THE RUFUS GRIM MURDER.
The history of Rufus Grim’s demise, though still shrouded in mystery, will doubtless, when the facts are known, startle the people of Gold Bluff even more than the murder itself. It is true that Steve Gibbons is accused and languishes in the county jail, and that a warrant is out for the arrest of his old associate, Hank Casey. In the excitement of the hour, our people may have interpreted circumstantial evidence as proof of guilt. As a matter of fact, not one jot or tittle of damaging evidence, in the Prospector’s judgment, can be produced against these men.
The idea of suicide has been effectually set aside by the findings at the coroner’s inquest. No one doubts that it was a cold-blooded, cowardly murder. We believe the murderer is in Gold Bluff to-day, and like the wolf of old, is clad in sheep’s raiment.
Our people should understand the difference between circumstantial and real evidence. It is probably true that both Steve Gibbons and Hank Casey were on anything but friendly terms with Rufus Grim, but they were not his only enemies; indeed, there is one in Gold Bluff who was secretly, if not openly, a much greater enemy to the rich mine owner than either of the suspected parties.
It is time that prejudice gave way to reason, and that others, who profited much more by Rufus Grim’s removal, should not only be suspected, but subjected to the crucial test of a thorough investigation.
This article set the people of Gold Bluff agog. The entire camp, from center to circumference, seemed startled by the boldness of Vance Gilder’s double-leaded editorial. When J. Arthur Boast read the article, he was dazed by its audacity. He sent for his attorney, and throughout the afternoon a consultation that lasted far into the night was held.
Work on the Peacock was shut down the following morning at Boast’s request, and the men assembled at the company’s office. Boast, addressing the miners, said:
“You, doubtless, have read the editorial in yesterday’s Prospector, written by a stranger and interloper in our midst, Mr. Vance Gilder, who foully accuses me of murdering Rufus Grim.
I am now going down to the office of the Prospector, and shall demand an amende honorable. So many of you as see fit may accompany me.”
“Ay, ay!” the crowd shouted, “we are ready!” Indeed, the citizens of Gold Bluff almost to a man, sided with Boast, and said Vance was showing a cowardly venom at J. Arthur Boast’s unexpected success and good fortune, that was neither dignified nor just. Boast led the way to the Prospector office, and was followed by a throng of determined miners and angry citizens, who were in a frame of mind that boded no good for Vance Gilder.
Louise Bonifield had just come over to the Prospector office with a message from her father, and met Arthur Boast at the office door. Louise tripped lightly into the office and saluted Vance with a cheery smile and good morning, while Boast paused in the doorway.
“Good morning, Mr. Gilder,” said he, savagely.
“Good morning,” replied Vance.
“Who wrote this editorial?” asked Boast, striking vigorously a copy of the Prospector which he held in his hand. “I tell you,” continued Boast, “I never murdered Rufus Grim, and any man that says I did is a liar, abase scoundrel, and a contemptible whelp!”
"That’s right! Ay, ay!” exclaimed the mob that was standing behind Boast, ready at a moment’s notice to loot the printing office.
Vance was cool and collected. He noticed that Boast spoke in his old-time thin, piping voice, and his eyes were restless and glittered like a fiend’s. The element of manhood and of the philosopher had wholly disappeared.
Louise stepped quickly forward before Vance could make a reply, and laying her hand on Boast’s arm, said: “Arthur, you know I have always been your friend. I am sure Mr. Gilder has never accused you of murdering Mr. Grim. What do you mean?”
“But he has accused me,” retorted Boast. “Read this!”
Vance stepped hurriedly from behind the case, and drawing Louise gently back, stood face to face with Arthur Boast. He was calm and determined. “Where,” said he, “where have I accused you of murdering Rufus Grim? Point out the sentence in the article where your name even appears?”
“Well, you haven’t used my name, but you might as well have done so.”
“No,” said Vance, as his eyes gleamed with fiercest indignation and anger, “I have not accused you, Arthur Boast, but you, by this act, with your mob of hirelings behind you, have accused yourself. Now you must, and by the eternals, shall answer to the law. A guilty conscience,” he continued, “needs no accuser, and it is your accusing conscience that has prompted you to come here and publicly charge yourself with the crime. Neither you, nor your host of admirers on full pay, can intimidate me. If you can pass through the test of a thorough investigation, and can be proved innocent, then I will have no more to say, but until you do this, I shall publicly accuse you and denounce you as the murderer of Rufus Grim!”
Vance towered up like a giant before the writhing and shriveling form of J. Arthur Boast.
“Well, I don’t know that you have accused me in this editorial,” whined Boast, “and I don’t know as I need to take any steps of revenge until you dare to use my name in your paper. I guess I’ll wait and see what my lawyer advises. Fall back, boys, I have nothing farther to say at this interview.”
“But I have,” said Vance, in thundering tones, “and before long I shall have much to say.”
“Well, you won’t say it through the columns of the Gold Bluff Prospector. It is my property; I have the bill of sale in my pocket.”
“Yes,” said Vance, “yours is the weapon of a coward; the unholy use of the power of money, but your plan of securing possession of the Prospector has no terrors for me. The copy of the Prospector that you hold in your hand contains the last editorial I ever expect to write for the paper. It may please you to know that my last dollar is gone; I am penniless, and without interference from you the Prospector has been issued for the last time under my management. I have been typo, managing editor, devil, form setter, city editor, publisher and everything else, trying hard to make an honest living. I am now through. You and your host of satellites will oblige me by leaving the premises. Come to-morrow morning and take possession. You’ll not find me in the way.”
Boast turned, and facing his mob of backers said, with the forced laugh of a whipped man:
“I thought I would squelch him, boys; he had to cave in, you bet.” His voice was shrill and squeaky, and his braggadocio air, as he led his admirers away, hid but poorly his nervousness and agitation.
Vance and Louise were alone. Louise had stood by during the interview, startled and alarmed. She marvelled at Vance’s strength; at his grandeur; at his nobleness; and when she heard him say that now he was penniless, she remembered the sacrifices he had made to help her father. He turned toward her and their eyes met. It came to her like an inspiration, that her respect and admiration for him in times past had been but a prelude to the pulsing love she now felt for him. She reached out both her hands toward him; he took them, and a moment later she was sobbing on his breast. No word had been spoken, but volumes had been interchanged in that one look.
The doorway was darkened. They quickly looked up, Louise through her tears, and Vance with a beaming countenance. Colonel Bonifield was surveying the situation with a look of genuine surprise on his face.
“Yo’ almost pa’lyze me, suh,” said the Colonel, “indeed yo’ do. Why, Mr. Gilder, I sent my little girl oveh here to tell yo’ that I had a matteh of vehy great impo’tance to talk oveh with yo’, but she was gone so long, suh, that I became impatient and came oveh myself.”
“Oh, papa,” said Louise, “Mr. Gilder and Arthur have had a terrible quarrel!”
“A quarrel, suh; why, how is that?”
“I am always ready to talk with you, Colonel,” said Vance, in a confused way, and unconsciously retaining one of Louise’s hands.
“Well, now, if my little girl,” said the Colonel “God bless her! will go oveh home and see about preparin’ dinneh and lay an extra plate fo’ yo’, we’ll have our talk and come oveh a little lateh.”
While no word had been spoken between Vance and Louise, yet he believed that his great love had been understood and rewarded. He lifted her hand to his lips as she started to go, with that chivalrous respect so becoming in the knights of old. When she was gone, Vance turned and thought he saw a smile chasing rapidly over the Colonel’s face.
“Wait a moment, Colonel,” said Vance, “I have some choice cigars that were sent me from New York. Here, try this one.”
“Thank yo’,” said the Colonel, “I neveh felt mo’ like smokin’ in my life than I do this mawnin’ As they lit their cigars, they walked out in front of the printing office. The morning sun mellowed the crisp and invigorating mountain air. Vance narrated his interview with Boast. The Colonel’s face clouded with a troubled expression. Presently he said:
“Mr. Gilder, we have at last finished our work on Gray Rocks.”
“I am very glad,” was Vance’s reply.
“Yo’ fo’ced me, suh, at one time,” said the Colonel, “to make a promise. When I pledge my word of honor, suh, as I did to yo’, it is sacred. Heretofore yo’ most naturally, Mr. Gilder, have asked me what I advised. I now come to yo’ and ask, what do yo’ advise?”
“Colonel Bonifield,” said Vance, “I am glad you ask me what I advise. You know, Colonel, when you first came to New York city, you thought that if you could only get to the 300 foot level you would cross-cut into a mine of untold wealth.”
“Yes, suh,” replied the Colonel, “that is so, and yo’ freely gave me the money to push the work.”
“Yes,” said Vance, and unconsciously with the toe of his boot he dug in the sand as if he was seeking the 300 foot level, “at the 300 foot level your efforts were not rewarded. Then you started for the 400 foot level.”
"Yes, suh,” said the Colonel, “and again you gave me the money.”
“Yes, yes,” said Vance, as the toe of his boot dug still deeper in the sand, “but again you failed. Then I gave you the last dollar of ready money I had in the world to sink the shaft on down to the 500 foot level.”
“Vehy true,” said the Colonel, “and would have given me mo’ if yo’ had had it.”
“Most assuredly,” said Vance, as his boot struck the rock that lay beneath the sand. “Yes,” said he, planting his heel firmly on the rock, “you have at last reached the 500 foot level. Heretofore, I have listened to your advice, and now I hope you will be guided by mine. I have been away from New York over two years. I have not left Gold Bluff for more than a year. I have remained close to Gray Rocks, alternately hoping and doubting that you would be successful. Colonel Bonifield, I have no regrets. You have been earnest and sincere, though sadly mistaken, in regard to this mining venture.”
“Well, well, suh,” said the Colonel, as he waited for Vance to go on.
“I have something to say to you, Colonel—I love your daughter with my whole heart, and more devotedly, it seems to me, than ever man loved woman before. I have a beautiful home in New York city, with ample means to care for her and you. My advice is that you and your lovely daughter, with those dependent upon you, come with me and we will leave these western wilds, so associated with disappointment, and go to my city home. This morning, for the first time, I have had reason to believe that your daughter reciprocated the great love I bear her. You are now an old man, Colonel, and while I have not a doubt in the world that if you would sink your shaft to the 600 foot level, say, or, perhaps to the 700 foot level, you would strike the vein of gold you have been looking for so many years; yet, what is the use, Colonel Bonifield, what is the use? My love for your daughter is very great, and I believe it is unselfish. A home of plenty awaits us. Hardships and disappointment alone have been the reward of our earnest efforts. Why not go away from it all? Yes, let us go and forget the trials, hardships, and hopes deferred of a frontiersman’s life, and let me help you spend the remaining years of your life in quiet, peace, and contentment.”
“Yo’ do me honor, suh,” replied the Colonel, as he brushed a mist from his eyes, “bawn in the nawth, yet yo’ possess the true chivalry of a southern gentleman. Yes, suh, yo’ do, indeed. It is true we sunk the shaft to the 300 foot level, and finally, to the 500 foot level, and you, suh, have fu’nished the money fo’ this great work. I thought my men would stay with me and help cross-cut into the vein, but I found, when I spoke to them about the matteh, that they only had confidence in Gray Rocks so long as there was money in my purse to pay their wages every Saturday night. When they dese’ted me, suh, I worked away alone, and finally that little girl, Louise, went down with me yeste’day early in the mawnin’, and we didn’t get home until after nine o’clock last night.”
"What!” said Vance, “Louise been working down in the mine?”
“Yes, suh, the hardest day’s work I eveh put in on Gray Rocks was yeste’day.”
“Why did you not let me know?” asked Vance, “I would have come and helped you most cheerfully, rather than have let her do the work of a man, and 500 feet under ground at that.”
“Well, hold on, Mr. Gilder, let me tell yo’. We had a goodly portion of giant powder yeste’day mawnin’, and yo’ve no idea how much assistance Louise gave me. I took the measu’ments a dozen times, suh, durin’ the day, and it seemed to me that by workin’ a little late, we might finally blast through into the vein.”
“Yes, Colonel, ‘where the vein might have been,’.rdquo; said Vance, with a merry twinkle in his eye, while he struck his heel in an absent way against the rock. The Colonel paid no attention to the interruption.
“Finally, suh, we made our last, drill, and filled it up with every grain of powdeh we had left. My little Louise had to dust every powdeh can in ordeh to have enough to make the last blast. We retired, suh, as usual, afteh I had lit the fuse, and yo’ ought to have heard that last blast go off! My daughter, suh, God bless her, tried to dull the disappointment that she felt sure was awaitin’ our effo’ts by gettin’ me to promise not to be too much disappointed; but I had confidence; yes, suh, right up to the last. Well, suh, the smoke finally cleared away, and my God! suh, my old eyes wept for joy!”
“What!” exclaimed Vance.
“Look at this piece of ore, Mr. Gilder; richer, yes, suh, richer than anything ever discovered in the Peacock. Yes, suh, my deah Gilder, we have made our last blast, and Gray Rocks is worth two million dollars. The agent of a rich minin’ corporation of Butte City made me an offer of that sum this mawnin’.”