Datasets:
NNEngine
/
Gutenberg-Clean

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
Community
id
stringlengths
16
16
text
stringlengths
151
2.3k
word_count
int64
30
60
source
stringclasses
1 value
twg_000012934000
you go out and mix in the battle of life. I know you will win. For my sake, dear, win. I would handicap you just now. There are all kinds of chances. Let us wait, boy, just a year." I saw the pathetic wisdom of her words. "I know you fear something will happen to me. No! I think I
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934001
will be quite safe. I can withstand him. After a while he will leave me alone. And if it should come to the worst I can call on you. You mustn't go too far away. I will die rather than let him lay a hand on me. Till next June, dear, not a day longer. We will both be the
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934002
better for the wait." I bowed my head. "Very well," I said huskily; "and what will I do in the meantime?" "Do! Do what you would have done otherwise. Do not let a woman divert the current of your life; let her swim with it. Go out on the creeks! Work! It will be better for you to go away.
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934003
It will make it easier for me. Here we will both torture each other. I, too, will work and live quietly, and long for you. The time will pass quickly. You will come and see me sometimes?" "Yes," I answered. My voice choked with emotion. "Now we must go home," she said; "I'm afraid they will be back." She rose,
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934004
and I followed her down the narrow trail. Once or twice she turned and gave me a bright, tender look. I worshipped her more than ever. Was there ever maid more sweet, more gentle, more quick with anxious love? "Bless her, O bless her," I sighed. "Whatever comes, may she be happy." I adored her, but a great sadness filled
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934005
my heart, and never a word I spoke. We reached the cabin, and on the threshold she paused. The others had not yet returned. She held out both hands to me, and her eyes were glittering with tears. "Be brave, my dearest; it's all for my sake--if you love me." "I love you, my darling; anything for your sake. I'll
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934006
go to-morrow." "We're betrothed now, aren't we, dearest?" "We're betrothed, my love." She swayed to me and seemed to fit into my arms as a sword fits into its sheath. My lips lay on hers, and I kissed her with a passionate joy. She took my face between her hands and gazed at me long and earnestly. "I love you,
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934007
I love you," she murmured; "next June, my darling, next June." Then she gently slipped away from me, and I was gazing blankly at the closed door. "Next June," I heard a voice echo; and there, looking at me with a smile, was Locasto. It comes like a violent jar to be awakened so rudely from a trance of love,
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934008
to turn suddenly from the one you care for most in all the world, and behold the one you have best reason to hate. Nevertheless, it is not in human nature to descend rocket-wise from the ethereal heights of love. I was still in an exalted state of mind when I turned and confronted Locasto. Hate was far from my
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934009
heart, and when I saw the man himself was regarding me with no particular unfriendliness, I was disposed to put aside for the moment all feelings of enmity. The generosity of the victor glowed within me. As he advanced to me his manner was almost urbane in its geniality. "You must forgive me," he said, not without dignity, "for overhearing
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934010
you; but by chance I was passing and dropped upon you before I realised it." He extended his hand frankly. "I trust my congratulations on your good luck will not be entirely obnoxious. I know that my conduct in this affair cannot have impressed you in a very favourable light; but I am a badly beaten man. Can't you be
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934011
generous and let by-gones be by-gones? Won't you?" I had not yet come down to earth. I was still soaring in the rarefied heights of love, and inclined to a general amnesty towards my enemies. As he stood there, quiet and compelling, there was an assumption of frankness and honesty about this man that it was hard to withstand. For
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934012
the nonce I was persuaded of his sincerity, and weakly I surrendered my hand. His grip made me wince. "Yes, again I congratulate you. I know and admire her. They don't make them any better. She's pure gold. She's a little queen, and the man she cares for ought to be proud and happy. Now, I'm a man of the
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934013
world, I'm cynical about woman as a rule. I respect my mother and my sisters--beyond that----" He shrugged his shoulders expressively. "But this girl's different. I always felt in her presence as I used to feel twenty-five years ago when I was a youth, with all my ideals untarnished, my heart pure, and woman holy in my sight." He sighed.
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934014
"You know, young man, I've never told it to a soul before, but I'd give all I'm worth--a clear million--to have those days back. I've never been happy since." He drew away quickly from the verge of sentiment. "Well, you mustn't mind me taking an interest in your sweetheart. I'm old enough to be her father, you know, and she
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934015
touches me strangely. Now, don't distrust me. I want to be a friend to you both. I want to help you to be happy. Jack Locasto's not such a bad lot, as you'll find when you know him. Is there anything I can do for you? What are you going to do in this country?" "I don't quite know yet,"
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934016
I said. "I hope to stake a good claim when the chance comes. Meantime I'm going to get work on the creeks." "You are?" he said thoughtfully; "do you know any one?" "No." "Well, I'll tell you what: I've got laymen working on my Eldorado claim; I'll give you a note to them if you like." I thanked him. "Oh,
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934017
that's all right," he said. "I'm sorry I played such a mean part in the past, and I'll do anything in my power to straighten things out. Believe me, I mean it. Your English friend gave me the worst drubbing of my life, but three days after I went round and shook hands with him. Fine fellow that. We opened
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934018
a case of wine to celebrate the victory. Oh, we're good friends now. I always own up when I'm beaten, and I never bear ill-will. If I can help you in any way, and hasten your marriage to that little girl there, well, you can just bank on Jack Locasto: that's all." I must say the man could be most
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934019
conciliating when he chose. There was a gravity in his manner, a suave courtesy in his tone, the heritage of his Spanish forefathers, that convinced me almost in spite of my better judgment. No doubt he was magnetic, dominating, a master of men. I thought: there are two Locastos, the primordial one, the Indian, who had assaulted me; and the
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934020
dignified genial one, the Spaniard, who was willing to own defeat and make amends. Why should I not take him as I found him? So, as he talked entertainingly to me, my fears were dissipated, my suspicions lulled. And when we parted we shook hands cordially. "Don't forget," he said; "if you want help bank on me. I mean it
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934021
now, I mean it." * * * * * 'Twas early in the bright and cool of the morning when we started for Eldorado, Jim and I. I had a letter from Locasto to Ribwood and Hoofman, the laymen, and I showed it to Jim. He frowned. "You don't mean to say you've palled up with that devil," he said.
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934022
"Oh, he's not so bad," I expostulated. "He came to me like a man and offered me his hand in friendship. Said he was ashamed of himself. What could I do? I've no reason to doubt his sincerity." "Sincerity be danged. He's about as sincere as a tame rattlesnake. Put his letter in the creek." But no! I refused to
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934023
listen to the old man. "Well, go your own gait," he said; "but don't say that I didn't warn you." We had crossed over the Klondike to its left limit, and were on a hillside trail beaten down by the feet of miners and packers. Cabins clustered on the flat, and from them plumes of violet smoke mounted into the
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934024
golden air. Already the camp was astir. Men were chopping their wood, carrying their water. The long, long day was beginning. Following the trail, we struck up Bonanza, a small muddy stream in a narrow valley. Down in the creek-bed we could see ever-increasing signs of an intense mining activity. On every claim were dozens of cabins, and many high
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934025
cones of greyish muck. We saw men standing on raised platforms turning windlasses. We saw buckets come up filled with the same dark grey dirt, to be dumped over the edge of the platform. Sometimes, where the dump had gradually arisen around man and windlass, the platform in the centre of that dark-greyish cone was twenty feet high. Every mile
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934026
the dumps grew more numerous, till some claims seemed covered with them. Looking down from the trail, they were like innumerable anthills blocking up the narrow channel, and around them swarmed the little ant-men in never-resting activity. The golden valley opened out to us in a vista of green curves, and the cleft of it was packed with tents, cabins,
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934027
dumps and tailing piles, all bedded in a blue haze of wood fires. "Look at that great centipede striding across the valley," I said. "Yes," said Jim, "it's a long line of sluice-boxes. See the water a-shinin' in the sun. Looks like some big golden-backed caterpillar." The little ants were shovelling into it from one of their heaps, and from
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934028
that point it swirled on into the stream, a current of mud and stone. "Seems to me that stream would wash away all the gold," I said. "I know it's all caught in the riffles, but I think if that dump was mine I would want sluice-boxes a mile long and about sixteen hundred riffles. But I guess they know
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934029
what they are doing." About noon we descended into the creek-bed and came to the Forks. It was a little town, a Dawson in miniature, with all its sordid aspects infinitely accentuated. It had dance-halls, gambling dens and many saloons: every convenience to ease the miner of the plethoric poke. There in the din and daze and dirt we tarried
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934030
awhile; then, after eating heartily, we struck up Eldorado. Here was the same feverish activity of gold-getting. Every claim was valued at millions, and men who had rarely owned enough to buy a decent coat were crying in the saloons because life was not long enough to allow them to spend their sudden wealth. Nevertheless, they were making a good
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934031
stab at it. At the Forks I enquired regarding Ribwood and Hoofman: "Goin' to work for them, are you? Well, they've got a blamed hard name. If you get a job elsewhere, don't turn it down." Jim left me; he would work on no claim of Locasto's, he said. He had a friend, a layman, who was a good man,
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934032
belonged to the Army. He would try him. So we parted. Ribwood was a tall, gaunt Cornishman, with a narrow, jutting face and a gloomy air; Hoofman, a burly, beet-coloured Australian with a bulging stomach. "Yes, we'll put you to work," said Hoofman, reading the letter. "Get your coat off and shovel in." So, right away, I found myself in
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934033
the dump-pile, jamming a shovel into the pay-dirt and swinging it into a sluice-box five feet higher than my head. Keeping at this hour after hour was no fun, and if ever a man desisted for a moment the hard eyes of Hoofman were upon him, and the gloomy Ribwood had snatched up a shovel and was throwing in the
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934034
muck furiously. "Come on, boys," he would shout; "make the dirt fly. 'Taint every part of the world you fellers can make your ten bucks a day." And it can be said that never labourer proved himself more worthy of his hire than the pick-and-shovel man of those early days. Few could stand it long without resting. They were lean
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934035
as wolves those men of the dump and drift, and their faces were gouged and grooved with relentless toil. Well, for three days I made the dirt fly; but towards quitting time, I must say, its flight was a very uncertain one. Again I suffered all the tortures of becoming toil-broken, the old aches and pains of the tunnel and
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934036
the gravel-pit. Towards evening every shovelful of dirt seemed to weigh as much as if it was solid gold; indeed, the stuff seemed to get richer and richer as the day advanced, and during the last half-hour I judged it must be nearly all nuggets. The constant hoisting into the overhead sluice-box somehow worked muscles that had never gone into
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934037
action before, and I ached elaborately. In the morning the pains were fiercest. How I groaned until the muscles became limber. I found myself using very rough language, groaning, gritting my teeth viciously. But I stayed with the work and held up my end, while the laymen watched us sedulously, and seemed to grudge us even a moment to wipe
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934038
the sweat out of our blinded eyes. I was glad, indeed, when, on the evening of the third day, Ribwood came to me and said: "I guess you'd better work up at the shaft to-morrow. We want a man to wheel muck." They had a shaft sunk on the hillside. They were down some forty feet and were drifting in,
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934039
wheeling the pay-dirt down a series of planks placed on trestles to the dump. I gripped the handles of a wheelbarrow loaded to overspilling, and steered it down that long, unsteady gangway full of uneven joins and sudden angles. Time and again I ran off the track, but after the first day I became quite an expert at the business.
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934040
My spirits rose. I was on the way of becoming a miner. Turning the windlass over the shaft was a little, tough mud-rat, who excited in me the liveliest sense of aversion. Pat Doogan was his name, but I will call him the "Worm." The Worm was the foulest-mouthed specimen I have yet met. He had the lowest forehead I
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934041
have ever seen in a white man, and such a sharp, ferrety little face. His reddish hair had the prison clip, and his little reddish eyes were alive with craft and cruelty. I noticed he always regarded me with a peculiarly evil grin, that wrinkled up his cheeks and revealed his hideously blackened teeth. From the first he gave me
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934042
a creepy feeling, a disgust as if I were near some slimy reptile. Yet the Worm tried to make up to me. He would tell me stories blended of the horrible and the grotesque. One in particular I remember. "Youse wanta know how I lost me last job. I'll tell youse. You see, it was like dis. Dere was two
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934043
Blackmoor guys dat got into de country dis Spring; came by St. Michaels; Hindoos dey was. One of dem 'Sicks' (an' dey looked sick, dey was so loose an' weary in der style) got a job from old man Gustafson down de shaft muckin' up and fillin' de buckets. "Well, dere was dat Blackmoor down in de deep hole one
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934044
day when I comes along, an' strikes old Gus for a job. So, seein' as de man on de windlass wanted to quit, he passed it up to me, an' I took right hold an' started in. "Say, I was feelin' powerful mean. I'd just finished up a two weeks' drunk, an' you tink de booze wasn't workin' in me
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934045
some. I was seein' all kinds of funny t'ings. Why, as I was a-turnin' away at dat ol' windlass dere was red spiders crawlin' up me legs. But I was wise. I wouldn't look at dem, give dem de go-by. Den a yeller rat got gay wid me an' did some stunts on me windlass. But still I wouldn't let
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934046
on. Den dere was some green snakes dat wriggled over de platform like shiny streaks on de water. Sure, I didn't like dat one bit, but I says, 'Dere ain't no snakes in de darned country, Pat, and you knows it. It's just a touch of de horrors, dat's all. Just pass 'em up, boy; don't take no notice of
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934047
dem.' "Well, dis went on till I begins to get all shaky an' jumpy, an' I was mighty glad when de time came to quit, an' de boys down below gives me de holler to pull dem up. "So I started hoistin' wid dose snakes an' spiders an' rats jus' cavortin' round me like mad, when all to once who
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934048
should I hoist outa de bowels of de earth but de very devil himself. "His face was black. I could see de whites of his eyes, an' he had a big dirty towel tied round his head. Well, say, it was de limit. At de sight of dat ferocious monster comin' after old Pat I gives one yell, drops de
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934049
crank-handle of de windlass, an' makes a flyin' leap down de dump. I hears an awful shriek, an' de bucket an' de devil goes down smash to de bottom of de shaft, t'irty-five feet. But I kep' on runnin'. I was so scared. "Well, how was I to know dey had a Blackmoor down dere? He was a stiff when
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934050
dey got him up, but how was I to know? So I lost me job." On another occasion he told me: "Say, kid, youse didn't know as I was liable to fits, did youse? Dat's so; eppylepsy de doctor tells me. Dat's what I am scared of. You see, it's like dis: if one of dem fits should hit me
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934051
when I'm hoistin' de boys outer de shaft, den it would be a pity. I would sure lose me job like de oder time." He was the most degraded type of man I had yet met on my travels, a typical degenerate, dirty, drunken, diseased. He had three suits of underclothing, which he never washed. He would wear through all
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934052
three in succession, and when the last got too dirty for words he would throw it under his trunk and sorrowfully go back to the first, keeping up this rotation, till all were worn out. One day Hoofman told me he wanted me to go down the shaft and work in the drift. Accordingly, next morning I and a huge
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934053
Slav, by name Dooley Rileyvich, were lowered down into the darkness. The Slav initiated me. Every foot of dirt had to be thawed out by means of wood fires. We built a fire at the far end of the drift every night, covering the face we were working. First we would lay kindling, then dry spruce lying lengthways, then a
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934054
bank of green wood standing on end to keep in the heat and shed the dirt that sloughed down from the roof. In the morning our fire would be burned out, and enough pay-dirt thawed to keep us picking all day. Down there I found it the hardest work of all. We had to be careful that the smoke had
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934055
cleared from the drift before we ventured in, for frequently miners were asphyxiated. Indeed, the bad air never went entirely away. It made my eyes sore, my head ache. Yet, curiously enough, so long as you were below it did not affect you so much. It was when you stepped out of the bucket and struck the pure outer air
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934056
that you reeled and became dizzy. It was blinding, too. Often at supper have my eyes been so blurred and sore I had to grope around uncertainly for the sugar bowl and the tin of cream. In the drift it was always cool. The dirt kept sloughing down on us, and we had really gone in too far for our
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934057
own safety, but the laymen cared little for that. At the end of the drift the roof was so low we were bent almost double, picking at the face in all kinds of cramped positions, and dragging after us the heavy bucket. To the big Slav it was all in the day's work, but to me it was hard, hard.
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934058
The shaft was almost forty feet deep. For the first ten feet a ladder ran down it, then stopped suddenly as if the excavators had decided to abandon it. I often looked at this useless bit of ladder and wondered why it had been left unfinished. Every morning the Worm hoisted us down into the darkness, and at night drew
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934059
us up. Once he said to me: "Say, wouldn't it be de tough luck if I was to take a fit when I was hoistin' youse up? Such a nice bit of a boy, too, an' I guess I'd lose my job over de head of it." I said: "Cut that out, or you'll have me so scared I won't
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934060
go down." He grinned unpleasantly and said nothing more. Yet somehow he was getting on my nerves terribly. It was one evening we had banked our fires and were ready to be hoisted up. Dooley Rileyvich went first, and I watched him blot out the bit of blue for a while. Then, slowly, down came the bucket for me. I
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934061
got in. I was feeling uneasy all of a sudden, and devoutly wished I were anywhere else but in that hideous hole. I felt myself leave the ground and rise steadily. The walls of the shaft glided past me. Up, up I went. The bit of blue sky grew bigger, bigger. There was a star shining there. I watched it.
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934062
I heard the creak, creak of the windlass crank. Somehow it seemed to have a sinister sound. It seemed to say: "Have a care, have a care, have a care." I was now ten feet from the top. The bucket was rocking a little, so I put out my hand and grasped the lowest rung of the ladder to steady
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934063
myself. Then, at that instant, it seemed the weight of the bucket pressing up against my feet was suddenly removed, and my arm was nigh jerked out of its socket. There I was hanging desperately on the lowest rung of the ladder, while, with a crash that made my heart sick, the bucket dashed to the bottom. At last, I
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934064
realised, the Worm had had his fit. Quickly I gripped with both hands. With a great effort I raised myself rung by rung on the ladder. I was panic-stricken, faint with fear; but some instinct had made me hold on desperately. Dizzily I hung all a-shudder, half-sobbing. A minute seemed like a year. Ah! there was the face of Dooley
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934065
looking down on me. He saw me clinging there. He was anxiously shouting to me to come up. Mastering an overpowering nausea I raised myself. At last I felt his strong arm around me, and here I swear it on a stack of Bibles that brutish Slav seemed to me like one of God's own angels. I was on firm
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934066
ground once more. The Worm was lying stiff and rigid. Without a word the stalwart Slav took him on his brawny shoulder. The creek was downhill but fifty yards. Ere we reached it the Worm had begun to show signs of reviving consciousness. When we got to the edge of the icy water he was beginning to groan and open
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934067
his eyes in a dazed way. "Leave me alone," he says to Rileyvich; "you Slavonian swine, lemme go." Not so the Slav. Holding the wriggling, writhing little man in his powerful arms he plunged him heels over head in the muddy current of the creek. "I guess I cure dose fits anyway," he said grimly. Struggling, spluttering, blaspheming, the little
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934068
man freed himself at last and staggered ashore. He cursed Rileyvich most comprehensively. He had not yet seen me, and I heard him wailing: "Sure de boy's a stiff. Just me luck; I've lost me job." "You'd better quit," said the Prodigal. It was the evening of my mishap, and he had arrived unexpectedly from town. "Yes, I mean to,"
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934069
I answered. "I wouldn't go down there again for a farm. I feel as weak as a sick baby. I couldn't stay another day." "Well, that goes," said he. "It just fits in with my plans. I'm getting Jim to come in, too. I've realised on that stuff I bought, made over three thousand clear profit, and with it I've
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934070
made a dicker for a property on the bench above Bonanza, Gold Hill they call it. I've a notion it's all right. Anyway, we'll tunnel in and see. You and Jim will have a quarter share each for your work, while I'll have an extra quarter for the capital I've put in. Is it a go?" I said it was.
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934071
"Thought it would be. I've had the papers made out; you can sign right now." So I signed, and next day found us all three surveying our claim. We put up a tent, but the first thing to do was to build a cabin. Right away we began to level off the ground. The work was pleasant, and conducted in
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934072
such friendship that the time passed most happily. Indeed, my only worry was about Berna. She had never ceased to be at the forefront of my mind. I schooled myself into the belief that she was all right, but, thank God, every moment was bringing her nearer to me. One morning, when we were out in the woods cutting timber
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934073
for the cabin, I said to Jim: "Did you ever hear anything more about that man Mosely?" He stopped chopping, and lowered the axe he had poised aloft. "No, boy; I've had no mail at all. Wait awhile." He swung his axe with viciously forceful strokes. His cheery face had become so downcast that I bitterly blamed myself for my
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934074
want of tact. However, the cloud soon passed. About two days after that the Prodigal said to me: "I saw your little guttersnipe friend to-day." "Indeed, where?" I asked; for I had often thought of the Worm, thought of him with fear and loathing. "Well, sir, he was just getting the grandest dressing-down I ever saw a man get. And
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934075
do you know who was handing it to him--Locasto, no less." He lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke. "I was just coming along the trail from the Forks when I suddenly heard voices in the bush. The big man was saying: "'Lookee here, Pat, you know if I just liked to say half a dozen words I could land
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934076
you in the penitentiary for the rest of your days.' "Then the little man's wheedling voice: "'Well, I did me best, Jack. I know I bungled the job, but youse don't want to cast dem t'ings up to me. Dere's more dan me orter be in de pen. Dere's no good in de pot callin' de kettle black, is dere?'
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934077
"Then Black Jack flew off the handle. You know he's got a system of manhandling that's near the record in these parts. Well, he just landed on the little man. He got him down and started to lambast the Judas out of him. He gave him the 'leather,' and then some. I guess he'd have done him to a finish
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934078
hadn't I been Johnnie on the spot. At sight of me he gives a curse, jumps on his horse and goes off at a canter. Well, I propped the little man against a tree, and then some fellows came along, and we got him some brandy. But he was badly done up. He kept saying: 'Oh, de devil, de big
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934079
devil, sure I'll give him his before I get t'rough.' Funny, wasn't it?" "Yes, it's strange;" and for some time I pondered over the remarkable strangeness of it. "That reminds me," said Jim; "has any one seen the Jam-wagon?" "Oh yes," answered the Prodigal; "poor beggar! he's down and out. After the fight he went to pieces, every one treating
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934080
him, and so on. You remember Bullhammer?" "Yes." "Well, the last I saw of the Jam-wagon--he was cleaning cuspidors in Bullhammer's saloon." * * * * * We had hauled the logs for the cabin, and the foundation was laid. Now we were building up the walls, placing between every log a thick wadding of moss. Every day saw our
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934081
future home nearer completion. One evening I spied the saturnine Ribwood climbing the hill to our tent. He hailed me: "Say, you're just the man I want." "What for?" I asked; "not to go down that shaft again?" "No. Say! we want a night watchman up at the claim to go on four hours a night at a dollar an
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934082
hour. You see, there's been a lot of sluice-box robberies lately, and we're scared for our clean-up. We're running two ten-hour shifts now and cleaning up every three days; but there's four hours every night the place is deserted, and Hoofman proposed we should get you to keep watch." "Yes," I said; "I'll run up every evening if the others
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934083
don't object." They did not; so the next night, and for about a dozen after that, I spent the darkest hours watching on the claim where previously I had worked. There was never any real darkness down there in that narrow valley, but there was dusk of a kind that made everything grey and uncertain. It was a vague, nebulous
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934084
atmosphere in which objects merged into each other confusedly. Bushes came down to within a few feet of where we were working, dense-growing alder and birch that would have concealed a whole regiment of sluice-robbers. It was the dimmest and most uncertain hour of the four, and I was sitting at my post of guard. As the night was chilly
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934085
I had brought along an old grey blanket, similar in colour to the mound of the pay-dirt. There had been quite a cavity dug in the dump during the day, and into this I crawled and wrapped myself in my blanket. From my position I could see the string of boxes containing the riffles. Over me brooded the vast silence
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934086
of the night. By my side lay a loaded shot-gun. "If the swine comes," said Ribwood, "let him have a clean-up of lead instead of gold." Lying there, I got to thinking of the robberies. They were remarkable. All had been done by an expert. In some cases the riffles had been extracted and the gold scooped out; in others
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934087
a quantity of mercury had been poured in at the upper end of the boxes, and, as it passed down, the "quick" had gathered up the dust. Each time the robbers had cleaned up from two to three thousand dollars, and all within the past month. There was some mysterious master-crook in our midst, one who operated swiftly and surely,
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934088
and left absolutely no clue of his identity. It was strange, I thought. What nerve, what cunning, what skill must this midnight thief be possessed of! What desperate chances was he taking! For, in the miners' eyes, cache-stealing and sluice-box robbing were in the same category, and the punishment was--well, a rope and the nearest tree of size. Among those
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934089
strong, grim men justice would be stern and swift. I was very quiet for a while, watching dreamily the dark shadows of the dusk. Hist! What was that? Surely the bushes were moving over there by the hillside. I strained my eyes. I was right: they were. I was all nerves and excitement now, my heart beating wildly, my eyes
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934090
boring through the gloom. Very softly I put out my hand and grasped the shot-gun. I watched and waited. A man was parting the bushes. Stealthily, very stealthily, he peered around. He hesitated, paused, peered again, crouched on all-fours, crept forward a little. Everything was quiet as a grave. Down in the cabins the tired men slept peacefully; stillness and
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934091
solitude. Cautiously the man, crawling like a snake, worked his way to the sluice-boxes. None but a keen watcher could have seen him. Again and again he paused, peered around, listened intently. Very carefully, with my eyes fixed on him, I lifted the gun. Now he had gained the shadow of the nearest sluice-box. He clung to the trestle-work, clung
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934092
so closely you could scarce tell him apart from it. He was like a rat, dark, furtive, sinister. Slowly I lifted the gun to my shoulder. I had him covered. I waited. Somehow I was loath to shoot. My nerves were a-quiver. Proof, more proof, I said. I saw him working busily, lying flat alongside the boxes. How crafty, how
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934093
skilful he was! He was disconnecting the boxes. He would let the water run to the ground; then, there in the exposed riffles, would be his harvest. Would I shoot ... now ... now.... Then, in the midnight hush, my gun blazed forth. With one scream the man tumbled down, carrying along with him the disconnected box. The water rushed
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934094
over the ground in a deluge. I must capture him. There he lay in that pouring stream.... Now I had him. In that torrent of icy water I grappled with my man. Over and over we rolled. He tried to gouge me. He was small, but oh, how strong! He held down his face. Fiercely I wrenched it up to
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934095
the light. Heavens! it was the Worm. I gave a cry of surprise, and my clutch on him must have weakened, for at that moment he gave a violent wrench, a cat-like twist, and tore himself free. Men were coming, were shouting, were running in from all directions. "Catch him!" I cried. "Yonder he goes." But the little man was
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934096
shooting forward like a deer. He was in the bushes now, bursting through everything, dodging and twisting up the hill. Right and left ran his pursuers, mistaking each other for the robber in the semi-gloom, yelling frantically, mad with the excitement of a man-hunt. And in the midst of it all I lay in a pool of mud and water,
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934097
with a sprained wrist and a bite on my leg. "Why didn't you hold him?" shouted Ribwood. "I couldn't," I answered. "I saved your clean-up, and he got some of the lead. Besides, I know who he is." "You don't! Who is he?" "Pat Doogan." "You don't say. Well, I'm darned. You're sure?" "Dead sure." "Swear it in Court?" "I
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934098
will." "Well, that's all right. We'll get him. I'll go into town first thing in the morning and get out a warrant for him." He went, but the next evening back he returned, looking very surly and disgruntled. "Well, what about the warrant?" said Hoofman. "Didn't get it." "Didn't get----" "No, didn't get it," snapped Ribwood. "Look here, Hoofman, I
60
gutenberg
twg_000012934099
met Locasto. Black Jack says Pat was cached away, dead to all the world, in the backroom of the Omega Saloon all night. There's two loafers and the barkeeper to back him up. What can we do in the face of that? Say, young feller, I guess you mistook your man." "I guess I did not," I protested stoutly. They
60
gutenberg