Chapter XXVIII
Gratton, had he been left to his own devices, would have stood stock-still where he was, frozen to the ground in terror. Gloria tugged at him, whispering over and over: “They are coming! Don’t you hear them? Quick! We must try to hide.”
At last he seemed to awaken from a trance; he started and began hurrying with her, crowding by her, stumbling on ahead in the darkness, seeking the cave’s unfathomed depths of darkness. She heard him stumble and fall; she ran blindly and caught him by the arm again, whispering fiercely:
“You must be silent! If they once hear us we have no chance. If we are still, maybe they won’t find us.”
After that he moved more guardedly. But still he crowded ahead; once in his excitement, when she brushed against him and he thought that she was going to get in his way, he shoved her violently aside. It was then that Gloria, looking back, saw Brodie’s great bulk outlined against the snow outside. He came in; she saw his rifle; his figure was absorbed in the shadows. She saw other men following him; how many she did not know. One by one they bulked black against the daylight; one by one, as they entered, they were lost among the shadows. She had bumped into a wall of rock. Gratton was there, groping in all directions with his hands; she could hear his quick, dry breathing.
They could go no further. This was the end. Brodie called out loudly, his speech dripping with his habitual vileness; he shouted: “Gratton! Better step out lively like a man now. We got you anyway.” Then he began to gather the scattered firewood; a match flared in his hand; his face leaped out of the dark like a devil’s. Or a madman’s, a man’s mad with a rage which lusted for the killing of another man. Gloria’s heart sank in despair; she felt as though she were going to faint.
But all the time her hands, like Gratton’s, had been groping. At the moment when she felt that her knees were giving way under her, she found where an arm of the cave continued, narrow, slanting upward steeply, cluttered with blocks of stone. She tugged at Gratton’s sleeve; she crept into this place and felt him close behind her, crowding, trying to press by her. She gave way briefly, felt him scrape past, and began crawling, following. Again only a few feet further on she came up with him again; once more he had come to the end of the tunnel. He was crouching, flattened against the rock wall. They were in a pocket with no outlet save the way they had come. She stood, turned toward the front of the cave, and waited.
“Get a fire going, boys,” Brodie’s rumbling bass was calling. Assured now of having run his quarry to earth, he took a wolfish joy from the moment. There was a horrible note in his laughter, booming out suddenly. “The little skunk’s run to a hole; we’ll smoke him out.”
He spoke of Gratton as though he were a frightened animal, and like a frightened animal Gloria felt. She stooped and looked toward the pursuers; thus only could she see them, since when she stood erect the irregularities of the rocks above hid them from her.
Brodie lighted his fire. The other men—dully she counted them now; there were five of them all told—were gathering wood, heaping it on. The flames leaped, crackled, lifted their voices into a roar; volumes of white smoke shot out, thinned, were gone. The light flared higher, brighter. Dark corners and crevices were made palely fight. She could see the faces of the men now, their eyes reflecting the fire, looking like the eyes of wolves. Brodie carried his rifle as though he fully intended using it. At his side Benny Rudge fidgeted and blinked. By Benny stood that scarecrow of a man, Brail. Close by, interested spectators, were the squat Italian and the man who had brought the “judge” to marry her to Gratton, the leering Steve Jarrold.
“More fire, boys,” called Brodie. Again his ugly laughter boomed out. “I think I see where he is.”
Whether or not Brodie already saw them, it appeared clear that immediate discovery was inevitable. For there was no further hiding-place here to creep into; no such refuge as King had urged Gloria to hasten to if Brodie came. She remembered the caution all too late; she thought of King with wild longing, while Gratton cringed and pulled back and tried to screen his body with hers.
“Here’s the grub he stole!” It was Benny’s cracked, nervous voice, full of wrath.
She could feel Gratton shiver as he crouched against her. Sudden disgust filled her. They knew that he was here; they would take him in a minute; his seeking further to hide was so futile. And yet he was not man enough to stand forth at the end; he was the type who must be dragged whimpering and pulling back, pleading for mercy even when he knew so well that he deserved no mercy, and would have none meted out to him. Gratton had his one last chance to show if there was the spark of manhood in him; they did not yet know of Gloria’s presence, and had he stepped out now, he might have given her a chance to remain unseen. But no such heroism suggested itself to Gratton.
“Come on, Gratton,” shouted Brodie. “Or do you want me to begin shooting from here?”
The light of the fire flared higher, brighter. The eyes of the men who had just entered from the outside were growing accustomed to this place of shadows. Suddenly the man Jarrold called sharply:
“There’s some one with him. There’s two of ’em, Brodie. Go easy!”
Brodie cursed him for a fool.
“I don’t care how many’s with him or who they are,” he bellowed. “The grub-stealing thief has got his coming to him. Step out, you lily-livered sneak, and take your medicine.”
“That’s all right,” muttered Jarrold. “But it won’t hurt to see who they are first, Brodie.”
“Gratton’s got no gun with him,” cackled Benny Rudge. “Neither’s that other guy. Come ahead, Steve. Me an’ you’ll pull ’em out.”
Gloria pressed back against the rock, her flesh quivering. She saw two men and then another two coming toward her. The first sound broke from Gratton’s lips now, a little gurgling moan. The men came on; one had heard and laughed. Then Gloria, with more shuddersome thought of rough hands upon her than of a rifle-ball, broke away from her cowering companion and came hastily to meet them.
“I’m coming out,” she cried out to them.
It was all that she could do to hold herself erect and come back into the more open cave. Jarrold and Benny and the men after them came to a dead halt and stared at her. In the flickering half-light she looked a slim frightened boy.
“All of a sudden the woods is gettin’ all cluttered up with folks,” grunted Benny. “Who in blazes are you, kid? An’ where’s your mamma?”
His companions laughed; they laughed at anything. One of them, Steve Jarrold, came closer to look into her face. She saw that his steps were uncertain; she had heard how thick was his vocal utterance; now she smelled the whiskey with which he reeked.
A shout broke from Jarrold. He clutched her shoulder with a great claw of a hand and drew her closer to him, his face thrust down to hers.
“Let me go!” she cried, trying to jerk away from him.
“Easy does it,” said Jarrold. “Easy—kid! I’m of a notion I’ve seen that face of yours somewheres.”
“Never mind the kid,” Brodie was growling savagely. “It’s Gratton first. Out with him, Benny.”
The others bore down upon Gratton. He had found his voice now; he shrieked at them; he begged shrilly; he battered them with his fists, striking weak, vain blows. Benny, though the smaller man, had him by the collar. The Italian caught an arm, and as they dragged him half-fainting toward the fire, Brail struck at him with a heavy boot.
“So,” said Brodie heavily.
Gratton began an incoherent pleading, arrested impatiently by Brodie’s great voice.
“Shut up! You’ve had your innings; it’s mine now. You swiped grub when it’s the same thing as slitting a man’s gullet. You let another man be killed for what you done. Now you get yours!”
He jerked up his rifle. Benny and the Italian let Gratton go and jumped nimbly aside. Gratton stumbled and sagged, staggering like a drunken man. Brodie, with his rifle-barrel not six feet from Gratton’s terror-stricken body, laughed again.
“Stop!” Gloria shrilled. She broke away from Jarrold’s grasp and ran toward Brodie. “You don’t know what you are doing. You——”
“Close your trap, kid,” Brodie thundered at her. “Unless you want the second bullet.”
Jarrold’s big boots came clumping noisily across the rock floor.
“Easy does it, Brodie,” he shouted. “She ain’t no kid, I tell you. She’s a girl. That’s Ben Gaynor’s girl, the one Gratton wanted to marry, the one King took away from him. Keep your eye peeled; King would be around somewhere!”
“Hidin’ back there in the dark somewhere,” muttered Benny.
Brodie, though his rifle had not swerved, was listening.
“No, not hiding in the dark corners,” he said ponderously. “Not Mark King, rot him…. Ben Gaynor’s girl, you say? Then we’re red hot on the right trail, boys! You know what her and King would be after!”
Gratton’s stunned brain began to function wildly.
“The gold is here, Brodie!” he cried out wildly. “King had got to it before us, but I’ve found it. I was coming back to tell you——”
Brodie had small liking for a coward and now his bull’s voice cut Gratton’s chatter short.
“No solid mountain of gold is going to save your hide——”
Benny began to jig up and down in a frenzy of excitement.
“Hold your hand, Brodie, you big fool,” he shouted. He even jumped to Brodie’s side and caught the rifle-barrel, shoving it downward. “If he does know where it is, give him a show to lead us to it. Ain’t you got any sense? Before King gets back. If you popped him off now, how would we know where to look?”
Brodie snarled at Benny and whipped the rifle clear of the nervous clutch. But he understood what Benny had in mind and saw wisdom in obeying the command to hold his hand. His gross, heavy-muscled face, half in light, half in darkness, showed a look of hesitation. Gratton began a rapid, vehement talking, explaining, arguing, pleading; he had not meant to steal the food; he could lead them to the gold; he wanted none of it; all that he asked was to be allowed to live——
“Shut up!” Brodie cried again disgustedly. “You ain’t dead yet, are you? So’s you keep your lying face closed I’ll give you one show. Step lively; where is it?”
Gratton, like a hound in leash suddenly freed, turned and sped toward the spot where he had hid the gold. Brodie, his rifle shifting in his hands, leaped after him, keeping close to him. Gratton was down on his hands and knees, scratching among the loose stones like a dog digging for a buried bone. Brodie put a heavy hand on his shoulder and jerked him back, hurling him to one side. Thus it was Brodie who found the bag and dragged it forward to the fire, dumping its contents on the ground. Benny was with him now, pawing over the heavy lumps. Brail, the Italian, Steve Jarrold—all rushed forward and snatched up bits of the ore that had rolled from the sack; one of them shouted in wonder; another seized the nugget from his hands; they all talked at once; Benny squealed in high rage as Jarrold shoved him backward; the Italian trod in the fire and cursed and kicked at it savagely, sending burning brands in all directions.
Gloria had stood powerless to move. Now she saw that in their flush of excitement no one was looking toward her. She began slowly, silently, edging toward the side of the cave, toward the way out. Her one thought was to slip away while none noted her; to dart out and hurry up the cliff to come to the hiding-place of which Mark King had told her.
“I never see such gold, and me an old-timer in the mines.” It was Steve Jarrold muttering. “It’s like they’d took clean gold down to the mint and rolled it and lumped it into nuggets. This was broke off the mother lode. Oh, my Gawd!”
Gloria made another quiet step—and another. Still no one saw her. If she could only make half a dozen more steps before these men awoke from the first moments of a spell that had made them oblivious of everything on earth except that little heap of rock! Another step; she went quicker; their backs were toward her. And still no one saw. Yes, Gratton alone had seen. She made a quick frightened gesture. His jaw sagged open; he watched her with bulging eyes. She could read his thought so plainly: he was thinking of his own ultimate chances for life, he was screwing up his courage to make a dash for the open himself. His eyes followed her step by step. Oh, if only he would look in some other direction! If any one of them saw Gratton’s tell-tale face——
Then Gratton began a slow withdrawal from the others; he meant to do as he saw her doing.
“Heavy laka hell,” the Italian was saying. “Justa da gold do that!”
“Give me that, Tony,” snarled Brodie. He snatched the mass from the other’s hands. “That’s the biggest nugget any man living ever saw.”
Gloria tasted the clean fresh outside air; she was within three paces of the line of snow. Then there was a sudden noise; Gratton, inching off backward, had stumbled over a dead stick. The men by the fire were startled out of their oblivion. Steve Jarrold, the one nearest Gloria, swung about, saw her, dropped what was in his hands, and lunged towards her. She made a dash for the exit. In two great strides Jarrold was upon her and had caught her by the shoulders, dragging her back. And Gratton stood again, his feet glued to the ground; she could see the flash of his teeth gnawing at his fingers.
“Trying to make a sneak for it!” boomed Brodie. “I’ll show you——”
“Not yet, Brodie, you big fool!” yelled Benny. “This is only a sackful, and not full at that. It’s the rest of it we’re after—the whole lousy mess. He’s got to show us where this come from.”
“I am not trying to get away,” said Gratton, though his tone did not convince. “Haven’t I made good already? Haven’t I kept my promise? Am I not ready to do whatever I can?”
“Talk’s cheap,” retorted Brodie. “Get busy, then.”
Gratton, struggling already in the meshes of the net drawing ever tighter about him, pointed to Gloria with shaking finger. He swallowed twice and moistened his lips to speak.
“King found it first. She was with him. I made her show me the sack of gold. I was going to go back to your camp, to tell you——”
“Cut it,” commanded Brodie. “Leave out the lies and talk straight and fast. Where is the rest of it? Where did this come from?”
“I’m trying to tell you,” said Gratton hurriedly. “There—there’s another cave; up above. That’s where King had his camp; that where’s I got the sack. It’s up there——”
“No wonder she wanted to skip out,” jeered Steve Jarrold, his great bony hand locked about Gloria’s shrinking shoulder. His ill-featured face, the small, pig eyes, always jeering, the black bristle of beard, not unlike a hog’s bristles, were thrust close to her face. “Where’s King all this time?” he demanded. “Up in the other cave, maybe?”
“No,” she said dismally, seeking to jerk away from his evil glance and whiskey-laden breath. “He has gone——”
“That’s good; let him go. We don’t care, do we? Eh, girlie?” But again his hand tightened until the hard fingers hurt her. “But gone where?”
“We were short of food—he is hunting—maybe he has gone for help——”
“And you showed Gratton where he hid his gold? That’s a nice little she-trick, ain’t it? Well, while the showing’s good, lead us to the rest of it.”
“That’s the eye, Steve,” said Brodie. He stepped forward, shoved his rifle-muzzle against Gratton’s body, and commanded: “You, too. Go ahead, you and her, and show us the way. And no monkey business, either of you, or I’ll blow a hole square through you.”
Gratton, grown nimble, darted ahead with Brodie always close at his heels. Gloria, forced on by Jarrold, came next, and after them the others. Benny was the last; he had taken time to put the gold back into the sack and set it aside among the shadows. For Benny believed in making sure of what they had, even while they quested better things. Then he caught up his rifle, the only other gun besides Brodie’s, and came hurrying after them.
They went up the cliff in a long file, clawing their way, cursing the steepness, now and then one or another of them fumbling uncertainly, close to a slip and a fall. It was clear that, with the possible exception of Swen Brodie, not a man of them was entirely sober. But they made the climb safely and hastened into the upper cave eagerly.
“It’s somewhere back there,” said Gratton.
“More fire,” shouted Brodie. His voice exulted; his blood would be running now with the gold fever. He tossed on an armful of dry wood; the flames caught and roared; shadows quivered and danced. Already Benny was at the far end of the cave; the others ran after him. Even Jarrold relinquished Gloria’s arm, eager to be in at the finding. But he called to her as he went:
“You stick where you are. I’m not forgetting you this time.”
Fascinated, she watched them. They ran like blood-lusting dogs that had briefly lost their quarry, that were seeking everywhere, in every cranny, with slavering jaws. They turned aside into side-pockets of the main cavern; they got torches and looked high and low; they went back and forth, up and down; they stumbled against one another and cursed angrily; they caught up bits of stone, ran back to the fire to see if the fragments were shot with gold; cursed and hurled the useless things from them, and ran back again, to jostle and seek and be first; they were not so much like dogs now as human hogs, fighting to get first into the trough.
But they did not forget Gratton, and they did not forget Gloria. All the time both Brodie and Benny kept their guns in their hands; two significant looks had been all that was needed to keep their two prisoners in mind of the fact that no escape now was possible.
To Gloria it seemed inevitable that in this quest which overlooked nothing, and which as time wore on grew less frenzied and more systematic, they would find what King had found before them. She tried to think consecutively; she recalled all that King had told her of these men, all that Gratton had hinted at. She recalled with a shudder the look in the moist eyes of Steve Jarrold. It seemed to her that her only slim chance for safety lay in their finding the gold. For only gold, gold unlimited, could cause them to forget her.
For an hour they sought tirelessly. It appeared that there were many fingers to the further end of the cave, narrow, irregular channels into which they pressed. Their faggots burned out; the smoke choked them; they coughed and cursed, came out for fresh air, dived into the dark again. The short day was passing; the entering light, where they had torn the canvas aside, grew dimmer. And still they searched.
At last Brodie returned and stood looking from Gloria to Gratton.
“One of you knows,” he said shortly. “Which one?”
“I swear to God——” began Gratton.
“Shut up! Then it’s you?” The little, shiny blue eyes, never so coldly evil, drew her own frightened eyes, fascinated and held them. “You know”
“I don’t know! All I know——”
“Don’t lie to me! It’ll do you no good.” He lifted a hand and held it over her, the enormous fingers apart and rigid. “I’ll make you tell!”
“Listen to me,” she managed to cry out. “I don’t know, I tell you. But I know where it might be. In a place you would never think of looking. Not in a thousand years——”
Blue fire sprang up in the gleaming eyes. The other men, drawn close, watched and listened, their eyes alive with many lights.
“What you know I’ll know. I’ll choke it out of you——”
“I’ll tell you—if you will keep your hands off me! I’ll make a bargain with you. I’ll show you the place; if there’s gold there, I don’t care what happens to it—if you’ll only agree to let me alone—to let me go——”
Brodie laughed at her. But Benny cried out:
“Of course we’ll let you go! What do you suppose we want of you? Once we get our hands on it she can go, Brodie. Tell her so, you big——”
“Sure,” said Brodie, with a wide grin. “It ain’t women we’re after this trick; it’s something better. And—and it would be very nice of you to show us—Miss Gaynor.” He treated her to a grinning mock respect, so obviously spurious that her fear of him rose higher, choking her. “Very nice, ain’t it, boys?”
“I—I am not sure what you’ll find,” whispered Gloria. “I only know that——Oh, dear God, I hope you find all the gold in the world!”
Hastily she ran by Brodie toward the dark end of the cave. Then she stopped and tried to think; how many paces had King said? She came back to the fire; thirty, thirty-five? She began counting as she walked while they watched her wondering and following slowly after her. She found several boulders in her path; but she had not gone far enough. She kept on; thirty, thirty-two, thirty-three——She could hardly see about her. She stumbled against a rock in her way.
“Try here,” she said. Already Brodie and Steve Jarrold were at her side. “This rock. See if it will move——”
They thrust her roughly aside. Brodie set down his rifle, laid his big hands on the boulder, and as if it had weighed only ten pounds, tossed it out of the way. He knelt, feeling along the ground. A sudden shout burst from him:
“Down here! There’s a big hole; there’s a dark cave underneath. That’s where it is?”
They brought faggots; at the edge of the hole they hastily built another fire. They crowded round, peering down. Brodie tossed a brand through; it dropped a short distance, a few feet only, struck, and began to roll; it caught against a rock, smoked and smouldered, and went out. Brodie set his legs over the opening, called to the Italian to grab his rifle and keep an eye on Gloria and Gratton, and went down. The others crowded about the hole, waiting impatiently for him to go through, and then began piling down after him. Gloria could see their figures dimly; they went down and down along a long, steep, slanting passage-way; they had smoking torches and looked like so many fiends in the bottomless pit. She heard them calling back and forth excitedly; they went on, still downward; she heard their grinding boot-heels, but could no longer see them. Suddenly they were silent. Then there were swift mutterings. And then a great, triumphant, many-voiced shout. In Gus Ingle’s treasure-cache they had at last come to Gus Ingle’s treasure. And, among other things, to the skeleton of Gus Ingle himself, sprawling here for sixty years in the dark over a great heap of gold.