And as the moments pa.s.sed his spirits fell lower and lower, until at last a great depression weighed him down.

It was in the midst of this depression, when, for the hundredth time, he had wished that his friend had never started out on his wild enterprise, that he suddenly found himself staring out across the river at the Sp.a.w.n City trail. He stared for some moments, scarcely comprehending that at which he looked. Then suddenly he became aware of a horseman racing down the slope towards the river, and in a moment mind and body were alert, and he stood waiting.

Minky was still standing on his veranda. But he was no longer leaning against the post; he was holding a letter in his hand which he had just finished reading. It was a painful-looking doc.u.ment for all its neat, clear writing. It was stained with patches of dark red that were almost brown, and the envelope he held in his other hand was almost unrecognizable for the same hideous stain that completely covered it.

The man who had delivered it was resting on the edge of the veranda.

He had told his story; and now he sat chewing, and watching his weary horse tethered at the hitching-post a few yards away.

"An' he drove that cart fer six hours--dead?" Minky asked, without removing his eyes from the blood-stained letter.

"That's sure how I sed," returned the messenger, and went stolidly on with his chewing. The other breathed deeply.

Then he read the letter over again. He read it slowly, so as to miss no word or meaning it might contain. And, curiously, as he read a feeling of wonder filled him at the excellence of the writing and composition. He did not seem to remember having seen Bill's writing before. And here the rough, hard-living gambler was displaying himself a man of considerable education. It was curious. All the years of their friendship had pa.s.sed without him discovering that his gambling friend was anything but an illiterate ruffian of the West, with nothing but a great courage, a powerful personality and a moderately honest heart to recommend him.

"My Dear Minky,

"I'm dead--dead as mutton. Whether I'm cooked mutton, or raw, I can't just say. Anyway, I'm dead--or you wouldn't get this letter.

"Now this letter is not to express regrets, or to sentimentalize.

You'll agree that's not my way. Death doesn't worry me any. No, this letter is just a 'last will and testament,' as the lawyers have it. And I'm sending it to you because I know you'll see things fixed right for me. You see, I put everything into your hands for two reasons: you're honest, and you're my friend. Now, seeing you're rich and prosperous I leave you nothing out of my wad. But I'd like to hand you a present of my team--if they're still alive--team and harness and cart. And you'll know, seeing I always had a notion the sun, moon and stars rose and set in my horses, the spirit in which I give them to you, and the regard I had for our friendship. Be good to them, old friend.

For the rest, my dollars, and anything else I've got, I'd like Zip's kids to have. They're bright kids, and I've got a notion for them. And, seeing Zip's their father, maybe dollars will be useful to them. You can divide things equally between them.

"And in conclusion you can tell Zip if he can do a good turn, which I don't suppose he'll be able to, to either Sunny Oak, or Sandy Joyce, or Toby Jenks, he'd best do it. Because he owes them something he'll probably never hear about.

"This is the last will and testament, as the lawyers say, of

"Your old friend, "Wild Bill.

"(A no-account gambler, late of Abilene.)"

Minky looked up from the letter again, and his eyes were shadowed. He felt that that letter contained more of the gambler's heart than he would ever have allowed himself to display in life.

And into his mind came many memories--memories that stirred him deeply. He was thinking of the days when he had first encountered Bill years ago, when the name of Wild Bill was a terror throughout Texas and the neighboring States. And he smiled as he remembered how a perturbed Government had been forced, for their own peace of mind, and for the sake of the peace of the country, to put this "terror" on the side of law and order, and make him a sheriff of the county. And then, too, he remembered the trouble Bill was always getting into through mixing up his private feuds with his public duties. Still, he was a great sheriff, and never was such order kept in the county.

He turned again to the man at his side.

"An' he got thro' with the gold?" he inquired slowly.

"Jest as I sed," retorted the weary messenger. "Guess I helped sheriff to deposit it in the bank."

"And he's dead?"

The man stirred impatiently and spat.

"Dead--as mutton."

Minky sighed.

"An' you come along the Sp.a.w.n City trail?" he asked presently.

"I ain't got wings."

"An' you saw--?"

"The birds flappin' around--nigh chokin' with human meat."

The man laughed cynically.

"Did you recognize--?"

"I see James. He was dead--as mutton, too--an' all his gang. Gee! It must 'a' bin a h.e.l.l of a sc.r.a.p."

The man spat out a stream of tobacco juice and rubbed his hands.

"It sure must," agreed Minky. And he pa.s.sed into the store.

It was dark when Scipio urged the old mule up the bank at the fork of the creek. He was very weary, and Jessie was asleep beside him, with her head pillowed upon his shoulder. His arm was about her, supporting her, and he sat rigid, lest the b.u.mping of the rattling vehicle should waken her. The position for him was trying, but he never wavered.

Cramped and weary as he was, he strove by every means in his power to leave her undisturbed.

And as he pa.s.sed the river three ghostly figures ambled down to the bank, and, after drinking their horses, likewise pa.s.sed over. But while Scipio kept to the trail, they vanished amidst the woods. Their task was over, and they sought the shortest route to their homes.

And so Scipio came to his claim. And such was his state of mind, so was he taken up with the happiness which the presence of his wife beside him gave him, and such was his delight in looking forward to the days to come, that he saw nothing of that which lay about him.

The air to him was sweet with all the perfumes his thankful heart inspired in his thoughts. His road was a path of roses. The reek of oil was beyond his simple ken. Nor did he heed the slush, slush of his mule's feet, as the old beast floundered through the lake of oil spread out on all sides about him. The gurgling, the sadly bubbling gusher, even, might have been one of the fairy sounds of night, for all thought he gave to it.

No; blind to all things practical as he always was, how was it possible that Scipio, leaving Suffering Creek a poor, struggling prospector, should realize by these outward signs that he had returned to it, possibly, a millionaire?

CHAPTER x.x.xV

HOME

Scipio stood in the doorway of his hut with a hopelessly dazed look in his pale eyes and a perplexed frown upon his brow. He had just returned from Minky's store, whither he had been to fetch his twins home. He had brought them with him, leading them, one in each hand.

And at sight of their mother they had torn themselves free from their father's detaining hands and rushed at her.

Jessie, strangely subdued, but with a wonderful light of happiness in her eyes, was in the midst of "turning out" the bedroom. She had spent the whole morning cleaning and garnishing with a vigor, with a heartwhole enjoyment, such as never in all her married life had she displayed before. And now, as the children rushed at her, their piping voices shrieking their joyous greeting, she hugged them to her bosom as though she would squeeze their precious lives out of them. She laughed and cried at the same time in a way that only women in the throes of unspeakable joy can. Her words, too, were incoherent, as incoherent as the babble of the children themselves. It was a sight of mother-love rarely to be witnessed, a sight which, under normal conditions, must have filled the simple heart of Scipio with a joy and happiness quite beyond words.

But just now it left him untouched, and as he silently looked on he pa.s.sed one hand helplessly across his forehead. He pushed his hat back so that his stubby fingers could rake amongst his yellow hair. And Jessie, suddenly looking up from the two heads nestling so close against her bosom, realized the trouble in her husband's face. Her realization came with a swiftness that would have been impossible in those old days of discontent.

"Why, Zip," she cried, starting to her feet and coming quickly towards him, "what--what's the matter? What's wrong?"

But the little man only shook his head dazedly, and his eyes wandered from her face to the two silently staring children, and then to the table so carefully laid for the midday meal.