The Yukon Trail Part 16

"Sure there is. But when he is friendliest you want to watch out he don't slip an upper cut at you that'll put you out of biz. He done that to Farrell--and done it a-plenty."

"How?"

"O'Neill got mellowed up till he thought Mac was his best friend.

He was ready to eat out of his hand. So Mac works him up to sign a contract--before witnesses too; trust Mac for that--exchanging his half-interest in the claim for five hundred dollars in cash and Mac's no-'count lease on Frenchman Creek. Inside of a week Mac and Strong struck a big pay streak. They took over two hundred thousand from the spring clean-up."

"It was nothing better than robbery."

"Call it what you want to. Anyhow, it stuck. O'Neill kicked, and that's all the good it did him. He consulted lawyers at Dawson. Finally he got so discouraged that he plumb went to pieces--got on a long bat and stayed there till his money ran out. Then one bitter night he starts up to Bonanza to have it out with Mac. The mercury was so low it had run into the ground a foot. Farrell slept in a deserted cabin without a fire and not enough bedding. He caught pneumony. By the time he reached the claim he was a mighty sick man. Next week he died. That's all Mac done to O'Neill. Not a thing that wasn't legal either."

Gordon thought of Sheba O'Neill as she sat listening to the tales of Macdonald in Diane's parlor and his gorge rose at the man.

"But Mac had fell on his feet all right," continued Holt. "He got his start off that claim. Now he's a millionaire two or three times over, I reckon."

They reached the outskirts of Kamatlah about noon of the third day.

Gordon left Holt at his cabin after they had eaten and went in alone to look the ground over. He met Selfridge at the post-office. That gentleman was effusive in his greeting.

"This _is_ a pleasant surprise, Mr. Elliot. When did you get in?

Had no idea you were coming or I'd have asked you for the pleasure of your company. I'm down on business, of course. No need to tell you that--n.o.body would come to this hole for any other reason. Howland and his wife are the only possible people here. Hope you play bridge."

Elliot played it, but he did not say so. It was his business not to be drawn into entangling alliances.

"Of course you'll put up with me as my guest," Selfridge flowed on.

"I've wanted to meet you again ever since we were on the Hannah together."

This was a little too cheeky. Gordon recalled with some amus.e.m.e.nt how this tubby little man and his friends had ignored the existence of Sheba O'Neill and himself for several days.

He answered genially. "Pleasant time we had on the river, didn't we?

Thanks awfully for your invitation, but I've already made arrangements for putting up."

"Where? There's no decent place in camp except at Howland's. He keeps open house for our friends."

"I couldn't think of troubling him," countered Gordon.

"No trouble at all. We'll send for your things. Where are they?"

The land agent let him have it right between the eyes. "At Gideon Holt's. I'm staying with him on his claim."

Wally had struck a match to light a cigarette, but this simple statement petrified him. His jaw dropped and his eyes bulged. Not till the flame burned his fingers did he come to life.

"Did you say you were staying--with Gid Holt?" he floundered weakly.

Gordon noticed that his florid face had lost its color. The jaunty c.o.c.k-sureness of the man had flickered out like the flame of the charred match.

"Yes. He offered to board me," answered the young man blandly.

"But--I didn't know he was here--seems to me I had heard--somewhere--that he was away."

"He was away. But he has come back." Gordon gave the information without even a flash of mirth in his steady eyes.

Selfridge could not quite let the subject alone. "Seems to me I heard he went prospecting."

"He did. Up Wild-Goose Creek, with Big Bill Macy and two other men. But I asked him to come back with me--and he did."

Feebly Wally groped for the clue without finding it. Had Big Bill sold him out? And how had Elliot got into touch with him?

"Just so, Mr. Elliot. But really, you know, Howland can make you a great deal more comfortable than Holt. His wife is a famous cook. I'll have a man go get your traps."

"It's very good of you, but I think I won't move."

"Oh, but you must. Holt's nutty--n.o.body at home, you know. Everybody knows that."

"Is he? The old man struck me as being remarkably clear-headed. By the way, I want to thank you for sending a relief party out to find me, Mr.

Selfridge. Except for your help I would have died in the hills."

This was another facer for Wally. What the devil did the fellow mean?

The deuce of it was that he knew all the facts and Wally did not. He talked as if he meant it, but behind those cool eyes there might lie either mockery or irony. One thing alone stood out to Selfridge like a sore thumb. His plans had come tumbling down like a house of cards.

Either Big Bill had blundered amazingly, or he had played traitor.

In either case Wally could guess pretty shrewdly whose hide Macdonald would tan for the failure. The chief wanted results. He did not ask of his subordinates how they got them. And this was the second time in succession that Selfridge had come to grief.

CHAPTER XI

GORDON INVITES HIMSELF TO DINNER--AND DOES NOT ENJOY IT

Big Bill and his companions reached Kamatlah early next day. They reported at once to Selfridge. It had been the intention of Wally to vent upon them the bad temper that had been gathering ever since his talk with Elliot. But his first sarcastic question drew such a snarl of anger that he reconsidered. The men were both sullen and furious. They let him know roundly that if Holt made them any trouble through the courts, they would tell all they knew.

The little man became alarmed. Instead of reproaches he gave them soft words and promises. The company would see them through. It would protect them against criminal procedure. But above all they must stand pat in denial. A conviction would be impossible even if the State's attorney filed an indictment against them. Meanwhile they would remain on the company pay-roll.

Gordon Elliot was a trained investigator. Even without Holt at his side he would probably have unearthed the truth about the Kamatlah situation.

But with the little miner by his side to tell him the facts, he found his task an easy one.

Selfridge followed orders and let him talk with the men freely. All of them had been drilled till they knew their story like parrots. They were suspicious of the approaches of Elliot, but they had been warned that they must appear to talk candidly. The result was that some talked too much and some not enough. They contradicted themselves and one another.

They let slip admissions under skillful examination that could be explained on no other basis than that of company ownership.

Both Selfridge and Howland outdid themselves in efforts to establish close social relations. But Gordon was careful to put himself under no obligations. He called on the Howlands, but he laughingly explained why he could not accept the invitations of Mrs. Howland to dinner.

"I have to tell things here as I see them, and may not have your point of view. How can I accept your hospitality and then report that I think your husband ought to be sent up for life?"

She was a good, motherly woman and she laughed with him. But she did wish this pleasant young fellow could be made to take the proper view of things.

Within two weeks Elliot had finished his work at Kamatlah.

"Off for Kusiak to-morrow," he told Holt that night.