NANCE OF BRIMSTONE PIT

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1727, 5 April 1905, Page 9

NANCE OF BRIMSTONE PIT

(By James Gray Waddell.)

Brimstone Pit was -a gc-ld-diggers’ camp with, a sinister reputation, and hence its name, given to it in a grimly humourous sen-© and by no means denoting tho contiguity of any pit visible to the eye. The men who originally composed it were the hardest-swearing, hardest-drinking, most -gs ncolo.ss set of roughs it would be possible- to find in ino two Amei'iCcis or anywhere else, L.fo was cheap at Brimstone Pit at that time, if was no p.aoe- .tor tho in ail who was not quick on the draw. I he; e were two collections of mounds cuts, tie tho camp another g-imly humourous idea. Tho smaller had for tenants men who dor>anod this l ie m orthodox and u risen .saticnai fashion. Tho other and larger collection bo o ■witness to an unfortunate class who had failed lamentably at the crucial moment when a certain kind of slickness was absolutely in--di-pensable to an extended sojourn upon earth. L ’eking it, they -were not even vouchsafed time for vain regrets—in tliis life at hvast. Such invariably received a good funeral from tho Pit ties, who turned out in full force to do honour to the- -departed. Perhaps this was a compounding with grim possibilities, for every man liked to think that in similar circumstances lie would be similarly honoured, and no man knew when an occasion might arise- which would find inm -low in negotiating a passage- to bus hip pocket, with re mits to himself disastrous and irremedi t.ble.

But that was in the clays before Paul Sherwood camo along and bought, up tho old -drinking booth, erecting upon fis site a ecufmodious wooden structure, which was forthwith clubbed the "Hoi el.”

it wasn’t old Paul who turned the camp into a c-ort of apology for Heaven, though, agams-t his own interests, he <hd something in the way of preventing -any ov-er-indulg-enco in uqnor on bis promises. No, it- was his daughter Nance who worked the miracle. -She was just twenty, and tho sweeded; and da in.test little lady that ever tre-d tho earth, let alone such a li-eli upon It as was our camp. ±1 ovoid Paul came to have such a -daughter wo never properly understood. He was an educated man, and I fancy had seen better days, like many another of us. The girl had lived with some swell friends in ’Frisco up to tho time of the ‘Hotel” ventu.-o, and it wasn't her father’s idea that she should join him but her own, backed up by a taste for novelty. She was a real beauty—all grit and utterly devoid of fear, though the only woman in the place. There was no false pride about her, either. She went about amongst us and made a friend of every man in camp, and before a week was out most of us would have given our fives for her a dozen times over. Her influence was good ail round, and it scon began to tell. Hath:, and coarse words wore barred off m her presence, and the man whose memory lapsed persistently was rapdly qualifying for tho substructure of a fresh mound in the larger collection already* referred to-. She made known h-er utter dest-estation of the settlement of differences on the quick-shoot principle. As a result, during the six months she was with us the camp was called upon to attend only four funerals necessitated by causes other than natural. One of them was a double ceremony, owing to a singular unanimity of action on the part of the subjects m closuring a disagreement, fatal to both at the selfsame moment. The loss of tw*o of her “boys,” as she called us, at one swoop rendered Nance inconsolable Tor a week. Pete Clay man’s unfortunate touchiness accounted for the other three. Pete was the bully of tho camp, with a larger collection of mounds to his credit than was altogether seemly. He was the quickest man on the draw I have ever met. If you happened to tread on his corns the odds were against your ever knowing what had drilled you ; but some of us doubted whether he would he as ready to stand up at a ton-yard range on the give-and-take principle—a very different matter from plugging a man at touching distance as a clincher to a slight difference of opinion. Pete was a big, blustering brute, and Nance destested him cordially. Of course lie knew it, but that didn’t prevent him from taking a fancy to her in a devilish sort of way, which; he daren’t show except in ghoulish looks, for lie couldn’t fight the whole camp, and any insult to Nance would have meant that. We were a rough lot, but, leaving mm out, she was a,s safe with us as in her mother’s arms, and she knew it and trusted us accordingly*. One day a new mate appeared in camp, Laurence Allendale was Jus name, so Ave christened him Larry straight off. He Avas a Britisher, a bit of a swell evidently, down on lii’s luck or Avitli a taste for roughing it. That wasn’t our business; avo accepted him for Avhat he was— as fine a specimen of an Fnglish younker as ever crossed the pond.

When lie saw our little Nance for the first tune he tumbled all to pieces, which was only to be expected. As

for Nance —aa*cll, she Avas a Avonian, and Larry avus tho sort of man a Avoman could stake her soul on AVitliout risk. Inside a AA'-eck a fool could have guessed that if tilings Avent AA'ell they Avouldnt be long m drifting into double harness. L.irrv meant things to go AA'ell, and worked like a slave. He had something to Avork for, and he avus lucky* from the start.

His cherry Avays soon made him a prime faA*ourit© Avitli all but one man- — P-eto Cayman. Pete hated him like sm on account of Nance. She was beyond Pete; but, dog-in-the-manger style, it raised a thousand furies in him to seo her snapped up by anyone else. Ho di-dn c mean it to come about if a handy bullet could prevent it, and never lost- a chance of goading Larry into a quarrel ivhich might serve as an excuse for sending him across the border. Larry kneiv well enough A\*hat he was after, and took good care not to catch on. Some -of us AA*ere beginning to think ho Avasn’t particularly Avell plucked Avhen A\*e saw AA*hat he stood from Pete. We didn’t knoAv the stuff lie Avas mado of until one night Pete over-reached himself, and Larry threw the dark horse and gave us a- taste of his real mpttle. Wo AA'ere in the bar-room at the “Hotel,” a croA\*d of us, Pete and Lurry* among the rest. Pete Avas in one of his best blustering moods, taking the shape of a denunciation of British pluck, based on some scrapping affair in AA*bich he had onc-e engaged, and in Avh.ich some Britishers hadn’t sliOAvn to advantage, according to ,‘hils version. Of course, it Avas easy to see what lie was aiming at. If Larry cut up rough and shoAA*ed a hit of temper, it might cause him a bad accident. Pete was pretty sure of himself in the matter of shooting on the quick, especially Avitli a green hand such as lie reckoned Larry to be. Larry AA'as talking to old Paul, and didn’t seem to hear A\*hat Avas going on. Anyhow he didn’t take any notice, and tliis rued Pete.

“Fact o’ the matter is, mates,’" he said loudly and pugnaciously, “there ain’t a darned Britisher worth a cuss when it comes to fight-in’.” The room became pretty quiet then. It was running through all our minds that if Larry swallowed the remark without coughing he wasn’t a good enough, man for Nance. He lounged round carelessly where he was standing, and this brought him face to face with Pete. He looked quite unruffled, and as though he were used to being insulted every day of his life. “Pete Cayman,” he said, easily and politely, “your experiences have prejudiced you. They need bringing up to date.” And then his left fist shot out like a streak of ligh’ning, getting home sou we between Pete’s eyes. Such a terrific,

knock-out- smash. feAv of us had ever seen. P-et-e* AA*as lifted cleaji off his feet, big as he Avas, and down he AA-enfc , with a thud, like a falling sack of flour. I Well, there Avas a scatter then. Only ! one tiling could be looked for, and

every man dodged for wiiat he thought i the safest place from stray bullets.

It was a full ten seconds before Pete showed signs of life. When he did I scramble to his feet, looking' considerably dazed, ho found himself covered by Larry’s revolver, held in a hand as steady as a rock, and pointing straight at his heart. I never saw visible Jiell jump into a mans eyes as it jumped into Pete’s when he realised how things had gone astray. His hand ciept stealthily down to his side, but Larry i was too a nick for him.

“Hands up!” he rapped out sternly, in a voice whioh cut like steel, and Pete lost no time in obeying, for he wasn’t too dense to know when sudden death was staring at him. “Now, Jrete Cayman,” said Larry quietly, “if I don’t receive an apology in the morning, I shad take it you mean fight, and shall have the greatest pleasure in giving you a free passage to hell. I give you the night to think it over. This room won’t hold both of us at present, so clear, and no foxing or I’ll shoot you Like a dog.” Pete "went, muttering curses. Curses were all he could afford just then, for Larry’s revolver covered him out of the room in a business-like way, which spoke volumes for Pete’s chances if his hand should happen to stray in the region ol his belt. •‘Cursed neat!” said little Billy Blake, when we had recovered our breath. ‘•But fisticuffs won’t be any manner of use to-morrow morning. Can you shoot, younker?—that’s the point, though I admit you look pretty slick with your weapon.” Larry grinned, and tinned to old Paul. “Got any corks?” he asked. Paul didn’t quite understand, but raked out a handful and passed them over. Larry selected half-a-dozen, and struck i.nem in a row on the edge of a shelf. Then he strolled to the other end of the room, a good twenty-five feet off, and pulled out his shooter. “Just an inch or so more space, boys,” ho called out, and his shooter cracked six times m quick succession. _ After tho last there wasn’t a cork in sight. It was a feat not another man in camp would have attempted. Larry came back to us, loading up. “I was reckoned a fair shot at home,” Iv. remarked carelessly. “A fair shot!” repeated Billy Drake drily. “Guess you’ll do. Boys,” lifting his glass, “here’s to Pete’s funeral!” i’lio events of the night werou t ovei. Half an-hour later a man came in with 6ome news. , “What’s up with Pete? lie asKed. “He’s gone rfd : ng out of camp as if the devil was behind him.’ We looked at one another. What on

eartli had taken .rote out of camp at that time of night unless—well, as I hinted, some of us weren’t altogether sure of Pete’s plucK if it came to a matter of standing up to be shot at in cold blood. Billy Blake blurted out our suspicion. “Bolted!” he said laconically.

Old Paul wasn’t in the room at the moment. He same in immediately after, looking anxious. “Anyone seen Nance lately P” he asked. “She went out for a stroll with Sambo a couple of hours ago and hasn t come back.” Sambo was old Paul’s black boy, who was devoted to his young mistress, and followed her about everywhere like a faithful dog. He himself burst into the room before we had time to leply ugly sight, with blood streaming from a big gash in his forehead. “Missy Nance!" he exclaimed wildly. “Pete’s carried her off!” Old Paul staggered back against the counter, looking like death, and the rest of us jumped to our feet as if galvanised. Barry dashed at Sambo. “Quick boy! What do you mean?” he said fiercely. Sambo didn’t dawdle over telling. They were returning to camp when Pete met them a mile out. He stopped and called to i\anoe that he had a message for her. Nance went up to him unsuspectingly, but when Pete stopped as if to speak he gripped hold of her instead and pulled her up into his saddle. Sambo went for him with a knife, and got a kick on the head -which sent him sprawling, after which he didn’t remember anything for a bit. When he came to himself he crawled back to camp. That was all, and it was bad. It was plain enough what had happened. Pete had funked and bolted, but fate had given him an opportunity for revenge upon Larry as devilish as he could have wished—an improvement even upon sending him to kingdom come. It was madness all the same, for after that there wasn’t a man of us who wouldn’t hunt him for his life if it meant a run all over the continent. There was no time wasted in talk. We weighed tilings up quickly. The country round about was mostly impracticable for a horseman, and the only track Pete was likely to have taken was that which lea to the nearest township, forty miles off. He daren’t take Nance there, of course. He was bound to turn her adrift eventually, but if we didn’t catcb him before then —good God! it made us sick to think of what would have happened to our little Nance at the hands of the accursed Bkunk.

Larry was the first to act. “The ford, boys!” lie shouted, and dashed out of the “‘Hotel.” We understood. The road Pete must have taken wound circuitously for a twelve-mile stretch through the hills hemming in the camp on three sides. If he wasn’t stopped before he covered those twelve miles and reached the point where the road left the hills for the open, it wouldn’t be easy to find him afterwards. That point was only five miles from camp in a bee-line across the open end of the valley. The beeline w'as never taken however, for a river barred off access to the road skirting the far side, and the ford mentioned by Harry wasn’t practicable once in a hundred times. Larry took the odd chance and went for it.

Five minutes later the whole camp was alarmed, and in live more every man who owned a horse was in saddle. Half the party took the hill road. The rest of us—old Paul at our head —-made for the ford like a pack of hell-hounds let loose.

Larry had got the start of us. We found him at the ford—on the wrong side. There had been heavy rains in the hills, and the ford was a raging torrent, hopeless even for a horse to attempt by swimming. The odd chance had failed us, and we were helpless, even if Pete hadn’t already got clear—as helpless as if an ocean stood in our way. We had barely realised it when away in the distance we heard the thud of a horse’s hoofs, coming rapidly nearer. It was a bright moonlight night, almost as light as day—we had reason to he thankful for that afterwards—and the horseman soon came into sight. As he drew along the track close to the river bank we saw it was Pete, with Nance in front of him, gripped round by his free arm. He was a powerful brute, and she was evidently quite helpless. The sight caused some language which did credit to Brimstone Pit as its worst.

He saw us, but the swollen river told him lie had nothing to fear from our proximity. Only forty paces cut him off from certain destruction, yet the scoundrel, glorying in our impotence, actually paused opposite us and laughed mockingly. At 1 he same time lie didn’t mean to take any risk, hut, like the hound he was, tailed the girl round as Pj screen ■ -wr linn, knowing well that no i ■ let loose a bullet m face ■'•'of the • winger to Nance. No mu-:' Vi o had forgotten Larry, and Pete couldn't oee him. Me was lying ...at on his face with Jus rifle at .the ready, covering Pete, his eye glinting along the barrel like a point of steel and his jaw sot like a trap. “By God!” muttered one of (lie men.

aghast, “if ho hits him it will be through the girl!” “Shoot!” exclaimed old Paul hoarsely. “Better that than worse.” But killing Nanoe to accomplish Pete’s destruction wasn’t Larry’s idea. We didn’t know he was as handy with his rifle as with his revolver, and that he hadn’t altogether pinned his faith to the odd chance of the ford. He was waiting his opportunity, which came when Pete, ambling along, reached a slight rise in the track, and still covered by Nance showed a clear outline against the moonlit sky. Then his rifle cracked, and next moment Pete’s saddle was empty, and two huddled forms law upon the ground. Old Paul groaned and turned away his head, and dark mutterings against Barry had just commenced when someone shouted excitedly, “Book!” and we saw Nance rise slowly to her feet. We had barely time to ask ourselves if she bad really escaped unliurt, when she was seen to grab at the bridle of Pete’s horse. Immediately after we shouted triumphantly, for she had sprung nimbly upon its back and ridden off like the wind, sticking to the unaccustomed saddle somehow. Nance could ride with the best of us, and we knew that whether Pete was alive or dead she was safe from him.

Barry jumped up then. “I fancy Pete’s brains won’t he of any further os© to him, hoys,” he said grimly, and vaulted into his saddle.

We went back to camp like a stroak, shouting the news as we passed through, and on to meet the other party, who were hound to pick up Nance on her way back. We met them in due course, and Nance hadn’t a scratch. Yes, one; she showed us where a bullet bad ploughed a clean gap

through her hair, and then wo understood. Larry s remark about Pete s brains. The men wlio went on to put hSm underground told us that the bullet had gone straight through the middle of liis- forehead. None°of us calculate on seeing a finer bit of shooting this side the eternal. Of course, after that there was a stronger bond than ever between Nance and Larry, and, as things turned out, it was soon to be made still stronger. v,nly ten days later mails came into camp, bringing a bulky official-looking letter for Larry. He was a swell, as we thought, and several conveniently sudden deaths had raised him from poverty to wealth and a baronetcy. It made no difference as regards Nance. Ho went to town, came back with a parson, and married her straight away, and no couple ever had such a send-off as we gave them when they left us for good. Every man in camp turned out and rode with them half-way to town. When w r e parted from them with a volley of firearms and a final linging cheer, Nance’s eyes were wet, and ours weren’t altogether free from mist. Wo felt as if a good lump of our lives had gone with her. . Larry wouldn’t part old Paul from his daughter, and the “Hotel” found a new owner. .Vs I have said, he was an educated man, and not likely to discredit his son-in-law. And so Nance is now Lady Allendale, and a great lady in England. But wo reckon that nothing this world can give her is ioo good for our Nance, although her gain was our loss.

A robs invariably weflv beards because Mahomet, the found or of their religion, never shoved. A long, iiowing beard is regarded by them as a sign of distinction.