COMPLETE STORY.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIX, Issue 283, 26 November 1908, Page 6

COMPLETE STORY.

A DESERT SAMARITAN. By FREDERICK WALTON BROWN. Billy Chambers, shuffling along through the alkali dust ahead of his packpony, paused only for business. Once he pulled up long enough to ehoot the head off a rattler, and once again to sweep the horizon with blinking eyes and hoarsely curse brought him there. Both of these halts the desert and the necessity that seemed necessary and the results good. He went forward after each with a clearer mind. Not that he was in any danger. He had crossed the desert before and was no tenderfoot, to lose the trail and be found months later a shrivelled mummy grinning up at the brazen sky. But he was weary of the endless acrid dust, the withering , heat, the unrelieved monotony. The blue rampart of the mountains toward which he travelled loomed enticingly near. "Ten miles at the outside," would have said one who had never experienced the deception of that thin air. Billy knew it was forty, and swore mechanically at the thought. Slowly the afternoon wore through. The pony's head drooped lower and lower, and Billy paused again, this time to wash out the poor beast's mouth. In an hour they would reach the sink where he planned to camp. The sun dropped behind the mountains, and the welcome shadows swept and enveloped the qun'ering face of the plain. All the glories of the deaert sunset dyed the west, yet the plodding prospector had no eyes for them. Stoli idly indifferent lie pushed on, his gaze 1 fixed on the baked earth before his feet. Suddenly he pulled up short. From away to his right a peal of laughter ha-d struck his ear. For a moment he saw nothing in the increasing shadows, and would have gone on, but again the sound rang out nietaiicaJly clear. Searching the direction from which the sound seemed to come, Billy saw an arm flung up to silhouette above the low horizon and descend again into the darkness. Dusk had fallen rapidly and there was little light as he approached, but he could make out the figure of a man sitting on the ground, tossing three bits of rock in the childish game of jacks, and laughing delightedly whenever he made a successful catch. He paid no heed to Billy till the latter halted directly before him; then he merely glanced up with a titter and re- : sumed his amusement. "Howdy, stranger? , ' said Billy. The man on the ground waved him aside without looking up, and went on tossing his pebbles. Billy was nonplussed, doubtful of his duty in the premises. A canteen near by caught his eye. He picked it up and shook it. It was empty. He stooped and examined the man's face. There were no signs of excessive thirst. "Well, I'll be Say, what's the matter with you, stranger?" he demanded. The fellow started at the sharp question and hastily transferred the pebbles he played with to his pocket. Then he began to whimper, snivelling- audibly. Billy's disgust rose strong within him. He seized the man by the shoulder. "Get up," he said, "and quit that blubebring. What ails you?" The man scrambled up obediently. He was a head shorter than Billy, and a scraggy yellow beard of some weeks' growth grew in patcTies over his chin and jaws. His mouth hung open slackly, and he observed the prospector out of vacant, shallow eyes. "Who are you?" demanded Billy. The man stared idiotically. "What are you doing here? , ' "Mc?" said the fellow. "I'm waiting for my private car." Suddenly he struck an attitude and smote his chest. "I'm a millionaire," he announced. "You look it," said Billy. "Come on. We'll talk it over at the sink." He took the man by tha arm, and with him returned to the trail, and made for the desert-well. As they inarched, the stranger from time to time broke into snatches of song or halted to thrust out his chest and proclaim his tremendous wealth. Billy soliloquised: 'Well, I'll be—a plumb idiot in the middle of the desert! My heavenly home, what next!" They reached the sink, and at sight of the water the stranger wept aloud, and would have flung himself into it had not Billy held him back. He acted like a man who had thirsted for days, yet the signs of such privation were not on him. Billy marvpl/ed. and after a time let him drink his fill, satisfied he had not been long enough without water to have it hurt him. While the prospector prepared supper, the stranger seated himself and resumed his interrupted game of jacks. Billy paid little attention to him as he fried the bacon and boiled the coffee. He seemed a mere harmless lunatic, and the only singular thing about the whole occurrence was his presence here. Billy's chief concern was what he should do with him. To keep him with him meant dividing rations and thereby shortening his prospecting trip by half. On the other hand, to turn him adrift in the desert was obviously inhuman. He glanced across the fire at the vacant face of the unfortunate who sat tossing and catching his lumps of rock with more or less deftness. Then Billy suddenly set down the fry-ing-pan and walked round the fire. Something peculiar in the appearance of the stranger's bits of rock had caught his eye, and before the latter had realised his approach he had stooped and taken one. The next instant he was fighting with a madman. With a rasping cry, the fellow sprang at him like a cat, tearing with his nails at his face and clothes, and struggling to get near enough tobite. The attack was so unexpected and so strange that for an instant Billy recoiled and the rock slipped from his fingers. The stranger, whose eyes seemed never to have left it, instantly dropped to the ground, seized his treasure, and thrust it into his pocket. Then ho resumed his place by the fire, while Billy stood staring at him in overwhelming amazement. The lunatic looked up at him presently and smiled. There was neither malice nor suspicion in his face, and Billy, utterly at sea, returned to his cooking. When they had eaten, the stranger seemed suddenly tired, and without ado stretched himself out and went to sleep. Billy lit his pipe and sat down to think. "Playing jacks with specimens ilke "Playing jacks with specimens like much in solitude. "Don't it beat anything Say, here I am with all my intellects working full time, and I can't lay my hand on rock like that to save my soul. And along comes a plumb lunatic who don't know no moreii to sit and play jacks, and he finds it. It sure is sickening."

I Billy awoke next morning to find the stranger already sitting up. His eyes were fixed on Billy's face, and a shrewd look of calculation in them struck the prospector as an agreeable change from the vacancy of the preceding evening. "Morning," he said. "Good morning," replied the other, and his eyes shifted. Billy became i aware that his lunatic was sane. "Feeling better, ain't you?" he asked. "I'm feeling very well, thank you," said the stranger. "My name is Willis," he added, i "Chambers," said Billy shortly. Again there was silence, broken, as before, by Willis. There was that in the stranger's tone which repelled any attempt at familiarity. Billy rose and busied himself with preparations for breakfast. Willis was silent for some minutes, and when he spoke his tone was almost condescending. "Will you kindly tell mc where we are and how I got here?" "This here is Two Point Sink," replied Billy. "I picked you up about a mile from here last night and fetched you in. You wasn't quite right." "Do you mean to say I was out of my head?" he asked incredulously. Billy resented the implication on his truthfulness. "Well," he said slowly, "you was sitting out in the alkali playing with — playing jacks with three rocks, and laughing like a kid." Willis's brows contracted sharply, and he searched Billy's face with questioning scrutiny. "Playing jacks with three rocks?" he said after a moment's hesitation. "That's what I said," returned Billy. "Where's my pack?" demanded Willis. "You didn't have any pack when I found you. There's your canteen." "Do you mean to say my pack's gone?" cried Willis, rising hastily and not scrupling to let his eye run over Billy's belongings scattered about the camp. Billy, reading the nasty suspicion in his tone, turned and looked him in the face before replying. His eyes hardened. He had saved this man's life the night before, and now was accused of stealing his pack. "You didn't have any pack when 1 found you," he repeated, and turned to the fire. "But what shall I do?" cried Willis in genuine alarm. "All my provisions were in it, and—and other things. I—l can't go on without it." "Reckon you'll have to go on with mc," said Billy drily. Silence followed, broken only by the snapping of the fire and the sizzle of the bacon in the pan. Willis nibbled at his nails, and neither man looked at the other. "Are you going in or coming out?" asked Willis finally. "Going in," said Billy. "I was coming out when I got lost," said Willis. Billy looked up in surprise. "Got lost between here and the mountains?" he said. "Yes," answered the other. "I missed the trail somehow or other. The last I remember was wandering round trying to find it. I was pretty badly frightened. I thought I was going to die of thirst." Billy considered his companion with new interest. He had heard of men going crazy in the desert before the actual pangs of privation attacked them, but this was his first encounter with such a one. He felt a sort of pitying contempt for Willis. They ate breakfast in silence, and afterward Billy offered his tobacco to Willis, and they filled and lighted their pipes. With his breakfast inside him, and his pipe drawing, Billy felt better, and as he proceeded to pack the pony he made another attempt at conversation. "Been prospecting':"" he asked. "Oh, yes, looking round, of course," said Willis casually. "Any luck?" "Xone whatever. Didn't strike a thing." The tone was so cool that for an instant Billy thought his eyes had deceived him the night before." But a glance at Willis's face showed that he was lying, and Billy silently went on with the packing. "Will you sell mc enough to take mc out?" asked Willis presently. Billy was on the point of refusing, when he paused to reconsider. After all, it seemed the best way. If he refused, Willis would stay with him of sheer necessity, and that meant feeding him. In any event, Ms own trip must he shortened, so why not sell the fellow enough to take him out? "Yes, -, he said. "I'll let you have enough to see you through." A look of sharp relief passed over Willis's countenance. The dicker was soon made, each being more anxious to be rid of the other than to realise any immediate profit from the transaction. Willis tied his purchases into a bundle, filled his canteen, and prepared to start. "Know the trail, do you?" asked Billy. "Oh, yes," answered the other. "I came in over it, you know." He moved off, and Billy repacked his pony and shortly took the opposite direction. During the next few days he had leisure to ponder the events 'through which he had passed. That Willis had struck it rich ho did not question. The fellow's every action was indicative, and the specimens he had carried were additional proof. That Willis had not thanked him for saving his life made no impression on Billy. Mere thanks meant little. But he reflected that had their positions been reversed he would have felt bound to give his rescuer a tip as to the location of the pay ledge, or even to offer him a share in his own claim. Billy's own prospecting resulted in little or nothing. He covered a considerable area, examining every ledge and outcrop, and even went so far as to build a monument and post notices on a claim that seemed more promising than the rest. At the end of two weeks his diminishing provisions warned him to leave the mountains, so, reluctantly and with the knowledge of another failure, he turned again toward the desert. He had found nothing of value, and only the never dying hope of the gold-seeker buoyed him up. '■'Next time," he told himself. Afternoon found him in the foot-hills that skirted the edge of the desert. He had quit making excursions up promising looking draws and canons and was pushing forward, when his eye caught a claim notice some way above him. He left his pony and climbed to examine it, his eye mechanically searching for the ledge it guarded. He did not find it at once, and proceeding to the notice, found it to be Willis's. A moment's hunt disclosed a surface outcrop, broken here and there where specimens had been knocked off. In the breaks thus made were gleaming bits-of metal that any novice would have known were gold.

Billy dropped to his knees with a gasp. He seized his hammer and struck off another chunk,. It, too, was filled with gUttering particles. For a time he had no thought for anything but the -wealth beneath his feet. He picked at the gold with his nails, broke oil piece after piece with his hammer, and filled his pockets. His breath came short and his heart hammered in his breast. Evening descended upon him, and only the darkness which made further examination impossible brought him to his senses. It was not his. It belonged to Willis. He rose and stumbled down to his tired pony. One gleam of hope came to him that evening. Perhaps Willis had not followed up the ledge. Perhaps he had ! not staked the whole. Perhaps there might be something left. He slept illy and was up with the first gleam of daylight, again following the outcrop and everywhere finding his hopes dashed. Willis had run a string of claims along the ledge. It was completely covered, till it suddenly vanished. Notices and monuments stared the disappointed prospector in the face all along the line. Billy did what he could. He spent the day building monuments and posting notices on a series of adjoining claims, where, from the dip of I the ledge, it seemed reasonable to suppose it might be encountered by deep shafts. It waa hi sohly hope, and at best a distant prospect, while Willis's claims would pay from the first stroke of the sick. Next day he moved on. The more he thought about it the more bitterly he felt towards Willis. With tens of thousands in actual sight and millions pevhaps in prospect, he could not find a way to reward the man who had saved his life. "He might have given mc a share," said Billy. "He might hate done that. If it had been a little claim it would have been different. But with all that, he sure might have done it." Four nights later, in the middle of the desert, Billy met his trial. Out of the alkali dust crawled a horrible figure, drawn by the light of his fire. The eyes were sunken and glowed like coals in the sockets of a skull. The cracked lips were drawn back in a hideous grin. Dying of thirst, the man crept to the circle of Billy's fire and collapsed. Billy turned him over and recognised Willis. Now, it was a dry camp midway between two desert sinks. Billy had water enough for himself and his pony to the next well, but little besides. He had good reason to despise the man thus thrust upon his charity, but he hesitated not at all. With difficulty he forced a little of the precious water past the swollen tongue, and almost as by magic the helpless man aroused and fought feebly for the canteen. Through the night Billy minisetered to him, doling out thfl water lest he do himself hurt, and after each drink having a harder struggle to subdue him.' He drank little himself and gave a little to the pony, yet morning found the sxipply perilously low, and Willis moanipg "Water! Water! Water!" Discarding everything not absolutely esential, Billy formed a pack which he himself could carry, lifted Willis bodily to the pony's back, and set out for the next sink. It proved a day not easily forgotten. Long before noon the last drop of water had vanished, and they struggled on over the burning desert, the acrid dust rising in their, faces and the blazing sun beating down fiercely on their heads. Willis quickly succumbed and had to be strapped to the pony's back, where he lay feebly moaning and begging for water. Billy staggered along under his pack, his teeth locked, black spots hovering before his fevered eyes and an ache at the base of his brain that gradually extended down his spine like a red-hot wire. Mid-afternoon saw them stumble down to the sink. It was bonc-ilry. For a moment Billy's resolution was staggered. He dropped his pack and dug fiercely with his hands in the bottom of the hollow. There was no sign of moisture. The fine dry dust rose in his face and mocked him. There was nothing to do but push on. He shouldered his pack, gave the word to the pony, and the procession shuffled weakly away. Willis was long past knowing. He could no longer speak, but his moans kept time to the slow pacing of the worn pony, and dragged like an underchorus through Billy's dulled perceptions. Night fell gratefully, but brought no halt. The dust remained, and the endless miles. Billy's tongue was swollen, and his brain was on fire. Every step shot pains like lightning flashes along his spine, and one single thought held domination over his swaying faculties. "Suppose the next well should be dry?" Somewhere during the night he dropped the pack. He had no recollection of doing it, but when the dawn came he was staggering along without it beside the drooping pony. The sun gained power and smote them, and they wilted before it. The moans of Willis ceased, Billy was past caring. The pony's legs tottered,, and Billy's knees bent suddenly when he least expected it, so that he fell now and then, and found it difficult to rise. But he went on, somehow —with halts and sidelong staggers and many falls, but always forward. It was non when they reached the well and the pony, thrusting out his nose and ears felt new life in hios tottering legs, and, pressing forward, left Billy toiling a long way behind. When he arrived, it was to find the pony's nose buried in the water, and he fell on his face beside him and drank also, or tried to drink, for little enough succeeded in passing his swollen tongue and throat. But that little revived him somewhat, so that after a time he could loose the straps that bound Willis and slide him to the ground. The man was still alive, but barely. Again Billy forced a few drops of water between His lips, and then an overpowering weakness swept over him. He crawled to the sink and buried his face for a moment, then rolled over and lost consciousness. It was night when he awoke, crazy with thirst, and crawled to the water again. He drank now, but sparingly. Then a moaning came to him and he remembered WiIlJ3. Again he forced a little water through the cracked and blackened lips, and lay down. Morning was spreading a dim light over the desert when he awoke again. His intolerable thirst was gone, and he had a delicious sense of safety lying there with water close at hand. " He saw his pony cropping contentedly at the scant grasses that bordered the spring. There was no sound from Willis, and Billy concluded he must be asleep. If he had delayed -another day, Willis would have died like a dog. He had saved his life second time, and he

edgratituL But died without filing hJ*ZJ, 1U,3 claims, he must „£ £ **«

It grew lighter. Billy rose and started toward t>,. spnng. Something caught wHye as wnr fed , U, and rushe « forwardf Vnlhs lay, face down in the water,