Beth Norvell: A Romance of the West

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER VI

  THE "LITTLE YANKEE" MINE

  A wide out-jutting wall of rock, uneven and precipitous, completelyshut off all view toward the broader valley of the Vila, as well as ofthe town of San Juan, scarcely three miles distant. Beyond its sternguardianship Echo Canyon stretched grim and desolate, running far backinto the very heart of the gold-ribbed mountains. The canyon, a mereshapeless gash in the side of the great hills, was deep, long,undulating, ever twisting about like some immense serpent, its sidesdarkened by clinging cedars and bunches of chaparral, and rising inirregular terraces of partially exposed rock toward a narrow strip ofblue sky. It was a fragment of primitive nature, as wild, gloomy,desolate, and silent as though never yet explored by man.

  A small clear stream danced and sang over scattered stones at thebottom of this grim chasm, constantly twisting and curving from wall towall, generally half concealed from view by the dense growth ofoverhanging bushes shadowing its banks. High up along the brown rockwall the gleam of the afternoon sun rested warm and golden, but deeperdown within those dismal, forbidding depths there lingered merely apurple twilight, while patches of white snow yet clung desperately tothe steep surrounding hills, or showered in powdery clouds from off theladen cedars whenever the disturbing wind came soughing up the gorge.Early birds were beginning to flit from tree to tree, singing theirwelcome to belated Springtime; a fleecy cloud lazily floating faroverhead gave deeper background to the slender strip of over-archingblue. It all combined to form a nature picture of primeval peace,rendered peculiarly solemn by those vast ranges of overshadowingmountains, and more deeply impressive by the grim silence andloneliness, the seemingly total absence of human life.

  Yet in this the scene was most deceptive. Neither peace nor lonelinesslurked amid those sombre rock shadows; over all was the dominance ofmen--primitive, fighting men, rendered almost wholly animal by thecontinued hardships of existence, the ceaseless struggle after gold.The vagrant trail, worn deep between rocks by the constant passage ofmen and mules, lay close beside the singing water, while here and therealmost imperceptible branches struck off to left or right, running asdirectly as possible up the terraced benches until the final dim traceswere completely lost amid the low-growing cedars. Each one of theseled as straight as nature would permit to some specific spot where mentoiled incessantly for the golden dross, guarding their claims withloaded rifles, while delving deeper and deeper beneath the mysteriousrocks, ever seeking to make their own the secret hoards of the world'sgreat storehouse. Countless centuries were being rudely unlockedthrough the ceaseless toil of pick and shovel, the green hillsides tornasunder and disfigured by ever-increasing piles of debris, whileeager-eyed men struggled frantically to obtain the hidden riches of therocks. Here and there a rudely constructed log hut, perched withapparent recklessness upon the brink of the precipice, told the silentstory of a claim, while in other places the smouldering remains of acamp-fire alone bespoke primitive living. Yet every where along thatupper terrace, where in places the seductive gold streak lay halfuncovered to the sun, were those same yawning holes leading far downbeneath the surface; about them grouped the puny figures of menperforming the labors of Hercules under the galling spur of hope.

  On this higher ledge, slightly beyond a shallow intersecting gorgeshadowed by low-growing cedars, two men reclined upon a rock-dump,gazing carelessly off six hundred feet sheer down into the gloomydepths of the canyon below. Just beyond them yawned the black openingof their shaft-hole, the rude windlass outlined against the graybackground of rock, while somewhat to the left, seemingly overhangingthe edge of the cliff, perched a single-roomed cabin of logsrepresenting home. This was the "Little Yankee" claim, owners WilliamHicks and "Stutter" Brown. The two partners were sitting silent andidle, a single rifle lying between them on the dump. Hicks was tall,lank, seamed of face, with twinkling gray eyes, a goat's beard danglingat his chin to the constant motion of his nervous jaws; and Brown,twenty years his junior, was a young, sandy-haired giant, limited ofspeech, of movement, of thought, with freckled cheeks and a downylittle moustache of decidedly red hue. They had been laboriouslydeciphering a letter of considerable length and peculiar illegibility,and the slow but irascible Stutter had been swearing in disjointedsyllables, his blue eyes glaring angrily across the gully, wherenumerous moving figures, conspicuous in blue and red shirts, wereplainly visible about the shaft-hole of the "Independence," the nextclaim below them on the ledge. Yet for the moment neither man spokeotherwise. Finally, shifting uneasily, yet with mind evidently made upfor definite action, Hicks broke the prolonged silence.

  "I was thinkin' it over, Stutter, all the way hoofin' it out yere," hesaid, chewing continually on his tobacco, "but sorter reckoned ez howyer ought ter see the writin' furst, considerin' ez how you're a fullpartner in this yere claim. It sorter strikes me thet the lawyer hesgive us the straight tip all right, an' thar 's no other way fergittin' the cinch on them ornary fellers over thar," and the speakerwaved his hand toward the distant figures. "Yer see, it's this yereway, Stutter. You an' I could swar, of course, thet the damned cusseshed changed the stakes on us more 'n onct, an' thar 's no doubt in ourtwo minds but what they 're a-followin' out our ore-lead right now,afore we kin git down ter it. Hell! of course they are--they got thefust start, an' the men, an' the money back of 'em. We ain't got adarn thing but our own muscle, an' the rights of it, which latter don'tamount ter two bumps on a log. Fer about three weeks we 've beenwatchin' them measly skunks take out our mineral, an' for one I 'ma-goin' ter quit. I never did knuckle down ter thet sort, an' I 'm tooold now ter begin. The lawyer says ez how we ain't got no legal proof,an' I reckon it's so. But I 'm damned if I don't git some. Thar ain'ta minin' engineer in San Juan that 'll come up yere fer us. Themfellers hes got 'em all on the hip; but I reckon, if we hunt long'nough, we kin find some feller in Colorado with nerve 'nough to tacklethis yere job, an' I 'm a-goin' out gunnin' for jist that man."

  He got to his feet, his obstinate old eyes wandering across the gully,and the younger man watched him with slow curiosity.

  "How f-f-far you g-g-going, Bill?" he burst forth stutteringly.

  "Denver, if I need to," was the elder's resolute, response. "I 'lltell ye what I 'm a-goin' ter do, Stutter. I 'm a-goin' ter draw outevery blamed cent we 've got in the bank down at San Juan. 'T ain'tmuch of a pile, but I reckon it's got ter do the business. Then I 'llstrike out an' hunt till I find a minin' engineer thet 's got a soul ofhis own, an' grit 'nough behind it ter root out the facts. I 've beena-prospecttn' through these here mountings fer thirty years, an' nowthet I 've hit somethin' worth havin', I 'm hanged if I 'm a-goin' terlie down meek ez Moses an' see it stole out plumb from under me by aparcel o' tin-horn gamblers. Not me, by God! If I can't git a cinchon sich a feller ez I want, then I 'll come back an' blow a holethrough that Farnham down at San Juan. I reckon I 'll go in an' tellhim so afore I start."

  The old man's square jaws set ominously, his gnarled hand droppingheavily on the butt of the Colt dangling at his hip.

  "You stay right yere, Stutter, on the dump, and don't yer let one o'them measly sneaks put nary foot on our claim, if yer have ter blow 'emplumb ter hell. You an' Mike kin tend ter thet all right, an' you betI 'm goin' ter have some news fer yer when I git home, my boy."

  He swung around, and strode back along the ledge to the door of thecabin, reappearing scarcely a moment later with a small bundle in hishand.

  "Thar 's 'nough grub in thar ter last you an' Mike fer a week yit, an'I 'll be back afore then, er else planted. _Adios_."

  Brown sat up, his gun resting between his knees, and in silence watchedhis partner scrambling down the steep trail. It was not easy for himto converse, and he therefore never uttered a word unless the situationdemanded the sacrifice. He could swear, however, with considerablefluency, but just now even that relief seemed inadequate. Finally, theolder man disappeared behind the scrub, and, except for those moredistant figures about the dump of the "Inde
pendence," the blond giantremained apparently alone. But Stutter had long ago become habituatedto loneliness; the one condition likely to worry him was lack ofoccupation. He scrambled to his feet and climbed the dump, until ableto lean far over and look down into the black mouth of the uncoveredshaft.

  "Got yer b-b-bucket full, M-M-Mike?" he questioned, sending his deep,sputtering voice far down into the depths below.

  "Oi have thot," came the disgusted response from out the darkness. "Yemeasly spalpeen, ain't Oi bin shakin' of the rope fer twinty minutes?Oi tought maybe ye'd run off an' left me to rot down in the hole. Whut's up now, ye freckled-face ilephant, yer?"

  Brown indulged in a cautious glance about, then stuck his almost boyishface farther down within the safety of the hole before venturing anexplanation.

  "B-B-Bill's g-gone to find s-s-some engi-n-neer w-with nerve 'nough terr-r-run our lines," he managed to spit out disjointedly. "S-s-sayshe'll go plumb ter Denver 'fore he 'll g-g-give up, an' if he d-don'tf-find any sich he 'll c-c-come back an' p-p-perforate F-F-Farnham."

  "Bedad!" a tinge of unrestrained delight apparent in the sudden roar,"an' was he hot?"

  "H-he sure was. He m-m-m-meant business all r-right, an' hed f-f-fortyrounds b-b-buckled on him. H-here goes, Mike," and Brown grasped thewarped handle of the windlass and began to grind slowly, coiling theheavy rope, layer upon layer, around the straining drum. He broughtthe huge ore-bucket to the surface, dumped its load of rock over theedge of the shaft-hole, and had permitted it to run down swiftly to thewaiting Mike, when a slight noise behind sent the man whirling suddenlyabout, his hand instinctively reaching forth toward the discarded butready rifle. A moment he stared, incredulous, at the strange visionfronting him, his face quickly reddening from embarrassment, his eyesirresolute and puzzled. Scarcely ten feet away, a woman, ratherbrightly attired and apparently very much at her ease, sat upon arather diminutive pony, her red lips curved in lines of laughter,evidently no little amused at thus startling him. Brown realized thatshe was young and pretty, with jet black, curling hair, and eyes of thesame color, her skin peculiarly white and clear, while she rode manfashion, her lower limbs daintily encased within leggings of buckskin.She had carelessly dropped her reins upon the high pommel of thesaddle, and as their glances fairly met, she laughed outright.

  "You mooch frighten, senor, and you so ver' big. It make me joy." Herbroken English was oddly attractive. "Poof! los Americanos not allfind me so ver' ter'ble."

  Stutter Brown ground his white teeth together savagely, his short redmoustache bristling. He was quite young, never greatly accustomed tocompanionship with the gentler sex, and of a disposition stronglyopposed to being laughed at. Besides, he felt seriously his gravedeficiencies of speech.

  "I-I-I was s-sorter expectin' a-a-another kind of c-c-caller," hestuttered desperately, in explanation, every freckle standing out inprominence, "an' th-th-thought m-m-maybe somebody 'd g-g-got the d-dropon me."

  The girl only laughed again, her black eyes sparkling. Yet beneath hissteady, questioning gaze her face slightly sobered, a faint flushbecoming apparent in either cheek.

  "You talk so ver' funny, senor; you so big like de tree, an' say vordsdat vay; it make me forget an' laf. You moost not care just for me.Pah! but it vas fight all de time vid you, was n't it, senor? Biff,bang, kill; ver' bad," and she clapped her gauntleted hands togethersharply. "But not me; I vas only girl; no gun, no knife--see. I justlike know more 'bout mine--Americano's mine; you show me how it vork._Sabe_?"

  Stutter appeared puzzled, doubtful.

  "Mexicana?" he questioned, kicking a piece of rock with his heavy boot.

  "Si, senor, but I speak de English ver' good. I Mercedes Morales, an'I like ver' much de brav' Americanos. I like de red hair, too,senor--in Mexico it all de same color like dis," and she shook out herown curling ebon locks in sudden shower. "I tink de red hair vas morebeautiful."

  Mr. Brown was not greatly accustomed to having his rather fierytop-knot thus openly referred to in tones of evident admiration. Itwas a subject he naturally felt somewhat sensitive about, and in spiteof the open honesty of the young girl's face, he could not helpdoubting for a moment the sincerity of her speech.

  "L-l-like f-fun yer do," he growled uneasily. "A-a-anyhow, whut areyer d-d-doin' yere?"

  For answer she very promptly swung one neatly booted foot over anddropped lightly to the ground, thus revealing her slender figure. Hermost notable beauty was the liquid blackness of her eyes.

  "Si, I tell you all dat ver' quick, senor," she explained frankly,nipping the rock-pile with her riding whip, and bending over to peer,with undisguised curiosity, into the yawning shaft-hole. "I ride outfrom San Juan for vat you call constitutional--mercy, such a vord,senor!--an' I stray up dis trail. See? It vas most steep, my, sosteep, like I slide off; but de mustang he climb de hill, all right,an' den I see you, senor, an' know dere vas a mine here. Not de bigmine--bah! I care not for dat kind--but just one leetle mine, vere Ino be 'fraid to go down. Den I look at you, so big, vid de beautifulred hair, an' de kin' face, an' I sink he vood let me see how dey dosuch tings--he vas nice fellow, if he vas all mud on de clothes. Si,for I know nice fellow, do I not, _amigo_? _Si, bueno_. So you villshow to me how de brav' Americanos dig out de yellow gold, senor?"

  She flashed her tempting glance up into the man's face, and Brownstamped his feet nervously, endeavoring to appear stern.

  "C-c-could n't h-hardly do it, m-m-miss. It 's t-too blame dirtyd-d-down below fer y-your sort. B-b-besides, my p-pardner ain't yere,an' he m-m-might not l-like it."

  "You haf de pardner? Who vas de pardner?"

  "H-h-his name's H-H-Hicks."

  She clasped her hands in an ecstasy of unrestrained delight.

  "Beell Heeks? Oh, senor, I know Beell Heeks. He vas ver' nice fellow,too--but no so pretty like you; he old man an' swear--Holy Mother, howhe swear! He tol' me once come out any time an' see hees mine. I notknow vere it vas before. Maybe de angels show me. You vas vat Beellcall Stutter Brown, I tink maybe? Ah, now it be all right, senor._Bueno_!"

  She laid her gauntleted hand softly on the rough sleeve of his woollenshirt, her black, appealing eyes flashing suddenly up into his troubledface.

  "I moost laugh, senor; such a brav' Americano 'fraid of de girl. Whynot you shoot me?"

  "A-a-afraid nothin'," and Stutter's freckled face became instantly asrosy as his admired hair, "b-but I t-tell ye, miss, it's a-a-all d-dirtdown th-there, an' not f-f-fit fer no lady ter t-t-traipse round in."

  The temptress, never once doubting her power, smiled most bewitchingly,her hands eloquent.

  "You vas good boy, just like I tink; I wear dis ol' coat--see; an' denI turn up de skirt, so. I no 'fraid de dirt. Now, vat you say, senor?_Bueno_?"

  Thus speaking, she seized upon the discarded and somewhat disreputablegarment, flung it carelessly about her shapely shoulders, shruggingthem coquettishly, her great eyes shyly uplifting to his relentingface, and began swiftly to fasten up her already short dress indisregard of the exposure of trim ankles. The agitated Mr. Browncoughed, his uneasy glances straying down the open shaft. He wouldgladly, and with extreme promptness, have shoved the cold muzzle of hisColt beneath the nose of any man at such moment of trial; but thisyoung girl, with a glance and a laugh, had totally disarmed him.Disturbed conscience, a feeling akin to disloyalty, pricked him, butthe temptation left him powerless to resist--those black eyes held himalready captive; and yet in this moment of wavering indecision, thatteasing hand once again rested lightly upon his shirt-sleeve.

  "Please do dat, senor," the voice low and pleading. "It vas not ver'mooch just to let a girl see your leetle mine. What harm, senor? Butmaybe it's so because you no like me?"

  Startled by so unjust a suspicion, the eyes of the young giantinstantly revealed a degree of interest which caused her own to lightup suddenly, her red lips parting in a quick, appreciative smile whichdisclosed the white teeth.

  "Ah, I see it v
as not dat. Eet make glad de heart--make eet to singlike de birds. Now I know eet vill be as I vish. How do I get down,senor?"

  Thus easily driven from his last weak entrenchments, his heartfluttering to the seduction of her suggestive glance, the embarrassedStutter made unconditional surrender, a gruff oath growling in histhroat. He leaned out over the dark shaft, his supporting hand on thedrum.

  "Come u-u-up, M-M-Mike," he called, rattling his letters likecastanets. "I w-w-want to g-go d-d-down."

  There followed a sound of falling rocks below, a fierce shaking of thesuspended rope, and then a muffled voice sang out an order, "H'istaway, and be dommed ter yer." Brown devoted himself assiduously to thecreaking windlass, although never able entirely to remove his attentionfrom that bright-robed, slender figure standing so closely at his side.For one brief second he vaguely wondered if she could be a witch, andhe looked furtively aside, only to perceive her bright eyes smilinghappily at him. Then suddenly a totally bald head shot up through theopening, a seamed face the color of parchment, with squinting grayeyes, peered suspiciously about, while a gnarled hand reached forth,grasped a post in support, and dragged out into the sunlight a short,sturdy body. Mike straightened up, with a peculiar jerk, on the dump,spat viciously over the edge of the canyon, and drew a short, blackpipe from out a convenient pocket in his shirt. He made no audiblecomment, but stood, his back planted to the two watchers; and Stuttercleared his throat noisily.

  "Th-th-this l-l-lady wants ter s-s-see how we m-m-mine," he explainedin painful embarrassment, "a-an' I th-th-thought I 'd t-take herd-d-down if you 'd w-work the w-w-windlass a b-bit."

  Old Mike turned slowly around and fronted the two, his screwed-up eyeson the girl, while with great deliberation he drew a match along theleg of his canvas trousers.

  "Onything to oblige ye," he said gruffly. "Always ready to hilp theladies--be me sowl, Oi've married three of thim already. An' wus thisHicks's orthers, Stutter?"

  "N-n-no, not exactly," Brown admitted, with evident reluctance. "B-butye s-s-see, she's a g-great friend o' B-B-Bill's, an' so I reckon it'll be all r-right. Don't s-see how n-no harm kin be d-d-done."

  The pessimistic Michael slowly blew a cloud of pungent smoke into theair, sucking hard at his pipe-stem, and laid his rough hands on thewindlass handle.

  "None o' my dommed funeral, beggin' yer pardon, miss," he condescendedto mutter in slight apology. "Long as the pay goes on, Oi 'd jist assoon work on top as down below. H'ist the female into the bucket, yeovergrown dood!"

  Stutter Brown, still nervous from recurring doubts, awkwardly assistedhis vivacious charge to attain safe footing, anxiously bade her holdfirmly to the swaying rope, and stood, carefully steadying the line asit slowly disappeared, hypnotized still by those marvellous black eyes,which continued to peer up at him until they vanished within thedarkness. Leaning far over to listen, the young miner heard the buckettouch bottom, and then, with a quick word of warning to the mangrasping the handle, he swung himself out on the taut rope, and wentswiftly down, hand over hand. Mike, still grumbling huskily tohimself, waited until the windlass ceased vibrating, securely anchoredthe handle with a strip of raw-hide, and composedly sat down, his teethset firmly on the pipe-stem, his eyes already half closed. It was anobstinate, mulish old face, seamed and creased, the bright sunlightrendering more manifest the leather-like skin, the marvellous networkof wrinkles about eyes and mouth. Not being paid for thought, the oldfellow now contented himself with dozing, quite confident of not beingquickly disturbed.

  In this he was right. The two were below for fully an hour, whileabove them Mike leaned with back comfortably propped against thewindlass in perfect contentment, and the hobbled pony peacefullycropped the short grass along the ledge. Then the brooding silence wasabruptly broken by a voice rising from out the depths of the shaft,while a vigorous shaking of the dangling rope caused the windlass tovibrate sharply. Old Mike, with great deliberation stowing away hispipe, unslipped the raw-hide, and, calmly indifferent to all elseexcept his necessary labor, slowly hauled the girl to the surface. Shewas radiant, her eyes glowing from the excitement of unusual adventure,and scrambled forth from the dangling bucket without awaitingassistance. Before Brown attained to the surface, the lady had safelycaptured the straying pony and swung herself lightly into the saddle.Squaring his broad shoulders with surprise as he came out, his faceflushed, his lips set firm, the young giant laid restraining fingers onher gloved hand.

  "Y-y-you really m-mean it?" he asked, eagerly, as though fearing thereturn to daylight might already have altered her decision. "C-can Ic-call on you wh-wh-where you s-s-said?"

  She smiled sweetly down at him, her eyes picturing undisguisedadmiration of his generous proportions, and frank, boyish face.

  "Si, si, senor. _Sapristi_, why not? 'T is I, rather, who 'fraid youforget to come."

  "Y-you n-need n't be," he stammered, coloring. "S-senorita, I sh-shallnever f-f-forget this day."

  "_Quien sabe_?--poof! no more vill I; but now, _adios_, senor."

  She touched her pony's side sharply with the whip, and, standingmotionless, Stutter watched them disappear over the abrupt ledge. Onceshe glanced shyly back, with a little seductive wave of the gauntletedhand, and then suddenly dropped completely out of view down the steepdescent of the trail. Old Mike struck another match, and held the tinyflame to his pipe-bowl.

  "An' it's hell ye played the day," he remarked reflectively, his eyesglowing gloomily.

  The younger man wheeled suddenly about and faced him.

  "Wh-what do ye m-m-mean?"

  "Jist the same whut I said, Stutter. Ye 're a broight one, ye are.That's the Mexican dancer down at the Gayety at San Juan, no less; andit's dollars to doughnuts, me bye, that that dom Farnham sint her outhere to take a peek at us. It wud be loike the slippery cuss, an' Ihear the two of thim are moighty chummy."

  And Stutter Brown, his huge fists clinched in anger, looked off intothe dark valley below, and, forgetting his affliction of speech, sworelike a man.