Helen and Loney were almost inseparable, and under her good care and the good fare and bracing mountain air he was fast rounding into a fine boy—healthy and rosy.
Shoshone, as well as all the men and women within range, was as fond of Helen as ever. Her errands of mercy and kindness, done always without money and without price, endeared her to all alike, even the Indians looking upon her as something saintly and one whom they should respect as one sent from the Great Spirit.
Dora had disappeared entirely, and no one could find the slightest trace of her. The patient Indians had been impressed into the search, but no tidings came from her, and no trace of John, Muriel or Dopey could be found. Morris despaired, and had grown old and almost gray. Bennie had lost much of his bright gayety, and it seemed as though the shadow would never be lifted.
Morris had discovered that Helen was the sister of the dead man, and as such he gave her her share of the claim which they were now sure was of great value, but often a rich claim is known well to be, so it lies idle and unproductive for want of the money to pay to work it. This claim, which promised so well, would need deep tunnelling, a quartz-mill and all the other things necessary to properly work it. Morris and Helen might stay there forever and dig out a few dollars worth of gold a day, but, with millions almost in sight, it would be asking too much of them to expect them to do this, when Helen knew if Morris did not, that there were plenty men with the means and the knowledge ready to join them once they were convinced that the mine was all they claimed.
So, to try and find one of these rare birds, the capitalist, Helen and Morris with Loney, and Bennie, came down to Hellandgone, and were persuaded by Shoshone and the others of the “old crowd,” as they called themselves, to come over to the rush into the Reservation. Helen was to cross the line with Loney, and lay claim to one parcel for the child and one for herself.
Bennie was looking all about for Morris, who had disappeared strangely and suddenly, but without success.
There was a great crowd gathered at the edge of the railroad, waiting for the signal to cross it, for the roadbed was the line of demarkation, and on the farther side was the land for distribution. Red Eagle was there, looking on the crowd and at the land with a somber face. This land had belonged to his forbears from beyond recollection, and, little by little, it had been taken away from them, until now this last and best strip was to be given over to the white man.
When all had gathered, that seemed likely to come, Shoshone mounted a large dry-goods box that seemed to be there providentially for the purpose and shouted:
“Listen! ladies and gentlemen. I am Pete Browning, known to you best as Shoshone Pete. I have been appointed Marshal of Boomtown. I am here to preserve order. Any decent man and I will get along all hunky, but all thugs, crooks and bad men take warning, for I’ll shoot on sight! Now you know me, who I am and what I’m here for.”
All the “boys” from Hellandgone and the adjacent country gave in chorus their yell of “Ee—you!” until the very ground trembled.