Bob Hampton of Placer Part 25

A half-dozen men were starting to climb the hillside, following a dim trail through the tangled underbrush. Looking down upon them, it was impossible to distinguish their faces, but two among them, at least, carried firearms. Mason stepped up on to the ore-dump where he could see better, and watched their movements closely.

"Hi, there!" he called, his voice harsh and strident. "You fellers are not invited to this picnic, an' there'll be somethin' doin' if you push along any higher."

The little bunch halted instantly just without the edge of the heavy timber, turning their faces up toward the speaker. Evidently they expected to be hailed, but not quite so soon.

"Now, see here, Buck," answered one, taking a single step ahead of the others, and hollowing his hand as a trumpet to speak through, "it don't look to us fellers as if this affair was any of your funeral, nohow, and we 've come 'long ahead of the others just on purpose to give you a fair show to pull out of it afore the real trouble begins. _Sabe_?"

"Is thet so?"

The little marshal was too far away for them to perceive how his teeth set beneath the bristly mustache.

"You bet! The boys don't consider thet it's hardly the square deal your takin' up agin 'em in this way. They 'lected you marshal of this yere camp, but it war n't expected you'd ever take no sides 'long with murderers. Thet's too stiff fer us to abide by. So come on down, Buck, an' leave us to attend to the cuss."

"If you mean Hampton, he's my prisoner. Will you promise to let me take him down to Cheyenne fer trial?"

"Wal, I reckon not, old man. We kin give him a trial well 'nough right here in Glencaid," roared another voice from out the group, which was apparently growing restless over the delay. "But we ain't inclined to do you no harm onless ye ram in too far. So come on down, Buck, throw up yer cards; we've got all the aces, an' ye can't bluff this whole darn camp."

Mason spat into the dump contemptuously, his hands thrust into his pockets. "You 're a fine-lookin' lot o' law-abidin' citizens, you are!

Blamed if you ain't. Why, I wouldn't give a snap of my fingers fer the whole kit and caboodle of ye, you low-down, sneakin' parcel o' thieves.

Ye say it wus yer votes whut made me marshal o' this camp. Well, I reckon they did, an' I reckon likewise I know 'bout whut my duty under the law is, an' I'm a-goin' to do it. If you fellers thought ye 'lected a chump, this is the time you git left. This yere man, Bob Hampton, is my prisoner, an' I'll take him to Cheyenne, if I have ter brain every tough in Glencaid to do it. Thet's me, gents."

"Oh, come off; you can't run your notions agin the whole blame moral sentiment of this camp."

"Moral sentiment! I 'm backin' up the law, not moral sentiment, ye cross-eyed beer-slinger, an' if ye try edgin' up ther another step I 'll plug you with this '45.'"

There was a minute of hesitancy while the men below conferred, the marshal looking contemptuously down upon them, his revolver gleaming ominously in the light. Evidently the group hated to go back without the prisoner.

"Oh, come on, Buck, show a little hoss sense," the leader sang out.

"We 've got every feller in camp along with us, an' there ain't no show fer the two o' ye to hold out against that sort of an outfit."

Mason smiled and patted the barrel of his Colt.

"Oh, go to blazes! When I want any advice, Jimmie, I'll send fer ye."

Some one fired, the ball digging up the soft earth at the marshal's feet, and flinging it in a blinding cloud into Hampton's eyes. Mason's answer was a sudden fusilade, which sent the crowd flying helter-skelter into the underbrush. One among them staggered and half fell, yet succeeded in dragging himself out of sight.

"Great Scott, if I don't believe I winged James!" the shooter remarked cheerfully, reaching back into his pocket for more cartridges. "Maybe them boys will be a bit more keerful if they once onderstand they 're up agin the real thing. Well, perhaps I better skin down, fer I reckon it's liable ter be rifles next."

It was rifles next, and the "winging" of Big Jim, however it may have inspired caution, also developed fresh animosity in the hearts of his followers, and brought forth evidences of discipline in their approach.

Peering across the sheltering dump pile, the besieged were able to perceive the dark figures cautiously advancing through the protecting brush; they spread out widely until their two flanks were close in against the wall of rock, and then the deadly rifles began to spit spitefully, the b.a.l.l.s casting up the soft dirt in clouds or flattening against the stones. The two men crouched lower, hugging their pile of slag, unable to perceive even a stray a.s.sailant within range of their ready revolvers. Hampton remained cool, alert, and motionless, striving in vain to discover some means of escape, but the little marshal kept grimly cheerful, creeping constantly from point to point in the endeavor to get a return shot at his tormentors.

"This whole blame country is full of discharged sojers," he growled, "an' they know their biz all right. I reckon them fellers is pretty sure to git one of us yit; anyhow, they 've got us cooped. Say, Bob, thet lad crawling yonder ought to be in reach, an' it's our bounden duty not to let the boys git too gay."

Hampton tried the shot suggested, elevating considerable to overcome distance. There was a yell, and a swift skurrying backward which caused Mason to laugh, although neither knew whether this result arose from fright or wound.

"'Bliged ter teach 'em manners onct in a while, or they 'll imbibe a fool notion they kin come right 'long up yere without no invite. 'T ain't fer long, no how, 'less all them guys are ijuts."

Hampton turned his head and looked soberly into the freckled face, impressed by the speaker's grave tone.

"Why?"

"Fire, my boy, fire. The wind's dead right fer it; thet brush will burn like so much tinder, an' with this big wall o' rock back of us, it will be h.e.l.l here, all right. Some of 'em are bound to think of it pretty blame soon, an' then, Bob, I reckon you an' I will hev' to take to the open on the jump."

Hampton's eyes hardened. G.o.d, how he desired to live just then, to uncover that fleeing Murphy and wring from him the whole truth which had been eluding him all these years! Surely it was not justice that all should be lost now. The smoke puffs rose from the encircling rifles, and the hunted men cowered still lower, the whistling of the bullets in their ears.

CHAPTER XIII

"SHE LOVES ME; SHE LOVES ME NOT"

Unkind as the Fates had proved to Brant earlier in the day, they relented somewhat as the sun rose higher, and consented to lead him to far happier scenes. There is a rare fortune which seems to pilot lovers aright, even when they are most blind to the road, and the young soldier was now most truly a lover groping through the mists of doubt and despair.

It was no claim of military duty which compelled him to relinquish Miss Spencer so promptly at the hotel door, but rather a desire to escape her ceaseless chatter and gain retirement where he could reflect in quiet over the revelations of Hampton. In this quest he rode slowly up the valley of the Bear Water, through the bright sunshine, the rare beauty of the scene scarcely leaving the slightest impress on his mind, so busy was it, and so preoccupied. He no longer had any doubt that Hampton had utilized his advantageous position, as well as his remarkable powers of pleasing, to ensnare the susceptible heart of this young, confiding girl. While the man had advanced no direct claim, he had said enough to make perfectly clear the close intimacy of their relation and the existence of a definite understanding between them.

With this recognized as a fact, was he justified in endeavoring to win Naida Gillis for himself? That the girl would find continued happiness with such a man as Hampton he did not for a moment believe possible; that she had been deliberately deceived regarding his true character he felt no doubt. The fellow had impressed her by means of his picturesque personality, his cool, dominating manner, his veneer of refinement; he had presumed on her natural grat.i.tude, her girlish susceptibility, her slight knowledge of the world, to worm his way into her confidence, perhaps even to inspire love. These probabilities, as Brant understood them, only served to render him more ardent in his quest, more eager to test his strength in the contest for a prize so well worth the winning. He acknowledged no right that such a man as Hampton could justly hold over so innocent and trustful a heart. The girl was morally so far above him as to make his very touch a profanation, and at the unbidden thought of it, the soldier vowed to oppose such an unholy consummation. Nor did he, even then, utterly despair of winning, for he recalled afresh the intimacy of their few past meetings, his face brightening in memory of this and that brief word or shy glance. There is a voiceless language of love which a lover alone can interpret, and Brant rode on slowly, deciphering its messages, and attaining new courage with every step of his horse.

All the world loves a lover, and all the fairies guide him. As the officer's eyes, already smiling in antic.i.p.ated victory, glanced up from the dusty road, he perceived just ahead the same steep bank down which he had plunged in his effort at capturing his fleeing tormentor. With the sight there came upon him a desire to loiter again in the little glen where they had first met, and dream once more of her who had given to the shaded nook both life and beauty. Amid the sunshine and the shadow he could picture afresh that happy, piquant face, the dark coils of hair, those tantalizing eyes. He swung himself from the saddle, tied a loose rein to a scrub oak, and clambered up the bank.

With the noiseless step of a plainsman he pushed in through the labyrinths of bush, only to halt petrified upon the very edge of that inner barrier. No figment of imagination, but the glowing reality of flesh and blood, awaited him. She had neither seen nor heard his approach, and he stopped in perplexity. He had framed a dozen speeches for her ears, yet now he could do no more than stand and gaze, his heart in his eyes. And it was a vision to enchain, to hold lips speechless. She was seated with unstudied grace on the edge of the bank, her hands clasped about one knee, her sweet face sobered by thought, her eyes downcast, the long lashes plainly outlined against the clear cheeks. He marked the graceful sweep of her dark, close-fitting dress, the white fringe of dainty underskirt, the small foot, neatly booted, peeping from beneath, and the glimpse of round, white throat, rendered even fairer by the creamy lace encircling it.

Against the darker background of green shrubs she resembled a picture ent.i.tled "Dreaming," which he dimly recalled lingering before in some famous Eastern gallery, and his heart beat faster in wonderment at what the mystic dream might be. To draw back un.o.bserved was impossible, even had he possessed strength of will sufficient to make the attempt, nor would words of easy greeting come to his relief. He could merely worship silently as before a sacred shrine. It was thus she glanced up and saw him with startled eyes, her hands unclasping, her cheeks rose-colored.

"Lieutenant Brant, you here?" she exclaimed, speaking as if his presence seemed unreal. "What strange miracles an idle thought can work!"

"Thoughts, I have heard," he replied, coming toward her with head uncovered, "will sometimes awaken answers through vast distances of time and s.p.a.ce. As my thought was with you I may be altogether to blame for thus arousing your own. From the expression of your face I supposed you dreaming."

She smiled, her eyes uplifted for a single instant to his own. "It was rather thought just merging into dream, and there are few things in life more sweet. I know not whether it is the common gift of all minds, but my day-dreams are almost more to me than my realities."

"First it was moods, and now dreams." He seated himself comfortably at her feet. "You would cause me to believe you a most impractical person, Miss Naida."

She laughed frankly, that rippling peal of unaffected merriment which sounded so like music to his ears. "If that were only true, I am sure I should be most happy, for it has been my fortune so far to conjure up only pleasure through day-dreaming--the things I like and long for become my very own then. But if you mean, as I suspect, that I do not enjoy the dirt and drudgery of life, then my plea will have to be guilty. I, of course, grant their necessity, yet apparently there are plenty who find them well worth while, and there should be other work for those who aspire. Back of what you term practical some one has said there is always a dream, a first conception. In that sense I choose to be a dreamer."

"And not so unwise a choice, if your dreams only tend toward results."

He sat looking into her animated face, deeply puzzled by both words and actions. "I cannot help noticing that you avoid all reference to my meeting with Mr. Hampton. Is this another sign of your impractical mind?"

"I should say rather the opposite, for I had not even supposed it concerned me."

"Indeed! That presents a vastly different view from the one given us an hour since. The distinct impression was then conveyed to both our minds that you were greatly distressed regarding the matter. Is it possible you can have been acting again?"

"I? Certainly not!" and she made no attempt to hide her indignation.

"What can you mean?"

He hesitated an instant in his reply, feeling that possibly he was treading upon thin ice. But her eyes commanded a direct answer, and he yielded to them.

"We were informed that you experienced great anxiety for fear we might quarrel,--so great, indeed, that you had confided your troubles to another."

"To whom?"