Newspaper Page Text
Mescal
A Story of the Southweft
Written for B^c Sunny South
By JOSE DC OLIVARES
OME, senor, have' your
C palm read! A few cen
tavos are nothing for
the secret of your fu
ture.” The solicitation,
couched in the Spanish-
Merican patois of the
frontier, had become ex-
asperatlngly familiar of
late. I was employed on
a Los Angeles daily and
was on my way, as us
ual each morning, from
my home in the San
Fernando valley, by
way of the Cahuenga
pass, to the little sta
tion just beyond the di
vide, where I took a train into the city.
Midway of the pass stood an old stone
watering trough, at which I was accus-
the knowledge that Mescal’s disposition
was so thoroughly consistent with his
name was rather a source of gratification
than of regret to me. It was an oda
name for a horse, but he had come by it
legitimately—that is, he had been so
called ever since the Mexican bandit, Gar
cia, had broken him as a colt tb the sad
dle and bestowed the title upon him. And
for two yeara thereafter Mescal had
borne his unscrupulous rider on all his
marauoing raids until the latter had been
so hard pressed up in the Ensenada hills
by Sheriff Doyle, of Yuma, that he and
his followers were forced to abandon their
horses and take to the chaparral. I had
chanced to be along with Doyle on that
occasion—assignments of that character
were accepted as a matter of course by
newspaper men out there In those days—
and as the forsaken horses of the fleeing
outlaws dashed flown the hill in an effort
to escape past us, I launched my riata at
iT
*1 warn yon la* is under the spell of * demon"
tomed* to refresh my horse while Journey
ing through the hills. For upward of a
fortnight past I had regularly encounter
ed at this point a solitary evil-visaged
Mexican, who had announced himself as
a palmist “sin paralelo,” and occupied the
few moments* pause in my ride with per
sistent importunities for my patronage.
What did not lend to enhance my regard
for this unprepossessing Individual was
the crafty manner in which he invariably
inspected my horse out of the corners of
his small, restless eyes. The horse, more
over. appeared to resent the scrutiny
quite as much as myself, and from the
first asserted his antipathy for the vag
abond fakir by steadfastly refusing to ap
proach the drinking trough until I had
invited the stranger to withdraw a few
paces. On this particular morning, how
ever my curiosity became aroused as to
why the fellow continued to frequent so
unpromising a locality, which at best was
a lonely spot, visited only by transitory
horsemen and teamsters. Therefore, as
my horse fretfully sipped a few draughts
of water, eyeing the peon suspiciously the
while, I remarked: “You must be In
tensely fond of your occupation, consid
ering the little recompense you appear to
derive from it. Why not go into the city,
where, at least, your field for solicita
tion would be larger?”
“Ah, senor,” replied the peon, with af
fected■ pathos. “I am Indeed fond of my
profession; but, however little I may
realise from it here on the highway, the
city would yield me less: for they who
live in the city care little about the fu
ture. It is the present alone that interests
them.”
I was inwardly forced to recognize a
the leader, a gaunt but fleet and gaudily
equipped animal. My calculations as to
the distance of the mark had proved ac
curate—but so hod the aim of the sheriff
of Yuma, for hardly had my noose set
tled about the shoulders of the horse,
when another loop, hurled from the oppo
site direction, fell directly over it, and
Doyle and myself had together- captured
the bandit chieftain’s steed. The others
of our posse having corralled the rest of
the stampeding animals. Doyle and my
self fell to work to dividing our spoils
between us. He gracefully acknowledged
my precedence, momentary though it had
been, in the capture, and insisted that the
horse should be mine, while, by way of
evening up the division as nearly as pos
sible, I voluntarily surrendered to him the
beautiful silver mounted saddle, the in
trinsic value of which far exceeded that
of the horse. The Mexican bridle, how
ever, I retained, for engraved upon a sil-
. ver plate attached to its headstall was
the legend, “Mescal, propriedad de Joa
quin Garcia,” together with some,;addi
tional data, briefly expressed In Spanish,
relative to the horse’s antecedents. The
general appearance of the animal Indi
cated the grossest 111 treatment in the
past. The small of his hack was literally
covered with saddle galls, while his thin
sides were furrowed with deep calloused
ridges, where the cruel rowels of a mer
ciless rider had plowed their way. But,
true to the nature of the western broncho,
abuse had not in the least diminished
either his fiery spirit or his sterling hardi
hood, and that he had been highly prized
as a mount by. his late owner, notwith
standing the marks of the latter’s brutal
ity, was evident from the pedigree en-
* Wit ha frenzied scream Mescal plunged forward*
certain amount of truth in his argument,
and by way of appreciation tendered him
a small coin.
As I deposited the silver in his hand,
however, with a quick movement he
caught the tips of my fingers in his clasp
and fixed his eyes on the open palm. The
precipitateness of the act was all but
demoralizing to my horse, which sprang
backward with a suddenness that came
perilously near unseating me. The Mex
ican, however, held tenaciously on to my
hand, incidentally taking care to keep out
of range of my frantic animal’s hoofs.
As soon as I could recover myself I
wrenched my hand free, but not until the
peon had vouchsafed this admonition:
“Senor, a terrible accident threatens
you from horses. Take heed in time,
therefore, and rid yourself of that bronco
you are* riding.”
I made no response, but as I touched
my spurs and galloped off down the pass
the peon shouted after me a parting in
junction.
“Sell him, senor,” he cried. “I warn
you he is under the spell of a demon.”
As the words greeted my ear I glanced
admiringly down at the sleeked, arched
neck of my spirited charger.
“Mescal.” said I. reaching down and
patting his splendid shoulders, "do you
hear that? He says you’re possessed of
a demon, and that I must sell you—but I
shan’t."
The Mexican’s ominous characterization
of my horse was no revelation to me, and
instead of inspiring me with any appre
hension. his apparent concern for my
safety somewhat amueed me. Moreover,
graved on the silver mounted headstall.
Six months of rest and good pasturage
had worked a miraculous change in Mes
cal’s appearance. From his previous
gaunt condition, he had developed a
splendid proportion and grace of figure,
while the former disfigurements to his
cuticle were entirely eradicated by the
filling out of his glossy black coat.
On the morning following my colloquy
with the peon I remarked his absence
from his accustomed rendezvous in the
pass, but upon arriving at my office in the
city I found among my mail a letter
which immediately recalled him to try
mind. It was a proposition, written in
Spanish, and purporting to come from a
Mexican stockman, offering to purchase
my saddle horse if I chose to sell him
at a reasonable figure. The connection
between the communication and the peon
palmist was too palpable to escape de
tection, and the only cognizance I ac
corded it was In the purchase of an extra
lock for my stable door before setting out
for home that evening. Nothing further
developed of the circumstance, however,
nor did the palmist ever again put in an
appearance at the stone watering trough
on the San Fernando road. In fact, the
entire matter had quite passed from my
mind, when one day, about a month later,
I was directed to report at once to the
managing editor of the paper. As I en
tered the sanctum of the dignitary in
question; he was industriously occupied
with the preparation of his editorials.
Being naturally of a taciturn disposition,
he was not accustomed to waste any su
perfluous utterances on the subordinate
members of his 6taff, and, upon noting
my presence, without pausing in or glanc
ing up from his work, delivered the fol
lowing laconical order:
“Doyle leaves Yuma with a posse early
tomorrow morning after Garda. You will
go with him.”
I paused with my hand on the door
knob.
“May I take my own saddle horse?”
I ventured.
“Take a whole cabalgada, if you choose
—only get out of town on that 2:30 spe
cial,” and having thus disposed of tne
matter, the editor-in-chief proceeded with
his paragraphs as though I had never
existed.
It was -ten miles out to Cahuenga star
tion, where Mescal was stabled, and 12
o’clock when I received the assignment,
hut two and a half hours later found me
pulling out of Los Angeles aboard the
Southern Pacific special, with my horse
trying his utmost to kick both ends out
of a palace stock car that had been cou
pled on in the rear for his exclusive ac
commodation. It was late that night
when I arrived at Yuma, and having re
leased Mescal from his uncongenial quar
ters, I saddled him and rode away In
quest of Doyle. After a brief search I
located that individual up In the federal
court room playing poker with his chief
and sole deputy, the district attorney,
and a Kickapoo scout with as much
unconcern as though Garcia and his band
v ere already safely within the walls of
ibe territorial bastile on the hill.
"■Where’s the rest of your posse?” I
asked the sheriff after the customary ex
change of courtesies had taken place.
“Why,” he explained, ’the coroner was
called out a few minutes ago to hold an
inquest on the leavings of a half-breed
desperado who got wind that the boys
was getting together, and fearing, 1
reckon, that some of his own personal
interests might be at stake, undertook to
terterminate the members before they
got down io work. He started in on the
wrong party, however, who happened to
be Ca! Jenkins, the county clerk, who
was too swift for him—which is how the
coroner happened to be needed thereabout
temporary. But him and Cal’ll be around
in the course of half an hour, and so'll
Judge Murphy and the new tax collector.
That’ll make nine, counting yourself, and
the two custom house riders we pick up
down near the border, will be eleven,
a hlch’ll be plenty, seeing as Garcia’s gang
has thinned out somewhat here of late.
Reckon there ain’t more’n twenty of the
greasers left in the whole drove now,
which is les3’n half their number when
we mixed things with ’em last fall.”
“And where have you located the outfit
this time?” I inquired.
“Down in the Manzanita mountains,
close to the Mexican line," was the re
ply.
"But that’3 enlv twenty miles from
here.” I demurred, “and leaving in the
morning will bring us there in broad day
light. We’ll never get them at thqt rate,
for It’s open plain every foot of the way
between here and the Manzanitas.”
“Ah, I see!” returned the sheriff of
Yuma, astutely, "figuring on a good
twelve-hour sleep, as usual, before going
to work. Well, you won't get it this
time, 'Cabeza sonollento’ (sleepy head!,
for we’ll be In the heart of the Sierra
Msnzanltas long before sunrise. It’s now-
10 o’clock, and we leave before midnight,
which reminds me,” he added, “that yoWi’d
better go cown to (he corral and rope
yourself a horse. Bring your saddle with
you?’’ ■' •■■■"!
“Yes, and something more,’ I. an-
“Y que mas?” lrqulred my friend.
"Mescal, of course,” I replied care
lessly.
“Mescal!” ejaculated the sheriff incred
ulously. “Going after Garda with Ills
own horse? Well—I’ll—be—d 1 He’ll
sure like that.”
The full moon was hanging low over
the ragged crest of the Manzanita range
as our little cavalcade efrew rein at the
edge of the dense chaparral that covered
Its sides after a brisk ride over the in
tervening desert.
"We’ll wait here,” announced Doyle,
"until Pie Grande,’’ Indicating the Kiek-
apoo scout, who had dismounted and
was just vanishing in the thicket, “goes
ahead and takes a look at the camp. It
was Pie,” he explained aside to me, “who
located the outfit, and he knows just how
to reach it.”
Half an hour later the Indian returned,
with the Information that the outlaws
were sltll encamped where he had pre
viously found them, which was In a
small valley, distant about a mile ahead,
j Upon receiving this intelligence the sheriff
commanded his party to fall in, single file,
behind the guide, then gave the order to
advance. Thus we proceeded with the ut
most caution, up the narrow trail, through
the tangled brushwood, until at length a
silent signal, passed from one to another
down the line, warned us of our approach
to the bandit stronghold. At almost the
same instant a shot from one of their
sentinels told that we had been discover
ed, and, throwing aside all caution, we
dashed forward to the attack. Though
taken completely toy surprise the out,laws
appeared to keep their heads, and as
many as could reach their horses sprang
upon their bare backs, and desperately
essayed to repulse us. In another mo
ment we were in their midst, firing rapid
ly, tout carfully. for no shots could be
wasted in the face of such superior num
bers. At the height of the confusion I
suddenly perceived a tall Mexican, wear
ing a silver embroidered jacket, the de
scription of which I had many times be
fore seen in print, forcing his horse to
ward me. It was Joaquin Garcia. In
stantly I leveled my revolver at his head,
and pulled the trigger. There was no
report. I had fired the last charge from
my brace of Colts. Before I could even
attempt to reload the bandit chief would
have got me to a certainty, but as he was
In the very act of covering me a revolver
shot rang out close to my ear, and reel
ing in his saddle my antagonist fell to
the ground. Tlie next moment my deliv
erer’s horse dashed by me—and his rider
was Sheriff Doyle, of Yuma. Hardly had
he vanished, however, before another
bareback horseman bore down upon me.
I can see the gleam of that long stiletto
even yet as its owner’s bared arm bran
dished it aloft in the moonlight. Then,
as the blade descended my horse reared
hack on his haunches, and the blow that
was intended for me struck the animal
a glancing blow in the side of the head.
In the same instant, with a frenzied
scream, Mescal plunged forward, and
catching the Mexican’s leg in his teeth,
tore him from his horse. Then, as the out
law’s body struck the ground, the infu
riated animal sprang upon him again
and again with his powerful forefeet be
fore I could urge him to leave the spot
and join the rest of our party. From this
on the odds were wholly in our favor
and one by one the surviving bandits gave
up the contest and appealed for quarter.
At length, with the exception of a few
who had escaped under cover of the dark
ness Into the mountains, the entire band
were either prisoners or numbered among
the slain. Retracing ■ our steps to the
scene of the fiercest stage of the fight, we
dismounted for the purpose of examining
the bodies of the fallen bandits. Observ
ing one that lay face downward in the
sand, I bent over him to find that the en
tire back of his head had been crushed
in. From this I knew at once it was the
outlaw who had fallen a victim to Mes
cal’s vengeance. Taking hold of his arm
I turned the body over. As I did so I
started back in amazement, for the pale
moonlight shining full upon his upturned
face revealed to me the unmistakable
features of the palmist of the Cahuenga
highway.
And Mescal? The stiletto had inflicted
a deep slash directly across his right
eye, which rendered him partially blind.
He was thus permanently ruined as a
saddle horse, and to insure him against
the possible fate of a draught animal I
took him back to Los Angeles^ where I
had a leathern collar made for him. at
taching thereto the silver plate taken
form the headstall and another on which
I engraved the single word “Exempt.”
Then I set him free among the green
pasture lands of the San Fernando ranch,
where he will continue to roam, pension
ed for the remainder of his days.
JOSE DE OLIVARES.
(Copyright, I9M. by Jose de Olivares.)
At the Rainbow’s End
By JACK LONDON, the well known author
T was for two reasons that
Montana Kid discarded
his “chaps” and Mexi
can spurs, and shook
the dust of the Idaho
ranges from his feet. In
the first place, the en
croachments of a
steady, sober and stern
ly moral civilization had
destroyed the primeval
status of the western
cattle ranges, and refin
ed society turned the
cold eye of disfavor up
on him and his ilk. In
the second place, in one
of Its cyclopedian mo
ments the race had arisenmnd shoved
back its frontier several thousand miles.
Thus with unconscious foresight, did ma
ture society make room for its adolescent
members. True, the new territory was
mostly barren; but its several hur.^red
thousand square miles of frigidity at least
gave breathing space to those who also
would have suffocated at honjBp*/
Montana Kid was such a on«y Heading
for the sea coast, with a Waste several
sheriffs’ posses might possibly have ex
plained, and with more nerve than coin
of the realm, he succeeded In shipping
from the Puget sound port, and managed
to survive the contingent miseries of
steerage seasickness and steerage grub.
He was rather sallow and drawn, hut still
his own indomitable seif, when he landed
on the Dyea beach one day in the spring
of the year. Between the cost of dogs,
grub and outfits, and the customs exac
tions of the two clashing governments, It
speedily penetrated to his understanding
that the northland was anything save a
poor man’s mecca, So he cast about him
in search of quick harvests. Between the
beach and the passes were scattered many
thousands of passionate pilgrims. These
pilgrims Montana Kid proceeded to farm.
At first he dealt faro In a pine board gam
bling shack; but disagreeable necessity
forced him to drop a sudden period into
a man’s life, and to move on up trail.
Then he effected a corner in horseshoe
nails, and they circulated at par with
legal tender, four to the dollar, till an
unexpected consignment of a hundred
barrels or so broke the market and forced
him to disgorge his stock at a loss. After
that he located at Sheep Camp, organized
the professional packers and Jumped the
freight 10 cents a pound in a single day.
In- token of their gratitude, the packers
patronized his faro and roulette layouts
and were mulcted cheerfully of their earn
ings. But his commercialism was of too
lusty a growth to be long endured; so
they rushed him one night, burned his
shanty, divided the bank and headed him
up the trail with empty pockets.
. Iil-Iuck was his running mate. He en
gaged with responsible parties to run
whisky across the line by way of pre
carious and unknown trails, lost his In
dian guides and had the very first outfit
confiscated by the mounted police. Nu
merous other misfortunes tended to make
him bitter of heart and wanton of ac
tion, and he celebrated his arrival at
Lake Bennett by terrorizing the camp for
twenty straight hours. Then a miners’
meeting took him in hand, and command
ed him to make himself scarce. He had
a wholesome respect for such assemblages
and he obeyed in such haste that he in
advertently removed himself at the tail-
end of another man’s dog team. This
was equivalent to horse stealing in a more
mellow clime, so he hit only the high
places across Bennett and down Tagish,
and made his first camp a full hundred
miles to the north.
Now it happened that the break of
spring was at hand, and many of the
principal citizens of Dawson were trav
eling south on the last ice. These he
met and talked with, noted their names
and possessions and passed on. He had
a good memory, also a fair Imagination;
nor was veracity one of his virtues.
*
TWO
Dawson, always eager for news, beheld
Montana Kid’s sled heading down the
Yukon, and went out on the ice to meet
h*m. No, he hadn’t any newspapers;
didn’t know whether Durrant was hanged
yet, nor who had won the Thanksgiving
game; hadn’t heard whether the United
States and Spain had gone to fighting;
didn’t know who Dreyfus was; but
O’Brien? Hadn’t they heard? O'Brien,
why he was drowned in the White
Horse; Sitka Charley the only one of the
party who escaped. Joe Ladue? Both
legs frozen and amputated at the Five
Fingers. And ,Iack Dalton? Blown up
on the Sea Lion with all hands. And
Betties? Wrecked^ on the Carthagina In
Seymour Narrows—twenty survivors out
of 300. And Swiftwater Bill? Gone
through the rotten ice of lake LeBarge
with six female members of the opera
troupe he was convoying. Governor
Walsh? Lost' with all hands and eight
sleds on the Thirty Mile.Devereaux? Who
was Devereaux? O, the courier! Shot
by Indians on lake Marsh.
So it wend The word was passed
along. Men shouldered it to ask after
friends and partners, and in turn were
shouldered out too stunned for blas
phemy. By the time Montana Kid gained
the bank he was surrounded by several
hundred fur-clad miners. When he pass
ed the barracks he was the center of a
procession. At the Opera House he was
the nucleus of an excited mob, each
member struggling for a chance to ask
after some absent comrade. On every
side he was being invited to drink. Nev
er before had the Klondike thus opened
its arms to a che-cha-qua. All Dawson
was humming. Such a series of catas
trophes had never occurred in its his
tory. Every man of note who had gone
south in the spring had been wiped out.
The cabins vomited forth their occu
pants. Wildeyed men hurried down from
the creeks and gulches to seek out this
man who had told a tale of such disaster.
The .Russian half-breed wife of Betties
sought the fireplace, inconsolable, and
rocked back and forth, and ever and
anon flung white wood ashes upon her
raven hair. The flag at the Barracks
flopped dismally at halfmast. Dawson
mourned Its dead.
Why Montana Kid did this thing no
man may know. Nor beyond the fact
that the truth was not in him, can ex
planation be hazarded. But for five
whole days he plunged the land in wail
ing and sorrow, and for five whole days
he was the only man in the Klondike.
The country gave him Its best of bed and
board. The saloons granted him the free
dom of their bars. Men sought him con
tinuously. The high officials bowed down
to him for further Information, and he
was feasted at the barracks by Con
stantine and his brother officers. And
then one day, Devereaux, the government
courier, halted his tired dogs before the
gold commissioner’s offleq. Dead? Who
said so? Give him moose steak and he’d
show them how dead he was. Why,
Governor Walsh was in camp on the Lit
tle Salmon, and O’Brien coming in on the
first water. Dead? Give him a moose
steak and he’d show them.
And forthwith Dawson hummed. The
barracks’ flag rose to the masthead, and
Betties’ wife washed herself and put on
clean raiment. The community subtly
signified its desire that Montana Kid ob
literate himself from the landscape. And
Montana Kid obliterated—as usual, at the
tail-end of some one else’s dog - team.
Dawson rejoiced when he headed down
the Yukon, and wished him godspeed to
the ultimate destination of the case-
hardened sinner. After that the owner
of the dogs bestirred himself, made
complaint to Constantine, and from him
.received the loan of a policeman.
*
THREE
With Circle City in prospect and the
last ice crumbling under his runners,
Montana Kid took advantage of the
lengthening days and traveled his dogs
late and early. Further, he had hut little
doubt that the owner of the dogs in ques
tion had taken his trail, and he wished to
make American territory before the river
broke. But by the afternoon of the
third day it became evident that he had
lost in his race with spring. The Yukon
was growling and straining at its fetters.
Long detours became necessary, for the
trail had begun to fail through into the
swift current beneath, while the ice, in
constant unrest, was thundering apart
in great gaping fissures. Through these
and through countless airholes, the wa
ter began to sweep across the surface
of the ice. and by the time he pulled
into p. wood chopper’s cabin on the point
of an island the dogs were being rushed
oft their feet and were swimming more
often than not. He was greeted sourly
by the two residents, hut he unharnessed
and proceeded to cook up.
Donald and Dawy were fair specimens
of frontier ineffleients. Canadian-born,
city-bred Scots, in a foolish moment they
had resigned their counting house desks,
drawn upon their savings and gone Klon-
dlklng. And now they were feeling the
rough edge of the country. Them, grub
less. spiritless, and with a lust for home
in tlielr hearts, the P. C, company had
staked to cut wood for Its steamers, with
the promise at the end of a passage home.
Disregarding the possibilities of the ice
run, they had fittingly demonstrated
their inefficiency by their choice of the
island on which they located. Montana
Kid, though possessing little knowledge
of the break up of a great river, looked
about him dubiously, and cast yearning
glances at the distant bank where the
towering bluffs promised Immunity from
all the ice of the Northland.
After feeding himself and dogs, he
lighted his pipe and strolled out to get
a better idea of the situation. The island,
like all its river brethren, stood higher
at the upper end, and it was here that
Donald and Davy had built their cabin
and piled many cords of wood. The far
shore was a full mile away, while be
tween the island and the. near shore lay
a back channel perhaps a hundred yards
across. At first sight of this Montana
Kid was tempted to take his dogs and
escape to the mainland, but on closer in
spection he discovered a rapid current
flooding on top. Below, the river twist
ed sharply to the west, and in this turn
Its breast was studded by a maze of tiny
islands.
“That’s where she’ll Jam,” he remarked
to himself.
Half a dozen sleds, evidently bound
up stream ,to Dawson, were splashing
through the chill water to the tall of the
Island. Travel on the river was passing
from the precarious to the Impossible,
and it was nip and tuck with them till
they gained the island, and came up the
path of the wood choppers towards the
cabin. One of them, snow blind, towed
helplessly at the rear of a sled. Husky
young fellows they were, rough-garment
ed and trail-worn, yet Montana Kid had
met the breed before and knew at once
that It was not his kind.
“Hello! How’s things up Dawsonway?”
queried the foremost, passing his eye
over Donald and Davy and settling it
upon the Kid.
A first meeting in the wilderness is not
Characterized by formality. The talk
quickly became general, and the news of
the Upper and Lower Countries was
swapped equitably back and forth. But
the little the newcomers had was soon
over with, for they had wintered at Mf-
nook. a thousand miles below, where
nothing was doing. Montana Kid, how
ever, was fresh from Salt Water, and
they annexed him while they pitched
canrp, swamping him with questions con
cerning the outside, from which they had
been cut off for a twelvemonth.
A shrieking split, suddenly lifting itself
above the general uproar on the river,
drew everybody to the bank. The surface
water had Increased in depth, and the Ice,
assailed from above and below, was
struggling to tear itself from the grip of
the shores. Fissures reverberated into
life before their eyes, and the air was
filled with multitudinous crackling, crisp
and sharp, like the sound that goes upon
a clear day from the firing line.
From up the river two men were racing
a dog team toward them on an uncovered
stretch of Ice. But even as they looked,
the pair struck the water and began to
flounder through. Behind, where their
feet had sped the moment before, the ice
broke up and turned turtle. Through this
opening the river rushed out upon them
to their waists, burying the sled and
swinging the dogs off at right angles in a
drowning tangle. But the men stopped
their flight to give the animals a fighting
chance, and they groped hurriedly in the
cold confusion, slashing at the detaining
traces with their sheathknives. Then
they fought their way to the banks
through swirling water and grinding ice,
where, foremost in leaping to the rescue
among the jarring fragments, was the
Kid.
“Why. blame me, if it ain’t Montana
Kid!" exclaimed one of the men whom
the Kid was just placing upon his feet
at the top of the bank. He wore the scar
let tunic of the Mounted Police and Jocu
larly raised his right hand in salute.
“Got a warrant for you, Kid,” he con
tinued, drawing a bedraggled paper from
his breast pocket. “An* I ’ope as you’ll
come along peaceable.”
Montana Kid looked at the chaotlo
river and shrugged his shoulders, and
the policeman, following his glance,
smiled.
“Where are the dogs?” his cofn*anion
asked.
“Gentlemen," Interrupted the police
man, "this ’ere mate o’ mine Is Jack
Sutherland, owner of Twenty-Two Eldo
rado—
“Not Sutherland of ’92?” broke In the
snow-bound Minook man, groping
feebly toward him.
“The same.” Sutherland gripped his
hand. "An<~ you?”’
“O, I’m after your time, but I remem
ber vou In my freshman year—you were
doing P. G. work then. Boys,” he called
turning half about, “this Is Sutherland,
Jack Sutherland, ’erstwhile fullback on
the ’Varsity. Come up, you gold-chas
ers, and fall upon him! Sutherland, this
Is Greenwich—played quarter two sea
sons back."
“Yes, I read of the game,” Sutherland
said, shaking hands. "And I remember
that big run of yours for the first touch
down.”
Greenwich flushed darkly under his
tanned skin and awkwardly made room
for another.
“And here’s Matthews—Berkeley man,
And we’ve got some eastern cracks
knocking about, too. Come up you
Princeton menl Come up! This la Suth
erland, Jack Sutherland!”
Then they fell upon him heavily, car
ried him into camp and supplied him
with dry clothes and numerous mugs of
black tea.
Donald and Davy, overlooked, had re
tired to their nightly game of crib,
Montana Kid followed them with the
policeman.
“Here, get into some dry togs,’” ha
said, pulling them from out his scanty
kit. “Guess you’ll have to bunk with
me, too.”
"Well, I say you’re a good *un," the
policeman remarked as he pulled on the
other man’s socks. ‘Sorry I’ve got to
take you back to Dawson, but I only
’ope they won’t be ’ard on you.”
“Not so fast.” The Kid smiled curi
ously. “We ain’t under way yet. When
I go I’m going down river, and I guess
the chances are you’ll go along.”
"Not if I know myself—”
"Come on outside and I’ll show you,
then. These dam fools,” thrusting a
thumb over his shoulder at the two
Scots, "played smash when they located
here. Fill your pipe, first—this Is pretty
good plug—and enjoy yourself while you
can. You haven’t many smokes before
you ”
The policeman went with him wonder-
ingly, while Donald and Davy, having
overheard, dropped their cards and fol
lowed. The Minook men noticed Mon
tana Kid pointing, now up the river, now -
down, and came over.
"What’s up?” Sutherland demanded.
"Nothing much.” No ch&lanoe sat well
upon the Kid. “Just a case of raising
hell and putting a chunk under. See
that Uend down there? That's where
she’ll jam millions of tons of Ice. Then
she’ll jam in the bends up above mil
lions of tons. Upper jam breaks first,
lower Jam holds, pouf!” He dramatically
swept the island with Ills hand. “Mil
lions of tons.” he added reflectively.
"And what of the woodpiles?” Davy
questioned.
The Kid repeated his sweeping gesture,
and Davy walled. "The labor of months!
It eanna be! Na, na, lad. it canna be. I
doot not It’s a Jowk. Ay. say that It Is.”
he appealed.
But when the Kid laughed harshly and
turned on his heel, Davy flung himself
upon the plies and began frantically to
toss the cordwood back flrom the bank.
“Lend a hand, Donald!” he cried. "Can
ye no lend a- hand? ’Us the labor of
months and the passage home!**
Donald caught him by the arm and
shook him. but he tore free. "Did ye no
hear, man? Millions of tons and the
Island shall be sweeplt clean.”
“Straighten yersel’ up, man." said Don
ald. "It’s a bit fashed ye are.”
But Davy fell upon the cordwood. Don
ald stalked back to the cabin, buckled on
his money belt and Davy's and went out
to the point of the Island where the
ground was highest and where a huge
pine towered above its fellows.
Donald, from the top of the pine, saw
the devastating berg sweep away the
cordwood and disappear down stream. As
though satisfied with this damage, the
Ice-flood quickly dropped to Its old level
and began to slacken its pace. The noise
likewise eased down, and the others could
hear Donald shouting from his eyrie to
look down stream. As forecast, the Jam
had come among the Islands in the bend,
and tihe ice was piling up in a great bar
rier which stretched from shore to shore.
The river came to a standstill, and the
water, finding no outlet, began ito rise. It
rushed up till the Island was awash, the
men splashing around up to their knees,
and the dogs swimming to the ruins of
the cabin. At this stage It abruptly be
came stationary, with no perceptible rise
or fall.
Montana Kid shooks his head. "It’s
Jammed above, and no more’s coming
down.” , ,
"And the gamble is, which Jam will
break first,” Sutherland added.
"Exactly.” the Kid affirmed. "If the
upper Jam breaks first, we havent a
ehance. Nothing will stand before it.”
The Minook men turned away in si
lence, but soon “Rumsky Ho” floated
upon the quiet air. to be followed by “The
Orange and the Black.” Room was made
in the circle for Montana Kid and the
policeman, and they quickly caught the
ringing rhythm of the choruses as they
drifted on from song to song.
"God Almichty, here she comes!”
Standing knee deep in the icy water,
the Minook men, with Montana Kid and
the policemen, gripped hands and raised
their voices in the terrible "Battle Hymn
of the Republic.” But the words were
drowned in the advancing roar.
And to Donald was vouchsafed a sight
such as no man may see and live. A
great wall of white flung itself upon the
island. Trees, dogs, men, were blotted
out as though the hand of God had wiped
the face of nature clean. This much he
saw, then swayed an instant longer in
his lofty perch and hurtled far out Into
the frozen hell.