The Barrier by Rex Beach (finding audrey .txt) 📕

and ordered "a little more hard stuff," while his roving eye rejoiced in lachrymose profusion, its over-burden losing itself in the tangle of his careless beard. By-and-by he wandered through the town, trailed by a troop of tenderfeet, till the women marked him, whereupon he fled back to the post and hugged the bar, for he was a bashful man. When Stark's new place opened it offered him another retreat of which he availed himself for some time. But late in the evening he reappeared at Old Man Gale's store, walking a bit unsteadily, and as he mounted the flight of logs to the door he stepped once too often.

"What's become of that fourth step?" he demanded, sharply, of Poleon.

"Dere she is," said the Frenchman.

"I'm damned if it is. You moved it since I was here."

"I'll have 'im put back," laughed the other.

"Say! It's a grand thing to be rich, ain't it?"

"I don' know, I ain' never try it."

"Well, it is; and now that I've arrived, I'm goin' to change my ways complete. No more extravagance in mine—I'll never lend another cent."

"Wat's dat?" ejaculated Doret, in amazement.

"No more hard-luck stories and 'hurry-ups' for mine. I'm the stony-hearted jailer, I am, from now, henceforth, world 'thout end, amen! No busted miners need apply. I've been a good thing, but to-night I turn on the time-lock."

"Ba gosh! You're fonny feller," laughed Poleon, who had lent the one-eyed man much money in the past and, like others, regarded him not merely as a bad risk but as a total loss. "Mebbe you t'ink you've been a spen't'rif all dese year."

"I've certainly blowed a lot of money on my friends," Lee acknowledged, "and they're welcome to what they've got so far, but I'm goin' to chop all them prodigal habits and put on the tin vest. I'll run the solderin'-iron up my seams so they can't get to me without a can-opener. I'm air-tight for life, I am." He fumbled in his pockets and unwrapped a gift cigar, then felt for a match. Poleon tossed one on the bar, and he reached for it twice, missing it each time.

"I guess dose new frien' of yours is mak' you purty full, M'sieu' Tin Vest."

"Nothin' of the sort. I've got a bad dose of indigestion."

"Dat's 'orrible disease! Dere's plaintee riche man die on dat seecknesse. You better lie down."

Doret took the hero of the day by the arm and led him to the rear of the store, where he bedded him on a pile of flour sacks, but he had hardly returned to the bar when Lee came veering out of the dimness, making for the light like a ship tacking towards a beacon.

"What kind of flour is that?" he spluttered.

"Dat's just plain w'eat flour."

"Not on your life," said the miner, with the firmness of a great conviction. "It's full of yeast powders. Why, it's r'arin' and risin' like a buckin' hoss. I'm plumb sea-sick." He laid a zigzag course for the door.

"W'ere you goin'?" asked Poleon.

"I'm goin' to get somethin' for this stomach trouble. It's fierce." He descended into the darkness boldly, and stepped off with confidence—this time too soon. Poleon heard him floundering about, his indignant voice raised irascibly, albeit with a note of triumph.

"Wha'd I tell you? You put it back while I was ashleep." Then whistling blithely, if somewhat out of tune, he steered for the new saloon to get something for his "stomach trouble."

At Stark's he found a large crowd of the new men who welcomed him heartily, plying him with countless questions, and harking to his maudlin tales of this new country which to him was old. He had followed the muddy river from Crater Lake to the Delta, searching the bars and creek-beds in a tireless quest, till he knew each stream and tributary, for he had been one of the hardy band that used to venture forth from Juneau on the spring snows, disappearing into the uncharted valley of the Yukon, to return when the river clogged and grew sluggish, and, like Gale, he had lived these many years ahead of the law where each man was his own court of appeals and where crime was unknown. He had helped to build camps like Forty Mile and Circle; he knew by heart the by-laws and rules that governed every town and mining district in the country; he knew every man and child by name, but, while many of his friends had prospered, unceasing ill-luck had dogged him. Yet he had held to honesty and hard work, measuring a man by his ability to swing an axe or a shovel, and, despite his impecuniosity, regarding theft as the one crime deserving capital punishment.

"Oh, there's lots of countries worse'n this," he declared. "We may not be very han'some to the naked eye, and we may not wear our handk'chiefs in our shirt cuffs, but there ain't no widders and orphans doin' our washin', and a man can walk away from his house, stay a month, and find it there when he comes back."

"Those days are past," said Stark, who had joined in the discussion. "There's too many new people coming in for all of them to be honest."

"They'd better be," said Lee, aggressively. "We ain't got no room for stealers. Why, I had a hand in makin' the by-laws of this camp myself, 'long with John Gale, and they stip'lates that any person caught robbin' a cache is to be publicly whipped in front of the tradin'-post, then, if it's winter time, he's to be turned loose on the ice barefooted, or, if it's summer, he's to be set adrift on a log with his shirt off."

"Either one would mean certain death," said a stranger. "Frost in winter, mosquitoes in summer!"

"That's all right," another bystander declared. "A man's life depends on his grub up here, and I'd be in favor of enforcing that punishment to the letter if we caught any one thieving."

"All the same, I take no chances," said Stark. "There's too many strangers here. Just to show you how I stand, I've put Runnion on guard over my pile of stuff, and I'll be glad when it's under cover. It isn't the severity of punishment that keeps a man from going wrong, it's the certainty of it."

"Well, he'd sure get it, and get it proper in this camp," declared Lee; and at that moment, as if his words had been a challenge, the flaps of the great tent were thrust aside, and Runnion half led, half threw a man into the open space before the bar.

"Let's have a look at you," he panted. "Well, if it ain't a nigger!"

"What's up?" cried the men, crowding about the prisoner, who crouched, terror-stricken, in the trampled mud and moss, while those playing roulette and "bank" left the tables, followed by the dealers.

"He's a thief," said Runnion, mopping the sweat from his brow. "I caught him after your grub pile, Stark."

"In my cache?"

"Yes. He dropped a crate of hams when I came up on him, and tried to run, but I dropped him." He held his Colt in his right hand, and a trickle of blood from the negro's head showed how he had been felled.

"Why didn't you shoot?" growled Stark, angrily, at which the negro half arose and broke into excited denials of his guilt. Runnion kicked him savagely, and cursed him, while the crowd murmured approval.

"Le' me see him," said Lee, elbowing his way through the others. Fixing his one eye upon the wretch, he spoke impressively.

"You're the first downright thief I ever seen. Was you hungry?"

"No, he's got plenty," answered one of the tenderfeet, who had evidently arrived on the boat with the darky. "He's got a bigger outfit than I have."

The prisoner drew himself up against the bar, facing his enemies sullenly.

"Then I reckon it's a divine manifestation," said "No Creek" Lee, tearfully. "This black party is goin' to furnish an example as will elevate the moral tone of our community for a year."

"Let me take him outside," cried Stark, reaching under the bar for a weapon. His eyes were cruel, and he had the angry pallor of a dangerous man. "I'll save you a lot of trouble."

"Why not do it legal?" expostulated Lee. "It's just as certain."

"Yes! Lee is right," echoed the crowd, bent on a Roman holiday.

"What y'all aim to do?" whined the thief.

"We're goin' to try you," announced the one-eyed miner, "and if you're found guilty, as you certainly are goin' to be, you'll be flogged. After which perdicament you'll have a nice ride down-stream on a saw-log without your laundry."

"But the mosquitoes—"

"Too bad you didn't think of them before. Let's get at this, boys, and have it over with."

In far countries, where men's lives depend upon the safety of their food supply, a side of bacon may mean more than a bag of gold; therefore, protection is a strenuous necessity. And though any one of those present would have gladly fed the negro had he been needy, each of them likewise knew that unless an example were made of him no tent or cabin would be safe. The North being a gameless, forbidding country, has ever been cruel to thieves, and now it was heedless of the black man's growing terror as it set about to try him. A miners' meeting was called on the spot, and a messenger sent hurrying to the post for the book in which was recorded the laws of the men who had made the camp. The crowd was determined that this should be done legally and as prescribed by ancient custom up and down the river. So, to make itself doubly sure, it gave Runnion's evidence a hearing; then, taking lanterns, went down to the big tarpaulin-covered pile beside the river, where it found the crate of hams and the negro's tracks. There was no defence for the culprit and he offered none, being too scared by now to do more than plead. The proceedings were simple and quiet and grim, and were wellnigh over when Lieutenant Burrell walked into the tent saloon. He had been in his quarters all day, fighting a fight with himself, and in the late evening, rebelling against his cramped conditions and the war with his conscience, he had sallied out, and, drawn by the crowd in Stark's place, had entered.

A man replied to his whispered question, giving him the story, for the meeting was under Lee's domination, and the miners maintained an orderly and business-like procedure. The chairman's indigestion had vanished with his sudden assumption of responsibility, and he showed no trace of drink in his bearing. Beneath a lamp one was binding four-foot lengths of cotton tent-rope to a broomstick for a knout, while others, whom Lee had appointed, were drawing lots to see upon whom would devolve the unpleasant duty of flogging the captive. The matter-of-fact, relentless expedition of the affair shocked Burrell inexpressibly, and seeing Poleon and Gale near by, he edged towards them, thinking that they surely could not be in sympathy with this barbarous procedure.

"You don't understand, Lieutenant," said Gale, in a low voice. "This nigger is a THIEF!"

"You can't kill a man for stealing a few hams."

"It ain't so much WHAT he stole; it's the idea, and it's the custom of the country."

"Whipping is enough, without the other."

"Dis stealin' she's bad biznesse," declared Poleon. "Mebbe dose ham is save some poor feller's life."

"It's mob law," said the Lieutenant, indignantly, "and I won't stand for it."

Gale turned a look of curiosity upon the officer. "How are you going to help yourself?" said he; but the young man did not wait to reply. Quickly he elbowed his way towards the centre of the scene with that air of authority and determination before which a crowd melts and men stand aside. Gale whispered to his companion:

"Keep your eye open, lad. There's going to be trouble." They stood on tiptoe, and watched eagerly.

"Gentlemen," announced Burrell, standing near the ashen-gray wretch, and facing the tentful of men, "this man is a thief, but you can't kill him!"

Stark leaned across the bar, his eyes blazing, and touched the Lieutenant on the shoulder.

"Do you mean to take a hand in all of my affairs?"

"This isn't your affair; it's mine," said the officer. "This is what I was sent here for, and it's my particular business. You seem to have overlooked that important fact."

"He stole my stuff, and he'll take his medicine."

"I say he won't!"

For the second time in their brief acquaintance these two men looked fair into each other's eyes. Few men had dared to look at Stark thus and live; for when a man has once shed the blood of his fellow, a mania obsesses him, a disease obtains that is incurable. There is an excitation of every sense when a hunter stands