The thundercaps were gleaming like silver in the heat when Wunpost rode back to Jail Canyon; but he came on almost merrily, a sopping bath-towel about his neck and his shirt pulled out, like a Chinaman’s. These were the last days of September when the clouds which had gathered for months at last were giving down their rain; and the air, now it was humid, seemed to open every pore and make the sweat run in rivulets. Wunpost perspired, but he was happy, and as he neared the silent house he whistled shrilly for his dog. Good Luck came out for a moment, looked down at him reproachfully, and crawled back under the house, Yes, it was hot in the canyon, for the ridge cut off the wind and the rimrock reflected yet more heat, but Wunpost was happy through it all. He had told Blackwater where it could go.

Not Eells and Lynch alone, but the citizens at large, collectively and as individuals; and he had planted the seeds of envy and rage to rankle in their hairy breasts. He had shown them his gold, to make them yearn to find it, and his money to make 157them envy him his wealth; and then he had left them to stew in their own juice, for Blackwater was as hot as Jail Canyon. He was riding a horse now, and, in addition to Old Walker, he had a third mule, heavily packed; and he was headed for the hills to hide still more food and water against the chase that was sure to come. Sooner or later they would follow on his trail, those petty, hateful souls who now sat in the barrooms and gasped like fish for breath; but they were waiting, forsooth, for the weather to cool down and the cloudbursts to finish their destruction. And that was the very reason why they would never find his mine–they were afraid to take his chances.

Mrs. Campbell and Wilhelmina were out on the back porch, which had been sprinkled until it was almost cool; and when Wunpost had unpacked and put his mules in the corral he came up the hill and joined them. Wilhelmina had returned to her proper sphere, being clothed in the filmiest of gowns; and poor Mrs. Campbell, who was nearly prostrated by the heat, allowed her to entertain the company. They sat in the dense shade of the umbrella trees and creepers, within easy reach of a dripping olla; and after taking a huge drink, which started the sweat again, Wunpost sank down on the cool dirt floor.

“It ain’t so hot here!” he began encouragingly; “you ought to be down in Blackwater. Say, the wind off that Sink would make your hair curl. I scared a lizard out of the shade and he hadn’t run ten feet till he disappeared in a puff of smoke. His 158pardner turned over and started to lick his toes-”

“Yes, it does look like rain,” observed Billy with a twinkle. “How long since you started to herd lizards?”

“Who–me?” inquired Wunpost. “W’y, I’m telling you the truth. But say, it does look like rain. If they’d only spread it out, instead of dumping it all in one place, it’d suit me better, personally. There was a cloudburst last week hit into the canyon above me and I just made my getaway in time, and where that water landed you’d think a hydraulic sluice had been washing down the hill for a year. It all struck in one place and gouged clean down to bedrock, and when she came by me there was so much brush pushed ahead that it looked like a big, moving dam. Where’s your father–up getting out ore?”

“Yes, he’s up at the mine,” spoke up Mrs. Campbell, “although I’ve begged him not to work so hard. The heat is almost killing him, but he’s so thankful to have his road done that he won’t delay a minute. He’s used up all his sacks, but he’s still sorting the ore so that he can load it right onto the trucks.”

“Yes, that’s good,” commented Wunpost, glancing furtively at Billy, “I hope he makes a million. He deserves it–he’s sure worked hard.”

“Yes, he has,” responded Mrs. Campbell, “and I’ve always had faith in him, but others have tried to discourage him. I believe I’ve heard you say that his work was all wasted, but now everybody is envying him his success. It all goes to show that the Lord cares for his own, and that the righteous are 159not forgotten; because Cole has always said he would rather be poor and honest than to own the greatest fortune in the land. And now it seems as if the hand of Providence has just reached down and given us our road–the Lord provides for his own.”

“Looks that way,” agreed Wunpost; “sure treating me fine, too. There was a time, back there, when He seemed to have a copper on every bet I played, but now luck is coming my way. Of course I don’t deserve it–and for that matter, I don’t ask no odds–but this last mine I found is a Sockdolager right, and Eells or none of ’em can’t find it. I took down one mule-load that was worth ten thousand dollars, and when I was shipping it you should have seen them Blackwater bums looking on with tears in their eyes. That’s all right about the Lord providing for his own, but I tell you hard work has got something to do with it, whether you believe in religion or not. I’m a rustler, I’ll say that, and I work for what I get, just as hard as your husband or anyone-”

“Ah, but Mister Calhoun,” broke in Mrs. Campbell reproachfully, “we’ve heard evil stories of your dealings with Eells. Not that we like him, for we don’t; but, so we are informed, the mine that you sold him was salted.”

“Why, mother!” exclaimed Billy, but the fat was in the fire, for Wunpost had nodded shamelessly.

“Yes,” he said, “the mine was salted, but don’t let that keep you awake nights. I didn’t sell him the mine–he took it away from me and gave me twenty thousand for a quit-claim. And the twenty thousand 160 dollars was nothing to what I lost when he robbed me and Billy of our mine.”

“Why–why, Mr. Calhoun!” cried Mrs. Campbell in a shocked voice, “did you salt that mine on purpose?”

“You’d have thought so,” he returned, “if you’d seen me packing the ore. It took me nigh onto two weeks.”

Mrs. Campbell paused and gasped, but Wunpost met her gaze with a cold, unblinking stare. Her nice Scotch scruples were not for such as he, and if she crowded him too far he had an answer to her reproaches which would effectually reduce her to silence. But Billy knew that answer, and the reason for the gleam which played like heat-lightning in his eyes, and she hastened to stave off disaster.

“Oh, mother!” she protested, “now please don’t talk seriously to him or he’ll confess to almost anything. He told me a lot of stuff and I was dreadfully worried about it, but I found out he only did it to tease me. And besides, you know yourself that Mr. Eells did take advantage of us and trick us out of our mine–and if it hadn’t been for that we could have built the road ourselves without being beholden to anybody.”

“But Billy, child!” she chided, “just think what you’re saying. Is it any excuse that others are dishonest? Well, I must say I’m surprised!”

“Oh, you’re surprised, are you?” spoke up Wunpost, rising ponderously to his feet. “Well, if you don’t like my style, just say so.”

161He reached for his hat and stood waiting for the answer, but Mrs. Campbell avoided the issue.

“It is not for us to judge our neighbors–the Bible says: Judge not, lest ye be judged–but I’m sorry, Mr. Calhoun, that you think so poorly of us as to boast of the deception you practised. He’s no friend of us, this Judson Eells, but surely you cannot think it was aught but dishonest to sell him a salted mine. Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, and because he took your property is no excuse for committing a crime.”

“A crime!” repeated Wunpost, and turned to look at Billy, who hung her head regretfully. “Did you hear that?” he asked. “She says I’m a criminal! Well, I won’t bother you folks any more. But before I go, Mrs. Campbell, I might as well tell you that these criminals sometimes come in danged handy. Suppose I’d buried that ore in Happy Canyon, for instance, or over the summit in Hanaupah–where would the Campbell family be for a road? They wouldn’t have one, would they? And this here Providence that you talk about would be distributing its rewards to others. But there’s too many good people for the rewards to go around–that’s why some of us get out and rustle. No, you want to be thankful that a criminal came along and took a flyer at being Providence himself; otherwise you’d be stuck with your mine on your hands–because I gave you that road, myself.”

He started for the door and Mrs. Campbell let him go, for the revelation had left her thunderstruck. 162Never for a moment had she doubted that the sterling integrity of her husband had brought a special dispensation of Providence, and while her faith in Divine Providence was by no means shaken, she did begin to doubt the miracle. Perhaps, after all, this loud and boastful Wunpost had been more than an instrument of Providence–he might, in fact, have been a kindly but misguided friend, who had shaped his vengeance to serve their special needs. For he knew they needed the road and, since he could salt a crevice anywhere, he had located his mine up their canyon. And then Eells had jumped the mine and built the road, and-Well, really, after all, it was no more than right to go out and thank him for his kindness. He was wrong, of course, and led astray by angry passions; but Wilhelmina and he were friends and-She rose up and hurried out after him.

The blazing light in the heavens almost blinded her sight as she stepped out into the sun; and high up above the peaks, like cones of burnished metal, she saw two thundercaps, turning black at the base and mounting on the superheated air. There was the hush in the air which she had learned to associate with an explosion such as was about to take place, and she looked back anxiously, for her husband was up the canyon and the downpour might strike above Panamint. It was clouds such as these that had come together before to form the cloudburst which had isolated their mine, and though they now appeared daily she could never escape the fear that 163once more they would send down their floods. Every day they struck somewhere, and one more bone-dry canyon ran bank-high and spewed its refuse across the plain, and each time she had the feeling that their sins might be punished by another visitation from on high. But she only glanced back once, for Wunpost was packing and Billy was looking on hopelessly.

“Oh, Mr. Calhoun!” she called, “please don’t go up the canyon now–there’s a cloudburst forming above the peaks.”

“I’ll make it,” he grumbled, cocking his eye at the clouds–and then he stopped and looked again. “There went lightning,” he said; “that’s a mighty bad sign–they’re stabbing out towards each other.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’d better stay,” she went on apologetically, “and please don’t think you’re not welcome. But oh! this heat is terrible–I’ll have to go back–but Billy will stop and help you.”

She raised her sunshade as if she were fleeing from a rain-storm and hastened back out of the sun; and Wunpost, after a minute of careful scrutiny, unpacked and squatted down in the shade.

“They’re moving together,” he said to Billy, “and see that lightning reaching out? This is going to bust the world open, somewhere. That’s no cloudburst that’s shaping up, it’s a regular old waterspout; I know by the way she acts.”

He settled back on his heels to await the outcome, and as the thunder began to roll he turned to his companion and shook his head in ominous silence. 164There were but two clouds in the sky, all the rest was blazing light; and these two clouds were moving slowly together, or rather, towards a common center. One came on from the southeast, the other from the west, and some invisible force seemed to be drawing them towards the peaks which marked the summit of the Panamints. The play of the lightning became almost constant, the rumbling rose to a tumult; and then, as if caught by resistless hands, the two clouds rushed together. There was a flash of white light, a sudden blackening of the mass, and as Wunpost leapt up shouting a writhing funnel reached down as if feeling for the palpitating earth.

“There she goes!” he cried; “it’s a waterspout, all right–but it ain’t going to land near here.”

He talked on, half to himself, as the great spiral reached and lengthened; and then he shouted again, for it had struck the ground, though where it was impossible to tell. The high rim of the canyon cut off all but the high peaks, and they could see nothing but the waterspout now; and it, as if stabilized by its contact with the earth, had turned into a long line of black. It was a column of falling water, and the two clouds, which had joined, seemed to be discharging their contents down a hole. They were sucked into the vortex, now turned an inky black, and their millions of tons of water were precipitated upon one spot, while all about the ground was left dry.

Wunpost knew what was happening, for he had seen it once before, and as he watched the rain 165descend he imagined the spot where it fell and the wreck which would follow its flood. For the Panamints are set on edge and shed rain like a roof, the water all flowing off at once; and when they strike a canyon, after rushing down the converging gulches, there is nothing that can withstand their violence. Every canyon in the range, and in the Funeral Range beyond, and in Tin Mountain and the Grapevines to the north–every one of them had been swept by the floods from the heights and ripped out as clean as a sand-wash. And this waterspout, which had turned into a mighty cloudburst, would sweep one of them clean again. The question was–which one?

A breeze, rising suddenly, came up from the Sink and was sucked into the vortex above; the black line of the downfall turned lead-color and broadened out until it merged into the clouds above; and at last, as Wunpost lingered, the storm disappeared and the canyon took on the hush of heavy waiting. The sun blazed out as before, the fig-leaves hung down wilted; but the humidity was gone and the dry, oven-heat almost created the illusion of coolness.

“Well, I’m going,” announced Wunpost, for the third or fourth time. “She must have come down away north.”

“No–wait!” protested Billy, “why are you always in such a hurry? And perhaps the flood hasn’t come yet.”

“It’d be here,” he answered, “been an hour, by my watch; and believe me, that old boy would be coming 166some. Excuse me, if it should hit into one end of a box canyon while I was coming up the other. My friends could omit the flowers.”

“Well, why not stay, then?” she pouted anxiously; “you know Mother didn’t mean anything. And perhaps Father will be down, to see if there was any damage done, and we could catch him first and explain.”

“No explaining for me!” returned Wunpost, beginning to pack; “you can tell them whatever you want. And if your folks are too religious to use my old road maybe the Lord will send a cloudburst and destroy it. That’s the way He always did in them old Bible stories-”

“You oughten to talk that way!” warned Wilhelmina soberly, “and besides, that’s what made Mother angry. She isn’t feeling well, and when you spoke slightingly of Divine Providence-”

“Well, I’m going,” he said again, “before I begin to quarrel with you. But, oh say, I want to get that dog.”

“Oh, it’s too hot!” she protested, “let him stay under the house. He and Red are sleeping there together.”

“No, I need him,” he grumbled, “liable to be bushwhacked now, any time; and I want a dog to guard camp at night.”

He started towards the house, still looking up the canyon, and at the gate he stopped dead and listened.

“What’s that?” he asked, and glanced about wildly, but Billy only shook her head.

167“I don’t hear anything,” she replied, turning listlessly away, “but I wish you wouldn’t go.”

“Well, maybe I won’t,” he answered grimly, “don’t you hear that kind of rumble, up the canyon?”

She listened again, then rushed towards the house while Wunpost made a dash for the corral. The cloudburst was coming down their canyon.