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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:44:48 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:44:48 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/14545-0.txt b/14545-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c51334a --- /dev/null +++ b/14545-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5895 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14545 *** + +COPPER STREAK TRAIL + +by + +EUGENE MANLOVE RHODES + +Author of _Stepsons Of Light_, _Good Men And True_, _West Is West_, etc. + +1917 + + + + + + + +TO THE READER OF THIS BOOK FROM ONE WHO SAW LIFE UNSTEADILY AND IN PART + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The stage line swung aside in a huge half-circle, rounding the northern +end of the Comobabi Range and swinging far out to skirt the foothills. +Mr. Peter Johnson had never been to Silverbell: his own country lay far +to the north, beyond the Gila. But he knew that Silverbell was somewhere +east of the Comobabi, not north; and confidently struck out to find a +short cut through the hills. From Silverbell a spur of railroad ran down +to Redrock. Mr. Johnson's thought was to entrain himself for Tucson. + +The Midnight horse reached along in a brisk, swinging walk, an optimistic +walk, good for four miles an hour. He had held that gait since three +o'clock in the morning, with an hour off for water and breakfast at +Smith's Wells, the first stage station out from Cobre; it was now +hot noon by a conscientious sun--thirty-six miles. But Midnight did not +care. For hours their way had been through a trackless plain of uncropped +salt grass, or grama, on the rising slopes: now they were in a country of +worn and freshly traveled trails: wise Midnight knew there would be water +and nooning soon. Already they had seen little bands of horses peering +down at them from the high knolls on their right. + +Midnight wondered if they were to find sweet water or alkali. Sweet, +likely, since it was in the hills; Midnight was sure he hoped so. The +best of these wells in the plains were salt and brackish. Privately, +Midnight preferred the Forest Reserve. It was a pleasant, soft life in +these pinewood pastures. Even if it was pretty dull for a good cow-horse +after the Free Range, it was easier on old bones. And though Midnight was +not insensible to the compliment Pete had paid him by picking him from +the bunch for these long excursions to the Southland deserts, he missed +the bunch. + +They had been together a long time, the bunch; Pete had brought them from +the Block Ranch, over in New Mexico. They were getting on in years, and +so was Pete. Midnight mused over his youthful days--the dust, the +flashing horns, the shouting and the excitement of old round-ups. + +It is a true telling that thoughts in no way unlike these buzzed in the +rider's head as a usual thing. But to-day he had other things to think +of. + +With Kid Mitchell, his partner, Pete had lately stumbled upon a secret +of fortune--a copper hill; a warty, snubby little gray hill in an +insignificant cluster of little gray hills. But this one, and this one +only, precariously crusted over with a thin layer of earth and windblown +sand, was copper, upthrust by central fires; rich ore, crumbling, soft; a +hill to be loaded, every yard of it, into cars yet unbuilt, on a railroad +yet undreamed-of, save by these two lucky adventurers. + +They had blundered upon their rich find by pure chance. For in the +southwest, close upon the Mexican border, in the most lonesome corner +of the most lonesome county of thinly settled Arizona, turning back from +a long and fruitless prospecting trip, they had paused for one last, +half-hearted venture. One idle stroke of the pick in a windworn bare +patch had turned up--this! + +So Pete Johnson's thoughts were of millions; not without a queer feeling +that he wouldn't have the least idea what to do with them, and that he +was parting with something in his past, priceless, vaguely indefinable: a +sharing and acceptance of the common lot, a brotherhood with the not +fortunate. + +Riding to the northwest, Pete's broad gray sombrero was tilted aside +to shelter from the noonday sun a russet face, crinkled rather than +wrinkled, and dusty. His hair, thinning at the temples, vigorous at the +ears, was crisply white. A short and lately trimmed mustache held a smile +in ambush; above it towered such a nose as Wellington loved. + +It was broad at the base; deep creases ran from the corners of it, +flanking the white mustache, to a mouth strong, full-lipped and +undeniably large, ready alike for laughter or for sternness. + +The nose--to follow the creases back again--was fleshy and beaked at +the tip; it narrowed at the level bridge and broadened again where it +joined the forehead, setting the eyes well apart. The eyes themselves +were blue, just a little faded--for the man was sixty-two--and there +were wind-puckers at the corners of them. But they were keen eyes, +steady, sparkling and merry eyes, for all that; they were deep-set and +long, and they sloped a trifle, high on the inside corners; pent in by +pepper-and-salt brows, bushy, tufted and thick, roguishly aslant from the +outer corners up to where they all but met above the Wellingtonian nose. +A merry face, a forceful face: Pete was a little man, five feet seven, +and rather slender than otherwise; but no one, in view of that face, ever +thought of him as a small man or an old one. + +The faint path merged with another and another, the angles of convergence +giving the direction of the unknown water hole; they came at last to the +main trail, a trunk line swollen by feeders from every ridge and arroyo. +It bore away to the northeast, swerving, curving to pitch and climb in +faultless following of the rule of roads--the greatest progress with the +least exertion. Your cow is your best surveyor. + +They came on the ranch suddenly, rounding a point into a small natural +amphitheater. A flat-roofed dugout, fronted with stone, was built into +the base of a boulder-piled hill; the door was open. Midnight perked his +black head jauntily and slanted an ear. + +High overhead, a thicket of hackberry and arrow-weed overhung the +little valley. From this green tangle a pipe line on stilts broke +away and straddled down a headlong hill. Frost was unknown; the pipe +was supported by forked posts of height assorted to need, an expedient +easier than ditching that iron hillside. The water discharged into a +fenced and foursquare earthen reservoir; below it was a small corral +of cedar stakes; through the open gate, as he rode by, Pete saw a long +watering-trough with a float valve. Before the dugout stood a patriarchal +juniper, in the shade of which two saddled horses stood droop-hipped, +comfortably asleep. Waking, as Pete drew near, they adjusted their +disarray in some confusion and eyed the newcomers with bright-eyed +inquiry. Midnight, tripping by, hailed them with a civil little whinny. + +A tall, heavy man upreared himself from the shade. His example was +followed by another man, short and heavy. Blankets were spread on a +tarpaulin beyond them. + +"'Light, stranger," said the tall man heartily. "Unsaddle and eat a small +snack. We was just taking a little noonday nap for ourselves." + +"Beans, jerky gravy, and bread," announced the short man, waiter fashion. +"I'll hot up the coffee." + +With the word he fed little sticks and splinters to a tiny fire, now +almost burned out, near the circumference of that shaded circle. + +"Yes, to all that; thank you," said Pete, slipping off. + +He loosened the cinches; so doing he caught from the corner of his eye +telegraphed tidings, as his two hosts rolled to each other a single +meaningful glance, swift, furtive, and white-eyed. Observing which, every +faculty of Pete Johnson's mind tensed, fiercely alert, braced to +attention. + +"Now what? Some more of the same. Lights out! Protect yourself!" he +thought, taking off the saddle. Aloud he said: + +"One of Zurich's ranches, isn't it? I saw ZK burned on the gateposts." + +He passed his hand along Midnight's sweaty back for possible bruise or +scald; he unfolded the Navajo saddle blanket and spread it over the +saddle to dry. He took the _sudaderos_--the jute sweatcloths under the +Navajo--and draped them over a huge near-by boulder in the sun, carefully +smoothing them out to prevent wrinkles; to all appearance without any +other care on earth. + +"Yes; horse camp," said the tall man. "Now you water the black horse and +I'll dig up a bait of corn for him. Wash up at the trough." + +"_Puesto que si!_" said Pete. + +He slipped the bit out of Midnight's mouth, pushing the headstall back on +the sleek black neck by way of lead rope, and they strode away to the +water pen, side by side. + +When they came back a nose-bag, full of corn, stood ready near the fire. +Pete hung this on Midnight's head. Midnight munched contentedly, with +half-closed eyes, and Pete turned to the fire. + +"Was I kidding myself?" he inquired. "Or did somebody mention the name of +grub?" + +"Set up!" grinned the tall man, kicking a small box up beside a slightly +larger one, which served as a table. "Nothing much to eat but food. +Canned truck all gone." + +The smaller host poured coffee. Pete considered the boxes. + +"You didn't pack these over here?" he asked, prodding the table with his +boot-toe to elucidate his meaning. "And yet I didn't see no wheel marks +as I come along." + +"Fetch 'em from Silverbell. We got a sort of wagon track through the +hills. Closer than Cobre. Some wagon road in the rough places! Snakes +thick on the east side; but they don't never get over here. Break their +backs comin' through the gap. Yes, sir!" + +"Then I'll just june along in the cool of the evenin'," observed Pete, +ladling out a second helping of jerked venison. "I can follow your wagon +tracks into town. I ain't never been to Silverbell. Was afraid I might +miss it in the dark. How far is it? About twenty mile, I reckon?" + +"Just about. Shucks! I was in hopes you'd stay overnight with us. Bill +and me, we ain't seen no one since Columbus crossed the Delaware in +fourteen-ninety-two. Can't ye, now?" urged the tall man coaxingly. "We'll +pitch horseshoes--play cards if you want to; only Bill and me's pretty +well burnt out at cards. Fox and geese too--ever play fox and geese? +We got a dandy fox-and-goose board--but Bill, he natcherly can't play. +He's from California, Bill is." + +"Aw, shut up on that!" growled Bill. + +"Sorry," said Pete, "I'm pushed. Got to go on to-night. Want to take that +train at seven-thirty in the morning, and a small sleep for myself before +that. Maybe I'll stop over as I come back, though. Fine feed you got +here. Makes a jim-darter of a horse camp." + +"Yes, 'tis. We aim to keep the cattle shoved off so we can save the grass +for the saddle ponies." + +"Must have quite a bunch?" + +"'Bout two hundred. Well, sorry you can't stay with us. We was fixin' to +round up what cows had drifted in and give 'em a push back to the main +range this afternoon. But they'll keep. We'll stick round camp; and you +stay as late as you can, stranger, and we'll stir up something. I'll tell +you what, Bill--we'll pull off that shootin' match you was blowin' +about." The tall man favored Johnson with a confidential wink. "Bill, he +allows he can shoot right peart. Bill's from California." + +Bill, the short man, produced a gray-and-yellow tobacco sack and +extracted a greasy ten-dollar greenback, which he placed on the box +table at Johnson's elbow. + +"Cover that, durn you! You hold stakes, stranger. I'll show him +California. Humph! Dam' wall-eyed Tejano!" + +"I'm a Texan myself," twinkled Johnson. + +"What if you are? You ain't wall-eyed, be you? And you ain't been makin' +no cracks at California--not to me. But this here Jim--look at the +white-eyed, tow-headed grinnin' scoundrel, will you?--Say, are you goin' +to cover that X or are you goin' to crawfish?" + +"Back down? You peevish little sawed-off runt!" yelped Jim. "I been +lettin' you shoot off your head so's you'll be good and sore afterward. +I always wanted a piece of paper money any way--for a keepsake. You +wait!" + +He went into the cabin and returned with a tarnished gold piece and a box +of forty-five cartridges. + +"Here, stakeholder!" he said to Johnson. + +Then, to Bill: "Now, then, old Californy--you been all swelled-up and +stumping me for quite some time. Show us what you got!" + +It was an uncanny exhibition of skill that followed. These men knew +how to handle a sixshooter. They began with tin cans at ten yards, +thirty, fifty--and hit them. They shot at rolling cans, and hit them; +at high-thrown cans, and hit them; at cards nailed to hitching-posts; +then at the pips of cards. Neither man could boast of any advantage. The +few and hairbreadth misses of the card pips, the few blanks at the longer +ranges, fairly offset each other. The California man took a slightly +crouching attitude, his knees a little bent; held his gun at his knee; +raising an extended and rigid arm to fire. The Texan stood erect, almost +on tiptoe, bareheaded; he swung his gun ear-high above his shoulder, +looking at his mark alone, and fired as the gun flashed down. The little +California man made the cleaner score at the very long shots and in +clipping the pips of the playing cards; the Texan had a shade the better +at the flying targets, his bullets ranging full-center where the other +barely grazed the cans. + +"I don't see but what I'll have to keep this money. You've shot away all +the cartridges in your belts and most of the box, and it hasn't got you +anywheres," observed Pete Johnson pensively. "Better let your guns cool +off. You boys can't beat each other shooting. You do right well, too, +both of you. If you'd only started at it when you was young, I reckon +you'd both have been what you might call plumb good shots now." + +He shook his head sadly and suppressed a sigh. + +"Wait!" advised the Texan, and turned to confront his partner. "You make +out quite tol'lable with a gun, Billiam," he conceded. "I got to hand it +to you. I judged you was just runnin' a windy. But have you now showed +all your little box of tricks?" + +"Well, I haven't missed anything--not to speak of--no more than you did," +evaded Bill, plainly apprehensive. "What more do you want?" + +Jim chuckled. + +"Pausin' lightly to observe that it ought to be easy enough to best you, +if we was on horseback--just because you peek at your sights when you +shoot--I shall now show you something." + +A chuck box was propped against the juniper trunk. From this the Texan +produced a horseshoe hammer and the lids from two ten-pound lard pails. +He strode over to where, ten yards away, two young cedars grew side by +side, and nailed a lid to each tree, shoulder-high. + +"There!" he challenged his opponent. "We ain't either of us going to miss +such a mark as that--it's like putting your finger on it. But suppose the +tree was shooting back? Time is what counts then. Now, how does this +strike you? You take the lid on the left and I'll take the other. When +the umpire says Go! we'll begin foggin'--and the man that scores six +hits quickest gets the money. That's fair, isn't it, Johnson?" + +This was a slip--Johnson had not given his name--a slip unnoticed by +either of the ZK men, but not by Johnson. + +"Fair enough, I should say," he answered. + +"Why, Jim, that ain't practical--that ain't!" protested Bill uneasily. +"You was talking about the tree a-shootin' back--but one shot will stop +most men, let alone six. What's the good of shootin' a man all to +pieces?" + +"Suppose there was six men?" + +"Then they get me, anyway. Wouldn't they, Mr. Umpire?" he appealed to +Peter Johnson, who sat cross-legged and fanned himself with his big +sombrero. + +"That don't make any difference," decided the umpire promptly. "To shoot +straight and quickest--that's bein' a good shot. Line up!" + +Bill lined up, unwillingly enough; they stuffed their cylinders with +cartridges. + +"Don't shoot till I say: One, two, three--go!" admonished Pete. "All set? +One--two--three--go!" + +A blending, crackling roar, streaked red and saffron, through black +smoke: the Texan's gun flashed down and up and back, as a man snaps his +fingers against the frost; he tossed his empty gun through the sunlight +to the bed under the juniper tree and spread out his hands. Bill was +still firing--one shot--two! + +"Judgment!" shouted the Texan and pointed. Six bullet holes were +scattered across his target, line shots, one above the other; and +poor Bill, disconcerted, had missed his last shot! + +"Jim, I guess the stuff is yours," said Bill sheepishly. + +The big Texan retrieved his gun from the bed and Pete gave him the +stakes. He folded the bill lovingly and tucked it away; but he flipped +the coin from his thumb, spinning in the sun, caught it as it fell, and +glanced askant at old Pete. + +"How long ago did you say it was when you began shootin'?" He voiced the +query with exceeding politeness and inclined his head deferentially. "Or +did you say?" + +Pete pondered, pushing his hand thoughtfully through his white hair. + +"Oh, I began tryin' when I was about ten years old, or maybe seven. +It's been so long ago I scarcely remember. But I didn't get to be what +you might call a fair shot till about the time you was puttin' on your +first pair of pants," he said sweetly. "There was a time, though, before +that--when I was about the age you are now--when I really thought I could +shoot. I learned better." + +A choking sound came from Bill; Jim turned his eyes that way. Bill +coughed hastily. Jim sent the gold piece spinning again. + +"I'm goin' to keep Bill's tenspot--always," he announced emotionally. +"I'll never, never part with that! But this piece of money--" He threw it +up again. "Why, stranger, you might just as well have that as not. Bill +can be stakeholder and give us the word. There's just six cartridges left +in the box for me." + +Peter Johnson smiled brightly, disclosing a row of small, white, perfect +teeth. He got to his feet stiffly and shook his aged legs; he took out +his gun, twirled the cylinder, and slipped in an extra cartridge. + +"I always carry the hammer on an empty chamber--safer that way," he +explained. + +He put the gun back in the holster, dug up a wallet, and produced a gold +piece for the stakeholder. + +"You'd better clean your gun, young man," he said. "It must be pretty +foul by now." + +Jim followed this advice, taking ten minutes for the operation. Meantime +the Californian replaced the targets with new ones--old tin dinner plates +this time--and voiced a philosophical regret over his recent defeat. The +Texas man, ready at last, took his place beside Pete and raised his gun +till the butt of it was level with his ear, the barrel pointing up and +back. Johnson swung up his heavy gun in the same fashion. + +"Ready?" bawled Bill. "All right! One--two--three--go!" + +Johnson's gun leaped forward, blazing; his left hand slapped back +along the barrel, once, twice; pivoting, his gun turned to meet Bill, +almost upon him, hands outstretched. Bill recoiled; Pete stepped aside +a pace--all this at once. The Texan dropped his empty gun and turned. + +"You win," said Pete gently. + +Not understanding yet, triumph faded from the Texan's eyes at that gentle +tone. He looked at the target; he looked at Bill, who stood open-mouthed +and gasping; then he looked at the muzzle of Mr. Johnson's gun. His face +flushed red, and then became almost black. Mr. Johnson held the gun +easily at his hip, covering both his disarmed companions: Mr. Johnson's +eyebrows were flattened and his mouth was twisted. + +"It's loaded!" croaked Bill in a horrified voice. "The skunk only shot +once!" + +Peter corrected him: + +"Three times. I fanned the hammer. Look at the target!" + +Bill looked at the target; his jaw dropped again; his eyes protruded. +There were three bullet holes, almost touching each other, grouped round +the nail in the center of Pete's tin plate. + +"Well, I'm just damned!" he said. "I'll swear he didn't shoot but once." + +"That's fannin' the hammer, Shorty," drawled Pete. "Ever hear of that? +Well, now you've seen it. When you practice it, hold your elbow tight +against your ribs to steady your gun while you slap the hammer back. For +you, Mr. Jim--I see you've landed your six shots; but some of 'em are +mighty close to the edge of your little old plate. Poor shootin'! Poor +shootin'! You ought to practice more. As for speed, I judge I can do six +shots while you're making four. But I thought I'd best not--to-day. Son, +pick up your gun, and get your money from Shorty." + +Mr. Jim picked up his gun and threw out the empty shells. He glared +savagely at Mr. Johnson, now seated happily on his saddle. + +"If I just had hold of you--you benched-legged hound! Curse your soul, +what do you mean by it?" snarled Jim. + +"Oh, I was just a-thinkin'," responded Pete lightly. "Thinkin' how +helpless I'd be with you two big huskies, here with my gun empty. Don't +snicker, Bill! That's rude of you. Your pardner's feeling plenty bad +enough without that. He looks it. Mr. Bill, I'll bet a blue shirt you +told the Jim-person to wait and see if I wouldn't take a little siesta, +and you'd get me whilst I was snoozing. You lose, then. I never sleep. +Tex, for the love of Mike, do look at Bill's face; and Bill, you look at +Mr. Jim, from Texas! Guilty as charged! Your scheme, was it, Texas? And +Shorty Bill, he told you so? Why, you poor toddling innocents, you won't +never prosper as crooks! Your faces are too honest. + +"And that frame-up of yours--oh, that was a loo-loo bird! Livin' together +and didn't know which was the best shot--likely! And every tin can in +sight shot full of holes and testifyin' against you! Think I'm blind, +hey? Even your horses give you away. Never batted an eyelash durin' that +whole cannonade. They've been hearin' forty-fives pretty reg'lar, them +horses have." + +"I notice your old black ain't much gun-shy, either," ventured Bill. + +"See here--you!" said the big Texan. "You talk pretty biggity. It's +mighty easy to run a whizzer when you've got the only loaded gun in camp. +If I had one damned cartridge left it would be different." + +"Never mind," said Johnson kindly. "I'll give you one!" + +Rising, he twirled the cylinder of his gun and extracted his three +cartridges. He threw one far down the hillslope; he dropped one on +the ground beside him; he tossed the last one in the sand at the Texan's +feet. + +Jim, from Texas, looked at the cartridge without animation; he looked +into Pete Johnson's frosty eyes; he kicked the cartridge back. + +"I lay 'em down right here," he stated firmly. "I like a damned fool; but +you suit me too well." + +He stalked away toward his horse with much dignity. He stopped halfway, +dropped upon a box, pounded his thigh and gave way to huge and unaffected +laughter; in which Bill joined a moment later. + +"Oh, you little bandy-legged old son-of-a-gun!" Jim roared. "You +crafty, wily, cunnin' old fox! I'm for you! Of all the holy shows, +you've made Bill and me the worst--'specially me. 'There, there!' you +says, consolin' me up like I was a kid with a cracked jug. 'There, there! +Never mind--I'll give you one!' Deah, oh, deah! I'll never be able to +keep this still--never in the world. I'm bound to tell it on myself!" He +wiped tears from his eyes and waved his hand helplessly. "Take the ranch, +stranger. She's yours. I wouldn't touch you if you was solid gold and +charges prepaid." + +"Oh, don't make a stranger of me!" begged Pete. "You was callin' me by +the name of Johnson half an hour ago. Forgot yourself, likely." + +"Did I?" said Jim indifferently. "No odds. You've got my number, anyway. +And I thought we was so devilish sly!" + +"Well, boys, thank you for the dinner and all; but I'd best be jogging. +Got to catch that train." + +Knitting his brows reflectively he turned a questioning eye upon his +hosts. But Shorty Bill took the words from his mouth. + +"I'm like Jim: I've got a-plenty," he said. "But there's a repeating +rifle in the shack, if you don't want to risk us. You can leave it at +Silverbell for us if you want to--at the saloon. And we can ride off +the other way, so you'll be sure." + +"Maybe that'll be best--considerin'," said Pete. "I'll leave the gun." + +"See here, Johnson," said Jim stiffly. "We've thrown 'em down, fair and +square. I think you might trust us." + +Pete scratched his head in some perplexity. + +"I think maybe I might if it was only myself to think of. But I'm +representing another man's interest too. I ain't takin' no chances." + +"Yes--I noticed you was one of them prudent guys," murmured Jim. + +Pete ignored the interruption. + +"So, not rubbin' it in or anything, we'd best use Bill's plan. You lads +hike off back the way I come, and I'll take your rifle and drag it. So +long! Had a good time with you." + +"_AdiĆ³s!_" said Bill, swinging into the saddle. + +"Hold on, Bill! Give Johnson back his money," said Jim. + +"Oh, you keep it. You won it fair. I didn't go to the finish." + +"Look here--what do you think I am? You take this money, or I'll be sore +as a boil. There! So long, old hand! Be good!" He spurred after Bill. + +Mr. Johnson brought the repeater from the dugout and saddled old +Midnight. As he pulled the cinches tight, he gazed regretfully at +his late companions, sky-lined as they topped a rise. + +"There!" said Mr. Johnson with conviction. "There goes a couple of right +nice boys!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The immemorial traditions of Old Spain, backed by the counsel of a brazen +sun, made a last stand against the inexorable centuries: Tucson was at +siesta; noonday lull was drowsy in the corridors of the Merchants and +Miners Bank. Green shades along the south guarded the cool and quiet +spaciousness of the Merchants and Miners, flooded with clear white light +from the northern windows. In the lobby a single client, leaning on the +sill at the note-teller's window, meekly awaited the convenience of the +office force. + +The Castilian influence had reduced the office force, at this ebb hour of +business, to a spruce, shirt-sleeved young man, green-vizored as to his +eyes, seated at a mid-office desk, quite engrossed with mysterious +clerical matters. + +The office force had glanced up at Mr. Johnson's first entrance, but only +to resume its work at once. Such industry is not the custom; among the +assets of any bank, courtesy is the most indispensable item. Mr. Johnson +was not unversed in the ways of urbanity; the purposed and palpable +incivility was not wasted upon him; nor yet the expression conveyed by +the back of the indefatigable clerical person--a humped, reluctant, and +rebellious back. If ever a back steeled itself to carry out a distasteful +task according to instructions, this was that back. Mr. Pete Johnson +sighed in sympathy. + +The minutes droned by. A clock, of hitherto unassuming habit, became +clamorous; it echoed along the dreaming corridors. Mr. Johnson sighed +again. + +The stone sill upon which he leaned reflected from its polished surface a +face carved to patience; but if the patient face had noted its own +reflection it might have remarked--and adjusted--eyebrows not so patient, +flattened to a level; and a slight quiver in the tip of a predatory nose. +The pen squeaked across glazed paper. Mr. Johnson took from his pocket a +long, thin cigar and a box of safety matches. + +The match crackled, startling in the silence; the clerical person turned +in his chair and directed at the prospective customer a stare so baleful +that the cigar was forgotten. The flame nipped Johnson's thumb; he +dropped the match on the tiled floor and stepped upon it. The clerk +hesitated and then rose. + +"He loves me--he loves me not!" murmured Mr. Johnson sadly, plucking the +petals from an imaginary daisy. + +The clerk sauntered to the teller's wicket and frowned upon his customer +from under eyebrows arched and supercilious; he preserved a haughty +silence. Before this official disapproval Peter's eyes wavered and fell, +abashed. + +"I'll--I'll stick my face through there if you'd like to step on it!" he +faltered. + +The official eyebrows grew arrogant. + +"You are wasting my time. Have you any business here?" + +"Ya-as. Be you the cashier?" + +"His assistant." + +"I'd like to borrow some money," said Pete timidly. He tucked away the +unlit cigar. "Two thousand. Name of Johnson. Triangle E brand--Yavapai +County! Two hundred Herefords in a fenced township. Three hundred and +twenty acres patented land. Sixty acres under ditch. I'd give you a +mortgage on that. Pete Johnson--Peter Wallace Johnson on mortgages and +warrants." + +"I do not think we would consider it." + +"Good security--none better," said Pete. "Good for three times two +thousand at a forced sale." + +"Doubtless!" The official shoulders shrugged incredulity. + +"I'm known round here--you could look up my standing, verify titles, and +so on," urged Pete. + +"I could not make the loan on my own authority." + +Pete's face fell. + +"Can't I see Mr. Gans, then?" he persisted. + +"He's out to luncheon." + +"Be back soon?" + +"I really could not say." + +"I might talk to Mr. Longman, perhaps?" + +"Mr. Longman is on a trip to the Coast." + +Johnson twisted his fingers nervously on the onyx sill. Then he raised +his downcast eyes, lit with a fresh hope. + +"Is--is the janitor in?" he asked. + +"You are pleased to be facetious, sir," the teller replied. His lip +curled; he turned away, tilting his chin with conscious dignity. + +Mr. Johnson tapped the sill with the finger of authority. + +"Young man, do you want I should throw this bank out of the window?" he +said severely. "Because if you don't, you uncover some one a grown man +can do business with. You're suffering from delusions of grandeur, fair +young sir. I almost believe you have permitted yourself to indulge in +some levity with me--me, P. Wallace Johnson! And if I note any more +light-hearted conduct on your part I'll shake myself and make merry with +you till you'll think the roof has done fell on you. Now you dig up the +Grand Panjandrum, with the little round button on top, or I'll come in +unto you! Produce! Trot!" + +The cashier's dignity abated. Mr. Johnson was, by repute, no stranger +to him. Not sorry to pass this importunate borrower on to other hands, +he tapped at a door labeled "Vice-President," opened it, and said +something in a low voice. From this room a man emerged at once--Marsh, +vice-president, solid of body, strong of brow. Clenched between heavy +lips was a half-burned cigar, on which he puffed angrily. + +"Well, Johnson, what's this?" he demanded. + +"You got money to sell? I want to buy some. Let me come in and talk it up +to you." + +"Let him in, Hudson," said Marsh. His cigar took on a truculent angle as +he listened to Johnson's proposition. + +It appeared that Johnson's late outburst of petulance had cleared his +bosom of much perilous stuff. His crisp tones carried a suggestion of +lingering asperity, but otherwise he bore himself with becoming modesty +and diffidence in the presence of the great man. He stated his needs +briskly and briefly, as before. + +"Money is tight," said Marsh curtly. + +He scowled; he thrust his hands into his pockets as if to guard them; he +rocked back upon his heels; his eyes were leveled at a point in space +beyond Pete's shoulder; he clamped his cigar between compressed lips and +puffed a cloud of smoke from a corner of a mouth otherwise grimly tight. + +Mr. Peter Johnson thought again of that unlit cigar, came swiftly to +tiptoe, and puffed a light from the glowing tip of Marsh's cigar before +that astonished person could withdraw his gaze from the contemplation of +remote infinities. The banker recoiled, flushed and frowning; the teller +bent hastily over his ledger. + +Johnson, puffing luxuriously, renewed his argument with a guileless face. +Marsh shook his head and made a bear-trap mouth. + +"Why don't you go to Prescott, Johnson? There's where your stuff is. They +know you better than we do." + +"Why, Mr. Marsh, I don't want to go to Prescott. Takes too long. I need +this money right away." + +"Really--but that is hardly our affair, is it?" A frosty smile +accompanied the query. + +"Aw, what's wrong? Isn't that security all right?" urged Pete. + +"No doubt the security is exactly as you say," said the banker, "but your +property is in another county, a long distance from here. We would have +to make inquiries and send the mortgage to be filed in Prescott--very +inconvenient. Besides, as I told you before, money is tight. We regret +that we cannot see our way to accommodate you. This is final!" + +"Shucks!" said Pete, crestfallen and disappointed; he lingered +uncertainly, twisting his hat brim between his hands. + +"That is final," repeated the banker. "Was there anything else?" + +"A check to cash," said Pete humbly. + +He went back into the lobby, much chastened; the spring lock of the door +snapped behind him. + +"Wait on this gentleman, if you please, Mr. Hudson," said Marsh, and +busied himself at a cabinet. + +Hudson rose from his desk and moved across to the cashier's window. His +lip curved disdainfully. Mr. Johnson's feet were brisk and cheerful on +the tiles. When his face appeared at the window, his hat and the long +black cigar were pushed up to angles parallel, jaunty and perilous. He +held in his hand a sheaf of papers belted with a rubber band; he slid +over the topmost of these papers, face down. + +"It's endorsed," he said, pointing to his heavy signature. + +"How will you have it, sir?" Hudson inquired with a smile of mocking +deference. + +"Quick and now," said Pete. + +Hudson flipped over the check. The sneer died from his face. His tongue +licked at his paling lips. + +"What does this mean?" he stammered. + +"Can't you read?" said Pete. + +The cashier did not answer. He turned and called across the room: + +"Mr. Marsh! Mr. Marsh!" + +Marsh came quickly, warned by the startled note in the cashier's voice. +Hudson passed him the check with hands that trembled a little. The +vice-president's face mottled with red and white. The check was made +to the order of P.W. Johnson; it was signed by Henry Bergman, sheriff +of Pima County, and the richest cowman of the Santa Cruz Valley; the +amount was eighty-six thousand dollars. + +Marsh glowered at Johnson in a cold fury. + +"Call up Bergman!" he ordered. + +Hudson made haste to obey. + +"Oh, that's all right! I'd just as soon wait," said Pete cheerfully. +"Hank's at home, anyhow. I told him maybe you'd want to ask about the +check." + +"He should have notified us before drawing out any such amount," fumed +Marsh. "This is most unusual, for a small bank like this. He told us he +shouldn't need this money until this fall." + +"Draft on El Paso will do. Don't have to have cash." + +"All very well--but it will be a great inconvenience to us, just the +same." + +"Really--but that is hardly our affair, is it?" said Pete carelessly. + +The banker smote the shelf with an angry hand; some of the rouleaus of +gold stacked on the inner shelf toppled and fell; gold pieces clattered +on the floor. + +"Johnson, what is your motive? What are you up to?" + +"It's all perfectly simple. Old Hank and me used to be implicated +together in the cow business down on the Concho. One of the Goliad +Bergmans--early German settlers." + +Here Hudson hung up and made interruption. + +"Bergman says the check is right," he reported. + +Johnson resumed his explanation: + +"As I was sayin', I reckon I know all the old-time cowmen from here to +breakfast and back. Old Joe Benavides, now--one of your best depositors; +I fished Joe out of Manzanillo Bay thirty year back. He was all drowned +but Amen." + +Wetting his thumb he slipped off the next paper from under the rubber +band. Marsh eyed the sheaf apprehensively and winced. + +"Got one of Joe's checks here," Pete continued, smoothing it out. "But +maybe I won't need to cash it--to-day." + +"Johnson," said the vice-president, "are you trying to start a run on +this bank? What do you want?" + +"My money. What the check calls for. That is final." + +"This is sheer malice." + +"Not a bit of it. You're all wrong. Just common prudence--that's all. You +see, I needed a little money. As I was tellin' you, I got right smart of +property, but no cash just now; nor any comin' till steer-sellin' time. +So I come down to Tucson on the rustle. Five banks in Tucson; four of +'em, countin' yours, turned me down cold." + +"If you had got Bergman to sign with you--" Marsh began. + +"Tell that to the submarines," said Pete. "Good irrigated land is better +than any man's name on a note; and I don't care who that man is. A man +might die or run away, or play the market. Land stays put. Well, after my +first glimpse of the cold shoulder I ciphered round a spell. I'm a great +hand to cipher round. Some one is out to down me; some one is givin' out +orders. Who? Mayer Zurich, I judged. He sold me a shoddy coat once. And +he wept because he couldn't loan me the money I wanted, himself. He's one +of these liers-in-wait you read about--Mayer is. + +"So I didn't come to you till the last, bein' as Zurich was one of your +directors. I studied some more--and then I hunted up old Hank Bergman and +told him my troubles," said Pete suavely. "He expressed quite some +considerable solicitude. 'Why, Petey, this is a shockin' disclosure!' he +says. 'A banker is a man that makes a livin' loanin' other people's +money. Lots of marble and brass to a bank, salaries and other expenses. +Show me a bank that's quit lendin' money and I'll show you a bank that's +due to bust, _muy pronto!_ I got quite a wad in the Merchants and +Miners,' he says, 'and you alarm me. I'll give you a check for it, and +you go there first off to-morrow and see if they'll lend you what you +need. You got good security. If they ain't lendin',' he says, 'then you +just cash my check and invest it for me where it will be safe. I lose the +interest for only four days,' he says--'last Monday, the fifteenth, being +my quarter day. Hold out what you need for yourself.' + +"'I don't want any,' says I. 'The First National say they can fit me out +by Wednesday if I can't get it before. Man don't want to borrow from his +friends,' says I. 'Then put my roll in the First National,' says Hank. +That's all! Only--I saw some of the other old-timers last night." Pete +fingered his sheaf significantly. + +"You have us!" said Marsh. "What do you want?" + +"I want the money for this check--so you'll know I'm not permeated with +any ideas about heaping coals of fire on your old bald head. Come +through, real earnest! I'll see about the rest. Exerting financial +pressure is what they call this little racket you worked on me, I +believe. It's a real nice game. I like it. If you ever mull or meddle +with my affairs again I'll turn another check. That's for your official +information--so you can keep the bank from any little indiscretions. I'm +telling you! This isn't blackmail. This is directions. Sit down and write +me a draft on El Paso." + +Marsh complied. Peter Johnson inspected the draft carefully. + +"So much for the bank for to-day, the nineteenth," said Pete. "Now a few +kind words for you as the individual, Mr. George Marsh, quite aside from +your capacity as a banker. You report to Zurich that I applied for a loan +and you refused it--not a word more. I'm tellin' you! Put a blab on your +office boy." He rolled his thumb at young Hudson. "And hereafter if you +ever horn in on my affairs so much as the weight of a finger tip--I'm +tellin' you now!--I'll appear to you!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The world was palpably a triangle, baseless to southward; walled out by +iron, radiant ramparts--a black range, gateless, on the east; a gray +range on the west, broken, spiked, and bristling. At the northern limit +of vision the two ranges closed together to what seemed relatively the +sharp apex of the triangle, the mere intersection of two lines. This +point, this seemingly dimensionless dot, was in reality two score weary +miles of sandhills, shapeless, vague, and low; waterless, colorless, +and forlorn. Southward the central desert was uninhabitable; opinions +differed about the edges. + +Still in Arizona, the eye wearied; miles and leagues slid together to +indistinguishable inches. Then came a low line of scattered hills that +roughly marked the Mexican border. + +The mirage played whimsical pranks with these outpost hills. They became, +in turn, cones, pyramids, boxes, benches, chimney stacks, hourglasses. +Sometimes they soared high in air, like the kites of a baby god; and, +beneath, the unbroken desert stretched afar, wavering, misty, and dim. + +Again, on clear, still days, these hills showed crystalline, thin, icy, +cameo-sharp; beyond, between, faint golden splotches of broad Sonoran +plain faded away to nothingness; and, far beyond that nothingness, hazy +Sonoran peaks of dimmest blue rose from illimitable immensities, like +topmasts of a very large ship on a very small globe; and the earth was +really round, as alleged. + +It was fitting and proper that the desert, as a whole, had no name: the +spinning earth itself has none. Inconsiderable nooks and corners were +named, indeed--Crow Flat, the Temporal, Moonshine, the RincoƱada. It +should rather be said, perhaps, that the desert had no accepted name. +Alma Mater, Lungs called it. But no one minded Lungs. + +Mr. Stanley Mitchell woke early in the Blue Bedroom to see the morning +made. He threw back the tarpaulin and sat up, yawning; with every line of +his face crinkled up, ready to laugh for gladness. + +The morning was shaping up well. Glints of red snapped and sparkled in +the east; a few late stars loitered along the broad, clean skies. A jerky +clatter of iron on rock echoed from the cliffs. That was the four hobbled +horses, browsing on the hillside: they snuffed and snorted cheerfully, +rejoicing in the freshness of dawn. From a limestone bluff, ten feet +behind the bed, came a silver tinkle of falling water from a spring, +dripping into its tiny pool. + +Stan drew in a great breath and snuffed, exactly as the horses snuffed +and from the same reason--to express delight; just as a hungry man smacks +his lips over a titbit. Pungent, aromatic, the odor of wood smoke alloyed +the taintless air of dawn. The wholesome smell of clean, brown earth, the +spicy tang of crushed herb and shrub, of cedar and juniper, mingled with +a delectable and savory fragrance of steaming coffee and sizzling, +spluttering venison. + +Pete Johnson sat cross-legged before the fire. This mess of venison was +no hit-or-miss affair; he was preparing a certain number of venison +steaks, giving to each separate steak the consideration of an artist. + +Stanley Mitchell kicked the blankets flying. "Whoo-hoo-oo! This is the +life!" he proclaimed. Orisons more pious have held less gratitude. + +He tugged on one boot, reached for the other--and then leaped to his feet +like a jack-in-the-box. With the boot in his hand he pointed to the +south. High on the next shadowy range, thirty miles away, a dozen +scattered campfires glowed across the dawn. + +"What the Billy-hell?" he said, startled. + +"Stan-ley!" + +"I will say wallop! I won't be a lady if I can't say wallop!" quoth Stan +rebelliously. "What's doing over at the Gavilan? There's never been three +men at once in those fiend-forsaken pinnacles before. Hey! S'pose they've +struck it rich, like we did?" + +"I'm afraid not," sighed Pete. "You toddle along and wash um's paddies. +She's most ripe." + +With a green-wood poker he lifted the lid from the bake-oven. The biscuit +were not browned to his taste; he dumped the blackening coals from the +lid and slid it into the glowing heart of the fire; he raked out a new +bed of coals and lifted the little three-legged bake-oven over them; with +his poker he skillfully flirted fresh coals on the rimmed lid and put it +back on the oven. He placed the skillet of venison on a flat rock at his +elbow and poured coffee into two battered tin cups. Breakfast was now +ready, and Pete raised his voice in the traditional dinner call of the +ranges: + +"Come and get it or I'll throw it out!" + +Stanley came back from a brisk toilet at Ironspring. He took a +preliminary sip of coffee, speared a juicy steak, and eyed his companion +darkly. Mr. Johnson plied knife and fork assiduously, with eyes downcast +and demure. + +Stanley Mitchell's smooth young face lined with suspicion. + +"When you've been up to some deviltry I can always tell it on you--you +look so incredibly meek and meechin', like a cat eatin' the canary," he +remarked severely. "Thank you for a biscuit. And the sugar! Now what +warlockry is this?" He jerked a thumb at the far-off fires. "What's the +merry prank?" + +Mr. Johnson sighed again. + +"Deception. Treachery. Mine." He looked out across the desert to the +Gavilan Hills with a complacent eye. "And breach of trust. Mine, again." + +"Who you been betrayin' now?" + +"Just you. You and your pardner; the last bein' myself. You know them +location papers of ours I was to get recorded at Tucson?" + +Stanley nodded. + +"Well, now," said Pete, "I didn't file them papers. Something real +curious happened on the way in--and I reckon I'm the most superstitious +man you ever see. So I tried a little experiment. Instead, I wrote out a +notice for that little old ledge we found over on the Gavilan a month +back. I filed that, just to see if any one was keeping cases on us--and I +filed it the very last thing before I left Tucson: You see what's +happened." He waved his empty coffee-cup at the campfires. "I come +right back and we rode straight to Ironspring. But there's been people +ridin' faster than us--ridin' day and night. Son, if our copper claims +had really been in the Gavilan, instead of a-hundred-and-then-some long +miles in another-guess direction--then what?" + +"We'd have found our claim jumped and a bunch to swear they'd been +working there before the date of our notices; that they didn't find the +scratch of a pick on the claim, no papers and no monument--that's what +we'd have found." + +"Correct! Pass the meat." + +"But we haven't told a soul," protested Stanley. "How could any one know? +We all but died of thirst getting back across the desert--the wind rubbed +out our tracks; we laid up at Soledad Springs a week before any one saw +us; when we finally went in to Cobre no one knew where we had been, that +we had found anything, or even that we'd been looking for anything. How +could any one know?" + +"This breakfast is getting cold," said Pete Johnson. "Good grub hurts no +one. Let's eat it. Then I'll let a little ray of intelligence filter into +your darkened mind." + +Breakfast finished, Stan piled the tin dishes with a clatter. "Now then, +old Greedy! Break the news to me." + +Pete considered young Stan through half-closed lids--a tanned, +smooth-faced, laughing, curly-headed, broad-shouldered young giant. + +"You got any enemies, pardner?" + +"Not one in the world that I know of," declared Stan cheerfully. + +"Back in New York, maybe?" + +"Not a one. No reason to have one." + +Pete shook his head reflectively. + +"You're dreadful dumb, you know. Think again. Think hard. Take some one's +girl away from him, maybe?" + +"Not a girl. Never had but one Annie," said Stanley. "I'm her Joe." + +"Ya-as. Back in New York. I've posted letters to her: Abingdon P.O. Name +of Selden." + +Stanley went brick red. + +"That's her. I'm her Joe. And when we get this little old bonanza of ours +to grinding she won't be in New York any more. Come again, old-timer. +What's all this piffle got to do with our mine?" + +"If you only had a little brains," sighed Johnson disconsolately, "I'd +soon find out who had it in for you, and why. It's dreadful inconvenient +to have a pardner like that. Why, you poor, credulous baa-lamb of a +trustful idiot, when you let me go off to file them papers, don't you see +you give me the chance to rob you of a mine worth, just as she stands, +'most any amount of money you chance to mention? Not you! You let me ride +off without a misgivin'." + +"Pish!" remarked Stan scornfully. "Twaddle! Tommyrot! Pickles!" + +Pete wagged a solemn forefinger. + +"If you wasn't plumb simple-minded and trustin' you would 'a' tumbled +long ago that somebody was putting a hoodoo on every play you make. I +caught on before you'd been here six months. I thought, of course, you'd +been doin' dirt to some one--till I come to know you." + +"I thank you for those kind words," grinned Mitchell; "also, for the +friendly explanation with which you cover up some bad luck and more +greenhorn's incompetence." + +"No greenhorn could be so thumbhandsided as all that," rejoined Pete +earnestly. "Your irrigation ditches break and wash out; cattle get into +your crops whenever you go to town; but your fences never break when +you're round the ranch. Notice that?" + +"I did observe something of that nature," confessed Mitchell. "I laid it +to sheer bad luck." + +The older man snorted. + +"Bad luck! You've been hoodooed! After that, you went off by your +lonesome and tried cattle. Your windmills broke down; your cattle was +stole plumb opprobrious--Mexicans blamed, of course. And the very first +winter the sheep drifted in on you--where no sheep had never blatted +before--and eat you out of house and home." + +"I sold out in the spring," reflected Stanley. "I ran two hundred head +of stock up to one hundred and twelve in six months. Go on! Your story +interests me, strangely. I begin to think I was not as big a fool as +I thought I was, and that it was foolish of me to ever think my folly +was--" + +Johnson interrupted him. + +"Then you bought a bunch of sheep. Son, you can't realize how +great-minded it is of me to overlook that slip of yours! You was out of +the way of every man in the world; you was on your own range, watering at +your own wells--the only case like that on record. And the second dark +night some petulant and highly anonymous cowboys run off your herder and +stampeded your woollies over a bluff." + +"Sheep outrages have happened before," observed Stan, rather dryly. + +"Sheep outrages are perpetrated by cowmen on cow ranges," rejoined Pete +hotly. "I guess I ought to know. Sheepmen aren't ever killed on their own +ranges; it isn't respectable. Sheepmen are all right in their place--and +hell's the place." + +"Peter!" said Stan. "Such langwidge!" + +"Wallop! Wallop!" barked Peter, defiant and indignant. "I will say +wallop! Now you shut up whilst I go on with your sad history. Son, you +was afflicted some with five-card insomnia--and right off, when you first +came, you had it fair shoved on you by people usually most disobligin'. +It wasn't just for your money; there was plenty could stack 'em higher +than you could, and them fairly achin' to be fleeced, at that. If your +head hadn't been attached to your shoulders good and strong, if you +hadn't figured to be about square, or maybe rectangular, you had a +chance to be a poker fiend or a booze hoist." + +"You're spoofing me, old dear. Wake up; it's morning." + +"Don't fool yourself, son. There was a steady organized effort to get you +in bad. And it took money to get all these people after your goat. Some +one round here was managin' the game, for pay. But't wasn't no Arizona +head that did the plannin'. Any Rocky Mountain roughneck mean enough for +that would 'a' just killed you once and been done with it. No, sir; this +party was plumb civilized--this guy that wanted your goat. He wanted to +spoil your rep; he probably had conscientious scruples about bloodshed. +Early trainin'," said Mr. Johnson admiringly, "is a wonderful thing! And, +after they found you wouldn't fall for the husks and things, they went +out to put a crimp in your bank roll. Now, who is to gain by putting you +on the blink, huh?" + +"No one at all," said Stan. "You're seein' things at night! What happened +on the Cobre Trail to stir up your superstitions?" + +"Two gay young lads--punchers of Zurich's--tried to catch me with my gun +unloaded. That's what! And if herdin' with them blasted baa-sheep hadn't +just about ruined your intellect, you'd know why, without asking," said +Pete. "Look now! I was so sure that you was bein' systematically +hornswoggled that, when two rank strangers made that sort of a ranikiboo +play at me, I talked it out with myself, like this--not out loud--just +me and Pete colloguing: + +"'These gentlemen are pickin' on you, Pete. What's that for?' 'Why,' +says Pete, 'that's because you're Stan's pardner, of course. These two +laddie-bucks are some small part of the gang, bunch, or congregation +that's been preyin' on Stan.' 'What they tryin' to put over on Stan now?' +I asks, curiosity getting the better of my good manners. 'Not to pry into +private matters any,' says I, 'but this thing is getting personal. I can +feel malicious animal magnetism coursin' through every vein and leapin' +from crag to crag,' says I. 'A joke's a joke, and I can take a joke as +well as any man; but when I'm sick in my bed, and the undertaker comes to +my house and looks into my window and says, "Darlin'! I am waitin' for +thee!"--that's no joke. And if Stanley Mitchell's facetious friends begin +any hilarity with me I'll transact negotiations with 'em--sure! So I put +it up to you, Petey--square and aboveboard--what are they tryin' to work +on Stan now?' + +"'To get his mine, you idjit!' says Pete. 'Now be reasonable,' says I. +'How'd they know we got any mine?' 'Didn't you tote a sample out of that +blisterin' old desert?' says Pete. 'We did,' I admits, 'just one little +chunk the size of a red apple--and it weighed near a couple of ton whilst +we was perishin' for water. But we stuck to it closer than a rich +brother-in-law,' says I. 'You been had!' jeers Pete. 'What kind of talk +is this? You caught that off o' Thorpe, over on the Malibu--you been +had! Talk United States! Do you mean I've been bunked?' I spoke up sharp; +but I was feelin' pretty sick, for I just remembered that we didn't +register that sample when we mailed it to the assayer. + +"'Your nugget's been seen, and sawed, and smeltered. Got that? As part of +the skulduggery they been slippin' to young Stan, your package has been +opened,' says Petey, leerin' at me. 'Great Scott! Then they know we got +just about the richest mine in Arizona!' I says, with my teeth chatterin' +so that I stammers. 'Gosh, no! Else the coyotes would be pickin' your +bones,' says Pete. 'They know you've got some rich ore, but they figure +it to be some narrow, pinchin', piddlin' little vein somewheres. How can +they guess you found a solid mountain of the stuff?' + +"'Sufferin' cats!' says I. 'Then is every play I make--henceforth and +forever, amen--to be gaumed up by a mess of hirelin' bandogs? Persecutin' +Stan was all very well--but if they take to molesting me any, it's +going to make my blood fairly boil! Is some one going to draw down wages +for makin' me mizzable all the rest of my whole life?' 'No such luck,' +says Petey. 'Your little ore package was taken from the mail as part of +the system of pesterin' Stanley--but, once the big boss-devil glued his +bug-eyes on that freeworkin' copper stuff, he throwed up his employer +and his per diem, and is now operating roundabout on his own. They take +it you might have papers about you showing where your claim is--location +papers, likely. That's all! These ducks, here, want to go through you. +Nobody wants to kill you--not now. Not yet--any more than usual. But, if +you ask me,' said Petey, 'if they ever come to know as much about that +copper claim as you know, they'll do you up. Yes, sir! From ambush, +likely. So long as they are dependin' on you to lead them to it, you're +safe from that much, maybe. After they find out where it is--_cuidado!_' + +"'But who took that package out of the mail, Petey? It might have been +any one of several or more--old Zurich, here at Cobre; or the postmaster +at Silverbell; or the postal clerks on the railroad; or the post-office +people at El Paso.' + +"'You're an old pig-headed fool,' says Pete to me; 'and you lie like a +thief. You know who it was, same as I do--old C. Mayer Zurich, grand +champion lightweight collar-and-elbow grafter and liar, cowman, +grubstaker, general storekeeper, postmaster, and all-round crook, right +here in Cobre--right here where young Stanley's been gettin' 'em dealt +from the bottom for three years. Them other post-office fellows never had +no truck with Stanley--never so much as heard of him. Zurich's here. +He had the disposition, the motive, the opportunity, and the habit. +Besides, he sold you a shoddy coat once. Forgotten that?'" + +Pete paused to glower over that coat; and young Mitchell, big-eyed and +gasping, seized the chance to put in a word: + +"You're an ingenious old nightmare, pardner--you almost make it +convincing. But Great Scott, man! Can't you see that your fine, plausible +theory is all built on surmise and wild conjecture? You haven't got a leg +to stand on--not one single fact!" + +"Whilst I was first a-constructing this ingenious theory your objection +might have carried force; for I didn't have a fact to stand on, as you +observe. I conjectured round pretty spry, too. Reckon it took me all of +half a second--while them two warriors was giving me the evil eye. I'll +tell you how it was." He related the story of the shooting match and the +lost bet. "And to this unprovoked design against an inoffensive stranger +I fitted the only possible meaning and shape that would make a lick of +sense, dovetailin' in with the real honest-to-goodness facts I already +knew." + +"But don't you see, old thing, you're still up in the air? Your theory +doesn't touch ground anywhere." + +"Stanley--my poor deluded boy!--when I got to the railroad I wired that +assayer right off. Our samples never reached El Paso. So I wrote out my +fake location and filed it. See what followed that filing--over yonder? I +come this way on purpose, expecting to see those fires, Stanley. If they +hadn't been there we'd have gone on to our mine. Now we'll go anywhere +else." + +"Well, I'll just be teetotally damned!" Stanley remarked with great +fervor. + +"Trickling into your thick skull, is it? Son, get a piece of charcoal. +Now you make black marks on that white rock as I tell you, to hold +down my statements so they don't flutter away with the wind. Ready? +Number One: Our copper samples didn't reach the assayer--make a long +black mark ... Therefore--make a short black mark ... Number Two: +Either Old Pete's crazy theory is correct in every particular--a long +black mark ... Or--now a short black mark ... Number Three: The assayer +has thrown us down--a long black mark ... Number Four: Which would +be just as bad--make a long black mark." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Stanley Mitchell looked hard at the long black mark; he looked out along +the south to the low line of the Gavilan Hills; he looked at the red arc +of sun peering suddenly over the Comobabi Range. + +"Well--and so forth!" he said. "Here is a burn from the branding! And +what are we going to do now?" + +"Wash the dishes. You do it." + +"You are a light-minded and frivolous old man," said Stan. "What are we +going to do about our mine?" + +"I've done told you. We--per you--are due to wash up the dishes. Do the +next thing next. That's a pretty good rule. Meantime I will superintend +and smoke and reflect." + +"Do your reflecting out loud, can't you?" said Stan. His smooth forehead +wrinkled and a sudden cleft appeared between his eyebrows, witness of an +unaccustomed intentness of thought. "Say, Pete; this partnership of ours +isn't on the level. You put in half the work and all the brains." + +"'Sall right," said Pete Johnson. "You furnish the luck and +personal pulchritude. That ain't all, either. I'm pickin' up some +considerable education from you, learning how to pronounce words +like that--pulchritude. I mispronounced dreadful, I reckon." + +"I can tell you how to not mispronounce half as many words as you do +now," said Stan. + +"How's that?" said Pete, greatly interested. + +"Only talk half so much." + +"Fair enough, kid! It would work, too. That ain't all, either. If I +talked less you'd talk more; and, talking more, you'd study out for +yourself a lot of the things I tell you now, gettin' credit from you for +much wisdom, just because I hold the floor. Go to it, boy! Tell us how +the affairs of We, Us & Company size up to you at this juncture." + +"Here goes," said Stan. "First, we don't want to let on that we've got +anything at all on our minds--much less a rich mine. After a reasonable +time we should make some casual mention of discontent that we've sent off +rock to an assayer and not heard from it. Not to say a word would make +our conspirators more suspicious; a careless mention of it might make +them think our find wasn't such-a-much, after all. Say! I suppose it +wouldn't do to pick up a collection of samples from the best mines round +Cobre--and inquire round who to write to for some more, from Jerome +and Cananea, maybe; and then, after talking them up a while, we could +send one of these samples off to be assayed, just for curiosity--what?" + +"Bear looking into," said Pete; "though I think they'd size it up as an +attempt to throw 'em off the trail. Maybe we can smooth that idea out so +we can do something with it. Proceed." + +"Then we'll have to play up to that location you filed by hiking to the +Gavilan and going through the motions of doing assessment work on that +dinky little claim." + +Feeling his way, Stan watched the older man's eyes. Pete nodded approval. + +"But, Pete, aren't we taking a big chance that some one will find our +claim? It isn't recorded, and our notice will run out unless we do some +assessment work pretty quick. Suppose some one should stumble onto it?" + +"Well, we've got to take the chance," said Pete. "And the chance of some +one stumbling on our find by blind luck, like we did, isn't a drop in the +bucket to the chance that we'll be followed if we try to slip away while +these fellows are worked up with the fever. Seventy-five thousand round +dollars to one canceled stamp that some one has his eye glued on us +through a telescope right this very now! I wouldn't bet the postage stamp +on it, at that odds. No, sir! Right now things shape up hotter than the +seven low places in hell. + +"If we go to the mine now--or soon--we'll never get back. After we show +them the place--_adiĆ³s el mundo_!" + +"Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird," Mitchell +quoted soberly. "So you think that after a while, when their enthusiasm +dies down, we can give them the slip?" + +"Sure! It's our only chance." + +"Couldn't we make a get-away at night?" + +"It is what they are hoping for. They'd follow our tracks. No, sir! We do +nothing. We notice nothing, we suspect nothing, and we have nothing to +hide." + +"You want to remember that our location notice will be running out pretty +soon." + +"We'll have to risk it. Not so much of a risk, either. Cobre is the last +outpost of civilization. South of here, in the whole strip from Comobabi +to the Colorado River, there's not twenty men, all told, between here and +the Mexican border--except yonder deluded wretches in the Gavilan; and +none beyond the border for a hundred miles." + +"It is certainly one big lonesome needle-in-the-haystack proposition--and +no one has any idea where our find is, not within three days' ride. But +what puzzles me is this: If Zurich really got wise to our copper, he'd +know at once that it was a big thing, if there was any amount of it. Then +why didn't he keep it private and confidential? Why tip it off to the +G.P.? I have always understood that in robbery and murder, one is +assisted only by intimate friends. What is the large idea?" + +"That, I take it," laughed Pete, "is, in some part, an acknowledgment +that it doesn't take many like you and me to make a dozen. You've made +one or two breaks and got away with 'em, the last year or two, that has +got 'em guessing; and I'm well and loudly known myself. There is a wise +old saying that it's no use sending a boy to mill. They figure on that, +likely; they wanted to be safe and sanitary. They sized it up that to +dispatch only two or three men to adjust such an affair with us would be +in no way respectful or segacious. + +"Also, in a gang of crooks like that, every one is always pullin' for his +buddy. That accounts for part of the crowd--prudence and a far-reaching +spirit of brotherly love. For the rest, when the first ten or six made +packs and started, they was worked up and oozing excitement at every +pore. Then some of the old prospectors got a hunch there was something +doing; so they just naturally up stakes and tagged along. Always doing +that, old miner is. That's what makes the rushes and stampedes you hear +about." + +"Then we're to do nothing just now but to shun mind-readers, write no +letters, and not talk in our sleep?" + +"Just so," agreed Pete. "If my saddle could talk, I'd burn it. That's our +best lay. We'll tire 'em out. The most weariest thing in the world is to +hunt for a man that isn't there; the next worst is to watch a man that +has nothing to conceal. And our little old million-dollar-a-rod hill is +the unlikeliest place to look for a mine I ever did see. Just plain dirt +and sand. No indications; just a plain freak. I'd sooner take a chance in +the pasture lot behind pa's red barn--any one would. We covered up all +the scratchin' we did and the wind has done the rest. Here--you was to do +the talkin'. Go on." + +"What we really need," declared Mitchell, "is an army--enough absolutely +trustworthy and reliable men to overmatch any interference." + +"The largest number of honest men that was ever got together in one +bunch," said Pete, "was just an even eleven. Judas Iscariot was the +twelfth. That's the record. For that reason I've always stuck it out that +we ought to have only ten men on a jury, instead of twelve. It seems more +modest, somehow. But suppose we found ten honest men somewheres. It might +be done. I know where there's two right here in Arizona, and I've got my +suspicions of a third--honest about portable property, that is. With +cattle, and the like, they don't have any hard-and-fast rule; just +consider each case on its individual merits. How the case of automobiles +would strike them elder ethics is one dubious problem. Standing still, or +bein' towed, so it might be considered as a wagon, a car would be safe +enough; but proceedin' from hither to yon under its own power--I dunno. +I'll make a note of it. Well, you get the right idea for the first thing. +Honest men wanted; no questions asked. And then what?" + +"Money." + +"You've said it, kid! We could quitclaim that hill for a million cash +to-morrow--" + +"If we had any claim to quit," interrupted Stanley; "and if we could drag +capital out here and rub its nose in our hill." + +"That's the word I was feelin' for--capital. It's capital we want, +Stanley--not money. I could get a little money myself down at Tucson. +Them two honest men of mine live there. We used to steal cattle together +down on the Concho--the sheriff and JosĆ© Benavides and me. I aim to feed +'em a slice of my share, anyway--but what they could put in wouldn't be a +drop in the bucket. We want to go after capital. There's where you come +in. Got any rich friends back East?" + +Stan reflected. + +"My cousin, Oscar Mitchell, is well-to-do, but hardly what you would call +rich, in this connection," he said. "But he is in touch with some of the +really big men. We could hardly find a better agent to interest capital." + +"Will he take the first steps on your bare word--without even a sample or +an assayer's report?" + +"Certainly. Why not?" + +"Back you go, then. Here's where you come in. I had this in mind," +declared Johnson, "when I first throwed in with you. I knew we could find +the mine and you'd be needed for bait to attract capital. I rustled a +little expense money at Tucson. Say, I didn't tell you about that. +Listen!" + +He recited at length his joyous financial adventures in Tucson. + +"But won't your man Marsh tell Zurich about your unruly behavior?" said +Stan at the finish. + +"I think not. He's got too much to lose. I put the fear of God in his +heart for fair. I couldn't afford to have him put Zurich on his guard. +It won't do to underestimate Zurich. The man's a crook; but he's got +brains. He hasn't overlooked a bet since he came here. Zurich is +Cobre--or mighty near it. He's in on all the good things. Big share in +the big mines, little share in the little ones. He's got all the water +supply grabbed and is makin' a fortune from that alone. He runs the +store, the post-office, and the stage line. He's got the freight +contracts and the beef contracts. He's got brains. Only one weak point +about him--he'll underestimate us. We got brains too. Zurich knows that, +but he don't quite believe it. That's our chance." + +"Just what will you ask my cousin to do? And when shall I go?" + +"Day before to-morrow. You hike back to Cobre and hit the road for all +points East, I'll go over to the Gavilan to be counted--take this +dynamite and stuff, and make a bluff at workin', keeping my ears open and +my mouth not. Pledge cousin to come see when we wire for him--as soon as +we get possession. If he finds the sight satisfactory, we'll organize +a company, you and me keepin' control. We'll give 'em forty per cent for +a million cash in the treasury. I want nine percent for my Tucson +friends, who'll put up a little preliminary cash and help us with the +first fightin', if any. Make your dicker on that basis; take no less. +If your cousin can't swing it, we'll go elsewhere. + +"Tell him our proposition would be a gracious gift at two millions, +undeveloped; but we're not selling. Tell him there'll be a million +needed for development before there'll be a dollar of return. There's no +water; just enough to do assessment work on, and that to be hauled +twenty-five miles from those little rock tanks at Cabeza Prieta. Deep +drillin' may get water--I hope so. But that will take time and money. +There'll have to be a seventy-five-mile spur of railroad built, anyway, +leaving the main line somewhere about Mohawk: we'd just as well count on +hauling water from the Gila the first year. Them tanks will about run a +ten-man gang a month after each rain, countin' in the team that does the +hauling. + +"Tell him one claim, six hundred feet by fifteen hundred, will pretty +near cover our hill; but we'll stake two for margin. We don't want +any more; but we'll have to locate a town site or something, to be sure +of our right of way for our railroad. Every foot of these hills will be +staked out by some one, eventually. If any of these outside claims turns +out to be any good, so much the better. But there can't be the usual rush +very well--'cause there ain't enough water. We'll have to locate the +tanks and keep a guard there; we'll have to pull off a franchise for our +little jerkwater railroad. + +"We got to build a wagon road to Mohawk, set six-horse teams to hauling +water, and other teams to hauling water to stations along the road for +the teams that haul water for us. All this at once; it's going to be some +complicated. + +"That's the lay: Development work; appropriation for honest men in the +first camp; another for lawyers; patentin' three claims; haul water +seventy-five miles, no road, and part of that through sand; minin' +machinery; build a railroad; smelter, maybe--if some one would kindly +find coal. + +"We want a minimum of five hundred thousand; as much more for accidents. +Where does this cousin of yours live? In Abingdon?" + +"In Vesper--seven miles from Abingdon. He's a lawyer." + +"Is he all right?" + +"Why, yes--I guess so. When I was a boy I thought he was a wonderful +chap--rather made a hero of him." + +"When you was a boy?" echoed Johnson; a quizzical twinkle assisted the +query. + +"Oh, well--when he was a boy." + +"He's older than you, then?" + +"Nearly twice as old. My father was the youngest son of an old-fashioned +family, and I was his youngest. Uncle Roy--Oscar's father--was dad's +oldest brother, and Oscar was a first and only." + +Pete shook his head. + +"I'm sorry about that, too. I'd be better pleased if he was round your +age. No offense to you, Stan; but I'd name no places to your cousin if +I were you. When we get legal possession let him come out and see for +himself--leadin' a capitalist, if possible." + +"Oscar's all right, I guess," protested Stan. + +"But you can't do more than guess? Name him no names, then. I wish he was +younger," said Peter with a melancholy expression. "The world has a +foolish old saying: 'The good die young.' That's all wrong, Stanley. It +isn't true. The young die good!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Something Dewing, owner of Cobre's Emporium of Chance, sat in his room in +the Admiral Dewey Hotel. It was a large and pleasant room, refitted and +over-furnished by Mr. Dewing at the expense of his fellow townsmen, +grateful or otherwise. It is well to mention here that, upon the tongues +of the scurrile, "Something," as a praise-name and over-name for Mr. +Dewing, suffered a sea change to "Surething"--Surething Dewing; just as +the Admiral Dewey Hotel was less favorably known as "Stagger Inn." + +Mr. Dewing's eye rested dreamily upon the picture, much praised of +connoisseurs, framed by his window--the sharp encircling contours of +Cobre Mountain; the wedge of tawny desert beyond Farewell Gap. Rousing +himself from such contemplation, he broke a silence, sour and unduly +prolonged. + +"Four o'clock, and all's ill! Johnson is not the man to be cheated out of +a fortune without putting up a fight. Young Mitchell himself is neither +fool nor weakling. He can shoot, too. We have had no news. Therefore--a +conclusion that will not have escaped your sagacity--something has gone +amiss with our little expeditionary force in the Gavilan. Johnson is +quite the Paladin; but he could hardly exterminate such a bunch as that. +It is my firm conviction that we are now, on this pleasant afternoon, +double-crossed in a good and workmanlike manner. + +"The Johnson-Mitchell firm is now Johnson, Mitchell & Company, our late +friends, or the survivors, being the Company." + +These remarks were addressed to the elder of Mr. Dewing's two table +mates. But it was Eric Anderson, tall and lean and lowering, who +made answer. + +"You may set your uneasy mind at rest, Mr. Something. Suspectin' +treachery comes natural to you--being what you are." + +"There--that's enough!" + +This was the third man, Mayer Zurich. He sprang up, speaking sharply; a +tall, straight man, broad-shouldered, well proportioned, with a handsome, +sparkling, high-colored face. "Eric, you grow more insolent every day. +Cut it out!" + +Mr. Dewing, evenly enough, shifted his thoughtful gaze upon tall Eric, +seemingly without resentment for the outburst. + +"Well, wasn't he insultin' the boys then?" demanded Eric. + +"I guess you're right, there," Mayer Zurich admitted. "I was not at all +in favor of taking so many of them in on this proposition; but I'm not +afraid of them doin' me dirt, now they're in. I don't see why the three +of us couldn't have kept this to ourselves--but Something had to blab it +out! Why he should do that, and then distrust the very men he chose for +so munificent a sharing of a confidence better withheld--that is quite +beyond my understanding. Dewing, you would never have clapped an eye on +that nugget if I had suspected in you so unswerving a loyalty to the +gang. I confess I was disappointed in you--and I count you my right-hand +man." + +The speech of the educated man, in Mr. Zurich, was overlaid with +colloquialism and strange idiom, made a second tongue by long +familiarity. + +"Your left-hand man!" Dewing made the correction with great composure. +"You come to me to help you, because, though you claim all the discredit +for your left-handed activities, I furnish a good half of the brains. +And I blabbed--as you so elegantly phrased it--because I am far too +intelligent to bite a bulldog for a bone. Our friends in the Gavilan +pride themselves on their nerve. They are fighting men, if you +please--very fearless and gallant. That suits me. I am no gentleman. +Quite the contrary. I am very intelligent, as afore-said. It was the part +of prudence--" + +"That is a very good word--prudence." The interpolation came from tall +Eric. + +"A very good word," assented the gambler, unmoved. "It was the part of +prudence to let our valiant friends and servants pull these chestnuts +from the fire, as aforetime. To become the corpse of a copper king is a +prospect that holds no attractions for me." + +"But why--why on earth--did you insist on employing men you now distrust? +you bewilder me, Dewing," declared Zurich. "What's the idea--to swindle +yourself?" + +"You will do me the justice to remember," observed Dewing with a +thin-lipped smile, "that I urged upon you, repeatedly and most strongly, +as a desirable preliminary to our operations, to remove Mr. Peter Johnson +from this unsatisfactory world without any formal declaration of war." + +"I won't do it!" declared Zurich bluntly. "And--damn you--you shan't do +it! He's a dangerous old bow-legged person, and I wish he was farther. And +I must admit that I am myself most undesirous for any personal bickering +with him. To hear Jim Scarboro relate it, old Pete is one wiz with a +six-gun. All the same, I'll not let him be shot from ambush. He's too +good for that. I draw the line there. I'm not exactly afraid of the +little old wasp, either, when it comes down to cases; but I have great +respect for him. I'll never agree to meet him on a tight rope over +Niagara and make him turn back; and if I have any trouble with him he's +got to bring it to me. You have no monopoly of prudence." + +"There it is, you see!" Something Dewing spread out his fine hands. "You +made no allowance for my loyalty and I made none for your scruples. As a +result, Mr. Johnson has established a stalemate, held a parley, and +bought off our warriors. They've been taken in on the copper find, on +some small sharing, while we, in quite another sense of the word, are +simply taken in. Such," observed Mr. Dewing philosophically, "is the +result of inopportune virtues." + +"Bosh! I told you all along," said Anderson heavily, "that there's no +mineral in the Gavilan. I've been over every foot of it--and I'm a miner. +We get no news because no man makes haste to announce his folly. You'll +see!" + +"Creede and Cripple Creek had been prospected over and over again before +they struck it there," objected Zurich. + +"Silver and gold!" retorted Eric scornfully. "This is copper. Copper +advertises. No, sir! I'll tell you what's happened. There's been no +battle, and no treachery, and no mine found. We've been trapped. That +Gavilan location was a fake, stuck up to draw our fire. We've tipped our +hand. Mr. Johnson can now examine the plans of mice or men that your +combined sagacities have so obligingly placed face upward before him, and +decide his policies at his leisure. If I were in his shoes, this is what +I would be at: I'd tell my wondrous tale to big money. And then I would +employ very many stranger men accustomed to arms; and when I went after +that mine, I would place under guard any reasonable and obliging +travelers I met, and establish a graveyard for the headstrong. And that's +what Johnson will do. He'll go to the Coast for capital, at the same +time sendin' young Stanley back to his native East on the same errand." + +"You may be right," said Zurich, somewhat staggered. "If you are, their +find must be a second Verde or Cananea, or they would never have taken a +precaution so extraordinary as a false location. What on earth can have +happened to rouse their suspicions to that extent?" + +"Man, I wonder at you!" said tall Eric. "You put trust in your brains, +your money, and your standing to hold you unstained by all your +left-handed business. You expect no man to take heed of you, when the +reek of it smells to high heaven. Well, you deceive yourself the more. +These things get about; and they are none so unobserving a people, south +of the Gila, where 't is fair life or death to them to note betweenwhiles +all manner of small things--the set of a pack, the tongue of a buckle, +the cleat of a mine ladder. And your persecution of young Stanley, now. +Was you expectin' that to go unremarked? 'T is that has made Peter +Johnson shy of all bait. 'T was a sorry business from the first--hazing +that boy; I take shame to have hand in it. And for every thousand of that +dirty money we now stand to lose a million." + +"'T was a piker's game," sneered Dewing. "Not worth the trouble and risk. +We had about three thousand from Zurich to split between us; little +enough. Of course Zurich kept his share, the lion's share." + +"You got the middleman's chunk, at any rate," retorted Zurich. + +"I did the middleman's work," said the gambler tranquilly. "Now, +gentlemen, we have not been agreeing very well of late. Eric, in +particular, has been far from flattering in his estimates of my social +and civic value. We are agreed on that? Very well. I may have mentioned +my intelligence? And that I rate it highly? Yes? Very well, then. I shall +now demonstrate that my self-appraisal was justified by admitting that my +judgment on this occasion was at fault. Eric's theories as to our delayed +news from our expedition are sound; they work out; they prove themselves. +The same is true of his very direct and lucid statement as to the nature +and cause of the difficulties which now beset us. I now make the direct +appeal to you, Eric: As a candid man or mouse, what would you do next?" + +Tall Eric bent his brows darkly at the gambler. + +"If you mean that I fear the man Johnson at all, why do you not use +tongue and lips to say that same? I am not greatly chafed by an open +enemy, but I am no great hand to sit down under a mock." + +"It was your own word--the mice," said Dewing. "But this time you take me +wrongly. I meant no mockery. I ask you, in good faith, for your opinion. +What ought to be done to retrieve the false step?" + +"Could we find this treasure-trove by a painstaking search of the hills?" +asked Zurich doubtfully. "It's a biggish country." + +"Man," said Eric, "I've prospected out there for fifteen years and I've +scarce made a beginning. If we're to find Johnson's strike before Johnson +makes a path to it, we have a month, at most. Find it, says you? Sure, we +might find it. But if we do it will be by blind fool-hog luck and not by +painstakin' search. Do you search, if you like. My word would be to try +negotiations. Make a compromise with Johnson. And if your prudence does +not like the errand, I will even take it upon myself." + +"What is there to compromise? We have nothing to contribute." + +"We have safety to sell," said Eric. "Seek out the man and state the case +baldly: 'Sir, we have protection to sell, without which your knowledge is +worthless, or near it. Protection from ourselves and all others. Make +treaty with us; allot to us, jointly, some share, which you shall name +yourself, and we will deal justly by you. So shall you avoid delay. You +may avoid some risk. _QuiĆ©n sabe?_ If you refuse we shall truly endeavor +to be interestin'; and you may get nothing.' That's what I would say." + +"A share, to be named by Johnson and then be divided between ten? Well, I +guess not!" declared Zurich. "To begin with, we'll find a way to stop Kid +Mitchell from any Eastern trip. Capital is shy; I'm not much afraid of +what Johnson can do. But this boy has the inside track." + +"With my usual astuteness," remarked Something Dewing, "I had divined as +much. And there is another string to our bow if we make a complete +failure of this mine business--as would seem to be promised by the +Gavilan fiasco. When such goodly sums are expended to procure the +downfall of Kid Mitchell--an event as yet unexpectedly delayed--there's +money in it somewhere. Big money! I know it. And I mean to touch some +of it. My unknown benefactor shall have my every assistance to attain his +hellish purpose--hellish purpose, I believe, is the phrase proper to the +complexion of this affair. Then, to use the words of the impulsive +Hotspur, slightly altered to suit the occasion, I'll creep upon him while +he lies asleep, and in his ear I'll whisper--Snooks!" + +"You don't know where he lives," said Zurich. + +"Ah, but you do! I beg your pardon, Zurich--perhaps in my thoughtlessness +I have wounded you. I used the wrong pronoun. I did not mean to say +'I'--much less 'you'--in reference to who should hollo 'Halves!' to our +sleeping benefactor. 'We' was the word I should have used." + +Zurich regarded Mr. Dewing in darkling silence; and that gentleman, in no +way daunted, continued gayly: + +"I see that the same idea has shadowed itself to you. You must consider +us--Eric and I--equals in that enterprise, friend Mayer. Three good +friends together. I begin to fear we have sadly underestimated Eric--you +and I. By our own admission--and his--he is a better fighting man than +either of us. You wouldn't want to displease him." + +"I think you go about it in an ill way to remedy a mistake, Dewing," said +Zurich. "Don't let's be silly enough to fall out over one chance gone +wrong. We've got all we can attend to right now, without such a folly as +that. Don't mind him, Eric. Tell me, rather, what we are going to do +about this troublesome Johnson? Violence is out of the question: we need +him to show us where he found that copper. Besides, it isn't safe to kill +old Pete, and it never has been safe to kill old Pete. As for the Kid, +I'll do what I have been urged to do this long time by the personage who +takes so kindly an interest in his fortunes--I'll railroad him off to +jail, at least till we get that mine or until it is, beyond question, +lost to us. It isn't wise to let him go East; he might get hold of +unlimited money. If he did, forewarned as he is now, Johnson would fix it +so we shouldn't have a look-in. You turn this over and let me know your +ideas." + +"And that reminds me," said Dewing with smooth insolence, equally +maddening to both hearers, "that Eric's ideas have been notably justified +of late; whereas your ideas--and mine--have been stupid blunders from +first to last. You see me at a stand, friend Mayer, doubtful if it were +not the part of wisdom to transfer my obedience to Eric hereafter." + +"For every word of that, Johnson would pay you a gold piece, and have a +rare bargain of it." Zurich's voice was hard; his eye was hard. "Is this +a time for quarreling among ourselves? There may be millions at stake, +for all we know, and you would set us at loggerheads in a fit of spleen, +like a little peevish boy. I'm ashamed of you! Get your horse and ride +off the sulks. If you feel spiteful, take it out on Johnson. Get yourself +a pack outfit and go find his mine." + +"I'm no prospector," said the gambler disdainfully. + +"No. I will tell you what you are." Tall Eric rose and towered above +Dewing at the window; the sun streamed on his bright hair, "You are a +crack-brained fool to tempt my hands to your throat! You will do it once +too often yet. You a prospector? You never saw the day you had the +makin's of a prospector in you." + +"Let other men do the work and take the risk while I take the gain, and +it's little I care for your opinion," rejoined Dewing. "And you would do +well to keep your hands from my throat when my hand is in my coat +pocket--as is the case at this present instant." + +"This thing has gone far enough," said Zurich. "Anderson, come back and +sit down. Dewing, go and fork that horse of yours and ride the black +devil out of your heart." + +"I have a thing to say, first," said Eric. "Dewing, you sought to begowk +me by setting me up against Zurich--or perhaps you really thought to use +me against him. Well, you won't! When we want the information about the +man that has been harryin' young Mitchell, Zurich will tell us. We know +too much about Zurich for him to deny us our askings. But, for your mock +at me, I want you both to know two things: The first is, I desire no +headship for myself; the second is this--I take Zurich's orders because +I think he has the best head, as a usual thing; and I follow those orders +exactly so far as I please, and no step more. I am mean and worthless +because I choose to be and not at all because Mayer Zurich led me astray. +Got that, now?" + +"If you're quite through," said Dewing, "I'll take that ride." + +The door closed behind him. + +"Disappointed! Had his mouth fixed for a million or so, and didn't get +it; couldn't stand the gaff; made him ugly," said Zurich slowly. "And +when Dewing is ugly he is unbearable; absolutely the limit." + +"Isn't he?" agreed Eric in disgust. "Enough to make a man turn honest." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Stanley Mitchell topped the last rise in Morning Gate Pass in the late +afternoon. Cobre Basin spread deep and wide before him, ruddy in the low +sun; Cobre town and mines, on his left, loomed dim and misshapen in the +long dark shadows of the hills. + +Awguan, top horse and foreman of Stanley's mount, swung pitapat down the +winding pass at a brisk fox trot. The gallop, as a road gait, is frowned +upon in the cow countries as immature and wasteful of equine energy. + +He passed Loder's Folly, high above the trail--gray, windowless, and +forlorn; the trail dipped into the cool shadows, twisted through the mazy +deeps of Wait-a-Bit CaƱon, clambered zigzag back to the sunlit slope, and +curved round the hillsides to join, in long levels, the wood roads on the +northern slopes. + +As he turned into the level, Stanley's musings were broken in upon by a +sudden prodigious clatter. Looking up, he became aware of a terror, +rolling portentous down the flinty ridge upon him; a whirlwind streak of +billowed dust, shod with sparks, tipped by a hurtling color yet unknown +to man; and from the whirlwind issued grievous words. + +Awguan leaped forward. + +Bounding over boulders or from them, flashing through catclaw and +ocatillo, the appearance swooped and fell, the blend disjoined and +shaped to semblance of a very small red pony bearing a very small blue +boy. The pony's small red head was quite innocent of bridle; the bit was +against his red breast, held there by small hands desperate on the reins; +the torn headstall flapped rakishly about the red legs. Making the curve +at sickening speed, balanced over everlasting nothingness for a moment of +breathless equipoise, they took the trail. + +Awguan thundered after. Stanley bent over, pelted by flying pebbles and +fragments of idle words. + +Small chance to overhaul the prodigy on that ribbed and splintered hill; +Awguan held the sidelong trail at the red pony's heels. They dipped to +cross an arroyo; Stan lifted his head and shouted: + +"Fall off in the sand!" + +"Damnfido!" wailed the blue boy. + +Sand flashed in rainbow arches against Awguan's brown face--he shut his +eyes against it; they turned up the hill beyond. A little space ahead +showed free of bush or boulder. Awguan took the hillside below the trail, +lowered his head, laid his ears back, and bunched his mighty muscles. He +drew alongside; leaning far over, heel to cantle, Stan threw his arm +about the small red neck, and dragged the red pony to a choking stand. +The small blue boy slipped to earth, twisted the soft bridle rein once +and again to a miraculous double half-hitch about the red pony's jaw, +and tightened it with a jerk. + +"I've got him!" shrieked the blue boy. + +The red pony turned mild bright eyes upon brown Awguan, and twitched red +velvet ears to express surprise, and wrinkled a polite nose. + +"Hello! I hadn't noticed you before. Fine day, isn't it?" said the ears. + +Awguan rolled his wicked eye and snorted. The blue boy shrilled a comment +of surprising particulars--a hatless boy in denim. Stanley turned his +head at a clatter of hoofs; Something Dewing, on the trail from town, +galloped to join them. + +"That was a creditable arrest you made, Mitchell," he said, drawing rein. +"I saw it all from the top of Mule Hill. And I certainly thought our +Little Boy Blue was going to take the Big Trip. He'll make a hand!" + +The gambler's eyes, unguarded and sincere for once, flashed quizzical +admiration at Little Boy Blue, who, concurrently with the above speech, +quavered forth his lurid personal opinions of the red pony. He was a +lean, large-eyed person, apparently of some nine or ten years--which left +his vocabulary unaccounted for; his face was smeared and bleeding, +scratched by catclaw; his apparel much betattered by the same reason. + +He now checked a flood of biographical detail concerning the red pony +long enough to fling a remark their way: + +"Ain't no Boy Blue--damn your soul! Name's Robteeleecarr!" + +Dewing and Mitchell exchanged glances. + +"What's that? What did he say?" + +"He means to inform you," said Dewing, "that his name is Robert E. +Lee Carr." His glance swept appraisingly up the farther hill, and he +chuckled: "Old Israel Putnam would be green with envy if he had seen that +ride. Some boy!" + +"He must be a new one to Cobre; I've never seen him before." + +"Been here a week or ten days, and he's a notorious character already. So +is Nan-nĆ”." + +"Nan-nĆ”, I gather, being the pony?" + +"Exactly. Little Apache devil, that horse is. Robert's dad, one Jackson +Carr, is going to try freighting. He's camped over the ridge at Hospital +Springs, letting his horses feed up and get some meat on their bones. +Here! Robert E. Lee, drop that club or I'll put the dingbats on you +instanter! Don't you pound that pony! I saw you yesterday racing the +streets with the throat-latch of your bridle unbuckled. Serves you +right!" + +Robert E. Lee reluctantly abandoned the sotol stalk he had been breaking +to a length suitable for admonitory purposes. + +"All right! But I'll fix him yet--see if I don't! He's got to pack me +back up that hill after my hat. Gimme a knife, so's I can cut a saddle +string and mend this bridle." These remarks are expurgated. + +He mended the bridle; he loosened the cinches and set the saddle back. +Stan, dismounting, made a discovery. + +"I've lost a spur. Thought something felt funny. Noticed yesterday that +the strap was loose." He straightened up from a contemplation of his boot +heel; with a sudden thought, he searched the inner pocket of his coat. +"And that isn't all. By George, I've lost my pocketbook, and a lot of +money in it! But it can't be far; I've lost it somewhere on my boy chase. +Come on, Dewing; help me hunt for it." + +They left the boy at his mending and took the back track. Before they had +gone a dozen yards Dewing saw the lost spur, far down the hill, lodged +under a prickly pear. Stanley, searching intently for his pocketbook, did +not see the spur. And Dewing said nothing; he lowered his eyelids to veil +a sudden evil thought, and when he raised them again his eyes, which for +a little had been clear of all save boyish mischief, were once more tense +and hard. + +Robert E. Lee Carr clattered gayly by them and pushed up the hill to +recover his hat. The two men rode on slowly; a brown pocketbook upon a +brown hillside is not easy to find. But they found it at last, just where +Stanley had launched his pursuit of the hatless horseman. It had been +jostled from his pocket in the first wild rush. Stanley retrieved it with +a sigh of relief. + +"Are you sure you had your spur here?" asked Dewing. "Maybe you lost it +before and didn't notice it." + +"Oh, never mind the spur," said Stan. "I'm satisfied to get my money. +Let's wait for Little Boy Blue and we'll all go in together." + +"Want to try a little game to-night?" suggested Dewing. "I could use that +money of yours. It seems a likely bunch--if it's all money. Pretty plump +wallet, I call it." + +"No more for me," laughed Stanley. "You behold in me a reformed +character." + +"Stick to that, boy," said Dewing. "Gambling is bad business." + +It grew on to dusk when Robert E. Lee Carr rejoined them; it was pitch +dark when they came to the Carr camp-fire at Hospital Springs, close +beside the trail; when they reached Cobre, supper-time was over. + +At the Mountain House Stanley ordered a special supper cooked for him, +with real potatoes and cow milk. Dewing refused a drink, pleading his +profession; and Stanley left his fat wallet in the Mountain House safe. + +"Well, I'll say good-night now," said Dewing. "See you after supper?" + +"Oh, I'll side you a ways yet. Goin' up to the shack to unsaddle. Always +like to have my horse eat before I do. And you'll not see me after +supper--not unless you are up at the post-office. I'm done with cards." + +"I'd like to have a little chin with you to-morrow," said Dewing. "Not +about cards. Business. I'm sick of cards, myself. I'll never be able to +live 'em down--especially with this pleasing nickname of mine. I want +to talk trade. About your ranch: you've still got your wells and +water-holes? I was thinking of buying them of you and going in for the +straight and narrow. I might even stock up and throw in with you--but you +wouldn't want a partner from the wrong side of the table? Well, I don't +blame you--but say, Stan, on the level, it's a funny old world, isn't +it?" + +"I'm going to take the stage to-morrow. See you when I come back. I'll +sell. I'm reformed about cattle, too," said Stan. + +At the ball ground he bade Dewing good-night. The latter rode on to his +own hostelry at the other end of town. Civilization patronized the +Admiral Dewey as nearest the railroad; mountain men favored the Mountain +House as being nearest to grass. + +Stanley turned up a side street to the one-roomed adobe house on the edge +of town that served as city headquarters for himself and Johnson. He +unsaddled in the little corral; he brought a feed of corn for brown +Awguan; he brought currycomb and brush and made glossy Awguan's sleek +sides, turning him loose at last, with a friendly slap, to seek pasture +on Cobre Hills. Then he returned to the Mountain House for the delayed +supper. + +Meantime Mr. Something Dewing held a hurried consultation with Mr. Mayer +Zurich; and forthwith took horse again for Morning Gate Pass, slipping by +dark streets from the town, turning aside to pass Hospital Springs. Where +the arrest of the red pony had been effected, Dewing dismounted; below +the trail, a dozen yards away, he fished Mr. Stanley Mitchell's spur from +under a prickly pear; and returned in haste to Cobre. + +After his supper Stanley strolled into Zurich's--The New York Store. + +Unknown to him, at that hour brown Awguan was being driven back to his +little home corral, resaddled--with Stanley's saddle--and led away into +the dark. + +Stanley exchanged greetings with the half-dozen customers who lingered at +the counters, and demanded his mail. Zurich handed out two fat letters +with the postmark of Abingdon, New York. While Stanley read them, Zurich +called across the store to a purchaser of cigars and tobacco: + +"Hello, Wiley! Thought you had gone to Silverbell so wild and fierce." + +"Am a-going now," said Wiley, "soon as I throw a couple or three drinks +under my belt." + +"Say, Bat, do you think you'll make the morning train? It's going on nine +now." + +"Surest thing you know! That span of mine can stroll along mighty peart. +Once I get out on the flat, we'll burn the breeze." + +"Come over here, then," said Zurich. "I want you to take some cash and +send it down to the bank by express--about eight hundred; and some checks +besides. I can't wait for the stage--it won't get there till to-morrow +night. I've overdrawn my account, with my usual carelessness, and I want +this money to get to the bank before the checks do." + +Stanley went back to his little one-roomed house. He shaved, bathed, laid +out his Sunday best, re-read his precious letters, and dropped off to +dreamless sleep. + +Between midnight and one o'clock Bat Wiley, wild-eyed and raging, burst +into the barroom of the Admiral Dewey and startled with a tale of wrongs +such part of wakeful Cobre as there made wassail. At the crossing of +Largo Draw he had been held up at a gun's point by a single robber on +horseback; Zurich's money had been taken from him, together with some +seventy dollars of his own; his team had been turned loose; it had taken +him nearly an hour to catch them again, so delaying the alarm by that +much. + +Boots and spurs; saddling of horses; Bob Holland, the deputy sheriff, was +called from his bed; a swift posse galloped into the night, joined at the +last moment by Mr. Dewing, who had retired early, but had been roused by +the clamor. + +They came to Largo Crossing at daybreak. The trail of the robber's horse +led straight to Cobre, following bypaths through the mountains. The +tracks showed plainly that his coming had been by these same short cuts, +saving time while Bat Wiley had followed the tortuous stage road through +the hills. Halfway back a heavy spur lay in the trail; some one +recognized it as Stanley Mitchell's--a smith-wrought spur, painfully +fashioned from a single piece of drill steel. + +They came to Cobre before sunup; they found brown Awguan, dejected and +sweat-streaked, standing in hip-shot weariness on the hill near his +corral. In the corral Stanley's saddle lay in the sand, the blankets +sweat-soaked. + +Unwillingly enough, Holland woke Stan from a smiling sleep to arrest him. +They searched the little room, finding the mate to the spur found on the +trail, but nothing else to their purpose. But at last, bringing Stan's +saddle in before locking the house, Bull Pepper noticed a bumpy +appearance in the sheepskin lining, and found, between saddle skirt and +saddle tree, the stolen money in full, and even the checks that Zurich +had sent. + +They haled Stan before the justice, who was also proprietor of the +Mountain House. Waiving examination, Stanley Mitchell was held to +meet the action of the Grand Jury; and in default of bond--his guilt +being assured and manifest--he was committed to Tucson Jail. + +The morning stage, something delayed on his account, bore him away under +guard, _en route_, most clearly, for the penitentiary. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Mr. Peter Johnson's arrival in Morning Gate Pass was coincident with +that of a very bright and businesslike sun. Mr. Johnson had made a night +ride from the Gavilan country, where he had spent the better part of a +pleasant week, during which he had contrived to commingle a minimum of +labor with a joyous maximum of innocent amusement. The essence of these +diversions consisted of attempts--purposely clumsy--to elude the +vigilance of such conspirator prospectors as yet remained to neighbor +him; sudden furtive sallies and excursions, beginning at all unreasonable +and unexpected hours, ending always in the nothing they set out for, +followed always by the frantic espionage of his mystified and bedeviled +guardians--on whom the need fell that some of them must always watch +while their charge reposed from his labors. + +Tiring at last of this pastime, observing also that his playfellows grew +irritable and desperate, Mr. Johnson had sagely concluded that his +entertainment palled. Caching most of his plunder and making a light pack +of the remainder, he departed, yawning, taking trail for Cobre in the +late afternoon of the day preceding his advent in Morning Gate. + +He perched on the saddle, with a leg curled round the horn; he whistled +the vivacious air of Tule, Tule Pan, a gay fanfaronade of roistering +notes, the Mexican words for which are, for considerations of high +morality, best unsung. + +The pack-horses paced down the trail, far ahead, with snatched nibblings +at convenient wayside tufts of grass. + +Jackson Carr, freighter, was still camped at Hospital Springs. He lifted +up his eyes as this careless procession sauntered down the hills; and, +rising, intercepted its coming at the forks of the trail, heading the +pack-horses in toward his camp. He walked with a twisting limp, his blue +eyes were faded and pale, his bearded face was melancholy and sad; but as +he seated himself on a stone and waited for Johnson's coming, some of the +sadness passed and his somber face lit up with unwonted animation. + +"Howdy, Pete! I heard yuh was coming. I waited for yuh." + +Pete leaped from his horse and gripped the freighter's hand. + +"Jackson Carr, by all that's wonderful! Jack, old man! How is it with +you?" + +Jackson Carr hesitated, speaking slowly: + +"Sally's gone, Pete. She died eight years ago. She had a hard life of it, +Pete. Gay and cheerful to the last, though. Always such a brave little +trick..." + +His voice trailed off to silence. It was long before Pete Johnson broke +upon that silence. + +"We'll soon be by with it, Jack. Day before yesterday we was boys +together in Uvalde an' Miss Sally a tomboy with us. To-morrow will be no +worse, as I figure it." He looked hard at the hills. "It can't be all a +silly joke. That would be too stupid! No jolthead made these hills. It's +all right, I reckon.... And the little shaver? He was only a yearlin' +when I saw him last. And I haven't heard a word about you since." + +"Right as rain, Bobby is. Goin' on ten now. Of course 'tain't as if he +had his mother to look after him; but I do the best I can by him. Wish +he had a better show for schoolin', though. I haven't been prosperin' +much--since Sally died. Seems like I sorter lost my grip. But I aim to +put Bobby in school here when it starts up, next fall. I am asking you no +questions about yourself, Pete, because I have done little but ask +questions about you since I first heard you were here, four or five days +ago." + +"By hooky, Jack, I never expected to see you again. Where you been all +these years? And how'd you happen to turn up here?" + +"Never mind me, Pete. Here is too much talk of my affairs and none of +yours. Man, I have news for your ear! Your pardner's in jail." + +"Ya-as? What's he been doin' now?" + +"Highway robbery. He got caught with the goods on. Eight or nine +hundred." + +"The little old skeesicks! Who'd have thought it of him?" said Pete +tolerantly. Then his face clouded over. "He might have let me in on it!" +he complained. "Jack, you lead me to your grub pile and tell me all about +it. Sounds real interestin'. Where's Bob? He asleep yet?" + +"Huh! Asleep?" said Carr with a sniff that expressed fatherly pride in no +small degree. + +"Not him! Lit out o' here at break o' day--him and that devil horse of +his, wrangling the work stock. He's a mighty help to me. I ain't very +spry on my pins since--you know." + +To eke out the words he gave an extra swing to his twisted leg. They came +to a great freight wagon under a tree, with tackle showing that it was a +six-horse outfit. + +"Here we are! 'Light down and unsaddle, Petey, and we'll take off the +packs. Turn your horses loose. Bobby'll look out for them when he comes. +No need to hobble. There! Wash up? Over yonder's the pan. I'll pour your +coffee and one for myself. I've eaten already. Pitch in!" + +Pete equipped himself with tinware and cutlery, doubled one leg under and +sat upon it before the fire. From the ovens and skillets on the embers +Pete heaped his plate with a savory stew, hot sourdough bread, fried +rabbit, and canned corn fried to a delicate golden brown. Pete took a +deep draught of the unsweetened hot black coffee, placed the cup on the +sand beside him, and gathered up knife and fork. + +From the farther side of the fire Carr brought another skillet, +containing jerky, with onions and canned tomatoes. + +"From the recipe of a nobleman in the county," he said. + +"Now, then," said Pete, "tell it to me." + +So Carr told him at length the story of the robbery and Stanley +Mitchell's arrest, aided by a few questions from Pete. + +"And the funny thing is, there's a lot of folks not so well satisfied +yet, for all they found the money and notwithstandin' the young feller +himself didn't make no holler. They say he wasn't that kind. The deputy +sher'f, 'special, says he don't believe but what it was a frame-up to do +him. And Bull Pepper, that found the money hid in the saddle riggin', +says he: 'That money was put there a-purpose to be found; fixed so it +wouldn't be missed.'" + +He looked a question. + +"Ya-as," said Pete. + +Thus encouraged, Carr continued: + +"And Old Mose Taylor, at the Mountain House--Mitchell got his hearin' +before him, you know--he says Mitchell ain't surprised or excited or much +worried, and makes no big kick, just sits quiet, a-studyin', and he's +damned if he believes he ever done it. Oh, yes! Mose told me if I see you +to tell you young Mitchell left some money in the safe for you." + +"Ya-as," said Pete. "Here comes your _caballada_. Likely looking horses, +Jack." + +"A leetle thin," said Carr. + +He took six nose-bags, already filled, and fed his wagon stock. Bobby +pulled the saddle from the Nan-nĆ” pony, tied him to a bush, and gave +him breakfast from his own small _morral_. Then he sidled toward the +fire. + +"Bobby, come over here," said Bobby's father. "This is your stepuncle +Pete." + +Bobby complied. He gave Pete a small grimy hand and looked him over +thoughtfully from tip to tip, opening his blue eyes to their widest for +that purpose, under their long black lashes. + +"You Stan Mitchell's pardner?" + +"I am that." + +"You goin' to break him out o' the pen?" + +"Surest thing you know!" said Pete. + +"That's good!" He relaxed his grip on Pete's hand and addressed himself +to breakfast. "I like Stan," he announced, with his head in the +chuck-box. + + +Pete used the opportunity to exchange a look with Bobby's father. + +Bobby emerged from the chuck-box and resumed the topic of Stanley +Mitchell. + +"He'll make a hand after he's been here a spell--Stan will," he stated +gravely. + +"Oh, you know him, then?" + +"I was with him the evenin' before the big doin's. He didn't steal no +money!" + +"What makes you think so?" + +"Easy! He's got brains, hain't he? I rode with him maybe a mile, but I +could see that. Well! If he'd stole that money, they wouldn't 'a' found +it yet. Them fellows make me tired!" + +Pete made a pretext of thirst and brought a bucket for water from the +spring, crooking a finger at Jackson Carr to follow. Carr found him +seated at the spring, shaking with laughter. + +"Jack, he's all there--your boy! Couldn't any judge size it up better." + +"Frame-up, then?" + +"Sure! That part's all right." + +"I see you wasn't much taken aback." + +"No. We was expectin' something like that and had discounted it. I'm just +as well pleased Stan's in jail just now, and I'm goin' to leave him there +a spell. Safer there. You remember old Hank Bergman?" + +Carr nodded. + +"Well, Hank's the sheriff here--and he'll give us a square deal. Now I'm +goin' back to interview that boy of yours some more. I reckon you're +right proud of that kid, Jack." + +"Yes; I am. Bobby's a pretty good boy most ways. But he swears something +dreadful." + +"Pull a strap off of him," said Pete warmly. "That's a damn fine boy, and +you want to start him right. That's half the battle." + +Pete returned to the fire for a final cup of coffee. + +"Young man," he said, "would you know that brown horse Stan was ridin' +when you met up with him?" + +"Awguan? Sure! I'd know him in hell!" said Bobby. + +"Well, Stan turned that horse loose to rustle for himself, of course. Do +you reckon you could stir round and find him for me--if your dad can +spare you? I want to go to the railroad to-night, and Awguan, he's fresh. +My horses are tired." + +"If you don't want that horse," said Bobby, "don't send me after him." + +"Now, Jack," said Pete after Bobby had departed on the search for Awguan, +"you go away and don't pester me. I want to think." + +To the processes of thought, for the space of four pipes, he gave aid by +hugging his knees, as if he had called them in consultation. Then he +summoned Jackson Carr. + +"How're you fixed for work, Jack?" + +"None. I reckon to get plenty, though, when I get my teams fitted up. +They're jaded from a lumber job." + +"You're hired--for a year, month, and day. And as much longer as you +like. Suit you?" + +"Suits me." + +"You're my foreman, then. Hire your teams the first thing. Make your own +terms. I'll tell you this much--it's a big thing. A mine--a he-mine; +copper. That's partly why Stan is in jail. And if it comes off, you won't +need to worry about the kid's schooling. I aim to give you, extra, five +per cent of my share--and, for men like you and me, five per cent of this +lay is exactly the same as all of it. It's that big. + +"I'm askin' you to obey orders in the dark. If you don't know any details +you won't be mad, and you won't know who to be mad at; so you won't jump +in to save the day if I fail to come through with my end of it on +schedule, and get yourself killed off. That ain't all, either. Your face +always gives you away; if you knew all the very shrewd people I'm +buckin', you'd give 'em the marble eye, and they'd watch you. Not knowin' +'em, you'll treat 'em all alike, and you won't act suspicious. + +"Listen now: You drift out quiet and go down on the Gila, somewhere +between Mohawk Siding and Walton. Know that country? Yes? That's good. +Leave your teams there and you go down to Yuma on the train. I'll +get a bit of money for you in Tucson, and it'll be waitin' for you in Old +Man Brownell's store, in Yuma. You get a minin' outfit, complete, and a +good layout of grub, enough to last six or seven men till it's all gone, +and some beddin', two or three thirty-thirty rifles, any large quantity +of cartridges, and 'most anything else you see. + +"Here's the particular part: Buy two more wagons, three-and-a-half-inch +axles; about twenty barrels; two pack-saddles and kegs for same, for +packing water from some tanks when your water wagons don't do the trick. +Ship all this plunder up to Mohawk. + +"Here's the idea: I'm goin' back East for capital, and I'm comin' back +soon. Me and my friends--not a big bunch, but every man-jack of 'em to be +a regular person--are goin' to start from Tucson, or Douglas, and hug the +Mexican border west across the desert, ridin' light and fast; you're to +go south with water; and Cobre is to be none the wiser. Here, I'll make +you a map." + +He traced the map in the sand. + +"Here's the railroad, and Mohawk; here's your camp on the Gila. Just as +soon as you get back, load up one of your new wagons with water and go +south. There's no road, but there's two ranges that makes a lane, twenty +miles wide, leadin' to the southeast: Lomas Negras, the black mountain +due south of Mohawk, and Cabeza Prieta, a brown-colored range, farther +west. Keep right down the middle, but miss all the sand you can; you'll +be layin' out a road you'll have to travel a heap. Only, of course, you +can straighten it out and better it after you learn the country. It might +be a pious idea for you to ship up a mowing machine and a hayrake from +Yuma, like you was fixin' to cut wild hay. It's a good plan always to +leave something to satisfy curiosity. Or, play you was aimin' to +dry-farm. You shape up your rig to suit yourself--but play up to it." + +"I'll hay it," said Carr. + +"All right--hay it, by all means. Take your first load of water out about +twenty-five miles and leave it--using as little as you can to camp on. +You'll have to have three full sets of chains and whiffletrees for your +six-horse team, of course. You can't bother with dragging a buckboard +along behind to take 'em back with. Go back to the railroad, take a +second load of water, camp the first night out at your first wagon, and +leave the second load of water farther south, twenty-five miles or so. + +"Then go back to the Gila and pack the rest of your plunder in this wagon +of yours, all ready to start the minute you get a telegram from me. Wire +back to me so I'll know when to start. You will have water for your +horses at twenty-five miles and fifty, and enough left to use when you go +back for your next trip. After that we'll have other men to help you. + +"When you leave the last wagon, put on all the water your horses can +draw. You'll strike little or no sand after that and we'll need all the +water we can get. With no bad luck, you come out opposite the south end +of your black mountain the third day. Wait there for us. It's three long +days, horseback, from Tucson; we ought to get to your camp that night. + +"If we don't come, wait till noon the next day. Then saddle up, take your +pack-saddles and kegs, and drag it for the extreme south end of the +mountains on your west, about twenty miles. That ought to leave enough +water at the wagon for us to camp on if we come later. If you wait for +us, your horses will use it all up. + +"When you come to the south end of your Cabeza Prieta Mountain, right +spang on the border, you'll find a caƱon there, coming down from the +north, splitting the range. Turn up that caƱon, and when it gets so rough +you can't go any farther, keep right on; you'll find some rock tanks full +of water, in a box where the sun can't get 'em. That's all. Got that?" + +"I've got it," said Carr. "But Pete, aren't you taking too long a chance? +Why can't I--or both of us--just slip down there quietly and do enough +work on your mine to hold it? They're liable to beat you to it." + +"I've been tryin' to make myself believe that a long time," said Pete +earnestly; "but I am far too intelligent. These people are capable of any +rudeness. And they are strictly on the lookout. I do not count myself +timid, but I don't want to tackle it. That mine ain't worth over six or +eight millions at best." + +"But they won't be watching me," said Carr. + +"Maybe not. I hope not. For one thing, you'll have a good excuse to pull +out from Cobre. You won't get any freighting here. Old Zurich has got it +all grabbed and contracted for. All you could get would be a subcontract, +giving you a chance to do the work and let Zurich take the profit. + +"Now, to come back to this mine: No one knows where it is. It's pretty +safe till I go after it; and I'm pretty safe till I go after it. Once +we get to it, it's going to be a case of armed pickets and Who goes +there?--night and day, till we get legal title. And it's going to take +slews of money and men and horses to get water and supplies to those +miners and warriors. Listen: One or the other of two things--two--is +going to happen. Count 'em off on your fingers. Either no one will find +that mine before me and my friends meet up with you and your water, or +else some one will find it before then. If no one finds it first, we've +lost nothing. That's plain. But if my Cobre friends--the push that +railroaded Stan to jail--if they should find that place while I'm back in +New York, and little Jackson Carr working on it--Good-bye, Jackson Carr! +They'd kill you without a word. That's another thing I'm going back to +New York for besides getting money. There's something behind Stanley's +jail trip besides the copper proposition; and that something is back in +New York. I'm going to see what about it. + +"Just one thing more: If we don't come, and you have to strike out for +the tanks in Cabeza Mountain, you'll notice a mess of low, little, +insignificant, roan-colored, squatty hills spraddled along to the south +of you. You shun them hills, bearing off to your right. There's where our +mine is. And some one might be watching you or following your tracks. +That's all. Now I'm going to sleep. Wake me about an hour by sun." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Peter Johnson sat in the office of the Tucson Jail and smiled kindly +upon Mr. Stanley Mitchell. + +"Well, you got here at last," said Stan. "Gee, but I'm glad to see you! +What kept you so long?" + +"Stanley, I am surprised at you. I am so. You keep on like this and +you're going to have people down on you. Too bad! But I suppose boys will +be boys," said Pete tolerantly. + +"I knew you'd spring something like this," said Stan. "Take your time." + +"I'm afraid it's you that will take time, my boy. Can't you dig up any +evidence to help you?" + +"I don't see how. I went to sleep and didn't hear a thing; didn't wake up +till they arrested me." + +"Oh! You're claiming that you didn't do the robbin' at all? I see-e! +Standing on your previous record and insistin' you're the victim of foul +play? Sympathy dodge?... Hum! You stick to that, my boy," said Pete +benevolently. "Maybe that's as good a show as any. Get a good lawyer. +If you could hire some real fine old gentleman and a nice little old +gray-haired lady to be your parents and weep at the jury, it might help a +heap.... If you'd only had sense enough to have hid that money where it +couldn't have been found, or where it wouldn't have been a give-away on +you, at least! I suppose you was scared. But it sorter reflects back on +me, since you've been running with me lately. Folks will think I should +have taught you better. What made you do it, Stanley?" + +"I suppose you think you're going to get me roiled, you old fool! You've +got another guess, then. You can't get my nanny! But I do think you might +tell me what's been going on. Even a guilty man has his curiosity. Did +you get the money I left for you?" + +Pete's jaw sagged; his eye expressed foggy bewilderment. + +"Money? What money? I thought they got it all when they arrested you?" + +"Oh, don't be a gloomy ass! The money I left with Old Man Taylor; the +money you got down here for preliminary expenses on the mine." + +"Mine?" echoed Pete blankly. "What mine?" + +"Old stuff!" Stanley laughed aloud. "Go to it, old-timer! You can't faze +me. When you get good and ready to ring off, let me know." + +"Well, then," said Pete, "I will. Here we go, fresh. And you may not be +just the best-pleased with my plan at first, son. I'm not going to bail +you out." + +"What the hell!" said Stan. "Why not?" + +"I've thought it all out," said Pete, "and I've talked it over with the +sheriff. He's agreed. You have to meet the action of the Grand Jury, +anyhow; you couldn't leave the county; and you're better off in jail +while I go back to New York to rustle money." + +"Oh--you're going, are you?" + +"To-night. You couldn't leave the county even if you were out on bond. +The sheriff's a square man; he'll treat you right; you'll have a chance +to get shut of that insomnia, and right here's the safest place in Pima +County for you. I want a letter to that cousin of yours in Abingdon." + +"'Tisn't Abingdon--it's Vesper. And I'm not particularly anxious to tell +him that I'm in jail on a felony charge." + +"Don't want you to tell him--or anybody. I suppose you've told your girl +already? Yes? Thought so. Well, don't you tell any one else. You tell +Cousin Oscar I'm your pardner, and all right; and that you've got a mine, +and you'll guarantee the expenses for him and an expert in case they're +not satisfied upon investigation. I'll do the rest. And don't you let +anybody bail you out of jail. You stay here." + +"If I hadn't seen you perform a miracle or two before now, I'd see you +damned first!" said Stan. "But I suppose you know what you're about. It's +more than I do. Make it a quick one, will you? I find myself bored here." + +"I will. Let me outline two of the many possibilities: If I don't bail +you out, I'm doin' you dirt, ain't I? Well, then, if Zurich & Gang think +I'm double-crossin' you they'll make me a proposition to throw in with +them and throw you down on the copper mine. That's my best chance to find +out how to keep you from goin' to the pen, isn't it? And if you don't +tell Vesper that you're in jail--but Vesper finds it out, anyhow--that +gives me a chance to see who it is that lives in Vesper and keeps in +touch with Cobre. And I'll tell you something else: When I come back I'll +bail you out of jail and we'll start from here." + +"For the mine, you mean?" + +"Sure! Start right from the jail door at midnight and ride west. Zurich & +Company won't be expecting that--seein' as how I left you in the lurch, +this-a-way." + +"But my cousin will never be able to stand that ride. It's a hundred and +sixty miles--more too." + +"Your cousin can join us later--or whoever ever comes along with +development money. There'll be about four or five of us--picked men. I'm +goin' this afternoon to see an old friend--Joe Benavides--and have him +make all arrangements and be all ready to start whenever we get back, +without any delay. I won't take the sheriff, because we might have +negotiations to transact that would be highly indecorous in a sheriff. +But he's to share my share, because he put up a lot more money for the +mine to-day. I sent it on to Yuma, where an old friend of mine and the +sheriff's is to buy a six-horse load of supplies and carry 'em down to +join us, startin' when I telegraph him. + +"Got it all worked out. You do as I tell you and you'll wear diamonds on +your stripes. Give me a note for that girl of yours, too." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The hills send down a buttress to the north; against it the Susquehanna +flows swift and straight for a little space, vainly chafing. Just where +the high ridge breaks sharp and steep to the river's edge there is a +grassy level, lulled by the sound of pleasant waters; there sleep the +dead of Abingdon. + +Here is a fair and noble prospect, which in Italy or in California had +been world-famed; a beauty generous and gracious--valley, upland and +hill and curving river. The hills are checkered to squares, cleared +fields and green-black woods; inevitably the mind goes out to those who +wrought here when the forest was unbroken, and so comes back to read on +the headstones the names of the quiet dead: Hill, Barton, Clark, Green, +Camp, Hunt, Catlin, Giles, Sherwood, Tracy, Jewett, Lane, Gibson, Holmes, +Yates, Hopkins, Goodenow, Griswold, Steele. Something stirs at your +hair-roots--these are the names of the English. A few sturdy Dutch +names--Boyce, Steenburg, Van Lear--and a lonely French Mercereau; the +rest are unmixed English. + +Not unnaturally you look next for an Episcopalian Church, finding none in +Abingdon; Abingdon is given over to fiery Dissenters--the Old-World word +comes unbidden into your mouth. But you were not so far wrong; in +prosperous Vesper, to westward, every one who pretends to be any one +attends services at Saint Adalbert's, a church noted for its gracious +and satisfying architecture. In Vesper the name of Henry VIII is revered +and his example followed. + +But the inquiring mind, seeking among the living bearers of these old +names, suffers check and disillusion. There are no traditions. Their +title deeds trace back to Coxe's Manor, Nichols Patent, the Barton Tract, +the Flint Purchase, Boston Ten Townships; but in-dwellers of the land +know nothing of who or why was Coxe, or where stood his Manor House; have +no memory of the Bostonians. + +In Vesper there are genealogists who might tell you such things; old +records that might prove them; old families, enjoying wealth and +distinction without perceptible cause, with others of the ruling caste +who may have some knowledge of these matters. Such grants were not +uncommon in the Duke of York, his Province. In that good duke's day, and +later, following the pleasant fashion set by that Pope who divided his +world equally between Spain and Portugal, valleys and mountains were +tossed to supple courtiers by men named Charles, James, William, or +George, kings by the grace of God; the goodly land, the common wealth and +birth-right of the unborn, was granted in princedom parcels to king's +favorites, king's minions, to favorites of king's minions, for services +often enough unspecified. + +The toilers of Abingdon--of other Abingdons, perhaps--know none of these +things. Winter has pushed them hard, summer been all too brief; life has +been crowded with a feverish instancy of work. There is a vague memory +of the Sullivan Expedition; once a year the early settlers, as a +community enterprise, had brought salt from Syracuse; the forest had +been rafted down the river; the rest is silence. + +Perhaps this good old English stock, familiar for a thousand years with +oppression and gentility, wonted to immemorial fraud, schooled by +generations of cheerful teachers to speak no evil of dignities, to see +everything for the best in the best of possible worlds, found no +injustice in the granting of these broad manors--or, at least, no novelty +worthy of mention to their sons. There is no whisper of ancient wrong; no +hint or rankling of any irrevocable injustice. + +Doubtless some of these land grants were made, at a later day, to +soldiers of the Revolution. But the children of the Revolution maintain a +not unbecoming unreticence as to all things Revolutionary; from their +silence in this regard, as from the name of Manor, we may make safe +inference. Doubtless many of the royalist estates were confiscated at +that time. Doubtless, again, our Government, to encourage settlement, +sold land in such large parcels in early days. Incurious Abingdon cares +for none of these things. Singular Abingdon! And yet are these folk, +indeed, so singular among citizens? So unseeing a people? Consider that, +within the memory of men living, the wisdom of America has made free gift +to the railroads, to encourage their building, of so much land as goes to +the making of New England, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, +Maryland, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois; a notable encouragement! + +History does not remark upon this little transaction, however. In some +piecemeal fashion, a sentence here, a phrase elsewhere, with scores or +hundreds of pages intervening, History does, indeed, make yawning +allusion to some such trivial circumstance; refraining from comment in +the most well-bred manner imaginable. It is only the ill-affected, the +malcontents, who dwell upon such details. Is this not, indeed, a most +beautiful world, and ours the land of opportunity, progress, education? +Let our faces, then, be ever glad and shining. Let us tune ourselves with +the Infinite; let a golden thread run through all our days; no frowns, no +grouches, no scolding--no, no! No ingratitude for all the bounties of +Providence. Let us, then, be up and doing.--Doing, certainly; but why not +think a little too? + +Why is thinking in such disfavor? Why is thinking, about subjects and +things, the one crime never forgiven by respectability? We have given +away our resources, what should have been our common wealth; we have +squandered our land, wasted our forests. "Such trifles are not my +business," interrupts History, rather feverish of manner; "my duty to +record and magnify the affairs of the great."--Allow me, madam; we have +given away our coal, the wealth of the past; our oil, the wealth of +to-day; except we do presently think to some purpose, we shall give away +our stored electricity, the wealth of the future--our water power which +should, which must, remain ours and our children's. "_Socialist_!" +shrieks History. + +The youth of Abingdon speak glibly of Shepherd Kings, Constitution of +Lycurgus, Thermopylae, Consul Duilius, or the Licinian Laws; the more +advanced are even as far down as Elizabeth. For the rich and unmatched +history of their own land, they have but a shallow patter of that; no +guess at its high meaning, no hint of a possible destiny apart from glory +and greed and war, a future and opportunity "too high for hate, too great +for rivalry." The history of America is the story of the pioneer and the +story of the immigrant. The students are taught nothing of the one or +the other--except for the case of certain immigrant pioneers, enskied +and sainted, who never left the hearing of the sea; a sturdy and +stout-hearted folk enough, but something press-agented. + +Outside of school the student hears no mention of living immigrant or +pioneer save in terms of gibe and sneer and taunt. The color and high +romance of his own township is a thing undreamed of, as vague and +shapeless as the foundations of Enoch, the city of Cain. And for his own +farmstead, though for the first time on earth a man made here a home; +though valor blazed the path; though he laid the foundation of that house +in hope and in love set up the gates of it, none knows the name of that +man or of his bolder mate. There are no traditions--and no ballads. + +A seven-mile stretch of the river follows the outlines of a sickle, or, +if you are not familiar with sickles, of a handmade figure five. Abingdon +lies at the sickle point, prosperous Vesper at the end of the handle; +Vesper, the county seat, abode of lawyers and doctors--some bankers, too. +Home also of retired business men, of retired farmers; home of old +families, hereditary county officials, legislators. + +Overarched with maples, the old road parallels the river bend, a mile +away. The broad and fertile bottom land within the loop of this figure +five is divided into three great farms--"gentlemen's estates." The +gentlemen are absentees all. + +A most desirable neighborhood; the only traces of democracy on the river +road are the schoolhouse and the cemetery. Malvern and Brookfield were +owned respectively by two generals, gallant soldiers of the Civil War, +successful lawyers, since, of New York City. Stately, high-columned +Colonial houses, far back from the road; the clustered tenant houses, the +vast barns, long red tobacco sheds--all are eloquent of a time when +lumber was the cheapest factor of living. + +The one description serves for the two farms. These men had been boys +together, their careers the same; they had married sisters. But the red +tobacco sheds of Malvern were only three hundred feet long--this general +had left a leg at Malvern Hill--while the Brookfield sheds stretched full +five hundred feet. At Brookfield, too, were the great racing-stables, +of fabulous acreage; disused now and falling to decay. One hundred and +sixty thoroughbreds had sheltered here of old, with an army of grooms +and trainers. There had been a race-track--an oval mile at first, a +kite-shaped mile in later days. Year by year now sees the stables torn +down and carted away for other uses, but the strong-built paddocks +remain to witness the greatness of days departed. + +Nearest to Vesper, on the smallest of the three farms, stood the largest +of the three houses--The Meadows; better known as the Mitchell House. + +McClintock, a foreigner from Philadelphia, married a Mitchell in '67. A +good family, highly connected, the Mitchells; brilliant, free-handed, +great travelers; something wildish, the younger men--boys will be boys. + +In a silent, undemonstrative manner of his own McClintock gathered the +loose money in and about Vesper; a shrewd bargainer, ungiven to +merrymakings; one who knew how to keep dollars at work. It is worthy of +note that no after hint of ill dealing attached to these years. In his +own bleak way the man dealt justly; not without a prudent liberality as +well. For debtors deserving, industrious, and honest, he observed a +careful and exact kindness, passing by his dues cheerfully, to take +them at a more convenient season. Where death had been, long sickness, +unmerited misfortune--he did not stop there; advancing further sums for a +tiding-over, after careful consideration of needs and opportunities, +coupled with a reasonable expectation of repayment; cheerfully taking any +security at hand, taking the security of character as cheerfully when he +felt himself justified; in good time exacting his dues to the last +penny--still cheerfully. Not heartless, either; in cases of extreme +distress--more than once or twice--McClintock had both written off the +obligation and added to it something for the day's need, in a grim but +not unkindly fashion; always under seal of secrecy. No extortioner, this; +a dry, passionless, pertinacious man. + +McClintock bought the Mitchell House in the seventies--boys still +continuing to be boyish--and there, a decade later, his wife died, +childless. + +McClintock disposed of his takings unobserved, holding Mitchell House +only, and slipped away to New York or elsewhere. The rents of Mitchell +House were absorbed by a shadowy, almost mythical agent, whose name +you always forgot until you hunted up the spidery signature on the +receipts given by the bank for your rent money. + +Except for a curious circumstance connected with Mitchell House, +McClintock had been quite forgotten of Vesper and Abingdon. The great +house was much in demand as a summer residence; those old oak-walled +rooms were spacious and comfortable, if not artistic; the house was +admirably kept up. It was in the most desirable neighborhood; there was +fishing and boating; the situation was "sightly." We borrow the last word +from the hill folk, the presentee landlords; the producers, or, to put +it quite bluntly, the workers. + +As the years slipped by, it crept into common knowledge that not every +one could obtain a lease of Mitchell House. Applicants, Vesperian or +"foreigners," were kept waiting; almost as if the invisible agent were +examining into their eligibility. And it began to be observed that +leaseholders were invariably light, frivolous, pleasure-loving people, +such as kept the big house crowded with youth and folly, to company youth +of its own. Such lessees were like to make agriculture a mockery; the +Mitchell Place, as a farm, became a hissing, and a proverb, and an +astonishment: a circumstance so singularly at variance with remembered +thrift of the reputed owner as to keep green that owner's name. Nor was +that all. As youth became mature and wise, in the sad heartrending +fashion youth has, or flitted to new hearths, in that other heartbreaking +way of youth, it was noted that leases were not to be renewed on any +terms; and the new tenants, in turn, were ever such light and unthrift +folk as the old, always with tall sons and gay daughters--as if the +mythical agent or his ghostly principal had set apart that old house +to mirth and joy and laughter, to youth and love. It was remembered then, +on certain struggling hill farms, that old McClintock had been childless; +and certain hill babies were cuddled the closer for that. + +Then, thirty years later, or forty--some such matter--McClintock slipped +back to Vesper unheralded--very many times a millionaire; incidentally a +hopeless invalid, sentenced for life to a wheeled chair; Vesper's most +successful citizen. + +Silent, uncomplaining, unapproachable, and grim, he kept to his rooms in +the Iroquois, oldest of Vesper's highly modern hotels; or was wheeled +abroad by his one attendant, who was valet, confidant, factotum, and +friend--Cornelius Van Lear, withered, parchment-faced, and brown, +strikingly like Rameses II as to appearance and garrulity. It was to Van +Lear that Vesper owed the known history of those forty years of +McClintock's. Closely questioned, the trusted confidant had once yielded +to cajolery. + +"We've been away," said Van Lear. + +It was remarked that the inexplicable Mitchell House policy remained in +force in the years since McClintock's return; witness the present +incumbent, frivolous Thompson, foreigner from Buffalo--him and his house +parties! It was Mitchell House still, mauger the McClintock millions and +a half-century of possession. Whether this clinging to the old name was +tribute to the free-handed Mitchells or evidence of fine old English +firmness is a matter not yet determined. + +The free-handed Mitchells themselves, as a family, were no more. They had +scattered, married or died, lost their money, gone to work, or otherwise +disappeared. Vesper kept knowledge of but two of them: Lawyer Oscar, +solid, steady, highly respectable, already in the way of becoming Squire +Mitchell, and like to better the Mitchell tradition of prosperity--a warm +man, a getting-on man, not to mention that he was the older nephew and +probable heir to the McClintock millions; and Oscar's cousin, Stanley, +youngest nephew of the millions, who, three years ago, had defied +McClintock to his face. Stan Mitchell had always been wild, even as a +boy, they said; they remembered now. + +It seemed that McClintock had commanded young Stan to break his +engagement to that Selden girl--the schoolma'am at Brookfield, +my dear--one of the hill people. There had been a terrible scene. +Earl Dawson was staying at the Iroquois and his door happened to be +open a little. + +"Then you'll get none of my money!" said the old gentleman. + +"To hell with your money!" Stan said, and slammed the door. + +He was always a dreadful boy, my dear! So violent and headstrong! Always +picking on my poor Johnny at school; Johnny came home once with the most +dreadful bruise over his eye--Stanley's work. + +So young Stan flung away to the West three years ago. The Selden girl +still teaches the Brookfield District; Stan Mitchell writes to her, the +mail carrier says. No-o; not so bad-looking, exactly--in that common sort +of way! + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +"Far be it from me to--to--" + +"Cavil or carp?" + +"Exactly. Thank you. Beautiful line! Quite Kipling. Far from me to cavil +or carp, Tum-tee-tum-tee-didy, Or shift the shuttle from web or warp. And +all for my dark-eyed lydy! Far be it from me, as above. Nevertheless--" + +"Why, then, the exertion?" + +"Duty. Friendship. Francis Charles Boland, you're lazy." + +"Ferdie," said Francis Charles, "you are right. I am." + +"Too lazy to defend yourself against the charge of being lazy?" + +"Not at all. The calm repose; that sort of thing--what?" + +Mr. Boland's face assumed the patient expression of one misjudged. + +"Laziness!" repeated Ferdie sternly. "'Tis a vice that I abhor. Slip me a +smoke." + +Francis Charles fumbled in the cypress humidor at Ferdie's elbow; he +leaned over the table and gently closed Ferdie's finger and thumb upon +a cigarette. + +"Match," sighed Ferdie. + +Boland struck a match; he held the flame to the cigarette's end. Ferdie +puffed. Then he eyed his friend with judicial severity. + +"Abominably lazy! Every opportunity--family, education--brains, perhaps. +Why don't you go to work?" + +"My few and simple wants--" Boland waved his hand airily. "Besides, +who am I that I should crowd to the wall some worthy and industrious +person?--practically taking the bread from the chappie's mouth, you +might say. No, no!" said Mr. Boland with emotion; "I may have my faults, +but--" + +"Why don't you go in for politics?" + +"Ferdinand, little as you may deem it, there are limits." + +"You have no ambition whatever?" + +"By that sin fell the angels--and look at them now!" + +"Why not take a whirl at law?" + +Boland sat up stiffly. "Mr. Sedgwick," he observed with exceeding +bitterness, "you go too far. Take back your ring! Henceforth we meet +as str-r-r-rangers!" + +"Ever think of writing? You do enough reading, Heaven knows." + +Mr. Boland relapsed to a sagging sprawl; he adjusted his finger tips +to touch with delicate nicety. + +"Modesty," he said with mincing primness, "is the brightest jewel in my +crown. Litter and literature are not identical, really, though the +superficial observer might be misled to think so. And yet, in a higher +sense, perhaps, it may almost be said, with careful limitations, that, +considering certain delicate _nuances_ of filtered thought, as it were, +and making meticulous allowance for the personal equation--" + +"Grisly ass! Well, then, what's the matter with the army?" + +"My prudence is such," responded Mr. Boland dreamily--"in fact, my +prudence is so very such, indeed--one may almost say so extremely +such--not to mention the pertinent and trenchant question so well +formulated by the little Peterkin--" + +"Why don't you marry?" + +"Ha!" said Francis Charles. + +"Whachamean--'Ha'?" + +"I mean what the poet meant when he spoke so feelingly of the + +"------eager boys +Who might have tasted girl's love and been stung." + +"Didn't say it. Who?" + +"Did, too! William Vaughn Moody. So I say 'Ha!' in the deepest and +fullest meaning of the word; and I will so defend it with my life." + +"If you were good and married once, you might not be such a fool," said +Sedgwick hopefully. + +"Take any form but this"--Mr. Boland inflated his chest and held himself +oratorically erect--"and my firm nerves shall never tremble! I have +tracked the tufted pocolunas to his lair; I have slain the eight-legged +galliwampus; I have bearded the wallipaloova in his noisome den, and +gazed into the glaring eyeballs of the fierce Numidian liar; and I'll +try everything once--except this. But I have known too many too-charming +girls too well. To love them," said Francis Charles sadly, "was a +business education." + +He lit a cigar, clasped his hands behind his head, tilted his chair +precariously, and turned a blissful gaze to the little rift of sky beyond +the crowding maples. + +Mr. Boland was neither tall nor short; neither broad nor slender; neither +old nor young. He wore a thick mop of brown hair, tinged with chestnut in +the sun. His forehead was broad and high and white and shapely. His eyes +were deep-set and wide apart, very innocent, very large, and very brown, +fringed with long lashes that any girl might envy. There the fine +chiseling ceased. Ensued a nose bold and broad, freckled and inclined to +puggishness; a wide and generous mouth, quirky as to the corners of it; +high cheek bones; and a square, freckled jaw--all these ill-assorted +features poised on a strong and muscular neck. + +Sedgwick, himself small and dark and wiry, regarded Mr. Boland with a +scorning and deprecatory--but with private approval. + +"You're getting on, you know. You're thirty--past. I warn you." + +"Ha!" said Francis Charles again. + +Sedgwick raised his voice appealingly. + +"Hi, Thompson! Here a minute! Shouldn't Francis Charles marry?" + +"Ab-so-lute-ly!" boomed a voice within. + +The two young men, it should be said, sat on the broad porch of Mitchell +House. The booming voice came from the library. + +"Mustn't Francis Charles go to work?" + +In the library a chair overturned with a crash. A startled silence; then +the sound of swift feet. Thompson came through the open French window; a +short man, with a long shrewd face and a frosted poll. Feigned anxiety +sat on his brow; he planted his feet firmly and wide apart, and twinkled +down at his young guests. + +"Pardon me, Mr. Sedgwick--I fear I did not catch your words correctly. +You were saying--?" + +Francis Charles brought his chair to level and spoke with great feeling: + +"As our host, to whom our bright young lives have been entrusted for a +time--standing to us, as you do, almost as a locoed parent--I put it to +you--" + +"Shut up!" roared Ferdie. "Thompson, you see this--this object? You hear +it? Mustn't it go to work?" + +"Ab-so-lutissimusly!" + +"I protest against this outrage," said Francis Charles. "Thompson, you're +beastly sober. I appeal to your better self. I am a philosopher. Sitting +under your hospitable rooftree, I render you a greater service by my +calm and dispassionate insight than I could possibly do by any ill-judged +activity. Undisturbed and undistracted by greed, envy, ambition, or +desire, I see things in their true proportion. A dreamy spectator of the +world's turmoil, I do not enter into the hectic hurly-burly of life; I +merely withhold my approval from cant, shams, prejudice, formulae, +hypocrisy, and lies. Such is the priceless service of the philosopher." + +"Philosopher, my foot!" jeered Ferdie. "You're a brow! A solemn and +sanctimonious brow is bad enough, but a sprightly and godless brow is +positive-itutely the limit!" + +"That's absurd, you know," objected Francis Charles. "No man is really +irreligious. Whether we make broad the phylactery or merely our minds, we +are all alike at heart. The first waking thought is invariably, What of +the day? It is a prayer--unconscious, unspoken, and sincere. We are all +sun worshipers; and when we meet we invoke the sky--a good day to you; a +good night to you. It is a highly significant fact that all conversation +begins with the weather. The weather is the most important fact in any +one day, and, therefore, the most important fact in the sum of our days. +We recognize this truth in our greetings; we propitiate the dim and +nameless gods of storm and sky; we reverence their might, their paths +above our knowing. Nor is this all. A fine day; a bad day--with the +careless phrases we assent to such tremendous and inevitable +implications: the helplessness of humanity, the brotherhood of man, +equality, democracy. For what king or kaiser, against the implacable +wind--" + +Ferdie rose and pawed at his ears with both hands. + +"For the love of the merciful angels! Can the drivel and cut the drool!" + +"Those are very good words, Sedgwick," said Mr. Thompson approvingly. +"The word I had on my tongue was--balderdash. But your thought was +happier. Balderdash is a vague and shapeless term. It conjures up no +definite vision. But drivel and drool--very excellent words." + +Mr. Thompson took a cigar and seated himself, expectant and happy. + +"Boland, what did you come here for, anyhow?" demanded Ferdie +explosively. "Do you play tennis? Do you squire the girls? Do you take +a hand at bridge? Do you fish? Row? Swim? Motor? Golf? Booze? Not you! +Might as well have stayed in New York. Two weeks now you have perched oh +a porch--perched and sat, and nothing more. Dawdle and dream and foozle +over your musty old books. Yah! Highbrow!" + +"Little do you wot; but I do more--ah, far more!--than perching on this +porch." + +"What do you do? Mope and mowl? If so, mowl for us. I never saw anybody +mowl. Or does one hear people when they mowl?" + +"Naturally it wouldn't occur to you--but I think. About things. +Mesopotamia. The spring-time of the world. Ur of the Chaldees. +Melchisedec. Arabia Felix. The Simple Life; and Why Men Leave Home." + +"No go, Boland, old socks!" said Thompson. "Our young friend is right, +you know. You are not practical. You are booky. You are a dreamer. Get +into the game. Get busy! Get into business. Get a wad. Get! Found an +estate. Be somebody!" + +"As for me, I go for a stroll. You give little Frankie a pain in his +feelings! For a crooked tuppence I'd get somebody to wire me to come +to New York at once.--Uttering these intrepid words the brave youth rose +gracefully and, without a glance at his detractors, sauntered +nonchalantly to the gate.--Unless, of course, you meant it for my good?" +He bent his brows inquiringly. + +"We meant it--" said Ferdie, and paused. + +"--for your good," said Thompson. + +"Oh, well, if you meant it for my good!" said Boland graciously. "All +the same, if I ever decide to 'be somebody,' I'm going to be Francis +Charles Boland, and not a dismal imitation of a copy of some celebrated +poseur--I'll tell you those! Speaking as a man of liberal--or +lax--morality, you surprise me. You are godly and cleanly men; yet, when +you saw in me a gem of purest ray serene, did you appeal to my better +nature? Nary! In a wild and topsy-turvy world, did you implore me to +devote my splendid and unwasted energies in the service of Good, with a +capital G? Nix! You appealed to ambition, egotism, and greed.... Fie! A +fie upon each of you!" + +"Don't do that! Have mercy! We appeal to your better nature. We repent." + +"All the same, I am going for my stroll, rejoined the youth, striving to +repress his righteous indignation out of consideration for his humiliated +companions, who now--alas, too late!--saw their conduct in its true +light. For, he continued, with a flashing look from his intelligent eyes, +I desire no pedestal; I am not avaricious. Be mine the short and simple +flannels of the poor." + + * * * * * + +An hour later Francis Charles paused in his strolling, cap in hand, and +turned back with Mary Selden. + +"How fortunate!" he said. + +"Isn't it?" said Miss Selden. "Odd, too, considering that I take this +road home every evening after school is out. And when we reflect that you +chanced this way last Thursday at half-past four--and again on Friday--it +amounts to a coincidence." + +"Direction of the subconscious mind," explained Francis Charles, +unabashed. "Profound meditation--thirst for knowledge. What more natural +than that my heedless foot should stray, instinctively as it were, toward +the--the--" + +"--old oaken schoolhouse that stood in a swamp. It is a shame, of the +burning variety, that a State as wealthy as New York doesn't and won't +provide country schools with playgrounds big enough for anything but +tiddledy-winks!" declared Miss Selden. Her fine firm lip curled. Then she +turned her clear gray eyes upon Mr. Boland. "Excuse me for interrupting +you, please." + +"Don't mention it! People always have to interrupt me when they +want to say anything. And now may I put a question or two? +About--geography--history--that sort of thing?" + +The eyes further considered Mr. Boland. + +"You are not very complimentary to Mr. Thompson's house party, I think," +said Mary in a cool, little, matter-of-fact voice. + +Altogether a cool-headed and practical young lady, this midget +schoolma'am, with her uncompromising directness of speech and her clear +eyes--a merry, mirthful, frank, dainty, altogether delightful small +person. + +Francis Charles stole an appreciative glance at the trim and jaunty +figure beside him and answered evasively: + +"It was like this, you know: Was reading Mark Twain's 'Life on the +Mississippi.' On the first page he observes of that river that it draws +its water supply from twenty-eight States, all the way from Delaware to +Idaho. I don't just see it. Delaware, you know--that's pretty steep!" + +"If it were not for his reputation I should suspect Mr. Clemens of +levity," said Mary. "Could it have been a slip?" + +"No slip. It's repeated. At the end of the second chapter he says this--I +think I have it nearly word for word: 'At the meeting of the waters from +Delaware and from Itasca, and from the mountain ranges close upon the +Pacific--' Now what did he mean by making this very extraordinary +statement twice? Is there a catch about it? Canals, or something?" + +"I think, perhaps," said Mary, "he meant to poke fun at our habit of +reading without attention and of accepting statement as proof." + +"That's it, likely. But maybe there's a joker about canals. Wasn't there +a Baltimore and Ohio Canal? But again, if so, how did water from Delaware +get to Baltimore? Anyhow, that's how it all began--studying about canals. +For, how about this dry canal along here? It runs forty miles that I know +of--I've seen that much of it, driving Thompson's car. It must have cost +a nice bunch of money. Who built it? When did who build it? What did it +cost? Where did it begin? Where did it start to? Was it ever finished? +Was it ever used? What was the name of it? Nobody seems to know." + +"I can't answer one of those questions, Mr. Boland." + +"And you a schoolmistress! Come now! I'll give you one more chance. What +are the principal exports of Abingdon?" + +"That's easy. Let me see: potatoes, milk, eggs, butter, cheese. And hay, +lumber, lath and bark--chickens and--and apples, apple cider--rye, +buckwheat, buckwheat flour, maple sirup; pork and veal and beef; and--and +that's all, I guess." + +"Wrong! I'll mark you fifty per cent. You've omitted the most important +item. Abingdon--and every country town, I suppose--ships off her young +people--to New York; to the factories; a few to the West. That is why +Abingdon is the saddest place I've ever seen. Every farmhouse holds a +tragedy. The young folk-- + +"They are all gone away; + The house is shut and still. + There is nothing more to say." + +Mary Selden stopped; she looked up at her companion thoughtfully. +Seashell colors ebbed from her face and left it almost pale. + +"Thank you for reminding me," she said. "There is another bit of +information I think you should have. You'll probably think me bold, +forward, and the rest of it; I can't help that; you need the knowledge." + +Francis Charles groaned. + +"For my good, of course. Funny how anything that's good for us is always +disagreeable. Well, let's have it!" + +"It may not be of the slightest consequence to you," began Mary, slightly +confused. "And perhaps you know all about it--any old gossip could tell +you. It's a wonder if they haven't; you've been here two weeks." + +Boland made a wry face. + +"I see! Exports?" + +Mary nodded, and her brave eyes drooped a little. + +"Abingdon's finest export--in my opinion, at least--went to Arizona. +And--and he's in trouble, Mr. Boland; else I might not have told you +this. But it seemed so horrid of me--when he's in such dreadful trouble. +So, now you know." + +"Arizona?" said Boland. "Why, there's where--Excuse me; I didn't mean to +pry." + +"Yes, Stanley Mitchell. Only that you stick in your shell, like a turtle, +you'd have heard before now that we were engaged. Are engaged. And you +mustn't say a word. No one knows about the trouble--not even his uncle. +I've trusted you, Mr. Boland." + +"See here, Miss Selden--I'm really not a bad sort. If I can be of any +use--here am I. And I lived in the Southwest four years, too--West +Texas and New Mexico. Best time I ever had! So I wouldn't be absolutely +helpless out there. And I'm my own man--foot-loose. So, if you can use +me--for this thing seems to be serious--" + +"Serious!" said Mary. "Serious! I can't tell you now. I shouldn't have +told you even this much. Go now, Mr. Boland. And if we--if I see where I +can use you--that was your word--I'll use you. But you are to keep away +from me unless I send for you. Suppose Stan heard now what some gossip or +other might very well write to him--that 'Mary Selden walked home every +night with a fascinating Francis Charles Boland'?" + +"Tell him about me, yourself--touching lightly on my fascinations," +advised Boland. "And tell him why you tell him. Plain speaking is always +the best way." + +"It is," said Mary. "I'll do that very thing this night. I think I like +you, Mr. Boland. Thank you--and good-bye!" + +"Good-bye!" said Boland, touching her hand. + +He looked after her as she went. + +"Plucky little devil!" he said. "Level and straight and square. Some +girl!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Mr. Oscar Mitchell, attorney and counselor at law, sauntered down River +Street, with the cheerful and optimistic poise of one who has lunched +well. A well-set-up man, a well-groomed man, as-it-is-done; plainly +worshipful; worthy the highest degree of that most irregular of +adjectives, respectable; comparative, smart; superlative, correct. + +Mr. Mitchell was correct; habited after the true Polonian precept; +invisible, every buckle, snap, clasp, strap, wheel, axle, wedge, pulley, +lever, and every other mechanical device known to science, was in place +and of the best. As to adornment, all in good taste--scarfpin, an +unpretentious pearl in platinum; garnet links, severely plain and quiet; +an unobtrusive watch-chain; one ring, a small emerald; no earrings. + +Mr. Mitchell's face was well shaped, not quite plump or pink, with the +unlined curves, the smooth clear skin, and the rosy glow that comes from +health and virtue, or from good living and massage. Despite fifty years, +or near it, the flax-smooth hair held no glint of gray; his eyes, blue +and big and wide, were sharp and bright, calm, confident, almost +candid--not quite the last, because of a roving trick of clandestine +observation; his mouth, where it might or should have curved--must +once have curved in boyhood--was set and guarded, even in skillful +smilings, by a long censorship of undesirable facts, material or +otherwise to any possible issue. + +Mr. Mitchell's whole bearing was confident and assured; his step, for all +those fifty afore-said years, was light and elastic, even in sauntering; +he took the office stairs with the inimitable sprightly gallop of the +town-bred. + +Man is a quadruped who has learned to use his front legs for other things +than walking. Some hold that he has learned to use his head. But there +are three things man cannot do, and four which he cannot compass: to see, +to think, to judge, and to act--to see the obvious; to think upon the +thing seen; to judge between our own resultant and conflicting thoughts, +with no furtive finger of desire to tip the balance; and to act upon that +judgment without flinching. We fear the final and irretrievable calamity: +we fear to make ourselves conspicuous, we conform to standard, we bear +ourselves meekly in that station whereunto it hath pleased Heaven to call +us; the herd instinct survives four-footedness. For, we note the strange +but not the familiar; our thinking is to right reason what peat is to +coal; the outcry of the living and the dead perverts judgment, closes the +ear to proof; and our wisest fear the scorn of fools. So we walk cramped +and strangely under the tragic tyranny of reiteration: whatever is right; +whatever is repeated often enough is true; and logic is a device for +evading the self-evident. Moreover, Carthage should be destroyed. + +Such sage reflections present themselves automatically, contrasting the +blithesome knee action of prosperous Mr. Mitchell with the stiffened +joints of other men who had climbed those hard stairs on occasion with +shambling step, bent backs and sagging shoulders; with faces lined and +interlined; with eyes dulled and dim, and sunken cheeks; with hands +misshapen, knotted and bent by toil: if image indeed of God, strangely +distorted--or a strange God. + +Consider now, in a world yielding enough and to spare for all, the +endless succession of wise men, from the Contributing Editor of +Proverbs unto this day, who have hymned the praise of diligence and +docility, the scorn of sloth. Yet not one sage of the bountiful bunch +has ever ventured to denounce the twin vices of industry and obedience. +True, there is the story of blind Samson at the mill; perhaps a parable. + +Underfed and overworked for generations, starved from birth, starved +before birth, we drive and harry and crush them, the weakling and his +weaker sons; we exploit them, gull them, poison them, lie to them, filch +from them. We crowd them into our money mills; we deny them youth, we +deny them rest, we deny them opportunity, we deny them hope, or any hope +of hope; and we provide for age--the poorhouse. So that charity is become +of all words the most feared, most hated, most loathed and loathsome; +worse than crime or shame or death. We have left them from the work of +their hands enough, scantly enough, to keep breath within their stunted +bodies. "All the traffic can bear!"--a brazen rule. Of such sage policy +the result can be seen in the wizened and undersized submerged of London; +of nearer than London. Man, by not taking thought, has taken a cubit from +his stature. + +Meantime we prate comfortable blasphemies, scientific or other; natural +selection or the inscrutable decrees of God. Whereas this was manifestly +a Hobson's selection, most unnatural and forced, to choose want of all +that makes life sweet and dear; to choose gaunt babes, with pinched and +livid lips--unlovely, not unloved; and these iniquitous decrees are most +scrutable, are surely of man's devising and not of God's. Or we invent a +fire-new science, known as Eugenics, to treat the disease by new naming +of symptoms: and prattle of the well born, when we mean well fed; or the +degenerate, when we might more truly say the disinherited. + +It is even held by certain poltroons that families have been started +gutterward, of late centuries, when a father has been gloriously slain in +the wars of the useless great. That such a circumstance, however +glorious, may have been rather disadvantageous than otherwise to children +thereby sent out into the world at six or sixteen years, lucky to become +ditch-diggers or tip-takers. That some proportion of them do become +beggars, thieves, paupers, sharpers, other things quite unfit for the ear +of the young person--a disconcerting consideration; such ears cannot be +too carefully guarded. That, though the occupations named are entirely +normal to all well-ordered states, descendants of persons in those +occupations tend to become "subnormal"--so runs the cant of it--something +handicapped by that haphazard bullet of a lifetime since, fired to +advance the glorious cause of--foreign commerce, or the like. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Mitchell occupied five rooms lined with law books and musty with the +smell of leather. These rooms ranged end to end, each with a door that +opened upon a dark hallway; a waiting-room in front, the private office +at the rear, to which no client was ever admitted directly. Depressed by +delay, subdued by an overflow of thick volumes, when he reaches a +suitable dejection he is tip-toed through dismal antechambers of wisdom, +appalled by tall bookstacks, ushered into the leather-chaired office, and +there further crushed by long shelves of dingy tin boxes, each box +crowded with weighty secrets and shelved papers of fabulous moment and +urgency; the least paper of the smallest box more important--the +unfortunate client is clear on that point--than any contemptible need of +his own. Cowed and chastened, he is now ready to pay a fee suitable to +the mind that has absorbed all the wisdom of those many bookshelves; or +meekly to accept as justice any absurdity or monstrosity of the law. + +Mr. Mitchell was greeted by a slim, swarthy, black-eyed, elderly person +of twenty-five or thirty, with a crooked nose and a crooked mind, half +clerk and half familiar spirit--Mr. Joseph Pelman, to wit; who appeared +perpetually on the point of choking himself by suppressed chucklings at +his principal's cleverness and the simplicity of dupes. + +"Well, Joe?" + +"Two to see you, sir," said Joe, his face lit up with sprightly malice. +"On the same lay. That Watkins farm of yours. I got it out of 'em. Ho ho! +I kept 'em in different rooms. I hunted up their records in your record +books. Doomsday Books, I call 'em. Ho ho!" + +Mr. Mitchell selected a cigar, lit it, puffed it, and fixed his eye on +his demon clerk. + +"Now then," he said sharply, "let's have it!" + +The demon pounced on a Brobdingnagian volume upon the desk and worried it +open at a marker. It had been meant for a ledger, that huge volume; the +gray cloth covers bore the legend "N to Z." Ledger it was, of a grim +sort, with sinister entries of forgotten sins, the itemized strength or +weakness of a thousand men. The confidential clerk ran a long, +confidential finger along the spidery copperplate index of the W's: +"Wakelin, Walcott, Walker, Wallace, Walsh, Walters; Earl, John, Peter, +Ray, Rex, Roy--Samuel--page 1124." His nimble hands flew at the pages +like a dog at a woodchuck hole. + +"Here't is--'Walters, Samuel: born '69, son of John Walters, Holland +Hill; religion--politics--um-um--bad habits, none; two years Vesper +Academy; three years Dennison shoe factories; married 1896--one child, b. +1899. Bought Travis Farm 1898, paying half down; paid balance out in five +years; dairy, fifteen cows; forehanded, thrifty. Humph! Good pay, I +guess." + +He cocked his head to one side and eyed his employer, fingering a wisp of +black silk on his upper lip. + +"And the other?" + +The second volume was spread open upon the desk. Clerk Pelman flung +himself upon it with savage fury. + +"Bowen, Chauncey, son William Bowen, born 1872--um--um--married Louise +Hill 92--um--divorced '96; married Laura Wing '96--see Lottie Hall. Ran +hotel at Larren '95 to '97; sheriff's sale '97; worked Bowen Farm '97 to +1912; bought Eagle Hotel, Vesper, after death of William Bowen, 1900. +Traded Eagle Hotel for Griffin Farm, 1912; sold Griffin Farm, 1914; clerk +Simon's hardware store, Emmonsville, Pennsylvania. Heavy drinker, though +seldom actually drunk; suspected of some share in the Powers affair, +or some knowledge, at least; poker fiend. Bank note protested and paid by +endorser 1897, and again in 1902; has since repaid endorsers. See Larren +Hotel, Eagle Hotel." + +"Show him in," said Mitchell. + +"Walters?" The impish clerk cocked his head on one side again and gulped +down a chuckle at his own wit. + +"Bowen, fool! Jennie Page, his mother's sister, died last week and left +him a legacy--twelve hundred dollars. I'll have that out of him, or most +of it, as a first payment." + +The clerk turned, his mouth twisted awry to a malicious grin. + +"Trust you!" he chuckled admiringly, and laid a confidential finger +beside his crooked nose. "Ho ho! This is the third time you've sold the +Watkins Farm; and it won't be the last! Oh, you're a rare one, you are! +Four farms you've got, and the way you got 'em ho! You go Old Benjamin +one better, you do. + +"Who so by the plow would thrive +Himself must neither hold nor drive. + +"A regular hard driver, you are!" + +"Some fine day," answered Mitchell composedly, "you will exhaust my +patience and I shall have to let you be hanged!" + +"No fear!" rejoined the devil clerk, amiably. "I'm too useful. I do your +dirty work for you and leave you always with clean hands to show. Who +stirs up damage suits? Joe. Who digs up the willing witness? J. Pelman. +Who finds skeletons in respectable closets? Joey. Who is the go-between? +Joseph. I'm trusty too, because I dare not be otherwise. And because +I like the work. I like to see you skin 'em, I do. Fools! And because you +give me a fair share of the plunder. Princely, I call it--and wise. You +be advised, Lawyer Mitchell, and always give me my fair share. Hang Joey? +Oh, no! Never do! No fear!" A spasm of chuckles cut him short. + +"Go on, fool, and bring Bowen in. Then tell Walters the farm is already +sold." + +The door closed behind the useful Joseph, and immediately popped open +again in the most startling fashion. + +"No; nor that, either," said Joseph. + +He closed the door softly and leaned against it, cocking his head on one +side with an evil smile. + +His employer glanced at him with uninquiring eyes. + +"You won't ask what, hey? No? But I'll tell you what you were thinking +of: Dropping me off the bridge. Upsetting the boat. The like of that. +Can't have it. I can't afford it. You're too liberal. Why, I wouldn't +crawl under your car to repair it--or go hunting with you--not if it was +ever so!" + +"I really believe," said Mr. Mitchell with surprised eyebrows, "that you +are keeping me waiting!" + +"That is why I never throw out hints about a future partnership," +continued the confidential man, undaunted. "You are such a liberal +paymaster. Lord love you, sir, I don't want any partnership! This suits +me. You furnish the brains and the respectability; I take the risk, and I +get my fair share. Then, if I should ever get caught, you are unsmirched; +you can keep on making money. And you'll keep on giving me my share. Oh, +yes; you will! You've such a good heart, Mr. Oscar! I know you. You +wouldn't want old Joey hanged! Not you! Oh, no!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +A stranger came to Abingdon by the morning train. Because of a +wide-brimmed gray hat, which he wore pushed well back, to testify against +burning suns elsewhere--where such hats must be pulled well down, of +necessity--a few Abingdonians, in passing, gave the foreigner the tribute +of a backward glance. A few only; Abingdon has scant time for curiosity. +Abingdon works hard for a living, like Saturday's child, three hundred +and sixty-five days a year; except every fourth year. + +Aside from the hat, the foreigner might have been, for apparel, a thrifty +farmer on a trip to his market town. He wore a good ready-made suit, a +soft white shirt with a soft collar, and a black tie, shot with red. But +an observer would have seen that this was no care-lined farmer face; +that, though the man himself was small, his feet were disproportionately +and absurdly small; that his toes pointed forward as he walked; and +detraction might have called him bow-legged. This was Mr. Peter Johnson. + +Mr. Johnson took breakfast at the Abingdon Arms. He expressed to the +landlord of that hostelry a civil surprise and gratification at the +volume of Abingdon's business, evinced by a steadily swelling current of +early morning wagons, laden with produce, on their way to the station, +or, by the river road, to the factory towns near by; was assured that he +should come in the potato-hauling season if he thought that was busy; +parried a few polite questions; and asked the way to the Selden Farm. + +He stayed at the Selden Farm that day and that night. Afternoon of the +next day found him in Lawyer Mitchell's waiting-room, at Vesper, +immediate successor of Mr. Chauncey Bowen, then engaged in Lawyer +Mitchell's office on the purchase of the Watkins Farm; and he was +presently ushered into the presence of Mr. Mitchell by the demon clerk. + +Mr. Mitchell greeted him affably. + +"Good-day, sir. What can I do for you to-day?" + +"Mr. Oscar Mitchell, is it?" + +"The same, and happy to serve you." + +"Got a letter for you from your cousin, Stan. My name's Johnson." + +Mitchell extended his hand, gave Pete a grip of warm welcome. + +"I am delighted to see you, Mr. Johnson. Take a chair--this big one is +the most comfortable. And how is Stanley? A good boy; I am very fond of +him. But, to be honest about it, he is a wretched correspondent. I have +not heard from him since Christmas, and then barely a line--the +compliments of the season. What is he doing with himself? Does he +prosper? And why did he not come himself?" + +"As far as making money is concerned, he stands to make more than he'll +ever need, as you'll see when you read his letter," said Pete. "Otherwise +he's only just tol'able. Fact is, he's confined to his room. That's why I +come to do this business for him." + +"Stanley sick? Dear, dear! What is it? Nothing serious, I hope!" + +"Why, no-o--not to say sick, exactly. He just can't seem to get out o' +doors very handy. He's sorter on a diet, you might say." + +"Too bad; too bad! He should have written his friends about it. None of +us knew a word of it. I'll write to him to-night and give him a good +scolding." + +"Aw, don't ye do that!" said Pete, twisting his hat in embarrassment. "I +don't want he should know I told you. He's--he's kind of sensitive about +it. He wouldn't want it mentioned to anybody." + +"It's not his lungs, I hope?" + +"Naw! No thin' like that. I reckon what's ailin' him is mostly stayin' +too long in one place. Nothin' serious. Don't ye worry one mite about +him. Change of scene is what he needs more than anything else--and +horseback ridin'. I'll yank him out of that soon as I get back. And now +suppose you read his letter. It's mighty important to us. I forgot to +tell you me and, Stan, is pardners. And I'm free to say I'm anxious to +see how you take to his proposition." + +"If you will excuse me, then?" + +Mitchell seated himself, opened the letter, and ran over it. It was +brief. Refolding it, the lawyer laid it on the table before him, tapped +it, and considered Mr. Johnson with regarding eyes. When he spoke his +voice was more friendly than ever. + +"Stanley tells me here that you two have found a very rich mine." + +"Mr. Mitchell," said Pete, leaning forward in his eagerness, "I reckon +that mine of ours is just about the richest strike ever found in Arizona! +Of course it ain't rightly a mine--it's only where a mine is goin' to be. +Just a claim. There's nothin' done to it yet. But it's sure goin' to be a +crackajack. There's a whole solid mountain of high-grade copper." + +"Stanley says he wants me to finance it. He offers to refund all expenses +if the mine--if the claim"--Mitchell smiled cordially as he made the +correction--"does not prove all he represents." + +"Well, that ought to make you safe. Stan's got a right smart of property +out there. I don't know how he's fixed back here. Mr. Mitchell, if you +don't look into this, you'll be missin' the chance of your life." + +"But if the claim is so rich, why do you need money?" + +"You don't understand. This copper is in the roughest part of an awful +rough mountain--right on top," said Pete, most untruthfully. "That's why +nobody ain't ever found it before--because it is so rough. It'll cost a +heap of money just to build a wagon road up to it--as much as five or six +thousand dollars, maybe. Stan and me can't handle it alone. We got to +take some one in, and we gave you the first show. And I wish," said Pete +nervously, "that you could see your way to come in with us and go right +back with me, at once. We're scared somebody else might find it and +make a heap of trouble. There's some mighty mean men out there." + +"Have a cigar?" said the lawyer, opening a desk drawer. + +He held a match for his visitor and observed, with satisfaction, that +Pete's hand shook. Plainly here was a simple-minded person who would be +as wax in his skillful hands. + +Mitchell smoked for a little while in thoughtful silence. Then, with his +best straightforward look, he turned and faced Pete across the table. + +"I will be plain with you, Mr. Johnson. This is a most unusual adventure +for me. I am a man who rather prides himself that he makes no investments +that are not conservative. But Stan is my cousin, and he has always been +the soul of honor. His word is good with me. I may even make bold to say +that you, yourself, have impressed me favorably. In short, you may +consider me committed to a thorough investigation of your claim. After +that, we shall see." + +"You'll never regret it," said Pete. "Shake!" + +"I suppose you are not commissioned to make any definite proposal as to +terms, in case the investigation terminates as favorably as you +anticipate? At any rate, this is an early day to speak of final +adjustments." + +"No," said Pete, "I ain't. You'll have to settle that with Stan. Probably +you'll want to sign contracts and things. I don't know nothin' about law. +But there's plenty for all. I'm sure of one thing--you'll be glad to +throw in with us on 'most any terms once you see that copper, and have a +lot of assays made and get your expert's report on it." + +"I hope so, I am sure. Stanley seems very confident. But I fear I shall +have to disappoint you in one particular: I can hardly leave my business +here at loose ends and go back with you at once, as, I gather, is your +desire." + +Pete's face fell. + +"How long will it take you?" + +"Let me consider. I shall have to arrange for other lawyers to appear for +me in cases now pending, which will imply lengthy consultations and +crowded days. It will be very inconvenient and may not have the happiest +results. But I will do the best I can to meet your wishes, and will +stretch a point in your favor, hoping it may be remembered when we come +to discuss final terms with each other. Shall we say a week?" He tapped +his knuckles with the folded letter and added carelessly: "And, of +course, I shall have to pack, and all that. You must advise me as to +suitable clothing for roughing it. How far is your mine from the +railroad?" + +"Oh, not far. About forty mile. Yes, I guess I can wait a week. I stand +the hotel grub pretty well." + +"Where are you staying, Mr. Johnson?" + +"The Algonquin. Pretty nifty." + +"Good house. And how many days is it by rail to--Bless my soul, Mr. +Johnson--here am I, upsetting my staid life, deserting my business on +what may very well prove, after all, but a wild-goose chase! And I do not +know to what place in Arizona we are bound, even as a starting-point and +base of supplies, much less where your mine is! And I don't suppose +there's a map of Arizona in town." + +"Oh, I'll make you a map," said Pete. "Cobre--that's Mexican for +copper--is where we'll make our headquarters. You give me some paper and +I'll make you a map mighty quick." + +Pete made a sketchy but fairly accurate map of Southern Arizona, with the +main lines of railroad and the branches. + +"Here's Silverbell, at the end of this little spur of railroad. Now give +me that other sheet of paper and I'll show you where the mine is, and the +country round Cobre." + +Wetting his pencil, working with slow and painstaking effort, making +slight erasures and corrections with loving care, poor, trustful, +unsuspecting Pete mapped out, with true creative joy, a district that +never was on land or sea, accompanying each stroke of his handiwork +with verbal comments, explaining each original mountain chain or newly +invented valley with a wealth of descriptive detail that would have +amazed MĆ¼nchausen. + +Mitchell laughed in his heart to see how readily the simple-minded +mountaineer became his dupe and tool, and watched, with a covert sneer, +as Pete joyously contrived his own downfall and undoing. + +"I have many questions to ask about your mine--I believe I had almost +said our mine." The lawyer smiled cordially. "To begin with, how about +water and fuel?" + +"Lots of it. A cedar brake, checker-boarded all along the mountain. +There's where it gets the name, Ajedrez Mountain--Chess Mountain; +kind of laid out in squares that way. Good enough for mine timbers, too. +Big spring--big enough so you might almost call it a creek--right close +by. It's almost too good to be true--couldn't be handier if I'd dreamed +it! But," he added with regretful conscientiousness, "the water's pretty +hard, I'm sorry to say. Most generally is, around copper that way. And +it'll have to be pumped uphill to the mine. Too bad the spring couldn't +have been above the mine, so it could have been piped down." + +Prompted by more questions he plunged into a glowing description of +Ajedrez Mountain; the marvelous scope of country to be seen from the +summit; the beauty of its steep and precipitous caƱons; the Indian +pottery; the mysterious deposit of oyster shells, high on the +mountain-side, proving conclusively that Ajedrez Mountain had risen +from the depths of some prehistoric sea; ending with a vivid description +of the obstacles to be surmounted by each of the alternate projects for +the wagon road up to the mine, with estimates of comparative cost. + +At length it drew on to the hour for Mitchell's dinner and Pete's supper, +and they parted with many expressions of elation and good-will. + +From his window in the Algonquin, Pete Johnson watched Mitchell picking +his way across to the Iroquois House, and smiled grimly. + +"There," he confided to his pipe--"there goes a man hotfoot to dig his +own grave with his own tongue! The Selden kid has done told Uncle +McClintock about Stan being in jail. She told him Stan hadn't written to +Cousin Oscar about no jail, and that I wasn't to tell him either. Now +goes Cousin Oscar on a beeline to tell Uncle how dreadful Stanley has +went and disgraced the family; and Uncle will want to know how he heard +of it. 'Why,' says Oscar, 'an old ignoramus from Arizona, named +Johnson--friend of Stanley's--he told me about it. He came up here to +get me to help Stanley out; wanted me to go out and be his lawyer!' + +"And, right there, down goes Cousin Oscar's meat-house! He'll never touch +a penny of Uncle's money. Selden, she says Uncle Mac was all for blowing +him up sky-high; but she made him promise not to, so as not to queer my +game. If I get Oscar Mitchell out to the desert, I'll almost persuade him +to be a Christian.... She's got Old McClintock on the run, Mary Selden +has! + +"Shucks! The minute I heard about the millionaire uncle, I knowed +where Stan's trouble began. I wonder what makes Stan such a fool! He +might 'a' knowed!... This Oscar person is pretty soft.... Mighty nice +kid, little Selden is! Smart too. She's some schemer!... Too smart for +Oscar!... Different complected, and all that; but her ways--she sort of +puts me in mind of Miss Sally." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Mr. Oscar Mitchell was a bachelor, though not precisely lorn. He +maintained an elm-shaded residence on Front Street, presided over by an +ancient housekeeper, of certain and gusty disposition, who had guided his +first toddling steps and grieved with him for childhood's insupportable +wrongs, and whose vinegarish disapprovals were still feared by Mitchell; +it was for her praise or blame that his overt walk and conversation were +austere and godly, his less laudable activities so mole-like. + +After dinner Mr. Mitchell slipped into a smoking jacket with a violent +velvet lining and sat in his den--a den bedecorated after the manner +known to the muddle-minded as artistic, but more aptly described by Sir +Anthony Gloster as "beastly." To this den came now the sprightly clerk, +summoned by telephone. + +"Sit down, Pelman. I sent for you because I desire your opinion and +cooperation upon a matter of the first importance," said the lawyer, +using his most gracious manner. + +Mr. Joseph Pelman, pricking up his ears at the smooth conciliation of eye +and voice, warily circled the room, holding Mitchell's eyes as he went, +selected a corner chair for obvious strategic reasons, pushed it against +the wall, tapped that wall apprehensively with a backward-reaching hand, +seated himself stiffly upon the extreme edge of the chair, and faced his +principal, bolt upright and bristling with deliberate insolence. + +"If it is murder I want a third," he remarked. + +The lawyer gloomed upon this frowardness. + +"That is a poor way to greet an opportunity to make your fortune once and +for all," he said. "I have something on hand now, which, if we can swing +it--" + +"One-third," said the clerk inflexibly. + +Mitchell controlled himself with a visible effort. He swallowed hard and +began again: + +"If we can carry out my plan successfully--and it seems to be safe, and +certain, and almost free from risk--there will be no necessity hereafter +for any of us to engage in any crooked dealings whatever. Indeed, to take +up cleanly ways would be the part of wisdom. Or, young as you are, you +will be able to retire, if you prefer, sure of every gratification that +money can buy." + +"Necessity doesn't make me a crook. I'm crooked by nature. I like +crookedness," said Pelman. "That's why I'm with you." + +"Now, Joey, don't talk--" + +"Don't you 'Joey' me!" exploded the demon clerk. "It was 'fool' this +afternoon. I'm Pelman when there's any nerve needed for your schemes; but +when you smile at me and call me Joey, what I say is--one-third!" + +"You devil! I ought to wring your neck!" + +"Try it! I'll stab your black heart with a corkscrew! I've studied it all +out, and I've carried a corkscrew on purpose ever since I've known you. +Thirty-three and one-third per cent. Three-ninths. Proceed!" + +Mitchell paced the floor for a few furious seconds before he began again. + +"You remember Mayer Zurich, whom we helped through that fake bankruptcy +at Syracuse?" + +"Three-ninths?" + +"Yes, damn you!" + +Joey settled back in his chair, crossed his knees comfortably, screwed +his face to round-eyed innocence, and gave a dainty caress to the thin +silky line of black on his upper lip. + +"You may go on, Oscar," he drawled patronizingly. + +After another angry turn, Mitchell resumed with forced composure: + +"Zurich is now a fixture in Cobre, Arizona, where my Cousin Stanley +lives. I had a letter from him a week ago and he tells me--this is in +strict confidence, mind you--that poor Stanley is in jail." + +Joey interrupted him by a gentle waving of a deprecatory hand. + +"Save your breath, Oscar dear, and pass on to the main proposition. Now +that we are partners, in manner of speaking, since your generous +concession of a few minutes past--about the thirds--I must be very +considerate of you." + +As if to mark the new dignity, the junior partner dropped the crude and +boisterous phrases that had hitherto marked his converse. Mitchell +recognized the subtle significance of this change by an angry gesture. + +"Since our interests are now one," continued the new member suavely, +"propriety seems to demand that I should tell you the Mitchell-Zurich +affair has no secrets from me. If young Stanley is in prison, it is +because you put him there!" + +"What!" + +"Yes," said Joey with a complacent stroke at his upper lip. "I have +duplicate keys to all your dispatch boxes and filing cabinets." + +"You fiend!" + +"I wished to protect you against any temptation toward ingratitude," +explained Joey. "I have been, on the whole, much entertained by your +correspondence. There was much chaff--that was to be expected. But there +was also some precious grain which I have garnered with care. For +instance, I have copies of all Zurich's letters to you. You have been +endeavoring to ruin your cousin, fearing that McClintock might relent and +remember Stanley in his will; you have succeeded at last. Whatever new +villainy you have to propose, it now should be easier to name it, since +you are relieved from the necessity of beating round the bush.--You were +saying--?" + +"Stanley has found a mine, a copper deposit of fabulous richness; so he +writes, and so Zurich assures me. Zurich has had a sample of it assayed; +he does not know where the deposit is located, but hopes to find it +before Stanley or Stanley's partner can get secure possession. Zurich +wants me to put up cash to finance the search and the early development." + +"Well? Where do I come in? I am no miner, and I have no cash. I am eating +husks." + +"You listen. Singularly enough, Stanley has sent his partner up here to +make me exactly the same proposition." + +"That was Stan's partner to-day--that old gray goat?" + +"Exactly. So, you see, I have two chances." + +"I need not ask you," said Joey with a sage nod, "whether you intend to +throw in your lot with the thieves or with the honest men. You will flock +with the thieves." + +"I will," said Mitchell grimly. "My cousin had quite supplanted me with +my so-called Uncle McClintock. The old dotard would have left him every +cent, except for that calf-love affair of Stan's with the Selden girl. +Some reflections on the girl's character had come to McClintock's ears." + +"Mitchell," said Joey, "before God, you make me sick!" + +"What's the matter with you now, fool?" demanded Mitchell. "I never so +much as mentioned the girl's name in McClintock's hearing." + +"Trust you!" said the clerk. "You're a slimy toad, you are. You're +nauseatin'. Pah! Ptth!" + +"McClintock repeated these rumors to Stan," said the lawyer gloatingly. +"Stan called him a liar. My uncle never liked me. It is very doubtful if +he leaves me more than a moderate bequest, even now. But I have at least +made sure that he leaves nothing to Stan. And now I shall strip his mine +from him and leave him to rot in the penitentiary. For I always hated +him, quite aside from any thought of my uncle's estate. I hate him for +what he is. I always wanted to trample his girl-face in the mire." + +"Leave your chicken-curses and come to the point," urged the junior +member of the firm impatiently. "It is no news to me that your brain is +diseased and your heart rotten. What is it you want me to do? Calm +yourself, you white-livered maniac. I gather that I am in some way to +meddle with this mine. If I but had your head for my very own along with +the sand in my craw, I'd tell you to go to hell. Having only brains +enough to know what I am, I'm cursed by having to depend upon you. Name +your corpse! Come through!" + +"You shut your foul mouth and listen. You throw me off." + +"Give me a cigar, then. Thanks. I await your pleasure." + +"Zurich warned me that Stanley's partner, this old man Johnson, had gone +East and would in all probability come here to bring proposals from Stan. +He came yesterday, bearing a letter of introduction from Stan. The fear +that I would not close with his proposition had the poor old gentleman on +needles and pins. But I fell in with his offer. I won his confidence and +within the hour he had turned himself wrong side out. He made me a map, +which shows me how to find the mine. He thinks I am to go to Arizona with +him in a week--poor idiot! Instead, you are to get him into jail at +once." + +"How?" + +"The simplest and most direct way possible. You have that Poole tribe +under your thumb, have you not?" + +"Bootlegging, chicken-stealing, sneak-thieving, arson, and perjury. And +they are ripe for any deviltry, without compulsion. All I need to do is +to show them a piece of money and give instructions." + +"Get the two biggest ones, then--Amos and Seth. Have them pick a fight +with the man Johnson and swear him into jail. They needn't hurt him much +and they needn't bother about provocation. All they need to do is to +contrive to get him in some quiet spot, beat him up decently, and swear +that Johnson started the row without warning; that they never saw him +before, and that they think he was drunk. Manage so that Johnson sees +the inside of the jail by to-morrow at luncheon-time, or just after, at +worst; then you and I will take the afternoon train for Arizona--with my +map. I have just returned from informing my beloved uncle of Stanley's +ignominious situation, and I told him I could go to the rescue at once, +for the sake of the family honor. I thought the old fool would throw +a fit, he was so enraged. So, good-bye to Nephew Stanley!" + +"Look here, Mr. Oscar; that's no good, you know," remonstrated Pelman. +"What's the good of throwing Johnson into jail for five or ten days--or +perhaps only a fine? He may even have letters from Stan to some one else +in Vesper, some one influential; he may beat the case. He'll be out there +in no time, making you trouble. That old goat looks as if he might butt." + +Mitchell smiled. + +"That's only half my plan. The jailer is also one of your handy men. I'll +furnish you plenty of money for the Pooles and for the jailer--enough to +make it well worth their while. Contrive a faked rescue of Johnson. The +jailer can be found trussed up and gagged, to-morrow about midnight. Best +have only one of the Pooles in it; take Amos. He shall wear a mask and be +the bold rescuer; he shall open the cell door, whisper 'Mitchell' to +Johnson, and help him escape. Once out, without taking off his mask, Amos +can hide Johnson somewhere. I leave you to perfect these details. Then, +after discarding his mask, Poole can give the alarm. It is immaterial +whether he rouses the undersheriff or finds a policeman; but he is to +give information that he has just seen Johnson at liberty, skulking near +such-and-such a place. Such information, from a man so recently the +victim of a wanton assault at Johnson's hands, will seem a natural act." + +"Mr. Mitchell, you're a wonder!" declared Joey in a fine heat of +admiration. As the lawyer unfolded his plan the partner-clerk, as a +devotee of cunning, found himself convicted of comparative unworth; with +every sentence he deported himself less like Pelman the partner, shrank +more and more to Joey the devil clerk. "The first part of your programme +sounded like amateur stuff; but the second number is a scream. Any +mistreated guy would fall for that. I would, myself. He'll be up against +it for jail-breaking, conspiracy, assaulting an officer, using deadly +weapons--and the best is, he will actually be guilty and have no kick +coming! Look what a head that is of yours! Even if he should escape +rearrest here, it will be a case for extradition. If he goes back to +Arizona, he will be nabbed; our worthy sheriff will be furious at the +insult to his authority and will make every effort to gather Mr. Johnson +in. Either way you have Johnson off your shoulders." + +"Stanley is off my shoulders, too, and good for a nice long term. And I +have full directions for reaching Stanley's mine. You and I, in that wild +Arizona country, would not know our little way about; we will be wholly +dependent upon Zurich; and, therefore, we must share our map with him. +But, on the whole, I think I have managed rather well than otherwise. +It may be, after this bonanza is safely in our hands, that we may be able +to discover some ultimate wizardry of finance which shall deal with +Zurich's case. We shall see." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Mr. Francis Charles Boland, propped up on one elbow, sprawled upon a rug +spread upon the grass under a giant willow tree at Mitchell House, deep +in the Chronicles of Sir John Froissart. Mr. Ferdinand Sedgwick tip-toed +unheard across the velvet sward. He prodded Frances Charles with his toe. + +"Ouch!" said Francis Charles. + +"You'll catch your death of cold. Get up! Your company is desired." + +"Go 'way!" + +"Miss Dexter wants you." + +"Don't, either. She was coiled in the hammock ten minutes ago. Wearing a +criminal nĆ©gligĆ©. Picturesque, but not posing. She slept; I heard her +snore." + +"She's awake now and wants you to make a fourth at bridge; you two +against Elsie and me." + +"Botheration! Tell her you couldn't find me." + +"I would hush the voice of conscience and do your bidding gladly, +old thing, if it lay within the sphere of practical politics. But, +unfortunately, she saw you." + +"Tell her to go to the devil!" + +Ferdie considered this proposition and rejected it with regret. + +"She wouldn't do it. But you go on with your reading. I'll tell her +you're disgruntled. She'll understand. This will make the fourth day that +you haven't taken your accustomed stroll by the schoolhouse. We're all +interested, Frankie." + +"You banshee!" Francis withdrew the finger that had been keeping his +place in the book. "I suppose I'll have to go back with you." He sat up, +rather red as to his face. + +"I bet she turned you down hard, old boy," murmured Mr. Sedgwick +sympathetically. "My own life has been very sad. It has been blighted +forever, several times. Is she pretty? I haven't seen her, myself, and +the reports of the men-folks and the young ladies don't tally. Funny +thing, but scientific observation shows that when a girl says another +girl is fine-looking--Hully Gee! And _vice versa_. Eh? What say?" + +"Didn't say anything. You probably overheard me thinking. If so, I beg +your pardon." + +"I saw a fine old Western gentleman drive by here with old man Selden +yesterday--looked like a Westerner, anyhow; big sombrero, leather face, +and all that. I hope," said Ferdie anxiously, "that it was not this +venerable gentleman who put you on the blink. He was a fine old relic; +but he looked rather patriarchal for the rĆ“le of Lochinvar. Unless, of +course, he has the money." + +"Yes, he's a Western man, all right. I met them on the Vesper Bridge," +replied Boland absently, ignoring the banter. He got to his feet and +spoke with dreamy animation. "Ferdie, that chap made me feel homesick +with just one look at him. Best time I ever had was with that sort. +Younger men I was running with, of course. Fine chaps; splendidly +educated and perfect gentlemen when sober--I quote from an uncredited +quotation from a copy of an imitation of a celebrated plagiarist. Would +go back there and stay and stay, only for the lady mother. She's used to +the city.... By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept." + +"Hi!" said Ferdie. "Party yellin' at you from the road. Come out of your +trance." + +Francis Charles looked up. A farmer had stopped his team by the front +gate. + +"Mr. Boland!" he trumpeted through his hands. + +Boland answered the hail and started for the gate, Ferdie following; the +agriculturist flourished a letter, dropped it in the R.F.D. box, and +drove on. + +"Oh, la, la! The thick plottens!" observed Ferdie. + +Francis Charles tore open the letter, read it hastily, and turned with +sparkling eyes to his friend. His friend, for his part, sighed +profoundly. + +"Oh Francis, Francis!" he chided. + +"Here, you howling idiot; read it!" said Francis. + +The idiot took the letter and read: + +DEAR MR. BOLAND: I need your help. Mr. Johnson, a friend of +Stanley's--his best friend--is up here from Arizona upon business +of the utmost importance, both to himself and Stanley. + +I have only this moment had word that Mr. Johnson is in the most serious +trouble. To be plain, he is in Vesper Jail. There has been foul play, +part and parcel of a conspiracy directed against Stanley. Please come +at once. I claim your promise. + +Mary Selden + +Ferdie handed it back. + +"My friend's friend is my friend? And so on, _ad infinitum_, like fleas +with little fleas to bite 'em--that sort of thing--what? Does that let me +in? I seem to qualify in a small-flealike way." + +"You bet you do, old chap! That's the spirit! Do you rush up and present +my profound apologies to the ladies--important business matter. I'll be +getting out the buzz wagon. You shall see Mary Selden. You shall also see +how right well and featly our no-bĆ©l and intrepid young hero bore +himself, just a-pitchin' and a-rarin', when inclination jibed with +jooty!" + +Two minutes later they took the curve by the big gate on two wheels. As +they straightened into the river road, Mr. Sedgwick spread one hand over +his heart, rolled his eyes heavenward and observed with fine dramatic +effect: + +"'I claim your pr-r-r-r-omise'!" + +Mr. Johnson sat in a cell of Vesper Jail, charged with assault and +battery in the _n_th degree; drunk and disorderly understood, but +that charge unpreferred as yet. It is no part of legal method to bring +one accused of intoxication before the magistrate at once, so that the +judicial mind may see for itself. By this capital arrangement, the justly +intoxicated may be acquitted for lack of convincing evidence, after they +have had time to sober up; while the unjustly accused, who should go free +on sight, are at the mercy of such evidence as the unjust accuser sees +fit to bring or send. + +The Messrs. Poole had executed their commission upon Vesper Bridge, +pouncing upon Mr. Johnson as he passed between them, all unsuspecting. +They might well have failed in their errand, however, had it not been +that Mr. Johnson was, in a manner of speaking, in dishabille, having left +his gun at the hotel. Even so, he improvised several new lines and some +effective stage business before he was overpowered by numbers and weight. + +The brothers Poole were regarded with much disfavor by Undersheriff +Barton, who made the arrest; but their appearance bore out their story. +It was plain that some one had battered them. + +Mr. Johnson quite won the undersheriff's esteem by his seemly bearing +after the arrest. He accepted the situation with extreme composure, +exhibiting small rancor toward his accusers, refraining from +counter-comment to their heated descriptive analysis of himself; he +troubled himself to make no denials. + +"I'll tell my yarn to the judge," he said, and walked to jail with his +captors in friendliest fashion. + +These circumstances, coupled with the deputy's experienced dislike for +the complaining witnesses and a well-grounded unofficial joy at their +battered state, won favor for the prisoner. The second floor of the jail +was crowded with a noisy and noisome crew. Johnson was taken to the third +floor, untenanted save for himself, and ushered into a quiet and pleasant +corner cell, whence he might solace himself by a view of the street and +the courthouse park. Further, the deputy ministered to Mr. Johnson's +hurts with water and court-plaster, and a beefsteak applied to a bruised +and swollen eye. He volunteered his good offices as a witness in the moot +matter of intoxication and in all ways gave him treatment befitting an +honored guest. + +"Now, what else?" he said. "You can't get a hearing until to-morrow; the +justice of the peace is out of town. Do you know anybody here? Can you +give bail?" + +"Ya-as, I reckon so. But I won't worry about that till to-morrow. Night +in jail don't hurt any one." + +"If I can do anything for you, don't hesitate to ask." + +"Thank you kindly, I'll take you up on that. Just let me think up a +little." + +The upshot of his considerations was that the jailer carried to a +tailor's shop Johnson's coat and vest, sadly mishandled during the brief +affray on the bridge; the deputy dispatched a messenger to the Selden +Farm with a note for Miss Mary Selden, and also made diligent inquiry as +to Mr. Oscar Mitchell, reporting that Mr. Mitchell had taken the +westbound flyer at four o'clock, together with Mr. Pelman, his clerk; +both taking tickets to El Paso. + +Later, a complaisant jailer brought to Pete a goodly supper from the +Algonquin, clean bedding, cigars, magazines, and a lamp--the last item +contrary to rule. He chatted with his prisoner during supper, cleared +away the dishes, locked the cell door, with a cheerful wish for good +night, and left Pete with his reflections. + +Pete had hardly got to sleep when he was wakened by a queer, clinking +noise. He sat up in the bed and listened. + +The sound continued. It seemed to come from the window, from which the +sash had been removed because of July heat. Pete went to investigate. He +found, black and startling against the starlight beyond, a small rubber +balloon, such as children love, bobbing up and down across the window; +tied to it was a delicate silk fishline, which furnished the motive +power. As this was pulled in or paid out the balloon scraped by the +window, and a pocket-size cigar clipper, tied beneath at the end of a +six-inch string, tinkled and scratched on the iron bars. Pete lit his +lamp; the little balloon at once became stationary. + +"This," said Pete, grinning hugely, "is the doings of that Selden kid. +She is certainly one fine small person!" + +Pete turned the lamp low and placed it on the floor at his feet, so that +it should not unduly shape him against the window; he pulled gently on +the line. It gave; a guarded whistle came softly from the dark shadow of +the jail. Pete detached the captive balloon, with a blessing, and pulled +in the fishline. Knotted to it was a stout cord, and in the knot was a +small piece of paper, rolled cigarette fashion. Pete untied the knot; he +dropped his coil of fishline out of the window, first securing the +stronger cord by a turn round his hand lest he should inadvertently drop +that as well; he held the paper to the light, and read the message: + +Waiting for you, with car, two blocks north. Destroy MS. + +Pete pulled up the cord, hand over hand, and was presently rewarded by a +small hacksaw, eminently suited for cutting bars; he drew in the slack +again and this time came to the end of the cord, to which was fastened a +strong rope. He drew this up noiselessly and laid the coils on the floor. +Then he penciled a note, in turn: + +Clear out. Will join you later. + +He tied this missive on his cord, together with the cigar clipper, and +lowered them from the window. There was a signaling tug at the cord; Pete +dropped it. + +Pete dressed himself; he placed a chair under the window; then he +extinguished the lamp, took the saw, and prepared to saw out the bars. +But it was destined to be otherwise. Even as he raised the saw, he +stiffened in his tracks, listening; his blood tingled to his finger tips. +He heard a footstep on the stair, faint, guarded, but unmistakable. It +came on, slowly, stealthily. + +Pete thrust saw and rope under his mattress and flung himself upon it, +all dressed as he was, face to the wall, with one careless arm under his +head, just as if he had dropped asleep unawares. + +A few seconds later came a little click, startling to tense nerves, at +the cell door; a slender shaft of light lanced the darkness, spreading to +a mellow cone of radiance. It searched and probed; it rested upon the +silent figure on the bed. + +"Sh-h-h!" said a sibilant whisper. + +Peter muttered, rolled over uneasily, opened his eyes and leaped up, +springing aside from that golden circle of light in well-simulated +alarm. + +"Hush-h!" said the whisper. "I'm going to let you out. Be quiet!" + +Keys jingled softly in the dark; the lock turned gently and the door +opened. In that brief flash of time Pete Johnson noted that there had +been no hesitation about which key to use. His thought flew to the kindly +undersheriff. His hand swept swiftly over the table; a match crackled. + +"Smoke?" said Pete, extending the box with graceful courtesy. + +"Fool!" snarled the visitor, and struck out the match. + +But Pete had seen. The undersheriff was a man of medium stature; this +large masked person was about the size of the larger of his lately made +acquaintances, the brothers Poole. + +"Come on!" whispered the rescuer huskily. "Mitchell sent me. He'll take +you away in his car." + +"Wait a minute! We'd just as well take these cigars," answered Pete in +the same slinking tone. "Here; take a handful. How'd you get in?" + +"Held the jailer up with a gun. Got him tied and gagged. Shut up, will +you? You can talk when you get safe out of this." He tip-toed away, Pete +following. The quivering searchlight crept along the hall; it picked out +the stairs. Halfway down, Pete touched his guide on the shoulder. + +"Wait!" Standing on the higher stair, he whispered in the larger man's +ear: "You got all the keys?" + +"Yes." + +"Give 'em to me. I'll let all the prisoners go. If there's an alarm, +it'll make our chances for a get-away just so much better." + +The Samaritan hesitated. + +"Aw, I'd like to, all right! But I guess we'd better not." + +He started on; the stair creaked horribly. In the hall below Pete +overtook him and halted him again. + +"Aw, come on--be a sport!" he urged. "Just open this one cell, here, and +give that lad the keys. He can do the rest while we beat it. If you was +in there, wouldn't you want to get out?" + +This appeal had its effect on the Samaritan. He unlocked the cell door, +after a cautious trying of half a dozen keys. Apparently his scruples +returned again; he stood irresolute in the cell doorway, turning the +searchlight on its yet unawakened occupant. + +Peter swooped down from behind. His hands gripped the rescuer's ankles; +he heaved swiftly, at the same time lunging forward with head and +shoulders, with all the force of his small, seasoned body behind the +effort. The Samaritan toppled over, sprawling on his face within the +cell. With a heartfelt shriek the legal occupant leaped from his bunk and +landed on the intruder's shoulder blades. Peter slammed shut the door; +the spring lock clicked. + +The searchlight rolled, luminous, along the floor; its glowworm light +showed Poole's unmasked and twisted face. Pete snatched the bunch of keys +and raced up the stairs, bending low to avoid a possible bullet; followed +by disapproving words. + +At the stairhead, beyond the range of a bullet's flight, Peter paused. +Pandemonium reigned below. The roused prisoners shouted rage, alarm, or +joy, and whistled shrilly through their fingers, wild with excitement; +and from the violated cell arose a prodigious crash of thudding fists, +the smashing of a splintered chair, the sickening impact of locked bodies +falling against the stone walls or upon the complaining bunk, accompanied +by verbiage, and also by rattling of iron doors, hoots, cheers and +catcalls from the other cells. Authority made no sign. + +Peter crouched in the darkness above, smiling happily. From the duration +of the conflict the combatants seemed to be equally matched. But the roar +of battle grew presently feebler; curiosity stilled the audience, at +least in part; it became evident, by language and the sound of tortured +and whistling breath, that Poole was choking his opponent into submission +and offering profuse apologies for his disturbance of privacy. Mingled +with this explanation were derogatory opinions of some one, delivered +with extraordinary bitterness. From the context it would seem that those +remarks were meant to apply to Peter Johnson. Listening intently, Peter +seemed to hear from the first floor a feeble drumming, as of one beating +the floor with bound feet. Then the tumult broke out afresh. + +Peter went back to his cell and lit his lamp. Leaving the door wide open, +he coiled the rope neatly and placed it upon his table, laid the hacksaw +beside it, undressed himself, blew out the light; and so lay down to +pleasant dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Mr. Johnson was rudely wakened from his slumbers by a violent hand upon +his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he smiled up into the scowling face of +Undersheriff Barton. + +"Good-morning, sheriff," he said, and sat up, yawning. + +The sun was shining brightly. Mr. Johnson reached for his trousers and +yawned again. + +The scandalized sheriff was unable to reply. He had been summoned by +passers-by, who, hearing the turbulent clamor for breakfast made by the +neglected prisoners, had hastened to give the alarm. He had found the +jailer tightly bound, almost choked by his gag, suffering so cruelly from +cramps that he could not get up when released, and barely able to utter +the word "Johnson." + +Acting on that hint, Barton had rushed up-stairs, ignoring the shouts of +his mutinous prisoners as he went through the second-floor corridor, to +find on the third floor an opened cell, with a bunch of keys hanging in +the door, the rope and saw upon the table, Mr. Johnson's neatly folded +clothing on the chair, and Mr. Johnson peacefully asleep. The sheriff +pointed to the rope and saw, and choked, spluttering inarticulate noises. +Mr. Johnson suspended dressing operations and patted him on the back. + +"There, there!" he crooned benevolently. "Take it easy. What's the +trouble? I hate to see you all worked up like this, for you was sure +mighty white to me yesterday. Nicest jail I ever was in. But there was a +thundering racket downstairs last night. I ain't complainin' none--I +wouldn't be that ungrateful, after all you done for me. But I didn't get +a good night's rest. Wish you'd put me in another cell to-night. There +was folks droppin' in here at all hours of the night, pesterin' me. +I didn't sleep good at all." + +"Dropping in? What in hell do you mean?" gurgled the sheriff, still +pointing to rope and saw. + +"Why, sheriff, what's the matter? Aren't you a little mite petulant this +A.M.? What have I done that you should be so short to me?" + +"That's what I want to know. What have you been doing here?" + +"I ain't been doing nothin', I tell you--except stayin' here, where I +belong," said Pete virtuously. + +His eye followed the sheriff's pointing finger, and rested, without a +qualm, on the evidence. The sheriff laid a trembling hand on the coiled +rope. "How'd you get this in, damn you?" + +"That rope? Oh, a fellow shoved it through the bars. Wanted me to saw my +way out and go with him, I reckon. I didn't want to argue with him, so I +just took it and didn't let on I wasn't comin'. Wasn't that right? Why, +I thought you'd be pleased! I couldn't have any way of knowin' that you'd +take it like this." + +"Shoved it in through a third-story window?" + +Pete's ingenuous face took on an injured look. "I reckon maybe he stood +on his tip-toes," he admitted. + +"Who was it?" + +"I don't know," said Pete truthfully. "He didn't speak and I didn't see +him. Maybe he didn't want me to break jail; but I thought, seein' the saw +and all, he had some such idea in mind." + +"Did he bring the keys, too?" + +"Oh, no--that was another man entirely. He came a little later. And he +sure wanted me to quit jail; because he said so. But I wouldn't go, +sheriff. I thought you wouldn't like it. Say, you ought to sit down, +feller. You're going to have apoplexy one of these days, sure as you're a +foot high!" + +"You come downstairs with me," said the angry Barton. "I'll get at the +bottom of this or I'll have your heart out of you." + +"All right, sheriff. Just you wait till I get dressed." Peter laced +his shoes, put on his hat, and laid tie, coat, and vest negligently +across the hollow of his arm. "I can't do my tie good unless I got a +looking-glass," he explained, and paused to light a cigar. "Have one, +sheriff," he said with hospitable urgency. + +"Get out of here!" shouted the enraged officer. + +Pete tripped light-footed down the stairs. At the stairfoot the sheriff +paused. In the cell directly opposite were two bruised and tattered +inmates where there should have been but one, and that one undismantled. +The sheriff surveyed the wreckage within. His jaw dropped; his face went +red to the hair; his lip trembled as he pointed to the larger of the two +roommates, who was, beyond doubting, Amos Poole--or some remainder of +him. + +"How did that man get here?" demanded the sheriff in a cracked and +horrified voice. + +"Him? Oh, I throwed him in there!" said Pete lightly. "That's the man who +brought me the keys and pestered me to go away with him. Say, sheriff, +better watch out! He told me he had a gun, and that he had the jailer +tied and gagged." + +"The damned skunk didn't have no gun! All he had was a flashlight, and +I broke that over his head. But he tole me the same story about the +jailer--all except the gun." This testimony was volunteered by Poole's +cellmate. + +Peter removed his cigar and looked at the "damned skunk" more closely. + +"Why, if it ain't Mr. Poole!" he said. + +"Sure, it's Poole. What in hell does he mean, then--swearin' you into +jail and then breakin' you out?" + +"Hadn't you better ask him?" said Peter, very reasonably. "You come on +down to the office, sheriff. I want you to get at the bottom of this or +have the heart out of some one." He rolled a dancing eye at Poole with +the word, and Poole shrank before it. + +"Breakfast! Bring us our breakfast!" bawled the prisoners. "Breakfast!" + +The sheriff dealt leniently with the uproar, realizing that these were +but weakling folk and, under the influence of excitement, hardly +responsible. + +"Brooks has been tied up all night, and is all but dead. I'll get you +something as soon as I can," he said, "on condition that you stop that +hullabaloo at once. Johnson, come down to the office." + +He telephoned a hurry call to a restaurant, Brooks, the jailer, being +plainly incapable of furnishing breakfast. Then he turned to Pete. + +"What is this, Johnson? A plant?" + +Pete's nose quivered. + +"Sure! It was a plant from the first. The Pooles were hired to set upon +me. This one was sent, masked, to tell me to break out. Then, as I figure +it, I was to be betrayed back again, to get two or three years in the pen +for breaking jail. Nice little scheme!" + +"Who did it? For Poole, if you're not lying, was only a tool." + +"Sheriff," said Pete, "pass your hand through my hair and feel there, and +look at my face. See any scars? Quite a lot of 'em? And all in front? Men +like me don't have to lie. They pay for what they break. You go back up +there and get after Poole. He'll tell you. Any man that will do what he +did to me, for money, will squeal on his employer. Sure!" + +Overhead the hammering and shouting broke out afresh. + +"There," said the sheriff regretfully; "now I'll have to make those +fellows go without anything to eat till dinner-time." + +"Sheriff," said Pete, "you've been mighty square with me. Now I want you +should do me one more favor. It will be the last one; for I shan't be +with you long. Give those boys their breakfast. I got 'em into this. I'll +pay for it, and take it mighty kindly of you, besides." + +"Oh, all right!" growled the sheriff, secretly relieved. + +"One thing more, brother: I think your jailer was in this--but that's +your business. Anyhow, Poole knew which key opened my door, and he didn't +know the others. Of course, he may have forced your jailer to tell him +that. But Poole didn't strike me as being up to any bold enterprise +unless it was cut-and-dried." + +The sheriff departed, leaving Johnson unguarded in the office. In ten +minutes he was back. + +"All right," he nodded. "He confessed--whimpering hard. Brooks was in it. +I've got him locked up. Nice doings, this is!" + +"Mitchell?" + +"Yes. I wouldn't have thought it of him. What was the reason?" + +"There is never but one reason. Money.--Who's this?" + +It was Mr. Boland, attended by Mr. Ferdie Sedgwick, both sadly disheveled +and bearing marks of a sleepless night. Francis Charles spoke hurriedly +to the sheriff. + +"Oh, I say, Barton! McClintock will go bail for this man Johnson. Ferdie +and I would, but we're not taxpayers in the county. Come over to the +Iroquois, won't you?" + +"Boland," said the sheriff solemnly, "take this scoundrel out of my jail! +Don't you ever let him step foot in here again. There won't be any bail; +but he must appear before His Honor later to-day for the formal dismissal +of the case. Take him away! If you can possibly do so, ship him out of +town at once." + +Francis Charles winked at Peter as they went down the steps. + +"So it was you last night?" said Peter. "Thanks to you. I'll do as much +for you sometime." + +"Thank us both. This is my friend Sedgwick, who was to have been our +chauffeur." The two gentlemen bowed, grinning joyfully. "My name's +Boland, and I'm to be your first stockholder. Miss Selden told me about +you--which is my certificate of character. Come over to the hotel and see +Old McClintock. Miss Selden is there too. She bawled him out about Nephew +Stan last night. Regular old-fashioned wigging! And now she has the old +gentleman eating from her hand. Say, how about this Stanley thing, +anyway? Any good?" + +"Son," said Pete, "Stanley is a regular person." + +Boland's face clouded. + +"Well, I'm going out with you and have a good look at him," he said +gloomily. "If I'm not satisfied with him, I'll refuse my consent. And +I'll look at your mine--if you've got any mine. They used to say that +when a man drinks of the waters of the Hassayampa, he can never tell the +truth again. And you're from Arizona." + +Pete stole a shrewd look at the young man's face. + +"There is another old saying about the Hassayampa, son," he said kindly, +"with even more truth to it than in that old _dicho_. They say that +whoever drinks of the waters of the Hassayampa must come to drink again." + +He bent his brows at Francis Charles. + +"Good guess," admitted Boland, answering the look. "I've never been to +Arizona, but I've sampled the Pecos and the Rio Grande; and I must go +back 'Where the flyin'-fishes play on the road to Mandalay, where the +dawn comes up like thunder'--Oh, gee! That's my real reason. I suppose +that silly girl and your picturesque pardner will marry, anyhow, even if +I disapprove--precious pair they'll make! And if I take a squint at the +copper proposition, it will be mostly in Ferdie's interest--Ferdie is the +capitalist, comparatively speaking; but he can't tear himself away from +little old N'Yawk. This is his first trip West--here in Vesper. Myself, +I've got only two coppers to clink together--or maybe three. We're rather +overlooking Ferdie, don't you think? Mustn't do that. Might withdraw his +backin'. Ferdie, speak up pretty for the gennulmun!" + +"Oh, don't mind me, Mr. Johnson," said Sedgwick cheerfully. "I'm used to +hearin' Boland hog the conversation, and trottin' to keep up with him. +Glad to be seen on the street with him. Gives one a standing, you know. +But, I say, old chappie, why didn't you come last night? Deuced anxious, +we were! Thought you missed the way, or slid down your rope and got +nabbed again, maybe. No end of a funk I was in, not being used to +lawbreakin', except by advice of counsel. And we felt a certain delicacy +about inquiring about you this morning, you know--until we heard about +the big ructions at the jail. Come over to McClintock's rooms--can't +you?--where we'll be all together, and tell us about it--so you won't +have to tell it but the one time." + +"No, sir," said Pete decidedly. "I get my breakfast first, and a large +shave. Got to do credit to Stan. Then I'll go with you. Big mistake, +though. Story like this gets better after bein' told a few times. I could +make quite a tale of this, with a little practice." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +"You've got Stan sized up all wrong, Mr. McClintock," said Pete. "That +boy didn't want your money. He never so much as mentioned your name to +me. If he had, I would have known why Old Man Trouble was haunting him so +persistent. And he don't want anybody's money. He's got a-plenty of his +own--in prospect. And he's got what's better than money: he has learned +to do without what he hasn't got." + +"You say he has proved himself a good man of his hands?" demanded +McClintock sharply. + +"Yessir--Stanley is sure one double-fisted citizen," said Pete. "Here is +what I heard spoken of him by highest authority the day before I left: +'He'll make a hand!' That was the word said of Stan to me. We don't get +any higher than that in Arizona. When you say of a man, 'He'll do to take +along,' you've said it all. And Stanley Mitchell will do to take along. +I'm thinkin', sir, that you did him no such an ill turn when your quarrel +sent him out there. He was maybe the least bit inclined to be +butter-flighty when he first landed." + +It was a queer gathering. McClintock sat in his great wheeled chair, +leaning against the cushions; he held a silken skull-cap in his hand, +revealing a shining poll with a few silvered locks at side and back; his +little red ferret eyes, fiery still, for all the burden of his years, +looked piercingly out under shaggy brows. His attendant, withered and +brown and gaunt, stood silent behind him. Mary Selden, quiet and pale, +was at the old man's left hand. Pete Johnson, with one puffed and +discolored eye, a bruised cheek, and with skinned and bandaged knuckles, +but cheerful and sunny of demeanor, sat facing McClintock. Boland and +Sedgwick sat a little to one side. They had tried to withdraw, on the +plea of intrusion; but McClintock had overruled them and bade them stay. + +"For the few high words that passed atween us, I care not a +boddle--though, for the cause of them I take shame to myself," said +McClintock, glancing down affectionately at Mary Selden. "I was the more +misled--at the contrivance of yon fleechin' scoundrel of an Oscar. 'I'm +off to Arizona, to win the boy free,' says he--the leein' cur!... I will +say this thing, too, that my heart warmed to the lad at the very time of +it--that he had spunk to speak his mind. I have seen too much of the +supple stock. Sirs, it is but an ill thing to be over-rich, in which +estate mankind is seen at the worst. The fawning sort cringe underfoot +for favors, and the true breed of kindly folk are all o'erapt to pass the +rich man by, verra scornful-like." He looked hard at Peter Johnson. "I am +naming no names," he added. + +"As for my gear, it would be a queer thing if I could not do what I like +with my own. Even a gay young birkie like yoursel' should understand +that, Mr. Johnson. Besides, we talk of what is by. The lawyer has been; +Van Lear has given him instructions, and the pack of you shall witness my +hand to the bit paper that does Stan right, or ever you leave this room." + +Pete shrugged his shoulders. "Stanley will always be feelin' that I +softied it up to you. And he's a stiff-necked one--Stan!" + +McClintock laughed with a relish. + +"For all ye are sic a fine young man, Mr. Johnson, I'm doubtin' ye're no +deeplomat. And Stan will be knowin' that same. Here is what ye shall do: +you shall go to him and say that you saw an old man sitting by his +leelane, handfast to the chimney neuk; and that you are thinking I will +be needin' a friendly face, and that you think ill of him for that same +stiff neck of his. Ye will be having him come to seek and not to gie; +folk aye like better to be forgiven than to forgive; I do, mysel'. That +is what you shall do for me." + +"And I did not come to coax money from you to develop the mine with, +either," said Pete. "If the play hadn't come just this way, with the jail +and all, you would have seen neither hide nor hair of me." + +"I am thinkin' that you are one who has had his own way of it overmuch," +said McClintock. His little red eyes shot sparks beneath the beetling +brows; he had long since discovered that he had the power to badger Mr. +Johnson; and divined that, as a usual thing, Johnson was a man not easily +ruffled. The old man enjoyed the situation mightily and made the most of +it. "When ye are come to your growth, you will be more patient of sma' +crossings. Here is no case for argle-bargle. You have taken yon twa brisk +lads into composition with you"--he nodded toward the brisk lads--"the +compact being that they were to provide fodder for yonder mine-beastie, +so far as in them lies, and, when they should grow short of siller, to +seek more for you. Weel, they need seek no farther, then. I have told +them that I will be their backer at need; I made the deal wi' them direct +and ye have nowt to do with it. You are ill to please, young man! You +come here with a very singular story, and nowt to back it but a glib +tongue and your smooth, innocent-like young face--and you go back hame +with a heaped gowpen of gold, and mair in the kist ahint of that. I +think ye do very weel for yoursel'." + +"Don't mind him, Mr. Johnson," said Mary Selden. "He is only teasing +you." + +Old McClintock covered her hand with his own and continued: "Listen to +her now! Was ne'er a lassie yet could bear to think ill of a bonny face!" +He drew down his brows at Pete, who writhed visibly. + +Ferdie Sedgwick rose and presented a slip of pasteboard to McClintock, +with a bow. + +"I have to-day heard with astonishment--ahem!--and with indignation, a +great many unseemly and disrespectful remarks concerning money, and more +particularly concerning money that runs to millions," he said, opposing +a grave and wooden countenance to the battery of eyes. "Allow me to +present you my card, Mr. McClintock, and to assure you that I harbor no +such sentiments. I can always be reached at the address given; and I beg +you to remember, sir, that I shall be most happy to serve you in the +event that--" + +A rising gale of laughter drowned his further remarks, but he continued +in dumb show, with fervid gesticulations, and a mouth that moved rapidly +but produced no sound, concluding with a humble bow; and stalked back to +his chair with stately dignity, unmarred by even the semblance of a +smile. Young Peter Johnson howled with the rest, his sulks forgotten; +and even the withered serving-man relaxed to a smile--a portent hitherto +unknown. + +"Come; we grow giddy," chided McClintock at last, wiping his own eyes as +he spoke. "We have done with talk of yonder ghost-bogle mine. But I must +trouble you yet with a word of my own, which is partly to justify me +before you. This it is--that, even at the time of Stanley's flitting, I +set it down in black and white that he was to halve my gear wi' Oscar, +share and share alike. I aye likit the boy weel. From this day all is +changit; Oscar shall hae neither plack nor bawbee of mine; all goes to my +wife's nephew, Stanley Mitchell, as is set down in due form in the bit +testament that is waiting without; bating only some few sma' bequests for +old kindness. It is but loath I am to poison our mirth with the name of +the man Oscar; the deil will hae him to be brandered; he is fast grippit, +except he be cast out as an orra-piece, like the smith in the Norroway +tale. When ye are come to your own land, Mr. Johnson, ye will find that +brockle-faced stot there afore you; and I trust ye will comb him weel. +Heckle him finely, and spare not; but ere ye have done wi' him, for my +sake drop a word in his lug to come nae mair to Vesper. When all's said, +the man is of my wife's blood and bears her name; I would not have that +name publicly disgracit. They were a kindly folk, the Mitchells. I +thought puirly of theem for a wastrel crew when I was young. But now I am +old, I doubt their way was as near right as mine. You will tell him for +me, Mr. Johnson, to name one who shall put a value on his gear, and I +shall name another; and what they agree upon I shall pay over to his +doer, and then may I never hear of him more--unless it be of ony glisk of +good yet in him, the which I shall be most blithe to hear. And so let +that be my last word of Oscar. Cornelius, bring in the lawyer body, and +let us be ower wi' it; for I think it verra needfu' that the two lads +should even pack their mails and take train this day for the West. You'll +have an eye on this young spark, Mr. Boland? And gie him a bit word of +counsel from time to time, should ye see him temptit to whilly-whas and +follies? I fear me he is prone to insubordination." + +"I'll watch over him, sir," laughed Boland. + +"I'll keep him in order. And if Miss Selden should have a message--or +anything--to send, perhaps--" + +Miss Selden blushed and laughed. + +"No, thank you!" she said. "I'll--I'll send it by Mr. Johnson." + +The will was brought in. McClintock affixed his signature in a firm round +hand; the others signed as witnesses. + +"Man Johnson, will ye bide behind for a word?" said McClintock as the +farewells were said. When the others were gone, he made a sign to Van +Lear, who left the room. + +"I'm asking you to have Stanley back soon--though he'll be coming for the +lassie's sake, ony gate. But I am wearyin' for a sight of the lad's face +the once yet," said the old man. "And yoursel', Mr. Johnson; if you visit +to York State again, I should be blithe to have a crack with you. But it +must be early days, for I'll be flittin' soon. I'll tell you this, that I +am real pleased to have met with you. Man, I'll tell ye a dead secret. Ye +ken the auld man ahint my chair--him that the silly folk ca' Rameses +Second in their sport? What think ye the auld body whispert to me but +now? That he likit ye weel--no less! Man, that sets ye up! Cornelius has +not said so much for ony man these twenty year--so my jest is true +enough, for all 'twas said in fleerin'; ye bear your years well and the +credentials of them in your face. Ye'll not be minding for an old man's +daffin'?" + +"Sure not! I'm a great hand at the joke-play myself," said Pete. "And +it's good for me to do the squirmin' myself, for once." + +"I thought so much. I likit ye mysel', and I'll be thinkin' of you, +nights, and your wild life out beyont. I'll tell you somethin' now, +and belike you'll laugh at me." He lowered his voice and spoke wistfully. +"Man, I have ne'er fought wi' my hands in a' my life--not since I was a +wean; nor yet felt the pinch of ony pressin' danger to be facit, that I +might know how jeopardy sorts wi' my stomach. I became man-grown as a +halflin' boy, or e'er you were born yet--a starvelin' boy, workin' for +bare bread; and hard beset I was for't. So my thoughts turned all +money-wise, till it became fixture and habit with me; and I took nae time +for pleasures. But when I heard of your fight yestreen, and how you +begawked him that we are to mention no more, and of your skirmishes and +by-falls with these gentry of your own land, my silly auld blood leapit +in my briskit. And when I was a limber lad like yourself, I do think +truly that once I might hae likit weel to hae been lot and part of +siclike stir and hazard, and to see the bale-fires burn. + +"Bear with me a moment yet, and I'll have done. There is a hard question +I would spier of you. I thought but ill of my kind in my younger days. +Now, being old, I see, with a thankful heart, how many verra fine people +inhabit here. 'Tis a rale bonny world. And, lookin' back, I see too often +where I have made harsh judgings of my fellows. There are more excuses +for ill-doings to my old eyes. Was't so with you?" + +"Yes," said Pete. "We're not such a poor lot after all--not when we stop +to think or when we're forced to see. In fire or flood, or sickness, +we're all eager to bear a hand--for we see, then. Our purses and our +hearts are open to any great disaster. Why, take two cases--the telephone +girls and the elevator boys. Don't sound heroic much, do they? But, by +God, when the floods come, the telephone girls die at their desks, still +sendin' out warnings! And when a big fire comes, and there are lives to +save, them triflin' cigarette-smoking, sassy, no-account boys run the +elevators through hell and back as long as the cables hold! Every time!" + +The old man's eye kindled. "Look ye there, now! Man, and have ye noticed +that too?" he cried triumphantly. "Ye have e'en the secret of it. We're +good in emairgencies, the now; when the time comes when we get a glimmer +that all life is emairgency and tremblin' peril, that every turn may be +the wrong turn--when we can see that our petty system of suns and all is +nobbut a wee darkling cockle-boat, driftin' and tossed abune the waves in +the outmost seas of an onrushing universe--hap-chance we'll no loom so +grandlike in our own een; and we'll tak' hands for comfort in the dark. +'Tis good theology, yon wise saying of the silly street: 'We are all in +the same boat. Don't rock the boat!'" + + * * * * * + +When Peter had gone, McClintock's feeble hands, on the wheel-rims, pushed +his chair to the wall and took from a locked cabinet an old and faded +daguerreotype of a woman with smiling eyes. He looked at it long and +silently, and fell asleep there, the time-stained locket in his hands. +When Van Lear returned, McClintock woke barely in time to hide the +locket under a cunning hand--and spoke harshly to that aged servitor. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Before the two adventurers left Vesper, Johnson wired to JosĆ© Benavides +the date of his arrival at Tucson; and from El Paso he wired Jackson Carr +to leave Mohawk the next day but one, with the last load of water. +Johnson and Boland arrived in Tucson at seven-twenty-six in the morning. +Benavides met them at the station--a slender, wiry, hawk-faced man, with +a grizzled beard. + +"So this is Francis Charles?" said Stanley. + +"Frank by brevet, now. Pete has promoted me. He says that Francis Charles +is too heavy for the mild climate, and unwieldy in emergencies." + +"You ought to see Frankie in his new khaki suit! He's just too sweet for +anything," said Pete. "You know Benavides, Stan?" + +"Joe and I are lifelong friends of a week's standing. _Compadres_--eh, +Joe? He came to console my captivity on your account, at first, and found +me so charming that he came back on his own." + +"_Ah, que hombre!_ Do not beliefing heem, Don Hooaleece. He ees begging +me efery day to come again back--that leetle one," cried Joe indignantly. +"I come here not wis plessir--not so. He is ver' _triste_, thees +boy--ver' dull. I am to take sorry for heem--_sin vergĆ¼enza!_ Also, +perhaps a leetle I am coming for that he ordaire always from the _Posada_ +the bes' dinners, lak now." + +"Such a care-free life!" sighed Francis-Frank. "Decidedly I must reform +my ways. One finds so much gayety and happiness among the criminal +classes, as I observed when I first met Mr. Johnson--in Vesper Jail." + +"Oh, has Pete been in jail? That's good. Tell us about it, Pete." + +That was a morning which flashed by quickly. The gleeful history of +events in Vesper was told once and again, with Pete's estimate and +critical analysis of the Vesperian world. Stanley's new fortunes were +announced, and Pete spoke privately with him concerning McClintock. +The coming campaign was planned in detail, over another imported meal. +Stanley was to be released that afternoon, Benavides becoming security +for him; but, through the courtesy of the sheriff, he was to keep his +cell until late bedtime. It was wished to make the start without courting +observation. For the same reason, when the sheriff escorted Stanley and +Benavides to the courthouse for the formalities attendant to the +bail-giving, Pete did not go along. Instead, he took Frank-Francis +for a sight-seeing stroll about the town. + +It was past two when, in an unquiet street, Boland's eye fell upon a +signboard which drew his eye: + +THE PALMILLA + +THE ONLY SECOND-CLASS SALOON IN THE CITY + +Boland called attention to this surprising proclamation. + +"Yes," said Pete; "that's Rhiny Archer's place. Little old +Irishman--sharp as a steel trap. You'll like him. Let's go in." + +They marched in. The barroom was deserted; Tucson was hardly awakened +from siesta as yet. From the open door of a side room came a murmur of +voices. + +"Where's Rhiny?" demanded Pete of the bartender. + +"Rhiny don't own the place now. Sold out and gone." + +"Shucks!" said Pete. "That's too bad. Where'd he go?" + +"Don't know. You might ask the boss." He raised his voice: "Hey, Dewing! +Gentleman here to speak to you." + +At the summons, Something Dewing appeared at the side door; he gave a +little start when he saw Pete at the bar. + +"Why, hello, Johnson! Well met! This is a surprise." + +"Same here," said Pete. "Didn't know you were in town." + +"Yes; I bought Rhiny out. Tired of Cobre. Want to take a hand at poker, +Pete? Here's two lumberjacks down from up-country, and honing to play. +Their money's burning holes in their pockets. I was just telling them +that it's too early to start a game yet." + +He indicated the other two men, who were indeed disguised as lumberjacks, +even to their hands; but their faces were not the faces of workingmen. + +"Cappers," thought Pete. Aloud he said: "Not to-day, I guess. Where's +Rhiny? In town yet?" + +"No; he left. Don't know where he went exactly--somewhere up +Flagstaff-way, I think. But I can find out for you if you want to +write to him." + +"Oh, no--nothing particular. Just wanted a chin with him." + +"Better try the cards a whirl, Pete," urged the gambler. "I don't want to +start up for a three-handed game." + +Pete considered. It was not good taste to give a second invitation; +evidently Dewing had strong reasons for desiring his company. + +"If this tinhorn thinks he can pump me, I'll let him try it a while," he +reflected. He glanced at his watch. + +"Three o'clock. I'll tell you what I'll do with you, Dewing," he said: +"I'll disport round till supper-time, if I last that long. But I can't go +very strong. Quit you at supper-time, win or lose. Say six o'clock, sharp. +The table will be filled up long before that." + +"Come into the anteroom. We'll start in with ten-cent chips," said +Dewing. "Maybe your friend would like to join us?" + +"Not at first. Later, maybe. Come on, Frankie!" + +Boland followed into the side room. He was a little disappointed in Pete. + +"You see, it's like this," said Pete, sinking into a chair after the door +was closed: "Back where Boland lives the rules are different. They play a +game something like Old Maid, and call it poker. He can sit behind me a +spell and I'll explain how we play it. Then, if he wants to, he can sit +in with us. Deal 'em up." + +"Cut for deal--high deals," said Dewing. + +After the first hand was played, Pete began his explanations: + +"We play all jack pots here, Frankie; and we use five aces. That is in +the Constitution of the State of Texas, and the Texas influence reaches +clear to the Colorado River. The joker goes for aces, flushes, and +straights. It always counts as an ace, except to fill a straight; but +if you've got a four-card straight and the joker, then the joker fills +your hand. Here; I'll show you." Between deals he sorted out a ten, nine, +eight, and seven, and the joker with them. + +"There," he said; "with a hand like this you can call the joker either a +jack or a six, just as you please. It is usual to call it a jack. But +in anything except straights and straight flushes--if there is any such +thing as a straight flush--the cuter card counts as an ace. Got that?" + +"Yes; I think I can remember that." + +"All right! You watch us play a while, then, till you get on to our +methods of betting--they're different from yours too. When you think +you're wise, you can take a hand if you want to." + +Boland watched for a few hands and then bought in. The game ran on for an +hour, with the usual vicissitudes. Nothing very startling happened. The +"lumbermen" bucked each other furiously, bluffing in a scandalous manner +when they fought for a pot between themselves. Each was cleaned out +several times and bought more chips. Pete won; lost; bought chips; won, +lost, and won again; and repeated the process. Red and blue chips began +to appear: the table took on a distinctly patriotic appearance. The +lumbermen clamored to raise the ante; Johnson steadfastly declined. +Boland, playing cautiously, neither won nor lost. Dewing won quietly, +mostly from the alleged lumbermen. + +The statement that nothing particular had occurred is hardly accurate. +There had been one little circumstance of a rather peculiar nature. Once +or twice, when it came Pete's turn to deal, he had fancied that he felt a +stir of cold air at the back of his neck; cooler, at least, than the +smoke-laden atmosphere of the card room. + +On the third recurrence of this phenomenon Pete glanced carelessly at his +watch before picking up his hand, and saw in the polished back a tiny +reflection from the wall behind him--a small horizontal panel, tilted +transomwise, and a peering face. Pete scanned his hand; when he picked up +his watch to restore it to his pocket, the peering face was gone and the +panel had closed again. + +Boland, sitting beside Johnson, saw nothing of this. Neither did the +lumbermen, though they were advantageously situated on the opposite side +of the table. Pete played on, with every sense on the alert. He knocked +over a pile of chips, spilling some on the floor; when he stooped over to +get them, he slipped his gun from his waistband and laid it in his lap. +His curiosity was aroused. + +At length, on Dewing's deal, Johnson picked up three kings before the +draw. He sat at Dewing's left; it was his first chance to open the pot; +he passed. Dewing coughed; Johnson felt again that current of cold air on +his neck. "This must be the big mitt," thought Pete. "In a square game +there'd be nothing unusual in passing up three kings for a raise--that is +good poker. But Dewing wants to be sure I've got 'em. Are they going to +slide me four kings? I reckon not. It isn't considered good form to hold +four aces against four kings. They'll slip me a king-full, likely, and +some one will hold an ace-full." + +Obligingly Pete spread his three kings fanwise, for the convenience of +the onlooker behind the panel. So doing, he noted that he held the kings +of hearts, spades, and diamonds, with the queen and jack of diamonds. He +slid queen and jack together. "Two aces to go with this hand would give +me a heap of confidence," he thought. "I'm going to take a long chance." + +Boland passed; the first lumberman opened the pot; the second stayed; +Dewing stayed; Pete stayed, and raised. Boland passed out; the first +lumberman saw the raise. + +"I ought to lift this again; but I won't," announced the lumberman. "I +want to get Scotty's money in this pot, and I might scare him out." + +Scotty, the second lumberman, hesitated for a moment, and then laid down +his hand, using language. Dewing saw the raise. + +"Here's where I get a cheap draw for the Dead Man's Hand--aces and +eights." He discarded two and laid before him, face up on the table, a +pair of eights and an ace of hearts. "I'm going to trim you fellows this +time. Aces and eights have never been beaten yet." + +"Damn you! Here's one eight you won't get," said Scotty; he turned over +his hand, exposing the eight of clubs. + +"Mustn't expose your cards unnecessarily," said Dewing reprovingly. "It +spoils the game." He picked up the deck. "Cards?" + +Pete pinched his cards to the smallest compass and cautiously discarded +two of them, holding their faces close to the table. + +"Give me two right off the top." + +Dewing complied. + +"Cards to you?" he said. "Next gentleman?" + +The next gentleman scowled. "I orter have raised," he said. "Only I +wanted Scotty's money. Now, like as not, somebody'll draw out on me. I'll +play these." + +Dewing dealt himself two. Reversing his exposed cards, he shoved between +them the two cards he had drawn and laid these five before him, backs up, +without looking at them. + +"It's your stab, Mr. Johnson," said Dewing sweetly. + +Johnson skinned his hand slowly and cautiously, covering his cards with +his hands, clipping one edge lightly so that the opposite edges were +slightly separated, and peering between them. He had drawn the joker and +the ace of diamonds. He closed the hand tightly and shoved in a stack. + +"Here's where you see aces and eights beaten," he said, addressing +Dewing. "You can't have four eights, 'cause Mr. Scotty done showed one." + +The lumberman raised. + +"What are you horning in for?" demanded Pete. "I've got you beat. It's +Dewing's hide I'm after." + +Dewing looked at his cards and stayed. Pete saw the raise and re-raised. + +The lumberman sized up to Pete's raise tentatively, but kept his hand +on his stack of chips; he questioned Pete with his eyes, muttered, +hesitated, and finally withdrew the stack of chips in his hands and +threw up his cards with a curse, exposing a jack-high spade flush. + +Dewing's eyes were cold and hard. He saw Pete's raise and raised again, +pushing in two stacks of reds. + +"That's more than I've got, but I'll see you as far as my chips hold out. +Wish to Heaven I had a bushel!" Pete sized up his few chips beside +Dewing's tall red stacks. "It's a shame to show this hand for such a +pitiful little bit of money," he said in an aggrieved voice. "What you +got?" + +Dewing made no move to turn over his cards. + +"If you feel that way about it, old-timer," he said as he raked back his +remainder of unimperiled chips, "you can go down in your pocket." + +"Table stakes!" objected Scotty. + +"That's all right," said Dewing. "We'll suspend the rules, seeing there's +no one in the pot but Johnson and me. This game, I take it, is going to +break up right now and leave somebody feeling mighty sore. If you're so +sure you've got me beat--dig up!" + +"Cash my chips," said Scotty. "I sat down here to play table stakes, and +I didn't come to hear you fellows jaw, either." + +"You shut up!" said Dewing. "I'll cash your chips when I play out this +hand--not before. You're not in this." + +"Hell; you're both of you scared stiff!" scoffed Scotty. "Neither of you +dast put up a cent." + +"Well, Johnson, how about it?" jeered Dewing. "What are you going to do +or take water?" + +"Won't there ever be any more hands of poker dealt?" asked Pete. "If I +thought this was to be the last hand ever played, I'd sure plunge right +smart on this bunch of mine." + +"Weakening, eh?" sneered Dewing. + +"That's enough, Pete," said Boland, very much vexed. "We're playing table +stakes. This is no way to do. Show what you've got and let's get out of +this." + +"You let me be!" snapped Pete. "No, Dewing; I'm not weakening. About how +much cash have you got in your roll?" + +"About fourteen hundred in the house. More in the bank if you're really +on the peck. And I paid three thousand cash for this place." + +"And I've got maybe fifty or sixty dollars with me. You see how it is," +said Pete. "But I've got a good ranch and a bunch of cattle, if you +happen to know anything about them." + +"Pete! Pete! That's enough," urged Boland. + +Pete shook him off. + +"Mind your own business, will you?" he snapped. "I'm going to show Mr. +Something Dewing how it feels." + +The gambler smiled coldly. "Johnson, you're an old blowhard! If you +really want to make a man-size bet on that hand of yours, I'll make you +a proposition." + +"Bet on it? Bet on this hand?" snarled Pete, clutching his cards tightly. +"I'd bet everything I've got on this hand." + +"We'll see about that. I may be wrong, but I seem to have heard that you +and young Mitchell have found a copper claim that's pretty fair, and a +little over. I believe it, anyhow. And I'm willing to take the risk +that you'll keep your word. I'll shoot the works on this hand--cash, bank +roll, and the joint, against a quarter interest in your mine." + +"Son," said Johnson, "I wouldn't sell you one per cent of my share of +that mine for all you've got. Come again!" + +The gambler laughed contemptuously. "That's easy enough said," he +taunted. "If you want to wiggle out of it that way, all right!" + +Pete raised a finger. + +"Not so fast. I don't remember that I've wiggled any yet. I don't want +your money or your saloon. In mentioning my mine you have set an example +of plain speaking which I intend to follow. I do hereby believe that you +can clear Stanley Mitchell of the charge hanging over him. If you can, +I'll bet you a one-quarter interest in our mine against that evidence. +I'll take your word if you'll take mine, and I'll give you twelve hours' +start before I make your confession public.--Boland, you mind your own +business. I'm doing this.--Well, Dewing, how about it?" + +"If you think I've got evidence to clear Stanley--" + +"I do. I think you did the trick yourself, likely." + +"You might as well get one thing in your head, first as last: if I had +any such evidence and made any such a bet--I'd win it! You may be sure of +that. So you'd be no better off so far as getting your pardner out of +trouble is concerned--and you lose a slice of mining property. If you +really think I can give you any such evidence, why not trade me an +interest in the mine for it?" + +"I'm not buying, I'm betting! Who's wiggling now?" + +"You headstrong, stiff-necked old fool, you've made a bet! I've got the +evidence. Your word against mine?" + +"Your word against mine. The bet is made," said Pete. "What have you got? +I called you." + +"I've got the Dead Man's Hand--that's all!" Dewing spread out three aces +and a pair of eights, and smiled exasperatingly. "You've got what you +were looking for! I hope you're satisfied now!" + +"Yes," said Pete; "I'm satisfied. Let's see you beat this!" He tossed his +cards on the table. "Look at 'em! A royal straight flush in diamonds, and +a gun to back it!" The gun leaped up with a click. "Come through, Dewing! +Your spy may shoot me through that panel behind me; but if he does I'll +bore you through the heart. Boland, you've got a gun. Watch the wall at +my back. If you see a panel open, shoot! Hands on the table, lumbermen!" + +"Don't shoot! I'll come through," said Dewing, coolly enough, but +earnestly. "I think you are the devil! Where did you get those cards?" + +"Call your man in from that panel. My back itches and so does my trigger +finger." + +"What do you think I am--a fool? Nobody's going to shoot you." Dewing +raised his voice: "Come on in, Warren, hands up, before this old idiot +drills me." + +"Evidence," remarked Johnson softly, "is what I am after. Evidence! I +have no need of any corpses. Boland, you might go through Mr. Warren and +those other gentlemen for guns. Never mind Dewing; I'll get his gun, +myself, after the testimony. Dewing might play a trick on you if you get +too close. That's right. Pile 'em in the chair. Now, Mr. Dewing--you were +to give some testimony, I believe." + +"You'll get it. I robbed Wiley myself. But I'm damned if I tell you any +more till you tell me where you got that hand. I'll swear those are the +cards I dealt you. I never took my eyes off of you." + +"Your eyes are all right, son," said Johnson indulgently, "but you made +your play too strong. You showed an ace and two eights. Then, when Mr. +Scotty obliged by flashing another eight, I knowed you was to deal me two +aces for confidence cards and two more to yourself, to make out a full +hand to beat my king-full. So I discarded two kings. Turn 'em over, +Boland. I took a long chance. Drew to the king, queen, and jack of +diamonds. If one of the aces I got in the draw had been either hearts or +black, I'd have lost a little money; and there's an end. As it happened, +I drew the diamond ace and the joker, making ace, king, queen, jack, and +ten--and this poker game is hereby done broke up. I'm ready for the +evidence now." + +"You've earned it fair, and you'll get it. I told you I'd not implicate +any one but myself, and I won't. I robbed Wiley so I could saw it off on +Stan. You know why, I guess," said Dewing. "If you'll ask that little +Bobby kid of Jackson Carr's, he'll tell you that Stan lost his spur +beyond Hospital Springs about sunset on the night of the robbery, and +didn't find it again. The three of us rode in together, and the boy can +swear that Stan had only one spur. + +"I saw the spur when we were hunting for it; I saw how it would help me +get Stan out of the way; so I said nothing, and I went back that night +and got it. I dropped it near where I held Wiley up, and found it again, +very opportunely, when I came back to Cobre with the posse. Every one +knew that spur; that was how the posse came to search Stan's place. +The rest is easy: I hid the money where it was sure to be found. That's +all I am going to tell you, and that's enough. If it will make you feel +any better about it, though, you may be pleased to know that Bat Wiley +and most of them were acting in good faith." + +"That is quite satisfactory. The witness is excused," said Pete. "And +I'll give you twelve hours to leave Tucson before I give out the news." + +"Twelve minutes is quite enough, thank you. My address will be Old Mexico +hereafter, and I'll close out the shop by mail. Anything else?" + +"Why, yes; you might let me have that gun of yours as a keepsake. No; +I'll get it," said Pete kindly. "You just hold up your hands. Well, we +gotta be going. We've had a pleasant afternoon, haven't we? Good-bye, +gentlemen! Come on, Boland!" + +They backed out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +That night, between ten and eleven, Stanley Mitchell came forth from +Tucson Jail. Pete Johnson was not there to meet him; fearing espionage +from Cobre, he sent Boland, instead. Boland led the ex-prisoner to the +rendezvous, where Pete and Joe Benavides awaited their coming with +four saddle horses, the pick of the Benavides _caballada_, and two +pack-horses. Except for a small package of dynamite--a dozen sticks +securely wrapped, an afterthought that Pete put into effect between +poker game and supper-time--the packs contained only the barest +necessities, with water kegs, to be filled later. The four friends were +riding light; but each carried a canteen at the saddle horn, and a rifle. + +They rode quietly out through the southern end of the town, Joe Benavides +leading the way. They followed a trail through Robles' Pass and westward +through the Altar Valley. They watered at the R E Ranch at three in the +morning, waking Barnaby Robles; him they bound to silence; and there they +let their horses rest and eat of the R E corn while they prepared a hasty +breakfast. Then they pushed on, to waste no brief coolness of the morning +hours. Pete kept word and spirit of his promise to Dewing; not until day +was broad in the sky did he tell Stanley of Dewing's disclosure, tidings +that displeased Stanley not at all. + +It was a gay party on that bright desert morning, though the way led +through a dismal country of giant cactus, cholla and mesquite. Pete noted +with amusement that Stanley and Frank-Francis showed some awkwardness and +restraint with each other. Their clipped _g_'s were carefully restored +and their conversation was otherwise conducted on the highest plane. The +dropping of this superfluous final letter had become habitual with +Stanley through carelessness and conformance to environment. With Boland +it was a matter of principle, practiced in a spirit of perversity, in +rebellion against a world too severely regulated. + +By ten in the morning the heat drove them to cover for sleep and nooning +in the scanty shade of a mesquite motte. Long before that, the two young +gentlemen had arrived at an easier footing and the _g_'s were once more +comfortably dropped. But poor Boland, by this time, was ill at ease in +body. He was not inexperienced in hard riding of old; and in his home on +the northern tip of Manhattan, where the Subway goes on stilts and the +Elevated runs underground, he had allowed himself the luxury of a saddle +horse and ridden no little, in a mild fashion. But he was in no way +hardened to such riding as this. + +Mr. Peter Johnson was gifted with prescience beyond the common run; but +for this case, which would have been the first thought for most men, his +foresight had failed. During the long six-hour nooning Boland suffered +with intermittent cramps in his legs, wakeful while the others slept. He +made no complaint; but, though he kept his trouble from words, he could +not hold his face straight. When they started on at four o'clock, Pete +turned aside for the little spring in Coyote Pass, instead of keeping to +the more direct but rougher trail to the Fresnal, over the Baboquivari, +as first planned. Boland promised to be something of a handicap; which, +had he but known it, was all the better for the intents of Mr. Something +Dewing. + + * * * * * + +For Mr. Dewing had not made good his strategic retreat to Old Mexico. +When Pete Johnson left the card room Dewing disappeared, indeed, taking +with him his two confederates. But they went no farther than to a modest +and unassuming abode near by, known to the initiated as the House of +Refuge. There Mr. Dewing did three things: first, he dispatched +messengers to bring tidings of Mr. Johnson and his doings; second, he +wrote to Mr. Mayer Zurich, at Cobre, and sent it by the first mail west, +so that the stage should bring it to Cobre by the next night; third, he +telegraphed to a trusty satellite at Silverbell, telling him to hold an +automobile in readiness to carry a telegram to Mayer Zurich, should +Dewing send such telegram later. Then Dewing lay down to snatch a little +sleep. + +The messengers returned; Mr. Johnson and his Eastern friend were +foregathered with Joe Benavides, they reported; there were horses in +evidence--six horses. Mr. Dewing rose and took station to watch the jail +from a safe place; he saw Stanley come out with Boland. The so-called +lumbermen had provided horses in the meanwhile. Unostentatiously, and +at a safe distance, the three followed the cavalcade that set out from +the Benavides house. + +Dewing posted his lumbermen in relays--one near the entrance of Robles' +Pass; one beyond the R E Ranch, which they circled to avoid; himself +following the tracks of the four friends until he was assured, beyond +doubt, that they shaped their course for the landmark of Baboquivari +Peak. Then he retraced his steps, riding slowly perforce, lest any great +dust should betray him. In the burning heat of noon he rejoined Scotty, +the first relay; he scribbled his telegram on the back of an old envelope +and gave it to Scotty. That worthy spurred away to the R E Ranch; the +hour for concealment was past--time was the essence of the contract. +Dewing followed at a slowed gait. + +Scotty delivered the telegram to his mate, who set off at a gallop for +Tucson. Between them they covered the forty miles in four hours, or a +little less. Before sunset an auto set out from Silverbell, bearing the +message to Cobre. + + * * * * * + +At that same sunset time, while Pete Johnson and his friends were yet far +from Coyote Pass, Mayer Zurich, in Cobre, spoke harshly to Mr. Oscar +Mitchell. + +"I don't know where you get any finger in this pie," he said implacably. +"You didn't pay me to find any mines for you. You hired me to hound your +cousin; and I've hounded him to jail. That lets you out. I wouldn't +push the matter if I were you. This isn't New York. Things happen +providentially out here when men persist in shoving in where they're +not wanted." + +"I have thought of that," said Mitchell, "and have taken steps to +safeguard myself. It may be worth your while to know that I have copies +of all your letters and reports. I brought them to Arizona with me. I +have left them in the hands of my confidential clerk, at a place unknown +to you, with instructions to place them in the hands of the sheriff of +this county unless I return to claim them in person within ten days, and +to proceed accordingly." + +Zurich stared at him and laughed in a coarse, unfeeling manner. "Oh, you +did, hey? Did you think of that all by yourself? Did it ever occur to you +that I have your instructions, over your own signature, filed away, and +that they would make mighty interesting reading? Your clerk can proceed +accordingly any time he gets good and ready. Go on, man! You make me +tired! You've earned no share in this mine, and you'll get no share +unless you pay well for it. If we find the mine, we'll need cash money, +to be sure; but if we find it, we can get all the money we want without +yours. Go on away! You bother me!" + +"I have richly earned a share without putting in any money," said +Mitchell with much dignity. "This man Johnson, that you fear so much--I +have laid him by the heels for several years to come, and left you a +clear field. Is that nothing?" + +"You poor, blundering, meddling, thick-headed fool," said Zurich +unpleasantly; "can't you see what you've done? You've locked up our best +chance to lay a finger on that mine. Now I'll have to get your Cousin +Stanley out of jail; and that won't be easy." + +"What for?" + +"So I can watch him and get hold of the copper claim, of course." + +"Why don't you leave him in jail and hunt for the claim till you find +it?" demanded lawyer Mitchell, willing to defer his triumph until the +moment when it should be most effective. + +"Find it? Yes; we might find it in a million years, maybe, or we might +find it in a day. Pima County alone is one fourth the size of the State +of New York. And the claim may be in Yuma County, Maricopa, or Pinal--or +even in Old Mexico, for all we know. We feel like it was somewhere south +of here; but that's only a hunch. It might as well be north or west. And +you don't know this desert country. It's simply hell! To go out there +hunting for anything you happen to find--that's plenty bad enough. But +to go out at random, hunting for one particular ledge of rock, when you +don't know where it is or what it looks like--that is not to be thought +of. Too much like dipping up the Atlantic Ocean with a fountain pen to +suit me!" + +"Then, by your own showing," rejoined Mitchell triumphantly, "I am not +only entitled to a share of the mine, but I am fairly deserving of the +biggest share. I met this ignorant mountaineer, of whom you stand in such +awe, took his measure, and won his confidence. What you failed to do by +risk, with numbers on your side, what you shrink from attempting by labor +and patience, I have accomplished by an hour's diplomacy. Johnson has +given me full directions for finding the mine--and a map." + +"What? Johnson would never do that in a thousand years!" + +"It is as I say. See for yourself." Mitchell displayed the document +proudly. + +Zurich took one look at that amazing map; then his feelings overcame him; +he laid his head on the table and wept. + +Painful explanation ensued; comparison with an authentic map carried +conviction to Mitchell's whirling mind. + +"And you thought you could take Johnson's measure?" said Zurich in +conclusion. "Man, he played with you. It is by no means certain that +Johnson will like it in jail. If he comes back here, and finds that you +have not been near your cousin, he may grow suspicious. And if he ever +gets after you, the Lord have mercy on your soul! Well, there comes the +stage. I must go and distribute the mail. Give me this map of yours; I +must have it framed. I wouldn't take a fortune for it. Tinhorn Mountain! +Dear, oh, dear!" + +He came back a little later in a less mirthful mood. Had not the +crestfallen Mitchell been thoroughly engrossed with his own hurts, +he might have perceived that Zurich himself was considerably subdued. + +"It is about time for you to take steps again," said Zurich. "Glance over +this letter. It came on the stage just now. Dated at Tucson last night." + +Mitchell read this: + +DEAR MISTER: Johnson is back and no pitch hot. Look out for yourself. He +over-reached me; he knows who got Bat Wiley's money, and he can prove it. + +He thinks I am doing a dive for Mexico. But I'm not. I am watching him. +I think he means to make a dash for the mine to-night, and I'm going to +follow him till I get the direction. Of course he may go south into +Mexico. If he does he'll have too big a start to be caught. But if he +goes west, you can head him off and cut sign on him. Slim is at +Silverbell, waiting with a car to bring you a wire from me, which I'll +send only if Johnson goes west, or thereabouts. If I send the message +at all, it should follow close on this letter. Slim drives his car like +a drunk Indian. Be ready. Johnson is too much for me. Maybe you can +handle him. + +D. + +"I would suggest Patagonia," said Zurich kindly. "No; get yourself sent +up to the pen for life--that'll be best. He wouldn't look for you there." + + * * * * * + +Zurich found but three of his confederacy available--Jim Scarboro and +Bill Dorsey, the Jim and Bill of the horse camp and the shooting +match--and Eric Anderson; but these were his best. They made a pack; they +saddled horses; they filled canteens--and rifles. + +Slim's car came to Cobre at half-past nine. The message from Dewing ran +thus: + +For Fishhook Mountain. Benavides, S., J., and another. Ten words. + + * * * * * + +Five minutes later the four confederates thundered south through the +night. At daylight they made a change of horses at a far-lying Mexican +rancheria, Zurich's check paying the shot; they bought two five-gallon +kegs and lashed them to the pack, to be filled when needed. At nine in +the morning they came to Fishhook Mountain. + +Fishhook Mountain is midmost in the great desert; Quijotoa Valley, +desolate and dim, lies to the east of it, gullied, dust-deviled, and +forlorn. + +The name gives the mountain's shape--two fishhooks bound together back to +back, one prong to the east, the other to the west, the barbs pointing to +the north. Sweetwater Spring is on the barb of the eastern hook; three +miles west, on the main shank, an all but impassable trail climbed to +Hardscrabble Tanks. + +At the foot of this trail, Zurich and his party halted. Far out on the +eastern plain they saw, through Zurich's spyglass, a slow procession, +heading directly for them. + +"We've beat 'em to it!" said Eric. + +"That country out there is washed out something terrible, for all it +looks so flat," said Jim Scarboro sympathetically. "They've got to ride +slow. Gee, I bet it's hot out there!" + +"One thing sure," said Eric: "there's no such mine as that on Fishhook. +I've prospected every foot of it." + +"They'll noon at Sweetwater," said Zurich. "You boys go on up to +Hardscrabble. Take my horse. I'll go over to Sweetwater and hide out in +the rocks to see what I can find out. There's a stony place where I can +get across without leaving any trail. + +"Unsaddle and water. Leave the pack here, you'd better, and my saddle. +They are not coming here--nothing to come for. You can sleep, turn about, +one watching the horses, and come on down when you see me coming back." + +It was five hours later when the watchers on Hardscrabble saw the Johnson +party turn south, up the valley between barb and shank of the mountain; +an hour after that Zurich rejoined them, as they repacked at the trail +foot, and made his report: + +"I couldn't hear where they're going; but it is somewhere west or +westerly, and it's a day farther on. Say, it's a good thing I went over +there. What do you suppose that fiend Johnson is going to do? You +wouldn't guess it in ten years. You fellows all know there's only +one way to get out of that Fishhook Valley--unless you turn round and +come back the way you go in?" + +"I don't," said Bill. "I've never been down this way before." + +"You can get out through Horse-Thief Gap, 'way in the southwest. There's +a place near the top where there's just barely room for a horse to get +through between the cliffs. You can ride a quarter mile and touch the +rocks on each side with your hands. Johnson's afraid some one will see +those tracks they're makin' and follow 'em up. I heard him tellin' it. So +the damned old fool has lugged dynamite all the way from Tucson, and +after they get through he's going to stuff the powder behind some of +those chimneys and plug Horse-Thief so damn full of rock that a goat +can't get over," said Zurich indignantly. "Now what do you think of that? +Most suspicious old idiot I ever did see!" + +"I call it good news. That copper must be something extraordinary, or +he'd never take such a precaution," said Eric. + +Zurich answered as they saddled: + +"If we had followed them in there, we would have lost forty miles. As it +is, they gain twenty miles on us while we ride back round the north end +of the mountain, besides an hour I lost hoofing it back." + +"I don't see that we've lost much," said Jim Scarboro. "We've got their +direction and our horses are fresh beside of theirs. We'll make up that +twenty miles and be in at the finish to-morrow; we're four to four. Let's +ride." + +Tall Eric rubbed his chin. + +"That Benavides," he said, "is a tough one. He is a known man. He's as +good as Johnson when it comes to shooting." + +"I'm not afraid of the shooting, and I'm not afraid of death," said +Zurich impatiently; "but I am leery about that cussed old man. He'll find +a way to fool us--see if he don't!" + + * * * * * + +A strong wind blew scorching from the south the next day; Johnson turned +aside from the sagebrush country to avoid the worst sand, and bent north +to a long half-circle, through a country of giant saguaro and clumped +yuccas; once they passed over a neck of lava hillocks thinly drifted over +with sand. The heat was ghastly; on their faces alkali dust, plastered +with sweat, caked in the stubble of two days' growth; their eyes were +red-rimmed and swollen. Boland, bruised and racked and cramped, suffered +agonies. + +It was ten in the morning when Joe touched Pete's arm: + +"_QuĆ© cosa?_" He pointed behind them and to the north, to a long, +low-lying streak of dust. + +"Trouble, Don Hooaleece? I think so--yes." + +They had no spyglass; but it was hardly needed. The dust streak followed +them, almost parallel to their course. It gained on them. They changed +their gait from a walk to a trot. The dust came faster; they were +pursued. + +That was a weird race. There was no running, no galloping; only a steady, +relentless trot that jarred poor Boland to the bone. After an hour, +during which the pursuers gained steadily, Pete called a halt. They took +the packs from the led animals and turned them loose, to go back to +Fishhook Mountain; they refilled their canteens from the kegs and pressed +on. The pursuit had gained during the brief delay; plainly to be seen +now, queer little bobbing black figures against the north. + +They rode on, a little faster now. But at the end of half an hour the +black figures were perceptibly closer. + +"They're gaining on us," said Boland, turning his red-lidded eyes on +Stan. "They have better horses, or fresher." + +"No," said Stan; "they're riding faster--that's all. They haven't a +chance; they can't keep it up at the rate they're doing now. They're five +miles to the north, and it isn't far to the finish. See that huddle of +little hills in the middle of the plain, ahead and a little to the south? +That's our place, and we can't be caught before we get there. Pete is +saving our horses; they're going strong. These fellows are five miles +away yet. They've shot their bolt, and they know it." + +He was right. The bobbing black shapes came abreast--held even--fell +back--came again--hung on, and fell back at last, hopelessly distanced +when the goal was still ten miles away. Pete and his troop held on +at the same unswerving gait--trot, trot, trot! The ten miles became +nine--eight--seven-- + +Sharp-eyed Benavides touched Pete's arm and pointed. "What's that? By +gar, eet is a man, amigo; a man in some troubles!" + +It was a man, a black shape that waved a hat frantically from a swell of +rising ground a mile to the south. Pete swerved his course. + +"You've got the best horse, Joe. Gallop up and see what's wrong. I'm +afraid it's Jackson Carr." + +It was Jackson Carr. He limped to meet Benavides; the Mexican turned and +swung his hat; the three urged their wearied horses to a gallop. + +"Trouble?" said Pete, leaping down. + +"Bobby. I tied up his pony and hobbled the rest. At daylight they wasn't +in sight. Bobby went after 'em. I waited a long time and then I hobbled +off down here to see. Wagon's five or six miles north. One of my spans +come from down in Sonora, somewhere--Santa Elena, wherever that is--and +I reckon they're dragging it for home and the others have followed, +unless--unless Bob's pony has fallen, or something. He didn't take any +water. He could follow the tracks back here on this hard ground. But in +the sand down there--with all this wind--" His eye turned to the +shimmering white sandhills along the south, with the dust clouds high +above them. + +"Boland, you'll have to give Carr your horse," said Pete. "It's his boy; +and you're 'most dead anyhow. We'll light a big blaze when we find him, +and another on this edge of the sandhills in case you don't see the +first. We'll make two of 'em, a good ways apart, if everything is all +right. You take a canteen and crawl under a bush and rest a while. You +need it. If you feel better after a spell, you can follow these horse +tracks back and hobble along to the wagon; or we can pick you up as +we come back. Come on, boys!" + +"But your mine?" said Carr. He pointed to a slow dust streak that passed +along the north. "I saw you coming--two bunches. Ain't those fellows +after your mine? 'Cause if they are, they'll sure find it. You've been +riding straight for them little hills out there all alone in the big +middle of the plain." + +"Damn the mine!" said Pete. "We've been playing. We've got man's work to +do now. No; there's no use splitting up and sending one or two to the +mine. That mine is a four-man job. So is this; and a better one. We're +all needed here. To hell with the mine! Come on!" + + * * * * * + +They found Bobby, far along in the afternoon, in the sandhills. His lips +were cracked and bleeding; his tongue was beginning to blacken and swell; +his eyes were swollen nearly shut from alkali dust, and there was an ugly +gash in the hair's edge above his left ear; he was caked with blood and +mire, and he clung to the saddle horn with both hands--but he drove six +horses before him. + +They gave him, a little at a time, the heated water from their canteens. +A few small drinks cheered him up amazingly. After a big soapweed was +touched off for a signal fire, he was able to tell his story. + +"Naw, I ain't hurt none to speak of; but I'm some tired. I hit a high +lope and catched up with them in the aidge of the sandhills," he said. +"I got 'em all unhobbled but old Heck; and then that ornery Nig horse +kicked me in the head--damn him! Knocked me out quite a spell. Sun was +middlin' high when I come to--horses gone, and the cussed pony trailed +along after them. It was an hour or two before I caught sight of 'em +again. I was spitting cotton a heap. Dad always told me to carry water +with me, and I sure was wishing I'd minded him. Well, I went 'way round +and headed 'em off--and, dog-gone, they up and run round me. That Zip +horse was the ringleader. Every time, just as I was about to get 'em +turned, he'd make a break and the rest would follow, hellity-larrup! Old +Heck has cut his feet all to pieces with the hobbles--old fool! I headed +'em four or five times--five, I guess--and they kept getting away, and +running farther every time before they stopped and went to grazing. After +a while the pony snagged his bridle in a bush and I got him. Then I +dropped my twine on old Heck and unhobbled him, and come on back. Give me +another drink, Pete." + +They rode back very slowly to the northern edge of the sandhills and +lighted their two signal fires. An answering fire flamed in the north, to +show that Boland had seen their signals. + +"I reckon we'll stop and rest here a while till it gets cooler," observed +Pete. "Might as well, now. We can start in an hour and get in to the +wagon by dark. Reckon Frank Boland was glad to see them two fires! I bet +that boy sure hated to be left behind. Pretty tough--but it had to be +done. This has been a thunderin' hard trip on Frankie and he's stood up +to it fine. Good stuff!" He turned to the boy: "Well, Bobby, you had a +hard time wranglin' them to-day--but you got 'em, didn't you, son?" + +"That's what I went after," said Bobby. + + * * * * * + +Boland stiffened after his rest. He made two small marches toward the +wagon, but his tortured muscles were so stiff and sore that he gave it up +at last. After he saw and answered the signal fires he dropped off to +sleep. + +He was awakened by a jingling of spurs and a trampling of hoofs. He got +to his feet hurriedly. Four horsemen reined up beside him--not Pete +Johnson and his friends, but four strangers, who looked at him curiously. +Their horses were sadly travel-stained. + +"Anything wrong, young man? We saw your fire?" + +"No--not now." Boland's thoughts were confused and his head sang. He +attributed these things to sleepiness; in fact, he was sickening to a +fever. + +"You look mighty peaked," said the spokesman. "Got water? Anything we can +do for you?" + +"Nothing the matter with me, except that I'm pretty well played out. And +I've been anxious. There was a boy lost, or hurt--I don't know which. But +it's all right now. They lit two fires. That was to be the signal if +there was nothing seriously wrong. I let the boy's father take my +horse--man by the name of Carr." + +"And the others? That was Pete Johnson, wasn't it? He went after the +boy?" + +"Yes. And young Mitchell and Joe Benavides." + +Zurich glanced aside at his companions. Dorsey's back was turned. Jim +Scarboro was swearing helplessly under his breath. Tall Eric had taken +off his hat and fumbled with it; the low sun was ruddy in his bright +hair. Perhaps it was that same sun which flamed so swiftly in Zurich's +face. + +"We might as well go back," he said dully, and turned his horse's head +toward the little huddle of hills in the southwest. + +Boland watched them go with a confused mind, and sank back to sleep +again. + + * * * * * + +"Jackson," said Pete in the morning, "you and Frank stay here. I reckon +there'll be no use to take the wagon down to the old claim; but us three +are going down to take a look, now we've come this far. Frank says he's +feeling better, but he don't look very peart. You get him to sleep all +you can. If we should happen to want you, we'll light a big fire. So +long!" + +"Don Hooaleece," said Benavides, very bright-eyed, when they had ridden a +little way from camp, "how is eet to be? Eef eet is war I am wis you to +ze beeg black box." + +"Joe," said Pete, "I've dodged and crept and slid and crawled and +climbed. I've tried to go over, under, and around. Now I'm going +through." + +They came to the copper hill before eight. They found no one; but there +were little stone monuments scattered on all the surrounding hills, and a +big monument on the highest point of the little hill they had called +their own. + +"They've gone," said Stan. "Very wise of them. Well, let's go see the +worst." + +They dismounted and walked to the hilltop. The big monument, built of +loose stones and freshly dug slabs of ore, flashed green and blue in the +sun. Stan found a folded paper between two flat stones. + +"Here's their location notice," he said. + +He started to unfold it; a word caught his eye and his jaw dropped. He +held the notice over, half opened, so that Pete and Joe could see the +last paragraph: + +And the same shall be known as the Bobby Carr Mine. + +WITNESSES +Jim Scarboro +William Dorsey +Eric Anderson +C. Mayer Zurich + +LOCATORS +Peter Wallace Johnson +Stanley Mitchell + +"Zere is a note," said Joe; "I see eet wizzinside." + +Stanley unfolded the location notice. A note dropped out. Pete picked it +up and read it aloud: + +Pete: We did not know about the boy, or we would have helped, of course. +Only for him you had us beat. So this squares that up. + +Your location does not take in quite all the hill. So we located the +little end piece for ourselves. We think that is about right. + +Yours truly +C. Mayer Zurich + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14545 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..43bf62a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #14545 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14545) diff --git a/old/14545-8.txt b/old/14545-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca9f962 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14545-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6285 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Copper Streak Trail, by Eugene Manlove Rhodes + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Copper Streak Trail + +Author: Eugene Manlove Rhodes + +Release Date: December 31, 2004 [eBook #14545] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COPPER STREAK TRAIL*** + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Project Gutenberg Beginners Projects, +Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +COPPER STREAK TRAIL + +by + +EUGENE MANLOVE RHODES + +Author of _Stepsons Of Light_, _Good Men And True_, _West Is West_, etc. + +1917 + + + + + + + +TO THE READER OF THIS BOOK FROM ONE WHO SAW LIFE UNSTEADILY AND IN PART + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The stage line swung aside in a huge half-circle, rounding the northern +end of the Comobabi Range and swinging far out to skirt the foothills. +Mr. Peter Johnson had never been to Silverbell: his own country lay far +to the north, beyond the Gila. But he knew that Silverbell was somewhere +east of the Comobabi, not north; and confidently struck out to find a +short cut through the hills. From Silverbell a spur of railroad ran down +to Redrock. Mr. Johnson's thought was to entrain himself for Tucson. + +The Midnight horse reached along in a brisk, swinging walk, an optimistic +walk, good for four miles an hour. He had held that gait since three +o'clock in the morning, with an hour off for water and breakfast at +Smith's Wells, the first stage station out from Cobre; it was now +hot noon by a conscientious sun--thirty-six miles. But Midnight did not +care. For hours their way had been through a trackless plain of uncropped +salt grass, or grama, on the rising slopes: now they were in a country of +worn and freshly traveled trails: wise Midnight knew there would be water +and nooning soon. Already they had seen little bands of horses peering +down at them from the high knolls on their right. + +Midnight wondered if they were to find sweet water or alkali. Sweet, +likely, since it was in the hills; Midnight was sure he hoped so. The +best of these wells in the plains were salt and brackish. Privately, +Midnight preferred the Forest Reserve. It was a pleasant, soft life in +these pinewood pastures. Even if it was pretty dull for a good cow-horse +after the Free Range, it was easier on old bones. And though Midnight was +not insensible to the compliment Pete had paid him by picking him from +the bunch for these long excursions to the Southland deserts, he missed +the bunch. + +They had been together a long time, the bunch; Pete had brought them from +the Block Ranch, over in New Mexico. They were getting on in years, and +so was Pete. Midnight mused over his youthful days--the dust, the +flashing horns, the shouting and the excitement of old round-ups. + +It is a true telling that thoughts in no way unlike these buzzed in the +rider's head as a usual thing. But to-day he had other things to think +of. + +With Kid Mitchell, his partner, Pete had lately stumbled upon a secret +of fortune--a copper hill; a warty, snubby little gray hill in an +insignificant cluster of little gray hills. But this one, and this one +only, precariously crusted over with a thin layer of earth and windblown +sand, was copper, upthrust by central fires; rich ore, crumbling, soft; a +hill to be loaded, every yard of it, into cars yet unbuilt, on a railroad +yet undreamed-of, save by these two lucky adventurers. + +They had blundered upon their rich find by pure chance. For in the +southwest, close upon the Mexican border, in the most lonesome corner +of the most lonesome county of thinly settled Arizona, turning back from +a long and fruitless prospecting trip, they had paused for one last, +half-hearted venture. One idle stroke of the pick in a windworn bare +patch had turned up--this! + +So Pete Johnson's thoughts were of millions; not without a queer feeling +that he wouldn't have the least idea what to do with them, and that he +was parting with something in his past, priceless, vaguely indefinable: a +sharing and acceptance of the common lot, a brotherhood with the not +fortunate. + +Riding to the northwest, Pete's broad gray sombrero was tilted aside +to shelter from the noonday sun a russet face, crinkled rather than +wrinkled, and dusty. His hair, thinning at the temples, vigorous at the +ears, was crisply white. A short and lately trimmed mustache held a smile +in ambush; above it towered such a nose as Wellington loved. + +It was broad at the base; deep creases ran from the corners of it, +flanking the white mustache, to a mouth strong, full-lipped and +undeniably large, ready alike for laughter or for sternness. + +The nose--to follow the creases back again--was fleshy and beaked at +the tip; it narrowed at the level bridge and broadened again where it +joined the forehead, setting the eyes well apart. The eyes themselves +were blue, just a little faded--for the man was sixty-two--and there +were wind-puckers at the corners of them. But they were keen eyes, +steady, sparkling and merry eyes, for all that; they were deep-set and +long, and they sloped a trifle, high on the inside corners; pent in by +pepper-and-salt brows, bushy, tufted and thick, roguishly aslant from the +outer corners up to where they all but met above the Wellingtonian nose. +A merry face, a forceful face: Pete was a little man, five feet seven, +and rather slender than otherwise; but no one, in view of that face, ever +thought of him as a small man or an old one. + +The faint path merged with another and another, the angles of convergence +giving the direction of the unknown water hole; they came at last to the +main trail, a trunk line swollen by feeders from every ridge and arroyo. +It bore away to the northeast, swerving, curving to pitch and climb in +faultless following of the rule of roads--the greatest progress with the +least exertion. Your cow is your best surveyor. + +They came on the ranch suddenly, rounding a point into a small natural +amphitheater. A flat-roofed dugout, fronted with stone, was built into +the base of a boulder-piled hill; the door was open. Midnight perked his +black head jauntily and slanted an ear. + +High overhead, a thicket of hackberry and arrow-weed overhung the +little valley. From this green tangle a pipe line on stilts broke +away and straddled down a headlong hill. Frost was unknown; the pipe +was supported by forked posts of height assorted to need, an expedient +easier than ditching that iron hillside. The water discharged into a +fenced and foursquare earthen reservoir; below it was a small corral +of cedar stakes; through the open gate, as he rode by, Pete saw a long +watering-trough with a float valve. Before the dugout stood a patriarchal +juniper, in the shade of which two saddled horses stood droop-hipped, +comfortably asleep. Waking, as Pete drew near, they adjusted their +disarray in some confusion and eyed the newcomers with bright-eyed +inquiry. Midnight, tripping by, hailed them with a civil little whinny. + +A tall, heavy man upreared himself from the shade. His example was +followed by another man, short and heavy. Blankets were spread on a +tarpaulin beyond them. + +"'Light, stranger," said the tall man heartily. "Unsaddle and eat a small +snack. We was just taking a little noonday nap for ourselves." + +"Beans, jerky gravy, and bread," announced the short man, waiter fashion. +"I'll hot up the coffee." + +With the word he fed little sticks and splinters to a tiny fire, now +almost burned out, near the circumference of that shaded circle. + +"Yes, to all that; thank you," said Pete, slipping off. + +He loosened the cinches; so doing he caught from the corner of his eye +telegraphed tidings, as his two hosts rolled to each other a single +meaningful glance, swift, furtive, and white-eyed. Observing which, every +faculty of Pete Johnson's mind tensed, fiercely alert, braced to +attention. + +"Now what? Some more of the same. Lights out! Protect yourself!" he +thought, taking off the saddle. Aloud he said: + +"One of Zurich's ranches, isn't it? I saw ZK burned on the gateposts." + +He passed his hand along Midnight's sweaty back for possible bruise or +scald; he unfolded the Navajo saddle blanket and spread it over the +saddle to dry. He took the _sudaderos_--the jute sweatcloths under the +Navajo--and draped them over a huge near-by boulder in the sun, carefully +smoothing them out to prevent wrinkles; to all appearance without any +other care on earth. + +"Yes; horse camp," said the tall man. "Now you water the black horse and +I'll dig up a bait of corn for him. Wash up at the trough." + +"_Puesto que si!_" said Pete. + +He slipped the bit out of Midnight's mouth, pushing the headstall back on +the sleek black neck by way of lead rope, and they strode away to the +water pen, side by side. + +When they came back a nose-bag, full of corn, stood ready near the fire. +Pete hung this on Midnight's head. Midnight munched contentedly, with +half-closed eyes, and Pete turned to the fire. + +"Was I kidding myself?" he inquired. "Or did somebody mention the name of +grub?" + +"Set up!" grinned the tall man, kicking a small box up beside a slightly +larger one, which served as a table. "Nothing much to eat but food. +Canned truck all gone." + +The smaller host poured coffee. Pete considered the boxes. + +"You didn't pack these over here?" he asked, prodding the table with his +boot-toe to elucidate his meaning. "And yet I didn't see no wheel marks +as I come along." + +"Fetch 'em from Silverbell. We got a sort of wagon track through the +hills. Closer than Cobre. Some wagon road in the rough places! Snakes +thick on the east side; but they don't never get over here. Break their +backs comin' through the gap. Yes, sir!" + +"Then I'll just june along in the cool of the evenin'," observed Pete, +ladling out a second helping of jerked venison. "I can follow your wagon +tracks into town. I ain't never been to Silverbell. Was afraid I might +miss it in the dark. How far is it? About twenty mile, I reckon?" + +"Just about. Shucks! I was in hopes you'd stay overnight with us. Bill +and me, we ain't seen no one since Columbus crossed the Delaware in +fourteen-ninety-two. Can't ye, now?" urged the tall man coaxingly. "We'll +pitch horseshoes--play cards if you want to; only Bill and me's pretty +well burnt out at cards. Fox and geese too--ever play fox and geese? +We got a dandy fox-and-goose board--but Bill, he natcherly can't play. +He's from California, Bill is." + +"Aw, shut up on that!" growled Bill. + +"Sorry," said Pete, "I'm pushed. Got to go on to-night. Want to take that +train at seven-thirty in the morning, and a small sleep for myself before +that. Maybe I'll stop over as I come back, though. Fine feed you got +here. Makes a jim-darter of a horse camp." + +"Yes, 'tis. We aim to keep the cattle shoved off so we can save the grass +for the saddle ponies." + +"Must have quite a bunch?" + +"'Bout two hundred. Well, sorry you can't stay with us. We was fixin' to +round up what cows had drifted in and give 'em a push back to the main +range this afternoon. But they'll keep. We'll stick round camp; and you +stay as late as you can, stranger, and we'll stir up something. I'll tell +you what, Bill--we'll pull off that shootin' match you was blowin' +about." The tall man favored Johnson with a confidential wink. "Bill, he +allows he can shoot right peart. Bill's from California." + +Bill, the short man, produced a gray-and-yellow tobacco sack and +extracted a greasy ten-dollar greenback, which he placed on the box +table at Johnson's elbow. + +"Cover that, durn you! You hold stakes, stranger. I'll show him +California. Humph! Dam' wall-eyed Tejano!" + +"I'm a Texan myself," twinkled Johnson. + +"What if you are? You ain't wall-eyed, be you? And you ain't been makin' +no cracks at California--not to me. But this here Jim--look at the +white-eyed, tow-headed grinnin' scoundrel, will you?--Say, are you goin' +to cover that X or are you goin' to crawfish?" + +"Back down? You peevish little sawed-off runt!" yelped Jim. "I been +lettin' you shoot off your head so's you'll be good and sore afterward. +I always wanted a piece of paper money any way--for a keepsake. You +wait!" + +He went into the cabin and returned with a tarnished gold piece and a box +of forty-five cartridges. + +"Here, stakeholder!" he said to Johnson. + +Then, to Bill: "Now, then, old Californy--you been all swelled-up and +stumping me for quite some time. Show us what you got!" + +It was an uncanny exhibition of skill that followed. These men knew +how to handle a sixshooter. They began with tin cans at ten yards, +thirty, fifty--and hit them. They shot at rolling cans, and hit them; +at high-thrown cans, and hit them; at cards nailed to hitching-posts; +then at the pips of cards. Neither man could boast of any advantage. The +few and hairbreadth misses of the card pips, the few blanks at the longer +ranges, fairly offset each other. The California man took a slightly +crouching attitude, his knees a little bent; held his gun at his knee; +raising an extended and rigid arm to fire. The Texan stood erect, almost +on tiptoe, bareheaded; he swung his gun ear-high above his shoulder, +looking at his mark alone, and fired as the gun flashed down. The little +California man made the cleaner score at the very long shots and in +clipping the pips of the playing cards; the Texan had a shade the better +at the flying targets, his bullets ranging full-center where the other +barely grazed the cans. + +"I don't see but what I'll have to keep this money. You've shot away all +the cartridges in your belts and most of the box, and it hasn't got you +anywheres," observed Pete Johnson pensively. "Better let your guns cool +off. You boys can't beat each other shooting. You do right well, too, +both of you. If you'd only started at it when you was young, I reckon +you'd both have been what you might call plumb good shots now." + +He shook his head sadly and suppressed a sigh. + +"Wait!" advised the Texan, and turned to confront his partner. "You make +out quite tol'lable with a gun, Billiam," he conceded. "I got to hand it +to you. I judged you was just runnin' a windy. But have you now showed +all your little box of tricks?" + +"Well, I haven't missed anything--not to speak of--no more than you did," +evaded Bill, plainly apprehensive. "What more do you want?" + +Jim chuckled. + +"Pausin' lightly to observe that it ought to be easy enough to best you, +if we was on horseback--just because you peek at your sights when you +shoot--I shall now show you something." + +A chuck box was propped against the juniper trunk. From this the Texan +produced a horseshoe hammer and the lids from two ten-pound lard pails. +He strode over to where, ten yards away, two young cedars grew side by +side, and nailed a lid to each tree, shoulder-high. + +"There!" he challenged his opponent. "We ain't either of us going to miss +such a mark as that--it's like putting your finger on it. But suppose the +tree was shooting back? Time is what counts then. Now, how does this +strike you? You take the lid on the left and I'll take the other. When +the umpire says Go! we'll begin foggin'--and the man that scores six +hits quickest gets the money. That's fair, isn't it, Johnson?" + +This was a slip--Johnson had not given his name--a slip unnoticed by +either of the ZK men, but not by Johnson. + +"Fair enough, I should say," he answered. + +"Why, Jim, that ain't practical--that ain't!" protested Bill uneasily. +"You was talking about the tree a-shootin' back--but one shot will stop +most men, let alone six. What's the good of shootin' a man all to +pieces?" + +"Suppose there was six men?" + +"Then they get me, anyway. Wouldn't they, Mr. Umpire?" he appealed to +Peter Johnson, who sat cross-legged and fanned himself with his big +sombrero. + +"That don't make any difference," decided the umpire promptly. "To shoot +straight and quickest--that's bein' a good shot. Line up!" + +Bill lined up, unwillingly enough; they stuffed their cylinders with +cartridges. + +"Don't shoot till I say: One, two, three--go!" admonished Pete. "All set? +One--two--three--go!" + +A blending, crackling roar, streaked red and saffron, through black +smoke: the Texan's gun flashed down and up and back, as a man snaps his +fingers against the frost; he tossed his empty gun through the sunlight +to the bed under the juniper tree and spread out his hands. Bill was +still firing--one shot--two! + +"Judgment!" shouted the Texan and pointed. Six bullet holes were +scattered across his target, line shots, one above the other; and +poor Bill, disconcerted, had missed his last shot! + +"Jim, I guess the stuff is yours," said Bill sheepishly. + +The big Texan retrieved his gun from the bed and Pete gave him the +stakes. He folded the bill lovingly and tucked it away; but he flipped +the coin from his thumb, spinning in the sun, caught it as it fell, and +glanced askant at old Pete. + +"How long ago did you say it was when you began shootin'?" He voiced the +query with exceeding politeness and inclined his head deferentially. "Or +did you say?" + +Pete pondered, pushing his hand thoughtfully through his white hair. + +"Oh, I began tryin' when I was about ten years old, or maybe seven. +It's been so long ago I scarcely remember. But I didn't get to be what +you might call a fair shot till about the time you was puttin' on your +first pair of pants," he said sweetly. "There was a time, though, before +that--when I was about the age you are now--when I really thought I could +shoot. I learned better." + +A choking sound came from Bill; Jim turned his eyes that way. Bill +coughed hastily. Jim sent the gold piece spinning again. + +"I'm goin' to keep Bill's tenspot--always," he announced emotionally. +"I'll never, never part with that! But this piece of money--" He threw it +up again. "Why, stranger, you might just as well have that as not. Bill +can be stakeholder and give us the word. There's just six cartridges left +in the box for me." + +Peter Johnson smiled brightly, disclosing a row of small, white, perfect +teeth. He got to his feet stiffly and shook his aged legs; he took out +his gun, twirled the cylinder, and slipped in an extra cartridge. + +"I always carry the hammer on an empty chamber--safer that way," he +explained. + +He put the gun back in the holster, dug up a wallet, and produced a gold +piece for the stakeholder. + +"You'd better clean your gun, young man," he said. "It must be pretty +foul by now." + +Jim followed this advice, taking ten minutes for the operation. Meantime +the Californian replaced the targets with new ones--old tin dinner plates +this time--and voiced a philosophical regret over his recent defeat. The +Texas man, ready at last, took his place beside Pete and raised his gun +till the butt of it was level with his ear, the barrel pointing up and +back. Johnson swung up his heavy gun in the same fashion. + +"Ready?" bawled Bill. "All right! One--two--three--go!" + +Johnson's gun leaped forward, blazing; his left hand slapped back +along the barrel, once, twice; pivoting, his gun turned to meet Bill, +almost upon him, hands outstretched. Bill recoiled; Pete stepped aside +a pace--all this at once. The Texan dropped his empty gun and turned. + +"You win," said Pete gently. + +Not understanding yet, triumph faded from the Texan's eyes at that gentle +tone. He looked at the target; he looked at Bill, who stood open-mouthed +and gasping; then he looked at the muzzle of Mr. Johnson's gun. His face +flushed red, and then became almost black. Mr. Johnson held the gun +easily at his hip, covering both his disarmed companions: Mr. Johnson's +eyebrows were flattened and his mouth was twisted. + +"It's loaded!" croaked Bill in a horrified voice. "The skunk only shot +once!" + +Peter corrected him: + +"Three times. I fanned the hammer. Look at the target!" + +Bill looked at the target; his jaw dropped again; his eyes protruded. +There were three bullet holes, almost touching each other, grouped round +the nail in the center of Pete's tin plate. + +"Well, I'm just damned!" he said. "I'll swear he didn't shoot but once." + +"That's fannin' the hammer, Shorty," drawled Pete. "Ever hear of that? +Well, now you've seen it. When you practice it, hold your elbow tight +against your ribs to steady your gun while you slap the hammer back. For +you, Mr. Jim--I see you've landed your six shots; but some of 'em are +mighty close to the edge of your little old plate. Poor shootin'! Poor +shootin'! You ought to practice more. As for speed, I judge I can do six +shots while you're making four. But I thought I'd best not--to-day. Son, +pick up your gun, and get your money from Shorty." + +Mr. Jim picked up his gun and threw out the empty shells. He glared +savagely at Mr. Johnson, now seated happily on his saddle. + +"If I just had hold of you--you benched-legged hound! Curse your soul, +what do you mean by it?" snarled Jim. + +"Oh, I was just a-thinkin'," responded Pete lightly. "Thinkin' how +helpless I'd be with you two big huskies, here with my gun empty. Don't +snicker, Bill! That's rude of you. Your pardner's feeling plenty bad +enough without that. He looks it. Mr. Bill, I'll bet a blue shirt you +told the Jim-person to wait and see if I wouldn't take a little siesta, +and you'd get me whilst I was snoozing. You lose, then. I never sleep. +Tex, for the love of Mike, do look at Bill's face; and Bill, you look at +Mr. Jim, from Texas! Guilty as charged! Your scheme, was it, Texas? And +Shorty Bill, he told you so? Why, you poor toddling innocents, you won't +never prosper as crooks! Your faces are too honest. + +"And that frame-up of yours--oh, that was a loo-loo bird! Livin' together +and didn't know which was the best shot--likely! And every tin can in +sight shot full of holes and testifyin' against you! Think I'm blind, +hey? Even your horses give you away. Never batted an eyelash durin' that +whole cannonade. They've been hearin' forty-fives pretty reg'lar, them +horses have." + +"I notice your old black ain't much gun-shy, either," ventured Bill. + +"See here--you!" said the big Texan. "You talk pretty biggity. It's +mighty easy to run a whizzer when you've got the only loaded gun in camp. +If I had one damned cartridge left it would be different." + +"Never mind," said Johnson kindly. "I'll give you one!" + +Rising, he twirled the cylinder of his gun and extracted his three +cartridges. He threw one far down the hillslope; he dropped one on +the ground beside him; he tossed the last one in the sand at the Texan's +feet. + +Jim, from Texas, looked at the cartridge without animation; he looked +into Pete Johnson's frosty eyes; he kicked the cartridge back. + +"I lay 'em down right here," he stated firmly. "I like a damned fool; but +you suit me too well." + +He stalked away toward his horse with much dignity. He stopped halfway, +dropped upon a box, pounded his thigh and gave way to huge and unaffected +laughter; in which Bill joined a moment later. + +"Oh, you little bandy-legged old son-of-a-gun!" Jim roared. "You +crafty, wily, cunnin' old fox! I'm for you! Of all the holy shows, +you've made Bill and me the worst--'specially me. 'There, there!' you +says, consolin' me up like I was a kid with a cracked jug. 'There, there! +Never mind--I'll give you one!' Deah, oh, deah! I'll never be able to +keep this still--never in the world. I'm bound to tell it on myself!" He +wiped tears from his eyes and waved his hand helplessly. "Take the ranch, +stranger. She's yours. I wouldn't touch you if you was solid gold and +charges prepaid." + +"Oh, don't make a stranger of me!" begged Pete. "You was callin' me by +the name of Johnson half an hour ago. Forgot yourself, likely." + +"Did I?" said Jim indifferently. "No odds. You've got my number, anyway. +And I thought we was so devilish sly!" + +"Well, boys, thank you for the dinner and all; but I'd best be jogging. +Got to catch that train." + +Knitting his brows reflectively he turned a questioning eye upon his +hosts. But Shorty Bill took the words from his mouth. + +"I'm like Jim: I've got a-plenty," he said. "But there's a repeating +rifle in the shack, if you don't want to risk us. You can leave it at +Silverbell for us if you want to--at the saloon. And we can ride off +the other way, so you'll be sure." + +"Maybe that'll be best--considerin'," said Pete. "I'll leave the gun." + +"See here, Johnson," said Jim stiffly. "We've thrown 'em down, fair and +square. I think you might trust us." + +Pete scratched his head in some perplexity. + +"I think maybe I might if it was only myself to think of. But I'm +representing another man's interest too. I ain't takin' no chances." + +"Yes--I noticed you was one of them prudent guys," murmured Jim. + +Pete ignored the interruption. + +"So, not rubbin' it in or anything, we'd best use Bill's plan. You lads +hike off back the way I come, and I'll take your rifle and drag it. So +long! Had a good time with you." + +"_Adiós!_" said Bill, swinging into the saddle. + +"Hold on, Bill! Give Johnson back his money," said Jim. + +"Oh, you keep it. You won it fair. I didn't go to the finish." + +"Look here--what do you think I am? You take this money, or I'll be sore +as a boil. There! So long, old hand! Be good!" He spurred after Bill. + +Mr. Johnson brought the repeater from the dugout and saddled old +Midnight. As he pulled the cinches tight, he gazed regretfully at +his late companions, sky-lined as they topped a rise. + +"There!" said Mr. Johnson with conviction. "There goes a couple of right +nice boys!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The immemorial traditions of Old Spain, backed by the counsel of a brazen +sun, made a last stand against the inexorable centuries: Tucson was at +siesta; noonday lull was drowsy in the corridors of the Merchants and +Miners Bank. Green shades along the south guarded the cool and quiet +spaciousness of the Merchants and Miners, flooded with clear white light +from the northern windows. In the lobby a single client, leaning on the +sill at the note-teller's window, meekly awaited the convenience of the +office force. + +The Castilian influence had reduced the office force, at this ebb hour of +business, to a spruce, shirt-sleeved young man, green-vizored as to his +eyes, seated at a mid-office desk, quite engrossed with mysterious +clerical matters. + +The office force had glanced up at Mr. Johnson's first entrance, but only +to resume its work at once. Such industry is not the custom; among the +assets of any bank, courtesy is the most indispensable item. Mr. Johnson +was not unversed in the ways of urbanity; the purposed and palpable +incivility was not wasted upon him; nor yet the expression conveyed by +the back of the indefatigable clerical person--a humped, reluctant, and +rebellious back. If ever a back steeled itself to carry out a distasteful +task according to instructions, this was that back. Mr. Pete Johnson +sighed in sympathy. + +The minutes droned by. A clock, of hitherto unassuming habit, became +clamorous; it echoed along the dreaming corridors. Mr. Johnson sighed +again. + +The stone sill upon which he leaned reflected from its polished surface a +face carved to patience; but if the patient face had noted its own +reflection it might have remarked--and adjusted--eyebrows not so patient, +flattened to a level; and a slight quiver in the tip of a predatory nose. +The pen squeaked across glazed paper. Mr. Johnson took from his pocket a +long, thin cigar and a box of safety matches. + +The match crackled, startling in the silence; the clerical person turned +in his chair and directed at the prospective customer a stare so baleful +that the cigar was forgotten. The flame nipped Johnson's thumb; he +dropped the match on the tiled floor and stepped upon it. The clerk +hesitated and then rose. + +"He loves me--he loves me not!" murmured Mr. Johnson sadly, plucking the +petals from an imaginary daisy. + +The clerk sauntered to the teller's wicket and frowned upon his customer +from under eyebrows arched and supercilious; he preserved a haughty +silence. Before this official disapproval Peter's eyes wavered and fell, +abashed. + +"I'll--I'll stick my face through there if you'd like to step on it!" he +faltered. + +The official eyebrows grew arrogant. + +"You are wasting my time. Have you any business here?" + +"Ya-as. Be you the cashier?" + +"His assistant." + +"I'd like to borrow some money," said Pete timidly. He tucked away the +unlit cigar. "Two thousand. Name of Johnson. Triangle E brand--Yavapai +County! Two hundred Herefords in a fenced township. Three hundred and +twenty acres patented land. Sixty acres under ditch. I'd give you a +mortgage on that. Pete Johnson--Peter Wallace Johnson on mortgages and +warrants." + +"I do not think we would consider it." + +"Good security--none better," said Pete. "Good for three times two +thousand at a forced sale." + +"Doubtless!" The official shoulders shrugged incredulity. + +"I'm known round here--you could look up my standing, verify titles, and +so on," urged Pete. + +"I could not make the loan on my own authority." + +Pete's face fell. + +"Can't I see Mr. Gans, then?" he persisted. + +"He's out to luncheon." + +"Be back soon?" + +"I really could not say." + +"I might talk to Mr. Longman, perhaps?" + +"Mr. Longman is on a trip to the Coast." + +Johnson twisted his fingers nervously on the onyx sill. Then he raised +his downcast eyes, lit with a fresh hope. + +"Is--is the janitor in?" he asked. + +"You are pleased to be facetious, sir," the teller replied. His lip +curled; he turned away, tilting his chin with conscious dignity. + +Mr. Johnson tapped the sill with the finger of authority. + +"Young man, do you want I should throw this bank out of the window?" he +said severely. "Because if you don't, you uncover some one a grown man +can do business with. You're suffering from delusions of grandeur, fair +young sir. I almost believe you have permitted yourself to indulge in +some levity with me--me, P. Wallace Johnson! And if I note any more +light-hearted conduct on your part I'll shake myself and make merry with +you till you'll think the roof has done fell on you. Now you dig up the +Grand Panjandrum, with the little round button on top, or I'll come in +unto you! Produce! Trot!" + +The cashier's dignity abated. Mr. Johnson was, by repute, no stranger +to him. Not sorry to pass this importunate borrower on to other hands, +he tapped at a door labeled "Vice-President," opened it, and said +something in a low voice. From this room a man emerged at once--Marsh, +vice-president, solid of body, strong of brow. Clenched between heavy +lips was a half-burned cigar, on which he puffed angrily. + +"Well, Johnson, what's this?" he demanded. + +"You got money to sell? I want to buy some. Let me come in and talk it up +to you." + +"Let him in, Hudson," said Marsh. His cigar took on a truculent angle as +he listened to Johnson's proposition. + +It appeared that Johnson's late outburst of petulance had cleared his +bosom of much perilous stuff. His crisp tones carried a suggestion of +lingering asperity, but otherwise he bore himself with becoming modesty +and diffidence in the presence of the great man. He stated his needs +briskly and briefly, as before. + +"Money is tight," said Marsh curtly. + +He scowled; he thrust his hands into his pockets as if to guard them; he +rocked back upon his heels; his eyes were leveled at a point in space +beyond Pete's shoulder; he clamped his cigar between compressed lips and +puffed a cloud of smoke from a corner of a mouth otherwise grimly tight. + +Mr. Peter Johnson thought again of that unlit cigar, came swiftly to +tiptoe, and puffed a light from the glowing tip of Marsh's cigar before +that astonished person could withdraw his gaze from the contemplation of +remote infinities. The banker recoiled, flushed and frowning; the teller +bent hastily over his ledger. + +Johnson, puffing luxuriously, renewed his argument with a guileless face. +Marsh shook his head and made a bear-trap mouth. + +"Why don't you go to Prescott, Johnson? There's where your stuff is. They +know you better than we do." + +"Why, Mr. Marsh, I don't want to go to Prescott. Takes too long. I need +this money right away." + +"Really--but that is hardly our affair, is it?" A frosty smile +accompanied the query. + +"Aw, what's wrong? Isn't that security all right?" urged Pete. + +"No doubt the security is exactly as you say," said the banker, "but your +property is in another county, a long distance from here. We would have +to make inquiries and send the mortgage to be filed in Prescott--very +inconvenient. Besides, as I told you before, money is tight. We regret +that we cannot see our way to accommodate you. This is final!" + +"Shucks!" said Pete, crestfallen and disappointed; he lingered +uncertainly, twisting his hat brim between his hands. + +"That is final," repeated the banker. "Was there anything else?" + +"A check to cash," said Pete humbly. + +He went back into the lobby, much chastened; the spring lock of the door +snapped behind him. + +"Wait on this gentleman, if you please, Mr. Hudson," said Marsh, and +busied himself at a cabinet. + +Hudson rose from his desk and moved across to the cashier's window. His +lip curved disdainfully. Mr. Johnson's feet were brisk and cheerful on +the tiles. When his face appeared at the window, his hat and the long +black cigar were pushed up to angles parallel, jaunty and perilous. He +held in his hand a sheaf of papers belted with a rubber band; he slid +over the topmost of these papers, face down. + +"It's endorsed," he said, pointing to his heavy signature. + +"How will you have it, sir?" Hudson inquired with a smile of mocking +deference. + +"Quick and now," said Pete. + +Hudson flipped over the check. The sneer died from his face. His tongue +licked at his paling lips. + +"What does this mean?" he stammered. + +"Can't you read?" said Pete. + +The cashier did not answer. He turned and called across the room: + +"Mr. Marsh! Mr. Marsh!" + +Marsh came quickly, warned by the startled note in the cashier's voice. +Hudson passed him the check with hands that trembled a little. The +vice-president's face mottled with red and white. The check was made +to the order of P.W. Johnson; it was signed by Henry Bergman, sheriff +of Pima County, and the richest cowman of the Santa Cruz Valley; the +amount was eighty-six thousand dollars. + +Marsh glowered at Johnson in a cold fury. + +"Call up Bergman!" he ordered. + +Hudson made haste to obey. + +"Oh, that's all right! I'd just as soon wait," said Pete cheerfully. +"Hank's at home, anyhow. I told him maybe you'd want to ask about the +check." + +"He should have notified us before drawing out any such amount," fumed +Marsh. "This is most unusual, for a small bank like this. He told us he +shouldn't need this money until this fall." + +"Draft on El Paso will do. Don't have to have cash." + +"All very well--but it will be a great inconvenience to us, just the +same." + +"Really--but that is hardly our affair, is it?" said Pete carelessly. + +The banker smote the shelf with an angry hand; some of the rouleaus of +gold stacked on the inner shelf toppled and fell; gold pieces clattered +on the floor. + +"Johnson, what is your motive? What are you up to?" + +"It's all perfectly simple. Old Hank and me used to be implicated +together in the cow business down on the Concho. One of the Goliad +Bergmans--early German settlers." + +Here Hudson hung up and made interruption. + +"Bergman says the check is right," he reported. + +Johnson resumed his explanation: + +"As I was sayin', I reckon I know all the old-time cowmen from here to +breakfast and back. Old Joe Benavides, now--one of your best depositors; +I fished Joe out of Manzanillo Bay thirty year back. He was all drowned +but Amen." + +Wetting his thumb he slipped off the next paper from under the rubber +band. Marsh eyed the sheaf apprehensively and winced. + +"Got one of Joe's checks here," Pete continued, smoothing it out. "But +maybe I won't need to cash it--to-day." + +"Johnson," said the vice-president, "are you trying to start a run on +this bank? What do you want?" + +"My money. What the check calls for. That is final." + +"This is sheer malice." + +"Not a bit of it. You're all wrong. Just common prudence--that's all. You +see, I needed a little money. As I was tellin' you, I got right smart of +property, but no cash just now; nor any comin' till steer-sellin' time. +So I come down to Tucson on the rustle. Five banks in Tucson; four of +'em, countin' yours, turned me down cold." + +"If you had got Bergman to sign with you--" Marsh began. + +"Tell that to the submarines," said Pete. "Good irrigated land is better +than any man's name on a note; and I don't care who that man is. A man +might die or run away, or play the market. Land stays put. Well, after my +first glimpse of the cold shoulder I ciphered round a spell. I'm a great +hand to cipher round. Some one is out to down me; some one is givin' out +orders. Who? Mayer Zurich, I judged. He sold me a shoddy coat once. And +he wept because he couldn't loan me the money I wanted, himself. He's one +of these liers-in-wait you read about--Mayer is. + +"So I didn't come to you till the last, bein' as Zurich was one of your +directors. I studied some more--and then I hunted up old Hank Bergman and +told him my troubles," said Pete suavely. "He expressed quite some +considerable solicitude. 'Why, Petey, this is a shockin' disclosure!' he +says. 'A banker is a man that makes a livin' loanin' other people's +money. Lots of marble and brass to a bank, salaries and other expenses. +Show me a bank that's quit lendin' money and I'll show you a bank that's +due to bust, _muy pronto!_ I got quite a wad in the Merchants and +Miners,' he says, 'and you alarm me. I'll give you a check for it, and +you go there first off to-morrow and see if they'll lend you what you +need. You got good security. If they ain't lendin',' he says, 'then you +just cash my check and invest it for me where it will be safe. I lose the +interest for only four days,' he says--'last Monday, the fifteenth, being +my quarter day. Hold out what you need for yourself.' + +"'I don't want any,' says I. 'The First National say they can fit me out +by Wednesday if I can't get it before. Man don't want to borrow from his +friends,' says I. 'Then put my roll in the First National,' says Hank. +That's all! Only--I saw some of the other old-timers last night." Pete +fingered his sheaf significantly. + +"You have us!" said Marsh. "What do you want?" + +"I want the money for this check--so you'll know I'm not permeated with +any ideas about heaping coals of fire on your old bald head. Come +through, real earnest! I'll see about the rest. Exerting financial +pressure is what they call this little racket you worked on me, I +believe. It's a real nice game. I like it. If you ever mull or meddle +with my affairs again I'll turn another check. That's for your official +information--so you can keep the bank from any little indiscretions. I'm +telling you! This isn't blackmail. This is directions. Sit down and write +me a draft on El Paso." + +Marsh complied. Peter Johnson inspected the draft carefully. + +"So much for the bank for to-day, the nineteenth," said Pete. "Now a few +kind words for you as the individual, Mr. George Marsh, quite aside from +your capacity as a banker. You report to Zurich that I applied for a loan +and you refused it--not a word more. I'm tellin' you! Put a blab on your +office boy." He rolled his thumb at young Hudson. "And hereafter if you +ever horn in on my affairs so much as the weight of a finger tip--I'm +tellin' you now!--I'll appear to you!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The world was palpably a triangle, baseless to southward; walled out by +iron, radiant ramparts--a black range, gateless, on the east; a gray +range on the west, broken, spiked, and bristling. At the northern limit +of vision the two ranges closed together to what seemed relatively the +sharp apex of the triangle, the mere intersection of two lines. This +point, this seemingly dimensionless dot, was in reality two score weary +miles of sandhills, shapeless, vague, and low; waterless, colorless, +and forlorn. Southward the central desert was uninhabitable; opinions +differed about the edges. + +Still in Arizona, the eye wearied; miles and leagues slid together to +indistinguishable inches. Then came a low line of scattered hills that +roughly marked the Mexican border. + +The mirage played whimsical pranks with these outpost hills. They became, +in turn, cones, pyramids, boxes, benches, chimney stacks, hourglasses. +Sometimes they soared high in air, like the kites of a baby god; and, +beneath, the unbroken desert stretched afar, wavering, misty, and dim. + +Again, on clear, still days, these hills showed crystalline, thin, icy, +cameo-sharp; beyond, between, faint golden splotches of broad Sonoran +plain faded away to nothingness; and, far beyond that nothingness, hazy +Sonoran peaks of dimmest blue rose from illimitable immensities, like +topmasts of a very large ship on a very small globe; and the earth was +really round, as alleged. + +It was fitting and proper that the desert, as a whole, had no name: the +spinning earth itself has none. Inconsiderable nooks and corners were +named, indeed--Crow Flat, the Temporal, Moonshine, the Rincońada. It +should rather be said, perhaps, that the desert had no accepted name. +Alma Mater, Lungs called it. But no one minded Lungs. + +Mr. Stanley Mitchell woke early in the Blue Bedroom to see the morning +made. He threw back the tarpaulin and sat up, yawning; with every line of +his face crinkled up, ready to laugh for gladness. + +The morning was shaping up well. Glints of red snapped and sparkled in +the east; a few late stars loitered along the broad, clean skies. A jerky +clatter of iron on rock echoed from the cliffs. That was the four hobbled +horses, browsing on the hillside: they snuffed and snorted cheerfully, +rejoicing in the freshness of dawn. From a limestone bluff, ten feet +behind the bed, came a silver tinkle of falling water from a spring, +dripping into its tiny pool. + +Stan drew in a great breath and snuffed, exactly as the horses snuffed +and from the same reason--to express delight; just as a hungry man smacks +his lips over a titbit. Pungent, aromatic, the odor of wood smoke alloyed +the taintless air of dawn. The wholesome smell of clean, brown earth, the +spicy tang of crushed herb and shrub, of cedar and juniper, mingled with +a delectable and savory fragrance of steaming coffee and sizzling, +spluttering venison. + +Pete Johnson sat cross-legged before the fire. This mess of venison was +no hit-or-miss affair; he was preparing a certain number of venison +steaks, giving to each separate steak the consideration of an artist. + +Stanley Mitchell kicked the blankets flying. "Whoo-hoo-oo! This is the +life!" he proclaimed. Orisons more pious have held less gratitude. + +He tugged on one boot, reached for the other--and then leaped to his feet +like a jack-in-the-box. With the boot in his hand he pointed to the +south. High on the next shadowy range, thirty miles away, a dozen +scattered campfires glowed across the dawn. + +"What the Billy-hell?" he said, startled. + +"Stan-ley!" + +"I will say wallop! I won't be a lady if I can't say wallop!" quoth Stan +rebelliously. "What's doing over at the Gavilan? There's never been three +men at once in those fiend-forsaken pinnacles before. Hey! S'pose they've +struck it rich, like we did?" + +"I'm afraid not," sighed Pete. "You toddle along and wash um's paddies. +She's most ripe." + +With a green-wood poker he lifted the lid from the bake-oven. The biscuit +were not browned to his taste; he dumped the blackening coals from the +lid and slid it into the glowing heart of the fire; he raked out a new +bed of coals and lifted the little three-legged bake-oven over them; with +his poker he skillfully flirted fresh coals on the rimmed lid and put it +back on the oven. He placed the skillet of venison on a flat rock at his +elbow and poured coffee into two battered tin cups. Breakfast was now +ready, and Pete raised his voice in the traditional dinner call of the +ranges: + +"Come and get it or I'll throw it out!" + +Stanley came back from a brisk toilet at Ironspring. He took a +preliminary sip of coffee, speared a juicy steak, and eyed his companion +darkly. Mr. Johnson plied knife and fork assiduously, with eyes downcast +and demure. + +Stanley Mitchell's smooth young face lined with suspicion. + +"When you've been up to some deviltry I can always tell it on you--you +look so incredibly meek and meechin', like a cat eatin' the canary," he +remarked severely. "Thank you for a biscuit. And the sugar! Now what +warlockry is this?" He jerked a thumb at the far-off fires. "What's the +merry prank?" + +Mr. Johnson sighed again. + +"Deception. Treachery. Mine." He looked out across the desert to the +Gavilan Hills with a complacent eye. "And breach of trust. Mine, again." + +"Who you been betrayin' now?" + +"Just you. You and your pardner; the last bein' myself. You know them +location papers of ours I was to get recorded at Tucson?" + +Stanley nodded. + +"Well, now," said Pete, "I didn't file them papers. Something real +curious happened on the way in--and I reckon I'm the most superstitious +man you ever see. So I tried a little experiment. Instead, I wrote out a +notice for that little old ledge we found over on the Gavilan a month +back. I filed that, just to see if any one was keeping cases on us--and I +filed it the very last thing before I left Tucson: You see what's +happened." He waved his empty coffee-cup at the campfires. "I come +right back and we rode straight to Ironspring. But there's been people +ridin' faster than us--ridin' day and night. Son, if our copper claims +had really been in the Gavilan, instead of a-hundred-and-then-some long +miles in another-guess direction--then what?" + +"We'd have found our claim jumped and a bunch to swear they'd been +working there before the date of our notices; that they didn't find the +scratch of a pick on the claim, no papers and no monument--that's what +we'd have found." + +"Correct! Pass the meat." + +"But we haven't told a soul," protested Stanley. "How could any one know? +We all but died of thirst getting back across the desert--the wind rubbed +out our tracks; we laid up at Soledad Springs a week before any one saw +us; when we finally went in to Cobre no one knew where we had been, that +we had found anything, or even that we'd been looking for anything. How +could any one know?" + +"This breakfast is getting cold," said Pete Johnson. "Good grub hurts no +one. Let's eat it. Then I'll let a little ray of intelligence filter into +your darkened mind." + +Breakfast finished, Stan piled the tin dishes with a clatter. "Now then, +old Greedy! Break the news to me." + +Pete considered young Stan through half-closed lids--a tanned, +smooth-faced, laughing, curly-headed, broad-shouldered young giant. + +"You got any enemies, pardner?" + +"Not one in the world that I know of," declared Stan cheerfully. + +"Back in New York, maybe?" + +"Not a one. No reason to have one." + +Pete shook his head reflectively. + +"You're dreadful dumb, you know. Think again. Think hard. Take some one's +girl away from him, maybe?" + +"Not a girl. Never had but one Annie," said Stanley. "I'm her Joe." + +"Ya-as. Back in New York. I've posted letters to her: Abingdon P.O. Name +of Selden." + +Stanley went brick red. + +"That's her. I'm her Joe. And when we get this little old bonanza of ours +to grinding she won't be in New York any more. Come again, old-timer. +What's all this piffle got to do with our mine?" + +"If you only had a little brains," sighed Johnson disconsolately, "I'd +soon find out who had it in for you, and why. It's dreadful inconvenient +to have a pardner like that. Why, you poor, credulous baa-lamb of a +trustful idiot, when you let me go off to file them papers, don't you see +you give me the chance to rob you of a mine worth, just as she stands, +'most any amount of money you chance to mention? Not you! You let me ride +off without a misgivin'." + +"Pish!" remarked Stan scornfully. "Twaddle! Tommyrot! Pickles!" + +Pete wagged a solemn forefinger. + +"If you wasn't plumb simple-minded and trustin' you would 'a' tumbled +long ago that somebody was putting a hoodoo on every play you make. I +caught on before you'd been here six months. I thought, of course, you'd +been doin' dirt to some one--till I come to know you." + +"I thank you for those kind words," grinned Mitchell; "also, for the +friendly explanation with which you cover up some bad luck and more +greenhorn's incompetence." + +"No greenhorn could be so thumbhandsided as all that," rejoined Pete +earnestly. "Your irrigation ditches break and wash out; cattle get into +your crops whenever you go to town; but your fences never break when +you're round the ranch. Notice that?" + +"I did observe something of that nature," confessed Mitchell. "I laid it +to sheer bad luck." + +The older man snorted. + +"Bad luck! You've been hoodooed! After that, you went off by your +lonesome and tried cattle. Your windmills broke down; your cattle was +stole plumb opprobrious--Mexicans blamed, of course. And the very first +winter the sheep drifted in on you--where no sheep had never blatted +before--and eat you out of house and home." + +"I sold out in the spring," reflected Stanley. "I ran two hundred head +of stock up to one hundred and twelve in six months. Go on! Your story +interests me, strangely. I begin to think I was not as big a fool as +I thought I was, and that it was foolish of me to ever think my folly +was--" + +Johnson interrupted him. + +"Then you bought a bunch of sheep. Son, you can't realize how +great-minded it is of me to overlook that slip of yours! You was out of +the way of every man in the world; you was on your own range, watering at +your own wells--the only case like that on record. And the second dark +night some petulant and highly anonymous cowboys run off your herder and +stampeded your woollies over a bluff." + +"Sheep outrages have happened before," observed Stan, rather dryly. + +"Sheep outrages are perpetrated by cowmen on cow ranges," rejoined Pete +hotly. "I guess I ought to know. Sheepmen aren't ever killed on their own +ranges; it isn't respectable. Sheepmen are all right in their place--and +hell's the place." + +"Peter!" said Stan. "Such langwidge!" + +"Wallop! Wallop!" barked Peter, defiant and indignant. "I will say +wallop! Now you shut up whilst I go on with your sad history. Son, you +was afflicted some with five-card insomnia--and right off, when you first +came, you had it fair shoved on you by people usually most disobligin'. +It wasn't just for your money; there was plenty could stack 'em higher +than you could, and them fairly achin' to be fleeced, at that. If your +head hadn't been attached to your shoulders good and strong, if you +hadn't figured to be about square, or maybe rectangular, you had a +chance to be a poker fiend or a booze hoist." + +"You're spoofing me, old dear. Wake up; it's morning." + +"Don't fool yourself, son. There was a steady organized effort to get you +in bad. And it took money to get all these people after your goat. Some +one round here was managin' the game, for pay. But't wasn't no Arizona +head that did the plannin'. Any Rocky Mountain roughneck mean enough for +that would 'a' just killed you once and been done with it. No, sir; this +party was plumb civilized--this guy that wanted your goat. He wanted to +spoil your rep; he probably had conscientious scruples about bloodshed. +Early trainin'," said Mr. Johnson admiringly, "is a wonderful thing! And, +after they found you wouldn't fall for the husks and things, they went +out to put a crimp in your bank roll. Now, who is to gain by putting you +on the blink, huh?" + +"No one at all," said Stan. "You're seein' things at night! What happened +on the Cobre Trail to stir up your superstitions?" + +"Two gay young lads--punchers of Zurich's--tried to catch me with my gun +unloaded. That's what! And if herdin' with them blasted baa-sheep hadn't +just about ruined your intellect, you'd know why, without asking," said +Pete. "Look now! I was so sure that you was bein' systematically +hornswoggled that, when two rank strangers made that sort of a ranikiboo +play at me, I talked it out with myself, like this--not out loud--just +me and Pete colloguing: + +"'These gentlemen are pickin' on you, Pete. What's that for?' 'Why,' +says Pete, 'that's because you're Stan's pardner, of course. These two +laddie-bucks are some small part of the gang, bunch, or congregation +that's been preyin' on Stan.' 'What they tryin' to put over on Stan now?' +I asks, curiosity getting the better of my good manners. 'Not to pry into +private matters any,' says I, 'but this thing is getting personal. I can +feel malicious animal magnetism coursin' through every vein and leapin' +from crag to crag,' says I. 'A joke's a joke, and I can take a joke as +well as any man; but when I'm sick in my bed, and the undertaker comes to +my house and looks into my window and says, "Darlin'! I am waitin' for +thee!"--that's no joke. And if Stanley Mitchell's facetious friends begin +any hilarity with me I'll transact negotiations with 'em--sure! So I put +it up to you, Petey--square and aboveboard--what are they tryin' to work +on Stan now?' + +"'To get his mine, you idjit!' says Pete. 'Now be reasonable,' says I. +'How'd they know we got any mine?' 'Didn't you tote a sample out of that +blisterin' old desert?' says Pete. 'We did,' I admits, 'just one little +chunk the size of a red apple--and it weighed near a couple of ton whilst +we was perishin' for water. But we stuck to it closer than a rich +brother-in-law,' says I. 'You been had!' jeers Pete. 'What kind of talk +is this? You caught that off o' Thorpe, over on the Malibu--you been +had! Talk United States! Do you mean I've been bunked?' I spoke up sharp; +but I was feelin' pretty sick, for I just remembered that we didn't +register that sample when we mailed it to the assayer. + +"'Your nugget's been seen, and sawed, and smeltered. Got that? As part of +the skulduggery they been slippin' to young Stan, your package has been +opened,' says Petey, leerin' at me. 'Great Scott! Then they know we got +just about the richest mine in Arizona!' I says, with my teeth chatterin' +so that I stammers. 'Gosh, no! Else the coyotes would be pickin' your +bones,' says Pete. 'They know you've got some rich ore, but they figure +it to be some narrow, pinchin', piddlin' little vein somewheres. How can +they guess you found a solid mountain of the stuff?' + +"'Sufferin' cats!' says I. 'Then is every play I make--henceforth and +forever, amen--to be gaumed up by a mess of hirelin' bandogs? Persecutin' +Stan was all very well--but if they take to molesting me any, it's +going to make my blood fairly boil! Is some one going to draw down wages +for makin' me mizzable all the rest of my whole life?' 'No such luck,' +says Petey. 'Your little ore package was taken from the mail as part of +the system of pesterin' Stanley--but, once the big boss-devil glued his +bug-eyes on that freeworkin' copper stuff, he throwed up his employer +and his per diem, and is now operating roundabout on his own. They take +it you might have papers about you showing where your claim is--location +papers, likely. That's all! These ducks, here, want to go through you. +Nobody wants to kill you--not now. Not yet--any more than usual. But, if +you ask me,' said Petey, 'if they ever come to know as much about that +copper claim as you know, they'll do you up. Yes, sir! From ambush, +likely. So long as they are dependin' on you to lead them to it, you're +safe from that much, maybe. After they find out where it is--_cuidado!_' + +"'But who took that package out of the mail, Petey? It might have been +any one of several or more--old Zurich, here at Cobre; or the postmaster +at Silverbell; or the postal clerks on the railroad; or the post-office +people at El Paso.' + +"'You're an old pig-headed fool,' says Pete to me; 'and you lie like a +thief. You know who it was, same as I do--old C. Mayer Zurich, grand +champion lightweight collar-and-elbow grafter and liar, cowman, +grubstaker, general storekeeper, postmaster, and all-round crook, right +here in Cobre--right here where young Stanley's been gettin' 'em dealt +from the bottom for three years. Them other post-office fellows never had +no truck with Stanley--never so much as heard of him. Zurich's here. +He had the disposition, the motive, the opportunity, and the habit. +Besides, he sold you a shoddy coat once. Forgotten that?'" + +Pete paused to glower over that coat; and young Mitchell, big-eyed and +gasping, seized the chance to put in a word: + +"You're an ingenious old nightmare, pardner--you almost make it +convincing. But Great Scott, man! Can't you see that your fine, plausible +theory is all built on surmise and wild conjecture? You haven't got a leg +to stand on--not one single fact!" + +"Whilst I was first a-constructing this ingenious theory your objection +might have carried force; for I didn't have a fact to stand on, as you +observe. I conjectured round pretty spry, too. Reckon it took me all of +half a second--while them two warriors was giving me the evil eye. I'll +tell you how it was." He related the story of the shooting match and the +lost bet. "And to this unprovoked design against an inoffensive stranger +I fitted the only possible meaning and shape that would make a lick of +sense, dovetailin' in with the real honest-to-goodness facts I already +knew." + +"But don't you see, old thing, you're still up in the air? Your theory +doesn't touch ground anywhere." + +"Stanley--my poor deluded boy!--when I got to the railroad I wired that +assayer right off. Our samples never reached El Paso. So I wrote out my +fake location and filed it. See what followed that filing--over yonder? I +come this way on purpose, expecting to see those fires, Stanley. If they +hadn't been there we'd have gone on to our mine. Now we'll go anywhere +else." + +"Well, I'll just be teetotally damned!" Stanley remarked with great +fervor. + +"Trickling into your thick skull, is it? Son, get a piece of charcoal. +Now you make black marks on that white rock as I tell you, to hold +down my statements so they don't flutter away with the wind. Ready? +Number One: Our copper samples didn't reach the assayer--make a long +black mark ... Therefore--make a short black mark ... Number Two: +Either Old Pete's crazy theory is correct in every particular--a long +black mark ... Or--now a short black mark ... Number Three: The assayer +has thrown us down--a long black mark ... Number Four: Which would +be just as bad--make a long black mark." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Stanley Mitchell looked hard at the long black mark; he looked out along +the south to the low line of the Gavilan Hills; he looked at the red arc +of sun peering suddenly over the Comobabi Range. + +"Well--and so forth!" he said. "Here is a burn from the branding! And +what are we going to do now?" + +"Wash the dishes. You do it." + +"You are a light-minded and frivolous old man," said Stan. "What are we +going to do about our mine?" + +"I've done told you. We--per you--are due to wash up the dishes. Do the +next thing next. That's a pretty good rule. Meantime I will superintend +and smoke and reflect." + +"Do your reflecting out loud, can't you?" said Stan. His smooth forehead +wrinkled and a sudden cleft appeared between his eyebrows, witness of an +unaccustomed intentness of thought. "Say, Pete; this partnership of ours +isn't on the level. You put in half the work and all the brains." + +"'Sall right," said Pete Johnson. "You furnish the luck and +personal pulchritude. That ain't all, either. I'm pickin' up some +considerable education from you, learning how to pronounce words +like that--pulchritude. I mispronounced dreadful, I reckon." + +"I can tell you how to not mispronounce half as many words as you do +now," said Stan. + +"How's that?" said Pete, greatly interested. + +"Only talk half so much." + +"Fair enough, kid! It would work, too. That ain't all, either. If I +talked less you'd talk more; and, talking more, you'd study out for +yourself a lot of the things I tell you now, gettin' credit from you for +much wisdom, just because I hold the floor. Go to it, boy! Tell us how +the affairs of We, Us & Company size up to you at this juncture." + +"Here goes," said Stan. "First, we don't want to let on that we've got +anything at all on our minds--much less a rich mine. After a reasonable +time we should make some casual mention of discontent that we've sent off +rock to an assayer and not heard from it. Not to say a word would make +our conspirators more suspicious; a careless mention of it might make +them think our find wasn't such-a-much, after all. Say! I suppose it +wouldn't do to pick up a collection of samples from the best mines round +Cobre--and inquire round who to write to for some more, from Jerome +and Cananea, maybe; and then, after talking them up a while, we could +send one of these samples off to be assayed, just for curiosity--what?" + +"Bear looking into," said Pete; "though I think they'd size it up as an +attempt to throw 'em off the trail. Maybe we can smooth that idea out so +we can do something with it. Proceed." + +"Then we'll have to play up to that location you filed by hiking to the +Gavilan and going through the motions of doing assessment work on that +dinky little claim." + +Feeling his way, Stan watched the older man's eyes. Pete nodded approval. + +"But, Pete, aren't we taking a big chance that some one will find our +claim? It isn't recorded, and our notice will run out unless we do some +assessment work pretty quick. Suppose some one should stumble onto it?" + +"Well, we've got to take the chance," said Pete. "And the chance of some +one stumbling on our find by blind luck, like we did, isn't a drop in the +bucket to the chance that we'll be followed if we try to slip away while +these fellows are worked up with the fever. Seventy-five thousand round +dollars to one canceled stamp that some one has his eye glued on us +through a telescope right this very now! I wouldn't bet the postage stamp +on it, at that odds. No, sir! Right now things shape up hotter than the +seven low places in hell. + +"If we go to the mine now--or soon--we'll never get back. After we show +them the place--_adiós el mundo_!" + +"Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird," Mitchell +quoted soberly. "So you think that after a while, when their enthusiasm +dies down, we can give them the slip?" + +"Sure! It's our only chance." + +"Couldn't we make a get-away at night?" + +"It is what they are hoping for. They'd follow our tracks. No, sir! We do +nothing. We notice nothing, we suspect nothing, and we have nothing to +hide." + +"You want to remember that our location notice will be running out pretty +soon." + +"We'll have to risk it. Not so much of a risk, either. Cobre is the last +outpost of civilization. South of here, in the whole strip from Comobabi +to the Colorado River, there's not twenty men, all told, between here and +the Mexican border--except yonder deluded wretches in the Gavilan; and +none beyond the border for a hundred miles." + +"It is certainly one big lonesome needle-in-the-haystack proposition--and +no one has any idea where our find is, not within three days' ride. But +what puzzles me is this: If Zurich really got wise to our copper, he'd +know at once that it was a big thing, if there was any amount of it. Then +why didn't he keep it private and confidential? Why tip it off to the +G.P.? I have always understood that in robbery and murder, one is +assisted only by intimate friends. What is the large idea?" + +"That, I take it," laughed Pete, "is, in some part, an acknowledgment +that it doesn't take many like you and me to make a dozen. You've made +one or two breaks and got away with 'em, the last year or two, that has +got 'em guessing; and I'm well and loudly known myself. There is a wise +old saying that it's no use sending a boy to mill. They figure on that, +likely; they wanted to be safe and sanitary. They sized it up that to +dispatch only two or three men to adjust such an affair with us would be +in no way respectful or segacious. + +"Also, in a gang of crooks like that, every one is always pullin' for his +buddy. That accounts for part of the crowd--prudence and a far-reaching +spirit of brotherly love. For the rest, when the first ten or six made +packs and started, they was worked up and oozing excitement at every +pore. Then some of the old prospectors got a hunch there was something +doing; so they just naturally up stakes and tagged along. Always doing +that, old miner is. That's what makes the rushes and stampedes you hear +about." + +"Then we're to do nothing just now but to shun mind-readers, write no +letters, and not talk in our sleep?" + +"Just so," agreed Pete. "If my saddle could talk, I'd burn it. That's our +best lay. We'll tire 'em out. The most weariest thing in the world is to +hunt for a man that isn't there; the next worst is to watch a man that +has nothing to conceal. And our little old million-dollar-a-rod hill is +the unlikeliest place to look for a mine I ever did see. Just plain dirt +and sand. No indications; just a plain freak. I'd sooner take a chance in +the pasture lot behind pa's red barn--any one would. We covered up all +the scratchin' we did and the wind has done the rest. Here--you was to do +the talkin'. Go on." + +"What we really need," declared Mitchell, "is an army--enough absolutely +trustworthy and reliable men to overmatch any interference." + +"The largest number of honest men that was ever got together in one +bunch," said Pete, "was just an even eleven. Judas Iscariot was the +twelfth. That's the record. For that reason I've always stuck it out that +we ought to have only ten men on a jury, instead of twelve. It seems more +modest, somehow. But suppose we found ten honest men somewheres. It might +be done. I know where there's two right here in Arizona, and I've got my +suspicions of a third--honest about portable property, that is. With +cattle, and the like, they don't have any hard-and-fast rule; just +consider each case on its individual merits. How the case of automobiles +would strike them elder ethics is one dubious problem. Standing still, or +bein' towed, so it might be considered as a wagon, a car would be safe +enough; but proceedin' from hither to yon under its own power--I dunno. +I'll make a note of it. Well, you get the right idea for the first thing. +Honest men wanted; no questions asked. And then what?" + +"Money." + +"You've said it, kid! We could quitclaim that hill for a million cash +to-morrow--" + +"If we had any claim to quit," interrupted Stanley; "and if we could drag +capital out here and rub its nose in our hill." + +"That's the word I was feelin' for--capital. It's capital we want, +Stanley--not money. I could get a little money myself down at Tucson. +Them two honest men of mine live there. We used to steal cattle together +down on the Concho--the sheriff and José Benavides and me. I aim to feed +'em a slice of my share, anyway--but what they could put in wouldn't be a +drop in the bucket. We want to go after capital. There's where you come +in. Got any rich friends back East?" + +Stan reflected. + +"My cousin, Oscar Mitchell, is well-to-do, but hardly what you would call +rich, in this connection," he said. "But he is in touch with some of the +really big men. We could hardly find a better agent to interest capital." + +"Will he take the first steps on your bare word--without even a sample or +an assayer's report?" + +"Certainly. Why not?" + +"Back you go, then. Here's where you come in. I had this in mind," +declared Johnson, "when I first throwed in with you. I knew we could find +the mine and you'd be needed for bait to attract capital. I rustled a +little expense money at Tucson. Say, I didn't tell you about that. +Listen!" + +He recited at length his joyous financial adventures in Tucson. + +"But won't your man Marsh tell Zurich about your unruly behavior?" said +Stan at the finish. + +"I think not. He's got too much to lose. I put the fear of God in his +heart for fair. I couldn't afford to have him put Zurich on his guard. +It won't do to underestimate Zurich. The man's a crook; but he's got +brains. He hasn't overlooked a bet since he came here. Zurich is +Cobre--or mighty near it. He's in on all the good things. Big share in +the big mines, little share in the little ones. He's got all the water +supply grabbed and is makin' a fortune from that alone. He runs the +store, the post-office, and the stage line. He's got the freight +contracts and the beef contracts. He's got brains. Only one weak point +about him--he'll underestimate us. We got brains too. Zurich knows that, +but he don't quite believe it. That's our chance." + +"Just what will you ask my cousin to do? And when shall I go?" + +"Day before to-morrow. You hike back to Cobre and hit the road for all +points East, I'll go over to the Gavilan to be counted--take this +dynamite and stuff, and make a bluff at workin', keeping my ears open and +my mouth not. Pledge cousin to come see when we wire for him--as soon as +we get possession. If he finds the sight satisfactory, we'll organize +a company, you and me keepin' control. We'll give 'em forty per cent for +a million cash in the treasury. I want nine percent for my Tucson +friends, who'll put up a little preliminary cash and help us with the +first fightin', if any. Make your dicker on that basis; take no less. +If your cousin can't swing it, we'll go elsewhere. + +"Tell him our proposition would be a gracious gift at two millions, +undeveloped; but we're not selling. Tell him there'll be a million +needed for development before there'll be a dollar of return. There's no +water; just enough to do assessment work on, and that to be hauled +twenty-five miles from those little rock tanks at Cabeza Prieta. Deep +drillin' may get water--I hope so. But that will take time and money. +There'll have to be a seventy-five-mile spur of railroad built, anyway, +leaving the main line somewhere about Mohawk: we'd just as well count on +hauling water from the Gila the first year. Them tanks will about run a +ten-man gang a month after each rain, countin' in the team that does the +hauling. + +"Tell him one claim, six hundred feet by fifteen hundred, will pretty +near cover our hill; but we'll stake two for margin. We don't want +any more; but we'll have to locate a town site or something, to be sure +of our right of way for our railroad. Every foot of these hills will be +staked out by some one, eventually. If any of these outside claims turns +out to be any good, so much the better. But there can't be the usual rush +very well--'cause there ain't enough water. We'll have to locate the +tanks and keep a guard there; we'll have to pull off a franchise for our +little jerkwater railroad. + +"We got to build a wagon road to Mohawk, set six-horse teams to hauling +water, and other teams to hauling water to stations along the road for +the teams that haul water for us. All this at once; it's going to be some +complicated. + +"That's the lay: Development work; appropriation for honest men in the +first camp; another for lawyers; patentin' three claims; haul water +seventy-five miles, no road, and part of that through sand; minin' +machinery; build a railroad; smelter, maybe--if some one would kindly +find coal. + +"We want a minimum of five hundred thousand; as much more for accidents. +Where does this cousin of yours live? In Abingdon?" + +"In Vesper--seven miles from Abingdon. He's a lawyer." + +"Is he all right?" + +"Why, yes--I guess so. When I was a boy I thought he was a wonderful +chap--rather made a hero of him." + +"When you was a boy?" echoed Johnson; a quizzical twinkle assisted the +query. + +"Oh, well--when he was a boy." + +"He's older than you, then?" + +"Nearly twice as old. My father was the youngest son of an old-fashioned +family, and I was his youngest. Uncle Roy--Oscar's father--was dad's +oldest brother, and Oscar was a first and only." + +Pete shook his head. + +"I'm sorry about that, too. I'd be better pleased if he was round your +age. No offense to you, Stan; but I'd name no places to your cousin if +I were you. When we get legal possession let him come out and see for +himself--leadin' a capitalist, if possible." + +"Oscar's all right, I guess," protested Stan. + +"But you can't do more than guess? Name him no names, then. I wish he was +younger," said Peter with a melancholy expression. "The world has a +foolish old saying: 'The good die young.' That's all wrong, Stanley. It +isn't true. The young die good!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Something Dewing, owner of Cobre's Emporium of Chance, sat in his room in +the Admiral Dewey Hotel. It was a large and pleasant room, refitted and +over-furnished by Mr. Dewing at the expense of his fellow townsmen, +grateful or otherwise. It is well to mention here that, upon the tongues +of the scurrile, "Something," as a praise-name and over-name for Mr. +Dewing, suffered a sea change to "Surething"--Surething Dewing; just as +the Admiral Dewey Hotel was less favorably known as "Stagger Inn." + +Mr. Dewing's eye rested dreamily upon the picture, much praised of +connoisseurs, framed by his window--the sharp encircling contours of +Cobre Mountain; the wedge of tawny desert beyond Farewell Gap. Rousing +himself from such contemplation, he broke a silence, sour and unduly +prolonged. + +"Four o'clock, and all's ill! Johnson is not the man to be cheated out of +a fortune without putting up a fight. Young Mitchell himself is neither +fool nor weakling. He can shoot, too. We have had no news. Therefore--a +conclusion that will not have escaped your sagacity--something has gone +amiss with our little expeditionary force in the Gavilan. Johnson is +quite the Paladin; but he could hardly exterminate such a bunch as that. +It is my firm conviction that we are now, on this pleasant afternoon, +double-crossed in a good and workmanlike manner. + +"The Johnson-Mitchell firm is now Johnson, Mitchell & Company, our late +friends, or the survivors, being the Company." + +These remarks were addressed to the elder of Mr. Dewing's two table +mates. But it was Eric Anderson, tall and lean and lowering, who +made answer. + +"You may set your uneasy mind at rest, Mr. Something. Suspectin' +treachery comes natural to you--being what you are." + +"There--that's enough!" + +This was the third man, Mayer Zurich. He sprang up, speaking sharply; a +tall, straight man, broad-shouldered, well proportioned, with a handsome, +sparkling, high-colored face. "Eric, you grow more insolent every day. +Cut it out!" + +Mr. Dewing, evenly enough, shifted his thoughtful gaze upon tall Eric, +seemingly without resentment for the outburst. + +"Well, wasn't he insultin' the boys then?" demanded Eric. + +"I guess you're right, there," Mayer Zurich admitted. "I was not at all +in favor of taking so many of them in on this proposition; but I'm not +afraid of them doin' me dirt, now they're in. I don't see why the three +of us couldn't have kept this to ourselves--but Something had to blab it +out! Why he should do that, and then distrust the very men he chose for +so munificent a sharing of a confidence better withheld--that is quite +beyond my understanding. Dewing, you would never have clapped an eye on +that nugget if I had suspected in you so unswerving a loyalty to the +gang. I confess I was disappointed in you--and I count you my right-hand +man." + +The speech of the educated man, in Mr. Zurich, was overlaid with +colloquialism and strange idiom, made a second tongue by long +familiarity. + +"Your left-hand man!" Dewing made the correction with great composure. +"You come to me to help you, because, though you claim all the discredit +for your left-handed activities, I furnish a good half of the brains. +And I blabbed--as you so elegantly phrased it--because I am far too +intelligent to bite a bulldog for a bone. Our friends in the Gavilan +pride themselves on their nerve. They are fighting men, if you +please--very fearless and gallant. That suits me. I am no gentleman. +Quite the contrary. I am very intelligent, as afore-said. It was the part +of prudence--" + +"That is a very good word--prudence." The interpolation came from tall +Eric. + +"A very good word," assented the gambler, unmoved. "It was the part of +prudence to let our valiant friends and servants pull these chestnuts +from the fire, as aforetime. To become the corpse of a copper king is a +prospect that holds no attractions for me." + +"But why--why on earth--did you insist on employing men you now distrust? +you bewilder me, Dewing," declared Zurich. "What's the idea--to swindle +yourself?" + +"You will do me the justice to remember," observed Dewing with a +thin-lipped smile, "that I urged upon you, repeatedly and most strongly, +as a desirable preliminary to our operations, to remove Mr. Peter Johnson +from this unsatisfactory world without any formal declaration of war." + +"I won't do it!" declared Zurich bluntly. "And--damn you--you shan't do +it! He's a dangerous old bow-legged person, and I wish he was farther. And +I must admit that I am myself most undesirous for any personal bickering +with him. To hear Jim Scarboro relate it, old Pete is one wiz with a +six-gun. All the same, I'll not let him be shot from ambush. He's too +good for that. I draw the line there. I'm not exactly afraid of the +little old wasp, either, when it comes down to cases; but I have great +respect for him. I'll never agree to meet him on a tight rope over +Niagara and make him turn back; and if I have any trouble with him he's +got to bring it to me. You have no monopoly of prudence." + +"There it is, you see!" Something Dewing spread out his fine hands. "You +made no allowance for my loyalty and I made none for your scruples. As a +result, Mr. Johnson has established a stalemate, held a parley, and +bought off our warriors. They've been taken in on the copper find, on +some small sharing, while we, in quite another sense of the word, are +simply taken in. Such," observed Mr. Dewing philosophically, "is the +result of inopportune virtues." + +"Bosh! I told you all along," said Anderson heavily, "that there's no +mineral in the Gavilan. I've been over every foot of it--and I'm a miner. +We get no news because no man makes haste to announce his folly. You'll +see!" + +"Creede and Cripple Creek had been prospected over and over again before +they struck it there," objected Zurich. + +"Silver and gold!" retorted Eric scornfully. "This is copper. Copper +advertises. No, sir! I'll tell you what's happened. There's been no +battle, and no treachery, and no mine found. We've been trapped. That +Gavilan location was a fake, stuck up to draw our fire. We've tipped our +hand. Mr. Johnson can now examine the plans of mice or men that your +combined sagacities have so obligingly placed face upward before him, and +decide his policies at his leisure. If I were in his shoes, this is what +I would be at: I'd tell my wondrous tale to big money. And then I would +employ very many stranger men accustomed to arms; and when I went after +that mine, I would place under guard any reasonable and obliging +travelers I met, and establish a graveyard for the headstrong. And that's +what Johnson will do. He'll go to the Coast for capital, at the same +time sendin' young Stanley back to his native East on the same errand." + +"You may be right," said Zurich, somewhat staggered. "If you are, their +find must be a second Verde or Cananea, or they would never have taken a +precaution so extraordinary as a false location. What on earth can have +happened to rouse their suspicions to that extent?" + +"Man, I wonder at you!" said tall Eric. "You put trust in your brains, +your money, and your standing to hold you unstained by all your +left-handed business. You expect no man to take heed of you, when the +reek of it smells to high heaven. Well, you deceive yourself the more. +These things get about; and they are none so unobserving a people, south +of the Gila, where 't is fair life or death to them to note betweenwhiles +all manner of small things--the set of a pack, the tongue of a buckle, +the cleat of a mine ladder. And your persecution of young Stanley, now. +Was you expectin' that to go unremarked? 'T is that has made Peter +Johnson shy of all bait. 'T was a sorry business from the first--hazing +that boy; I take shame to have hand in it. And for every thousand of that +dirty money we now stand to lose a million." + +"'T was a piker's game," sneered Dewing. "Not worth the trouble and risk. +We had about three thousand from Zurich to split between us; little +enough. Of course Zurich kept his share, the lion's share." + +"You got the middleman's chunk, at any rate," retorted Zurich. + +"I did the middleman's work," said the gambler tranquilly. "Now, +gentlemen, we have not been agreeing very well of late. Eric, in +particular, has been far from flattering in his estimates of my social +and civic value. We are agreed on that? Very well. I may have mentioned +my intelligence? And that I rate it highly? Yes? Very well, then. I shall +now demonstrate that my self-appraisal was justified by admitting that my +judgment on this occasion was at fault. Eric's theories as to our delayed +news from our expedition are sound; they work out; they prove themselves. +The same is true of his very direct and lucid statement as to the nature +and cause of the difficulties which now beset us. I now make the direct +appeal to you, Eric: As a candid man or mouse, what would you do next?" + +Tall Eric bent his brows darkly at the gambler. + +"If you mean that I fear the man Johnson at all, why do you not use +tongue and lips to say that same? I am not greatly chafed by an open +enemy, but I am no great hand to sit down under a mock." + +"It was your own word--the mice," said Dewing. "But this time you take me +wrongly. I meant no mockery. I ask you, in good faith, for your opinion. +What ought to be done to retrieve the false step?" + +"Could we find this treasure-trove by a painstaking search of the hills?" +asked Zurich doubtfully. "It's a biggish country." + +"Man," said Eric, "I've prospected out there for fifteen years and I've +scarce made a beginning. If we're to find Johnson's strike before Johnson +makes a path to it, we have a month, at most. Find it, says you? Sure, we +might find it. But if we do it will be by blind fool-hog luck and not by +painstakin' search. Do you search, if you like. My word would be to try +negotiations. Make a compromise with Johnson. And if your prudence does +not like the errand, I will even take it upon myself." + +"What is there to compromise? We have nothing to contribute." + +"We have safety to sell," said Eric. "Seek out the man and state the case +baldly: 'Sir, we have protection to sell, without which your knowledge is +worthless, or near it. Protection from ourselves and all others. Make +treaty with us; allot to us, jointly, some share, which you shall name +yourself, and we will deal justly by you. So shall you avoid delay. You +may avoid some risk. _Quién sabe?_ If you refuse we shall truly endeavor +to be interestin'; and you may get nothing.' That's what I would say." + +"A share, to be named by Johnson and then be divided between ten? Well, I +guess not!" declared Zurich. "To begin with, we'll find a way to stop Kid +Mitchell from any Eastern trip. Capital is shy; I'm not much afraid of +what Johnson can do. But this boy has the inside track." + +"With my usual astuteness," remarked Something Dewing, "I had divined as +much. And there is another string to our bow if we make a complete +failure of this mine business--as would seem to be promised by the +Gavilan fiasco. When such goodly sums are expended to procure the +downfall of Kid Mitchell--an event as yet unexpectedly delayed--there's +money in it somewhere. Big money! I know it. And I mean to touch some +of it. My unknown benefactor shall have my every assistance to attain his +hellish purpose--hellish purpose, I believe, is the phrase proper to the +complexion of this affair. Then, to use the words of the impulsive +Hotspur, slightly altered to suit the occasion, I'll creep upon him while +he lies asleep, and in his ear I'll whisper--Snooks!" + +"You don't know where he lives," said Zurich. + +"Ah, but you do! I beg your pardon, Zurich--perhaps in my thoughtlessness +I have wounded you. I used the wrong pronoun. I did not mean to say +'I'--much less 'you'--in reference to who should hollo 'Halves!' to our +sleeping benefactor. 'We' was the word I should have used." + +Zurich regarded Mr. Dewing in darkling silence; and that gentleman, in no +way daunted, continued gayly: + +"I see that the same idea has shadowed itself to you. You must consider +us--Eric and I--equals in that enterprise, friend Mayer. Three good +friends together. I begin to fear we have sadly underestimated Eric--you +and I. By our own admission--and his--he is a better fighting man than +either of us. You wouldn't want to displease him." + +"I think you go about it in an ill way to remedy a mistake, Dewing," said +Zurich. "Don't let's be silly enough to fall out over one chance gone +wrong. We've got all we can attend to right now, without such a folly as +that. Don't mind him, Eric. Tell me, rather, what we are going to do +about this troublesome Johnson? Violence is out of the question: we need +him to show us where he found that copper. Besides, it isn't safe to kill +old Pete, and it never has been safe to kill old Pete. As for the Kid, +I'll do what I have been urged to do this long time by the personage who +takes so kindly an interest in his fortunes--I'll railroad him off to +jail, at least till we get that mine or until it is, beyond question, +lost to us. It isn't wise to let him go East; he might get hold of +unlimited money. If he did, forewarned as he is now, Johnson would fix it +so we shouldn't have a look-in. You turn this over and let me know your +ideas." + +"And that reminds me," said Dewing with smooth insolence, equally +maddening to both hearers, "that Eric's ideas have been notably justified +of late; whereas your ideas--and mine--have been stupid blunders from +first to last. You see me at a stand, friend Mayer, doubtful if it were +not the part of wisdom to transfer my obedience to Eric hereafter." + +"For every word of that, Johnson would pay you a gold piece, and have a +rare bargain of it." Zurich's voice was hard; his eye was hard. "Is this +a time for quarreling among ourselves? There may be millions at stake, +for all we know, and you would set us at loggerheads in a fit of spleen, +like a little peevish boy. I'm ashamed of you! Get your horse and ride +off the sulks. If you feel spiteful, take it out on Johnson. Get yourself +a pack outfit and go find his mine." + +"I'm no prospector," said the gambler disdainfully. + +"No. I will tell you what you are." Tall Eric rose and towered above +Dewing at the window; the sun streamed on his bright hair, "You are a +crack-brained fool to tempt my hands to your throat! You will do it once +too often yet. You a prospector? You never saw the day you had the +makin's of a prospector in you." + +"Let other men do the work and take the risk while I take the gain, and +it's little I care for your opinion," rejoined Dewing. "And you would do +well to keep your hands from my throat when my hand is in my coat +pocket--as is the case at this present instant." + +"This thing has gone far enough," said Zurich. "Anderson, come back and +sit down. Dewing, go and fork that horse of yours and ride the black +devil out of your heart." + +"I have a thing to say, first," said Eric. "Dewing, you sought to begowk +me by setting me up against Zurich--or perhaps you really thought to use +me against him. Well, you won't! When we want the information about the +man that has been harryin' young Mitchell, Zurich will tell us. We know +too much about Zurich for him to deny us our askings. But, for your mock +at me, I want you both to know two things: The first is, I desire no +headship for myself; the second is this--I take Zurich's orders because +I think he has the best head, as a usual thing; and I follow those orders +exactly so far as I please, and no step more. I am mean and worthless +because I choose to be and not at all because Mayer Zurich led me astray. +Got that, now?" + +"If you're quite through," said Dewing, "I'll take that ride." + +The door closed behind him. + +"Disappointed! Had his mouth fixed for a million or so, and didn't get +it; couldn't stand the gaff; made him ugly," said Zurich slowly. "And +when Dewing is ugly he is unbearable; absolutely the limit." + +"Isn't he?" agreed Eric in disgust. "Enough to make a man turn honest." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Stanley Mitchell topped the last rise in Morning Gate Pass in the late +afternoon. Cobre Basin spread deep and wide before him, ruddy in the low +sun; Cobre town and mines, on his left, loomed dim and misshapen in the +long dark shadows of the hills. + +Awguan, top horse and foreman of Stanley's mount, swung pitapat down the +winding pass at a brisk fox trot. The gallop, as a road gait, is frowned +upon in the cow countries as immature and wasteful of equine energy. + +He passed Loder's Folly, high above the trail--gray, windowless, and +forlorn; the trail dipped into the cool shadows, twisted through the mazy +deeps of Wait-a-Bit Cańon, clambered zigzag back to the sunlit slope, and +curved round the hillsides to join, in long levels, the wood roads on the +northern slopes. + +As he turned into the level, Stanley's musings were broken in upon by a +sudden prodigious clatter. Looking up, he became aware of a terror, +rolling portentous down the flinty ridge upon him; a whirlwind streak of +billowed dust, shod with sparks, tipped by a hurtling color yet unknown +to man; and from the whirlwind issued grievous words. + +Awguan leaped forward. + +Bounding over boulders or from them, flashing through catclaw and +ocatillo, the appearance swooped and fell, the blend disjoined and +shaped to semblance of a very small red pony bearing a very small blue +boy. The pony's small red head was quite innocent of bridle; the bit was +against his red breast, held there by small hands desperate on the reins; +the torn headstall flapped rakishly about the red legs. Making the curve +at sickening speed, balanced over everlasting nothingness for a moment of +breathless equipoise, they took the trail. + +Awguan thundered after. Stanley bent over, pelted by flying pebbles and +fragments of idle words. + +Small chance to overhaul the prodigy on that ribbed and splintered hill; +Awguan held the sidelong trail at the red pony's heels. They dipped to +cross an arroyo; Stan lifted his head and shouted: + +"Fall off in the sand!" + +"Damnfido!" wailed the blue boy. + +Sand flashed in rainbow arches against Awguan's brown face--he shut his +eyes against it; they turned up the hill beyond. A little space ahead +showed free of bush or boulder. Awguan took the hillside below the trail, +lowered his head, laid his ears back, and bunched his mighty muscles. He +drew alongside; leaning far over, heel to cantle, Stan threw his arm +about the small red neck, and dragged the red pony to a choking stand. +The small blue boy slipped to earth, twisted the soft bridle rein once +and again to a miraculous double half-hitch about the red pony's jaw, +and tightened it with a jerk. + +"I've got him!" shrieked the blue boy. + +The red pony turned mild bright eyes upon brown Awguan, and twitched red +velvet ears to express surprise, and wrinkled a polite nose. + +"Hello! I hadn't noticed you before. Fine day, isn't it?" said the ears. + +Awguan rolled his wicked eye and snorted. The blue boy shrilled a comment +of surprising particulars--a hatless boy in denim. Stanley turned his +head at a clatter of hoofs; Something Dewing, on the trail from town, +galloped to join them. + +"That was a creditable arrest you made, Mitchell," he said, drawing rein. +"I saw it all from the top of Mule Hill. And I certainly thought our +Little Boy Blue was going to take the Big Trip. He'll make a hand!" + +The gambler's eyes, unguarded and sincere for once, flashed quizzical +admiration at Little Boy Blue, who, concurrently with the above speech, +quavered forth his lurid personal opinions of the red pony. He was a +lean, large-eyed person, apparently of some nine or ten years--which left +his vocabulary unaccounted for; his face was smeared and bleeding, +scratched by catclaw; his apparel much betattered by the same reason. + +He now checked a flood of biographical detail concerning the red pony +long enough to fling a remark their way: + +"Ain't no Boy Blue--damn your soul! Name's Robteeleecarr!" + +Dewing and Mitchell exchanged glances. + +"What's that? What did he say?" + +"He means to inform you," said Dewing, "that his name is Robert E. +Lee Carr." His glance swept appraisingly up the farther hill, and he +chuckled: "Old Israel Putnam would be green with envy if he had seen that +ride. Some boy!" + +"He must be a new one to Cobre; I've never seen him before." + +"Been here a week or ten days, and he's a notorious character already. So +is Nan-nį." + +"Nan-nį, I gather, being the pony?" + +"Exactly. Little Apache devil, that horse is. Robert's dad, one Jackson +Carr, is going to try freighting. He's camped over the ridge at Hospital +Springs, letting his horses feed up and get some meat on their bones. +Here! Robert E. Lee, drop that club or I'll put the dingbats on you +instanter! Don't you pound that pony! I saw you yesterday racing the +streets with the throat-latch of your bridle unbuckled. Serves you +right!" + +Robert E. Lee reluctantly abandoned the sotol stalk he had been breaking +to a length suitable for admonitory purposes. + +"All right! But I'll fix him yet--see if I don't! He's got to pack me +back up that hill after my hat. Gimme a knife, so's I can cut a saddle +string and mend this bridle." These remarks are expurgated. + +He mended the bridle; he loosened the cinches and set the saddle back. +Stan, dismounting, made a discovery. + +"I've lost a spur. Thought something felt funny. Noticed yesterday that +the strap was loose." He straightened up from a contemplation of his boot +heel; with a sudden thought, he searched the inner pocket of his coat. +"And that isn't all. By George, I've lost my pocketbook, and a lot of +money in it! But it can't be far; I've lost it somewhere on my boy chase. +Come on, Dewing; help me hunt for it." + +They left the boy at his mending and took the back track. Before they had +gone a dozen yards Dewing saw the lost spur, far down the hill, lodged +under a prickly pear. Stanley, searching intently for his pocketbook, did +not see the spur. And Dewing said nothing; he lowered his eyelids to veil +a sudden evil thought, and when he raised them again his eyes, which for +a little had been clear of all save boyish mischief, were once more tense +and hard. + +Robert E. Lee Carr clattered gayly by them and pushed up the hill to +recover his hat. The two men rode on slowly; a brown pocketbook upon a +brown hillside is not easy to find. But they found it at last, just where +Stanley had launched his pursuit of the hatless horseman. It had been +jostled from his pocket in the first wild rush. Stanley retrieved it with +a sigh of relief. + +"Are you sure you had your spur here?" asked Dewing. "Maybe you lost it +before and didn't notice it." + +"Oh, never mind the spur," said Stan. "I'm satisfied to get my money. +Let's wait for Little Boy Blue and we'll all go in together." + +"Want to try a little game to-night?" suggested Dewing. "I could use that +money of yours. It seems a likely bunch--if it's all money. Pretty plump +wallet, I call it." + +"No more for me," laughed Stanley. "You behold in me a reformed +character." + +"Stick to that, boy," said Dewing. "Gambling is bad business." + +It grew on to dusk when Robert E. Lee Carr rejoined them; it was pitch +dark when they came to the Carr camp-fire at Hospital Springs, close +beside the trail; when they reached Cobre, supper-time was over. + +At the Mountain House Stanley ordered a special supper cooked for him, +with real potatoes and cow milk. Dewing refused a drink, pleading his +profession; and Stanley left his fat wallet in the Mountain House safe. + +"Well, I'll say good-night now," said Dewing. "See you after supper?" + +"Oh, I'll side you a ways yet. Goin' up to the shack to unsaddle. Always +like to have my horse eat before I do. And you'll not see me after +supper--not unless you are up at the post-office. I'm done with cards." + +"I'd like to have a little chin with you to-morrow," said Dewing. "Not +about cards. Business. I'm sick of cards, myself. I'll never be able to +live 'em down--especially with this pleasing nickname of mine. I want +to talk trade. About your ranch: you've still got your wells and +water-holes? I was thinking of buying them of you and going in for the +straight and narrow. I might even stock up and throw in with you--but you +wouldn't want a partner from the wrong side of the table? Well, I don't +blame you--but say, Stan, on the level, it's a funny old world, isn't +it?" + +"I'm going to take the stage to-morrow. See you when I come back. I'll +sell. I'm reformed about cattle, too," said Stan. + +At the ball ground he bade Dewing good-night. The latter rode on to his +own hostelry at the other end of town. Civilization patronized the +Admiral Dewey as nearest the railroad; mountain men favored the Mountain +House as being nearest to grass. + +Stanley turned up a side street to the one-roomed adobe house on the edge +of town that served as city headquarters for himself and Johnson. He +unsaddled in the little corral; he brought a feed of corn for brown +Awguan; he brought currycomb and brush and made glossy Awguan's sleek +sides, turning him loose at last, with a friendly slap, to seek pasture +on Cobre Hills. Then he returned to the Mountain House for the delayed +supper. + +Meantime Mr. Something Dewing held a hurried consultation with Mr. Mayer +Zurich; and forthwith took horse again for Morning Gate Pass, slipping by +dark streets from the town, turning aside to pass Hospital Springs. Where +the arrest of the red pony had been effected, Dewing dismounted; below +the trail, a dozen yards away, he fished Mr. Stanley Mitchell's spur from +under a prickly pear; and returned in haste to Cobre. + +After his supper Stanley strolled into Zurich's--The New York Store. + +Unknown to him, at that hour brown Awguan was being driven back to his +little home corral, resaddled--with Stanley's saddle--and led away into +the dark. + +Stanley exchanged greetings with the half-dozen customers who lingered at +the counters, and demanded his mail. Zurich handed out two fat letters +with the postmark of Abingdon, New York. While Stanley read them, Zurich +called across the store to a purchaser of cigars and tobacco: + +"Hello, Wiley! Thought you had gone to Silverbell so wild and fierce." + +"Am a-going now," said Wiley, "soon as I throw a couple or three drinks +under my belt." + +"Say, Bat, do you think you'll make the morning train? It's going on nine +now." + +"Surest thing you know! That span of mine can stroll along mighty peart. +Once I get out on the flat, we'll burn the breeze." + +"Come over here, then," said Zurich. "I want you to take some cash and +send it down to the bank by express--about eight hundred; and some checks +besides. I can't wait for the stage--it won't get there till to-morrow +night. I've overdrawn my account, with my usual carelessness, and I want +this money to get to the bank before the checks do." + +Stanley went back to his little one-roomed house. He shaved, bathed, laid +out his Sunday best, re-read his precious letters, and dropped off to +dreamless sleep. + +Between midnight and one o'clock Bat Wiley, wild-eyed and raging, burst +into the barroom of the Admiral Dewey and startled with a tale of wrongs +such part of wakeful Cobre as there made wassail. At the crossing of +Largo Draw he had been held up at a gun's point by a single robber on +horseback; Zurich's money had been taken from him, together with some +seventy dollars of his own; his team had been turned loose; it had taken +him nearly an hour to catch them again, so delaying the alarm by that +much. + +Boots and spurs; saddling of horses; Bob Holland, the deputy sheriff, was +called from his bed; a swift posse galloped into the night, joined at the +last moment by Mr. Dewing, who had retired early, but had been roused by +the clamor. + +They came to Largo Crossing at daybreak. The trail of the robber's horse +led straight to Cobre, following bypaths through the mountains. The +tracks showed plainly that his coming had been by these same short cuts, +saving time while Bat Wiley had followed the tortuous stage road through +the hills. Halfway back a heavy spur lay in the trail; some one +recognized it as Stanley Mitchell's--a smith-wrought spur, painfully +fashioned from a single piece of drill steel. + +They came to Cobre before sunup; they found brown Awguan, dejected and +sweat-streaked, standing in hip-shot weariness on the hill near his +corral. In the corral Stanley's saddle lay in the sand, the blankets +sweat-soaked. + +Unwillingly enough, Holland woke Stan from a smiling sleep to arrest him. +They searched the little room, finding the mate to the spur found on the +trail, but nothing else to their purpose. But at last, bringing Stan's +saddle in before locking the house, Bull Pepper noticed a bumpy +appearance in the sheepskin lining, and found, between saddle skirt and +saddle tree, the stolen money in full, and even the checks that Zurich +had sent. + +They haled Stan before the justice, who was also proprietor of the +Mountain House. Waiving examination, Stanley Mitchell was held to +meet the action of the Grand Jury; and in default of bond--his guilt +being assured and manifest--he was committed to Tucson Jail. + +The morning stage, something delayed on his account, bore him away under +guard, _en route_, most clearly, for the penitentiary. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Mr. Peter Johnson's arrival in Morning Gate Pass was coincident with +that of a very bright and businesslike sun. Mr. Johnson had made a night +ride from the Gavilan country, where he had spent the better part of a +pleasant week, during which he had contrived to commingle a minimum of +labor with a joyous maximum of innocent amusement. The essence of these +diversions consisted of attempts--purposely clumsy--to elude the +vigilance of such conspirator prospectors as yet remained to neighbor +him; sudden furtive sallies and excursions, beginning at all unreasonable +and unexpected hours, ending always in the nothing they set out for, +followed always by the frantic espionage of his mystified and bedeviled +guardians--on whom the need fell that some of them must always watch +while their charge reposed from his labors. + +Tiring at last of this pastime, observing also that his playfellows grew +irritable and desperate, Mr. Johnson had sagely concluded that his +entertainment palled. Caching most of his plunder and making a light pack +of the remainder, he departed, yawning, taking trail for Cobre in the +late afternoon of the day preceding his advent in Morning Gate. + +He perched on the saddle, with a leg curled round the horn; he whistled +the vivacious air of Tule, Tule Pan, a gay fanfaronade of roistering +notes, the Mexican words for which are, for considerations of high +morality, best unsung. + +The pack-horses paced down the trail, far ahead, with snatched nibblings +at convenient wayside tufts of grass. + +Jackson Carr, freighter, was still camped at Hospital Springs. He lifted +up his eyes as this careless procession sauntered down the hills; and, +rising, intercepted its coming at the forks of the trail, heading the +pack-horses in toward his camp. He walked with a twisting limp, his blue +eyes were faded and pale, his bearded face was melancholy and sad; but as +he seated himself on a stone and waited for Johnson's coming, some of the +sadness passed and his somber face lit up with unwonted animation. + +"Howdy, Pete! I heard yuh was coming. I waited for yuh." + +Pete leaped from his horse and gripped the freighter's hand. + +"Jackson Carr, by all that's wonderful! Jack, old man! How is it with +you?" + +Jackson Carr hesitated, speaking slowly: + +"Sally's gone, Pete. She died eight years ago. She had a hard life of it, +Pete. Gay and cheerful to the last, though. Always such a brave little +trick..." + +His voice trailed off to silence. It was long before Pete Johnson broke +upon that silence. + +"We'll soon be by with it, Jack. Day before yesterday we was boys +together in Uvalde an' Miss Sally a tomboy with us. To-morrow will be no +worse, as I figure it." He looked hard at the hills. "It can't be all a +silly joke. That would be too stupid! No jolthead made these hills. It's +all right, I reckon.... And the little shaver? He was only a yearlin' +when I saw him last. And I haven't heard a word about you since." + +"Right as rain, Bobby is. Goin' on ten now. Of course 'tain't as if he +had his mother to look after him; but I do the best I can by him. Wish +he had a better show for schoolin', though. I haven't been prosperin' +much--since Sally died. Seems like I sorter lost my grip. But I aim to +put Bobby in school here when it starts up, next fall. I am asking you no +questions about yourself, Pete, because I have done little but ask +questions about you since I first heard you were here, four or five days +ago." + +"By hooky, Jack, I never expected to see you again. Where you been all +these years? And how'd you happen to turn up here?" + +"Never mind me, Pete. Here is too much talk of my affairs and none of +yours. Man, I have news for your ear! Your pardner's in jail." + +"Ya-as? What's he been doin' now?" + +"Highway robbery. He got caught with the goods on. Eight or nine +hundred." + +"The little old skeesicks! Who'd have thought it of him?" said Pete +tolerantly. Then his face clouded over. "He might have let me in on it!" +he complained. "Jack, you lead me to your grub pile and tell me all about +it. Sounds real interestin'. Where's Bob? He asleep yet?" + +"Huh! Asleep?" said Carr with a sniff that expressed fatherly pride in no +small degree. + +"Not him! Lit out o' here at break o' day--him and that devil horse of +his, wrangling the work stock. He's a mighty help to me. I ain't very +spry on my pins since--you know." + +To eke out the words he gave an extra swing to his twisted leg. They came +to a great freight wagon under a tree, with tackle showing that it was a +six-horse outfit. + +"Here we are! 'Light down and unsaddle, Petey, and we'll take off the +packs. Turn your horses loose. Bobby'll look out for them when he comes. +No need to hobble. There! Wash up? Over yonder's the pan. I'll pour your +coffee and one for myself. I've eaten already. Pitch in!" + +Pete equipped himself with tinware and cutlery, doubled one leg under and +sat upon it before the fire. From the ovens and skillets on the embers +Pete heaped his plate with a savory stew, hot sourdough bread, fried +rabbit, and canned corn fried to a delicate golden brown. Pete took a +deep draught of the unsweetened hot black coffee, placed the cup on the +sand beside him, and gathered up knife and fork. + +From the farther side of the fire Carr brought another skillet, +containing jerky, with onions and canned tomatoes. + +"From the recipe of a nobleman in the county," he said. + +"Now, then," said Pete, "tell it to me." + +So Carr told him at length the story of the robbery and Stanley +Mitchell's arrest, aided by a few questions from Pete. + +"And the funny thing is, there's a lot of folks not so well satisfied +yet, for all they found the money and notwithstandin' the young feller +himself didn't make no holler. They say he wasn't that kind. The deputy +sher'f, 'special, says he don't believe but what it was a frame-up to do +him. And Bull Pepper, that found the money hid in the saddle riggin', +says he: 'That money was put there a-purpose to be found; fixed so it +wouldn't be missed.'" + +He looked a question. + +"Ya-as," said Pete. + +Thus encouraged, Carr continued: + +"And Old Mose Taylor, at the Mountain House--Mitchell got his hearin' +before him, you know--he says Mitchell ain't surprised or excited or much +worried, and makes no big kick, just sits quiet, a-studyin', and he's +damned if he believes he ever done it. Oh, yes! Mose told me if I see you +to tell you young Mitchell left some money in the safe for you." + +"Ya-as," said Pete. "Here comes your _caballada_. Likely looking horses, +Jack." + +"A leetle thin," said Carr. + +He took six nose-bags, already filled, and fed his wagon stock. Bobby +pulled the saddle from the Nan-nį pony, tied him to a bush, and gave +him breakfast from his own small _morral_. Then he sidled toward the +fire. + +"Bobby, come over here," said Bobby's father. "This is your stepuncle +Pete." + +Bobby complied. He gave Pete a small grimy hand and looked him over +thoughtfully from tip to tip, opening his blue eyes to their widest for +that purpose, under their long black lashes. + +"You Stan Mitchell's pardner?" + +"I am that." + +"You goin' to break him out o' the pen?" + +"Surest thing you know!" said Pete. + +"That's good!" He relaxed his grip on Pete's hand and addressed himself +to breakfast. "I like Stan," he announced, with his head in the +chuck-box. + + +Pete used the opportunity to exchange a look with Bobby's father. + +Bobby emerged from the chuck-box and resumed the topic of Stanley +Mitchell. + +"He'll make a hand after he's been here a spell--Stan will," he stated +gravely. + +"Oh, you know him, then?" + +"I was with him the evenin' before the big doin's. He didn't steal no +money!" + +"What makes you think so?" + +"Easy! He's got brains, hain't he? I rode with him maybe a mile, but I +could see that. Well! If he'd stole that money, they wouldn't 'a' found +it yet. Them fellows make me tired!" + +Pete made a pretext of thirst and brought a bucket for water from the +spring, crooking a finger at Jackson Carr to follow. Carr found him +seated at the spring, shaking with laughter. + +"Jack, he's all there--your boy! Couldn't any judge size it up better." + +"Frame-up, then?" + +"Sure! That part's all right." + +"I see you wasn't much taken aback." + +"No. We was expectin' something like that and had discounted it. I'm just +as well pleased Stan's in jail just now, and I'm goin' to leave him there +a spell. Safer there. You remember old Hank Bergman?" + +Carr nodded. + +"Well, Hank's the sheriff here--and he'll give us a square deal. Now I'm +goin' back to interview that boy of yours some more. I reckon you're +right proud of that kid, Jack." + +"Yes; I am. Bobby's a pretty good boy most ways. But he swears something +dreadful." + +"Pull a strap off of him," said Pete warmly. "That's a damn fine boy, and +you want to start him right. That's half the battle." + +Pete returned to the fire for a final cup of coffee. + +"Young man," he said, "would you know that brown horse Stan was ridin' +when you met up with him?" + +"Awguan? Sure! I'd know him in hell!" said Bobby. + +"Well, Stan turned that horse loose to rustle for himself, of course. Do +you reckon you could stir round and find him for me--if your dad can +spare you? I want to go to the railroad to-night, and Awguan, he's fresh. +My horses are tired." + +"If you don't want that horse," said Bobby, "don't send me after him." + +"Now, Jack," said Pete after Bobby had departed on the search for Awguan, +"you go away and don't pester me. I want to think." + +To the processes of thought, for the space of four pipes, he gave aid by +hugging his knees, as if he had called them in consultation. Then he +summoned Jackson Carr. + +"How're you fixed for work, Jack?" + +"None. I reckon to get plenty, though, when I get my teams fitted up. +They're jaded from a lumber job." + +"You're hired--for a year, month, and day. And as much longer as you +like. Suit you?" + +"Suits me." + +"You're my foreman, then. Hire your teams the first thing. Make your own +terms. I'll tell you this much--it's a big thing. A mine--a he-mine; +copper. That's partly why Stan is in jail. And if it comes off, you won't +need to worry about the kid's schooling. I aim to give you, extra, five +per cent of my share--and, for men like you and me, five per cent of this +lay is exactly the same as all of it. It's that big. + +"I'm askin' you to obey orders in the dark. If you don't know any details +you won't be mad, and you won't know who to be mad at; so you won't jump +in to save the day if I fail to come through with my end of it on +schedule, and get yourself killed off. That ain't all, either. Your face +always gives you away; if you knew all the very shrewd people I'm +buckin', you'd give 'em the marble eye, and they'd watch you. Not knowin' +'em, you'll treat 'em all alike, and you won't act suspicious. + +"Listen now: You drift out quiet and go down on the Gila, somewhere +between Mohawk Siding and Walton. Know that country? Yes? That's good. +Leave your teams there and you go down to Yuma on the train. I'll +get a bit of money for you in Tucson, and it'll be waitin' for you in Old +Man Brownell's store, in Yuma. You get a minin' outfit, complete, and a +good layout of grub, enough to last six or seven men till it's all gone, +and some beddin', two or three thirty-thirty rifles, any large quantity +of cartridges, and 'most anything else you see. + +"Here's the particular part: Buy two more wagons, three-and-a-half-inch +axles; about twenty barrels; two pack-saddles and kegs for same, for +packing water from some tanks when your water wagons don't do the trick. +Ship all this plunder up to Mohawk. + +"Here's the idea: I'm goin' back East for capital, and I'm comin' back +soon. Me and my friends--not a big bunch, but every man-jack of 'em to be +a regular person--are goin' to start from Tucson, or Douglas, and hug the +Mexican border west across the desert, ridin' light and fast; you're to +go south with water; and Cobre is to be none the wiser. Here, I'll make +you a map." + +He traced the map in the sand. + +"Here's the railroad, and Mohawk; here's your camp on the Gila. Just as +soon as you get back, load up one of your new wagons with water and go +south. There's no road, but there's two ranges that makes a lane, twenty +miles wide, leadin' to the southeast: Lomas Negras, the black mountain +due south of Mohawk, and Cabeza Prieta, a brown-colored range, farther +west. Keep right down the middle, but miss all the sand you can; you'll +be layin' out a road you'll have to travel a heap. Only, of course, you +can straighten it out and better it after you learn the country. It might +be a pious idea for you to ship up a mowing machine and a hayrake from +Yuma, like you was fixin' to cut wild hay. It's a good plan always to +leave something to satisfy curiosity. Or, play you was aimin' to +dry-farm. You shape up your rig to suit yourself--but play up to it." + +"I'll hay it," said Carr. + +"All right--hay it, by all means. Take your first load of water out about +twenty-five miles and leave it--using as little as you can to camp on. +You'll have to have three full sets of chains and whiffletrees for your +six-horse team, of course. You can't bother with dragging a buckboard +along behind to take 'em back with. Go back to the railroad, take a +second load of water, camp the first night out at your first wagon, and +leave the second load of water farther south, twenty-five miles or so. + +"Then go back to the Gila and pack the rest of your plunder in this wagon +of yours, all ready to start the minute you get a telegram from me. Wire +back to me so I'll know when to start. You will have water for your +horses at twenty-five miles and fifty, and enough left to use when you go +back for your next trip. After that we'll have other men to help you. + +"When you leave the last wagon, put on all the water your horses can +draw. You'll strike little or no sand after that and we'll need all the +water we can get. With no bad luck, you come out opposite the south end +of your black mountain the third day. Wait there for us. It's three long +days, horseback, from Tucson; we ought to get to your camp that night. + +"If we don't come, wait till noon the next day. Then saddle up, take your +pack-saddles and kegs, and drag it for the extreme south end of the +mountains on your west, about twenty miles. That ought to leave enough +water at the wagon for us to camp on if we come later. If you wait for +us, your horses will use it all up. + +"When you come to the south end of your Cabeza Prieta Mountain, right +spang on the border, you'll find a cańon there, coming down from the +north, splitting the range. Turn up that cańon, and when it gets so rough +you can't go any farther, keep right on; you'll find some rock tanks full +of water, in a box where the sun can't get 'em. That's all. Got that?" + +"I've got it," said Carr. "But Pete, aren't you taking too long a chance? +Why can't I--or both of us--just slip down there quietly and do enough +work on your mine to hold it? They're liable to beat you to it." + +"I've been tryin' to make myself believe that a long time," said Pete +earnestly; "but I am far too intelligent. These people are capable of any +rudeness. And they are strictly on the lookout. I do not count myself +timid, but I don't want to tackle it. That mine ain't worth over six or +eight millions at best." + +"But they won't be watching me," said Carr. + +"Maybe not. I hope not. For one thing, you'll have a good excuse to pull +out from Cobre. You won't get any freighting here. Old Zurich has got it +all grabbed and contracted for. All you could get would be a subcontract, +giving you a chance to do the work and let Zurich take the profit. + +"Now, to come back to this mine: No one knows where it is. It's pretty +safe till I go after it; and I'm pretty safe till I go after it. Once +we get to it, it's going to be a case of armed pickets and Who goes +there?--night and day, till we get legal title. And it's going to take +slews of money and men and horses to get water and supplies to those +miners and warriors. Listen: One or the other of two things--two--is +going to happen. Count 'em off on your fingers. Either no one will find +that mine before me and my friends meet up with you and your water, or +else some one will find it before then. If no one finds it first, we've +lost nothing. That's plain. But if my Cobre friends--the push that +railroaded Stan to jail--if they should find that place while I'm back in +New York, and little Jackson Carr working on it--Good-bye, Jackson Carr! +They'd kill you without a word. That's another thing I'm going back to +New York for besides getting money. There's something behind Stanley's +jail trip besides the copper proposition; and that something is back in +New York. I'm going to see what about it. + +"Just one thing more: If we don't come, and you have to strike out for +the tanks in Cabeza Mountain, you'll notice a mess of low, little, +insignificant, roan-colored, squatty hills spraddled along to the south +of you. You shun them hills, bearing off to your right. There's where our +mine is. And some one might be watching you or following your tracks. +That's all. Now I'm going to sleep. Wake me about an hour by sun." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Peter Johnson sat in the office of the Tucson Jail and smiled kindly +upon Mr. Stanley Mitchell. + +"Well, you got here at last," said Stan. "Gee, but I'm glad to see you! +What kept you so long?" + +"Stanley, I am surprised at you. I am so. You keep on like this and +you're going to have people down on you. Too bad! But I suppose boys will +be boys," said Pete tolerantly. + +"I knew you'd spring something like this," said Stan. "Take your time." + +"I'm afraid it's you that will take time, my boy. Can't you dig up any +evidence to help you?" + +"I don't see how. I went to sleep and didn't hear a thing; didn't wake up +till they arrested me." + +"Oh! You're claiming that you didn't do the robbin' at all? I see-e! +Standing on your previous record and insistin' you're the victim of foul +play? Sympathy dodge?... Hum! You stick to that, my boy," said Pete +benevolently. "Maybe that's as good a show as any. Get a good lawyer. +If you could hire some real fine old gentleman and a nice little old +gray-haired lady to be your parents and weep at the jury, it might help a +heap.... If you'd only had sense enough to have hid that money where it +couldn't have been found, or where it wouldn't have been a give-away on +you, at least! I suppose you was scared. But it sorter reflects back on +me, since you've been running with me lately. Folks will think I should +have taught you better. What made you do it, Stanley?" + +"I suppose you think you're going to get me roiled, you old fool! You've +got another guess, then. You can't get my nanny! But I do think you might +tell me what's been going on. Even a guilty man has his curiosity. Did +you get the money I left for you?" + +Pete's jaw sagged; his eye expressed foggy bewilderment. + +"Money? What money? I thought they got it all when they arrested you?" + +"Oh, don't be a gloomy ass! The money I left with Old Man Taylor; the +money you got down here for preliminary expenses on the mine." + +"Mine?" echoed Pete blankly. "What mine?" + +"Old stuff!" Stanley laughed aloud. "Go to it, old-timer! You can't faze +me. When you get good and ready to ring off, let me know." + +"Well, then," said Pete, "I will. Here we go, fresh. And you may not be +just the best-pleased with my plan at first, son. I'm not going to bail +you out." + +"What the hell!" said Stan. "Why not?" + +"I've thought it all out," said Pete, "and I've talked it over with the +sheriff. He's agreed. You have to meet the action of the Grand Jury, +anyhow; you couldn't leave the county; and you're better off in jail +while I go back to New York to rustle money." + +"Oh--you're going, are you?" + +"To-night. You couldn't leave the county even if you were out on bond. +The sheriff's a square man; he'll treat you right; you'll have a chance +to get shut of that insomnia, and right here's the safest place in Pima +County for you. I want a letter to that cousin of yours in Abingdon." + +"'Tisn't Abingdon--it's Vesper. And I'm not particularly anxious to tell +him that I'm in jail on a felony charge." + +"Don't want you to tell him--or anybody. I suppose you've told your girl +already? Yes? Thought so. Well, don't you tell any one else. You tell +Cousin Oscar I'm your pardner, and all right; and that you've got a mine, +and you'll guarantee the expenses for him and an expert in case they're +not satisfied upon investigation. I'll do the rest. And don't you let +anybody bail you out of jail. You stay here." + +"If I hadn't seen you perform a miracle or two before now, I'd see you +damned first!" said Stan. "But I suppose you know what you're about. It's +more than I do. Make it a quick one, will you? I find myself bored here." + +"I will. Let me outline two of the many possibilities: If I don't bail +you out, I'm doin' you dirt, ain't I? Well, then, if Zurich & Gang think +I'm double-crossin' you they'll make me a proposition to throw in with +them and throw you down on the copper mine. That's my best chance to find +out how to keep you from goin' to the pen, isn't it? And if you don't +tell Vesper that you're in jail--but Vesper finds it out, anyhow--that +gives me a chance to see who it is that lives in Vesper and keeps in +touch with Cobre. And I'll tell you something else: When I come back I'll +bail you out of jail and we'll start from here." + +"For the mine, you mean?" + +"Sure! Start right from the jail door at midnight and ride west. Zurich & +Company won't be expecting that--seein' as how I left you in the lurch, +this-a-way." + +"But my cousin will never be able to stand that ride. It's a hundred and +sixty miles--more too." + +"Your cousin can join us later--or whoever ever comes along with +development money. There'll be about four or five of us--picked men. I'm +goin' this afternoon to see an old friend--Joe Benavides--and have him +make all arrangements and be all ready to start whenever we get back, +without any delay. I won't take the sheriff, because we might have +negotiations to transact that would be highly indecorous in a sheriff. +But he's to share my share, because he put up a lot more money for the +mine to-day. I sent it on to Yuma, where an old friend of mine and the +sheriff's is to buy a six-horse load of supplies and carry 'em down to +join us, startin' when I telegraph him. + +"Got it all worked out. You do as I tell you and you'll wear diamonds on +your stripes. Give me a note for that girl of yours, too." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The hills send down a buttress to the north; against it the Susquehanna +flows swift and straight for a little space, vainly chafing. Just where +the high ridge breaks sharp and steep to the river's edge there is a +grassy level, lulled by the sound of pleasant waters; there sleep the +dead of Abingdon. + +Here is a fair and noble prospect, which in Italy or in California had +been world-famed; a beauty generous and gracious--valley, upland and +hill and curving river. The hills are checkered to squares, cleared +fields and green-black woods; inevitably the mind goes out to those who +wrought here when the forest was unbroken, and so comes back to read on +the headstones the names of the quiet dead: Hill, Barton, Clark, Green, +Camp, Hunt, Catlin, Giles, Sherwood, Tracy, Jewett, Lane, Gibson, Holmes, +Yates, Hopkins, Goodenow, Griswold, Steele. Something stirs at your +hair-roots--these are the names of the English. A few sturdy Dutch +names--Boyce, Steenburg, Van Lear--and a lonely French Mercereau; the +rest are unmixed English. + +Not unnaturally you look next for an Episcopalian Church, finding none in +Abingdon; Abingdon is given over to fiery Dissenters--the Old-World word +comes unbidden into your mouth. But you were not so far wrong; in +prosperous Vesper, to westward, every one who pretends to be any one +attends services at Saint Adalbert's, a church noted for its gracious +and satisfying architecture. In Vesper the name of Henry VIII is revered +and his example followed. + +But the inquiring mind, seeking among the living bearers of these old +names, suffers check and disillusion. There are no traditions. Their +title deeds trace back to Coxe's Manor, Nichols Patent, the Barton Tract, +the Flint Purchase, Boston Ten Townships; but in-dwellers of the land +know nothing of who or why was Coxe, or where stood his Manor House; have +no memory of the Bostonians. + +In Vesper there are genealogists who might tell you such things; old +records that might prove them; old families, enjoying wealth and +distinction without perceptible cause, with others of the ruling caste +who may have some knowledge of these matters. Such grants were not +uncommon in the Duke of York, his Province. In that good duke's day, and +later, following the pleasant fashion set by that Pope who divided his +world equally between Spain and Portugal, valleys and mountains were +tossed to supple courtiers by men named Charles, James, William, or +George, kings by the grace of God; the goodly land, the common wealth and +birth-right of the unborn, was granted in princedom parcels to king's +favorites, king's minions, to favorites of king's minions, for services +often enough unspecified. + +The toilers of Abingdon--of other Abingdons, perhaps--know none of these +things. Winter has pushed them hard, summer been all too brief; life has +been crowded with a feverish instancy of work. There is a vague memory +of the Sullivan Expedition; once a year the early settlers, as a +community enterprise, had brought salt from Syracuse; the forest had +been rafted down the river; the rest is silence. + +Perhaps this good old English stock, familiar for a thousand years with +oppression and gentility, wonted to immemorial fraud, schooled by +generations of cheerful teachers to speak no evil of dignities, to see +everything for the best in the best of possible worlds, found no +injustice in the granting of these broad manors--or, at least, no novelty +worthy of mention to their sons. There is no whisper of ancient wrong; no +hint or rankling of any irrevocable injustice. + +Doubtless some of these land grants were made, at a later day, to +soldiers of the Revolution. But the children of the Revolution maintain a +not unbecoming unreticence as to all things Revolutionary; from their +silence in this regard, as from the name of Manor, we may make safe +inference. Doubtless many of the royalist estates were confiscated at +that time. Doubtless, again, our Government, to encourage settlement, +sold land in such large parcels in early days. Incurious Abingdon cares +for none of these things. Singular Abingdon! And yet are these folk, +indeed, so singular among citizens? So unseeing a people? Consider that, +within the memory of men living, the wisdom of America has made free gift +to the railroads, to encourage their building, of so much land as goes to +the making of New England, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, +Maryland, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois; a notable encouragement! + +History does not remark upon this little transaction, however. In some +piecemeal fashion, a sentence here, a phrase elsewhere, with scores or +hundreds of pages intervening, History does, indeed, make yawning +allusion to some such trivial circumstance; refraining from comment in +the most well-bred manner imaginable. It is only the ill-affected, the +malcontents, who dwell upon such details. Is this not, indeed, a most +beautiful world, and ours the land of opportunity, progress, education? +Let our faces, then, be ever glad and shining. Let us tune ourselves with +the Infinite; let a golden thread run through all our days; no frowns, no +grouches, no scolding--no, no! No ingratitude for all the bounties of +Providence. Let us, then, be up and doing.--Doing, certainly; but why not +think a little too? + +Why is thinking in such disfavor? Why is thinking, about subjects and +things, the one crime never forgiven by respectability? We have given +away our resources, what should have been our common wealth; we have +squandered our land, wasted our forests. "Such trifles are not my +business," interrupts History, rather feverish of manner; "my duty to +record and magnify the affairs of the great."--Allow me, madam; we have +given away our coal, the wealth of the past; our oil, the wealth of +to-day; except we do presently think to some purpose, we shall give away +our stored electricity, the wealth of the future--our water power which +should, which must, remain ours and our children's. "_Socialist_!" +shrieks History. + +The youth of Abingdon speak glibly of Shepherd Kings, Constitution of +Lycurgus, Thermopylae, Consul Duilius, or the Licinian Laws; the more +advanced are even as far down as Elizabeth. For the rich and unmatched +history of their own land, they have but a shallow patter of that; no +guess at its high meaning, no hint of a possible destiny apart from glory +and greed and war, a future and opportunity "too high for hate, too great +for rivalry." The history of America is the story of the pioneer and the +story of the immigrant. The students are taught nothing of the one or +the other--except for the case of certain immigrant pioneers, enskied +and sainted, who never left the hearing of the sea; a sturdy and +stout-hearted folk enough, but something press-agented. + +Outside of school the student hears no mention of living immigrant or +pioneer save in terms of gibe and sneer and taunt. The color and high +romance of his own township is a thing undreamed of, as vague and +shapeless as the foundations of Enoch, the city of Cain. And for his own +farmstead, though for the first time on earth a man made here a home; +though valor blazed the path; though he laid the foundation of that house +in hope and in love set up the gates of it, none knows the name of that +man or of his bolder mate. There are no traditions--and no ballads. + +A seven-mile stretch of the river follows the outlines of a sickle, or, +if you are not familiar with sickles, of a handmade figure five. Abingdon +lies at the sickle point, prosperous Vesper at the end of the handle; +Vesper, the county seat, abode of lawyers and doctors--some bankers, too. +Home also of retired business men, of retired farmers; home of old +families, hereditary county officials, legislators. + +Overarched with maples, the old road parallels the river bend, a mile +away. The broad and fertile bottom land within the loop of this figure +five is divided into three great farms--"gentlemen's estates." The +gentlemen are absentees all. + +A most desirable neighborhood; the only traces of democracy on the river +road are the schoolhouse and the cemetery. Malvern and Brookfield were +owned respectively by two generals, gallant soldiers of the Civil War, +successful lawyers, since, of New York City. Stately, high-columned +Colonial houses, far back from the road; the clustered tenant houses, the +vast barns, long red tobacco sheds--all are eloquent of a time when +lumber was the cheapest factor of living. + +The one description serves for the two farms. These men had been boys +together, their careers the same; they had married sisters. But the red +tobacco sheds of Malvern were only three hundred feet long--this general +had left a leg at Malvern Hill--while the Brookfield sheds stretched full +five hundred feet. At Brookfield, too, were the great racing-stables, +of fabulous acreage; disused now and falling to decay. One hundred and +sixty thoroughbreds had sheltered here of old, with an army of grooms +and trainers. There had been a race-track--an oval mile at first, a +kite-shaped mile in later days. Year by year now sees the stables torn +down and carted away for other uses, but the strong-built paddocks +remain to witness the greatness of days departed. + +Nearest to Vesper, on the smallest of the three farms, stood the largest +of the three houses--The Meadows; better known as the Mitchell House. + +McClintock, a foreigner from Philadelphia, married a Mitchell in '67. A +good family, highly connected, the Mitchells; brilliant, free-handed, +great travelers; something wildish, the younger men--boys will be boys. + +In a silent, undemonstrative manner of his own McClintock gathered the +loose money in and about Vesper; a shrewd bargainer, ungiven to +merrymakings; one who knew how to keep dollars at work. It is worthy of +note that no after hint of ill dealing attached to these years. In his +own bleak way the man dealt justly; not without a prudent liberality as +well. For debtors deserving, industrious, and honest, he observed a +careful and exact kindness, passing by his dues cheerfully, to take +them at a more convenient season. Where death had been, long sickness, +unmerited misfortune--he did not stop there; advancing further sums for a +tiding-over, after careful consideration of needs and opportunities, +coupled with a reasonable expectation of repayment; cheerfully taking any +security at hand, taking the security of character as cheerfully when he +felt himself justified; in good time exacting his dues to the last +penny--still cheerfully. Not heartless, either; in cases of extreme +distress--more than once or twice--McClintock had both written off the +obligation and added to it something for the day's need, in a grim but +not unkindly fashion; always under seal of secrecy. No extortioner, this; +a dry, passionless, pertinacious man. + +McClintock bought the Mitchell House in the seventies--boys still +continuing to be boyish--and there, a decade later, his wife died, +childless. + +McClintock disposed of his takings unobserved, holding Mitchell House +only, and slipped away to New York or elsewhere. The rents of Mitchell +House were absorbed by a shadowy, almost mythical agent, whose name +you always forgot until you hunted up the spidery signature on the +receipts given by the bank for your rent money. + +Except for a curious circumstance connected with Mitchell House, +McClintock had been quite forgotten of Vesper and Abingdon. The great +house was much in demand as a summer residence; those old oak-walled +rooms were spacious and comfortable, if not artistic; the house was +admirably kept up. It was in the most desirable neighborhood; there was +fishing and boating; the situation was "sightly." We borrow the last word +from the hill folk, the presentee landlords; the producers, or, to put +it quite bluntly, the workers. + +As the years slipped by, it crept into common knowledge that not every +one could obtain a lease of Mitchell House. Applicants, Vesperian or +"foreigners," were kept waiting; almost as if the invisible agent were +examining into their eligibility. And it began to be observed that +leaseholders were invariably light, frivolous, pleasure-loving people, +such as kept the big house crowded with youth and folly, to company youth +of its own. Such lessees were like to make agriculture a mockery; the +Mitchell Place, as a farm, became a hissing, and a proverb, and an +astonishment: a circumstance so singularly at variance with remembered +thrift of the reputed owner as to keep green that owner's name. Nor was +that all. As youth became mature and wise, in the sad heartrending +fashion youth has, or flitted to new hearths, in that other heartbreaking +way of youth, it was noted that leases were not to be renewed on any +terms; and the new tenants, in turn, were ever such light and unthrift +folk as the old, always with tall sons and gay daughters--as if the +mythical agent or his ghostly principal had set apart that old house +to mirth and joy and laughter, to youth and love. It was remembered then, +on certain struggling hill farms, that old McClintock had been childless; +and certain hill babies were cuddled the closer for that. + +Then, thirty years later, or forty--some such matter--McClintock slipped +back to Vesper unheralded--very many times a millionaire; incidentally a +hopeless invalid, sentenced for life to a wheeled chair; Vesper's most +successful citizen. + +Silent, uncomplaining, unapproachable, and grim, he kept to his rooms in +the Iroquois, oldest of Vesper's highly modern hotels; or was wheeled +abroad by his one attendant, who was valet, confidant, factotum, and +friend--Cornelius Van Lear, withered, parchment-faced, and brown, +strikingly like Rameses II as to appearance and garrulity. It was to Van +Lear that Vesper owed the known history of those forty years of +McClintock's. Closely questioned, the trusted confidant had once yielded +to cajolery. + +"We've been away," said Van Lear. + +It was remarked that the inexplicable Mitchell House policy remained in +force in the years since McClintock's return; witness the present +incumbent, frivolous Thompson, foreigner from Buffalo--him and his house +parties! It was Mitchell House still, mauger the McClintock millions and +a half-century of possession. Whether this clinging to the old name was +tribute to the free-handed Mitchells or evidence of fine old English +firmness is a matter not yet determined. + +The free-handed Mitchells themselves, as a family, were no more. They had +scattered, married or died, lost their money, gone to work, or otherwise +disappeared. Vesper kept knowledge of but two of them: Lawyer Oscar, +solid, steady, highly respectable, already in the way of becoming Squire +Mitchell, and like to better the Mitchell tradition of prosperity--a warm +man, a getting-on man, not to mention that he was the older nephew and +probable heir to the McClintock millions; and Oscar's cousin, Stanley, +youngest nephew of the millions, who, three years ago, had defied +McClintock to his face. Stan Mitchell had always been wild, even as a +boy, they said; they remembered now. + +It seemed that McClintock had commanded young Stan to break his +engagement to that Selden girl--the schoolma'am at Brookfield, +my dear--one of the hill people. There had been a terrible scene. +Earl Dawson was staying at the Iroquois and his door happened to be +open a little. + +"Then you'll get none of my money!" said the old gentleman. + +"To hell with your money!" Stan said, and slammed the door. + +He was always a dreadful boy, my dear! So violent and headstrong! Always +picking on my poor Johnny at school; Johnny came home once with the most +dreadful bruise over his eye--Stanley's work. + +So young Stan flung away to the West three years ago. The Selden girl +still teaches the Brookfield District; Stan Mitchell writes to her, the +mail carrier says. No-o; not so bad-looking, exactly--in that common sort +of way! + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +"Far be it from me to--to--" + +"Cavil or carp?" + +"Exactly. Thank you. Beautiful line! Quite Kipling. Far from me to cavil +or carp, Tum-tee-tum-tee-didy, Or shift the shuttle from web or warp. And +all for my dark-eyed lydy! Far be it from me, as above. Nevertheless--" + +"Why, then, the exertion?" + +"Duty. Friendship. Francis Charles Boland, you're lazy." + +"Ferdie," said Francis Charles, "you are right. I am." + +"Too lazy to defend yourself against the charge of being lazy?" + +"Not at all. The calm repose; that sort of thing--what?" + +Mr. Boland's face assumed the patient expression of one misjudged. + +"Laziness!" repeated Ferdie sternly. "'Tis a vice that I abhor. Slip me a +smoke." + +Francis Charles fumbled in the cypress humidor at Ferdie's elbow; he +leaned over the table and gently closed Ferdie's finger and thumb upon +a cigarette. + +"Match," sighed Ferdie. + +Boland struck a match; he held the flame to the cigarette's end. Ferdie +puffed. Then he eyed his friend with judicial severity. + +"Abominably lazy! Every opportunity--family, education--brains, perhaps. +Why don't you go to work?" + +"My few and simple wants--" Boland waved his hand airily. "Besides, +who am I that I should crowd to the wall some worthy and industrious +person?--practically taking the bread from the chappie's mouth, you +might say. No, no!" said Mr. Boland with emotion; "I may have my faults, +but--" + +"Why don't you go in for politics?" + +"Ferdinand, little as you may deem it, there are limits." + +"You have no ambition whatever?" + +"By that sin fell the angels--and look at them now!" + +"Why not take a whirl at law?" + +Boland sat up stiffly. "Mr. Sedgwick," he observed with exceeding +bitterness, "you go too far. Take back your ring! Henceforth we meet +as str-r-r-rangers!" + +"Ever think of writing? You do enough reading, Heaven knows." + +Mr. Boland relapsed to a sagging sprawl; he adjusted his finger tips +to touch with delicate nicety. + +"Modesty," he said with mincing primness, "is the brightest jewel in my +crown. Litter and literature are not identical, really, though the +superficial observer might be misled to think so. And yet, in a higher +sense, perhaps, it may almost be said, with careful limitations, that, +considering certain delicate _nuances_ of filtered thought, as it were, +and making meticulous allowance for the personal equation--" + +"Grisly ass! Well, then, what's the matter with the army?" + +"My prudence is such," responded Mr. Boland dreamily--"in fact, my +prudence is so very such, indeed--one may almost say so extremely +such--not to mention the pertinent and trenchant question so well +formulated by the little Peterkin--" + +"Why don't you marry?" + +"Ha!" said Francis Charles. + +"Whachamean--'Ha'?" + +"I mean what the poet meant when he spoke so feelingly of the + +"------eager boys +Who might have tasted girl's love and been stung." + +"Didn't say it. Who?" + +"Did, too! William Vaughn Moody. So I say 'Ha!' in the deepest and +fullest meaning of the word; and I will so defend it with my life." + +"If you were good and married once, you might not be such a fool," said +Sedgwick hopefully. + +"Take any form but this"--Mr. Boland inflated his chest and held himself +oratorically erect--"and my firm nerves shall never tremble! I have +tracked the tufted pocolunas to his lair; I have slain the eight-legged +galliwampus; I have bearded the wallipaloova in his noisome den, and +gazed into the glaring eyeballs of the fierce Numidian liar; and I'll +try everything once--except this. But I have known too many too-charming +girls too well. To love them," said Francis Charles sadly, "was a +business education." + +He lit a cigar, clasped his hands behind his head, tilted his chair +precariously, and turned a blissful gaze to the little rift of sky beyond +the crowding maples. + +Mr. Boland was neither tall nor short; neither broad nor slender; neither +old nor young. He wore a thick mop of brown hair, tinged with chestnut in +the sun. His forehead was broad and high and white and shapely. His eyes +were deep-set and wide apart, very innocent, very large, and very brown, +fringed with long lashes that any girl might envy. There the fine +chiseling ceased. Ensued a nose bold and broad, freckled and inclined to +puggishness; a wide and generous mouth, quirky as to the corners of it; +high cheek bones; and a square, freckled jaw--all these ill-assorted +features poised on a strong and muscular neck. + +Sedgwick, himself small and dark and wiry, regarded Mr. Boland with a +scorning and deprecatory--but with private approval. + +"You're getting on, you know. You're thirty--past. I warn you." + +"Ha!" said Francis Charles again. + +Sedgwick raised his voice appealingly. + +"Hi, Thompson! Here a minute! Shouldn't Francis Charles marry?" + +"Ab-so-lute-ly!" boomed a voice within. + +The two young men, it should be said, sat on the broad porch of Mitchell +House. The booming voice came from the library. + +"Mustn't Francis Charles go to work?" + +In the library a chair overturned with a crash. A startled silence; then +the sound of swift feet. Thompson came through the open French window; a +short man, with a long shrewd face and a frosted poll. Feigned anxiety +sat on his brow; he planted his feet firmly and wide apart, and twinkled +down at his young guests. + +"Pardon me, Mr. Sedgwick--I fear I did not catch your words correctly. +You were saying--?" + +Francis Charles brought his chair to level and spoke with great feeling: + +"As our host, to whom our bright young lives have been entrusted for a +time--standing to us, as you do, almost as a locoed parent--I put it to +you--" + +"Shut up!" roared Ferdie. "Thompson, you see this--this object? You hear +it? Mustn't it go to work?" + +"Ab-so-lutissimusly!" + +"I protest against this outrage," said Francis Charles. "Thompson, you're +beastly sober. I appeal to your better self. I am a philosopher. Sitting +under your hospitable rooftree, I render you a greater service by my +calm and dispassionate insight than I could possibly do by any ill-judged +activity. Undisturbed and undistracted by greed, envy, ambition, or +desire, I see things in their true proportion. A dreamy spectator of the +world's turmoil, I do not enter into the hectic hurly-burly of life; I +merely withhold my approval from cant, shams, prejudice, formulae, +hypocrisy, and lies. Such is the priceless service of the philosopher." + +"Philosopher, my foot!" jeered Ferdie. "You're a brow! A solemn and +sanctimonious brow is bad enough, but a sprightly and godless brow is +positive-itutely the limit!" + +"That's absurd, you know," objected Francis Charles. "No man is really +irreligious. Whether we make broad the phylactery or merely our minds, we +are all alike at heart. The first waking thought is invariably, What of +the day? It is a prayer--unconscious, unspoken, and sincere. We are all +sun worshipers; and when we meet we invoke the sky--a good day to you; a +good night to you. It is a highly significant fact that all conversation +begins with the weather. The weather is the most important fact in any +one day, and, therefore, the most important fact in the sum of our days. +We recognize this truth in our greetings; we propitiate the dim and +nameless gods of storm and sky; we reverence their might, their paths +above our knowing. Nor is this all. A fine day; a bad day--with the +careless phrases we assent to such tremendous and inevitable +implications: the helplessness of humanity, the brotherhood of man, +equality, democracy. For what king or kaiser, against the implacable +wind--" + +Ferdie rose and pawed at his ears with both hands. + +"For the love of the merciful angels! Can the drivel and cut the drool!" + +"Those are very good words, Sedgwick," said Mr. Thompson approvingly. +"The word I had on my tongue was--balderdash. But your thought was +happier. Balderdash is a vague and shapeless term. It conjures up no +definite vision. But drivel and drool--very excellent words." + +Mr. Thompson took a cigar and seated himself, expectant and happy. + +"Boland, what did you come here for, anyhow?" demanded Ferdie +explosively. "Do you play tennis? Do you squire the girls? Do you take +a hand at bridge? Do you fish? Row? Swim? Motor? Golf? Booze? Not you! +Might as well have stayed in New York. Two weeks now you have perched oh +a porch--perched and sat, and nothing more. Dawdle and dream and foozle +over your musty old books. Yah! Highbrow!" + +"Little do you wot; but I do more--ah, far more!--than perching on this +porch." + +"What do you do? Mope and mowl? If so, mowl for us. I never saw anybody +mowl. Or does one hear people when they mowl?" + +"Naturally it wouldn't occur to you--but I think. About things. +Mesopotamia. The spring-time of the world. Ur of the Chaldees. +Melchisedec. Arabia Felix. The Simple Life; and Why Men Leave Home." + +"No go, Boland, old socks!" said Thompson. "Our young friend is right, +you know. You are not practical. You are booky. You are a dreamer. Get +into the game. Get busy! Get into business. Get a wad. Get! Found an +estate. Be somebody!" + +"As for me, I go for a stroll. You give little Frankie a pain in his +feelings! For a crooked tuppence I'd get somebody to wire me to come +to New York at once.--Uttering these intrepid words the brave youth rose +gracefully and, without a glance at his detractors, sauntered +nonchalantly to the gate.--Unless, of course, you meant it for my good?" +He bent his brows inquiringly. + +"We meant it--" said Ferdie, and paused. + +"--for your good," said Thompson. + +"Oh, well, if you meant it for my good!" said Boland graciously. "All +the same, if I ever decide to 'be somebody,' I'm going to be Francis +Charles Boland, and not a dismal imitation of a copy of some celebrated +poseur--I'll tell you those! Speaking as a man of liberal--or +lax--morality, you surprise me. You are godly and cleanly men; yet, when +you saw in me a gem of purest ray serene, did you appeal to my better +nature? Nary! In a wild and topsy-turvy world, did you implore me to +devote my splendid and unwasted energies in the service of Good, with a +capital G? Nix! You appealed to ambition, egotism, and greed.... Fie! A +fie upon each of you!" + +"Don't do that! Have mercy! We appeal to your better nature. We repent." + +"All the same, I am going for my stroll, rejoined the youth, striving to +repress his righteous indignation out of consideration for his humiliated +companions, who now--alas, too late!--saw their conduct in its true +light. For, he continued, with a flashing look from his intelligent eyes, +I desire no pedestal; I am not avaricious. Be mine the short and simple +flannels of the poor." + + * * * * * + +An hour later Francis Charles paused in his strolling, cap in hand, and +turned back with Mary Selden. + +"How fortunate!" he said. + +"Isn't it?" said Miss Selden. "Odd, too, considering that I take this +road home every evening after school is out. And when we reflect that you +chanced this way last Thursday at half-past four--and again on Friday--it +amounts to a coincidence." + +"Direction of the subconscious mind," explained Francis Charles, +unabashed. "Profound meditation--thirst for knowledge. What more natural +than that my heedless foot should stray, instinctively as it were, toward +the--the--" + +"--old oaken schoolhouse that stood in a swamp. It is a shame, of the +burning variety, that a State as wealthy as New York doesn't and won't +provide country schools with playgrounds big enough for anything but +tiddledy-winks!" declared Miss Selden. Her fine firm lip curled. Then she +turned her clear gray eyes upon Mr. Boland. "Excuse me for interrupting +you, please." + +"Don't mention it! People always have to interrupt me when they +want to say anything. And now may I put a question or two? +About--geography--history--that sort of thing?" + +The eyes further considered Mr. Boland. + +"You are not very complimentary to Mr. Thompson's house party, I think," +said Mary in a cool, little, matter-of-fact voice. + +Altogether a cool-headed and practical young lady, this midget +schoolma'am, with her uncompromising directness of speech and her clear +eyes--a merry, mirthful, frank, dainty, altogether delightful small +person. + +Francis Charles stole an appreciative glance at the trim and jaunty +figure beside him and answered evasively: + +"It was like this, you know: Was reading Mark Twain's 'Life on the +Mississippi.' On the first page he observes of that river that it draws +its water supply from twenty-eight States, all the way from Delaware to +Idaho. I don't just see it. Delaware, you know--that's pretty steep!" + +"If it were not for his reputation I should suspect Mr. Clemens of +levity," said Mary. "Could it have been a slip?" + +"No slip. It's repeated. At the end of the second chapter he says this--I +think I have it nearly word for word: 'At the meeting of the waters from +Delaware and from Itasca, and from the mountain ranges close upon the +Pacific--' Now what did he mean by making this very extraordinary +statement twice? Is there a catch about it? Canals, or something?" + +"I think, perhaps," said Mary, "he meant to poke fun at our habit of +reading without attention and of accepting statement as proof." + +"That's it, likely. But maybe there's a joker about canals. Wasn't there +a Baltimore and Ohio Canal? But again, if so, how did water from Delaware +get to Baltimore? Anyhow, that's how it all began--studying about canals. +For, how about this dry canal along here? It runs forty miles that I know +of--I've seen that much of it, driving Thompson's car. It must have cost +a nice bunch of money. Who built it? When did who build it? What did it +cost? Where did it begin? Where did it start to? Was it ever finished? +Was it ever used? What was the name of it? Nobody seems to know." + +"I can't answer one of those questions, Mr. Boland." + +"And you a schoolmistress! Come now! I'll give you one more chance. What +are the principal exports of Abingdon?" + +"That's easy. Let me see: potatoes, milk, eggs, butter, cheese. And hay, +lumber, lath and bark--chickens and--and apples, apple cider--rye, +buckwheat, buckwheat flour, maple sirup; pork and veal and beef; and--and +that's all, I guess." + +"Wrong! I'll mark you fifty per cent. You've omitted the most important +item. Abingdon--and every country town, I suppose--ships off her young +people--to New York; to the factories; a few to the West. That is why +Abingdon is the saddest place I've ever seen. Every farmhouse holds a +tragedy. The young folk-- + +"They are all gone away; + The house is shut and still. + There is nothing more to say." + +Mary Selden stopped; she looked up at her companion thoughtfully. +Seashell colors ebbed from her face and left it almost pale. + +"Thank you for reminding me," she said. "There is another bit of +information I think you should have. You'll probably think me bold, +forward, and the rest of it; I can't help that; you need the knowledge." + +Francis Charles groaned. + +"For my good, of course. Funny how anything that's good for us is always +disagreeable. Well, let's have it!" + +"It may not be of the slightest consequence to you," began Mary, slightly +confused. "And perhaps you know all about it--any old gossip could tell +you. It's a wonder if they haven't; you've been here two weeks." + +Boland made a wry face. + +"I see! Exports?" + +Mary nodded, and her brave eyes drooped a little. + +"Abingdon's finest export--in my opinion, at least--went to Arizona. +And--and he's in trouble, Mr. Boland; else I might not have told you +this. But it seemed so horrid of me--when he's in such dreadful trouble. +So, now you know." + +"Arizona?" said Boland. "Why, there's where--Excuse me; I didn't mean to +pry." + +"Yes, Stanley Mitchell. Only that you stick in your shell, like a turtle, +you'd have heard before now that we were engaged. Are engaged. And you +mustn't say a word. No one knows about the trouble--not even his uncle. +I've trusted you, Mr. Boland." + +"See here, Miss Selden--I'm really not a bad sort. If I can be of any +use--here am I. And I lived in the Southwest four years, too--West +Texas and New Mexico. Best time I ever had! So I wouldn't be absolutely +helpless out there. And I'm my own man--foot-loose. So, if you can use +me--for this thing seems to be serious--" + +"Serious!" said Mary. "Serious! I can't tell you now. I shouldn't have +told you even this much. Go now, Mr. Boland. And if we--if I see where I +can use you--that was your word--I'll use you. But you are to keep away +from me unless I send for you. Suppose Stan heard now what some gossip or +other might very well write to him--that 'Mary Selden walked home every +night with a fascinating Francis Charles Boland'?" + +"Tell him about me, yourself--touching lightly on my fascinations," +advised Boland. "And tell him why you tell him. Plain speaking is always +the best way." + +"It is," said Mary. "I'll do that very thing this night. I think I like +you, Mr. Boland. Thank you--and good-bye!" + +"Good-bye!" said Boland, touching her hand. + +He looked after her as she went. + +"Plucky little devil!" he said. "Level and straight and square. Some +girl!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Mr. Oscar Mitchell, attorney and counselor at law, sauntered down River +Street, with the cheerful and optimistic poise of one who has lunched +well. A well-set-up man, a well-groomed man, as-it-is-done; plainly +worshipful; worthy the highest degree of that most irregular of +adjectives, respectable; comparative, smart; superlative, correct. + +Mr. Mitchell was correct; habited after the true Polonian precept; +invisible, every buckle, snap, clasp, strap, wheel, axle, wedge, pulley, +lever, and every other mechanical device known to science, was in place +and of the best. As to adornment, all in good taste--scarfpin, an +unpretentious pearl in platinum; garnet links, severely plain and quiet; +an unobtrusive watch-chain; one ring, a small emerald; no earrings. + +Mr. Mitchell's face was well shaped, not quite plump or pink, with the +unlined curves, the smooth clear skin, and the rosy glow that comes from +health and virtue, or from good living and massage. Despite fifty years, +or near it, the flax-smooth hair held no glint of gray; his eyes, blue +and big and wide, were sharp and bright, calm, confident, almost +candid--not quite the last, because of a roving trick of clandestine +observation; his mouth, where it might or should have curved--must +once have curved in boyhood--was set and guarded, even in skillful +smilings, by a long censorship of undesirable facts, material or +otherwise to any possible issue. + +Mr. Mitchell's whole bearing was confident and assured; his step, for all +those fifty afore-said years, was light and elastic, even in sauntering; +he took the office stairs with the inimitable sprightly gallop of the +town-bred. + +Man is a quadruped who has learned to use his front legs for other things +than walking. Some hold that he has learned to use his head. But there +are three things man cannot do, and four which he cannot compass: to see, +to think, to judge, and to act--to see the obvious; to think upon the +thing seen; to judge between our own resultant and conflicting thoughts, +with no furtive finger of desire to tip the balance; and to act upon that +judgment without flinching. We fear the final and irretrievable calamity: +we fear to make ourselves conspicuous, we conform to standard, we bear +ourselves meekly in that station whereunto it hath pleased Heaven to call +us; the herd instinct survives four-footedness. For, we note the strange +but not the familiar; our thinking is to right reason what peat is to +coal; the outcry of the living and the dead perverts judgment, closes the +ear to proof; and our wisest fear the scorn of fools. So we walk cramped +and strangely under the tragic tyranny of reiteration: whatever is right; +whatever is repeated often enough is true; and logic is a device for +evading the self-evident. Moreover, Carthage should be destroyed. + +Such sage reflections present themselves automatically, contrasting the +blithesome knee action of prosperous Mr. Mitchell with the stiffened +joints of other men who had climbed those hard stairs on occasion with +shambling step, bent backs and sagging shoulders; with faces lined and +interlined; with eyes dulled and dim, and sunken cheeks; with hands +misshapen, knotted and bent by toil: if image indeed of God, strangely +distorted--or a strange God. + +Consider now, in a world yielding enough and to spare for all, the +endless succession of wise men, from the Contributing Editor of +Proverbs unto this day, who have hymned the praise of diligence and +docility, the scorn of sloth. Yet not one sage of the bountiful bunch +has ever ventured to denounce the twin vices of industry and obedience. +True, there is the story of blind Samson at the mill; perhaps a parable. + +Underfed and overworked for generations, starved from birth, starved +before birth, we drive and harry and crush them, the weakling and his +weaker sons; we exploit them, gull them, poison them, lie to them, filch +from them. We crowd them into our money mills; we deny them youth, we +deny them rest, we deny them opportunity, we deny them hope, or any hope +of hope; and we provide for age--the poorhouse. So that charity is become +of all words the most feared, most hated, most loathed and loathsome; +worse than crime or shame or death. We have left them from the work of +their hands enough, scantly enough, to keep breath within their stunted +bodies. "All the traffic can bear!"--a brazen rule. Of such sage policy +the result can be seen in the wizened and undersized submerged of London; +of nearer than London. Man, by not taking thought, has taken a cubit from +his stature. + +Meantime we prate comfortable blasphemies, scientific or other; natural +selection or the inscrutable decrees of God. Whereas this was manifestly +a Hobson's selection, most unnatural and forced, to choose want of all +that makes life sweet and dear; to choose gaunt babes, with pinched and +livid lips--unlovely, not unloved; and these iniquitous decrees are most +scrutable, are surely of man's devising and not of God's. Or we invent a +fire-new science, known as Eugenics, to treat the disease by new naming +of symptoms: and prattle of the well born, when we mean well fed; or the +degenerate, when we might more truly say the disinherited. + +It is even held by certain poltroons that families have been started +gutterward, of late centuries, when a father has been gloriously slain in +the wars of the useless great. That such a circumstance, however +glorious, may have been rather disadvantageous than otherwise to children +thereby sent out into the world at six or sixteen years, lucky to become +ditch-diggers or tip-takers. That some proportion of them do become +beggars, thieves, paupers, sharpers, other things quite unfit for the ear +of the young person--a disconcerting consideration; such ears cannot be +too carefully guarded. That, though the occupations named are entirely +normal to all well-ordered states, descendants of persons in those +occupations tend to become "subnormal"--so runs the cant of it--something +handicapped by that haphazard bullet of a lifetime since, fired to +advance the glorious cause of--foreign commerce, or the like. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Mitchell occupied five rooms lined with law books and musty with the +smell of leather. These rooms ranged end to end, each with a door that +opened upon a dark hallway; a waiting-room in front, the private office +at the rear, to which no client was ever admitted directly. Depressed by +delay, subdued by an overflow of thick volumes, when he reaches a +suitable dejection he is tip-toed through dismal antechambers of wisdom, +appalled by tall bookstacks, ushered into the leather-chaired office, and +there further crushed by long shelves of dingy tin boxes, each box +crowded with weighty secrets and shelved papers of fabulous moment and +urgency; the least paper of the smallest box more important--the +unfortunate client is clear on that point--than any contemptible need of +his own. Cowed and chastened, he is now ready to pay a fee suitable to +the mind that has absorbed all the wisdom of those many bookshelves; or +meekly to accept as justice any absurdity or monstrosity of the law. + +Mr. Mitchell was greeted by a slim, swarthy, black-eyed, elderly person +of twenty-five or thirty, with a crooked nose and a crooked mind, half +clerk and half familiar spirit--Mr. Joseph Pelman, to wit; who appeared +perpetually on the point of choking himself by suppressed chucklings at +his principal's cleverness and the simplicity of dupes. + +"Well, Joe?" + +"Two to see you, sir," said Joe, his face lit up with sprightly malice. +"On the same lay. That Watkins farm of yours. I got it out of 'em. Ho ho! +I kept 'em in different rooms. I hunted up their records in your record +books. Doomsday Books, I call 'em. Ho ho!" + +Mr. Mitchell selected a cigar, lit it, puffed it, and fixed his eye on +his demon clerk. + +"Now then," he said sharply, "let's have it!" + +The demon pounced on a Brobdingnagian volume upon the desk and worried it +open at a marker. It had been meant for a ledger, that huge volume; the +gray cloth covers bore the legend "N to Z." Ledger it was, of a grim +sort, with sinister entries of forgotten sins, the itemized strength or +weakness of a thousand men. The confidential clerk ran a long, +confidential finger along the spidery copperplate index of the W's: +"Wakelin, Walcott, Walker, Wallace, Walsh, Walters; Earl, John, Peter, +Ray, Rex, Roy--Samuel--page 1124." His nimble hands flew at the pages +like a dog at a woodchuck hole. + +"Here't is--'Walters, Samuel: born '69, son of John Walters, Holland +Hill; religion--politics--um-um--bad habits, none; two years Vesper +Academy; three years Dennison shoe factories; married 1896--one child, b. +1899. Bought Travis Farm 1898, paying half down; paid balance out in five +years; dairy, fifteen cows; forehanded, thrifty. Humph! Good pay, I +guess." + +He cocked his head to one side and eyed his employer, fingering a wisp of +black silk on his upper lip. + +"And the other?" + +The second volume was spread open upon the desk. Clerk Pelman flung +himself upon it with savage fury. + +"Bowen, Chauncey, son William Bowen, born 1872--um--um--married Louise +Hill 92--um--divorced '96; married Laura Wing '96--see Lottie Hall. Ran +hotel at Larren '95 to '97; sheriff's sale '97; worked Bowen Farm '97 to +1912; bought Eagle Hotel, Vesper, after death of William Bowen, 1900. +Traded Eagle Hotel for Griffin Farm, 1912; sold Griffin Farm, 1914; clerk +Simon's hardware store, Emmonsville, Pennsylvania. Heavy drinker, though +seldom actually drunk; suspected of some share in the Powers affair, +or some knowledge, at least; poker fiend. Bank note protested and paid by +endorser 1897, and again in 1902; has since repaid endorsers. See Larren +Hotel, Eagle Hotel." + +"Show him in," said Mitchell. + +"Walters?" The impish clerk cocked his head on one side again and gulped +down a chuckle at his own wit. + +"Bowen, fool! Jennie Page, his mother's sister, died last week and left +him a legacy--twelve hundred dollars. I'll have that out of him, or most +of it, as a first payment." + +The clerk turned, his mouth twisted awry to a malicious grin. + +"Trust you!" he chuckled admiringly, and laid a confidential finger +beside his crooked nose. "Ho ho! This is the third time you've sold the +Watkins Farm; and it won't be the last! Oh, you're a rare one, you are! +Four farms you've got, and the way you got 'em ho! You go Old Benjamin +one better, you do. + +"Who so by the plow would thrive +Himself must neither hold nor drive. + +"A regular hard driver, you are!" + +"Some fine day," answered Mitchell composedly, "you will exhaust my +patience and I shall have to let you be hanged!" + +"No fear!" rejoined the devil clerk, amiably. "I'm too useful. I do your +dirty work for you and leave you always with clean hands to show. Who +stirs up damage suits? Joe. Who digs up the willing witness? J. Pelman. +Who finds skeletons in respectable closets? Joey. Who is the go-between? +Joseph. I'm trusty too, because I dare not be otherwise. And because +I like the work. I like to see you skin 'em, I do. Fools! And because you +give me a fair share of the plunder. Princely, I call it--and wise. You +be advised, Lawyer Mitchell, and always give me my fair share. Hang Joey? +Oh, no! Never do! No fear!" A spasm of chuckles cut him short. + +"Go on, fool, and bring Bowen in. Then tell Walters the farm is already +sold." + +The door closed behind the useful Joseph, and immediately popped open +again in the most startling fashion. + +"No; nor that, either," said Joseph. + +He closed the door softly and leaned against it, cocking his head on one +side with an evil smile. + +His employer glanced at him with uninquiring eyes. + +"You won't ask what, hey? No? But I'll tell you what you were thinking +of: Dropping me off the bridge. Upsetting the boat. The like of that. +Can't have it. I can't afford it. You're too liberal. Why, I wouldn't +crawl under your car to repair it--or go hunting with you--not if it was +ever so!" + +"I really believe," said Mr. Mitchell with surprised eyebrows, "that you +are keeping me waiting!" + +"That is why I never throw out hints about a future partnership," +continued the confidential man, undaunted. "You are such a liberal +paymaster. Lord love you, sir, I don't want any partnership! This suits +me. You furnish the brains and the respectability; I take the risk, and I +get my fair share. Then, if I should ever get caught, you are unsmirched; +you can keep on making money. And you'll keep on giving me my share. Oh, +yes; you will! You've such a good heart, Mr. Oscar! I know you. You +wouldn't want old Joey hanged! Not you! Oh, no!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +A stranger came to Abingdon by the morning train. Because of a +wide-brimmed gray hat, which he wore pushed well back, to testify against +burning suns elsewhere--where such hats must be pulled well down, of +necessity--a few Abingdonians, in passing, gave the foreigner the tribute +of a backward glance. A few only; Abingdon has scant time for curiosity. +Abingdon works hard for a living, like Saturday's child, three hundred +and sixty-five days a year; except every fourth year. + +Aside from the hat, the foreigner might have been, for apparel, a thrifty +farmer on a trip to his market town. He wore a good ready-made suit, a +soft white shirt with a soft collar, and a black tie, shot with red. But +an observer would have seen that this was no care-lined farmer face; +that, though the man himself was small, his feet were disproportionately +and absurdly small; that his toes pointed forward as he walked; and +detraction might have called him bow-legged. This was Mr. Peter Johnson. + +Mr. Johnson took breakfast at the Abingdon Arms. He expressed to the +landlord of that hostelry a civil surprise and gratification at the +volume of Abingdon's business, evinced by a steadily swelling current of +early morning wagons, laden with produce, on their way to the station, +or, by the river road, to the factory towns near by; was assured that he +should come in the potato-hauling season if he thought that was busy; +parried a few polite questions; and asked the way to the Selden Farm. + +He stayed at the Selden Farm that day and that night. Afternoon of the +next day found him in Lawyer Mitchell's waiting-room, at Vesper, +immediate successor of Mr. Chauncey Bowen, then engaged in Lawyer +Mitchell's office on the purchase of the Watkins Farm; and he was +presently ushered into the presence of Mr. Mitchell by the demon clerk. + +Mr. Mitchell greeted him affably. + +"Good-day, sir. What can I do for you to-day?" + +"Mr. Oscar Mitchell, is it?" + +"The same, and happy to serve you." + +"Got a letter for you from your cousin, Stan. My name's Johnson." + +Mitchell extended his hand, gave Pete a grip of warm welcome. + +"I am delighted to see you, Mr. Johnson. Take a chair--this big one is +the most comfortable. And how is Stanley? A good boy; I am very fond of +him. But, to be honest about it, he is a wretched correspondent. I have +not heard from him since Christmas, and then barely a line--the +compliments of the season. What is he doing with himself? Does he +prosper? And why did he not come himself?" + +"As far as making money is concerned, he stands to make more than he'll +ever need, as you'll see when you read his letter," said Pete. "Otherwise +he's only just tol'able. Fact is, he's confined to his room. That's why I +come to do this business for him." + +"Stanley sick? Dear, dear! What is it? Nothing serious, I hope!" + +"Why, no-o--not to say sick, exactly. He just can't seem to get out o' +doors very handy. He's sorter on a diet, you might say." + +"Too bad; too bad! He should have written his friends about it. None of +us knew a word of it. I'll write to him to-night and give him a good +scolding." + +"Aw, don't ye do that!" said Pete, twisting his hat in embarrassment. "I +don't want he should know I told you. He's--he's kind of sensitive about +it. He wouldn't want it mentioned to anybody." + +"It's not his lungs, I hope?" + +"Naw! No thin' like that. I reckon what's ailin' him is mostly stayin' +too long in one place. Nothin' serious. Don't ye worry one mite about +him. Change of scene is what he needs more than anything else--and +horseback ridin'. I'll yank him out of that soon as I get back. And now +suppose you read his letter. It's mighty important to us. I forgot to +tell you me and, Stan, is pardners. And I'm free to say I'm anxious to +see how you take to his proposition." + +"If you will excuse me, then?" + +Mitchell seated himself, opened the letter, and ran over it. It was +brief. Refolding it, the lawyer laid it on the table before him, tapped +it, and considered Mr. Johnson with regarding eyes. When he spoke his +voice was more friendly than ever. + +"Stanley tells me here that you two have found a very rich mine." + +"Mr. Mitchell," said Pete, leaning forward in his eagerness, "I reckon +that mine of ours is just about the richest strike ever found in Arizona! +Of course it ain't rightly a mine--it's only where a mine is goin' to be. +Just a claim. There's nothin' done to it yet. But it's sure goin' to be a +crackajack. There's a whole solid mountain of high-grade copper." + +"Stanley says he wants me to finance it. He offers to refund all expenses +if the mine--if the claim"--Mitchell smiled cordially as he made the +correction--"does not prove all he represents." + +"Well, that ought to make you safe. Stan's got a right smart of property +out there. I don't know how he's fixed back here. Mr. Mitchell, if you +don't look into this, you'll be missin' the chance of your life." + +"But if the claim is so rich, why do you need money?" + +"You don't understand. This copper is in the roughest part of an awful +rough mountain--right on top," said Pete, most untruthfully. "That's why +nobody ain't ever found it before--because it is so rough. It'll cost a +heap of money just to build a wagon road up to it--as much as five or six +thousand dollars, maybe. Stan and me can't handle it alone. We got to +take some one in, and we gave you the first show. And I wish," said Pete +nervously, "that you could see your way to come in with us and go right +back with me, at once. We're scared somebody else might find it and +make a heap of trouble. There's some mighty mean men out there." + +"Have a cigar?" said the lawyer, opening a desk drawer. + +He held a match for his visitor and observed, with satisfaction, that +Pete's hand shook. Plainly here was a simple-minded person who would be +as wax in his skillful hands. + +Mitchell smoked for a little while in thoughtful silence. Then, with his +best straightforward look, he turned and faced Pete across the table. + +"I will be plain with you, Mr. Johnson. This is a most unusual adventure +for me. I am a man who rather prides himself that he makes no investments +that are not conservative. But Stan is my cousin, and he has always been +the soul of honor. His word is good with me. I may even make bold to say +that you, yourself, have impressed me favorably. In short, you may +consider me committed to a thorough investigation of your claim. After +that, we shall see." + +"You'll never regret it," said Pete. "Shake!" + +"I suppose you are not commissioned to make any definite proposal as to +terms, in case the investigation terminates as favorably as you +anticipate? At any rate, this is an early day to speak of final +adjustments." + +"No," said Pete, "I ain't. You'll have to settle that with Stan. Probably +you'll want to sign contracts and things. I don't know nothin' about law. +But there's plenty for all. I'm sure of one thing--you'll be glad to +throw in with us on 'most any terms once you see that copper, and have a +lot of assays made and get your expert's report on it." + +"I hope so, I am sure. Stanley seems very confident. But I fear I shall +have to disappoint you in one particular: I can hardly leave my business +here at loose ends and go back with you at once, as, I gather, is your +desire." + +Pete's face fell. + +"How long will it take you?" + +"Let me consider. I shall have to arrange for other lawyers to appear for +me in cases now pending, which will imply lengthy consultations and +crowded days. It will be very inconvenient and may not have the happiest +results. But I will do the best I can to meet your wishes, and will +stretch a point in your favor, hoping it may be remembered when we come +to discuss final terms with each other. Shall we say a week?" He tapped +his knuckles with the folded letter and added carelessly: "And, of +course, I shall have to pack, and all that. You must advise me as to +suitable clothing for roughing it. How far is your mine from the +railroad?" + +"Oh, not far. About forty mile. Yes, I guess I can wait a week. I stand +the hotel grub pretty well." + +"Where are you staying, Mr. Johnson?" + +"The Algonquin. Pretty nifty." + +"Good house. And how many days is it by rail to--Bless my soul, Mr. +Johnson--here am I, upsetting my staid life, deserting my business on +what may very well prove, after all, but a wild-goose chase! And I do not +know to what place in Arizona we are bound, even as a starting-point and +base of supplies, much less where your mine is! And I don't suppose +there's a map of Arizona in town." + +"Oh, I'll make you a map," said Pete. "Cobre--that's Mexican for +copper--is where we'll make our headquarters. You give me some paper and +I'll make you a map mighty quick." + +Pete made a sketchy but fairly accurate map of Southern Arizona, with the +main lines of railroad and the branches. + +"Here's Silverbell, at the end of this little spur of railroad. Now give +me that other sheet of paper and I'll show you where the mine is, and the +country round Cobre." + +Wetting his pencil, working with slow and painstaking effort, making +slight erasures and corrections with loving care, poor, trustful, +unsuspecting Pete mapped out, with true creative joy, a district that +never was on land or sea, accompanying each stroke of his handiwork +with verbal comments, explaining each original mountain chain or newly +invented valley with a wealth of descriptive detail that would have +amazed Münchausen. + +Mitchell laughed in his heart to see how readily the simple-minded +mountaineer became his dupe and tool, and watched, with a covert sneer, +as Pete joyously contrived his own downfall and undoing. + +"I have many questions to ask about your mine--I believe I had almost +said our mine." The lawyer smiled cordially. "To begin with, how about +water and fuel?" + +"Lots of it. A cedar brake, checker-boarded all along the mountain. +There's where it gets the name, Ajedrez Mountain--Chess Mountain; +kind of laid out in squares that way. Good enough for mine timbers, too. +Big spring--big enough so you might almost call it a creek--right close +by. It's almost too good to be true--couldn't be handier if I'd dreamed +it! But," he added with regretful conscientiousness, "the water's pretty +hard, I'm sorry to say. Most generally is, around copper that way. And +it'll have to be pumped uphill to the mine. Too bad the spring couldn't +have been above the mine, so it could have been piped down." + +Prompted by more questions he plunged into a glowing description of +Ajedrez Mountain; the marvelous scope of country to be seen from the +summit; the beauty of its steep and precipitous cańons; the Indian +pottery; the mysterious deposit of oyster shells, high on the +mountain-side, proving conclusively that Ajedrez Mountain had risen +from the depths of some prehistoric sea; ending with a vivid description +of the obstacles to be surmounted by each of the alternate projects for +the wagon road up to the mine, with estimates of comparative cost. + +At length it drew on to the hour for Mitchell's dinner and Pete's supper, +and they parted with many expressions of elation and good-will. + +From his window in the Algonquin, Pete Johnson watched Mitchell picking +his way across to the Iroquois House, and smiled grimly. + +"There," he confided to his pipe--"there goes a man hotfoot to dig his +own grave with his own tongue! The Selden kid has done told Uncle +McClintock about Stan being in jail. She told him Stan hadn't written to +Cousin Oscar about no jail, and that I wasn't to tell him either. Now +goes Cousin Oscar on a beeline to tell Uncle how dreadful Stanley has +went and disgraced the family; and Uncle will want to know how he heard +of it. 'Why,' says Oscar, 'an old ignoramus from Arizona, named +Johnson--friend of Stanley's--he told me about it. He came up here to +get me to help Stanley out; wanted me to go out and be his lawyer!' + +"And, right there, down goes Cousin Oscar's meat-house! He'll never touch +a penny of Uncle's money. Selden, she says Uncle Mac was all for blowing +him up sky-high; but she made him promise not to, so as not to queer my +game. If I get Oscar Mitchell out to the desert, I'll almost persuade him +to be a Christian.... She's got Old McClintock on the run, Mary Selden +has! + +"Shucks! The minute I heard about the millionaire uncle, I knowed +where Stan's trouble began. I wonder what makes Stan such a fool! He +might 'a' knowed!... This Oscar person is pretty soft.... Mighty nice +kid, little Selden is! Smart too. She's some schemer!... Too smart for +Oscar!... Different complected, and all that; but her ways--she sort of +puts me in mind of Miss Sally." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Mr. Oscar Mitchell was a bachelor, though not precisely lorn. He +maintained an elm-shaded residence on Front Street, presided over by an +ancient housekeeper, of certain and gusty disposition, who had guided his +first toddling steps and grieved with him for childhood's insupportable +wrongs, and whose vinegarish disapprovals were still feared by Mitchell; +it was for her praise or blame that his overt walk and conversation were +austere and godly, his less laudable activities so mole-like. + +After dinner Mr. Mitchell slipped into a smoking jacket with a violent +velvet lining and sat in his den--a den bedecorated after the manner +known to the muddle-minded as artistic, but more aptly described by Sir +Anthony Gloster as "beastly." To this den came now the sprightly clerk, +summoned by telephone. + +"Sit down, Pelman. I sent for you because I desire your opinion and +cooperation upon a matter of the first importance," said the lawyer, +using his most gracious manner. + +Mr. Joseph Pelman, pricking up his ears at the smooth conciliation of eye +and voice, warily circled the room, holding Mitchell's eyes as he went, +selected a corner chair for obvious strategic reasons, pushed it against +the wall, tapped that wall apprehensively with a backward-reaching hand, +seated himself stiffly upon the extreme edge of the chair, and faced his +principal, bolt upright and bristling with deliberate insolence. + +"If it is murder I want a third," he remarked. + +The lawyer gloomed upon this frowardness. + +"That is a poor way to greet an opportunity to make your fortune once and +for all," he said. "I have something on hand now, which, if we can swing +it--" + +"One-third," said the clerk inflexibly. + +Mitchell controlled himself with a visible effort. He swallowed hard and +began again: + +"If we can carry out my plan successfully--and it seems to be safe, and +certain, and almost free from risk--there will be no necessity hereafter +for any of us to engage in any crooked dealings whatever. Indeed, to take +up cleanly ways would be the part of wisdom. Or, young as you are, you +will be able to retire, if you prefer, sure of every gratification that +money can buy." + +"Necessity doesn't make me a crook. I'm crooked by nature. I like +crookedness," said Pelman. "That's why I'm with you." + +"Now, Joey, don't talk--" + +"Don't you 'Joey' me!" exploded the demon clerk. "It was 'fool' this +afternoon. I'm Pelman when there's any nerve needed for your schemes; but +when you smile at me and call me Joey, what I say is--one-third!" + +"You devil! I ought to wring your neck!" + +"Try it! I'll stab your black heart with a corkscrew! I've studied it all +out, and I've carried a corkscrew on purpose ever since I've known you. +Thirty-three and one-third per cent. Three-ninths. Proceed!" + +Mitchell paced the floor for a few furious seconds before he began again. + +"You remember Mayer Zurich, whom we helped through that fake bankruptcy +at Syracuse?" + +"Three-ninths?" + +"Yes, damn you!" + +Joey settled back in his chair, crossed his knees comfortably, screwed +his face to round-eyed innocence, and gave a dainty caress to the thin +silky line of black on his upper lip. + +"You may go on, Oscar," he drawled patronizingly. + +After another angry turn, Mitchell resumed with forced composure: + +"Zurich is now a fixture in Cobre, Arizona, where my Cousin Stanley +lives. I had a letter from him a week ago and he tells me--this is in +strict confidence, mind you--that poor Stanley is in jail." + +Joey interrupted him by a gentle waving of a deprecatory hand. + +"Save your breath, Oscar dear, and pass on to the main proposition. Now +that we are partners, in manner of speaking, since your generous +concession of a few minutes past--about the thirds--I must be very +considerate of you." + +As if to mark the new dignity, the junior partner dropped the crude and +boisterous phrases that had hitherto marked his converse. Mitchell +recognized the subtle significance of this change by an angry gesture. + +"Since our interests are now one," continued the new member suavely, +"propriety seems to demand that I should tell you the Mitchell-Zurich +affair has no secrets from me. If young Stanley is in prison, it is +because you put him there!" + +"What!" + +"Yes," said Joey with a complacent stroke at his upper lip. "I have +duplicate keys to all your dispatch boxes and filing cabinets." + +"You fiend!" + +"I wished to protect you against any temptation toward ingratitude," +explained Joey. "I have been, on the whole, much entertained by your +correspondence. There was much chaff--that was to be expected. But there +was also some precious grain which I have garnered with care. For +instance, I have copies of all Zurich's letters to you. You have been +endeavoring to ruin your cousin, fearing that McClintock might relent and +remember Stanley in his will; you have succeeded at last. Whatever new +villainy you have to propose, it now should be easier to name it, since +you are relieved from the necessity of beating round the bush.--You were +saying--?" + +"Stanley has found a mine, a copper deposit of fabulous richness; so he +writes, and so Zurich assures me. Zurich has had a sample of it assayed; +he does not know where the deposit is located, but hopes to find it +before Stanley or Stanley's partner can get secure possession. Zurich +wants me to put up cash to finance the search and the early development." + +"Well? Where do I come in? I am no miner, and I have no cash. I am eating +husks." + +"You listen. Singularly enough, Stanley has sent his partner up here to +make me exactly the same proposition." + +"That was Stan's partner to-day--that old gray goat?" + +"Exactly. So, you see, I have two chances." + +"I need not ask you," said Joey with a sage nod, "whether you intend to +throw in your lot with the thieves or with the honest men. You will flock +with the thieves." + +"I will," said Mitchell grimly. "My cousin had quite supplanted me with +my so-called Uncle McClintock. The old dotard would have left him every +cent, except for that calf-love affair of Stan's with the Selden girl. +Some reflections on the girl's character had come to McClintock's ears." + +"Mitchell," said Joey, "before God, you make me sick!" + +"What's the matter with you now, fool?" demanded Mitchell. "I never so +much as mentioned the girl's name in McClintock's hearing." + +"Trust you!" said the clerk. "You're a slimy toad, you are. You're +nauseatin'. Pah! Ptth!" + +"McClintock repeated these rumors to Stan," said the lawyer gloatingly. +"Stan called him a liar. My uncle never liked me. It is very doubtful if +he leaves me more than a moderate bequest, even now. But I have at least +made sure that he leaves nothing to Stan. And now I shall strip his mine +from him and leave him to rot in the penitentiary. For I always hated +him, quite aside from any thought of my uncle's estate. I hate him for +what he is. I always wanted to trample his girl-face in the mire." + +"Leave your chicken-curses and come to the point," urged the junior +member of the firm impatiently. "It is no news to me that your brain is +diseased and your heart rotten. What is it you want me to do? Calm +yourself, you white-livered maniac. I gather that I am in some way to +meddle with this mine. If I but had your head for my very own along with +the sand in my craw, I'd tell you to go to hell. Having only brains +enough to know what I am, I'm cursed by having to depend upon you. Name +your corpse! Come through!" + +"You shut your foul mouth and listen. You throw me off." + +"Give me a cigar, then. Thanks. I await your pleasure." + +"Zurich warned me that Stanley's partner, this old man Johnson, had gone +East and would in all probability come here to bring proposals from Stan. +He came yesterday, bearing a letter of introduction from Stan. The fear +that I would not close with his proposition had the poor old gentleman on +needles and pins. But I fell in with his offer. I won his confidence and +within the hour he had turned himself wrong side out. He made me a map, +which shows me how to find the mine. He thinks I am to go to Arizona with +him in a week--poor idiot! Instead, you are to get him into jail at +once." + +"How?" + +"The simplest and most direct way possible. You have that Poole tribe +under your thumb, have you not?" + +"Bootlegging, chicken-stealing, sneak-thieving, arson, and perjury. And +they are ripe for any deviltry, without compulsion. All I need to do is +to show them a piece of money and give instructions." + +"Get the two biggest ones, then--Amos and Seth. Have them pick a fight +with the man Johnson and swear him into jail. They needn't hurt him much +and they needn't bother about provocation. All they need to do is to +contrive to get him in some quiet spot, beat him up decently, and swear +that Johnson started the row without warning; that they never saw him +before, and that they think he was drunk. Manage so that Johnson sees +the inside of the jail by to-morrow at luncheon-time, or just after, at +worst; then you and I will take the afternoon train for Arizona--with my +map. I have just returned from informing my beloved uncle of Stanley's +ignominious situation, and I told him I could go to the rescue at once, +for the sake of the family honor. I thought the old fool would throw +a fit, he was so enraged. So, good-bye to Nephew Stanley!" + +"Look here, Mr. Oscar; that's no good, you know," remonstrated Pelman. +"What's the good of throwing Johnson into jail for five or ten days--or +perhaps only a fine? He may even have letters from Stan to some one else +in Vesper, some one influential; he may beat the case. He'll be out there +in no time, making you trouble. That old goat looks as if he might butt." + +Mitchell smiled. + +"That's only half my plan. The jailer is also one of your handy men. I'll +furnish you plenty of money for the Pooles and for the jailer--enough to +make it well worth their while. Contrive a faked rescue of Johnson. The +jailer can be found trussed up and gagged, to-morrow about midnight. Best +have only one of the Pooles in it; take Amos. He shall wear a mask and be +the bold rescuer; he shall open the cell door, whisper 'Mitchell' to +Johnson, and help him escape. Once out, without taking off his mask, Amos +can hide Johnson somewhere. I leave you to perfect these details. Then, +after discarding his mask, Poole can give the alarm. It is immaterial +whether he rouses the undersheriff or finds a policeman; but he is to +give information that he has just seen Johnson at liberty, skulking near +such-and-such a place. Such information, from a man so recently the +victim of a wanton assault at Johnson's hands, will seem a natural act." + +"Mr. Mitchell, you're a wonder!" declared Joey in a fine heat of +admiration. As the lawyer unfolded his plan the partner-clerk, as a +devotee of cunning, found himself convicted of comparative unworth; with +every sentence he deported himself less like Pelman the partner, shrank +more and more to Joey the devil clerk. "The first part of your programme +sounded like amateur stuff; but the second number is a scream. Any +mistreated guy would fall for that. I would, myself. He'll be up against +it for jail-breaking, conspiracy, assaulting an officer, using deadly +weapons--and the best is, he will actually be guilty and have no kick +coming! Look what a head that is of yours! Even if he should escape +rearrest here, it will be a case for extradition. If he goes back to +Arizona, he will be nabbed; our worthy sheriff will be furious at the +insult to his authority and will make every effort to gather Mr. Johnson +in. Either way you have Johnson off your shoulders." + +"Stanley is off my shoulders, too, and good for a nice long term. And I +have full directions for reaching Stanley's mine. You and I, in that wild +Arizona country, would not know our little way about; we will be wholly +dependent upon Zurich; and, therefore, we must share our map with him. +But, on the whole, I think I have managed rather well than otherwise. +It may be, after this bonanza is safely in our hands, that we may be able +to discover some ultimate wizardry of finance which shall deal with +Zurich's case. We shall see." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Mr. Francis Charles Boland, propped up on one elbow, sprawled upon a rug +spread upon the grass under a giant willow tree at Mitchell House, deep +in the Chronicles of Sir John Froissart. Mr. Ferdinand Sedgwick tip-toed +unheard across the velvet sward. He prodded Frances Charles with his toe. + +"Ouch!" said Francis Charles. + +"You'll catch your death of cold. Get up! Your company is desired." + +"Go 'way!" + +"Miss Dexter wants you." + +"Don't, either. She was coiled in the hammock ten minutes ago. Wearing a +criminal négligé. Picturesque, but not posing. She slept; I heard her +snore." + +"She's awake now and wants you to make a fourth at bridge; you two +against Elsie and me." + +"Botheration! Tell her you couldn't find me." + +"I would hush the voice of conscience and do your bidding gladly, +old thing, if it lay within the sphere of practical politics. But, +unfortunately, she saw you." + +"Tell her to go to the devil!" + +Ferdie considered this proposition and rejected it with regret. + +"She wouldn't do it. But you go on with your reading. I'll tell her +you're disgruntled. She'll understand. This will make the fourth day that +you haven't taken your accustomed stroll by the schoolhouse. We're all +interested, Frankie." + +"You banshee!" Francis withdrew the finger that had been keeping his +place in the book. "I suppose I'll have to go back with you." He sat up, +rather red as to his face. + +"I bet she turned you down hard, old boy," murmured Mr. Sedgwick +sympathetically. "My own life has been very sad. It has been blighted +forever, several times. Is she pretty? I haven't seen her, myself, and +the reports of the men-folks and the young ladies don't tally. Funny +thing, but scientific observation shows that when a girl says another +girl is fine-looking--Hully Gee! And _vice versa_. Eh? What say?" + +"Didn't say anything. You probably overheard me thinking. If so, I beg +your pardon." + +"I saw a fine old Western gentleman drive by here with old man Selden +yesterday--looked like a Westerner, anyhow; big sombrero, leather face, +and all that. I hope," said Ferdie anxiously, "that it was not this +venerable gentleman who put you on the blink. He was a fine old relic; +but he looked rather patriarchal for the rōle of Lochinvar. Unless, of +course, he has the money." + +"Yes, he's a Western man, all right. I met them on the Vesper Bridge," +replied Boland absently, ignoring the banter. He got to his feet and +spoke with dreamy animation. "Ferdie, that chap made me feel homesick +with just one look at him. Best time I ever had was with that sort. +Younger men I was running with, of course. Fine chaps; splendidly +educated and perfect gentlemen when sober--I quote from an uncredited +quotation from a copy of an imitation of a celebrated plagiarist. Would +go back there and stay and stay, only for the lady mother. She's used to +the city.... By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept." + +"Hi!" said Ferdie. "Party yellin' at you from the road. Come out of your +trance." + +Francis Charles looked up. A farmer had stopped his team by the front +gate. + +"Mr. Boland!" he trumpeted through his hands. + +Boland answered the hail and started for the gate, Ferdie following; the +agriculturist flourished a letter, dropped it in the R.F.D. box, and +drove on. + +"Oh, la, la! The thick plottens!" observed Ferdie. + +Francis Charles tore open the letter, read it hastily, and turned with +sparkling eyes to his friend. His friend, for his part, sighed +profoundly. + +"Oh Francis, Francis!" he chided. + +"Here, you howling idiot; read it!" said Francis. + +The idiot took the letter and read: + +DEAR MR. BOLAND: I need your help. Mr. Johnson, a friend of +Stanley's--his best friend--is up here from Arizona upon business +of the utmost importance, both to himself and Stanley. + +I have only this moment had word that Mr. Johnson is in the most serious +trouble. To be plain, he is in Vesper Jail. There has been foul play, +part and parcel of a conspiracy directed against Stanley. Please come +at once. I claim your promise. + +Mary Selden + +Ferdie handed it back. + +"My friend's friend is my friend? And so on, _ad infinitum_, like fleas +with little fleas to bite 'em--that sort of thing--what? Does that let me +in? I seem to qualify in a small-flealike way." + +"You bet you do, old chap! That's the spirit! Do you rush up and present +my profound apologies to the ladies--important business matter. I'll be +getting out the buzz wagon. You shall see Mary Selden. You shall also see +how right well and featly our no-bél and intrepid young hero bore +himself, just a-pitchin' and a-rarin', when inclination jibed with +jooty!" + +Two minutes later they took the curve by the big gate on two wheels. As +they straightened into the river road, Mr. Sedgwick spread one hand over +his heart, rolled his eyes heavenward and observed with fine dramatic +effect: + +"'I claim your pr-r-r-r-omise'!" + +Mr. Johnson sat in a cell of Vesper Jail, charged with assault and +battery in the _n_th degree; drunk and disorderly understood, but +that charge unpreferred as yet. It is no part of legal method to bring +one accused of intoxication before the magistrate at once, so that the +judicial mind may see for itself. By this capital arrangement, the justly +intoxicated may be acquitted for lack of convincing evidence, after they +have had time to sober up; while the unjustly accused, who should go free +on sight, are at the mercy of such evidence as the unjust accuser sees +fit to bring or send. + +The Messrs. Poole had executed their commission upon Vesper Bridge, +pouncing upon Mr. Johnson as he passed between them, all unsuspecting. +They might well have failed in their errand, however, had it not been +that Mr. Johnson was, in a manner of speaking, in dishabille, having left +his gun at the hotel. Even so, he improvised several new lines and some +effective stage business before he was overpowered by numbers and weight. + +The brothers Poole were regarded with much disfavor by Undersheriff +Barton, who made the arrest; but their appearance bore out their story. +It was plain that some one had battered them. + +Mr. Johnson quite won the undersheriff's esteem by his seemly bearing +after the arrest. He accepted the situation with extreme composure, +exhibiting small rancor toward his accusers, refraining from +counter-comment to their heated descriptive analysis of himself; he +troubled himself to make no denials. + +"I'll tell my yarn to the judge," he said, and walked to jail with his +captors in friendliest fashion. + +These circumstances, coupled with the deputy's experienced dislike for +the complaining witnesses and a well-grounded unofficial joy at their +battered state, won favor for the prisoner. The second floor of the jail +was crowded with a noisy and noisome crew. Johnson was taken to the third +floor, untenanted save for himself, and ushered into a quiet and pleasant +corner cell, whence he might solace himself by a view of the street and +the courthouse park. Further, the deputy ministered to Mr. Johnson's +hurts with water and court-plaster, and a beefsteak applied to a bruised +and swollen eye. He volunteered his good offices as a witness in the moot +matter of intoxication and in all ways gave him treatment befitting an +honored guest. + +"Now, what else?" he said. "You can't get a hearing until to-morrow; the +justice of the peace is out of town. Do you know anybody here? Can you +give bail?" + +"Ya-as, I reckon so. But I won't worry about that till to-morrow. Night +in jail don't hurt any one." + +"If I can do anything for you, don't hesitate to ask." + +"Thank you kindly, I'll take you up on that. Just let me think up a +little." + +The upshot of his considerations was that the jailer carried to a +tailor's shop Johnson's coat and vest, sadly mishandled during the brief +affray on the bridge; the deputy dispatched a messenger to the Selden +Farm with a note for Miss Mary Selden, and also made diligent inquiry as +to Mr. Oscar Mitchell, reporting that Mr. Mitchell had taken the +westbound flyer at four o'clock, together with Mr. Pelman, his clerk; +both taking tickets to El Paso. + +Later, a complaisant jailer brought to Pete a goodly supper from the +Algonquin, clean bedding, cigars, magazines, and a lamp--the last item +contrary to rule. He chatted with his prisoner during supper, cleared +away the dishes, locked the cell door, with a cheerful wish for good +night, and left Pete with his reflections. + +Pete had hardly got to sleep when he was wakened by a queer, clinking +noise. He sat up in the bed and listened. + +The sound continued. It seemed to come from the window, from which the +sash had been removed because of July heat. Pete went to investigate. He +found, black and startling against the starlight beyond, a small rubber +balloon, such as children love, bobbing up and down across the window; +tied to it was a delicate silk fishline, which furnished the motive +power. As this was pulled in or paid out the balloon scraped by the +window, and a pocket-size cigar clipper, tied beneath at the end of a +six-inch string, tinkled and scratched on the iron bars. Pete lit his +lamp; the little balloon at once became stationary. + +"This," said Pete, grinning hugely, "is the doings of that Selden kid. +She is certainly one fine small person!" + +Pete turned the lamp low and placed it on the floor at his feet, so that +it should not unduly shape him against the window; he pulled gently on +the line. It gave; a guarded whistle came softly from the dark shadow of +the jail. Pete detached the captive balloon, with a blessing, and pulled +in the fishline. Knotted to it was a stout cord, and in the knot was a +small piece of paper, rolled cigarette fashion. Pete untied the knot; he +dropped his coil of fishline out of the window, first securing the +stronger cord by a turn round his hand lest he should inadvertently drop +that as well; he held the paper to the light, and read the message: + +Waiting for you, with car, two blocks north. Destroy MS. + +Pete pulled up the cord, hand over hand, and was presently rewarded by a +small hacksaw, eminently suited for cutting bars; he drew in the slack +again and this time came to the end of the cord, to which was fastened a +strong rope. He drew this up noiselessly and laid the coils on the floor. +Then he penciled a note, in turn: + +Clear out. Will join you later. + +He tied this missive on his cord, together with the cigar clipper, and +lowered them from the window. There was a signaling tug at the cord; Pete +dropped it. + +Pete dressed himself; he placed a chair under the window; then he +extinguished the lamp, took the saw, and prepared to saw out the bars. +But it was destined to be otherwise. Even as he raised the saw, he +stiffened in his tracks, listening; his blood tingled to his finger tips. +He heard a footstep on the stair, faint, guarded, but unmistakable. It +came on, slowly, stealthily. + +Pete thrust saw and rope under his mattress and flung himself upon it, +all dressed as he was, face to the wall, with one careless arm under his +head, just as if he had dropped asleep unawares. + +A few seconds later came a little click, startling to tense nerves, at +the cell door; a slender shaft of light lanced the darkness, spreading to +a mellow cone of radiance. It searched and probed; it rested upon the +silent figure on the bed. + +"Sh-h-h!" said a sibilant whisper. + +Peter muttered, rolled over uneasily, opened his eyes and leaped up, +springing aside from that golden circle of light in well-simulated +alarm. + +"Hush-h!" said the whisper. "I'm going to let you out. Be quiet!" + +Keys jingled softly in the dark; the lock turned gently and the door +opened. In that brief flash of time Pete Johnson noted that there had +been no hesitation about which key to use. His thought flew to the kindly +undersheriff. His hand swept swiftly over the table; a match crackled. + +"Smoke?" said Pete, extending the box with graceful courtesy. + +"Fool!" snarled the visitor, and struck out the match. + +But Pete had seen. The undersheriff was a man of medium stature; this +large masked person was about the size of the larger of his lately made +acquaintances, the brothers Poole. + +"Come on!" whispered the rescuer huskily. "Mitchell sent me. He'll take +you away in his car." + +"Wait a minute! We'd just as well take these cigars," answered Pete in +the same slinking tone. "Here; take a handful. How'd you get in?" + +"Held the jailer up with a gun. Got him tied and gagged. Shut up, will +you? You can talk when you get safe out of this." He tip-toed away, Pete +following. The quivering searchlight crept along the hall; it picked out +the stairs. Halfway down, Pete touched his guide on the shoulder. + +"Wait!" Standing on the higher stair, he whispered in the larger man's +ear: "You got all the keys?" + +"Yes." + +"Give 'em to me. I'll let all the prisoners go. If there's an alarm, +it'll make our chances for a get-away just so much better." + +The Samaritan hesitated. + +"Aw, I'd like to, all right! But I guess we'd better not." + +He started on; the stair creaked horribly. In the hall below Pete +overtook him and halted him again. + +"Aw, come on--be a sport!" he urged. "Just open this one cell, here, and +give that lad the keys. He can do the rest while we beat it. If you was +in there, wouldn't you want to get out?" + +This appeal had its effect on the Samaritan. He unlocked the cell door, +after a cautious trying of half a dozen keys. Apparently his scruples +returned again; he stood irresolute in the cell doorway, turning the +searchlight on its yet unawakened occupant. + +Peter swooped down from behind. His hands gripped the rescuer's ankles; +he heaved swiftly, at the same time lunging forward with head and +shoulders, with all the force of his small, seasoned body behind the +effort. The Samaritan toppled over, sprawling on his face within the +cell. With a heartfelt shriek the legal occupant leaped from his bunk and +landed on the intruder's shoulder blades. Peter slammed shut the door; +the spring lock clicked. + +The searchlight rolled, luminous, along the floor; its glowworm light +showed Poole's unmasked and twisted face. Pete snatched the bunch of keys +and raced up the stairs, bending low to avoid a possible bullet; followed +by disapproving words. + +At the stairhead, beyond the range of a bullet's flight, Peter paused. +Pandemonium reigned below. The roused prisoners shouted rage, alarm, or +joy, and whistled shrilly through their fingers, wild with excitement; +and from the violated cell arose a prodigious crash of thudding fists, +the smashing of a splintered chair, the sickening impact of locked bodies +falling against the stone walls or upon the complaining bunk, accompanied +by verbiage, and also by rattling of iron doors, hoots, cheers and +catcalls from the other cells. Authority made no sign. + +Peter crouched in the darkness above, smiling happily. From the duration +of the conflict the combatants seemed to be equally matched. But the roar +of battle grew presently feebler; curiosity stilled the audience, at +least in part; it became evident, by language and the sound of tortured +and whistling breath, that Poole was choking his opponent into submission +and offering profuse apologies for his disturbance of privacy. Mingled +with this explanation were derogatory opinions of some one, delivered +with extraordinary bitterness. From the context it would seem that those +remarks were meant to apply to Peter Johnson. Listening intently, Peter +seemed to hear from the first floor a feeble drumming, as of one beating +the floor with bound feet. Then the tumult broke out afresh. + +Peter went back to his cell and lit his lamp. Leaving the door wide open, +he coiled the rope neatly and placed it upon his table, laid the hacksaw +beside it, undressed himself, blew out the light; and so lay down to +pleasant dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Mr. Johnson was rudely wakened from his slumbers by a violent hand upon +his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he smiled up into the scowling face of +Undersheriff Barton. + +"Good-morning, sheriff," he said, and sat up, yawning. + +The sun was shining brightly. Mr. Johnson reached for his trousers and +yawned again. + +The scandalized sheriff was unable to reply. He had been summoned by +passers-by, who, hearing the turbulent clamor for breakfast made by the +neglected prisoners, had hastened to give the alarm. He had found the +jailer tightly bound, almost choked by his gag, suffering so cruelly from +cramps that he could not get up when released, and barely able to utter +the word "Johnson." + +Acting on that hint, Barton had rushed up-stairs, ignoring the shouts of +his mutinous prisoners as he went through the second-floor corridor, to +find on the third floor an opened cell, with a bunch of keys hanging in +the door, the rope and saw upon the table, Mr. Johnson's neatly folded +clothing on the chair, and Mr. Johnson peacefully asleep. The sheriff +pointed to the rope and saw, and choked, spluttering inarticulate noises. +Mr. Johnson suspended dressing operations and patted him on the back. + +"There, there!" he crooned benevolently. "Take it easy. What's the +trouble? I hate to see you all worked up like this, for you was sure +mighty white to me yesterday. Nicest jail I ever was in. But there was a +thundering racket downstairs last night. I ain't complainin' none--I +wouldn't be that ungrateful, after all you done for me. But I didn't get +a good night's rest. Wish you'd put me in another cell to-night. There +was folks droppin' in here at all hours of the night, pesterin' me. +I didn't sleep good at all." + +"Dropping in? What in hell do you mean?" gurgled the sheriff, still +pointing to rope and saw. + +"Why, sheriff, what's the matter? Aren't you a little mite petulant this +A.M.? What have I done that you should be so short to me?" + +"That's what I want to know. What have you been doing here?" + +"I ain't been doing nothin', I tell you--except stayin' here, where I +belong," said Pete virtuously. + +His eye followed the sheriff's pointing finger, and rested, without a +qualm, on the evidence. The sheriff laid a trembling hand on the coiled +rope. "How'd you get this in, damn you?" + +"That rope? Oh, a fellow shoved it through the bars. Wanted me to saw my +way out and go with him, I reckon. I didn't want to argue with him, so I +just took it and didn't let on I wasn't comin'. Wasn't that right? Why, +I thought you'd be pleased! I couldn't have any way of knowin' that you'd +take it like this." + +"Shoved it in through a third-story window?" + +Pete's ingenuous face took on an injured look. "I reckon maybe he stood +on his tip-toes," he admitted. + +"Who was it?" + +"I don't know," said Pete truthfully. "He didn't speak and I didn't see +him. Maybe he didn't want me to break jail; but I thought, seein' the saw +and all, he had some such idea in mind." + +"Did he bring the keys, too?" + +"Oh, no--that was another man entirely. He came a little later. And he +sure wanted me to quit jail; because he said so. But I wouldn't go, +sheriff. I thought you wouldn't like it. Say, you ought to sit down, +feller. You're going to have apoplexy one of these days, sure as you're a +foot high!" + +"You come downstairs with me," said the angry Barton. "I'll get at the +bottom of this or I'll have your heart out of you." + +"All right, sheriff. Just you wait till I get dressed." Peter laced +his shoes, put on his hat, and laid tie, coat, and vest negligently +across the hollow of his arm. "I can't do my tie good unless I got a +looking-glass," he explained, and paused to light a cigar. "Have one, +sheriff," he said with hospitable urgency. + +"Get out of here!" shouted the enraged officer. + +Pete tripped light-footed down the stairs. At the stairfoot the sheriff +paused. In the cell directly opposite were two bruised and tattered +inmates where there should have been but one, and that one undismantled. +The sheriff surveyed the wreckage within. His jaw dropped; his face went +red to the hair; his lip trembled as he pointed to the larger of the two +roommates, who was, beyond doubting, Amos Poole--or some remainder of +him. + +"How did that man get here?" demanded the sheriff in a cracked and +horrified voice. + +"Him? Oh, I throwed him in there!" said Pete lightly. "That's the man who +brought me the keys and pestered me to go away with him. Say, sheriff, +better watch out! He told me he had a gun, and that he had the jailer +tied and gagged." + +"The damned skunk didn't have no gun! All he had was a flashlight, and +I broke that over his head. But he tole me the same story about the +jailer--all except the gun." This testimony was volunteered by Poole's +cellmate. + +Peter removed his cigar and looked at the "damned skunk" more closely. + +"Why, if it ain't Mr. Poole!" he said. + +"Sure, it's Poole. What in hell does he mean, then--swearin' you into +jail and then breakin' you out?" + +"Hadn't you better ask him?" said Peter, very reasonably. "You come on +down to the office, sheriff. I want you to get at the bottom of this or +have the heart out of some one." He rolled a dancing eye at Poole with +the word, and Poole shrank before it. + +"Breakfast! Bring us our breakfast!" bawled the prisoners. "Breakfast!" + +The sheriff dealt leniently with the uproar, realizing that these were +but weakling folk and, under the influence of excitement, hardly +responsible. + +"Brooks has been tied up all night, and is all but dead. I'll get you +something as soon as I can," he said, "on condition that you stop that +hullabaloo at once. Johnson, come down to the office." + +He telephoned a hurry call to a restaurant, Brooks, the jailer, being +plainly incapable of furnishing breakfast. Then he turned to Pete. + +"What is this, Johnson? A plant?" + +Pete's nose quivered. + +"Sure! It was a plant from the first. The Pooles were hired to set upon +me. This one was sent, masked, to tell me to break out. Then, as I figure +it, I was to be betrayed back again, to get two or three years in the pen +for breaking jail. Nice little scheme!" + +"Who did it? For Poole, if you're not lying, was only a tool." + +"Sheriff," said Pete, "pass your hand through my hair and feel there, and +look at my face. See any scars? Quite a lot of 'em? And all in front? Men +like me don't have to lie. They pay for what they break. You go back up +there and get after Poole. He'll tell you. Any man that will do what he +did to me, for money, will squeal on his employer. Sure!" + +Overhead the hammering and shouting broke out afresh. + +"There," said the sheriff regretfully; "now I'll have to make those +fellows go without anything to eat till dinner-time." + +"Sheriff," said Pete, "you've been mighty square with me. Now I want you +should do me one more favor. It will be the last one; for I shan't be +with you long. Give those boys their breakfast. I got 'em into this. I'll +pay for it, and take it mighty kindly of you, besides." + +"Oh, all right!" growled the sheriff, secretly relieved. + +"One thing more, brother: I think your jailer was in this--but that's +your business. Anyhow, Poole knew which key opened my door, and he didn't +know the others. Of course, he may have forced your jailer to tell him +that. But Poole didn't strike me as being up to any bold enterprise +unless it was cut-and-dried." + +The sheriff departed, leaving Johnson unguarded in the office. In ten +minutes he was back. + +"All right," he nodded. "He confessed--whimpering hard. Brooks was in it. +I've got him locked up. Nice doings, this is!" + +"Mitchell?" + +"Yes. I wouldn't have thought it of him. What was the reason?" + +"There is never but one reason. Money.--Who's this?" + +It was Mr. Boland, attended by Mr. Ferdie Sedgwick, both sadly disheveled +and bearing marks of a sleepless night. Francis Charles spoke hurriedly +to the sheriff. + +"Oh, I say, Barton! McClintock will go bail for this man Johnson. Ferdie +and I would, but we're not taxpayers in the county. Come over to the +Iroquois, won't you?" + +"Boland," said the sheriff solemnly, "take this scoundrel out of my jail! +Don't you ever let him step foot in here again. There won't be any bail; +but he must appear before His Honor later to-day for the formal dismissal +of the case. Take him away! If you can possibly do so, ship him out of +town at once." + +Francis Charles winked at Peter as they went down the steps. + +"So it was you last night?" said Peter. "Thanks to you. I'll do as much +for you sometime." + +"Thank us both. This is my friend Sedgwick, who was to have been our +chauffeur." The two gentlemen bowed, grinning joyfully. "My name's +Boland, and I'm to be your first stockholder. Miss Selden told me about +you--which is my certificate of character. Come over to the hotel and see +Old McClintock. Miss Selden is there too. She bawled him out about Nephew +Stan last night. Regular old-fashioned wigging! And now she has the old +gentleman eating from her hand. Say, how about this Stanley thing, +anyway? Any good?" + +"Son," said Pete, "Stanley is a regular person." + +Boland's face clouded. + +"Well, I'm going out with you and have a good look at him," he said +gloomily. "If I'm not satisfied with him, I'll refuse my consent. And +I'll look at your mine--if you've got any mine. They used to say that +when a man drinks of the waters of the Hassayampa, he can never tell the +truth again. And you're from Arizona." + +Pete stole a shrewd look at the young man's face. + +"There is another old saying about the Hassayampa, son," he said kindly, +"with even more truth to it than in that old _dicho_. They say that +whoever drinks of the waters of the Hassayampa must come to drink again." + +He bent his brows at Francis Charles. + +"Good guess," admitted Boland, answering the look. "I've never been to +Arizona, but I've sampled the Pecos and the Rio Grande; and I must go +back 'Where the flyin'-fishes play on the road to Mandalay, where the +dawn comes up like thunder'--Oh, gee! That's my real reason. I suppose +that silly girl and your picturesque pardner will marry, anyhow, even if +I disapprove--precious pair they'll make! And if I take a squint at the +copper proposition, it will be mostly in Ferdie's interest--Ferdie is the +capitalist, comparatively speaking; but he can't tear himself away from +little old N'Yawk. This is his first trip West--here in Vesper. Myself, +I've got only two coppers to clink together--or maybe three. We're rather +overlooking Ferdie, don't you think? Mustn't do that. Might withdraw his +backin'. Ferdie, speak up pretty for the gennulmun!" + +"Oh, don't mind me, Mr. Johnson," said Sedgwick cheerfully. "I'm used to +hearin' Boland hog the conversation, and trottin' to keep up with him. +Glad to be seen on the street with him. Gives one a standing, you know. +But, I say, old chappie, why didn't you come last night? Deuced anxious, +we were! Thought you missed the way, or slid down your rope and got +nabbed again, maybe. No end of a funk I was in, not being used to +lawbreakin', except by advice of counsel. And we felt a certain delicacy +about inquiring about you this morning, you know--until we heard about +the big ructions at the jail. Come over to McClintock's rooms--can't +you?--where we'll be all together, and tell us about it--so you won't +have to tell it but the one time." + +"No, sir," said Pete decidedly. "I get my breakfast first, and a large +shave. Got to do credit to Stan. Then I'll go with you. Big mistake, +though. Story like this gets better after bein' told a few times. I could +make quite a tale of this, with a little practice." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +"You've got Stan sized up all wrong, Mr. McClintock," said Pete. "That +boy didn't want your money. He never so much as mentioned your name to +me. If he had, I would have known why Old Man Trouble was haunting him so +persistent. And he don't want anybody's money. He's got a-plenty of his +own--in prospect. And he's got what's better than money: he has learned +to do without what he hasn't got." + +"You say he has proved himself a good man of his hands?" demanded +McClintock sharply. + +"Yessir--Stanley is sure one double-fisted citizen," said Pete. "Here is +what I heard spoken of him by highest authority the day before I left: +'He'll make a hand!' That was the word said of Stan to me. We don't get +any higher than that in Arizona. When you say of a man, 'He'll do to take +along,' you've said it all. And Stanley Mitchell will do to take along. +I'm thinkin', sir, that you did him no such an ill turn when your quarrel +sent him out there. He was maybe the least bit inclined to be +butter-flighty when he first landed." + +It was a queer gathering. McClintock sat in his great wheeled chair, +leaning against the cushions; he held a silken skull-cap in his hand, +revealing a shining poll with a few silvered locks at side and back; his +little red ferret eyes, fiery still, for all the burden of his years, +looked piercingly out under shaggy brows. His attendant, withered and +brown and gaunt, stood silent behind him. Mary Selden, quiet and pale, +was at the old man's left hand. Pete Johnson, with one puffed and +discolored eye, a bruised cheek, and with skinned and bandaged knuckles, +but cheerful and sunny of demeanor, sat facing McClintock. Boland and +Sedgwick sat a little to one side. They had tried to withdraw, on the +plea of intrusion; but McClintock had overruled them and bade them stay. + +"For the few high words that passed atween us, I care not a +boddle--though, for the cause of them I take shame to myself," said +McClintock, glancing down affectionately at Mary Selden. "I was the more +misled--at the contrivance of yon fleechin' scoundrel of an Oscar. 'I'm +off to Arizona, to win the boy free,' says he--the leein' cur!... I will +say this thing, too, that my heart warmed to the lad at the very time of +it--that he had spunk to speak his mind. I have seen too much of the +supple stock. Sirs, it is but an ill thing to be over-rich, in which +estate mankind is seen at the worst. The fawning sort cringe underfoot +for favors, and the true breed of kindly folk are all o'erapt to pass the +rich man by, verra scornful-like." He looked hard at Peter Johnson. "I am +naming no names," he added. + +"As for my gear, it would be a queer thing if I could not do what I like +with my own. Even a gay young birkie like yoursel' should understand +that, Mr. Johnson. Besides, we talk of what is by. The lawyer has been; +Van Lear has given him instructions, and the pack of you shall witness my +hand to the bit paper that does Stan right, or ever you leave this room." + +Pete shrugged his shoulders. "Stanley will always be feelin' that I +softied it up to you. And he's a stiff-necked one--Stan!" + +McClintock laughed with a relish. + +"For all ye are sic a fine young man, Mr. Johnson, I'm doubtin' ye're no +deeplomat. And Stan will be knowin' that same. Here is what ye shall do: +you shall go to him and say that you saw an old man sitting by his +leelane, handfast to the chimney neuk; and that you are thinking I will +be needin' a friendly face, and that you think ill of him for that same +stiff neck of his. Ye will be having him come to seek and not to gie; +folk aye like better to be forgiven than to forgive; I do, mysel'. That +is what you shall do for me." + +"And I did not come to coax money from you to develop the mine with, +either," said Pete. "If the play hadn't come just this way, with the jail +and all, you would have seen neither hide nor hair of me." + +"I am thinkin' that you are one who has had his own way of it overmuch," +said McClintock. His little red eyes shot sparks beneath the beetling +brows; he had long since discovered that he had the power to badger Mr. +Johnson; and divined that, as a usual thing, Johnson was a man not easily +ruffled. The old man enjoyed the situation mightily and made the most of +it. "When ye are come to your growth, you will be more patient of sma' +crossings. Here is no case for argle-bargle. You have taken yon twa brisk +lads into composition with you"--he nodded toward the brisk lads--"the +compact being that they were to provide fodder for yonder mine-beastie, +so far as in them lies, and, when they should grow short of siller, to +seek more for you. Weel, they need seek no farther, then. I have told +them that I will be their backer at need; I made the deal wi' them direct +and ye have nowt to do with it. You are ill to please, young man! You +come here with a very singular story, and nowt to back it but a glib +tongue and your smooth, innocent-like young face--and you go back hame +with a heaped gowpen of gold, and mair in the kist ahint of that. I +think ye do very weel for yoursel'." + +"Don't mind him, Mr. Johnson," said Mary Selden. "He is only teasing +you." + +Old McClintock covered her hand with his own and continued: "Listen to +her now! Was ne'er a lassie yet could bear to think ill of a bonny face!" +He drew down his brows at Pete, who writhed visibly. + +Ferdie Sedgwick rose and presented a slip of pasteboard to McClintock, +with a bow. + +"I have to-day heard with astonishment--ahem!--and with indignation, a +great many unseemly and disrespectful remarks concerning money, and more +particularly concerning money that runs to millions," he said, opposing +a grave and wooden countenance to the battery of eyes. "Allow me to +present you my card, Mr. McClintock, and to assure you that I harbor no +such sentiments. I can always be reached at the address given; and I beg +you to remember, sir, that I shall be most happy to serve you in the +event that--" + +A rising gale of laughter drowned his further remarks, but he continued +in dumb show, with fervid gesticulations, and a mouth that moved rapidly +but produced no sound, concluding with a humble bow; and stalked back to +his chair with stately dignity, unmarred by even the semblance of a +smile. Young Peter Johnson howled with the rest, his sulks forgotten; +and even the withered serving-man relaxed to a smile--a portent hitherto +unknown. + +"Come; we grow giddy," chided McClintock at last, wiping his own eyes as +he spoke. "We have done with talk of yonder ghost-bogle mine. But I must +trouble you yet with a word of my own, which is partly to justify me +before you. This it is--that, even at the time of Stanley's flitting, I +set it down in black and white that he was to halve my gear wi' Oscar, +share and share alike. I aye likit the boy weel. From this day all is +changit; Oscar shall hae neither plack nor bawbee of mine; all goes to my +wife's nephew, Stanley Mitchell, as is set down in due form in the bit +testament that is waiting without; bating only some few sma' bequests for +old kindness. It is but loath I am to poison our mirth with the name of +the man Oscar; the deil will hae him to be brandered; he is fast grippit, +except he be cast out as an orra-piece, like the smith in the Norroway +tale. When ye are come to your own land, Mr. Johnson, ye will find that +brockle-faced stot there afore you; and I trust ye will comb him weel. +Heckle him finely, and spare not; but ere ye have done wi' him, for my +sake drop a word in his lug to come nae mair to Vesper. When all's said, +the man is of my wife's blood and bears her name; I would not have that +name publicly disgracit. They were a kindly folk, the Mitchells. I +thought puirly of theem for a wastrel crew when I was young. But now I am +old, I doubt their way was as near right as mine. You will tell him for +me, Mr. Johnson, to name one who shall put a value on his gear, and I +shall name another; and what they agree upon I shall pay over to his +doer, and then may I never hear of him more--unless it be of ony glisk of +good yet in him, the which I shall be most blithe to hear. And so let +that be my last word of Oscar. Cornelius, bring in the lawyer body, and +let us be ower wi' it; for I think it verra needfu' that the two lads +should even pack their mails and take train this day for the West. You'll +have an eye on this young spark, Mr. Boland? And gie him a bit word of +counsel from time to time, should ye see him temptit to whilly-whas and +follies? I fear me he is prone to insubordination." + +"I'll watch over him, sir," laughed Boland. + +"I'll keep him in order. And if Miss Selden should have a message--or +anything--to send, perhaps--" + +Miss Selden blushed and laughed. + +"No, thank you!" she said. "I'll--I'll send it by Mr. Johnson." + +The will was brought in. McClintock affixed his signature in a firm round +hand; the others signed as witnesses. + +"Man Johnson, will ye bide behind for a word?" said McClintock as the +farewells were said. When the others were gone, he made a sign to Van +Lear, who left the room. + +"I'm asking you to have Stanley back soon--though he'll be coming for the +lassie's sake, ony gate. But I am wearyin' for a sight of the lad's face +the once yet," said the old man. "And yoursel', Mr. Johnson; if you visit +to York State again, I should be blithe to have a crack with you. But it +must be early days, for I'll be flittin' soon. I'll tell you this, that I +am real pleased to have met with you. Man, I'll tell ye a dead secret. Ye +ken the auld man ahint my chair--him that the silly folk ca' Rameses +Second in their sport? What think ye the auld body whispert to me but +now? That he likit ye weel--no less! Man, that sets ye up! Cornelius has +not said so much for ony man these twenty year--so my jest is true +enough, for all 'twas said in fleerin'; ye bear your years well and the +credentials of them in your face. Ye'll not be minding for an old man's +daffin'?" + +"Sure not! I'm a great hand at the joke-play myself," said Pete. "And +it's good for me to do the squirmin' myself, for once." + +"I thought so much. I likit ye mysel', and I'll be thinkin' of you, +nights, and your wild life out beyont. I'll tell you somethin' now, +and belike you'll laugh at me." He lowered his voice and spoke wistfully. +"Man, I have ne'er fought wi' my hands in a' my life--not since I was a +wean; nor yet felt the pinch of ony pressin' danger to be facit, that I +might know how jeopardy sorts wi' my stomach. I became man-grown as a +halflin' boy, or e'er you were born yet--a starvelin' boy, workin' for +bare bread; and hard beset I was for't. So my thoughts turned all +money-wise, till it became fixture and habit with me; and I took nae time +for pleasures. But when I heard of your fight yestreen, and how you +begawked him that we are to mention no more, and of your skirmishes and +by-falls with these gentry of your own land, my silly auld blood leapit +in my briskit. And when I was a limber lad like yourself, I do think +truly that once I might hae likit weel to hae been lot and part of +siclike stir and hazard, and to see the bale-fires burn. + +"Bear with me a moment yet, and I'll have done. There is a hard question +I would spier of you. I thought but ill of my kind in my younger days. +Now, being old, I see, with a thankful heart, how many verra fine people +inhabit here. 'Tis a rale bonny world. And, lookin' back, I see too often +where I have made harsh judgings of my fellows. There are more excuses +for ill-doings to my old eyes. Was't so with you?" + +"Yes," said Pete. "We're not such a poor lot after all--not when we stop +to think or when we're forced to see. In fire or flood, or sickness, +we're all eager to bear a hand--for we see, then. Our purses and our +hearts are open to any great disaster. Why, take two cases--the telephone +girls and the elevator boys. Don't sound heroic much, do they? But, by +God, when the floods come, the telephone girls die at their desks, still +sendin' out warnings! And when a big fire comes, and there are lives to +save, them triflin' cigarette-smoking, sassy, no-account boys run the +elevators through hell and back as long as the cables hold! Every time!" + +The old man's eye kindled. "Look ye there, now! Man, and have ye noticed +that too?" he cried triumphantly. "Ye have e'en the secret of it. We're +good in emairgencies, the now; when the time comes when we get a glimmer +that all life is emairgency and tremblin' peril, that every turn may be +the wrong turn--when we can see that our petty system of suns and all is +nobbut a wee darkling cockle-boat, driftin' and tossed abune the waves in +the outmost seas of an onrushing universe--hap-chance we'll no loom so +grandlike in our own een; and we'll tak' hands for comfort in the dark. +'Tis good theology, yon wise saying of the silly street: 'We are all in +the same boat. Don't rock the boat!'" + + * * * * * + +When Peter had gone, McClintock's feeble hands, on the wheel-rims, pushed +his chair to the wall and took from a locked cabinet an old and faded +daguerreotype of a woman with smiling eyes. He looked at it long and +silently, and fell asleep there, the time-stained locket in his hands. +When Van Lear returned, McClintock woke barely in time to hide the +locket under a cunning hand--and spoke harshly to that aged servitor. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Before the two adventurers left Vesper, Johnson wired to José Benavides +the date of his arrival at Tucson; and from El Paso he wired Jackson Carr +to leave Mohawk the next day but one, with the last load of water. +Johnson and Boland arrived in Tucson at seven-twenty-six in the morning. +Benavides met them at the station--a slender, wiry, hawk-faced man, with +a grizzled beard. + +"So this is Francis Charles?" said Stanley. + +"Frank by brevet, now. Pete has promoted me. He says that Francis Charles +is too heavy for the mild climate, and unwieldy in emergencies." + +"You ought to see Frankie in his new khaki suit! He's just too sweet for +anything," said Pete. "You know Benavides, Stan?" + +"Joe and I are lifelong friends of a week's standing. _Compadres_--eh, +Joe? He came to console my captivity on your account, at first, and found +me so charming that he came back on his own." + +"_Ah, que hombre!_ Do not beliefing heem, Don Hooaleece. He ees begging +me efery day to come again back--that leetle one," cried Joe indignantly. +"I come here not wis plessir--not so. He is ver' _triste_, thees +boy--ver' dull. I am to take sorry for heem--_sin vergüenza!_ Also, +perhaps a leetle I am coming for that he ordaire always from the _Posada_ +the bes' dinners, lak now." + +"Such a care-free life!" sighed Francis-Frank. "Decidedly I must reform +my ways. One finds so much gayety and happiness among the criminal +classes, as I observed when I first met Mr. Johnson--in Vesper Jail." + +"Oh, has Pete been in jail? That's good. Tell us about it, Pete." + +That was a morning which flashed by quickly. The gleeful history of +events in Vesper was told once and again, with Pete's estimate and +critical analysis of the Vesperian world. Stanley's new fortunes were +announced, and Pete spoke privately with him concerning McClintock. +The coming campaign was planned in detail, over another imported meal. +Stanley was to be released that afternoon, Benavides becoming security +for him; but, through the courtesy of the sheriff, he was to keep his +cell until late bedtime. It was wished to make the start without courting +observation. For the same reason, when the sheriff escorted Stanley and +Benavides to the courthouse for the formalities attendant to the +bail-giving, Pete did not go along. Instead, he took Frank-Francis +for a sight-seeing stroll about the town. + +It was past two when, in an unquiet street, Boland's eye fell upon a +signboard which drew his eye: + +THE PALMILLA + +THE ONLY SECOND-CLASS SALOON IN THE CITY + +Boland called attention to this surprising proclamation. + +"Yes," said Pete; "that's Rhiny Archer's place. Little old +Irishman--sharp as a steel trap. You'll like him. Let's go in." + +They marched in. The barroom was deserted; Tucson was hardly awakened +from siesta as yet. From the open door of a side room came a murmur of +voices. + +"Where's Rhiny?" demanded Pete of the bartender. + +"Rhiny don't own the place now. Sold out and gone." + +"Shucks!" said Pete. "That's too bad. Where'd he go?" + +"Don't know. You might ask the boss." He raised his voice: "Hey, Dewing! +Gentleman here to speak to you." + +At the summons, Something Dewing appeared at the side door; he gave a +little start when he saw Pete at the bar. + +"Why, hello, Johnson! Well met! This is a surprise." + +"Same here," said Pete. "Didn't know you were in town." + +"Yes; I bought Rhiny out. Tired of Cobre. Want to take a hand at poker, +Pete? Here's two lumberjacks down from up-country, and honing to play. +Their money's burning holes in their pockets. I was just telling them +that it's too early to start a game yet." + +He indicated the other two men, who were indeed disguised as lumberjacks, +even to their hands; but their faces were not the faces of workingmen. + +"Cappers," thought Pete. Aloud he said: "Not to-day, I guess. Where's +Rhiny? In town yet?" + +"No; he left. Don't know where he went exactly--somewhere up +Flagstaff-way, I think. But I can find out for you if you want to +write to him." + +"Oh, no--nothing particular. Just wanted a chin with him." + +"Better try the cards a whirl, Pete," urged the gambler. "I don't want to +start up for a three-handed game." + +Pete considered. It was not good taste to give a second invitation; +evidently Dewing had strong reasons for desiring his company. + +"If this tinhorn thinks he can pump me, I'll let him try it a while," he +reflected. He glanced at his watch. + +"Three o'clock. I'll tell you what I'll do with you, Dewing," he said: +"I'll disport round till supper-time, if I last that long. But I can't go +very strong. Quit you at supper-time, win or lose. Say six o'clock, sharp. +The table will be filled up long before that." + +"Come into the anteroom. We'll start in with ten-cent chips," said +Dewing. "Maybe your friend would like to join us?" + +"Not at first. Later, maybe. Come on, Frankie!" + +Boland followed into the side room. He was a little disappointed in Pete. + +"You see, it's like this," said Pete, sinking into a chair after the door +was closed: "Back where Boland lives the rules are different. They play a +game something like Old Maid, and call it poker. He can sit behind me a +spell and I'll explain how we play it. Then, if he wants to, he can sit +in with us. Deal 'em up." + +"Cut for deal--high deals," said Dewing. + +After the first hand was played, Pete began his explanations: + +"We play all jack pots here, Frankie; and we use five aces. That is in +the Constitution of the State of Texas, and the Texas influence reaches +clear to the Colorado River. The joker goes for aces, flushes, and +straights. It always counts as an ace, except to fill a straight; but +if you've got a four-card straight and the joker, then the joker fills +your hand. Here; I'll show you." Between deals he sorted out a ten, nine, +eight, and seven, and the joker with them. + +"There," he said; "with a hand like this you can call the joker either a +jack or a six, just as you please. It is usual to call it a jack. But +in anything except straights and straight flushes--if there is any such +thing as a straight flush--the cuter card counts as an ace. Got that?" + +"Yes; I think I can remember that." + +"All right! You watch us play a while, then, till you get on to our +methods of betting--they're different from yours too. When you think +you're wise, you can take a hand if you want to." + +Boland watched for a few hands and then bought in. The game ran on for an +hour, with the usual vicissitudes. Nothing very startling happened. The +"lumbermen" bucked each other furiously, bluffing in a scandalous manner +when they fought for a pot between themselves. Each was cleaned out +several times and bought more chips. Pete won; lost; bought chips; won, +lost, and won again; and repeated the process. Red and blue chips began +to appear: the table took on a distinctly patriotic appearance. The +lumbermen clamored to raise the ante; Johnson steadfastly declined. +Boland, playing cautiously, neither won nor lost. Dewing won quietly, +mostly from the alleged lumbermen. + +The statement that nothing particular had occurred is hardly accurate. +There had been one little circumstance of a rather peculiar nature. Once +or twice, when it came Pete's turn to deal, he had fancied that he felt a +stir of cold air at the back of his neck; cooler, at least, than the +smoke-laden atmosphere of the card room. + +On the third recurrence of this phenomenon Pete glanced carelessly at his +watch before picking up his hand, and saw in the polished back a tiny +reflection from the wall behind him--a small horizontal panel, tilted +transomwise, and a peering face. Pete scanned his hand; when he picked up +his watch to restore it to his pocket, the peering face was gone and the +panel had closed again. + +Boland, sitting beside Johnson, saw nothing of this. Neither did the +lumbermen, though they were advantageously situated on the opposite side +of the table. Pete played on, with every sense on the alert. He knocked +over a pile of chips, spilling some on the floor; when he stooped over to +get them, he slipped his gun from his waistband and laid it in his lap. +His curiosity was aroused. + +At length, on Dewing's deal, Johnson picked up three kings before the +draw. He sat at Dewing's left; it was his first chance to open the pot; +he passed. Dewing coughed; Johnson felt again that current of cold air on +his neck. "This must be the big mitt," thought Pete. "In a square game +there'd be nothing unusual in passing up three kings for a raise--that is +good poker. But Dewing wants to be sure I've got 'em. Are they going to +slide me four kings? I reckon not. It isn't considered good form to hold +four aces against four kings. They'll slip me a king-full, likely, and +some one will hold an ace-full." + +Obligingly Pete spread his three kings fanwise, for the convenience of +the onlooker behind the panel. So doing, he noted that he held the kings +of hearts, spades, and diamonds, with the queen and jack of diamonds. He +slid queen and jack together. "Two aces to go with this hand would give +me a heap of confidence," he thought. "I'm going to take a long chance." + +Boland passed; the first lumberman opened the pot; the second stayed; +Dewing stayed; Pete stayed, and raised. Boland passed out; the first +lumberman saw the raise. + +"I ought to lift this again; but I won't," announced the lumberman. "I +want to get Scotty's money in this pot, and I might scare him out." + +Scotty, the second lumberman, hesitated for a moment, and then laid down +his hand, using language. Dewing saw the raise. + +"Here's where I get a cheap draw for the Dead Man's Hand--aces and +eights." He discarded two and laid before him, face up on the table, a +pair of eights and an ace of hearts. "I'm going to trim you fellows this +time. Aces and eights have never been beaten yet." + +"Damn you! Here's one eight you won't get," said Scotty; he turned over +his hand, exposing the eight of clubs. + +"Mustn't expose your cards unnecessarily," said Dewing reprovingly. "It +spoils the game." He picked up the deck. "Cards?" + +Pete pinched his cards to the smallest compass and cautiously discarded +two of them, holding their faces close to the table. + +"Give me two right off the top." + +Dewing complied. + +"Cards to you?" he said. "Next gentleman?" + +The next gentleman scowled. "I orter have raised," he said. "Only I +wanted Scotty's money. Now, like as not, somebody'll draw out on me. I'll +play these." + +Dewing dealt himself two. Reversing his exposed cards, he shoved between +them the two cards he had drawn and laid these five before him, backs up, +without looking at them. + +"It's your stab, Mr. Johnson," said Dewing sweetly. + +Johnson skinned his hand slowly and cautiously, covering his cards with +his hands, clipping one edge lightly so that the opposite edges were +slightly separated, and peering between them. He had drawn the joker and +the ace of diamonds. He closed the hand tightly and shoved in a stack. + +"Here's where you see aces and eights beaten," he said, addressing +Dewing. "You can't have four eights, 'cause Mr. Scotty done showed one." + +The lumberman raised. + +"What are you horning in for?" demanded Pete. "I've got you beat. It's +Dewing's hide I'm after." + +Dewing looked at his cards and stayed. Pete saw the raise and re-raised. + +The lumberman sized up to Pete's raise tentatively, but kept his hand +on his stack of chips; he questioned Pete with his eyes, muttered, +hesitated, and finally withdrew the stack of chips in his hands and +threw up his cards with a curse, exposing a jack-high spade flush. + +Dewing's eyes were cold and hard. He saw Pete's raise and raised again, +pushing in two stacks of reds. + +"That's more than I've got, but I'll see you as far as my chips hold out. +Wish to Heaven I had a bushel!" Pete sized up his few chips beside +Dewing's tall red stacks. "It's a shame to show this hand for such a +pitiful little bit of money," he said in an aggrieved voice. "What you +got?" + +Dewing made no move to turn over his cards. + +"If you feel that way about it, old-timer," he said as he raked back his +remainder of unimperiled chips, "you can go down in your pocket." + +"Table stakes!" objected Scotty. + +"That's all right," said Dewing. "We'll suspend the rules, seeing there's +no one in the pot but Johnson and me. This game, I take it, is going to +break up right now and leave somebody feeling mighty sore. If you're so +sure you've got me beat--dig up!" + +"Cash my chips," said Scotty. "I sat down here to play table stakes, and +I didn't come to hear you fellows jaw, either." + +"You shut up!" said Dewing. "I'll cash your chips when I play out this +hand--not before. You're not in this." + +"Hell; you're both of you scared stiff!" scoffed Scotty. "Neither of you +dast put up a cent." + +"Well, Johnson, how about it?" jeered Dewing. "What are you going to do +or take water?" + +"Won't there ever be any more hands of poker dealt?" asked Pete. "If I +thought this was to be the last hand ever played, I'd sure plunge right +smart on this bunch of mine." + +"Weakening, eh?" sneered Dewing. + +"That's enough, Pete," said Boland, very much vexed. "We're playing table +stakes. This is no way to do. Show what you've got and let's get out of +this." + +"You let me be!" snapped Pete. "No, Dewing; I'm not weakening. About how +much cash have you got in your roll?" + +"About fourteen hundred in the house. More in the bank if you're really +on the peck. And I paid three thousand cash for this place." + +"And I've got maybe fifty or sixty dollars with me. You see how it is," +said Pete. "But I've got a good ranch and a bunch of cattle, if you +happen to know anything about them." + +"Pete! Pete! That's enough," urged Boland. + +Pete shook him off. + +"Mind your own business, will you?" he snapped. "I'm going to show Mr. +Something Dewing how it feels." + +The gambler smiled coldly. "Johnson, you're an old blowhard! If you +really want to make a man-size bet on that hand of yours, I'll make you +a proposition." + +"Bet on it? Bet on this hand?" snarled Pete, clutching his cards tightly. +"I'd bet everything I've got on this hand." + +"We'll see about that. I may be wrong, but I seem to have heard that you +and young Mitchell have found a copper claim that's pretty fair, and a +little over. I believe it, anyhow. And I'm willing to take the risk +that you'll keep your word. I'll shoot the works on this hand--cash, bank +roll, and the joint, against a quarter interest in your mine." + +"Son," said Johnson, "I wouldn't sell you one per cent of my share of +that mine for all you've got. Come again!" + +The gambler laughed contemptuously. "That's easy enough said," he +taunted. "If you want to wiggle out of it that way, all right!" + +Pete raised a finger. + +"Not so fast. I don't remember that I've wiggled any yet. I don't want +your money or your saloon. In mentioning my mine you have set an example +of plain speaking which I intend to follow. I do hereby believe that you +can clear Stanley Mitchell of the charge hanging over him. If you can, +I'll bet you a one-quarter interest in our mine against that evidence. +I'll take your word if you'll take mine, and I'll give you twelve hours' +start before I make your confession public.--Boland, you mind your own +business. I'm doing this.--Well, Dewing, how about it?" + +"If you think I've got evidence to clear Stanley--" + +"I do. I think you did the trick yourself, likely." + +"You might as well get one thing in your head, first as last: if I had +any such evidence and made any such a bet--I'd win it! You may be sure of +that. So you'd be no better off so far as getting your pardner out of +trouble is concerned--and you lose a slice of mining property. If you +really think I can give you any such evidence, why not trade me an +interest in the mine for it?" + +"I'm not buying, I'm betting! Who's wiggling now?" + +"You headstrong, stiff-necked old fool, you've made a bet! I've got the +evidence. Your word against mine?" + +"Your word against mine. The bet is made," said Pete. "What have you got? +I called you." + +"I've got the Dead Man's Hand--that's all!" Dewing spread out three aces +and a pair of eights, and smiled exasperatingly. "You've got what you +were looking for! I hope you're satisfied now!" + +"Yes," said Pete; "I'm satisfied. Let's see you beat this!" He tossed his +cards on the table. "Look at 'em! A royal straight flush in diamonds, and +a gun to back it!" The gun leaped up with a click. "Come through, Dewing! +Your spy may shoot me through that panel behind me; but if he does I'll +bore you through the heart. Boland, you've got a gun. Watch the wall at +my back. If you see a panel open, shoot! Hands on the table, lumbermen!" + +"Don't shoot! I'll come through," said Dewing, coolly enough, but +earnestly. "I think you are the devil! Where did you get those cards?" + +"Call your man in from that panel. My back itches and so does my trigger +finger." + +"What do you think I am--a fool? Nobody's going to shoot you." Dewing +raised his voice: "Come on in, Warren, hands up, before this old idiot +drills me." + +"Evidence," remarked Johnson softly, "is what I am after. Evidence! I +have no need of any corpses. Boland, you might go through Mr. Warren and +those other gentlemen for guns. Never mind Dewing; I'll get his gun, +myself, after the testimony. Dewing might play a trick on you if you get +too close. That's right. Pile 'em in the chair. Now, Mr. Dewing--you were +to give some testimony, I believe." + +"You'll get it. I robbed Wiley myself. But I'm damned if I tell you any +more till you tell me where you got that hand. I'll swear those are the +cards I dealt you. I never took my eyes off of you." + +"Your eyes are all right, son," said Johnson indulgently, "but you made +your play too strong. You showed an ace and two eights. Then, when Mr. +Scotty obliged by flashing another eight, I knowed you was to deal me two +aces for confidence cards and two more to yourself, to make out a full +hand to beat my king-full. So I discarded two kings. Turn 'em over, +Boland. I took a long chance. Drew to the king, queen, and jack of +diamonds. If one of the aces I got in the draw had been either hearts or +black, I'd have lost a little money; and there's an end. As it happened, +I drew the diamond ace and the joker, making ace, king, queen, jack, and +ten--and this poker game is hereby done broke up. I'm ready for the +evidence now." + +"You've earned it fair, and you'll get it. I told you I'd not implicate +any one but myself, and I won't. I robbed Wiley so I could saw it off on +Stan. You know why, I guess," said Dewing. "If you'll ask that little +Bobby kid of Jackson Carr's, he'll tell you that Stan lost his spur +beyond Hospital Springs about sunset on the night of the robbery, and +didn't find it again. The three of us rode in together, and the boy can +swear that Stan had only one spur. + +"I saw the spur when we were hunting for it; I saw how it would help me +get Stan out of the way; so I said nothing, and I went back that night +and got it. I dropped it near where I held Wiley up, and found it again, +very opportunely, when I came back to Cobre with the posse. Every one +knew that spur; that was how the posse came to search Stan's place. +The rest is easy: I hid the money where it was sure to be found. That's +all I am going to tell you, and that's enough. If it will make you feel +any better about it, though, you may be pleased to know that Bat Wiley +and most of them were acting in good faith." + +"That is quite satisfactory. The witness is excused," said Pete. "And +I'll give you twelve hours to leave Tucson before I give out the news." + +"Twelve minutes is quite enough, thank you. My address will be Old Mexico +hereafter, and I'll close out the shop by mail. Anything else?" + +"Why, yes; you might let me have that gun of yours as a keepsake. No; +I'll get it," said Pete kindly. "You just hold up your hands. Well, we +gotta be going. We've had a pleasant afternoon, haven't we? Good-bye, +gentlemen! Come on, Boland!" + +They backed out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +That night, between ten and eleven, Stanley Mitchell came forth from +Tucson Jail. Pete Johnson was not there to meet him; fearing espionage +from Cobre, he sent Boland, instead. Boland led the ex-prisoner to the +rendezvous, where Pete and Joe Benavides awaited their coming with +four saddle horses, the pick of the Benavides _caballada_, and two +pack-horses. Except for a small package of dynamite--a dozen sticks +securely wrapped, an afterthought that Pete put into effect between +poker game and supper-time--the packs contained only the barest +necessities, with water kegs, to be filled later. The four friends were +riding light; but each carried a canteen at the saddle horn, and a rifle. + +They rode quietly out through the southern end of the town, Joe Benavides +leading the way. They followed a trail through Robles' Pass and westward +through the Altar Valley. They watered at the R E Ranch at three in the +morning, waking Barnaby Robles; him they bound to silence; and there they +let their horses rest and eat of the R E corn while they prepared a hasty +breakfast. Then they pushed on, to waste no brief coolness of the morning +hours. Pete kept word and spirit of his promise to Dewing; not until day +was broad in the sky did he tell Stanley of Dewing's disclosure, tidings +that displeased Stanley not at all. + +It was a gay party on that bright desert morning, though the way led +through a dismal country of giant cactus, cholla and mesquite. Pete noted +with amusement that Stanley and Frank-Francis showed some awkwardness and +restraint with each other. Their clipped _g_'s were carefully restored +and their conversation was otherwise conducted on the highest plane. The +dropping of this superfluous final letter had become habitual with +Stanley through carelessness and conformance to environment. With Boland +it was a matter of principle, practiced in a spirit of perversity, in +rebellion against a world too severely regulated. + +By ten in the morning the heat drove them to cover for sleep and nooning +in the scanty shade of a mesquite motte. Long before that, the two young +gentlemen had arrived at an easier footing and the _g_'s were once more +comfortably dropped. But poor Boland, by this time, was ill at ease in +body. He was not inexperienced in hard riding of old; and in his home on +the northern tip of Manhattan, where the Subway goes on stilts and the +Elevated runs underground, he had allowed himself the luxury of a saddle +horse and ridden no little, in a mild fashion. But he was in no way +hardened to such riding as this. + +Mr. Peter Johnson was gifted with prescience beyond the common run; but +for this case, which would have been the first thought for most men, his +foresight had failed. During the long six-hour nooning Boland suffered +with intermittent cramps in his legs, wakeful while the others slept. He +made no complaint; but, though he kept his trouble from words, he could +not hold his face straight. When they started on at four o'clock, Pete +turned aside for the little spring in Coyote Pass, instead of keeping to +the more direct but rougher trail to the Fresnal, over the Baboquivari, +as first planned. Boland promised to be something of a handicap; which, +had he but known it, was all the better for the intents of Mr. Something +Dewing. + + * * * * * + +For Mr. Dewing had not made good his strategic retreat to Old Mexico. +When Pete Johnson left the card room Dewing disappeared, indeed, taking +with him his two confederates. But they went no farther than to a modest +and unassuming abode near by, known to the initiated as the House of +Refuge. There Mr. Dewing did three things: first, he dispatched +messengers to bring tidings of Mr. Johnson and his doings; second, he +wrote to Mr. Mayer Zurich, at Cobre, and sent it by the first mail west, +so that the stage should bring it to Cobre by the next night; third, he +telegraphed to a trusty satellite at Silverbell, telling him to hold an +automobile in readiness to carry a telegram to Mayer Zurich, should +Dewing send such telegram later. Then Dewing lay down to snatch a little +sleep. + +The messengers returned; Mr. Johnson and his Eastern friend were +foregathered with Joe Benavides, they reported; there were horses in +evidence--six horses. Mr. Dewing rose and took station to watch the jail +from a safe place; he saw Stanley come out with Boland. The so-called +lumbermen had provided horses in the meanwhile. Unostentatiously, and +at a safe distance, the three followed the cavalcade that set out from +the Benavides house. + +Dewing posted his lumbermen in relays--one near the entrance of Robles' +Pass; one beyond the R E Ranch, which they circled to avoid; himself +following the tracks of the four friends until he was assured, beyond +doubt, that they shaped their course for the landmark of Baboquivari +Peak. Then he retraced his steps, riding slowly perforce, lest any great +dust should betray him. In the burning heat of noon he rejoined Scotty, +the first relay; he scribbled his telegram on the back of an old envelope +and gave it to Scotty. That worthy spurred away to the R E Ranch; the +hour for concealment was past--time was the essence of the contract. +Dewing followed at a slowed gait. + +Scotty delivered the telegram to his mate, who set off at a gallop for +Tucson. Between them they covered the forty miles in four hours, or a +little less. Before sunset an auto set out from Silverbell, bearing the +message to Cobre. + + * * * * * + +At that same sunset time, while Pete Johnson and his friends were yet far +from Coyote Pass, Mayer Zurich, in Cobre, spoke harshly to Mr. Oscar +Mitchell. + +"I don't know where you get any finger in this pie," he said implacably. +"You didn't pay me to find any mines for you. You hired me to hound your +cousin; and I've hounded him to jail. That lets you out. I wouldn't +push the matter if I were you. This isn't New York. Things happen +providentially out here when men persist in shoving in where they're +not wanted." + +"I have thought of that," said Mitchell, "and have taken steps to +safeguard myself. It may be worth your while to know that I have copies +of all your letters and reports. I brought them to Arizona with me. I +have left them in the hands of my confidential clerk, at a place unknown +to you, with instructions to place them in the hands of the sheriff of +this county unless I return to claim them in person within ten days, and +to proceed accordingly." + +Zurich stared at him and laughed in a coarse, unfeeling manner. "Oh, you +did, hey? Did you think of that all by yourself? Did it ever occur to you +that I have your instructions, over your own signature, filed away, and +that they would make mighty interesting reading? Your clerk can proceed +accordingly any time he gets good and ready. Go on, man! You make me +tired! You've earned no share in this mine, and you'll get no share +unless you pay well for it. If we find the mine, we'll need cash money, +to be sure; but if we find it, we can get all the money we want without +yours. Go on away! You bother me!" + +"I have richly earned a share without putting in any money," said +Mitchell with much dignity. "This man Johnson, that you fear so much--I +have laid him by the heels for several years to come, and left you a +clear field. Is that nothing?" + +"You poor, blundering, meddling, thick-headed fool," said Zurich +unpleasantly; "can't you see what you've done? You've locked up our best +chance to lay a finger on that mine. Now I'll have to get your Cousin +Stanley out of jail; and that won't be easy." + +"What for?" + +"So I can watch him and get hold of the copper claim, of course." + +"Why don't you leave him in jail and hunt for the claim till you find +it?" demanded lawyer Mitchell, willing to defer his triumph until the +moment when it should be most effective. + +"Find it? Yes; we might find it in a million years, maybe, or we might +find it in a day. Pima County alone is one fourth the size of the State +of New York. And the claim may be in Yuma County, Maricopa, or Pinal--or +even in Old Mexico, for all we know. We feel like it was somewhere south +of here; but that's only a hunch. It might as well be north or west. And +you don't know this desert country. It's simply hell! To go out there +hunting for anything you happen to find--that's plenty bad enough. But +to go out at random, hunting for one particular ledge of rock, when you +don't know where it is or what it looks like--that is not to be thought +of. Too much like dipping up the Atlantic Ocean with a fountain pen to +suit me!" + +"Then, by your own showing," rejoined Mitchell triumphantly, "I am not +only entitled to a share of the mine, but I am fairly deserving of the +biggest share. I met this ignorant mountaineer, of whom you stand in such +awe, took his measure, and won his confidence. What you failed to do by +risk, with numbers on your side, what you shrink from attempting by labor +and patience, I have accomplished by an hour's diplomacy. Johnson has +given me full directions for finding the mine--and a map." + +"What? Johnson would never do that in a thousand years!" + +"It is as I say. See for yourself." Mitchell displayed the document +proudly. + +Zurich took one look at that amazing map; then his feelings overcame him; +he laid his head on the table and wept. + +Painful explanation ensued; comparison with an authentic map carried +conviction to Mitchell's whirling mind. + +"And you thought you could take Johnson's measure?" said Zurich in +conclusion. "Man, he played with you. It is by no means certain that +Johnson will like it in jail. If he comes back here, and finds that you +have not been near your cousin, he may grow suspicious. And if he ever +gets after you, the Lord have mercy on your soul! Well, there comes the +stage. I must go and distribute the mail. Give me this map of yours; I +must have it framed. I wouldn't take a fortune for it. Tinhorn Mountain! +Dear, oh, dear!" + +He came back a little later in a less mirthful mood. Had not the +crestfallen Mitchell been thoroughly engrossed with his own hurts, +he might have perceived that Zurich himself was considerably subdued. + +"It is about time for you to take steps again," said Zurich. "Glance over +this letter. It came on the stage just now. Dated at Tucson last night." + +Mitchell read this: + +DEAR MISTER: Johnson is back and no pitch hot. Look out for yourself. He +over-reached me; he knows who got Bat Wiley's money, and he can prove it. + +He thinks I am doing a dive for Mexico. But I'm not. I am watching him. +I think he means to make a dash for the mine to-night, and I'm going to +follow him till I get the direction. Of course he may go south into +Mexico. If he does he'll have too big a start to be caught. But if he +goes west, you can head him off and cut sign on him. Slim is at +Silverbell, waiting with a car to bring you a wire from me, which I'll +send only if Johnson goes west, or thereabouts. If I send the message +at all, it should follow close on this letter. Slim drives his car like +a drunk Indian. Be ready. Johnson is too much for me. Maybe you can +handle him. + +D. + +"I would suggest Patagonia," said Zurich kindly. "No; get yourself sent +up to the pen for life--that'll be best. He wouldn't look for you there." + + * * * * * + +Zurich found but three of his confederacy available--Jim Scarboro and +Bill Dorsey, the Jim and Bill of the horse camp and the shooting +match--and Eric Anderson; but these were his best. They made a pack; they +saddled horses; they filled canteens--and rifles. + +Slim's car came to Cobre at half-past nine. The message from Dewing ran +thus: + +For Fishhook Mountain. Benavides, S., J., and another. Ten words. + + * * * * * + +Five minutes later the four confederates thundered south through the +night. At daylight they made a change of horses at a far-lying Mexican +rancheria, Zurich's check paying the shot; they bought two five-gallon +kegs and lashed them to the pack, to be filled when needed. At nine in +the morning they came to Fishhook Mountain. + +Fishhook Mountain is midmost in the great desert; Quijotoa Valley, +desolate and dim, lies to the east of it, gullied, dust-deviled, and +forlorn. + +The name gives the mountain's shape--two fishhooks bound together back to +back, one prong to the east, the other to the west, the barbs pointing to +the north. Sweetwater Spring is on the barb of the eastern hook; three +miles west, on the main shank, an all but impassable trail climbed to +Hardscrabble Tanks. + +At the foot of this trail, Zurich and his party halted. Far out on the +eastern plain they saw, through Zurich's spyglass, a slow procession, +heading directly for them. + +"We've beat 'em to it!" said Eric. + +"That country out there is washed out something terrible, for all it +looks so flat," said Jim Scarboro sympathetically. "They've got to ride +slow. Gee, I bet it's hot out there!" + +"One thing sure," said Eric: "there's no such mine as that on Fishhook. +I've prospected every foot of it." + +"They'll noon at Sweetwater," said Zurich. "You boys go on up to +Hardscrabble. Take my horse. I'll go over to Sweetwater and hide out in +the rocks to see what I can find out. There's a stony place where I can +get across without leaving any trail. + +"Unsaddle and water. Leave the pack here, you'd better, and my saddle. +They are not coming here--nothing to come for. You can sleep, turn about, +one watching the horses, and come on down when you see me coming back." + +It was five hours later when the watchers on Hardscrabble saw the Johnson +party turn south, up the valley between barb and shank of the mountain; +an hour after that Zurich rejoined them, as they repacked at the trail +foot, and made his report: + +"I couldn't hear where they're going; but it is somewhere west or +westerly, and it's a day farther on. Say, it's a good thing I went over +there. What do you suppose that fiend Johnson is going to do? You +wouldn't guess it in ten years. You fellows all know there's only +one way to get out of that Fishhook Valley--unless you turn round and +come back the way you go in?" + +"I don't," said Bill. "I've never been down this way before." + +"You can get out through Horse-Thief Gap, 'way in the southwest. There's +a place near the top where there's just barely room for a horse to get +through between the cliffs. You can ride a quarter mile and touch the +rocks on each side with your hands. Johnson's afraid some one will see +those tracks they're makin' and follow 'em up. I heard him tellin' it. So +the damned old fool has lugged dynamite all the way from Tucson, and +after they get through he's going to stuff the powder behind some of +those chimneys and plug Horse-Thief so damn full of rock that a goat +can't get over," said Zurich indignantly. "Now what do you think of that? +Most suspicious old idiot I ever did see!" + +"I call it good news. That copper must be something extraordinary, or +he'd never take such a precaution," said Eric. + +Zurich answered as they saddled: + +"If we had followed them in there, we would have lost forty miles. As it +is, they gain twenty miles on us while we ride back round the north end +of the mountain, besides an hour I lost hoofing it back." + +"I don't see that we've lost much," said Jim Scarboro. "We've got their +direction and our horses are fresh beside of theirs. We'll make up that +twenty miles and be in at the finish to-morrow; we're four to four. Let's +ride." + +Tall Eric rubbed his chin. + +"That Benavides," he said, "is a tough one. He is a known man. He's as +good as Johnson when it comes to shooting." + +"I'm not afraid of the shooting, and I'm not afraid of death," said +Zurich impatiently; "but I am leery about that cussed old man. He'll find +a way to fool us--see if he don't!" + + * * * * * + +A strong wind blew scorching from the south the next day; Johnson turned +aside from the sagebrush country to avoid the worst sand, and bent north +to a long half-circle, through a country of giant saguaro and clumped +yuccas; once they passed over a neck of lava hillocks thinly drifted over +with sand. The heat was ghastly; on their faces alkali dust, plastered +with sweat, caked in the stubble of two days' growth; their eyes were +red-rimmed and swollen. Boland, bruised and racked and cramped, suffered +agonies. + +It was ten in the morning when Joe touched Pete's arm: + +"_Qué cosa?_" He pointed behind them and to the north, to a long, +low-lying streak of dust. + +"Trouble, Don Hooaleece? I think so--yes." + +They had no spyglass; but it was hardly needed. The dust streak followed +them, almost parallel to their course. It gained on them. They changed +their gait from a walk to a trot. The dust came faster; they were +pursued. + +That was a weird race. There was no running, no galloping; only a steady, +relentless trot that jarred poor Boland to the bone. After an hour, +during which the pursuers gained steadily, Pete called a halt. They took +the packs from the led animals and turned them loose, to go back to +Fishhook Mountain; they refilled their canteens from the kegs and pressed +on. The pursuit had gained during the brief delay; plainly to be seen +now, queer little bobbing black figures against the north. + +They rode on, a little faster now. But at the end of half an hour the +black figures were perceptibly closer. + +"They're gaining on us," said Boland, turning his red-lidded eyes on +Stan. "They have better horses, or fresher." + +"No," said Stan; "they're riding faster--that's all. They haven't a +chance; they can't keep it up at the rate they're doing now. They're five +miles to the north, and it isn't far to the finish. See that huddle of +little hills in the middle of the plain, ahead and a little to the south? +That's our place, and we can't be caught before we get there. Pete is +saving our horses; they're going strong. These fellows are five miles +away yet. They've shot their bolt, and they know it." + +He was right. The bobbing black shapes came abreast--held even--fell +back--came again--hung on, and fell back at last, hopelessly distanced +when the goal was still ten miles away. Pete and his troop held on +at the same unswerving gait--trot, trot, trot! The ten miles became +nine--eight--seven-- + +Sharp-eyed Benavides touched Pete's arm and pointed. "What's that? By +gar, eet is a man, amigo; a man in some troubles!" + +It was a man, a black shape that waved a hat frantically from a swell of +rising ground a mile to the south. Pete swerved his course. + +"You've got the best horse, Joe. Gallop up and see what's wrong. I'm +afraid it's Jackson Carr." + +It was Jackson Carr. He limped to meet Benavides; the Mexican turned and +swung his hat; the three urged their wearied horses to a gallop. + +"Trouble?" said Pete, leaping down. + +"Bobby. I tied up his pony and hobbled the rest. At daylight they wasn't +in sight. Bobby went after 'em. I waited a long time and then I hobbled +off down here to see. Wagon's five or six miles north. One of my spans +come from down in Sonora, somewhere--Santa Elena, wherever that is--and +I reckon they're dragging it for home and the others have followed, +unless--unless Bob's pony has fallen, or something. He didn't take any +water. He could follow the tracks back here on this hard ground. But in +the sand down there--with all this wind--" His eye turned to the +shimmering white sandhills along the south, with the dust clouds high +above them. + +"Boland, you'll have to give Carr your horse," said Pete. "It's his boy; +and you're 'most dead anyhow. We'll light a big blaze when we find him, +and another on this edge of the sandhills in case you don't see the +first. We'll make two of 'em, a good ways apart, if everything is all +right. You take a canteen and crawl under a bush and rest a while. You +need it. If you feel better after a spell, you can follow these horse +tracks back and hobble along to the wagon; or we can pick you up as +we come back. Come on, boys!" + +"But your mine?" said Carr. He pointed to a slow dust streak that passed +along the north. "I saw you coming--two bunches. Ain't those fellows +after your mine? 'Cause if they are, they'll sure find it. You've been +riding straight for them little hills out there all alone in the big +middle of the plain." + +"Damn the mine!" said Pete. "We've been playing. We've got man's work to +do now. No; there's no use splitting up and sending one or two to the +mine. That mine is a four-man job. So is this; and a better one. We're +all needed here. To hell with the mine! Come on!" + + * * * * * + +They found Bobby, far along in the afternoon, in the sandhills. His lips +were cracked and bleeding; his tongue was beginning to blacken and swell; +his eyes were swollen nearly shut from alkali dust, and there was an ugly +gash in the hair's edge above his left ear; he was caked with blood and +mire, and he clung to the saddle horn with both hands--but he drove six +horses before him. + +They gave him, a little at a time, the heated water from their canteens. +A few small drinks cheered him up amazingly. After a big soapweed was +touched off for a signal fire, he was able to tell his story. + +"Naw, I ain't hurt none to speak of; but I'm some tired. I hit a high +lope and catched up with them in the aidge of the sandhills," he said. +"I got 'em all unhobbled but old Heck; and then that ornery Nig horse +kicked me in the head--damn him! Knocked me out quite a spell. Sun was +middlin' high when I come to--horses gone, and the cussed pony trailed +along after them. It was an hour or two before I caught sight of 'em +again. I was spitting cotton a heap. Dad always told me to carry water +with me, and I sure was wishing I'd minded him. Well, I went 'way round +and headed 'em off--and, dog-gone, they up and run round me. That Zip +horse was the ringleader. Every time, just as I was about to get 'em +turned, he'd make a break and the rest would follow, hellity-larrup! Old +Heck has cut his feet all to pieces with the hobbles--old fool! I headed +'em four or five times--five, I guess--and they kept getting away, and +running farther every time before they stopped and went to grazing. After +a while the pony snagged his bridle in a bush and I got him. Then I +dropped my twine on old Heck and unhobbled him, and come on back. Give me +another drink, Pete." + +They rode back very slowly to the northern edge of the sandhills and +lighted their two signal fires. An answering fire flamed in the north, to +show that Boland had seen their signals. + +"I reckon we'll stop and rest here a while till it gets cooler," observed +Pete. "Might as well, now. We can start in an hour and get in to the +wagon by dark. Reckon Frank Boland was glad to see them two fires! I bet +that boy sure hated to be left behind. Pretty tough--but it had to be +done. This has been a thunderin' hard trip on Frankie and he's stood up +to it fine. Good stuff!" He turned to the boy: "Well, Bobby, you had a +hard time wranglin' them to-day--but you got 'em, didn't you, son?" + +"That's what I went after," said Bobby. + + * * * * * + +Boland stiffened after his rest. He made two small marches toward the +wagon, but his tortured muscles were so stiff and sore that he gave it up +at last. After he saw and answered the signal fires he dropped off to +sleep. + +He was awakened by a jingling of spurs and a trampling of hoofs. He got +to his feet hurriedly. Four horsemen reined up beside him--not Pete +Johnson and his friends, but four strangers, who looked at him curiously. +Their horses were sadly travel-stained. + +"Anything wrong, young man? We saw your fire?" + +"No--not now." Boland's thoughts were confused and his head sang. He +attributed these things to sleepiness; in fact, he was sickening to a +fever. + +"You look mighty peaked," said the spokesman. "Got water? Anything we can +do for you?" + +"Nothing the matter with me, except that I'm pretty well played out. And +I've been anxious. There was a boy lost, or hurt--I don't know which. But +it's all right now. They lit two fires. That was to be the signal if +there was nothing seriously wrong. I let the boy's father take my +horse--man by the name of Carr." + +"And the others? That was Pete Johnson, wasn't it? He went after the +boy?" + +"Yes. And young Mitchell and Joe Benavides." + +Zurich glanced aside at his companions. Dorsey's back was turned. Jim +Scarboro was swearing helplessly under his breath. Tall Eric had taken +off his hat and fumbled with it; the low sun was ruddy in his bright +hair. Perhaps it was that same sun which flamed so swiftly in Zurich's +face. + +"We might as well go back," he said dully, and turned his horse's head +toward the little huddle of hills in the southwest. + +Boland watched them go with a confused mind, and sank back to sleep +again. + + * * * * * + +"Jackson," said Pete in the morning, "you and Frank stay here. I reckon +there'll be no use to take the wagon down to the old claim; but us three +are going down to take a look, now we've come this far. Frank says he's +feeling better, but he don't look very peart. You get him to sleep all +you can. If we should happen to want you, we'll light a big fire. So +long!" + +"Don Hooaleece," said Benavides, very bright-eyed, when they had ridden a +little way from camp, "how is eet to be? Eef eet is war I am wis you to +ze beeg black box." + +"Joe," said Pete, "I've dodged and crept and slid and crawled and +climbed. I've tried to go over, under, and around. Now I'm going +through." + +They came to the copper hill before eight. They found no one; but there +were little stone monuments scattered on all the surrounding hills, and a +big monument on the highest point of the little hill they had called +their own. + +"They've gone," said Stan. "Very wise of them. Well, let's go see the +worst." + +They dismounted and walked to the hilltop. The big monument, built of +loose stones and freshly dug slabs of ore, flashed green and blue in the +sun. Stan found a folded paper between two flat stones. + +"Here's their location notice," he said. + +He started to unfold it; a word caught his eye and his jaw dropped. He +held the notice over, half opened, so that Pete and Joe could see the +last paragraph: + +And the same shall be known as the Bobby Carr Mine. + +WITNESSES +Jim Scarboro +William Dorsey +Eric Anderson +C. Mayer Zurich + +LOCATORS +Peter Wallace Johnson +Stanley Mitchell + +"Zere is a note," said Joe; "I see eet wizzinside." + +Stanley unfolded the location notice. A note dropped out. Pete picked it +up and read it aloud: + +Pete: We did not know about the boy, or we would have helped, of course. +Only for him you had us beat. So this squares that up. + +Your location does not take in quite all the hill. So we located the +little end piece for ourselves. We think that is about right. + +Yours truly +C. Mayer Zurich + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COPPER STREAK TRAIL*** + + +******* This file should be named 14545-8.txt or 14545-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/5/4/14545 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/old/14545-8.zip b/old/14545-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1f6bf5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14545-8.zip diff --git a/old/14545.txt b/old/14545.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e6c4940 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14545.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6285 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Copper Streak Trail, by Eugene Manlove Rhodes + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Copper Streak Trail + +Author: Eugene Manlove Rhodes + +Release Date: December 31, 2004 [eBook #14545] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COPPER STREAK TRAIL*** + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Project Gutenberg Beginners Projects, +Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +COPPER STREAK TRAIL + +by + +EUGENE MANLOVE RHODES + +Author of _Stepsons Of Light_, _Good Men And True_, _West Is West_, etc. + +1917 + + + + + + + +TO THE READER OF THIS BOOK FROM ONE WHO SAW LIFE UNSTEADILY AND IN PART + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The stage line swung aside in a huge half-circle, rounding the northern +end of the Comobabi Range and swinging far out to skirt the foothills. +Mr. Peter Johnson had never been to Silverbell: his own country lay far +to the north, beyond the Gila. But he knew that Silverbell was somewhere +east of the Comobabi, not north; and confidently struck out to find a +short cut through the hills. From Silverbell a spur of railroad ran down +to Redrock. Mr. Johnson's thought was to entrain himself for Tucson. + +The Midnight horse reached along in a brisk, swinging walk, an optimistic +walk, good for four miles an hour. He had held that gait since three +o'clock in the morning, with an hour off for water and breakfast at +Smith's Wells, the first stage station out from Cobre; it was now +hot noon by a conscientious sun--thirty-six miles. But Midnight did not +care. For hours their way had been through a trackless plain of uncropped +salt grass, or grama, on the rising slopes: now they were in a country of +worn and freshly traveled trails: wise Midnight knew there would be water +and nooning soon. Already they had seen little bands of horses peering +down at them from the high knolls on their right. + +Midnight wondered if they were to find sweet water or alkali. Sweet, +likely, since it was in the hills; Midnight was sure he hoped so. The +best of these wells in the plains were salt and brackish. Privately, +Midnight preferred the Forest Reserve. It was a pleasant, soft life in +these pinewood pastures. Even if it was pretty dull for a good cow-horse +after the Free Range, it was easier on old bones. And though Midnight was +not insensible to the compliment Pete had paid him by picking him from +the bunch for these long excursions to the Southland deserts, he missed +the bunch. + +They had been together a long time, the bunch; Pete had brought them from +the Block Ranch, over in New Mexico. They were getting on in years, and +so was Pete. Midnight mused over his youthful days--the dust, the +flashing horns, the shouting and the excitement of old round-ups. + +It is a true telling that thoughts in no way unlike these buzzed in the +rider's head as a usual thing. But to-day he had other things to think +of. + +With Kid Mitchell, his partner, Pete had lately stumbled upon a secret +of fortune--a copper hill; a warty, snubby little gray hill in an +insignificant cluster of little gray hills. But this one, and this one +only, precariously crusted over with a thin layer of earth and windblown +sand, was copper, upthrust by central fires; rich ore, crumbling, soft; a +hill to be loaded, every yard of it, into cars yet unbuilt, on a railroad +yet undreamed-of, save by these two lucky adventurers. + +They had blundered upon their rich find by pure chance. For in the +southwest, close upon the Mexican border, in the most lonesome corner +of the most lonesome county of thinly settled Arizona, turning back from +a long and fruitless prospecting trip, they had paused for one last, +half-hearted venture. One idle stroke of the pick in a windworn bare +patch had turned up--this! + +So Pete Johnson's thoughts were of millions; not without a queer feeling +that he wouldn't have the least idea what to do with them, and that he +was parting with something in his past, priceless, vaguely indefinable: a +sharing and acceptance of the common lot, a brotherhood with the not +fortunate. + +Riding to the northwest, Pete's broad gray sombrero was tilted aside +to shelter from the noonday sun a russet face, crinkled rather than +wrinkled, and dusty. His hair, thinning at the temples, vigorous at the +ears, was crisply white. A short and lately trimmed mustache held a smile +in ambush; above it towered such a nose as Wellington loved. + +It was broad at the base; deep creases ran from the corners of it, +flanking the white mustache, to a mouth strong, full-lipped and +undeniably large, ready alike for laughter or for sternness. + +The nose--to follow the creases back again--was fleshy and beaked at +the tip; it narrowed at the level bridge and broadened again where it +joined the forehead, setting the eyes well apart. The eyes themselves +were blue, just a little faded--for the man was sixty-two--and there +were wind-puckers at the corners of them. But they were keen eyes, +steady, sparkling and merry eyes, for all that; they were deep-set and +long, and they sloped a trifle, high on the inside corners; pent in by +pepper-and-salt brows, bushy, tufted and thick, roguishly aslant from the +outer corners up to where they all but met above the Wellingtonian nose. +A merry face, a forceful face: Pete was a little man, five feet seven, +and rather slender than otherwise; but no one, in view of that face, ever +thought of him as a small man or an old one. + +The faint path merged with another and another, the angles of convergence +giving the direction of the unknown water hole; they came at last to the +main trail, a trunk line swollen by feeders from every ridge and arroyo. +It bore away to the northeast, swerving, curving to pitch and climb in +faultless following of the rule of roads--the greatest progress with the +least exertion. Your cow is your best surveyor. + +They came on the ranch suddenly, rounding a point into a small natural +amphitheater. A flat-roofed dugout, fronted with stone, was built into +the base of a boulder-piled hill; the door was open. Midnight perked his +black head jauntily and slanted an ear. + +High overhead, a thicket of hackberry and arrow-weed overhung the +little valley. From this green tangle a pipe line on stilts broke +away and straddled down a headlong hill. Frost was unknown; the pipe +was supported by forked posts of height assorted to need, an expedient +easier than ditching that iron hillside. The water discharged into a +fenced and foursquare earthen reservoir; below it was a small corral +of cedar stakes; through the open gate, as he rode by, Pete saw a long +watering-trough with a float valve. Before the dugout stood a patriarchal +juniper, in the shade of which two saddled horses stood droop-hipped, +comfortably asleep. Waking, as Pete drew near, they adjusted their +disarray in some confusion and eyed the newcomers with bright-eyed +inquiry. Midnight, tripping by, hailed them with a civil little whinny. + +A tall, heavy man upreared himself from the shade. His example was +followed by another man, short and heavy. Blankets were spread on a +tarpaulin beyond them. + +"'Light, stranger," said the tall man heartily. "Unsaddle and eat a small +snack. We was just taking a little noonday nap for ourselves." + +"Beans, jerky gravy, and bread," announced the short man, waiter fashion. +"I'll hot up the coffee." + +With the word he fed little sticks and splinters to a tiny fire, now +almost burned out, near the circumference of that shaded circle. + +"Yes, to all that; thank you," said Pete, slipping off. + +He loosened the cinches; so doing he caught from the corner of his eye +telegraphed tidings, as his two hosts rolled to each other a single +meaningful glance, swift, furtive, and white-eyed. Observing which, every +faculty of Pete Johnson's mind tensed, fiercely alert, braced to +attention. + +"Now what? Some more of the same. Lights out! Protect yourself!" he +thought, taking off the saddle. Aloud he said: + +"One of Zurich's ranches, isn't it? I saw ZK burned on the gateposts." + +He passed his hand along Midnight's sweaty back for possible bruise or +scald; he unfolded the Navajo saddle blanket and spread it over the +saddle to dry. He took the _sudaderos_--the jute sweatcloths under the +Navajo--and draped them over a huge near-by boulder in the sun, carefully +smoothing them out to prevent wrinkles; to all appearance without any +other care on earth. + +"Yes; horse camp," said the tall man. "Now you water the black horse and +I'll dig up a bait of corn for him. Wash up at the trough." + +"_Puesto que si!_" said Pete. + +He slipped the bit out of Midnight's mouth, pushing the headstall back on +the sleek black neck by way of lead rope, and they strode away to the +water pen, side by side. + +When they came back a nose-bag, full of corn, stood ready near the fire. +Pete hung this on Midnight's head. Midnight munched contentedly, with +half-closed eyes, and Pete turned to the fire. + +"Was I kidding myself?" he inquired. "Or did somebody mention the name of +grub?" + +"Set up!" grinned the tall man, kicking a small box up beside a slightly +larger one, which served as a table. "Nothing much to eat but food. +Canned truck all gone." + +The smaller host poured coffee. Pete considered the boxes. + +"You didn't pack these over here?" he asked, prodding the table with his +boot-toe to elucidate his meaning. "And yet I didn't see no wheel marks +as I come along." + +"Fetch 'em from Silverbell. We got a sort of wagon track through the +hills. Closer than Cobre. Some wagon road in the rough places! Snakes +thick on the east side; but they don't never get over here. Break their +backs comin' through the gap. Yes, sir!" + +"Then I'll just june along in the cool of the evenin'," observed Pete, +ladling out a second helping of jerked venison. "I can follow your wagon +tracks into town. I ain't never been to Silverbell. Was afraid I might +miss it in the dark. How far is it? About twenty mile, I reckon?" + +"Just about. Shucks! I was in hopes you'd stay overnight with us. Bill +and me, we ain't seen no one since Columbus crossed the Delaware in +fourteen-ninety-two. Can't ye, now?" urged the tall man coaxingly. "We'll +pitch horseshoes--play cards if you want to; only Bill and me's pretty +well burnt out at cards. Fox and geese too--ever play fox and geese? +We got a dandy fox-and-goose board--but Bill, he natcherly can't play. +He's from California, Bill is." + +"Aw, shut up on that!" growled Bill. + +"Sorry," said Pete, "I'm pushed. Got to go on to-night. Want to take that +train at seven-thirty in the morning, and a small sleep for myself before +that. Maybe I'll stop over as I come back, though. Fine feed you got +here. Makes a jim-darter of a horse camp." + +"Yes, 'tis. We aim to keep the cattle shoved off so we can save the grass +for the saddle ponies." + +"Must have quite a bunch?" + +"'Bout two hundred. Well, sorry you can't stay with us. We was fixin' to +round up what cows had drifted in and give 'em a push back to the main +range this afternoon. But they'll keep. We'll stick round camp; and you +stay as late as you can, stranger, and we'll stir up something. I'll tell +you what, Bill--we'll pull off that shootin' match you was blowin' +about." The tall man favored Johnson with a confidential wink. "Bill, he +allows he can shoot right peart. Bill's from California." + +Bill, the short man, produced a gray-and-yellow tobacco sack and +extracted a greasy ten-dollar greenback, which he placed on the box +table at Johnson's elbow. + +"Cover that, durn you! You hold stakes, stranger. I'll show him +California. Humph! Dam' wall-eyed Tejano!" + +"I'm a Texan myself," twinkled Johnson. + +"What if you are? You ain't wall-eyed, be you? And you ain't been makin' +no cracks at California--not to me. But this here Jim--look at the +white-eyed, tow-headed grinnin' scoundrel, will you?--Say, are you goin' +to cover that X or are you goin' to crawfish?" + +"Back down? You peevish little sawed-off runt!" yelped Jim. "I been +lettin' you shoot off your head so's you'll be good and sore afterward. +I always wanted a piece of paper money any way--for a keepsake. You +wait!" + +He went into the cabin and returned with a tarnished gold piece and a box +of forty-five cartridges. + +"Here, stakeholder!" he said to Johnson. + +Then, to Bill: "Now, then, old Californy--you been all swelled-up and +stumping me for quite some time. Show us what you got!" + +It was an uncanny exhibition of skill that followed. These men knew +how to handle a sixshooter. They began with tin cans at ten yards, +thirty, fifty--and hit them. They shot at rolling cans, and hit them; +at high-thrown cans, and hit them; at cards nailed to hitching-posts; +then at the pips of cards. Neither man could boast of any advantage. The +few and hairbreadth misses of the card pips, the few blanks at the longer +ranges, fairly offset each other. The California man took a slightly +crouching attitude, his knees a little bent; held his gun at his knee; +raising an extended and rigid arm to fire. The Texan stood erect, almost +on tiptoe, bareheaded; he swung his gun ear-high above his shoulder, +looking at his mark alone, and fired as the gun flashed down. The little +California man made the cleaner score at the very long shots and in +clipping the pips of the playing cards; the Texan had a shade the better +at the flying targets, his bullets ranging full-center where the other +barely grazed the cans. + +"I don't see but what I'll have to keep this money. You've shot away all +the cartridges in your belts and most of the box, and it hasn't got you +anywheres," observed Pete Johnson pensively. "Better let your guns cool +off. You boys can't beat each other shooting. You do right well, too, +both of you. If you'd only started at it when you was young, I reckon +you'd both have been what you might call plumb good shots now." + +He shook his head sadly and suppressed a sigh. + +"Wait!" advised the Texan, and turned to confront his partner. "You make +out quite tol'lable with a gun, Billiam," he conceded. "I got to hand it +to you. I judged you was just runnin' a windy. But have you now showed +all your little box of tricks?" + +"Well, I haven't missed anything--not to speak of--no more than you did," +evaded Bill, plainly apprehensive. "What more do you want?" + +Jim chuckled. + +"Pausin' lightly to observe that it ought to be easy enough to best you, +if we was on horseback--just because you peek at your sights when you +shoot--I shall now show you something." + +A chuck box was propped against the juniper trunk. From this the Texan +produced a horseshoe hammer and the lids from two ten-pound lard pails. +He strode over to where, ten yards away, two young cedars grew side by +side, and nailed a lid to each tree, shoulder-high. + +"There!" he challenged his opponent. "We ain't either of us going to miss +such a mark as that--it's like putting your finger on it. But suppose the +tree was shooting back? Time is what counts then. Now, how does this +strike you? You take the lid on the left and I'll take the other. When +the umpire says Go! we'll begin foggin'--and the man that scores six +hits quickest gets the money. That's fair, isn't it, Johnson?" + +This was a slip--Johnson had not given his name--a slip unnoticed by +either of the ZK men, but not by Johnson. + +"Fair enough, I should say," he answered. + +"Why, Jim, that ain't practical--that ain't!" protested Bill uneasily. +"You was talking about the tree a-shootin' back--but one shot will stop +most men, let alone six. What's the good of shootin' a man all to +pieces?" + +"Suppose there was six men?" + +"Then they get me, anyway. Wouldn't they, Mr. Umpire?" he appealed to +Peter Johnson, who sat cross-legged and fanned himself with his big +sombrero. + +"That don't make any difference," decided the umpire promptly. "To shoot +straight and quickest--that's bein' a good shot. Line up!" + +Bill lined up, unwillingly enough; they stuffed their cylinders with +cartridges. + +"Don't shoot till I say: One, two, three--go!" admonished Pete. "All set? +One--two--three--go!" + +A blending, crackling roar, streaked red and saffron, through black +smoke: the Texan's gun flashed down and up and back, as a man snaps his +fingers against the frost; he tossed his empty gun through the sunlight +to the bed under the juniper tree and spread out his hands. Bill was +still firing--one shot--two! + +"Judgment!" shouted the Texan and pointed. Six bullet holes were +scattered across his target, line shots, one above the other; and +poor Bill, disconcerted, had missed his last shot! + +"Jim, I guess the stuff is yours," said Bill sheepishly. + +The big Texan retrieved his gun from the bed and Pete gave him the +stakes. He folded the bill lovingly and tucked it away; but he flipped +the coin from his thumb, spinning in the sun, caught it as it fell, and +glanced askant at old Pete. + +"How long ago did you say it was when you began shootin'?" He voiced the +query with exceeding politeness and inclined his head deferentially. "Or +did you say?" + +Pete pondered, pushing his hand thoughtfully through his white hair. + +"Oh, I began tryin' when I was about ten years old, or maybe seven. +It's been so long ago I scarcely remember. But I didn't get to be what +you might call a fair shot till about the time you was puttin' on your +first pair of pants," he said sweetly. "There was a time, though, before +that--when I was about the age you are now--when I really thought I could +shoot. I learned better." + +A choking sound came from Bill; Jim turned his eyes that way. Bill +coughed hastily. Jim sent the gold piece spinning again. + +"I'm goin' to keep Bill's tenspot--always," he announced emotionally. +"I'll never, never part with that! But this piece of money--" He threw it +up again. "Why, stranger, you might just as well have that as not. Bill +can be stakeholder and give us the word. There's just six cartridges left +in the box for me." + +Peter Johnson smiled brightly, disclosing a row of small, white, perfect +teeth. He got to his feet stiffly and shook his aged legs; he took out +his gun, twirled the cylinder, and slipped in an extra cartridge. + +"I always carry the hammer on an empty chamber--safer that way," he +explained. + +He put the gun back in the holster, dug up a wallet, and produced a gold +piece for the stakeholder. + +"You'd better clean your gun, young man," he said. "It must be pretty +foul by now." + +Jim followed this advice, taking ten minutes for the operation. Meantime +the Californian replaced the targets with new ones--old tin dinner plates +this time--and voiced a philosophical regret over his recent defeat. The +Texas man, ready at last, took his place beside Pete and raised his gun +till the butt of it was level with his ear, the barrel pointing up and +back. Johnson swung up his heavy gun in the same fashion. + +"Ready?" bawled Bill. "All right! One--two--three--go!" + +Johnson's gun leaped forward, blazing; his left hand slapped back +along the barrel, once, twice; pivoting, his gun turned to meet Bill, +almost upon him, hands outstretched. Bill recoiled; Pete stepped aside +a pace--all this at once. The Texan dropped his empty gun and turned. + +"You win," said Pete gently. + +Not understanding yet, triumph faded from the Texan's eyes at that gentle +tone. He looked at the target; he looked at Bill, who stood open-mouthed +and gasping; then he looked at the muzzle of Mr. Johnson's gun. His face +flushed red, and then became almost black. Mr. Johnson held the gun +easily at his hip, covering both his disarmed companions: Mr. Johnson's +eyebrows were flattened and his mouth was twisted. + +"It's loaded!" croaked Bill in a horrified voice. "The skunk only shot +once!" + +Peter corrected him: + +"Three times. I fanned the hammer. Look at the target!" + +Bill looked at the target; his jaw dropped again; his eyes protruded. +There were three bullet holes, almost touching each other, grouped round +the nail in the center of Pete's tin plate. + +"Well, I'm just damned!" he said. "I'll swear he didn't shoot but once." + +"That's fannin' the hammer, Shorty," drawled Pete. "Ever hear of that? +Well, now you've seen it. When you practice it, hold your elbow tight +against your ribs to steady your gun while you slap the hammer back. For +you, Mr. Jim--I see you've landed your six shots; but some of 'em are +mighty close to the edge of your little old plate. Poor shootin'! Poor +shootin'! You ought to practice more. As for speed, I judge I can do six +shots while you're making four. But I thought I'd best not--to-day. Son, +pick up your gun, and get your money from Shorty." + +Mr. Jim picked up his gun and threw out the empty shells. He glared +savagely at Mr. Johnson, now seated happily on his saddle. + +"If I just had hold of you--you benched-legged hound! Curse your soul, +what do you mean by it?" snarled Jim. + +"Oh, I was just a-thinkin'," responded Pete lightly. "Thinkin' how +helpless I'd be with you two big huskies, here with my gun empty. Don't +snicker, Bill! That's rude of you. Your pardner's feeling plenty bad +enough without that. He looks it. Mr. Bill, I'll bet a blue shirt you +told the Jim-person to wait and see if I wouldn't take a little siesta, +and you'd get me whilst I was snoozing. You lose, then. I never sleep. +Tex, for the love of Mike, do look at Bill's face; and Bill, you look at +Mr. Jim, from Texas! Guilty as charged! Your scheme, was it, Texas? And +Shorty Bill, he told you so? Why, you poor toddling innocents, you won't +never prosper as crooks! Your faces are too honest. + +"And that frame-up of yours--oh, that was a loo-loo bird! Livin' together +and didn't know which was the best shot--likely! And every tin can in +sight shot full of holes and testifyin' against you! Think I'm blind, +hey? Even your horses give you away. Never batted an eyelash durin' that +whole cannonade. They've been hearin' forty-fives pretty reg'lar, them +horses have." + +"I notice your old black ain't much gun-shy, either," ventured Bill. + +"See here--you!" said the big Texan. "You talk pretty biggity. It's +mighty easy to run a whizzer when you've got the only loaded gun in camp. +If I had one damned cartridge left it would be different." + +"Never mind," said Johnson kindly. "I'll give you one!" + +Rising, he twirled the cylinder of his gun and extracted his three +cartridges. He threw one far down the hillslope; he dropped one on +the ground beside him; he tossed the last one in the sand at the Texan's +feet. + +Jim, from Texas, looked at the cartridge without animation; he looked +into Pete Johnson's frosty eyes; he kicked the cartridge back. + +"I lay 'em down right here," he stated firmly. "I like a damned fool; but +you suit me too well." + +He stalked away toward his horse with much dignity. He stopped halfway, +dropped upon a box, pounded his thigh and gave way to huge and unaffected +laughter; in which Bill joined a moment later. + +"Oh, you little bandy-legged old son-of-a-gun!" Jim roared. "You +crafty, wily, cunnin' old fox! I'm for you! Of all the holy shows, +you've made Bill and me the worst--'specially me. 'There, there!' you +says, consolin' me up like I was a kid with a cracked jug. 'There, there! +Never mind--I'll give you one!' Deah, oh, deah! I'll never be able to +keep this still--never in the world. I'm bound to tell it on myself!" He +wiped tears from his eyes and waved his hand helplessly. "Take the ranch, +stranger. She's yours. I wouldn't touch you if you was solid gold and +charges prepaid." + +"Oh, don't make a stranger of me!" begged Pete. "You was callin' me by +the name of Johnson half an hour ago. Forgot yourself, likely." + +"Did I?" said Jim indifferently. "No odds. You've got my number, anyway. +And I thought we was so devilish sly!" + +"Well, boys, thank you for the dinner and all; but I'd best be jogging. +Got to catch that train." + +Knitting his brows reflectively he turned a questioning eye upon his +hosts. But Shorty Bill took the words from his mouth. + +"I'm like Jim: I've got a-plenty," he said. "But there's a repeating +rifle in the shack, if you don't want to risk us. You can leave it at +Silverbell for us if you want to--at the saloon. And we can ride off +the other way, so you'll be sure." + +"Maybe that'll be best--considerin'," said Pete. "I'll leave the gun." + +"See here, Johnson," said Jim stiffly. "We've thrown 'em down, fair and +square. I think you might trust us." + +Pete scratched his head in some perplexity. + +"I think maybe I might if it was only myself to think of. But I'm +representing another man's interest too. I ain't takin' no chances." + +"Yes--I noticed you was one of them prudent guys," murmured Jim. + +Pete ignored the interruption. + +"So, not rubbin' it in or anything, we'd best use Bill's plan. You lads +hike off back the way I come, and I'll take your rifle and drag it. So +long! Had a good time with you." + +"_Adios!_" said Bill, swinging into the saddle. + +"Hold on, Bill! Give Johnson back his money," said Jim. + +"Oh, you keep it. You won it fair. I didn't go to the finish." + +"Look here--what do you think I am? You take this money, or I'll be sore +as a boil. There! So long, old hand! Be good!" He spurred after Bill. + +Mr. Johnson brought the repeater from the dugout and saddled old +Midnight. As he pulled the cinches tight, he gazed regretfully at +his late companions, sky-lined as they topped a rise. + +"There!" said Mr. Johnson with conviction. "There goes a couple of right +nice boys!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The immemorial traditions of Old Spain, backed by the counsel of a brazen +sun, made a last stand against the inexorable centuries: Tucson was at +siesta; noonday lull was drowsy in the corridors of the Merchants and +Miners Bank. Green shades along the south guarded the cool and quiet +spaciousness of the Merchants and Miners, flooded with clear white light +from the northern windows. In the lobby a single client, leaning on the +sill at the note-teller's window, meekly awaited the convenience of the +office force. + +The Castilian influence had reduced the office force, at this ebb hour of +business, to a spruce, shirt-sleeved young man, green-vizored as to his +eyes, seated at a mid-office desk, quite engrossed with mysterious +clerical matters. + +The office force had glanced up at Mr. Johnson's first entrance, but only +to resume its work at once. Such industry is not the custom; among the +assets of any bank, courtesy is the most indispensable item. Mr. Johnson +was not unversed in the ways of urbanity; the purposed and palpable +incivility was not wasted upon him; nor yet the expression conveyed by +the back of the indefatigable clerical person--a humped, reluctant, and +rebellious back. If ever a back steeled itself to carry out a distasteful +task according to instructions, this was that back. Mr. Pete Johnson +sighed in sympathy. + +The minutes droned by. A clock, of hitherto unassuming habit, became +clamorous; it echoed along the dreaming corridors. Mr. Johnson sighed +again. + +The stone sill upon which he leaned reflected from its polished surface a +face carved to patience; but if the patient face had noted its own +reflection it might have remarked--and adjusted--eyebrows not so patient, +flattened to a level; and a slight quiver in the tip of a predatory nose. +The pen squeaked across glazed paper. Mr. Johnson took from his pocket a +long, thin cigar and a box of safety matches. + +The match crackled, startling in the silence; the clerical person turned +in his chair and directed at the prospective customer a stare so baleful +that the cigar was forgotten. The flame nipped Johnson's thumb; he +dropped the match on the tiled floor and stepped upon it. The clerk +hesitated and then rose. + +"He loves me--he loves me not!" murmured Mr. Johnson sadly, plucking the +petals from an imaginary daisy. + +The clerk sauntered to the teller's wicket and frowned upon his customer +from under eyebrows arched and supercilious; he preserved a haughty +silence. Before this official disapproval Peter's eyes wavered and fell, +abashed. + +"I'll--I'll stick my face through there if you'd like to step on it!" he +faltered. + +The official eyebrows grew arrogant. + +"You are wasting my time. Have you any business here?" + +"Ya-as. Be you the cashier?" + +"His assistant." + +"I'd like to borrow some money," said Pete timidly. He tucked away the +unlit cigar. "Two thousand. Name of Johnson. Triangle E brand--Yavapai +County! Two hundred Herefords in a fenced township. Three hundred and +twenty acres patented land. Sixty acres under ditch. I'd give you a +mortgage on that. Pete Johnson--Peter Wallace Johnson on mortgages and +warrants." + +"I do not think we would consider it." + +"Good security--none better," said Pete. "Good for three times two +thousand at a forced sale." + +"Doubtless!" The official shoulders shrugged incredulity. + +"I'm known round here--you could look up my standing, verify titles, and +so on," urged Pete. + +"I could not make the loan on my own authority." + +Pete's face fell. + +"Can't I see Mr. Gans, then?" he persisted. + +"He's out to luncheon." + +"Be back soon?" + +"I really could not say." + +"I might talk to Mr. Longman, perhaps?" + +"Mr. Longman is on a trip to the Coast." + +Johnson twisted his fingers nervously on the onyx sill. Then he raised +his downcast eyes, lit with a fresh hope. + +"Is--is the janitor in?" he asked. + +"You are pleased to be facetious, sir," the teller replied. His lip +curled; he turned away, tilting his chin with conscious dignity. + +Mr. Johnson tapped the sill with the finger of authority. + +"Young man, do you want I should throw this bank out of the window?" he +said severely. "Because if you don't, you uncover some one a grown man +can do business with. You're suffering from delusions of grandeur, fair +young sir. I almost believe you have permitted yourself to indulge in +some levity with me--me, P. Wallace Johnson! And if I note any more +light-hearted conduct on your part I'll shake myself and make merry with +you till you'll think the roof has done fell on you. Now you dig up the +Grand Panjandrum, with the little round button on top, or I'll come in +unto you! Produce! Trot!" + +The cashier's dignity abated. Mr. Johnson was, by repute, no stranger +to him. Not sorry to pass this importunate borrower on to other hands, +he tapped at a door labeled "Vice-President," opened it, and said +something in a low voice. From this room a man emerged at once--Marsh, +vice-president, solid of body, strong of brow. Clenched between heavy +lips was a half-burned cigar, on which he puffed angrily. + +"Well, Johnson, what's this?" he demanded. + +"You got money to sell? I want to buy some. Let me come in and talk it up +to you." + +"Let him in, Hudson," said Marsh. His cigar took on a truculent angle as +he listened to Johnson's proposition. + +It appeared that Johnson's late outburst of petulance had cleared his +bosom of much perilous stuff. His crisp tones carried a suggestion of +lingering asperity, but otherwise he bore himself with becoming modesty +and diffidence in the presence of the great man. He stated his needs +briskly and briefly, as before. + +"Money is tight," said Marsh curtly. + +He scowled; he thrust his hands into his pockets as if to guard them; he +rocked back upon his heels; his eyes were leveled at a point in space +beyond Pete's shoulder; he clamped his cigar between compressed lips and +puffed a cloud of smoke from a corner of a mouth otherwise grimly tight. + +Mr. Peter Johnson thought again of that unlit cigar, came swiftly to +tiptoe, and puffed a light from the glowing tip of Marsh's cigar before +that astonished person could withdraw his gaze from the contemplation of +remote infinities. The banker recoiled, flushed and frowning; the teller +bent hastily over his ledger. + +Johnson, puffing luxuriously, renewed his argument with a guileless face. +Marsh shook his head and made a bear-trap mouth. + +"Why don't you go to Prescott, Johnson? There's where your stuff is. They +know you better than we do." + +"Why, Mr. Marsh, I don't want to go to Prescott. Takes too long. I need +this money right away." + +"Really--but that is hardly our affair, is it?" A frosty smile +accompanied the query. + +"Aw, what's wrong? Isn't that security all right?" urged Pete. + +"No doubt the security is exactly as you say," said the banker, "but your +property is in another county, a long distance from here. We would have +to make inquiries and send the mortgage to be filed in Prescott--very +inconvenient. Besides, as I told you before, money is tight. We regret +that we cannot see our way to accommodate you. This is final!" + +"Shucks!" said Pete, crestfallen and disappointed; he lingered +uncertainly, twisting his hat brim between his hands. + +"That is final," repeated the banker. "Was there anything else?" + +"A check to cash," said Pete humbly. + +He went back into the lobby, much chastened; the spring lock of the door +snapped behind him. + +"Wait on this gentleman, if you please, Mr. Hudson," said Marsh, and +busied himself at a cabinet. + +Hudson rose from his desk and moved across to the cashier's window. His +lip curved disdainfully. Mr. Johnson's feet were brisk and cheerful on +the tiles. When his face appeared at the window, his hat and the long +black cigar were pushed up to angles parallel, jaunty and perilous. He +held in his hand a sheaf of papers belted with a rubber band; he slid +over the topmost of these papers, face down. + +"It's endorsed," he said, pointing to his heavy signature. + +"How will you have it, sir?" Hudson inquired with a smile of mocking +deference. + +"Quick and now," said Pete. + +Hudson flipped over the check. The sneer died from his face. His tongue +licked at his paling lips. + +"What does this mean?" he stammered. + +"Can't you read?" said Pete. + +The cashier did not answer. He turned and called across the room: + +"Mr. Marsh! Mr. Marsh!" + +Marsh came quickly, warned by the startled note in the cashier's voice. +Hudson passed him the check with hands that trembled a little. The +vice-president's face mottled with red and white. The check was made +to the order of P.W. Johnson; it was signed by Henry Bergman, sheriff +of Pima County, and the richest cowman of the Santa Cruz Valley; the +amount was eighty-six thousand dollars. + +Marsh glowered at Johnson in a cold fury. + +"Call up Bergman!" he ordered. + +Hudson made haste to obey. + +"Oh, that's all right! I'd just as soon wait," said Pete cheerfully. +"Hank's at home, anyhow. I told him maybe you'd want to ask about the +check." + +"He should have notified us before drawing out any such amount," fumed +Marsh. "This is most unusual, for a small bank like this. He told us he +shouldn't need this money until this fall." + +"Draft on El Paso will do. Don't have to have cash." + +"All very well--but it will be a great inconvenience to us, just the +same." + +"Really--but that is hardly our affair, is it?" said Pete carelessly. + +The banker smote the shelf with an angry hand; some of the rouleaus of +gold stacked on the inner shelf toppled and fell; gold pieces clattered +on the floor. + +"Johnson, what is your motive? What are you up to?" + +"It's all perfectly simple. Old Hank and me used to be implicated +together in the cow business down on the Concho. One of the Goliad +Bergmans--early German settlers." + +Here Hudson hung up and made interruption. + +"Bergman says the check is right," he reported. + +Johnson resumed his explanation: + +"As I was sayin', I reckon I know all the old-time cowmen from here to +breakfast and back. Old Joe Benavides, now--one of your best depositors; +I fished Joe out of Manzanillo Bay thirty year back. He was all drowned +but Amen." + +Wetting his thumb he slipped off the next paper from under the rubber +band. Marsh eyed the sheaf apprehensively and winced. + +"Got one of Joe's checks here," Pete continued, smoothing it out. "But +maybe I won't need to cash it--to-day." + +"Johnson," said the vice-president, "are you trying to start a run on +this bank? What do you want?" + +"My money. What the check calls for. That is final." + +"This is sheer malice." + +"Not a bit of it. You're all wrong. Just common prudence--that's all. You +see, I needed a little money. As I was tellin' you, I got right smart of +property, but no cash just now; nor any comin' till steer-sellin' time. +So I come down to Tucson on the rustle. Five banks in Tucson; four of +'em, countin' yours, turned me down cold." + +"If you had got Bergman to sign with you--" Marsh began. + +"Tell that to the submarines," said Pete. "Good irrigated land is better +than any man's name on a note; and I don't care who that man is. A man +might die or run away, or play the market. Land stays put. Well, after my +first glimpse of the cold shoulder I ciphered round a spell. I'm a great +hand to cipher round. Some one is out to down me; some one is givin' out +orders. Who? Mayer Zurich, I judged. He sold me a shoddy coat once. And +he wept because he couldn't loan me the money I wanted, himself. He's one +of these liers-in-wait you read about--Mayer is. + +"So I didn't come to you till the last, bein' as Zurich was one of your +directors. I studied some more--and then I hunted up old Hank Bergman and +told him my troubles," said Pete suavely. "He expressed quite some +considerable solicitude. 'Why, Petey, this is a shockin' disclosure!' he +says. 'A banker is a man that makes a livin' loanin' other people's +money. Lots of marble and brass to a bank, salaries and other expenses. +Show me a bank that's quit lendin' money and I'll show you a bank that's +due to bust, _muy pronto!_ I got quite a wad in the Merchants and +Miners,' he says, 'and you alarm me. I'll give you a check for it, and +you go there first off to-morrow and see if they'll lend you what you +need. You got good security. If they ain't lendin',' he says, 'then you +just cash my check and invest it for me where it will be safe. I lose the +interest for only four days,' he says--'last Monday, the fifteenth, being +my quarter day. Hold out what you need for yourself.' + +"'I don't want any,' says I. 'The First National say they can fit me out +by Wednesday if I can't get it before. Man don't want to borrow from his +friends,' says I. 'Then put my roll in the First National,' says Hank. +That's all! Only--I saw some of the other old-timers last night." Pete +fingered his sheaf significantly. + +"You have us!" said Marsh. "What do you want?" + +"I want the money for this check--so you'll know I'm not permeated with +any ideas about heaping coals of fire on your old bald head. Come +through, real earnest! I'll see about the rest. Exerting financial +pressure is what they call this little racket you worked on me, I +believe. It's a real nice game. I like it. If you ever mull or meddle +with my affairs again I'll turn another check. That's for your official +information--so you can keep the bank from any little indiscretions. I'm +telling you! This isn't blackmail. This is directions. Sit down and write +me a draft on El Paso." + +Marsh complied. Peter Johnson inspected the draft carefully. + +"So much for the bank for to-day, the nineteenth," said Pete. "Now a few +kind words for you as the individual, Mr. George Marsh, quite aside from +your capacity as a banker. You report to Zurich that I applied for a loan +and you refused it--not a word more. I'm tellin' you! Put a blab on your +office boy." He rolled his thumb at young Hudson. "And hereafter if you +ever horn in on my affairs so much as the weight of a finger tip--I'm +tellin' you now!--I'll appear to you!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The world was palpably a triangle, baseless to southward; walled out by +iron, radiant ramparts--a black range, gateless, on the east; a gray +range on the west, broken, spiked, and bristling. At the northern limit +of vision the two ranges closed together to what seemed relatively the +sharp apex of the triangle, the mere intersection of two lines. This +point, this seemingly dimensionless dot, was in reality two score weary +miles of sandhills, shapeless, vague, and low; waterless, colorless, +and forlorn. Southward the central desert was uninhabitable; opinions +differed about the edges. + +Still in Arizona, the eye wearied; miles and leagues slid together to +indistinguishable inches. Then came a low line of scattered hills that +roughly marked the Mexican border. + +The mirage played whimsical pranks with these outpost hills. They became, +in turn, cones, pyramids, boxes, benches, chimney stacks, hourglasses. +Sometimes they soared high in air, like the kites of a baby god; and, +beneath, the unbroken desert stretched afar, wavering, misty, and dim. + +Again, on clear, still days, these hills showed crystalline, thin, icy, +cameo-sharp; beyond, between, faint golden splotches of broad Sonoran +plain faded away to nothingness; and, far beyond that nothingness, hazy +Sonoran peaks of dimmest blue rose from illimitable immensities, like +topmasts of a very large ship on a very small globe; and the earth was +really round, as alleged. + +It was fitting and proper that the desert, as a whole, had no name: the +spinning earth itself has none. Inconsiderable nooks and corners were +named, indeed--Crow Flat, the Temporal, Moonshine, the Rinconada. It +should rather be said, perhaps, that the desert had no accepted name. +Alma Mater, Lungs called it. But no one minded Lungs. + +Mr. Stanley Mitchell woke early in the Blue Bedroom to see the morning +made. He threw back the tarpaulin and sat up, yawning; with every line of +his face crinkled up, ready to laugh for gladness. + +The morning was shaping up well. Glints of red snapped and sparkled in +the east; a few late stars loitered along the broad, clean skies. A jerky +clatter of iron on rock echoed from the cliffs. That was the four hobbled +horses, browsing on the hillside: they snuffed and snorted cheerfully, +rejoicing in the freshness of dawn. From a limestone bluff, ten feet +behind the bed, came a silver tinkle of falling water from a spring, +dripping into its tiny pool. + +Stan drew in a great breath and snuffed, exactly as the horses snuffed +and from the same reason--to express delight; just as a hungry man smacks +his lips over a titbit. Pungent, aromatic, the odor of wood smoke alloyed +the taintless air of dawn. The wholesome smell of clean, brown earth, the +spicy tang of crushed herb and shrub, of cedar and juniper, mingled with +a delectable and savory fragrance of steaming coffee and sizzling, +spluttering venison. + +Pete Johnson sat cross-legged before the fire. This mess of venison was +no hit-or-miss affair; he was preparing a certain number of venison +steaks, giving to each separate steak the consideration of an artist. + +Stanley Mitchell kicked the blankets flying. "Whoo-hoo-oo! This is the +life!" he proclaimed. Orisons more pious have held less gratitude. + +He tugged on one boot, reached for the other--and then leaped to his feet +like a jack-in-the-box. With the boot in his hand he pointed to the +south. High on the next shadowy range, thirty miles away, a dozen +scattered campfires glowed across the dawn. + +"What the Billy-hell?" he said, startled. + +"Stan-ley!" + +"I will say wallop! I won't be a lady if I can't say wallop!" quoth Stan +rebelliously. "What's doing over at the Gavilan? There's never been three +men at once in those fiend-forsaken pinnacles before. Hey! S'pose they've +struck it rich, like we did?" + +"I'm afraid not," sighed Pete. "You toddle along and wash um's paddies. +She's most ripe." + +With a green-wood poker he lifted the lid from the bake-oven. The biscuit +were not browned to his taste; he dumped the blackening coals from the +lid and slid it into the glowing heart of the fire; he raked out a new +bed of coals and lifted the little three-legged bake-oven over them; with +his poker he skillfully flirted fresh coals on the rimmed lid and put it +back on the oven. He placed the skillet of venison on a flat rock at his +elbow and poured coffee into two battered tin cups. Breakfast was now +ready, and Pete raised his voice in the traditional dinner call of the +ranges: + +"Come and get it or I'll throw it out!" + +Stanley came back from a brisk toilet at Ironspring. He took a +preliminary sip of coffee, speared a juicy steak, and eyed his companion +darkly. Mr. Johnson plied knife and fork assiduously, with eyes downcast +and demure. + +Stanley Mitchell's smooth young face lined with suspicion. + +"When you've been up to some deviltry I can always tell it on you--you +look so incredibly meek and meechin', like a cat eatin' the canary," he +remarked severely. "Thank you for a biscuit. And the sugar! Now what +warlockry is this?" He jerked a thumb at the far-off fires. "What's the +merry prank?" + +Mr. Johnson sighed again. + +"Deception. Treachery. Mine." He looked out across the desert to the +Gavilan Hills with a complacent eye. "And breach of trust. Mine, again." + +"Who you been betrayin' now?" + +"Just you. You and your pardner; the last bein' myself. You know them +location papers of ours I was to get recorded at Tucson?" + +Stanley nodded. + +"Well, now," said Pete, "I didn't file them papers. Something real +curious happened on the way in--and I reckon I'm the most superstitious +man you ever see. So I tried a little experiment. Instead, I wrote out a +notice for that little old ledge we found over on the Gavilan a month +back. I filed that, just to see if any one was keeping cases on us--and I +filed it the very last thing before I left Tucson: You see what's +happened." He waved his empty coffee-cup at the campfires. "I come +right back and we rode straight to Ironspring. But there's been people +ridin' faster than us--ridin' day and night. Son, if our copper claims +had really been in the Gavilan, instead of a-hundred-and-then-some long +miles in another-guess direction--then what?" + +"We'd have found our claim jumped and a bunch to swear they'd been +working there before the date of our notices; that they didn't find the +scratch of a pick on the claim, no papers and no monument--that's what +we'd have found." + +"Correct! Pass the meat." + +"But we haven't told a soul," protested Stanley. "How could any one know? +We all but died of thirst getting back across the desert--the wind rubbed +out our tracks; we laid up at Soledad Springs a week before any one saw +us; when we finally went in to Cobre no one knew where we had been, that +we had found anything, or even that we'd been looking for anything. How +could any one know?" + +"This breakfast is getting cold," said Pete Johnson. "Good grub hurts no +one. Let's eat it. Then I'll let a little ray of intelligence filter into +your darkened mind." + +Breakfast finished, Stan piled the tin dishes with a clatter. "Now then, +old Greedy! Break the news to me." + +Pete considered young Stan through half-closed lids--a tanned, +smooth-faced, laughing, curly-headed, broad-shouldered young giant. + +"You got any enemies, pardner?" + +"Not one in the world that I know of," declared Stan cheerfully. + +"Back in New York, maybe?" + +"Not a one. No reason to have one." + +Pete shook his head reflectively. + +"You're dreadful dumb, you know. Think again. Think hard. Take some one's +girl away from him, maybe?" + +"Not a girl. Never had but one Annie," said Stanley. "I'm her Joe." + +"Ya-as. Back in New York. I've posted letters to her: Abingdon P.O. Name +of Selden." + +Stanley went brick red. + +"That's her. I'm her Joe. And when we get this little old bonanza of ours +to grinding she won't be in New York any more. Come again, old-timer. +What's all this piffle got to do with our mine?" + +"If you only had a little brains," sighed Johnson disconsolately, "I'd +soon find out who had it in for you, and why. It's dreadful inconvenient +to have a pardner like that. Why, you poor, credulous baa-lamb of a +trustful idiot, when you let me go off to file them papers, don't you see +you give me the chance to rob you of a mine worth, just as she stands, +'most any amount of money you chance to mention? Not you! You let me ride +off without a misgivin'." + +"Pish!" remarked Stan scornfully. "Twaddle! Tommyrot! Pickles!" + +Pete wagged a solemn forefinger. + +"If you wasn't plumb simple-minded and trustin' you would 'a' tumbled +long ago that somebody was putting a hoodoo on every play you make. I +caught on before you'd been here six months. I thought, of course, you'd +been doin' dirt to some one--till I come to know you." + +"I thank you for those kind words," grinned Mitchell; "also, for the +friendly explanation with which you cover up some bad luck and more +greenhorn's incompetence." + +"No greenhorn could be so thumbhandsided as all that," rejoined Pete +earnestly. "Your irrigation ditches break and wash out; cattle get into +your crops whenever you go to town; but your fences never break when +you're round the ranch. Notice that?" + +"I did observe something of that nature," confessed Mitchell. "I laid it +to sheer bad luck." + +The older man snorted. + +"Bad luck! You've been hoodooed! After that, you went off by your +lonesome and tried cattle. Your windmills broke down; your cattle was +stole plumb opprobrious--Mexicans blamed, of course. And the very first +winter the sheep drifted in on you--where no sheep had never blatted +before--and eat you out of house and home." + +"I sold out in the spring," reflected Stanley. "I ran two hundred head +of stock up to one hundred and twelve in six months. Go on! Your story +interests me, strangely. I begin to think I was not as big a fool as +I thought I was, and that it was foolish of me to ever think my folly +was--" + +Johnson interrupted him. + +"Then you bought a bunch of sheep. Son, you can't realize how +great-minded it is of me to overlook that slip of yours! You was out of +the way of every man in the world; you was on your own range, watering at +your own wells--the only case like that on record. And the second dark +night some petulant and highly anonymous cowboys run off your herder and +stampeded your woollies over a bluff." + +"Sheep outrages have happened before," observed Stan, rather dryly. + +"Sheep outrages are perpetrated by cowmen on cow ranges," rejoined Pete +hotly. "I guess I ought to know. Sheepmen aren't ever killed on their own +ranges; it isn't respectable. Sheepmen are all right in their place--and +hell's the place." + +"Peter!" said Stan. "Such langwidge!" + +"Wallop! Wallop!" barked Peter, defiant and indignant. "I will say +wallop! Now you shut up whilst I go on with your sad history. Son, you +was afflicted some with five-card insomnia--and right off, when you first +came, you had it fair shoved on you by people usually most disobligin'. +It wasn't just for your money; there was plenty could stack 'em higher +than you could, and them fairly achin' to be fleeced, at that. If your +head hadn't been attached to your shoulders good and strong, if you +hadn't figured to be about square, or maybe rectangular, you had a +chance to be a poker fiend or a booze hoist." + +"You're spoofing me, old dear. Wake up; it's morning." + +"Don't fool yourself, son. There was a steady organized effort to get you +in bad. And it took money to get all these people after your goat. Some +one round here was managin' the game, for pay. But't wasn't no Arizona +head that did the plannin'. Any Rocky Mountain roughneck mean enough for +that would 'a' just killed you once and been done with it. No, sir; this +party was plumb civilized--this guy that wanted your goat. He wanted to +spoil your rep; he probably had conscientious scruples about bloodshed. +Early trainin'," said Mr. Johnson admiringly, "is a wonderful thing! And, +after they found you wouldn't fall for the husks and things, they went +out to put a crimp in your bank roll. Now, who is to gain by putting you +on the blink, huh?" + +"No one at all," said Stan. "You're seein' things at night! What happened +on the Cobre Trail to stir up your superstitions?" + +"Two gay young lads--punchers of Zurich's--tried to catch me with my gun +unloaded. That's what! And if herdin' with them blasted baa-sheep hadn't +just about ruined your intellect, you'd know why, without asking," said +Pete. "Look now! I was so sure that you was bein' systematically +hornswoggled that, when two rank strangers made that sort of a ranikiboo +play at me, I talked it out with myself, like this--not out loud--just +me and Pete colloguing: + +"'These gentlemen are pickin' on you, Pete. What's that for?' 'Why,' +says Pete, 'that's because you're Stan's pardner, of course. These two +laddie-bucks are some small part of the gang, bunch, or congregation +that's been preyin' on Stan.' 'What they tryin' to put over on Stan now?' +I asks, curiosity getting the better of my good manners. 'Not to pry into +private matters any,' says I, 'but this thing is getting personal. I can +feel malicious animal magnetism coursin' through every vein and leapin' +from crag to crag,' says I. 'A joke's a joke, and I can take a joke as +well as any man; but when I'm sick in my bed, and the undertaker comes to +my house and looks into my window and says, "Darlin'! I am waitin' for +thee!"--that's no joke. And if Stanley Mitchell's facetious friends begin +any hilarity with me I'll transact negotiations with 'em--sure! So I put +it up to you, Petey--square and aboveboard--what are they tryin' to work +on Stan now?' + +"'To get his mine, you idjit!' says Pete. 'Now be reasonable,' says I. +'How'd they know we got any mine?' 'Didn't you tote a sample out of that +blisterin' old desert?' says Pete. 'We did,' I admits, 'just one little +chunk the size of a red apple--and it weighed near a couple of ton whilst +we was perishin' for water. But we stuck to it closer than a rich +brother-in-law,' says I. 'You been had!' jeers Pete. 'What kind of talk +is this? You caught that off o' Thorpe, over on the Malibu--you been +had! Talk United States! Do you mean I've been bunked?' I spoke up sharp; +but I was feelin' pretty sick, for I just remembered that we didn't +register that sample when we mailed it to the assayer. + +"'Your nugget's been seen, and sawed, and smeltered. Got that? As part of +the skulduggery they been slippin' to young Stan, your package has been +opened,' says Petey, leerin' at me. 'Great Scott! Then they know we got +just about the richest mine in Arizona!' I says, with my teeth chatterin' +so that I stammers. 'Gosh, no! Else the coyotes would be pickin' your +bones,' says Pete. 'They know you've got some rich ore, but they figure +it to be some narrow, pinchin', piddlin' little vein somewheres. How can +they guess you found a solid mountain of the stuff?' + +"'Sufferin' cats!' says I. 'Then is every play I make--henceforth and +forever, amen--to be gaumed up by a mess of hirelin' bandogs? Persecutin' +Stan was all very well--but if they take to molesting me any, it's +going to make my blood fairly boil! Is some one going to draw down wages +for makin' me mizzable all the rest of my whole life?' 'No such luck,' +says Petey. 'Your little ore package was taken from the mail as part of +the system of pesterin' Stanley--but, once the big boss-devil glued his +bug-eyes on that freeworkin' copper stuff, he throwed up his employer +and his per diem, and is now operating roundabout on his own. They take +it you might have papers about you showing where your claim is--location +papers, likely. That's all! These ducks, here, want to go through you. +Nobody wants to kill you--not now. Not yet--any more than usual. But, if +you ask me,' said Petey, 'if they ever come to know as much about that +copper claim as you know, they'll do you up. Yes, sir! From ambush, +likely. So long as they are dependin' on you to lead them to it, you're +safe from that much, maybe. After they find out where it is--_cuidado!_' + +"'But who took that package out of the mail, Petey? It might have been +any one of several or more--old Zurich, here at Cobre; or the postmaster +at Silverbell; or the postal clerks on the railroad; or the post-office +people at El Paso.' + +"'You're an old pig-headed fool,' says Pete to me; 'and you lie like a +thief. You know who it was, same as I do--old C. Mayer Zurich, grand +champion lightweight collar-and-elbow grafter and liar, cowman, +grubstaker, general storekeeper, postmaster, and all-round crook, right +here in Cobre--right here where young Stanley's been gettin' 'em dealt +from the bottom for three years. Them other post-office fellows never had +no truck with Stanley--never so much as heard of him. Zurich's here. +He had the disposition, the motive, the opportunity, and the habit. +Besides, he sold you a shoddy coat once. Forgotten that?'" + +Pete paused to glower over that coat; and young Mitchell, big-eyed and +gasping, seized the chance to put in a word: + +"You're an ingenious old nightmare, pardner--you almost make it +convincing. But Great Scott, man! Can't you see that your fine, plausible +theory is all built on surmise and wild conjecture? You haven't got a leg +to stand on--not one single fact!" + +"Whilst I was first a-constructing this ingenious theory your objection +might have carried force; for I didn't have a fact to stand on, as you +observe. I conjectured round pretty spry, too. Reckon it took me all of +half a second--while them two warriors was giving me the evil eye. I'll +tell you how it was." He related the story of the shooting match and the +lost bet. "And to this unprovoked design against an inoffensive stranger +I fitted the only possible meaning and shape that would make a lick of +sense, dovetailin' in with the real honest-to-goodness facts I already +knew." + +"But don't you see, old thing, you're still up in the air? Your theory +doesn't touch ground anywhere." + +"Stanley--my poor deluded boy!--when I got to the railroad I wired that +assayer right off. Our samples never reached El Paso. So I wrote out my +fake location and filed it. See what followed that filing--over yonder? I +come this way on purpose, expecting to see those fires, Stanley. If they +hadn't been there we'd have gone on to our mine. Now we'll go anywhere +else." + +"Well, I'll just be teetotally damned!" Stanley remarked with great +fervor. + +"Trickling into your thick skull, is it? Son, get a piece of charcoal. +Now you make black marks on that white rock as I tell you, to hold +down my statements so they don't flutter away with the wind. Ready? +Number One: Our copper samples didn't reach the assayer--make a long +black mark ... Therefore--make a short black mark ... Number Two: +Either Old Pete's crazy theory is correct in every particular--a long +black mark ... Or--now a short black mark ... Number Three: The assayer +has thrown us down--a long black mark ... Number Four: Which would +be just as bad--make a long black mark." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Stanley Mitchell looked hard at the long black mark; he looked out along +the south to the low line of the Gavilan Hills; he looked at the red arc +of sun peering suddenly over the Comobabi Range. + +"Well--and so forth!" he said. "Here is a burn from the branding! And +what are we going to do now?" + +"Wash the dishes. You do it." + +"You are a light-minded and frivolous old man," said Stan. "What are we +going to do about our mine?" + +"I've done told you. We--per you--are due to wash up the dishes. Do the +next thing next. That's a pretty good rule. Meantime I will superintend +and smoke and reflect." + +"Do your reflecting out loud, can't you?" said Stan. His smooth forehead +wrinkled and a sudden cleft appeared between his eyebrows, witness of an +unaccustomed intentness of thought. "Say, Pete; this partnership of ours +isn't on the level. You put in half the work and all the brains." + +"'Sall right," said Pete Johnson. "You furnish the luck and +personal pulchritude. That ain't all, either. I'm pickin' up some +considerable education from you, learning how to pronounce words +like that--pulchritude. I mispronounced dreadful, I reckon." + +"I can tell you how to not mispronounce half as many words as you do +now," said Stan. + +"How's that?" said Pete, greatly interested. + +"Only talk half so much." + +"Fair enough, kid! It would work, too. That ain't all, either. If I +talked less you'd talk more; and, talking more, you'd study out for +yourself a lot of the things I tell you now, gettin' credit from you for +much wisdom, just because I hold the floor. Go to it, boy! Tell us how +the affairs of We, Us & Company size up to you at this juncture." + +"Here goes," said Stan. "First, we don't want to let on that we've got +anything at all on our minds--much less a rich mine. After a reasonable +time we should make some casual mention of discontent that we've sent off +rock to an assayer and not heard from it. Not to say a word would make +our conspirators more suspicious; a careless mention of it might make +them think our find wasn't such-a-much, after all. Say! I suppose it +wouldn't do to pick up a collection of samples from the best mines round +Cobre--and inquire round who to write to for some more, from Jerome +and Cananea, maybe; and then, after talking them up a while, we could +send one of these samples off to be assayed, just for curiosity--what?" + +"Bear looking into," said Pete; "though I think they'd size it up as an +attempt to throw 'em off the trail. Maybe we can smooth that idea out so +we can do something with it. Proceed." + +"Then we'll have to play up to that location you filed by hiking to the +Gavilan and going through the motions of doing assessment work on that +dinky little claim." + +Feeling his way, Stan watched the older man's eyes. Pete nodded approval. + +"But, Pete, aren't we taking a big chance that some one will find our +claim? It isn't recorded, and our notice will run out unless we do some +assessment work pretty quick. Suppose some one should stumble onto it?" + +"Well, we've got to take the chance," said Pete. "And the chance of some +one stumbling on our find by blind luck, like we did, isn't a drop in the +bucket to the chance that we'll be followed if we try to slip away while +these fellows are worked up with the fever. Seventy-five thousand round +dollars to one canceled stamp that some one has his eye glued on us +through a telescope right this very now! I wouldn't bet the postage stamp +on it, at that odds. No, sir! Right now things shape up hotter than the +seven low places in hell. + +"If we go to the mine now--or soon--we'll never get back. After we show +them the place--_adios el mundo_!" + +"Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird," Mitchell +quoted soberly. "So you think that after a while, when their enthusiasm +dies down, we can give them the slip?" + +"Sure! It's our only chance." + +"Couldn't we make a get-away at night?" + +"It is what they are hoping for. They'd follow our tracks. No, sir! We do +nothing. We notice nothing, we suspect nothing, and we have nothing to +hide." + +"You want to remember that our location notice will be running out pretty +soon." + +"We'll have to risk it. Not so much of a risk, either. Cobre is the last +outpost of civilization. South of here, in the whole strip from Comobabi +to the Colorado River, there's not twenty men, all told, between here and +the Mexican border--except yonder deluded wretches in the Gavilan; and +none beyond the border for a hundred miles." + +"It is certainly one big lonesome needle-in-the-haystack proposition--and +no one has any idea where our find is, not within three days' ride. But +what puzzles me is this: If Zurich really got wise to our copper, he'd +know at once that it was a big thing, if there was any amount of it. Then +why didn't he keep it private and confidential? Why tip it off to the +G.P.? I have always understood that in robbery and murder, one is +assisted only by intimate friends. What is the large idea?" + +"That, I take it," laughed Pete, "is, in some part, an acknowledgment +that it doesn't take many like you and me to make a dozen. You've made +one or two breaks and got away with 'em, the last year or two, that has +got 'em guessing; and I'm well and loudly known myself. There is a wise +old saying that it's no use sending a boy to mill. They figure on that, +likely; they wanted to be safe and sanitary. They sized it up that to +dispatch only two or three men to adjust such an affair with us would be +in no way respectful or segacious. + +"Also, in a gang of crooks like that, every one is always pullin' for his +buddy. That accounts for part of the crowd--prudence and a far-reaching +spirit of brotherly love. For the rest, when the first ten or six made +packs and started, they was worked up and oozing excitement at every +pore. Then some of the old prospectors got a hunch there was something +doing; so they just naturally up stakes and tagged along. Always doing +that, old miner is. That's what makes the rushes and stampedes you hear +about." + +"Then we're to do nothing just now but to shun mind-readers, write no +letters, and not talk in our sleep?" + +"Just so," agreed Pete. "If my saddle could talk, I'd burn it. That's our +best lay. We'll tire 'em out. The most weariest thing in the world is to +hunt for a man that isn't there; the next worst is to watch a man that +has nothing to conceal. And our little old million-dollar-a-rod hill is +the unlikeliest place to look for a mine I ever did see. Just plain dirt +and sand. No indications; just a plain freak. I'd sooner take a chance in +the pasture lot behind pa's red barn--any one would. We covered up all +the scratchin' we did and the wind has done the rest. Here--you was to do +the talkin'. Go on." + +"What we really need," declared Mitchell, "is an army--enough absolutely +trustworthy and reliable men to overmatch any interference." + +"The largest number of honest men that was ever got together in one +bunch," said Pete, "was just an even eleven. Judas Iscariot was the +twelfth. That's the record. For that reason I've always stuck it out that +we ought to have only ten men on a jury, instead of twelve. It seems more +modest, somehow. But suppose we found ten honest men somewheres. It might +be done. I know where there's two right here in Arizona, and I've got my +suspicions of a third--honest about portable property, that is. With +cattle, and the like, they don't have any hard-and-fast rule; just +consider each case on its individual merits. How the case of automobiles +would strike them elder ethics is one dubious problem. Standing still, or +bein' towed, so it might be considered as a wagon, a car would be safe +enough; but proceedin' from hither to yon under its own power--I dunno. +I'll make a note of it. Well, you get the right idea for the first thing. +Honest men wanted; no questions asked. And then what?" + +"Money." + +"You've said it, kid! We could quitclaim that hill for a million cash +to-morrow--" + +"If we had any claim to quit," interrupted Stanley; "and if we could drag +capital out here and rub its nose in our hill." + +"That's the word I was feelin' for--capital. It's capital we want, +Stanley--not money. I could get a little money myself down at Tucson. +Them two honest men of mine live there. We used to steal cattle together +down on the Concho--the sheriff and Jose Benavides and me. I aim to feed +'em a slice of my share, anyway--but what they could put in wouldn't be a +drop in the bucket. We want to go after capital. There's where you come +in. Got any rich friends back East?" + +Stan reflected. + +"My cousin, Oscar Mitchell, is well-to-do, but hardly what you would call +rich, in this connection," he said. "But he is in touch with some of the +really big men. We could hardly find a better agent to interest capital." + +"Will he take the first steps on your bare word--without even a sample or +an assayer's report?" + +"Certainly. Why not?" + +"Back you go, then. Here's where you come in. I had this in mind," +declared Johnson, "when I first throwed in with you. I knew we could find +the mine and you'd be needed for bait to attract capital. I rustled a +little expense money at Tucson. Say, I didn't tell you about that. +Listen!" + +He recited at length his joyous financial adventures in Tucson. + +"But won't your man Marsh tell Zurich about your unruly behavior?" said +Stan at the finish. + +"I think not. He's got too much to lose. I put the fear of God in his +heart for fair. I couldn't afford to have him put Zurich on his guard. +It won't do to underestimate Zurich. The man's a crook; but he's got +brains. He hasn't overlooked a bet since he came here. Zurich is +Cobre--or mighty near it. He's in on all the good things. Big share in +the big mines, little share in the little ones. He's got all the water +supply grabbed and is makin' a fortune from that alone. He runs the +store, the post-office, and the stage line. He's got the freight +contracts and the beef contracts. He's got brains. Only one weak point +about him--he'll underestimate us. We got brains too. Zurich knows that, +but he don't quite believe it. That's our chance." + +"Just what will you ask my cousin to do? And when shall I go?" + +"Day before to-morrow. You hike back to Cobre and hit the road for all +points East, I'll go over to the Gavilan to be counted--take this +dynamite and stuff, and make a bluff at workin', keeping my ears open and +my mouth not. Pledge cousin to come see when we wire for him--as soon as +we get possession. If he finds the sight satisfactory, we'll organize +a company, you and me keepin' control. We'll give 'em forty per cent for +a million cash in the treasury. I want nine percent for my Tucson +friends, who'll put up a little preliminary cash and help us with the +first fightin', if any. Make your dicker on that basis; take no less. +If your cousin can't swing it, we'll go elsewhere. + +"Tell him our proposition would be a gracious gift at two millions, +undeveloped; but we're not selling. Tell him there'll be a million +needed for development before there'll be a dollar of return. There's no +water; just enough to do assessment work on, and that to be hauled +twenty-five miles from those little rock tanks at Cabeza Prieta. Deep +drillin' may get water--I hope so. But that will take time and money. +There'll have to be a seventy-five-mile spur of railroad built, anyway, +leaving the main line somewhere about Mohawk: we'd just as well count on +hauling water from the Gila the first year. Them tanks will about run a +ten-man gang a month after each rain, countin' in the team that does the +hauling. + +"Tell him one claim, six hundred feet by fifteen hundred, will pretty +near cover our hill; but we'll stake two for margin. We don't want +any more; but we'll have to locate a town site or something, to be sure +of our right of way for our railroad. Every foot of these hills will be +staked out by some one, eventually. If any of these outside claims turns +out to be any good, so much the better. But there can't be the usual rush +very well--'cause there ain't enough water. We'll have to locate the +tanks and keep a guard there; we'll have to pull off a franchise for our +little jerkwater railroad. + +"We got to build a wagon road to Mohawk, set six-horse teams to hauling +water, and other teams to hauling water to stations along the road for +the teams that haul water for us. All this at once; it's going to be some +complicated. + +"That's the lay: Development work; appropriation for honest men in the +first camp; another for lawyers; patentin' three claims; haul water +seventy-five miles, no road, and part of that through sand; minin' +machinery; build a railroad; smelter, maybe--if some one would kindly +find coal. + +"We want a minimum of five hundred thousand; as much more for accidents. +Where does this cousin of yours live? In Abingdon?" + +"In Vesper--seven miles from Abingdon. He's a lawyer." + +"Is he all right?" + +"Why, yes--I guess so. When I was a boy I thought he was a wonderful +chap--rather made a hero of him." + +"When you was a boy?" echoed Johnson; a quizzical twinkle assisted the +query. + +"Oh, well--when he was a boy." + +"He's older than you, then?" + +"Nearly twice as old. My father was the youngest son of an old-fashioned +family, and I was his youngest. Uncle Roy--Oscar's father--was dad's +oldest brother, and Oscar was a first and only." + +Pete shook his head. + +"I'm sorry about that, too. I'd be better pleased if he was round your +age. No offense to you, Stan; but I'd name no places to your cousin if +I were you. When we get legal possession let him come out and see for +himself--leadin' a capitalist, if possible." + +"Oscar's all right, I guess," protested Stan. + +"But you can't do more than guess? Name him no names, then. I wish he was +younger," said Peter with a melancholy expression. "The world has a +foolish old saying: 'The good die young.' That's all wrong, Stanley. It +isn't true. The young die good!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Something Dewing, owner of Cobre's Emporium of Chance, sat in his room in +the Admiral Dewey Hotel. It was a large and pleasant room, refitted and +over-furnished by Mr. Dewing at the expense of his fellow townsmen, +grateful or otherwise. It is well to mention here that, upon the tongues +of the scurrile, "Something," as a praise-name and over-name for Mr. +Dewing, suffered a sea change to "Surething"--Surething Dewing; just as +the Admiral Dewey Hotel was less favorably known as "Stagger Inn." + +Mr. Dewing's eye rested dreamily upon the picture, much praised of +connoisseurs, framed by his window--the sharp encircling contours of +Cobre Mountain; the wedge of tawny desert beyond Farewell Gap. Rousing +himself from such contemplation, he broke a silence, sour and unduly +prolonged. + +"Four o'clock, and all's ill! Johnson is not the man to be cheated out of +a fortune without putting up a fight. Young Mitchell himself is neither +fool nor weakling. He can shoot, too. We have had no news. Therefore--a +conclusion that will not have escaped your sagacity--something has gone +amiss with our little expeditionary force in the Gavilan. Johnson is +quite the Paladin; but he could hardly exterminate such a bunch as that. +It is my firm conviction that we are now, on this pleasant afternoon, +double-crossed in a good and workmanlike manner. + +"The Johnson-Mitchell firm is now Johnson, Mitchell & Company, our late +friends, or the survivors, being the Company." + +These remarks were addressed to the elder of Mr. Dewing's two table +mates. But it was Eric Anderson, tall and lean and lowering, who +made answer. + +"You may set your uneasy mind at rest, Mr. Something. Suspectin' +treachery comes natural to you--being what you are." + +"There--that's enough!" + +This was the third man, Mayer Zurich. He sprang up, speaking sharply; a +tall, straight man, broad-shouldered, well proportioned, with a handsome, +sparkling, high-colored face. "Eric, you grow more insolent every day. +Cut it out!" + +Mr. Dewing, evenly enough, shifted his thoughtful gaze upon tall Eric, +seemingly without resentment for the outburst. + +"Well, wasn't he insultin' the boys then?" demanded Eric. + +"I guess you're right, there," Mayer Zurich admitted. "I was not at all +in favor of taking so many of them in on this proposition; but I'm not +afraid of them doin' me dirt, now they're in. I don't see why the three +of us couldn't have kept this to ourselves--but Something had to blab it +out! Why he should do that, and then distrust the very men he chose for +so munificent a sharing of a confidence better withheld--that is quite +beyond my understanding. Dewing, you would never have clapped an eye on +that nugget if I had suspected in you so unswerving a loyalty to the +gang. I confess I was disappointed in you--and I count you my right-hand +man." + +The speech of the educated man, in Mr. Zurich, was overlaid with +colloquialism and strange idiom, made a second tongue by long +familiarity. + +"Your left-hand man!" Dewing made the correction with great composure. +"You come to me to help you, because, though you claim all the discredit +for your left-handed activities, I furnish a good half of the brains. +And I blabbed--as you so elegantly phrased it--because I am far too +intelligent to bite a bulldog for a bone. Our friends in the Gavilan +pride themselves on their nerve. They are fighting men, if you +please--very fearless and gallant. That suits me. I am no gentleman. +Quite the contrary. I am very intelligent, as afore-said. It was the part +of prudence--" + +"That is a very good word--prudence." The interpolation came from tall +Eric. + +"A very good word," assented the gambler, unmoved. "It was the part of +prudence to let our valiant friends and servants pull these chestnuts +from the fire, as aforetime. To become the corpse of a copper king is a +prospect that holds no attractions for me." + +"But why--why on earth--did you insist on employing men you now distrust? +you bewilder me, Dewing," declared Zurich. "What's the idea--to swindle +yourself?" + +"You will do me the justice to remember," observed Dewing with a +thin-lipped smile, "that I urged upon you, repeatedly and most strongly, +as a desirable preliminary to our operations, to remove Mr. Peter Johnson +from this unsatisfactory world without any formal declaration of war." + +"I won't do it!" declared Zurich bluntly. "And--damn you--you shan't do +it! He's a dangerous old bow-legged person, and I wish he was farther. And +I must admit that I am myself most undesirous for any personal bickering +with him. To hear Jim Scarboro relate it, old Pete is one wiz with a +six-gun. All the same, I'll not let him be shot from ambush. He's too +good for that. I draw the line there. I'm not exactly afraid of the +little old wasp, either, when it comes down to cases; but I have great +respect for him. I'll never agree to meet him on a tight rope over +Niagara and make him turn back; and if I have any trouble with him he's +got to bring it to me. You have no monopoly of prudence." + +"There it is, you see!" Something Dewing spread out his fine hands. "You +made no allowance for my loyalty and I made none for your scruples. As a +result, Mr. Johnson has established a stalemate, held a parley, and +bought off our warriors. They've been taken in on the copper find, on +some small sharing, while we, in quite another sense of the word, are +simply taken in. Such," observed Mr. Dewing philosophically, "is the +result of inopportune virtues." + +"Bosh! I told you all along," said Anderson heavily, "that there's no +mineral in the Gavilan. I've been over every foot of it--and I'm a miner. +We get no news because no man makes haste to announce his folly. You'll +see!" + +"Creede and Cripple Creek had been prospected over and over again before +they struck it there," objected Zurich. + +"Silver and gold!" retorted Eric scornfully. "This is copper. Copper +advertises. No, sir! I'll tell you what's happened. There's been no +battle, and no treachery, and no mine found. We've been trapped. That +Gavilan location was a fake, stuck up to draw our fire. We've tipped our +hand. Mr. Johnson can now examine the plans of mice or men that your +combined sagacities have so obligingly placed face upward before him, and +decide his policies at his leisure. If I were in his shoes, this is what +I would be at: I'd tell my wondrous tale to big money. And then I would +employ very many stranger men accustomed to arms; and when I went after +that mine, I would place under guard any reasonable and obliging +travelers I met, and establish a graveyard for the headstrong. And that's +what Johnson will do. He'll go to the Coast for capital, at the same +time sendin' young Stanley back to his native East on the same errand." + +"You may be right," said Zurich, somewhat staggered. "If you are, their +find must be a second Verde or Cananea, or they would never have taken a +precaution so extraordinary as a false location. What on earth can have +happened to rouse their suspicions to that extent?" + +"Man, I wonder at you!" said tall Eric. "You put trust in your brains, +your money, and your standing to hold you unstained by all your +left-handed business. You expect no man to take heed of you, when the +reek of it smells to high heaven. Well, you deceive yourself the more. +These things get about; and they are none so unobserving a people, south +of the Gila, where 't is fair life or death to them to note betweenwhiles +all manner of small things--the set of a pack, the tongue of a buckle, +the cleat of a mine ladder. And your persecution of young Stanley, now. +Was you expectin' that to go unremarked? 'T is that has made Peter +Johnson shy of all bait. 'T was a sorry business from the first--hazing +that boy; I take shame to have hand in it. And for every thousand of that +dirty money we now stand to lose a million." + +"'T was a piker's game," sneered Dewing. "Not worth the trouble and risk. +We had about three thousand from Zurich to split between us; little +enough. Of course Zurich kept his share, the lion's share." + +"You got the middleman's chunk, at any rate," retorted Zurich. + +"I did the middleman's work," said the gambler tranquilly. "Now, +gentlemen, we have not been agreeing very well of late. Eric, in +particular, has been far from flattering in his estimates of my social +and civic value. We are agreed on that? Very well. I may have mentioned +my intelligence? And that I rate it highly? Yes? Very well, then. I shall +now demonstrate that my self-appraisal was justified by admitting that my +judgment on this occasion was at fault. Eric's theories as to our delayed +news from our expedition are sound; they work out; they prove themselves. +The same is true of his very direct and lucid statement as to the nature +and cause of the difficulties which now beset us. I now make the direct +appeal to you, Eric: As a candid man or mouse, what would you do next?" + +Tall Eric bent his brows darkly at the gambler. + +"If you mean that I fear the man Johnson at all, why do you not use +tongue and lips to say that same? I am not greatly chafed by an open +enemy, but I am no great hand to sit down under a mock." + +"It was your own word--the mice," said Dewing. "But this time you take me +wrongly. I meant no mockery. I ask you, in good faith, for your opinion. +What ought to be done to retrieve the false step?" + +"Could we find this treasure-trove by a painstaking search of the hills?" +asked Zurich doubtfully. "It's a biggish country." + +"Man," said Eric, "I've prospected out there for fifteen years and I've +scarce made a beginning. If we're to find Johnson's strike before Johnson +makes a path to it, we have a month, at most. Find it, says you? Sure, we +might find it. But if we do it will be by blind fool-hog luck and not by +painstakin' search. Do you search, if you like. My word would be to try +negotiations. Make a compromise with Johnson. And if your prudence does +not like the errand, I will even take it upon myself." + +"What is there to compromise? We have nothing to contribute." + +"We have safety to sell," said Eric. "Seek out the man and state the case +baldly: 'Sir, we have protection to sell, without which your knowledge is +worthless, or near it. Protection from ourselves and all others. Make +treaty with us; allot to us, jointly, some share, which you shall name +yourself, and we will deal justly by you. So shall you avoid delay. You +may avoid some risk. _Quien sabe?_ If you refuse we shall truly endeavor +to be interestin'; and you may get nothing.' That's what I would say." + +"A share, to be named by Johnson and then be divided between ten? Well, I +guess not!" declared Zurich. "To begin with, we'll find a way to stop Kid +Mitchell from any Eastern trip. Capital is shy; I'm not much afraid of +what Johnson can do. But this boy has the inside track." + +"With my usual astuteness," remarked Something Dewing, "I had divined as +much. And there is another string to our bow if we make a complete +failure of this mine business--as would seem to be promised by the +Gavilan fiasco. When such goodly sums are expended to procure the +downfall of Kid Mitchell--an event as yet unexpectedly delayed--there's +money in it somewhere. Big money! I know it. And I mean to touch some +of it. My unknown benefactor shall have my every assistance to attain his +hellish purpose--hellish purpose, I believe, is the phrase proper to the +complexion of this affair. Then, to use the words of the impulsive +Hotspur, slightly altered to suit the occasion, I'll creep upon him while +he lies asleep, and in his ear I'll whisper--Snooks!" + +"You don't know where he lives," said Zurich. + +"Ah, but you do! I beg your pardon, Zurich--perhaps in my thoughtlessness +I have wounded you. I used the wrong pronoun. I did not mean to say +'I'--much less 'you'--in reference to who should hollo 'Halves!' to our +sleeping benefactor. 'We' was the word I should have used." + +Zurich regarded Mr. Dewing in darkling silence; and that gentleman, in no +way daunted, continued gayly: + +"I see that the same idea has shadowed itself to you. You must consider +us--Eric and I--equals in that enterprise, friend Mayer. Three good +friends together. I begin to fear we have sadly underestimated Eric--you +and I. By our own admission--and his--he is a better fighting man than +either of us. You wouldn't want to displease him." + +"I think you go about it in an ill way to remedy a mistake, Dewing," said +Zurich. "Don't let's be silly enough to fall out over one chance gone +wrong. We've got all we can attend to right now, without such a folly as +that. Don't mind him, Eric. Tell me, rather, what we are going to do +about this troublesome Johnson? Violence is out of the question: we need +him to show us where he found that copper. Besides, it isn't safe to kill +old Pete, and it never has been safe to kill old Pete. As for the Kid, +I'll do what I have been urged to do this long time by the personage who +takes so kindly an interest in his fortunes--I'll railroad him off to +jail, at least till we get that mine or until it is, beyond question, +lost to us. It isn't wise to let him go East; he might get hold of +unlimited money. If he did, forewarned as he is now, Johnson would fix it +so we shouldn't have a look-in. You turn this over and let me know your +ideas." + +"And that reminds me," said Dewing with smooth insolence, equally +maddening to both hearers, "that Eric's ideas have been notably justified +of late; whereas your ideas--and mine--have been stupid blunders from +first to last. You see me at a stand, friend Mayer, doubtful if it were +not the part of wisdom to transfer my obedience to Eric hereafter." + +"For every word of that, Johnson would pay you a gold piece, and have a +rare bargain of it." Zurich's voice was hard; his eye was hard. "Is this +a time for quarreling among ourselves? There may be millions at stake, +for all we know, and you would set us at loggerheads in a fit of spleen, +like a little peevish boy. I'm ashamed of you! Get your horse and ride +off the sulks. If you feel spiteful, take it out on Johnson. Get yourself +a pack outfit and go find his mine." + +"I'm no prospector," said the gambler disdainfully. + +"No. I will tell you what you are." Tall Eric rose and towered above +Dewing at the window; the sun streamed on his bright hair, "You are a +crack-brained fool to tempt my hands to your throat! You will do it once +too often yet. You a prospector? You never saw the day you had the +makin's of a prospector in you." + +"Let other men do the work and take the risk while I take the gain, and +it's little I care for your opinion," rejoined Dewing. "And you would do +well to keep your hands from my throat when my hand is in my coat +pocket--as is the case at this present instant." + +"This thing has gone far enough," said Zurich. "Anderson, come back and +sit down. Dewing, go and fork that horse of yours and ride the black +devil out of your heart." + +"I have a thing to say, first," said Eric. "Dewing, you sought to begowk +me by setting me up against Zurich--or perhaps you really thought to use +me against him. Well, you won't! When we want the information about the +man that has been harryin' young Mitchell, Zurich will tell us. We know +too much about Zurich for him to deny us our askings. But, for your mock +at me, I want you both to know two things: The first is, I desire no +headship for myself; the second is this--I take Zurich's orders because +I think he has the best head, as a usual thing; and I follow those orders +exactly so far as I please, and no step more. I am mean and worthless +because I choose to be and not at all because Mayer Zurich led me astray. +Got that, now?" + +"If you're quite through," said Dewing, "I'll take that ride." + +The door closed behind him. + +"Disappointed! Had his mouth fixed for a million or so, and didn't get +it; couldn't stand the gaff; made him ugly," said Zurich slowly. "And +when Dewing is ugly he is unbearable; absolutely the limit." + +"Isn't he?" agreed Eric in disgust. "Enough to make a man turn honest." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Stanley Mitchell topped the last rise in Morning Gate Pass in the late +afternoon. Cobre Basin spread deep and wide before him, ruddy in the low +sun; Cobre town and mines, on his left, loomed dim and misshapen in the +long dark shadows of the hills. + +Awguan, top horse and foreman of Stanley's mount, swung pitapat down the +winding pass at a brisk fox trot. The gallop, as a road gait, is frowned +upon in the cow countries as immature and wasteful of equine energy. + +He passed Loder's Folly, high above the trail--gray, windowless, and +forlorn; the trail dipped into the cool shadows, twisted through the mazy +deeps of Wait-a-Bit Canon, clambered zigzag back to the sunlit slope, and +curved round the hillsides to join, in long levels, the wood roads on the +northern slopes. + +As he turned into the level, Stanley's musings were broken in upon by a +sudden prodigious clatter. Looking up, he became aware of a terror, +rolling portentous down the flinty ridge upon him; a whirlwind streak of +billowed dust, shod with sparks, tipped by a hurtling color yet unknown +to man; and from the whirlwind issued grievous words. + +Awguan leaped forward. + +Bounding over boulders or from them, flashing through catclaw and +ocatillo, the appearance swooped and fell, the blend disjoined and +shaped to semblance of a very small red pony bearing a very small blue +boy. The pony's small red head was quite innocent of bridle; the bit was +against his red breast, held there by small hands desperate on the reins; +the torn headstall flapped rakishly about the red legs. Making the curve +at sickening speed, balanced over everlasting nothingness for a moment of +breathless equipoise, they took the trail. + +Awguan thundered after. Stanley bent over, pelted by flying pebbles and +fragments of idle words. + +Small chance to overhaul the prodigy on that ribbed and splintered hill; +Awguan held the sidelong trail at the red pony's heels. They dipped to +cross an arroyo; Stan lifted his head and shouted: + +"Fall off in the sand!" + +"Damnfido!" wailed the blue boy. + +Sand flashed in rainbow arches against Awguan's brown face--he shut his +eyes against it; they turned up the hill beyond. A little space ahead +showed free of bush or boulder. Awguan took the hillside below the trail, +lowered his head, laid his ears back, and bunched his mighty muscles. He +drew alongside; leaning far over, heel to cantle, Stan threw his arm +about the small red neck, and dragged the red pony to a choking stand. +The small blue boy slipped to earth, twisted the soft bridle rein once +and again to a miraculous double half-hitch about the red pony's jaw, +and tightened it with a jerk. + +"I've got him!" shrieked the blue boy. + +The red pony turned mild bright eyes upon brown Awguan, and twitched red +velvet ears to express surprise, and wrinkled a polite nose. + +"Hello! I hadn't noticed you before. Fine day, isn't it?" said the ears. + +Awguan rolled his wicked eye and snorted. The blue boy shrilled a comment +of surprising particulars--a hatless boy in denim. Stanley turned his +head at a clatter of hoofs; Something Dewing, on the trail from town, +galloped to join them. + +"That was a creditable arrest you made, Mitchell," he said, drawing rein. +"I saw it all from the top of Mule Hill. And I certainly thought our +Little Boy Blue was going to take the Big Trip. He'll make a hand!" + +The gambler's eyes, unguarded and sincere for once, flashed quizzical +admiration at Little Boy Blue, who, concurrently with the above speech, +quavered forth his lurid personal opinions of the red pony. He was a +lean, large-eyed person, apparently of some nine or ten years--which left +his vocabulary unaccounted for; his face was smeared and bleeding, +scratched by catclaw; his apparel much betattered by the same reason. + +He now checked a flood of biographical detail concerning the red pony +long enough to fling a remark their way: + +"Ain't no Boy Blue--damn your soul! Name's Robteeleecarr!" + +Dewing and Mitchell exchanged glances. + +"What's that? What did he say?" + +"He means to inform you," said Dewing, "that his name is Robert E. +Lee Carr." His glance swept appraisingly up the farther hill, and he +chuckled: "Old Israel Putnam would be green with envy if he had seen that +ride. Some boy!" + +"He must be a new one to Cobre; I've never seen him before." + +"Been here a week or ten days, and he's a notorious character already. So +is Nan-na." + +"Nan-na, I gather, being the pony?" + +"Exactly. Little Apache devil, that horse is. Robert's dad, one Jackson +Carr, is going to try freighting. He's camped over the ridge at Hospital +Springs, letting his horses feed up and get some meat on their bones. +Here! Robert E. Lee, drop that club or I'll put the dingbats on you +instanter! Don't you pound that pony! I saw you yesterday racing the +streets with the throat-latch of your bridle unbuckled. Serves you +right!" + +Robert E. Lee reluctantly abandoned the sotol stalk he had been breaking +to a length suitable for admonitory purposes. + +"All right! But I'll fix him yet--see if I don't! He's got to pack me +back up that hill after my hat. Gimme a knife, so's I can cut a saddle +string and mend this bridle." These remarks are expurgated. + +He mended the bridle; he loosened the cinches and set the saddle back. +Stan, dismounting, made a discovery. + +"I've lost a spur. Thought something felt funny. Noticed yesterday that +the strap was loose." He straightened up from a contemplation of his boot +heel; with a sudden thought, he searched the inner pocket of his coat. +"And that isn't all. By George, I've lost my pocketbook, and a lot of +money in it! But it can't be far; I've lost it somewhere on my boy chase. +Come on, Dewing; help me hunt for it." + +They left the boy at his mending and took the back track. Before they had +gone a dozen yards Dewing saw the lost spur, far down the hill, lodged +under a prickly pear. Stanley, searching intently for his pocketbook, did +not see the spur. And Dewing said nothing; he lowered his eyelids to veil +a sudden evil thought, and when he raised them again his eyes, which for +a little had been clear of all save boyish mischief, were once more tense +and hard. + +Robert E. Lee Carr clattered gayly by them and pushed up the hill to +recover his hat. The two men rode on slowly; a brown pocketbook upon a +brown hillside is not easy to find. But they found it at last, just where +Stanley had launched his pursuit of the hatless horseman. It had been +jostled from his pocket in the first wild rush. Stanley retrieved it with +a sigh of relief. + +"Are you sure you had your spur here?" asked Dewing. "Maybe you lost it +before and didn't notice it." + +"Oh, never mind the spur," said Stan. "I'm satisfied to get my money. +Let's wait for Little Boy Blue and we'll all go in together." + +"Want to try a little game to-night?" suggested Dewing. "I could use that +money of yours. It seems a likely bunch--if it's all money. Pretty plump +wallet, I call it." + +"No more for me," laughed Stanley. "You behold in me a reformed +character." + +"Stick to that, boy," said Dewing. "Gambling is bad business." + +It grew on to dusk when Robert E. Lee Carr rejoined them; it was pitch +dark when they came to the Carr camp-fire at Hospital Springs, close +beside the trail; when they reached Cobre, supper-time was over. + +At the Mountain House Stanley ordered a special supper cooked for him, +with real potatoes and cow milk. Dewing refused a drink, pleading his +profession; and Stanley left his fat wallet in the Mountain House safe. + +"Well, I'll say good-night now," said Dewing. "See you after supper?" + +"Oh, I'll side you a ways yet. Goin' up to the shack to unsaddle. Always +like to have my horse eat before I do. And you'll not see me after +supper--not unless you are up at the post-office. I'm done with cards." + +"I'd like to have a little chin with you to-morrow," said Dewing. "Not +about cards. Business. I'm sick of cards, myself. I'll never be able to +live 'em down--especially with this pleasing nickname of mine. I want +to talk trade. About your ranch: you've still got your wells and +water-holes? I was thinking of buying them of you and going in for the +straight and narrow. I might even stock up and throw in with you--but you +wouldn't want a partner from the wrong side of the table? Well, I don't +blame you--but say, Stan, on the level, it's a funny old world, isn't +it?" + +"I'm going to take the stage to-morrow. See you when I come back. I'll +sell. I'm reformed about cattle, too," said Stan. + +At the ball ground he bade Dewing good-night. The latter rode on to his +own hostelry at the other end of town. Civilization patronized the +Admiral Dewey as nearest the railroad; mountain men favored the Mountain +House as being nearest to grass. + +Stanley turned up a side street to the one-roomed adobe house on the edge +of town that served as city headquarters for himself and Johnson. He +unsaddled in the little corral; he brought a feed of corn for brown +Awguan; he brought currycomb and brush and made glossy Awguan's sleek +sides, turning him loose at last, with a friendly slap, to seek pasture +on Cobre Hills. Then he returned to the Mountain House for the delayed +supper. + +Meantime Mr. Something Dewing held a hurried consultation with Mr. Mayer +Zurich; and forthwith took horse again for Morning Gate Pass, slipping by +dark streets from the town, turning aside to pass Hospital Springs. Where +the arrest of the red pony had been effected, Dewing dismounted; below +the trail, a dozen yards away, he fished Mr. Stanley Mitchell's spur from +under a prickly pear; and returned in haste to Cobre. + +After his supper Stanley strolled into Zurich's--The New York Store. + +Unknown to him, at that hour brown Awguan was being driven back to his +little home corral, resaddled--with Stanley's saddle--and led away into +the dark. + +Stanley exchanged greetings with the half-dozen customers who lingered at +the counters, and demanded his mail. Zurich handed out two fat letters +with the postmark of Abingdon, New York. While Stanley read them, Zurich +called across the store to a purchaser of cigars and tobacco: + +"Hello, Wiley! Thought you had gone to Silverbell so wild and fierce." + +"Am a-going now," said Wiley, "soon as I throw a couple or three drinks +under my belt." + +"Say, Bat, do you think you'll make the morning train? It's going on nine +now." + +"Surest thing you know! That span of mine can stroll along mighty peart. +Once I get out on the flat, we'll burn the breeze." + +"Come over here, then," said Zurich. "I want you to take some cash and +send it down to the bank by express--about eight hundred; and some checks +besides. I can't wait for the stage--it won't get there till to-morrow +night. I've overdrawn my account, with my usual carelessness, and I want +this money to get to the bank before the checks do." + +Stanley went back to his little one-roomed house. He shaved, bathed, laid +out his Sunday best, re-read his precious letters, and dropped off to +dreamless sleep. + +Between midnight and one o'clock Bat Wiley, wild-eyed and raging, burst +into the barroom of the Admiral Dewey and startled with a tale of wrongs +such part of wakeful Cobre as there made wassail. At the crossing of +Largo Draw he had been held up at a gun's point by a single robber on +horseback; Zurich's money had been taken from him, together with some +seventy dollars of his own; his team had been turned loose; it had taken +him nearly an hour to catch them again, so delaying the alarm by that +much. + +Boots and spurs; saddling of horses; Bob Holland, the deputy sheriff, was +called from his bed; a swift posse galloped into the night, joined at the +last moment by Mr. Dewing, who had retired early, but had been roused by +the clamor. + +They came to Largo Crossing at daybreak. The trail of the robber's horse +led straight to Cobre, following bypaths through the mountains. The +tracks showed plainly that his coming had been by these same short cuts, +saving time while Bat Wiley had followed the tortuous stage road through +the hills. Halfway back a heavy spur lay in the trail; some one +recognized it as Stanley Mitchell's--a smith-wrought spur, painfully +fashioned from a single piece of drill steel. + +They came to Cobre before sunup; they found brown Awguan, dejected and +sweat-streaked, standing in hip-shot weariness on the hill near his +corral. In the corral Stanley's saddle lay in the sand, the blankets +sweat-soaked. + +Unwillingly enough, Holland woke Stan from a smiling sleep to arrest him. +They searched the little room, finding the mate to the spur found on the +trail, but nothing else to their purpose. But at last, bringing Stan's +saddle in before locking the house, Bull Pepper noticed a bumpy +appearance in the sheepskin lining, and found, between saddle skirt and +saddle tree, the stolen money in full, and even the checks that Zurich +had sent. + +They haled Stan before the justice, who was also proprietor of the +Mountain House. Waiving examination, Stanley Mitchell was held to +meet the action of the Grand Jury; and in default of bond--his guilt +being assured and manifest--he was committed to Tucson Jail. + +The morning stage, something delayed on his account, bore him away under +guard, _en route_, most clearly, for the penitentiary. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Mr. Peter Johnson's arrival in Morning Gate Pass was coincident with +that of a very bright and businesslike sun. Mr. Johnson had made a night +ride from the Gavilan country, where he had spent the better part of a +pleasant week, during which he had contrived to commingle a minimum of +labor with a joyous maximum of innocent amusement. The essence of these +diversions consisted of attempts--purposely clumsy--to elude the +vigilance of such conspirator prospectors as yet remained to neighbor +him; sudden furtive sallies and excursions, beginning at all unreasonable +and unexpected hours, ending always in the nothing they set out for, +followed always by the frantic espionage of his mystified and bedeviled +guardians--on whom the need fell that some of them must always watch +while their charge reposed from his labors. + +Tiring at last of this pastime, observing also that his playfellows grew +irritable and desperate, Mr. Johnson had sagely concluded that his +entertainment palled. Caching most of his plunder and making a light pack +of the remainder, he departed, yawning, taking trail for Cobre in the +late afternoon of the day preceding his advent in Morning Gate. + +He perched on the saddle, with a leg curled round the horn; he whistled +the vivacious air of Tule, Tule Pan, a gay fanfaronade of roistering +notes, the Mexican words for which are, for considerations of high +morality, best unsung. + +The pack-horses paced down the trail, far ahead, with snatched nibblings +at convenient wayside tufts of grass. + +Jackson Carr, freighter, was still camped at Hospital Springs. He lifted +up his eyes as this careless procession sauntered down the hills; and, +rising, intercepted its coming at the forks of the trail, heading the +pack-horses in toward his camp. He walked with a twisting limp, his blue +eyes were faded and pale, his bearded face was melancholy and sad; but as +he seated himself on a stone and waited for Johnson's coming, some of the +sadness passed and his somber face lit up with unwonted animation. + +"Howdy, Pete! I heard yuh was coming. I waited for yuh." + +Pete leaped from his horse and gripped the freighter's hand. + +"Jackson Carr, by all that's wonderful! Jack, old man! How is it with +you?" + +Jackson Carr hesitated, speaking slowly: + +"Sally's gone, Pete. She died eight years ago. She had a hard life of it, +Pete. Gay and cheerful to the last, though. Always such a brave little +trick..." + +His voice trailed off to silence. It was long before Pete Johnson broke +upon that silence. + +"We'll soon be by with it, Jack. Day before yesterday we was boys +together in Uvalde an' Miss Sally a tomboy with us. To-morrow will be no +worse, as I figure it." He looked hard at the hills. "It can't be all a +silly joke. That would be too stupid! No jolthead made these hills. It's +all right, I reckon.... And the little shaver? He was only a yearlin' +when I saw him last. And I haven't heard a word about you since." + +"Right as rain, Bobby is. Goin' on ten now. Of course 'tain't as if he +had his mother to look after him; but I do the best I can by him. Wish +he had a better show for schoolin', though. I haven't been prosperin' +much--since Sally died. Seems like I sorter lost my grip. But I aim to +put Bobby in school here when it starts up, next fall. I am asking you no +questions about yourself, Pete, because I have done little but ask +questions about you since I first heard you were here, four or five days +ago." + +"By hooky, Jack, I never expected to see you again. Where you been all +these years? And how'd you happen to turn up here?" + +"Never mind me, Pete. Here is too much talk of my affairs and none of +yours. Man, I have news for your ear! Your pardner's in jail." + +"Ya-as? What's he been doin' now?" + +"Highway robbery. He got caught with the goods on. Eight or nine +hundred." + +"The little old skeesicks! Who'd have thought it of him?" said Pete +tolerantly. Then his face clouded over. "He might have let me in on it!" +he complained. "Jack, you lead me to your grub pile and tell me all about +it. Sounds real interestin'. Where's Bob? He asleep yet?" + +"Huh! Asleep?" said Carr with a sniff that expressed fatherly pride in no +small degree. + +"Not him! Lit out o' here at break o' day--him and that devil horse of +his, wrangling the work stock. He's a mighty help to me. I ain't very +spry on my pins since--you know." + +To eke out the words he gave an extra swing to his twisted leg. They came +to a great freight wagon under a tree, with tackle showing that it was a +six-horse outfit. + +"Here we are! 'Light down and unsaddle, Petey, and we'll take off the +packs. Turn your horses loose. Bobby'll look out for them when he comes. +No need to hobble. There! Wash up? Over yonder's the pan. I'll pour your +coffee and one for myself. I've eaten already. Pitch in!" + +Pete equipped himself with tinware and cutlery, doubled one leg under and +sat upon it before the fire. From the ovens and skillets on the embers +Pete heaped his plate with a savory stew, hot sourdough bread, fried +rabbit, and canned corn fried to a delicate golden brown. Pete took a +deep draught of the unsweetened hot black coffee, placed the cup on the +sand beside him, and gathered up knife and fork. + +From the farther side of the fire Carr brought another skillet, +containing jerky, with onions and canned tomatoes. + +"From the recipe of a nobleman in the county," he said. + +"Now, then," said Pete, "tell it to me." + +So Carr told him at length the story of the robbery and Stanley +Mitchell's arrest, aided by a few questions from Pete. + +"And the funny thing is, there's a lot of folks not so well satisfied +yet, for all they found the money and notwithstandin' the young feller +himself didn't make no holler. They say he wasn't that kind. The deputy +sher'f, 'special, says he don't believe but what it was a frame-up to do +him. And Bull Pepper, that found the money hid in the saddle riggin', +says he: 'That money was put there a-purpose to be found; fixed so it +wouldn't be missed.'" + +He looked a question. + +"Ya-as," said Pete. + +Thus encouraged, Carr continued: + +"And Old Mose Taylor, at the Mountain House--Mitchell got his hearin' +before him, you know--he says Mitchell ain't surprised or excited or much +worried, and makes no big kick, just sits quiet, a-studyin', and he's +damned if he believes he ever done it. Oh, yes! Mose told me if I see you +to tell you young Mitchell left some money in the safe for you." + +"Ya-as," said Pete. "Here comes your _caballada_. Likely looking horses, +Jack." + +"A leetle thin," said Carr. + +He took six nose-bags, already filled, and fed his wagon stock. Bobby +pulled the saddle from the Nan-na pony, tied him to a bush, and gave +him breakfast from his own small _morral_. Then he sidled toward the +fire. + +"Bobby, come over here," said Bobby's father. "This is your stepuncle +Pete." + +Bobby complied. He gave Pete a small grimy hand and looked him over +thoughtfully from tip to tip, opening his blue eyes to their widest for +that purpose, under their long black lashes. + +"You Stan Mitchell's pardner?" + +"I am that." + +"You goin' to break him out o' the pen?" + +"Surest thing you know!" said Pete. + +"That's good!" He relaxed his grip on Pete's hand and addressed himself +to breakfast. "I like Stan," he announced, with his head in the +chuck-box. + + +Pete used the opportunity to exchange a look with Bobby's father. + +Bobby emerged from the chuck-box and resumed the topic of Stanley +Mitchell. + +"He'll make a hand after he's been here a spell--Stan will," he stated +gravely. + +"Oh, you know him, then?" + +"I was with him the evenin' before the big doin's. He didn't steal no +money!" + +"What makes you think so?" + +"Easy! He's got brains, hain't he? I rode with him maybe a mile, but I +could see that. Well! If he'd stole that money, they wouldn't 'a' found +it yet. Them fellows make me tired!" + +Pete made a pretext of thirst and brought a bucket for water from the +spring, crooking a finger at Jackson Carr to follow. Carr found him +seated at the spring, shaking with laughter. + +"Jack, he's all there--your boy! Couldn't any judge size it up better." + +"Frame-up, then?" + +"Sure! That part's all right." + +"I see you wasn't much taken aback." + +"No. We was expectin' something like that and had discounted it. I'm just +as well pleased Stan's in jail just now, and I'm goin' to leave him there +a spell. Safer there. You remember old Hank Bergman?" + +Carr nodded. + +"Well, Hank's the sheriff here--and he'll give us a square deal. Now I'm +goin' back to interview that boy of yours some more. I reckon you're +right proud of that kid, Jack." + +"Yes; I am. Bobby's a pretty good boy most ways. But he swears something +dreadful." + +"Pull a strap off of him," said Pete warmly. "That's a damn fine boy, and +you want to start him right. That's half the battle." + +Pete returned to the fire for a final cup of coffee. + +"Young man," he said, "would you know that brown horse Stan was ridin' +when you met up with him?" + +"Awguan? Sure! I'd know him in hell!" said Bobby. + +"Well, Stan turned that horse loose to rustle for himself, of course. Do +you reckon you could stir round and find him for me--if your dad can +spare you? I want to go to the railroad to-night, and Awguan, he's fresh. +My horses are tired." + +"If you don't want that horse," said Bobby, "don't send me after him." + +"Now, Jack," said Pete after Bobby had departed on the search for Awguan, +"you go away and don't pester me. I want to think." + +To the processes of thought, for the space of four pipes, he gave aid by +hugging his knees, as if he had called them in consultation. Then he +summoned Jackson Carr. + +"How're you fixed for work, Jack?" + +"None. I reckon to get plenty, though, when I get my teams fitted up. +They're jaded from a lumber job." + +"You're hired--for a year, month, and day. And as much longer as you +like. Suit you?" + +"Suits me." + +"You're my foreman, then. Hire your teams the first thing. Make your own +terms. I'll tell you this much--it's a big thing. A mine--a he-mine; +copper. That's partly why Stan is in jail. And if it comes off, you won't +need to worry about the kid's schooling. I aim to give you, extra, five +per cent of my share--and, for men like you and me, five per cent of this +lay is exactly the same as all of it. It's that big. + +"I'm askin' you to obey orders in the dark. If you don't know any details +you won't be mad, and you won't know who to be mad at; so you won't jump +in to save the day if I fail to come through with my end of it on +schedule, and get yourself killed off. That ain't all, either. Your face +always gives you away; if you knew all the very shrewd people I'm +buckin', you'd give 'em the marble eye, and they'd watch you. Not knowin' +'em, you'll treat 'em all alike, and you won't act suspicious. + +"Listen now: You drift out quiet and go down on the Gila, somewhere +between Mohawk Siding and Walton. Know that country? Yes? That's good. +Leave your teams there and you go down to Yuma on the train. I'll +get a bit of money for you in Tucson, and it'll be waitin' for you in Old +Man Brownell's store, in Yuma. You get a minin' outfit, complete, and a +good layout of grub, enough to last six or seven men till it's all gone, +and some beddin', two or three thirty-thirty rifles, any large quantity +of cartridges, and 'most anything else you see. + +"Here's the particular part: Buy two more wagons, three-and-a-half-inch +axles; about twenty barrels; two pack-saddles and kegs for same, for +packing water from some tanks when your water wagons don't do the trick. +Ship all this plunder up to Mohawk. + +"Here's the idea: I'm goin' back East for capital, and I'm comin' back +soon. Me and my friends--not a big bunch, but every man-jack of 'em to be +a regular person--are goin' to start from Tucson, or Douglas, and hug the +Mexican border west across the desert, ridin' light and fast; you're to +go south with water; and Cobre is to be none the wiser. Here, I'll make +you a map." + +He traced the map in the sand. + +"Here's the railroad, and Mohawk; here's your camp on the Gila. Just as +soon as you get back, load up one of your new wagons with water and go +south. There's no road, but there's two ranges that makes a lane, twenty +miles wide, leadin' to the southeast: Lomas Negras, the black mountain +due south of Mohawk, and Cabeza Prieta, a brown-colored range, farther +west. Keep right down the middle, but miss all the sand you can; you'll +be layin' out a road you'll have to travel a heap. Only, of course, you +can straighten it out and better it after you learn the country. It might +be a pious idea for you to ship up a mowing machine and a hayrake from +Yuma, like you was fixin' to cut wild hay. It's a good plan always to +leave something to satisfy curiosity. Or, play you was aimin' to +dry-farm. You shape up your rig to suit yourself--but play up to it." + +"I'll hay it," said Carr. + +"All right--hay it, by all means. Take your first load of water out about +twenty-five miles and leave it--using as little as you can to camp on. +You'll have to have three full sets of chains and whiffletrees for your +six-horse team, of course. You can't bother with dragging a buckboard +along behind to take 'em back with. Go back to the railroad, take a +second load of water, camp the first night out at your first wagon, and +leave the second load of water farther south, twenty-five miles or so. + +"Then go back to the Gila and pack the rest of your plunder in this wagon +of yours, all ready to start the minute you get a telegram from me. Wire +back to me so I'll know when to start. You will have water for your +horses at twenty-five miles and fifty, and enough left to use when you go +back for your next trip. After that we'll have other men to help you. + +"When you leave the last wagon, put on all the water your horses can +draw. You'll strike little or no sand after that and we'll need all the +water we can get. With no bad luck, you come out opposite the south end +of your black mountain the third day. Wait there for us. It's three long +days, horseback, from Tucson; we ought to get to your camp that night. + +"If we don't come, wait till noon the next day. Then saddle up, take your +pack-saddles and kegs, and drag it for the extreme south end of the +mountains on your west, about twenty miles. That ought to leave enough +water at the wagon for us to camp on if we come later. If you wait for +us, your horses will use it all up. + +"When you come to the south end of your Cabeza Prieta Mountain, right +spang on the border, you'll find a canon there, coming down from the +north, splitting the range. Turn up that canon, and when it gets so rough +you can't go any farther, keep right on; you'll find some rock tanks full +of water, in a box where the sun can't get 'em. That's all. Got that?" + +"I've got it," said Carr. "But Pete, aren't you taking too long a chance? +Why can't I--or both of us--just slip down there quietly and do enough +work on your mine to hold it? They're liable to beat you to it." + +"I've been tryin' to make myself believe that a long time," said Pete +earnestly; "but I am far too intelligent. These people are capable of any +rudeness. And they are strictly on the lookout. I do not count myself +timid, but I don't want to tackle it. That mine ain't worth over six or +eight millions at best." + +"But they won't be watching me," said Carr. + +"Maybe not. I hope not. For one thing, you'll have a good excuse to pull +out from Cobre. You won't get any freighting here. Old Zurich has got it +all grabbed and contracted for. All you could get would be a subcontract, +giving you a chance to do the work and let Zurich take the profit. + +"Now, to come back to this mine: No one knows where it is. It's pretty +safe till I go after it; and I'm pretty safe till I go after it. Once +we get to it, it's going to be a case of armed pickets and Who goes +there?--night and day, till we get legal title. And it's going to take +slews of money and men and horses to get water and supplies to those +miners and warriors. Listen: One or the other of two things--two--is +going to happen. Count 'em off on your fingers. Either no one will find +that mine before me and my friends meet up with you and your water, or +else some one will find it before then. If no one finds it first, we've +lost nothing. That's plain. But if my Cobre friends--the push that +railroaded Stan to jail--if they should find that place while I'm back in +New York, and little Jackson Carr working on it--Good-bye, Jackson Carr! +They'd kill you without a word. That's another thing I'm going back to +New York for besides getting money. There's something behind Stanley's +jail trip besides the copper proposition; and that something is back in +New York. I'm going to see what about it. + +"Just one thing more: If we don't come, and you have to strike out for +the tanks in Cabeza Mountain, you'll notice a mess of low, little, +insignificant, roan-colored, squatty hills spraddled along to the south +of you. You shun them hills, bearing off to your right. There's where our +mine is. And some one might be watching you or following your tracks. +That's all. Now I'm going to sleep. Wake me about an hour by sun." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Peter Johnson sat in the office of the Tucson Jail and smiled kindly +upon Mr. Stanley Mitchell. + +"Well, you got here at last," said Stan. "Gee, but I'm glad to see you! +What kept you so long?" + +"Stanley, I am surprised at you. I am so. You keep on like this and +you're going to have people down on you. Too bad! But I suppose boys will +be boys," said Pete tolerantly. + +"I knew you'd spring something like this," said Stan. "Take your time." + +"I'm afraid it's you that will take time, my boy. Can't you dig up any +evidence to help you?" + +"I don't see how. I went to sleep and didn't hear a thing; didn't wake up +till they arrested me." + +"Oh! You're claiming that you didn't do the robbin' at all? I see-e! +Standing on your previous record and insistin' you're the victim of foul +play? Sympathy dodge?... Hum! You stick to that, my boy," said Pete +benevolently. "Maybe that's as good a show as any. Get a good lawyer. +If you could hire some real fine old gentleman and a nice little old +gray-haired lady to be your parents and weep at the jury, it might help a +heap.... If you'd only had sense enough to have hid that money where it +couldn't have been found, or where it wouldn't have been a give-away on +you, at least! I suppose you was scared. But it sorter reflects back on +me, since you've been running with me lately. Folks will think I should +have taught you better. What made you do it, Stanley?" + +"I suppose you think you're going to get me roiled, you old fool! You've +got another guess, then. You can't get my nanny! But I do think you might +tell me what's been going on. Even a guilty man has his curiosity. Did +you get the money I left for you?" + +Pete's jaw sagged; his eye expressed foggy bewilderment. + +"Money? What money? I thought they got it all when they arrested you?" + +"Oh, don't be a gloomy ass! The money I left with Old Man Taylor; the +money you got down here for preliminary expenses on the mine." + +"Mine?" echoed Pete blankly. "What mine?" + +"Old stuff!" Stanley laughed aloud. "Go to it, old-timer! You can't faze +me. When you get good and ready to ring off, let me know." + +"Well, then," said Pete, "I will. Here we go, fresh. And you may not be +just the best-pleased with my plan at first, son. I'm not going to bail +you out." + +"What the hell!" said Stan. "Why not?" + +"I've thought it all out," said Pete, "and I've talked it over with the +sheriff. He's agreed. You have to meet the action of the Grand Jury, +anyhow; you couldn't leave the county; and you're better off in jail +while I go back to New York to rustle money." + +"Oh--you're going, are you?" + +"To-night. You couldn't leave the county even if you were out on bond. +The sheriff's a square man; he'll treat you right; you'll have a chance +to get shut of that insomnia, and right here's the safest place in Pima +County for you. I want a letter to that cousin of yours in Abingdon." + +"'Tisn't Abingdon--it's Vesper. And I'm not particularly anxious to tell +him that I'm in jail on a felony charge." + +"Don't want you to tell him--or anybody. I suppose you've told your girl +already? Yes? Thought so. Well, don't you tell any one else. You tell +Cousin Oscar I'm your pardner, and all right; and that you've got a mine, +and you'll guarantee the expenses for him and an expert in case they're +not satisfied upon investigation. I'll do the rest. And don't you let +anybody bail you out of jail. You stay here." + +"If I hadn't seen you perform a miracle or two before now, I'd see you +damned first!" said Stan. "But I suppose you know what you're about. It's +more than I do. Make it a quick one, will you? I find myself bored here." + +"I will. Let me outline two of the many possibilities: If I don't bail +you out, I'm doin' you dirt, ain't I? Well, then, if Zurich & Gang think +I'm double-crossin' you they'll make me a proposition to throw in with +them and throw you down on the copper mine. That's my best chance to find +out how to keep you from goin' to the pen, isn't it? And if you don't +tell Vesper that you're in jail--but Vesper finds it out, anyhow--that +gives me a chance to see who it is that lives in Vesper and keeps in +touch with Cobre. And I'll tell you something else: When I come back I'll +bail you out of jail and we'll start from here." + +"For the mine, you mean?" + +"Sure! Start right from the jail door at midnight and ride west. Zurich & +Company won't be expecting that--seein' as how I left you in the lurch, +this-a-way." + +"But my cousin will never be able to stand that ride. It's a hundred and +sixty miles--more too." + +"Your cousin can join us later--or whoever ever comes along with +development money. There'll be about four or five of us--picked men. I'm +goin' this afternoon to see an old friend--Joe Benavides--and have him +make all arrangements and be all ready to start whenever we get back, +without any delay. I won't take the sheriff, because we might have +negotiations to transact that would be highly indecorous in a sheriff. +But he's to share my share, because he put up a lot more money for the +mine to-day. I sent it on to Yuma, where an old friend of mine and the +sheriff's is to buy a six-horse load of supplies and carry 'em down to +join us, startin' when I telegraph him. + +"Got it all worked out. You do as I tell you and you'll wear diamonds on +your stripes. Give me a note for that girl of yours, too." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The hills send down a buttress to the north; against it the Susquehanna +flows swift and straight for a little space, vainly chafing. Just where +the high ridge breaks sharp and steep to the river's edge there is a +grassy level, lulled by the sound of pleasant waters; there sleep the +dead of Abingdon. + +Here is a fair and noble prospect, which in Italy or in California had +been world-famed; a beauty generous and gracious--valley, upland and +hill and curving river. The hills are checkered to squares, cleared +fields and green-black woods; inevitably the mind goes out to those who +wrought here when the forest was unbroken, and so comes back to read on +the headstones the names of the quiet dead: Hill, Barton, Clark, Green, +Camp, Hunt, Catlin, Giles, Sherwood, Tracy, Jewett, Lane, Gibson, Holmes, +Yates, Hopkins, Goodenow, Griswold, Steele. Something stirs at your +hair-roots--these are the names of the English. A few sturdy Dutch +names--Boyce, Steenburg, Van Lear--and a lonely French Mercereau; the +rest are unmixed English. + +Not unnaturally you look next for an Episcopalian Church, finding none in +Abingdon; Abingdon is given over to fiery Dissenters--the Old-World word +comes unbidden into your mouth. But you were not so far wrong; in +prosperous Vesper, to westward, every one who pretends to be any one +attends services at Saint Adalbert's, a church noted for its gracious +and satisfying architecture. In Vesper the name of Henry VIII is revered +and his example followed. + +But the inquiring mind, seeking among the living bearers of these old +names, suffers check and disillusion. There are no traditions. Their +title deeds trace back to Coxe's Manor, Nichols Patent, the Barton Tract, +the Flint Purchase, Boston Ten Townships; but in-dwellers of the land +know nothing of who or why was Coxe, or where stood his Manor House; have +no memory of the Bostonians. + +In Vesper there are genealogists who might tell you such things; old +records that might prove them; old families, enjoying wealth and +distinction without perceptible cause, with others of the ruling caste +who may have some knowledge of these matters. Such grants were not +uncommon in the Duke of York, his Province. In that good duke's day, and +later, following the pleasant fashion set by that Pope who divided his +world equally between Spain and Portugal, valleys and mountains were +tossed to supple courtiers by men named Charles, James, William, or +George, kings by the grace of God; the goodly land, the common wealth and +birth-right of the unborn, was granted in princedom parcels to king's +favorites, king's minions, to favorites of king's minions, for services +often enough unspecified. + +The toilers of Abingdon--of other Abingdons, perhaps--know none of these +things. Winter has pushed them hard, summer been all too brief; life has +been crowded with a feverish instancy of work. There is a vague memory +of the Sullivan Expedition; once a year the early settlers, as a +community enterprise, had brought salt from Syracuse; the forest had +been rafted down the river; the rest is silence. + +Perhaps this good old English stock, familiar for a thousand years with +oppression and gentility, wonted to immemorial fraud, schooled by +generations of cheerful teachers to speak no evil of dignities, to see +everything for the best in the best of possible worlds, found no +injustice in the granting of these broad manors--or, at least, no novelty +worthy of mention to their sons. There is no whisper of ancient wrong; no +hint or rankling of any irrevocable injustice. + +Doubtless some of these land grants were made, at a later day, to +soldiers of the Revolution. But the children of the Revolution maintain a +not unbecoming unreticence as to all things Revolutionary; from their +silence in this regard, as from the name of Manor, we may make safe +inference. Doubtless many of the royalist estates were confiscated at +that time. Doubtless, again, our Government, to encourage settlement, +sold land in such large parcels in early days. Incurious Abingdon cares +for none of these things. Singular Abingdon! And yet are these folk, +indeed, so singular among citizens? So unseeing a people? Consider that, +within the memory of men living, the wisdom of America has made free gift +to the railroads, to encourage their building, of so much land as goes to +the making of New England, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, +Maryland, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois; a notable encouragement! + +History does not remark upon this little transaction, however. In some +piecemeal fashion, a sentence here, a phrase elsewhere, with scores or +hundreds of pages intervening, History does, indeed, make yawning +allusion to some such trivial circumstance; refraining from comment in +the most well-bred manner imaginable. It is only the ill-affected, the +malcontents, who dwell upon such details. Is this not, indeed, a most +beautiful world, and ours the land of opportunity, progress, education? +Let our faces, then, be ever glad and shining. Let us tune ourselves with +the Infinite; let a golden thread run through all our days; no frowns, no +grouches, no scolding--no, no! No ingratitude for all the bounties of +Providence. Let us, then, be up and doing.--Doing, certainly; but why not +think a little too? + +Why is thinking in such disfavor? Why is thinking, about subjects and +things, the one crime never forgiven by respectability? We have given +away our resources, what should have been our common wealth; we have +squandered our land, wasted our forests. "Such trifles are not my +business," interrupts History, rather feverish of manner; "my duty to +record and magnify the affairs of the great."--Allow me, madam; we have +given away our coal, the wealth of the past; our oil, the wealth of +to-day; except we do presently think to some purpose, we shall give away +our stored electricity, the wealth of the future--our water power which +should, which must, remain ours and our children's. "_Socialist_!" +shrieks History. + +The youth of Abingdon speak glibly of Shepherd Kings, Constitution of +Lycurgus, Thermopylae, Consul Duilius, or the Licinian Laws; the more +advanced are even as far down as Elizabeth. For the rich and unmatched +history of their own land, they have but a shallow patter of that; no +guess at its high meaning, no hint of a possible destiny apart from glory +and greed and war, a future and opportunity "too high for hate, too great +for rivalry." The history of America is the story of the pioneer and the +story of the immigrant. The students are taught nothing of the one or +the other--except for the case of certain immigrant pioneers, enskied +and sainted, who never left the hearing of the sea; a sturdy and +stout-hearted folk enough, but something press-agented. + +Outside of school the student hears no mention of living immigrant or +pioneer save in terms of gibe and sneer and taunt. The color and high +romance of his own township is a thing undreamed of, as vague and +shapeless as the foundations of Enoch, the city of Cain. And for his own +farmstead, though for the first time on earth a man made here a home; +though valor blazed the path; though he laid the foundation of that house +in hope and in love set up the gates of it, none knows the name of that +man or of his bolder mate. There are no traditions--and no ballads. + +A seven-mile stretch of the river follows the outlines of a sickle, or, +if you are not familiar with sickles, of a handmade figure five. Abingdon +lies at the sickle point, prosperous Vesper at the end of the handle; +Vesper, the county seat, abode of lawyers and doctors--some bankers, too. +Home also of retired business men, of retired farmers; home of old +families, hereditary county officials, legislators. + +Overarched with maples, the old road parallels the river bend, a mile +away. The broad and fertile bottom land within the loop of this figure +five is divided into three great farms--"gentlemen's estates." The +gentlemen are absentees all. + +A most desirable neighborhood; the only traces of democracy on the river +road are the schoolhouse and the cemetery. Malvern and Brookfield were +owned respectively by two generals, gallant soldiers of the Civil War, +successful lawyers, since, of New York City. Stately, high-columned +Colonial houses, far back from the road; the clustered tenant houses, the +vast barns, long red tobacco sheds--all are eloquent of a time when +lumber was the cheapest factor of living. + +The one description serves for the two farms. These men had been boys +together, their careers the same; they had married sisters. But the red +tobacco sheds of Malvern were only three hundred feet long--this general +had left a leg at Malvern Hill--while the Brookfield sheds stretched full +five hundred feet. At Brookfield, too, were the great racing-stables, +of fabulous acreage; disused now and falling to decay. One hundred and +sixty thoroughbreds had sheltered here of old, with an army of grooms +and trainers. There had been a race-track--an oval mile at first, a +kite-shaped mile in later days. Year by year now sees the stables torn +down and carted away for other uses, but the strong-built paddocks +remain to witness the greatness of days departed. + +Nearest to Vesper, on the smallest of the three farms, stood the largest +of the three houses--The Meadows; better known as the Mitchell House. + +McClintock, a foreigner from Philadelphia, married a Mitchell in '67. A +good family, highly connected, the Mitchells; brilliant, free-handed, +great travelers; something wildish, the younger men--boys will be boys. + +In a silent, undemonstrative manner of his own McClintock gathered the +loose money in and about Vesper; a shrewd bargainer, ungiven to +merrymakings; one who knew how to keep dollars at work. It is worthy of +note that no after hint of ill dealing attached to these years. In his +own bleak way the man dealt justly; not without a prudent liberality as +well. For debtors deserving, industrious, and honest, he observed a +careful and exact kindness, passing by his dues cheerfully, to take +them at a more convenient season. Where death had been, long sickness, +unmerited misfortune--he did not stop there; advancing further sums for a +tiding-over, after careful consideration of needs and opportunities, +coupled with a reasonable expectation of repayment; cheerfully taking any +security at hand, taking the security of character as cheerfully when he +felt himself justified; in good time exacting his dues to the last +penny--still cheerfully. Not heartless, either; in cases of extreme +distress--more than once or twice--McClintock had both written off the +obligation and added to it something for the day's need, in a grim but +not unkindly fashion; always under seal of secrecy. No extortioner, this; +a dry, passionless, pertinacious man. + +McClintock bought the Mitchell House in the seventies--boys still +continuing to be boyish--and there, a decade later, his wife died, +childless. + +McClintock disposed of his takings unobserved, holding Mitchell House +only, and slipped away to New York or elsewhere. The rents of Mitchell +House were absorbed by a shadowy, almost mythical agent, whose name +you always forgot until you hunted up the spidery signature on the +receipts given by the bank for your rent money. + +Except for a curious circumstance connected with Mitchell House, +McClintock had been quite forgotten of Vesper and Abingdon. The great +house was much in demand as a summer residence; those old oak-walled +rooms were spacious and comfortable, if not artistic; the house was +admirably kept up. It was in the most desirable neighborhood; there was +fishing and boating; the situation was "sightly." We borrow the last word +from the hill folk, the presentee landlords; the producers, or, to put +it quite bluntly, the workers. + +As the years slipped by, it crept into common knowledge that not every +one could obtain a lease of Mitchell House. Applicants, Vesperian or +"foreigners," were kept waiting; almost as if the invisible agent were +examining into their eligibility. And it began to be observed that +leaseholders were invariably light, frivolous, pleasure-loving people, +such as kept the big house crowded with youth and folly, to company youth +of its own. Such lessees were like to make agriculture a mockery; the +Mitchell Place, as a farm, became a hissing, and a proverb, and an +astonishment: a circumstance so singularly at variance with remembered +thrift of the reputed owner as to keep green that owner's name. Nor was +that all. As youth became mature and wise, in the sad heartrending +fashion youth has, or flitted to new hearths, in that other heartbreaking +way of youth, it was noted that leases were not to be renewed on any +terms; and the new tenants, in turn, were ever such light and unthrift +folk as the old, always with tall sons and gay daughters--as if the +mythical agent or his ghostly principal had set apart that old house +to mirth and joy and laughter, to youth and love. It was remembered then, +on certain struggling hill farms, that old McClintock had been childless; +and certain hill babies were cuddled the closer for that. + +Then, thirty years later, or forty--some such matter--McClintock slipped +back to Vesper unheralded--very many times a millionaire; incidentally a +hopeless invalid, sentenced for life to a wheeled chair; Vesper's most +successful citizen. + +Silent, uncomplaining, unapproachable, and grim, he kept to his rooms in +the Iroquois, oldest of Vesper's highly modern hotels; or was wheeled +abroad by his one attendant, who was valet, confidant, factotum, and +friend--Cornelius Van Lear, withered, parchment-faced, and brown, +strikingly like Rameses II as to appearance and garrulity. It was to Van +Lear that Vesper owed the known history of those forty years of +McClintock's. Closely questioned, the trusted confidant had once yielded +to cajolery. + +"We've been away," said Van Lear. + +It was remarked that the inexplicable Mitchell House policy remained in +force in the years since McClintock's return; witness the present +incumbent, frivolous Thompson, foreigner from Buffalo--him and his house +parties! It was Mitchell House still, mauger the McClintock millions and +a half-century of possession. Whether this clinging to the old name was +tribute to the free-handed Mitchells or evidence of fine old English +firmness is a matter not yet determined. + +The free-handed Mitchells themselves, as a family, were no more. They had +scattered, married or died, lost their money, gone to work, or otherwise +disappeared. Vesper kept knowledge of but two of them: Lawyer Oscar, +solid, steady, highly respectable, already in the way of becoming Squire +Mitchell, and like to better the Mitchell tradition of prosperity--a warm +man, a getting-on man, not to mention that he was the older nephew and +probable heir to the McClintock millions; and Oscar's cousin, Stanley, +youngest nephew of the millions, who, three years ago, had defied +McClintock to his face. Stan Mitchell had always been wild, even as a +boy, they said; they remembered now. + +It seemed that McClintock had commanded young Stan to break his +engagement to that Selden girl--the schoolma'am at Brookfield, +my dear--one of the hill people. There had been a terrible scene. +Earl Dawson was staying at the Iroquois and his door happened to be +open a little. + +"Then you'll get none of my money!" said the old gentleman. + +"To hell with your money!" Stan said, and slammed the door. + +He was always a dreadful boy, my dear! So violent and headstrong! Always +picking on my poor Johnny at school; Johnny came home once with the most +dreadful bruise over his eye--Stanley's work. + +So young Stan flung away to the West three years ago. The Selden girl +still teaches the Brookfield District; Stan Mitchell writes to her, the +mail carrier says. No-o; not so bad-looking, exactly--in that common sort +of way! + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +"Far be it from me to--to--" + +"Cavil or carp?" + +"Exactly. Thank you. Beautiful line! Quite Kipling. Far from me to cavil +or carp, Tum-tee-tum-tee-didy, Or shift the shuttle from web or warp. And +all for my dark-eyed lydy! Far be it from me, as above. Nevertheless--" + +"Why, then, the exertion?" + +"Duty. Friendship. Francis Charles Boland, you're lazy." + +"Ferdie," said Francis Charles, "you are right. I am." + +"Too lazy to defend yourself against the charge of being lazy?" + +"Not at all. The calm repose; that sort of thing--what?" + +Mr. Boland's face assumed the patient expression of one misjudged. + +"Laziness!" repeated Ferdie sternly. "'Tis a vice that I abhor. Slip me a +smoke." + +Francis Charles fumbled in the cypress humidor at Ferdie's elbow; he +leaned over the table and gently closed Ferdie's finger and thumb upon +a cigarette. + +"Match," sighed Ferdie. + +Boland struck a match; he held the flame to the cigarette's end. Ferdie +puffed. Then he eyed his friend with judicial severity. + +"Abominably lazy! Every opportunity--family, education--brains, perhaps. +Why don't you go to work?" + +"My few and simple wants--" Boland waved his hand airily. "Besides, +who am I that I should crowd to the wall some worthy and industrious +person?--practically taking the bread from the chappie's mouth, you +might say. No, no!" said Mr. Boland with emotion; "I may have my faults, +but--" + +"Why don't you go in for politics?" + +"Ferdinand, little as you may deem it, there are limits." + +"You have no ambition whatever?" + +"By that sin fell the angels--and look at them now!" + +"Why not take a whirl at law?" + +Boland sat up stiffly. "Mr. Sedgwick," he observed with exceeding +bitterness, "you go too far. Take back your ring! Henceforth we meet +as str-r-r-rangers!" + +"Ever think of writing? You do enough reading, Heaven knows." + +Mr. Boland relapsed to a sagging sprawl; he adjusted his finger tips +to touch with delicate nicety. + +"Modesty," he said with mincing primness, "is the brightest jewel in my +crown. Litter and literature are not identical, really, though the +superficial observer might be misled to think so. And yet, in a higher +sense, perhaps, it may almost be said, with careful limitations, that, +considering certain delicate _nuances_ of filtered thought, as it were, +and making meticulous allowance for the personal equation--" + +"Grisly ass! Well, then, what's the matter with the army?" + +"My prudence is such," responded Mr. Boland dreamily--"in fact, my +prudence is so very such, indeed--one may almost say so extremely +such--not to mention the pertinent and trenchant question so well +formulated by the little Peterkin--" + +"Why don't you marry?" + +"Ha!" said Francis Charles. + +"Whachamean--'Ha'?" + +"I mean what the poet meant when he spoke so feelingly of the + +"------eager boys +Who might have tasted girl's love and been stung." + +"Didn't say it. Who?" + +"Did, too! William Vaughn Moody. So I say 'Ha!' in the deepest and +fullest meaning of the word; and I will so defend it with my life." + +"If you were good and married once, you might not be such a fool," said +Sedgwick hopefully. + +"Take any form but this"--Mr. Boland inflated his chest and held himself +oratorically erect--"and my firm nerves shall never tremble! I have +tracked the tufted pocolunas to his lair; I have slain the eight-legged +galliwampus; I have bearded the wallipaloova in his noisome den, and +gazed into the glaring eyeballs of the fierce Numidian liar; and I'll +try everything once--except this. But I have known too many too-charming +girls too well. To love them," said Francis Charles sadly, "was a +business education." + +He lit a cigar, clasped his hands behind his head, tilted his chair +precariously, and turned a blissful gaze to the little rift of sky beyond +the crowding maples. + +Mr. Boland was neither tall nor short; neither broad nor slender; neither +old nor young. He wore a thick mop of brown hair, tinged with chestnut in +the sun. His forehead was broad and high and white and shapely. His eyes +were deep-set and wide apart, very innocent, very large, and very brown, +fringed with long lashes that any girl might envy. There the fine +chiseling ceased. Ensued a nose bold and broad, freckled and inclined to +puggishness; a wide and generous mouth, quirky as to the corners of it; +high cheek bones; and a square, freckled jaw--all these ill-assorted +features poised on a strong and muscular neck. + +Sedgwick, himself small and dark and wiry, regarded Mr. Boland with a +scorning and deprecatory--but with private approval. + +"You're getting on, you know. You're thirty--past. I warn you." + +"Ha!" said Francis Charles again. + +Sedgwick raised his voice appealingly. + +"Hi, Thompson! Here a minute! Shouldn't Francis Charles marry?" + +"Ab-so-lute-ly!" boomed a voice within. + +The two young men, it should be said, sat on the broad porch of Mitchell +House. The booming voice came from the library. + +"Mustn't Francis Charles go to work?" + +In the library a chair overturned with a crash. A startled silence; then +the sound of swift feet. Thompson came through the open French window; a +short man, with a long shrewd face and a frosted poll. Feigned anxiety +sat on his brow; he planted his feet firmly and wide apart, and twinkled +down at his young guests. + +"Pardon me, Mr. Sedgwick--I fear I did not catch your words correctly. +You were saying--?" + +Francis Charles brought his chair to level and spoke with great feeling: + +"As our host, to whom our bright young lives have been entrusted for a +time--standing to us, as you do, almost as a locoed parent--I put it to +you--" + +"Shut up!" roared Ferdie. "Thompson, you see this--this object? You hear +it? Mustn't it go to work?" + +"Ab-so-lutissimusly!" + +"I protest against this outrage," said Francis Charles. "Thompson, you're +beastly sober. I appeal to your better self. I am a philosopher. Sitting +under your hospitable rooftree, I render you a greater service by my +calm and dispassionate insight than I could possibly do by any ill-judged +activity. Undisturbed and undistracted by greed, envy, ambition, or +desire, I see things in their true proportion. A dreamy spectator of the +world's turmoil, I do not enter into the hectic hurly-burly of life; I +merely withhold my approval from cant, shams, prejudice, formulae, +hypocrisy, and lies. Such is the priceless service of the philosopher." + +"Philosopher, my foot!" jeered Ferdie. "You're a brow! A solemn and +sanctimonious brow is bad enough, but a sprightly and godless brow is +positive-itutely the limit!" + +"That's absurd, you know," objected Francis Charles. "No man is really +irreligious. Whether we make broad the phylactery or merely our minds, we +are all alike at heart. The first waking thought is invariably, What of +the day? It is a prayer--unconscious, unspoken, and sincere. We are all +sun worshipers; and when we meet we invoke the sky--a good day to you; a +good night to you. It is a highly significant fact that all conversation +begins with the weather. The weather is the most important fact in any +one day, and, therefore, the most important fact in the sum of our days. +We recognize this truth in our greetings; we propitiate the dim and +nameless gods of storm and sky; we reverence their might, their paths +above our knowing. Nor is this all. A fine day; a bad day--with the +careless phrases we assent to such tremendous and inevitable +implications: the helplessness of humanity, the brotherhood of man, +equality, democracy. For what king or kaiser, against the implacable +wind--" + +Ferdie rose and pawed at his ears with both hands. + +"For the love of the merciful angels! Can the drivel and cut the drool!" + +"Those are very good words, Sedgwick," said Mr. Thompson approvingly. +"The word I had on my tongue was--balderdash. But your thought was +happier. Balderdash is a vague and shapeless term. It conjures up no +definite vision. But drivel and drool--very excellent words." + +Mr. Thompson took a cigar and seated himself, expectant and happy. + +"Boland, what did you come here for, anyhow?" demanded Ferdie +explosively. "Do you play tennis? Do you squire the girls? Do you take +a hand at bridge? Do you fish? Row? Swim? Motor? Golf? Booze? Not you! +Might as well have stayed in New York. Two weeks now you have perched oh +a porch--perched and sat, and nothing more. Dawdle and dream and foozle +over your musty old books. Yah! Highbrow!" + +"Little do you wot; but I do more--ah, far more!--than perching on this +porch." + +"What do you do? Mope and mowl? If so, mowl for us. I never saw anybody +mowl. Or does one hear people when they mowl?" + +"Naturally it wouldn't occur to you--but I think. About things. +Mesopotamia. The spring-time of the world. Ur of the Chaldees. +Melchisedec. Arabia Felix. The Simple Life; and Why Men Leave Home." + +"No go, Boland, old socks!" said Thompson. "Our young friend is right, +you know. You are not practical. You are booky. You are a dreamer. Get +into the game. Get busy! Get into business. Get a wad. Get! Found an +estate. Be somebody!" + +"As for me, I go for a stroll. You give little Frankie a pain in his +feelings! For a crooked tuppence I'd get somebody to wire me to come +to New York at once.--Uttering these intrepid words the brave youth rose +gracefully and, without a glance at his detractors, sauntered +nonchalantly to the gate.--Unless, of course, you meant it for my good?" +He bent his brows inquiringly. + +"We meant it--" said Ferdie, and paused. + +"--for your good," said Thompson. + +"Oh, well, if you meant it for my good!" said Boland graciously. "All +the same, if I ever decide to 'be somebody,' I'm going to be Francis +Charles Boland, and not a dismal imitation of a copy of some celebrated +poseur--I'll tell you those! Speaking as a man of liberal--or +lax--morality, you surprise me. You are godly and cleanly men; yet, when +you saw in me a gem of purest ray serene, did you appeal to my better +nature? Nary! In a wild and topsy-turvy world, did you implore me to +devote my splendid and unwasted energies in the service of Good, with a +capital G? Nix! You appealed to ambition, egotism, and greed.... Fie! A +fie upon each of you!" + +"Don't do that! Have mercy! We appeal to your better nature. We repent." + +"All the same, I am going for my stroll, rejoined the youth, striving to +repress his righteous indignation out of consideration for his humiliated +companions, who now--alas, too late!--saw their conduct in its true +light. For, he continued, with a flashing look from his intelligent eyes, +I desire no pedestal; I am not avaricious. Be mine the short and simple +flannels of the poor." + + * * * * * + +An hour later Francis Charles paused in his strolling, cap in hand, and +turned back with Mary Selden. + +"How fortunate!" he said. + +"Isn't it?" said Miss Selden. "Odd, too, considering that I take this +road home every evening after school is out. And when we reflect that you +chanced this way last Thursday at half-past four--and again on Friday--it +amounts to a coincidence." + +"Direction of the subconscious mind," explained Francis Charles, +unabashed. "Profound meditation--thirst for knowledge. What more natural +than that my heedless foot should stray, instinctively as it were, toward +the--the--" + +"--old oaken schoolhouse that stood in a swamp. It is a shame, of the +burning variety, that a State as wealthy as New York doesn't and won't +provide country schools with playgrounds big enough for anything but +tiddledy-winks!" declared Miss Selden. Her fine firm lip curled. Then she +turned her clear gray eyes upon Mr. Boland. "Excuse me for interrupting +you, please." + +"Don't mention it! People always have to interrupt me when they +want to say anything. And now may I put a question or two? +About--geography--history--that sort of thing?" + +The eyes further considered Mr. Boland. + +"You are not very complimentary to Mr. Thompson's house party, I think," +said Mary in a cool, little, matter-of-fact voice. + +Altogether a cool-headed and practical young lady, this midget +schoolma'am, with her uncompromising directness of speech and her clear +eyes--a merry, mirthful, frank, dainty, altogether delightful small +person. + +Francis Charles stole an appreciative glance at the trim and jaunty +figure beside him and answered evasively: + +"It was like this, you know: Was reading Mark Twain's 'Life on the +Mississippi.' On the first page he observes of that river that it draws +its water supply from twenty-eight States, all the way from Delaware to +Idaho. I don't just see it. Delaware, you know--that's pretty steep!" + +"If it were not for his reputation I should suspect Mr. Clemens of +levity," said Mary. "Could it have been a slip?" + +"No slip. It's repeated. At the end of the second chapter he says this--I +think I have it nearly word for word: 'At the meeting of the waters from +Delaware and from Itasca, and from the mountain ranges close upon the +Pacific--' Now what did he mean by making this very extraordinary +statement twice? Is there a catch about it? Canals, or something?" + +"I think, perhaps," said Mary, "he meant to poke fun at our habit of +reading without attention and of accepting statement as proof." + +"That's it, likely. But maybe there's a joker about canals. Wasn't there +a Baltimore and Ohio Canal? But again, if so, how did water from Delaware +get to Baltimore? Anyhow, that's how it all began--studying about canals. +For, how about this dry canal along here? It runs forty miles that I know +of--I've seen that much of it, driving Thompson's car. It must have cost +a nice bunch of money. Who built it? When did who build it? What did it +cost? Where did it begin? Where did it start to? Was it ever finished? +Was it ever used? What was the name of it? Nobody seems to know." + +"I can't answer one of those questions, Mr. Boland." + +"And you a schoolmistress! Come now! I'll give you one more chance. What +are the principal exports of Abingdon?" + +"That's easy. Let me see: potatoes, milk, eggs, butter, cheese. And hay, +lumber, lath and bark--chickens and--and apples, apple cider--rye, +buckwheat, buckwheat flour, maple sirup; pork and veal and beef; and--and +that's all, I guess." + +"Wrong! I'll mark you fifty per cent. You've omitted the most important +item. Abingdon--and every country town, I suppose--ships off her young +people--to New York; to the factories; a few to the West. That is why +Abingdon is the saddest place I've ever seen. Every farmhouse holds a +tragedy. The young folk-- + +"They are all gone away; + The house is shut and still. + There is nothing more to say." + +Mary Selden stopped; she looked up at her companion thoughtfully. +Seashell colors ebbed from her face and left it almost pale. + +"Thank you for reminding me," she said. "There is another bit of +information I think you should have. You'll probably think me bold, +forward, and the rest of it; I can't help that; you need the knowledge." + +Francis Charles groaned. + +"For my good, of course. Funny how anything that's good for us is always +disagreeable. Well, let's have it!" + +"It may not be of the slightest consequence to you," began Mary, slightly +confused. "And perhaps you know all about it--any old gossip could tell +you. It's a wonder if they haven't; you've been here two weeks." + +Boland made a wry face. + +"I see! Exports?" + +Mary nodded, and her brave eyes drooped a little. + +"Abingdon's finest export--in my opinion, at least--went to Arizona. +And--and he's in trouble, Mr. Boland; else I might not have told you +this. But it seemed so horrid of me--when he's in such dreadful trouble. +So, now you know." + +"Arizona?" said Boland. "Why, there's where--Excuse me; I didn't mean to +pry." + +"Yes, Stanley Mitchell. Only that you stick in your shell, like a turtle, +you'd have heard before now that we were engaged. Are engaged. And you +mustn't say a word. No one knows about the trouble--not even his uncle. +I've trusted you, Mr. Boland." + +"See here, Miss Selden--I'm really not a bad sort. If I can be of any +use--here am I. And I lived in the Southwest four years, too--West +Texas and New Mexico. Best time I ever had! So I wouldn't be absolutely +helpless out there. And I'm my own man--foot-loose. So, if you can use +me--for this thing seems to be serious--" + +"Serious!" said Mary. "Serious! I can't tell you now. I shouldn't have +told you even this much. Go now, Mr. Boland. And if we--if I see where I +can use you--that was your word--I'll use you. But you are to keep away +from me unless I send for you. Suppose Stan heard now what some gossip or +other might very well write to him--that 'Mary Selden walked home every +night with a fascinating Francis Charles Boland'?" + +"Tell him about me, yourself--touching lightly on my fascinations," +advised Boland. "And tell him why you tell him. Plain speaking is always +the best way." + +"It is," said Mary. "I'll do that very thing this night. I think I like +you, Mr. Boland. Thank you--and good-bye!" + +"Good-bye!" said Boland, touching her hand. + +He looked after her as she went. + +"Plucky little devil!" he said. "Level and straight and square. Some +girl!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Mr. Oscar Mitchell, attorney and counselor at law, sauntered down River +Street, with the cheerful and optimistic poise of one who has lunched +well. A well-set-up man, a well-groomed man, as-it-is-done; plainly +worshipful; worthy the highest degree of that most irregular of +adjectives, respectable; comparative, smart; superlative, correct. + +Mr. Mitchell was correct; habited after the true Polonian precept; +invisible, every buckle, snap, clasp, strap, wheel, axle, wedge, pulley, +lever, and every other mechanical device known to science, was in place +and of the best. As to adornment, all in good taste--scarfpin, an +unpretentious pearl in platinum; garnet links, severely plain and quiet; +an unobtrusive watch-chain; one ring, a small emerald; no earrings. + +Mr. Mitchell's face was well shaped, not quite plump or pink, with the +unlined curves, the smooth clear skin, and the rosy glow that comes from +health and virtue, or from good living and massage. Despite fifty years, +or near it, the flax-smooth hair held no glint of gray; his eyes, blue +and big and wide, were sharp and bright, calm, confident, almost +candid--not quite the last, because of a roving trick of clandestine +observation; his mouth, where it might or should have curved--must +once have curved in boyhood--was set and guarded, even in skillful +smilings, by a long censorship of undesirable facts, material or +otherwise to any possible issue. + +Mr. Mitchell's whole bearing was confident and assured; his step, for all +those fifty afore-said years, was light and elastic, even in sauntering; +he took the office stairs with the inimitable sprightly gallop of the +town-bred. + +Man is a quadruped who has learned to use his front legs for other things +than walking. Some hold that he has learned to use his head. But there +are three things man cannot do, and four which he cannot compass: to see, +to think, to judge, and to act--to see the obvious; to think upon the +thing seen; to judge between our own resultant and conflicting thoughts, +with no furtive finger of desire to tip the balance; and to act upon that +judgment without flinching. We fear the final and irretrievable calamity: +we fear to make ourselves conspicuous, we conform to standard, we bear +ourselves meekly in that station whereunto it hath pleased Heaven to call +us; the herd instinct survives four-footedness. For, we note the strange +but not the familiar; our thinking is to right reason what peat is to +coal; the outcry of the living and the dead perverts judgment, closes the +ear to proof; and our wisest fear the scorn of fools. So we walk cramped +and strangely under the tragic tyranny of reiteration: whatever is right; +whatever is repeated often enough is true; and logic is a device for +evading the self-evident. Moreover, Carthage should be destroyed. + +Such sage reflections present themselves automatically, contrasting the +blithesome knee action of prosperous Mr. Mitchell with the stiffened +joints of other men who had climbed those hard stairs on occasion with +shambling step, bent backs and sagging shoulders; with faces lined and +interlined; with eyes dulled and dim, and sunken cheeks; with hands +misshapen, knotted and bent by toil: if image indeed of God, strangely +distorted--or a strange God. + +Consider now, in a world yielding enough and to spare for all, the +endless succession of wise men, from the Contributing Editor of +Proverbs unto this day, who have hymned the praise of diligence and +docility, the scorn of sloth. Yet not one sage of the bountiful bunch +has ever ventured to denounce the twin vices of industry and obedience. +True, there is the story of blind Samson at the mill; perhaps a parable. + +Underfed and overworked for generations, starved from birth, starved +before birth, we drive and harry and crush them, the weakling and his +weaker sons; we exploit them, gull them, poison them, lie to them, filch +from them. We crowd them into our money mills; we deny them youth, we +deny them rest, we deny them opportunity, we deny them hope, or any hope +of hope; and we provide for age--the poorhouse. So that charity is become +of all words the most feared, most hated, most loathed and loathsome; +worse than crime or shame or death. We have left them from the work of +their hands enough, scantly enough, to keep breath within their stunted +bodies. "All the traffic can bear!"--a brazen rule. Of such sage policy +the result can be seen in the wizened and undersized submerged of London; +of nearer than London. Man, by not taking thought, has taken a cubit from +his stature. + +Meantime we prate comfortable blasphemies, scientific or other; natural +selection or the inscrutable decrees of God. Whereas this was manifestly +a Hobson's selection, most unnatural and forced, to choose want of all +that makes life sweet and dear; to choose gaunt babes, with pinched and +livid lips--unlovely, not unloved; and these iniquitous decrees are most +scrutable, are surely of man's devising and not of God's. Or we invent a +fire-new science, known as Eugenics, to treat the disease by new naming +of symptoms: and prattle of the well born, when we mean well fed; or the +degenerate, when we might more truly say the disinherited. + +It is even held by certain poltroons that families have been started +gutterward, of late centuries, when a father has been gloriously slain in +the wars of the useless great. That such a circumstance, however +glorious, may have been rather disadvantageous than otherwise to children +thereby sent out into the world at six or sixteen years, lucky to become +ditch-diggers or tip-takers. That some proportion of them do become +beggars, thieves, paupers, sharpers, other things quite unfit for the ear +of the young person--a disconcerting consideration; such ears cannot be +too carefully guarded. That, though the occupations named are entirely +normal to all well-ordered states, descendants of persons in those +occupations tend to become "subnormal"--so runs the cant of it--something +handicapped by that haphazard bullet of a lifetime since, fired to +advance the glorious cause of--foreign commerce, or the like. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Mitchell occupied five rooms lined with law books and musty with the +smell of leather. These rooms ranged end to end, each with a door that +opened upon a dark hallway; a waiting-room in front, the private office +at the rear, to which no client was ever admitted directly. Depressed by +delay, subdued by an overflow of thick volumes, when he reaches a +suitable dejection he is tip-toed through dismal antechambers of wisdom, +appalled by tall bookstacks, ushered into the leather-chaired office, and +there further crushed by long shelves of dingy tin boxes, each box +crowded with weighty secrets and shelved papers of fabulous moment and +urgency; the least paper of the smallest box more important--the +unfortunate client is clear on that point--than any contemptible need of +his own. Cowed and chastened, he is now ready to pay a fee suitable to +the mind that has absorbed all the wisdom of those many bookshelves; or +meekly to accept as justice any absurdity or monstrosity of the law. + +Mr. Mitchell was greeted by a slim, swarthy, black-eyed, elderly person +of twenty-five or thirty, with a crooked nose and a crooked mind, half +clerk and half familiar spirit--Mr. Joseph Pelman, to wit; who appeared +perpetually on the point of choking himself by suppressed chucklings at +his principal's cleverness and the simplicity of dupes. + +"Well, Joe?" + +"Two to see you, sir," said Joe, his face lit up with sprightly malice. +"On the same lay. That Watkins farm of yours. I got it out of 'em. Ho ho! +I kept 'em in different rooms. I hunted up their records in your record +books. Doomsday Books, I call 'em. Ho ho!" + +Mr. Mitchell selected a cigar, lit it, puffed it, and fixed his eye on +his demon clerk. + +"Now then," he said sharply, "let's have it!" + +The demon pounced on a Brobdingnagian volume upon the desk and worried it +open at a marker. It had been meant for a ledger, that huge volume; the +gray cloth covers bore the legend "N to Z." Ledger it was, of a grim +sort, with sinister entries of forgotten sins, the itemized strength or +weakness of a thousand men. The confidential clerk ran a long, +confidential finger along the spidery copperplate index of the W's: +"Wakelin, Walcott, Walker, Wallace, Walsh, Walters; Earl, John, Peter, +Ray, Rex, Roy--Samuel--page 1124." His nimble hands flew at the pages +like a dog at a woodchuck hole. + +"Here't is--'Walters, Samuel: born '69, son of John Walters, Holland +Hill; religion--politics--um-um--bad habits, none; two years Vesper +Academy; three years Dennison shoe factories; married 1896--one child, b. +1899. Bought Travis Farm 1898, paying half down; paid balance out in five +years; dairy, fifteen cows; forehanded, thrifty. Humph! Good pay, I +guess." + +He cocked his head to one side and eyed his employer, fingering a wisp of +black silk on his upper lip. + +"And the other?" + +The second volume was spread open upon the desk. Clerk Pelman flung +himself upon it with savage fury. + +"Bowen, Chauncey, son William Bowen, born 1872--um--um--married Louise +Hill 92--um--divorced '96; married Laura Wing '96--see Lottie Hall. Ran +hotel at Larren '95 to '97; sheriff's sale '97; worked Bowen Farm '97 to +1912; bought Eagle Hotel, Vesper, after death of William Bowen, 1900. +Traded Eagle Hotel for Griffin Farm, 1912; sold Griffin Farm, 1914; clerk +Simon's hardware store, Emmonsville, Pennsylvania. Heavy drinker, though +seldom actually drunk; suspected of some share in the Powers affair, +or some knowledge, at least; poker fiend. Bank note protested and paid by +endorser 1897, and again in 1902; has since repaid endorsers. See Larren +Hotel, Eagle Hotel." + +"Show him in," said Mitchell. + +"Walters?" The impish clerk cocked his head on one side again and gulped +down a chuckle at his own wit. + +"Bowen, fool! Jennie Page, his mother's sister, died last week and left +him a legacy--twelve hundred dollars. I'll have that out of him, or most +of it, as a first payment." + +The clerk turned, his mouth twisted awry to a malicious grin. + +"Trust you!" he chuckled admiringly, and laid a confidential finger +beside his crooked nose. "Ho ho! This is the third time you've sold the +Watkins Farm; and it won't be the last! Oh, you're a rare one, you are! +Four farms you've got, and the way you got 'em ho! You go Old Benjamin +one better, you do. + +"Who so by the plow would thrive +Himself must neither hold nor drive. + +"A regular hard driver, you are!" + +"Some fine day," answered Mitchell composedly, "you will exhaust my +patience and I shall have to let you be hanged!" + +"No fear!" rejoined the devil clerk, amiably. "I'm too useful. I do your +dirty work for you and leave you always with clean hands to show. Who +stirs up damage suits? Joe. Who digs up the willing witness? J. Pelman. +Who finds skeletons in respectable closets? Joey. Who is the go-between? +Joseph. I'm trusty too, because I dare not be otherwise. And because +I like the work. I like to see you skin 'em, I do. Fools! And because you +give me a fair share of the plunder. Princely, I call it--and wise. You +be advised, Lawyer Mitchell, and always give me my fair share. Hang Joey? +Oh, no! Never do! No fear!" A spasm of chuckles cut him short. + +"Go on, fool, and bring Bowen in. Then tell Walters the farm is already +sold." + +The door closed behind the useful Joseph, and immediately popped open +again in the most startling fashion. + +"No; nor that, either," said Joseph. + +He closed the door softly and leaned against it, cocking his head on one +side with an evil smile. + +His employer glanced at him with uninquiring eyes. + +"You won't ask what, hey? No? But I'll tell you what you were thinking +of: Dropping me off the bridge. Upsetting the boat. The like of that. +Can't have it. I can't afford it. You're too liberal. Why, I wouldn't +crawl under your car to repair it--or go hunting with you--not if it was +ever so!" + +"I really believe," said Mr. Mitchell with surprised eyebrows, "that you +are keeping me waiting!" + +"That is why I never throw out hints about a future partnership," +continued the confidential man, undaunted. "You are such a liberal +paymaster. Lord love you, sir, I don't want any partnership! This suits +me. You furnish the brains and the respectability; I take the risk, and I +get my fair share. Then, if I should ever get caught, you are unsmirched; +you can keep on making money. And you'll keep on giving me my share. Oh, +yes; you will! You've such a good heart, Mr. Oscar! I know you. You +wouldn't want old Joey hanged! Not you! Oh, no!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +A stranger came to Abingdon by the morning train. Because of a +wide-brimmed gray hat, which he wore pushed well back, to testify against +burning suns elsewhere--where such hats must be pulled well down, of +necessity--a few Abingdonians, in passing, gave the foreigner the tribute +of a backward glance. A few only; Abingdon has scant time for curiosity. +Abingdon works hard for a living, like Saturday's child, three hundred +and sixty-five days a year; except every fourth year. + +Aside from the hat, the foreigner might have been, for apparel, a thrifty +farmer on a trip to his market town. He wore a good ready-made suit, a +soft white shirt with a soft collar, and a black tie, shot with red. But +an observer would have seen that this was no care-lined farmer face; +that, though the man himself was small, his feet were disproportionately +and absurdly small; that his toes pointed forward as he walked; and +detraction might have called him bow-legged. This was Mr. Peter Johnson. + +Mr. Johnson took breakfast at the Abingdon Arms. He expressed to the +landlord of that hostelry a civil surprise and gratification at the +volume of Abingdon's business, evinced by a steadily swelling current of +early morning wagons, laden with produce, on their way to the station, +or, by the river road, to the factory towns near by; was assured that he +should come in the potato-hauling season if he thought that was busy; +parried a few polite questions; and asked the way to the Selden Farm. + +He stayed at the Selden Farm that day and that night. Afternoon of the +next day found him in Lawyer Mitchell's waiting-room, at Vesper, +immediate successor of Mr. Chauncey Bowen, then engaged in Lawyer +Mitchell's office on the purchase of the Watkins Farm; and he was +presently ushered into the presence of Mr. Mitchell by the demon clerk. + +Mr. Mitchell greeted him affably. + +"Good-day, sir. What can I do for you to-day?" + +"Mr. Oscar Mitchell, is it?" + +"The same, and happy to serve you." + +"Got a letter for you from your cousin, Stan. My name's Johnson." + +Mitchell extended his hand, gave Pete a grip of warm welcome. + +"I am delighted to see you, Mr. Johnson. Take a chair--this big one is +the most comfortable. And how is Stanley? A good boy; I am very fond of +him. But, to be honest about it, he is a wretched correspondent. I have +not heard from him since Christmas, and then barely a line--the +compliments of the season. What is he doing with himself? Does he +prosper? And why did he not come himself?" + +"As far as making money is concerned, he stands to make more than he'll +ever need, as you'll see when you read his letter," said Pete. "Otherwise +he's only just tol'able. Fact is, he's confined to his room. That's why I +come to do this business for him." + +"Stanley sick? Dear, dear! What is it? Nothing serious, I hope!" + +"Why, no-o--not to say sick, exactly. He just can't seem to get out o' +doors very handy. He's sorter on a diet, you might say." + +"Too bad; too bad! He should have written his friends about it. None of +us knew a word of it. I'll write to him to-night and give him a good +scolding." + +"Aw, don't ye do that!" said Pete, twisting his hat in embarrassment. "I +don't want he should know I told you. He's--he's kind of sensitive about +it. He wouldn't want it mentioned to anybody." + +"It's not his lungs, I hope?" + +"Naw! No thin' like that. I reckon what's ailin' him is mostly stayin' +too long in one place. Nothin' serious. Don't ye worry one mite about +him. Change of scene is what he needs more than anything else--and +horseback ridin'. I'll yank him out of that soon as I get back. And now +suppose you read his letter. It's mighty important to us. I forgot to +tell you me and, Stan, is pardners. And I'm free to say I'm anxious to +see how you take to his proposition." + +"If you will excuse me, then?" + +Mitchell seated himself, opened the letter, and ran over it. It was +brief. Refolding it, the lawyer laid it on the table before him, tapped +it, and considered Mr. Johnson with regarding eyes. When he spoke his +voice was more friendly than ever. + +"Stanley tells me here that you two have found a very rich mine." + +"Mr. Mitchell," said Pete, leaning forward in his eagerness, "I reckon +that mine of ours is just about the richest strike ever found in Arizona! +Of course it ain't rightly a mine--it's only where a mine is goin' to be. +Just a claim. There's nothin' done to it yet. But it's sure goin' to be a +crackajack. There's a whole solid mountain of high-grade copper." + +"Stanley says he wants me to finance it. He offers to refund all expenses +if the mine--if the claim"--Mitchell smiled cordially as he made the +correction--"does not prove all he represents." + +"Well, that ought to make you safe. Stan's got a right smart of property +out there. I don't know how he's fixed back here. Mr. Mitchell, if you +don't look into this, you'll be missin' the chance of your life." + +"But if the claim is so rich, why do you need money?" + +"You don't understand. This copper is in the roughest part of an awful +rough mountain--right on top," said Pete, most untruthfully. "That's why +nobody ain't ever found it before--because it is so rough. It'll cost a +heap of money just to build a wagon road up to it--as much as five or six +thousand dollars, maybe. Stan and me can't handle it alone. We got to +take some one in, and we gave you the first show. And I wish," said Pete +nervously, "that you could see your way to come in with us and go right +back with me, at once. We're scared somebody else might find it and +make a heap of trouble. There's some mighty mean men out there." + +"Have a cigar?" said the lawyer, opening a desk drawer. + +He held a match for his visitor and observed, with satisfaction, that +Pete's hand shook. Plainly here was a simple-minded person who would be +as wax in his skillful hands. + +Mitchell smoked for a little while in thoughtful silence. Then, with his +best straightforward look, he turned and faced Pete across the table. + +"I will be plain with you, Mr. Johnson. This is a most unusual adventure +for me. I am a man who rather prides himself that he makes no investments +that are not conservative. But Stan is my cousin, and he has always been +the soul of honor. His word is good with me. I may even make bold to say +that you, yourself, have impressed me favorably. In short, you may +consider me committed to a thorough investigation of your claim. After +that, we shall see." + +"You'll never regret it," said Pete. "Shake!" + +"I suppose you are not commissioned to make any definite proposal as to +terms, in case the investigation terminates as favorably as you +anticipate? At any rate, this is an early day to speak of final +adjustments." + +"No," said Pete, "I ain't. You'll have to settle that with Stan. Probably +you'll want to sign contracts and things. I don't know nothin' about law. +But there's plenty for all. I'm sure of one thing--you'll be glad to +throw in with us on 'most any terms once you see that copper, and have a +lot of assays made and get your expert's report on it." + +"I hope so, I am sure. Stanley seems very confident. But I fear I shall +have to disappoint you in one particular: I can hardly leave my business +here at loose ends and go back with you at once, as, I gather, is your +desire." + +Pete's face fell. + +"How long will it take you?" + +"Let me consider. I shall have to arrange for other lawyers to appear for +me in cases now pending, which will imply lengthy consultations and +crowded days. It will be very inconvenient and may not have the happiest +results. But I will do the best I can to meet your wishes, and will +stretch a point in your favor, hoping it may be remembered when we come +to discuss final terms with each other. Shall we say a week?" He tapped +his knuckles with the folded letter and added carelessly: "And, of +course, I shall have to pack, and all that. You must advise me as to +suitable clothing for roughing it. How far is your mine from the +railroad?" + +"Oh, not far. About forty mile. Yes, I guess I can wait a week. I stand +the hotel grub pretty well." + +"Where are you staying, Mr. Johnson?" + +"The Algonquin. Pretty nifty." + +"Good house. And how many days is it by rail to--Bless my soul, Mr. +Johnson--here am I, upsetting my staid life, deserting my business on +what may very well prove, after all, but a wild-goose chase! And I do not +know to what place in Arizona we are bound, even as a starting-point and +base of supplies, much less where your mine is! And I don't suppose +there's a map of Arizona in town." + +"Oh, I'll make you a map," said Pete. "Cobre--that's Mexican for +copper--is where we'll make our headquarters. You give me some paper and +I'll make you a map mighty quick." + +Pete made a sketchy but fairly accurate map of Southern Arizona, with the +main lines of railroad and the branches. + +"Here's Silverbell, at the end of this little spur of railroad. Now give +me that other sheet of paper and I'll show you where the mine is, and the +country round Cobre." + +Wetting his pencil, working with slow and painstaking effort, making +slight erasures and corrections with loving care, poor, trustful, +unsuspecting Pete mapped out, with true creative joy, a district that +never was on land or sea, accompanying each stroke of his handiwork +with verbal comments, explaining each original mountain chain or newly +invented valley with a wealth of descriptive detail that would have +amazed Muenchausen. + +Mitchell laughed in his heart to see how readily the simple-minded +mountaineer became his dupe and tool, and watched, with a covert sneer, +as Pete joyously contrived his own downfall and undoing. + +"I have many questions to ask about your mine--I believe I had almost +said our mine." The lawyer smiled cordially. "To begin with, how about +water and fuel?" + +"Lots of it. A cedar brake, checker-boarded all along the mountain. +There's where it gets the name, Ajedrez Mountain--Chess Mountain; +kind of laid out in squares that way. Good enough for mine timbers, too. +Big spring--big enough so you might almost call it a creek--right close +by. It's almost too good to be true--couldn't be handier if I'd dreamed +it! But," he added with regretful conscientiousness, "the water's pretty +hard, I'm sorry to say. Most generally is, around copper that way. And +it'll have to be pumped uphill to the mine. Too bad the spring couldn't +have been above the mine, so it could have been piped down." + +Prompted by more questions he plunged into a glowing description of +Ajedrez Mountain; the marvelous scope of country to be seen from the +summit; the beauty of its steep and precipitous canons; the Indian +pottery; the mysterious deposit of oyster shells, high on the +mountain-side, proving conclusively that Ajedrez Mountain had risen +from the depths of some prehistoric sea; ending with a vivid description +of the obstacles to be surmounted by each of the alternate projects for +the wagon road up to the mine, with estimates of comparative cost. + +At length it drew on to the hour for Mitchell's dinner and Pete's supper, +and they parted with many expressions of elation and good-will. + +From his window in the Algonquin, Pete Johnson watched Mitchell picking +his way across to the Iroquois House, and smiled grimly. + +"There," he confided to his pipe--"there goes a man hotfoot to dig his +own grave with his own tongue! The Selden kid has done told Uncle +McClintock about Stan being in jail. She told him Stan hadn't written to +Cousin Oscar about no jail, and that I wasn't to tell him either. Now +goes Cousin Oscar on a beeline to tell Uncle how dreadful Stanley has +went and disgraced the family; and Uncle will want to know how he heard +of it. 'Why,' says Oscar, 'an old ignoramus from Arizona, named +Johnson--friend of Stanley's--he told me about it. He came up here to +get me to help Stanley out; wanted me to go out and be his lawyer!' + +"And, right there, down goes Cousin Oscar's meat-house! He'll never touch +a penny of Uncle's money. Selden, she says Uncle Mac was all for blowing +him up sky-high; but she made him promise not to, so as not to queer my +game. If I get Oscar Mitchell out to the desert, I'll almost persuade him +to be a Christian.... She's got Old McClintock on the run, Mary Selden +has! + +"Shucks! The minute I heard about the millionaire uncle, I knowed +where Stan's trouble began. I wonder what makes Stan such a fool! He +might 'a' knowed!... This Oscar person is pretty soft.... Mighty nice +kid, little Selden is! Smart too. She's some schemer!... Too smart for +Oscar!... Different complected, and all that; but her ways--she sort of +puts me in mind of Miss Sally." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Mr. Oscar Mitchell was a bachelor, though not precisely lorn. He +maintained an elm-shaded residence on Front Street, presided over by an +ancient housekeeper, of certain and gusty disposition, who had guided his +first toddling steps and grieved with him for childhood's insupportable +wrongs, and whose vinegarish disapprovals were still feared by Mitchell; +it was for her praise or blame that his overt walk and conversation were +austere and godly, his less laudable activities so mole-like. + +After dinner Mr. Mitchell slipped into a smoking jacket with a violent +velvet lining and sat in his den--a den bedecorated after the manner +known to the muddle-minded as artistic, but more aptly described by Sir +Anthony Gloster as "beastly." To this den came now the sprightly clerk, +summoned by telephone. + +"Sit down, Pelman. I sent for you because I desire your opinion and +cooperation upon a matter of the first importance," said the lawyer, +using his most gracious manner. + +Mr. Joseph Pelman, pricking up his ears at the smooth conciliation of eye +and voice, warily circled the room, holding Mitchell's eyes as he went, +selected a corner chair for obvious strategic reasons, pushed it against +the wall, tapped that wall apprehensively with a backward-reaching hand, +seated himself stiffly upon the extreme edge of the chair, and faced his +principal, bolt upright and bristling with deliberate insolence. + +"If it is murder I want a third," he remarked. + +The lawyer gloomed upon this frowardness. + +"That is a poor way to greet an opportunity to make your fortune once and +for all," he said. "I have something on hand now, which, if we can swing +it--" + +"One-third," said the clerk inflexibly. + +Mitchell controlled himself with a visible effort. He swallowed hard and +began again: + +"If we can carry out my plan successfully--and it seems to be safe, and +certain, and almost free from risk--there will be no necessity hereafter +for any of us to engage in any crooked dealings whatever. Indeed, to take +up cleanly ways would be the part of wisdom. Or, young as you are, you +will be able to retire, if you prefer, sure of every gratification that +money can buy." + +"Necessity doesn't make me a crook. I'm crooked by nature. I like +crookedness," said Pelman. "That's why I'm with you." + +"Now, Joey, don't talk--" + +"Don't you 'Joey' me!" exploded the demon clerk. "It was 'fool' this +afternoon. I'm Pelman when there's any nerve needed for your schemes; but +when you smile at me and call me Joey, what I say is--one-third!" + +"You devil! I ought to wring your neck!" + +"Try it! I'll stab your black heart with a corkscrew! I've studied it all +out, and I've carried a corkscrew on purpose ever since I've known you. +Thirty-three and one-third per cent. Three-ninths. Proceed!" + +Mitchell paced the floor for a few furious seconds before he began again. + +"You remember Mayer Zurich, whom we helped through that fake bankruptcy +at Syracuse?" + +"Three-ninths?" + +"Yes, damn you!" + +Joey settled back in his chair, crossed his knees comfortably, screwed +his face to round-eyed innocence, and gave a dainty caress to the thin +silky line of black on his upper lip. + +"You may go on, Oscar," he drawled patronizingly. + +After another angry turn, Mitchell resumed with forced composure: + +"Zurich is now a fixture in Cobre, Arizona, where my Cousin Stanley +lives. I had a letter from him a week ago and he tells me--this is in +strict confidence, mind you--that poor Stanley is in jail." + +Joey interrupted him by a gentle waving of a deprecatory hand. + +"Save your breath, Oscar dear, and pass on to the main proposition. Now +that we are partners, in manner of speaking, since your generous +concession of a few minutes past--about the thirds--I must be very +considerate of you." + +As if to mark the new dignity, the junior partner dropped the crude and +boisterous phrases that had hitherto marked his converse. Mitchell +recognized the subtle significance of this change by an angry gesture. + +"Since our interests are now one," continued the new member suavely, +"propriety seems to demand that I should tell you the Mitchell-Zurich +affair has no secrets from me. If young Stanley is in prison, it is +because you put him there!" + +"What!" + +"Yes," said Joey with a complacent stroke at his upper lip. "I have +duplicate keys to all your dispatch boxes and filing cabinets." + +"You fiend!" + +"I wished to protect you against any temptation toward ingratitude," +explained Joey. "I have been, on the whole, much entertained by your +correspondence. There was much chaff--that was to be expected. But there +was also some precious grain which I have garnered with care. For +instance, I have copies of all Zurich's letters to you. You have been +endeavoring to ruin your cousin, fearing that McClintock might relent and +remember Stanley in his will; you have succeeded at last. Whatever new +villainy you have to propose, it now should be easier to name it, since +you are relieved from the necessity of beating round the bush.--You were +saying--?" + +"Stanley has found a mine, a copper deposit of fabulous richness; so he +writes, and so Zurich assures me. Zurich has had a sample of it assayed; +he does not know where the deposit is located, but hopes to find it +before Stanley or Stanley's partner can get secure possession. Zurich +wants me to put up cash to finance the search and the early development." + +"Well? Where do I come in? I am no miner, and I have no cash. I am eating +husks." + +"You listen. Singularly enough, Stanley has sent his partner up here to +make me exactly the same proposition." + +"That was Stan's partner to-day--that old gray goat?" + +"Exactly. So, you see, I have two chances." + +"I need not ask you," said Joey with a sage nod, "whether you intend to +throw in your lot with the thieves or with the honest men. You will flock +with the thieves." + +"I will," said Mitchell grimly. "My cousin had quite supplanted me with +my so-called Uncle McClintock. The old dotard would have left him every +cent, except for that calf-love affair of Stan's with the Selden girl. +Some reflections on the girl's character had come to McClintock's ears." + +"Mitchell," said Joey, "before God, you make me sick!" + +"What's the matter with you now, fool?" demanded Mitchell. "I never so +much as mentioned the girl's name in McClintock's hearing." + +"Trust you!" said the clerk. "You're a slimy toad, you are. You're +nauseatin'. Pah! Ptth!" + +"McClintock repeated these rumors to Stan," said the lawyer gloatingly. +"Stan called him a liar. My uncle never liked me. It is very doubtful if +he leaves me more than a moderate bequest, even now. But I have at least +made sure that he leaves nothing to Stan. And now I shall strip his mine +from him and leave him to rot in the penitentiary. For I always hated +him, quite aside from any thought of my uncle's estate. I hate him for +what he is. I always wanted to trample his girl-face in the mire." + +"Leave your chicken-curses and come to the point," urged the junior +member of the firm impatiently. "It is no news to me that your brain is +diseased and your heart rotten. What is it you want me to do? Calm +yourself, you white-livered maniac. I gather that I am in some way to +meddle with this mine. If I but had your head for my very own along with +the sand in my craw, I'd tell you to go to hell. Having only brains +enough to know what I am, I'm cursed by having to depend upon you. Name +your corpse! Come through!" + +"You shut your foul mouth and listen. You throw me off." + +"Give me a cigar, then. Thanks. I await your pleasure." + +"Zurich warned me that Stanley's partner, this old man Johnson, had gone +East and would in all probability come here to bring proposals from Stan. +He came yesterday, bearing a letter of introduction from Stan. The fear +that I would not close with his proposition had the poor old gentleman on +needles and pins. But I fell in with his offer. I won his confidence and +within the hour he had turned himself wrong side out. He made me a map, +which shows me how to find the mine. He thinks I am to go to Arizona with +him in a week--poor idiot! Instead, you are to get him into jail at +once." + +"How?" + +"The simplest and most direct way possible. You have that Poole tribe +under your thumb, have you not?" + +"Bootlegging, chicken-stealing, sneak-thieving, arson, and perjury. And +they are ripe for any deviltry, without compulsion. All I need to do is +to show them a piece of money and give instructions." + +"Get the two biggest ones, then--Amos and Seth. Have them pick a fight +with the man Johnson and swear him into jail. They needn't hurt him much +and they needn't bother about provocation. All they need to do is to +contrive to get him in some quiet spot, beat him up decently, and swear +that Johnson started the row without warning; that they never saw him +before, and that they think he was drunk. Manage so that Johnson sees +the inside of the jail by to-morrow at luncheon-time, or just after, at +worst; then you and I will take the afternoon train for Arizona--with my +map. I have just returned from informing my beloved uncle of Stanley's +ignominious situation, and I told him I could go to the rescue at once, +for the sake of the family honor. I thought the old fool would throw +a fit, he was so enraged. So, good-bye to Nephew Stanley!" + +"Look here, Mr. Oscar; that's no good, you know," remonstrated Pelman. +"What's the good of throwing Johnson into jail for five or ten days--or +perhaps only a fine? He may even have letters from Stan to some one else +in Vesper, some one influential; he may beat the case. He'll be out there +in no time, making you trouble. That old goat looks as if he might butt." + +Mitchell smiled. + +"That's only half my plan. The jailer is also one of your handy men. I'll +furnish you plenty of money for the Pooles and for the jailer--enough to +make it well worth their while. Contrive a faked rescue of Johnson. The +jailer can be found trussed up and gagged, to-morrow about midnight. Best +have only one of the Pooles in it; take Amos. He shall wear a mask and be +the bold rescuer; he shall open the cell door, whisper 'Mitchell' to +Johnson, and help him escape. Once out, without taking off his mask, Amos +can hide Johnson somewhere. I leave you to perfect these details. Then, +after discarding his mask, Poole can give the alarm. It is immaterial +whether he rouses the undersheriff or finds a policeman; but he is to +give information that he has just seen Johnson at liberty, skulking near +such-and-such a place. Such information, from a man so recently the +victim of a wanton assault at Johnson's hands, will seem a natural act." + +"Mr. Mitchell, you're a wonder!" declared Joey in a fine heat of +admiration. As the lawyer unfolded his plan the partner-clerk, as a +devotee of cunning, found himself convicted of comparative unworth; with +every sentence he deported himself less like Pelman the partner, shrank +more and more to Joey the devil clerk. "The first part of your programme +sounded like amateur stuff; but the second number is a scream. Any +mistreated guy would fall for that. I would, myself. He'll be up against +it for jail-breaking, conspiracy, assaulting an officer, using deadly +weapons--and the best is, he will actually be guilty and have no kick +coming! Look what a head that is of yours! Even if he should escape +rearrest here, it will be a case for extradition. If he goes back to +Arizona, he will be nabbed; our worthy sheriff will be furious at the +insult to his authority and will make every effort to gather Mr. Johnson +in. Either way you have Johnson off your shoulders." + +"Stanley is off my shoulders, too, and good for a nice long term. And I +have full directions for reaching Stanley's mine. You and I, in that wild +Arizona country, would not know our little way about; we will be wholly +dependent upon Zurich; and, therefore, we must share our map with him. +But, on the whole, I think I have managed rather well than otherwise. +It may be, after this bonanza is safely in our hands, that we may be able +to discover some ultimate wizardry of finance which shall deal with +Zurich's case. We shall see." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Mr. Francis Charles Boland, propped up on one elbow, sprawled upon a rug +spread upon the grass under a giant willow tree at Mitchell House, deep +in the Chronicles of Sir John Froissart. Mr. Ferdinand Sedgwick tip-toed +unheard across the velvet sward. He prodded Frances Charles with his toe. + +"Ouch!" said Francis Charles. + +"You'll catch your death of cold. Get up! Your company is desired." + +"Go 'way!" + +"Miss Dexter wants you." + +"Don't, either. She was coiled in the hammock ten minutes ago. Wearing a +criminal neglige. Picturesque, but not posing. She slept; I heard her +snore." + +"She's awake now and wants you to make a fourth at bridge; you two +against Elsie and me." + +"Botheration! Tell her you couldn't find me." + +"I would hush the voice of conscience and do your bidding gladly, +old thing, if it lay within the sphere of practical politics. But, +unfortunately, she saw you." + +"Tell her to go to the devil!" + +Ferdie considered this proposition and rejected it with regret. + +"She wouldn't do it. But you go on with your reading. I'll tell her +you're disgruntled. She'll understand. This will make the fourth day that +you haven't taken your accustomed stroll by the schoolhouse. We're all +interested, Frankie." + +"You banshee!" Francis withdrew the finger that had been keeping his +place in the book. "I suppose I'll have to go back with you." He sat up, +rather red as to his face. + +"I bet she turned you down hard, old boy," murmured Mr. Sedgwick +sympathetically. "My own life has been very sad. It has been blighted +forever, several times. Is she pretty? I haven't seen her, myself, and +the reports of the men-folks and the young ladies don't tally. Funny +thing, but scientific observation shows that when a girl says another +girl is fine-looking--Hully Gee! And _vice versa_. Eh? What say?" + +"Didn't say anything. You probably overheard me thinking. If so, I beg +your pardon." + +"I saw a fine old Western gentleman drive by here with old man Selden +yesterday--looked like a Westerner, anyhow; big sombrero, leather face, +and all that. I hope," said Ferdie anxiously, "that it was not this +venerable gentleman who put you on the blink. He was a fine old relic; +but he looked rather patriarchal for the role of Lochinvar. Unless, of +course, he has the money." + +"Yes, he's a Western man, all right. I met them on the Vesper Bridge," +replied Boland absently, ignoring the banter. He got to his feet and +spoke with dreamy animation. "Ferdie, that chap made me feel homesick +with just one look at him. Best time I ever had was with that sort. +Younger men I was running with, of course. Fine chaps; splendidly +educated and perfect gentlemen when sober--I quote from an uncredited +quotation from a copy of an imitation of a celebrated plagiarist. Would +go back there and stay and stay, only for the lady mother. She's used to +the city.... By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept." + +"Hi!" said Ferdie. "Party yellin' at you from the road. Come out of your +trance." + +Francis Charles looked up. A farmer had stopped his team by the front +gate. + +"Mr. Boland!" he trumpeted through his hands. + +Boland answered the hail and started for the gate, Ferdie following; the +agriculturist flourished a letter, dropped it in the R.F.D. box, and +drove on. + +"Oh, la, la! The thick plottens!" observed Ferdie. + +Francis Charles tore open the letter, read it hastily, and turned with +sparkling eyes to his friend. His friend, for his part, sighed +profoundly. + +"Oh Francis, Francis!" he chided. + +"Here, you howling idiot; read it!" said Francis. + +The idiot took the letter and read: + +DEAR MR. BOLAND: I need your help. Mr. Johnson, a friend of +Stanley's--his best friend--is up here from Arizona upon business +of the utmost importance, both to himself and Stanley. + +I have only this moment had word that Mr. Johnson is in the most serious +trouble. To be plain, he is in Vesper Jail. There has been foul play, +part and parcel of a conspiracy directed against Stanley. Please come +at once. I claim your promise. + +Mary Selden + +Ferdie handed it back. + +"My friend's friend is my friend? And so on, _ad infinitum_, like fleas +with little fleas to bite 'em--that sort of thing--what? Does that let me +in? I seem to qualify in a small-flealike way." + +"You bet you do, old chap! That's the spirit! Do you rush up and present +my profound apologies to the ladies--important business matter. I'll be +getting out the buzz wagon. You shall see Mary Selden. You shall also see +how right well and featly our no-bel and intrepid young hero bore +himself, just a-pitchin' and a-rarin', when inclination jibed with +jooty!" + +Two minutes later they took the curve by the big gate on two wheels. As +they straightened into the river road, Mr. Sedgwick spread one hand over +his heart, rolled his eyes heavenward and observed with fine dramatic +effect: + +"'I claim your pr-r-r-r-omise'!" + +Mr. Johnson sat in a cell of Vesper Jail, charged with assault and +battery in the _n_th degree; drunk and disorderly understood, but +that charge unpreferred as yet. It is no part of legal method to bring +one accused of intoxication before the magistrate at once, so that the +judicial mind may see for itself. By this capital arrangement, the justly +intoxicated may be acquitted for lack of convincing evidence, after they +have had time to sober up; while the unjustly accused, who should go free +on sight, are at the mercy of such evidence as the unjust accuser sees +fit to bring or send. + +The Messrs. Poole had executed their commission upon Vesper Bridge, +pouncing upon Mr. Johnson as he passed between them, all unsuspecting. +They might well have failed in their errand, however, had it not been +that Mr. Johnson was, in a manner of speaking, in dishabille, having left +his gun at the hotel. Even so, he improvised several new lines and some +effective stage business before he was overpowered by numbers and weight. + +The brothers Poole were regarded with much disfavor by Undersheriff +Barton, who made the arrest; but their appearance bore out their story. +It was plain that some one had battered them. + +Mr. Johnson quite won the undersheriff's esteem by his seemly bearing +after the arrest. He accepted the situation with extreme composure, +exhibiting small rancor toward his accusers, refraining from +counter-comment to their heated descriptive analysis of himself; he +troubled himself to make no denials. + +"I'll tell my yarn to the judge," he said, and walked to jail with his +captors in friendliest fashion. + +These circumstances, coupled with the deputy's experienced dislike for +the complaining witnesses and a well-grounded unofficial joy at their +battered state, won favor for the prisoner. The second floor of the jail +was crowded with a noisy and noisome crew. Johnson was taken to the third +floor, untenanted save for himself, and ushered into a quiet and pleasant +corner cell, whence he might solace himself by a view of the street and +the courthouse park. Further, the deputy ministered to Mr. Johnson's +hurts with water and court-plaster, and a beefsteak applied to a bruised +and swollen eye. He volunteered his good offices as a witness in the moot +matter of intoxication and in all ways gave him treatment befitting an +honored guest. + +"Now, what else?" he said. "You can't get a hearing until to-morrow; the +justice of the peace is out of town. Do you know anybody here? Can you +give bail?" + +"Ya-as, I reckon so. But I won't worry about that till to-morrow. Night +in jail don't hurt any one." + +"If I can do anything for you, don't hesitate to ask." + +"Thank you kindly, I'll take you up on that. Just let me think up a +little." + +The upshot of his considerations was that the jailer carried to a +tailor's shop Johnson's coat and vest, sadly mishandled during the brief +affray on the bridge; the deputy dispatched a messenger to the Selden +Farm with a note for Miss Mary Selden, and also made diligent inquiry as +to Mr. Oscar Mitchell, reporting that Mr. Mitchell had taken the +westbound flyer at four o'clock, together with Mr. Pelman, his clerk; +both taking tickets to El Paso. + +Later, a complaisant jailer brought to Pete a goodly supper from the +Algonquin, clean bedding, cigars, magazines, and a lamp--the last item +contrary to rule. He chatted with his prisoner during supper, cleared +away the dishes, locked the cell door, with a cheerful wish for good +night, and left Pete with his reflections. + +Pete had hardly got to sleep when he was wakened by a queer, clinking +noise. He sat up in the bed and listened. + +The sound continued. It seemed to come from the window, from which the +sash had been removed because of July heat. Pete went to investigate. He +found, black and startling against the starlight beyond, a small rubber +balloon, such as children love, bobbing up and down across the window; +tied to it was a delicate silk fishline, which furnished the motive +power. As this was pulled in or paid out the balloon scraped by the +window, and a pocket-size cigar clipper, tied beneath at the end of a +six-inch string, tinkled and scratched on the iron bars. Pete lit his +lamp; the little balloon at once became stationary. + +"This," said Pete, grinning hugely, "is the doings of that Selden kid. +She is certainly one fine small person!" + +Pete turned the lamp low and placed it on the floor at his feet, so that +it should not unduly shape him against the window; he pulled gently on +the line. It gave; a guarded whistle came softly from the dark shadow of +the jail. Pete detached the captive balloon, with a blessing, and pulled +in the fishline. Knotted to it was a stout cord, and in the knot was a +small piece of paper, rolled cigarette fashion. Pete untied the knot; he +dropped his coil of fishline out of the window, first securing the +stronger cord by a turn round his hand lest he should inadvertently drop +that as well; he held the paper to the light, and read the message: + +Waiting for you, with car, two blocks north. Destroy MS. + +Pete pulled up the cord, hand over hand, and was presently rewarded by a +small hacksaw, eminently suited for cutting bars; he drew in the slack +again and this time came to the end of the cord, to which was fastened a +strong rope. He drew this up noiselessly and laid the coils on the floor. +Then he penciled a note, in turn: + +Clear out. Will join you later. + +He tied this missive on his cord, together with the cigar clipper, and +lowered them from the window. There was a signaling tug at the cord; Pete +dropped it. + +Pete dressed himself; he placed a chair under the window; then he +extinguished the lamp, took the saw, and prepared to saw out the bars. +But it was destined to be otherwise. Even as he raised the saw, he +stiffened in his tracks, listening; his blood tingled to his finger tips. +He heard a footstep on the stair, faint, guarded, but unmistakable. It +came on, slowly, stealthily. + +Pete thrust saw and rope under his mattress and flung himself upon it, +all dressed as he was, face to the wall, with one careless arm under his +head, just as if he had dropped asleep unawares. + +A few seconds later came a little click, startling to tense nerves, at +the cell door; a slender shaft of light lanced the darkness, spreading to +a mellow cone of radiance. It searched and probed; it rested upon the +silent figure on the bed. + +"Sh-h-h!" said a sibilant whisper. + +Peter muttered, rolled over uneasily, opened his eyes and leaped up, +springing aside from that golden circle of light in well-simulated +alarm. + +"Hush-h!" said the whisper. "I'm going to let you out. Be quiet!" + +Keys jingled softly in the dark; the lock turned gently and the door +opened. In that brief flash of time Pete Johnson noted that there had +been no hesitation about which key to use. His thought flew to the kindly +undersheriff. His hand swept swiftly over the table; a match crackled. + +"Smoke?" said Pete, extending the box with graceful courtesy. + +"Fool!" snarled the visitor, and struck out the match. + +But Pete had seen. The undersheriff was a man of medium stature; this +large masked person was about the size of the larger of his lately made +acquaintances, the brothers Poole. + +"Come on!" whispered the rescuer huskily. "Mitchell sent me. He'll take +you away in his car." + +"Wait a minute! We'd just as well take these cigars," answered Pete in +the same slinking tone. "Here; take a handful. How'd you get in?" + +"Held the jailer up with a gun. Got him tied and gagged. Shut up, will +you? You can talk when you get safe out of this." He tip-toed away, Pete +following. The quivering searchlight crept along the hall; it picked out +the stairs. Halfway down, Pete touched his guide on the shoulder. + +"Wait!" Standing on the higher stair, he whispered in the larger man's +ear: "You got all the keys?" + +"Yes." + +"Give 'em to me. I'll let all the prisoners go. If there's an alarm, +it'll make our chances for a get-away just so much better." + +The Samaritan hesitated. + +"Aw, I'd like to, all right! But I guess we'd better not." + +He started on; the stair creaked horribly. In the hall below Pete +overtook him and halted him again. + +"Aw, come on--be a sport!" he urged. "Just open this one cell, here, and +give that lad the keys. He can do the rest while we beat it. If you was +in there, wouldn't you want to get out?" + +This appeal had its effect on the Samaritan. He unlocked the cell door, +after a cautious trying of half a dozen keys. Apparently his scruples +returned again; he stood irresolute in the cell doorway, turning the +searchlight on its yet unawakened occupant. + +Peter swooped down from behind. His hands gripped the rescuer's ankles; +he heaved swiftly, at the same time lunging forward with head and +shoulders, with all the force of his small, seasoned body behind the +effort. The Samaritan toppled over, sprawling on his face within the +cell. With a heartfelt shriek the legal occupant leaped from his bunk and +landed on the intruder's shoulder blades. Peter slammed shut the door; +the spring lock clicked. + +The searchlight rolled, luminous, along the floor; its glowworm light +showed Poole's unmasked and twisted face. Pete snatched the bunch of keys +and raced up the stairs, bending low to avoid a possible bullet; followed +by disapproving words. + +At the stairhead, beyond the range of a bullet's flight, Peter paused. +Pandemonium reigned below. The roused prisoners shouted rage, alarm, or +joy, and whistled shrilly through their fingers, wild with excitement; +and from the violated cell arose a prodigious crash of thudding fists, +the smashing of a splintered chair, the sickening impact of locked bodies +falling against the stone walls or upon the complaining bunk, accompanied +by verbiage, and also by rattling of iron doors, hoots, cheers and +catcalls from the other cells. Authority made no sign. + +Peter crouched in the darkness above, smiling happily. From the duration +of the conflict the combatants seemed to be equally matched. But the roar +of battle grew presently feebler; curiosity stilled the audience, at +least in part; it became evident, by language and the sound of tortured +and whistling breath, that Poole was choking his opponent into submission +and offering profuse apologies for his disturbance of privacy. Mingled +with this explanation were derogatory opinions of some one, delivered +with extraordinary bitterness. From the context it would seem that those +remarks were meant to apply to Peter Johnson. Listening intently, Peter +seemed to hear from the first floor a feeble drumming, as of one beating +the floor with bound feet. Then the tumult broke out afresh. + +Peter went back to his cell and lit his lamp. Leaving the door wide open, +he coiled the rope neatly and placed it upon his table, laid the hacksaw +beside it, undressed himself, blew out the light; and so lay down to +pleasant dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Mr. Johnson was rudely wakened from his slumbers by a violent hand upon +his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he smiled up into the scowling face of +Undersheriff Barton. + +"Good-morning, sheriff," he said, and sat up, yawning. + +The sun was shining brightly. Mr. Johnson reached for his trousers and +yawned again. + +The scandalized sheriff was unable to reply. He had been summoned by +passers-by, who, hearing the turbulent clamor for breakfast made by the +neglected prisoners, had hastened to give the alarm. He had found the +jailer tightly bound, almost choked by his gag, suffering so cruelly from +cramps that he could not get up when released, and barely able to utter +the word "Johnson." + +Acting on that hint, Barton had rushed up-stairs, ignoring the shouts of +his mutinous prisoners as he went through the second-floor corridor, to +find on the third floor an opened cell, with a bunch of keys hanging in +the door, the rope and saw upon the table, Mr. Johnson's neatly folded +clothing on the chair, and Mr. Johnson peacefully asleep. The sheriff +pointed to the rope and saw, and choked, spluttering inarticulate noises. +Mr. Johnson suspended dressing operations and patted him on the back. + +"There, there!" he crooned benevolently. "Take it easy. What's the +trouble? I hate to see you all worked up like this, for you was sure +mighty white to me yesterday. Nicest jail I ever was in. But there was a +thundering racket downstairs last night. I ain't complainin' none--I +wouldn't be that ungrateful, after all you done for me. But I didn't get +a good night's rest. Wish you'd put me in another cell to-night. There +was folks droppin' in here at all hours of the night, pesterin' me. +I didn't sleep good at all." + +"Dropping in? What in hell do you mean?" gurgled the sheriff, still +pointing to rope and saw. + +"Why, sheriff, what's the matter? Aren't you a little mite petulant this +A.M.? What have I done that you should be so short to me?" + +"That's what I want to know. What have you been doing here?" + +"I ain't been doing nothin', I tell you--except stayin' here, where I +belong," said Pete virtuously. + +His eye followed the sheriff's pointing finger, and rested, without a +qualm, on the evidence. The sheriff laid a trembling hand on the coiled +rope. "How'd you get this in, damn you?" + +"That rope? Oh, a fellow shoved it through the bars. Wanted me to saw my +way out and go with him, I reckon. I didn't want to argue with him, so I +just took it and didn't let on I wasn't comin'. Wasn't that right? Why, +I thought you'd be pleased! I couldn't have any way of knowin' that you'd +take it like this." + +"Shoved it in through a third-story window?" + +Pete's ingenuous face took on an injured look. "I reckon maybe he stood +on his tip-toes," he admitted. + +"Who was it?" + +"I don't know," said Pete truthfully. "He didn't speak and I didn't see +him. Maybe he didn't want me to break jail; but I thought, seein' the saw +and all, he had some such idea in mind." + +"Did he bring the keys, too?" + +"Oh, no--that was another man entirely. He came a little later. And he +sure wanted me to quit jail; because he said so. But I wouldn't go, +sheriff. I thought you wouldn't like it. Say, you ought to sit down, +feller. You're going to have apoplexy one of these days, sure as you're a +foot high!" + +"You come downstairs with me," said the angry Barton. "I'll get at the +bottom of this or I'll have your heart out of you." + +"All right, sheriff. Just you wait till I get dressed." Peter laced +his shoes, put on his hat, and laid tie, coat, and vest negligently +across the hollow of his arm. "I can't do my tie good unless I got a +looking-glass," he explained, and paused to light a cigar. "Have one, +sheriff," he said with hospitable urgency. + +"Get out of here!" shouted the enraged officer. + +Pete tripped light-footed down the stairs. At the stairfoot the sheriff +paused. In the cell directly opposite were two bruised and tattered +inmates where there should have been but one, and that one undismantled. +The sheriff surveyed the wreckage within. His jaw dropped; his face went +red to the hair; his lip trembled as he pointed to the larger of the two +roommates, who was, beyond doubting, Amos Poole--or some remainder of +him. + +"How did that man get here?" demanded the sheriff in a cracked and +horrified voice. + +"Him? Oh, I throwed him in there!" said Pete lightly. "That's the man who +brought me the keys and pestered me to go away with him. Say, sheriff, +better watch out! He told me he had a gun, and that he had the jailer +tied and gagged." + +"The damned skunk didn't have no gun! All he had was a flashlight, and +I broke that over his head. But he tole me the same story about the +jailer--all except the gun." This testimony was volunteered by Poole's +cellmate. + +Peter removed his cigar and looked at the "damned skunk" more closely. + +"Why, if it ain't Mr. Poole!" he said. + +"Sure, it's Poole. What in hell does he mean, then--swearin' you into +jail and then breakin' you out?" + +"Hadn't you better ask him?" said Peter, very reasonably. "You come on +down to the office, sheriff. I want you to get at the bottom of this or +have the heart out of some one." He rolled a dancing eye at Poole with +the word, and Poole shrank before it. + +"Breakfast! Bring us our breakfast!" bawled the prisoners. "Breakfast!" + +The sheriff dealt leniently with the uproar, realizing that these were +but weakling folk and, under the influence of excitement, hardly +responsible. + +"Brooks has been tied up all night, and is all but dead. I'll get you +something as soon as I can," he said, "on condition that you stop that +hullabaloo at once. Johnson, come down to the office." + +He telephoned a hurry call to a restaurant, Brooks, the jailer, being +plainly incapable of furnishing breakfast. Then he turned to Pete. + +"What is this, Johnson? A plant?" + +Pete's nose quivered. + +"Sure! It was a plant from the first. The Pooles were hired to set upon +me. This one was sent, masked, to tell me to break out. Then, as I figure +it, I was to be betrayed back again, to get two or three years in the pen +for breaking jail. Nice little scheme!" + +"Who did it? For Poole, if you're not lying, was only a tool." + +"Sheriff," said Pete, "pass your hand through my hair and feel there, and +look at my face. See any scars? Quite a lot of 'em? And all in front? Men +like me don't have to lie. They pay for what they break. You go back up +there and get after Poole. He'll tell you. Any man that will do what he +did to me, for money, will squeal on his employer. Sure!" + +Overhead the hammering and shouting broke out afresh. + +"There," said the sheriff regretfully; "now I'll have to make those +fellows go without anything to eat till dinner-time." + +"Sheriff," said Pete, "you've been mighty square with me. Now I want you +should do me one more favor. It will be the last one; for I shan't be +with you long. Give those boys their breakfast. I got 'em into this. I'll +pay for it, and take it mighty kindly of you, besides." + +"Oh, all right!" growled the sheriff, secretly relieved. + +"One thing more, brother: I think your jailer was in this--but that's +your business. Anyhow, Poole knew which key opened my door, and he didn't +know the others. Of course, he may have forced your jailer to tell him +that. But Poole didn't strike me as being up to any bold enterprise +unless it was cut-and-dried." + +The sheriff departed, leaving Johnson unguarded in the office. In ten +minutes he was back. + +"All right," he nodded. "He confessed--whimpering hard. Brooks was in it. +I've got him locked up. Nice doings, this is!" + +"Mitchell?" + +"Yes. I wouldn't have thought it of him. What was the reason?" + +"There is never but one reason. Money.--Who's this?" + +It was Mr. Boland, attended by Mr. Ferdie Sedgwick, both sadly disheveled +and bearing marks of a sleepless night. Francis Charles spoke hurriedly +to the sheriff. + +"Oh, I say, Barton! McClintock will go bail for this man Johnson. Ferdie +and I would, but we're not taxpayers in the county. Come over to the +Iroquois, won't you?" + +"Boland," said the sheriff solemnly, "take this scoundrel out of my jail! +Don't you ever let him step foot in here again. There won't be any bail; +but he must appear before His Honor later to-day for the formal dismissal +of the case. Take him away! If you can possibly do so, ship him out of +town at once." + +Francis Charles winked at Peter as they went down the steps. + +"So it was you last night?" said Peter. "Thanks to you. I'll do as much +for you sometime." + +"Thank us both. This is my friend Sedgwick, who was to have been our +chauffeur." The two gentlemen bowed, grinning joyfully. "My name's +Boland, and I'm to be your first stockholder. Miss Selden told me about +you--which is my certificate of character. Come over to the hotel and see +Old McClintock. Miss Selden is there too. She bawled him out about Nephew +Stan last night. Regular old-fashioned wigging! And now she has the old +gentleman eating from her hand. Say, how about this Stanley thing, +anyway? Any good?" + +"Son," said Pete, "Stanley is a regular person." + +Boland's face clouded. + +"Well, I'm going out with you and have a good look at him," he said +gloomily. "If I'm not satisfied with him, I'll refuse my consent. And +I'll look at your mine--if you've got any mine. They used to say that +when a man drinks of the waters of the Hassayampa, he can never tell the +truth again. And you're from Arizona." + +Pete stole a shrewd look at the young man's face. + +"There is another old saying about the Hassayampa, son," he said kindly, +"with even more truth to it than in that old _dicho_. They say that +whoever drinks of the waters of the Hassayampa must come to drink again." + +He bent his brows at Francis Charles. + +"Good guess," admitted Boland, answering the look. "I've never been to +Arizona, but I've sampled the Pecos and the Rio Grande; and I must go +back 'Where the flyin'-fishes play on the road to Mandalay, where the +dawn comes up like thunder'--Oh, gee! That's my real reason. I suppose +that silly girl and your picturesque pardner will marry, anyhow, even if +I disapprove--precious pair they'll make! And if I take a squint at the +copper proposition, it will be mostly in Ferdie's interest--Ferdie is the +capitalist, comparatively speaking; but he can't tear himself away from +little old N'Yawk. This is his first trip West--here in Vesper. Myself, +I've got only two coppers to clink together--or maybe three. We're rather +overlooking Ferdie, don't you think? Mustn't do that. Might withdraw his +backin'. Ferdie, speak up pretty for the gennulmun!" + +"Oh, don't mind me, Mr. Johnson," said Sedgwick cheerfully. "I'm used to +hearin' Boland hog the conversation, and trottin' to keep up with him. +Glad to be seen on the street with him. Gives one a standing, you know. +But, I say, old chappie, why didn't you come last night? Deuced anxious, +we were! Thought you missed the way, or slid down your rope and got +nabbed again, maybe. No end of a funk I was in, not being used to +lawbreakin', except by advice of counsel. And we felt a certain delicacy +about inquiring about you this morning, you know--until we heard about +the big ructions at the jail. Come over to McClintock's rooms--can't +you?--where we'll be all together, and tell us about it--so you won't +have to tell it but the one time." + +"No, sir," said Pete decidedly. "I get my breakfast first, and a large +shave. Got to do credit to Stan. Then I'll go with you. Big mistake, +though. Story like this gets better after bein' told a few times. I could +make quite a tale of this, with a little practice." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +"You've got Stan sized up all wrong, Mr. McClintock," said Pete. "That +boy didn't want your money. He never so much as mentioned your name to +me. If he had, I would have known why Old Man Trouble was haunting him so +persistent. And he don't want anybody's money. He's got a-plenty of his +own--in prospect. And he's got what's better than money: he has learned +to do without what he hasn't got." + +"You say he has proved himself a good man of his hands?" demanded +McClintock sharply. + +"Yessir--Stanley is sure one double-fisted citizen," said Pete. "Here is +what I heard spoken of him by highest authority the day before I left: +'He'll make a hand!' That was the word said of Stan to me. We don't get +any higher than that in Arizona. When you say of a man, 'He'll do to take +along,' you've said it all. And Stanley Mitchell will do to take along. +I'm thinkin', sir, that you did him no such an ill turn when your quarrel +sent him out there. He was maybe the least bit inclined to be +butter-flighty when he first landed." + +It was a queer gathering. McClintock sat in his great wheeled chair, +leaning against the cushions; he held a silken skull-cap in his hand, +revealing a shining poll with a few silvered locks at side and back; his +little red ferret eyes, fiery still, for all the burden of his years, +looked piercingly out under shaggy brows. His attendant, withered and +brown and gaunt, stood silent behind him. Mary Selden, quiet and pale, +was at the old man's left hand. Pete Johnson, with one puffed and +discolored eye, a bruised cheek, and with skinned and bandaged knuckles, +but cheerful and sunny of demeanor, sat facing McClintock. Boland and +Sedgwick sat a little to one side. They had tried to withdraw, on the +plea of intrusion; but McClintock had overruled them and bade them stay. + +"For the few high words that passed atween us, I care not a +boddle--though, for the cause of them I take shame to myself," said +McClintock, glancing down affectionately at Mary Selden. "I was the more +misled--at the contrivance of yon fleechin' scoundrel of an Oscar. 'I'm +off to Arizona, to win the boy free,' says he--the leein' cur!... I will +say this thing, too, that my heart warmed to the lad at the very time of +it--that he had spunk to speak his mind. I have seen too much of the +supple stock. Sirs, it is but an ill thing to be over-rich, in which +estate mankind is seen at the worst. The fawning sort cringe underfoot +for favors, and the true breed of kindly folk are all o'erapt to pass the +rich man by, verra scornful-like." He looked hard at Peter Johnson. "I am +naming no names," he added. + +"As for my gear, it would be a queer thing if I could not do what I like +with my own. Even a gay young birkie like yoursel' should understand +that, Mr. Johnson. Besides, we talk of what is by. The lawyer has been; +Van Lear has given him instructions, and the pack of you shall witness my +hand to the bit paper that does Stan right, or ever you leave this room." + +Pete shrugged his shoulders. "Stanley will always be feelin' that I +softied it up to you. And he's a stiff-necked one--Stan!" + +McClintock laughed with a relish. + +"For all ye are sic a fine young man, Mr. Johnson, I'm doubtin' ye're no +deeplomat. And Stan will be knowin' that same. Here is what ye shall do: +you shall go to him and say that you saw an old man sitting by his +leelane, handfast to the chimney neuk; and that you are thinking I will +be needin' a friendly face, and that you think ill of him for that same +stiff neck of his. Ye will be having him come to seek and not to gie; +folk aye like better to be forgiven than to forgive; I do, mysel'. That +is what you shall do for me." + +"And I did not come to coax money from you to develop the mine with, +either," said Pete. "If the play hadn't come just this way, with the jail +and all, you would have seen neither hide nor hair of me." + +"I am thinkin' that you are one who has had his own way of it overmuch," +said McClintock. His little red eyes shot sparks beneath the beetling +brows; he had long since discovered that he had the power to badger Mr. +Johnson; and divined that, as a usual thing, Johnson was a man not easily +ruffled. The old man enjoyed the situation mightily and made the most of +it. "When ye are come to your growth, you will be more patient of sma' +crossings. Here is no case for argle-bargle. You have taken yon twa brisk +lads into composition with you"--he nodded toward the brisk lads--"the +compact being that they were to provide fodder for yonder mine-beastie, +so far as in them lies, and, when they should grow short of siller, to +seek more for you. Weel, they need seek no farther, then. I have told +them that I will be their backer at need; I made the deal wi' them direct +and ye have nowt to do with it. You are ill to please, young man! You +come here with a very singular story, and nowt to back it but a glib +tongue and your smooth, innocent-like young face--and you go back hame +with a heaped gowpen of gold, and mair in the kist ahint of that. I +think ye do very weel for yoursel'." + +"Don't mind him, Mr. Johnson," said Mary Selden. "He is only teasing +you." + +Old McClintock covered her hand with his own and continued: "Listen to +her now! Was ne'er a lassie yet could bear to think ill of a bonny face!" +He drew down his brows at Pete, who writhed visibly. + +Ferdie Sedgwick rose and presented a slip of pasteboard to McClintock, +with a bow. + +"I have to-day heard with astonishment--ahem!--and with indignation, a +great many unseemly and disrespectful remarks concerning money, and more +particularly concerning money that runs to millions," he said, opposing +a grave and wooden countenance to the battery of eyes. "Allow me to +present you my card, Mr. McClintock, and to assure you that I harbor no +such sentiments. I can always be reached at the address given; and I beg +you to remember, sir, that I shall be most happy to serve you in the +event that--" + +A rising gale of laughter drowned his further remarks, but he continued +in dumb show, with fervid gesticulations, and a mouth that moved rapidly +but produced no sound, concluding with a humble bow; and stalked back to +his chair with stately dignity, unmarred by even the semblance of a +smile. Young Peter Johnson howled with the rest, his sulks forgotten; +and even the withered serving-man relaxed to a smile--a portent hitherto +unknown. + +"Come; we grow giddy," chided McClintock at last, wiping his own eyes as +he spoke. "We have done with talk of yonder ghost-bogle mine. But I must +trouble you yet with a word of my own, which is partly to justify me +before you. This it is--that, even at the time of Stanley's flitting, I +set it down in black and white that he was to halve my gear wi' Oscar, +share and share alike. I aye likit the boy weel. From this day all is +changit; Oscar shall hae neither plack nor bawbee of mine; all goes to my +wife's nephew, Stanley Mitchell, as is set down in due form in the bit +testament that is waiting without; bating only some few sma' bequests for +old kindness. It is but loath I am to poison our mirth with the name of +the man Oscar; the deil will hae him to be brandered; he is fast grippit, +except he be cast out as an orra-piece, like the smith in the Norroway +tale. When ye are come to your own land, Mr. Johnson, ye will find that +brockle-faced stot there afore you; and I trust ye will comb him weel. +Heckle him finely, and spare not; but ere ye have done wi' him, for my +sake drop a word in his lug to come nae mair to Vesper. When all's said, +the man is of my wife's blood and bears her name; I would not have that +name publicly disgracit. They were a kindly folk, the Mitchells. I +thought puirly of theem for a wastrel crew when I was young. But now I am +old, I doubt their way was as near right as mine. You will tell him for +me, Mr. Johnson, to name one who shall put a value on his gear, and I +shall name another; and what they agree upon I shall pay over to his +doer, and then may I never hear of him more--unless it be of ony glisk of +good yet in him, the which I shall be most blithe to hear. And so let +that be my last word of Oscar. Cornelius, bring in the lawyer body, and +let us be ower wi' it; for I think it verra needfu' that the two lads +should even pack their mails and take train this day for the West. You'll +have an eye on this young spark, Mr. Boland? And gie him a bit word of +counsel from time to time, should ye see him temptit to whilly-whas and +follies? I fear me he is prone to insubordination." + +"I'll watch over him, sir," laughed Boland. + +"I'll keep him in order. And if Miss Selden should have a message--or +anything--to send, perhaps--" + +Miss Selden blushed and laughed. + +"No, thank you!" she said. "I'll--I'll send it by Mr. Johnson." + +The will was brought in. McClintock affixed his signature in a firm round +hand; the others signed as witnesses. + +"Man Johnson, will ye bide behind for a word?" said McClintock as the +farewells were said. When the others were gone, he made a sign to Van +Lear, who left the room. + +"I'm asking you to have Stanley back soon--though he'll be coming for the +lassie's sake, ony gate. But I am wearyin' for a sight of the lad's face +the once yet," said the old man. "And yoursel', Mr. Johnson; if you visit +to York State again, I should be blithe to have a crack with you. But it +must be early days, for I'll be flittin' soon. I'll tell you this, that I +am real pleased to have met with you. Man, I'll tell ye a dead secret. Ye +ken the auld man ahint my chair--him that the silly folk ca' Rameses +Second in their sport? What think ye the auld body whispert to me but +now? That he likit ye weel--no less! Man, that sets ye up! Cornelius has +not said so much for ony man these twenty year--so my jest is true +enough, for all 'twas said in fleerin'; ye bear your years well and the +credentials of them in your face. Ye'll not be minding for an old man's +daffin'?" + +"Sure not! I'm a great hand at the joke-play myself," said Pete. "And +it's good for me to do the squirmin' myself, for once." + +"I thought so much. I likit ye mysel', and I'll be thinkin' of you, +nights, and your wild life out beyont. I'll tell you somethin' now, +and belike you'll laugh at me." He lowered his voice and spoke wistfully. +"Man, I have ne'er fought wi' my hands in a' my life--not since I was a +wean; nor yet felt the pinch of ony pressin' danger to be facit, that I +might know how jeopardy sorts wi' my stomach. I became man-grown as a +halflin' boy, or e'er you were born yet--a starvelin' boy, workin' for +bare bread; and hard beset I was for't. So my thoughts turned all +money-wise, till it became fixture and habit with me; and I took nae time +for pleasures. But when I heard of your fight yestreen, and how you +begawked him that we are to mention no more, and of your skirmishes and +by-falls with these gentry of your own land, my silly auld blood leapit +in my briskit. And when I was a limber lad like yourself, I do think +truly that once I might hae likit weel to hae been lot and part of +siclike stir and hazard, and to see the bale-fires burn. + +"Bear with me a moment yet, and I'll have done. There is a hard question +I would spier of you. I thought but ill of my kind in my younger days. +Now, being old, I see, with a thankful heart, how many verra fine people +inhabit here. 'Tis a rale bonny world. And, lookin' back, I see too often +where I have made harsh judgings of my fellows. There are more excuses +for ill-doings to my old eyes. Was't so with you?" + +"Yes," said Pete. "We're not such a poor lot after all--not when we stop +to think or when we're forced to see. In fire or flood, or sickness, +we're all eager to bear a hand--for we see, then. Our purses and our +hearts are open to any great disaster. Why, take two cases--the telephone +girls and the elevator boys. Don't sound heroic much, do they? But, by +God, when the floods come, the telephone girls die at their desks, still +sendin' out warnings! And when a big fire comes, and there are lives to +save, them triflin' cigarette-smoking, sassy, no-account boys run the +elevators through hell and back as long as the cables hold! Every time!" + +The old man's eye kindled. "Look ye there, now! Man, and have ye noticed +that too?" he cried triumphantly. "Ye have e'en the secret of it. We're +good in emairgencies, the now; when the time comes when we get a glimmer +that all life is emairgency and tremblin' peril, that every turn may be +the wrong turn--when we can see that our petty system of suns and all is +nobbut a wee darkling cockle-boat, driftin' and tossed abune the waves in +the outmost seas of an onrushing universe--hap-chance we'll no loom so +grandlike in our own een; and we'll tak' hands for comfort in the dark. +'Tis good theology, yon wise saying of the silly street: 'We are all in +the same boat. Don't rock the boat!'" + + * * * * * + +When Peter had gone, McClintock's feeble hands, on the wheel-rims, pushed +his chair to the wall and took from a locked cabinet an old and faded +daguerreotype of a woman with smiling eyes. He looked at it long and +silently, and fell asleep there, the time-stained locket in his hands. +When Van Lear returned, McClintock woke barely in time to hide the +locket under a cunning hand--and spoke harshly to that aged servitor. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Before the two adventurers left Vesper, Johnson wired to Jose Benavides +the date of his arrival at Tucson; and from El Paso he wired Jackson Carr +to leave Mohawk the next day but one, with the last load of water. +Johnson and Boland arrived in Tucson at seven-twenty-six in the morning. +Benavides met them at the station--a slender, wiry, hawk-faced man, with +a grizzled beard. + +"So this is Francis Charles?" said Stanley. + +"Frank by brevet, now. Pete has promoted me. He says that Francis Charles +is too heavy for the mild climate, and unwieldy in emergencies." + +"You ought to see Frankie in his new khaki suit! He's just too sweet for +anything," said Pete. "You know Benavides, Stan?" + +"Joe and I are lifelong friends of a week's standing. _Compadres_--eh, +Joe? He came to console my captivity on your account, at first, and found +me so charming that he came back on his own." + +"_Ah, que hombre!_ Do not beliefing heem, Don Hooaleece. He ees begging +me efery day to come again back--that leetle one," cried Joe indignantly. +"I come here not wis plessir--not so. He is ver' _triste_, thees +boy--ver' dull. I am to take sorry for heem--_sin vergueenza!_ Also, +perhaps a leetle I am coming for that he ordaire always from the _Posada_ +the bes' dinners, lak now." + +"Such a care-free life!" sighed Francis-Frank. "Decidedly I must reform +my ways. One finds so much gayety and happiness among the criminal +classes, as I observed when I first met Mr. Johnson--in Vesper Jail." + +"Oh, has Pete been in jail? That's good. Tell us about it, Pete." + +That was a morning which flashed by quickly. The gleeful history of +events in Vesper was told once and again, with Pete's estimate and +critical analysis of the Vesperian world. Stanley's new fortunes were +announced, and Pete spoke privately with him concerning McClintock. +The coming campaign was planned in detail, over another imported meal. +Stanley was to be released that afternoon, Benavides becoming security +for him; but, through the courtesy of the sheriff, he was to keep his +cell until late bedtime. It was wished to make the start without courting +observation. For the same reason, when the sheriff escorted Stanley and +Benavides to the courthouse for the formalities attendant to the +bail-giving, Pete did not go along. Instead, he took Frank-Francis +for a sight-seeing stroll about the town. + +It was past two when, in an unquiet street, Boland's eye fell upon a +signboard which drew his eye: + +THE PALMILLA + +THE ONLY SECOND-CLASS SALOON IN THE CITY + +Boland called attention to this surprising proclamation. + +"Yes," said Pete; "that's Rhiny Archer's place. Little old +Irishman--sharp as a steel trap. You'll like him. Let's go in." + +They marched in. The barroom was deserted; Tucson was hardly awakened +from siesta as yet. From the open door of a side room came a murmur of +voices. + +"Where's Rhiny?" demanded Pete of the bartender. + +"Rhiny don't own the place now. Sold out and gone." + +"Shucks!" said Pete. "That's too bad. Where'd he go?" + +"Don't know. You might ask the boss." He raised his voice: "Hey, Dewing! +Gentleman here to speak to you." + +At the summons, Something Dewing appeared at the side door; he gave a +little start when he saw Pete at the bar. + +"Why, hello, Johnson! Well met! This is a surprise." + +"Same here," said Pete. "Didn't know you were in town." + +"Yes; I bought Rhiny out. Tired of Cobre. Want to take a hand at poker, +Pete? Here's two lumberjacks down from up-country, and honing to play. +Their money's burning holes in their pockets. I was just telling them +that it's too early to start a game yet." + +He indicated the other two men, who were indeed disguised as lumberjacks, +even to their hands; but their faces were not the faces of workingmen. + +"Cappers," thought Pete. Aloud he said: "Not to-day, I guess. Where's +Rhiny? In town yet?" + +"No; he left. Don't know where he went exactly--somewhere up +Flagstaff-way, I think. But I can find out for you if you want to +write to him." + +"Oh, no--nothing particular. Just wanted a chin with him." + +"Better try the cards a whirl, Pete," urged the gambler. "I don't want to +start up for a three-handed game." + +Pete considered. It was not good taste to give a second invitation; +evidently Dewing had strong reasons for desiring his company. + +"If this tinhorn thinks he can pump me, I'll let him try it a while," he +reflected. He glanced at his watch. + +"Three o'clock. I'll tell you what I'll do with you, Dewing," he said: +"I'll disport round till supper-time, if I last that long. But I can't go +very strong. Quit you at supper-time, win or lose. Say six o'clock, sharp. +The table will be filled up long before that." + +"Come into the anteroom. We'll start in with ten-cent chips," said +Dewing. "Maybe your friend would like to join us?" + +"Not at first. Later, maybe. Come on, Frankie!" + +Boland followed into the side room. He was a little disappointed in Pete. + +"You see, it's like this," said Pete, sinking into a chair after the door +was closed: "Back where Boland lives the rules are different. They play a +game something like Old Maid, and call it poker. He can sit behind me a +spell and I'll explain how we play it. Then, if he wants to, he can sit +in with us. Deal 'em up." + +"Cut for deal--high deals," said Dewing. + +After the first hand was played, Pete began his explanations: + +"We play all jack pots here, Frankie; and we use five aces. That is in +the Constitution of the State of Texas, and the Texas influence reaches +clear to the Colorado River. The joker goes for aces, flushes, and +straights. It always counts as an ace, except to fill a straight; but +if you've got a four-card straight and the joker, then the joker fills +your hand. Here; I'll show you." Between deals he sorted out a ten, nine, +eight, and seven, and the joker with them. + +"There," he said; "with a hand like this you can call the joker either a +jack or a six, just as you please. It is usual to call it a jack. But +in anything except straights and straight flushes--if there is any such +thing as a straight flush--the cuter card counts as an ace. Got that?" + +"Yes; I think I can remember that." + +"All right! You watch us play a while, then, till you get on to our +methods of betting--they're different from yours too. When you think +you're wise, you can take a hand if you want to." + +Boland watched for a few hands and then bought in. The game ran on for an +hour, with the usual vicissitudes. Nothing very startling happened. The +"lumbermen" bucked each other furiously, bluffing in a scandalous manner +when they fought for a pot between themselves. Each was cleaned out +several times and bought more chips. Pete won; lost; bought chips; won, +lost, and won again; and repeated the process. Red and blue chips began +to appear: the table took on a distinctly patriotic appearance. The +lumbermen clamored to raise the ante; Johnson steadfastly declined. +Boland, playing cautiously, neither won nor lost. Dewing won quietly, +mostly from the alleged lumbermen. + +The statement that nothing particular had occurred is hardly accurate. +There had been one little circumstance of a rather peculiar nature. Once +or twice, when it came Pete's turn to deal, he had fancied that he felt a +stir of cold air at the back of his neck; cooler, at least, than the +smoke-laden atmosphere of the card room. + +On the third recurrence of this phenomenon Pete glanced carelessly at his +watch before picking up his hand, and saw in the polished back a tiny +reflection from the wall behind him--a small horizontal panel, tilted +transomwise, and a peering face. Pete scanned his hand; when he picked up +his watch to restore it to his pocket, the peering face was gone and the +panel had closed again. + +Boland, sitting beside Johnson, saw nothing of this. Neither did the +lumbermen, though they were advantageously situated on the opposite side +of the table. Pete played on, with every sense on the alert. He knocked +over a pile of chips, spilling some on the floor; when he stooped over to +get them, he slipped his gun from his waistband and laid it in his lap. +His curiosity was aroused. + +At length, on Dewing's deal, Johnson picked up three kings before the +draw. He sat at Dewing's left; it was his first chance to open the pot; +he passed. Dewing coughed; Johnson felt again that current of cold air on +his neck. "This must be the big mitt," thought Pete. "In a square game +there'd be nothing unusual in passing up three kings for a raise--that is +good poker. But Dewing wants to be sure I've got 'em. Are they going to +slide me four kings? I reckon not. It isn't considered good form to hold +four aces against four kings. They'll slip me a king-full, likely, and +some one will hold an ace-full." + +Obligingly Pete spread his three kings fanwise, for the convenience of +the onlooker behind the panel. So doing, he noted that he held the kings +of hearts, spades, and diamonds, with the queen and jack of diamonds. He +slid queen and jack together. "Two aces to go with this hand would give +me a heap of confidence," he thought. "I'm going to take a long chance." + +Boland passed; the first lumberman opened the pot; the second stayed; +Dewing stayed; Pete stayed, and raised. Boland passed out; the first +lumberman saw the raise. + +"I ought to lift this again; but I won't," announced the lumberman. "I +want to get Scotty's money in this pot, and I might scare him out." + +Scotty, the second lumberman, hesitated for a moment, and then laid down +his hand, using language. Dewing saw the raise. + +"Here's where I get a cheap draw for the Dead Man's Hand--aces and +eights." He discarded two and laid before him, face up on the table, a +pair of eights and an ace of hearts. "I'm going to trim you fellows this +time. Aces and eights have never been beaten yet." + +"Damn you! Here's one eight you won't get," said Scotty; he turned over +his hand, exposing the eight of clubs. + +"Mustn't expose your cards unnecessarily," said Dewing reprovingly. "It +spoils the game." He picked up the deck. "Cards?" + +Pete pinched his cards to the smallest compass and cautiously discarded +two of them, holding their faces close to the table. + +"Give me two right off the top." + +Dewing complied. + +"Cards to you?" he said. "Next gentleman?" + +The next gentleman scowled. "I orter have raised," he said. "Only I +wanted Scotty's money. Now, like as not, somebody'll draw out on me. I'll +play these." + +Dewing dealt himself two. Reversing his exposed cards, he shoved between +them the two cards he had drawn and laid these five before him, backs up, +without looking at them. + +"It's your stab, Mr. Johnson," said Dewing sweetly. + +Johnson skinned his hand slowly and cautiously, covering his cards with +his hands, clipping one edge lightly so that the opposite edges were +slightly separated, and peering between them. He had drawn the joker and +the ace of diamonds. He closed the hand tightly and shoved in a stack. + +"Here's where you see aces and eights beaten," he said, addressing +Dewing. "You can't have four eights, 'cause Mr. Scotty done showed one." + +The lumberman raised. + +"What are you horning in for?" demanded Pete. "I've got you beat. It's +Dewing's hide I'm after." + +Dewing looked at his cards and stayed. Pete saw the raise and re-raised. + +The lumberman sized up to Pete's raise tentatively, but kept his hand +on his stack of chips; he questioned Pete with his eyes, muttered, +hesitated, and finally withdrew the stack of chips in his hands and +threw up his cards with a curse, exposing a jack-high spade flush. + +Dewing's eyes were cold and hard. He saw Pete's raise and raised again, +pushing in two stacks of reds. + +"That's more than I've got, but I'll see you as far as my chips hold out. +Wish to Heaven I had a bushel!" Pete sized up his few chips beside +Dewing's tall red stacks. "It's a shame to show this hand for such a +pitiful little bit of money," he said in an aggrieved voice. "What you +got?" + +Dewing made no move to turn over his cards. + +"If you feel that way about it, old-timer," he said as he raked back his +remainder of unimperiled chips, "you can go down in your pocket." + +"Table stakes!" objected Scotty. + +"That's all right," said Dewing. "We'll suspend the rules, seeing there's +no one in the pot but Johnson and me. This game, I take it, is going to +break up right now and leave somebody feeling mighty sore. If you're so +sure you've got me beat--dig up!" + +"Cash my chips," said Scotty. "I sat down here to play table stakes, and +I didn't come to hear you fellows jaw, either." + +"You shut up!" said Dewing. "I'll cash your chips when I play out this +hand--not before. You're not in this." + +"Hell; you're both of you scared stiff!" scoffed Scotty. "Neither of you +dast put up a cent." + +"Well, Johnson, how about it?" jeered Dewing. "What are you going to do +or take water?" + +"Won't there ever be any more hands of poker dealt?" asked Pete. "If I +thought this was to be the last hand ever played, I'd sure plunge right +smart on this bunch of mine." + +"Weakening, eh?" sneered Dewing. + +"That's enough, Pete," said Boland, very much vexed. "We're playing table +stakes. This is no way to do. Show what you've got and let's get out of +this." + +"You let me be!" snapped Pete. "No, Dewing; I'm not weakening. About how +much cash have you got in your roll?" + +"About fourteen hundred in the house. More in the bank if you're really +on the peck. And I paid three thousand cash for this place." + +"And I've got maybe fifty or sixty dollars with me. You see how it is," +said Pete. "But I've got a good ranch and a bunch of cattle, if you +happen to know anything about them." + +"Pete! Pete! That's enough," urged Boland. + +Pete shook him off. + +"Mind your own business, will you?" he snapped. "I'm going to show Mr. +Something Dewing how it feels." + +The gambler smiled coldly. "Johnson, you're an old blowhard! If you +really want to make a man-size bet on that hand of yours, I'll make you +a proposition." + +"Bet on it? Bet on this hand?" snarled Pete, clutching his cards tightly. +"I'd bet everything I've got on this hand." + +"We'll see about that. I may be wrong, but I seem to have heard that you +and young Mitchell have found a copper claim that's pretty fair, and a +little over. I believe it, anyhow. And I'm willing to take the risk +that you'll keep your word. I'll shoot the works on this hand--cash, bank +roll, and the joint, against a quarter interest in your mine." + +"Son," said Johnson, "I wouldn't sell you one per cent of my share of +that mine for all you've got. Come again!" + +The gambler laughed contemptuously. "That's easy enough said," he +taunted. "If you want to wiggle out of it that way, all right!" + +Pete raised a finger. + +"Not so fast. I don't remember that I've wiggled any yet. I don't want +your money or your saloon. In mentioning my mine you have set an example +of plain speaking which I intend to follow. I do hereby believe that you +can clear Stanley Mitchell of the charge hanging over him. If you can, +I'll bet you a one-quarter interest in our mine against that evidence. +I'll take your word if you'll take mine, and I'll give you twelve hours' +start before I make your confession public.--Boland, you mind your own +business. I'm doing this.--Well, Dewing, how about it?" + +"If you think I've got evidence to clear Stanley--" + +"I do. I think you did the trick yourself, likely." + +"You might as well get one thing in your head, first as last: if I had +any such evidence and made any such a bet--I'd win it! You may be sure of +that. So you'd be no better off so far as getting your pardner out of +trouble is concerned--and you lose a slice of mining property. If you +really think I can give you any such evidence, why not trade me an +interest in the mine for it?" + +"I'm not buying, I'm betting! Who's wiggling now?" + +"You headstrong, stiff-necked old fool, you've made a bet! I've got the +evidence. Your word against mine?" + +"Your word against mine. The bet is made," said Pete. "What have you got? +I called you." + +"I've got the Dead Man's Hand--that's all!" Dewing spread out three aces +and a pair of eights, and smiled exasperatingly. "You've got what you +were looking for! I hope you're satisfied now!" + +"Yes," said Pete; "I'm satisfied. Let's see you beat this!" He tossed his +cards on the table. "Look at 'em! A royal straight flush in diamonds, and +a gun to back it!" The gun leaped up with a click. "Come through, Dewing! +Your spy may shoot me through that panel behind me; but if he does I'll +bore you through the heart. Boland, you've got a gun. Watch the wall at +my back. If you see a panel open, shoot! Hands on the table, lumbermen!" + +"Don't shoot! I'll come through," said Dewing, coolly enough, but +earnestly. "I think you are the devil! Where did you get those cards?" + +"Call your man in from that panel. My back itches and so does my trigger +finger." + +"What do you think I am--a fool? Nobody's going to shoot you." Dewing +raised his voice: "Come on in, Warren, hands up, before this old idiot +drills me." + +"Evidence," remarked Johnson softly, "is what I am after. Evidence! I +have no need of any corpses. Boland, you might go through Mr. Warren and +those other gentlemen for guns. Never mind Dewing; I'll get his gun, +myself, after the testimony. Dewing might play a trick on you if you get +too close. That's right. Pile 'em in the chair. Now, Mr. Dewing--you were +to give some testimony, I believe." + +"You'll get it. I robbed Wiley myself. But I'm damned if I tell you any +more till you tell me where you got that hand. I'll swear those are the +cards I dealt you. I never took my eyes off of you." + +"Your eyes are all right, son," said Johnson indulgently, "but you made +your play too strong. You showed an ace and two eights. Then, when Mr. +Scotty obliged by flashing another eight, I knowed you was to deal me two +aces for confidence cards and two more to yourself, to make out a full +hand to beat my king-full. So I discarded two kings. Turn 'em over, +Boland. I took a long chance. Drew to the king, queen, and jack of +diamonds. If one of the aces I got in the draw had been either hearts or +black, I'd have lost a little money; and there's an end. As it happened, +I drew the diamond ace and the joker, making ace, king, queen, jack, and +ten--and this poker game is hereby done broke up. I'm ready for the +evidence now." + +"You've earned it fair, and you'll get it. I told you I'd not implicate +any one but myself, and I won't. I robbed Wiley so I could saw it off on +Stan. You know why, I guess," said Dewing. "If you'll ask that little +Bobby kid of Jackson Carr's, he'll tell you that Stan lost his spur +beyond Hospital Springs about sunset on the night of the robbery, and +didn't find it again. The three of us rode in together, and the boy can +swear that Stan had only one spur. + +"I saw the spur when we were hunting for it; I saw how it would help me +get Stan out of the way; so I said nothing, and I went back that night +and got it. I dropped it near where I held Wiley up, and found it again, +very opportunely, when I came back to Cobre with the posse. Every one +knew that spur; that was how the posse came to search Stan's place. +The rest is easy: I hid the money where it was sure to be found. That's +all I am going to tell you, and that's enough. If it will make you feel +any better about it, though, you may be pleased to know that Bat Wiley +and most of them were acting in good faith." + +"That is quite satisfactory. The witness is excused," said Pete. "And +I'll give you twelve hours to leave Tucson before I give out the news." + +"Twelve minutes is quite enough, thank you. My address will be Old Mexico +hereafter, and I'll close out the shop by mail. Anything else?" + +"Why, yes; you might let me have that gun of yours as a keepsake. No; +I'll get it," said Pete kindly. "You just hold up your hands. Well, we +gotta be going. We've had a pleasant afternoon, haven't we? Good-bye, +gentlemen! Come on, Boland!" + +They backed out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +That night, between ten and eleven, Stanley Mitchell came forth from +Tucson Jail. Pete Johnson was not there to meet him; fearing espionage +from Cobre, he sent Boland, instead. Boland led the ex-prisoner to the +rendezvous, where Pete and Joe Benavides awaited their coming with +four saddle horses, the pick of the Benavides _caballada_, and two +pack-horses. Except for a small package of dynamite--a dozen sticks +securely wrapped, an afterthought that Pete put into effect between +poker game and supper-time--the packs contained only the barest +necessities, with water kegs, to be filled later. The four friends were +riding light; but each carried a canteen at the saddle horn, and a rifle. + +They rode quietly out through the southern end of the town, Joe Benavides +leading the way. They followed a trail through Robles' Pass and westward +through the Altar Valley. They watered at the R E Ranch at three in the +morning, waking Barnaby Robles; him they bound to silence; and there they +let their horses rest and eat of the R E corn while they prepared a hasty +breakfast. Then they pushed on, to waste no brief coolness of the morning +hours. Pete kept word and spirit of his promise to Dewing; not until day +was broad in the sky did he tell Stanley of Dewing's disclosure, tidings +that displeased Stanley not at all. + +It was a gay party on that bright desert morning, though the way led +through a dismal country of giant cactus, cholla and mesquite. Pete noted +with amusement that Stanley and Frank-Francis showed some awkwardness and +restraint with each other. Their clipped _g_'s were carefully restored +and their conversation was otherwise conducted on the highest plane. The +dropping of this superfluous final letter had become habitual with +Stanley through carelessness and conformance to environment. With Boland +it was a matter of principle, practiced in a spirit of perversity, in +rebellion against a world too severely regulated. + +By ten in the morning the heat drove them to cover for sleep and nooning +in the scanty shade of a mesquite motte. Long before that, the two young +gentlemen had arrived at an easier footing and the _g_'s were once more +comfortably dropped. But poor Boland, by this time, was ill at ease in +body. He was not inexperienced in hard riding of old; and in his home on +the northern tip of Manhattan, where the Subway goes on stilts and the +Elevated runs underground, he had allowed himself the luxury of a saddle +horse and ridden no little, in a mild fashion. But he was in no way +hardened to such riding as this. + +Mr. Peter Johnson was gifted with prescience beyond the common run; but +for this case, which would have been the first thought for most men, his +foresight had failed. During the long six-hour nooning Boland suffered +with intermittent cramps in his legs, wakeful while the others slept. He +made no complaint; but, though he kept his trouble from words, he could +not hold his face straight. When they started on at four o'clock, Pete +turned aside for the little spring in Coyote Pass, instead of keeping to +the more direct but rougher trail to the Fresnal, over the Baboquivari, +as first planned. Boland promised to be something of a handicap; which, +had he but known it, was all the better for the intents of Mr. Something +Dewing. + + * * * * * + +For Mr. Dewing had not made good his strategic retreat to Old Mexico. +When Pete Johnson left the card room Dewing disappeared, indeed, taking +with him his two confederates. But they went no farther than to a modest +and unassuming abode near by, known to the initiated as the House of +Refuge. There Mr. Dewing did three things: first, he dispatched +messengers to bring tidings of Mr. Johnson and his doings; second, he +wrote to Mr. Mayer Zurich, at Cobre, and sent it by the first mail west, +so that the stage should bring it to Cobre by the next night; third, he +telegraphed to a trusty satellite at Silverbell, telling him to hold an +automobile in readiness to carry a telegram to Mayer Zurich, should +Dewing send such telegram later. Then Dewing lay down to snatch a little +sleep. + +The messengers returned; Mr. Johnson and his Eastern friend were +foregathered with Joe Benavides, they reported; there were horses in +evidence--six horses. Mr. Dewing rose and took station to watch the jail +from a safe place; he saw Stanley come out with Boland. The so-called +lumbermen had provided horses in the meanwhile. Unostentatiously, and +at a safe distance, the three followed the cavalcade that set out from +the Benavides house. + +Dewing posted his lumbermen in relays--one near the entrance of Robles' +Pass; one beyond the R E Ranch, which they circled to avoid; himself +following the tracks of the four friends until he was assured, beyond +doubt, that they shaped their course for the landmark of Baboquivari +Peak. Then he retraced his steps, riding slowly perforce, lest any great +dust should betray him. In the burning heat of noon he rejoined Scotty, +the first relay; he scribbled his telegram on the back of an old envelope +and gave it to Scotty. That worthy spurred away to the R E Ranch; the +hour for concealment was past--time was the essence of the contract. +Dewing followed at a slowed gait. + +Scotty delivered the telegram to his mate, who set off at a gallop for +Tucson. Between them they covered the forty miles in four hours, or a +little less. Before sunset an auto set out from Silverbell, bearing the +message to Cobre. + + * * * * * + +At that same sunset time, while Pete Johnson and his friends were yet far +from Coyote Pass, Mayer Zurich, in Cobre, spoke harshly to Mr. Oscar +Mitchell. + +"I don't know where you get any finger in this pie," he said implacably. +"You didn't pay me to find any mines for you. You hired me to hound your +cousin; and I've hounded him to jail. That lets you out. I wouldn't +push the matter if I were you. This isn't New York. Things happen +providentially out here when men persist in shoving in where they're +not wanted." + +"I have thought of that," said Mitchell, "and have taken steps to +safeguard myself. It may be worth your while to know that I have copies +of all your letters and reports. I brought them to Arizona with me. I +have left them in the hands of my confidential clerk, at a place unknown +to you, with instructions to place them in the hands of the sheriff of +this county unless I return to claim them in person within ten days, and +to proceed accordingly." + +Zurich stared at him and laughed in a coarse, unfeeling manner. "Oh, you +did, hey? Did you think of that all by yourself? Did it ever occur to you +that I have your instructions, over your own signature, filed away, and +that they would make mighty interesting reading? Your clerk can proceed +accordingly any time he gets good and ready. Go on, man! You make me +tired! You've earned no share in this mine, and you'll get no share +unless you pay well for it. If we find the mine, we'll need cash money, +to be sure; but if we find it, we can get all the money we want without +yours. Go on away! You bother me!" + +"I have richly earned a share without putting in any money," said +Mitchell with much dignity. "This man Johnson, that you fear so much--I +have laid him by the heels for several years to come, and left you a +clear field. Is that nothing?" + +"You poor, blundering, meddling, thick-headed fool," said Zurich +unpleasantly; "can't you see what you've done? You've locked up our best +chance to lay a finger on that mine. Now I'll have to get your Cousin +Stanley out of jail; and that won't be easy." + +"What for?" + +"So I can watch him and get hold of the copper claim, of course." + +"Why don't you leave him in jail and hunt for the claim till you find +it?" demanded lawyer Mitchell, willing to defer his triumph until the +moment when it should be most effective. + +"Find it? Yes; we might find it in a million years, maybe, or we might +find it in a day. Pima County alone is one fourth the size of the State +of New York. And the claim may be in Yuma County, Maricopa, or Pinal--or +even in Old Mexico, for all we know. We feel like it was somewhere south +of here; but that's only a hunch. It might as well be north or west. And +you don't know this desert country. It's simply hell! To go out there +hunting for anything you happen to find--that's plenty bad enough. But +to go out at random, hunting for one particular ledge of rock, when you +don't know where it is or what it looks like--that is not to be thought +of. Too much like dipping up the Atlantic Ocean with a fountain pen to +suit me!" + +"Then, by your own showing," rejoined Mitchell triumphantly, "I am not +only entitled to a share of the mine, but I am fairly deserving of the +biggest share. I met this ignorant mountaineer, of whom you stand in such +awe, took his measure, and won his confidence. What you failed to do by +risk, with numbers on your side, what you shrink from attempting by labor +and patience, I have accomplished by an hour's diplomacy. Johnson has +given me full directions for finding the mine--and a map." + +"What? Johnson would never do that in a thousand years!" + +"It is as I say. See for yourself." Mitchell displayed the document +proudly. + +Zurich took one look at that amazing map; then his feelings overcame him; +he laid his head on the table and wept. + +Painful explanation ensued; comparison with an authentic map carried +conviction to Mitchell's whirling mind. + +"And you thought you could take Johnson's measure?" said Zurich in +conclusion. "Man, he played with you. It is by no means certain that +Johnson will like it in jail. If he comes back here, and finds that you +have not been near your cousin, he may grow suspicious. And if he ever +gets after you, the Lord have mercy on your soul! Well, there comes the +stage. I must go and distribute the mail. Give me this map of yours; I +must have it framed. I wouldn't take a fortune for it. Tinhorn Mountain! +Dear, oh, dear!" + +He came back a little later in a less mirthful mood. Had not the +crestfallen Mitchell been thoroughly engrossed with his own hurts, +he might have perceived that Zurich himself was considerably subdued. + +"It is about time for you to take steps again," said Zurich. "Glance over +this letter. It came on the stage just now. Dated at Tucson last night." + +Mitchell read this: + +DEAR MISTER: Johnson is back and no pitch hot. Look out for yourself. He +over-reached me; he knows who got Bat Wiley's money, and he can prove it. + +He thinks I am doing a dive for Mexico. But I'm not. I am watching him. +I think he means to make a dash for the mine to-night, and I'm going to +follow him till I get the direction. Of course he may go south into +Mexico. If he does he'll have too big a start to be caught. But if he +goes west, you can head him off and cut sign on him. Slim is at +Silverbell, waiting with a car to bring you a wire from me, which I'll +send only if Johnson goes west, or thereabouts. If I send the message +at all, it should follow close on this letter. Slim drives his car like +a drunk Indian. Be ready. Johnson is too much for me. Maybe you can +handle him. + +D. + +"I would suggest Patagonia," said Zurich kindly. "No; get yourself sent +up to the pen for life--that'll be best. He wouldn't look for you there." + + * * * * * + +Zurich found but three of his confederacy available--Jim Scarboro and +Bill Dorsey, the Jim and Bill of the horse camp and the shooting +match--and Eric Anderson; but these were his best. They made a pack; they +saddled horses; they filled canteens--and rifles. + +Slim's car came to Cobre at half-past nine. The message from Dewing ran +thus: + +For Fishhook Mountain. Benavides, S., J., and another. Ten words. + + * * * * * + +Five minutes later the four confederates thundered south through the +night. At daylight they made a change of horses at a far-lying Mexican +rancheria, Zurich's check paying the shot; they bought two five-gallon +kegs and lashed them to the pack, to be filled when needed. At nine in +the morning they came to Fishhook Mountain. + +Fishhook Mountain is midmost in the great desert; Quijotoa Valley, +desolate and dim, lies to the east of it, gullied, dust-deviled, and +forlorn. + +The name gives the mountain's shape--two fishhooks bound together back to +back, one prong to the east, the other to the west, the barbs pointing to +the north. Sweetwater Spring is on the barb of the eastern hook; three +miles west, on the main shank, an all but impassable trail climbed to +Hardscrabble Tanks. + +At the foot of this trail, Zurich and his party halted. Far out on the +eastern plain they saw, through Zurich's spyglass, a slow procession, +heading directly for them. + +"We've beat 'em to it!" said Eric. + +"That country out there is washed out something terrible, for all it +looks so flat," said Jim Scarboro sympathetically. "They've got to ride +slow. Gee, I bet it's hot out there!" + +"One thing sure," said Eric: "there's no such mine as that on Fishhook. +I've prospected every foot of it." + +"They'll noon at Sweetwater," said Zurich. "You boys go on up to +Hardscrabble. Take my horse. I'll go over to Sweetwater and hide out in +the rocks to see what I can find out. There's a stony place where I can +get across without leaving any trail. + +"Unsaddle and water. Leave the pack here, you'd better, and my saddle. +They are not coming here--nothing to come for. You can sleep, turn about, +one watching the horses, and come on down when you see me coming back." + +It was five hours later when the watchers on Hardscrabble saw the Johnson +party turn south, up the valley between barb and shank of the mountain; +an hour after that Zurich rejoined them, as they repacked at the trail +foot, and made his report: + +"I couldn't hear where they're going; but it is somewhere west or +westerly, and it's a day farther on. Say, it's a good thing I went over +there. What do you suppose that fiend Johnson is going to do? You +wouldn't guess it in ten years. You fellows all know there's only +one way to get out of that Fishhook Valley--unless you turn round and +come back the way you go in?" + +"I don't," said Bill. "I've never been down this way before." + +"You can get out through Horse-Thief Gap, 'way in the southwest. There's +a place near the top where there's just barely room for a horse to get +through between the cliffs. You can ride a quarter mile and touch the +rocks on each side with your hands. Johnson's afraid some one will see +those tracks they're makin' and follow 'em up. I heard him tellin' it. So +the damned old fool has lugged dynamite all the way from Tucson, and +after they get through he's going to stuff the powder behind some of +those chimneys and plug Horse-Thief so damn full of rock that a goat +can't get over," said Zurich indignantly. "Now what do you think of that? +Most suspicious old idiot I ever did see!" + +"I call it good news. That copper must be something extraordinary, or +he'd never take such a precaution," said Eric. + +Zurich answered as they saddled: + +"If we had followed them in there, we would have lost forty miles. As it +is, they gain twenty miles on us while we ride back round the north end +of the mountain, besides an hour I lost hoofing it back." + +"I don't see that we've lost much," said Jim Scarboro. "We've got their +direction and our horses are fresh beside of theirs. We'll make up that +twenty miles and be in at the finish to-morrow; we're four to four. Let's +ride." + +Tall Eric rubbed his chin. + +"That Benavides," he said, "is a tough one. He is a known man. He's as +good as Johnson when it comes to shooting." + +"I'm not afraid of the shooting, and I'm not afraid of death," said +Zurich impatiently; "but I am leery about that cussed old man. He'll find +a way to fool us--see if he don't!" + + * * * * * + +A strong wind blew scorching from the south the next day; Johnson turned +aside from the sagebrush country to avoid the worst sand, and bent north +to a long half-circle, through a country of giant saguaro and clumped +yuccas; once they passed over a neck of lava hillocks thinly drifted over +with sand. The heat was ghastly; on their faces alkali dust, plastered +with sweat, caked in the stubble of two days' growth; their eyes were +red-rimmed and swollen. Boland, bruised and racked and cramped, suffered +agonies. + +It was ten in the morning when Joe touched Pete's arm: + +"_Que cosa?_" He pointed behind them and to the north, to a long, +low-lying streak of dust. + +"Trouble, Don Hooaleece? I think so--yes." + +They had no spyglass; but it was hardly needed. The dust streak followed +them, almost parallel to their course. It gained on them. They changed +their gait from a walk to a trot. The dust came faster; they were +pursued. + +That was a weird race. There was no running, no galloping; only a steady, +relentless trot that jarred poor Boland to the bone. After an hour, +during which the pursuers gained steadily, Pete called a halt. They took +the packs from the led animals and turned them loose, to go back to +Fishhook Mountain; they refilled their canteens from the kegs and pressed +on. The pursuit had gained during the brief delay; plainly to be seen +now, queer little bobbing black figures against the north. + +They rode on, a little faster now. But at the end of half an hour the +black figures were perceptibly closer. + +"They're gaining on us," said Boland, turning his red-lidded eyes on +Stan. "They have better horses, or fresher." + +"No," said Stan; "they're riding faster--that's all. They haven't a +chance; they can't keep it up at the rate they're doing now. They're five +miles to the north, and it isn't far to the finish. See that huddle of +little hills in the middle of the plain, ahead and a little to the south? +That's our place, and we can't be caught before we get there. Pete is +saving our horses; they're going strong. These fellows are five miles +away yet. They've shot their bolt, and they know it." + +He was right. The bobbing black shapes came abreast--held even--fell +back--came again--hung on, and fell back at last, hopelessly distanced +when the goal was still ten miles away. Pete and his troop held on +at the same unswerving gait--trot, trot, trot! The ten miles became +nine--eight--seven-- + +Sharp-eyed Benavides touched Pete's arm and pointed. "What's that? By +gar, eet is a man, amigo; a man in some troubles!" + +It was a man, a black shape that waved a hat frantically from a swell of +rising ground a mile to the south. Pete swerved his course. + +"You've got the best horse, Joe. Gallop up and see what's wrong. I'm +afraid it's Jackson Carr." + +It was Jackson Carr. He limped to meet Benavides; the Mexican turned and +swung his hat; the three urged their wearied horses to a gallop. + +"Trouble?" said Pete, leaping down. + +"Bobby. I tied up his pony and hobbled the rest. At daylight they wasn't +in sight. Bobby went after 'em. I waited a long time and then I hobbled +off down here to see. Wagon's five or six miles north. One of my spans +come from down in Sonora, somewhere--Santa Elena, wherever that is--and +I reckon they're dragging it for home and the others have followed, +unless--unless Bob's pony has fallen, or something. He didn't take any +water. He could follow the tracks back here on this hard ground. But in +the sand down there--with all this wind--" His eye turned to the +shimmering white sandhills along the south, with the dust clouds high +above them. + +"Boland, you'll have to give Carr your horse," said Pete. "It's his boy; +and you're 'most dead anyhow. We'll light a big blaze when we find him, +and another on this edge of the sandhills in case you don't see the +first. We'll make two of 'em, a good ways apart, if everything is all +right. You take a canteen and crawl under a bush and rest a while. You +need it. If you feel better after a spell, you can follow these horse +tracks back and hobble along to the wagon; or we can pick you up as +we come back. Come on, boys!" + +"But your mine?" said Carr. He pointed to a slow dust streak that passed +along the north. "I saw you coming--two bunches. Ain't those fellows +after your mine? 'Cause if they are, they'll sure find it. You've been +riding straight for them little hills out there all alone in the big +middle of the plain." + +"Damn the mine!" said Pete. "We've been playing. We've got man's work to +do now. No; there's no use splitting up and sending one or two to the +mine. That mine is a four-man job. So is this; and a better one. We're +all needed here. To hell with the mine! Come on!" + + * * * * * + +They found Bobby, far along in the afternoon, in the sandhills. His lips +were cracked and bleeding; his tongue was beginning to blacken and swell; +his eyes were swollen nearly shut from alkali dust, and there was an ugly +gash in the hair's edge above his left ear; he was caked with blood and +mire, and he clung to the saddle horn with both hands--but he drove six +horses before him. + +They gave him, a little at a time, the heated water from their canteens. +A few small drinks cheered him up amazingly. After a big soapweed was +touched off for a signal fire, he was able to tell his story. + +"Naw, I ain't hurt none to speak of; but I'm some tired. I hit a high +lope and catched up with them in the aidge of the sandhills," he said. +"I got 'em all unhobbled but old Heck; and then that ornery Nig horse +kicked me in the head--damn him! Knocked me out quite a spell. Sun was +middlin' high when I come to--horses gone, and the cussed pony trailed +along after them. It was an hour or two before I caught sight of 'em +again. I was spitting cotton a heap. Dad always told me to carry water +with me, and I sure was wishing I'd minded him. Well, I went 'way round +and headed 'em off--and, dog-gone, they up and run round me. That Zip +horse was the ringleader. Every time, just as I was about to get 'em +turned, he'd make a break and the rest would follow, hellity-larrup! Old +Heck has cut his feet all to pieces with the hobbles--old fool! I headed +'em four or five times--five, I guess--and they kept getting away, and +running farther every time before they stopped and went to grazing. After +a while the pony snagged his bridle in a bush and I got him. Then I +dropped my twine on old Heck and unhobbled him, and come on back. Give me +another drink, Pete." + +They rode back very slowly to the northern edge of the sandhills and +lighted their two signal fires. An answering fire flamed in the north, to +show that Boland had seen their signals. + +"I reckon we'll stop and rest here a while till it gets cooler," observed +Pete. "Might as well, now. We can start in an hour and get in to the +wagon by dark. Reckon Frank Boland was glad to see them two fires! I bet +that boy sure hated to be left behind. Pretty tough--but it had to be +done. This has been a thunderin' hard trip on Frankie and he's stood up +to it fine. Good stuff!" He turned to the boy: "Well, Bobby, you had a +hard time wranglin' them to-day--but you got 'em, didn't you, son?" + +"That's what I went after," said Bobby. + + * * * * * + +Boland stiffened after his rest. He made two small marches toward the +wagon, but his tortured muscles were so stiff and sore that he gave it up +at last. After he saw and answered the signal fires he dropped off to +sleep. + +He was awakened by a jingling of spurs and a trampling of hoofs. He got +to his feet hurriedly. Four horsemen reined up beside him--not Pete +Johnson and his friends, but four strangers, who looked at him curiously. +Their horses were sadly travel-stained. + +"Anything wrong, young man? We saw your fire?" + +"No--not now." Boland's thoughts were confused and his head sang. He +attributed these things to sleepiness; in fact, he was sickening to a +fever. + +"You look mighty peaked," said the spokesman. "Got water? Anything we can +do for you?" + +"Nothing the matter with me, except that I'm pretty well played out. And +I've been anxious. There was a boy lost, or hurt--I don't know which. But +it's all right now. They lit two fires. That was to be the signal if +there was nothing seriously wrong. I let the boy's father take my +horse--man by the name of Carr." + +"And the others? That was Pete Johnson, wasn't it? He went after the +boy?" + +"Yes. And young Mitchell and Joe Benavides." + +Zurich glanced aside at his companions. Dorsey's back was turned. Jim +Scarboro was swearing helplessly under his breath. Tall Eric had taken +off his hat and fumbled with it; the low sun was ruddy in his bright +hair. Perhaps it was that same sun which flamed so swiftly in Zurich's +face. + +"We might as well go back," he said dully, and turned his horse's head +toward the little huddle of hills in the southwest. + +Boland watched them go with a confused mind, and sank back to sleep +again. + + * * * * * + +"Jackson," said Pete in the morning, "you and Frank stay here. I reckon +there'll be no use to take the wagon down to the old claim; but us three +are going down to take a look, now we've come this far. Frank says he's +feeling better, but he don't look very peart. You get him to sleep all +you can. If we should happen to want you, we'll light a big fire. So +long!" + +"Don Hooaleece," said Benavides, very bright-eyed, when they had ridden a +little way from camp, "how is eet to be? Eef eet is war I am wis you to +ze beeg black box." + +"Joe," said Pete, "I've dodged and crept and slid and crawled and +climbed. I've tried to go over, under, and around. Now I'm going +through." + +They came to the copper hill before eight. They found no one; but there +were little stone monuments scattered on all the surrounding hills, and a +big monument on the highest point of the little hill they had called +their own. + +"They've gone," said Stan. "Very wise of them. Well, let's go see the +worst." + +They dismounted and walked to the hilltop. The big monument, built of +loose stones and freshly dug slabs of ore, flashed green and blue in the +sun. Stan found a folded paper between two flat stones. + +"Here's their location notice," he said. + +He started to unfold it; a word caught his eye and his jaw dropped. He +held the notice over, half opened, so that Pete and Joe could see the +last paragraph: + +And the same shall be known as the Bobby Carr Mine. + +WITNESSES +Jim Scarboro +William Dorsey +Eric Anderson +C. Mayer Zurich + +LOCATORS +Peter Wallace Johnson +Stanley Mitchell + +"Zere is a note," said Joe; "I see eet wizzinside." + +Stanley unfolded the location notice. A note dropped out. Pete picked it +up and read it aloud: + +Pete: We did not know about the boy, or we would have helped, of course. +Only for him you had us beat. So this squares that up. + +Your location does not take in quite all the hill. So we located the +little end piece for ourselves. We think that is about right. + +Yours truly +C. Mayer Zurich + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COPPER STREAK TRAIL*** + + +******* This file should be named 14545.txt or 14545.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/5/4/14545 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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