Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 38, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 October 1905 — THE DIAMOND RIVER [ARTICLE]

THE DIAMOND RIVER

BY DAVID MURRAY

CHAPTER XX l l l.—(Continued.* The man knew nothing of any person wf-Hiat namer-Tror did he scenr-tir rei-rts-■ne the fat drunkard with an inordinate appetite for rum, even when Jethroe described him. “No such party as that along with oui crowd,” -said the man. At this point Harvey called out to signal the approach of the cart, which, when it appeared, turned out to be no more than a floor on wheels, the wily Jethroe having'stipulated that its front and sides should be removed, lest it Knight be utilized to conceal an enemy sufficiently numerous to overwhelm him at close quartOrsii The provision had been received with marked disfavor among the men of Little William's commando* but, learning that the appearance of the cart imniy other condtrirnr than that stipulated for* would be treated as proclamation of treason, and that the hostages would be shot at once as a consequence. they recognized—not for the first time —the quality of the men with •whom they had to deal, and gave an unwilling assent to his arrangement. So the two' wounded and the one dead man were quietly carried away. The carter proved to be an old acquaintance-*—a member of the original firm —and he and Jethroe had a talk together in memory of old times.

“You understand,” said Jethroe cheerfully. “that in case of a night attack I make it my first business to deal with I*ittle William.” “Quite so.” replied the desperado, as coolly as if they had been discussing a fractional percentage. “I’ll let ’em know ■what you say. So long, matey!” “We shall be left alone to-night.” said Jethroe; “but they're too strong for us. We’ve lost Sinbad's valley. Harvey. If it hadn't been for those blarmed nigers who delayed us last night we might at least have seen the promised land. Now I’m afraid we shan’t even get a look at it.” The half-breed called out something in his own language, and Jethroe walked toward him with, a grunt of inquiry. The fellow spoke again. “Harvey,” called Jethroe, “this scoundrel’s conscious. Come and have a look «t him.” Plain Mr. Smith’s eyes’were open, and plain Mr. Smith's lips were moving, but no intelligible sound issued, Jethroe knelt down by him, gave him a weak dose, of spirit and water and moistened his temples and under his ears with whisky. It was done quite business-like, without apparent emotion of any sort. “You know where you fire, I suppose?” he asked. “You know who's got hold of you?" To each question the eyelids answered “Yes,” and there was a cynical, truculent something fin the brute's face which showed that he was not yet subdued. Jethroe put an arm about the sufferer’s neck and raised him to a sitfing posture. The stanch villain went gray in the face, but 'ha made no sound, and when a reviving draught was set to his lips he drank it as if it had been milk. The color flowed back into his face, and he said in a seedy voice: “Prop me up a bit, and I'll talk to you.” A packing case and a few blankets peered the turn which was asked of ■them. “Now,” said Jethroe, shredding tobacco for his pipe, and kneeling beside his «nemy, “what have you got to say?” “We’ve licked you. Harvey,” said Little William. "We're the first in Diamond River, after all.” “Yes.” stiil Jethroe. “you’re first and you're last.” He paused so long before the two divisions of this brief speech and dropped the latter half of it with so much intention, that the wounded man stared at him in a kind of stupid wonder. “We’re first.” he repeated dogedly. "And last.” said Jethroe again. “What d'ye mean by that?” the other asked him, with a curse. “You may know it yn good time. If you get better.” said Jethroe, nodding his head very slowly and looking at him with eyes which fairly blazed, “I’ll show yon.” “Oh,” said Little William, “Pvo got ny dose —I know that.” He moaned feebly, and then his weakness overcame him and he fell asleep.

CHAPTER XXIV. In -qute of plain Mr. Smith's prophecy. he mended with astonishing rapidity. As sometimes happens, his forces rallied toward the end. and before he flickered out he wa* defiant. “That was a fine old trick of yours,” be said, in his husky, jeering whisper, “getting yourself buried. It might ha’ done with some of ’em. It didn’t work with me. though, did it? I was on the spot to look at things, and as a consequence we’re first in Diamond Valley. Harvey, we’re first in ” His voice failed him, and he made a grab at the tin at his side. Jethroe helped him "tb it in his commonplace, nnmoving way. as if there had been no enmity between them. The man drank and waged his feeble dying«head and gasped in triumph: “First in Diamond Valley!” “And last,” said Jethroe once more. And with the words he turned upon bis heel, ami, having saddled and bridled his pony. made a search for a certain weighty bag he had carried with him. »lung it by its own strap across his ehoulder. mounted, and rode away. Harvey watched him wonderingly, but forebore to question him. For days there bad been a complete suspension of hostilities. Jethroe hnd seemed to recognize tha Impossibility of approaching the river Led. and hts wncrtnwfnl compel ilrtts for <he prize had agreed to leave him unmolested ns long as he did not approach thorn. There had been. In fact, a tacit armistice. But a flag of truce had twice covered the person of a messenger who tiad been sent to inquire about the welfare of Little William, and on each occrjlion the ambassador bad been half «iad with news of the gathered spoil. There had never been anything like it. 4>a his second and last visit the messenger reported the possession of diamonds

enough to spoil the world's market. "But,” he had said, "we are not such fools ns that comes to." “Oh. dear no,”, said Jethroe, laughing like a man well pleased; “you won't spoil tire market.” The talk was in his mind as lie rode; He went leisurely, for it was at the heat of the day, and he had at present no occasion for haste. He meant to get out of his pony by-and-by whatever was to be got out of hifn to the very last ounce, but ifee time was not yet. He drew his flapped hat over his .eyes as a protection from the glaring light, and jogged.oh. thinking, with an immovable, fixed face, which would have Hold an observer nothing. He came in course of time to the spot where a slight movenl|ent, as it were, njfyNa Hire's little linger' had stayed inn moment the impetuous torrent which had run for thousands of years and had scored so deeply its course across the landscape. Here he hobbled his steed and clambered down into the dry bed of the old river. He crossed to the naturalwall. on the other side of which the waters were nowtcmifined, and inspected it closely and painstakingly.- He crawled all over .its base, and his inspection lasted full two hours. When at last he was satisfied he sat down by his bag. which he had laid aside at the beginning of his examination. It was tightly packed with cotton wool, and as his fingers gradually removed this it yielded a number of thick, short" tubes of tin. which in their turn were lined with cotton wool. There was a projecting nozzle with a -screw-worm upon it at the end of each tube, and the bag gave up a set of stringy looking tentacles which were fitted with caps corresponding to the screw-worms. Jethroe adjusted them all with patient and delicate nicety, and. handling the whole contrivance as if it were of eggshell, and eggshell were beyond all price, he bestowed the tubes one by one as far as his arm could reach, where lie persuaded them gently to roll over into a crevice in the rock. One by one he lowered them with infinite delicate care until all were out of sight, and buried, indeed, in some eight or ten feet in-the naturalmasonry. Now the tentacles wore all drawn together to one tube, and the length of this tube was carefully estimated. After a good deal of thought Jethroe cut off one foot or thereabouts, and then, striking a match, he set fire to the end of the tube. It caught at once and burned slowly, steadily. ami with sut-h regularity that the minute hand of a watch-night have been timed by it. ’

Meantime Harvey., unsuspecting of his uncle's dreadful purpose, lay idly on the . turf, with broadcast limbs, with his hat upon his face to shield his eyes from the overmastering glare of the sun. “There is no use in lingering here.” he was saying* to himself. “If we> are beaten, we are beaten, and it will be just as well to recognize defeat.” His thoughts fttruod toward home, and he was dozing in a dream of some peaceful scene of greenery when the halfcaste touched hint on the - shoulder and awoke him. The man's jabbering dialect. half native and half Dutch, had' no meaning in his cars, but the language of gesture is universal, and the man's linger thrust again and again toward the west sent Harvey's gaze in'that direction. He rose and shaded his eyes, and there, very far away, he could make out a little wall of dust, which came nearer and nearer as he gazed. The half-caste talked unceasingly in his own barbarous dialect, but conveyed no hint to Harvey's mind, until at length he shouted, “Plenty men —woman!” and then held tip a forefinger. “A woman?” said Harvey, st., still before him. and as yet seeing nothing through the dust cloud. ' » “Woman." said the half-caste; “one.”

CHAPTER XXV. ••Harvey watched the approaching cloud with both hands gathered above his brows, and on a sudden lie discerned a female figure on horseback, who came toward him at a break-neck pace. It was hidden here and there in a hollow of the field, and streaming behind it came a band of mounted men. His heart rather than his eyes assured him that the figure in the van was that of Constance, but lie asked himself in wonder if her presence here were possible, and, granting that it were possible, what it might portend. As the headlong river breasted the last hollow, and rose above it a quarter of a mile away. Ids doubts vanished, and he ran to meet her. It was Constance beyond question, and at the very instant at which he knew Jier he was aware that he himself was recognized. The two raced toward each other, alike impetuous. and before the hor.-e she rode was fairly arrested in his pace, Constance was in Harvey's arms. The men who followed —dusty, sun-burned fellows, in a sort of rough uniform of boots and cords, slouched hats and shirts of red Hannel —swept right and left as they passed, and formed in an irregular ring about them. “What brings you here)" gasped Harvey. sobbing, half with emotion and half with lack of breath. “We came to Rio Janeiro," she answered, “father and I, for a more holiday, but there we learned that you wore being followed; that the funeral .•ft Barton had boon a mockery. We guessed the worst. But, oh, Harvey, you're safe, you're safe!" “Safe, dear?" he answered in bewilderment. "Of course I’m safe." They forgot the crowd about them. They forgot everything but each other. He took her in his arms add kissed tier tenderly and gravely. Then she remembered, and pushed him away until he stood at arms’ length. "We arc in time," she said to the horsemen gathered round. "This is my husband. Captain Hilliard. Harvey, this is Captain Hilliard, of the Mounted Police. I cannot tell you how good he has been to me. But you are safe, dear, you are safe!" She grew a little hysterical just then, and one freckled, unsburned fellow

among the troopers put in a word of sympathy. "Rode like a brick, sir,” said the freckled man. “Thirty-live miles from her last corn.” v Another-sunburned fellow, halfway between tears and laughter, said: "Three cheers for the lady!” And the cheers were given? “Hi-rib!” said Captain Hilliard, as the noise <i ! ed away. “Who’s that yonder?” I wouldn’t give twopence for that fellow's neck, the way lie tides.” ‘ “Why!” cried 1 Ltrvev. “that's m.v uncle! What possesses him?” • * » ♦ — * » * »

We return to Jethroe the elder. He stood unmove'd, ’and then, leisurely up the bank, he mounted his horse again and rode leisurely away, consulting his watch at the first pace. By and by he’ looked, at the watcl? again and quickened his speed. Then he drew rein cnee more and listened with backward ear and eye. “Too soon,” he said to himself. “Too soon. I'm growing as nervous as a girl.!’ 'He consulted his watch again. “Twenty minutes yet. Come, I shall hear that bang easily enough. How fast will the stream travel? I shall have a three-mile start in seven. That .ought to do it.” ' • Again he set out at a trot, still with that backward ear and eye, and once — he went so unwatehfuHy==-the pony stumbled, and was almost down with him into a breakneck hollow. This narrow escape made him more careful, and he rode wider from the brink of the old watercourse. But he listened as if his soul were in his ears, and at length his impatience and anxiety so mastereddjijm that he sat stock still, watch in hand, to await-' the expected sound. How the minutes crawled! Boom! The shattering roar shook the air even where he sat and made a wind about him. Now he turned and rode as if for life, with a keen eye on the untracked ground before him, but always with that listening ear. What was that? Could he really hear it, or was it fancy? That low roar-—did the wind make' it on his ears, or his own pulses? Or was it drawing nearer, louder, wilder? He rode like a madman. At times the forward-plunging waters —for he was sure of their manifold voices now —traveled with such swiftness that they seemed to overtake him. At others, where the bed of the old stream ran level, or even for a time opposed its breast to the oncoming Hood, the advance was.stayed. But when he had reached the landmark for which he had hastened his pony faltered and seemed barely to recover itself, when with a slip it fell. Jethroe threw himself, clear and tore afoot to the edge of the river stream. It was deep, and down below men were Working busily. He knew nearly all of them. As he gazed there, dragging his breath in sobs, terror seized upon t’.ie men beneath him. They clutched each other and ran, some (or this side of the river bed and some for that. But the awful, . splendid voice was in their ears. The terror of what doom they knew not was in their trembling souls. And round the bend a hu'ndred yards away came the roaring host* of waters, like a living sentient thing. The wall kept time and wheeled like a line of men. Then it dashed down toward the narrowed gap in which its helidess victims awaited it, because there was no hope in effort. Here in this deep depth the leaping stream howled against the strangling rocks which held it and spouted ..like some tremendous geyser. And there was no sternly exulting figure there where the advance guard of the groat column had gone by, for the waters Jethroe had rMden so fast to meet had taken him.

Harvey had heard the explosion faintly, but hail no guess as to its meaning. He had seen his uncle riding like a madman, and he had heard the roar of the advancing waters, not guessing what the noise might mean. He knew when the leaping wave caught Jethroe and swept him from his place as if he had been a straw, and when he stood breathless on the river's brink the river rioted along as it had done thousands of years ago, and will do thousands of years hence. (The end.)