The Magnetic North Part 111

"Sick!" the Boy called out. "Why, you're dreamin'. He's our strong man--able to knock spots out of anyone on the creek, ain't he?"

appealing to the gang.

"I shall be able to spare him from my part of the creek after to-night."

"Do I understand you are dismissing me?"

"Oh, go to h.e.l.l!"

The Colonel dropped his shovel and clenched his hands.

"Get the woman out o' the way," said the owner; "there's goin' to be trouble with this fire-eating Southerner."

The woman turned quickly. The Colonel, diving under the sluice-box for a plunge at Austin, came up face to face with her.

"The lady," said the Colonel, catching his breath, shaking with rage, but pulling off his hat--"the lady is quite safe, but I'm not so sure about you." He swerved as if to get by.

"Safe? I should think so!" she said steadily, comprehending all at once, and not unwilling to create a diversion.

"This is no place for a woman, not if she's got twenty letters from the Gold Commissioner."

Misunderstanding Austin's jibe at the official, the lady stood her ground, smiling into the face of the excited Kentuckian.

"Several people have asked me if I was not afraid to be alone here, and I've said no. It's quite true. I've travelled so much that I came to know years ago, it's not among men like you a woman has anything to fear."

It was funny and pathetic to see the infuriate Colonel clutching at his grand manner, bowing one instant to the lady, shooting death and d.a.m.nation the next out of heavy eyes at Austin. But the wiry little woman had the floor, and meant, for peace sake, to keep it a few moments.

"At home, in the streets of London, I have been rudely spoken to; I have been greatly annoyed in Paris; in New York I have been subject to humorous impertinence; but in the great North-West every man has seemed to be my friend. In fact, wherever our English tongue is spoken," she wound up calmly, putting the great Austin in his place, "a woman may go alone."

Austin seemed absorbed in filling his pipe. The lady tripped on to the next claim with a sedate "Good-night" to the men on No. 0. She thought the momentary trouble past, and never turned to see how the Kentuckian, waiting till she should be out of earshot, came round in front of Austin with a low question.

The gang watched the Boy dodge under the sluice and hobble hurriedly over the chaos of stones towards the owner. Before he reached him he called breathless, but trying to laugh:

"You think the Colonel's played out, but, take my word for it, he ain't a man to fool with."

The gang knew from Austin's sneering look as he turned to strike a match on a boulder--they knew as well as if they'd been within a yard of him that Scowl had said something "pretty mean." They saw the Colonel make a plunge, and they saw him reel and fall among the stones.

The owner stood there smoking while the night gang knocked off work under his nose and helped the Boy to get the Colonel on his feet. It was no use. Either he had struck his head or he was dazed--unable, at all events, to stand. They lifted him up and started for the big tent.

Three Indians accosted the cripple leading the procession. He started, and raised his eyes. "Nicholas! Muckluck!" They shook hands, and all went on together, the Boy saying the Colonel had a little sunstroke.

The next day Scowl Austin was found lying face down among the cotton-woods above the benches on Skook.u.m, a bullet-wound in his back.

He had fainted from loss of blood, when he was picked up by the two Vermonters, the men who had twice gone by No. 0 the night before the quarrel, and who had enraged Austin by stopping an instant during the clean-up to look at his gold. They carried him back to Bonanza.

The Superintendent and several of the day gang got the wounded man into bed. He revived sufficiently to say he had not seen the man that shot him, but he guessed he knew him all the same. Then he turned on his side, swore feebly at the lawlessness of the South, and gave up the ghost.

Not a man on the creek but understood who Scowl Austin meant.

"Them hot-headed Kentuckians, y' know, they'd dowse a feller's glim for less 'n that."

"Little doubt the Colonel done it all right. Why, his own pardner says to Austin's face, says he, 'The Colonel's a bad man to fool with,' and just then the big chap plunged at Austin like a mad bull."

But they were sorry to a man, and said among themselves that they'd see he was defended proper even if he hadn't nothin' but a little dust in a jam-pot.

The Grand Forks constable had put a watch on the big tent, despatched a man to inform the Dawson Chief of Police, and set himself to learn the details of the quarrel. Meanwhile the utter absence of life in the guarded tent roused suspicion. It was recalled now that since the Indians had left a little while after the Colonel was carried home, sixteen hours ago, no one had seen either of the Southerners. The constable, taking alarm at this, left the crowd at Scowl Austin's, and went hurriedly across the meadow to the new centre of interest. Just as he reached the tent the flap was turned back, and Maudie put her head out.

"Hah!" said the constable, with some relief, "they both in there?"

"The Colonel is."

Now, it was the Colonel he had wanted till he heard he was there. As the woman came out he looked in to make certain. Yes, there he was, calmly sleeping, with the gray blanket of the screen thrown up for air.

It didn't look much like----

"Where's the other feller?"

"Gone to Dawson."

"With that lame leg?"

"Went on horseback."

It had as grand a sound as it would have in the States to say a man had departed in a gla.s.s coach drawn by six cream-coloured horses. But he had been "in a h.e.l.l of a hurry," evidently. Men were exchanging glances.

"Funny n.o.body saw him."

"When'd he light out?"

"About five this morning."

Oh, that explained it. The people who were up at five were abed now.

And the group round the tent whispered that Austin had done the unheard of--had gone off and left the night gang at three o'clock in the morning. They had said so as the day s.h.i.+ft turned out.

"But how'd the young feller get such a thing as a horse?"

"Hired it off a stranger out from Dawson yesterday," Maudie answered shortly.

"Oh, that Frenchman--Count--a--Whirligig?"

But Maudie was tired of giving information and getting none. The answer came from one in the group.

"Yes, that French feller came in with a couple o' fusst-cla.s.s horses.

He's camped away over there beyond Muskeeter." He pointed down Bonanza.

"P'raps you won't mind just mentionin'," said Maudie with growing irritation, "why you're makin' yourself so busy about my friends?"

(Only strong resentment could have induced the plural.)

When she heard what had happened and what was suspected she uttered a contemptuous "Tschah!" and made for the tent. The constable followed.

She wheeled fiercely round.