Chapter 8

One of the lions lay pawing the snow in its death struggle and as Carson came near, it reared itself as if to make one last leap. Its eyes gleamed in savage yellow, foam fell in flecks from its mouth, while a tiny stream of crimson stained the snow. Carson's weapon spit fire and the creature rolled over motionless. He dragged the carcass to the end of the sleigh and, lifting it upon the edge of the box, made it fast.

"If you are going to Saguache to see my uncle, I fear you will be disappointed as he left this morning for an absence of several days."

"That does not matter as I have other business anyway. Most any time will do, as I am in town quite often. We would better not drive so fast. Your horse is in a foam."

Carson was fast becoming interested in the girl at his side. Her calm poise, after the exciting adventures with the mountain lions, surprised him. Other women would have been hysterical, but here by his side sat a girl not yet out of her teens, as calm and collected as a veteran soldier after the battle. And Amos, the man he was going to see and intended to kill if he proved to be the villain he suspected him to be, was her uncle.

The white billows rose rank on rank on the distant mountains, while the snow of the valley shrunk visibly away, leaving the grey rocks naked and protuberant.

The newly-made acquaintances chatted gaily as the horse jogged along.

"I was thinking of your remark awhile ago," said Carson, "that you would go to Del Norte tomorrow if you had an escort, and as I have some time to idle away it would give me pleasure to drive you over."

"It would give me equal pleasure to have you do so," she replied with admirable frankness, "that is, if you are going there anyway."

"I may need to purchase some new implements with which to work the Aberdeen--I mean the Jug Handle mine," he explained. "I have heard of a new drill they are working over there and it may be just the thing for the formation we are now in."

"I see," said the girl, as a mischievous smile flitted about her lips, "and I am very glad you will accompany me. I shall make you acquainted with some of my very dear friends."

Carson was forgetting his millions in the mine and letting his mind wander to the expected joys of entertaining and being entertained by people of real worth once more. He felt returning pride, and then the thought of the Frankenstein with the uplifted axe made him groan inwardly. But pshaw! she did not know--never would know, and what people do not know will not hurt them, he reasoned.

He felt an increasing admiration for the girl beside him. They were alone in the wide expanse of valley and had known each other only an hour, yet this girl was willing to trust to his honor and manhood. And be it said for Carson, as it may be said for thousands of other men on the American frontier, he would have yielded his life rather than betray that sacred trust. Instances like this are common in the West.

As they drove down the main street of Saguache, the passers looked curiously at the pair in the sleigh and at the dead lion strapped behind. When they stopped in front of the postoffice, a crowd gathered around the sleigh. A supple figure edged through the crowd and addressed the girl:

"Kill it all by yourself, Annie?"

The familiarity with which he spoke nettled the girl, and she turned her head without answering. The supple figure felt the rebuff and all the more because others noticed it. He stood his ground, however, until Carson returned and when he saw his face he quickly drew out of sight.

"Tomorrow at seven," said Carson, as he bade her good-bye at her house.

Carson went to his hotel with a lighter heart than he had had for months. He lit a cigar and sat by the window, then felt for something in his pocket, and threw it in the wood-box. "There are other jug handles," he said to himself.

He walked the streets aimlessly until supper. He retired early and tried to sleep, but his thoughts ran wild on the events of the day. He could think of no one except Annie. It was still early in the night, when he arose from a restless bed and went out on the streets. Lights blazed from the Lone Tree saloon, and as he entered he saw a crowd about the faro table. The sudden exclamations of many voices told that some one was winning heavily. He pressed forward through the crowd and saw the form of a woman. When she partially turned her face, he felt his heart give a great throb, and he fled into the street.

The remainder of the night he walked through the crunching snow, while the silent stars seemed to gaze with tearful eyes upon him in this, the greatest misery he had ever known. He walked several miles out of town to avoid meeting anyone he knew and then presented himself at the Amos residence.

"I believe it is seven o'clock, Miss Annie," he said, when she answered his call.

"Yes, and I am ready," was the cheerful answer.

XXII.

A VOICE FROM CENTURIES PAST.

Buchan was ready to throw the lever of his engine and roll out of Tucson, when a messenger handed him a packet bearing the postmark of Peru. The missive showed signs of age, and, having traveled much, had reached its destination at last. He tossed it into his tool box and an hour later when speeding over the scorched deserts of Arizona, he opened the packet. The letter was dated at Truxillo and read:

"Dear Don Juan--I have been ill for many months, and I feel that my end is drawing nigh, but before I go I want to do something for you. I have heard how Don Rodrigo so justly met his end, and with this knowledge I die easier. You are young and strong, with a long life of usefulness ahead, and I feel that in entrusting to you a family secret, I am only doing that which I would have done had Felicita lived. She was the last of our house and the heritage of our family belonged to her. As it is, I make you my heir to the valuable papers handed down to me from my ancestors. May they prove to you a blessing. Would that I had more to give you. May the blessings of the Virgin ever rest upon you.

"Julian."

Accompanying the letter was a parchment scroll, dated Lima, 1752. It read:

"I, Jean Maldonado, do write of my extraordinary adventures in Nueva Espanola, wherein I was duly appointed the Commander of an expedition to the land of Quivera, in search of the Seven Cities of Cibola, in the service of his excellency, the viceroy of Santa Fe. A barbarian told us he would lead us unto a land to the far north, where shops blazed with jewels and common cooking vessels were made of gold; that the metal was so common as to be of no value. The king of this city took his noonday meals beneath a golden canopy, hung with tinkling silver bells. There was a sea upon which this king rode in a canoe, which would carry twenty horses. Upon its prow was an idol of beaten gold. The canoe was fitted with sumptuous cushions, upon which the monarch took his siestas, to the music made by dancing maidens with bells and castanets. Fish as large as horses abounded, and sweet fruit bigger than a soldier's helmet grew upon the trees. The monarch who ruled over this land was long-bearded, white-haired, and wore robes of bright-hued, rich stuffs, and slept in a garden where trees were hung with a thousand bells, which made exquisite music when shaken by the wind. And this king worshipped the golden image of a woman, the Queen of Heaven, and ate from gold and silver bowls, of which the dais he sat upon was made. He spoke with vast assurance and said he would conduct us thither whenever we should follow.

"We journeyed northward many leagues over mountains and came to a wide valley watered by a stream. Farther on were high mountains and we named them Sangre de Christo and marked three mountains 'Spanish Peaks' on our map, that we might not miss our way. One day a pious soldier saw the barbarian with his face in a pool of water, talking with the devil. After that we were suspicious. After many days' journey we found the city, but alas, it was mud huts, and the only metal was a copper plate around the old chief's neck and by which he sat great store. There were no golden vessels, no image of the Virgin, no golden dais and no silver bells.

"The wicked barbarian then said he had led us into the desert to die. Our soldiers were wroth and I ordered him hanged on a considerable tree, to let him know there was a God in heaven and a King in Spain.

"We turned our steps backward after we had set up a cross, and journeyed into the valley. Now there were many oxen come into the valley of the figure and color of our bulls, but their horns were not so great. They had a great bunch upon their fore shoulders and more hair upon their fore parts than on their hind parts. They had a horse's mane upon their backbone and much hair from the knees downward. They had great tufts of hair hanging from their foreheads and it seemeth that they had beards, because of the great store of hair at their chins and throats. In some respects they resembled a lion, and in some others the camel. They pushed with their horns, and they overtook and killed horses. Finally, it was a foul and fierce beast of countenance.

"We have stayed close to the mountains where we could flee to the rocks if they pursued us. We were crossing the mountain, when we came upon a spring near unto a huge cliff that sat on the edge like a platter. We camped here many days until the bulls left the valley. Some distance from the rock like a platter, Casteanda found gold in a white rock, which we did beat up and saved much pure gold. Casteanda journeyed to Santa Fe and returned with more donkeys, and we loaded upon them much unbeaten rock. We all then journeyed back to Santa Fe, for the barbarians were angry at our intrusion and we went in haste, leaving more gold in the white rock than would load a ship's boat. I cut in the rock, high up, the words:

"'Jean Maldonado. "'Commander of an Expedition, reached this place, 1750.'

"All this, so that the subjects of Spain might know this country belonged to His Majesty.

"We journeyed back to Santa Fe after many days of hardships and we found a new Viceroy had been appointed and he demanded our gold. This we were loath to give up, and after selling it to a trader for the coin of the realm, we started across the country for New Orleans, knowing well not to go south for the new Viceroy would pursue us and take the gold.

"We journeyed along the banks of a considerable river by night and hid ourselves by day. We saw many thousands of ferocious bulls grazing, and when they ran the noise was like thunder and it made us afraid. We crossed many rivers and finally came to a country of wooded hills where the Barbarians were thick and ferocious.

"The Barbarians pursued us and we hid our gold and records in a cave and rolled a stone over the hole and fled. They killed nearly all of our expedition and our mules. Baptiste was sorely wounded in the breast with an arrow and notwithstanding we bled him copiously, he died.

"The treatment given us by the Barbarians irritated us exceedingly and we fell upon them with swords when they were not in great numbers.

"We came to a river whose waters were red, like unto the color of the tiles on the houses of Seville, and after journeying along its banks for many nights, we came unto the River of the Holy Ghost, which DeSoto discovered and here we found safety.

"While all these things were new in my mind I made another map in order that I might take another expedition to the mine when the Viceroy grew rich from the spoils of office and would trouble us no more. But he did write unto the people of Spain that I would be hanged upon my return to Santa Fe, therefore I desisted in returning. Being extremely irritated at his conduct I sought my fortune in Peru, until such time when he should be called to heaven, which call even now, in my old age, has not yet been made, over which misfortune I have sorely grieved."

Accompanying this document was a map with the Sangre de Christo range, the Spanish Peaks, the River, Valley and flat cliff on edge, plainly marked. The distance from Santa Fe and the mountain passes was clearly indicated.

A month later Buchan was transferred on a run out of Santa Fe where the hand of Fate and Chance again took part. He received a letter from Mr. Robinson who had joined a surveying party and had fallen ill at Saguache. The letter implored him to come, if he ever expected to see him alive. True to his old time friendship, he lost no time in reaching his bedside. Mr. Robinson lingered a few weeks and died. This was more sad news for Hattie in her far-away home, amid the Santa Lucia mountains. She alone remained of the happy family who had gone to Arequipa with fond hopes for the future beneath those sunny skies.

I, the writer, had been with Carson a few days before prospecting in the Sangre de Christo mountains, when by chance we rested at the spring beside the peculiar shaped cliff. I noticed that Carson was interested in the surroundings, but I thought nothing of it at the time. The formation of the cliff appealed to my fancy, and I chanced to mention it to Buchan one day when he became excited and asked to be shown its whereabouts.

Together with Carson we visited the spot. Being an old prospector, I soon discovered formations that looked like pay ore. My years of experience in these mountains had taught me that a man might work a lifetime and gain nothing, and again from the outcroppings of a stone at grass roots he might develop a mine worth a million dollars.

Carson and Buchan were sanguine over our prospects, too much so, I thought, for men who had no experience in mining.

I located the claim so as to include the cliff and spring and when I made out the registration papers, I said: "Gentlemen, what shall we call the mine?"

"Name it the Maldonado," said Carson.

"What!" exclaimed Buchan, turning an ashen paleness.

"The Major Domo," replied Carson, looking somewhat abashed.

"Name it the Aberdeen," said Buchan. "I like to hear that name spoken, it was my old home in Scotland."

XXIII.

THE TWO OLD BLACK CROWS.

Amos sat in the little back room of Rayder's office in Denver. His beady black eyes glistened beneath his beetle brows. A pleased expression shone on his thin face, drawn in wrinkles like stained parchment. Rayder was out, but had left instructions for him to wait. As he sat there his eye caught sight of something interesting on Rayder's desk. The door was closed and he was alone. He leaned forward and took up some slips of paper for closer inspection. They were certificates of assay from Pendleton. The pleased look vanished as he noted Amos No. 1, Amos No. 2, Amos No. 3, and so on for a dozen or more slips. Rayder did not trust him, and had had the sample of ore assayed by Pendleton for corroboration.

"He does not even believe in honesty among thieves," he mused, as he carefully replaced the papers. Then the pleased look came back to his face.

"All the better," he thought. "He will deal now and it is my time to strike before the iron cools."

He drew his chair further back from the desk, and pretended to be reading a newspaper when he heard Rayder coming.

"Just the man I have been wanting to see," said Rayder, extending his hand, "how is everything in Saguache and how is Annie?"

"Annie is handsome as ever, but there is a new assayer coming to town next month and I understand he is on the dead square, and what we do we have got to do all-fired quick. How is this for an eye-opener?" He took from his pocket several lumps of shining ore.

"Sylvanite," exclaimed Rayder. "What does it run?"

"Eighty ounces to the ton. There is a quarter of a million dollars on the dump and the fellows think it is copper and pyrites of iron."

"How would it do to contest the claim?"

"Dangerous business, they have taken to killing claim jumpers. One was shot last week, and this outfit will shoot, no mistake. It is better to buy them out for a song. They are about broke anyway. They believe everything I tell them, have a child-like confidence in me, same as everybody has. I tell you, Rayder, I stand at the top in the estimation of everybody, and all we have got to do is to have the buyer on the ground, and when they come in with their next samples I will prove to them their values have run out, show them some rich stuff from down the valley and like all others of their class, they will stampede."

"That sounds good, but tell me more of Annie, did she appreciate the cloak I sent her for a Christmas present?"

"Appreciate it! I should say she did. She just worships it because it came from you, and say, she has your photograph on the wall where she can see it all the time. She just dotes on that picture. I tell her there is the chance of her life, a fine house, fine clothes, a chance to go abroad and cultivate her musical talent, become a great singer and meet dukes and lords and crowned heads. Why, the girl is just crazy over you, and I believe she would marry you even if you did not have a cent. It is like marrying December to May, you sixty and she nineteen, pretty and vivacious--warm up your old bones, eh?"

Rayder's eyes shone and he stroked his beard with delight. "Charley," he called to his office boy, "bring up a quart of whisky, some lemons and sugar."

"Sweet creature, I love thee," said Amos a few minutes later, holding up a half goblet of whisky. "You do the proper thing in setting out these kind of glasses; puts me in mind of my old home down in Texas, where we never drink out of anything smaller than a tin cup or a gourd."

"Here is to Annie and Rayder--may your posterity become presidents and wives of presidents."

"Drink hearty," said Rayder, emptying his glass, which he had filled to the fullness of Amos' out of compliment.

"Charley, bring up a box of perfectos," he shouted. "You may then lock up and go home."

The glasses were again drained and the two black crows chattered until the streets were growing quiet for the night. Supper was forgotten in the love feast of Amos and Rayder.

"Do you know, Amos, I always did love you just like a brother?"

"Here, too, Rayder, you know the first time we saw each other, I sez to myself--I sez--there is a man that would stick to a friend through thick and thin."

"You are that kind of a man yourself, Amos, is the reason you have a good opinion of me. I never had a friend in distress yet that I didn't help him out."

"That's right, Rayder, that's right. Them's the qualities that go to make up nature's noblemen. Lord, if I had a known you years ago we'd a bin millionaires--my knowledge of mines and your sagacity. That's what counts, and you never fail in your estimate of men, either. Lord, you was born under lucky stars.

"Take another drink, Rayder, take a cistern full. 'Taint often we meet on auspicious occasions like this, and we won't go home 'till mornin,' and we won't go home 'till morning, hic--hurrah for Annie, Rayder, and a million outer the mine."

"An' she shame short of share of prosperity to my brother Amos," and Rayder took another drink.

"Shay, Rayder, you come and go home with me and hang around a day or two until you buy the mine and play sweet with Annie, an' the night of the weddin' we'll hev a dance and send you away on your bridal tour in a blaze of glory."

"I'll do it, I'll do it, Amos, an' then we'll be almost brothers 'cordin' ter law, anyway."

"Shay, Rayder, did I tell ye I had a little mix up with a woman, an' I'm scared to death 'fear old woman 'ill find it out. I got 'ter square the deal or I'm a goner and stuff's all off, want yer to let me take ten thousand fer few days, got ter blow a lot o' money on weddin', too, yer see."

"All right, Amos, youse's square a man's ever met. I'll let ye hev it."

"Good, thet's relief; sooner I get it easier mind'll be. Nuthin' like 'mediate action to relieve man's mind, you know. Let's take nuther drink and ye can write th' check with steadier hand."

Rayder swallowed another drink while Amos fumbled about the desk until he found Rayder's check book.

"Bet ye can't spell ten without making a crook. There now, if you can write thousand as well you're a peachareno. Bully, now write Silas Rayder at the bottom. You're a brother in fact, Rayder, an' I love ye better as any brother. Shay, let's hev nuther bottle."

And Amos pocketed the check and quietly slipped down stairs, to the saloon and was back with another quart before Rayder had roused from his drunken stupor. He poured out another half goblet of whisky.

"Shay, Rayder, de ye know about story of Guvner of North Carolina sed to Guvner of South Carolina, to effet an' words, it was long time between drinks?"

"An' that was a damn shame Guvner hed to wait, ought to had you along an' famous epigram ed never been born."

Half an hour later Rayder was stretched upon the lounge in the little back office, dead to the world. Amos sat by the window sobering up until the grey of the morning. The sleeping man roused, and Amos gave him another half goblet of whisky followed by a sip of water. He had drawn the blinds and left the coal-oil lamp burning when it grew light, lest the sleeping man should arouse and discover it was daylight.

When the office boy came, he cautioned him not to awaken Rayder. He then crossed over to the bank, called for the face payment of the check in gold coin. He took the money to the Wells Fargo Express company's office and expressed it to his wife in Saguache.

Rayder was sleeping when he returned. He placed the check book in its accustomed place in the desk, destroyed all evidence of the night's debauch and left a note on the desk saying: "My dear Rayder, I have been suddenly called home by the illness of my wife. Come to Saguache as soon as you can make it convenient. Amos."

When Rayder awoke it was four o'clock in the afternoon. His head was in a whirl and every muscle was twitching. He called Charley and sent for a doctor. The doctor saw the trouble at a glance. He called a hack and accompanied Rayder to his home.

"This will never do, Mr. Rayder. You have drank much whisky in your time and it has become a poison to your system. Do not look for me to get you out of this in less time than four weeks."

XXIV.

THE RECKLESS HAND OF FATE.

The day was fair when Carson left Saguache with pretty Annie Amos seated beside him in the sleigh. Although he had spent the night in fearful anxiety, walking the streets, he now felt such a relief over getting out of town, undiscovered by Mary Greenwater, that he was bubbling over with high spirits. In the presence of Annie his better nature stood outward and he even surprised himself with his quick sallies of wit and repartee. Annie was charmed with his presence, and as the two chatted gaily, they did not notice the lowering clouds about the Spanish Peaks, until a strong wind began to raise and soon one of those sudden storms so common to the region was coming in all its fury. In a short while it became a raging blizzard. The snow drifted in blinding swirls, so dense that the horse's head could not be seen.