Chapter 21

by Frank Norris

　　"Well," said one of the deputies, as he backed the horseinto the shafts of the buggy in which the pursuers haddriven over from the Hill, "we've about as good as got him.It isn't hard to follow a man who carries a bird cage withhim wherever he goes."McTeague crossed the mountains on foot the Friday andSaturday of that week, going over through Emigrant Gap,following the line of the Overland railroad. He reachedReno Monday night. By degrees a vague plan of actionoutlined itself in the dentist's mind."Mexico," he muttered to himself. "Mexico, that's theplace. They'll watch the coast and they'll watch the Easterntrains, but they won't think of Mexico."The sense of pursuit which had harassed him during the lastweek of his stay at the Big Dipper mine had worn off, and hebelieved himself to be very cunning."I'm pretty far ahead now, I guess," he said. At Reno heboarded a south-bound freight on the line of the Carson andColorado railroad, paying for a passage in the caboose."Freights don' run on schedule time," he muttered, "and aconductor on a passenger train makes it his business tostudy faces. I'll stay with this train as far as it goes."The freight worked slowly southward, through westernNevada, the country becoming hourly more and more desolateand abandoned. After leaving Walker Lake the sage-brushcountry began, and the freight rolled heavily over tracksthat threw off visible layers of heat. At times it stoppedwhole half days on sidings or by water tanks, and theengineer and fireman came back to the caboose and playedpoker with the conductor and train crew. The dentist satapart, behind the stove, smoking pipe after pipe of cheaptobacco. Sometimes he joined in the poker games. He hadlearned poker when a boy at the mine, and after a few dealshis knowledge returned to him; but for the most part he wastaciturn and unsociable, and rarely spoke to the othersunless spoken to first. The crew recognized the type, andthe impression gained ground among them that he had "donefor" a livery-stable keeper at Truckee and was trying to getdown into Arizona.McTeague heard two brakemen discussing him one night as theystood outside by the halted train. "The livery-stablekeeper called him a bastard; that's what Picachos told me,"one of them remarked, "and started to draw his gun; an' thisfellar did for him with a hayfork. He's a horse doctor,this chap is, and the livery-stable keeper had got the lawon him so's he couldn't practise any more, an' he was soreabout it."Near a place called Queen's the train reentered California,and McTeague observed with relief that the line of trackwhich had hitherto held westward curved sharply to the southagain. The train was unmolested; occasionally the crewfought with a gang of tramps who attempted to ride the brakebeams, and once in the northern part of Inyo County, whilethey were halted at a water tank, an immense Indian buck,blanketed to the ground, approached McTeague as he stood onthe roadbed stretching his legs, and without a wordpresented to him a filthy, crumpled letter. The letter wasto the effect that the buck Big Jim was a good Indian anddeserving of charity; the signature was illegible. Thedentist stared at the letter, returned it to the buck, andregained the train just as it started. Neither had spoken;the buck did not move from his position, and fully fiveminutes afterward, when the slow-moving freight wasmiles away, the dentist looked back and saw him stillstanding motionless between the rails, a forlorn andsolitary point of red, lost in the immensity of thesurrounding white blur of the desert.At length the mountains began again, rising up on eitherside of the track; vast, naked hills of white sand and redrock, spotted with blue shadows. Here and there a patch ofgreen was spread like a gay table-cloth over the sand. Allat once Mount Whitney leaped over the horizon. Independencewas reached and passed; the freight, nearly emptied by now,and much shortened, rolled along the shores of Owen Lake.At a place called Keeler it stopped definitely. It was theterminus of the road.The town of Keeler was a one-street town, not unlike IowaHill--the post-office, the bar and hotel, the Odd Fellows'Hall, and the livery stable being the principal buildings."Where to now?" muttered McTeague to himself as he sat onthe edge of the bed in his room in the hotel. He hung thecanary in the window, filled its little bathtub, and watchedit take its bath with enormous satisfaction. "Where tonow?" he muttered again. "This is as far as the railroadgoes, an' it won' do for me to stay in a town yet a while;no, it won' do. I got to clear out. Where to? That's theword, where to? I'll go down to supper now"--He went onwhispering his thoughts aloud, so that they would take moreconcrete shape in his mind--"I'll go down to supper now, an'then I'll hang aroun' the bar this evening till I get thelay of this land. Maybe this is fruit country, though itlooks more like a cattle country. Maybe it's a miningcountry. If it's a mining country," he continued, puckeringhis heavy eyebrows, "if it's a mining country, an' the minesare far enough off the roads, maybe I'd better get to themines an' lay quiet for a month before I try to get anyfarther south."He washed the cinders and dust of a week's railroading fromhis face and hair, put on a fresh pair of boots, and wentdown to supper. The dining-room was of the invariable typeof the smaller interior towns of California. There was butone table, covered with oilcloth; rows of benchesanswered for chairs; a railroad map, a chromo with a giltframe protected by mosquito netting, hung on the walls,together with a yellowed photograph of the proprietor inMasonic regalia. Two waitresses whom the guests--all men--called by their first names, came and went with large trays.Through the windows outside McTeague observed a great numberof saddle horses tied to trees and fences. Each one ofthese horses had a riata on the pommel of the saddle. Hesat down to the table, eating his thick hot soup, watchinghis neighbors covertly, listening to everything that wassaid. It did not take him long to gather that the countryto the east and south of Keeler was a cattle country.Not far off, across a range of hills, was the PanamintValley, where the big cattle ranges were. Every now andthen this name was tossed to and fro across the table in theflow of conversation--"Over in the Panamint." "Just goingdown for a rodeo in the Panamint." "Panamint brands." "Hasa range down in the Panamint." Then by and by the remark,"Hoh, yes, Gold Gulch, they're down to good pay there.That's on the other side of the Panamint Range. Peters camein yesterday and told me."McTeague turned to the speaker."Is that a gravel mine?" he asked."No, no, quartz.""I'm a miner; that's why I asked.""Well I've mined some too. I had a hole in the groundmeself, but she was silver; and when the skunks atWashington lowered the price of silver, where was I?Fitchered, b'God!""I was looking for a job.""Well, it's mostly cattle down here in the Panamint, butsince the strike over at Gold Gulch some of the boys havegone prospecting. There's gold in them damn PanamintMountains. If you can find a good long 'contact' of countryrocks you ain't far from it. There's a couple of fellarsfrom Redlands has located four claims around Gold Gulch.They got a vein eighteen inches wide, an' Peters saysyou can trace it for more'n a thousand feet. Were youthinking of prospecting over there?""Well, well, I don' know, I don' know.""Well, I'm going over to the other side of the range dayafter t'morrow after some ponies of mine, an' I'm going tohave a look around. You say you've been a miner?""Yes, yes.""If you're going over that way, you might come along and seeif we can't find a contact, or copper sulphurets, orsomething. Even if we don't find color we may find silver-bearing galena." Then, after a pause, "Let's see, I didn'tcatch your name.""Huh? My name's Carter," answered McTeague, promptly. Whyhe should change his name again the dentist could not say."Carter" came to his mind at once, and he answered withoutreflecting that he had registered as "Burlington" when hehad arrived at the hotel."Well, my name's Cribbens," answered the other. The twoshook hands solemnly."You're about finished?" continued Cribbens, pushing back."Le's go out in the bar an' have a drink on it.""Sure, sure," said the dentist.The two sat up late that night in a corner of the barroomdiscussing the probability of finding gold in the Panaminthills. It soon became evident that they held differingtheories. McTeague clung to the old prospector's idea thatthere was no way of telling where gold was until youactually saw it. Cribbens had evidently read a good manybooks upon the subject, and had already prospected insomething of a scientific manner."Shucks!" he exclaimed. "Gi' me a long distinct contactbetween sedimentary and igneous rocks, an' I'll sink a shaftwithout ever seeing 'color.'"The dentist put his huge chin in the air. "Gold is whereyou find it," he returned, doggedly."Well, it's my idea as how pardners ought to work alongdifferent lines," said Cribbens. He tucked the corners ofhis mustache into his mouth and sucked the tobacco juicefrom them. For a moment he was thoughtful, then he blewout his mustache abruptly, and exclaimed:"Say, Carter, le's make a go of this. You got a little cashI suppose--fifty dollars or so?""Huh ? Yes--I--I--""Well, I got about fifty. We'll go pardners on theproposition, an' we'll dally 'round the range yonder an' seewhat we can see. What do you say?""Sure, sure," answered the dentist."Well, it's a go then, hey?""That's the word.""Well, le's have a drink on it."They drank with profound gravity.They fitted out the next day at the general merchandisestore of Keeler--picks, shovels, prospectors' hammers, acouple of cradles, pans, bacon, flour, coffee, and the like,and they bought a burro on which to pack their kit."Say, by jingo, you ain't got a horse," suddenly exclaimedCribbens as they came out of the store. "You can't getaround this country without a pony of some kind."Cribbens already owned and rode a buckskin cayuse that hadto be knocked in the head and stunned before it could besaddled. "I got an extry saddle an' a headstall at thehotel that you can use," he said, "but you'll have to get ahorse."In the end the dentist bought a mule at the livery stablefor forty dollars. It turned out to be a good bargain,however, for the mule was a good traveller and seemedactually to fatten on sage-brush and potato parings. Whenthe actual transaction took place, McTeague had been obligedto get the money to pay for the mule out of the canvas sack.Cribbens was with him at the time, and as the dentistunrolled his blankets and disclosed the sack, whistled inamazement."An' me asking you if you had fifty dollars!" he exclaimed."You carry your mine right around with you, don't you?""Huh, I guess so," muttered the dentist. "I--I just sold aclaim I had up in El Dorado County," he added.At five o'clock on a magnificent May morning the"pardners" jogged out of Keeler, driving the burro beforethem. Cribbens rode his cayuse, McTeague following in hisrear on the mule."Say," remarked Cribbens, "why in thunder don't you leavethat fool canary behind at the hotel? It's going to be inyour way all the time, an' it will sure die. Better breakits neck an' chuck it.""No, no," insisted the dentist. "I've had it too long. I'lltake it with me.""Well, that's the craziest idea I ever heard of," remarkedCribbens, "to take a canary along prospecting. Why not kidgloves, and be done with it?"They travelled leisurely to the southeast during the day,following a well-beaten cattle road, and that evening campedon a spur of some hills at the head of the Panamint Valleywhere there was a spring. The next day they crossed thePanamint itself."That's a smart looking valley," observed the dentist."Now you're talking straight talk," returned Cribbens,sucking his mustache. The valley was beautiful, wide,level, and very green. Everywhere were herds of cattle,scarcely less wild than deer. Once or twice cowboys passedthem on the road, big-boned fellows, picturesque in theirbroad hats, hairy trousers, jingling spurs, and revolverbelts, surprisingly like the pictures McTeague remembered tohave seen. Everyone of them knew Cribbens, and almostinvariably joshed him on his venture."Say, Crib, ye'd best take a wagon train with ye to bringyour dust back."Cribbens resented their humor, and after they had passed,chewed fiercely on his mustache."I'd like to make a strike, b'God! if it was only to getthe laugh on them joshers."By noon they were climbing the eastern slope of the PanamintRange. Long since they had abandoned the road; vegetationceased; not a tree was in sight. They followed faint cattletrails that led from one water hole to another. By degreesthese water holes grew dryer and dryer, and at threeo'clock Cribbens halted and filled their canteens."There ain't any too much water on the other side," heobserved grimly."It's pretty hot," muttered the dentist, wiping hisstreaming forehead with the back of his hand."Huh!" snorted the other more grimly than ever. Themotionless air was like the mouth of a furnace. Cribbens'spony lathered and panted. McTeague's mule began to droophis long ears. Only the little burro plodded resolutely on,picking the trail where McTeague could see but tracklesssand and stunted sage. Towards evening Cribbens, who was inthe lead, drew rein on the summit of the hills.Behind them was the beautiful green Panamint Valley, butbefore and below them for miles and miles, as far as the eyecould reach, a flat, white desert, empty even of sage-brush,unrolled toward the horizon. In the immediate foreground abroken system of arroyos, and little canyons tumbled down tomeet it. To the north faint blue hills shoulderedthemselves above the horizon."Well," observed Cribbens, "we're on the top of the PanamintRange now. It's along this eastern slope, right below ushere, that we're going to prospect. Gold Gulch"--he pointedwith the butt of his quirt--"is about eighteen or nineteenmiles along here to the north of us. Those hills way overyonder to the northeast are the Telescope hills.""What do you call the desert out yonder?" McTeague's eyeswandered over the illimitable stretch of alkali thatstretched out forever and forever to the east, to the north,and to the south."That," said Cribbens, "that's Death Valley."There was a long pause. The horses panted irregularly, thesweat dripping from their heaving bellies. Cribbens and thedentist sat motionless in their saddles, looking out overthat abominable desolation, silent, troubled."God!" ejaculated Cribbens at length, under his breath, witha shake of his head. Then he seemed to rouse himself."Well," he remarked, "first thing we got to do now is tofind water."This was a long and difficult task. They descendedinto one little canyon after another, followed the course ofnumberless arroyos, and even dug where there seemedindications of moisture, all to no purpose. But at lengthMcTeague's mule put his nose in the air and blew once ortwice through his nostrils."Smells it, the son of a gun!" exclaimed Cribbens. Thedentist let the animal have his head, and in a few minuteshe had brought them to the bed of a tiny canyon where a thinstream of brackish water filtered over a ledge of rocks."We'll camp here," observed Cribbens, "but we can't turn thehorses loose. We'll have to picket 'em with the lariats. Isaw some loco-weed back here a piece, and if they get toeating that, they'll sure go plum crazy. The burro won'teat it, but I wouldn't trust the others."A new life began for McTeague. After breakfast the"pardners" separated, going in opposite directions along theslope of the range, examining rocks, picking and chipping atledges and bowlders, looking for signs, prospecting.McTeague went up into the little canyons where the streamshad cut through the bed rock, searching for veins of quartz,breaking out this quartz when he had found it, pulverizingand panning it. Cribbens hunted for "contacts," closelyexamining country rocks and out-crops, continually on thelookout for spots where sedimentary and igneous rock cametogether.One day, after a week of prospecting, they met unexpectedlyon the slope of an arroyo. It was late in the afternoon."Hello, pardner," exclaimed Cribbens as he came down towhere McTeague was bending over his pan. "What luck?"The dentist emptied his pan and straightened up. "Nothing,nothing. You struck anything?""Not a trace. Guess we might as well be moving towardscamp." They returned together, Cribbens telling the dentistof a group of antelope he had seen."We might lay off to-morrow, an' see if we can plug a coupleof them fellers. Antelope steak would go pretty well afterbeans an' bacon an' coffee week in an' week out."McTeague was answering, when Cribbens interrupted himwith an exclamation of profound disgust. "I thought we werethe first to prospect along in here, an' now look at that.Don't it make you sick?"He pointed out evidences of an abandoned prospector's campjust before them--charred ashes, empty tin cans, one or twogold-miner's pans, and a broken pick. "Don't that make yousick?" muttered Cribbens, sucking his mustache furiously."To think of us mushheads going over ground that's beencovered already! Say, pardner, we'll dig out of here to-morrow. I've been thinking, anyhow, we'd better move to thesouth; that water of ours is pretty low.""Yes, yes, I guess so," assented the dentist. "There ain'tany gold here.""Yes, there is," protested Cribbens doggedly; "there's goldall through these hills, if we could only strike it. I tellyou what, pardner, I got a place in mind where I'll bet noone ain't prospected--least not very many. There don't verymany care to try an' get to it. It's over on the other sideof Death Valley. It's called Gold Mountain, an' there's onlyone mine been located there, an' it's paying like a nitratebed. There ain't many people in that country, because it'sall hell to get into. First place, you got to cross DeathValley and strike the Armagosa Range fur off to the south.Well, no one ain't stuck on crossing the Valley, not if theycan help it. But we could work down the Panamint somehundred or so miles, maybe two hundred, an' fetch around bythe Armagosa River, way to the south'erd. We could prospecton the way. But I guess the Armagosa'd be dried up at thisseason. Anyhow," he concluded, "we'll move camp to thesouth to-morrow. We got to get new feed an' water for thehorses. We'll see if we can knock over a couple of antelopeto-morrow, and then we'll scoot.""I ain't got a gun," said the dentist; "not even a revolver.I--""Wait a second," said Cribbens, pausing in his scramble downthe side of one of the smaller gulches. "Here's some slatehere; I ain't seen no slate around here yet. Let's seewhere it goes to."McTeague followed him along the side of the gulch. Cribbenswent on ahead, muttering to himself from time to time:"Runs right along here, even enough, and here's water too.Didn't know this stream was here; pretty near dry, though.Here's the slate again. See where it runs, pardner?""Look at it up there ahead," said McTeague. "It runs rightup over the back of this hill.""That's right," assented Cribbens. "Hi!" he shoutedsuddenly, "Here's a 'contact,' and here it is again, andthere, and yonder. Oh, look at it, will you? That's grano-diorite on slate. Couldn't want it any more distinct thanthat. God! if we could only find the quartz between thetwo now.""Well, there it is," exclaimed McTeague. "Look on aheadthere; ain't that quartz?""You're shouting right out loud," vociferated Cribbens,looking where McTeague was pointing. His face went suddenlypale. He turned to the dentist, his eyes wide."By God, pardner," he exclaimed, breathlessly. "By God--"he broke off abruptly."That's what you been looking for, ain't it?" asked thedentist."Looking for! Looking for!" Cribbens checkedhimself . "That's slate all right, and that's grano-diorite, I know"--he bent down and examined the rock--"and here's the quartz between 'em; there can't be nomistake about that. Gi' me that hammer," he cried,excitedly. "Come on, git to work. Jab into the quartz withyour pick; git out some chunks of it." Cribbens went down onhis hands and knees, attacking the quartz vein furiously.The dentist followed his example, swinging his pick withenormous force, splintering the rocks at every stroke.Cribbens was talking to himself in his excitement."Got you this time, you son of a gun! By God! I guesswe got you this time, at last. Looks like it, anyhow.Get a move on, pardner. There ain't anybody 'round, isthere? Hey?" Without looking, he drew his revolver andthrew it to the dentist. "Take the gun an' look around,pardner. If you see any son of a gun anywhere, plughim. This yere's our claim. I guess we got it thistide, pardner. Come on." He gathered up the chunks ofquartz he had broken out, and put them in his hat andstarted towards their camp. The two went along with greatstrides, hurrying as fast as they could over the unevenground."I don' know," exclaimed Cribbens, breathlessly, "I don'want to say too much. Maybe we're fooled. Lord, that damncamp's a long ways off. Oh, I ain't goin' to fool alongthis way. Come on, pardner." He broke into a run.McTeague followed at a lumbering gallop. Over the scorched,parched ground, stumbling and tripping over sage-brush andsharp-pointed rocks, under the palpitating heat of thedesert sun, they ran and scrambled, carrying the quartzlumps in their hats."See any 'color' in it, pardner?" gasped Cribbens. "Ican't, can you? 'Twouldn't be visible nohow, I guess.Hurry up. Lord, we ain't ever going to get to that camp."Finally they arrived. Cribbens dumped the quartz fragmentsinto a pan."You pestle her, pardner, an' I'll fix the scales."McTeague ground the lumps to fine dust in the iron mortarwhile Cribbens set up the tiny scales and got out the"spoons" from their outfit."That's fine enough," Cribbens exclaimed, impatiently. "Nowwe'll spoon her. Gi' me the water."Cribbens scooped up a spoonful of the fine white powder andbegan to spoon it carefully. The two were on their handsand knees upon the ground, their heads close together, stillpanting with excitement and the exertion of their run."Can't do it," exclaimed Cribbens, sitting back on hisheels, "hand shakes so. You take it, pardner. Careful,now."McTeague took the horn spoon and began rocking it gently inhis huge fingers, sluicing the water over the edge a littleat a time, each movement washing away a little more of thepowdered quartz. The two watched it with the intensesteagerness."Don't see it yet; don't see it yet," whispered Cribbens,chewing his mustache. "Leetle faster, pardner.That's the ticket. Careful, steady, now; leetle more,leetle more. Don't see color yet, do you?"The quartz sediment dwindled by degrees as McTeague spoonedit steadily. Then at last a thin streak of a foreignsubstance began to show just along the edge. It was yellow.Neither spoke. Cribbens dug his nails into the sand, andground his mustache between his teeth. The yellow streakbroadened as the quartz sediment washed away. Cribbenswhispered:"We got it, pardner. That's gold."McTeague washed the last of the white quartz dust away, andlet the water trickle after it. A pinch of gold, fine asflour, was left in the bottom of the spoon."There you are," he said. The two looked at each other.Then Cribbens rose into the air with a great leap and a yellthat could have been heard for half a mile."Yee-e-ow! We got it, we struck it. Pardner, we gotit. Out of sight. We're millionaires." He snatched up hisrevolver and fired it with inconceivable rapidity. "Putit there, old man," he shouted, gripping McTeague's palm."That's gold, all right," muttered McTeague, studying thecontents of the spoon."You bet your great-grandma's Cochin-China Chessy cat it'sgold," shouted Cribbens. "Here, now, we got a lot to do.We got to stake her out an' put up the location notice.We'll take our full acreage, you bet. You--we haven'tweighed this yet. Where's the scales?" He weighed the pinchof gold with shaking hands. "Two grains," he cried."That'll run five dollars to the ton. Rich, it's rich; it'sthe richest kind of pay, pardner. We're millionaires. Whydon't you say something? Why don't you get excited? Whydon't you run around an' do something?""Huh!" said McTeague, rolling his eyes. "Huh! I know, Iknow, we've struck it pretty rich.""Come on," exclaimed Cribbens, jumping up again. "We'llstake her out an' put up the location notice. Lord, supposeanyone should have come on her while we've been away." Hereloaded his revolver deliberately. "We'll drophim all right, if there's anyone fooling round there; I'lltell you those right now. Bring the rifle, pardner, an' ifyou see anyone, plug him, an' ask him what he wantsafterward."They hurried back to where they had made their discovery."To think," exclaimed Cribbens, as he drove the first stake,"to think those other mushheads had their camp withingunshot of her and never located her. Guess they didn'tknow the meaning of a 'contact.' Oh, I knew I was solid on'contacts.'"They staked out their claim, and Cribbens put up the noticeof location. It was dark before they were through.Cribbens broke off some more chunks of quarts in the vein."I'll spoon this too, just for the fun of it, when I gethome," he explained, as they tramped back to the camp."Well," said the dentist, "we got the laugh on thosecowboys.""Have we?" shouted Cribbens. "Have we? Just wait andsee the rush for this place when we tell 'em about it downin Keeler. Say, what'll we call her?""I don' know, I don' know.""We might call her the 'Last Chance.' 'Twas our lastchance, wasn't it? We'd 'a' gone antelope shootingtomorrow, and the next day we'd 'a'--say, what you stoppingfor?" he added, interrupting himself. "What's up?"The dentist had paused abruptly on the crest of a canyon.Cribbens, looking back, saw him standing motionless in histracks."What's up?" asked Cribbens a second time.McTeague slowly turned his head and looked over oneshoulder, then over the other. Suddenly he wheeled sharplyabout, cocking the Winchester and tossing it to hisshoulder. Cribbens ran back to his side, whipping out hisrevolver."What is it?" he cried. "See anybody?" He peered on aheadthrough the gathering twilight."No, no.""Hear anything?""No, didn't hear anything.""What is it then? What's up?""I don' know, I don' know," muttered the dentist, loweringthe rifle. "There was something.""What?""Something--didn't you notice?""Notice what?""I don' know. Something--something or other.""Who? What? Notice what? What did you see?"The dentist let down the hammer of the rifle."I guess it wasn't anything," he said rather foolishly."What d'you think you saw--anybody on the claim?""I didn't see anything. I didn't hear anything either. Ihad an idea, that's all; came all of a sudden, like that.Something, I don' know what.""I guess you just imagined something. There ain't anybodywithin twenty miles of us, I guess.""Yes, I guess so, just imagined it, that's the word."Half an hour later they had the fire going. McTeague wasfrying strips of bacon over the coals, and Cribbens wasstill chattering and exclaiming over their great strike.All at once McTeague put down the frying-pan."What's that?" he growled."Hey? What's what?" exclaimed Cribbens, getting up."Didn't you notice something?""Where?""Off there." The dentist made a vague gesture toward theeastern horizon. "Didn't you hear something--I mean seesomething--I mean--""What's the matter with you, pardner?""Nothing. I guess I just imagined it."But it was not imagination. Until midnight the partners laybroad awake, rolled in their blankets under the open sky,talking and discussing and making plans. At last Cribbensrolled over on his side and slept. The dentist could notsleep.What! It was warning him again, that strange sixth sense,that obscure brute instinct. It was aroused again andclamoring to be obeyed. Here, in these desolate barrenhills, twenty miles from the nearest human being, it stirredand woke and rowelled him to be moving on. It had goadedhim to flight from the Big Dipper mine, and he had obeyed.But now it was different; now he had suddenly become rich;he had lighted on a treasure--a treasure far more valuablethan the Big Dipper mine itself. How was he to leave that?He could not move on now. He turned about in his blankets.No, he would not move on. Perhaps it was his fancy, afterall. He saw nothing, heard nothing. The emptiness ofprimeval desolation stretched from him leagues and leaguesupon either hand. The gigantic silence of the night layclose over everything, like a muffling Titanic palm. Of whatwas he suspicious? In that treeless waste an object could beseen at half a day's journey distant. In that vast silencethe click of a pebble was as audible as a pistol-shot. Andyet there was nothing, nothing.The dentist settled himself in his blankets and tried tosleep. In five minutes he was sitting up, staring into theblue-gray shimmer of the moonlight, straining his ears,watching and listening intently. Nothing was in sight. Thebrowned and broken flanks of the Panamint hills lay quietand familiar under the moon. The burro moved its head with aclinking of its bell; and McTeagues mule, dozing on threelegs, changed its weight to another foot, with a longbreath. Everything fell silent again."What is it?" muttered the dentist. "If I could only seesomething, hear something."He threw off the blankets, and, rising, climbed to thesummit of the nearest hill and looked back in the directionin which he and Cribbens had travelled a fortnight before.For half an hour he waited, watching and listening in vain.But as he returned to camp, and prepared to roll hisblankets about him, the strange impulse rose in him againabruptly, never so strong, never so insistent. It seemed asthough he were bitted and ridden; as if some unseen handwere turning him toward the east; some unseen heel spurringhim to precipitate and instant flight.Flight from what? "No," he muttered under his breath. "Gonow and leave the claim, and leave a fortune! What a foolI'd be, when I can't see anything or hear anything. Toleave a fortune! No, I won't. No, by God!" He drewCribbens's Winchester toward him and slipped a cartridgeinto the magazine."No," he growled. "Whatever happens, I'm going to stay. Ifanybody comes--" He depressed the lever of the rifle, andsent the cartridge clashing into the breech."I ain't going to sleep," he muttered under his mustache."I can't sleep; I'll watch." He rose a second time,clambered to the nearest hilltop and sat down, drawing theblanket around him, and laying the Winchester across hisknees. The hours passed. The dentist sat on the hilltop amotionless, crouching figure, inky black against the paleblur of the sky. By and by the edge of the eastern horizonbegan to grow blacker and more distinct in out-line. Thedawn was coming. Once more McTeague felt the mysteriousintuition of approaching danger; an unseen hand seemedreining his head eastward; a spur was in his flanks thatseemed to urge him to hurry, hurry, hurry. The influencegrew stronger with every moment. The dentist set his greatjaws together and held his ground."No," he growled between his set teeth. "No, I'll stay."He made a long circuit around the camp, even going as far asthe first stake of the new claim, his Winchester cocked, hisears pricked, his eyes alert. There was nothing; yet asplainly as though it were shouted at the very nape of hisneck he felt an enemy. It was not fear. McTeague was notafraid."If I could only see something--somebody," he muttered,as he held the cocked rifle ready, "I--I'd show him."He returned to camp. Cribbens was snoring. The burro hadcome down to the stream for its morning drink. The mule wasawake and browsing. McTeague stood irresolutely by the coldashes of the camp-fire, looking from side to side with allthe suspicion and wariness of a tracked stag. Stronger andstronger grew the strange impulse. It seemed to him that onthe next instant he must perforce wheel sharply eastwardand rush away headlong in a clumsy, lumbering gallop. Hefought against it with all the ferocious obstinacy of hissimple brute nature."Go, and leave the mine? Go and leave a milliondollars? No, no, I won't go. No, I'll stay. Ah," heexclaimed, under his breath, with a shake of his huge head,like an exasperated and harassed brute, "ah, show yourself,will you?" He brought the rifle to his shoulder and coveredpoint after point along the range of hills to the west."Come on, show yourself. Come on a little, all of you. Iain't afraid of you; but don't skulk this way. You ain'tgoing to drive me away from my mine. I'm going to stay."An hour passed. Then two. The stars winked out, and thedawn whitened. The air became warmer. The whole east,clean of clouds, flamed opalescent from horizon to zenith,crimson at the base, where the earth blackened against it;at the top fading from pink to pale yellow, to green, tolight blue, to the turquoise iridescence of the desert sky.The long, thin shadows of the early hours drew backward likereceding serpents, then suddenly the sun looked over theshoulder of the world, and it was day.At that moment McTeague was already eight miles away fromthe camp, going steadily eastward. He was descending thelowest spurs of the Panamint hills, following an old andfaint cattle trail. Before him he drove his mule, ladenwith blankets, provisions for six days, Cribben's rifle, anda canteen full of water. Securely bound to the pommel ofthe saddle was the canvas sack with its precious fivethousand dollars, all in twenty-dollar gold pieces. Butstrange enough in that horrid waste of sand and sage was theobject that McTeague himself persistently carried--thecanary in its cage, about which he had carefully wrapped acouple of old flour-bags.At about five o'clock that morning McTeague had crossedseveral trails which seemed to be converging, and, guessingthat they led to a water hole, had followed one of them andhad brought up at a sort of small sundried sink whichnevertheless contained a little water at the bottom. He hadwatered the mule here, refilled the canteen, and drank deephimself. He had also dampened the old flour-sacks aroundthe bird cage to protect the little canary as far aspossible from the heat that he knew would increase now withevery hour. He had made ready to go forward again, buthad paused irresolute again, hesitating for the last time."I'm a fool," he growled, scowling back at the range behindhim. "I'm a fool. What's the matter with me? I'm justwalking right away from a million dollars. I know it'sthere. No, by God!" he exclaimed, savagely, "I ain't goingto do it. I'm going back. I can't leave a mine like that."He had wheeled the mule about, and had started to return onhis tracks, grinding his teeth fiercely, inclining his headforward as though butting against a wind that would beat himback. "Go on, go on," he cried, sometimes addressing themule, sometimes himself. "Go on, go back, go back. Iwill go back." It was as though he were climbing a hillthat grew steeper with every stride. The strange impellinginstinct fought his advance yard by yard. By degrees thedentist's steps grew slower; he stopped, went forward againcautiously, almost feeling his way, like someone approachinga pit in the darkness. He stopped again, hesitating,gnashing his teeth, clinching his fists with blind fury.Suddenly he turned the mule about, and once more set hisface to the eastward."I can't," he cried aloud to the desert; "I can't, I can't.It's stronger than I am. I can't go back. Hurry now,hurry, hurry, hurry."He hastened on furtively, his head and shoulders bent. Attimes one could almost say he crouched as he pushed forwardwith long strides; now and then he even looked over hisshoulder. Sweat rolled from him, he lost his hat, and thematted mane of thick yellow hair swept over his forehead andshaded his small, twinkling eyes. At times, with a vague,nearly automatic gesture, he reached his hand forward, thefingers prehensile, and directed towards the horizon, as ifhe would clutch it and draw it nearer; and at intervals hemuttered, "Hurry, hurry, hurry on, hurry on." For now atlast McTeague was afraid.His plans were uncertain. He remembered what Cribbens hadsaid about the Armagosa Mountains in the country on theother side of Death Valley. It was all hell to get intothat country, Cribbens had said, and not many men wentthere, because of the terrible valley of alkali thatbarred the way, a horrible vast sink of white sand and saltbelow even the sea level, the dry bed, no doubt, of someprehistoric lake. But McTeague resolved to make a circuitof the valley, keeping to the south, until he should strikethe Armagosa River. He would make a circuit of the valleyand come up on the other side. He would get into thatcountry around Gold Mountain in the Armagosa hills, barredoff from the world by the leagues of the red-hot alkali ofDeath Valley. "They" would hardly reach him there. Hewould stay at Gold Mountain two or three months, and thenwork his way down into Mexico.McTeague tramped steadily forward, still descending thelower irregularities of the Panamint Range. By nine o'clockthe slope flattened out abruptly; the hills were behind him;before him, to the east, all was level. He had reached theregion where even the sand and sage-brush begin to dwindle,giving place to white, powdered alkali. The trails werenumerous, but old and faint; and they had been made bycattle, not by men. They led in all directions but one--north, south, and west; but not one, however faint, struckout towards the valley."If I keep along the edge of the hills where these trailsare," muttered the dentist, "I ought to find water up in thearroyos from time to time."At once he uttered an exclamation. The mule had begun tosqueal and lash out with alternate hoofs, his eyes rolling,his ears flattened. He ran a few steps, halted, andsquealed again. Then, suddenly wheeling at right angles, setoff on a jog trot to the north, squealing and kicking fromtime to time. McTeague ran after him shouting and swearing,but for a long time the mule would not allow himself to becaught. He seemed more bewildered than frightened."He's eatun some of that loco-weed that Cribbens spokeabout," panted McTeague. "Whoa, there; steady, you." Atlength the mule stopped of his own accord, and seemed tocome to his senses again. McTeague came up and took thebridle rein, speaking to him and rubbing his nose."There, there, what's the matter with you?" The mulewas docile again. McTeague washed his mouth and set forwardonce more.The day was magnificent. From horizon to horizon was onevast span of blue, whitening as it dipped earthward. Milesupon miles to the east and southeast the desert unrolleditself, white, naked, inhospitable, palpitating andshimmering under the sun, unbroken by so much as a rock orcactus stump. In the distance it assumed all manner offaint colors, pink, purple, and pale orange. To the westrose the Panamint Range, sparsely sprinkled with gray sage-brush; here the earths and sands were yellow, ochre, andrich, deep red, the hollows and canyons picked out withintense blue shadows. It seemed strange that suchbarrenness could exhibit this radiance of color, but nothingcould have been more beautiful than the deep red of thehigher bluffs and ridges, seamed with purple shadows,standing sharply out against the pale-blue whiteness of thehorizon.By nine o'clock the sun stood high in the sky. The heat wasintense; the atmosphere was thick and heavy with it.McTeague gasped for breath and wiped the beads ofperspiration from his forehead, his cheeks, and his neck.Every inch and pore of his skin was tingling and prickingunder the merciless lash of the sun's rays."If it gets much hotter," he muttered, with a long breath,"if it gets much hotter, I--I don' know--" He wagged hishead and wiped the sweat from his eyelids, where it wasrunning like tears.The sun rose higher; hour by hour, as the dentist trampedsteadily on, the heat increased. The baked dry sandcrackled into innumerable tiny flakes under his feet. Thetwigs of the sage-brush snapped like brittle pipestems as hepushed through them. It grew hotter. At eleven the earthwas like the surface of a furnace; the air, as McTeaguebreathed it in, was hot to his lips and the roof of hismouth. The sun was a disk of molten brass swimming in theburnt-out blue of the sky. McTeague stripped off hiswoollen shirt, and even unbuttoned his flannelundershirt, tying a handkerchief loosely about his neck."Lord!" he exclaimed. "I never knew it could get as hotas this."The heat grew steadily fiercer; all distant objects werevisibly shimmering and palpitating under it. At noon amirage appeared on the hills to the northwest. McTeaguehalted the mule, and drank from the tepid water in thecanteen, dampening the sack around the canary's cage. Assoon as he ceased his tramp and the noise of his crunching,grinding footsteps died away, the silence, vast,illimitable, enfolded him like an immeasurable tide. Fromall that gigantic landscape, that colossal reach of bakingsand, there arose not a single sound. Not a twig rattled,not an insect hummed, not a bird or beast invaded that hugesolitude with call or cry. Everything as far as the eyecould reach, to north, to south, to east, and west, layinert, absolutely quiet and moveless under the remorselessscourge of the noon sun. The very shadows shrank away,hiding under sage-bushes, retreating to the farthest nooksand crevices in the canyons of the hills. All the world wasone gigantic blinding glare, silent, motionless. "If itgets much hotter," murmured the dentist again, moving hishead from side to side, "if it gets much hotter, I don' knowwhat I'll do."Steadily the heat increased. At three o'clock it was evenmore terrible than it had been at noon."Ain't it ever going to let up?" groaned the dentist,rolling his eyes at the sky of hot blue brass. Then, as hespoke, the stillness was abruptly stabbed through andthrough by a shrill sound that seemed to come from all sidesat once. It ceased; then, as McTeague took another forwardstep, began again with the suddenness of a blow, shriller,nearer at hand, a hideous, prolonged note that brought bothman and mule to an instant halt."I know what that is," exclaimed the dentist. His eyessearched the ground swiftly until he saw what he expected heshould see--the round thick coil, the slowly waving clover-shaped head and erect whirring tail with its vibrantrattles.For fully thirty seconds the man and snake remainedlooking into each other's eyes. Then the snake uncoiled andswiftly wound from sight amidst the sagebrush. McTeaguedrew breath again, and his eyes once more beheld theillimitable leagues of quivering sand and alkali."Good Lord! What a country!" he exclaimed. But his voicewas trembling as he urged forward the mule once more.Fiercer and fiercer grew the heat as the afternoon advanced.At four McTeague stopped again. He was dripping at everypore, but there was no relief in perspiration. The verytouch of his clothes upon his body was unendurable. Themule's ears were drooping and his tongue lolled from hismouth. The cattle trails seemed to be drawing togethertoward a common point; perhaps a water hole was near by."I'll have to lay up, sure," muttered the dentist. "I ain'tmade to travel in such heat as this."He drove the mule up into one of the larger canyons andhalted in the shadow of a pile of red rock. After a longsearch he found water, a few quarts, warm and brackish, atthe bottom of a hollow of sunwracked mud; it was little morethan enough to water the mule and refill his canteen. Herehe camped, easing the mule of the saddle, and turning himloose to find what nourishment he might. A few hours laterthe sun set in a cloudless glory of red and gold, and theheat became by degrees less intolerable. McTeague cookedhis supper, chiefly coffee and bacon, and watched thetwilight come on, revelling in the delicious coolness of theevening. As he spread his blankets on the ground heresolved that hereafter he would travel only at night,laying up in the daytime in the shade of the canyons. Hewas exhausted with his terrible day's march. Never in hislife had sleep seemed so sweet to him.But suddenly he was broad awake, his jaded senses all alert."What was that?" he muttered. "I thought I heard something--saw something."He rose to his feet, reaching for the Winchester. Desolationlay still around him. There was not a sound but his ownbreathing; on the face of the desert not a grain of sand wasin motion. McTeague looked furtively and quickly fromside to side, his teeth set, his eyes rolling. Once morethe rowel was in his flanks, once more an unseen hand reinedhim toward the east. After all the miles of that dreadfulday's flight he was no better off than when he started. Ifanything, he was worse, for never had that mysteriousinstinct in him been more insistent than now; never had theimpulse toward precipitate flight been stronger; never hadthe spur bit deeper. Every nerve of his body cried aloudfor rest; yet every instinct seemed aroused and alive,goading him to hurry on, to hurry on."What is it, then? What is it?" he cried, between histeeth. "Can't I ever get rid of you? Ain't I ever goingto shake you off? Don' keep it up this way. Showyourselves. Let's have it out right away. Come on. Iain't afraid if you'll only come on; but don't skulk thisway." Suddenly he cried aloud in a frenzy of exasperation,"Damn you, come on, will you? Come on and have it out."His rifle was at his shoulder, he was covering bush afterbush, rock after rock, aiming at every denser shadow. Allat once, and quite involuntarily, his forefinger crooked,and the rifle spoke and flamed. The canyons roared back theecho, tossing it out far over the desert in a rippling,widening wave of sound.McTeague lowered the rifle hastily, with an exclamation ofdismay."You fool," he said to himself, "you fool. You've done itnow. They could hear that miles away. You've done it now."He stood listening intently, the rifle smoking in his hands.The last echo died away. The smoke vanished, the vastsilence closed upon the passing echoes of the rifle as theocean closes upon a ship's wake. Nothing moved; yetMcTeague bestirred himself sharply, rolling up his blankets,resaddling the mule, getting his outfit together again.From time to time he muttered:"Hurry now; hurry on. You fool, you've done it now. Theycould hear that miles away. Hurry now. They ain't far offnow."As he depressed the lever of the rifle to reload it, hefound that the magazine was empty. He clapped his hands tohis sides, feeling rapidly first in one pocket, then inanother. He had forgotten to take extra cartridgeswith him. McTeague swore under his breath as he flung therifle away. Henceforth he must travel unarmed.A little more water had gathered in the mud hole near whichhe had camped. He watered the mule for the last time andwet the sacks around the canary's cage. Then once more heset forward.But there was a change in the direction of McTeague'sflight. Hitherto he had held to the south, keeping upon thevery edge of the hills; now he turned sharply at rightangles. The slope fell away beneath his hurrying feet; thesage-brush dwindled, and at length ceased; the sand gaveplace to a fine powder, white as snow; and an hour after hehad fired the rifle his mule's hoofs were crisping andcracking the sun-baked flakes of alkali on the surface ofDeath Valley.Tracked and harried, as he felt himself to be, from onecamping place to another, McTeague had suddenly resolved tomake one last effort to rid himself of the enemy that seemedto hang upon his heels. He would strike straight out intothat horrible wilderness where even the beasts were afraid.He would cross Death Valley at once and put its arid wastesbetween him and his pursuer."You don't dare follow me now," he muttered, as he hurriedon. "Let's see you come out here after me."He hurried on swiftly, urging the mule to a rapid rackingwalk. Towards four o'clock the sky in front of him began toflush pink and golden. McTeague halted and breakfasted,pushing on again immediately afterward. The dawn flamed andglowed like a brazier, and the sun rose a vast red-hot coalfloating in fire. An hour passed, then another, and another.It was about nine o'clock. Once more the dentist paused,and stood panting and blowing, his arms dangling, his eyesscrewed up and blinking as he looked about him.Far behind him the Panamint hills were already but bluehummocks on the horizon. Before him and upon either side,to the north and to the east and to the south, stretchedprimordial desolation. League upon league the infinitereaches of dazzling white alkali laid themselves out like animmeasurable scroll unrolled from horizon to horizon; not abush, not a twig relieved that horrible monotony. Even thesand of the desert would have been a welcome sight; a singleclump of sage-brush would have fascinated the eye; but thiswas worse than the desert. It was abominable, this hideoussink of alkali, this bed of some primeval lake lying so farbelow the level of the ocean. The great mountains of PlacerCounty had been merely indifferent to man; but this awfulsink of alkali was openly and unreservedly iniquitous andmalignant.McTeague had told himself that the heat upon the lowerslopes of the Panamint had been dreadful; here in DeathValley it became a thing of terror. There was no longer anyshadow but his own. He was scorched and parched from head toheel. It seemed to him that the smart of his tortured bodycould not have been keener if he had been flayed."If it gets much hotter," he muttered, wringing the sweatfrom his thick fell of hair and mustache, "if it gets muchhotter, I don' know what I'll do." He was thirsty, anddrank a little from his canteen. "I ain't got any too muchwater," he murmured, shaking the canteen. "I got to get outof this place in a hurry, sure."By eleven o'clock the heat had increased to such an extentthat McTeague could feel the burning of the ground comepringling and stinging through the soles of his boots.Every step he took threw up clouds of impalpable alkalidust, salty and choking, so that he strangled and coughedand sneezed with it."Lord! what a country!" exclaimed the dentist.An hour later, the mule stopped and lay down, his jaws wideopen, his ears dangling. McTeague washed his mouth with ahandful of water and for a second time since sunrise wettedthe flour-sacks around the bird cage. The air was quiveringand palpitating like that in the stoke-hold of a steamship.The sun, small and contracted, swam molten overhead."I can't stand it," said McTeague at length. "I'll have tostop and make some kinda shade."The mule was crouched upon the ground, panting rapidly,with half-closed eyes. The dentist removed the saddle, andunrolling his blanket, propped it up as best he couldbetween him and the sun. As he stooped down to crawlbeneath it, his palm touched the ground. He snatched itaway with a cry of pain. The surface alkali was oven-hot;he was obliged to scoop out a trench in it before he daredto lie down.By degrees the dentist began to doze. He had had little orno sleep the night before, and the hurry of his flight underthe blazing sun had exhausted him. But his rest was broken;between waking and sleeping, all manner of troublous imagesgalloped through his brain. He thought he was back in thePanamint hills again with Cribbens. They had justdiscovered the mine and were returning toward camp.McTeague saw himself as another man, striding along over thesand and sagebrush. At once he saw himself stop and wheelsharply about, peering back suspiciously. There wassomething behind him; something was following him. Helooked, as it were, over the shoulder of this otherMcTeague, and saw down there, in the half light of thecanyon, something dark crawling upon the ground, anindistinct gray figure, man or brute, he did not know. Thenhe saw another, and another; then another. A score ofblack, crawling objects were following him, crawling frombush to bush, converging upon him. "They" were afterhim, were closing in upon him, were within touch of hishand, were at his feet--were at his throat.McTeague jumped up with a shout, oversetting the blanket.There was nothing in sight. For miles around, the alkaliwas empty, solitary, quivering and shimmering under thepelting fire of the afternoon's sun.But once more the spur bit into his body, goading him on.There was to be no rest, no going back, no pause, no stop.Hurry, hurry, hurry on. The brute that in him slept soclose to the surface was alive and alert, and tugging to begone. There was no resisting that instinct. The brute feltan enemy, scented the trackers, clamored and struggled andfought, and would not be gainsaid."I can't go on," groaned McTeague, his eyessweeping the horizon behind him, "I'm beat out. I'm dogtired. I ain't slept any for two nights." But for all thathe roused himself again, saddled the mule, scarcely lessexhausted than himself, and pushed on once more over thescorching alkali and under the blazing sun.From that time on the fear never left him, the spur neverceased to bite, the instinct that goaded him to fight neverwas dumb; hurry or halt, it was all the same. On he went,straight on, chasing the receding horizon; flagellated withheat; tortured with thirst; crouching over; lookingfurtively behind, and at times reaching his hand forward,the fingers prehensile, grasping, as it were, toward thehorizon, that always fled before him.The sun set upon the third day of McTeague's flight, nightcame on, the stars burned slowly into the cool dark purpleof the sky. The gigantic sink of white alkali glowed likesnow. McTeague, now far into the desert, held steadily on,swinging forward with great strides. His enormous strengthheld him doggedly to his work. Sullenly, with his huge jawsgripping stolidly together, he pushed on. At midnight hestopped."Now," he growled, with a certain desperate defiance, asthough he expected to be heard, "now, I'm going to lay upand get some sleep. You can come or not."He cleared away the hot surface alkali, spread out hisblanket, and slept until the next day's heat aroused him.His water was so low that he dared not make coffee now, andso breakfasted without it. Until ten o'clock he trampedforward, then camped again in the shade of one of the rarerock ledges, and "lay up" during the heat of the day. Byfive o'clock he was once more on the march.He travelled on for the greater part of that night, stoppingonly once towards three in the morning to water the mulefrom the canteen. Again the red-hot day burned up over thehorizon. Even at six o'clock it was hot."It's going to be worse than ever to-day," he groaned. "Iwish I could find another rock to camp by. Ain't I evergoing to get out of this place?"There was no change in the character of the desert.Always the same measureless leagues of white-hot alkalistretched away toward the horizon on every hand. Here andthere the flat, dazzling surface of the desert broke andraised into long low mounds, from the summit of whichMcTeague could look for miles and miles over its horribledesolation. No shade was in sight. Not a rock, not a stonebroke the monotony of the ground. Again and again heascended the low unevennesses, looking and searching for acamping place, shading his eyes from the glitter of sand andsky.He tramped forward a little farther, then paused at lengthin a hollow between two breaks, resolving to make campthere.Suddenly there was a shout."Hands up. By damn, I got the drop on you!"McTeague looked up.It was Marcus.