The Plunderer Part 12

The doctor shook his head.

"It has been almost the sole topic here for the last two days," he said. "We heard of it after it was too late for any of us to be of use. I started over, but got word from a confrere of mine from a camp farther east, that there were already four doctors on the spot and that I need not come unless they called for me. Even then they were hopeless. Most of the men of the Blackbird were good men, too. The kind that have families, and are steady; but I suppose from what I hear they were nearly all fellows who have been idle for some time, or have just moved into the district, so probably they had nothing much to leave in the way of support--for those left behind."

He stopped for a moment and peered at other men who were pa.s.sing them.

"I think it my duty to do something in that regard," he said, quietly.

"I believe I shall get Mrs. Meredith to call a meeting out in front of her place. Nearly every man of the camp goes there at some time or another, in the course of the evening. Perhaps I could--"

Again he stopped, as if thinking of the best plan.

"I see," interpolated the miner, almost as his younger companion was about to offer the same suggestion. "Let her send out word that every man in the camp is wanted. Then you give them the last news and get them to do what they can. That's right."

"It is the best way," a.s.serted d.i.c.k, agreeing with the project. "You can do more than any one. They all respect and know you."

They left him to make his way toward the High Light and stood at the borders of little gatherings on the street, gleaning other details of the tragedy, for nearly an hour, and then were attracted by a sound below them. Men were calling to one another. Out in front of the High Light two torches flared, their flames glowing steadily in the still night air and lighting the faces of those who gathered toward them.

They went with the street current and again found themselves in a crowd; but it was not so dense as that first one they had encountered.

Men stood in groups, thoughtfully, with hands in pockets, their harsh, strong faces rendered soft by the light. They talked together with a quiet and sad sympathy, as if in that hour they were all of one family up there in the heart of the mountains from which they tore their hard livelihood. There was a stir from the nearest store and a voice called, "Here, Doc! Here's a couple of boxes for you to stand on so they can see you when you talk."

Men were carrying some large packing cases, or tumbling them end over end, with hollow, booming noises, to form a crude platform. The boxes clashed together. Two men holding the torches climbed up on them and they saw two others boosting the doctor upward. At sight of him there was a restraining hiss pa.s.sed round through the gathering crowd, commanding silence. He waited for it to become complete.

"Men," he said, "you have all heard the news. Thirty-three of our fellows died over across the divide, or are dying now. G.o.d knows which! G.o.d grant they went quickly!"

He stopped and although not a trained orator, the pause could have been no more effective. d.i.c.k looked around him. The faces of those nearest were grave and unmoved, as if carved from the mother rock of the country in which they delved; but he saw a light in their frowning eyes that told how deeply their sympathies were stirred.

"I didn't get up here to talk to you so much about them, however," the doctor went on, quietly, "as I did to remind you that out of thirty-three of these men there were twenty-six who left widows, or widows and children behind them. The boys over there did all they could. There were a hundred and fifty men who tried to save them. They are now working merely to get their bodies. We couldn't be there to help in that; so we do what we can here. And that doing shall consist in helping out those women and children. There's a box down here in front of me. I wish you'd put what you can on it."

Bill, staring over the heads of those around him, saw a movement among those nearest the orator's stand, and into the ring of light stepped The Lily. Apparently she was speaking to the doctor, who leaned down to listen. He straightened up and called for silence.

"Mrs. Meredith," he said, "says that any man here who has no money with him can sign what he wants to give on a piece of paper, and that she will accept it as she would a pay-check and forward the cash. Then on pay-day the man can come and redeem his paper pledge."

There was a low murmur of approval swept round over the crowd which began to move forward with slow regularity. The doctor dropped down from his rostrum as if his task were done. The torches lowered as their bearers followed him and planted them beside the box on which coins, big round silver dollars and yellow gold-pieces, were falling, with here and there a sc.r.a.p of paper. No one stood guard over that collection. The crowd was thinning out. d.i.c.k turned toward his friend and looked up at him to meet eyes as troubled as his own. Each understood the other.

"I wish I had some money of my own," the younger man exclaimed; "but I haven't a dollar that actually belongs to me. I am going to borrow a little from Sloan."

"I can't do that much," was the sorrowful reply. "And there ain't nothin' I'd rather do in the world than walk up there and drop a couple of hundred on that pile. I'm--I'm--"

His manner indicated that he was about to relapse into stronger terms.

He suddenly whirled. A hand had been laid on his sleeve and a low, steady voice said, "Excuse me, I heard you talking and I understand. I know what you feel. I want you to permit me."

It was Mrs. Meredith who had walked around behind them un.o.bserved and now held out her hand. They fell back, embarra.s.sed. She appeared to fathom their position.

"I know," she said. "I wasn't eavesdropping. I saw you here. I wanted to talk to you both and so, well, I overheard. Take this, won't you?

Please permit me."

Bill suddenly reached his hand out and found in his palm a roll of bills, rare in that camp. He looked at them curiously.

"There is five hundred dollars in it," she said. "That permits a reasonable gift from each of you. You can return it to me at your convenience."

Neither of them had spoken to her in all this time. Now both voiced thanks. But a moment later d.i.c.k found himself talking alone and telling her that he would send her a check within a few days to cover the amount of the loan; but she was not looking at him. He saw that her eyes were fixed on the big man by his side, who stood there looking down into her face. For some reason she appeared embarra.s.sed by that direct scrutiny, and her eyes fell, and wandered around on those standing nearest. Suddenly she frowned, and wondering they followed the direction of her look. Not ten feet from them, standing stockily on his feet with his high, heavy shoulders squared, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his firm face unmoved, his hat shading his eyes, stood Bully Presby. He made no movement toward the goal of the contributors, and seemed to have no intention of so doing. As if to escape an unpleasant situation The Lily suddenly walked toward him.

"Good-evening, Mister Presby," she saluted, and he slowly turned his head and stared at her. He did not s.h.i.+ft his att.i.tude in the least, and appeared granite-like in his rigid pose.

"I suppose," she said, "that you have put something into the contribution."

"I have not," he replied with his customary incisive, harsh voice.

"Why should I? The contribution means nothing to me."

The brutality, the inhumanity of his words made her recoil for an instant, and then she recovered her fearlessness and dignity.

"I might have known that," she said, coolly. "I should have expected nothing more from you. The lives of these--all these--" and she gestured toward those around--"mean nothing to you. Nor the sufferings and poverties of those dependent on them."

"Certainly not," he answered with a trace of a harsh sneer outlined on his face. "If they get killed, I am sorry. If they live, they are useful. If they are lost, others take their places. They are merely a part of the general scheme. They are for me to use."

His words were like a challenge. He watched her curiously as if awaiting her reply. d.i.c.k felt Bill starting forward, angrily, then checked him.

"Wait!" he whispered. "Let's hear what he has to say."

The Lily took a step forward to arraign him. Her face shone whiter than ever in the light of the torches.

"And that is all? That is your att.i.tude?"

He did not answer, but stared at her curiously. It seemed to anger her more.

"I wonder," she said, "if you would care for my estimate of you! I wonder if you would care for the estimate of those around you. It does not seem strange that you are called by the fitting sobriquet of 'Bully Presby.' You are that! You are one of those shriveled souls that fatten on the toil of others--that thrive on others' misfortunes and miseries. My G.o.d! A usurer--a p.a.w.nbroker, is a prince compared to you. You are without compa.s.sion, pity, charity or grace. Your code is that of winning all, the code of greed! Listen to me. You doubtless look down on me as a camp woman, and with a certain amount of scorn!

But knowing what I am, I should far rather be what I am, the owner of the High Light, a sordid den, than to be you, the owner of the Rattler, the man they call Bully Presby!"

To their astonishment he leaned his head back and laughed, deeply, from his chest, as if her anger, her scorn, her bitter denunciation, had all served to amuse him. It was as if she had flattered him by her characterizations. She was too angry to speak and stood regarding him coldly until he had finished. He turned and appeared for the first time to observe the men of the Croix d'Or scowling at him, and his laugh abruptly stopped. He scowled back at them, and, without so much as a good-night salutation turned and walked away and lost himself in the shadows of the street.

"Oh," she said, facing them and clenching her hands, "sometimes I hate that man! He is unfathomable! There have been times when I wondered if he was human."

She bit her lip as if to restrain her words, and then looked up at the partners.

"And there are times," drawled the big miner, "when I wonder how long I'll be able to keep my hands off of him. And one of those times has been in the last minute! If you think it would do any good, I'll--"

She looked up at him and smiled, for the first time since they had met. She interrupted him.

"No, the only way you can do any good is to make your contribution.

I'll go with you."

They walked together toward the box which was now deserted, save by the doctor and one other, who were scooping the money into a water pail they had secured somewhere. Bill threw his roll of bills into it and the doctor looked up and smiled.

"I knew you would come," he said. "And that, with the two thousand that Mrs. Meredith has volunteered--"

She checked him.

"That was to be my secret. Please, none of you, speak of it again."

"As you wish," replied the doctor. "And I apologize. Now I would suggest that you take charge of this and take it to the High Light.

I'll send it over to-morrow by Jim. The boys have done well."