The Great Gold Rush Part 20

When exhaustion had overtaken the first reader another took his place, till the owner of the newspaper was inspired to claim it and cry,

"To the Pioneer Hall, boys, and hear the full account of the biggest sea fight that was ever pulled off!--admission only one dollar."

It is said that the celebration of Admiral Dewey's victory at Manilla caused the dogs in Dawson, numbering many thousands, to leave for the hills and stay there for the s.p.a.ce of three days!

Having bought the supplies, the next problem before the companions was to find Frank. They entered the Borealis: he was not there. Hugh suggested that his two companions should wait in the saloon while he sought the truant in other places of revelry. They remained, glad to sit, watch, and smoke, in the shaded comfort of a curtained recess.

Presently a man of giant heavy figure, with face coa.r.s.e and brutal in every line, stalked into the motley crowd. His ma.s.sive forehead suggested a power of brain; while his lower face showed the lines of a masterful spirit. A part of his left ear was missing; and, from the size and shape of the cut, one could readily believe the popular legend that this disfigurement had been gained in a camp brawl, and was caused by another man's teeth! To complete this awesome personality, there was a cast in one eye.

A whisper went through the crowd--"Poo-Bah!"

This, then, was the prince of grafters, the all-powerful of that region.

As Poo-Bah walked towards the dancers every eye was on him; and if any face denoted anything save disgust and loathing, it was fear. A girl slid up to him and said, in a tone of confident familiarity, "Hullo!

Poo-Bah. How's my baby to-night?"

"I told you not to call me that!" he answered fiercely.

"What--baby?"

"No, Poo-Bah!"

"That's what they call you," she said with a strange affectation of simplicity.

"Well, they won't make friends with me by doing so," he boomed, "and I'm a pretty good friend to have."

"Ain't you going to buy the wine?"

"I suppose so; but ain't you got that thirst of yours wet up yet?"

"I've got to live."

Just then Poo-Bah and the girl, popularly known as "Round-Eyes," were joined by two men. One was a strong big fellow with a bronzed face, who had been a master-mariner. The other was Hardman, the record clerk of the Gold Commissioner's office, evil-looking and a weakling. His small black eyes were watery.

"Hullo, fellows! The lady has suggested wine. Will you help us clean up a bottle or two?"

"Sure thing!" replied the "Cap."

Hardman was glad to agree. His eyes were watching the face of his lord, with the same expression as s.h.i.+nes in the eyes of a hungry cur watching his master feast. Both the Cap and he had tales of woe to tell: their troubles lay sore upon them.

The party entered the booth against which John and George were sitting.

As they entered and seated themselves, the two friends could hear their voices through the hangings. At first there was nothing in the words they spoke that their brazen natures would not have willingly advanced to all the world--at least, to all Dawson's world; but later the wine made them forget. They had not realized that the wall of their compartment was only a blanket.

"Two bottles of wine!" Poo-Bah demanded. The waiter brought the bottles and gla.s.ses, and Poo-Bah signed the "tab."

"Now you pay that tab, or I don't get no percentage," said the girl.

"Suppose I don't pay," answered he: "you know these d.a.m.n fools from the creeks will buy all kinds of wine just to have the honour of drinking with my girl--ain't that right?"

"I guess it is," she answered, with a cold unpleasant laugh. "Because men are fools makes life easy for you and me--ain't that right?"

"Look here, I've got a kick coming," said the mariner, thumping his knee with a fist like mahogany.

"What's the matter, Cap?"

"I wrote the doctor to get me appointed as Collector of Royalty."

"You did, sure; and I backed you up: but I heard you got your appointment in the mail that got in to-day."

"Sure thing, I did."

"Well--what are you growling about? You don't want to be told how to make a dollar or two on a job like that!"

"It's going all wrong."

"What's the trouble?"

"I went down to see Smoothbore" (Smoothbore was the nickname of the head of the police), "and told him I had orders for him to put me on collecting. I guess I may have looked a little bit as if I thought I owned the earth; but I sure reckoned myself on easy street as soon as I got collecting! Well, Smoothbore, he sizes me up a bit. I guess he kind of felt I knew how to take a few ounces out of a poke and make up the weight in black sand--and then he says: 'I guess I'll send you to Thistle Creek'--Thistle Creek!--h.e.l.l! They won't clean up a hundred dollars in that creek this summer; and if you'll show me how I can work a graft there, I'll be obliged."

"Anyhow, two hundred and fifty dollars a month will keep you going till something better turns up."

"Two hundred and fifty dollars a month ain't even a flea-bite, seeing what it costs to live like a gentleman in Dawson. You can't eat under ten dollars a day!" His voice faded in a growl. Poo-Bah took up the running.

"The thing is, we've got to get Smoothbore relieved from command here.

He puts backbone even into Hi-u Bill" (Hi-u Bill was the District Commissioner). "We've got to get a putty man."

The others agreed cordially. John and his companion, who had before felt like going, looked at each other, and silently decided to stay.

"What kick have you got, Hardie?" they heard Poo-Bah ask.

"Kick!" whined the little man. "I've got lots of kick. We had a row in the office to-day."

"I heard something of that. What was the row?"

"Some Australians came in." John and George looked at each other and grimly smiled. "I sized it up that they had staked something rich. I tried to tell them that the creek they wanted to record on was all taken up--intending, of course, to put you in on discovery."

"Yes, yes."

"Well--the c.o.c.kneys just pulled five guns and said, 'Record those claims.' I made a break as if to get the books, intending to get out the back door; but the old man comes out of his office and catches on. He turns white around the gills, and says, 'Record those claims.' Of course, I just had to give record!"

"But where does Smoothbore come in?"

"He comes in all right. I'm just from him now. I went down after supper to see him to find out if an example could not be made of the c.o.c.kneys--thinking if we got them on the wood-pile[9] we would have a chance at their claims after all. He was alone, walking up and down the mess. 'Sit down,' he says, and I sits. 'What is it?' I had to tell him the story straight. You see, he is a hard man to lie to, and I knew he already had the story. After I got down to telling him of the old man ordering me to record the claims, he says, 'And you recorded them?'

'Yes,' says I. 'The men did not ask you for any money?' 'No.' 'In fact, they only desired to a.s.sist your memory to the point that you had never before recorded the claims they asked for?' 'I guess so,' says I. 'This is what you must say if you give evidence against them.' And then I thinks a bit, and I says, 'You couldn't give them twenty-four hours to get out of the country, could you?' 'No,' says he; 'if I do anything I arrest them and bring them to trial, which I will do as soon as you swear out information.' 'I guess I won't do that,' I says. Now, look here, Poo-B----, oh, all right, Smoothbore ain't with us, he's against us, and it's up to you to get him fired." Hardman had ended his long speech.

[9] In jail.

"It might not be easy," said the heavy man thoughtfully.