Scarlett of the Mounted Part 5

These graceful amenities concluded, "We have come all this way to visit my father," explained Miss Durant. "But it is far harder to find him than I should have expected, considering how well known he is. But I'm sure you can help me."

"Sure!" cried her hearers. "You betcher-boots on that!"

"And who may be your dad, lady?" inquired one. "Some crackerjack swell capitalist, I reckon."

At this, a gaunt, elderly man, who had kept in the background, leaning against a tree, and taking no part in the proceedings, s.h.i.+fted his position, uneasily.

"Well," said the young lady, with a conscious laugh, and the condescension of one who might boast descent from Santa Claus, "I suppose every one in these parts is familiar with the name of Matthew Durant."

"Matthew Durant!" The owner of the name did not claim it, and Scarlett and Barney, who, of the onlookers, alone could have identified him, recognizing the tragedy that was being enacted before them, also were silent. Meanwhile the prospectors, after scratching perplexed heads and ransacking memories in vain, denied all knowledge of the man.

"Maybe he warks his proposeetion as a company, leddy," suggested Sandy.

"Oh, dear, no!" Miss Durant flouted the notion. "My father is It!"

The man leaning against the Douglas spruce, his ragged cap drawn down over his eyes, groaned slightly, and turning away, looked toward the distant mountains, while overhead a bird trilled blithely.

"Let me see if I can describe him," his daughter was saying, in her sweet, a.s.sured young voice. "He is tall, erect----"

Durant's bowed shoulders bowed themselves still lower.

"He is clean-shaven----"

Durant felt his unkempt beard.

"He always dresses in the height of fas.h.i.+on. He's quite a dude, I tell him."

Durant laughed outright.

"And I think him extremely handsome!"

"Sure; judging by his darter!" cried Mops, gallantly. "Oh, I don't mean that!" he hastened to add, fearful of having been too free.

"Oh, but I don't mind your meaning it," laughed Evelyn. "But come, if you've never met my father surely you all know his mine--the wonderful Rainbow Mine."

There was a pregnant pause, and then the Bully spoke, slowly, impressively. "I never knowed an out-an'-out prospector that didn't own the wonderfullest mine goin'--only waiting fer a triflin' circ.u.mstance like capital ter come along from the East and open it up and put it on a payin' basis. Why, every man Jack of us owns a placer claim, or hydraulicking concession, a silver or a copper mountain or a glut of gold or summat that ent.i.tles him to be It. Why, this here little beggar," he jerked his head toward Bill, "he claims he owns an antimony proposition that if developed ull make J. Peerpunt Morgan take a back seat and Hetty Green look like thirty cents----"

"No 'if' about it. You betcherlife it will!" cried Bill, with warmth.

"Aye!" The Bully nodded his head, condoningly. "And Sandy here claims ter have an option on a----"

"A copper proposeetion, pure boanite," elucidated Sandy.

"Aye! Something that's a-goin' ter make Clark of Montana bust with envy some day," a.s.sented Nick, "and knock Newhouse of Salt Lake City inter a c.o.c.ked hat. Why, tho' by nacher conservative an' shrinking I myself am calkilatin' on stackin' up the chips--I mean the books, ag'in Andy Carnegie, and pourin' oil on the troubled waters of John D.

Rockefeller's poverty, unless he's run in fust! Take my word fer it, missy, every man within range of them bright eyes of yourn is a millionaire--ter-morrer! A stun-broke millionaire!"

"But, you see, my father is a millionaire to-day," explained Miss Durant, with amused tolerance. "A multi-millionaire."

Nick shrugged his shoulders. "Lucky father!"

"Why, that's his camp name," Evelyn exclaimed. "Lucky! He has often told me. Surely you all know Lucky?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: MINGLED WITH THE TRAVELLERS AT GUMBOOT ANNIE'S BOARD.]

There was a dead silence, broken only by the fly-catcher's mocking refrain, every man with wonderful restraint and delicacy avoiding so much as a glance toward Durant.

Then, again, Nick rose to the occasion, manfully. "Why, ter be sure!

Everybody knows Lucky, and Lucky's Rainbow Mine, eh, boys? Blast yer, can't yer _say_ yer does?" he demanded, in an undertone that would have been backed up with a shooting-iron had his hands been free.

But of their own accord the boys, their presence of mind recovered, all were loyally a.s.suring Miss Durant that Lucky and Lucky's mine were synonyms for boundless wealth at Lost Shoe Creek and throughout the golden northland. "The mere mention of it brings better fortin' than touchin' a hunchback, or spittin' on your money at new moon," one summed up.

"Too bad, but Lucky ain't here just now," the Bully went on to state, with an authority that, handcuffed though he was, not even the most audacious would have dared dispute. "An' what's more, tain't so easy ter locate him. Like as not he's off, attendin' ter them vast interests of his'n somewhar out among them hills!" He nodded, toward the h.o.a.ry-beaded mountains as if defying their granitic silence to gainsay him.

"Sure he is!" corroborated the prospectors, in a chorus, covering up the long-drawn sigh of relief that nearly betrayed Durant.

"Prospectors is here ter-day, and gone ter-morrer, like the snow, d'ye see?" concluded Nick. "But he'll turn up in time all right, fer fair, with a pokeful of dust in his corjeroys, and a train of mules loaded down with nuggets fer his gal!"

"Sure! That's what! Betchersweetlife!" cried the boys, who lacked their leader's skill in improvising lies, but knew a good one when they heard it.

"Oh, thank you, thank you so much!" Evelyn had begun to feel real uneasiness at the continued postponements in arriving at her journey's end or obtaining definite intelligence of her father. "And when I join him I shall tell him what a welcome you have given me. And I promise you he shall back everybody's proposition. I promise every one of you a substantial slice of our good fortune in the Rainbow Mine."

Comment on this generous pledge was headed off by Ikey's vigorous ringing of the supper-bell, coupled with an announcement from Gumboot Annie that for a dollar within the tent might be obtained a meal calculated to turn the mother of the Delmonicos the colors of a lettuce and tomato salad from professional jealousy, on which, at Evelyn's invitation and with Barney's willing concurrence, the execution of justice temporal again was stayed, while Nick and his followers, with their custodian, mingled with the travelers at Gumboot Annie's board.

There the Bully's manacled efforts to devour bacon and flapjacks particularly delighted the young ladies, who took turns in cutting up his food for him, while he himself was moved almost to tears that his last victim could not be present to share the joy their late unpleasantness was procuring for himself as the survivor.

Durant followed them to the entrance of the tent where, unnoticed, he lingered a few minutes, listening to the hum of merry voices, and feasting his sad eyes upon his girl, then turned despairingly away.

V

EVELYN ENGAGES A COURIER

While, as he knew, his ident.i.ty was suspected by Nick and Nick's gang, yet, so long as these were at supper his disguise enabled Scarlett to wander through the camp, as if seeking employment, and reconnoitre in order to ascertain what were the most flagrant examples of law-breaking industries with which, officially, he would have to deal. Meanwhile, his thoughts kept straying toward the picture-girl with pleasure in the thought of her fascinating proximity, not unmingled with criticism of her large a.s.sumption of little dignities, softened, however, with pity for the bitter disappointment in store for her when she should learn the true state of her father's affairs.

As it would be manifestly impossible for her to continue under the delusion that hers was the purse of Fortunatus to draw on, the obviously wisest plan would be for Durant to disclose himself to her without delay, confess the truth, and either arrange for her to remain with him, sharing his rough lot, should she have the grit so to do, or take up a collection to send her back to any friends who might be willing to give her a home until, if ever, his luck should turn again.

For his own part, however, both as official and man, Sergeant Scarlett was strongly of opinion that it would be an unholy act to allow a bevy of girls to leave a district so sorely needing them, above all when among their number was the girl of girls whom no young man can fail to recognize the moment he sets eyes on her; or, as in his case, even on her portrait. Accordingly, a thousand schemes pa.s.sed through his head for making the wilderness, in spite of straitened means and harsh conditions, an acceptable habitation to the newcomers. The first step was to take counsel with Evelyn's father, but when, after making his duty rounds of inspection, he returned to the neighborhood of Gumboot Annie's hostelry, Durant had disappeared, nor did inquiry reveal the slightest trace of him.

Scarlett's next idea was formally to present himself to Miss Durant and proffer his services in finding her party suitable accommodations till her father could be reached. Just as he arrived at this decision the travelers came from the tent. Approaching Evelyn, with a military salute less effectively seconded than he could have desired by the battered apology for a hat that he was wearing, he was about to accost her, when, to his surprise, she waved him imperiously aside.

"Out of the way, my good man. I wish to speak with the officer."

At this, Barney, who was engaged in lining up his prisoners for the march to headquarters, came forward, with a flattered grin. "Out av the way, ye hulkin' vagabone!" he ordered his superior, with a rough shove that filled Scarlett with wrath, and sent Nick and his men, who every moment were becoming surer of the equivoque, into loud guffaws.

"I tell you, I never give indiscriminately to beggars," stated Miss Durant, as the young man seemed inclined to persist. "Kate, love," she beckoned a serious-looking young girl, "investigate his case."

Kate wrinkled up her conscientious eyebrows. "His face is very red," she whispered Evelyn, "but somehow I don't think it's drink."