Overland Red: A Romance of the Moonstone Cañon Trail Read online

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE RETURN

  Overland Red lay concealed in an arroyo at the foot of the range. Hecould overlook the desert without being seen. It was the afternoon ofthe day following Winthrop's departure.

  Since discovering the dead prospector's camp and all that it meant, thetramp was doubly vigilant. He tried to believe that his anxiety was forhis own safety rather than for Winthrop's. He finally gave up that idea,grumbling something about becoming "plumb soft in his feelin's since hetook to associatin' with sassiety folks." However, had Winthrop been ofthe West and seasoned in its more rugged ways, Overland would havethought little of the young man's share in recent events. While he knewthat Winthrop looked upon their venture as nothing more than a ratherkeenly exciting game, Overland realized also that the Easterner hadplayed the game royally. Perhaps the fact that Winthrop's health was notof the best appealed to some hidden sentiment in the tramp's peculiarnature. In any event, Overland Red found himself strangely solicitousfor his companion's return.

  Far in the south a speck moved, almost imperceptibly. The tramp's keeneyes told him that this was no horseman. He rolled a cigarette and layback in the shade of a boulder. "He's a couple of points off his course,but he can't miss the range," he reflected.

  Desiring to assure himself that no horseman followed Winthrop, OverlandRed made no sign that might help the other to find the trail over therange. The rim of Winthrop's hat became distinguishable; then the whitelacing of his boots. Nearer, Overland saw that his face was drawn andset with lines of fatigue.

  No riders appeared on the horizon. Overland stepped out from behind therock. "Well, how did you make it?" he called.

  Winthrop came forward wearily "No luck at all."

  "Couldn't find it, eh?"

  "I counted every tie between the tank and that little ditch under thetrack. The entire stretch has been relaid with new ties."

  Overland whistled. Then he grinned. "You had a good healthy walk,anyhow," he observed.

  "It doesn't seem to worry you much," said Winthrop.

  "Nope. Now you're back, it don't. I reckon you done your dam'dest asthe song says. Angels can do no less. Buck up, Billy! You 're limper'n asecond-hand porous-plaster. Here, take a shot at this. That will stiffenyour knees some. Did you meet up with anybody?"

  "Not a soul. I thought I should freeze last night, though. I didn'timagine the desert could get so cold."

  "Livin' out here on the old dry spot will either kill you or cure you.That's one reason I let you go look for them things. The harder you hitthe trail, and can stand it, the quicker you'll get built up." ThenOverland, realizing that his companion was worse than tired, that he wasdispirited, became as wily as the proverbial serpent. His method,however, could hardly be compared with the dove's conciliatory cooing."You sure are a bum scout," he began.

  Winthrop flushed, but was silent.

  "Bet a banana you didn't even leave the track and look for it."

  "No, I didn't. Where could I have begun?"

  Overland ignored the question. "I'm hungrier than a gorilla. Just send awireless to them feet of your'n. We got some climbin' to do afore dark."

  "I'd just as soon camp here. Go up to-morrow," said Winthrop.

  "So'd I if it wasn't for bein' scared some of the hills would mosey offbefore I got back." And Overland set a brisk pace up the mountain,talking as he climbed. Winthrop could do nothing but listen. He wasbreathless.

  "Or that canon," continued Overland. "She might not be there if westayed away all night. Besides, I'm scared to leave _it_ alone byitself."

  "Leave what?" gasped Winthrop.

  "It. The find I made while you was out surveyin' the Santa Fe. I wasfeared you'd get nervous prosecution if I told you all to once, so Ibreaks it easy like."

  "What was it?"

  "Nothin' but a tent in the canon we're campin' in. But, Billy, when youfind a tent and some minin' tools and other signs of trouble 'way upsome lonesome old slot in the hills, you want to get ready for asurprise. Mebby it'll be nothin' but some old clothes and bones. Mebbyit'll be them and somethin' else. I didn't find the bones, but I foundthe somethin' else, coarse, and fair dribblin' thick in the dirt. It'sthere and rich, Billy, rich!"

  Overland Red turned and paused as Winthrop leaned against a rock.

  "It's the--the real thing?" queried the Easterner.

  "The real thing, pardner. Now what do you think of that for highbrowstuff?"

  "Meaning that you stumbled on the secret?"

  "If you want to say it that way, yes. Just like fallin' into a sewer andfindin' a gold watch where you lit."

  "Then it's all true? We've found the gold? You really believed weshould, and for that matter, so did I. I can't say why. I rather feltthat we should."

  "I guess I'm some class when it comes to findin' the incubator thathatches them little yella babies with the come-and-find-me eyes."

  Winthrop straightened his tired shoulders. "You seem to think thatyou're pretty clever," he said, laughing. "But in the elegant andexpressive diction of the late--the late Overland Red Summers, 'I thinkyou're a bum scout.'" And they shook hands, laughing as they turned toclimb the trail.

  Near the crest, Overland again paused. "Say, Billy, you said the 'late'Overland Red Summers. You took particular noise to make me hear thatword 'late.' Have you got any objections to explainin' that there idea?I been examinin' the works of that word 'late,' and it don't tick rightto me. 'Late' means 'planted,' don't it?"

  "Sometimes. It may also mean behind time. Do you remember that I said, aday or two ago, that I shouldn't be surprised if the lost gold were inthe very canon where we camped? I claim precedence of divination,auto-suggestion, and right of eminent domain. I shall not waive myprerogative."

  "I never owned one," said Overland. "But afore I'll let you come anystyle over me, I'll have one made with a silk linin' and di'monds in thebuttons, jest as soon as the claim gets to payin' good. Say, pardner,it's _free_ gold, and _coarse_. I wisht Collie was here--the littlecuss."

  "Collie?"

  "Uhuh. The kid I was tellin' you about, that I adopted back inAlbuquerque. He's got a share in this here deal, by rights. He investedhis eight rollers and four bits in the chances of my findin' the stuff.It was all the coin he had at the time. You see, I was campin' up on theMoonstone for a change of air, and Collie and me had a meetin' of theboard of dissectors. The board votes unanimous to invest the paid-incapital in a suit of new jeans for the president, which was me. I got'em on now. You see, I had to be dollied up to look the part so I couldcatch a come-on and get me grubstake."

  "I see," said Winthrop, his gray eyes twinkling. "And I was thecome-on?"

  "Well," said Overland, scratching his head, "mebby you _was_, but youain't no more. If she pans out anything like I expect, you'll bestandin' up so clost to bein' rich that if she was a bronc' you'd getkicked sure."

  They rested for a few minutes, both gazing down on the evening desert.The reflected light, strong and clear, drew abrupt, keen-edged contrastsbetween the black, triangular shadows of the peaks and the gray of therange. Something elusive, awesome, unreal was in the air about them. Therugged mountain-side with its chaos of riven boulders, its forest ofsplintered rocky spires, silver cold in the twilight, its impassive bulklooming so large, yet a mere segment in the circling range, was as aday-dream of some ancient Valhalla, clothed in the mystic glory ofever-changing light, and crowned with slumbering clouds.

  Winthrop sighed as he again faced the range. Overland heard and smiled."You said it all," he muttered. "You said it all then."

  "You're something of a poet, aren't you?" queried Winthrop.

  "You bet! I'm some artist, too. A lady I was figurin' on acceptin' ainvite to dinner with, once,--one of them rich kind that always wants toget their money's worth out of anything they do for a poorguy,--happened to come out on the back steps where I was holdin' kind ofa coroner's request over a lettuce san'wich. 'My man,' she says, 'I havealways been interested to know if you--er--
tramps ever think ofanything else but food and lodging and loafing. Nothing personal, Iassure you. Merely a general interest in social conditions which youseem so well fitted to explode from experience. For instance, now, whatare your favorite colors?'

  "I couldn't see what that had to do with it, and I got kind of mad. Alettuce san'wich ain't encouragin' to confidence, so I up and says,'What are me favorite colors, lady? Well, speakin' from experience, theyis _ham_ and _eggs_.'

  "She took a tumble to herself and sent me out some of the best--and abottle of Red Cross beer with it."

  On up the slope they toiled, Winthrop half-forgetting his weariness inthinking of Overland's sprightly experiences with what he termed "thehard ole map--this here world."

  At the summit they paused again to rest.

  "That was the time," began Overland, "when I writ that there pome called'Heart Throbs of a Hobo.' Listen!"

  "Oh, my stummick is jest akein' For a little bite of bacon, A slice of bread, a little mug of brew. I'm tired of seein' scenery, Jest lead me to a beanery, Where there's something more than only air to chew."

  "The last line sounds like a sneeze," said Winthrop, laughing.

  "Speakin' of sneeze," said Overland, "makes me think you ain't coughedso much lately, Billy."

  "I had a pretty bad time yesterday morning," replied Winthrop.

  "Well, you'll get cured and stay cured, up here," said Overland, hugelyoptimistic.

  "Of course," rejoined Winthrop, smiling. "It's such hard work to breatheup here that I have to keep alive to attend to it."

  "That's her! Them little old bellowsus of your'n 'll get exercise--notpumpin' off the effects of booze an' cigarettes, neither, but frompumpin' in clean thin air with a edge to it. Them little old germs willall get dizzy and lose their holt."

  "That's getting rather deep into personalities," said Winthrop. "But Ithink you're correct. I could eat a whole side of bacon, raw."

  And he followed Overland silently across the range and down into thecool depths of the hidden canon, where the tramp, ever watchful of theyounger man's health, slipped from his coat and made Winthrop put it on,despite the latter's protest that he was hot and sweating.