Glen of the High North Part 42

"H-how d'ye know about Bill?" he gasped.

"Never mind how I know," Samson replied. Then he turned toward Glen.

"Excuse me, Miss," and he lifted his old weather-beaten hat, "I'm real sorry that you have to witness sich a scene as this. But it can't be helped, fer thar stands the worst criminal that ever came into this region. An' to think of him talkin' about murder an' justice, when he himself murdered his own pardner!"

"It's a lie!" Curly denied with an oath. "What d'ye mean by making such a charge?"

"It's no lie, Curly," and the prospector looked sternly into the cur's bloodshot eyes. "I've got all the proof that's necessary to stretch yer neck. But it'll keep until the right ones git hold of ye. In the meantime, we might as well go down to Shorty's an' git something to eat. I'm as hungry as a two-year-old bear. We'll take these fellers along," and he motioned to the miners. "Jist let yer Injuns look after 'em, Miss. An' ye'd better see that Curly is tied tight so's he can't git away. We don't want to run any risk with him."

It took but a few minutes to carry out this latter suggestion, and then all headed for the mining creek. The miners were marshalled by the Indians, with Samson walking watchfully by Curly's side, while Reynolds kept close to Glen. No one spoke, and it was a strange procession which wound its way down the creek, and at length halted in front of the roadhouse.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE OLD TRUE STORY

There was great indignation at Shorty's when the miners heard of the villainous attempt upon Reynolds' life. At first they would hardly believe it, but as they listened to Frontier Samson, whose words were confirmed by Glen, and Reynolds, they knew that it must be true. Then when they learned that Curly was guilty of the murder of his partner, Bill Ducett, they became thoroughly aroused.

These miners were the finest men at Big Draw. They worked hard and minded their own business. They were not given to much talk, due, no doubt, to long years in the wilderness. Neither were they carried away by any sudden impulse on the spur of the moment. They never had anything in common with Curly and his gang, although they had often listened to their vapid boastings. So now when they learned of the despicable affair up the narrow creek, they did not take matters into their own hands, and visit upon the miscreants swift and dire punishment. They decided, after a brief consultation with Frontier Samson, to keep close guard upon Curly and hand him over to the Mounted Police, who were expected back the next day. His companions would be allowed their freedom until needed.

"Such actions must be stopped," one big weather-beaten veteran of many trails declared. "Curly and his bunch, as well as all others of such breed, must learn first as last that the Police are here to give British justice, and a fair trial to every man, no matter who he is.

It's not for any of us to deal with such brutes as Curly and his gang."

"I agree with you, Tom," another replied. "But it's a pity we didn't hear sooner about what was taking place up the draw. We'd a been there in no time. I can't understand how that Indian t.i.tsla learned the news. He was here yesterday selling meat, but he never mentioned a word to us."

"I imagine he thought the hull bunch of yez was in the plot," Samson replied, "an' so he hit the trail fer Glen West as fast as he could.

That's the way with them Injuns." Then he turned suddenly and walked over to Shorty. "Say, old man," he began, "rustle up some grub fer them Injuns outside, will ye? I'd like to give 'em a good feed before they leave. An' hand out something to the rest of us while yer at it.

I'm most starved, an' I guess the rest are, too. I'll foot the bill."

In less than an hour Shorty had the Indians fed, and when Samson had provided each with a large plug of tobacco, they all left in the best of spirits for Glen West.

Reynolds' entire solicitude was for Glen. He thought not of himself, and paid little heed to the miners as they discussed Curly and his companions. His only concern was for her who was sitting in the one arm-chair the room contained with such a weary look in her eyes. The stern expression had vanished from her face, and she was the real Glen again. She did not care to talk, although she listened intently to everything that was said. But after the miners had left, and she sat down to the supper Shorty had prepared, she became more animated.

"Oh, I am so glad that we are alone at last!" and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. "It seems as if I have had a fearful dream."

"You'll be all right, Miss, as soon as ye git a good night's sleep,"

Samson replied. "Yer a bit used up at present."

"I suppose so. But where shall I sleep?"

"Here, of course. Shorty's goin' to give ye his best room, an' not a soul will disturb ye until mornin'. Then ye must be up bright an'

early. Yer dad wants ye at his cabin."

"Is anything wrong?" Glen anxiously asked.

"Nuthin', Miss. But yer dad wants ye as soon as ye kin git thar."

"How does he know I'm here?" and Glen looked her surprise.

"How does he know?" Samson slowly repeated. "Wall, that's fer you to find out. I jist come from thar to-day, so I know that he wants ye.

What's the use of askin' how Jim Weston finds things out? Why, he seems to know what a man miles off is thinkin' about. Ye'd almost imagine that he has a wireless outfit fixed up in his head."

Glen and Reynolds laughed, and even the old man smiled. He seemed to like to see them both happy, and when supper was over he told several humorous stories in his quaint, droll fashion. For a time Glen forgot her exciting experiences of the afternoon, and Samson did not once allude to them. At length he arose and laid his hand upon Reynolds'

shoulder.

"Come, young man, it's time fer us to be goin' if the la.s.sie is to git any sleep," he reminded. "I know you'd like to sit here all night an'

watch. But she'll be as safe as in her own little nest at home. We'll be around early in the mornin', remember, Miss."

Glen held out her hand as she bade each good night. Reynolds held her hand for a few seconds and looked lovingly into her tired eyes. How he longed to put his arms around her to comfort her and tell her how brave and n.o.ble she was. But no, he would not do that now, as she might resent it. Instead, he merely bent his head, and lifting her hand touched it lightly with his lips, and hurried out of the building.

Alone in the little room that night, ere she laid herself down upon the rough cot, Glen pressed her hand to her lips and kissed the spot where her lover's lips had rested. Tired though she was, a sweet peace stole into her heart. Forgotten was Curly, and she thought only of him she had rescued, and of whose love she felt a.s.sured.

Frontier Samson made no allusion to Reynolds' presence at Big Draw. He never even asked what had befallen him when he was lost out in the hills. This did not seem strange to Reynolds for a while, as his mind was much filled with the stirring events of the night. But when lying wrapped up in his blankets in his tent he thought it all over, and the silence of the prospector did seem strange. Then he remembered that Samson had been at the cabin in the hills, and no doubt Weston had told him the whole story.

No reference was made to the matter the next day until they were well advanced on the trail. Glen was like her former self once more after her refreshing sleep, and the color had again returned to her cheeks, She was full of spirit and animation, and laughed gaily at Samson's quaint remarks as he rode by her side wherever the trail permitted.

Reynolds, too, was happy, and Glen's buoyant cheerfulness affected him like magic. To listen to her voice and merry laughter made him perfectly contented. Life was very pleasant to him this morning, with the dark clouds all rolled away.

Suddenly a moose appeared on the trail ahead, which gazed for an instant upon the riders, and then bounded off into the woods.

"Like to chase it, eh?" Samson queried, as he looked quizzically at Reynolds.

"Not this time," was the laughing reply. "I have learned a lesson."

"In the school of experience, I guess. It's the only school in which some people'll ever learn anything."

"Chiefly babies and fools, so I've heard," Reynolds replied. "I was certainly a fool, all right, for not obeying orders and leaving a moose alone unless one is in need of meat. But, then, things turned out all right after all. If I had not got lost, I would not have reached Glen West as I did."

"An' not have found the gold, either."

"Why, did you hear about the discovery?" Reynolds eagerly asked.

"Sure. I heard all about it, an' how ye staked a claim fer yer old pardner, Frontier Samson. It was sartinly kind of ye to think of me."

"But I didn't stake any claim for you," Reynolds confessed, while his face crimsoned.

"Ye didn't, eh? An' we was pardners, too! Wall, that's queer."

"Oh, I am sorry," the young man acknowledged. "But I staked two claims, so you shall have one of them. How will that do?"

"No, thank ye. I've got enough to do me, I guess, to the end of me tether. An', besides, mebbe you'll need a hull gold mine to keep a-goin' by the looks of things. Women need a lot these days." His eyes twinkled as he turned them upon Glen's face, and noted that she was blushing, for she understood the meaning of his words. "But, then, it'll all depend upon the woman," he continued, "Now, some wouldn't be satisfied with a dozen gold mines, while others would be perfectly contented with a little log shack, so long as the place was built of love. I guess that'd be the way with you, Miss, from what I've seen of ye. But, h.e.l.lo! who's this? Why, it's the rascal Dan, I do believe!

He seems to be in a hurry."

And Dan certainly was in a hurry. He was not at all inclined to talk, but anxious to get along as fast as possible.

"What's yer rush?" Samson asked.

"I want to get to Big Draw before night," was the curt reply.