THE GOLD-STAGE

Two days of excitement were quite sufficient to upset the nerves of Suffering Creek. The only excitement it was used to was the sudden discovery of an extra good find of gold. The camp understood that. It was like an inspiration to the creative worker. It stimulated the energies, it uplifted. Any other sort of excitement had a paralyzing effect. And thus the excitement of the present Sunday and Monday entirely upset the rest of the week’s work.

Everybody felt that the happenings of those days were merely the forerunners of something yet to come, of something even more startling. And the restlessness of uncertainty as to its nature kept the population hanging about the camp, fearful that, in their absence, things might occur, and they would miss participation in them.

The inhabitants of Suffering Creek were a virile race, strongly human, full of interest in passing events, and men of appetite for any slices of life that might come their way. So, having “cashed in” to the “limit” all the gold-dust they possessed, they felt they were entitled to spend a few days in watching events, and a few dollars in passing the time until such events, if any, should come within their range of vision.

What events were expected it is doubtful if the most inventive could have put into words. The general opinion expressed––out of Minky’s hearing, of course, but to the accompaniment of deep libations of his most execrable whisky––was that, personally, that astute trader was, for some unaccountable reason, rapidly qualifying for the “bug-house,” and that the only thing due from them was to display their loyalty to him by humoring him to the extent of discounting all the “dust” they could lay hands on, and wishing him well out of the trouble he seemed bent on laying up for himself. Meanwhile they would take a holiday on the proceeds of their traffic, and, out of sheer good-fellowship, stand by to help, or at least applaud, when the dénouement came.

Many of the shrewder men looked to Wild Bill to give a key to the situation. They knew him to be Minky’s closest friend. Besides that, he was a man intensely “wide” and far-seeing in matters pertaining to such a situation as at present existed.

But Wild Bill, in this case, was the blankest of blanks in the lottery of their draw for information. Whether this blankness was real or affected men could not make up their minds. The gambler was so unlike his usual self. The hard, rough, autocratic manner of the man seemed to have undergone a subtle change. He went about full of geniality and a lightness his fellow-citizens had never before observed in him. And, besides, he had suddenly become the only man in the place who seemed to lack interest in the doings of the James gang. Even beyond the bare facts of the outrage down by the river on Sunday morning, he could not be cajoled into discussing that individual or his doings.

No, his immediate interest apparently lay in his newly purchased half-claim. He spent the Monday afternoon there watching the unwilling Sandy sweating at his labors. And on the Tuesday he even passed him a helping hand. It did not occur to these men that Bill kept away to avoid their cross-questionings. It only seemed to them that his new toy had a greater fascination for him than those things which made for the welfare of the community; that his inexperienced eyes were blinded to the facts which were patent enough to them: namely, that he had bought the most worthless property in the district.

So they laughed, behind his back, and shrugged their great shoulders pityingly, and their pity was also touched with resentment that his interest in Suffering Creek could be so easily diverted. It was Joe Brand who handed them a most excellent laugh on the subject, though the laugh was rather at than with him.

He was talking to Van and White and several other men at one of the tables in the store. Whisky had brightened his eyes, which had been quietly smiling for some time as the talk of Bill went round. Then he suddenly bent forward and arrested the general attention.