Lost Cabin Mine

Frederick Niven

Description

In this classic Western set in Canada, a crew of motley misfits and outsiders set off on a two-month expedition in search of a legendary cache of gold. It seems too good to be true, but there are a few hints that the tall tales they've heard about the treasure might be rooted in fact. But when the trio runs into trouble along the way, it becomes unclear if they'll ever find out the truth -- or make it back with their lives intact.

Sujets

• Westerns
• Western (genre)
• Western

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776591671
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE LOST CABIN MINE
* * *
FREDERICK NIVEN
 
*
The Lost Cabin Mine First published in 1908 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-167-1 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-168-8 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Chapter I - Introduces "The Apache Kid" with Whom Later I Become Acquainted Chapter II - Mr. Laughlin Tells the Story up to Date Chapter III - Mr. Laughlin's Prophecy is Fulfilled Chapter IV - I Take My Life in My Hands Chapter V - I Agree to "Keep the Peace" in a New Sense Chapter VI - Farewell to Baker City Chapter VII - The Man with the Red Head Chapter VIII - What Befell at the Half-Way House Chapter IX - First Blood Chapter X - In the Enemy's Camp Chapter XI - How it was Dark in the Sunlight Chapter XII - I Am Held as a Hostage Chapter XIII - In Which Apache Kid Behaves in His Wonted Way Chapter XIV - Apache Kid Prophesies Chapter XV - In Which the Tables Are Turned—At Some Cost Chapter XVI - Sounds in the Forest Chapter XVII - The Coming of Mike Canlan Chapter XVIII - The Lost Cabin is Found Chapter XIX - Canlan Hears Voices Chapter XX - Compensation Chapter XXI - Re-Enter—The Sheriff of Baker City Chapter XXII - The Mud-Slide Chapter XXIII - The Sheriff Changes His Opinion Chapter XXIV - For Fear of Judge Lynch Chapter XXV - The Making of a Public Hero Chapter XXVI - Apache Kid Makes a Speech Chapter XXVII - The Beginning of the End Chapter XXVIII - Apache Kid Behaves Strangely at the Half-Way House to Kettle Chapter XXIX - So-Long Chapter XXX - And Last Endnotes
*
TO MY SISTER
Chapter I - Introduces "The Apache Kid" with Whom Later I Become Acquainted
*
The Lost Cabin Mine, as a name, is familiar to many. But the true storyof that mine there is no man who knows. Of that I am positive—because"dead men tell no tales."
It was on the sixth day of June, 1900, that I first heard the unfinishedstory of the Lost Cabin, the first half of the story I may call it, forthe story is all finished now, and in the second half I was destined toplay a part. Of the date I am certain because I verified it only theother day when I came by accident upon a pile of letters, tied with redsilk ribbon and bearing a tag "Letters from Francis." These were theletters I sent to my mother during my Odyssey and one of them, bearingthe date of the day succeeding that I have named, contained an account,toned down very considerably, as I had thought necessary for hersensitive and retired heart, of the previous day's doings, with anoutline of the strange tale heard that day. That nothing was mentionedin the epistle of the doings of that night, you will be scarcelyastonished when you read of them.
I was sitting alone on the rear verandah of the Laughlin Hotel, BakerCity, watching the cicadi hopping about on the sun-scorched flats, nowand again raising my eyes to the great, confronting mountain, the lowertrees of which seemed as though trembling, seen through the heat haze;while away above, the white wedge of the glacier, near the summit,glistened dry and clear like salt in the midst of the high blue rocks.
The landlord, a thin, quick-moving man with a furtive air, a stragglingapology for a moustache, and tiny eyes that seemed ever on the alert,came shuffling out to the verandah, hanging up there, to a hook in theprojecting roof, a parrot's cage which he carried.
His coming awoke me from my reveries.
"Hullo," he said: "still setting there, are you? Warmish?"
"Yes."
"You ain't rustled a job for yourself yet?" he inquired, touching theedge of the cage lightly with his lean, bony fingers to stop itsswaying.
I shook my head. I had indeed been sitting there that very moment,despite the brightness of the day, in a mood somewhat despondent,wondering if ever I was to obtain that long-sought-for, long-wished-for"job."
"Been up to the McNair Mine?" he asked.
I nodded.
"The Bonanza?"
I nodded again.
"The Poorman?"
"No good," I replied.
"Well, did you try the Molly Magee?"
"Yes."
"And?" he inquired, elevating his brows.
"Same old story," said I. "They all say they only take on experiencedmen."
He looked at me with a half-smile, half-sneer, and the grey parrothanging above him with his head cocked on one side, just like hismaster's, ejaculated:
"Well, if this don't beat cock-fighting!"
Shakespeare says that "what the declined is he will as soon read in theeyes of others as feel in his own fall." I was beginning to read in theeyes of others, those who knew that I had been in this roaring BakerCity almost a fortnight and was still idle, contempt for my incapacity.Really, I do not believe now that any of them looked on me withcontempt; it was only my own inward self-reproach which I imaginedthere, for men and women are kindlier than we think them in our own darkdays. But on that and at that moment it seemed to me as though the veryparrot jeered at me.
"You don't savvy this country," said the landlord. "You want always tosay, when they ask you: 'Do you understand the work?' 'why sure! I'mexperienced all right; I never done nothing else in my life.' You wantto say that, no matter what the job is you 're offered. If you wantever to make enough money to be able to get a pack-horse and a outfitand go prospectin' on your own, that's what you want to say."
"But that would be to tell a downright lie," said I.
"Well," drawled the landlord, lifting his soft hat between his thumb andhis first finger and scratching his head on the little bald part of thecrown with the third finger, the little finger cocked in the air; "well,now that you put it that way—well, I guess it would. I never looked atit that way before. You see, they all ask you first pop: 'Did you everdo it before?' You says: 'Yes, never did anything else since I left thecradle.' It's just a form of words when you strike a man for a job."
I broke into a feeble laugh, which the parrot took up with such araucous voice that the landlord turned and yelled to it: "Shut up!"
"I don't have to!" shrieked the parrot, promptly, and you could havethought that his little eyes sparkled with real indignation. Just thenthe landlord's wife appeared at the door.
"See here," cried Mr. Laughlin, turning to her, "there 's that parrot o'yourn, I told him to shut up his row just now, and he rips back at me,'I don't have to!' What you make o' that? Are you goin' to permitthat? Everything connected with you seems conspirin' agin' me tocheapen me—you and your relations what come here and put up for monthson end, and your—your—your derned old grey parrot!"
"Abraham Laughlin," said the lady, her green eyes flashing, "you bindrinkin' ag'in, and ef you ain't sober to-morrow I go back east home tomy mother."
It gave me a new thought as to the longevity of the human race to hearMrs. Laughlin speak of her mother back east. I hung my head and studiedthe planking of the verandah, then looked upward and gazed at thefar-off glacier glittering under the blue sky, tried to wear theappearance of a deaf man who had not heard this altercation. Really Itook the matter too seriously. Had I only known it at the time, theywere a most devoted couple and would—not "kiss again with tears" andseek forgiveness and reconciliation, but—speak to each other mostkindly, as though no "words" had ever passed between them, half an hourlater. But at the time of the little altercation on the verandah, whenMrs. Laughlin gave voice to her threat and then, turning, stalked backinto the hotel, Laughlin wheeled about with his head thrust forward,showing his lean neck craning out of his wide collar, and opened hislips as though to discharge a pursuing shot. But the parrot took thewords out of his mouth, so to speak, giving a shriek of laughter andcrying out: "Well, if this don't beat cock-fighting!"
The landlord looked up quizzically at the bird and then there was anawkward pause. I wondered what to say to break this silence thatfollowed upon the exhibition of the break in the connubial bliss of mylandlord and his wife. Then I remembered something that I decidedly didwant to ask, so I was actually more seeking information than striving toput Mr. Laughlin at his ease again, when I said:
"By the way, what is all this talk I hear about the Lost Cabin Mine?Everybody is speaking about it, you know. What is the Lost Cabin Mine?What is the story of it? People seem just to take it for granted thateverybody knows about it."
"Gee-whiz!" said the landlord in astonishment, wheeling round upon me.He stretched out a hand to a chair, dragged it along the verandah, andsat down beside me in the shadow. "You don't know that story? Why,then I 'll give you all there is to it so far. And talking about theLost Cabin, now there's what you might be doin' if on'y you had theprice of an outfit—go out and find it, my bold buck, and live happyever after—"
He stopped abruptly, for a man had come out of the hotel and now stoodmeditating on the verandah. He was a lithe, sun-browned fellow, this,wearing a loose jacket, wearing it open, disclosing a black shirt withpearl buttons. Round his neck was a great, cream-coloured kerchief thathung half down his back in a V shape, as is the manner with cowboys andnot usual among miners. This little detail of the kerchief wassufficient to mark him out in that city, for the nearest cattle ranchwas about two hundred miles to the south-east and when the "boys" whoworked there sought the delights of civilisation it was not to BakerCity, but to one of the towns on the ra