Wolf Breed by Jackson Gregory
CHAPTER X
SEEKERS AFTER GOLD
There had been only three loitering men and one woman enjoying Joe'shospitality as they went out. The men were Lemarc, Sefton and RamonGarcia, the woman Ernestine Dumont. Drennen saw that Ygerne made coolpretence of seeing none of them; Lemarc and Sefton had no doubtlingered to watch her leave and she did not take kindly to suchespionage. She was busy with the careful buttoning of a glove, theleft glove. The right hand she left bare.
Not fifty steps from Marquette's Drennen laid his hand upon her arm.
"Kiss me, Ygerne," he commanded quietly.
There was little light, but he saw the glint of it upon the pistol inher hand.
"You know what you would have to pay," she said coolly. "Is it worthit?"
For answer he threw out his arms to draw her lithe body close up tohis. But as her gloved hand struck him across the face she had sprungback, twisting a little, avoiding him, putting a quick two yardsbetween them. He felt, rather than saw, that her pistol, levelledacross the short space separating them, bore full upon his chest.
"Wait! Listen to me. You must listen."
She was no longer calm. He could hear her panting, whether from theexertion of snatching herself away from him or from the tense grip ofwhatever emotion was playing upon her nerves he could not tell.
"Don't you know that I mean what I say? That I can kill you, that Iwill kill you if you dare insult me further?"
"I know only one thing," he told her, his voice sterner than she hadheard it before. "The King of Fools has put a mad desire into mybrain. And you have helped him. I am always ready to pay for whateverI get and I am not used to haggling over the price."
"I have told you that I would kill you if you dared!" she flashed thewords at him.
"And I," he retorted coolly, "told you that I'd kiss you if you daredcome with me. Were we both bluffing? Or neither, Ygerne?"
"Coward!" she panted, and he knew how the red lips curled to the words.Even that picture but made madder the mad longing upon him. With hisugly laugh at the odd twist of feminine logic which had applied such anepithet at such a time, he came swiftly toward her.
As he came on Ygerne fired. The darkness was thick, but it seemed toher frowning eyes that he had foreseen the shot at the second before itwas fired and had swung his shoulders to the side so that it cut by himwithout touching him. Again she fired; but now he was upon her and hishand had struck the pistol aside so that the questing bullet spedskywards. His arms were about her, drawing her tighter until they hurther; she heard his breathing as his lips sought hers. Her right armwas held down at her side but her left hand struck at his face, tore athim, thrust him each possible quarter of an inch away, shielded herface. Again and again she struck, an unthinkable strength in her tensebody.
The door at Marquette's was thrown open and half a dozen men rushed outinto the road. The girl felt Drennen's arm relax, the right arm abouther shoulders. With a quick movement she slipped free of it.
"Who shot?" called one of the men. "What's wrong?"
Ygerne, two paces from Drennen's side, answered very quietly, hercoolness amazing him.
"I fired. It was a wager with Mr. Drennen. I shot at a wolf. I thinkI missed. Didn't I, Mr. Drennen?"
Drennen did not answer. The men in the road muttered among themselves,guessed something of the truth, laughed and went back into the house.Drennen walked with Ygerne to her own door. As he lifted his hat shethrew open the door and the light streamed across his face. She sawthat it was white and that his lips were set tight. Her eyes wentquickly to the white silk shirt he had that day bought of Marquette.There was a widening splotch of red at the side, below the shoulder.
"Are you badly hurt?" she asked coolly.
"I don't know. I guess not. Good night, Ygerne."
"I thought that somewhere in you there was the soul of a gentleman,"she said, her voice rising in clear scorn. "You are nothing but brute!"
"Nothing but brute," he repeated after her harshly. "You are quiteright."
She looked at him fixedly a moment. Meeting her eyes he saw a swiftchange come. She was smiling at him now quite as though nothingunpleasant had arisen during a commonplace evening; she even put outher hand, the ungloved one which had shot him two minutes ago, and saidlightly:
"I haven't thanked you for a very pleasant evening, Mr. Drennen. It isone I shall not forget soon. Good night."
For a moment he made no answer. Instead he stood looking steadily,curiously at her. Then suddenly he stooped a little, caught up herhand and brushed it lightly with his lips; the right, ungloved hand.Then he turned away.
She saw that he steadied himself by the fence about Marquette's yardand now was moving slowly toward his dugout. He had forgotten to puton his hat and still held it crumpled in his hand. She stood for alittle while staring after him. Then she went into the house, closingthe door softly.
Drennen, making his slow way homeward, met the men Lemarc and Sefton ina place where the light from an open door streamed across the road.Before Lemarc cried out Drennen had seen the working muscles of hisface; the man was in the grip of a terrible rage.
"Damn you," cried Lemarc wildly. "What have you done? That wasYgerne's gun; I know it. If you have laid a hand on her . . ."
"Stand aside, you fool," snapped Drennen, less angry at Lemarc than athimself for his own physical weakness.
"I tell you," shouted Lemarc, his hand whipping out from under his coatand upward, the lamp rays from the house running down the keentwo-edged steel, "if you . . ."
"Shut up, Marc." It was Captain Sefton's voice, sharp and threateningand steady with its cold anger. Drennen, looking to him, saw in hisface a fury no less than Lemarc's but held under control. "Things arebad enough as they are."
"What do I care?" snarled Lemarc, wrenching at the hand Sefton had shotout to his arm. "If you think I'll stand for everything . . ."
"You'll stand for anything I say stand for," Sefton said coolly."Remember that, Lemarc. Besides, Ygerne's all right. She can takecare of herself, my boy. Come on."
Grumbling, Lemarc allowed himself to be led away. Drennen passed onand to his dugout. He found his bunk in the darkness and sat down uponthe edge of it, resting, breathing heavily, his weakness grown alreadyinto giddy nausea. Finally, feeling the blood hot against his fleshand knowing that he must get it stopped, he struck a match and lighteda candle. With fingers shaking a little he tore his shirt away at theside and found the hurt. A little, contemptuous grunt escaped him ashe made out just how bad it was. The bullet had merely ripped alonghis side, inflicting a shallow surface wound, coming the nearest thingin the world to missing him altogether. Had he not been pitifullynerveless from another wound not ten days old and his strengthexhausted from his first active day since it had been given to him, hecould have laughed at this and at the girl who had fired it. Hestopped the bleeding as best he might, drew a rude bandage about hisbody, and sank back on his bunk dizzy and sick.
"And now," he muttered disgustedly, "because I have been a damned foolover a pretty cat with a red mouth and poisonous claws I've got anotherweek of hell before I can go out on the trail again."
The knowledge that he was a fool was no new knowledge to Drennen. Hesneered at himself for staking his life against a chance woman's lips,and, snarling, put out his candle. He drew the tumbled covers of hisbed about him, of neither strength nor will to undress or to go andclose the door he had left open. He wanted to sleep; to wipe out thememory of this day's folly as he sought to lose the memory of all otherdays. He wanted his strength back because of the mere animal instinctof life, not because life was a pretty thing.
But he did not sleep. His was that state of weakness and exhaustion ofa battered body which fends off immediate, utter restfulness. He hadshut the gates of his mind to the girl, Ygerne. But it was as thoughhis hands, holding the gates shut, were powerless, and her hands,dragging at them that she might enter, were st
Through his fever the girl passed and repassed all night. He saw heras she had stood yonder on the mountain side, at the foot of therainbow. He saw her as she had stepped out to meet him when he hadgone to Marquette's for her, as she had sat across the table from him.Her white arms flashed at him, her white throat and bare shouldersshone through a blur of wandering fancies. Her red mouth was beforehim through the long hours, luring him now, the lips blossoming into akiss; mocking him now; laughing with him, her cheeks dimpling as shelaughed; laughing at him, hard as carved coral. All night the greymystery of her eyes was upon him, their expression ever shifting, nowfilled with promise like dawn skies, now vague with threats like greydepths of ocean over hidden rocks.
When his will broke down in his utter weakness and he gave over tryingto sleep, he drew himself up against the wall which was head-board forhis bunk, lighted his candle and filled his pipe. Smoking slowly, thecandle light in his eyes, the objects of his dugout brought into suddenharsh reality, he drove his mind away from the girl and sent it to thegold which he had discovered in its hidden place in the mountains. Nowhe could tell himself calmly that a few days of inactivity didn'tmatter. A few more days and he would be himself again; and then hemight follow what path of life he chose, because he would be a richman. And then he grew drowsy and dozed, only to have Ygerne Bellaireslip back into his befogged imaginings with her white shoulders, hergrey eyes and her red mouth.
When in the faint light before the dawn the sick yellow flame of thesecond candle was dying out Drennen was making his way to Joe's. Hedrank his coffee and then drove himself to eat two bowls of mush. Hisface was so bloodless and drawn that Joe stared at him as at a ghost.Each time that Drennen moved he felt a burning pain in his side asthough the wound were tearing open afresh.
The forenoon he spent in his dugout, dozing a little, but for the mostpart staring moodily out of his open door at the muddy waters of theLittle MacLeod. He was aware, toward noon, of an unusual bustle andstir in the Settlement. Men were arriving, almost in a steady stream,a few on horseback, the major part on foot. There floated out to himloud voices from Pere Marquette's store; they were drinking there. Hewondered idly what lay back of this human influx. He was too sick tocare greatly.
He had left word with Joe to send the boy with lunch at noon. The boycame in shortly after one o'clock, explaining that there had been sucha rush at the counter that Joe couldn't let him go sooner. Drennencursed him and drove him out, asking no questions.
The human tide sweeping into the Settlement rose steadily during theafternoon. A street which had been deserted twenty-four hours ago wasnow jammed from side to side. Drennen came to understand dully as theday wore on that there could be but one explanation; a rush like thismeant that some fool had dropped his pick into a vein of gold and wordof it had flashed across the mountains. Even then, his pain andexhaustion and giddy sickness were such that he did not realise that hehimself was to thank for the pouring of hundreds of men into MacLeod's.
When at last the true explanation did dawn upon him he reached out forhis pipe, stuffed the bowl full of his tobacco and leaned back upon hisbunk, his eyes frowning, his lips hard about his pipe stem. So, silentand brooding, he waited, knowing that it was to expect too much ofhuman endurance to think that they would let him alone much longer.
The first man to visit him thrust through the doorway unceremoniouslyand coming straight to Drennen's side said bluntly, "I am Madden,Charles Madden of the Canadian Mining Company. Maybe you've heard ofme?"
Drennen eyed him insolently, taking stock of the fresh cheeks, the keenblue eyes, the square, massive, masterly jaw, the assertive air, theclothing which was civilisation's conventional garb and which in thematter alone of heavy laced boots made concession to the mountains.The man was young, perhaps had not yet gotten into his thirties, andnone the less had already that dominance of personality belonging to aseasoned captain of industry. Drennen, drawing at his pipe, maintainedhis silence.
"Well?" demanded Charlie Madden.
He whipped at one gloved hand with the gauntlet he held in the otherand stared at Drennen impatiently. He had just arrived and had made nodelay in coming to the dugout; Drennen noted the dust of his ride uponhis face, the spurs still upon his boots. The atmosphere he bore withhim was one of business urgency.
"Damn it, man," snapped Madden, "I've got something else to do besidessmother in your hovel. I'm here to talk business."
He flung himself into the solitary chair in the one-room place, jerkedhis head about, saw that the door was open, got up and closed it, andcame back to his chair. Drennen, eyeing him with steady hostility, didnot open his lips.
"Now," and Madden had tossed gauntlets and hat to the floor beside him,"I'm anxious to get this thing over with. You've struck gold, theytell me? Let's see the colour of it."
"What's your proposition?" Drennen asked carelessly.
Madden laughed his stock-in-trade laugh; it was intended to make theother man feel vaguely that he was talking nonsense to a seer.
"Do you think I run around with a proposition to make every prospectorwho thinks he's found a bonanza? Before I know where the claim is orsee the dirt out of it?"
Drennen lay back a little, his hands clasped behind his head.
"I know something of your company and your methods," he said coolly."You're a pack of damned thieves. And, since you ask it, I do thinkthat you run around all loaded with your proposition. Your game is topay a man enough to get him drunk and keep him drunk for a spell;that's his cash bonus; he gets the rest in stocks. Then you break himwith assessments and kick him out. I'm not talking business to-day,thank you," he ended drily.
Madden looked at him keenly, making a swift appraisal which had in itsomething of the nature of a readjustment. Then he laughed again.
"Look here, Mr. Drennen," he said confidentially, leaning close to theman on the bunk, "my company has a bigger financial backing than anyother in the country. We are willing to take what we can get as cheapas we can get it, of course I'll admit that. At the same time ifyou've got a gold mine we're ready and we're able to pay all it'sworth. You've got the brains to know that the day has passed for a manto work his own claim if there's anything in it. You've got to sellout to somebody. Why not to the Canadian?"
Now, Madden, having heard the tale of Drennen's dice game with a canvasbag of virgin gold backing his play and of a fight in which Drennen hadgone down from a bullet fired by Ernestine Dumont, had made up his mindthat in the dugout he would come upon a certain type of man which heknew well. He expected to find Drennen half sodden with liquor,garrulous, boastful and withal easy to handle. His estimate changedswiftly, but he altered merely in slight detail his plan of attack.After a keen glance about the dugout his words came smoothly. Drennenwas no illiterate miner but he was sorely ridden by poverty, just thesame.
"Give me your word that you've really found the real stuff," Maddensaid, "and we'll talk business. Oh, that isn't the ordinary course, tobe sure, but I'm willing to make an exception after seeing you; you arenot the ordinary man. Come out with me to Lebarge; we'll pick up alawyer and sign some papers. For your protection and mine, understand.Then we'll have a look at your claim. Incidentally," his hand comingsuddenly from his pocket with a roll of bills in it, "you can put inyour own expense account, and," with a wink, "you can go as far as youlike. I'm a generous cuss with the company's money when they give mefull swing."
Drennen put out his hand; Madden urbanely stripped off one of the billsand handed it to him. It was for fifty dollars. Drennen struck amatch, set fire to a corner of the bill and used the lighter to get hispipe going. Madden, upon his feet in pink-faced wrath, was silenced byDrennen's voice booming out angrily:
"So you think you can bait me into your lawyer trap with jinglingpennies in a tin cup! Look at that, man; look at that!"
With a sudden gesture he had caught out his canvas bag and had
"There's your change," he said crisply. And when Madden's fingers hadreluctantly dropped the nuggets back to the quilt, "And as forpropositions, I'm the man who's making them. I'm to be left alone tofile on my claims and protect myself first. Then, if you're on hand,you can look my property over. I'm going to sell; if you're the firstcompany to take up my offer it might be that I'd sell to you."
"And your proposition?" demanded Madden sharply.
"An assurance that the mine will be worked; ten per cent of the totalnumber of shares in my name; a further assurance of exemption fromassessment for ten years; and a little bonus."
Madden used his stock-in-trade laugh again. It was well that he madeuse of it when he did; else he would not have been able to summon it upfrom his paralysed throat. For he put a question and got a brief,direct answer, and the answer affected him much as a fist in the pit ofthe stomach might have done.
"What sort of cash bonus?" was the question.
"One hundred thousand dollars!" was the cool rejoinder.