The Golden Woman Part 19

"What have I done that you should come here to quarrel?"

Buck in the background smiled. He was mentally applauding the girl's readiness, while he watched the others closely.

Ike turned to her again, and his anger had merged into a comical look of chagrin.

"Y' see, missie," he said in a fresh tone of apology, "ther's fellers around here wi' no sort o' manners. They're scairt to death makin' a big talk to a red-ha'r'd gal, so I jest got to do it. An' I sez it, it ain't easy, folks like me speechin' to folks like you----"

"Oh, git on!" cried Pete in a tired voice.

"Your hot air's nigh freezin'," laughed Soapy Kid.

"Quit it," cried Ike hotly. "Ain't they an ignorant lot o' hogs?" he went on, appealing to the smiling girl. "Y' see, missie, we're right glad you come along. We're prospectin' this layout fer gold an'----"

"An' we ain't had no sort o' luck till you got around," added Pete hastily.

"In the storm," nodded Curly Saunders.

"All mussed-up an' beat to h.e.l.l," cried Ike, feeling that he was being ousted from his rights.

"Yes, an' Buck carried you to home, an' rode in fer the doc, an' had you fixed right," cried Abe.

Ike looked round indignantly.

"Say, is youse fellers makin' this big talk or me? ain't yearnin', if any feller's lookin' fer glory."

His challenge was received with a chorus of laughter.

"You're doin' fine," cried the Kid.

Ike favored the speaker with a contemptuous stare and returned to his work. He shrugged.

"They ain't no account anyway, missie," he a.s.sured her, "guess they're sore. Wal, y' see you come along in the storm, an' what should happen but the side o' Devil's Hill drops out, an' sets gold rollin' around like--like taters fallin' through a rotten sack. 'Gold?' sez we, an'

gold it is. 'Who bro't us sech luck?' we asts. An' ther' it is right ther', so ther' can't be no mistake. Jest a pore, sick gal wi' red ha'r, all beat to h.e.l.l an'----"

"Gee, ain't it beautiful!" sneered Curly.

Soapy pretended to weep, and Abe thumped him heavily on the back.

"Cheer up, Kid," he grinned. "'Tain't as bad as it seems. Ike'll feel better after he's had his vittles."

Pete sn.i.g.g.e.red.

"Ain't he comic?" he cried. Then, seizing the opportunity, while Ike turned round to retort he hustled him aside and usurped his place.

"Say, missie, it's jest this, you're the Golden Woman who bro't us our luck. Some of us ain't got your name right, nor nuthin'. Anyway that don't figger nuthin'. We ain't had no luck till you come along, so you're jest our Golden Woman, an' we're goin' to hand you----"

Joan started back as though the man had struck her. Her beautiful cheeks went a ghastly pallor.

"No--no!" she cried half-wildly.

"And why for not?" demanded Pete.

"But my name is Joan," she cried, a terrible dread almost overpowering her. "You see 'Golden' isn't my real name," she explained, without pausing to think. "That's only a nickname my father ga--gave me. I--I was christened 'Joan.'"

Pete slapped his thigh heavily, and a great grin spread over his face.

"Say, don't it beat the band?" he cried in wild delight. "Don't it?"

he repeated, appealing to the world at large. "'Golden.' That's her name, an' we only hit on it cos she's got gold ha'r, an' bro't us gold. An' all the time her pa used to call her 'Golden.' Can you beat it?" Then he looked into Joan's face with admiring eyes. "Say, missie, that's your name for jest as long as you stop around this layout.

That's her name, ain't it, boys?" He appealed to the crowd. "Here, give it her good an' plenty, boys. Hooray for the 'Golden Woman'!"

Instantly the air was filled with a harsh cheering that left the girl almost weeping in her terror and misery. But the men saw nothing of the effect of their good-will. They were only too glad to be able to find such an outlet to their feelings. When the cheering ceased Pete thrust out an arm toward her. His palm was stretched open, and lying on it was the great yellow nugget that the Padre had found--the first find of the "strike."

"That's it, missie," he cried, his wild eyes rolling delightedly.

"Look right ther'. That's fer you. The Padre found it, an' it's his to give, an' he sent it to you. That's the sort o' luck you bro't us."

The crowd closed in with necks craning to observe the wonderful nugget of gold; to the finding of its kind their lives were devoted. Beasley was at Pete's elbow, the greediest of them all.

"It wasn't no sc.r.a.pin' an' scratchin' luck," the enthusiastic Pete hurried on. "It was gold in hunks you bro't us."

Beasley's eyes lit, and Buck, watching closely, edged in.

"It's a present to you, missie," Pete went on. "That's wot we come for. Jest to hand you that nugget. Nigh sixty ounces solid gold, an'

the first found at this yer camp."

Balanced on his hand he thrust it farther out for the girl to take, but she shrank back. Beasley saw the movement and laughed. He pointed at it and leered up into her face.

"You're sure right," he cried. "Don't you touch it. Jest look at it.

Say, can't you fellers see, or are you blind? She ain't blind. She can see. She's seen wot's ther'. It's a death's head. Gold? Gee, I tell you it's a death's head! Look at them eye-sockets," he cried, pointing at the curious moulding of the nugget. "Ther's the nose bones, an' the jaw. Look at them teeth, too, all gold-filled, same as if a dentist had done 'em." He laughed maliciously. "It's a dandy present fer a lady. A keepsake!"

The men were crowding to see the markings which Beasley pointed out.

They were quite plain. They were so obvious that something like horror lit the superst.i.tious faces. Beasley, watching, saw that he had made his point, so he hurried on--

"Don't you touch it, miss," he cried gleefully, as though he thoroughly enjoyed delivering his warning. "It's rotten luck if you do. That gold is Devil's gold. It's come from Devil's Hill, in a Devil's storm. It's a death's head, an' there's all the trouble in the world in it. There's----"

His prophecy remained uncompleted. He was suddenly caught by a powerful hand, and the next instant he found himself swung to the outskirts of the crowd with terrific force.

In a furious rage he pulled himself together just in time to see Buck, pale with anger, seize the nugget from Pete's outstretched palm.

"You don't need to worry with the trouble in that gold," he said with biting coldness, raising it at arm's length above his head.

Then before any one was aware of his intention he flung it with all his force upon the flagstone at Joan's feet. Quickly he stooped and picked it up again, and again flung it down with all his strength. He repeated the process several times, and finally held it out toward the troubled girl.

"You ken take it now," he said, his whole manner softening. "Guess Beasley's 'death's head' has gone--to its grave. Ther' ain't no sort o' trouble can hurt any, if--you only come down on it hard enough. The trouble ain't in that gold now, only in the back of Beasley's head.

An' when it gets loose, wal--I allow there's folks around here won't see it come your way. You can sure take it now."

Joan reached out a timid hand, while her troubled violet eyes looked into Buck's face as though fascinated. The man moved a step nearer, and the small hand closed over the battered nugget.

"Take it," he said encouragingly. "It's an expression of the good feelings of the boys. An' I don't guess you need be scared of _them_."