The Furnace of Gold Part 5

"Not Mr. Bostwick, in his car?"

Van continued to study the gray of the world-wide map.

"I rather wonder----" he mused, and there he halted, presently adding, "He's climbing a hill. You might not think so, looking down from here, but it's steep and sandy, for a car."

She was watching eagerly.

"And he's no further along towards Goldite than this?"

"He's had some tough old going," answered Van. "He's in luck to----"

then to himself, as he continued to scan the scene for something he did not apparently find. "By Jupe! I'd have sworn Matt Barger----" He broke off abruptly, adding in a spirit of fairness, "Searle is getting right up to the ridge all right. Good boy! He must have a powerful motor under the--There! By George! I knew it! I knew it! Got him!

right there in the gravel!"

The girl looked suddenly upon him, wholly unable to comprehend the sharp exclamations he was making.

"What has got him? What do you mean?" she demanded in vague alarm. "I don't see what you----"

"That's Matt every time--I thought so," he resumed, as he stepped a little closer to the girl. "Don't you see them?--those lively little specks, swarming all around the machine?"

Beth bent her gaze on the drama, far below--a play in which she knew but one of the characters, and nothing of the meaning of the scene.

"I see--yes--something like a lot of tiny ants--or something. What are they?--not robbers?--not men?"

"Part men, part hyenas," he told her quietly. "It's a lot of State convicts, escaped from their prison, two days free--and desperate."

She was suddenly very pale. Her eyes were blazing.

"Convicts! Out of prison?"

"A good long way out," he told her watching, "and clever enough to hike for the mines, with the camps all full of strangers. They learn to be good mixers, when they're trying to escape."

Beth gazed at him searchingly.

"You--knew they were out--and waiting on the road?"

"Everyone knew they were out--and I certainly thought big Matt would do precisely what you see he has done."

"Matt?" she echoed.

"The leader," he explained, "a clever brute as ever worried a sheriff."

She was not in the least interested in the personality of the convict thus described. Her mind had flown to another aspect of the case--the case involving herself.

"And this was why you wouldn't let us go in the auto?" she said. "You expected this?"

He looked at her quickly.

"Searle wouldn't take my advice, you know." His eyes were once more merry. "What could I do?"

"But Mr. Bostwick wouldn't have gone if you had told him!" she said.

"Oh, I'm surprised you'd do it--let him go and be captured like that!"

She was looking down upon the silent drama intently as she added: "I don't see why you ever did it!"

He was still amused.

"Oh, I thought perhaps Searle deserved it."

She blazed a little.

"You told him you hoped he'd meet congenial company on the road. You didn't mean----"

"Guilty as charged in the indictment. I guess I did."

"Oh! I wouldn't have thought----" she started, then she shivered in horror, reflecting swiftly on the fate that might have befallen herself and Elsa had they too been captured with Searle. It was all explained at last--the horseman's earnest talk with Dave, his quiet but grim refusal to permit herself and Elsa to remain with the car, and the hazardous ride he had since dared compel them to take at such peril to his life! And now, his persistent advance on foot, when perhaps he was painfully injured! He had done then such a service as she could never in her life forget. His treatment of Searle had perhaps, even as he said, been deserved. Nevertheless, Searle was much to her, very much, indeed--or had been--up to this morning--and she was worried.

"What do you think they will do?" she added in a spirit of contrition that came at once upon her. "They must be terrible men!"

"They won't do much but take his money and clothes, and maybe beg for a ride," said Van rea.s.suringly. "They'll see he isn't fit to kill."

Beth glanced at him briefly, inquiringly. What a baffling light it was that played in the depths of his eyes! What manner of being was he, after all? She could not tell. And yet she felt she could trust him--she certainly knew not why. Despite his ways of raillery she felt he was serious, true as steel, and big in heart and nature.

"I mustn't forget to thank you," she murmured. "I mean for sparing us--all that. I do thank you, most sincerely, for----"

"Never mind that," he interrupted. "We're going to be late to lunch."

He turned once more to the trail and started off, in his active manner, together with a thorough indifference as to what became of Bostwick.

Beth, with a feeling that something ought yet to be done for Searle, down in the valley with the convicts, cast one helpless glance at the scene of the hold-up, then perforce urged her pony forward.

Van halted no more. He led the way doggedly onward, over the rises, through great silent forests, past crystal springs, and down dark, somber ravines. At a quarter of one he emerged from a gorge upon the level acre of a tiny cove, still high in the mountains fastnesses.

Here he let out a whoop like an Indian, its echo filling all the place.

An answering call came clearly from somewhere near at hand. Beth felt a sudden alarm to know there were human beings near. What sort they were was a matter entirely of conjecture. Then presently she discovered a number of small, rude buildings, and a fair-sized cabin, planted next the hill. The door of the latter was open. A tall man appeared in the frame.

"This," said Van, who had waited for the girl to ride once more to his side, "is the Monte Cristo mine--the worst false alarm that ever disfigured the map."

CHAPTER V

VAN'S PARTNERS

The Monte Cristo mining property comprised a tunnel in the hill, a glory hole, a little toy quartz-mill--five stamps strong--the bunk-house, kitchen, blacksmith-shop, stable, corral, and four human beings. These latter were a Chinese cook named Algy, a Piute Indian half-breed called Cayuse, and two rare souls--Napoleon G. Blink and "Gettysburg"--miners, and boastful old worthies, long partnered and beloved by Van.

Just at present the tunnel was empty, the glory-hole was deserted, and the quartz-mill was silent. The mine had proved a failure. Van had expended many thousands of dollars and ten months of time to demonstrate the facts; and now, in possession of much new experience, an indomitable spirit, two tired partners, and a brand-new claim, he was facing his fate, as heretofore, with a wonderful boyish cheer.

Not all this knowledge was vouchsafed to Beth when she and her maid were presently put in possession of the place. With the utmost gravity Van introduced her by old Dave's appellation, Miss Laughing Water. The maid he merely called Elsa. His explanation as to whence they hailed, whither they were bound, why he had taken them in charge, and how he had lost the pinto pony, was notable chiefly for its brevity. He and his charges were hungry and somewhat pressed for time, he announced, and he therefore urged Algy to haste.