Castlemon Harry
The Haunted Mine
CHAPTER XXXI
CONCLUSION
When Julian had fairly settled down to tell his story, which he did by crossing his right leg over his left leg and clasping his hands around his knee, he discovered that there was not so much to be told as he had thought for. His adventure with the robbers was nothing more than might have happened to any one of the miners who were standing around him; the only question in his mind was, would the other miner have fared as well as he did?
"They came to our mine and stole our dust; but I don't see how they found out about the full bag. Mr. Banta told us to be careful about that."
"Why, Mr. Banta told it himself!" remarked one of the miners. "He said you had a bagful hidden away."
"You see, he had to do it, or the men here would have become suspicions and gone up to your mine in a body," explained another. "Go on – what next?"
"They took the full bag, as well as the half-empty one, and told us we would have to go with them on a three days' journey into the mountains, so as to keep you fellows here in ignorance of the robbery as long as possible but they took us only a two days' journey, and then told us we had gone far enough. That's all there was of it."
"Is that all you have to tell?" asked one.
"Well, no. They went away from here on horseback, you said. Now, what did they do with their animals? They were on foot when they came to see us, and they never said 'horses' once during the two days we were with them."
"Probably they rode their horses as far as they could, and then killed them."
"No doubt they pushed them over a bluff," said a man who had not spoken before.
"We did not see any horses; of that much we are certain. The only thing I can't see into is, what they did with Claus after we went away. Of course they agreed to give him a portion of the money they got off us."
"Maybe so, but I don't think they did it. Go on – how did they treat you?"
"As well as they knew how," answered Julian, emphatically. "That is the reason why I hope Mr. Banta will be kind to them if he catches them."
"Well, you'll see how he'll treat them," retorted a miner. "You'll never see those three men again."
Julian became uneasy every time the men spoke of the way the miners would use their prisoners if they found them, but he knew it would be of no use to say a word. If anything was done to them, he was in hopes the miners would get through with it before they came to camp. He was not used to any Western way of dealing with criminals, and he thought he was getting too old to become used to it now.
This was the way Julian told his story, in answer to numerous questions of the miners, who finally heard all they wanted to know. In regard to what had happened to Claus, none of the miners had any idea. He did not get any of the dust that was stolen from the boys, and he would be lucky if he got away with a dollar in his pocket.
"Do you know, I have been on the watch for them fellows to get into a squabble of some kind before we saw the last of them?" remarked a miner. "That Bob was a regular thief – one could tell that by looking at him. The short, pursy fellow – you called him Claus, didn't you? – looked like a gentleman; but his face did not bear out his good clothes."
The miners then slowly dispersed, one after the other, – some to their work, and some to lounge in front of the grocery, smoking their pipes, – and the boys were left to themselves. Their first care was to get something to eat, for they had not had a sufficient quantity of food, the bacon and hard-tack they first put into their blankets having disappeared until there was none left. Provisions were handy in Mr. Banta's cabin, and when they had got fairly to work on it they heard a sound from the miners whom they had left outside.
"Here they come!" shouted a voice. "Now we'll see what will be done with those prisoners!"
The boys looked at each other in blank amazement. They had caught the robbers, so their dust was safe; but what were they going to do with the culprits, now that they had captured them?
"I declare," said another miner, at length, "they haven't brought any prisoners with them! And there's Tony, with his arm tied up in a sling!"
The boys had by this time reached the door, and saw Mr. Banta, accompanied by a dozen miners, ride into the camp. The boys looked closely at them, but could not see anybody that looked like Bob and Jake; but Tony did not seem to have left all the fight there was in him up in the mountains, for he raised his rifle and flourished it over his head.
"Halloo! Mr. Banta," shouted Julian. "You meant to catch them, did you? But I guess you came out at the little end of the horn."
"Well, there!" exclaimed Mr. Banta, stopping his horse and addressing himself to his men; "didn't I tell you those boys would come back all right? Put it there, kids!"
Julian and Jack shook hands with all the returning miners before they saw an opportunity to propound any other questions; and then, when they did ask them, they did not get any satisfactory answers.
"Did you get our dust?" asked Jack.
"Yes, sir! And the men – ah!" said Mr. Banta, who stopped and looked around at the miners as if he hardly knew what to say next.
"Well, what about the men?" inquired Julian. "You saw them, of course."
"Oh, yes, we saw the men; and when we asked them where the dust was that they stole down here at the haunted mine, they took it out of their clothes and gave it to us. Ain't that so, boys?"
The men around him nodded their heads emphatically, as if to say their leader had told nothing but the truth, but there was something in their faces that told a different story. The boys concluded they would ask no more questions while Mr. Banta was around, but when he went away they were sure they would get at the truth of the matter.
"And, Julian, there's your money," continued Mr. Banta, who had been trying to take something out of his coat-pocket. "There is the full bag, and there is the other. The next time I leave you with such an amount of money to take care of, I'll give you my head for a football."
"Why, Mr. Banta, you told them all about this!" asserted Jack, laughingly.
"No, I never!" shouted Mr. Banta.
"Didn't you tell the men what we had done and all about the dust we had?" asked Julian. "You did tell them, and the robbers were sitting by the camp-fire, and heard it all."
"Eh? Oh, well – I did say – I could not well help it – let us go into the cabin and see what you have to eat."
Mr. Banta lost no time in getting into the cabin, for the boys had asked a question he could not answer, and when they followed him in he was engaged in filling his pipe.
"We rode to the haunted mine and found you were not there, so we came back and took the upper trail on the way to Mendota," said the miner, talking rapidly, as if he hoped to shut off any questions the boys might have ready to ask him. "We had a good time. We found the men there and asked them for the money, and they gave it over as peaceable and quiet as could be. Now, don't let us hear any more about it. You know the whole of the story. Is this all you have to ease a man's appetite? Why, I could eat it all myself!"
"That's a funny story," whispered Jack, as he and Julian went to the spring after a bucket of water.
"Well, keep still," said Julian. "He told us not to say anything more about it, and that's just the same as an order. We'll get the straight of the matter yet."
"Who will you go to?"
"We'll go to Tony for it. He was the man who was shot in the fracas, and he will tell us all about it."
It was two days before Julian had an opportunity to speak to Tony in private. Tony's right arm was injured so badly that he could not use a shovel, and the boys volunteered to go down in his mine and help him – a voluntary act on their part which gained them the good-will of all the miners. One day, when Tony was sitting by his mine smoking his pipe and Julian was waiting for Jack to fill up their bucket, the latter thought the chance had come, for Tony was unusually talkative that morning.
"Now, there is no need that you should keep this thing away from us any longer," said Julian, suddenly. "Who shot those two men?"
Tony was taken off his guard and looked all around as if he was waiting for some one to suggest an answer. Finally he took off his hat and dug his fingers into his hair.
"Who said anything about shooting a man?" he asked.
"No one has said anything about it this morning, but I just want to know if everything I suspect is true," answered Julian, with his eyes fastened on Tony's face.
"Some one who was there can't keep his mouth shut," remarked Tony, in great disgust. "Mr. Banta said he didn't want you to know anything about it, and here that man has gone and blowed the whole thing! But you'll remember that I didn't say a word about it – won't you?"
"No one shall ever know what you tell me," asserted Julian. "Did you shoot them?"
"Well, I couldn't help it – could I? We came up with them just before we got to Mendota. We rode right plump onto them before we knew it, and without saying a word they began to shoot. If they had had rifles, some of us would have gone under; but they had nothing but revolvers, and the first thing I knew something went slap through my arm, and I began to shoot, too. I got in two shots while you would be thinking about it, and then Mr. Banta looked through their clothes and got the dust. We went down to Mendota and reported the matter to the sheriff, and he sent up and buried them."
"It is a wonder to me that they didn't arrest you," said Julian.
"Who – me? What did I do? The men were shooting at us, and I was defending myself. It would have taken more men than they had there to arrest me, for any man would have done the same. Anyhow, we got your money back. Say! Don't lisp a word of this to Mr. Banta. He would go for me hot and heavy."
Julian was obliged to promise again that Mr. Banta should never hear a word of what Tony had told him; but that night he told it to Jack, who said that his "funny story" had come out just as he thought it would.
"You said you didn't want them to deal with the culprits here in camp, and you have your wish," said Jack.
Not long after that the miners, discouraged, packed up, by companies of half a dozen or more, bid good-bye to their associates, and struck out for other localities. Dutch Flat was "played out," there was no gold there for them, and they were going where they could do better. Some of them talked of going home, while others, whose "piles" were not quite as large as they wished, were going to try it again for another year. Mr. Banta lingered there for some time, and then he, too, astonished the boys by bringing up his tools and telling them that next day he would strike for Denver.
"And when I get there I don't think I shall stop," said he. "I have been away from my home in the granite hills so long that I won't know how to act when I get there, and I can't learn any younger than I can now. I am going as far as St. Louis with you, and then I shall strike off alone."
This put new life into the boys. As soon as it became known in camp that Mr. Banta was going away, a dozen others joined in with his party, and when they rode away from the camp the few miners who were left behind cheered themselves hoarse. The boys had been "to the mines," had met with some adventures while there, and they were ready to go back among civilized people once more.
Their stay in Denver did not last more than a week, and the boys were made to promise, over and over again, that after they had seen their friends in St. Louis they would go back there to live. Everything they had in the world was there, the Western country seemed to agree with them, and there they would remain. They had not yet completed their course at the business school, and when that was done they must look for some useful occupation in which to spend their lives.
Mr. Banta proved that he had some money in the bank before he had been in Denver two days. The boys left him at his old hotel, clad in a miner's suit, and looking altogether, as he expressed it, "like a low-down tramp," and when they saw him again they could hardly recognize him. The barber had been at work on him, the tailor had done his best to fit him out; but the squeeze he gave their hands proved that he was the same "old Banta" still. The boys never forgot him; his kindness had saved them many a dollar.
After taking leave of Mr. Banta at St. Louis the boys took up their quarters at a leading hotel, and for two weeks devoted themselves to calling upon their friends. As they signed their names to the register Julian whispered.
"I have often thought, while I have been carrying messages here in the city and looked into this hotel while hurrying past it, that the men who could put up at a first-class house like this must be a happy lot, and now I have a chance to see how it goes myself. Jack, let us go down and have a glass of soda water. Why don't you grumble about that the way you did the last time we were here?"
But Jack did not feel like grumbling – he was too happy for that. He did not think, while he was finding fault with Julian for the wages he had spent at the express office in buying 'old horse,' that he was one whose fortunes hung upon the letter that was to tell him about The Haunted Mine.
