A BATTLE WITH SMUGGLERS
After supper that same evening the violence of Ralph Darrell's rage had so subsided that his daughter ventured to inquire concerning its cause. When he had informed her, she said:
"Why should you let a little thing like that worry you, papa? Surely you can engage plenty more miners if you want them. I don't see why you should bother with the old mine, though. It don't seem to be worth anything."
"Not worth anything!" cried the old man, standing up in his excitement. "Why, child, it is worth millions! It is one of the richest copper properties in the world, and in one week's time it will be all my own. Rather, it will be yours, since it is for you alone that I have lived in this wilderness all these years, thereby saving it from destruction, and warding off the conspiracy that would reduce you to beggary. For your sake only have I so guarded the secret of its wealth that no living soul suspects it. Even the men who delve in its depths know not the value of the material in which they toil, for I have not told them. Nor have I allowed an assay to be made of its smallest fragment; but I know its worth, its fabulous value, that will make the owner of the Copper Princess one of the richest heiresses in the world."
"Who is the Copper Princess, papa?" asked the girl, who, though bewildered by the old man's extravagant statements, could not help but be interested in them.
"You are, my darling, you are a copper princess; but the name also applies to your mine, and was given to it before you were born. 'Darrell's Folly' is what men, in their ignorance, call it now, but in one week's time it may assume its rightful title, and thereafter the fame of the Copper Princess will spread far and wide."
"But why not let people call the mine by its real name now, papa? What difference will one week make?"
"Because," replied Ralph Darrell, bending towards his daughter, and lowering his voice almost to a whisper, as though fearful of being overheard, "in one week's time—only one week from this very day—the contract will expire, and the heirs of Richard Peveril can make no claim."
"Richard Peveril!" cried the girl, with a sudden recollection; "why, papa, that is the name of the young man who was in the cavern to-day, for he told me so himself. He is the same, you know, who came for your logs."
For an instant the old man glared at his daughter with an expression so terrible that she shrank from him frightened. Then it cleared, and in his ordinary tone he said, gently:
"I wish, dear, you would go and change your dress. I don't like to have you wear this boy's costume in the evening."
With only a moment of hesitation the girl obeyed him and left the room.
She had no sooner disappeared than the strange expression that he had so successfully banished for a minute returned to the man's face, and, possessing himself of a revolver, he proceeded to load it. As he did so he muttered:
"I must do it for her sake, though she must never know. Richard Peveril shall not be given an opportunity for making his claim. If he is really in the cavern he must not be allowed to escape from it alive."
So saying, the old man left the room, while Mary Darrell, who had been anxiously watching his movements through a crack of the opposite doorway, followed swiftly after him.
In the cavern, at that moment, two groups of men were confronting each other suspiciously, but hesitating as to what attitude they should assume. The expected schooner had reached the coast that evening, and, assured of safety by the single light displayed from the cliffs, had run boldly in to her accustomed anchorage. As the operations of the smugglers were necessarily conducted with great promptness, a portion of her valuable cargo was immediately transferred to a small boat, and four men accompanied it to the usual landing-place on the black ledge. Here the goods were taken out, and two of the men returned to the schooner with the boat while the others remained on shore. These became so impatient at not receiving the usual intimation from above that all was in readiness for hoisting, nor any answer to their repeated signals, that they finally decided to avail themselves of the tackle hanging ready beside them to go up and investigate. The captain of the schooner, who was an Englishman, went first, and the other, who was a French Canadian, followed closely after him.
A WILD-LOOKING MAN LEVELLED A PISTOL AT PEVERIL
To their amazement they found the cavern, which they had been told was never entered except by old man Darrell or his son, in possession of two strangers, who appeared equally surprised at seeing them.
"What are you chaps doing 'ere?" demanded the Englishman.
"Oui. By gar! vat you do in zis place?" added his follower.
"I was about to ask that same question," said Peveril. "What are you doing here?"
"Yes, be jabers! That's what we want to know. What be yous doing here?" chimed in Mike Connell.
At that moment a wild-looking, white-headed figure suddenly appeared on the scene, and, with one searching glance at Peveril, who stood fully revealed in the light of Mike Connell's lantern, levelled a pistol full at him. As he did so, a cry of terror rang through the rock-hewn chamber, and a pair of soft arms were flung about the old man from behind. By this his aim was so disconcerted that, though the shot still rang out with startling effect in that confined space, its bullet flew wide of the intended mark, and Peveril stood unharmed.
In another second the schooner's captain had sprung upon the madman and wrenched the pistol from his hand, crying out:
"No, no, Mr. Darrell! There must be no murder connected with this business. It is bad enough, God knows, without having that added!"
"C'est vrai! Certainment! By gar!" shouted the Canadian.
"You bet your sweet life, old man! That sort of thing don't go down in the copper country, and it's mighty lucky for you that the young feller was on hand to kape you from carrying out your murderous intentions," said Mike Connell, sternly.
Peveril, seeing that the man, whom he had already recognized, was rendered harmless by the loss of his pistol, remained coolly silent, waiting for some cue by which his own course of action might be determined.
"I see I have made a mistake, gentlemen," said Ralph Darrell, changing his tactics with all a madman's cunning and readiness. "And I beg Mister—a—"
"Peveril," said the young man—"Richard Peveril is my name, sir."
"Yes, of course; and, as I was saying, I beg Mr. Richard Peveril's pardon for being so hasty; but my daughter here, having informed me of his suspicious presence in the vicinity of this warehouse, I came to protect my property from possible depredation. Finding him in the very place that I was most anxious to guard, I very naturally took him for a burglar, and acted accordingly. I am sorry, of course, if I have made a mistake; but, if I remember rightly, I have already had occasion to accuse Mr. Peveril of trespassing, and to order him from my premises."
"You did, sir, and I refused to go until I had recovered certain property to which I have a claim."
"Do you refuse to go now, when I tell you that the property in question has been removed beyond your reach?"
"I do not."
"Will you promise never to return?"
"I will not."
"Will you go with these men on their schooner?"
"Certainly not, unless compelled by force, for I have no inclination to trust myself with a gang of smugglers."
By this time two more of the schooner's crew, who had reached the ledge with a second boat-load of goods in time to be attracted by the pistol-shot in the cavern, had made their appearance on the scene, and stood wonderingly behind their captain.
To this individual the old man whispered: "I will give you one thousand dollars to capture this spy, who threatens to break up our business. Carry him on board your schooner, and keep him there for one week—one whole week, remember. Five hundred down, and the remainder at the end of the week, if you have him still on board."
"Done!" said the captain, eagerly; and, turning to his men, he muttered a few words to them in a low tone.
Peveril and Connell watched this by-play with considerable anxiety, for they had no idea what action would be best to take. It would be folly to make an attack on so strong a force, especially as they had no direct provocation for so doing. Even should they succeed in driving them from the cavern, they had no clear idea of what would be gained. At the same time they did not relish the idea of waiting quietly while the others carried on their secret consultation.
"The divils mean mischief, Mister Peril," whispered Connell. "Kape your eye on them; and mind, if we get separated in the shindy, I'm not the lad to desert a friend. Look out! Here they come! Take that, you imps of Satan!"
With this final exclamation, the Irishman hurled his lighted lantern full into the faces of the group at that moment rushing towards them. It struck with a crash of glass, and then everything was enveloped in darkness.
The fight was fierce, but short-lived. Peveril found himself striking out wildly, was conscious of delivering several telling blows, and of receiving twice as many in return. Then he was overwhelmed by numbers, and, still fighting stoutly, was borne to the rocky floor.
When all was over and a lantern was brought, it revealed several bloody faces and blackened eyes. Peveril was lying flat on his back, with three men holding him down. Connell had disappeared, and so had Mary Darrell, who was still looked upon by all present, except her father, as being a boy. The old man held the lighted lantern, and the captain of the schooner, swearing savagely, was holding his hands to his face, which had been badly cut by the Irishman's missile.
A cord was brought, the very one that had lowered the lunch-basket, and with it Peveril was trussed like a fowl for roasting. Then he was swung down to the ledge at the base of the cliffs, tossed into a boat, and rowed away. A few minutes later he was handed aboard the schooner, taken below, and chucked into a small, evil-smelling state-room, the door of which was locked behind him.
It was a very unpleasant position to occupy, and yet his thoughts were not dwelling half so much upon it as they were upon the fact that the young person in golf costume who had saved his life that evening had been spoken of as a daughter.