Beth Norvell Part 7

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 'll tell ye what I 'm a-goin' ter do, Stutter. I 'm a-goin' ter draw out every blamed cent we 've got in the bank down at San Juan. 'T ain't much of a pile, but I reckon it's got ter do the business. Then I 'll strike out an' hunt till I find a minin' engineer thet 's got a soul of his own, an' grit 'nough behind it ter root out the facts. I 've been a-prospecttn' through these here mountings fer thirty years, an' now thet I 've hit somethin' worth havin', I 'm hanged if I 'm a-goin' ter lie down meek ez Moses an' see it stole out plumb from under me by a parcel o' tin-horn gamblers. Not me, by G.o.d! If I can't git a cinch on sich a feller ez I want, then I 'll come back an' blow a hole through that Farnham down at San Juan. I reckon I 'll go in an' tell him so afore I start."

The old man's square jaws set ominously, his gnarled hand dropping heavily on the b.u.t.t 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 'em plumb ter h.e.l.l. You an' Mike kin tend ter thet all right, an' you bet I '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 the cabin, reappearing scarcely a moment later with a small bundle in his hand.

"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 watched his partner scrambling down the steep trail. It was not easy for him to converse, and he therefore never uttered a word unless the situation demanded the sacrifice. He could swear, however, with considerable fluency, but just now even that relief seemed inadequate. Finally, the older man disappeared behind the scrub, and, except for those more distant figures about the dump of the "Independence," the blond giant remained apparently alone. But Stutter had long ago become habituated to loneliness; the one condition likely to worry him was lack of occupation. He scrambled to his feet and climbed the dump, until able to lean far over and look down into the black mouth of the uncovered shaft.

"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. "Ye measly 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 boyish face farther down within the safety of the hole before venturing an explanation.

"B-B-Bill's g-gone to find s-s-some engi-n-neer w-with nerve 'nough ter r-r-run our lines," he managed to spit out disjointedly. "S-s-says he'll go plumb ter Denver 'fore he 'll g-g-give up, an' if he d-don't f-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-forty rounds b-b-buckled on him. H-here goes, Mike," and Brown grasped the warped handle of the windla.s.s and began to grind slowly, coiling the heavy rope, layer upon layer, around the straining drum. He brought the huge ore-bucket to the surface, dumped its load of rock over the edge of the shaft-hole, and had permitted it to run down swiftly to the waiting Mike, when a slight noise behind sent the man whirling suddenly about, his hand instinctively reaching forth toward the discarded but ready rifle. A moment he stared, incredulous, at the strange vision fronting him, his face quickly reddening from embarra.s.sment, his eyes irresolute and puzzled. Scarcely ten feet away, a woman, rather brightly attired and apparently very much at her ease, sat upon a rather diminutive pony, her red lips curved in lines of laughter, evidently no little amused at thus startling him. Brown realized that she was young and pretty, with jet black, curling hair, and eyes of the same color, her skin peculiarly white and clear, while she rode man fashion, her lower limbs daintily encased within leggings of buckskin.

She had carelessly dropped her reins upon the high pommel of the saddle, and as their glances fairly met, she laughed outright.

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

Stutter Brown ground his white teeth together savagely, his short red moustache bristling. He was quite young, never greatly accustomed to companionship with the gentler s.e.x, and of a disposition strongly opposed to being laughed at. Besides, he felt seriously his grave deficiencies of speech.

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

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

"You talk so ver' funny, senor; you so big like de tree, an' say vords dat 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 together sharply. "But not me; I vas only girl; no gun, no knife--see. I just like 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 her own curling ebon locks in sudden shower. "I tink de red hair vas more beautiful."

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

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

For answer she very promptly swung one neatly booted foot over and dropped lightly to the ground, thus revealing her slender figure. Her most 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 out from San Juan for vat you call const.i.tutional--mercy, such a vord, senor!--an' I stray up dis trail. See? It vas most steep, my, so steep, 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 big mine--bah! I care not for dat kind--but just one leetle mine, vere I no be 'fraid to go down. Den I look at you, so big, vid de beautiful red hair, an' de kin' face, an' I sink he vood let me see how dey do such 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 vill show to me how de brav' Americanos dig out de yellow gold, senor?"

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

"C-c-could n't h-hardly do it, m-m-miss. It 's t-too blame dirty d-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, how he swear! He tol' me once come out any time an' see hees mine. I not know vere it vas before. Maybe de angels show me. You vas vat Beell call 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 woollen shirt, her black, appealing eyes flashing suddenly up into his troubled face.

"I moost laugh, senor; such a brav' Americano 'fraid of de girl. Why not you shoot me?"

"A-a-afraid nothin'," and Stutter's freckled face became instantly as rosy as his admired hair, "b-but I t-tell ye, miss, it's a-a-all d-dirt down 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' den I 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 disreputable garment, flung it carelessly about her shapely shoulders, shrugging them coquettishly, her great eyes shyly uplifting to his relenting face, and began swiftly to fasten up her already short dress in disregard of the exposure of trim ankles. The agitated Mr. Brown coughed, his uneasy glances straying down the open shaft. He would gladly, and with extreme promptness, have shoved the cold muzzle of his Colt beneath the nose of any man at such moment of trial; but this young girl, with a glance and a laugh, had totally disarmed him.

Disturbed conscience, a feeling akin to disloyalty, p.r.i.c.ked him, but the temptation left him powerless to resist--those black eyes held him already captive; and yet in this moment of wavering indecision, that teasing 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? But maybe it's so because you no like me?"

Startled by so unjust a suspicion, the eyes of the young giant instantly revealed a degree of interest which caused her own to light up suddenly, her red lips parting in a quick, appreciative smile which disclosed the white teeth.

"Ah, I see it vas not dat. Eet make glad de heart--make eet to sing like 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 heart fluttering to the seduction of her suggestive glance, the embarra.s.sed Stutter made unconditional surrender, a gruff oath growling in his throat. He leaned out over the dark shaft, his supporting hand on the drum.

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

There followed a sound of falling rocks below, a fierce shaking of the suspended rope, and then a m.u.f.fled voice sang out an order, "H'ist away, and be dommed ter yer." Brown devoted himself a.s.siduously to the creaking windla.s.s, although never able entirely to remove his attention from that bright-robed, slender figure standing so closely at his side.

For one brief second he vaguely wondered if she could be a witch, and he looked furtively aside, only to perceive her bright eyes smiling happily at him. Then suddenly a totally bald head shot up through the opening, a seamed face the color of parchment, with squinting gray eyes, peered suspiciously about, while a gnarled hand reached forth, grasped a post in support, and dragged out into the sunlight a short, st.u.r.dy body. Mike straightened up, with a peculiar jerk, on the dump, spat viciously over the edge of the canyon, and drew a short, black pipe from out a convenient pocket in his shirt. He made no audible comment, but stood, his back planted to the two watchers; and Stutter cleared his throat noisily.