The Tale of Timber Town Part 49

asked the Manager.

Zahn was silent.

"We had a small difference in a hotel," said Jack. "But for my part I am quite willing to let bygones be bygones."

Zahn scowled. "That may be so," he said, "but I should prefer to travel alone."

"Dear, dear; well, well," said the Father of Timber Town. "But, after all, this is a mere matter of detail which can be settled by and by. If you go to the diggings, sir"--he turned his benignant gaze on the clerk--"you will not only be in a most responsible position, but you will be able to do such profitable business for your Bank, sir, that you will probably earn promotion."

"It's settled," said the Manager. "We shall send a representative, and I hope that the arrangement will be satisfactory to all parties. I hope you are contented, Mr. Crewe."

"Perfectly, my dear sir, perfectly," said the Father of Timber Town.

"Then you may consider the thing done," said the Manager; and ushering his visitors from the room he conducted them to the garish street.

CHAPTER XXVII.

The Signal-Tree.

"I jest walked in," said Dolphin, "an' I says, 'About thisyer gold-escort: when does it start?' I says. The shrivelled party with the whiskers looks at me acrost the counter, an' e' says, 'What business is that of yours, my man?' 'None,' I says, ''xcept me an' my mate is nervous of swaggin' our gold to town ourselves.' 'Don't you bother about that,' 'e says. 'All you've got to do is to sell your gold to our agent on the field, and leave the rest to him.' The escort will leave reg'lar, accordin' to time-table; so we can stick it up, sure as Gawd made little apples."

"And what about goin' through the Bank?" asked Sweet William.

"Now I ask you," said Dolphin, "what's the use of messing with the Bank, when we can clean out the gold-escort, an' no one the wiser?"

"Same here. My opinion," said Gentleman Carnac.

"I'm slick agin letting the Bank orf," growled Garstang. "Why not let the escort get its gold to the Bank, and then nab everything in the show. The original plan's the best."

"I gave you credit for more sense, Garstang." The leader of the gang looked darkly at his subordinate. "I gave you credit for knowing more of your trade."

"More credit, eh?" asked the man with the crooked mouth. "For why?"

The four rascals were in the cottage where they had met before, and the room reeked with the smoke of bad tobacco.

"Why?" replied Dolphin. "Because you're the oldest hand of the lot, an'

you've been in the business all your life."

"Jes' so," said Garstang, with an evil smile. "'Xcept when I've bin the guest of the Widow."

"Which has been pretty frequent," interjected Sweet William.

"To clean the Bank out is easy enough," said Dolphin: "the trouble is to get away with the stuff. You ought to see that with half an eye. To stick up the escort requires a little skill, a little pluck; but as for gettin' away with the gold afterwards, that's child's play."

"Dead men don't tell no tales," remarked Sweet William.

"But their carcases do," objected Garstang.

"You beat everything!" exclaimed the leader, growing almost angry.

"Ain't there such a thing as a shovel? No wonder you were copped pretty often by the traps, Garstang."

"You two men wrangle like old women," said Carnac. "Drop it. Tell us what's the first thing to do."

"To go an' look at the country," answered Dolphin.

"That's it.... Go it.... Dolphin controls the whole push.... Jest do as 'e tells." Garstang was evidently annoyed that the leaders.h.i.+p of the murderous gang, which had once been his, had pa.s.sed out of his hands.

Dolphin took no notice of the remarks. "We shall have plenty time to get to work, 'cause the Bank can't bring the gold to town till it's bought it, and it can't begin to buy it till the agent reaches the field, an'

he only started to-day."

"Every blessed thing's ready," chimed in Sweet William, who was evidently backing the new leader strongly. "Carny an' me's bin through the guns, an' they're all clean an' took to bits ready for putting in the swags. When they're packed, not a trap in the country but wouldn't take us for the garden variety of diggers, 2 dwts. to the dish, or even less. Quite mild, not to say harmless, gruel-fed, strictly vegetarian--a very useful an' respectable body of men."

Dolphin smiled at the young man's witticism. "It doesn't need for more than two to go," he said. "There's no use in making a public show of ourselves, like a bloomin' pack-train. Two's plenty."

"I'll stop at 'ome," growled Garstang. "It's your faik, Dolphin--you planned it. Let's see you carry it out."

"I'll go," volunteered William. "Carny can stop behind an' help keep Garstang's temper sweet." In his hilarity he smacked the sinister-faced man on the back.

"Keep your hands t' yerself," snarled Garstang, with an oath. "You're grown too funny, these days--a man'd think you ran the show."

"Lord, what a mug!" Young William grimaced at Garstang's sour face. "But it'll sweeten up, ole man, when the gold's divided."

"We're wasting time," broke in Dolphin. "We must be getting along. Pack your swag, William: mine's at The Bushman's Tavern."

"Matilda is ready," exclaimed the youthful member of the gang, picking up his swag from the floor, and hitching it on to his shoulders. "Gimme that long-handled shovel, Carny--it'll look honest, though it weighs half a ton. Well, so-long."

He shook the bad-tempered Garstang, slapped Carnac on the back, and followed Dolphin from the cottage.

While this ominous meeting was being held, Jake Ruggles might have been observed to be acting in a most extraordinary manner in the back-garden of Tresco's shop. In the middle of a patch of ill-nourished cabbages which struggled for existence amid weeds and rubbish, he had planted a kitchen chair. On the back of this he had rested a long telescope, which usually adorned the big gla.s.s case which stood against the wall behind the shop-counter. This formidable instrument he had focussed upon the pinnacle of a wooded height, which stood conspicuous behind the line of foot-hills, and, as he peered at the distant mountain-top, he gave vent to a string of e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns, expressive of interest and astonishment.

Upon the top of the wooded mountain a large tree, which he could distinguish with the naked eye, stood conspicuous; a tree which spread its branches high above its fellows, and silhouetted its gigantic shape against the sky-line. Directing his telescope upon this remarkable giant of the forest, by aid of its powerful lenses he could see, projecting from the topmost branch, a flag, which upon further observation proved to be nothing less than the red ensign employed on merchant s.h.i.+ps; and it was this emblem of the mercantile marine which so amazed and interested the youthful Ruggles.

"The ole beggar's got his pennant out," he exclaimed, as he smacked his lean shanks and again applied his eye to the telescope. "That means a spree for Benjamin. The crafty ole rascal'll be comin' in to-night. It means his tucker supply's given out, an' I must fly round for bacon, tea, sugar, bread, flour; an' I think I'll put in a tin or two of jam, by way of a treat."

He took a long look at the signal, and then shut up the telescope.

"It's quite plain," he soliloquised: "the old un's comin' in. I must shut up shop, and forage. Then, after dark, I'll take the tucker to the ford."

But, as though a sudden inspiration had seized him, he readjusted his instrument and once more examined the conspicuous tree.

"Why, he's there himself, sittin' in a forked bough, an' watchin' me through his gla.s.s." Placing the telescope gently on the ground, Jake turned himself into a human semaph.o.r.e, and gesticulated frantically with his arms. "That ought to fetch 'im," and he again placed his eye to the telescope. "Yes, he sees. He's wavin' his 'at. Good old Ben. It's better than a play. Comic opera ain't in it with this sort o' game. He's fair rampin' with joy 'cause I seen 'im." Shutting up his instrument, Jake gave a last exhibition of mad gesticulations, danced a mimic war-dance, and then, with the big telescope under his arm, he went into the house.

It was a long stretch of tangled forest from the big tree to Tresco's cave, but the goldsmith was now an expert bushman, versed in the ways of the wilderness, active if not agile, enduring if still short of breath.

His once ponderous form had lost weight, his once well-filled garments hung in creases on him, but a look of robust health shone in his eye and a wholesome tan adorned his cheek. He strode down the mountain as though he had been born on its arboreous slopes. Without pause, without so much as a false step, he traversed those wild gullies, wet where the dew still lay under the leafy screen of boughs, watered by streams which gurgled over mighty boulders--a wilderness where banks of ferns grew in the dank shade and the thick tangle of undergrowth blocked the traveller's way.