13 An Unexpected Visit

Halftrigger and Spanish Pete drew aside the next morning and began an earnest discussion. I guessed it was about the mine and what they thought the best way to find it. But while they were talking the man Masters, who had gone some distance down the river, returned on a run to the grove.

“Cappen! Cappen!” he called out. “There’s somebody comin’.”

Halftrigger was considerably startled, as in fact the rest of us were also.

“Somebody comin’,” he exclaimed. “What d’ye mean, Masters?”

“It’s just as I say, Cappen,” he replied. “There’s a man comin’ up the stream and he’s headed straight for us.”

He pointed in the direction he had mentioned, and about a quarter of a mile away we saw the figure of a man approaching us carrying a gun over his shoulder. “A hunter, I guess,” said Halftrigger. The man came on, rapidly walking with a steady swinging step. He never veered at all from his course, but came straight for the grove. As he came nearer I recognized him, to my great amazement. It was Mr. Sheldon, the genial hermit.

I would have shouted a warning to him, but it was too late. He was under the guns of the Halftrigger party now and would have to rely upon his own strength or diplomacy. He was near enough to see the men. Halftrigger’s gigantic form was outlined clearly among the trees, and the hermit could scarcely avoid noticing him and knowing him, for he had had abundant opportunity to examine every feature of the man the night we lay in the bush. But he came on steadily, and as he entered the grove Halftrigger, after making a sign to his men to keep silent, stepped forward.

“Ship ahoy!” he called out, assuming an air of joviality. “Luck to you, stranger. We don’t see many o’ your like in this part o’ the world.”

“Good morning to you,” said Mr. Sheldon, in his gay, off-hand manner. “I saw the smoke from your fire some distance away, and as it was the first evidence I’ve had in a month that I was not alone in these wilds I thought I’d pay you a visit.”

“Glad to see you, stranger,” said Halftrigger. “Come in an’ take pot luck with us. Might I ask you what your name may be?”

“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Sheldon, “my name is Henry Barnes, and I’ve been down here all spring and summer on a hunting expedition. I’ve liked the country so well and I’ve had such good sport that I’ve dawdled away months here.”

“That’s frank and hearty,” said Halftrigger, telling the thing that was not with as much ease and grace, as Mr. Sheldon did. “My name’s Todd; Bill Todd of San Francisco, and me an’ these lads here o’ mine are out lookin’ for gold. We’ve got no perticklar idea whar it’s to be found, but we thought ef we loafed around long enough we might find it.”

“Not a bad idea,” said Mr. Sheldon, leaning on his rifle and sweeping the camp with a keen glance. His eyes rested on my face for a moment, and then passed on as if he had never seen me before and had not the faintest idea who I was. But his eyes roved around the camp a second time, and alighted on me again. I noticed a faint movement of the eyelids, and then his glance passed on, the warning unnoticed by all save myself. But I had guessed already that Mr. Sheldon had come into the camp as a spy, and I needed not the caution. I gave no sign of recognition. But I waited with a great anxiety to see what course Halftrigger would adopt. Knowing the desperate character of the sailor and his men, I feared danger to Mr. Sheldon, though I could not see that they had anything to gain by molesting him. Never having seen him before, they could not guess his designs in coming among them.

“Been long in this valley, mate?” asked Halftrigger, maintaining his friendly and familiar air.

“A few days only,” replied Mr. Sheldon, “but I’ve knocked around in pretty lively fashion in that time.”

“Is that so?” said Halftrigger, his eyes lighting up. “Then maybe you kin help me an’ this gang o’ mine out o’ our scrape. We don’t know much about travelin’ aroun’ in this kind o’ country. Leastways I don’t, fur I’ve been follerin’ the sea most o’ my life. So we’ve got kinder mixed up an’ don’t know just whar we are.”

“Any information that I may have is at your disposal,” said Mr. Sheldon, politely.

“Whar does this river go to?” asked Halftrigger. “I kinder had an idea that it run into another river somewhars hereabouts.”

“I am very sorry that I cannot give you any information on that point,” said Mr. Sheldon, “but I have not followed its course far enough to see.”

“Oh, well, it don’t matter,” said Halftrigger, though his face showed disappointment. “It wuz jest a guess o’ mine an’ I wuz wantin’ to see whether I wuz right.”

Of course, it was easy enough for me to divine what Halftrigger was endeavoring to do. He thought he could gain from an unsuspecting hunter sufficient knowledge to guide him in the search for the hidden mine.

“Fine stream,” said Halftrigger. “Come across many rivers in these parts?”

“I’ve seen several,” replied Mr. Sheldon.

“Some o’ ’em run dry,” said Halftrigger. “I’ve come across two or three river beds ez dry ez powder. ’Spect you’ve seen some o’ the same kind round here, hevn’t you?”

Mr. Sheldon also must have understood the meaning of Halftrigger’s questions, but he answered lightly in the negative.

During this dialogue I stood near the river’s bank. After eating my meagre breakfast I had not been rebound, and there was nothing in my appearance that would cause a stranger to ask questions about me. Nevertheless, Mr. Sheldon turned his eyes upon me, and said to Halftrigger:

“I notice that one of your party is very young. Your son, perhaps, though he does not look like you.”

“Yes,” said Halftrigger, with a grin that he could not hide, “that’s my only son, Frank. His mother died when he wuzn’t but two years old. I guess I’ve led him a purty hard life, bein’ ez I’m a rovin’ chap an’ sailor man. But now that he’s getting on to be a man hisself he kin hustle, and besides he’ll git whatever I hev after a while. You ain’t got anything pertickler against your old dad, hev you, Frank?”

I forced myself to answer that he had invariably treated me well. I admired the grim humor and cool assurance of the villain.

“Those sentiments do credit to you both,” said Mr. Sheldon. “Parents and children should be true to each other, and so should friends. Now, you may think I am talking boastfully, but I never desert a friend of mine. If he is in trouble or danger I am ready to risk all for him. I will be true to him to the last.”

He let his glance rest lightly upon me again, and I understood.

“You talk mighty big about yourself, stranger,” said one of the men, a sulky brute named Fisher.

Mr. Sheldon put his thumb and forefinger around his right eye, forming a circle through which he looked at Fisher.

“My friend,” he said, “you have rather a heavy face, and I have no doubt your education is deficient. Nevertheless I am compelled to inform you that you are ill-mannered.”

“Wa’al, it don’t make no difference,” growled the man. “I don’t see no use o’ jawin with you. You kaint do us no good.”

“Perhaps not, nor am I aware that you can do me any good,” returned Mr. Sheldon, with perfect coolness.

“Don’t min’ him, Mr. Barnes,” said Halftrigger, who evidently had no desire to seek a quarrel. “Tom got out o’ bed back’ards this mornin’ an’ he ain’t feelin’ in good humor.”

Most of the men laughed, but Fisher was determined not to be appeased. He had been the leader among the malcontents, and he seemed to have his mind set upon picking a quarrel.

“We don’t know who this man is,” he said, “an’ we don’t know what he is up to.”

“Nor do I know who you are, nor do I care,” said Mr. Sheldon. “I would infer from your appearance and manner, however, that your proper place is behind the walls of a penitentiary. I dare say that with strict discipline you might be made of some use there.”

“Be keerful how you call me hard names,” said the man, savagely. “I ain’t used to standin’ ’em from nobody.”

Halftrigger advanced once more in the role of peacemaker, but Mr. Sheldon waved him back.

“I thank you for interfering in my behalf,” he said, “but I am fully able to protect myself from this sulky fellow.”

Fisher had been sidling up towards Mr. Sheldon and suddenly drew a knife and lunged at him. There was an involuntary cry, for the act startled the men, hardened villains though they were. But Mr. Sheldon sprang to one side as quick as a flash, and the knife-blade merely cut the empty air.

The man had put so much impetus into the blow that he lurched forward when his knife met no resistance. Mr. Sheldon thrust out his foot. Fisher tripped on it and over he went, falling as clumsily as a calf. The knife flew out of his hand and stuck in the ground ten feet away.

Mr. Sheldon took his gun from his shoulder, cocked it and put the muzzle against the head of the cowering villain.

“I would blow your brains out,” he said, “but the result would defile this beautiful landscape. Get up, and restrain your murderous propensities in the future.”

He let down the hammer of his gun and put the weapon back on his shoulder.

As the lumbering fellow struggled to his feet Mr. Sheldon’s right foot suddenly shot out and landed with a terrific impact on the broadest part of Fisher’s anatomy. The blow seemed almost to lift the man into the air, and he uttered a cry of pain and wrath.

“Don’t try it, my friend,” said Mr. Sheldon, as Fisher put his hand down in his belt for a weapon; “I would send a bullet through you before you could draw it.”

All the bandits, including Halftrigger himself, were dumbfounded by Mr. Sheldon’s coolness and boldness, and not a hand was lifted against him.

“I must say, stranger,” said Halftrigger, “that you take your nerve with you.”

“Your fellow there,” said Mr. Sheldon, “attempted my life, and when he failed his was forfeit to me. I have given it back to him. He has no right to complain.”

Fisher sat down on a fallen log and glowered at Mr. Sheldon, but he was afraid to make a hostile movement, for Mr. Sheldon kept an eye on him, while he held his rifle in such a position that he could cover Fisher in the twinkling of an eye.

“Now, gentlemen,” said Mr. Sheldon, “I see that I can be of no service to you, and I do not want to bring discord into your camp. So I will bid you good day.”

He turned and walked away, whistling a lilting air.

When he was about forty yards away Fisher began to draw a pistol from his belt.

“Drop that!” said Halftrigger, savagely. “Fisher, you show sech poor jedgment that I don’t know whether you are fit to belong to my crew. I don’t scruple at a little bloodlettin’ any more’n you do. You ought to know that, but sech things should be done with jedgment. It’s mighty hard to wipe out bloodstains, an’ ’taint wuth while to make ’em, ’less you’ve got suthin’ to gain by it. ’Taint wuth the risk. Now, we never saw that feller afore, an’ ’taint likely we’ll ever see him ag’in. What’s the use o’ was’tin’ powder an’ ball or dullin’ your steel on him? You’ve got to be a philosopher in these things, Fisher, or you’ll never git along.”

After this somewhat lengthy speech, Halftrigger turned away as if the last word had been said and the argument was closed. All the men except Fisher seemed impressed by the soundness of his views on the subject of “bloodlettin’.” But Fisher still sulked, though he did not draw his pistol.

Mr. Sheldon never looked back, but walked steadily on until he disappeared over a swell of the earth. Like the desperadoes, I was deeply impressed by his coolness and courage, and I also felt sure that he was the fifth stick in the bundle that had come floating down the river the night before.

“It’s time to be movin’,” said Halftrigger, briskly. “Buckle yourselves together, fellers, an’ come along.”

All the men rose and stood waiting for Halftrigger to lead on, except Fisher.

“Come on, Fisher,” said Halftrigger, “or you’ll git left.”

“That’s all right,” said Fisher. “That’s what I want. I’m tired of this crowd, anyway.”

“See here, Fisher,” said Halftrigger, who had a dangerous glint in his eye. “I’ve had enough o’ this foolin’. Speak out plain. What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m jest as tired of the foolin’ as you are,” said Fisher, bluntly, “an’ I kin speak out plain, too. I say you’re no cappen. You’ve got us down here in the wilderness an’ you don’t know where we are, an’ you don’t know how to git us to that mine. You let that feller who hez jest gone run over me, an’ a cappen ought to stan’ by his men. I’ve hed my say, an’ more’n one o’ the boys agrees with me.”

Halftrigger looked around at the silent group. I knew he would assert his authority, for he was the superior villain, but I wondered in what manner that assertion would find expression.

“So you’re tired o’ our comp’ny, are you, Fisher,” he said, in a soft and wheedling voice, “an’ you’re stirrin’ up a mutiny in the crowd, eh?”

“I don’t say that,” replied Fisher.

“Oh, no,” replied Halftrigger, “but you left it to be guessed, an’ don’t you know that to stir up a mutiny in a crew is a mighty dangerous thing?”

“We ain’t at sea,” said the man.

“No,” said Halftrigger, “but we’re in the wilderness, whar we’ve got to stick together an’ obey the capt’in. An’ I’m the capt’in, Fisher.”

Fisher began to get alarmed at Halftrigger’s tones, which now sounded like the purring of a big cat.

“See here, Halftrigger,” he said. “You kain’t frighten me.”

As he spoke, he dropped his hand upon the butt of the pistol that swung in his belt. Halftrigger sprang forward, whipped out his own pistol and sent a bullet crashing through the man’s skull.

Fisher staggered to his feet and faced Halftrigger for a moment, the black blood trickling down his face from a hole in his forehead. He tried to speak, but only gibbered. Then he toppled over, and when the men reached him he was dead.

“Ef thar are any more rebels here,” said Halftrigger, holding his smoking pistol in his hand, and looking around with flashing eyes, “jest let ’em say so.”

No voice was raised. The men were thoroughly cowed by his ferocious energy. Halftrigger replaced his pistol in his belt and added:

“Now, don’t any o’ you furgit who’s capt’in here. Don’t furgit it, I say. You don’t want to be reminded of it the way Fisher wuz. Now, are you ready to go with me an’ stan’ with me through thick an’ through thin? Speak up!”

“Yes!” said all the men, and I doubted not that they meant it. Halftrigger had shown that he was a master villain, and there was no one now bold enough to dispute his sway.

“He kin rot here,” said Halftrigger, contemptuously kicking the corpse of Fisher. “Ez I told him, he had no jedgment, an’ he’s paid the price.”

He gave the word, and we started once more down the river. I was the only one who turned to look back at the dead body in the grass.

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