Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 38, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 September 1905 — THE DIAMOND RIVER [ARTICLE]

THE DIAMOND RIVER

BY DAVID MURRAY

CHAPTER XXll.— (Continued.) “It strikes me,” said Jethroe, “those ■stives are jasTddazing away from their camp on the other side to keep their own hearts up. I’ll have a look out. Stay here, and don’t expose yourself.” With that he crawled silently away to the top of the hillock which sheltered them. Everything was strangely quiet for a quarter of an hour, and at the end of that time he returned. “There’s nothing doing,” he said, in a tone of complete indifference. "But,” he added in a livelier fashion, “we are •nly just in time. These natives know enough to tell a .stone when they see one, •nd it stands to reason that they should Hke to keep what they have found to themselves.” “But, surely,” said Harvey, “ft’s poor tactics to fire on everybody that happens to pass this way without j?ven inquiring whether they guess or know anything.” “Native tactics,” said Jethroe, laughing. “ I’ve been thinking,” hejwent on suddenly, "that we might do a good deal worse than get right on at once. We should have very little more than ha|f a doxen miles before, us. These natives haven’t come across the real find yet, or they wouldn’t be wasting their time digging holes up here. A single day may do •ur, business when we are once upon the ground. If we start how, even if we make a detour of three or four miles to keep out of sight of the enemy, we can do half of it before the moon fails us. What do you say to it?” “As you will, sir,” said Harvey; “I am tn your hands.” “Come on, then,” said .Tethroe. “Just tread on that fellow, will you? Twist your toe well into his ribs, or you’ll make •o impression upon him. That’s right.” He addressed the half breed in his own tongue, and the fellow got up and began to shamble sleepily about. Jethroe himself did most of the simple work of preparation, but Harvey assisted him in towering the white tilt qf the cart, which In the dazzling moonight made an object altogether too conspicuous for safety. When all was ready, they set out on foot, Jethroe leading, the half breed following with the eart, and Harvey bringing up the rear. One of the wheels of the cart, which had from time to time compained, began now to shriek in a most malignant manner, as if it were alive, and were bent at every revolution on proclaiming the whereabouts of the fugitives to the world. Harvey sweated with apprehension, but Jethroe came round in his imperturbable way, chopped open a tin of boiled mutton with an ax, found fat enough for his purpose, anointed the creaking axle, and'then went back to his post of leader.

The way he chose set his back to the river for a full mile. Then he began to trend to the left at a wide angle, and, after another mile, he arranged his course to keep a parallel course with the river bed. which, from the time of its •udden dryness at the mountain’s edge, ran almost in a straight line for as many miles as it'could be kept in sight. The plain hereabouts was very level, and thejf had easy going. No incident of moment disturbed the march, and not a sign of an enemy was detected. Once in the still Bight air Harvey fancied that he heard a clamor of far away voices, but the rounds that dwell in silence were thick and loud in his ears, and he could not be •ure that he was not tricked by fancy. The sinking of the moon put an end to the journey, and they unhitched once more. The half caste, it appeared, had as purely animal-minded a faculty for forgetting fear as he had for suffering from it, and his last hand stroke was barely over before he was asleep. “(ret what rest you can,” said Jethroe to his nephew. “I’ll take watch till daylight.” He settled hiniself in his blanket against the cart, and lounged there with ibis blanket across his knees. Harvey disposed himself close by at full length ■nd tried to sleep. But to be shot at for the first time is an experience which •ome men find exciting, and, in spite of •Il he could do. his mind would insist •n reproducing for him the dash of the first three shots and the yells of the •tattled half caste, and then the stampeding mules and the wild race after them, and a hundred little thoughts, sensations and incidents which had passed •o swiftly as to seem unnoticed, though bow he found them indelibly stamped up•n his memory. This fidgety state of mind fidgeted his body, and, without knowing it, he turned this way and that until Jethroe spoke to him. • “Can’t sleep, eh?” “No,” said Harvey; “I never was wider awake in my whole life.” “What are you thinking about?” asked 'Jethroe. "If you can’t sleep, I mustn’t, Let’s have a yarn. What are you thinking about?” “Well,” said Harvey, evading the question a little, “I’ve been thinking about jou, sir.” “What about me?” asked Jethroe. “I've been wondering why a man who already does not know what to do with kia money should live as you hate lived •ver since I have known you for the ■ake of more.” “Well," said Jethroe. “it’s a question 1 have asked myself sometimes. But is * for the sake of more? Now, that is the point when you come to think it over. 'Am I greedy for money? Not a bit of fit Power? '1 hat's another matter. But what’s really my point here? I’m in my vight, and I won’t be beaten. I’m one •f those who can't bear to be bluffed, my la*. I wouldn't allow myself to be bulted by a crowd of cut-throat ruffians like th* Hsekiel gang. What d'ye say? Might tetter pay to let ’em have their own way? You miss the point. It isn't a *Mstlon of how It pays when once you **t ■ man's back up. It’s a question of th* proper pride and the grit In his own ■•tar*, Harvey. Here's a certain advantage belongs honestly to me. Here’s a gang of rascals claiming a share in it without a ghost of reason. Now, there's on* thing can make m* yield to ttem, and that is—fear. Well, you see, Fm not a very timid man. I got out Ml th* habit of being frightened iong ago.

I’m not going back to it for the Ezekiel Company, don’t you believe it.” y ■ Harvey lmd~.nothmg to say in- answer and the conversation died. The younger man had fallen into an uneasy slumber when his uncle's voice aroused him. “Boot and saddle!” said Jethroe. gaily. But they paused for breakfast, and then set out upon their way again, uneventfully until the moment at which Jethroe stretched out his hand and cried “The last' landmark.” And at that instant, as if he had given a signal, a little storm of bullets kicked up tho dust about them, and one of the mules, being hit, screamed hideously.

CHAPTER XXIII. Jethroe hurled himself from the saddle, threw the reins to Harvey, and took the injured mule by the head. The beast was plunging madly, and it was ■touch and go for a new stampede with the whole team. Jethroe set, a revolver close to the wounded anintal's head and fired, “Now,” he said, “we're in a tight corner. There’s no .shelter for a mile. What’s to be done?” , “You’re captain here, sir,” said Harvey. He had been thinking much of Jethroe's latest words, and had been making up a mind of his own concerning them. Now the chance was here to show himself whether or no the mind would stand. “We'll give 'em as little to fire at as we can,” said Jethroe. “Help me to turn the cartes tail toward ’em. That’ll shelter the mules, anyway, apd give us a bit of cover, too.” Harvey lent a hand, with a swell of pride in his jheaft at his own coolness; but he was hot long in discovering that the pride had some hysteria in it. If he had not made this discovery in time he would have been weeping for pride in his own courage in another sixty seconds. That reflection struck him as being so funny that he wanted to laugh at it, and then he found that there was danger in laughter. And being thus instructed by experience, he began to harden his heart in earnest, and acquitted himself with an apparent coolness which would have done credit to a veteran.

After the first thick patter of a discharge; in which some fifty rounds appeared to have been fired, there was silence for a time, and the respite gave the assailed party a chance’to complete its frail arrangements for shelter. Jethroe induced mules and horses alike to lie down, and took measures to secure them all. Then he and Harvey, by his orders, snaked away through the grass on either side until they were a hundred yards apart, making no answer to the loose and desultory fire which was directed at the cart. "They're fanning out,” said Jethroe in a distinct voice. "Keep a keen lookout to your left, and pot anything that shows itself.” "Ay, ay, sir,” said Harvey? but his voice was so hoarse and thick that his own ears barely heard it. "You hear?” asked Jethroe. “Ay, ay, sir,” said Harvey, clear enough this time. He kept an unrelaxing outlook, and by-and-by he was re-” warded, for a head came round a boulder some three hundred yards away, and seemed to pass hither and thither. “1 ought to be able to hit that,” said the volunteer marksman, "if it will only stay.” It came a little further, and a pair of shoulders were in sight. Harvey fired. The man was gone. He could not have told whether he had hit or missed, but whilst he wondered a swift and piercing sound informed him that his own lurking place had been discovered. He had never heard a flying bullet so near at hand before, for it passed within a foot of his ear; but he had no need to be told what the meaning of the noise might be. He was strung to his utmost by this time, and debated within himself, quite coolly, as to the wisest thing to do. To move would be to set the long grass moving. He decided to play possum; he kept still and watched, and the long and uneventful silence was beginning to get at his nerves again, when a rustle within twenty yards of him suddenly tightened his clenched teeth, and pulled every nerve tense and taut as a fiddle string. This, at least, was a daring enemy, whoever he might prove to be. The rustle was repeated, and Harvey could locate the sound exactly, or so it seemed; but he would not fire until he had more than a sound to go on. Nearer and nearer it came, and at last he saw a moving bulk not a dozen paces hway. He fired, and he was answered by a yell and a volley of curses in English. But the curses were suddenly cut short, and gave way to groans, and the groans sank lower and lower until they were stilled. Then from the rifle of Jethroe the elder, rop! rop! rop! clear and quick and imperative, and rop’ rop! rop! again. "Any luck, boy?” asked Jethroe. “One for certain,” Harvey answered. "Two, I rather think.” “Two to me,” said Jethroe, “and she attack's withdrawn. Let’s have a look at the field.” The attack was certainly over for the time being, and a search over the field of combat rev*al*d four badly wounded men. Th* fir»t surprise was to discover that they were white men, but the next transcended it so far as to make it seem a circumstance of no value. The man whom Harvey had hit at short range was no other person than plain Mr. Smith. He was lying all tumbled and twisted together In the attitude tude in wheh his agony had placed him before It had brought the relief of unconsciousness, and the first part of him Harvey saw was his left cheek, which, together with his throat, still bore the impress of his own grip. The two momentary visitors at first imagined him to be dead, and Jethroe, no tas yet guessing who tho man might be, turned him over so that he might look at his face. Uncle and nephew glared at each other without being able to find a single word between them, until Jethro* asked through set teeth, and with a voice like a mastiff's growl: “What doe* this mean?” The question was not asked for the sake of an

answer. “This fellow came by the same boat as ourselves,” he went on, more calmly. “Do you know what that means?” "Know?” said Harvey. “I know nothing; I’m all abroad,” "Monboddo's in it,” Jethroe said, answering his, own question. “Monboddo sold me the very instant my back was turned. This villain came over in our boat, with all his pals. They traveled steerage, and kept out of sight. 'Well, Little William,” he added, looking down at the unconscious figure, “you have asked for it often enough, heaven knows! Whether you have got it this time I can’t tell; but you'll plot no more murders in this life, Little William, you may bet on that!” "What shall you do with him?” asked Harvey. .“Heaven may take him out of my hand,” said Jethroe, “and I hope it may be so. But if he gets over this I shall do justice on him. I wish you had shot straighter, lad, and had saved me a 'dirty joj>.” And now the two set to work to save the lives of their enemies, which has somehow come to be the fashion with civilized men after battle, and Jethroe’s experience of rough-and-ready surgery, which had been considerable, gave him hopes of two. One was beyond all remedy, and breathed his last within an hour of the close of the action. Little William’s case was doubtful, and doubtful on the unhopeful side. Jethroe had no desire that he should live, and no desire that he -should die, but he handled him to the best of his ability and made a shelter for him, and having done what he could for him, left him. ,“I don’t know if these heathen will respect a flag of truce or no,” he said, “but 1 shall try them. They must take charge of their own. I’m not going to be bothered with ’em.” He tacked a white towel to a six-foot splinter of wood, which he chipped from the wagon for the purpose, and with his bandolier across his chest and his rifle Cm Lis'*shoulder he marched toward, the river bed, waving the flag from time to time. A man came out to meet him, and Harvey saw them encounter midway. They talked for a few minutes only, and then Jethroe came stalking back, with his pipe in his cheek and a smile in his eye. “They’re sending over,” he explained, "a cart and one man for their wounded and their carrion. I keep our friend William as a hostage. It won’t be long before they’re here.” He busied himself once more about his prisoners, one of whom had somewhat revived. The man, being questioned, was willing to be communicative! He hadn’t troubled himself much about the rights and wrongs of the matter, he confessed. He had been told that a party of adventurers were trying to jump a valuable claim. He had been offered a handsome sum to come out and fight in the cause of justice. “Justice?” asked Jethroe. “Well, that’s how they put it,” said the wounded man. He wasn’t a judgf and bench. It was no particular affai; of his, and fifty quid was fifty quid, wasn’t it? and not so particular easy to lay hold of these hard times.” “And how about Tom Monboddo?” asked Jethroe. (To be continued.) k