Shadow Mountain Part 21

He followed her trail to where it had been trampled out by the watchman in making his regular rounds; and then, below the mill, he picked it up again as it went on down the path. Not once had she hesitated or turned from the beaten trail, but she had gone down after the graveyard s.h.i.+ft. That went on at eleven and her tracks were superimposed on the hob-nailed boot-marks of the miners. When they had come off s.h.i.+ft they had trampled them out again, except for a print here and there; and by the color of the dust Wiley shrewdly judged that she had visited him between twelve and one. Between the wind-blown footprints of the night-s.h.i.+ft and the fresh red of the day s.h.i.+ft as they had mounted the trail at seven, her high-arched steps had been made about midnight, for the dust had been whitened by the air. Wiley followed them silently, trampling them out as he went, and that night as the graveyard s.h.i.+ft came on he slipped out and hid by the trail. What kind of a watchman was this, who let a woman come and go and never even saw her tracks in the dust? He could watch for Virginia; and meanwhile, incidentally, he could keep tab on this sleepy-headed guard.

The _chuh_, _chuh_ of the engine echoed loud in the canyon as the hoist brought up the first cars, and then the rumble of the trams as they were pushed down the track and the clatter of the ore down the grizzly. A sharp _blap_, _blap_, from the compressor showed that the machine-men had set up their drills; and beneath all the rest there was the hushed rumble of the mill and the thunderous _rhump_, _rhump_, of the rock-breaker. It was a ponderous affair of the old jaw-type, surmounted by a fly-wheel of a full ton's weight that drove it rhythmically on; and as Wiley listened it made a music for his ears as sweet as any ba.s.s viol. In this mine of his there was an orchestration of busy sounds, from the clang of the bell to start or stop the engine, to this deep, rumbling undertone of the crusher; and every clang and crunch brought him that much nearer to the day when he would be free.

He took shelter within the black mouth of a short tunnel by the trail and looked out at his little world--the huge mill, dimly lighted, the gaunt gallows-frame against the sky, and the sleeping town below. He had made them his own and now he must fight for them; and watch over them, day and night. Above him the stars shone out clean and cold, a million of them in the dry, desert air; and in the east the half moon rose up slowly above Gold Hill, where the wealth of ages lay hid. It had given up its gold but his hand had struck the blow that would open up its treasure vaults of tungsten. All it needed now was watchfulness and patience. The moon rose up higher and he dozed within the shadow and then a sound brought him to with a start. It was the crunch of gravel on the trail before him and as he looked out he saw Virginia.

CHAPTER XXII

VIRGINIA EXPLAINS--NOTHING

She was covered by a cloak and there was a man's hat on her head, but Wiley knew her--it was Virginia Huff. The moon had mounted high and the chill of the morning was in the air, so he could hardly flatter himself that she had come to see him. Perhaps it was just to see the mine. But if, beneath that cloak, she carried some instrument of destruction--he stepped out and watched her covertly. She tiptoed up the trail, glancing nervously about her, starting back as a trammer dumped his ore; and then, very slowly, she crept past his house and disappeared in the direction of the mill. Instantly he whipped out of his tunnel and started after her, running swiftly up the trail; but as he neared the summit she came catapulting against him, running as swiftly the other way.

"Here! Stop!" he commanded as she leapt back with a stifled scream and then as she made a dash he plunged resolutely after her and caught her like a child.

"You let go of me!" she panted, but he flung one arm about her and held both her hands to her side.

"No," he said, and she struck out violently only to find herself clutched the tighter.

"Wiley Holman!" she exploded, "if you don't let me go! You'd better--I saw a man back there!"

"It's my watchman," answered Wiley. "I keep him to guard the mill. But what are you doing up here?"

"No! It wasn't! It was Stiff Neck George! And he had something heavy in his hand! You'd better go and watch him!"

She was struggling in his arms, her breath hot against his cheek, fear and rage in every word, but he crushed her roughly to his side.

"Never mind about George," he said. "What are _you_ doing up here, now?"

"But he'll blow up your mine! I've heard him threaten to! I just came up to tell you!"

"Oh, that's different!" returned Wiley, relaxing his grip, "but never mind--my watchman will get him."

"No! The watchman is asleep--I didn't see him anywhere! Oh, Wiley; please run and stop him!"

"Nope," replied Wiley, "he can blow the whole mill up--I want to ask you a question."

He released her reluctantly, for the touch of her had thrilled him, and the sweetness of her breath on his cheek--but she darted down the trail like a rabbit.

"Here! Wait!" he ordered and outran her in ten jumps, at which she stooped and s.n.a.t.c.hed up a rock.

"Put that down!" he said, and as she swung back the rock, he braved it and caught her anyway. "Now," he went on, trembling from the smash of the blow, but holding her in a grip of steel, "we'll see what all this is about!"

"You will not!" she hissed back, "because I won't answer you a word! And I hope old George ruins your mill!"

"That's all right," he said, shaking his b.l.o.o.d.y head, "but, Judas, you did smash me with that stone! After that, I guess, I've got something coming to me!" And he reached down and kissed her lips.

"You--stop!" she panted. "Oh, I--I'll kill you for that!" But Wiley only laughed recklessly.

"All right!" he said, "what's the difference--I'd die happy! I almost wish you'd hit me again."

"Well, I will!" she threatened, but when he released her she drew back and hung her head. "That isn't fair," she said, "you know I can't protect myself, and----"

"Well, all right," he agreed, "we'll call it square then. But--I want to tell you something, Virginia."

"Are you going to stand here," she burst out sharply, "and let him blow up your mill?"

"Yes, I am," he answered. "I don't care what happens to me if you and I can be friends. I love you, Virginia, you know it as well as I do, and that's all I want in the world. Let's just be friends, the way we used to be when we were playing around town together. I've been trying to see you for months--it's seemed like forty years--and Virginia, you've got to listen to me!"

He paused and drew nearer, and she stood waiting pa.s.sively, as if daring him to touch her again; but he stooped and peered into her face. The night was not dark and in the ghostly moonlight he could see the cold anger in her eyes.

"Yes, I know," he said, "you hate me like poison--but Virginia, this is going too far. It's all right to hate me, if that's the way you're built, but you ought to give me a chance. It looks very much as if you'd come up here to-night to do some damage to my mine; but I'll let that pa.s.s and say nothing about it if you'll only give me a chance. Let me tell you how I feel and then, some other time----"

"Well, go on," she said, "but if your old mine blows up----"

"I wish it would!" he burst out pa.s.sionately. "If it would make any difference, I wish it was blown off the map. I can't bear to fight you, Virginia; it makes my life miserable, and I've tried to be friendly from the first. But is it right to blame a man for something he can't help and not even give him a chance to explain? If you think I've stolen your mine, why, go ahead and say so and let me give it back. I'll do it, so help me G.o.d, if you'll only say the word."

"What word?" she asked, and he threw out his hands in a helpless appeal to her pity.

"Any word," he said, "so long as it's friendly. But I just can't stand it to be without you!"

"Oh," she said, and looked back up the trail as if meditating another dash to escape.

"Well, what is it?" he asked at last. "Won't you even listen to me? I've got a plan to propose."

"Why, certainly," she responded, "go ahead and tell it. And then, when it's done, can I go?"

"Yes, you can go," he answered eagerly, "if you'll only just listen reasonably and think what this means to us both. We used to be friends, Virginia, and while I was working up this deal I did everything I could to help you. I didn't have much money then or I'd have done more for you, but you know my heart was right. I wasn't trying to take advantage of you. But the minute I got the mine it seems as if everybody turned against me--and you turned against me, too. That hurt me, Virginia, after what I'd tried to do for you, but I know you had your reasons. You blamed me for things that I never had done and--well, you wouldn't even speak to me. But that was all right--it was perfectly natural--and on Christmas I sent you back your stock. I only bought it from Charley to help you get to Los Angeles, and I considered that I was holding it in trust; so I sent it back by Charley, but I suppose he made some break, because I found it on my table that night. But you'll take it back now; won't you, Virginia?"

His voice broke like a boy's in the earnestness of his appeal and yet it was hopeless, too, for he saw that she stood unmoved. He waited for an answer, then as she s.h.i.+fted her feet impatiently he went on with dogged persistence. It was useless, he knew it; and yet, sometime in the future, she might recall what he had said and take advantage of it.

"Well, all right, then," he a.s.sented, "but the stock's yours if you want it. I'm holding it for you, in trust. But now here's what I wanted to tell you--I'd hoped we could do it together; but you ought to do it, anyway. You know that stock that your mother lost to Blount? Well, I know how you can get it back."

He paused for her to speak, to exclaim perhaps at his magnanimity in offering to help her against her will, but she shrouded herself pettishly in her cloak.

"Oh, you don't care, eh?" he asked with a bitter laugh. "Well, I wish to G.o.d, then, I didn't. But I do, Virginia! I can't stand it to see you slaving when there's anything in the world that I can do. Now here's the proposition: according to law your father isn't legally dead--he won't be for seven years--and so your mother, not being his heir yet, had no right to hypothecate that stock. It still belongs to your father's estate and all you have to do is to go to a lawyer and demand the property back. You're his daughter, you see, and a co-heir with your mother, and Blount will not dare to oppose it!"

"Yes, thanks," returned Virginia. "Is that all?"

"Why--no!" he said at last, clutching his hands at his side.

"There's--I'll lend you the money, Virginia."

"No, thank you!" she answered, and started off down the trail, but he stepped in her way and stopped her. His mood had changed, for his voice was rough and threatening, but he struggled to keep it down.

"Is that all?" he demanded and without waiting for the answer he reached out and caught her by the arm. "Virginia," he said, "I've tried to be good to you, but maybe you don't appreciate it. And maybe I've made a mistake. There's something about you when I'm around that reminds me of a man with a grouch--only a man would speak out his mind. Now I've given you a chance to clean up twenty thousand dollars and I expect something more than: 'No, thanks!'"