look a t whatever future might lay ahead of him.
It was going to rain again; clouds were gathering ove r the mountains. Gentry's cigar had gone out. H e stared at it, disgusted, and then turned and walke d down the street. Yes, Ben had changed. H e cared damned little for his old friends. Somewhere in th e back of Gib's brain a tiny bell sounded it s warning, but Gib did not hear it. He was thinkin g about a drink.
Mike Shevlin followed Burt Parry up th e narrow canyon, between occasional trees , clumps of brush, and tumbled boulders o r slides of broken rock. When they reached th e claim Parry said, "There's good water at a spring about sixty yards up the canyon, and unles s you fancy yourself as a cook, I'll put the gru b together."
"By the time I'd eaten my own cooking th e second time, I decided against that."
He stripped the saddle from his horse, an d glanced around, but there was little enough to see. Parry' s claim shanty stood on the bench made by th e mine's dump. It was a simple two-roo m cabin, hastily but securely put together. Abou t thirty feet from it was a small corral, on on e side of which was a lean-to shack used as a too l house. Beyond was the opening of the tunnel.
Up the canyon, just visible from where they stood , there was another dump, larger than their own. N o buildings were visible there.
"Whose claim is that?" Shevlin asked.
"It's abandoned. That was the discovery claim fo r Sun Strike. The gold was found on the mes a right above there, so they decided to drift into the hil l from here, but they gave up when they found the or e body lay on the other side of the hill."
When they sat down to eat, darkness was filling th e canyon, softening all the harshness of the blea k hills. Shevlin, drinking his second cup o f coffee, was listening to the birds in the bottom of th e canyon. Suddenly, the sound ceased. Parry wa s talking, and if he noticed the change he gav e no indication of it.
"Many visitors out here?" Shevlin asked.
"The vein seems to be widening out, and I b elieve in about sixty feet ... What was that yo u said?"
"I asked if you had many visitors?"
"Here? Why would anybody come out here? The y all think I'm crazy to work this claim. I h aven't had two visitors in the past fou r months."
"How far back does this canyon go?"
Parry shrugged. "How the hell should I know?
I never followed it up. About a mile furthe r along it narrows down to just a slash in the mountain.
They say you can touch both sides with outstretche d arms. Hell of a mess of rock back in there."
Mike Shevlin got up and went to the door.
He stood there, leaning against the doorjamb. I t might have been a roving lion, but he ha d a hunch the birds had shut up because a man wa s passing.
"When you get up in the morning," Parry said , "you can muck out that rock I shot down on m y last shift. I'll be riding back into town."
"It's a prosperous town," Shevlin commented.
"Less you say about that the better. I sta y away from town most of the time, and I never talk abou t anything but my own claim, or whatever news w e hear from out of town."
At daylight, with Parry gone, Mik e Shevlin went into the tunnel and settled dow n to work. He had always rather liked working with a shovel; i t had the advantage of giving a man time to think, an d he had a lot of that to do.
What it shaped up to was that Ray Holliste r had been using the cattlemen as a wedge to ge t back into power, a power he had been aced out o f ... and somebody was going to get hurt.
Ben Stowe was no hot-headed, conceited foo l like Hollister. He was cold, cruel, and tough i n a way Hollister never dreamed of. I f Hollister chose to get himself killed, that was his ow n business, but the way he was headed he would ge t others killed as well.
Eve believed in Hollister, and it was likel y that she was a little in love with him. Babcock wa s fiercely loyal to Hollister, as he had alway s been; but had he any idea what Hollister wa s planning?
The
It was going to rain again; clouds were gathering ove r the mountains. Gentry's cigar had gone out. H e stared at it, disgusted, and then turned and walke d down the street. Yes, Ben had changed. H e cared damned little for his old friends. Somewhere in th e back of Gib's brain a tiny bell sounded it s warning, but Gib did not hear it. He was thinkin g about a drink.
Mike Shevlin followed Burt Parry up th e narrow canyon, between occasional trees , clumps of brush, and tumbled boulders o r slides of broken rock. When they reached th e claim Parry said, "There's good water at a spring about sixty yards up the canyon, and unles s you fancy yourself as a cook, I'll put the gru b together."
"By the time I'd eaten my own cooking th e second time, I decided against that."
He stripped the saddle from his horse, an d glanced around, but there was little enough to see. Parry' s claim shanty stood on the bench made by th e mine's dump. It was a simple two-roo m cabin, hastily but securely put together. Abou t thirty feet from it was a small corral, on on e side of which was a lean-to shack used as a too l house. Beyond was the opening of the tunnel.
Up the canyon, just visible from where they stood , there was another dump, larger than their own. N o buildings were visible there.
"Whose claim is that?" Shevlin asked.
"It's abandoned. That was the discovery claim fo r Sun Strike. The gold was found on the mes a right above there, so they decided to drift into the hil l from here, but they gave up when they found the or e body lay on the other side of the hill."
When they sat down to eat, darkness was filling th e canyon, softening all the harshness of the blea k hills. Shevlin, drinking his second cup o f coffee, was listening to the birds in the bottom of th e canyon. Suddenly, the sound ceased. Parry wa s talking, and if he noticed the change he gav e no indication of it.
"Many visitors out here?" Shevlin asked.
"The vein seems to be widening out, and I b elieve in about sixty feet ... What was that yo u said?"
"I asked if you had many visitors?"
"Here? Why would anybody come out here? The y all think I'm crazy to work this claim. I h aven't had two visitors in the past fou r months."
"How far back does this canyon go?"
Parry shrugged. "How the hell should I know?
I never followed it up. About a mile furthe r along it narrows down to just a slash in the mountain.
They say you can touch both sides with outstretche d arms. Hell of a mess of rock back in there."
Mike Shevlin got up and went to the door.
He stood there, leaning against the doorjamb. I t might have been a roving lion, but he ha d a hunch the birds had shut up because a man wa s passing.
"When you get up in the morning," Parry said , "you can muck out that rock I shot down on m y last shift. I'll be riding back into town."
"It's a prosperous town," Shevlin commented.
"Less you say about that the better. I sta y away from town most of the time, and I never talk abou t anything but my own claim, or whatever news w e hear from out of town."
At daylight, with Parry gone, Mik e Shevlin went into the tunnel and settled dow n to work. He had always rather liked working with a shovel; i t had the advantage of giving a man time to think, an d he had a lot of that to do.
What it shaped up to was that Ray Holliste r had been using the cattlemen as a wedge to ge t back into power, a power he had been aced out o f ... and somebody was going to get hurt.
Ben Stowe was no hot-headed, conceited foo l like Hollister. He was cold, cruel, and tough i n a way Hollister never dreamed of. I f Hollister chose to get himself killed, that was his ow n business, but the way he was headed he would ge t others killed as well.
Eve believed in Hollister, and it was likel y that she was a little in love with him. Babcock wa s fiercely loyal to Hollister, as he had alway s been; but had he any idea what Hollister wa s planning?
The
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