Bill replied without any responsive laugh. Superintendent Raymes was his oldest friend in Placer City. A brisk, dapper man of medium height he was almost dwarfed by Wilder’s great size. He was approaching middle life, and already a slight greying tinged the dark hair below his smart forage cap. He was wearing a black-braided patrol jacket, and the yellow-striped breeches and top-boots so familiar in the regions under the control of the Mounted Police.
Raymes shook his head.
“No. That’s only for the sharks and darn fools that life seems to set around like the sands on the sea shore. Can you beat it? Look at ’em piling into the rigs. They’re sick and mighty weary, and they’ll be at it again in a few hours. It beats me the way those poor women keep going. As for the boys—God help ’em when those vultures have wrung them dry. Where are you making?”
“Just the office.”
Again Raymes laughed.
“Sounds like the cemetery.”
A smile returned to the eyes of the gold man.
“That’s how it seems to me,” he said, as they walked on together. “The cemetery of all that’s worth while. It’s tough, Raymes. I’m sick to death counting dollars and looking at that sort of stuff.” He jerked his head in the direction of the Elysee. “I tell you I’m going to make a break. I’ve just got to. It’s that or go crazy. I guess I love this Northland to death for all the flies, and skitters, and the other things, but I can’t face its cities any longer without qualifying for the bughouse.”
The policeman remained silent in face of the man’s desperate, half-laughing earnestness. He knew Wilder’s moods. He understood that tremendous fighting spirit which was consuming all his peace of mind. They passed on down the sidewalk.
It was not a little curious how these two men had come together in intimate friendship. It had begun when Raymes was only an Inspector and Wilder was only beginning to realise the burden of a wealth that grew like a snowball. They had found themselves in deadly opposition as a result of a desperate outbreak of lawlessness on a big new “strike” for which the gold man had been responsible. The position had been gravely threatening. There had been murder, and claim jumping, and the whole camp was on edge and threatening something like civil warfare. In the absence of police there was no authority to control the camp. Realising the seriousness of the position Wilder had jumped in. Organizing his men, and collecting others who could be relied on, he armed them for the task, and forthwith launched his forces against the marauding gunmen who had established a reign of terror. There was no mercy and only summary justice. Every offender was dealt with on the spot, and, in the end, the camp was swept clean.