CHAPTER XIX. – THE INDIGNATION MEETING
VANCE had been in Waterville something over a week, and his enthusiasm was noticeably subdued. One evening he discovered that a great many citizens were assembling in the Town Hall. He joined the crowd, and found it was composed of representative of nearly every family in Waterville.
The meeting was called to order with J. Arthur Boast in the chair. It was an indignation meeting. Instead of huzzaing for the Waterville Town Company, its members were being vigorously denounced. A speaker addressed the chair, and among other things said:
“Where is our sash, blind and door factory? Where is our foundry? Where is our woolen mill? Where are our canning factories? Where is our great smelting plant, and other manufacturing enterprises which have been promised us by the Waterville Town Company? When we see anything in a newspaper we have a right to believe what it says. Outside of Waterville, the newspapers claim the members of the Waterville Town Company to be a lot of restless town site boomers. I believe what I see in the papers. The dog-fennel is already growing in our streets – our town is dead; not one stranger in a week alights from the train at Waterville. We have been deceived, and it is now time for an indignant community to assert its rights, take the reins of government, so to speak, in our own hands, and give the Waterville Town Company to understand that no more bonds of any kind will be voted or subsidies given.”
A number of other speakers expressed themselves in bitter terms against the Waterville Town Company. The chairman, J. Arthur Boast, finally addressed the meeting, and with his thin, piping voice advise moderation.
He said it was true that, during his absence, prices had been unfortunately inflated, and a reaction had set in. He reminded his hearers that he was still in the real estate business, and by listing their property with him he would try to put it on his “special bargain list,” and thought possibly he could, in time, re-establish confidence and create a new era of activity in the real estate business.
Boast was very careful not to openly charge the depression in Waterville to anyone in particular, but his insinuations left no room to doubt he meant the Waterville Town Company.
It seemed to be the sense of the meeting that retrenchment was in order. One speaker advised the closing of the public school. The suggestion seemed to meet with favor. Old Dick Ballard pushed his way through the crowd, and addressing the chairman, begged the crowd to listen to reason. “You know,” he continued, “that I’m your school director in this township. The office sought me; I didn’t seek the office. Retrenchment in any other line exceptin’ the closin’ down of our public school is, perhaps, all right; but do not take a step backward. Our public school system is our pride, and should appeal to the patriotism of every one here.” In conclusion, he offered to give an entertainment with his State Militia Company for the benefit of the public school of Waterville. Hi is remarks would probably have been effective had not a fiery speaker followed him and advanced the idea that by discontinuing the public school it would be a direct rebuke to the Waterville Town Company.
“Let it be noised abroad,” said he, “that the residents of Waterville refuse to pay any school taxes, and then the Waterville town Company will begin to understand that we must be consulted, or we will thwart their schemes of booming this town. All they care for, anyway, is the money there is in selling town lots.”
The speaker then asked Dick Ballard how much money was in the teacher’s fund of the school treasury. Ballard said he did not know, but he could find out in a day or two. The speaker then addressed the chair, and said:
“I move you, sir, that it is the sense of this public demonstration that we quit paying taxes to support a public school in Waterville, and when the funds now on hand are exhausted that our school be closed.” The motion almost unanimously prevailed. There were a few feeble protests, but they were not recognized by the presiding officer.
A little later Vance felt some one plucking at his sleeve, and old Dick Ballard motioned him to follow.
“Now, sir,” said Ballard, in a deep whisper when they were alone, “there is some mighty important work to be done. Be in the parlor of my hotel in half an hour from now. Say nothin’.” At this Dick Ballard, with a mysterious look on his face, turned and hurried away.
A little later Vance walked over to the hotel and found Dick Ballard, Homer Winthrop, and Marcus Donald. They apparently were waiting for him. Ballard was very careful to lock the door securely.
He then turned and said: “Now, gentlemen, we have business of importance on hand. Yes, sir, the time has come for us to act, and act promptly. Hold on – just wait a moment until I read you a letter. This is private,” said he, tapping a letter which he unfolded with a great flourish. “This is from General Ira House, the greatest town builder in the world. Now, here’s what he says:
“‘I will settle my board bill, no, hold on; that isn’t the place. Here it is: ‘Tell the people to be patient. The darkest hour is just before the dawn. Waterville is all right.’.rdquo;
“What do you think of that, gentlemen?” said he, folding the letter and putting it into his pocket. “I tell you, General House can come as near breakin’ the shell and gettin’ at the meat of the kernel as any man I ever knew’. He’s brainy, and no mistake. Our citizens are excited,” Ballard went on, “and in their excitement they are foolish. They’re attemptin’ to bite the hand that is feedin’ us all. ‘The Town Company has made this town. I address my remarks, Mr. Gilder, to you. Modesty forbids, sir, that I should say to my friends, Mr. Donald and Mr. Winthrop, that which I unhesitatingly proclaim to an outside party. Now let me ask, Mr. Gilder, if I didn’t tell you long ago that the members of the Waterville Town Company were the brainiest men this country had ever produced?”
"I believe you made that remark,” replied Vance.
“Yes, sir, and I am proud to repeat the statement, and in the letter which I have just read to you I have the evidence, the prima facie evidence, that Watcrville is only restin’, as it were, preparatory to enterin’ the free-for-all hurdle race, and makin’ the fastest time on record. Yes, sir, her time will be a record breaker, and she will distance all would-be competitors, notwithstandin’ the slanderous and libelous articles now goin’ the rounds in the press.’
“We now,” continued Mallard, “are a ways-and-means committee. The closing of our public school would indeed be a calamity. They asked me over at the town meetin’ how much money was in the school treasury. I told them I didn’t know. I beg you gentlemen’s pardon for my reply, I do know. There is not a cent. I was forced into the awkward position of tellin’ a falsehood for the good of my adopted city, Waterville. Now, gentle men, what do you advise?”
“I think,” said Donald, “that our taxpayers proper are not objecting to the expense of our public school. The Waterville Town Company owns fully three-fourths of all the property in Waterville, and we want the school to go on. The citizens who are the loudest in denouncing the expense, and calling most vigorously for retrenchment, as a matter of fact, do not pay a penny of tax.”
“You’re right,” said Dick Ballard, glowingly, “that’s the talk! There’s argument in your remarks, Mr. Donald, and if I had them printed on dodgers I would regard it as a personal privilege to deliver copies to members of my State Militia Company, and issue a general order to have them distributed over the entire town.”
“I wish to call your attention to one thing,” continued Ballard. “No member of my State Militia Company voted to discontinue our public school; no, sir, not one.”
Winthrop was called on for remarks, and observed that the demonstration was a hasty action that would not be approved, probably, by the people themselves on mature reflection. "A few weeks ago,” he went on, “these same people were hurrahing; for the Waterville Town Company. They expect us to perform wonders in a few weeks’ time, that in reality require months, and even years. I fully believe the present depression will be followed by a healthy activity that will satisfy the most pronounced pessimist in Waterville.”
“Gentlemen.” said Dick Ballard, “there are four of us. Miss Virginia Bonifield is a most exemplary young lady, while, as a teacher, she is without a peer. I stand ready to pledge myself for one-fourth of her salary. Her salary for the entire year is $500.
“Put me down for one fourth,” said Vance.
“I will gladly pay one fourth,” said Marcus Donald, “and my check is ready at any time.”
“Count me in on the deal,” said Homer Winthrop “Just one thing, gentlemen,” said Dick Ballard, “I am pretty well acquainted with Miss Virginia Bonifield.
She posseses the spirit of independence to a very large degree. She is, indeed, the daughter of her father, Colonel Bonifield. If she knew that her salary was comin’ from a private source, why, you could not get her to touch a dollar of it, therefore I think it best to consider this compact and agreement strictly confidential.”
Dick Ballard’s views met with the approval of his associates, and then the conversation became general. Vance inquired when the Town Company would probably hold another meeting.
"Not for some time, from present indications,” replied Winthrop.
“No,” replied Marcus Donald, “I have to-day received a letter from Colonel Alexander, and he says it will be necessary, on account of pressing business in the Wharfage and Dockage Company down on the Gulf coast, to defer holding another Town Company meeting for some months. The only thing we can do,” continued Donald, “is to keep a good grip on our holdings here and wait. The dark days will roll by like so many clouds and the sun will shine again. Waterville will be in the ascendency. Strangers will be coming in, bringing money for internal improvements; this great valley will be settled up, and successful activity, in my judgment, will take the place of the present unfortunate depression.”
Vance continued his stay in Waterville several days longer than he had at intended. His frequent consultations with Horner Winthrop and Marcus Donald led him to believe they were two of the most honorable men he had ever met. Possibly they were wrong in their judgment about Waterville, but they certainly were sincere. They seemed like men who had been fighting for a goal against bitter odds. The goal was finally reached when the last obligation of the Waterville Town Company had been paid. They were left practically penniless, or at best, with very little money; yet they were content to wait until time should lift then out of the trough of the sea upon the waves of commercial activity again, which they fully believed would come.
When Vance started for Gold Bluff, he said he might see them again in a couple of weeks, and again, he might not see them for a year or longer. He was wholly undecided what to do.
Arriving at Gold Bluff in the evening, Vance made a hasty toilet and called upon the woman he secretly loved so devotedly. She welcomed him warmly. Soon after, they were seated in the little parlor where Vance had spent so many happy evenings.
The Colonel greeted him enthusiastically.
The open grate was crackling and burning cheerily with a bright wood fire, and seemed to add warmth to the welcome extended.
“Am delighted to see yo’, Mr. Gilder, I am indeed, still. We have at last reached the 400 foot level. Tempo’ary embarrassments will soon be relegated into antiquity, yes, suh; a few days longer, a few days mo’ of waitin’, suh, and the struggle for a livin’ will be oveh with. No matteh how much we may fight against it, we are bound to be wealthy. Of cou’se it’ll take a few days yet, but only a few.”
It was evident that the Colonel was greatly in earnest. It was a welcome hope to Vance. He briefly related to the Colonel and Louise concerning the depression at Waterville, but that he still had hopes that eventually – he did not pretend to say exactly when, but some time in the future – his investment in Waterville town lots would turn out all right.
“On gen’al principles,” said Colonel Bonifield, “I am not favo’able to real estate spec’lations. I presume, suh, the reason is I know so vehy little about them, but when it comes to a mine, suh,’.pecially like Gray Rocks, I inva’ably know, suh, what I am talkin’ about. Louise,” said the Colonel, looking at his daughter, “let us have some music. I see Mr. Gilder is vehy tired, and we will talk no mo’ business this evenin’.”
Louise opened the piano and sang for them. There was a plaintive sweetness in the girl’s voice that made Vance’s heart pulse with delicious contentment. Hope played back and forth among the chords as the music swelled and surged in sweet, symphonious strains. While she was singing, he felt how easy it would be to declare his love, but when she had ceased, and the last vibrations of music had died away, he knew he lacked the courage.
Vance would be called a brave man in the daily walks of life, and yet, as Louise’s lover, he was the most arrant of cowards.
CHAPTER XX. – THE STAGE IS ROBBED
HE next morning Vance met his old acquaintance, Hank Casey.
“Good morning, Mr. Casey,” said Vance, cheerily.
“Hello, pardner,” was the laconic and somewhat dejected reply.
“I haven’t seen you for some time,” said Vance.
“No, I’ve been prospectin’ round these ‘ere diggin’s, but I guess I won’t stay much longer. The court decided agin Steve Gibbons an’ me. I think I’ll go back to Butte City afore long. She’s the pertest minin’ camp in the ‘hull country.”
“You say the court has decided against you?” repeated Vance.
“Yes,” he replied, “Steve Gibbons an’ we had a law suit agin’ Rufus Grim over the Peacock. B. Webster Legal is a pretty cute lawyer, an’ for a time he made it bilin’ hot for old Grim, but somehow on the show-down we got done up. It don’t make much difference how cute a feller’s lawyer is, when the court’s prejudiced all out o’ shape. I sometimes think old Grim has a ‘nuf sight better title to the court of this ‘ere district than he has to the Peacock mine.”
“Your friend Gibbons,” said Vance, “told me sonnies thing of this law suit, and I rather expected, with the assistance of an attorney like B. Webster Legal, you would succeed in establishing your claim. You have my sympathy if an injustice has been done you.”
“Oh, it wa’n’. no fault of Lawyer Legal, I can tell you, he’s a hummer, and a mighty social chap in the bargain; but this ‘ere game isn’t played to a finish yet, pardner, not by several great, big moves on the chess board. You see, we’ve appealed it to the higher courts, but they’re so dangnation slow that a feller had better get a hustle on hisself while he’s waitin’ for a decision or he’ll starve. When old Grim has his neck broken, honest people may then get their just deserts.” He seemed dejected, and soon after took his leave, saying that he was going into the mountains to do a little prospecting.
The Peacock mine was constantly increasing its output of the yellow metal. Nearly every stage carried shipments of gold bullion to the mints. Rufus Grim was growing richer and more pompous. His satellites and admirers noticeably increased after the courts had decided in his favor.
In the meantime the pumps in Gray Rocks had broken down and delayed the work several weeks. Vance was in a state of feverish anxiety. He longed to be relieved from the mental strain and know whether he was a half owner in a gold mine that produced in paying quantities, or only a half owner in a worthless shaft in the mountain side.
He retired one evening at an early hour, tired out and thoroughly disgusted with his achievements in the west. He was awakened about two o’clock in the morning by a great commotion going on below. Hastily dressing himself, he went down to the bar-room, where he found everything was wild with excitement. The stage coach had been robbed, and it was reported that Steve Gibbons was dead. Hasty preparations were being made to form a posse and start in pursuit of the highwaymen.
The express company had some heavy consignments of gold bullion sent from the Peacock mine, and it was reported missing. Vance signified his willingness to join in the pursuit, and was furnished with a horse, and soon after they started pell-mell down the mountain road from Gold Bluff in the direction of Waterville, to the point where the robbery had taken place.
Rufus Grim offered $1,000 for the capture of the perpetrators, which, together with a large sum offered by the express company, stimulated a feverish interest in the chase.
The sun was just coming up when they reached the place where the robbers had sallied forth from a neighboring mountain gorge the morning before and committed their lawless work. About two miles beyond, they found the only two passengers of the ill-fated stage coach. A gentleman and his wife from the east had been visiting Colonel Boast, the rich rancher who lived near Gold Bluff, and were returning to their eastern home. The gentleman had been relieved of his wallet, containing some $2,000, also his watch, diamond pin, and his wife of her jewelry. They were left in a destitute condition, and were waiting to take the next stage back to Gold Bluff to secure such aid from Colonel Boast as would enable them to continue their homeward journey.
They said there were five of the robbers. When they commanded Steve Gibbons to stop, he whipped up his horses, and received a bullet through his body for his attempted bravery. He fell from the stage coach and sustained serious injuries.
The robbers quickly stopped the horses, relieved the two passengers of their possessions, secured the express matter and started for the mountain wilds, taking with them the four dapple-gray horses that Steve Gibbons had prided himself so much in driving.
Gibbons had been carefully cared for by the mountain rancher and his wife, where the two passengers were stopping. A physician had been sent for and dressed his wounds. He said Gibbons would get well; the bullet had struck a rib and glanced off.
After learning these meager details, the posse pushed on into the mountains in hot pursuit. They were under command of the sheriff of the county. The trail of the desperadoes was easily followed. Along in the afternoon, the sheriff called a halt for refreshments. The horses were tethered with lariats to some trees that grew near a mountain stream, and permitted to graze while the men refreshed themselves with lunches which they had brought along.
“We’re twenty-four hours behind the rascals,” said the sheriff, “and I don’t know whether we’ll overtake them or not.” Some of the men were eager to go on, and others were ready to give up the chase. After a rest of an hour or such a matter, the order was given to again mount, and the trail was followed until darkness set in. Sleeping on the ground with the starry canopy for a covering was a new experience for Vance, but he was determined not to show the white feather. What others endured he would endure.
About ten o’clock the next morning, they came to a mountain gorge and followed the trail to a point where it seemed quite impossible for a horseman to ascend, it was so steep and rugged. The sheriff and a few of his men dismounted and went on ahead, looking for the trail. They found horses’ tracks, but where could they have gone? The grass was deep and heavy in the center of the gulch, and fringed with trees and boulders on either side. Finally the sheriff returned and reported the trail as lost. "They have evidently come into this ‘pocket’ of a canon to throw us off their trail. We will have to return to the mouth of the gorge and see in what other direction the trail leads.”
The afternoon was spent in searching for the lost trail. Night overtook the party again, and rations were very short. Their meal was a frugal one, and far from satisfying the hunger of men who had ridden hard all day. The horses were securely fastened and the party lay down to sleep. Vance made his bed on some bunch grass that grew under the wide-spreading branches of a mountain pine. He could plainly hear the rippling of a stream which ran near by, and when deep silence settled down over the landscape, save the occasional snort of one of the horses, the singing of the stream grew louder and louder. The smell of pine added to the deliciousness of his novel and strange surroundings. Weariness soon overcame the discomforts of his improvised bed, and he sank to sleep. Suddenly he awoke in the middle of the night, but found everyone else was deep in slumber, save the two guards that had been left on duty a few yards from the camp. The stars were winking at him from above; a wolf was howling a dismal cadence, and was answered by another far away in a different direction. An owl hooted its discordant strain from the dead branch of a tree a short distance away.
He closed his eyes, and thought of the wonderful change that a few months had brought into his life; but these thoughts one after another vanished; and still other fancies went pell-mell through his imagination in the panorama of thought. Presently a face appeared on this mental canvas – so sweet, so tender, so trusting, and wreathed in that smile he knew so well. He started, opened his eye and murmured, “Louise.”
The wolf howled again in the distance, and he thought he detected a snappish twang in its concluding barks, and wondered if it foreboded danger. Occasionally one of the horses would snort and stamp on the ground, and then go on munching, munching, the grass on which they were feeding. Finally he dozed again and slept. He thought it was only a moment afterward, when someone shook his shoulder and told him to get up. He opened his eyes and found it was morning.
He hastily sprang up and found there was considerable excitement among his associates. The sheriff was missing. About a half hour later he came into camp and said he had been out looking for the trail, but could find nothing of it. He said they might as well return home.
Vance was not sorry of this decision, for he was hungry and tired and sore. There were mutterings, however, among some of the sheriff’s posse, and they whispered among themselves as if they suspected their chief of crooked work.
It took them two days to return to Gold Bluff. They found Steve Gibbons at the hotel, and able to sit up. The robbers had all worn masks, and it was impossible for him to give a description of any of them. The representative of the express company was evidently disappointed that the sheriff had not been able to find the desperadoes; $10,000 of gold bullion had been stolen, as well as other valuable express matter.
A few days later, Steve Gibbons declared that he was able to resume his place on the stage coach, but it transpired that two of his bondsmen had asked to be relieved This was an insinuation that some one regarded him as an accomplice in the unfortunate stage robbery. He investigated and found it was Rufus Grim who had advised two of his bondsmen to be a little careful. During the day, through Vance’s assistance, Gibbons succeeded in giving a satisfactory bond.
That evening, a little the worse for drink, he accosted Rufus Grim at the post office, where the Gold bluff villagers were wont to congregate on the arrival of the evening coach.
Steve Gibbons was evidently the agressor. “Look’ee here, Mr. Grim,” said Steve Gibbons, approaching him, “you’ve been interferin’ with me for a good many years, and it’s time you was lettin’ up.”
“I don’t know, Mr. Gibbons,” said Grim, “that I have ever interfered with you. I have plenty of business of my own to look after, without bothering with other people’s.”
“That’s all right, pardner,” said Gibbons, “but there’s somebody likely to wish they’d never been born if they don’t quit foolin’ with me. You advised some of my bondsmen to take their names off from the bond, but I’ve got other friends, and jes’ as many of ‘em as you have, and don’t you forget it!”
“There must be some mistake, Mr. Gibbons,” said Grim, very coolly.
“I know,” said Gibbons, “jes’ what I’m talkin’ about. You have tried to infer that I was mixed up in the robbery of the stage coach, and I say you are an unprincipled old scoundrel, and a liar in the bargain. If I was as strong as I was before I was shot, I’d maul the earth with you. You stole the Peacock mine from Hank Casey an’ me, an’ I’ve my suspicions that you bought judge and jury to beat us in our law suit.”
One would have thought that Grim would have become very angry, but instead, he tried to pacify the irate and angry Steve Gibbons. It seemed to anger Gibbons beyond description that he could not disturb the even temper of Rufus Grim, and finally, in a burst of anger at Grim, Gibbons said: “You’d better have your life insured, old man, for somebody’s goin’ to be revenged, and the day of judgment ain’t very far ‘way, nuther.”
At this threat, Grim turned quickly and reached for his revolver. Gibbons was unarmed. A moment later, Grim seemed to master himself, and turning away, walked down the street.
Hank Casey put his arm through Steve Gibbon’s and led him to the hotel. Gibbons was hilarious, but Casey felt that in his hilarity he had been very indiscreet. The next morning, however, he mounted the stage coach on his regular run between Gold Bluff and Waterville.