The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 13, 1903, Page 8

THE SUNDAY CALL. INT had suffered from all the days of his life. had been a weaver of cloth the cradie until the fever ke had entered his blood and from his loom. His abin stood midway between Sixty- e F and the Stuart River, and whe it a custom to travel yawson likened him to a perched in his fortress toll from the ACOB X He fron away ma caravans 1 he sat by his like a predatory the heat of th and keeping an eye on prospective flies. The his feet, a sea of ice, d two great bends south and stretching from bank to ing at an honest two miles bank. Jacob Kent was feeling particularly good that afternoon. The record had been broken the previous night, and he had sold his hospitality to no less True, it than twe! y-eight visitors. bad been guite uncor rtable, and four had snored beneath his bunk all night; added appreciable k in which he kept That sack, with its glit- delight and the chief bane of his Heaven and hell lay within h In the nature to his existence ot its slender moutt there being no privacy he was tortured It would t fear of theft. for these bear rs to make ange ed that such was the the grip of night- ber of these rob- his dreams, them quite well, leader with the heek. This fellow ent of the lot, and, he had, in his waking ted several score of A about the cabin. he would breathe for several the Man with the very act of unearthing the n awakening In the midst e he would at once e bag to a new ypt. So he con- unfortunates who and at the same trouble with every the sack. self a thought hat breught him The he ps pleasures continual his dust; thrown upon m, which he had to brush aside. His gold in fact, thelr d and a half— hoard e three He had never been able t it all at one opera- It was the solution of this prob- g across his mind that had his and a thir ught to his feet. He searched the carefully in either direction. There was nothing in sight, s0 he went ir . In & ds he had the table cleared away and the scales set up. On one side he placed the stamped disks t the equivalent of fifteen ounces, and balanced it with dust on the other. Replacing the weights with dust, he then had thirty ounces pre- cisely balanced. These, in turn, he placed together on one side and again balanced with more dust. By this time the gold was exhausted, and he was sweating liberally. He trembled with ecstasy, ravished beyond measure. Nevertheless, he dusted the sack thor- oughly, to the last least grain, till the balace was overcome and one side of the scales sank to the table. Equilib- rium, however, was restored by the ad- dition of a pennyweight and five grains to the opposite side. He stood, head thrown back, transfixed. The sack was empty, but the poten- th y of the sgcales had become im- megsurable. Upon them he could weigh eny amount, from the tiniest grain to pounds upon pound: Mammon laid hot fingers on his heart. The sun swung on its westering way till it flashed through the open doorway, full upon the yellow-burdened scales. “Gawd me me! but you ‘ave the makin' of several guid there, ‘aven't you?" Jacob Kent wheeled about, at the same time reaching for his double- B 1 shotgun, which stood handy. his eyes lit on the intruder's ack dizzily. It was with the Gash! ked at him curiously. deprecatingly. “You e I'll "arm you or your e a rum You dded ‘un, you he as watched the sweat pouring from off Kent's face and the quavering of his knees W'y don't you pipe up an’ gay some he went on, 2s the othei ggled for breath. “Wot's gone v ng 0 Yyour gaff? Anythink the matter “W-w-where'd you get it?” Kent at d to articulate, raising a E finger to the ghastly scar h seamed the other’s cheek. e stove me down with a e from the main royal. An’ now vou "ave your figger'ead in trim, wot T want to know is, wot’s it to you? That's wot I want to know—wot's it to you? Gawd blime me! do it 'urt Ain't it smug enough for 'the That's wot I want to you? know!" “No, no,” Kent answered, sinking upon a stool with a sickly grin.’ “I was just wondering.” “Did you ever see the like?” the other went on truculently. “No.” “Ain’t it a beute?” “Yes.” Kent nodded his head ap- provingly, intent on humoring this strange visitor, but wholly unprepared for the outburst which was to follow his effort to be agreeable. “You blasted, bloomin’, burgoo-eatin’ 1-0f-a-sea-swab! Wot do you mean, the mast onsightly thing Gawd y ever put on the face o' man is a beute? Wot do you mean, you—" And thereat this flery son of the sea broke off into a string of Oriental pro- fanity, mingling gods and devils, line- ages and men, metaphors and mon- sters, h =0 savage a virility that Jacob Kent was paralyzed. He shrank back, his arms lifted as though to ward off physical violence. % “The sun's knocked the bottom out o’ the trail,” said the Man with the Gash. “An’ 1 only 'ope you'll appreciate the hoppertunity of consortin’ with a man o' my mug. Get steam up in that fire- box o' yourn. I'm goin" to unrig the dogs an’ grub 'em. An’ don’t be shy o' the wood, my lad; there’s plenty more where that come from, and it's you've got the time to sling an ax. An’ tote up a bucket o' water while you're about it. Lively! or I'll run you down, 50 'elp me!” Such a thing was unheard of. Jacob Kent was making the fire, chopping wood, packing water—doing menial tasks for a guest! “Strike me blind, but you're a 'ust- ler,” the Man with the Gash said ad- miringly, his head cocked to one side, as his host bustled about. “You never ‘ort to 'ave gone Klondiking. It's the keeper of a pub' you was laid out for. An’ it's ‘often as I 'ave 'eard the lads up an’ down the river speak o' you, but I ’'adn’t no idea you was so jolly nice.” “Do it 'urt you?” Jim Cardegee thun- dered suddenly, looking up from the spreading of his blankets and encoun- tering the rapt gaze of the other fixed upon that gash. *It strikes me as 'ow it 'ud be the proper thing for you to draw your jib, douse the glim, an’ turn in, seein’ as 'ow it worrits you. Jes’ lay to that, you swab, or so 'elp me I'll take a pull on your peak-pur- chase Kent was so nervous that it took three puffs to blow out the slush-lamp, and he crawled into his blankets with- the shotgun without spilling a particle, rammed it down with double wads and then put everything away and got back into bed. Just as daylight lald its steel-gray fingers on the parchment window Jacob Kent awoke. Turning on his elbow, he raised the 1id and peered into the ammunition box. Whatever he saw, or whatever he did not see, exercised a very peculiar effect upon him, con- sidering his neurotic temperament. He glanced at the sleeping man on the floor, let the 1id down gently and rolled over on his back. It was an unwonted calm that rested on his face. Not a muscle quivered. There weas not the least sign of excitement or perturba- ““Wot?” Cardegee asked, as foon as he had caught his breath. “The gold dust. “Wot gold dust' demanded. “¥You know well enough—mine.” “Ain’t seen nothink of it. Wot do ye take me for? A safe deposit? Wot ‘ave I got to do with it, any’ow?” “Mebbe you know, and mebbe you don’t know, but anyway I'm going to stop your breath till you do know. And if you lift a hand, I'll blow your head off!” the perplexed sallor ast heavin'!” Cardegee roared, as the rope tightened. Kent eased away a moment, and the saflor, wriggling his neck as though The pleasures of life had culminated in the continual weighing and reweighing of his gold dust. out even removing his moccasins. The sailor was soon snoring lustily from his hard bed on the floor, but.Kent lay staring up into the blackness, one hand on the shotgun, resolved not to close his eyes the whole night. He had not had an opportunity to secrete his five pounds of gold, and it lay in the am- munition box at the head of his bunk. But, try as he would, he at last dozed off with the weight of his dust heavy on his soul. Had he not inadvertently fallen asleep with his mind in such con- dition, the somnambulic demon would not have been invoked, nor would Jim Cardegee have gone mining next day with a dishpan. . The sallor lay like a log, while hie host tossed restlessly about, the wviciim of strange fantasies. ‘As midnight drew mear he suddenly threw off the blankets and got up. It was remark- able that he could do what he then did without ever striking a light. Perhaps it was because of the darkness that he kept his eyes shut, and perhaps it was for fear he would see the terrible gash on the cheek of his visitor; but, be this as it may, it is & fact that, unsee- ing, he opened his ammunition box, put a heavy charge into the muzzle of tion. He lay there a long while think- ing and when he got up and began to move about it was in a cool, collected manner, without noise and without hurry. It happened that a heavy wooden peg had been driven into the ridge-pole just above Jim Cardegee’s head. Jacob Kent, working softly, ran a piece of half-inch manlin over it, bringing both ends to the ground. One end he tied about his waist, and in the other he rove a running noose, Then he cocked his shotgun and laid it within reach by the side of numerous moose-hide thongs.- By an effort of will he bore the sight of the scar, flipped the noose over the sleeper's head, and drew it taut by throwing back on his weight, at the same time seizing the gun and bringing it to bear. Jim Cardegee awake, choking, be- wildered, staring down the twin wells of steel. “Where is it?” Kent asked, at the same time slacking on the rope. “You blasted—ugh—"" Kent merely threw back his weight, shutting off the other’'s wind. “Bloomin'—Bur—ugh—"" “Where is it2?" Kent repeated. from the pressure, managed to loosen the noose a bit and work it up so the point of contact was just under the chin. “Well2’ Kent questioned, expecting the disclosure. But Cardegee grinned. “Go ahead with your 'angin’, you bloomin’ old pot- wolloper!" Then, as the sailor had anticipated, the tragedy became a farce. Cardegee being the heavier of the two, Kent, throwing his body backward and down, could not lft him clear of the ground. Strain and strive to the uttermost, the sailor's feet still stuck to the floor and sustained a part of his weight. The re- maining portion was supported by the point of contact just under his chin. Failing to swing him clear, Kent clung on, resolved to slowly throttle him or force him to tell what he had done with the hoard. But the Man with the Gash would not throttle. Five, ten, fif- teen minutes passed, and at the end “of that time, in despair, Kent let his prisoner down. “Wel he remarked, wiping away the sweat, “if you wan't hang you'll shoot. Some men wasn't bofn to be hanged, anywa: “An’ it's a pretty mess as you'll make ©' this ’ere cabin floor.” Cardegee was fighting for time. “Now, look ’ere, I'll tell you wot we do; we’ll lay our’ eads ’longsidé an’ reason together. You've lost some dust. You say as "ow I know, en’ I say as 'ow I don’t. Let's get a hobservation an’ shape a course—" “Vast heavin’!” Kent dashed in, ma- lclously imitating the other’s enuncia- tion. “I'm going to shape all the courses in his shebang, and you ob- serve; and if.you do anything more, I'll bore you as sure as Moses!"” “For the sake of my mother—"" “Whom God have mercy upon if she loves you. “Ah! Would you?” He frus- trated a hostile move on the part of the other by pressing the cold muzzle against his forehead. “Lay quiet, now! If you light as much as a halr, you'll get it.” . It was rather an awxkward task, with the trigger of the gun always within pulling distance of the finger; but Kent was a weaver, and in a few minutes had the sailor tied hand and foot. Then he dragged him without and laid him by the gide of the cabin, where he could overlook the river and watch the sun climb to the meridian. “Now I'll give you till then—" “Wot?" “You'll be hitting the brimstone trall. But if you speak up, I'll keep you till the next bunch of mounted police come by.” “Well, Gawd blime me, if this ain’t a go! ’Ere I be, innercent as a lamb, an’ 'ere you be, lost all o' your top 'amper an’ out o’ your reckonmin’, run me foul an’ goin’ to rake me into ’ell- fire. “ You bloomin' old pirut! You—" Jim Cardecgee loosed the strings of his profanity and fairly outdid himself. Jacob Kent brought out a stool that he might enjoy it in comfort. Having exhausted all the possible combinations of his vocabulary, the sailor gquieted down to hard thinking, his eyes gaug- ing the progress of the sun, which tore up the eastern slope of the heavens with unseemly haste. .His hands were tied behind him, and, pressing against the snow, they were wet with/the contact. This moistening of the rawhide he knew would tend to make it stretch, and, without apparent noon, and = effort, he endeavored to stretch it more and more. He watched the trail hungrily, ana when in the direction of Sixt dark speck appeared for a against the white backsgrot ice jam he cast an anxious sun. It had climbed nearly zenith. Now and again he ¢ black speck clearing the hills of sinking into the Intervening h but he dared not per than the most cursory glan of rousing his enemy’s suspicic N when Jacob Kent rose to his 1 searched the trail with care Cardegee was frightened, but the dog sled had struck a piece of trail running para with a jam, and remained out of sight till the danger was “I'll see you 'ung for this,” Cardegee threatened, attempting to draw the other’s attention. “An’ youll rot In ’ell, jes’ you see if you don’t. “I say,” he cried, after another pause; “d'ye b'lieve in ghosts?” Kent's sudden start made him sure of his ground, and he went on: “Now a ghost "as the right to 'aunt a man wot don’t do wot he says; and you can't shiffle me off till eight 'bells—wot I mean is 12 o’clock— can you? *Cos if you do, I1t'll "appen as ‘ow I'll 'aunt you. D’'ye ‘ear? A min- ute, a second too quick, an’ I'll "aunt you, so ‘elp me, I will!"” Jacob Kent looked dubious, but de- clined to talk. “'Ow's your chronometer? Wot's your longitude? ‘Ow do you know as your time’s correct?” Cardegee persist- ed, vainly hoping to beat his execu- tioner out of a few minutes. “Is it Bar- rack’s time you ave, or is it the com- pany time? ‘Cos if you do it before the stroke o' the bell, I'll not rest. I give you fair warnin’. I'll come back. An’ if you 'aven’t the time, ‘ow will you know? That's wot I want—'ow will you tell?” “I'll send you off all right,” Kent re- plied. “Got a sun-dial here.” “No good. Thirty-two degrees varia- tion o’ the needle. “Stakes are all set. 'Ow daid you set 'em? Compass?™ 0; lined them up with the North e & cot past. Star. “Sure?” “Sure.” Cardegee groaned, then stole a glance at the trail. The sled was just clearing a rise, barely a mile away, and the dogs were In full lope, running lightly. “’Ow close is the shadows to the line?” Kent walked to the primitive time- plece and studied it. “Three inches,” he announced, after a careful survey. “Say, jes’ sing out ‘eight bells’ afore you pull the gun, will you?" Kent agreed and they lapsed into silence. The throngs about Cardegee’s wrists were slowly stretching, and he had begun to work them over his hands. “Say, "ow close is the shadows?" “One inch.” The sallor wriggled slightly to assure himself that he would topple over the right moment, and slipped the first turn over his hands. “'Ow close?" “Half an inch.” Just then Kent heard the jarring churn of the runners and turned his eyes to the trall. The driver was lying flat on the sled and the dogs swinging down the straight stretch to the cabin. Kent whirled back, bringing his rifle to shoulder. “It ain’t eight bells ye! Cardegee expostulated. “I'll "aunt you, sure.” Jacob Kent faltered. He was stand- ing by the sun-dial, perhaps ten paces from his victim. The man on the sled must have seen that something un- usual was taking place, for he had risen to his knees, his whip singing viciously among the dogs. The shadows swept into line. Kent looked along the sights. “Make ready!” he commanded sol- emnly. “Elght b—" But just a fraction of a second too soon, Cardegee rolled backward into the hole. Kent held his fire and ran to the edge. Bang! The gun exploded full in the sallor’s face as he rose to his feet. But no smoke came from the muzzle; instead, a sheet of flame burst from the side of the barrel near its butt and Jacob Kent went down. The dogs dashed up the bank, dragging the sled over his body, and the driver sprang off as Jim Cardegee freed his hands and drew himself from the hole. “Jim!” The newcomer recognized him. “What's the matter?” “Wot's the matter? Oh, nothink at all. It jest "appens as I do little things like this for my ’ealth. Wot’s the mat- ter, you bloomin’ idjit? Wot’s the mat- ter, eh? Cast me loose, or I'll show you wot! 'Urry up, or I'll "olystone the decks with you!” “Huh!"” he added, as the other went to work with his sheath knife. “Wot's the matter? I want to know. Jes’ tell me that, will you, wot's the matter? Hey?” Kent was quite dead when they rolled him over. The gun, an old-fashioned, heavy-weighted muzzle loader, lay near him. Steel and wood had parted com- pany. Near the butt of the right-hand barrel, with lips pressed outward, gaped a fissure several inches in length. The sailor picked it up curis ously. A glittering stream of yellow dust ran out through the crack. The facts of the case dawned upon Jim Cardegee. “Strike me standin’!” he roared; “’ere’s a go! 'Ere’s 'is bloomin’ dust! Gawd blime me, an’ you, too, Charley, if you don't run an’ get the dishpan!™ at 4 (Copyright by McClure, Phillips & Co.) Pages on Pages of Beautiful Pictures | in the Great Christmas Call Out Next Sunday. |, —ege—— * i