CHAPTER XXIX STRENGTH FROM THE HILLS
The night Siwash Bill and Windy Pete had been foiled in their dastardly work within Buckskin Dan's cabin, they sat late in the store scheming for a speedy revenge. They were tigers in human forms, and by the flickering candle light their faces expressed the rage burning in their hearts. Oaths of the most blood-curdling nature poured in a sulphurous stream from their foul mouths. There was nothing about their appearance to arouse even the slightest feeling of sympathy or approval. Through years of baseness, guile and debauchery, they had extinguished the faintest spark of nobleness within their hearts. Subject to no restraint, free to follow the dictates of their own passions, they found it now unbearable to be checked in their mad career.
They sat for hours, and the candle spluttered low ere they ceased. Neither did they see two forms speeding swiftly and quietly from Dan's cabin to the canoe by the river's bank.
At length Windy Pete yawned, rose and threw himself into a bunk in the adjoining room, leaving Bill alone with the dying candle. The squaw man's eyes often turned toward the door as if expecting it to open at any minute, and that Nadu would enter. But as the night lengthened and she did not appear, a sigh of relief escaped his lips. He was sure that she had fulfilled his command, and had sped with the child down-stream. A sense of elation swept over him as he mused upon the success of his scheme. How easily he had cleared himself of the troublesome, suspicious squaw. He had the field to himself now, and there was no one to interfere with his design upon that woman at Old Meg's. She had repelled him, it was true, but what of that? There were other ways, and he thought with satisfaction upon her daily, lonely walk down the trail to the river. There would be no Nadu prowling around, either. He would have the beautiful woman to himself, and then he would see if she would scorn him again. To-morrow she would be there. He would wait no longer. And so he sat in the darkness, for the light had gone out. That kindly ministrant had slowly flickered down to nothing, and night mercifully blotted out the coarse passion-inflamed features of the wretched squaw man sitting alone in the room.
No sleep came to his eyes, and at the earliest break of day he arose, lighted the fire and prepared breakfast. Windy Pete still slept on, unheeding the noise his companion was making. Occasionally the squaw man went to the door and looked intently toward Buckskin Dan's cabin. The trapper was an unusually early riser, and when an hour or two had passed, and no smoke was seen issuing from the stovepipe stuck through the roof, the squaw man was much surprised. He talked it over with Pete when he awoke, and together the two watched the cabin for some sign of life. They waited and watched for the greater part of the morning, and observing nothing they went over to the building, and looked cautiously through the small window into the room. Seeing no one, they tried the door, and found it fastened.
Then from Bill's lips broke an exclamation of triumph.
"They've hiked, Pete! Ha, ha!" he cried. "We've routed the d— skunks at last. The place was gittin' too hot fer 'em. Oh, this is a good one. Say, old man, let's go over to the store an' have a drink on it. That was the best job we've done in a long time. I didn't think that spyin' Yellow-leg would show sich a chicken liver so soon. How he did squak last night when the light went out. Oh, oh, this is rich."
They retraced their steps, and had almost reached the store when their attention was arrested by the clatter of hoofs some distance away. Looking around they beheld Shifty Nick tearing down the trail, mounted upon his lean and wiry cayuse. He reined up close to where they were standing, with his characteristic brutality and string of oaths.
"Got the dough, Nick?" queried Bill.
"Dough be d—!" was the reply, as the rider leaped to the ground, tore off saddle and bridle, and turned the much-abused animal loose to seek for a meal as best it could. "Come inside, and we'll talk it over. I'm dead beat, an' almost starved."
"They didn't bite," growled Shifty, as he gulped down his food. "How many times have I got to tell ye that?"
"But didn't ye see anybody?" insisted Bill. "Did no one come near the place where we ordered the money to be left?"
"Come? No. But I kept well out of sight, an' saw several d— Yellow-legs in the distance. They were on the lookout, but I kept close. They thought somebody'd be squattin' like a fool by the rock, with folded hands, an' meek eyes, waitin' fer the money. But Shifty knows a thing or two. Good Lord! How my fingers itched and quivered to draw a bead on their numbskulls."
"Oh, well, Nick," Bill replied, "don't feel too bad about it. We've got the kid, an' as that old cuss Si didn't fork out, but set those hounds of hell on us, it'll be some consolation to make 'im squirm. But I'd like to see his face when he gits the news of what has happened to his little tootsy-wootsie boy."
"Where is the kid, anyway?" questioned Nick. "I halted at Old Meg's, an' she told me the news."
"Ha, ha," and Bill laughed outright. "We've got 'im cinched all right. He's gone down to the Big Lakes. They'll keep 'im until called fer."
"An' ye sent the gal along to look after 'im, eh?"
"Sartin. I didn't want her pryin' around. She's been somewhat suspicious of me lately, so I sent her to her own people with the two Injuns who came spyin' upon Hishu."
"Oh, I don't mean your squaw, Bill. But the gal over yon."
"Why, what about her?" and the squaw man's eyes opened wide in wonder.
"She's gone, too. Haven't ye heard?"
"The divil!" and Bill leaped to his feet. "What are ye givin' us? Who's stuffed ye with all this nonsense?"
"Ask Old Meg, then. She'll tell ye, fer she's more'n worked up over it; said that the gal went away with the kid in the canoe. Guess them Big Lakes must have an eye fer beauty, too, Bill, an' one of 'em needed a white squaw. Ha, ha, that's a good one."
Siwash Bill hardly heard these closing words. He stood as in a dream. So she was gone, and his plans were all upset. But why did they take her? What did it all mean?
"How did Old Meg know of this, Nick?" he hoarsely asked. "We didn't hear a word."
"Oh, that d— Yellow-leg told her. He burst into her cabin like a tornado. His eyes were starin' wild, an' his voice was like a roar of thunder, so she said, when he asked her about the gal. Where is the cur now, anyway?"
Siwash Bill was more mystified than ever. He stood looking at Shifty in an abstracted manner, and then an angry snarl of rage broke from his lips.
"We're fools, d— fools!" he cried. "While we've been gloatin' over Buckskin Dan an' that Yellow-leg, callin' 'em cowards an' all kinds of names, they've been hikin' after them Injuns to save the boy an' that gal. Oh, I see it all as plain as day."
The squaw man had been outwitted at his own game. His companions knew when to be silent, and discreetly left him to his own thoughts. They sauntered from the building, and discussed the matter outside. Within the store sat Bill, alone, the very incarnation of baffled rage and hatred. The day wore on, and he prowled around waiting for something to happen. Mingled with his rage was a feeling of insecurity. He had formerly believed that his word was law at Hishu; that his plans could not be overturned, and that his commands would be obeyed. But his eyes were being slowly opened. There was some undercurrent which was working against him. The very air seemed ominous with unforeseen events.
The feeling of dread was deepened when toward evening he saw canoes gliding down the river, filled with natives. He believed they would stop at Hishu, but, instead, they pushed steadily on in deep silence. He ran to the bank of the river, and watched them until they had disappeared around a bend in the distance. He noted that one craft ran close to the shore, and a tall, lithe figure stepped lightly in. He could not tell who this passenger was, but it increased his anxiety. Why had not the Hishus stopped? What did they mean by going by without a word? Had they, too, turned against him? He felt that their action had something to do with the stolen woman and child. But how could they know about it so far off in the wilderness, while he, only a few hundred yards away, had been in entire ignorance?
Anxiously now he discussed the whole question with his companions. Would Dan and the constable return, and the Hishus with them? If so, their position at the village would be unenviable. Or had the Indians gone down to meet the Big Lakes? This latter idea gave them some relief. Anyway, they considered it safer to be prepared, and if the worst came they could fade away into the wilderness. A couple of cayuses, grazing in a wild meadow, several miles from Hishu, were caught and brought to the village to be held in readiness, while packs of food were made up for a speedy departure. In addition to these precautions Shifty Nick each day patrolled the river for miles below Hishu. He lived upon the trail. By day he scanned the river for the slightest object, while at night his alert ears were strained for the faintest paddle dip. It had often been said that Shifty could sleep in the saddle, and could see with his eyes closed.
Days passed and nothing happened. The river gave no sign, and the air breathed no secrets. But late one afternoon Shifty rode madly into Hishu, leaped from the cayuse, and burst into the store.
"They're comin'!" he shouted. "Five miles down river."
Siwash Bill dropped the rifle he was cleaning and stared.
"How many?" he gasped. "Injuns, too?"
"No, only one canoe. Injuns nowhere in sight. All whites but one, an' that's Nadu. Now we've got to act, an' what's yer plan? Are ye goin' to let 'em git through Hishu?"
"How long 'fore they'll git here, Nick?" questioned the squaw man, who was now thinking deeply.
"'Bout two hours. Heavy tide that."
"Two hours. It'll be quite dark then," Bill mused, as he glanced toward the window. "Two hours. Let me see. Thar's Dan; he's a divil, an' the Yellow-leg's 'bout as bad. The rest'll be easy to handle, eh?"
"What's yer plan, Bill?"
"Listen," and the squaw man leaned over and spoke low. "See? Dead men tell no tales. Night. Confusion. Cries of fright. River swift. Good grave, eh? Easy. What? We kin do it. Three to one. It's our only way, Nick. We'll have to do it later, so might as well settle the job now."
"But what about the Yellow-legs at Big Glen?" questioned Shifty.
"What about 'em? I care not fer the hull bunch. They can't prove anything. We're desperate men, anyway, so a few lives more or less won't matter, eh? Now you had better git down-stream early, in case they come faster'n we expect. I'll be along later, fer I've got some things to look after around the store. We'll have a big blowout when we git this affair settled. I'll stand treat to-night, an' a good one it'll be, too. So ye'd better be off at once."
Slowly the darkness deepened as the squaw man moved around the store. He felt confident now that his plans would not miscarry. He could trust his two companions to do the deed from which his cowardly heart shrank. He had really nothing to detain him, and his excuse of work was only a weak sham. But he resolved to be near, watching within the shadows, at the right moment. Occasionally he went to the door to listen, hoping to hear the report of rifles and the sounds of clamour down-stream. At last, thinking it about time the canoe should be near, he seized his cap, and was about to blow out the candle standing on the table, when a peculiar noise fell upon his ears. He paused and listened. It was the steady tramp of numerous feet approaching the building. He started, and his face grew ashy white, for he recognised that sound. The prospectors and miners had returned from the hills! But why were they coming so soon? Formerly their arrival had always filled him with joy, for it had meant big sales, and much drinking. Now, however, it was different. He did not wish them near at this critical time, and, besides, something warned him that they had returned for a special purpose.
He glanced quickly around, with the idea of flight, but at that instant the store door was thrust open with a bang, and a number of men surged into the room. To the squaw man trembling by the counter they seemed like a veritable army of giants. And in fact they were splendid types of men physically. No carpet knights these, but rugged pioneers and pathfinders, who for long years had followed the lure of gold wherever it beckoned with its mystic charm.
They entered without a word, and almost filled the store. Their silence to the shrinking man was most ominous. Why had he remained behind? he asked himself. Why had he not gone with his companions? He would have had their assistance at any rate, and here he was alone to face these men!
"Evenin', men," he at length blurted out. "It's g-good t' see ye. Yer back early from the hills. Have a drink, eh? Free to all. It's my treat t'night."
If he thought in this manner to win the good will of these men he was sadly mistaken. He partly turned toward the black bottles standing on the shelves, when certain sickening clicks caused him to wheel suddenly about, and he found his eyes looking straight down the smooth barrels of a dozen levelled revolvers.
"Fer heaven's sake!" he gasped. "What does this mean? What d'ye want?"
"Throw up your hands," came the stern command. "There, that's better. Now look here, Bill," and the speaker took a step closer. "Where's that kid you pinched from Big Glen?"
"K-kid! What kid?"
"Look, none of that. You can't fool with us. We've come too far to listen to nonsense. So out with it at once."
The squaw man was in a trap, and he knew that to parley was useless.
"He's down river," he muttered. "I don't know whar he is now."
"But ye do know. Ye sent 'im, an' if ye don't cough up at once we'll leave your d— carcass here on the floor in the twinkling of an eye. D'ye hear?"
Siwash Bill heard, and shaking with fear told briefly what he knew.
Muttered oaths and agitated movements greeted this contemptible story. The speaker lifted his hand for silence.
"You mean, cowardly sneak," he cried, turning to the prisoner. "You deserve to be tied to a stake and tortured to death. The men here are just in the right mood for such a job, too. They left their claims, tramped the whole distance to Hishu, and are hungry enough to be mad for action."
"No, no, fer God's sake, don't do that!" gasped Bill.
"No, we won't do it just now. We'll reserve that for a little later. There are two others to be dealt with, and we'll make one job of the whole nasty affair. So you say Shifty and Windy are lying in wait down-stream, eh?"
"Yes. They've been thar fer some time."
"Well, then, boys," ordered the speaker, "some stay here, and guard this cur. The rest of us will step over to the landing. We'd like to have a hand in that racket. I hope to God we're not too late."
At that instant the faint report of a rifle fell upon their ears. Then another, and still another. At once a mad rush was made for the door, while Siwash Bill was left in the safe-keeping of half a dozen able-bodied prospectors.