The Frontiersman Part 33

"But wasn't ye afraid of the Injuns? I understand they're as mad as hornets."

"Mebbe they be, an' I guess ye're right. But they never sting a friend. They know Pete Martin purty wall by this time."

"What! you're not Pete Martin, the prospector, are you?" and Perdue's eyes opened with astonishment.

And not only was the saloon-keeper surprised. The men in the room moved a little nearer, and craned their necks to obtain a better view of the stranger. Much had they heard of him: his great strength, wonderful endurance, feats of daring, and simplicity of life.

"Way back in New Brunswick," replied the prospector, "the old Parish Register says that I was baptized Peter Bartholomew Martin. I was ginnerally known, however, as 'Pete,' while up here I only git 'Old Pete,' though it doesn't make any difference what a feller's called. I guess the Lord'll know me by any name; I only hope so."

"But what are the Indians doing?" asked one of the men.

"Doin'? What ain't they a-doin'! They're gittin' down to bizness mighty lively; that's what they're a-doin'."

"In what way?"

"Wall, they're tryin' to decide whether it's best to pinch only the ones who burnt their store, or to hand out a bunch to the whole gang.

Ye see, it's this way," and Pete glanced around upon the eager listeners, "they're sorter divided like, some wantin' to go the limit, an' others not. Now, the ones who hold back are the rale Christians, the best men of the lot. This camp jist depends upon which side wins out, an' if ye're saved ye may give the credit to that parson chap ye hiked away from here in sich a mighty hurry."

"We're better rid of him," said Perdue.

"Ye may think what ye like, pard; it's a free country in that way. But let me remind ye that if ye'd done this same trick to them Injuns ten years ago, when I fust struck these diggin's, they'd a wiped ye out quicker'n ye could say Jack Rabbit."

"Ye seem to know a heap about things here for a stranger," remarked Perdue.

"Ay, it's true, man, what ye say. I ain't been here long, but long enough to find out a few things, 'specially 'bout that fine la.s.sie up yon."

"Why, what about her?" asked several.

"What! didn't ye hear?"

"Hear what?"

"'Bout the chap that caught her on the trail last night, an' scart her so that she fainted dead away."

At this, several men who were sitting on benches sprang to their feet, and angry oaths rang through the room.

"Who was it?" they demanded. "Tell us more about it! We're bad men, G.o.d knows, but we've a little manhood left. Tell us his name!"

"Don't git excited, now," replied Pete. "Jist keep cool, an' don't do nothin' rash, or ye may be sorry fer it."

Then in his quaint way he told the story of his trip from Siwash Creek, the cry in the night, the attack of the dog, escape of the villain, and the finding Constance lying unconscious on the trail. Pete related his story well, while many a muttered oath burst from the men during the recital.

"Do you know his name?" came the cry.

"Yes."

"Is he here?"

"I don't know. Mebbe ye kin tell when ye hear, fer it's Bill Pritchen."

When Pete entered the saloon, Pritchen was sitting at a small table dealing a pack of cards. Looking suddenly up, and noticing the prospector, his face became pale, and his hand shook. He made up his mind to leave the room at the first opportunity and not run the risk of meeting the old man. Anyway, his back was to the bar, so he would not be recognized. As Pete talked on he felt somewhat relieved. But when the story of darkness began to be unrolled a great fear seized his cowardly heart. He did not dare to leave the place, for if his name were mentioned he must be on hand to defend himself before the miners became too much excited. During the recital a burning rage possessed him, and he longed to drop the prospector in his tracks. He saw the trap which he had laid for another about to close upon himself with a deadly grip, and all owing to this one old man. When, however, Pete mentioned his name, he leaped to his feet with a terrible oath.

"You lie!" he shouted. "It's an infernal lie, I tell you, and you'll answer for this!"

Pete swung suddenly around, and looked full upon the irate man before him.

"So yer the gintleman, are ye? I'm rale glad to make yer acquaintance.

Mebbe ye kin explain matters, an' unravel this tangle a bit."

"There's nothing to explain, d-- you! I was out walking last night and met Miss Radhurst on the trail. Just as I was about to pa.s.s her a brute of a dog fell suddenly upon me, and tore my clothes, while the young woman fell to the ground in a dead faint."

"Oh, that's the way ye put it, is it? An' so ye left the young la.s.sie a-lyin' thar on the snow, while ye took to yer heels with the dog after ye. Didn't ye stop to think that there might be other dogs around what would hurt the woman? Oh, no, ye never thought of that. Ye may tell what ye like, but that la.s.sie up yon has another story, which I jist told."

"It's a lie, I tell you; a job put up against me! and you, you confounded meddler, will answer for this!"

"Mebbe I will, man," and Pete's eyes gleamed with a light which spoke danger. "At present the matter lies atween you an' the la.s.sie, so I leave the b'ys here to jedge which to believe. But as we are now acquainted, I'd like to ax ye another question."

"Spit it out, then."

"Haven't I seed ye afore, Bill Pritchen?"

"H-- if I know."

"But ye do know. Ye know very well that I met ye on the trail in 'Dead Man's Land,' last Fall."

"You must have been dreaming then."

"No, I wasn't a-dreamin' an' ye know I wasn't."

"Well, suppose you did meet me, what of it?"

"I'll tell ye what I want," and Pete moved nearer. "I want to know what's become of that fine young chap what was out with ye, the lad what had the fiddle?"

"How do I know? I can't keep track of every idiot who happens to meet me on the trail and travels along with me for a time."

"But I tell ye ye do know, an' what's more, I'm here to find out."

"Then you'll find out something else!" cried Pritchen, as his hand dropped to his hip pocket.

He was quick, but Pete was quicker, for almost like a flash a huge hand reached out, seized the revolver, and wrenched it from the villain's grasp. With an oath the latter sprang forward to strike, but he was as a child in the giant's terrible grip. He struggled for awhile, writhed in agony, and then sank upon the floor.

"Git up, ye coward! Git up, an' answer me!"

Pete's voice was terrible, and his eyes blazed as he bent over the prostrate man, who made no effort to move.

"Git up, I tell ye!" again came the command. "Git up an' explain what ye did to Kenneth Radhurst!"

Receiving no reply, he continued: