The Tale of Timber Town Part 9

There were birch twigs caught in the straps of the digger's "swag," and he had a bit of _rata_ flower stuck in the band of his hat. "That's where he's come from!" Tresco pointed in the direction of the great range of mountains which could be seen distinctly through the window of his workshop.

"What's it worth?" asked Jake, who stood beside his master.

"The gold? Not a penny less than 3/17/-an ounce, my son."

"An' you give 3/15/-. Good business, boss."

"I drew him a cheque for three hundred pounds, and I haven't credit at the bank for three hundred s.h.i.+llings. So I must go and sell this gold before he has time to present my cheque. Pretty close sailing, Jake.

"But mark me, young shaver. There's better times to come. If the discovery of this galoot don't mean a gold boom in Timber Town, you may send the crier round and call me a flathead. Things is goin' to hum."

CHAPTER VI.

The Father of Timber Town.

"I never heard the like of it!" exclaimed Mr. Crewe. "You say, eighty-two ounces of gold? You say it came from within fifty miles of Timber Town? Why, sir, the matter must be looked into." The old gentleman's voice rose to a shrill treble. "Yes, indeed, it _must_."

They were sitting in the Timber Town Club: the ancient Mr. Crewe, Scarlett, and Cathro, a little man who rejoiced in the company of the rich octogenarian.

"I'm new at this sort of thing," said Scarlett: "I've just come off the sea. But when the digger took a big bit of gold from his pocket, I looked at it, open-eyed--I can tell you that. I called the landlord, and ordered drinks--I thought that the right thing to do. And, by George! it was. The ruffianly-looking digger drank his beer, insisted on calling for more, and then locked the door."

Mr. Crewe was watching the speaker closely, and hung on every word he uttered. Glancing at the lean and wizened Cathro, he said, "You hear that, Cathro? He locked the door, sir. Did you ever hear the like?"

"From inside his s.h.i.+rt," Scarlett continued, "he drew a fat bundle of bank notes, which he placed upon the table. Taking a crisp one-pound note from the pile, he folded it into a paper-light, and said, 'I could light my pipe with this an' never feel it.'

"'Don't think of such a thing,' I said, and placed a sovereign on the table, 'I'll toss you for it.'

"'Right!' said my hairy friend. 'Sudden death?'

"'Sudden death,' I said.

"'Heads,' said he."

"Think of that, now!" exclaimed Mr. Crewe. "The true digger, Cathro, the true digger, I know the _genus_--there's no mistaking it. Most interesting. Go on, sir."

"The coin came down tails, and I pocketed the bank-note.

"'Lookyer here, mate,' said my affluent friend. 'That don't matter.

We'll see if I can't get it back,' and he put another note on the table.

I won that, too. He doubled the stakes, and still I won.

"'You had luck on the gold-fields,' I said, 'but when you come to town things go dead against you.'

"'Luck!' he cried. 'Now watch me. If I lost the whole of thisyer bloomin' pile, I could start off to-morrer mornin' an, before nightfall, I'd be on ground where a week's work would give me back all I'd lost.

An' never a soul in this blank, blank town knows where the claim is.'"

"Well, well," gasped old Mr. Crewe; his body bent forward, and his eyes peering into Scarlett's face. "I've lived here since the settlement was founded. I got here when the people lived in nothing better than Maori _whares_ and tents, when the ground on which this very club stands was a flax-swamp. I have seen this town grow, sir, from a camp to the princ.i.p.al town of a province. I know every man and boy living in it, do I not, Cathro? I know every hill and creek within fifty miles of it; I've explored every part of the bush, and I tell you I never saw payable gold in any stream nearer than Maori Gully, to reach which you must go by sea."

"What about the man's mates?" asked Cathro.

"I asked him about them," replied Scarlett. "I said, 'You have partners in this thing, I suppose.' 'You mean pals,' he said. 'No, sir. I'm a hatter--no one knows the place but me. I'm sole possessor of hundreds of thousands of ounces of gold. There's my Miner's Right.' He threw a dirty parchment doc.u.ment on the table, drawn out in the name of William Wurcott."

"Wurcott? Wurcott?" repeated Mr. Crewe, contemplatively. "I don't know the name. The man doesn't belong to Timber Town."

"You speak as though you thought no one but a Timber Town man should get these good things." Cathro smiled as he spoke.

"No, sir," retorted the old gentleman, testily. "I said no such thing, sir. I simply said he did not belong to this town. But you must agree with me, it's a precious strange thing that we men of this place have for years been searching the country round here for gold, and, by Jupiter! a stranger, an outsider, a mere interloper, a miserable 'hatter' from G.o.d knows where, discovers gold two days' journey from the town, and brings in over eighty ounces?" The old man's voice ran up to a falsetto, he stroked his nose with his forefinger and thumb, he broke into the shrill laugh of an octogenarian. "And the rascal boasts he can get a hundred ounces more in a week or two! We must look into the matter--we must see what it means."

The three men smoked silently and solemnly.

"Scarlett, here, owns the man's personal acquaintance," said Cathro.

"The game is to go mates with him--Scarlett, the 'hatter,' and myself."

All three of them sat silent, and thought hard.

"But what if your 'hatter' won't fraternize?" asked Mr. Crewe. "You young men are naturally sanguine, but I know these diggers. They may be communicative enough over a gla.s.s, but next day the rack and thumbscrews wouldn't extract a syllable from them."

"All the more reason why we should go, and see the digger what time Scarlett deems him to be happy in his cups." This was Cathro's suggestion, and he added, "If he won't take us as mates, we may at least learn the locality of his discovery. With your knowledge of the country, Mr. Crewe, the rest should be easy."

"It all sounds very simple," replied the venerable gentleman, "but experience has taught me that big stakes are not won quite so easily.

However, we shall see. When our friend, Scarlett, is ready, _we_ are ready; and when I say I take up a matter of this kind, you know I mean to go through with it, even if I have to visit the spot myself and prospect on my own account. For believe me, gentlemen, this may be the biggest event in the history of Timber Town." Mr. Crewe had risen to his feet, and was walking to and fro in front of the younger men. "If payable gold were found in these hills, this town would double its population in three months, business would flourish, and everybody would have his pockets lined with gold. I don't talk apocryphally. I have seen such things repeatedly, upon the Coast. I have seen small towns.h.i.+ps literally flooded with gold, and yet a pair of boots, a tweed coat, and the commonest necessaries of life, could not be procured there for love or money."

CHAPTER VII.

Cut-throat Euchre.

"Give the stranger time to sort his cards," said the thin American, with the close-cropped head.

"Why, certainly, certainly," replied the big and bloated Englishman, who sat opposite. "Well, my n.o.ble, what will you do?"

The Prospector, who was the third player, looked up from his "hand" and drummed the table with the ends of his dirty fingers.

"What do I make it? Why, I turn it down."

"Pa.s.s again," said the American.

"Ditto," said the Englishman.

"Then this time I make it 'Spades,'" said the digger, bearded to the eyes; his tangled thatch of black hair hiding his forehead, and his clothes such as would have hardly tempted a rag-picker.