Gold Part 42

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

THE PRISONERS

I had no great difficulty in persuading the immigrants to rest over.

"To tell you the truth," the narrator confided to me, "I don't know where we're going. We have no money. We've got to get work somehow. I don't know now why we came."

His name, he told me, was George Woodruff; he had been a lawyer in a small Pennsylvania town; his total possessions were now represented by the remains of his ox team, his wagon, and the blankets in which he slept. The other man was his brother Albert, and the woman his sister-in-law.

"We started with four wagons and a fine fit-out of supplies," he told me--"food enough to last two years. This is what we have left. The cattle aren't in bad shape now though; and they are extra fine stock.

Perhaps I can sell them for a little."

Two days pa.s.sed. We arose the morning of the third to find that the oxen had strayed away during the night. Deciding they could not have wandered far, I went to my gold washing as usual, leaving Woodruff and his brother to hunt them up. About ten o'clock they came to my claim very much troubled.

"We can't find them anywhere," they told me, "and it doesn't seem natural that they should stray far; they are too tired."

I knocked off work, and returned with them to the flat, where we proceeded to look for tracks. The earth was too hard and tramped to show us much, and after a half hour of fruitless examination we returned to camp with the intention of eating something before starting out on a serious search. While thus engaged the express messengers rode up.

"Hullo!" said Johnny cheerfully. "Glad to hear you made such a good thing out of your cattle!"

He caught our stare of surprise, swung from his horse and advanced on us with three swift strides.

"You haven't sold them?" he exclaimed.

"We've been looking for them all the morning."

"Stolen, boys!" he cried to his companions. "Here's our job! Come on!"

He leaped on his horse in the headlong, graceful fashion the boys had cultivated at the relay station, and, followed by Cal and Old, dashed away.

We made nothing definite of this, though we had our surmises to exchange. As the boys had not returned an hour later, I resumed my digging while the Woodruffs went over to visit with Yank, who was now out of bed. Evening came, with no sign of our friends. We turned in at last.

Some time after midnight we were awakened by the shuffling and lowing of driven cattle, and went out into the moonlight to see our six oxen, just released from herding, plunging their noses thirstily into the little stream from the spring. Five figures on horseback sat motionless in the background behind them. When the cattle had finished drinking, the hors.e.m.e.n, riding in two couples and one single, turned them into the flat, and then came over to our camp.

After they had approached within plain sight we saw that the single horseman was Cal Marsh; and that Johnny and Old each led an animal on which a man was tied, his arms behind him, his feet shackled beneath the horse's barrel.

"Here, you fellows," said Johnny in a low voice, "just catch hold here and help with these birds."

The three descended rather wearily from their horses, the lead lines of which Cal held while the rest unshackled the prisoners and helped them to dismount. They were both known to me, one as the big desperado, Malone; and the other as the barkeeper at Morton's place, our old friend of Chagres days. The latter's head was roughly bound with a b.l.o.o.d.y cloth. Under Johnny's direction we tied them firmly. He issued his orders in a low-voiced, curt fashion that precluded anything but the most instant and silent obedience.

"There," said he at last, "they'll do. Chuck them inside where they'll be out of sight. Now about those two horses----"

"I'll just run 'em up to the Dutchman's Flat and stake 'em out thar,"

interposed Old. "Thar ain't no one thar; and they won't be discovered."

"Well," conceded Johnny, "if your horse isn't too tired."

"She'll make it," replied Old confidently.

"Now for our horses," said Johnny. "Won't do to be getting in at this time of night. It doesn't look natural. Don't believe we can get them to the stable without being spotted. Maybe you'd better stake them up there too. Can you walk back?"

"I reckon," said Old.

He tied the four led horses together, mounted, took the lead rope from Cal, and rode off up the gulch.

Cal came to the fire and sat down. I was instantly struck by his ghastly appearance.

"Cal's bored through the shoulder," Johnny explained. "Now, Jim, you've got to go up and get Dr. Rankin. He lives at Barnes's hotel, you know.

Barnes is all right; bring him down, too, if you happen to wake him up.

Go around to Danny Randall's quietly and tell him we want to see him. He sleeps in that little back room. Throw some pebbles against the stovepipe; that'll wake him up. Look out he doesn't pot you. Don't let anybody see you if you can possibly help; and tell the others to slip out here quietly, too. Do you understand all that?"

"I see what I'm to do," I a.s.sented; "but let me in! What's it all about?"

"We met these men and three others driving Woodruff's oxen this morning," said Johnny rapidly. "Stopped and had quite a chat with them.

They told what sounded like a straight story of having bought the oxen.

I knew Woodruff wanted to sell. Didn't suppose they'd have the nerve to lift them right under our noses. Guess they hadn't an idea they'd meet us on the road. We were taking the lower trail just for a change. So as soon as we got the news from you, we went back, of course. They suspected trouble, and had turned off. Old and Cal are wonders at trailing. Came up with them just beyond Bitter Water, and monkeyed around quite a while before we got a favourable chance to tackle them.

Then we took the cattle away and brought back these birds. That's all there was to it."

"You said five. Where are the other three?"

"Killed 'em," said Johnny briefly. "Now run along and do your job."

After some delay and difficulty I fulfilled my instructions, returning at last in company with Danny Randall, to find my friends sitting around the little fire, and Dr. Rankin engaged in bathing Cal's wound. Johnny was repeating his story, to which the others were listening attentively.

"I learned a little more of this sort of thing in Sacramento," he was concluding. "And I'd like to state this right here and now: practical jokes on these immigrants are poor taste as far as I am concerned from now on. That's my own private declaration of war."

"Let's take a look at your birds, Johnny," suggested Randall.

I brought out the prisoners and stacked them up against the trees. They gave us back look for look defiantly.

"You won't live a week after this," said the Morton man, whose name was Carhart, addressing Johnny.

"I'll just have a look at your head, my friend," said Dr. Rankin.

The man bent his head, and the doctor began to remove the b.l.o.o.d.y bandages.

"Question is," said Johnny, "what do we do with them?"

Danny was thinking hard.

"One of two things," said he at length: "We can string them up quietly, and leave them as a warning; or we can force matters to a showdown by calling a public meeting."

"Question is," said I, "whether we can get anybody with nerve enough to serve as officers of court, or, indeed, to testify as witnesses."

"You said a true word there," put in Carhart with an oath.