"No, by God!" Paul exploded. "These fellows are thieves and I will not"--he paused and finished less violently--"allow you to be robbed."
"I would rather lose all than have bloodshed," Mary replied earnestly.
"A very proper sentiment--for a woman," he told her, and the faint sneer brought the colour to her cheeks. "I should regard myself as less than a man, however, if I let you do so. Leave it to me my dear; I shall find a way to deal with these claim-jumpers." He looked hard at Snowy. "No one is to leave camp; it is not safe."
"Do you think Green and his friends would shoot women?" Lora asked superciliously.
"Never mind what I think--I'm giving orders," he said sharply.
Her eyes followed him as he stalked away. "Charming person, my dear brother," she commented, "and so concerned about your interests."
"You don't seem to have much sisterly affection," Mary said.
"Sisterly affection?" Lora echoed vehemently. "Why--I hate him. He's " She stopped suddenly, lips shut like a vice, got up, and walked to the tent, leaving her companion dumbfounded.
Chapter XXII
Paul Lesurge was taking a walk. Heading straight through the sun-spangled strip of firs, he came to a wellnigh vertical barrier of cliff which only a monkey or a cat could hope to climb. Being a different kind of beast, he did not attempt it, but made his way westwards along the base of the obstacle. Soon, as he had expected, the ground rose, and as the trees became smaller and fewer, he could see above and immediately before him, the great boulder which Philip Ducane had called the Rocking Stone, ponderous, menacing, seeming about to crash down upon him.
He toiled on; climbing was hard work, for there was no break and debris from the hill-top made care necessary. At length he reached the level of the cliff-wall, passed it but a few paces, and turning, beheld--the mine.
The first point which struck him was the aptness of Hank's simile; a big, hollow tooth it was, the jagged ends of the shell fringed with foliage, save where a steep, boulder-strewn slant mounted to the threatening bulk of the Rolling Stone. On the sand and rubble floor of the hollow, only a few hundred feet below, he could see four men at work--the other two were doubtless guarding the entrance. His thin lips curled in a wolfish snarl.
"Make the most of your time," he muttered. "Tomorrow, you'll hear from me."
He studied the place where he stood; it was going to be easier than he had dared to hope. There were stones behind which marksmen might shelter and the hollow was devoid of cover; two or three men with rifles could deal death at their leisure. One only of the enemy he feared--that damned cowpuncher, and concerning him he had a plan.
He had learned all he wished but did not go. The great stone had a fascination and he determined to examine it. A detour enabled him to make the ascent unobserved and presently he stood behind the monster monolith. It was larger than he had supposed, a huge pear-shaped chunk of granite, the curved base resting upon a smooth rock platform. Some fantastic freak of Nature had flung it there, so poised a push seemed sufficient to dislodge it, a task the tempests of untold centuries had failed to achieve. What had Snowy said of the one in California? "One man could start her rockin' but twenty couldn't tip her over." For a moment he hesitated and then hurled his weight against the stone. Did it move? He could not say, but made no further trial.
A narrow ledge just below on the other and more precipitous side of the hill caught his eye. It was no more than a track but it seemed to offer an easier means of descent into the maze of savage but majestic country which stretched to the horizon. He clambered down and stood gazing into the abyss. Far below was a black floor of pine-trees moving in the breeze like the surface of a restless sea. Somehow the place oppressed him, the big stone seemed to hover above like a bird of ill omen, the glare of the descending sun was blood-red, there was an air of death.
With an effort he shook the feeling off. He was still young, wealth almost unbounded lay within his grasp, and with wealth, wisely used, a clever man could accomplish anything. "Governor of Dakota." He murmured the words as he turned again towards the camp.
By the time he reached it, dusk was approaching. The men were squatting round their fire, feeding and whispering together; they took no notice of him as he passed. The prospector and Mary were conversing near the tent, while Lora paced restlessly to and fro. He went to her.
"I want your help," he said shortly.
In the half light her face showed wan. "I'm tired of the whole rotten business," she replied. "I'll do no more." She saw his jaw tighten. "Are you going to fail me on the eve of success?" he asked. "Don't you realize that it means wealth and ease for the rest of our lives?"
Ever since her conversation with Mary she had been weigh- ing the project of desertion to the other camp, and now the opportunity had been forced upon her. She knew that the mes- sage she was bearing was false--a hidden motive in it--and she had no intention of persuading Green to accede.
"He must take me with him--I won't go back," she panted, as she stumbled on through the gloom.
Save for the furtive movements of four-footed denizens of the undergrowth the silence was profound. Then came the weird screech of an owl and she shook with fright. The black bulk of the cliff loomed up before her and she turned to the left, leaving the trickle of water which had been her guide; the soft gurgle of it over the stones had been some sort of company. She had gone but a few paces when a gruff voice spoke:
"Who's there? Speak up sharp or I'll shoot." With a sigh of relief she gave her name and business. She heard men speaking in tones too low for her to distinguish what they said, and then the tall figure of the cowboy came striding out of the darkness. There was light enough for him to see that she was alone, and he slipped his drawn gun into the holster.
"What brings you here?" he asked bluntly.
"I must speak with you," she said, "and--I don't want your friends to hear." She moved away, and when he hesitated, added, "you need not doubt; there is no one with me." The puncher followed her. "I ain't naturally nervous," he said ironically, "but one of us was knifed a few hours back."
"My God!" she breathed. "Then it was--Hank. He was sent to spy, and Paul was angry when he returned."
"The killin' interfered with his plan, I s'pose," Sudden said bitterly. "Does he know yo're here?"
"He sent me," Lora replied, and gave the reason.
She could not see the man's face but knew what it would have told her--mocking contempt for one who could make such an offer after the butchery of Bowman. The hard voice held out no hope.
"Did he think I'd fall for that?"
"I told him I could persuade you, but I'm not going to try-- I know he's lying. I wanted to come--on my own account. Jim, I am going mad. I dare not go back. For the love of God let me stay with you." The passionate appeal rang true but left him unmoved, doubting. Was it the outcome of real terror, or one of the many moods she was mistress of? He could not decide but--
"I've heard the tale so often," she replied wearily.
"This time you can believe it. Listen! I have been examining the enemy's position; it is impregnable. Much as I hate doing so, I shall have to adopt that girl's suggestion and make terms. Green is the leader of these bandits and I want you to put my proposals to him." The woman kept her head bowed less he should see the sudden gleam of hope in her eyes. "Why should he listen to me?" she muttered sullenly.
"I fancy he has a fondness for you," Paul said. "And there is no one else. To send Snowy or the girl would be putting cards in their hands, and any man of us might meet a bullet." She feigned reluctance. "How can I get word with Green?"
"Follow the stream as far as you can and bear to the left. You will be challenged. Say that you wish to speak with Green --alone. If you are afraid, I will send Hank with you."