In The Cabin
: The Gold GirlFor a long time after the departure of her visitors, Patty Sinclair
sat thinking. Was it true, all this man had told her? She remembered
vividly the beautiful tribute he had paid her father and the emotion
that had gripped him as he finished. Surely his words rang true. They
were true, or else the man was a consummate actor as well as an
unscrupulous knave. She recalled the boyish smile, the story of Lord
Clendenning's
silenced the Englishman's self-criticism. What would be more natural
than that two men thrown together in the middle of the hill country,
as her father and Bethune had been thrown together, should have pooled
their interests, especially if each possessed an essential that the
other did not. There had been somehow a sincerity about the man that
carried conviction. She liked his ready admission that her father's
knowledge of mining greatly exceeded his own. And the assertion that
he had advanced sums of money for the carrying on of the work sounded
plausible enough, for the girl knew that her father's income had been
small--pitiably small, but enough, he had always insisted, for his
meager needs. Unquestionably, up to that point the man's words had
carried the ring of truth. Then came the false notes; the open
accusation of Vil Holland, and the warning as to the concealment of
the map and photos which she had twice purposely refused to admit that
she possessed. This was the second time he had gone out of his way to
warn her against Vil Holland. On occasion of their previous meeting,
he had hinted that Holland might pose as a friend of her father--a
pose Bethune, himself, boldly assumed. Perhaps Vil Holland had been a
friend of her father. In the matter of the pack sack, to whom would a
man intrust his belongings, if not to a friend? Surely not to an
enemy, nor to one he had reason to suspect. And now Bethune openly
accused him of cutting the pack sack, and intimated that he would not
hesitate to rob her of her secret.
For a long time she sat with her elbow on the table and her chin
resting in her palm, staring out at the overshadowing hills. "If there
was only somebody," she muttered. "Somebody I could--" Suddenly she
leaped to her feet. "No, I'm glad there isn't! I'll play the game
alone! I came out here to do it, and I'll do it, in spite of forty Vil
Hollands, and Bethunes, and Lord Clendennings! I'll find the mine
myself--and I'll call it a mine, too, if I want to! And then, after I
find it, if Mr. Monk Bethune can show me that he is entitled to a
share in it, I'll give it to him--and not before. I'll stay right here
till I find it, or till my money gives out, and when it does, I'll
earn some more and come back again till that's gone!" Crossing the
room, she stamped determinedly out the door, threw the saddle onto her
cayuse, and rode rapidly down the creek. Horseback riding always
exhilarated her, even back home where she had been obliged to keep to
roads, or the well-worn courses of the hunt club. But here in the
hills where the very air was a tonic that sent the blood coursing
through her veins, and where tier after tier, the mighty mountains
rolled away into the distance, as if flaunting a challenge to come and
explore their secrets, and unscarred valleys gave glimpses of alluring
vistas, the exhilaration amounted almost to intoxication. As her
horse's feet thudded the ground, and splashed in and out of the
shallows of the creek, she laughed aloud for the very joy of living.
She pulled her horse to a walk as she skirted the fence of Watts's
upper pasture, and her eyes rested with approval upon the straightened
posts and taut wire. "At last Mr. Watts has bestirred himself. I hope
he will keep on, now, that he's got the habit, and fix up the rest of
the ranch. I wonder why that Vil Holland disapproved when he mentioned
that he had leased his pasture. It seems as though nothing can happen
in this country unless Vil Holland is mixed up in it someway. And, now
I'm down this far, I'll just find out whether Vil Holland did take
that pack down here for daddy. And if he did I'll let him know mighty
quick, the next time I see him, that I know all about it's being cut
open."
With her tubs on a bench, and the baby propped and tied securely in an
old wooden rocker, Ma Watts was up to her elbows in her "week's
worsh." Watts sat in his accustomed place, his chair tilted against
the shady side of the house. "Laws sakes, ef hit hain't Mr. Sinclair's
darter!" cried the woman, shaking the suds from her bare arms, "How be
yo', honey? An' how's the sheep camp? Microby Dandeline tellen us how
yo'-all scrubbed, an' scraped, an' cleaned 'til hit shined like a
nigger's heel. Hit's nice to be clean, that-a-way ef yo' got time, but
with five er six young-uns to take keer of, an' a passel of chickens
a-runnin' in under foot all day, seems like a body cain't keep clean
nohow. Microby says how yo' got a rale curtin' in yo' winder, an' all
kinds of pert doin' an' fixin's. That's hit, git right down off yer
horse. Land! I wus so busy hearin' 'bout yo' fixin' up the sheep camp,
thet I plumb fergot my manners. Watts, get a cheer! An' 'pears like
yo' could say 'Howdy' when anyone comes a visitin'."
"I aimed to," mumbled Watts apologetically, as he dragged a chair from
the kitchen, "I wus jest a-aidgin' 'round fer a chanct."
"I can't stay but a minute, see, the shadows are already half way
across the valley. I just thought I'd take a little ride before
supper."
"Law, yes, some folks likes to ride hossback, but fer me, I'd a heap
ruther go in a jolt wagon. Beats all the dif'fence in folks. Seems
like the folks out yere jist take to hit nachel. Yo' be'n huntin' yo'
pa's location yet?"
"No, I've been getting things in shape around the cabin. I'm going to
start prospecting to-morrow." She glanced back along the valley, "I
suppose my father came along this way when he left his pack on his way
East," she said.
"No, mom," Watts rubbed his chin, reflectively. "Hit wus Vil Holland
brung in his pack. Seems like yo' pa wus in a right smart of a hurry
when he left, so Vil taken his pack down yere an' me an' the boys put
hit in the barn fer to keep hit saft. Then Vil he rud on down the
crick, hell bent fer 'lection----"
"Watts! Hain't yo' shamed a-cussin'?" cried his scandalized spouse.
"Why was he in such a hurry?" asked the girl.
"I dunno. He jes' turned the mewl loost an' says to keep the pack till
yo' pa come back, an' larruped off."
Patty rose from the chair and gathered up her bridle reins. "I must be
going, really. You see, I've got my chores to do, and supper to get,
and I want to go to bed early so I'll be fresh in the morning." She
mounted, and turned to Ma Watts: "Can't you come up some day and bring
the children? I'd love to have you. Let's arrange the day now, so I
will be sure to be home."
"Lawzie, I'd give a purty! Listen at thet, now, Watts. Cain't we fix
to go?"
Watts fumbled his beard: "Why, yas, I reckon, some day, mebbe."
"What day can you come?" asked Patty.
"Well, le's see, this yere's about a Tuesday." He paused, glanced up
at the sky, and gave careful scrutiny to the horizon. "How'd Sunday a
week suit yo'--ef hit don't rain?"
"Fine," agreed the girl, smiling. "And, by the way, I came down past
the upper pasture. The fence looks grand. It didn't take long to fix
it, did it?"
"Well, hit tuk quite a spell--all day yeste'day, an' up 'til noon
to-day. We only got one side an' halft another done, an' they's two
sides an' a halft yet. But Mr. Bethune came by this noon, him an'
Lord, an' 'lowed he worn't in no gret hurry fer hit, causen he heerd
from Schultz thet the hoss business 'ud haf to wait over a spell----"
"An' Lord, he come down an' boughten a lot of aigs offen me. Him an'
Mr. Bethune is both got manners."
"Women folks likes 'em better'n what men does, seems like," opined
Watts, reflectively.
"Why don't men like them?" asked the girl eagerly.
"I dunno. Seems like they jes' nachelly mistrust 'em someways."
"Did my father like him--Mr. Bethune?"
"'Cordin' to Mr. Bethune they wus gret buddies, but when I'd run
acrost yo' pa in the hills, 'pears like he wus allus alone er elsen
Vil Holland was along. But, Mr. Bethune claims he set a heap by yo'
pa, like the time he come an' 'lowed to take away his pack. I wouldn't
let hit go, 'cause thet hain't the way Vil said, an' Mr. Bethune, he
started in to git mad, but then he laffed, an' said hit didn't make no
diff'ence, 'cause all he wanted wus to be shore hit wus saft kep."
"An' Pa mos' hed to shoot him, though, 'fore he laffed. I done tol' Pa
he hadn't ort to. Lessen yo' runnin' a still, yo' hain't no call to
shoot folks comin' 'round."
"Shoot him!" exclaimed Patty, staring in surprise at the easy-going
Watts.
"Yas, he aimed to take thet pack anyways. So I went in an' got down
the ol' rifle-gun an' pintedly tole him I'd shoot him dead ef he laid
holt o' thet pack, an' then he laffed an' rud off."
"But, would you have shot him, really?"
"Yas," answered the mountaineer, in a matter-of-fact tone, "I'd of hed
to."
Patty rode home slowly and in silence--thinking. And that evening, by
the light of her coal-oil lamp she puzzled over the roughly sketched
map with its cryptic signs and notations. There were a half-dozen
samples, too--chips of rough, heavy rock that didn't look a bit like
gold. "High grade," her daddy had called them as he babbled
incessantly upon his death-bed. But they looked dull and unpromising
to the girl as they lay upon the table. She returned to the sketch.
With the exception of a single small dot, placed beside what was
evidently the principal creek of the locality, the map consisted only
of lines and shadings which evidently indicated creeks and
mountains--no cross, no letter, no number--nothing to indicate
landmark or location, only a confusing network of creeks and feeders
branching out like the limbs of a tree. Along the bottom of the paper
the girl read the following line:
"SC 1 S1 1/2 E 1 S [up arrow] to [union symbol] 2 W to a. to b. stake L.C.
[zigzag symbol] centre."
"I suppose that was all clear as daylight to daddy, and maybe it would
be to anyone who is used to maps, but as for doing me any good, he
might as well have copied a line from the Chinese dictionary."
She stared hopelessly at the unintelligible line, and then at the two
photographs. One, taken evidently from a point well up the side of a
hill, showed a narrow valley, flanked upon the opposite side by a high
rock wall. Toward the upper end of the wall an irregular crack or
cleft split it from top to bottom. The other was a "close up" taken at
the very base of the cleft, and showed only the narrow aperture in the
rock, and the ground at its base. For a long time she sat studying the
photographs, memorizing every feature and line of them; the
conformation of the valley, the contour of the rock wall, the position
and shapes of the trees and rock fragments. "That must be the mine,"
she concluded, at length, "right there at the bottom of that crack."
She closed her eyes and conjured a mental picture of the little
valley, of the rock wall, and of the cleft that would mark the
location. "I'd know it if I should see it," she muttered, "let's see:
big broken rocks strewn along the floor of the valley, and a tiny
creek, and then the rock cliff, it must be about as high as--about
twice as tall as the trees that grow along the foot of it, and it's
highest at the upper end, then there's a big tree standing alone
almost in the middle of the valley, and the gnarled, scraggly trees
that grow along the top of the rocks, and the valley must be as wide
as from here to that clump of trees beyond my wood-pile--about a
block, I guess. And there's the big crack in the cliff that starts
straight," she traced the course of the crack with her finger upon the
table top, "and then zigzags to the ground." Her glance returned to
the map, and she frowned. "I don't think that's a bit of good to me.
But I don't care as long as I have the photographs. I'll just ride,
and ride, and ride through these hills till I find that valley, and
then--" The little clock on the shelf beside the mirror ticked loudly.
Her thoughts strayed far beyond the confines of the little cabin on
Monte's Creek, as she planned how she would spend the golden stream
that was to flow from the foot of the rock ledge.
Gradually her vision became confused, the incessant ticking of the
little clock sounded farther, and farther away, her head settled to
rest upon her folded arms, and she was in the midst of a struggle of
some kind, in which a belted cowboy and a suave, sloe-eyed
quarter-breed were fighting to gain possession of her mine--or, were
they trying to help her locate it? And what was it daddy was trying to
tell her? She couldn't quite hear. She wished he would talk
louder--but it was something about the mine, and the men who were
struggling.... She awoke with a start, and glanced swiftly about the
cabin. The roots of her hair along the back of her neck tingled
uncomfortably. She felt she was not alone--that somewhere eyes were
watching her. The chintz curtain that screened the open window swayed
lightly in the night breeze and she jumped nervously. "I'm a perfect
fool!" she exclaimed, aloud: "As if any 'Jack the Peeper' would be
prowling around these mountains! It's just nerves, that's all it is."
Slipping the map and the photographs beneath a plate, she crossed to
the door and made sure the bar was in place, took the white butted
revolver from its holster, and with a determined tightening of the
lips, stepped to the window, drew the curtain aside, and stood peering
out into the dark. The only sounds were the ticking of the clock, and
the purling of the water as it rushed among the stones of the shallow
ford. Overhead the stars winked brightly, in sharp contrast to the
velvet blackness of the pines. The sound of the water soothed her, and
she laughed--a forced little laugh, but it made her feel better.
Crossing to the table she blew out the lamp and, placing her revolver
at the head of her bunk, undressed in the darkness. She raised the
plate, took the map and the two precious photographs, placed them in
their envelope, and slipped the chain about her neck.
For a long time she lay between her blankets, wide awake, conscious
that she was straining her ears to catch some faint sound. A half
dozen times she caught herself listening with nerves on edge and
muscles taut, and each time forced herself to relax. But always she
came back to that horrible, tense listening. She charged herself with
cowardice, and pooh-poohed her fears, but it was no use, and she wound
up by covering her head with her blanket. "I don't care, there was
somebody watching, but if he thinks he's going to find out where I
keep these," her hand clutched the little oiled packet, "he'll have to
come again, that's all."
It was nearly an hour later that Monk Bethune quitted his post close
against the cabin wall, at the point where the chinking had fallen
away from the logs, and slipped silently into the timber.
More
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Each day during the two weeks that her father had been at the Double R Sheila had accompanied him on his rides of exploration. She had grown tired of the continued companionship, and despite the novelty of the sight she had become decidedly wearie... Converging Trails
It was the barking of a dog that brought Sheila out of a sleep--dreamless this time--into a state of semi-consciousness. It was Dakota's dog surely, she decided sleepily. She sighed and twisted to a more comfortable position. The effort awakened h... Dakota Evens A Score
With the thermometer at one hundred and five it was not to be expected that there would be much movement in Lazette. As a matter of fact, there was little movement anywhere. On the plains, which began at the edge of town, there was no movement, no... Doubler Talks
After the departure of the doctor Sheila entered the cabin and closed the door, fastening the bars and drawing a chair over near the table. Doubler seemed to be resting easier, though there was a flush in his cheeks that told of the presence of fe... Duncan Adds Two And Two
Had Langford known that there had been a witness to his visit to Dakota he might not have ridden away from the latter's cabin so entirely satisfied with the result of his interview. Duncan had been much interested in Langford's differences with ... For Dakota
Though in a state of anxiety and excitement over the incident of Duncan's attack on Doubler and the subsequent shooting, together with a realization of Dakota's danger, Sheila did not lose her composure. She ran to the river and secured the water,... In The Cabin
For a long time after the departure of her visitors, Patty Sinclair sat thinking. Was it true, all this man had told her? She remembered vividly the beautiful tribute he had paid her father and the emotion that had gripped him as he finished. Sure... Into The Unknown
After a time Sheila rose from the bunk on which she had been sitting and stood in the center of the floor, looking down at her father. Dakota had not moved. He stood also, watching Langford, his face pale and grim, and he did not speak until Sheil... Kindred Spirits
Looking rather more rugged than when he had arrived at the station at Lazette two weeks before, his face tanned, but still retaining the smooth, sleek manner which he had brought with him from the East, David Dowd Langford sat in a big rocking cha... Langford Lays Off The Mask
The sun was still an hour above the horizon when Sheila rode up to the corral gates. While removing the saddle and bridle from her pony she noted with satisfaction that the horse which her father had been accustomed to ride was inside the corral. ... Lord Clendenning Gets A Ducking
Patty awoke at dawn and dressed hurriedly. Shivering in the chill air, she lighted a match and pushed back a lid of the little cast iron cook stove. Instead of the "cold fire" of neatly arranged wood and kindlings that she had built before leaving... Patty Draws A Map
That evening after supper, Patty sat upon her doorstep and watched the slowly fading opalescent glow in which the daylight surrendered to encroaching darkness. "How wonderful it all is, and how beautiful!" she breathed. "The indomitable ruggedness... Patty Finds A Glove
Dismounting before her cabin, Patty dropped her reins, pushed open the door, and entered. Her eyes flew to the little dressing table. The packet was gone! With a thrill of exultation she carefully inspected the room. Everything was exactly as she ... Patty Makes Her Strike
It was noon, one week from the day she had returned from the Samuelson ranch, and Patty Sinclair stood upon the high shoulder of a butte and looked down into a rock-rimmed valley. Her eyes roved slowly up and down the depression where the dark gre... Patty Takes Precautions
During the next few days Patty Sinclair paid scant attention to rock ledges. Each morning she saddled her cayuse and rode into the hills to the southward, crossing divides and following creeks and valleys from their sources down their winding, twi... Prospecting
The gray of early morning was just beginning to render objects in the little room indistinguishable when Patty awoke. She made a hasty toilet, lighted the fire, and while the water was heating for her coffee, delved into the pack sack and drew out... Sheep Camp
If Patty Sinclair had anticipated annoyance from the forced attention of her tall horseman of the hills, she was disappointed, for neither at meals, nor during the shopping tour that occupied the whole of the following day, nor yet upon the long h... Sheila Fans A Flame
Sheila departed from the quicksand crossing nursing her wrath against the man who had rescued her, feeling bitterly vindictive against him, yet aware that the Dakota who had saved her life was not the Dakota whom she had feared during her adventur... Sheriff Allen Takes A Hand
The sheriff's posse--three men whom he had deputized in Lazette and himself--had ridden hard over the twenty miles of rough trail from Lazette, for Duncan had assured Allen that he would have to get into action before Dakota could discover that th... Some Memories
When Sheila recovered consciousness she was in Dakota's cabin--in the bunk in which she had lain on another night in the yesterday of her life in this country. She recognized it instantly. There was the candle on the table, there were the familiar... Strictly Business
For two or three quiet weeks Sheila did not see much of Duncan, and her father bothered her very little. Several nights on the gallery of the ranchhouse she had seen the two men sitting very close together, and on one or two occasions she had over... The Bishop Of All Outdoors
The days slipped into weeks, as Patty Sinclair, carefully and methodically traced valleys to their sources, and explored innumerable coulees and ravines that twisted and turned their tortuous lengths into the very heart of the hills. Rock ledges w... The Dim Trail
Sheila had been dreaming of a world in which there was nothing but rain and mud and clouds and reckless-eyed individuals who conversed in irritating drawls when a sharp crash of thunder awakened her. During her sleep she had turned her face to the... The Horse Raid
Patty did not know how long she had slept when she awoke, tense and listening, sitting bolt upright in bed. Moonlight flooded the room through the windows thrown wide to admit the chill night air. Beyond the valley floor, green with the luxuriant ... The Parting On The River Trail
"I'll be leaving you now, ma'am." There was a good moon, and its mellow light streamed full into Dakota's grim, travel-stained face as he halted his pony on the crest of a slope above the Two Forks and pointed out a light that glimmered weakly thr... The Race For The Register
Beside the little table Patty Sinclair listened to the sound of hoofs splashing through the shallows of the creek and thudding dully upon the floor of the valley beyond. When the sounds told her that the horseman had disappeared into the timber, s... The Samuelsons
Patty retired that night with her thoughts in a whirl. So, it was Monk Bethune who, all along, had been plotting to steal the secret of her father's strike? Monk Bethune, with his suave, oily manner, his professed regard for her father, and his bu... The Shot In The Back
For an instant after discovering Doubler lying in the doorway, Sheila stood motionless at the corner of the cabin, looking down wonderingly at him. She thought at first that he was merely resting, but his body was doubled up so oddly that a grave ... This Picture And That
IT was a scene of wild, virgin beauty upon which Sheila Langford looked as she sat on the edge of a grassy butte overlooking the Ute River, with Duncan, the Double R manager stretched out, full length beside her, a gigantic picture on Nature's can... Unmasked
At the Samuelson's ranch they found not only the doctor but Len Christie. Mr. Samuelson's condition had taken a sudden turn for the better and it was a jubilant little group that welcomed Patty as she rode up to the veranda. Vil Holland had mutter...