Lost in the Canon Part 21

"Yes, I heard of that, Collins."

"Wa'al, the man's back--"

"And the boy-Sam Willett?" cried Hank.

"Couldn't be found," stammered Collins.

"Why not?"

"He wasn't thar."

"No," added Brill, "he wasn't no whar in sight."

"And the other folks, the black boy, the Chinee and the young Ute, Ulna, what came here with me an Mr. Willett and went back again when we was took prizners?"

"No one knows; they wasn't in sight."

"Drownded out!" gasped Hank.

"No, the folks think they tried to git away by swimmin' or making a raft," said Collins.

"They might as well try to fly. Ah, this is bad news; mighty bad news.

I'd rather die mysel', and I know Mr. Willett would rather die a thousand times over than to lose that boy. Did you ever see young Sam Willett, gents?"

The partners shook their heads and said they never had seen young Sam Willett.

"Wa'al," continued Hank, with a sob in his voice, "he wasn't what you and me mout think a full-growed man, but never a braver nor a handsomer lad ever crossed them Sierras off thar to the east. He was a gentleman, young Sam was, from the ground up; he couldn't think anything mean, much less do it. Ah, why should men like you, and me, and others be left and him be took? I don't see how I can bring mysel' to tell his father, for he was all Mr. Willett had left, and he won't keer any more for life when he hears this."

"It's mighty tough on the old man," coughed Brill, "not to mention his other troubles; but as he's got to know it sooner or later, my pard and me thought you'd better tell him."

"Wa'al, if I must I 'spose I must; but I tell you what, boys, I'd jest as soon you'd order me out to be shot. In fact I'd a heap sight rather be shot, if I was only sure that my dyin' would bring back young Sam Willett to life."

Brushing his sleeve across his eyes, Hank turned away to hide his feelings, and the partners went silently back to the cl.u.s.ter of tents and buildings that was known as "the camp."

We have already seen something of the love that existed between Mr.

Willett and his son.

Apart from the affection natural to their relationship, these two were still more strongly attached to each other by the fact that they were alone in the world and the exclusive object of each other's most profound affections.

We shall not attempt to describe the manner in which Hank Tims communicated the news to the already much afflicted father, but it should be said that he acquitted himself with a tenderness hardly to be expected from one of his rough exterior and rude life.

There are blows so crushing to the human heart that they fall without being followed by a sign of pain or a cry of agony.

The sting of a bee will call out a shout from the strongest man, but the bullet that taps the fountain of life is received with ashy but silent lips.

All the color left Mr. Willett's face, and he fell back on the blankets on which he had been sitting.

He looked as if he were dying, and Hank, to redress the effects of the blow he had been forced to deal, sprang forward, and putting his arms about Mr. Willett's shoulder, he said, though he had not the slightest faith in his own words:

"Thar ain't no doubt in my mind but the boys made a raft. Sam was sharp, and thar was lots of timber to do it."

"But that would only be going to death," said Mr. Willett faintly and slowly.

"Oh, not by a long odds. Thar's lots and lots of places lower down whar they might get out easy. Now, let's jest have patience; thar ain't nothin' like a good stock of patience. Why, it wouldn't s'prise me not a bit if I was to see Sam and the hull caboodle of 'em walk into the door of this dugout this blessed minute," and Hank fixed his eyes steadily on the opening, as if he were quite prepared for this phenomenon.

Leaving Hank Tims to fan the faint ray of hope he had kindled in the afflicted father's heart, let us give a few minutes to reporting the conduct of the two men who were the authors of all this trouble.

There were some very bad men at Hurley's Gulch, as there are bad men in any gathering the world over, but in justice it should be said that a majority aimed to do as near right as they knew how.

Men's ideas of right and wrong vary with their training and their natural abilities to weigh evidence and comprehend truth. But even those men who are rude in their bearing, or even vicious in their lives, have their hearts touched by a death that brings great sorrow to some fond, loving heart.

So when the people at Hurley's Gulch began to think over Mr. Willett's loss, they forgot for the time the grave offence with which he was charged, and expressed themselves as very sorry for the death of his boy.

This change of feeling did not escape the ever wide-awake observation of Frank Shirley.

He was a pretty good judge of human nature, and so he thought it wiser not to say anything at this time. Indeed, he played his part so well that he expressed to the crowd, whom he kept attached to him by frequent treating, that he was very sorry for young Sam Willett's loss.

"He was a cousin of mine," sighed Shirley, "and not a bit like his father."

How could the people know that the death of Sam Willett was the one object that brought Shirley to this land, and how could they know that the life of the n.o.ble youth was the one thing that stood between this fellow and a large fortune.

"I tell you, Mr. Shirley," said Badger to his employer the day after the reception of the news from Gold Cave Camp, "you're a keen one. Oh, you ken play it fine-finer'n any one I ever seed."

"Do you think so, Badger?" said Shirley, flattered by this compliment to his talent for crime.

"Yes, I do. In a day or two the boys'll forgit all about the death of young Willett. Then you ken swing in on the murder of Tom Edwards again, and make them do jest as you please."

"Well, I'll try," replied the jubilant Shirley.

CHAPTER XVIII.-IN THE RAPIDS.

The bravest soldier, no matter how cool his bearing, feels a sense of awe and dread when the rattle of rifles along the skirmish line tells him that the murderous battle has begun.

If there be men who never felt fear under such nerve-trying circ.u.mstances, then they certainly deserve no credit, for true courage consists in the determination to face a danger while fully comprehending its awful possibilities.

Sam Willett wisely decided not to picture to Ike and Wah Shin the dangers that lay before them; but while doing this he did not attempt to hide from himself the fact that within a few hours himself and his faithful companions might be the dead playthings of the wild waters.

As calmly and sternly as the cavalry leader wheels his battalions into line in front of the murderous artillery which he intends to charge, Sam Willett made his preparations for the pa.s.sage of the rapids.

He strengthened the raft and fastened to it their arms and blankets, and then to prevent their being washed off, or lost if they fell overboard, he insisted that each should tie a rope about his waist, the other end being fastened to the logs.

It was not until the last precautions against the danger that lay ahead were proposed that Ike began to feel greatly alarmed.

"Golly, Mistah Sam," he said, with trembling lips, "hitchin ob oursels to dese yar logs wif ropes looks to me kinder skittish."