The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1918-02-15

1
over and in respect to these here local
improvements, as you might say, I'm
doggoned If 1 sabe the whyfor."
"Just some business changes"
Holt showed his tObacco-stained
teeth in grin splenetic. "Oh. That's
all. I didn't know but what you
might be expecting visitor"
Selfridge flashed sharp sidelong
glance at him. "What do you mean-a
viSitor?"
81 just got notion mebbe you might
be looking for one, Mr.. Pelfrich. Like
| as not you amt fixing up for this Cor
don Elliot a-tall."
Wally had no comeback, unless it
was one to retort in irOnic admiration.
you're wonder, Holt. Pity you don't
start detective bureau
The old man went away cackling.
If Selfridge had held any doubts be-
fore, he discarded them now. Holt
would wreck the whole enterprise,
were he given a chance. 1t would never
do to let Elliot meet and talk with him.
He knew too much, and he was eager
to tell all he knew.
MacdOnald's lieutenant got busy at
once with plans to abduct Holt. "We'n
send the old man off on prospecting
trip with some of the boys" explained
Selfridge to Rowland. ''That way We'll
kill two birds. He's back on his as
sessment work. The time limit will be
up before he returns and Wen start
contest for the claim"
Rowland made no comment He was
an engineer and not politician. In
his position 1t was impossible for him
not to know that good deal about
the legal status of the Macdonald
claims was irregular. But he was
firm believer in a wide-open Alaska,
in the use of the territory by those
who had settled it.
Better arrange it with Big Bill,
then, but don't tell me anything about
it. I don't want to know the Details"
he told Selfridge.
Big Bill Macy accepted the job with
a grin. He had never, liked old Holt,
anyhow. Besides. they were not going
to do him any harm.
Holt was baking match of sour
dough bread that evening when there
came a knock at the cabin door. At
sight of Big Bill and his two compan-
ions the prospector closed the oven
and Strengthened with alert suspicion.
He was not on visiting terms with any
of these men. Why had they come to
see him?
"We're going prospecting up Wild
Goose creek, and we want you to go
along, Gid" explained Macy. you're
an old sour-dOugh miner, and we-all
agree we'd like to have you throw in
with us. What say"
The old miners answer was direct
but not flattering. "What do want to
go on a wild-goose mush with bunch
Of buns for?" he shrilled.
Bill Macy scratched his hook nose
and looked reproachfully at his host.
At least Holt thought he was looking
at him. One could not be sure, for
Bills eyes did not exactly track.
"What's the use Of swapping at me
like turtle? burden says Wild Goose
looks fine. There's gold up there
heaps of it."
'Let it stay there, then. 1 amt
going. That's fat" Holt turned to
adjust the damper Of his stove.
"Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't say
that. drawled Bill insolently.
The man at the stove caught the
change In tone and turned quickly. He
was too late. Macy had thrown him.
self forward and the weight Of his
body flung Holt against the wall. Be
fore the miner could recover, the other
two men were upon him. They bore
him to the floor and in spite of his
struggles tied him hand and foot.
Big Billrose and looked down deri-
sively at his prisoner. Better change
your mind and go with us, Holt. Wen
spend a quiet month up at the head
quarters of Wild Goose. Say you'll
come along"
What are you going to do with
meT demanded Holt.
Il reckon you need church to fall
on you before you can take a hint.
Didn't mention Wild Goose creek
three or four times?" jeered his captor.
Holt made no further protest. He
was furious, but at present quite help
less. However 1t went against the
grain, he might as well give in until re-
bellion would do some good.
Ten minutes later the party was
moving silently along the trail that
led to the hills. The pack horse went
first, in charge of George Holway. The
prisoner walked next, his hands tied
behind him. Big Bill followed, and
the man he had called bud brought up
the rear.
Macy had released the hands of his
prisoner so that he might have
chance to fight the mosquitoes, but he
kept a wary eye upon him and never
let him move more than a few feet |
from him. The trail grew sleeper as it |
neared the head of the canyon till at |
last it climbed the left wall and
emerged from the gulch to an uneven
mesa.
The leader Of the party looked at |
his watch. Past midnight. Wen |
camp here, George, and see If we can't
get rid of the 'skeeters."
They built smudge fires of green
wood and on the lee side Of these an
other one Of dry sticks. bud made
coffee upon this and cooked bacon.
While George chopped wood for the
fires and boughs Of small frs for bed
ding, Big Bill sat with rifle across
his knees just back Of the prisoner.
"Gid's shifty old cuss, and amt
taking any chances" he explained
aloud to bud.