by B. M. Bower
*CHAPTER XVI*
*BUFFALO CREEK IN THE SPOTLIGHT*
What instinct it is and how it operates, that leads vultures from overthe horizon to a dying animal, has never been satisfactorily explainedto a lot of people; no more than the instinct which led Sinful and Hankto go prowling around Buffalo Creek when by all rights they should havebeen hanging around their own camp or loafing in the hotel; but prowlthey did, their cunning old eyes missing nothing, certainly nothing sonew and shining and high as the sand heap above the creek bank.
Sinful saw it first and he nudged his companion, whose cud nearly chokedhim before he could cough it back where it belonged.
"Glory!" he choked. "Jest look at it! Come on, Sinful: we got toinwestigate. Nobody's diggin' all that out an' totin' it up there forth' fun of it. But why's he luggin' it so far?"
Sinful snorted scornfully. "Too busy totin' to pan it," he snapped."Rain's due 'most any time an' he's workin' to beat it. I don't have toinwestigate it--anybody that's workin' like that knows what he's doin';an' I ain't never heard it said that Blascom's any fool. If he didn'tknow it was rich, he wouldn't be workin' so hard in th' sun."
"Well, mebby," doubted Hank, always a cold blanket in regard to hiscompanion's contentions. "Looks like he ain't got no water for pannin',like everybody else. He ain't lazy like you, an' instead of wastin' histime around th' hotel like us he's totin' sand so he can work while th'crick's floodin'. When th' floodin' comes everybody else'll have to setdown an' watch it till it gets low enough. Me an' you would be doin'somethin' if we follered his example. Where you goin'?" he demanded ashis sneering companion walked away.
Sinful flashed a pitying glance over his shoulder. "To git a handful ofthat sand an' prove you ain't got no sense, that's where. You keep yoreeye open for Blascom while I raid his sand pile. Here's a can," hesaid, stooping to pick it up. "It'll mebby tell us somethin' when wegits it to some water. If you see him a-comin' out, throw a pebble atme. 'Twon't take me long, once I git my boots off."
Hank obeyed and scouted toward the hut, finally stopping when he couldsee its door. Watching it a few minutes he saw Blascom pass theopening, and after another few minutes, the watcher slipped away,hastening toward the sand pile. Reaching it, he saw no signs of hispartner and backed into the brush to await developments. He no soonerhad stopped behind a patch of scrub oak than he caught sight of Sinfulcarefully picking his way across the stony ground in his socks, one handcarrying the can, the other a pair of boots. On his leathery face wasan expression of vast surprise and pious awe. He seemed almost stunned,but he was not so lost to his surroundings that he ignored a bounding,clicking pebble which passed across his path. Clutching can and bootsin a firmer grip, he sprinted with praiseworthy speed and agility towardthe somewhat distant railroad track. In his wake sped Hank, an unholygrin wreathing his face at the goatlike progress of his old friend overthe rocky ground. To Sinful's ears the sound of those clattering bootsspelled a determined pursuit and urged him to better efforts. At last,winded, a cramp in his side and his feet so tender and bruised that hepreferred to fight rather than go any farther in his socks, he droppedthe boots, drew his gun, and wheeled. At sight of Hank's well-known andinelegant figure a look of relief flashed over his face, swiftlyfollowed by a frown of deep and palpitant suspicion.
"What you mean, chasin' me like that?" he shouted.
"Gosh!" panted Hank as he drew near. "That was shore close! An' for anold man yo're a runnin' fool. Jack rabbits an' coyotes can cover ground,but they can't stack up ag'in' you. Did you see him?"
Sinful, one boot on and the other balanced in his hand, looked up. "No,I didn't; did you?" he demanded, suspicion burning in his old eyes.
"Shore," answered Hank, lying with a facile ease due to much practice."He suddenly busted out of th' door with a rifle in his hands an' headedfor his sand pile. I dusted lively, heaved th' pebble; an' here weare." He cast an apprehensive glance behind him and then sharplyadmonished his friend. "Hustle, you! Yo're settin' there like thereain't no mad miner projectin' around in th' brush with a Winchester!Think I want to git shot?"
"I reckon mebby you ought to," retorted Sinful, struggling erect andtrying each tender foot in turn. "Stone bruises, cuts, an' stickers,an' all because you git in a panic!" he growled. "Come on, you oldfool: there's a pool of water in th' crick, t'other side of th' railroadbridge. Yo're too smart, you are. Mebby yore eyes'll pop out when yousee what's in this here can. Great guns, what a sight I've seen!"
Panning gold in a tomato can might be difficult for a novice, butSinful's cunning old hands did the work speedily and well. Afterrepeated refillings and mystic gyrations he carefully poured out thelast of the water and peered eagerly into the can, bumping his headsolidly against his companion's, for Hank was as eagerly curious.
Sinful placed it reverently on the creek bank and looked at his staringfriend.
"An' only a canful," he muttered in awe.
"Glory!" breathed Hank, and looked again to make sure. "Nothin' butdust--but Good Lord!" He packed a vile pipe with viler tobacco, lit it,and arose. "No wonder he grabbed his gun an' dusted for his sand pile!Come on, Sinful: we got a long walk ahead of us, some quick packin' todo, an' a long walk back ag'in. If we only could get a couple of mules,we'd load 'em with three-hundred pounds apiece an' go down th' crick aday's journey. It'd be worth it."
Sinful looked scornfully at his worrying companion and slowly arose."No day's journey for me, mules or no mules," he declared, spittingemphatically. "I ain't shore it would be worth it, considerin' th' timean' th' trouble; but it's worth pannin' right where it is. I've jumpedclaims before in my life an' I ain't too old to jump another. When Ilooked over that bank an' saw that wallopin' big rock a-stickin' up inth' crick bed, from bank to bank; an' th' ditch he's put down on th'upstream side, I purty near knew what th' sand pile would show. I'mbettin' he's got _bushels_ of gold at th' foot of that riffle. If hislocation don't run up that far, an' mebby it don't, we got somethin' tokeep us busy. An' if it does, we've mebby got more to keep us busy.Come on, you wall-eyed ijut: we got to be gittin' back to camp. GreatJerus'lam!"
The marshal of Windsor, riding slowly toward town south of the railroadtrack after a long detour to mask his trail, saw two scarecrows bumpingalong the ties, bobbing up and down jerkily as they tried to stretchtheir stride to cover two ties and repeatedly fell back to one. Theywere well to the northeast of him and to his left, but he thought theylooked familiar and he pushed more to the south to remain hidden fromthem while he rode ahead. When he finally had reached a point south ofthe station he turned and rode toward it, timing his arrival to coincidewith theirs.
Sinful grinned up at the smiling rider, his missing teeth only makingmore prominent the few brown fangs he had left. Two dribbles of tobaccojuice had dried at each corner of his mouth and reached downward acrosshis chin, giving him an appearance somewhat striking. He mopped theperspiration from his face by a vigorous wipe of his soiled shirt sleeveand lifted each palpitating foot in turn.
"Been ridin' far?" he asked in idle curiosity and in great good humor,considering the aches in his body and the soreness of his feet.
"Oh, just around exercisin' Oh My," answered Tex. "I thought you two waslocated out on Antelope, west of town?"
"We are," replied Hank, ignoring his partner's furtive elbow. "Beengettin' sorta tired of it, though, not havin' nothin' to do but setaround an' look at th' same things. Thought we'd take a look at th'Buffaler, south of th' track; but it ain't much better, though there issome water in th' pools. Anyhow, Antelope's kinda crowded. We may shiftour camp. Jake's out on Buffaler som'er's, ain't he?"
Tex nodded and glanced at the can. "Been fishin'?"
"If we had enough bait to fill that can we'd 'a' ate it ourselves,"chuckled Hank.
"Naw, there ain't no fish left now," said Sinful. "Hard-luck coffeepot,that's all it is. Good as anythin' else, an' shore plentiful.
Punch ahole in each side of it an' shove in a piece of wire, an' she'll cookanythin' small. Ain't it hot?"
"Hot, an' close," replied the marshal. "Well, I reckon I'll be gettin'along. Feels like rain is due 'most any time, though I don't reckonwe'll get any before th' moon changes. Still, you can't allus tell."
"Can't tell nothin' about it at all, this kind of weather," observedHank, the can now against the other side of his body. "But one thing'sshore--it's gettin' closer every day. So-long," and the grotesquecouple went bobbing down the track toward their own camp.
Tex looked after them, humorously shaking his head. "'It's gettin'closer every day,'" he mimicked. "Shore it is. Pair of cunning oldcoyotes, an' entirely too frank about Buffalo Creek." Just then Sinfulleaped into the air, cracked his sore heels together and struck hiscompanion across the shoulders. This display of exuberance awakened astrong suspicion in the marshal. "I'll keep my eye on you two oldcodgers," he soliloquized, thoughtfully feeling of the handcuffs in hispocket. Wheeling abruptly he rode up to the station, where Jerrygrinningly awaited him. "Let me know when those mossbacks go west,Jerry, if you see them," he requested. "They're too cussed innocent an'happy to suit me. How are things?"
Jerry shook his head. "I'll be cussed if I know. But I know one thing,and that is that I'm apologizing to you for the way Jane shut the doorin your face. I don't know what's the matter with her lately."
"There's never any tellin' about wimmin," said Tex, smiling. "An' don'tyou ever apologize to anybody for anythin' she does. Wimmin see thingsfrom a different angle, an' they ain't got a man's defenses. Adifference in structure is likely to be accompanied by differences innature, in this case notably in the more delicate balance of th' nervoussystem. Their reactions are both more subtle an' more extreme. Iwasn't insulted, but just folded my tents like th' Arabs, an' assilently stole away. Which I'm now goin' to repeat. See you later,mebby."
Jerry watched his visitor ride off and a puzzled frown crept over hisface.
"Wish I knew more about you, Mr. Tex Jones," he muttered. "You'reeither as fine a human as I have seen, or the smoothest rascal: and I'md--d if I can tell which."
The marshal rode to his office and sought the chair outside the door,his thoughts running back over recent events. Blascom's find and thephysical condition of the man naturally brought to mind Jake's narrowescape. The latter bothered him, notwithstanding the certainty thatBlascom would keep a good watch over the sick man. While he anxiouslyran over his scant knowledge of Jake's illness and the remedies he hademployed, he glanced up to see Doctor Horn nervously hurrying towardhim. The doctor, in view of what he now knew of him, became a veryinteresting study for the marshal.
"Marshal!" cried the physician while yet a score of paces away,"somebody burst down my door during my absence and took some drugs whichby their nature are not common out here and, consequently, hard toobtain. I am formally reporting it, sir."
"Doctor," replied Tex, "when a patient comes to you for help younaturally expect him to be frank and truthful. It is the same with apeace officer, who endeavors to cure not the ills of a single unit ofsociety, but the ills of society as a whole. Here, as in your ownfield, a refractory or diseased unit may, and generally does, affect thebody of which he is a part. So, as a social physician, I must ask ofyou that frankness so valuable to a medico. First, what drugs did youmiss?"
"Your analogy, while clever, is sophistical and is entirelyunwarranted," retorted the physician, taken somewhat aback by the wordsand attitude of a "cowhand," as he contemptuously characterizedpunchers. "Leaving it out of the argument, except to say, in passing,that your 'social physician' does not exercise a corrective influence,but rather a punitive one, I hardly see how the naming of the missingdrugs will give any enlightenment to a layman. There still exists theforcible breaking into, and the unlawful entry of, my residence."
"For purposes of identification it might be well to know the drugs thatwere stolen; but I'll waive that. What time would you say thisoccurred?" asked Tex with professional interest.
"Some time yesterday," answered the physician.
"You certainly are not very specific, Doctor," commented Tex. "I'mafraid we must come closer to it than that. You say you were away atthe time?"
"Yes: I did not return until quite late."
"In body or in spirit, Doctor Horn?"
"Sir, I do not understand you!" retorted the complainant, flushingslightly and gazing with great intensity into the marshal's eyes.
"There have been many others who did not understand me," replied Tex,calmly rolling and lighting a cigarette. "I'm mentioning that so youwon't think you are an exotic variation of our large and interestingspecies. The study of man is the greatest of all, Doctor. The wordswere more of a joke than anything else. Have you ever suffered fromhallucinations, Doctor? I've heard it said that too close confinement,too close an application to study, and too intimate relations withchemicals, volatile and otherwise, operate that way in these altitudes.Hothouse gardeners, for instance, notably those engaged in raisingpoppies, have slight touches of mental aberration. You are certain thatyour house was entered while you were away?"
The doctor, arms akimbo, was staring at this calm mind-reader as thoughin a trance, too stunned to be insulted.
Tex continued: "The value of the missing drugs and the damage to thedoor undoubtedly will be paid to you, Doctor, in a few days. In fact, Iam so confident of that that I will pay you just damages now, takingyour receipt in return. Do you agree with a great many people that aphysician to the body has much the same high obligations as thosebelonging to a minister or a priest, who are physicians to the soul?That his work is of a humanitarian nature before it is a matter ofremuneration; that he should hold himself fit and ready to answer callsof distress without regard to his own bodily comfort?"
Doctor Horn still stared at him, rallying his thoughts. He nodded assentas he groped.
"There are professional secrets, Doctor, which need not be divulged,"continued Tex. "I understand that you have a horse?"
The physician nodded again.
"Then use it. I have reason to believe that a man named Jake, a miner,who is located on the first fork of Buffalo Creek, west of town,urgently needs your professional services. I understand that he hasbeen brought back from death from alcoholic poisoning, but will be muchsafer if you look at him. Did you say you are going now? And by theway, before you start, let me say that the old idea of peace officersbeing corrective forces, in a punitive sense only, is rapidly becomingobsolete among the more intelligent and broader-minded men of thatclass. While punishment is undoubtedly needed as a warning to others,the cure's the thing, to paraphrase an old friend of mine. Is there anyconnection between the natures of the missing drugs and alcoholicpoisoning, Doctor? But we are wasting time. This little problem canwait. Just now speed's the thing. Drop around again soon, Doctor: Ialways enjoy the companionship of an educated man," and the marshal,slowly arising, bowed and entered his little office, the door softlyclosing behind him.
