kind of password or signal, you know, by which we could summon eachother at any time from any quarter of the globe!"

  "Come off the roof, Barker," murmured Stacy, without lifting his eyesfrom the fire. But Demorest smiled and glanced tolerantly at the youngerman.

  "Yes, but look here, Stacy," continued Barker, "comrades like us, inthe old days, used to do that in times of trouble and adventures. Whyshouldn't we do it in our luck?"

  "There's a good deal in that, Barker boy," said Demorest, "though, asa general thing, passwords butter no parsnips, and the ordinary,every-day, single yelp from a wolf brings the whole pack together forbusiness about as quick as a password. But you cling to that sentiment,and put it away with your gold-dust in your belt."

  "What I like about Barker is his commodiousness," said Stacy. "Here heis, the only man among us that has his future fixed and his preemptionlines laid out and registered. He's already got a girl that he's goingto marry and settle down with on the strength of his luck. And I'd liketo know what Kitty Carter, when she's Mrs. Barker, would say to herhusband being signaled for from Asia or Africa. I don't seem to see hertumbling to any password. And when he and she go into a new partnership,I reckon she'll let the old one slide."

  "That's just where you're wrong!" said Barker, with quickly risingcolor. "She's the sweetest girl in the world, and she'd be sure tounderstand our feelings. Why, she thinks everything of you two; she wasjust eager for you to get this claim, which has put us where we are,when I held back, and if it hadn't been for her, by Jove! we wouldn'thave had it."

  "That was only because she cared for YOU," returned Stacy, with ahalf-yawn; "and now that you've got YOUR share she isn't going to takea breathless interest in US. And, by the way, I'd rather YOU'D remind usthat we owe our luck to her than that SHE should ever remind YOU of it."

  "What do you mean?" said Barker quickly. But Demorest here rose lazily,and, throwing a gigantic shadow on the wall, stood between the two withhis back to the fire. "He means," he said slowly, "that you're talkingrot, and so is he. However, as yours comes from the heart and his fromthe head, I prefer yours. But you're both making me tired. Let's have afresh deal."

  Nobody ever dreamed of contradicting Demorest. Nevertheless, Barkerpersisted eagerly: "But isn't it better for us to look at thischeerfully and happily all round? There's nothing criminal in our havingmade a strike! It seems to me, boys, that of all ways of making moneyit's the squarest and most level; nobody is the poorer for it; our luckbrings no misfortune to others. The gold was put there ages ago foranybody to find; we found it. It hasn't been tarnished by man's touchbefore. I don't know how it strikes you, boys, but it seems to methat of all gifts that are going it is the straightest. For whether wedeserve it or not, it comes to us first-hand--from God!"

  The two men glanced quickly at the speaker, whose face flushed and thensmiled embarrassedly as if ashamed of the enthusiasm into which he hadbeen betrayed. But Demorest did not smile, and Stacy's eyes shone in thefirelight as he said languidly, "I never heard that prospecting was areligious occupation before. But I shouldn't wonder if you're right,Barker boy. So let's liquor up."

  Nevertheless he did not move, nor did the others. The fire leapedhigher, bringing out the rude rafters and sternly economic details ofthe rough cabin, and making the occupants in their seats before the firelook gigantic by contrast.

  "Who shut the door?" said Demorest after a pause.

  "I did," said Barker. "I reckoned it was getting cold."

  "Better open it again, now that the fire's blazing. It will light theway if any of the men from below want to drop in this evening."

  Stacy stared at his companion. "I thought that it was understood thatwe were giving them that dinner at Boomville tomorrow night, so that wemight have the last evening here by ourselves in peace and quietness?"

  "Yes, but if any one DID want to come it would seem churlish to shut himout," said Demorest.

  "I reckon you're feeling very much as I am," said Stacy, "that this goodfortune is rather crowding to us three alone. For myself, I know," hecontinued, with a backward glance towards a blanketed, covered pilein the corner of the cabin, "that I feel rather oppressed by--by itsspecific gravity, I calculate--and sort of crampy and twitchy in thelegs, as if I ought to 'lite' out and do something, and yet it holdsme here. All the same, I doubt if anybody will come up--except fromcuriosity. Our luck has made them rather sore down the hill, for allthey're coming to the dinner to-morrow."

  "That's only human nature,"
said Demorest.

  "But," said Barker eagerly, "what does it mean? Why, only thisafternoon, when I was passing the 'Old Kentuck' tunnel, where thoseMarshalls have been grubbing along for four years without making asingle strike, I felt ashamed to look at them, and as they barely noddedto me I slinked by as if I had done them an injury. I don't understandit."

  "It somehow does not seem to square with this 'gift of God' idea ofyours, does it?" said Stacy. "But we'll open the door and give them ashow."

  As he did so it seemed as if the night were their only guest, and hadbeen waiting on the threshold to now enter bodily and pervade all thingswith its presence. With that cool, fragrant inflow of air they breathedfreely. The red edge had gone from Black Spur, but it was even moreclearly defined against the sky in its towering blackness. Thesky itself had grown lighter, although the stars still seemed merereflections of the solitary pin-points of light scattered along theconcave valley below. Mingling with the cooler, restful air of thesummit, yet penetratingly distinct from it, arose the stimulating breathof the pines below, still hot and panting from the day-long sun. Thesilence was intense. The far-off barking of a dog on the invisibleriver-bar nearly a mile beneath them came to them like a sound in adream. They had risen, and, standing in the doorway, by common consentturned their faces to the east. It was the frequent attitude of thehome-remembering miner, and it gave him the crowning glory of the view.For, beyond the pine-hearsed summits, rarely seen except against theevening sky, lay a thin, white cloud like a dropped portion of the MilkyWay. Faint with an indescribable pallor, remote yet distinct enough toassert itself above and beyond all surrounding objects, it was alwaysthere. It was the snow-line of the Sierras.

  They turned away and silently reseated themselves, the same thoughtin the minds of each. Here was something they could not take away,something to be left forever and irretrievably behind,--left with thehealthy life they had been leading, the cheerful endeavor, the undyinghopefulness which it had fostered and blessed. Was what they WERE takingaway worth it? And oddly enough, frank and outspoken as they had alwaysbeen to each other, that common thought remained unuttered. Even Barkerwas silent; perhaps he was also thinking of Kitty.

  Suddenly two figures appeared in the very doorway of the cabin. Theeffect was startling upon the partners, who had only just reseatedthemselves, and for a moment they had forgotten that the narrow bandof light which shot forth from the open door rendered the darkness oneither side of it more impenetrable, and that out of this darkness,although themselves guided by the light, the figures had just emerged.Yet one was familiar enough. It was the Hill drunkard, Dick Hall, or,as he was called, "Whiskey Dick," or, indicated still more succinctly bythe Hill humorists, "Alky Hall."

  Everybody had seen that sodden, puffy, but good-humored face; everybodyhad felt the fiery exhalations of that enormous red beard, which alwaysseemed to be kept in a state of moist, unkempt luxuriance by liquor;everybody knew the absurd dignity of manner and attempted precision ofstatement with which he was wont to disguise his frequent excesses.Very few, however, knew, or cared to know, the pathetic weariness andchilling horror that sometimes looked out of those bloodshot eyes.

  He was evidently equally unprepared for the three silent seated figuresbefore the door, and for a moment looked at them blankly with the doubtsof a frequently deceived perception. Was he sure that they were quitereal? He had not dared to look at his companion for verification, butsmiled vaguely.

  "Good-evening," said Demorest pleasantly.

  Whiskey Dick's face brightened. "Good-evenin', good-evenin' yourselves,boys--and see how you like it! Lemme interdrush my ole frien' WilliamJ. Steptoe, of Red Gulch. Stepsho--Steptoe--is shtay--ish stay--"He stopped, hiccupped, waved his hand gravely, and with an air ofreproachful dignity concluded, "sojourning for the present on the Bar.We wish to offer our congrashulashen and felish--felish--" He pausedagain, and, leaning against the door-post, added severely, "--itations."

  His companion, however, laughed coarsely, and, pushing past Dick,entered the cabin. He was a short, powerful man, with a closely croppedcrust of beard and hair that seemed to adhere to his round head likemoss or lichen. He cast a glance--furtive rather than curious aroundthe cabin, and said, with a familiarity that had not even good humorto excuse it, "So you're the gay galoots who've made the big strike?Thought I'd meander up the Hill with this old bloat Alky, and drop into see the show. And here you are, feeling your oats, eh? and not caringany particular G-d d--n if school keeps or not."

  "Show Mr. Steptoe--the whiskey," said Demorest to Stacy. Then quietlyaddressing Dick, but ignoring Steptoe as completely as Steptoe hadignored his unfortunate companion, he said, "You quite startled us atfirst. We did not see you come up the trail."

  "No. We came up the back trail to please Steptoe, who wanted to seeround the cabin," said Dick, glancing nervously yet with a forcedindifference towards the whiskey which Stacy was offering to thestranger.

  "What yer gettin' off there?" said Steptoe, facing Dick almost brutally."YOU know your tangled legs wouldn't take you straight up the trail,and you had to make a circumbendibus. Gosh! if you hadn't scented thislicker at the top you'd have never found it."

  "No matter! I'm glad you DID find it, Dick," said Demorest, "and I hopeyou'll find the liquor good enough to pay you for the trouble."

  Barker stared at Demorest. This extraordinary tolerance of the drunkardwas something new in his partner. But at a glance from Demorest he ledDick to the demijohn and tin cup which stood on a table in the corner.And in another moment Dick had forgotten his companion's rudeness.

  Demorest remained by the door, looking out into the darkness.

  "Well," said Steptoe, putting down his emptied cup, "trot out yourstrike. I reckon our eyes are strong enough to bear it now." Stacy drewthe blanket from the vague pile that stood in the corner, and discovereda deep tin prospecting-pan. It was heaped with several large fragmentsof quartz. At first the marble whiteness of the quartz and theglittering crystals of mica in its veins were the most noticeable, butas they drew closer they could see the dull yellow of gold filling thedecomposed and honeycombed portion of the rock as if still liquid andmolten. The eyes of the party sparkled like the mica--even those ofBarker and Stacy, who were already familiar with the treasure.

  "Which is the richest chunk?" asked Steptoe in a thickening voice.

  Stacy pointed it out.

  "Why, it's smaller than the others."

  "Heft it in your hand," said Barker, with boyish enthusiasm.

  The short, thick fingers of Steptoe grasped it with a certain aquilinesuggestion; his whole arm strained over it until his face grew purple,but he could not lift it.

  "Thar useter be a little game in the 'Frisco Mint," said Dick, restoredto fluency by his liquor, "when thar war ladies visiting it, and thatwas to offer to give 'em any of those little boxes of gold coin, thatcontained five thousand dollars, ef they would kindly lift it from thecounter and take it away! It wasn't no bigger than one of these chunks;but Jiminy! you oughter have seed them gals grip and heave on it, andthen hev to give it up! You see they didn't know anything about thepaci--(hic) the speshif--" He stopped with great dignity, and added withpainful precision, "the specific gravity of gold."

  "Dry up!" said Steptoe roughly. Then turning to Stacy he said abruptly,"But where's the rest of it? You've got more than that."

  "We sent it to Boomville this morning. You see we've sold out our claimto a company who take it up to-morrow, and put up a mill and stamps.In fact, it's under their charge now. They've got a gang of men on theclaim already."

  "And what mout ye hev got for it, if it's a fair question?" saidSteptoe, with a forced smile.

  Stacy smiled also. "I don't know that it's a business question," hesaid.

  "Five hundred thousand dollars," said Demorest abruptly from thedoorway, "and a treble interest."

  The eyes of the two men met. There was no mistaking the dull fire ofenvy in Steptoe's glance, but Demorest received it with a certain coldc
uriosity, and turned away as the sound of arriving voices came fromwithout.

  "Five hundred thousand's a big figger," said Steptoe, with a coarselaugh, "and I don't wonder it makes you feel so d----d sassy. But it WASa fair question."

  Unfortunately it here occurred to the whiskey-stimulated brain of Dickthat the friend he had introduced was being treated with scant courtesy,and he forgot his own treatment by Steptoe. Leaning against the wall hewaved a dignified rebuke. "I'm sashified my ole frien' is akshuated byonly businesh principles." He paused, recollected himself, and addedwith great precision: "When I say he himself has a valuable claim inRed Gulch, and to my shertain knowledge has received offers--I have saidenough."

  The laugh that broke from Stacy and Barker, to whom the infelicitousreputation of Red Gulch was notorious, did not allay Steptoe'sirritation. He darted a vindictive glance at the unfortunate Dick, butjoined in the laugh. "And what was ye goin' to do with that?" he said,pointing to the treasure.

  "Oh, we're taking that with us. There's a chunk for each of us as amemento. We cast lots for the choice, and Demorest won,--that one whichyou couldn't lift with one hand, you know," said Stacy.

  "Oh, couldn't I? I reckon you ain't goin' to give me the same chancethat they did at the Mint, eh?"

  Although the remark was accompanied with his usual coarse, familiarlaugh, there was a look in his eye so inconsequent in its significancethat Stacy would have made some reply, but at this moment Demorestre-entered the cabin, ushering in a half dozen miners from the Barbelow. They were, although youngish men, some of the older locators inthe vicinity, yet, through years of seclusion and uneventful labors,they had acquired a certain childish simplicity of thought and mannerthat was alternately amusing and pathetic. They had never intruded uponthe reserve of the three partners of Heavy Tree Hill before; nothing butan infantine curiosity, a shy recognition of the partners' courtesy ininviting them with the whole population of Heavy Tree to the dinner thenext day, and the never-to-be-resisted temptation of an evening of "freeliquor" and forgetfulness of the past had brought them there now.Among them, and yet not of them, was a young man who, although speakingEnglish without accent, was distinctly of a different nationality andrace. This, with a certain neatness of dress and artificial suavityof address, had gained him the nickname of "the Count" and "Frenchy,"although he was really of Flemish extraction. He was the Union DitchCompany's agent on the Bar, by virtue of his knowledge of languages.

  Barker uttered an exclamation of pleasure when he saw him. Himself theincarnation of naturalness, he had always secretly admired this youngforeigner, with his lacquered smoothness, although a vague consciousnessthat neither Stacy nor Demorest shared his feelings had restricted theiracquaintance. Nevertheless, he was proud now to see the bow with whichPaul Van Loo entered the cabin as if it were a drawing-room, and perhapsdid not reflect upon that want of real feeling in an act which made theothers uncomfortable.

  The slight awkwardness their entrance produced, however, was quicklyforgotten when the blanket was again lifted from the pan of treasure.Singularly enough, too, the same feverish light came into the eyes ofeach as they all gathered around this yellow shrine. Even the politePaul rudely elbowed his way between the others, though his artificial"Pardon" seemed to Barker to condone this act of brutal instinct. But itwas more instructive to observe the manner in which the older locatorsreceived this confirmation of the fickle Fortune that had overlookedtheir weary labors and years of waiting to lavish her favors on the newand inexperienced amateurs. Yet as they turned their dazzled eyes uponthe three partners there was no envy or malice in their depths, noreproach on their lips, no insincerity in their wondering satisfaction.Rather there was a touching, almost childlike resumption of hope as theygazed at this conclusive evidence of Nature's bounty. The gold had beenthere--THEY had only missed it! And if there, more could be found! Wasit not a proof of the richness of Heavy Tree Hill? So strongly was thisreflected on their faces that a casual observer, contrasting them withthe thoughtful countenances of the real owners, would have thought themthe lucky ones. It touched Barker's quick sympathies, it puzzled Stacy,it made Demorest more serious, it aroused Steptoe's active contempt.Whiskey Dick alone remained stolid and impassive in a desperate attemptto pull himself once more together. Eventually he succeeded, even to theambitious achievement of mounting a chair and lifting his tin cup with adangerously unsteady hand, which did not, however, affect his precisionof utterance, and said:--

  "Order, gentlemen! We'll drink success to--to"--

  "The next strike!" said Barker, leaping impetuously on another chairand beaming upon the old locators--"and may it come to those who have solong deserved it!"

  His sincere and generous enthusiasm seemed to break the spell of silencethat had fallen upon them. Other toasts quickly followed. In the generalgood feeling Barker attached himself to Van Loo with his usual boyisheffusion, and in a burst of confidence imparted the secret of hisengagement to Kitty Carter. Van Loo listened with polite attention,formal congratulations, but inscrutable eyes, that occasionally wanderedto Stacy and again to the treasure. A slight chill of disappointmentcame over Barker's quick sensitiveness. Perhaps his enthusiasm had boredthis superior man of the world. Perhaps his confidences were in badtaste! With a new sense of his inexperience he turned sadly away. VanLoo took that opportunity to approach Stacy.

  "What's all this I hear of Barker being engaged to Miss Carter?" hesaid, with a faintly superior smile. "Is it really true?"

  "Yes. Why shouldn't it be?" returned Stacy bluntly.

  Van Loo was instantly deprecating and smiling. "Why not, of course? Butisn't it sudden?"

  "They have known each other ever since he's been on Heavy Tree Hill,"responded Stacy.

  "Ah, yes! True," said Van Loo. "But now"--

  "Well--he's got money enough to marry, and he's going to marry."

  "Rather young, isn't he?" said Van Loo, still deprecatingly. "Andshe's got nothing. Used to wait on the table at her father's hotel inBoomville, didn't she?"

  "Yes. What of that? We all know it."

  "Of course. It's an excellent thing for her--and her father. He'll havea rich son-in-law. About two hundred thousand is his share, isn't it? Isuppose old Carter is delighted?"

  Stacy had thought this before, but did not care to have it corroboratedby this superfine young foreigner. "And I don't reckon that Barker isoffended if he is," he said curtly as he turned away. Nevertheless, hefelt irritated that one of the three superior partners of Heavy TreeHill should be thought a dupe.

  Suddenly the conversation dropped, the laughter ceased. Every one turnedround, and, by a common instinct, looked towards the door. Fromthe obscurity of the hill slope below came a wonderful tenor voice,modulated by distance and spiritualized by the darkness:--

  "When at some future day I shall be far away, Thou wilt be weeping, Thy lone watch keeping."

  The men looked at one another. "That's Jack Hamlin," they said. "What'she doing here?"

  "The wolves are gathering around fresh meat," said Steptoe, with hiscoarse laugh and a glance at the treasure. "Didn't ye know he came overfrom Red Dog yesterday?"

  "Well, give Jack a fair show and his own game," said one of the oldlocators, "and he'd clean out that pile afore sunrise."

  "And lose it next day," added another.

  "But never turn a hair or change a muscle in either case," said a third."Lord! I've heard him sing away just like that when he's been leavingthe board with five thousand dollars in his pocket, or going awaystripped of his last red cent."

  Van Loo, who had been listening with a peculiar smile, here said in hismost deprecating manner, "Yes, but did you never consider the influencethat such a man has on the hard-working tunnelmen, who are ready togamble their whole week's earnings to him? Perhaps not. But I know thedifficulties of getting the Ditch rates from these men when he has beenin camp."

  He glanced around him with some importance, but only a laugh followedhis speech. "Come, Frenchy," said a
n old locator, "you only say thatbecause your little brother wanted to play with Jack like a grownman, and when Jack ordered him off the board and he became sassy, Jackscooted him outer the saloon."

  Van Loo's face reddened with an anger that had the apparent effect ofremoving every trace of his former polished repose, and leaving only ahard outline beneath. At which Demorest interfered:--

  "I can't say that I see much difference in gambling by putting moneyinto a hole in the ground and expecting to take more from it than byputting it on a card for the same purpose."

  Here the ravishing tenor voice, which had been approaching, ceased, andwas succeeded by a heart-breaking and equally melodious whistling tofinish the bar of the singer's song. And the next moment Jack Hamlinappeared in the doorway.

  Whatever was his present financial condition, in perfect self-possessionand charming sang-froid he fully bore out his previous description. Hewas as clean and refreshing looking as a madrono-tree in the dust-blownforest. An odor of scented soap and freshly ironed linen was wafted fromhim; there was scarcely a crease in his white waistcoat, nor a speckupon his varnished shoes. He might have been an auditor of the previousconversation, so quickly and completely did he seem to take in thewhole situation at a glance. Perhaps there was an extra tilt to hisblack-ribboned Panama hat, and a certain dancing devilry in his browneyes--which might also have been an answer to adverse criticism.

  "When I, his truth to prove, would trifle with my love," he warbledin general continuance from the doorway. Then dropping cheerfully intospeech, he added, "Well, boys, I am here to welcome the little stranger,and to trust that the family are doing as well as can be expected. Ah!there it is! Bless it!" he went on, walking leisurely to the treasure."Triplets, too!--and plump at that. Have you had 'em weighed?"

  Frankness was an essential quality of Heavy Tree Hill. "We were justsaying, Jack," said an old locator, "that, giving you a fair showand your own game, you could manage to get away with that pile beforedaybreak."

  "And I'm just thinking," said Jack cheerfully, "that there were some ofyou here that could do that without any such useless preliminary." Hisbrown eyes rested for a moment on Steptoe, but turning quite abruptlyto Van Loo, he held out his hand. Startled and embarrassed before theothers, the young man at last advanced his, when Jack coolly put hisown, as if forgetfully, in his pocket. "I thought you might like to knowwhat that little brother of yours is doing," he said to Van Loo, yetlooking at Steptoe. "I found him wandering about the Hill here quitedrunk."

  "I have repeatedly warned him"--began Van Loo, reddening.

  "Against bad company--I know," suggested Jack gayly; "yet in spite ofall that, I think he owes some of his liquor to Steptoe yonder."

  "I never supposed the fool would get drunk over a glass of whiskeyoffered in fun," said Steptoe harshly, yet evidently quite as muchdisconcerted as angry.

  "The trouble with Steptoe," said Hamlin, thoughtfully spanning his slimwaist with both hands as he looked down at his polished shoes, "is thathe has such a soft-hearted liking for all weaknesses. Always wantingto protect chaps that can't look after themselves, whether it's WhiskeyDick there when he has a pull on, or some nigger when he's made a littlestrike, or that straying lamb of Van Loo's when he's puppy drunk. Butyou're wrong about me, boys. You can't draw me in any game to-night.This is one of my nights off, which I devote exclusively tocontemplation and song. But," he added, suddenly turning to his threehosts with a bewildering and fascinating change of expression, "Icouldn't resist coming up here to see you and your pile, even if I neversaw the one or the other before, and am not likely to see either again.I believe in luck! And it comes a mighty sight oftener than a fellowthinks it does. But it doesn't come to stay. So I'd advise you to keepyour eyes skinned, and hang on to it while it's with you, like grimdeath. So long!"

  Resisting all attempts of his hosts--who had apparently fallen assuddenly and unaccountably under the magic of his manner--to detain himlonger, he stepped lightly away, his voice presently rising again inmelody as he descended the hill. Nor was it at all remarkable that theothers, apparently drawn by the same inevitable magnetism, were impelledto follow him, naturally joining their voices with his, leaving Steptoeand Van Loo so markedly behind them alone that they were compelled atlast in sheer embarrassment to close up the rear of the procession. Inanother moment the cabin and the three partners again relapsed into thepeace and quiet of the night. With the dying away of the last voices onthe hillside the old solitude reasserted itself.

  But since the irruption of the strangers they had lost their formersluggish contemplation, and now busied themselves in preparation fortheir early departure from the cabin the next morning. They had arrangedto spend the following day and night at Boomville and Carter's Hotel,where they were to give their farewell dinner to Heavy Tree Hill.They talked but little together: since the rebuff his enthusiasticconfidences had received from Van Loo, Barker had been grave andthoughtful, and Stacy, with the irritating recollection of Van Loo'scriticisms in his mind, had refrained from his usual rallying of Barker.Oddly enough, they spoke chiefly of Jack Hamlin,--till then personallya stranger to them, on account of his infelix reputation,--and even thecritical Demorest expressed a wish they had known him before. "But younever know the real value of anything until you're quitting it or it'squitting you," he added sententiously.

  Barker and Stacy both stared at their companion. It was unlike Demorestto regret anything--particularly a mere social diversion.

  "They say," remarked Stacy, "that if you had known Jack Hamlin earlierand professionally, a great deal of real value would have quitted youbefore he did."

  "Don't repeat that rot flung out by men who have played Jack's game andlost," returned Demorest derisively. "I'd rather trust him than"--Hestopped, glanced at the meditative Barker, and then concluded abruptly,"the whole caboodle of his critics."

  They were silent for a few moments, and then seemed to have fallen intotheir former dreamy mood as they relapsed into their old seats again.At last Stacy drew a long breath. "I wish we had sent those nuggets offwith the others this morning."

  "Why?" said Demorest suddenly.

  "Why? Well, d--n it all! they kind of oppress me, don't you see. I seemto feel 'em here, on my chest--all the three," returned Stacy only halfjocularly. "It's their d----d specific gravity, I suppose. I don't likethe idea of sleeping in the same room with 'em. They're altogether toomuch for us three men to be left alone with."

  "You don't mean that you think that anybody would attempt"--saidDemorest.

  Stacy curled a fighting lip rather superciliously. "No; I don't thinkTHAT--I rather wish I did. It's the blessed chunks of solid gold thatseem to have got US fast, don't you know, and are going to stick to usfor good or ill. A sort of Frankenstein monster that we've picked out ofa hole from below."

  "I know just what Stacy means," said Barker breathlessly, roundinghis gray eyes. "I've felt it, too. Couldn't we make a sort of cache ofit--bury it just outside the cabin for to-night? It would be sort ofputting it back into its old place, you know, for the time being. ITmight like it."

  The other two laughed. "Rather rough on Providence, Barker boy," saidStacy, "handing back the Heaven-sent gift so soon! Besides, what's tokeep any prospector from coming along and making a strike of it? Youknow that's mining law--if you haven't preempted the spot as a claim."

  But Barker was too staggered by this material statement to make anyreply, and Demorest arose. "And I feel that you'd both better be turningin, as we've got to get up early." He went to the corner of the cabin,and threw the blanket back over the pan and its treasure. "Therethat'll keep the chunks from getting up to ride astride of you like anightmare." He shut the door and gave a momentary glance at its cheaphinges and the absence of bolt or bar. Stacy caught his eye. "We'll missthis security in San Francisco--perhaps even in Boomville," he sighed.

  It was scarcely ten o'clock, but Stacy and Barker had begun to undressthemselves with intervals of yawning and desultory talk, Barkercontinuing
an amusing story, with one stocking off and his trousershanging on his arm, until at last both men were snugly curled up intheir respective bunks. Presently Stacy's voice came from under theblankets:--

  "Hallo! aren't you going to turn in too?"

  "Not yet," said Demorest from his chair before the fire. "You see it'sthe last night in the old shanty, and I reckon I'll see the rest of itout."

  "That's so," said the impulsive Barker, struggling violently with hisblankets. "I tell you what, boys: we just ought to make a watch-night ofit--a regular vigil, you know--until twelve at least. Hold on! I'll getup, too!" But here Demorest arose, caught his youthful partner's barefoot which went searching painfully for the ground in one hand, tuckedit back under the blankets, and heaping them on the top of him, pattedthe bulk with an authoritative, paternal air.

  "You'll just say your prayers and go to sleep, sonny. You'll want to befresh as a daisy to appear before Miss Kitty to-morrow early, and youcan keep your vigils for to-morrow night, after dinner, in the backdrawing-room. I said 'Good-night,' and I mean it!"

  Protesting feebly, Barker finally yielded in a nestling shiver and asudden silence. Demorest walked back to his chair. A prolonged snorecame from Stacy's bunk; then everything was quiet. Demorest stirred upthe fire, cast a huge root upon it, and, leaning back in his chair, satwith half-closed eyes and dreamed.

  It was an old dream that for the past three years had come to himdaily, sometimes even overtaking him under the shade of a buckeye in hisnoontide rest on his claim,--a dream that had never yet failed to waitfor him at night by the fireside when his partners were at rest; a dreamof the past, but so real that it always made the present seem the dreamthrough which he was moving towards some sure awakening.

  It was not strange that it should come to him to-night, as it had oftencome before, slowly shaping itself out of the obscurity as the vision ofa fair young girl seated in one of the empty chairs before him. Alwaysthe same pretty, childlike face, fraught with a half-frightened,half-wondering trouble; always the same slender, graceful figure,but always glimmering in diamonds and satin, or spiritual in lace andpearls, against his own rude and sordid surroundings; always silent withparted lips, until the night wind smote some chord of recollection,and then mingled a remembered voice with his own. For at those timeshe seemed to speak also, albeit with closed lips, and an utteranceinaudible to all but her.

  "Well?" he said sadly.

  "Well?" the voice repeated, like a gentle echo blending with his own.

  "You know it all now," he went on. "You know that it has come atlast,--all that I had worked for, prayed for; all that would have madeus happy here; all that would have saved you to me has come at last, andall too late!"

  "Too late!" echoed the voice with his.

  "You remember," he went on, "the last day we were together. You rememberyour friends and family would have you give me up--a penniless man. Youremember when they reproached you with my poverty, and told you that itwas only your wealth that I was seeking, that I then determined togo away and never to return to claim you until that reproach could beremoved. You remember, dearest, how you clung to me and bade me staywith you, even fly with you, but not to leave you alone with them. Youwore the same dress that day, darling; your eyes had the same wonderingchildlike fear and trouble in them; your jewels glittered on you asyou trembled, and I refused. In my pride, or rather in my weakness andcowardice, I refused. I came away and broke my heart among these rocksand ledges, yet grew strong; and you, my love, YOU, sheltered andguarded by those you loved, YOU"--He stopped and buried his face in hishands. The night wind breathed down the chimney, and from the stirredashes on the hearth came the soft whisper, "I died."

  "And then," he went on, "I cared for nothing. Sometimes my heart awokefor this young partner of mine in his innocent, trustful love for a girlthat even in her humble station was far beyond his hopes, and I pitiedmyself in him. Home, fortune, friends, I no longer cared for--all wereforgotten. And now they are returning to me--only that I may see thehollowness and vanity of them, and taste the bitterness for which Ihave sacrificed you. And here, on this last night of my exile, Iam confronted with only the jealousy, the doubt, the meanness andselfishness that is to come. Too late! Too late!"

  The wondering, troubled eyes that had looked into his here appeared toclear and brighten with a sweet prescience. Was it the wind moaning inthe chimney that seemed to whisper to him: "Too late, beloved, for ME,but not for you. I died, but Love still lives. Be happy, Philip. And inyour happiness I too may live again"?

  He started. In the flickering firelight the chair was empty. The windthat had swept down the chimney had stirred the ashes with a sound likethe passage of a rustling skirt. There was a chill in the air and asmell like that of opened earth. A nervous shiver passed over him. Thenhe sat upright. There was no mistake; it was no superstitious fancy,but a faint, damp current of air was actually flowing across his feettowards the fireplace. He was about to rise when he stopped suddenly andbecame motionless.

  He was actively conscious now of a strange sound which had affected himeven in the preoccupation of his vision. It was a gentle brushing ofsome yielding substance like that made by a soft broom on sand, or thesweep of a gown. But to his mountain ears, attuned to every woodlandsound, it was not like the gnawing of gopher or squirrel, the scratchingof wildcat, nor the hairy rubbing of bear. Nor was it human; the long,deep respirations of his sleeping companions were distinct from thatmonotonous sound. He could not even tell if it were IN the cabin orwithout. Suddenly his eye fell upon the pile in the corner. The blanketthat covered the treasure was actually moving!

  He rose quickly, but silently, alert, self-contained, and menacing. Forthis dreamer, this bereaved man, this scornful philosopher of riches haddisappeared with that midnight trespass upon the sacred treasure. Themovement of the blanket ceased; the soft, swishing sound recommenced. Hedrew a glittering bowie-knife from his boot-leg, and in three noiselessstrides was beside the pile. There he saw what he fully expected tosee,--a narrow, horizontal gap between the log walls of the cabin andthe adobe floor, slowly widening and deepening by the burrowing ofunseen hands from without. The cold outer air which he had felt beforewas now plainly flowing into the heated cabin through the opening. Theswishing sound recommenced, and stopped. Then the four fingers of ahand, palm downwards, were cautiously introduced between the bottomlog and the denuded floor. Upon that intruding hand the bowie-knife ofDemorest descended like a flash of lightning. There was no outcry.Even in that supreme moment Demorest felt a pang of admiration forthe stoicism of the unseen trespasser. But the maimed hand was quicklywithdrawn, and as quickly Demorest rushed to the door and dashed intothe outer darkness.

  For an instant he was dazed and bewildered by the sudden change. But thenext moment he saw a dodging, doubling figure running before him, andthrew himself upon it. In the shock both men fell, but even in thatcontact Demorest felt the tangled beard and alcoholic fumes of WhiskeyDick, and felt also that the hands which were thrown up against hisbreast, the palms turned outward with the instinctive movement of atimid, defenseless man, were unstained with soil or blood. With an oathhe threw the drunkard from him and dashed to the rear of the cabin.But too late! There, indeed, was the scattered earth, there the widenedburrow as it had been excavated apparently by that mutilated hand--butnothing else!

  He turned back to Whiskey Dick. But the miserable man, although stillretaining a look of dazed terror in his eyes, had recovered his feetin a kind of angry confidence and a forced sense of injury. What didDemorest mean by attacking "innoshent" gentlemen on the trail outsidehis cabin? Yes! OUTSIDE his cabin, he would swear it!

  "What were you doing here at midnight?" demanded Demorest.

  What was he doing? What was any gentleman doing? He wasn't anymolly-coddle to go to bed at ten o'clock! What was he doing? Well--he'dbeen with men who didn't shut their doors and turn the boys out justin the shank of the evening. He wasn't any Barker to be wet-nursed byDemorest.

  "Som
e one else was here!" said Demorest sternly, with his eyes fixed onWhiskey Dick. The dull glaze which seemed to veil the outer world fromthe drunkard's pupils shifted suddenly with such a look of direct horrorthat Demorest was fain to turn away his own. But the veil mercifullyreturned, and with it Dick's worked-up sense of injury. Nobody wasthere--not "a shole." Did Demorest think if there had been any ofhis friends there they would have stood by like "dogsh" and seen himinsulted?

  Demorest turned away and re-entered the cabin as Dick lurched heavilyforward, still muttering, down the trail. The excitement over, asickening repugnance to the whole incident took the place of Demorest'sresentment and indignation. There had been a cowardly attempt to robthem of their miserable treasure. He had met it and frustrated it inalmost as brutal a fashion: the gold was already tarnished with blood.To his surprise, yet relief, he found his partners unconscious of theoutrage, still sleeping with the physical immobility of over-excitedand tired men. Should he awaken them? No! He should have to awakenalso their suspicions and desire for revenge. There was no danger ofa further attack; there was no fear that the culprit would disclosehimself, and to-morrow they would be far away. Let oblivion rest uponthat night's stain on the honor of Heavy Tree Hill.

  He rolled a small barrel before the opening, smoothed the dislodgedearth, replaced the pan with its treasure, and trusted that in thebustle of the early morning departure his partners might not notice anychange. Stopping before the bunk of Stacy he glanced at the sleepingman. He was lying on his back, but breathing heavily, and his hands weremoving towards his chest as if, indeed, his strange fancy of the goldenincubus were being realized. Demorest would have wakened him, butpresently, with a sigh of relief, the sleeper turned over on his side.It was pleasanter to look at Barker, whose damp curls were matted overhis smooth, boyish forehead, and whose lips were parted in a smile underthe silken wings of his brown mustache. He, too, seemed to be trying tospeak, and remembering some previous revelations which had amused them,Demorest leaned over him fraternally with an answering smile, waitingfor the beloved one's name to pass the young man's lips. But he onlymurmured, "Three--hundred--thousand dollars!" The elder man turned awaywith a grave face. The influence of the treasure was paramount.

  When he had placed one of the chairs against the unprotected door atan angle which would prevent any easy or noiseless intrusion, Demorestthrew himself on his bunk without undressing, and turned his facetowards the single window of the cabin that looked towards the east. Hedid not apprehend another covert attempt against the gold. He did notfear a robbery with force and arms, although he was satisfied that therewas more than one concerned in it, but this he attributed only to theencumbering weight of their expected booty. He simply waited for thedawn. It was some time before his eyes were greeted with the vagueopaline brightness of the firmament which meant the vanishing of thepallid snow-line before the coming day. A bird twittered on the roof.The air was chill; he drew his blanket around him. Then he closed hiseyes, he fancied only for a moment, but when he opened them the doorwas standing open in the strong daylight. He sprang to his feet, butthe next moment he saw it was only Stacy who had passed out, and wasreturning fully dressed, bringing water from the spring to fill thekettle. But Stacy's face was so grave that, recalling his disturbedsleep, Demorest laughingly inquired if he had been haunted by thetreasure. But to his surprise Stacy put down the kettle, and, with ahurried glance at the still sleeping Barker, said in a low voice:--

  "I want you to do something for me without asking why. Later I will tellyou."

  Demorest looked at him fixedly. "What is it?" he said.

  "The pack-mules will be here in a few moments. Don't wait to close up orput away anything here, but clap that gold in the saddle-bags, and takeBarker with you and 'lite' out for Boomville AT ONCE. I will overtakeyou later."

  "Is there no time to discuss this?" asked Demorest.

  "No," said Stacy bluntly. "Call me a crank, say I'm in a blue funk"--hiscompressed lips and sharp black eyes did not lend themselves much tothat hypothesis--"only get out of this with that stuff, and take Barkerwith you! I'm not responsible for myself while it's here."

  Demorest knew Stacy to be combative, but practical. If he had not beenassured of his partner's last night slumbers he might have thought heknew of the attempt. Or if he had discovered the turned-up ground inthe rear of the cabin his curiosity would have demanded an explanation.Demorest paused only for a moment, and said, "Very well, I will go."

  "Good! I'll rouse out Barker, but not a word to him--except that he mustgo."

  The rousing out of Barker consisted of Stacy's lifting that younggentleman bodily from his bunk and standing him upright in the opendoorway. But Barker was accustomed to this Spartan process, and after amoment's balancing with closed lids like an unwrapped mummy, he satdown in the doorway and began to dress. He at first demurred to theirdeparture except all together--it was so unfraternal; but eventuallyhe allowed himself to be persuaded out of it and into his clothes. ForBarker had also had HIS visions in the night, one of which was that theyshould build a beautiful villa on the site of the old cabin and solemnlyagree to come every year and pass a week in it together. "I thought atfirst," he said, sliding along the floor in search of different articlesof his dress, or stopping gravely to catch them as they were thrown tohim by his partners, "that we'd have it at Boomville, as being handierto get there; but I've concluded we'd better have it here, a littlehigher up the hill, where it could be seen over the whole Black SpurRange. When we weren't here we could use it as a Hut of Refuge forbroken-down or washed-out miners or weary travelers, like those hospicesin the Alps, you know, and have somebody to keep it for us. You see I'vethought even of THAT, and Van Loo is the very man to take charge of itfor us. You see he's got such good manners and speaks two languages.Lord! if a German or Frenchman came along, poor and distressed, Van Loowould just chip in his own language. See? You've got to think of allthese details, you see, boys. And we might call it 'The Rest of theThree Partners,' or 'Three Partners' Rest.'"

  "And you might begin by giving us one," said Stacy. "Dry up and drinkyour coffee."

  "I'll draw out the plans. I've got it all in my head," continued theenthusiastic Barker, unheeding the interruption. "I'll just run out andtake a look at the site, it's only right back of the cabin." But hereStacy caught him by his dangling belt as he was flying out of the doorwith one boot on, and thrust him down in a chair with a tin cup ofcoffee in his hand.

  "Keep the plans in your head, Barker boy," said Demorest, "for hereare the pack mules and packer." This was quite enough to divert theimpressionable young man, who speedily finished his dressing, as a mulebearing a large pack-saddle and two enormous saddle-bags or pouchesdrove up before the door, led by a muleteer on a small horse. Thetransfer of the treasure to the saddle-bags was quickly made by theirunited efforts, as the first rays of the sun were beginning to paintthe hillside. Shading his keen eyes with his hand, Stacy stood in thedoorway and handed Demorest the two rifles. Demorest hesitated. "Hadn'tYOU better keep one?" he said, looking in his partner's eyes with hisfirst challenge of curiosity. The sun seemed to put a humorous twinkleinto Stacy's glance as he returned, "Not much! And you'd better takemy revolver with you, too. I'm feeling a little better now," he said,looking at the saddlebags, "but I'm not fit to be trusted yet withcarnal weapons. When the other mule comes and is packed I'll overtakeyou on the horse."

  A little more satisfied, although still wondering and perplexed,Demorest shouldered one rifle, and with Barker, who was carrying theother, followed the muleteer and his equipage down the trail. For awhile he was a little ashamed of his part in this unusual spectacle oftwo armed men convoying a laden mule in broad daylight, but, luckily,it was too early for the Bar miners to be going to work, and as thetunnelmen were now at breakfast the trail was free of wayfarers. At thepoint where it crossed the main road Demorest, however, saw Steptoeand Whiskey Dick emerge from the thicket, apparently in earnestconversation. Demorest felt his repugnance and half-re
strainedsuspicions suddenly return. Yet he did not wish to betray them beforeBarker, nor was he willing, in case of an emergency, to allow the youngman to be entirely unprepared. Calling him to follow, he ran quicklyahead of the laden mule, and was relieved to find that, lookingback, his companion had brought his rifle to a "ready," through someinstinctive feeling of defense. As Steptoe and Whiskey Dick, a momentlater discovering them, were evidently surprised, there seemed, however,to be no reason for fearing an outbreak. Suddenly, at a whisper fromSteptoe, he and Whiskey Dick both threw up their hands, and stoodstill on the trail a few yards from them in a burlesque of the usualrecognized attitude of helplessness, while a hoarse laugh broke fromSteptoe.

  "D----d if we didn't think you were road-agents! But we see you're onlyguarding your treasure. Rather fancy style for Heavy Tree Hill, ain'tit? Things must be gettin' rough up thar to hev to take out your gunslike that!"

  Demorest had looked keenly at the four hands thus exhibited, and wasmore concerned that they bore no trace of wounds or mutilation than atthe insult of the speech, particularly as he had a distinct impressionthat the action was intended to show him the futility of his suspicions.

  "I am glad to see that if you haven't any arms in your hands you're notincapable of handling them," said Demorest coolly, as he passed by themand again fell into the rear of the muleteer.

  But Barker had thought the incident very funny, and laughed effusivelyat Whiskey Dick. "I didn't know that Steptoe was up to that kind offun," he said, "and I suppose we DID look rather rough with these gunsas we ran on ahead of the mule. But then you know that when you calledto me I really thought you were in for a shindy. All the same, WhiskeyDick did that 'hands up' to perfection: how he managed it I don't know,but his knees seemed to knock together as if he was in a real funk."

  Demorest had thought so too, but he made no reply. How far thatmiserable drunkard was a forced or willing accomplice of the eventsof last night was part of a question that had become more and morerepugnant to him as he was leaving the scene of it forever. It hadcome upon him, desecrating the dream he had dreamt that last night andturning its hopeful climax to bitterness. Small wonder that Barker,walking by his side, had his quick sympathies aroused, and as he sawthat shadow, which they were all familiar with, but had never sought topenetrate, fall upon his companion's handsome face, even his youthfulspirits yielded to it. They were both relieved when the clatter ofhoofs behind them, as they reached the valley, announced the approach ofStacy. "I started with the second mule and the last load soon after youleft," he explained, "and have just passed them. I thought it betterto join you and let the other load follow. Nobody will interfere withTHAT."

  "Then you are satisfied?" said Demorest, regarding him steadfastly.

  "You bet! Look!"

  He turned in his saddle and pointed to the crest of the hill they hadjust descended. Above the pines circling the lower slope above the bareledges of rock and outcrop, a column of thick black smoke was risingstraight as a spire in the windless air.

  "That's the old shanty passing away," said Stacy complacently. "I reckonthere won't be much left of it before we get to Boomville."

  Demorest and Barker stared. "You fired it?" said Barker, trembling withexcitement.

  "Yes," said Stacy. "I couldn't bear to leave the old rookery for coyotesand wild-cats to gather in, so I touched her off before I left."

  "But"--said Barker.

  "But," repeated Stacy composedly. "Hallo! what's the matter with thatnew plan of 'The Rest' that you're going to build, eh? You don't wantthem BOTH."

  "And you did this rather than leave the dear old cabin to strangers?"said Barker, with kindling eyes. "Stacy, I didn't think you had thatpoetry in you!"

  "There's heaps in me, Barker boy, that you don't know, and I don'texactly sabe myself."

  "Only," continued the young fellow eagerly, "we ought to have ALL beenthere! We ought to have made a solemn rite of it, you know,--a kind ofsacrifice. We ought to have poured a kind of libation on the ground!"

  "I did sprinkle a little kerosene over it, I think," returned Stacy,"just to help things along. But if you want to see her flaming, Barker,you just run back to that last corner on the road beyond the big redwood. That's the spot for a view."

  As Barker--always devoted to a spectacle--swiftly disappeared the twomen faced each other. "Well, what does it all mean?" said Demorestgravely.

  "It means, old man," said Stacy suddenly, "that if we hadn't had niggerluck, the same blind luck that sent us that strike, you and I and thatBarker over there would have been swirling in that smoke up to thesky about two hours ago!" He stopped and added in a lower, but earnestvoice, "Look here, Phil! When I went out to fetch water this morning Ismelt something queer. I went round to the back of the cabin and founda hole dug under the floor, and piled against the corner wall a lot ofbrush-wood and a can of kerosene. Some of the kerosene had been alreadypoured on the brush. Everything was ready to light, and only my comingout an hour earlier had frightened the devils away. The idea was to setthe place on fire, suffocate us in the smoke of the kerosene poured intothe hole, and then to rush in and grab the treasure. It was a systematicplan!"

  "No!" said Demorest quietly.

  "No?" repeated Stacy. "I told you I saw the whole thing and took awaythe kerosene, which I hid, and after you had gone used it to fire thecabin with, to see if the ones I suspected would gather to watch theirwork."

  "It was no part of their FIRST plan"' said Demorest, "which was onlyrobbery. Listen!" He hurriedly recounted his experience of the precedingnight to the astonished Stacy. "No, the fire was an afterthought andrevenge," he added sternly.

  "But you say you cut the robber in the hand; there would be nodifficulty in identifying him by that."

  "I wounded only a HAND," said Demorest. "But there was a HEAD in thatattempt that I never saw." He then revealed his own half-suspicions, buthow they were apparently refuted by the bravado of Steptoe and WhiskeyDick.

  "Then that was the reason THEY didn't gather at the fire," said Stacyquickly.

  "Ah!" said Demorest, "then YOU too suspected them?"

  Stacy hesitated, and then said abruptly, "Yes."

  Demorest was silent for a moment.

  "Why didn't you tell me this this morning?" he said gently.

  Stacy pointed to the distant Barker. "I didn't want you to tell him. Ithought it better for one partner to keep a secret from two than for thetwo to keep it from one. Why didn't you tell me of your experience lastnight?"

  "I am afraid it was for the same reason," said Demorest, with a faintsmile. "And it sometimes seems to me, Jim, that we ought to imitateBarker's frankness. In our dread of tainting him with our own knowledgeof evil we are sending him out into the world very poorly equipped, forall his three hundred thousand dollars."

  "I reckon you're right," said Stacy briefly, extending his hand. "Shakeon that!"

  The two men grasped each other's hands.

  "And he's no fool, either," continued Demorest. "When we met Steptoe onthe road, without a word from me, he closed up alongside, with his handon the lock of his rifle. And I hadn't the heart to praise him or laughit off."

  Nevertheless they were both silent as the object of their criticismbounded down the trail towards them. He had seen the funeral pyre. Itwas awfully sad, it was awfully lovely, but there was something grandin it! Who could have thought Stacy could be so poetic? But he wanted totell them something else that was mighty pretty.

  "What was it?" said Demorest.

  "Well," said Barker, "don't laugh! But you know that Jack Hamlin? Well,boys, he's been hovering around us on his mustang, keeping us and thatpack-mule in sight ever since we left. Sometimes he's on a side trailoff to the right, sometimes off to the left, but always at the samedistance. I didn't like to tell you, boys, for I thought you'd laughat me; but I think, you know, he's taken a sort of shine to us since hedropped in last night. And I fancy, you see, he's sort of hanging roundto see that we get along all right. I'd have pointed h
im out beforeonly I reckoned you and Stacy would say he was making up to us for ourmoney."

  "And we'd have been wrong, Barker boy," said Stacy, with a heartinessthat surprised Demorest, "for I reckon your instinct's the right one."

  "There he is now," said the gratified Barker, "just abreast of us on thecut-off. He started just after we did, and he's got a horse that couldhave brought him into Boomville hours ago. It's just his kindness."

  He pointed to a distant fringe of buckeye from which Jack Hamlin hadjust emerged. Although evidently holding in a powerful mustang, nothingcould be more unconscious and utterly indifferent than his attitude. Hedid not seem to know of the proximity of any other traveler, and to careless. His handsome head was slightly thrown back, as if he was carolingafter his usual fashion, but the distance was too great to make hismelody audible to them, or to allow Barker's shout of invitation toreach him. Suddenly he lowered his tightened rein, the mustang sprangforward, and with a flash of silver spurs and bridle fripperies he haddisappeared. But as the trail he was pursuing crossed theirs a milebeyond, it seemed quite possible that they should again meet him.

  They were now fairly into the Boomville valley, and were entering anarrow arroyo bordered with dusky willows which effectually excluded theview on either side. It was the bed of a mountain torrent that in winterdescended the hillside over the trail by which they had just come, butwas now sunk into the thirsty plain between banks that varied fromtwo to five feet in height. The muleteer had advanced into the narrowchannel when he suddenly cast a hurried glance behind him, uttered a"Madre de Dios!" and backed his mule and his precious freight againstthe bank. The sound of hoofs on the trail in their rear had caught hisquicker ear, and as the three partners turned they beheld three horsementhundering down the hill towards them. They were apparently Mexicanvaqueros of the usual common swarthy type, their faces made still darkerby the black silk handkerchief tied round their heads under their stiffsombreros. Either they were unable or unwilling to restrain their horsesin their headlong speed, and a collision in that narrow passage wasimminent, but suddenly, before reaching its entrance, they divergedwith a volley of oaths, and dashing along the left bank of the arroyo,disappeared in the intervening willows. Divided between relief at theirescape and indignation at what seemed to be a drunken, feast-day freakof these roystering vaqueros, the little party re-formed, when a cryfrom Barker arrested them. He had just perceived a horseman motionlessin the arroyo who, although unnoticed by them, had evidently been seenby the Mexicans. He had apparently leaped into it from the bank, and hadhalted as if to witness this singular incident. As the clatter ofthe vaqueros' hoofs died away he lightly leaped the bank again anddisappeared. But in that single glimpse of him they recognized JackHamlin. When they reached the spot where he had halted, they could seethat he must have approached it from the trail where they had previouslyseen him, but which they now found crossed it at right angles. Barkerwas right. He had really kept them at easy distance the whole length ofthe journey.

  But they were now reaching its end. When they issued at last fromthe arroyo they came upon the outskirts of Boomville and the greatstage-road. Indeed, the six horses of the Pioneer coach were justpanting along the last half mile of the steep upgrade as theyapproached. They halted mechanically as the heavy vehicle swayedand creaked by them. In their ordinary working dress, sunburnt withexposure, covered with dust, and carrying their rifles still in theirhands, they, perhaps, presented a sufficiently characteristic appearanceto draw a few faces--some of them pretty and intelligent--to the windowsof the coach as it passed. The sensitive Barker was quickest to feelthat resentment with which the Pioneer usually met the wide-eyedcriticism of the Eastern tourist or "greenhorn," and reddened under thebold scrutiny of a pair of black inquisitive eyes behind an eyeglass.That annoyance was communicated, though in a lesser degree, even to thebearded Demorest and Stacy. It was an unexpected contact with that greatworld in which they were so soon to enter. They felt ashamed oftheir appearance, and yet ashamed of that feeling. They felt a secretsatisfaction when Barker said, "They'd open their eyes wider if theyknew what was in that pack-saddle," and yet they corrected him for whatthey were pleased to call his "snobbishness." They hurried a littlefaster as the road became more frequented, as if eager to shorten theirdistance to clean clothes and civilization.

  Only Demorest began to linger in the rear. This contact with thestagecoach had again brought him face to face with his buried past. Hefelt his old dream revive, and occasionally turned to look back uponthe dark outlines of Black Spur, under whose shadow it had returned sooften, and wondered if he had left it there forever, and it were nowslowly exhaling with the thinned and dying smoke of their burning cabin.

  His companions, knowing his silent moods, had preceded him at somedistance, when he heard the soft sound of ambling hoofs on the thickdust, and suddenly the light touch of Jack Hamlin's gauntlet on hisshoulder. The mustang Jack bestrode was reeking with grime and sweat,but Jack himself was as immaculate and fresh as ever. With a delightfulaffectation of embarrassment and timidity he began flicking the sidebuttons of his velvet vaquero trousers with the thong of his riata."I reckoned to sling a word along with you before you went," he said,looking down, "but I'm so shy that I couldn't do it in company. So Ithought I'd get it off on you while you were alone."

  "We've seen you once or twice before, this morning," said Demorestpleasantly, "and we were sorry you didn't join us."

  "I reckon I might have," said Jack gayly, "if my horse had only made uphis mind whether he was a bird or a squirrel, and hadn't been so variousand promiscuous about whether he wanted to climb a tree or fly. He'snot a bad horse for a Mexican plug, only when he thinks there isany devilment around he wants to wade in and take a hand. However, Ireckoned to see the last of you and your pile into Boomville. And I DID.When I meet three fellows like you that are clean white all through Isort of cotton to 'em, even if I'M a little of a brunette myself. AndI've got something to give you."

  He took from a fold of his scarlet sash a small parcel neatly folded inwhite paper as fresh and spotless as himself. Holding it in his fingers,he went on: "I happened to be at Heavy Tree Hill early this morningbefore sun-up. In the darkness I struck your cabin, and I reckon--Istruck somebody else! At first I thought it was one of you chaps down onyour knees praying at the rear of the cabin, but the way the fellow litout when he smelt me coming made me think it wasn't entirely fasting andprayer. However, I went to the rear of the cabin, and then I reckonedsome kind friend had been bringing you kindlings and firewood for yourearly breakfast. But that didn't satisfy me, so I knelt down as he hadknelt, and then I saw--well, Mr. Demorest, I reckon I saw JUST WHAT YOUHAVE SEEN! But even then I wasn't quite satisfied, for that man had beengrubbing round as if searching for something. So I searched too--and Ifound IT. I've got it here. I'm going to give it to you, for it may someday come in handy, and you won't find anything like it among the folkswhere you're going. It's something unique, as those fine-art-collectingsharps in 'Frisco say--something quite matchless, unless you try tomatch it one day yourself! Don't open the paper until I run on and say'So long' to your partners. Good-by."

  He grasped Demorest's hand and then dropped the little packet into hispalm, and ambled away towards Stacy and Barker. Holding the packet inhis hand with an amused yet puzzled smile, Demorest watched the gamblergive Stacy's hand a hearty farewell shake and a supplementary slap onthe back to the delighted Barker, and then vanish in a flash of redsash and silver buttons. At which Demorest, walking slowly towards hispartners, opened the packet, and stood suddenly still. It contained thedried and bloodless second finger of a human hand cut off at the firstjoint!

  For an instant he held it at arm's length, as if about to cast it away.Then he grimly replaced it in the paper, put it carefully in his pocket,and silently walked after his companions.