Forty-one Thieves | Page 7

run. What a fool he had been to risk his life! Of course, he, Collins, had risked his life, too. But how different were the two cases! Cummins had rich friends who would help him; Collins had no friends, barring a few silly women. His long suit was women. He really regretted Cummins' death more on Mamie's account than for any other reason.
Poor Mamie! But it must be the gold and not the girl this trip. When he had invested his capital and made his pile, he would play the prince to his Cinderella. They would both be glad to flee this country. Bah! the very soil was red! Golden blossoms sprung from it, but the roots were fed with blood. Collins was a young fellow, by no means a hardened criminal, and the excitement of the day stimulated intellect and emotion like the drug of a Chinaman.
He reached Dutch Flat in due season, and found several old cronies at the railroad station, where people were discussing the death of Cummins. He succeeded in showing the due amount of interest and no more, and was diplomatic enough not to suggest that the murderers were now on their way to San Francisco. He took the train going East according to schedule, and found Darcy playing poker in the smoking car. Collins betook himself to his pipe at the other end of the car, glad that night had come, and that he would soon bid farewell to the Sierras. He felt the train swing round the horse-shoe curve through Blue Ca?on, and shortly afterward he noticed that they had entered the snow sheds, which for forty-five miles tunnel the snow drifts of winter, and which in summer lie like a huge serpent across the summit of the mountains. Once out of the sheds they would speed down the valley from Truckee into Nevada.
The fugitives were well over the line before they took any notice of each other. Except for themselves the smoker was now empty, and they had prepared to spend the night there like honest miners who were down on their luck.
Collins remarked in an undertone:
"Darcy, we have given them the royal sneak."
"Know what I've been thinking?" replied Darcy. "I've been thinking of that wise remark of Ben Franklin's when he signed the Declaration of Independence."
"What was that?"
"We've got to hang together or we'll hang separately."
"That's no joke."
"You bet your soul it's no joke. And you'd better shut up and go to sleep."
Silence for ten minutes. Then Collins said,
"You're a tough nut to talk about sleep when you've killed the best man in Nevada County."
"Where would you be, J. C. P. Collins, if I hadn't killed him? You'd be in hell this minute."
"Thanks, awfully. But I wish the man wasn't dead."
"What did the fool put up a fight for? He could see we had him."
"That's what I say. He was a fool to risk his life. He could see there was no help coming from those sports."
"Well, Collins, there was one of them that made me feel nervous--that Chinaman. But the rest of them had him corralled. Mat Bailey couldn't do nothing up there in the air. Cummins was a fool, that's all."
"Must have wanted his gold pretty bad. And I wish to God he had it right now."
"Here, take a nip of brandy. Your health's getting delicate."
"Well, partner, no harm meant. But I must say I sympathize with Cummins. He and I have made the same choice to-day."
"How's that?"
"The girl or the gold--and we both chose the gold. And I'll be hanged if I don't think we were both right."
CHAPTER IV
A Council of War
Six days had elapsed. It was evening, and in the large room over Haggerty's store at Moore's Flat the lamps had been lighted. Here ten members of the Keystone Club had gathered to see if something might not be done to avenge the death of Cummins. Henry Francis presided; but the meeting was informal. These men had not met to pass resolutions, but to decide upon some line of action. So far not a trace of the murderers had been found, except for their discarded clothing. Sheriff Carter's blood-hounds had followed a hot scent to Deer Creek, several miles above Nevada City, and the posse who followed the dogs were led to a pool, in the bottom of which, weighted with stones, was the clothing. Further than this the dogs could not go. They were soon sneezing as the result of inhaling red pepper, scattered on the rocks. And the robbers had probably waded up or down stream to insure complete safety.
Several suspicious characters had passed over the railroad to Sacramento and San Francisco; but this was an every-day occurrence, and the police had learned the futility of arresting men who were probably innocent miners pursuing the