The Yukon Trail: A Tale of the North Read online

  CHAPTER X

  THE RAH-RAH BOY FUNCTIONS

  Big Bill grumbled a good deal at the addition to the party. It would bedecidedly awkward if this stranger should become rational and understandthe status of the camp he had joined. The word of old Holt alone mightbe negligible, but supported by that of a disinterested party it wouldbe a very different matter. Still, there was no help for it. They wouldhave to take care of the man until he was able to travel. Perhaps hewould go in with them as an additional guard. At the worst Big Billcould give him a letter to Selfridge explaining things and so pass thebuck to that gentleman.

  Gid Holt had, with the tacit consent of his guards, appointed himself asa sort of nurse to the stranger. He lit a smudge fire to the windwardside of him, fed him small quantities of food at intervals, and arrangeda sleeping-place for him with mosquito netting for protection.

  Early in the evening the sick man fell into a sound sleep fromwhich he did not awake until morning. George was away looking after thepack-horses, Dud was cooking breakfast, and Big Bill, his rifle close athand, was chopping young firs fifty feet back of the camp. The cook alsohad a gun, loaded with buckshot, lying on a box beside him, so that theywere taking no chances with their prisoner. He could not have coveredtwenty yards without being raked by a cross-fire.

  The old miner turned from rearranging the boughs of green fir on thesmudge to see that his patient was awake and his mind normal. The quiet,steady eyes resting upon him told that the delirium had passed.

  "Pretty nearly all in, wasn't I?" the young man said.

  The answer of Gid Holt was an odd one. "Yep. Seven--eleven--fifteen.Take 'er easy, old man," he said in his shrill, high voice as he movedtoward the man in the blankets. Then, in a low tone, while he pretendedto arrange the bedding over the stranger, he asked a quick question.

  "Are you Elliot?"

  "Yes."

  "Don't tell them. Talk football lingo as if you was still out of yourhaid." Holt turned and called to Dud. "Says he wants some breakfast."

  "On the way," the cook answered.

  Holt seemed to be soothing the delirious man. What he really said wasthis. "Selfridge has arranged a plant for you at Kamatlah. The camp hasbeen turned inside out to fool you. They've brought me here a prisonerso as to keep me from telling you the truth. Pst! Tune up now."

  Big Bill had put down his axe and was approaching. He was not exactlysuspicious, but he did not believe in taking unnecessary chances.

  "I tell you I'm out of training. Played the last game, haven't we? Comethrough with a square meal, you four-flusher," demanded Elliot in aquerulous voice. He turned to Macy. "Look here, Cap. Haven't I playedthe game all fall? Don't I get what I want now we're through?"

  The voice of the young man was excited. His eyes had lost their quietsteadiness and roved restlessly to and fro. If Big Bill had held anydoubts one glance dissipated them.

  "Sure you do. Hustle over and help Dud with the breakfast, Holt. I'lllook out for our friend."

  Elliot and Holt found no more chance to talk together that morning.Sometimes the young Government official lay staring straight in frontof him. Sometimes he appeared to doze. Again he would talk in thedisjointed way of one not clear in the head.

  An opportunity came in the afternoon for a moment.

  "Keep your eyes skinned for a chance to lay out the guard to-night andget his gun," Holt said quickly.

  Gordon nodded. "I don't know that I've got to do everything just as yousay," he complained aloud for the benefit of George, who was passing onhis way to the place where the horses were hobbled.

  "Now--now! There ain't nobody trying to boss you," Holt explained in apatient voice.

  "They'd better not," snapped the invalid.

  "Some scrapper--that kid," said the horse wrangler with a grin.

  Macy took the first watch that night. He turned in at two after he hadroused Dud to take his place. The cook had been on duty about an hourwhen Elliot kicked Holt, who was sleeping beside him, to make sure thathe was ready. The old man answered the kick with another.

  Presently Gordon got up, yawned, and strolled toward the edge of thecamp.

  "Don't go and get lost, young fellow," cautioned Dud.

  Gordon, on his way back, passed behind the guard, who was sitting tailorfashion before a smudge with a muley shotgun across his knees.

  "This ain't no country for chechakoes to be wandering around without akeeper," the cook continued. "Looks like your folks would have bettersense than to let their rah-rah boy--"

  He got no farther. Elliot dropped to one knee and his strong fingersclosed on the gullet of the man so tightly that not even a groan couldescape him. His feet thrashed to and fro as he struggled, but he couldnot shake off the grip that was strangling him. The old miner, waitingwith every muscle ready and every nerve under tension, flung aside hisblanket and hurled himself at the guard. It took him less time than ittakes to tell to wrest the gun from the cook.

  He got to his feet just as Big Bill, his eyes and brain still foggedwith sleep, sat up and began to take notice of the disturbance.

  "Don't move," warned Holt sharply. "Better throw your hands up. Youreach for the stars, too, Holway. No monkey business, do you hear? I'das lief blow a hole through you as not."

  Big Bill turned bitterly upon Elliot. "So you were faking all the time,young fellow. We save your life and you round on us. You're a prettyslick proposition as a double-crosser."

  "And that ain't all," chirped up Holt blithely. "Let me introduce ourfriend to you, Mr. Big Bill Macy. This is Gordon Elliot, the land agentappointed to look over the Kamatlah claims. Selfridge gave you lads thispenitentiary job so as I wouldn't meet Elliot when he reached the camp.If he hadn't been so darned anxious about it, our young friend wouldhave died here on the divide. But Mr. Selfridge kindly outfitted a partyand sent us a hundred miles into the hills to rescue the perishing, asthe old sayin' goes. Consequence is, Elliot and me meet up and have thatnice confidential talk after all. The ways of Providence is strange, asyou might say, Mr. Macy."

  "Your trick," conceded Big Bill sullenly. "Now what are you going to dowith us?"

  "Not a thing--going to leave you right here to prospect Wild-GooseCreek," answered Holt blandly. "Durden says there's gold up here--heapsof it."

  Bill Macy condemned Durden in language profane and energetic. He didn'tstop at Durden. Holt came in for a share of it, also Elliot andSelfridge.

  The old miner grinned at him. "You'll feel better now you've got thatout of your system. But don't stop there if you'd like to say a few morewell-chosen words. We got time a-plenty."

  "Cut it out, Bill. That line o' talk don't buy you anything," saidHolway curtly. "What's the use of beefing?"

  "Now you're shouting, my friend," agreed old Gideon. "I guess, Elliot,you can loosen up on the chef's throat awhile. He's had persuadingenough, don't you reckon? I'll sit here and sorter keep the boys companywhile you cut the pack-ropes and bring 'em here. But first I'd step inand unload all the hardware they're packing. If you don't one of them islikely to get anxious. I'd hate to see any of them commit suicide withnone of their friends here to say, 'Don't he look natural?'"

  Elliot brought back the pack-ropes and cut them into suitable lengths.Holt's monologue rambled on. He was garrulous and affable. Not for along time had he enjoyed himself so much.

  "Better begin with Chief Big Bill," he suggested. "No, I wouldn't makethat move if I was you, Mr. Macy. This old gun is liable to go offaccidental in your direction and she spatters like hell. That's theidee. Be reasonable. Not that I give a hoot, but a man hadn't ought tolet his impulses run away with his judgment, as the old sayin' is."

  Gordon tied the hands of Big Bill behind him, then roped his feettogether, after which he did the same for Holway. The old minersuperintended the job and was not satisfied till he had added a fewextra knots on his own behalf.

  "That'll hold them for awhile, I shouldn't wonder. Now if you'll justcover friend chef with this sawed-off gat, Elliot,
I'll throw thediamond hitch over what supplies we'll need to get back to Kamatlah.I'll take one bronch and leave the other to the convicts," said Holtcheerfully.

  "Forget that convict stuff," growled Macy. "With Macdonald back of usand the Guttenchilds back of him, you'll have a hectic time gettinganything on us."

  "That might be true if these folks were back of you. But are they?Course I ain't any Sherlock Holmes, but it don't look to me like they'dplay any such fool system as this."

  Big Bill opened his mouth to answer--and said nothing. He had caught alook flashed at him by Holway, a look that warned him he was talking toomuch.

  After Holt had packed one of the animals he turned to Elliot.

  "I reckon we're ready."

  Under orders from Elliot, Dud fixed up the smudges and arranged themosquito netting over the bound men so as to give them all theprotection possible.

  "We're going to take Dud with us for a part of the trip. We'll send himback to you later in the day. You'll have to fast till he gets back, butoutside of that you'll do very well if you don't roll around trying toget loose. Do that, and you'll jar loose the mosquito netting. You knowwhat that means," explained Gordon.

  "It ain't likely any grizzlies will come pokin' their noses into camp.But you never can tell. Any last words you want sent to relatives?"asked Gideon Holt.

  The last words they heard from Big Bill as they moved down the draw weresulphuric.

  "Macy he ain't wearin' any W. J. Bryan smile this glad mo'nin'," musedold Holt aloud.

  It was three o'clock in the morning by the watch when they started.About nine they threw off for breakfast. By this time they were justacross the divide and were ready to take the down trail.

  "I think we'll let Dud go now," Elliot told his partner in theadventure.

  "Better hold him till afternoon. Then they can't possibly reach us tillwe get to Kamatlah."

  "What does it matter if they do? We have both rifles and have left themonly one revolver. Besides, I don't like to leave two bound men alone inso wild a district for any great time. No, we'll start Dud on the backtrail. That grizzly you promised Big Bill might really turn up."

  The two men struck the headwaters of Wild-Goose Creek about noon andfollowed the stream down. They traveled steadily without haste. So longas they kept a good lookout there was nothing to be feared from the menthey had left behind. They had both a long start and the advantage ofweapons.

  If Elliot had advertised for a year he could not have found a man whoknew more of Colby Macdonald's past than Gideon Holt. The old man hadmushed on the trail with him in the Klondike days. He had worked aclaim on Frenchman Creek with him and had by sharp practice--so atleast he had come to believe--been lawed out of his rights by the shrewdScotchman. For seventeen years he had nursed a grudge against Macdonald,and he was never tired of talking about him. He knew many doubtfulthings charged to the account of the big man as he had blazed a wayto success over the failures of less fortunate people. One story inparticular interested Gordon. It came out the second day, as they weregetting down into the foothills.

  "There was Farrell O'Neill. He was a good fellow, Farrell was, but hehad just one weakness. There was times when he liked the bottle toowell. He'd let it alone for months and then just lap the stuff up. Itwas the time of the stampede to Bonanza Creek. Men are just like sheep.They wear wool on their backs like them and have their habits. You canstart 'em any fool way for no cause a-tall. Don't you know it? Well, thenews of the strike on Bonanza reached Dawson and we all burnt up thetrail to get to the new ground first. O'Neill was one of the first.He got in about twenty below discovery, if I remember. Mac wasn't inDawson, but he got there next mo'nin' and heard the news. He lit outfor Bonanza _pronto_."

  The old miner stopped, took a chew of tobacco, and looked down into thevalley far below where Kamatlah could just be seen, a little huddle ofhuts.

  "Well?" asked Elliot. It was occasionally necessary to prompt Holt whenhe paused for his dramatic effects. He would pretend to forget that hewas telling a yarn which might interest his hearer.

  "Mac draps in and joins O'Neill at night. They knew each other, y'understand, so o' course it was natural Mac would put up at his camp.O'Neill had a partner and they had located together. Fellow namedStrong."

  "Not Hanford Strong, a little, heavy-set man somewhere around fifty?"Gordon asked quickly.

  "You've tagged the right man. Know him?"

  "I've met him."

  "Well, I never heard anything against Han Strong. Anyway, he was offthat night packing grub up while Farrell held down the claim. Mac hada jug of booze with him. He got Farrell tanked up. You know Mac--how hecan put it across when he's a mind to. He's a forceful devil, and he canbe a mighty likable one."

  Elliot nodded understanding. "He's always the head of the table nomatter where he sits. And there is something wonderfully attractiveabout him."

  "Sure there is. But when he is friendliest you want to watch out hedon't slip an upper cut at you that'll put you out of biz. He done thatto Farrell--and done it a-plenty."

  "How?"

  "O'Neill got mellowed up till he thought Mac was his best friend.He was ready to eat out of his hand. So Mac works him up to sign acontract--before witnesses too; trust Mac for that--exchanging hishalf-interest in the claim for five hundred dollars in cash and Mac'sno-'count lease on Frenchman Creek. Inside of a week Mac and Strongstruck a big pay streak. They took over two hundred thousand from thespring clean-up."

  "It was nothing better than robbery."

  "Call it what you want to. Anyhow, it stuck. O'Neill kicked, and that'sall the good it did him. He consulted lawyers at Dawson. Finally he gotso discouraged that he plumb went to pieces--got on a long bat andstayed there till his money ran out. Then one bitter night he starts upto Bonanza to have it out with Mac. The mercury was so low it had runinto the ground a foot. Farrell slept in a deserted cabin without a fireand not enough bedding. He caught pneumony. By the time he reached theclaim he was a mighty sick man. Next week he died. That's all Mac doneto O'Neill. Not a thing that wasn't legal either."

  Gordon thought of Sheba O'Neill as she sat listening to the tales ofMacdonald in Diane's parlor and his gorge rose at the man.

  "But Mac had fell on his feet all right," continued Holt. "He got hisstart off that claim. Now he's a millionaire two or three times over,I reckon."

  They reached the outskirts of Kamatlah about noon of the third day.Gordon left Holt at his cabin after they had eaten and went in aloneto look the ground over. He met Selfridge at the post-office. Thatgentleman was effusive in his greeting.

  "This _is_ a pleasant surprise, Mr. Elliot. When did you get in?Had no idea you were coming or I'd have asked you for the pleasureof your company. I'm down on business, of course. No need to tell youthat--nobody would come to this hole for any other reason. Howland andhis wife are the only possible people here. Hope you play bridge."

  Elliot played it, but he did not say so. It was his business not to bedrawn into entangling alliances.

  "Of course you'll put up with me as my guest," Selfridge flowed on."I've wanted to meet you again ever since we were on the Hannahtogether."

  This was a little too cheeky. Gordon recalled with some amusement howthis tubby little man and his friends had ignored the existence of ShebaO'Neill and himself for several days.

  He answered genially. "Pleasant time we had on the river, didn't we?Thanks awfully for your invitation, but I've already made arrangementsfor putting up."

  "Where? There's no decent place in camp except at Howland's. He keepsopen house for our friends."

  "I couldn't think of troubling him," countered Gordon.

  "No trouble at all. We'll send for your things. Where are they?"

  The land agent let him have it right between the eyes. "At GideonHolt's. I'm staying with him on his claim."

  Wally had struck a match to light a cigarette, but this simple statementpetrified him. His jaw dropped and his eyes bulged. Not till the flameburned his finger
s did he come to life.

  "Did you say you were staying--with Gid Holt?" he floundered weakly.

  Gordon noticed that his florid face had lost its color. The jauntycock-sureness of the man had flickered out like the flame of the charredmatch.

  "Yes. He offered to board me," answered the young man blandly.

  "But--I didn't know he was here--seems to me I hadheard--somewhere--that he was away."

  "He was away. But he has come back." Gordon gave the information withouteven a flash of mirth in his steady eyes.

  Selfridge could not quite let the subject alone. "Seems to me I heard hewent prospecting."

  "He did. Up Wild-Goose Creek, with Big Bill Macy and two other men. ButI asked him to come back with me--and he did."

  Feebly Wally groped for the clue without finding it. Had Big Bill soldhim out? And how had Elliot got into touch with him?

  "Just so, Mr. Elliot. But really, you know, Howland can make you a greatdeal more comfortable than Holt. His wife is a famous cook. I'll have aman go get your traps."

  "It's very good of you, but I think I won't move."

  "Oh, but you must. Holt's nutty--nobody at home, you know. Everybodyknows that."

  "Is he? The old man struck me as being remarkably clear-headed. By theway, I want to thank you for sending a relief party out to find me, Mr.Selfridge. Except for your help I would have died in the hills."

  This was another facer for Wally. What the devil did the fellow mean?The deuce of it was that he knew all the facts and Wally did not. Hetalked as if he meant it, but behind those cool eyes there might lieeither mockery or irony. One thing alone stood out to Selfridge likea sore thumb. His plans had come tumbling down like a house of cards.Either Big Bill had blundered amazingly, or he had played traitor.In either case Wally could guess pretty shrewdly whose hide Macdonaldwould tan for the failure. The chief wanted results. He did not ask ofhis subordinates how they got them. And this was the second time insuccession that Selfridge had come to grief.