The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 313: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE GOLD The crisis was close at hand, and Whipple, it seemed, was not to be found wanting. At the tanks he met Pablo, and bluffly cut short the young man’s greeting. ‘IT am going to Cache d’Oro, Pablo. I expect to return shortly, but if any- thing unforeseen delays me, kcep right ‘on with the work here. I have the ut- most confidence in you, and I shall ex- pect you to do your best.” From the tanks he made his way hur- riedly to Gonzales’ house. The old watchman was in bed, his night work making it necessary for him to sleep during the day-time. Whipple roused him unceremoniously. “ Gonzales,” said he, “ how many re- liable Mexicans are there in this camp, men whom you can trust implicitly?” The bewildered Gonzales recalled half a dozen or more. “IT want you to take them off the work at once,” continued Whipple, | ‘arm them and post them at every outlet of the old mine. You’re familiar with the Golden Eagle workings, aren’t you?” In his youth Gonzales had worked in the mine, and, as he assured the man-. ager, no one knew it better. “Teresa tells me that Henderson, one of the rascals for whom the sheriff is now looking, is in‘the mine,” Whip- ple went on. “I want every exit guarded, night and day—especially at night—until I come back from Cache q@’Oro. Understand?” Gonzales understood, but it was strange to him that Teresa had found out all this, and yet said nothing about it. “Inside of fifteen minutes,” finished Whipple, “I want the main shaft and the other exits of the mine guarded. You’re to be one of the guards, Gon- zales, and to-night Pablo can double up | and do your work at the tanks. Stand by me faithfully, and you will not be the loser.” He rushed from the house and found Teresa in front holding the horse that had been made ready for him. “T shall not forget what you have done, Teresa,” said he as he vaulted into the saddle and took the quirt from the saddle-horn. GLEANERS. 309 Then, with a swish of the whip and a dig of the heels he was off at speed, the ‘broad brim of his hat blowing up against the crown, and the ends of a kerchief he had knotted about his neck flapping behind him in the wind. CHAPTER XNI. THE PRISONER IN THE MINE. No eulogies were to be wasted upon the camp of Cache d’Oro. The high- sounding name covered a straggling collection of adobe, shanty, and com- bination board-and-canvas_ structures tucked away in a mountain valley hard by a spring of flowing water. The presence of the spring explained the situation of the town, while the proximity of the great Cassidy’s Strike mine formed its small excuse for exist- ence. : There was another flow of water at the Strike, but it was all needed for the immense hundred-stamp mill whose roar was always in the ears of the Cache d’Oro citizens. Jlad nature been lavish of a water supply at Cassidy’s Strike, the camp would have crowded hard upon the stamp-mill, and the wicked- ness and disorder of Cache d’Oro would have been transferred to a spot a mile up the valley. The settlement was near enough to the great mine, however, to draw to it- self like a lodestone all the brawling and lawless element that delved in the earth, teamed the ore, or labored in the mill. And there were other and smaller mines in the district which furnished their own contingent of reckless em- ployees who rendezvoused in the camp to drink and gamble and otherwise ex- ercise the right of a free born American to do as he pleased. But Americans were not the only ones drawn into that swirling vortex of dissipation. Mexicans came also, be- sides Chinamen and a sprinkling of men of a dozen different nationalities. Liquor was so free in Cache d’Oro that one was tempted to inquire what earthly use that spring of water might serve. Yet the spring was powerful enough to make the camp a possibility. With evening the choice spirits from COMM ElOOO CO