Snowdrift Part 37

Kitty drew swiftly into the intense blackness between two lumber piles.

She heard the sound of voices coming toward her, and a moment later she could distinguish the words. "d.a.m.n him! He like to busted my jaw! Gawd, what a wallop he's got! But I fixed him, when I smashed that quart over his head!"

"Maybe he'll bleed to death," ventured another.

"Naw, he ain't cut bad. I seen the gash over his eye. He's b.l.o.o.d.y as h.e.l.l, but he looks worse'n he is. Say, you sure you tied him tight? He's been out d.a.m.n near an hour an' he'll be comin' to, 'fore long--an'

believe me----"

The men pa.s.sed out of hearing and Kitty slipped from cover and sped toward the shack the outline of which she could see beyond the corner of the sawmill.

She made sure that all four of the men were together, so she pushed in without hesitation. "h.e.l.lo!" she called, softly. "Ace-In-The-Hole! You here?" No answer, and she moved further into the room and stumbled over the prostrate form of a man. Swiftly she dropped to her knees and a.s.sured herself that his hands and feet were tied. Deftly her fingers explored his pockets until they found his knife, and a moment later the thongs that bound him were severed. Her hand rested for a second upon his forehead, and with a low cry she withdrew it, wet and sticky with blood. Leaping to her feet, she procured a handful of snow which she dashed into his face. Again and again she repeated the performance, and then he moved. He muttered, feebly, and received more snow. Then she bent close to his ear:

"Listen, Ace-In-The-Hole--it's me--Kitty!"

"Kitty," murmured the man, uncertainly. "Snowdrift!"

"Yes I lit in a snowdrift all right when I jumped out the window--but how did you know? Come--wake up! Is there a light here?"

"Where am I?"

"In the shack back of the sawmill."

"Where's Camillo Bill?"

"Camillo Bill--he's up to Stoell's, I guess. But listen, give me a match."

Clumsily Brent fumbled in his pocket and produced a match. Kitty seized it, and in the flare of its flame saw a candle upon the table. She held the flame to the wick, and in the flickering light Brent sat up, and glanced about him. The air was heavy with the reek of the whiskey from the broken bottle. His head hurt, and he raised his hand and withdrew it red with blood. Then, he leaped unsteadily to his feet: "d.a.m.n 'em!" he roared, "It was a plant! What's their game?"

"I know what it is!" cried Kitty, "Quick--tell me--have you got a girl--here in Dawson?"

"Yes, yes--at Reeves--her name is Snowdrift, and she----"

"Come then--we ain't got any time to lose! It's Cuter Malone and that d.a.m.ned Johnnie Claw----"

"Johnnie Claw!" cried Brent. "Claw is a thousand miles from here--on the Coppermine!"

"He's right this minute in the Klondike Palace--and your girl will be there too, if you don't shake your legs! They framed this play to get her--and I heard 'em--partly. If I'd known where she was, I'd have gone there first--but I didn't know."

Already Brent was staggering from the room, and Kitty ran close beside him. The cold air revived the man and he ran steadily when he reached the street. "Tell me--" panted Kitty, at his side. "This girl--is--she straight?"

"I'm going to marry her tonight!" cried the man.

"Then hurry--for Christ's sake!" sobbed Kitty, "Oh, hurry! Hurry!"

At a certain street corner Kitty halted suddenly, and Brent ran on. He rushed into Reeves' house like a whirlwind. "Where's Snowdrift?" he cried, as the Reeves' stared wide-eyed at the blood-soaked apparition.

"What has happened----?"

"Where is she?" yelled Brent, his eyes glaring like a mad man's.

"I--we don't know. I was in the kitchen, and--" but Brent had dashed from the room, and when Reeves found his hat, the madman had disappeared in the darkness.

Quite a group of old timers had foregathered at Stoell's, Moosehide Charlie drifted in, and seeing Camillo Bill, Swift.w.a.ter Bill, and Old Bettles standing at the bar, he joined them.

"What do you say we start a regular old he-man's game of stud?" he asked. "We ain't had no real game fer quite a while."

Camillo Bill shook his head slowly: "No--not fer me. I'll play a reasonable game--but do you know since Ace-In-The-Hole went plumb to h.e.l.l the way he done over the game--I kind of took a dislikin' to it."

"It was the hooch, more'n the stud," argued Bettles.

"Mebbe it was--but, d.a.m.n it! It was 'em both. There was one hombre I liked."

"Wonder if he'll come back?" mused Swift.w.a.ter Bill.

"Sure as h.e.l.l!" affirmed Camillo.

"Will he have sense enough to lay off the hooch?"

"I don't know, but I got twenty thousan' dollars says he will."

Camillo Bill looked defiantly around.

"Take it!" cried Swift.w.a.ter Bill, "An' I hope to h.e.l.l I lose!"

The door burst open and Kitty, gasping for breath hurtled into the room: "Camillo Bill!" she screamed. "Quick! All of you! Hey you sourdoughs!"

her voice rose to a shriek, and men crowded from the tables in the rear, "Come on! Ace-In-The-Hole needs us! He's back! An' he's brought a girl!

They're goin' to be married. But--Claw and Cuter Malone, framed it to steal her! He's gone down there now!" she panted. "Come on! They hired a gang to get Ace-In-The-Hole, and they d.a.m.n near did!"

With a yell Camillo Bill reached clear over the bar and grabbed one of Stoell's guns, and an instant later followed by a crowd of lesser lights the big men of the Yukon rushed down the street, led by Kitty, and Camillo Bill, and Stoell, himself, who another gun in hand, had vaulted the bar without waiting to put on his coat or his cap.

"They'll take her up stairs--way up--" gasped Kitty as she ran, "And--for G.o.d's sake--hurry!"

Bareheaded, his face covered with blood, a human cyclone burst through the door of the Klondike Palace. Straight for the bar he rushed, bowling men over like ten pins. Cuter Malone flashed one startled glance and reached for his gun, but before he could grasp it the shape hurdled the bar and the two went to the floor in a crash of gla.s.s. Brent's hand first found the gun, and gripping it by the barrel he brought it cras.h.i.+ng down on Cuter's head. Leaping to his feet he fired, and the bartender, bung-starter in hand, sprawled on top of his employer.

Across the room came a rush of men--Stumpy Cooley, Zinn, and others.

Again Brent fired, and Zinn crumpled slowly to the floor. Stumpy whirled a chair above his head and Brent dodged as the missile crashed into the mirror above the back bar. The bar-room was a pandemonium of noise. Men crowded in from the dance hall bent upon overpowering the madman who had interrupted their frolic. Screaming women rushed for the stairs.

Brent was lifted from his feet and rushed bodily half way across the room, the very numbers of his a.s.sailants protecting him from a hundred blows. Weaving--milling, the crowd surged this way and that, striking at Brent, and hitting each other. They surged against the stove, and it crashed upon its side, filling the room with smoke from the toppling pipe, and covering the floor with blazing chunks of wood and live coals.

Suddenly through the doors swept a whirlwind of human shapes! The surging crowd went down before the onrush, and Brent struggled madly to free himself from the thras.h.i.+ng arms and legs. Revolvers barked, chairs crashed against heads and against other chairs. Roulette and faro layouts were splintered, and poker tables were smashed like kindling wood, men seizing upon the legs for weapons. And above all rose the sound of cras.h.i.+ng gla.s.s and the shrill shrieks of women. The room filled with choking smoke. Flames ate into the floor and shot up the wooden walls.

The door at the head of the stairs opened suddenly and Brent caught sight of the white face of Claw. He was afraid to shoot, for the frenzied girls, instead of seeking safety in the street, had crowded upon the stairs and were pouring through the door which Claw was vainly trying to close. The smoke sucked upward, and the flames crackled more loudly, fanned by the new formed draught. Struggling through the fighting, surging men, Brent gained the foot of the stairs. He saw Claw raise his gun, and the next instant a figure flashed between. The gun roared, and the figure crumpled to the floor. It was Kitty. With an oath, Brent sprang up the stairway, as the flames roared behind him.

He turned for an instant and as his eyes swept the room he saw Camillo Bill stoop and gather Kitty into his arms, and stagger toward the front door. Other men were helping the wounded from the room. Someone yelled at Brent to come down and save himself. He glanced toward the speaker.

It was Bettles, and even as he looked the man was forced to retreat before the flames and was lost to view. At the head of the stairs Brent slammed the door shut. The little dance hall was full of girls huddled together shrieking. Other girls were stumbling from their rooms, with their belongings in their arms. From the narrow hallway that led to the rear rushed Claw. The man seemed beside himself with terror. His eyes were wide and staring and he made for a window, cursing shrilly as he forced his way through the close-packed crowd of girls, striking them, knocking them down and trampling on them. He did not see Brent and seizing a chair drove it through the window. The floor was hot, and the air thick with smoke. Claw was about to leap to safety when like a panther Brent sprang upon him, and bore him to the floor. He reached out swiftly and his fingers buried themselves in the man's throat as they had buried themselves in the Captain's. He glared into the terror-wide eyes of the worst man in the North, and laughed aloud. An unnatural, maniacal laugh, it was, that chilled the hearts of the cowering girls.

"Kill him!" shrilled one hysterically. "Kill him!" "Kill him!" Others took up the cry, Brent threw Claw onto his belly, placed his knees upon the small of his back, locked the fingers of both hands beneath the man's chin and pulled slowly and steadily upward. Backward came Claw's head as he tore frantically at Brent's arms with his two hands.

Upward--and backward came the man's head and shoulders, and Brent shortened his leverage by suddenly slipping his forearms instead of his fingers beneath Claw's chin. Strangling sounds came gurgling from his throat. Brent leaned backward, adding the weight of his body to the pull of his arms. Claw's back was bent sharply upward just in front of the knees that held him to the floor, and summoning all his strength Brent surged backward, straining every muscle of his body until it seemed he could not pull another pound.

Suddenly there was a dull audible snap--and Claw folded backward.