THE CAPTURE OF THE LADY.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2116, 15 February 1908, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE CAPTURE OF THE LADY.

(By Howard .Dwight Smiley.) When Zcke and me and lkc rode into Winnennioea, we found that town as full of excitement as a yellor-jack-et’.s nest. Everybody was. asking everybody else who 'she” was, and where’d “she” conic from, and when did "she” get here, and what was “she” doing here, and about a thousand other questions with “she” mixed uj) in all of them at one end or the other.

Zclce an me and Ike had pulled about fifteen hundred dollars’ worth of nuggets out of a pocket down on Higgins’s Creek, and had come into Winnemueen for a fresh grub-stako and to sort o’ nth elbows with our fellow men again. Alter we had turned our goh I into cash and divided it uj) between us, we joined the rest of the population in speculating on who “she” was and why “she” was here.

Wo were informed by a mystified citizen that “she” had arrived three days before on the 3.20 train ironi the East, and after having .inquired of the station agent as to where slio might find others of her sex, had taken, up her quarters with Sally McGinn, tlio town’s washerwoman, who was tlio only other lady in tlio camp.

The advent of tlio lone member of the opposite sex into a mining camp is sufficient in itself to stir up the inhabitants more or less; but, as a general rule, they aint’ long in finding out the why and the wherefore of her being there. In this case, however, “she” had worked tlio curiosity of the population up to a fever heat heat by throwing a veil of mystery around herself as to just why she was invading these, particular diggings at this time, and by maintaining a profound silence that even Sally horsulf couldn’t penetrate. “She” had appeared in the street just six times since her arrival. In each instance she had walked straight to the general store, purchased a few groceries, and returned to Sally’s house, without so much as a glance to right or left. While these details were being explained to us, one of the boys whispered, “Here she comes,” and we all crowded around the hotel window to catch a glimpse of her.

I’ll have to admit that I was some surprised and puzzled myself. Not that I ain’t used to seeing a- woman in a mining-camp. That’s common enough; but this one looked about as much in place here as a little Jersey heifer would in a bunch of long-horns. “Gee whiz, but ain’t she a beauty i ’ says Zekc, as the girl tripped demurely by, with downcast eyes. She certainly was that. I’re seen •pretty girls during my little lifetime, but I never laid eyes on anything that quite came up to her. She was a golden-haired litle lassie, dressed up like a Quakeress, and had a complexion that would have made the rosiest peach in the orchard look like a dried apricot alongside of her. We amused ourselves for three days trying to figure out who, why, when, and what she was, and got about as much results as a 1 tenderfoot would out of a salted mine. Then the bubble busted—for me, at any rate. On the mornig of the third day, while I was still in bed, somebody knocked on my door. “Come in!” I hollered, thinking it was Zeko or Ike. The door opened, and in walked Mike McGinn, Sally’s youngest hid. Ho handed me a letter. “The loidy at our house sint this to yer,” he informed me. “Whop Slie?” I cried. “Hist!” ho whispered. ''“Don’t spake so loud. It’s a secret, and she don’t want anny wan to ’know ye got it but yersolf” ; and with that he ducked out of the door again. I looked at the letter; it was addressed to “Mr. William Monday, kindness of Mike.” That was me all right, and tearing open the ' envelope, I read the following: Dear Sir:

Will you please meet me in Schell's Gulch at eight o’clock this morning? It is of the utmost importance to keep the meeting secret, and therefore be very careful that no one knows where'you are going, or whom you are to meet.

I will explain my object on wanting to see you, when you come. And please do not fail me, as it is very important.

Yours Truly, • Mary Ann Gregg. “Suro thing, Mary Ann!” says I hopping out of bed. I skated down to the store, bought a clean shirt and a necktie, and was in the gulch on the tick of the minute. I found the lady already there, sititng on a rock and digging a hole in the sand with the daintiest boot I ever laid eyes on. “Mr. William Monday?” she inquired, looking up at me out of a pair of violet eyes in a way that made my heart jump. “At your service ma’am,” 1 answered, handing her my elaboralest bow.

“ 1 have heard,” says she, returning the bow with a demure little smile, “that you are an honest man.” “I mako an effort in that direction, ma’am,” I answered, some surprised at the remark. It was true, of course, but I couldn’t help wondering where .slic’d got her information. “I am here on a rather peculiar errand. I wonder if you would be willing to help me,” says she. “I’ll bo delighted, ma’am,” 1 answered. “What is the nature of your errand, if I might inquire ” “It is a very important one. If 1 take you into my confidence you must promise me that you will keep all 1 tell you to yourself. You must not tell a soul.”

“Suro tiling, ma’am. You can trust mo there. 1 ain’t no udvertisingburea u.”

"Well, then, I am going to trust you, because 1 have to trust some one. 1 have gone as far as I can, unaided. My home, up to three weeks ago, was in Hartford, Connecticut, where 1 lived with my uncle, David Gregg. He died about two months ago. 11l 1849, at the time of the first gold discoveries in California, Uncle David went there and struck it rich, as you say out here. He and his partner accumulated a large fortune in the gold-fields, and in 1852 they started to return to Connecticut, with a wag-on-train. following a trail that passes somewhere near here, I believe. They carried their gold, amounting to about a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, with them. At some point near here, after they had come into camp one night they were attacked by Indians. They drew their wagons up in a circle and put up a

game fight; but they were outnumber-cpi od, and, seeing that they could not hold out against the savages, they took their gold and buried it in the middle of the circle, marking the spot with a largo stake. Mr. Joining’s, my uncle’s partner, was killed, but Uncle David, although badly wounded, managed to escape, and finally made his way homo. He never fully recovered, and was practically an invalid for the rest oi his days; so he never returned to recover tlio gold he had buried, nor would bo, trust any one else to do so. few days before his death he called me to his bedside and showed me a map where the treasure was buried, and this he gave to me, after making me promise to go-after tlio gold personally, and not to trust it in the hands of any one else. This I have tried to do; but as he left very littlo property, my money is about exhausted, and I have gone as far as I can without aid. What I want you to do is to take t his map, go and find tlio gold, and return it to me. I will givo you a fair share of it for your trouble.”

It kind of took my breath away to hear her letting me, an entire stranger, into her secret like that. She must have guessed as much for she continued: “I know it sounds strange for mo to tell you all this; but, as I said before, I am at the end of my resources ,and had either to call in some one to Help me or to give up all and go home. In fact, I can’t very well go home, as my money is all gone.” “Ain’t you got any folks?” I asked. “Only two younger brothers, who are dependent upon me. I had to leave them at homo with barely enough to keep them until I return.” “Why on earth didn’t you tell the boys of this before?” I asked. “They would have all been glad to help you.” “I am not so sure of that; they’re a pretty rough-looking set, for the most part. I was afraid some of them might take the map away from me and go and get the gold for them-, selves:.” “I guess you don’t know the West very well,” .says I, laughing. “They wouldn’t dare do it ma’am; they’d get strung up quicker.’ ll scrat if they tried 1” “Well. I "didn’t know what to do. I had to tell some one, and I decided on you. Will you help me?” “Sure thin, maiam. I’ll be only too glad. And now you say you’re broke; perhaps’ I can help you out there, too?” “If you could accommodate me with a small loan I would appreciate it very much, and will pay you back, with interest, when you return the gold.” “Oh, that’ll be all right,” says I, pulling out my roll. “Those kids brothers will probably neecT a little too. New you take this, and send what you want of it to your brothers; and if you haven’t enough left for yourself, you can just ask my partners, Ike Walters and Zeke Johnson, and they’ll let you have all you need. I'll* explain it to them.” I count( d out three hundred dollars, and handed it to her. “This will be more than enough,” ppibAv i pu®,, s.ics oqs much rather that you didn’t say anytiring to your partners at all. You promised to keep this a secret, you know, and I am afraid that if those men find out where you are going they will try and follow you.’ T I tried to make her see that her secret was safer hero than it would be in Connecticut, but it was no go. She wouldn’t stand for any more getting intro the game, and I finally had to agree to go it alone. 11. The map was all Greek to me, for the most part;l couldn’t make head nor tail of it, nor see where it fitted into this part of the country, until I discovered a place on it marked “Mushroom Rock.” Then I began to get my bearings. Mushroom Rock was about seventy-five miles from Winnemucea, away out in the desert. I knew an old wagon-trail used to pass there in the early days, and decided that this was the location.

According to the map, the gold was buried exactly one hundred yards from the centre of the rock; but as her uncle had neglected to set down; the points of the compass on the map, I couldn’t make out just what direction from the rock it lay. It looked rather dubious, hut I told her. I would make a try for it, and would find that, gold if I had to dig a trench clear round the rock.

That afternoon I explained to Zefco and Iko that I was going over to Mill City to see a man, and left town on the 1.30 train. At Mill City I outfitted with a couple of burros and grub, and next morning I was on the way.

I arrived at the rock two days later. First thing I did was to locate tho old trail running east and west. I figured it out that the gold would, be buried somewhere along that, and after taking my measurements, I. started digging on the west, side of? the rock. For three solid days I dug; and sweated and dug. At the end of that time I had a trench six feet deep and two hundred’feet long, and hadn’t uncovered anything hut an Indian arrow-head and a buffalo skull. “Guess you’re on the wrong , side of the rock,” says I to myself on the afternoon of the third day; so I climbed out ol the trench and started around to the other side for a fresh start.

Mushroom Rock was about one hundred yards long, and I hadn’t been on the east side of it since tho first day. As I rounded the end, I - saw something that caused me to pull up short. Hitched Co a sage-hush were two burros, and near them was a camping outfit. Ono hundred yards from, tile rock was a heap of dirt, and at ono end of this, at regular intervals, there arose from the ground the blade of a shovel loaded with dirt, which deposited its burden at the end oi the heap and then disappeared into the ground again. ■ “Hello!” thinks I. “Here’s another treasure-hunter after Miss Gregg s gold.” -- I pulled out my gun, walked "1> within easy shooting distance, and. hailed the ‘digger. When his head popped out of the trench I near slid through my hoots from astonishment. It was Ike. ‘Why, hello, Billy!” says lie, after he’d partially recovered - from his own surprise. “What in the hotel are you doing here? “That is precisely what I was about

to ask you,” I answered. “WhereVl you come from?” ho asked, climbing out of the trench. “From the other side of the rock.” “What were you doing there?” “Sarno thing as you are doing k. re —digging.” “What for?” “That’s my business. 1 guess—" “What in Sam Hill arc you fellers doing here?” says a voice from behind, and wo whirled around to see Zeke riding toward us on one burro . and leading another. Wo stood still and gaped at one another like a bunch of school 'kids for as much as five minutes; and then I began to rile up, for I thought I saw how the cards lay. “This is about the dirtiest deal I over liad sprung on mel’T finally exploded. “I didn't think you fellers would bo low down ns to follow mo this wav.” . “Follow you?” says Zoke, in a puzzled tone. "Wh said anything about following you?” “I'd like to know how else you got here?” 1 answered. “Well, it’s mighty plain to mo as to how I got here. Wham's bothering mo is how you happen to bo around these particular digging just now.” “Ho you mean to say that you didn't know 1 was here?” I demanded. “Certainly I do. How would I know.it?” “Say, fellers,” broke in Ike. ‘ it ’pears to mo that there’s a mistake somewhere in these proceedings. Suppose we just sit down, calm and collected, and figure this thing out.’ “Agreed,” I answered. “Uow're you going to do it?” “Well, I have a little story to tell as to how I came here, and I aiu t a doubt that you fellers have got one, too. Let’s each of us give his version of this how-de-do and see how they, line up. “You're first, Billy, What’s your argument?” “Well,” says I, “I’ve got an idea that you know my story already, but I guess it won’t do any harm to refresh your memory a little. In the first place, 1 am here trying to lo- ‘ cate a hundred and fifty thousand dollars’ worth of gold, more or less,^ supposed to be buried in this vicinity, acciordin’ to a pretty queer sort of map given me by Hiss Mary Amv Gregg, the young lady back there in Winnemucca, who —” “Miss Julia Brown, you mean,” interrupted Zoke. “He means Miss Cynthia Jones, says Ike. T mean,” saiys I, slow and fiercelike, “Miss Mary Ann Gregg, from Hartford, Con —” “Lowell, Massachusetts,” interrupts Zeke again. “Pawtucket, Rhode island, collected Ike. “Well, say, now, if you, fellers know more about this thing than I do, go ahead and tell it yourselves!” says I exasperatedly. “Billy,” says Zeke grinning, “tome out of it. Wake up. Can’t you see that you’ve been stung?” “Stung!” says I wonderingly. “Stung how?” * “Why, stung,’ he answered. “Bun--..coed. Fliniflammed. How much did she land you for?” jr “I gave her three hundred dollars, 1 answered, beginning to the see the light. ,■ }) “She touched me for two-fitty, ‘ ‘says Zeke. “My ante was four hundred,” says Ike. “I was feeling sorry for them sisters of hers, you know.” “Kid brothers,” says I. “Niece and nephew,” says Zeke. “It was a bigger family than I imagined,” says I. “But we’ve donated nine hundred and fifty to the good cause. I hope there’ll be enough to go around.” “We’d ougliter to go back and have her arrested,” says Ike indignatnlv.

“Back where?” inquired Zeke sarcastically. “You don’t imagine that she Ls in Winnemucca now, do you? She’s vamoosed long ago.” “Well, what are we going to do, then?”

“Going to .get out of this desert, for tlie first thing. We ain’t so had •off as we anight be; we’ve got six [burros and -a good fat grub-stake. Suppose we start prospecting again ? ■“That’ll -suit me,” says 1. “Where’ll ,wo -go?” we strike out for Keu Rock? It’s about fifty miles west of (here, and there’s .good prospecting ground that district.” And so. we pulled out for Red Rock, three mad but wiser prospectors, « 111. Wo came in sight of the town the next afternoon. About live miles out _iyo met a man riding one burro, and '.leading another that was packed , w ith :ii prospecting outfit. Something 'about the looks of the outfit set me .^thinking. “I wonder,” says I to Zeke, ‘if that feller is headed for Mushroom Rock?” “Shouldn’t he surprised, answered Zeke. “He’s got the regulation 'layout.” “In which case,” says I reflectively, “ain’t it possible that we’ll run into Miss Gregg in Red R«d< ? ” “Shouldn’t he suprised if we did £ fl d Miss Brown there,” answered C <<lf i find Miss Jones in that towsi, I am going to have her pinched v» the spotl” declared Ike. “Better not let- her seo you first, (says Zeke. might fool you. , “Not much, she won t-. They c; -nobody flimflam me out of, four hum - red dollars and get -away with it if can onco locate them. I s,e liliat town, d am going to land her, 3XI •‘‘Well,” says Zeke, “Billy and I situ just .as thirsty for revenge as yon sire; hut we’ve got to he careful. > c can’t handle her case like we could a mail’s. She’s mighty pretty and in-nocent-looking little Vidy, a"d if " e nabbed her right off the bat and she took a notion to deny our charge, slic’d have the sympathy of every man in town, and the probabilities are that, instead of landing her,- we’d • fust naturally get shot full cf holes '.and hung up to telegraph-poles by -the indignant populace. Si .■ U have go go easy and not make any iweaks ‘.until we’ve sure of our iMOum. •“That’s right,” I agreed. I tlnnk -vd’fl better wait until dark before enteringthe town, It won’t do to have ber snot V» first. . ISO We hung around the outskirts until after sunset, and then we sneaked in and around to -he hot(... As we had anticipated, everybody what'was “she” doing krw As jj»n •*» I could, I got Ike and Zc-ke off to one »kle and we held another little .confab, •

“The whole town’s struck on her,” declared Zeke, anil there ain't a man here who won't light for her at the drop of the hat. Mow'd w,e better go

\.c ng'tui ,1 -in it fur two hours, and ended iii a worse tangle than when we started. Finally Zeke said: “This here ,is a ease for wiser heads than ours. Now, I’ll tel! you wluil I think. 1 know u lawyer, down an Virginia City, who's about the slickest- .proposition that ever came down the pike. He can tell us just, what to do. Supposing that two of us go down there and see him, and one ot us stay and keep an eye on the girl? It’s only a matter of about seventy ■miles bv rail.” “That'll be just the pumpkins!'’ exclaimed Ike. “You uml 'Billy go, and i’ll stay here and keep labs on the girl. I'll promise you that she won't get away from me!” So the next morning Zeke and I started for Virginia City. We arrived there in the afternoon, and at once looked up Dennison, the lawyer. Zeke told him out story. “Can you describe the lady?” 'idled Dennison when he had finished. Zeke did so. “[ believe 1 know who your party is,” said he. “Come on with me.” He took us over to the jail and explained the ease to the sheriff. When he had finished, the sheriff opened a drawer in his desk and look out a photograph. “Is that your party?” he asked, handing it to Zeke. “It sure is,” he answered. “Well, you've made a good catch, hoys,” says the sheriff. “That is a picture of Syracuse iNell, the slickest confidence girl in the country. She's wanted in Chicago for swindling somo big bug there out of a lot of money, ■and there's a thousand dollars’ reward out for her.”

“You don't say so!” exclaimed Zeke. “Well, I’m going after that reward hotfoot 1 But how are we going to land her? Every man in Red Rock is plumb in love with her, and they won’t stand for any rough play. If she makes a fuss, she’ll have the whole town on her side.”

“It-is out of my jurisdiction,” answered the .sheriff, “and 1 don’t know as I can help von much. Why don’t you wire down to Frisco and get a couple of Pinkerton detectives up here? They’ll know how to get her, all right: hut you’ll lnve to split tlio reward with them.”

“I’ll do that, rather than lose her,” answered Zeke.

The sheriff gave us the .address oi the Pinkerton agency in Frisco, and we wired them. We also sent- a telegram to Ike telling him to stand pat and we would soon bo with him. The detectives didn’t reach Virginia City until the next night, and there was no train for Red Rock until the following afternoon, so three days had slipped by before we got back to where our quarry was. It was eleven o’clock in the evening when we pulled into Red Rock. We had planned to nab the girl that night and get her out of town under the cover c-t darkness. Wo went straight* to the hotel to find Ike, but he was nowhere in sight. After looking around for n spell, I .asked the clerk if he had gone to bed. “Ike Walters?” asked the clerk. “He’s gone.” “Gone? Gone where?”' “Dunno. He and his bride left yesterday for parts unknown. He left .a letter for you fellows,” says the .clerk, handing it to me. I tore it open in a hurry and read the following: ■Dear Bill and Zeke : I reckon you’ll be sure surprised when you read bids. IT! Tow I’m surprised myself. I met Miss Jones .the day you left. 'She saw you going to the depot, and must V guessed what .was in the wind, as she looked me up and we had a talk together. I showed her how we had her nailed and that she couldn’t get away, and she got scared and cried to .beat the hand. I got to feeling so plumb sorry .for her that I just naturally up and proposed. I told her that if ■reform and promise to be honest, I’d ■marry her and snake her over into Mexico -before you fellers could get back; and blessed if she didn’t take .me up. 'So tho sky-pilot has coupled ,us up. and we leave town on the next .ti'.iin. No use to follow us, for we’ll be over the line before you read this, long. Yours, IKE.

“And it -all goes to show,” says •Zeko reflectively, afterward, “that a- man never -wants to try to copper a woman, no matter what tho circumsfvmces may be. She’ll get him, coming and .going, every time !