*CHAPTER IX*
_*First Blood*_
It would hardly astonish me, and certainly not offend me, to know thatyou found a difficulty in believing possible such a sight as Camp Kettlepresented on our arrival. It made me shudder to see it, and the pictureis one that I never remember without melancholy.
"They seem to be celebrating here," said he of the red eyes as a hideousdin of shrieking and curses came up to us.
And "celebrating" they were, that day being, as Apache Kid nowrecollected, the anniversary of the first discovery of mineral in thatplace. Of such a kind was this celebration that the stage-driver had todismount and drag no fewer than three drunken men from the road, whichirritated him considerably, spoiling as it did his final dash up to thehotel door. But it served our turn better; for here, before enteringCamp Kettle, we alighted.
Camp Kettle is built in the very midst of the woods, the old veterans ofthe forest standing between the houses which stretch on either side ofthe waggon road, looking across the road on each other from between thefirs, so that a traveller coming to the place by road is fairly upon itbefore he is well aware. But on that day--or night--there were stripsof bunting hanging across the waggon road, not from the houses, for theywere all mere log huts, but from the trees on either side; and theforest rang with shouting and drunken laughter. Just where we alightedwere several great, hewn stones by the roadside, with marks of muchtrampling around them.
"There 's been a rock-drilling contest here," said Apache Kid, pointingto the holes in the centre of these rocks, as we struck into the bushand came into Kettle from behind.
Here and there, backward from the front huts, were others dotted aboutin cleared spaces, and all were lit up, and doors standing open and mencoming and going, lurching among the wandering tree-roots and fallingover stumps still left there. And the whole bush round about you mighthave thought the scene of a recent battle, what with the drunken menlying here and there in all manner of attitudes, with twisted bodies andsprawled legs.
Some few fellows in their coming and going spoke to us, crying on us to"come and have a drink," but it was only necessary for us to move onheedlessly so as to evade them--so dazed and puzzled were they all andseemed to lose sight of us at once, wheeling about and crying out to thetwilit woods. At some of the cabins horses stood hitched, snorting andquivering ever and again, their ears falling back and pricking forwardin terror.
"For once," said Apache Kid to me, "I have to be grateful for thepresence of the despised Dago and the Chinee. The Dago may be a littlefuddled, but not too much to attend to our wants in the way of horses,and he is not likely to talk afterwards. The Chinee will be perfectlycalm among all this, and he, for a certainty, will not speak. Here'sthe Chinee joint. Come along."
He thrust open the door of a long, low house and we entered into a babelof talk, that ceased on the instant, and closed the door behind us.
We had a glimpse of a back room with a group of Chinamen who looked upon us with eyes a trifle agitated, but, I suppose on seeing that we werenot the worse of liquor, they bent again over their tables, and we heardthe rattle of dominoes again and their quick, voluble, pattering talk.
A very staid, calm-faced Chinaman, his high forehead lit up by a lampwhich hung over a desk by which he stood, turned to us, and, looking onus through large horn spectacles, bowed with great dignity.
"Good evening," said Apache Kid.
"Good evening," said he.
"We want three mats of rice," said Apache Kid, and this placid gentlemancalled out a word or two to one of his assistants, and the rice washauled down from the shelf. Then we bought three small bags of flourand two sides of bacon, and all this was tied up for us and set by thedoor to await our return; and off we went out of that place with thesmell of strange Eastern spices in our nostrils.
"Not so long ago," said Apache Kid, "these fellows would not have beentolerated here at all. Then they were allowed an entrance andtolerated; but they only sold rice to begin with, and nothing more,except, perhaps, cranberries, to the hotel, which they gathered on thefoothills. Now, as you see, they run a regular store. But on suchnights as this it behooves them to keep indoors lest the white populaceregret having allowed them within their gates. But John Chinaman isvery wise. He keeps out of sight when it is advisable. Here's thelivery stable."
The stout Italian who stood at the door of the stable, toying with acigarette, frowned on us through the darkness, and seemed a trifleastonished, I thought, at our request for horses. But he bade us followhim, and by the aid of two swinging lamps Apache Kid selected threehorses, two for riding and one pack-horse.
"But you ain't pull out to-night, heh?" said the Italian in his brokenEnglish.
"Yes," said Apache.
"You going down to Placer Camp or up to mountains?"
Apache Kid was drawing the cinch tight on the pony I was to ride (theItalian was saddling the other), and he merely turned and shot thequestioner such a look as made me feel--well, that I should not like tobe the Italian.
I thought then that, for all his slim build, this partner of mine, soquiet, so deliberate, must have seen and done strange things in his day,and been in peculiar corners to learn a glance like that. If ever alook on a man's face could cow another, it was such a look as Apache Kidflung to the Italian then.
Back to the Chinese store we went, leading our steeds, and there ropedon our pack.
"Do you sell rifles?" asked Apache Kid.
"Yes, sir, vely good line," and so Apache added a Winchester, which wasthrust atop of the load, and two of the small boxes of cartridges.
This was just finished when a voice broke in: "Goin' prospectin'?"
We wheeled about to see a foolish-faced man, with shifty eyes andslavering mouth, standing by, with firm enough legs, to be sure, but hisbody swaying left and right from the hips as though it were set there ona swivel.
"Yes," said Apache.
"Going prospectin' without a pick or a hammer or a shu-huvel," said theman, and hiccoughed and dribbled again at the mouth, and then he satdown on a tree-stump and broke out in a horrible drunken weeping, themost distressful kind of intoxicated fool I ever saw, and moaned tohimself: "Goin' prospectin' without a--with on'y a gun at the belt and aWinchester," and he put his hand to his forehead and, bending forward,wept copiously. I looked on the Chinaman who stood by, placid andexpressionless, and I was ashamed of my race.
"For the love of God," said Apache, "let us get out of this pitifulhell-- Good-bye, John," to the Chinaman, who raised his lean hand andwaved in farewell in a gesture of the utmost suavity and respect, andthen we struck south (the Chinaman entering his store), and left thatpitiable creature slobbering upon the tree-stump, left the din andoutcrying and hideousness behind us, my very stomach turning at thesounds, and Apache, too, I think, affected unpleasantly. We wentdirectly to the south upon the track that led to the Placer Camp onKettle River.
On either side of us the forest thinned out there, but the place wasfull of a wavering light, for the tree-stumps to left and right of thetrack were all smouldering with little, flickering blue flames, andsending up a white smoke, for this is the manner of clearing the forestafter the trees are felled.
Through this place of flickering lights and waving shadows we stillprogressed, leading our horses. Here Apache Kid looked round sharply,and at the moment I heard a sound as of a twig snapping, but from whatquarter the sound came I could not tell. We were both then looking back,half expecting to see some one issue forth behind us into the light ofthat space where the tree-stumps spluttered and flared and smoked.
"Perhaps it was just one of these stumps crackling," said I.
"It did n't sound just like that; however, I suppose that was all,"Apache Kid replied. "Well this is our route now." And we struck westthrough the timber, back in the direction that Baker City lay, keepingin a line parallel to the waggon road. And ever and again as we wentApache emitted a low,
long whistle and hearkened and whistled again, andhearkened and seemed annoyed at the silence alone replying.
Then, coming to the end of the place of smouldering stumps, we struckback as though to come out on the waggon road before its entering intoCamp Kettle. "Where in thunder is Donoghue?" snapped Apache Kid, andsuddenly the horse I was leading swung back with a flinging up of itshead. Apache Kid was leading the other two and they also began a greatdancing and snorting.
"We have you covered!" cried a harsh voice. "No tricks now! Just youkeep holt of them reins. If you let 'em drop, your name is Dennis! That'll be something to occupy your hands."
I think the voice quieted the horses, if it perturbed us, for theybecame tractable on the instant and ceased their trembling and waltzing.And there, risen out of a bush before us, stood two men, one with aWinchester at the ready and the other with his left hand raised, theopen palm facing us, and a revolver looking at me over that, his "gunhand" being steadied on the left wrist.
I had seen Apache Kid in a somewhat similar predicament before, but hiscoolness again amazed me. And, if I may be permitted to say so, Iastonished myself likewise, for after the first leap of the heart Istood quite easy, holding my horse--more like an onlooker than aparticipant in this unchancy occurrence.
"I think you have made a mistake, gentlemen," said Apache Kid.
"Oh, no mistake at all," said he with the Winchester. "I 've just comeout to make you an offer, Apache Kid."
"You have my name," said Apache Kid, "but I have n't the pleasure ofyours."
"Why," said I, "I 've seen that man at the Laughlin House;" and at thesame moment Apache Kid recognised the other in a sudden flickering up ofone of the nighest stumps.
"Why, it's my old inquisitive friend--the hog," said he, looking on him."Where did you learn that theatrical style of holding up a gun to a man?Won't you introduce your friend?"
"That's all right," said the other. "I want you to listen to me.Here's what we are offering you. You can either come right along withus to Camp Kettle and draw out a sketch plan of where the Lost CabinMine lies, or else----" he raised his Winchester.
Apache Kid whistled softly.
"How would it suit you," said he, after what seemed a pause forconsidering the situation into which we had fallen, "if I drew up thesketch after you plugged me with the Winchester?"
"O!" cried the man. "The loss of a fortune's on the one hand. The losso' your life's on the other. We give you the choice."
"It seems to me," said Apache Kid, "that your hand is the weaker in thisgame; for on your side is the loss of a fortune or the taking of alife."
"I 'd call that the stronger hand, I guess," said the man.
"Well, all a matter of the point of view," murmured Apache Kid, with anappearance of great ease. "But presuming that I am aware of thelocation of that place, what assurance could I have that once you hadthe sketch in your hands you would n't slip my wind--in the language ofthe country?"
He with the revolver, I noticed, glanced a moment at his partner atthat, but quickly turned his attention to us again. "Besides, I mightdraw up a fake map and send you off on a wild goose chase," said ApacheKid, as though with a sudden inspiration.
"We've thought of that," said he with the Winchester, "and you 'd justwait with a friend of ours while we went to make sure o' the genewinnesso' your plan."
"Oh! That's what I'd do?" said Apache Kid, and stood cheeping with hislips a little space and staring before him. Then turning to me, "I 'mup against it now," he said, "in the language of the country. The termsare all being made for me and at this rate----" he swung round again tothese two--"you really mean that you are so bent on this that if I didn't speak up, did n't give you the information you wanted,you'd--eh--kill me--kill the goose with the golden eggs?"
I marked a change in the tone of Apache's voice, and looking at himnoticed that there was a glitter in his eye and his breath was comingthrough his nostrils in fierce gusts, and under his breath he muttered:"The damned fools! I could keep them blithering here till morning!"
"We might find other means to get the right of it out of you," said theman with the Winchester. "I 've seen a bit of the Indians from whom youtake your name, and I reckon some of their tricks would bring you toreason."
"What!" cried Apache Kid. "You'd threaten that, would you? You'dinsult me--coming out with a hog like that to hold me up, too," and hepointed at the man with the revolver.
"Come! Come!" cried he of the Winchester, "easy wi' that hand. If youdon't come to a decision before I count three, you 're a dead man. I 'llrun chances on finding the Lost Cabin Mine myself. Come now, what areyou going to do? One----"
"Excuse me interrupting," said Apache Kid, "but are you aware that thegentleman you have brought with you there is an incompetent?"
"Haow?" said the Winchester man. "What you mean?"
"That!" said Apache Kid, and, leaping back and wheeling his horsebetween the Winchester and himself, he had plucked forth his revolverand-- But another crack--the crack of a rifle--rang out in the forest.I am not certain which was first, but there, before my eyes, the twomen, who had a moment earlier stood exulting over us, sank to the earth,he with the revolver falling second, so that as he sagged down I heardthe breath of life, one might have thought, belch out of him. It wasreally the gasp, I suppose, when the bullet struck him, but it was themost helpless sound I ever heard in my life--something like the quack ofa duck. Sorry am I that ever I heard that sound, for it, I believe,more than the occurrence of that night itself, seemed to sadden me, giveme a drearier outlook on life. I wonder if I express myself clearly? Iwonder if you understand what I felt in my heart at that sound? Had hedied with a scream, I think I should have been less haunted by his end.
If our horses shied at the smell of men whom they could not see, theywere evidently well enough accustomed to the snap of firearms, forbeyond a quick snort they paid no heed. As for me, I found then that Ihad been a deal more upset by this meeting than I had permitted myselfto believe; and my nerves must have been terribly strung, for no soonerhad they fallen than I shuddered throughout my body, so that I must havelooked like one suffering from St. Vitus dance.
Apache Kid looked at me with a queer, pained expression on his face,scrutinising me keenly and quickly and then looking away. And into thewavering light of the burning stumps came Donoghue, with his rifle lyingin the crook of his arm, right up to us and began speaking. No, Icannot call it speaking. There was no word intelligible. His eyes werethe eyes of a sober man, but when he spoke to us not a word could wedistinguish, and he seemed aware of that himself, spluttering painfullyand putting his hand to his mouth now and again, as with a sort of angerat himself and his condition. Then suddenly, as though rememberingsomething, away he went through the timber the way he had come.
"Fancy being killed by that!" said Apache Kid, wetting his lips with histongue, and a sick look on his face.
"What's wrong with him?" said I.
"Drunk," said he, and never a word more. But he followed Donoghue, towhere stood a horse, the reins hitched to a tree.
"That's a tough looking mount he's got," said Apache Kid, and then, likean afterthought: "Try to forget about those two fellows lying there," headded to me.
I looked at him in something of an emotion very nigh horror.
"Have they to lie there till--till they are found?"
"Yes," said he, "by the wolves to-night--if the light of the stumpsdoesn't keep them off. Failing that, to-morrow--by the buzzards."
I looked round then, scarcely aware of the movement, and there, betweenthe trees, I saw the clearing with the smouldering, twinkling stumps.
The leader of these two lay with his back and his heels and the broadsoles of his feet toward me; but the other, "the hog from Ontario," laylooking after us, with his dead eyes and his face lighting andshadowing, lighting up and shadowing pitifully in that ghastly glow.
I turned round no more. I breathed in relief when we came clear
of theforest into the open, sandy ground; but when I saw the stars thick inthe sky, Orion, Cassiopeia, and Ursa Major, the tears welled in my eyes;they seemed so far from the terrors of that place.
"I 'll wait till you mount," said Apache Kid, holding my horse's headwhile I gathered the reins.
When I raised my foot to the stirrup the beast swerved; but at the thirdtry I got in my foot, and with a spring gained the high saddle.
Donoghue's mount was walking sedately enough, but all the lean body ofit had an evil look. Apache stood to watch his partner mount to thesaddle. Donoghue flung the reins over the horse's neck and came to itsleft. He seemed to remember its nature, despite his condition then, forhe ran his hand over the saddle and gave a tug to the cloth to see thatit was firm. Then with a quick jerk, before the horse was well aware,he had yanked the cinch up another hole or two. At this, taken bysurprise, the beast put its ears back and hung its head and its tailbetween its legs. Donoghue pulled his hat down on his head, caught thecheck-rein with his left and clapped his right hand to the high, roundpommel. There was a moment's pause; he cast a quick glance to thehorse's head; thrust his foot into the huge stirrup, and with a gruntand a mighty swing was into the saddle. And then the beast gathereditself together and with an angry squeal leapt from the ground. Half adozen times it went up and down, as you have perhaps seen a cat or aferret do--with stiff legs and humped back. But Donoghue seemed part ofthe heavy, creaking saddle, and after these lurchings and anotherhalf-dozen wheelings the brute calmed. Apache Kid swung himself up tohis horse and we struck on to the stage road in the light of the stars.
And just then there came a clinking of horse's hoofs to our ears andthere, on the road coming up from Camp Kettle, and bound toward BakerCity, was an old, grey-bearded man leading a pack-horse and splutteringand coughing as he trudged ahead in the dust.
"It's a good night, gentlemen," he said, stopping and eyeingus--Donoghue across the road, in the lead, and already a few paces upthe hillside, Apache Kid with the led horse, I blocking his passage way.
"Yes; it's a fair night," said Apache Kid, civilly enough, but I thoughthim vexed at this encounter.
"It's a cough I take at times," said the old man, wheezing again. "I 'mgetting up in years. Yes, you 're better to camp out in the hillsinstead of going into Camp Kettle to-night. I 've seen some camps in myday--I 'm gettin' an old man. No; I could n't stop in that placeto-night."
His pack-horse stood meekly behind him, laden up with blankets, pans,picks, and the inevitable Winchester.
"Yes, siree, you 're better in the hills, a fine starry night o' summer,instead of down there. It's a cough I have," he wheezed. "I 'm gettin'an old man. Any startling news to relate?"
"Nothing startling," said Apache Kid.
"What you think o' the rush to Spokane way? Anything in it, think you?"said the old man in his slow, weary voice.
"O, I think----" began Apache Kid, but the old man seemed to forget hehad put a question.
"What you think o' this part o' the country?" he asked, and thenabruptly, without evidently desiring an answer: "Well, well, I 'll giveyou good night. I 'll keep goin' on, till I get a good camp place--maybeall night I don't like Camp Kettle to-night," and grumbling somethingabout being an old man now, he plodded on, his pack-horse waking up atthe jerk on the rein and following behind.
"Aye," sighed Apache Kid to me, "no wonder they say 'as crazy as aprospector.' It's the hills that do it. The hills and the lonelinessand all that," he said with a wave of his hand in the starshine. Thensuddenly he spurred forward his horse upon Donoghue and in a low,vehement voice: "Stop that, Donoghue!" he said. "What on earth are youwanting to do?"
For Donoghue was glaring after the weary old prospector and dragging hisWinchester from the sling at his saddle. He managed to splutter out theword "blab" as he pointed after the man and then pulled again at theWinchester which he found difficult to get free. But Apache Kid smoteDonoghue's horse upon the flank and pressed him forward and so we leftthe road and began breasting the hill with the stars, brilliant andseeming larger to me than ever they seemed seen through the atmosphereof the old country, shining down on us out of a cloudless sky.
Perhaps it had been better had Donoghue got his rifle free, callousthough it may seem to say so. For other lives might have been sparedand these mountains, into the foothills of which we now plunged, havenot been assoiled with the blood of many had that one solitary oldprospector ceased his weary seekings and his journeyings there, asDonoghue intended.
The Lost Cabin Mine Page 9
