A Waif of the Mountains, Edward Sylvester Ellis [reading a book .txt] 📗

a few moments for the father to gain sufficient self-control to speak clearly. Seated in the chair, he looked into the embers of the fire on the hearth, compressed his lips and breathed hard. His two friends had also seated themselves, for it seemed to them it was easier to master their agitation thus than while upon their feet.

"What have I to tell, but my everlasting woe and shame? The lieutenant and I have been working for several days by ourselves on a new lead. I had noticed nothing unusual in his manner nor indeed in that of my child. At lunch time to-day he complained to me of not feeling like work, and told me not to expect him back this afternoon. I would have returned with him, had not the indications of the new lead been so good. And actually he invited me to do no more work until to-morrow, though why he should have done it, when it would have spoiled their whole scheme, is more than I can explain.

"It was part of his plan to deceive you."

"I don't see how it could do that, for there was no need of his inviting me,--but let it go. It came about that I worked later than usual, so that it was dark when I got home. I was surprised to see no light and to find no fire or Nellie. I thought nothing of that, however, for who would have believed it possible that there could be anything wrong? I supposed she was with some of the folks and being tired I sat down in my chair and fell asleep.

"When I awoke, the room was cold, silent and as dark as a wolf's mouth. I felt impatient and decided to give her a scolding for being so neglectful. I groped around until I found a match, intending to start a fire. I had just lit the lamp and set it down on the table, when I caught sight of a folded piece of paper with my name in her handwriting on the outside. It gave me a queer feeling and my hands trembled when I unfolded and read it.

"I don't clearly remember the next few minutes. The room seemed to be spinning around, and I think I had to sit down to keep from falling, but what saved me from collapse was my anger. I have been consumed with indignation once or twice in my life, but was never so furious, so uncontrollable, so utterly savage as I was after reading that note. If I could have found Russell, I would have throttled him. It may sound strange, but I hardly once thought of Nellie; it was _he_, the villain, whom I yearned to get my hands on."

"Of course," said Ruggles, "that's the way you oughter feel."

"I don't know what possessed me to do so, but I rushed out and made straight for his cabin, as if I would find him there. Of course that too was empty, and then I came here. Fool that I have been!" exclaimed the parent, leaping to his feet and striding up and down the room; "not to see all this, but," he added pathetically, "I believed that Nellie loved me."

The flaming wrath of the two melted into pity for the stricken father. Parson Brush laid his hand on his shoulder and compelled him to resume his seat. Then he spoke with the tenderness of a woman:

"That child _does_ love you more than she loves her own life, but she is blinded by her infatuation for that smooth-tongued scoundrel. It is the nature of her sex to feel and act thus; but, as I said, it does not mean that her love for you is less--"

"Don't talk of her love for me," fiercely interrupted the parent; "we only judge of a person by his actions."

"But you and I have made mistakes--"

"Nothing like this; why did she not ask me? why did _he_ not tell me that he wished to marry her?--that is if he does," added the father, as if determined to make his own cup as bitter as possible.

"He did not ask you, because he knew you would refuse; for from the first time he entered this community, he was determined to have her."

"How do you know that?"

"Because Ruggles and I read him; we did what no one else did,--we measured the man. Am I right, Wade?"

The miner nodded his head.

"Every word is as true as gospel; we noticed his sly looks at her, that first night you and him entered the Heavenly Bower and she was there. We couldn't make any mistake about it."

"And you didn't warn me! You two are as bad as he, because you kept the secret when you ought to have put me on my guard, so that I might have strangled him at the first advance he made."

Sympathy for the man prevented his listeners taking offence at the words which, from any one else, would have brought serious consequences. The parson said soothingly:

"If you were not so wrought up, captain, you would not be so unreasonable; suppose Wade and I had gone to you with the statement that the man who, according to your own words, had saved your life but a short time before in the mountains, was a villain, who contemplated robbing you of your child; what would you have done?"

"Thanked you and been on my guard."

"You would have done nothing of the kind; you would have cursed us and told us to mind our own business."

"No matter what I would have done, it was your duty to tell me, regardless of the consequences to yourselves. I might have resented it, but my eyes would have been opened and this blow saved me."

"Nothing could have opened your eyes, for you were blind," said the parson, who felt that though the man was intensely agitated, he ought to hear some plain truths; "even had you suspected there was ground for our fears, you would have gone to Lieutenant Russell and demanded an explanation. He would have denied it, and you would have believed him with the result that he would have been put on his guard and would have deceived you the more completely."

"Likewise, as aforesaid," added Ruggles, "the villain would have come to us and made us give our grounds for our charges. What ridic'lous fools we would have been, when all we could answer was that we thought he looked as if he meant to run away with your darter."

"There may be some justice in what you say," replied the captain more composedly; "It was I who was blind, but I can't understand it. Never until I read that piece of paper, did I suspect the truth."

"Howsumever, the parson and me haven't been idle; we often talked it over and fixed on a line that we thought would work better than going to you. We showed the leftenant that we was onto his game; I give him a scowl now and then, as it fell convenient, that said 'Beware!' We, that is the parson and me, made up our minds to watch close, and, at the first sign that was dead sure, we'd fall onto him like a couple of mountains."

"And why didn't you?"

"He fooled us as he did you. We was talkin' over matters the very minute you busted into the door and was satisfied that he had larned he was playin' with fire and had concluded to drop it. We was as big fools as you."


CHAPTER XVI

NOW

It was the parson who now broke in.

"Why do we sit here, lamenting that which cannot be helped? Do you mean to give up, captain, and let her go? Will you settle down to toil in the diggings, giving her no further thought, while this pretty-faced lieutenant is chuckling over the clever manner by which he fooled you as well as us--"

"No!" fairly shouted the roused parent; "I will follow them to the ends of the earth! They shall not find a foot of ground that will protect them! She has never seen me angry, but she shall now!"

"We are with you," coolly responded Brush, "but only on one condition."

"What's that?"

"That this account is to be settled with _him_ alone; you musn't speak so much as a cross word to Nellie; she will shed many a bitter tear of sorrow; she will drain the cup to its dregs; _he_, the cause of it all, is to be brought to judgment. When do you wish to take up the pursuit?"

"Now!"

"And we are with you."

There was something wonderful in the way Parson Brush kept control of himself. Externally he was as calm as when standing in front of the adamantine blackboard, giving instruction to Nellie Dawson, while down deep in his heart, raged a tempest such as rouses into life the darkest passions that can nerve a man to wrong doing. Believing it necessary to stir the father to action, he had done it by well chosen words, that could not have been more effective.

For weeks and months the shadow had brooded over him. Sometimes it seemed to lift and dissolve into unsubstantiality, only to come back more baleful than before. And the moment when he had about persuaded himself that it was but a figment of the imagination, it had sprung into being and crushed him. But he was now stern, remorseless, resolute, implacable.

It was much the same with Wade Ruggles. He strove desperately to gain the remarkable control of his feelings, displayed by his comrade, and partly succeeded. But there was a restless fidgeting which caused him to move aimlessly about the room and showed itself now and then in a slight tremulousness of the voice and hands, but his eyes wore that steely glitter, which those at his side had noticed when the rumble and grumble told that the battle was on.

Captain Dawson went from one extreme to the other. Crazed, tumultuous in his fury, and at first like a baffled tiger, he moderated his voice and manner until his companions wondered at his self-poise.

"They have started for Sacramento and are now well advanced over the trail," he remarked without any evidence of excitement.

"When do you imagine they set out?" asked Brush.

"Probably about the middle of the afternoon; possibly earlier."

"Then," said Ruggles, "they have a good six hours' start. They haven't lost any time and must be fifteen or twenty miles away."

"The trail is easy traveling for twice that distance, as I recollect it," observed the captain; "after that it grows rougher and they will not be able to go so fast."

"This must have been arranged several days ago, though it is only guesswork on our part. Of course she has taken considerable clothing with her."

"I did not look into her room," said the captain; "there's no use; it is enough to know they made their preparations and started, accompanied by that dog Timon."

No time was wasted. They knew they would encounter cold weather, for the autumn had fairly set in, and some portions of the trail carried them to an elevation where it was chilly in midsummer. Each took a thick blanket. The captain donned his military coat, with the empty sleeve pinned to the breast, caught up his saddle and trappings, his Winchester and revolver, and buckled the cartridge belt around his waist. Then he was ready. Neither