The Girl of the Golden West Part 38

The hour that pa.s.sed before the time set for Johnson to leave the cabin was a most trying one for both of them. It was not so hard on the man, of course, for he was excited over the prospect of escaping; but the Girl, whose mind was filled with the dread of what might happen to him, had nothing to sustain her. Despite his objection, she had stipulated that, with Jackrabbit as a companion, she should accompany him to the outskirts of the camp. And so, at the moment of departure, throwing about her a cloak of some rough material, she went up to her lover and said with a quiver in her voice:

"I'm ready, d.i.c.k, but I'm a-figurin' that I can't let you go alone--you jest got to take me below with you, an' that's all there is to it."

The man shook his head.

"There's very little risk, believe me. I'll join Castro and ride all through the night. I'll be down below in no time at all. But we must be going, dear."

The man pa.s.sed through the door first. But when it came the Girl's turn she hesitated, for she had seen a dark shadow flit by the window. It was as if someone had been stealthily watching there. In another moment, however, it turned out to be Jackrabbit and, greatly relieved, the Girl whispered to Johnson that he was to descend the trail between the Indian and herself, and that on no account was he to utter a word until she gave him permission.

For another moment or so they stood in silence; Johnson, appreciating fully what were the Girl's feelings, did not dare to whisper even a word of encouragement to her. At last, she ordered the Indian to lead the way, and they started.

The trail curved and twisted around the mountain, and in places they had to use the greatest care lest a misstep should carry them over a precipice with a drop of hundreds of feet. It was a perilous descent, inasmuch as the path was covered with snow. Moreover, it was necessary that as little noise as possible should be made while they were making their way past the buildings of the camp below, for the Mexican had not been wrong when he stated that Ashby's men were quartered at, or in the immediate vicinity of, The Palmetto. Fortunately, they pa.s.sed through without meeting anyone, and before long they came to the edge of the plateau beneath which was the ravine which Johnson had to cross to reach the spot where it had been agreed that Castro should be waiting with horses for his master. It was also the place where the Girl was to leave her lover to go on alone, and so they halted. A few moments pa.s.sed without either of them speaking; at length, the man said in as cheery a voice as he could summon:

"I must leave you here. I remember the way well. All danger is past."

The Girl's lips were quivering; she asked:

"An' when will you be back?"

The man noted her emotion, and though he himself was conscious of a choking sensation he contrived to say in a most optimistic tone:

"In two weeks--not more than two weeks. It will take all that time to arrange things at the rancho. As it is, I hardly see my way clear to dismissing my men--you see, they belong to me, almost, and--but I'll do so, never fear. No power on earth could make me take up the old life again."

The Girl said nothing in reply; instead she put both her arms around his neck and remained a long time in his embrace. At last, summoning up all her fort.i.tude she put him resolutely from her, and whispered:

"When you are ready, come. You must leave me now." And with a curt command to the Indian she fled back into the darkness.

For an instant the road agent's eyes followed the direction that she had taken; then, his spirits rising at the thought that his escape was now well-nigh a.s.sured, he turned and plunged down the ravine.

XV.

As has been said, it was a custom of the miners, whenever a storm made it impossible for them to work in the mines, to turn the dance-hall of the Polka Saloon into an Academy, the post of teacher being filled by the Girl. It happened, therefore, that early the following morning the men of Cloudy Mountain Camp a.s.sembled in the low, narrow room with its walls of boards nailed across inside upright beams--a typical miners'

dance-hall of the late Forties--which they had transformed into a veritable bower, so eager were they to please their lovely teacher.

Everyone was in high spirits, Rance alone refraining from taking any part whatsoever in the morning's activities; dejectedly, sullenly, he sat tilted back in an old, weather-beaten, lumber chair before the heavily-dented, sheet-iron stove in a far corner of the room, gazing abstractedly up towards the stove's rusty pipe that ran directly through the ceiling; and what with his pale, waxen countenance, his eyes red and half-closed for the want of sleep, his hair ruffled, his necktie awry, his waistcoat unfastened, his boots unpolished, and the burnt-out cigar which he held between his white, emaciated fingers, he was not the immaculate-looking Rance of old, but presented a very sad spectacle indeed.

Outside, through the windows,--over which had been hung curtains of red and yellow cotton,--could be seen the green firs on the mountain, their branches dazzling under their burden of snow crystals; and stretching out seemingly interminably until the line of earth and sky met were the great hills white with snow except in the spots where the wind had swept it away. But within the little, low dance-hall, everywhere were evidences of festivity and good cheer, the walls being literally covered with pine boughs and wreaths of berries, while here and there was an eagle's wing or an owl's head, a hawk or a vulture, a quail or a snow-bird, not to mention the big, stuffed game c.o.c.k that was mounted on a piece of weather-beaten board, until it would seem as if every variety of bird native to the Sierra Mountains was represented there.

Grouped together on one side of the wall were twelve buck horns, and these served as a sort of rack for the miners to hang their hats and coats during the school session. Several mottoes, likewise upon the wall, were intended to attract the students' attention, the most conspicuous being: "Live and Learn" and "G.o.d Bless Our School." A great bear's skin formed a curtain between the dance-hall and the saloon, while upon the door-frame was a large hand rudely painted, the index-finger outstretched and pointing to the next room. It said: "To The Bar."

It was, however, upon the teacher's desk--a whittled-up, hand-made affair which stood upon a slightly-raised platform--that the boys had outdone themselves in the matter of decoration. Garlanded both on top and around the sides with pine boughs and upon the centre of which stood a tall gla.s.s filled with red and white berries, it looked not unlike a sacrificial altar which, in a way, it certainly was. A box that was intended for a seat for the teacher was also decorated with pine branches; while several cheap, print flags adorned the primitive iron holder of the large lamp suspended from the ceiling in the centre of the room. Altogether it was a most festive-looking Academy that was destined to meet the teacher's eye on this particular morning.

For some time Nick had been standing near the window gazing in the direction of the Girl's cabin. Turning, suddenly, to Rance, the only other occupant of the room, he remarked somewhat sadly:

"I'd be willin' to lose the profits of the bar if we could git back to a week ago--before Johnson walked into this room."

At the mention of the road agent's name Rance's eyes dropped to the floor. It required no flash of inspiration to tell him that things would never be what they had been.

"Johnson," he muttered, his face ashen white and a sound in his throat that was something like a groan. "A week--a week in her cabin--nursed and kissed . . ." he finished shortly.

Nick had been helping himself to a drink; he wheeled swiftly round, confronting him.

"Oh, say, Rance, she--"

Rance took the words out of his mouth.

"Never kissed him! You bet she kissed him! It was all I could do to keep from telling the whole camp he was up there." His eyes blazed and his hands tightened convulsively.

"But you didn't . . ." Nick broke in on him quickly. "If I hadn't been let into the game by the Girl I'd a thought you were a level Sheriff lookin' for him. Rance, you're my ideal of a perfect gent."

Rance braced up in his chair.

"What did she see in that Sacramento shrimp, will you tell me?"

presently he questioned, contempt showing on every line of his face.

The little barkeeper did not answer at once, but filled a gla.s.s with whisky which he handed to him.

"Well, you see, I figger it out this way, boss," at last he answered, meeting him face to face frankly, earnestly, his foot the while resting on the other's chair. "Love's like a drink that gits a hold on you an'

you can't quit. It's a turn of the head or a touch of the hands, or it's a half sort of smile, an' you're doped, doped, doped with a feelin' like strong liquor runnin' through your veins, an' there ain't nothin' on earth can break it up once you've got the habit. That's love."

Touched by the little barkeeper's droll philosophy, the Sheriff dropped his head on his breast, while the hand which held the gla.s.s unconsciously fell to his side.

"I've got it," went on Nick with enthusiasm; "you've got it; the boy's got it; the Girl's got it; the whole d.a.m.n world's got it. It's all the heaven there is on earth, an' in nine cases out of ten it's h.e.l.l."

Rance opened his lips to speak, but quickly drew them in tightly. The next instant Nick touched him lightly on the shoulder and pointed to the empty gla.s.s in his hand, the contents having run out upon the floor.

With a mere glance at the empty gla.s.s Rance returned it to Nick.

Presently, then, he took out his watch and fell to studying its face intently, and only when he had finally returned the watch to his pocket did he voice what was in his mind.

"Well, Nick," he said, "her road agent's got off by now."

Whereupon, the barkeeper, too, took out his watch and consulted it.

"Left Cloudy at three o'clock this morning--five hours off . . ." was his brief comment.

Once more a silence fell upon the room. Then, all of a sudden, the sound of horses' hoofs and the murmur of rough voices came to their ears, and almost instantly a voice was heard to cry out:

"h.e.l.lo!"

"h.e.l.lo!" came from an answering voice.

"Why, it's The Pony Express got through at last!" announced Nick, incredulously; and so saying he took up the whisky bottle and gla.s.ses which lay on the teacher's desk and dashed into the saloon. He had barely left, however, than The Pony Express, m.u.f.fled up to his ears and looking fit to brave the fiercest of storms, entered the room, hailing the boys with:

"h.e.l.lo, boys! Letter for Ashby!"