# Dead Man's Gold/Chapter 10
### CHAPTER X
#### PEGGY FURNISS

THE barrel cactus that had, for the time, saved Stone, Larkin, and Healy from the Death of the Desert, the slow tortures of hunger, thirst, and desiccation, was the solitary outpost of groves and thickets of its kind. They had passed, although they did not know it, the worst of the mesa, the sandy plain, strewn with stones in patches, too arid, too inhospitable for even the tiny knob cactus to grow. From there on to the western verge, the soil became more and more thickly set with prickly-pear, towering torch-thistles, hedgehog and whipstock cactus, old-man cactus, growing in thorny mazes, with the tip-tops of the barrel or torch thistles, forty, even fifty feet above a rider's head.
Lunging, scuffing, skidding, rolling through the irregular avenues of these strange growths, fleshy-stemmed, gray-green, flaccid creations, needle-spined, decked with myriads of brilliant blossoms, a panting automobile of the Tin Lizzie variety made its way eastward. A heavier machine would have foundered in the breadths of soft and shifting sand. Where a six-cylinder would have wallowed this two-cylindered contraption skimmed. The hot sand failed to affect its well-used tires though they were almost at ​the melting point. It chugged and puffed and steamed at the radiator inlet, one piston would fail and then another, but never both at the same time, and then the two would become reconciled and try to make up for lost endeavour.
The hands on the wheel, and it took hands that were expert and wrists that were strong to control the car in the sand, were those of a girl. A girl dressed in a khaki skirt, a middy blouse open at a rather thin throat, with a scarlet tie under the wide collar, and a floppy straw hat tied down sunbonnet fashion, over a mop of yellow curly hair. Her small feet on the controls were in canvas sneakers above which showed legs that were symmetrical though somewhat over-slender and, in contrast to the rest of her costume, clad in expensive silk.
Her blue eyes were fixed on the way, and a little pucker between the arching eyebrows showed the stress with which she took her task. So did the rounded chin that had a dimple in it but was sternly thrust forward. A pretty girl, for all the mixture of tan and freckles on sunburnt face and neck and arms.
Beside her sat Diamond Dick Harvey leaning forward, his face still swollen from his waterless fight against the desert, his hands gripping the side and the seat of the vehicle. In the tonneau were demi-johns of water.
"These sure beat burros so long's they keep goin'," said Harvey. "On'y trubble is they're kind of apt to bust down, ain't they?"
"Not this one," said the girl. "Long as I've ​got water and gas, and believe me, I'm always sure about that end of it, I can fix anything that goes wrong with a hairpin and a package of chewing gum. A wrench comes in handy once in a while," she laughed, "but, take it from me, you can't kill one of these li'l old runalongs. I've run on rope instead of inner tubes when I couldn't patch the punctures, and I can fix a spark-plug, clean it, and put it back in the dark. I know the whole inside of the bag of tricks under the hood and I never drove one of them before I came up to Sunshine. Straight ahead?"
"Yes, Miss. I hardly figger they've got as fur as this. It 'ud be hell ter miss 'em in the cactus an' not find 'em in time. But I don't b'lieve they'd got this fur. It's sure wonderful the way you handle thet machine, an' you not techin' one of 'em 'fore you come up here. Don't seem possible."
"Any woman who can run a sewing machine could handle one of these," she said. "Doctor Seward, that's the superintendent of the sanitarium, has a daughter twelve years old who runs the new car down to Camp Verde and back for groceries and the mail and meeting the trains. She taught me how, and, since they got the new car, he lets me use this whenever I want, so long as the tires hold out and I pay for the oil and gas. That's how I happened to run across you. You were just crossing a clearing in the cactus when I first saw you. It isn't often any one comes in from the desert, I can tell you, so I drove over toward you to see if I could give you a lift.
"You needed one all right. You must have fallen ​down and got up again ten times before I reached you."
"Yes, Miss. I guess so. I was nigh tuckered out. No doubt as to thet part of it. Darned lucky you had them chocolates with ye. Best kind of fuel. I reckon we must be close to the end of the cactus now. It's thinnin' a bit. Seemed ter me I trailed through twenty mile of it, but I guess I was a bit delirious at times. You git thet way 'thout water."
The girl gave him a sympathetic glance.
"I've never been as far to the east as this before," she said, glancing at the dial in front of her. "We've come a little more than four miles and I was about two miles from the camp when I met you."
"Stayin' thar fer yore health, Miss?" asked Harvey, politely.
"Only another week," said the girl. "I took it in time, you see, soon as I found out my lung was affected. I'm cured. All I need now is a little fat on my bones and I can go back to the Pictures."
"Pictures, Miss?"
"Movies. I'm no Pickford, just a stunt-extra, but I made a good living at it and it was lots of fun."
"Yes, Miss, it must have bin," said Harvey, dazedly, wondering what a "stunt-extra" was. The cactus was thinning fast now and he leaned to one side, avoiding the windshield, scratched by sand and half opaque, gazing anxiously ahead with his ancient but far-sighted eyes.
"Could ye git a mite more speed out of her, Miss?" he asked.
​The girl nodded and gave the engine more gas.
"They're thar," said Harvey, pointing ahead to a black mass. "Them's buzzards, a swarm of 'em! They've lit but they ain't started ter—ter clean up. Thar's some life left in 'em yet, by the Lord!"
He let out a loud "whoopee!" and fired his pistol into the air as the little car hopped and slid and bounded across the desert to where the great birds, their numbers augmented to a score, reluctantly mounted, clumsy of wing until they were fairly launched, and then wheeling above the machine resentfully with raucous cries.
Water, the want of which had so swiftly reduced them to their extremity, was as swift to bring them back, judiciously applied by Harvey. The girl gave out little moans of pity as she aided. All three were unconscious and their faces were bloated and broken and black with caked sweat and blood. Healy's arm looked almost as large as his thigh.
"Thet Doctor Seward of yore's a surgeon?" asked Harvey. "If he ain't we better run down to Camp Verde with Healy here, thet is if we ain't puttin' ye out too much?"
"Putting me out?" she echoed, scornfully. "You help me get them into the car. No, you can't have any more water," she said to Lefty Larkin whose eyes had opened and whose lips formed the word they could not utter. "Not now. Yes, Doctor Seward was a surgeon before he became a specialist in tuberculosis. That arm is horrible but if any one can save it, he can. What is it, a snake bite?"
​Harvey did not answer, and they were both busy so that the girl did not seem to note his lapse. Harvey, wise in the ways of mining and in the customs and manners of the land, did not want to identify them in any way with the news that must soon come out about the cloudburst and the dead Apaches. Like every old-time prospector, he hated publicity, and in this case saw no good that could possibly come of it, but only vexation, delay, the possibility of being detained as government witnesses, and of rumour bringing other prospectors on their trail. Harvey had the Desert Rat's horror of restraint of any kind. Rather than serve on a jury he would have journeyed fifty miles across Death Valley, and he felt the same way about giving any degree of evidence, save to help out a friend or someone he believed unjustly accused. They must make up some story to give the doctor, he decided.
He and the girl got Healy into the tonneau and wedged him up between Stone and Larkin who were finally able to crawl into the car with a little elbow assistance. Healy's eyes were wide open and glassy with fever but, aside from that, he was still in the coma, insensible, unable to move.
"We'll have his arm looked into inside of half an hour," she said. "It's just about seven miles to camp. Soup and a drink of whisky apiece for you two. I don't imagine the doc 'll let you have much to eat. And you must be starving also." She turned to Harvey.
"Don't you worry none about me," he said. "The ​water fetched me back. Seven miles in half an hour ye say, an it 'ud take a man afoot three hours if he was in prime shape. Took me nigher eight, I reckon. Lemme turn thet crank fer ye."
Sunshine Sanitarium was a spotless and orderly array of tents about a main building of one story. It was built at the head of Clear Creek Cañon so as to enjoy the altitude of the plateau and the view of Verde Valley. Springs gave it lawns and shrubbery and flower beds. It did not seem a place of forlorn hopes nor of creeping invalids. Even with the advanced cases, the rareness of the air and the strict restrictions as to action and diet kept the wounded lungs scarred over if not healed. And Sunshine Sanitarium, where the tent flaps were raised high every night to let in the cold and healing night air, turned out many cures under the open-air programme of Doctor Seward.
Evidently the girl was a favourite with the linen-clad, spectacled man who met them as they turned in from the desert to the driveway that led to the main building. It was flanked by the verdant turf that marked the sharp demarcation established by the presence and use of water. In a few words she explained the situation and the doctor had taken it in.
"By all means. Miss Furniss," he said. "Take him to your tent. You can move up to the main building as we planned for these last few days of yours. And we can find a spare tent for these men. We'll drive them up to the house first and Mrs. ​Seward will get them something suitable to eat. After that a swim in the plunge will not harm you," he said to them generally. "It's sulphur water and warm. No thanks. Go ahead with them, Miss Fumiss, as soon as you've got this other chap on your bed. I'll go get my things." He bustled away with an energetic stride and the girl turned off into one of the little avenues of the tent village and stopped before her own dwelling at the end of the street.
Stone and Larkin managed to stagger out without assistance and even to help a little in getting Healy into the tent.
"Shame to lay him on that bed," said Harvey, regarding the spotless cot. "He'll muss it all up for you."
"I'm not going to use it any more," replied the girl. "I'm promoted to the Big House as cured. Isn't that arm dreadful? I hope Doctor Seward won't have to amputate it. He'll be here in a minute. Here's some chocolate for you. I'm so glad I had it. Then I'll take you on up to see Mrs. Seward. She's simply great. You'll all fall in love with her."
They had got Healy on the cot where he lay supine, breathing heavily. While they waited for the doctor the girl started to put some of her personal belongings into a little bag, quickly packing up combs and toilet articles and several photographs. One of the latter was hung from the pole of the tent and it caught Stone's eye before she removed it. He ​stared, looked more closely, and gave a little exclamation.
"Look like someone you know?" asked the girl. "She's the best ever."
"It's Lola," said Stone.
"No," laughed the girl. "Mary."
"Yes," said Stone, "I know that. Mary Leslie. But I called her 'Lola.'"
The girl stared at him in utter astonishment. The others had not noticed their little passage and then the doctor came hurrying in with an assistant, also in white duck, and a bag, the contents of which he started to lay out on the bureau just cleared by the girl.
"You three go to the house," said Doctor Seward. "You can come down later and get the rest of your things. Miss Furniss. I'm going to put this chap under an opiate as soon as we get through with him. Wait a minute," he went on, as he examined the swollen arm. "How did this thing happen?" he queried, sharply. Harvey looked at Stone and the latter answered.
"We are prospecting, doctor," he said. "We were blasting when the accident occurred. A hardwood rod was blown clean through his arm, or rather so far through that we had to pull it clear. We had no disinfectants so we essayed to bring him in to where he could get taken care of. We had hard luck, lost our burros, with the grub. Harvey here came on ahead when Healy collapsed and we stayed with him and tried to pack him in as far as we could. Then Miss Furniss came, providentially, on the scene."
​"Humph!" The doctor's exclamation spoke volumes. His eyes had widened back of their lenses at the tone and manner of Stone's speech, hardly to be expected from so uncouth an object.
"My name, by the way, is Stone," said the latter. "Harvey here is guide and mining expert for Healy there on the bed, Larkin, and myself. I am not trying to set aside your splendid kindliness, doctor, but we shall be glad to pay for any trouble and expense we have put you to."
The doctor nodded.
That's all right," he said, shortly but courteously. "You go up to the house. I may have to amputate. Depends upon whether he responds to treatment. It is more fever than actual gangrene, I hope. I'll see you later."
At the main building the doctor's wife, motherly and efficient, had already been appraised of their arrival and had prepared such simple food as was to be permitted them. They were served in a dining room that looked east toward the desert through which they had passed, the bulk of the big, lonely butte showing purple back of the cactus foreground. The girl disappeared.
"You'll want to sleep after your swim," she said. "I'll see you later. I want to talk to you about Mary Leslie," she added to Stone.
"'Oo's Mary Leslie?" asked Larkin between mouthfuls of chicken broth.
"A friend of Miss Furniss," Stone answered, enigmatically.
​Larkin did not seem disposed to be curious. He had thoughts of his own.
"If she's anything like this one," he said, "she's a peach. Furniss, Peggy Furniss! The doc's wife called her Peggy. Some nyme, and some girl! Smart as a steel trap. Twig the w'y she drove that Lizzie through the sand?"
Half an hour later, as the three of them were floating feebly but luxuriantly in the velvety-warm mineral water of the big plunge. Stone asked Larkin how he felt.
"Prime-oh! I never knew water was 'arf so huseful. I'm soakin' it in like a sponge. It's a fair treat this. I bet myself it was all orf wiv the three of hus the larst time we keeled hover. Did you see those bloomin' birds waitin' to dig their beaks hinter us? I was too dead to move, but I expected hevery minnit to 'ave one of 'em start to pecking at me. S'y, oo's this Mary Leslie?
"I can tell you more about her after I've talked with Miss Furniss," answered Stone.
"Ho!" said Larkin, and his tone was perceptibly an injured one. "Privut conversation, w'ot?"
"You're jealous," teased Stone, and Larkin made a face at him, while Harvey guffawed. The doctor came to the plunge before they got out.
"I'll show you where you can turn in for a nap," he said. "Your friend won't have to lose his arm, after all. He'll be laid up for a few days with his arm in a sling. An hour or so more would have told a different story. Anything you want sent down to ​Camp Verde or brought up from there? Mail, telegrams, tobacco? I'm sending in a couple of telegrams for Healy. He came round for a few minutes after we'd fixed up his arm and before I gave him his hypodermic."
When they were alone in the tent arranged for them with its three cots of white enamel and simple furniture, Larkin spoke with nodding emphasis though he kept his voice low.
"'E's at 'is hold tricks hagain. Comes to for a minute and starts sendin' tellygrams. 'Oo in 'ell is 'e sendin' 'em to?"
"None of our business. Lefty."
"That's where you're jolly well wrong. It his our bizness. 'E's got somefing hup 'is sleeve, 'e 'as, and it hain't no fairy gift for you and me. Or for 'Arvey, seein' 'e's in wiv hus now. Remember w'ot 'e said on the mesa? That me an' you was bound to lose. And that Castro was in on it somewhere?"
"What did you know about Healy before, Harvey?" asked Stone. "You don't have to tell us, of course."
"I didn't say I wouldn't," said Harvey. "I promised him I wouldn't mention it of my own accord. He didn't figger you'd be likely to ask me. 'Tain't much, ennyway. Healy used to be faro-dealer in Nogales for a slick Greaser named Castro. Used ter work for him before at Juarez, I've heard. Then Healy set up for himself down to Bisbee and he got inter some trubble thar. Shot a chap who 'cused him of cheatin'. Gen'ral opinion was thet the chap ​was correct but too slow on the draw to express a personal opinion like thet. Healy warn't over-popular but he got the thing fixed up. As I said, he grubstaked me once and, when he said that I'd best not mention havin' known him at all, I took it as a natcheral feelin' an' kept shet till you put it to me p'int blank."
"Oh 'e's a crook hall right, hall right," said Lefty. "And," he added with a yawn, "I'm tellin' you this right now. If 'e gits hany answers to these tellygrams I'm goin' to see what they 'as to's'y if I 'ave to knock 'im down to git it hout of 'im."