GOLDEN WEB CLAIM

INTRODUCTION, by Vella Munn

“Write what you know.” Many writers have heeded that advice. Homer Eon Flint was no exception. In Golden Web Claim, he created Nash, a young engineer, for his male protagonist. Making Nash an engineer made sense in terms of the plot, but the decision also played into Homer’s fascination with design. While still a teenager, Homer took a correspondence course in architecture which led to a draftsman’s stool at a San Jose architectural firm. He later admitted in an October. 20, 1921, San Francisco Bulletin article that, “Had I a practical partner to attend to measurements and details I might become an architect, because I am always able to conceive what I believe are wonderful and beautiful designs.”

He demonstrated his creativity with an all-terrain caterpillar-type tractor capable of pulling the four supply cars the characters used to traverse the desert. Nash had his work cut out for him, since Homer had him designing everything from water storage to refrigeration. Given the amount of time Homer spent describing these items, he obviously enjoyed giving his imagination free rein.

Golden Web Claim revolves around what appears to be a rich gold discovery and claim jumpers who are determined to do whatever they must to make off with the valuable ore. Using gold as a plot catalyst comes as no surprise. Tens of billions of dollars in gold (according to current value) were found in California following the January 24, 1848, gold discovery by James W. Marshall at Sutter’s Mill near Coloma. Three years later, Homer’s mother’s family, the Burkharts, traveled west on the Oregon Trail with some of the 120,000 miners who descended on the state by the 1850s. Despite their fellow travelers’ dreams of riches, the Burkharts settled in Oregon where Homer was born, before moving to California when he was four.

* * * *

There’s no indication Homer ever mined, but his wife Mabel’s father spent years working in the Empire Mine in Nevada City before his death in 1911 from miner’s consumption. The Empire, California’s richest mine, had 367 miles of underground tunnels. From its opening in 1850 until 1956, some 5.8 million ounces of gold were brought out of it. Homer’s father-in-law made enough money in mining (family rumors are he might have engaged in a little illegal highgrading) to buy the lot and build the house where Mabel grew up. Homer met Mabel’s father at least three years before his death.

Mabel may well have served as the model for Miss Vance, the young woman in Golden Web Claim. Just like Mabel, Miss Vance’s father had recently died. Instead of looking for a man to provide her with a safe and secure world, this spunky woman had a bold agenda. There wasn’t a physical task she wouldn’t take on, no hostile environment she was afraid of. Mabel was teaching at a considerable distance from her family when Homer and she met. Her crippled right hand and limited hearing never held her back. Years later when the couple had three small children, she took a teaching position in a remote mountain community. Homer always credited his wife with encouraging him to write, and she served as his editor—particularly at the beginning of his writing career. Her letters to him made it clear that she didn’t try to channel his creativity into a particular genre.

Homer was most successful writing science fiction, but he wasn’t hesitant to try other things. Near the end of his life, science fiction had fallen a bit in popularity but mysteries were beginning to catch on.

In the biography historian Mike Ashley wrote about Homer for Fantasy Commentator in 1996, he states that, had Homer lived, he would have contributed to the reading public’s growing interest in mysteries. At its core, that’s what Golden Web Claim is—a mystery with a touch of suspense, a pinch of humor, and a dollop of romance.

GOLDEN WEB CLAIM

Every chair was occupied; but he would be next, so he removed coat, hat, collar and tie, and judiciously selected a seat. Then he looked around for literature, and after a distrustful glance at the ragged copies of alleged humorous weeklies, picked up the morning paper.

Recalling the days when he had been a want ad fan, he turned curiously to the miscellaneous column. Sometimes one saw very odd notices. He remembered this: “Wanted—Man and boy to dig angle worms. 50¢ a quart.” There might be another like that.

Here was one with a prominent display. It ran: “Man and wife to care for small ranch. Two cows. Must understand pumping outfit.” But he became very serious when he read the following item:

“WANTED—Middle-aged mining engineer, with A-1 references, to manage peculiar prospecting expedition. Will pay year’s salary to right party for summer’s work. Apply in person, after 11,” giving an address near Van Ness Avenue.

If this wasn’t exactly the thing! He felt of the four months’ growth on his jaw, contemplated his unkempt locks in the mirror, and glanced again at the ad. The barber at the end of the row called, “Next!”

“Haven’t seen you since spring, Mr. Nash.” This barber knew his business. “Have much luck?”

“Fair,” answered Nash, who wanted to think.

“Hair-cut, shave and shampoo, I suppose,” stated, rather than asked, this astute barber.

“Beard trimmed, instead of shaved.” Nash was significantly explicit, and the barber discreetly subsided. You see he knew his business.

* * * *

The lawyer returned the recommendations, and said to his client, “These are very fine people, Miss Vance. Mr. Nash is to be complimented.”

The girl took another glance at the letters before giving them back to the engineer. She had already unobtrusively inspected the quiet, sedate gentlemen with the distinguished Van Dyke, and concluded that here was the man she sought. His clothes and manner proclaimed the conservative professional man of advanced judgment; his young eyes promised a love of adventure. He was almost exactly her mental picture of the ideal mining engineer.

“We may as well call it settled, Mr. Nash,” she said, not trying to conceal her satisfaction. “That is, of course, if you will agree to”—naming a salary which was more than liberal.

“Entirely satisfactory, Miss Vance. I take it for granted that this expedition, however peculiar, must of course be perfectly legitimate. In fact, my interest was aroused by the word ‘peculiar.’” He paused, as though to give opportunity for explanation. Miss Vance merely inclined her head; he went on, “It is now nearly November. You intend to set out in the spring?”

“The first week May,” replied the girl, promptly. “In the meantime, you can be of great assistance, if you will, since some of our equipment will take time to procure.”

Nash’s eagerness showed in his eyes. “I will take exceptional pleasure in helping. This sounds very interesting. Is there likelihood, may I ask, of having any—er—exciting experiences?” His cheeks glowed.

Miss Vance turned to her attorney with a little laugh. “That’s what I was looking for! I think, Mr. Nash, we are going to get along very well.” She dropped her reserve and smiled like a comrade. “You will have lunch with us, won’t you? Afterwards we can talk!”

Nash gathered a good many things during the course of the meal. Clearly Miss Vance, whose first name was Vera, was practically alone in the world. Her father had died not long before; and from various remarks, it appeared that he had been an inventor, and his daughter had handled his business affairs. Nash judged that, although the girl was not over twenty-two and abounding in a remarkably vigorous beauty, she had developed a very keen mind. Also, she was accustomed to money. There was a fourth person at the table, a Mrs. Pelly, evidently a companion.

The lawyer excused himself as they rose from the table, and shortly Nash found himself in a cozy back parlor with Miss Vance, Mrs. Pelly and a book occupying a nearby alcove. The girl promptly brought out a map, some catalogues, and a soiled letter. Nash spread out the map, showing his satisfaction at finding it to be of Nevada.

“Are you familiar with the country southeast of Goldfield?” began the girl.

“I know a good deal of a negative nature,” replied the man. “It is about the most desolate section of the whole state. You note on this map that there is no natural water over a roughly diamond-shaped district,” he glanced at the scale, “aggregating at least a thousand square miles.”

“Have you heard that there are valuable minerals there?” the girl asked, quietly.

“Very often. There have been several stampedes into the locality within my recollection, but nothing has come of them. I have heard it said that Forty Mile Canyon is simply strewn with skeletons.”

“As I understand it,” said Miss Vance, deliberately, “the failure of all prospecting in that region has been due to the lack of water, rather than to mineral shortage.” Nash nodded, and she went on: “Also, the roughness of the country keeps out the automobiles that developed the Mojave and San Fernando deserts.”

“Now,” she took a much worn and somewhat greasy sheet of paper from the letter; “here is something I found in my father’s effects. It will speak for itself.”

Nash read the crude contract, whereby Jamison Vance was to share one-half in the findings of one Charles Carson, prospector, in consideration of advancing a grub-stake for two seasons. The paper also mentioned a locality, vaguely defined as “between the Belted range, Skull Mountain and the Quartz Spring range, not far from the dry lake.” Apparently the prospector had visited the spot, found promising color, and Vance had staked him to means for probing deeper.

“Couldn’t be a more favorable place,” declared Nash, enthusiastically. “So little water, the ground has scarcely been touched. Excellent geological reasons for expecting to find either gold, silver or copper, or all three. I suppose you have heard nothing from Carson—this was eight years ago. You are planning to tackle it yourself?”

His manner became critical at once. The girl saw that it was more than time to explain. She selected one of the catalogues and began:

“In the first place, father told me as much as you have outlined, and more. I am fully convinced that a really complete search of that spot will produce results. What you want to know, of course, is—how?

“As to finances, my lawyer tells me that I can raise fifty thousand clear. I know that it may seem foolish, to risk all I have on my conviction, but later I will tell you of still another reason.” The girl opened a booklet before the engineer. “That is how we can do it.”

He studied the illustrations in silence. They were of a large caterpillar tractor of the latest track-laying type, similar to those being used in the “tanks” in the War. He glanced over the specifications, noting its great horse-power, pulling capacity, fuel requirements and other points with steadily mounting enthusiasm. “Will go anywhere, up or down hill, over rocks or through brush,” read the ad. It was true; the machines were capable of it. Here was the means to combat the country which had proved too much for both automobiles and pack mules.

“This is great, Miss Vance!” Then he remembered that he had to act a part. “This idea has probably been suggested before, but not until now has anyone with the cash offered to finance it. Your experiment will be eagerly watched by the profession.”

Miss Vance stirred uneasily. “That’s what I was afraid you’d say. As a matter of fact, I wish to do everything possible to avoid attention.” His surprise was intense, and she hurried on. “There are two reasons.

“First, if nothing comes of the attempt, I shall have to earn my own living. I don’t want the story to follow me around all the rest of my life. Moreover, the success of the trip will depend upon how thoroughly we search. Unless we have the field to ourselves, our chances are very small. In short, the whole thing should be done as quietly as we know how.”

The engineer pondered as she spoke. Her arguments were sound; yet, he could not entirely dismiss the notion that she was withholding something. He felt that he should be told everything; but somehow, of a sudden, he concluded that in due time she would explain in full. He had known the girl only a few hours, yet was ready to declare that she could not be guilty of wrong-doing. It puzzled him; he wasn’t in the habit of making snap judgments.

“You are right!” he assented, abruptly. The girl showed her relief plainly as he rapidly scanned the tractor catalogue. “There are three sizes; shall it be the largest?”

“Nothing smaller would do for our outfit. Here is a temporary list I have made out. You will notice,” she hesitated, “that I am planning to go myself, also Mrs. Pelly and my own cook!”

Nash suppressed a whistle. This put the matter on a very different basis from what he had expected. The equipment—“How many men?” he asked, laconically.

“That is for you to determine,” spiritedly. “All I insist upon is that they be American born, of a higher type then ordinary. Pay them extra well and provide the best of everything for them. In short, go ahead just as I am sure you would if it were your own venture—on a very liberal scale.”

Nash went away that afternoon possessed of an enthusiasm that lasted all winter. The girl had filled him with much of her own confidence, to which he added his professional interest in the matter. He was going to enjoy the mere preparation alone, regardless of the trip itself.

His first duty was to order the tractor. He succeeded in getting it promised for the middle of January, well knowing that he must allow for delays. Next, having determined the machine’s capabilities, he tentatively decided on a train of four trailers. He made a flying trip to Nevada and arranged to have these made, one in Goldfield and one in each of three neighboring towns. They were to be the largest of wagons, such as were once used in Death Valley; timbered like bridges, wheeled like artillery.

One would be used for their water tanks, another for the engine’s distillate and other supplies. Nash bought a portable blacksmith’s forge, a smell lathe, a drill-press, and a very complete outfit of smaller tools. He felt equipped to repair the tractor in any emergency. He engaged a garage mechanic, named Dewitt, for this specific purpose.

He planned to take four horses, so one of the wagons carried a large supply of feed. The horses would be useful, not only in straight prospecting, but in picking out the best route for the tractor train.

The camp outfit was the last word in completeness. Nash first planned to take a folding stove, but finally decided on a fifth wagon, a conventional cook-house that was really a travelling kitchenette. From the gasoline range to the fireless cooker, it was equipped like the galley of a dining car, and capable of similar results.

Nash took the edge off “roughing it.” The tents had extra roofs, or “flies,” which provided a cool air space that meant all the difference between an oven and a cave. The cots were equipped with springs as well as mattresses. Chilly nights were anticipated with tiny stoves. Mosquitoes would have to combat fine netting.

The engineer carried out the whole scheme on the same elaborate scale. He figured the weights and bulks very carefully and found, after providing for twenty men and the three ladies, that there was still several hundred pounds to spare. He looked into the money end of the matter, and finally invested in a small but efficient refrigerating outfit. With this to keep meat and vegetables fresh, also to provide a small amount of ice, he felt that he had worked out Miss Vance’s problem in triumph.

In the course of the winter the engineer made several calls upon his client. She took an immense interest in his efforts, and his boyish enthusiasm almost betrayed him at times. However, she continued to regard him as at first—a safe, reliable gentleman whose age safe-guarded the whole venture from both errors and scandal.

To her he was always “Mr. Nash,” but he early formed the habit of calling her “Miss Vera,” soon shortened to just plain Vera. It seemed very natural, and he got a great deal of satisfaction from it, somehow, although he would have been very unwilling to admit it.

About a month before the expected departure, Nash visited the tractor concern for the tenth time and found that still another delay was threatening, such as might spoil their plans. That morning, he had awakened with a very pronounced emptiness in his heart, a feeling which only the thought of Miss Vance could dispel. He discovered that he was a very lonely man.

In this gloomy mood he learned about the tractor, and then had the poor judgment to call at once on the girl. She saw that he had apparently lost confidence, and was somewhat alarmed. She counted a good deal on his approval. But his own faith was unshaken.

“Oh, we’re bound to succeed!” she declared, in response to some half-hearted comment of his. “What do we care, whether we find an ounce or a ton? We’ll have the fun of trying something that nobody’s ever had the nerve to try before!”

This statement had a wonderful effect upon Nash. If she didn’t care!—Neither did he. He went away whistling, resolved to enjoy the whole affair and make the most of it. He didn’t know that Miss Vance, smiling after him, also began to whistle as she moved about the house.

It’s a terrible thing, the way optimism will spread when it gets a chance.

* * * *

“Is there anything you have forgotten, which you would like me to get before we start?” asked Nash. The three ladies had arrived fifteen minutes before and all were now in the Gold Center Hotel. Nash had been there forty-eight hours.

“Have you plenty of reading matter?” reminded the girl. Nash nodded. The girl could think of nothing else; she knew how thorough he had been.

Mrs. Pelly was somewhat uneasy. To be exact, she was wondering why the outfit included such a quantity of arms and ammunition. She said: “I’m suspecting that you are going to smuggle that arsenal to the Mexicans, Mr. Nash.”

He saw that she was really concerned. “If we get results in proportion to our preparations, Mrs. Pelly, we shall need some first-class protection—on our return trip,” he qualified, significantly. He did not add that Vera herself had requested double the amount which he had allowed. It bothered him a little.

“The men have their orders?” queried the girl. He replied that they were already abed—it was then eight in the evening—with instructions to get under way at three in the morning.

“They are in three different rooming houses. I bought our perishable supplies from several firms, so as not to attract attention. The wagons are scattered over the town, and even painted differently. Each is already loaded. I told only one man when we were to start—the clerk downstairs; and to him I gave out seven a.m. So we should have four hours leeway.”

“I suppose the tractor itself is ready to move,” mused the girl. “Well,” yawning, “I didn’t have much sleep on the train last night. See you at breakfast.”

With that the conspirators separated, Nash giving the clerk fresh orders to be called at six. Ten minutes later the engineer was sound asleep. At eleven, his muffled alarm clock went off under his pillow. Hastily dressing, he tiptoed to Mrs. Pelly’s door and knocked gently. Next second the lady was smiling into his face. “I thought so,” she whispered, then went to awaken Vera and the cook. To Nash’s astonishment, Vera was not only surprised but annoyed, for some reason. He had thought that she would be delighted with his scheme.

“Dewitt has awakened the men by this time,” he said shortly; and Vera kept silence. By eleven-thirty the entire party, in small groups, was making cautious tracks past the glaring doorways of the busy saloons towards a common center. It was the spot where stood the kitchen wagon, newly arrived from another direction than that taken by the tractor.

Dewitt and two helpers, seizing a moment when no railroaders were near, got the tractor down from its flat car and under way, then circled the outlying houses until they reached the assembled outfit. By this time the great wagons had been quietly moved by teams into a rough line, on a road east of town. Afterwards the harness was taken from the horses; they would wear only saddles from then on.

With practically no disturbance, the long train was hooked together and the last bits of luggage put aboard. Nash had provided seats for every member of the party, who quickly made themselves comfortable. Shortly after midnight the start was made.

“We are certain to be followed,” Nash told Vera. “At first I thought that we might just as well start in broad daylight; but I reasoned that such a strange outfit would be pursued, anyhow. This way we get a decided start on them all.”

They headed due east towards the Yucca Mountains, staying on the main road which ran across the wilderness through White Bluff Springs to the northeast. Three miles out, Nash returned from the rear, to report nobody on their trail as yet. Two hours later, however, the saloons would close; that meant followers, then.

Before long they were taking the grade through the Yuccas. The caterpillar had little difficulty with its tremendous load, usually taking each pitch without pause. A dozen times it had to take the wagons through in sections, one or two at a time, because of sharp curves. But it made little delay; the ability of the track-layer to squirm around in small spaces solved every problem.

Before dawn they were well down the other side. About five they passed a solitary cowpuncher, who stared at them with eyes that indicated he was going to attribute the sight to too much liquor. By sun-up the party was off the road, secluded around the bend of a small hill to the south. They were well out of sight of travel.

The youngest man in the crowd was sentenced to help the cook. She, accordingly, exercised a long suppressed desire to boss somebody with such good results that breakfast was ready by six. It was served under an immense tent, and except that Nash and the ladies ate at a separate table, all got exactly the same treatment.

The meal consisted of the conventional ham and eggs, with French fried potatoes, coffee, toast and jelly. The cook had made the most of her equipment, declaring that it was equal to that at home. The men left no scraps.

“I expect a man to work as he is fed,” said Nash, when Mrs. Pelly protested that he would spoil the crew; “and I have never been disappointed. Of course, there are some who don’t know how to appreciate this; but I know every one of these fellows. We will get results in exact ratio to our attitude towards them.”

Leaving the road entirely, the train now worked its way towards the south and east, skirting the foothills closely so as to keep out of sight of a large mining camp on the range above, and then swinging out directly upon the blazing Armagoza desert. Progress was very slow because of the ridgy surface; half a mile an hour was averaged.

By nine o’clock the heat was so intense that no human would ordinarily venture upon the desert on horseback, much less on foot. But the prospectors, perched in the shade of the wagon tops, minded the dust more than the heat. Dewitt, with a double roof over the tractor, declared that he had worked in hotter garages.

At noon, dinner included several kinds of roast meats, cold ham, fresh vegetables and other accessories. For dessert there was ice-cream. This fairly brought down the house, or rather the tent. The men felt at home by this time, and the cook was cheered vociferously. Nash was not surprised when several of the men later announced that they were “itching to get to work.”

Accordingly, towards evening he sent out four scouts, who returned to report fresh signs of other prospectors. This was as Nash expected; and it was not until the second day after that, when they were beyond the reach of any ordinary thirst-hindered mortal, that the search was begun in earnest.

By the end of the week the dry bed of the Armegoze was reached. This was crossed after a thorough reconnoitering and a great amount of difficult maneuvering. It took most of a day.

From that point on the ground was examined closely. Sand and gravel, the former liable to shift with the next wind and change the whole landscape, alternated with irregular bare ridges of rock and frequent patches of the inevitable sage brush. The vaguely defined claim location might be anywhere along here.

At length the ponderous caravan reached the southern edge of the dry lake. The previous winter had been short and rain scant; they dug four wells without success. This meant that they must rely entirely upon their tanks, for the nearest water was fifty miles east.

“We will make a permanent camp on the upper edge of the lake tomorrow night,” announced Nash after supper. “Then we must go over the floor of this valley as with a fine comb. The contract says, ‘the space between the Skull, Belted and Desert ranges,’ doesn’t it?”

Vera opened her suit-case to make sure of the wording. Hurriedly she searched through a small walnut case, then more deliberately looked through the whole grip. “Why—” she faltered, then mused, seriously. “The last time I had this open, Mr. Nash, was at the hotel. And now the paper’s gone!”

“You were looking at it that night?” The girl nodded, and Nash groaned. “Then you lost it—”

“In that hotel!” finished Mrs. Pelly. “Where anybody may have found it!”

* * * *

Unsuspected by the gold seekers, they had a small but very select audience. Their field of operations formed an excellent natural theater; the surrounding mountains provided unlimited seating capacity. The famously clear plateau air made an ordinary high-power field glass the equal, at five miles, of an opera glass from the balcony. The stage was set; the curtain had risen.

The audience consisted of gentlemen, exclusively, and it was drawn from all walks of life. Some of them had been cashiers, others cowpunchers; one had been the auditor of a great railroad, while another formerly superintended a mine. In one respect they were all alike.

They disagreed with the law. In one way or another each of them had concluded that the straight and narrow path was not as attractive as the broad and winding one. Even though it meant seclusion in the wilds of Nevada until “things blowed over,” they were unanimous in preferring this to the irksome ways of perfectly legitimate livelihood. There was one partial exception, however.

Sawed-off Higgins’ case was different. His odd disposition had practically forced this seclusion upon him. Sawed-off did not get his name from any physical peculiarity, but from his habit of carrying two shotguns instead of the universal six-shooters. These guns were double-barreled affairs, cut off short just beyond the end of the cartridges, and with the stock removed, leaving only a full pistol grip. None but an extremely powerful man could shoot such a weapon without breaking his arm; Higgins’ grip was such that he could fire both barrels at once.

He was extremely particular about the exact proportions of semi-smokeless powder and No. 1 buckshot that he used; but he was not at all particular—and this is the point—as to whom he shot. He would shoot almost anybody, if appropriate. He had done this so often, the law had noticed it; and now Sawed-off had to stay in hiding, just because the—ahem—sheriffs had put up monetary inducements aggregating thirty thousand dollars for his return, alive or at rest.

The rest of the audience had the same complaint. Notices, circulars, photographs everywhere; how is a man to enjoy life when deputies are always nosing around? However—between you and me—Nevada is still a good country to lose oneself in, and it had been two years since one of these nationally notorious outlaws had been captured.

A week before, they had been scattered over the state; today they were gathered on the hills around and above the gold-seekers’ outfit. Such news travels far and swiftly. The tractor’s mission was well known to the shady element of Gold Center, and each of the outcasts had friends there who informed them as to easy pickings of any kind. Gentlemen must live, you know; a stage here and a bullion train there, it all helps out.

And this looked exceedingly promising. Would this young millionaire—Nash was thought to be the “angel”—risk such a tremendous investment unless he felt sure of success? And his scheme looked very feasible; Sawed-off ranked that tractor as an inspiration almost equal to his shotguns.

There were just two ideas in common with the outlaws: Let these amateurs with the swell outfit locate and remove the gold unmolested. It would be time enough to take the matter out of their hands after the work was all done. In short, just lay low. On the other hand, what about water?

There was just one answer to this: Make use of the big supply below them. It would require stealing, which is a low, mean thing to do; but in order to keep a watchful eye on these amateurs, you see, there was nothing else to be done. Each of the isolated pariahs on the heights was of that mind; although on that first day they were, for the most part, unaware of each other. Sawed-off was among the last to arrive.

The next morning saw four of the cleverest men in Nash’s outfit, mounted, riding in great circles with the camp as a common center. Between their lines and the tractor swarmed the other men, each with a specified sector to be searched. If there was a sign of valuable mineral it would be found.

“It reminds me,” remarked Mrs. Pelly, noting how much like a giant wheel the mens’ formation appeared; “reminds me of a great web, a spider’s web. The tractor is the spider; the men are spinning the lines in which to catch the gold.”

Nash saw that all was going smoothly, and stood watching Dewitt. The mechanic was dismounting the big engine, preparatory to giving it a thorough cleaning. Shortly Miss Vance came up. Nash glanced at her face and saw that something exciting was in her mind. In a moment she spoke.

“May I speak to you for a few moments, Mr. Nash?”

“Certainly, Vera; what is it?” The prospector had become so accomplished in his part that at times his voice was almost patronizing. The girl did not notice; she hurried on, glancing meaningly at Dewitt:

“Let’s get in the shade of the water-tanks. I want to make a new suggestion.”

* * * *

The very next afternoon, about five, a searcher named Young reached the northern extremity of his sector, which was one of those which extended towards the western arm of the Desert range. He was almost within sight of the innermost circle of the mounted miners, when he made a frenzied rush towards a long, low rib of dirty, whitish rock, barely uncovered from the sand and gravel of the desert. He ran along its length, tracing a ragged line with his forefinger. Hurriedly he chipped off a piece of the rock, and tested it with chemicals from his bag. Next instant he jerked out his revolver and fired four shots, two and two. It was the “found” signal.

“Immediately men came running from all directions. Heat, thirst and dust forgotten, the party quickly gathered around the find; and then the watchers on the hills saw a remarkable demonstration. Out came revolvers, off came hats; the air was split with reports and cheers. They saw men standing on their heads and wrestling with each other in their joy. They saw three women frantically hugging each other; and had they been able to look more closely, would have noticed a wistful expression on Nash’s face. He was hoping someone might hug—

“They’ve got the lucky guy up on their shoulders,” said Sawed-off Higgins to his friend and fellow-fugitive, “Silent” Coville. Silent took the glass and, without reply, looked for himself. Then he sat for a while in deep thought, after which he inspected the remaining water in their bags and canteens, and eyed Sawed-off inquiringly.

“Yep,” assented that individual, just as though Silent had spoken. “We got to swipe some tonight.” His companion at once produced a coin. “Heads,” said Sawed-off as Silent flipped it high in air; and when they bent over to look at it, he of the artillery gave a tremendous sigh of relief. He did hate to steal.

The roar of dynamite soon came from the basin below. The men worked enthusiastically and, had Nash permitted, would have put in the entire twenty-four hours. But he decided upon two shifts, working only in the cooler parts of the day.

The first night, however, it was midnight before their feelings had cooled enough to permit sleep. There was an extra meal which had to be eaten, and the great “strike” talked over again and again. The outfit included electric lights; the place was ablaze with them, and resounding with hilarity. In the midst of the celebration a number of quiet figures crept down from the hills and to within hearing distance.

Never supposing that another human was within a hundred miles of them, the miners shouted out a good deal of information valuable to the listeners. Nash judged that the ledge would run seven thousand to the ton after culling. None but the clearest ore would be taken away. There was not even a watch to be set, so unsuspicious were the successful men. Silent was glad to learn that the only dog in the party had elected to guard the ledge. It simplified the water question.

To the thirsty ones’ satisfaction, there were no gauges on the water tanks. Silent took care not to waste a drop, however. It was at this time, too, that the assembled outlaws learned of each other’s presence.

The following day saw Sawed-off and his taciturn partner making a complete circuit of the hills above the busy miners. Sawed-off’s reputation was known to every outlaw in the west; and when, on his return trip, he informed one and all that each would have to divide with fourteen others, they believed him. Anyhow, it meant several thousand apiece; what was the use of taking chances with Sawed-off’s emotions? Besides, even the most grasping of the lot saw no way by which they might get more than their share. It was a case of enforced cooperation.

And so the days passed. The dynamite explosions became monotonous; the interested gentlemen of leisure saw each day a reduction in the size of the outcropping and fresh additions to the pile of sorted ore. A few of the choicest specimens, recklessly left around camp by the workers, were found by the nocturnal marauders; they kept strictly away from the ore and the dog, well knowing that there was nothing whatever to be gained by arousing suspicion, and lots to lose. Once or twice they had narrow escapes when men came to the tanks in the night for drinking water.

One night, when it was Sawed-off’s turn, he learned from stray conversation that the water thefts were suspected. He warned the others, and they took every precaution. Finally, about two o’clock, seeing that all was quiet, Sawed-off crept to the tanks and started to draw his supply. He caught sight of something thrust under the handle of the faucet, pulled it out, and found it to be a note.

The outlaw hurried to a niche in the rocks a little distance away, where some of the gang were waiting. Concealing the glare of a flash-light, they saw that the letter was addressed to Charles Carson, and was written in a woman’s hand.

It read:

This outfit belongs to the estate of Jamison Vance, who staked you eight years ago. Take all the water you want, if you prefer not to be seen, although we would like to meet you and give you your share in our find. Don’t be afraid of us.

Sawed-off knew of the old contract found in the Gold Center Hotel. He puzzled only for a moment. “Hell!” he ejaculated. Them idjits think Carson is still alive an’ maybe bugs, which is why he don’t come near in the daytime. See? This here note is to kind o’ cheer him up. The boobs think he’s been takin’ the water!” The outlaws had all they could do to stifle their mirth.

After a moment’s reflection Sawed-off decided to return the letter. “They’ll think he can’t read, or is crazy, see; but I’ll crumple it up so’s they’ll know he got it;” and that is what was done. All but the last man got his usual share of water, he being scared off by someone—he thought, a woman—who came to the tanks and stood for a long time looking around, then returned without any water. “Jes’ like a fool woman; worryin’ about a dead man. How could he live this long? Thunderation!”

Sawed-off Higgins simply could not tolerate unreasonable people. He loved the rational in life.

* * * *

“To our last night!” shouted Young, the discoverer, standing with one foot on the table and raising a tinkling glass high above his head. There was a yell of approval as the toast was seconded, a yell that reached into the blackness round about and caused grim smiles to come to the faces of the patient, water-seeking watchers. The hard-working miners were certainly optimistic.

Nash had had to make a speech, and so had Vera, much to the surprise of the outsiders, who did not know of her importance. It transpired that the ore pile was now as large as they could handle; the loading would be done after breakfast, camp broken, and the return home begun towards evening. All were in tremendous spirits, with the prospects of a generous share in the haul making each mucker as enthusiastic as the boss himself.

Sawed-off and his temporary friends had already come to an agreement about the actual work of taking over the ore. At first it was suggested that they wait until the train was nearly back to town. Then it was pointed out that, whereas the present location was entirely free from spectators, each mile nearer the road meant more danger of interference. But for once, Silent spoke.

“Any fool can operate a tractor. We can take that train wherever we choose.” Aside from wondering at Corville’s excellent enunciation, the gang made no criticism. This was sound sense. The time to strike was after the ore was loaded and the train ready to move. There would be no need for a signal; the outlaws were to come down from their hiding places in time to arrive at noon, when the miners would be enjoying dinner.

Entirely unaware of these plans, Nash’s men were up and busy long before dawn. The caterpillar hauled one of the wagons to the ore pile and swiftly the men filled the lower part of its bed. Then they piled that wagon’s depleted supplies on top, and did the same to other wagons, thus dividing the load. Only, it annoyed the dog to have to guard three wagons.

There was a ringing chorus of cheers when the last fragment was put aboard. Men went around the ledge, knocking off souvenirs, and then all helped while Dewitt turned the wagons south again. Long before noon the train was ready to return, and the cook’s final culinary triumph was awaited impatiently.

The dining tent, located beside the kitchen wagon, was closed except towards the northern and only shady side. From within came the clatter of plates and silver, the laughter and continuous chatter of joyous tongues; there was not the slightest thought of jeopardy. Outside, the silent desert saw sixteen men riding at full speed down from the shelter of the brown hills, taking care only to keep out of range of that one open tent flap. It was only a few minutes before the distance was covered.

The encircling gang roughly outlined an even horse-shoe. Thus they would all arrive at the same time—an essential element to surprise. Next second, with a thunder of hoofs and a great cloud of dust, they closed in. At fifty yards, the gang let out a wild yell and fired nonchalantly into the air.

As if it were a signal, a tall man in a yellow linen duster leaped to the top of a water tank, and simultaneously twenty heads, behind as many automatic rifles, were thrust unexpectedly from hiding places in the bodies of the wagons, behind their wheels, among the supplies. Each rifle covered an outlaw.

“Hands up!” shouted the figure in the duster. There was a reluctant but general response from the bewildered outlaws, none of whom had anticipated more fuss than revolvers could take care of. There was one dissenter. Sawed-off Higgins, twenty yards away from the man on the tank, jerked both the guns which gave him his name, and fired point-blank.

A fifth of a second before, one of the long rifles had cracked spitefully; and Sawed-off fell forward in his saddle. His hands dropped as he pulled trigger, and the great charges of shot tore a jagged hole in the tank just below his target’s feet.

“Surrender, in the name of the law!” shouted the man in the duster. Silent Coville recognized him. He was the sheriff of Humboldt County.

* * * *

“All set, sheriff?” asked Nash.

The man from the north took another glance at the fifteen shackled and the one dead man, and nodded. “We can pull out as soon as you say, young fellow.”

“Then get busy, boys, and dump that rock out of these wagons!” ordered Nash; and his men fell to at once. The outlaws stared in stupefaction. Only one had a voice left in him.

“Good God!” ejaculated Silent Coville. “Isn’t that gold ore you’re throwing away there?”

Nash laughed grimly. “I dare say you gentlemen got that impression, from the borrowed specimens which we purposely left for your benefit. But I’m sorry to say that this material is entirely worthless, except for railroad ballast.

“We owe you some slight explanation,” resumed Nash, calmly, in the midst of a torrent of expletives from the outraged and helpless gang. “In the first place, from what you say, I gather that you think I am the spider of this ‘golden web.’ But it wasn’t my idea.

“Miss Vance,” and he glanced towards the kitchen, where the girl was unobtrusively listening, “Miss Vance’s father was a surgeon, and a famous insanity expert. He believed in treating criminals as though they were invalids, rather than beasts; and presented the state of Nevada with a magnificent hospital for this identical purpose.

“Just before it was completed, when Dr. Vance had a large sum of money in the place with which to pay off a contractor, he was held up by two thugs. He resisted, and was killed by a charge of buckshot at close range.

“In an attempt to cover the crime, the murderers set fire to the building and it was partially destroyed. The men were never caught, and it is only known that they escaped to the mountains.

“Miss Vance conceived the idea of rounding up all the inquisitive outlaws in the state, and thus make sure of getting the right ones; and at the same time provide a means for restoring the hospital. I did not know of the plan myself until a short time ago.

“In short, the whole thing was a plant. We left Gold Center with a great display of secrecy, well knowing that this immense outfit would attract attention and you gentlemen would take notice. Miss Vance dropped that contract in the hotel for that purpose.

“Mr. Young is a good actor. We backed up his ‘strike’ with that convincing ‘demonstration,’ and then kept up the fiction as best we could. We let you steal our water; and by means of a gauge inside the tank, which you could not know of, were even able to roughly estimate how many of you there were. Water bags are all much the same, you know. And that letter to Carson—we had to keep you from wondering, didn’t we?

“You didn’t know, of course, that the back of the dining room tent opens into the kitchen. Well, when you thought we were all still eating, we quietly got out of there and scattered over the train, where you found us a moment ago, waiting to welcome you. We put ourselves in your place. We felt sure you would act just as you did, in every way. We just doted on having you drop in and surprise us in this jolly fashion. Sorry!”

A snarl of anger came from Silent Coville; the rest glared sullenly at the ground. The sheriff broke in a moment later.

“I come in last night as soon as it was dark,” he remarked, apologetically; “before you fellers got busy on the water. I see you know me, Silent; you too, Cub,” addressing a beardless member of the group. The sheriff took a batch of circulars from an inner pocket and for the next few moments did nothing but sort them out. By that time he had separated sixteen from the rest.

“Cub O’Brien, I can’t waste time enumeratin’ your aliases. You’re wanted in—Lordy, where ain’t you wanted, boy? Omaha, Denver, Frisco. ’Tany rate, the rewards come to sixteen thousand, all told.” He took another circular. “Raised a beard, hain’t you, Ike? Never mind; I knowed you by that scar on your neck. Back to New Orleans for yours, Ike.”

The sheriff went down the line, identifying every one of the captives with a most discouraging sureness. At last he was finished; and then he did some scribbling on one of the circulars.

“Congratulations, young feller. Same to the little lady. You’ve rounded up the worst bunch o’ old offenders the country has left. If they’d ever got together before, they’d ’a’ made one hell of a gang. You’ve done the country a real patriotic service, you have.

“I only figured it rough, but it comes to mighty nigh four hundred thousand for the herd, on the hoof. Better ’n minin’, all right.”

There was a moment’s silence, then the girl’s voice came, clear and sure but full of sympathy. “Every cent of that money will be used on the hospital, gentlemen. We will take enough to pay the expenses of this trip, but that’s all we get. The rest is for humanity.

“It may seem a little rough on you just now, but later I am sure most of you will be glad you were caught.” A snarl of disgusted anger from Silent; and Vera hurried on: “Oh, I don’t expect you to fall right in with my plan, today. Just wait until you yourself are treated at the hospital, Mr. Coville; you’ll change your mind then.”

And with this, the one-sided pow-wow came to an end. During the next few hours, Nash was very thoughtful; and towards evening, as the train was proceeding homeward, he rode up beside one of the wagons and stepped over from his saddle. Next he located his personal outfit; and despite the rolling and pitching of the rough travel, succeeded in his purpose before the outfit stopped for supper. Then he walked back to the kitchen, now the ladies’ headquarters. He stood in the door a moment, unobserved.

“Miss Vance,” he said quietly. Vera turned inquiringly, then stood as though petrified, gazing at Nash as if he were a mirage. He had discarded his conventional Norfolk and leggings along with his Van Dyke, and stood now in silk shirt and corduroys, his well-set-up form very trim and straight, down to his tell laced boots. He had a wide sombrero in his hand instead of the familiar black Fedora; his face was unusually white where it had been protected by the beard. Had it not been for his voice, Vera would not have recognized the startlingly youthful and undeniably good-looking chap who stood before her.

“May I speak to you a moment?” He paused meaningly. “Let’s get in the shade of the water-tanks. I want to make a suggestion!”

Excitedly aware that there was no need of shade at that hour, the girl led the way to the spot, hardly able to keep from turning every second to gaze at her companion.

There was no disputing the fact—he was decidedly good to look at. And she had all but called him uncle for nearly a year! Her face grew hot and cold by turns; she tingled all over in a delightful fashion, just as you and I felt when we were playing hide-and-seek and the other fellow was “it.” Vera took another glance at the other fellow, and decided she liked the game.

“Miss Vance,” he said, stiffly, coming right to the point as though he had rehearsed his part; “Now that the expedition has succeeded, you have no real further need of me. The sheriff can manage the return.

“You see that I have been deceiving you; I am little older than yourself. What I want is that you let me have what water you can spare, some grub and a horse. I’m going to stay right here and see what there is in that Carson story.” He hesitated. “If I make good, I’d like to call and see you afterwards, to—er—to make a new suggestion.”

The girl stifled a tremendous desire to shriek. “I’m sorry, Mr. Nash”—it was hard not to laugh—“but I’m a worse deceiver than you are. That contract was a frame-up, too!”

* * * *

Every chair was occupied, but he didn’t care. He threw off coat, hat, collar and tie, and flung himself in the nearest seat. He ignored all the literature, and instead took a note from his pocket and re-read the last line:

“The last of the rewards arrived this morning.” He smiled contentedly, and felt of the twenty-four hour’s growth on his jaw. The barber on the end of the row called out.

“Next, Mr. Nash.” He began tucking in the apron.

“Have much luck?”

“You bet!”

“Just shave?” This barber was not so sure now.

“Shave, hair-cut, shampoo, face massage, manicure and shined,” enumerated his customer.

“Fine! What’s up—going to a wedding?”

“Correct!”

“Whose?”

“Mine!”