Forty-one Thieves | Page 7

spread in California. He recalled the fact that there
was a strong party among the good people of the State, represented by
several ladies who had brought him bouquets and jellies when he was
in jail, who were trying to abolish capital punishment. Judging from
Doc Mason's experience in murder cases, the efforts of these good
people were not called for. And yet the law as it stood had unpleasant
possibilities for Collins.
He was really sorry about Cummins. Of course, Cummins was a fool.
A man of such character would not miss a few thousand dollars in the
long 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 Cañon,
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