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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/17647-8.txt b/17647-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b84e067 --- /dev/null +++ b/17647-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10704 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Strange Case of Cavendish, by Randall +Parrish + + +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: The Strange Case of Cavendish + + +Author: Randall Parrish + + + +Release Date: January 31, 2006 [eBook #17647] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRANGE CASE OF CAVENDISH*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +THE STRANGE CASE OF CAVENDISH + +by + +RANDALL PARRISH + +Author of +"The Devils Own," "Beyond the Frontier," "When Wilderness Was King," +Etc. + + + + + + + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers New York +Published by arrangement with George H. Doran Company +Copyright, 1918, +by Randall Parrish +Printed in the United States of America + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I THE REACHING OF A DECISION + II THE BODY ON THE FLOOR + III MR. ENRIGHT DECLARES HIMSELF + IV A BREATH OF SUSPICION + V ON THE TRACK OF A CRIME + VI AT STEINWAY'S + VII MISS DONOVAN ARRIVES + VIII A GANG OF ENEMIES + IX A NIGHT AND A MORNING + X AT A NEW ANGLE + XI DEAD OR ALIVE + XII VIEWED FROM BOTH SIDES + XIII THE SHOT OF DEATH + XIV LACY LEARNS THE TRUTH + XV MISS LA RUE PAYS A CALL + XVI CAPTURED + XVII IN THE SHOSHONE DESERT + XVIII IN MEXICAN POWER + XIX WESTCOTT FINDS HIMSELF ALONE + XX TO COMPEL AN ANSWER + XXI THE MARSHAL PLAYS A HAND + XXII THE ROCK IN THE STREAM + XXIII THE ESCAPE + XXIV THE CAVE IN THE CLIFF + XXV IN THE DARK PASSAGE + XXVI THE REAPPEARANCE OF CAVENDISH + XXVII A DANGEROUS PRISONER + XXVIII WITH BACK TO THE WALL + XXIX A NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK + XXX ON THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF + XXXI WITH FORCE OF ARMS + XXXII IN THE TWO CABINS + XXXIII THE REAL MR. CAVENDISH + XXXIV MISS DONOVAN DECIDES + + + + +THE STRANGE CASE OF CAVENDISH + + +CHAPTER I: THE REACHING OF A DECISION + +For the second time that night Frederick Cavendish, sitting at a small +table in a busy café where the night life of the city streamed +continually in and out, regarded the telegram spread out upon the white +napery. It read: + + +Bear Creek, Colorado, 4/2/15. + +FREDERICK CAVENDISH, + College Club, + New York City. + +Found big lead; lost it again. Need you badly. + +WESTCOTT. + + +For the second time that night, too, a picture rose before him, a +picture of great plains, towering mountains, and open spaces that spoke +the freedom and health of outdoor living. He had known that life once +before, when he and Jim Westcott had prospected and hit the trail +together, and its appeal to him now after three years of shallow +sightseeing in the city was deeper than ever. + +"Good old Jim," he murmured, "struck pay-dirt at last only to lose it +and he needs me. By George, I think I'll go." + +And why should he not? Only twenty-nine, he could still afford to +spend a few years in search of living. His fortune left him at the +death of his father was safely invested, and he had no close friends in +the city and no relatives, except a cousin, John Cavendish, for whom he +held no love, and little regard. + +He had almost determined upon going to Bear Creek to meet Westcott and +was calling for his check when his attention was arrested by a noisy +party of four that boisterously took seats at a near-by table. +Cavendish recognised the two women as members of the chorus of the +prevailing Revue, one of them Celeste La Rue, an aggressive blonde with +thin lips and a metallic voice, whose name was synonymous with midnight +escapades and flowing wine. His contemptuous smile at the sight of +them deepened into a disgusted sneer when he saw that one of the men +was John Cavendish, his cousin. + +The two men's eyes met, and the younger, a slight, mild-eyed youth with +a listless chin, excused himself and presented himself at the elder's +table. + +"Won't you join us?" he said nervously. + +Frederick Cavendish's trim, bearded jaw tightened and he shook his +head. "They are not my people," he said shortly, then retreating, +begged, "John, when are you going to cut that sort out?" + +"You make me weary!" the boy snapped. "It's easy enough for you to +talk when you've got all the money--that gives you an excuse to read me +moral homilies every time I ask you for a dollar, but Miss La Rue is as +good as any of your friends any day." + +The other controlled himself. "What is it you want?" he demanded +directly: "Money? If so, how much?" + +"A hundred will do," the younger man said eagerly. "I lost a little on +cards lately, and have to borrow. To-night I met the girl----" + +Frederick Cavendish silenced him and tendered him the bills. "Now," he +said gravely, "this is the last, unless--unless you cut out such people +as Celeste La Rue and others that you train with. I'm tired of paying +bills for your inane extravagances and parties. I can curtail your +income and what's more, I will unless you change." + +"Cut me off?" The younger Cavendish's voice took on an incredulous +note. + +The other nodded. "Just that," he said. "You've reached the limit." + +For a moment the dissipated youth surveyed his cousin, then an angry +flush mounted into his pasty face. + +"You--you--" he stuttered, "--you go to hell." + +Without another word the elderly Cavendish summoned the waiter, paid +the bill, and walked toward the door. John stared after him, a smile +of derision on his face. He had heard Cavendish threaten before. + +"Your cousin seemed peeved," suggested Miss La Rue. + +"It's his nature," explained John. "Got sore because I asked him for a +mere hundred and threatened to cut off my income unless I quit you two." + +"You told him where to go," Miss La Rue said, laughing. "I heard you, +but I don't suppose he'll go--he doesn't look like that kind." + +"Anyhow, I told him," laughed John; then producing a large bill, cried: +"Drink up, people, they're on me--and goody-goody cousin Fred." + + +When Frederick Cavendish reached the street and the fresh night air +raced through his lungs he came to a sudden realisation and then a +resolution. The realisation was that since further pleading would +avail nothing with John Cavendish, he needed a lesson. The resolution +was to give it to him. Both strengthened his previous half-hearted +desire to meet Westcott, into determination. + +He turned the matter over in his mind as he walked along until +reflection was ended by the doors of the College Club which appeared +abruptly and took him in their swinging circle. He went immediately to +the writing-room, laid aside his things and sat down. The first thing +to do, he decided, was to obtain an attorney and consult him regarding +the proper steps. For no other reason than that they had met +occasionally in the corridor he thought of Patrick Enright, a heavy-set +man with a loud voice and given to wearing expensive clothes. + +Calling a page boy, he asked that Enright be located if possible. +During the ensuing wait he outlined on a scrap of paper what he +proposed doing. Fifteen minutes passed before Enright, suave and +apparently young except for growing baldness, appeared. + +"I take it you are Mr. Cavendish," he said, advancing, "and that you +are in immediate need of an attorney's counsel." + +Cavendish nodded, shook hands, and motioned him into a chair. "I have +been called suddenly out of town, Mr. Enright," he explained, "and for +certain reasons which need not be disclosed I deem it necessary to +execute a will. I am the only son of the late William Huntington +Cavendish; also his sole heir, and in the event of my death without a +will, the property would descend to my only known relative, a cousin." + +"His name?" Mr. Enright asked. + +"John Cavendish." + +The lawyer nodded. Of young Cavendish he evidently knew. + +"Because of his dissolute habits I have decided to dispose of a large +portion of my estate elsewhere in case of my early death. I have here +a rough draft of what I want done." He showed the paper. "All that I +require is that it be transposed into legal form." + +Enright took the paper and read it carefully. The bulk of the +$1,000,000 Cavendish estate was willed to charitable organisations, and +a small allowance, a mere pittance, was provided for John Cavendish. +After a few inquiries the attorney said sharply: "You want this +transcribed immediately?" + +Cavendish nodded. + +"Since it can be made brief I may possibly be able to do it on the +girl's machine in the office. You do not mind waiting a moment?" + +Cavendish shook his head, and rising, the attorney disappeared in the +direction of the office. Cavendish heaved a sigh of relief; now he was +free, absolutely free, to do as he chose. His disappearance would mean +nothing to his small circle of casual friends, and when he was settled +elsewhere he could notify the only two men who were concerned with his +whereabouts--his valet, Valois, and the agent handling the estate. He +thought of beginning a letter to John, but hesitated, and when Enright +returned he found him with pen in hand. + +"A trifling task," the attorney smiled easily. "All ready for your +signature, too. You sign there, the second line. But wait--we must +have witnesses." + +Simms, the butler, and the doorman were called in and wrote their names +to the document and then withdrew, after which Enright began folding it +carefully. + +"I presume you leave this in my care?" he asked shortly. + +Cavendish shook his head: "I think not. I prefer holding it myself in +case it is needed suddenly. I shall keep my rooms, and my man Valois +will remain there indefinitely. Now as to your charges." + +A nominal sum was named and paid, after which Cavendish rose, picked up +his hat and stick and turned to Enright. + +"You have obliged me greatly," he smiled, "and, of course, the +transaction will be considered as strictly confidential." And then +seeing Enright's nod bade him a courteous "Good night." + +The attorney watched him disappear. Suddenly he struck the table with +one hand. + +"By God!" he muttered, "I'll have to see this thing a little further." + +Wheeling suddenly, he walked to a telephone booth, called a number and +waited impatiently several moments before he said in intense subdued +tones: "Is this Carlton's Café? Give me Jackson, the head-waiter. +Jackson, is Mr. Cavendish--John Cavendish--there? Good! Call him to +the phone will you, Jackson? It's important." + + + + +CHAPTER II: THE BODY ON THE FLOOR + +The early light of dawn stealing in faintly through the spider-web of +the fire-escape ladder, found a partially open window on the third +floor of the Waldron apartments, and began slowly to brighten the walls +of the room within. There were no curtains on this window as upon the +others, and the growing radiance streamed in revealing the whole +interior. It was a large apartment, furnished soberly and in excellent +taste as either lounging-room or library, the carpet a dark green, the +walls delicately tinted, bearing a few rare prints rather sombrely +framed, and containing a few upholstered chairs; a massive sofa, and a +library table bearing upon it a stack of magazines. + +Its tenant evidently was of artistic leanings for about the room were +several large bronze candle-sticks filled with partially burned tapers. +A low bookcase extended along two sides of the room, each shelf filled, +and at the end of the cases a heavy imported drapery drawn slightly +aside revealed the entrance to a sleeping apartment, the bed's snowy +covering unruffled. Wealth, taste and comfort were everywhere manifest. + +Yet, as the light lengthened, the surroundings evidenced disorder. One +chair lay overturned, a porcelain vase had fallen from off the +table-top to the floor and scattered into fragments. A few magazines +had fallen also, and there were miscellaneous papers scattered about +the carpet, one or two of them torn as though jerked open by an +impatient hand. Still others lying near the table disclosed corners +charred by fire, and as an eddy of wind whisked through the window and +along the floor it tumbled brown ashes along with it, at the same time +diluting the faint odour of smoke that clung to the room. Back of the +table a small safe embedded in the wall stood with its door wide open, +its inner drawer splintered as with a knife blade and hanging half out, +and below it a riffle of papers, many of them apparently legal +documents. + +But the one object across which the golden beams of light fell as +though in soft caress was the motionless figure of a man lying upon his +back beside the table near the drapeless window. Across his face and +shoulders were the charred remains of what undoubtedly had been +curtains on that window. A three-socketed candle-stick filled with +partially burned candles which doubtless had been knocked from the +table was mute evidence of how the tiny flame had started upon its +short march. As to the man's injuries, a blow from behind had +evidently crushed his skull and, though the face was seared and burned, +though the curtain's partial ashes covered more than a half of it, +though the eye-lashes above the sightless eyes were singed and the trim +beard burned to black stubs, the face gave mute evidence of being that +of Frederick Cavendish. + +In this grim scene a tiny clock on the mantel began pealing the hour of +eight. As though this were a signal for entrance, the door at the end +of the bookcase opened noiselessly and a man, smooth faced, his hair +brushed low across his forehead, stepped quietly in. As his eyes +surveyed the grewsome object by the table, they dilated with horror; +then his whole body stiffened and he fled back into the hall, crashing +the door behind him. + +Ten minutes later he returned, not alone, however. This time his +companion was John Cavendish but partially dressed, his features white +and haggard. + +With nervous hands he pushed open the door. At the sight of the body +he trembled a moment, then, mastering himself, strode over and touched +the dead face, the other meanwhile edging into the room. + +"Dead, sir, really _dead_?" the late comer asked. + +Cavendish nodded: "For several hours," he answered in an unnatural +voice. "He must have been struck from behind. Robbery evidently was +the object--cold-blooded robbery." + +"The window is open, sir, and last night at twenty minutes after twelve +I locked it. Mr. Cavendish came in at twelve and locking the window +was the last thing I did before he told me I could go." + +"He left no word for a morning call?" + +Valois shook his head: "I always bring his breakfast at eight," he +explained. + +"Did he say anything about suddenly leaving the city for a trip West? +I heard such a rumour." + +"No, sir. He was still up when I left and had taken some papers from +his pocket. When last I saw him he was looking at them. He seemed +irritated." + +There was a moment's silence, during which the flush returned to +Cavendish's cheeks, but his hands still trembled. + +"You heard nothing during the night?" he demanded. + +"Nothing, sir. I swear I knew nothing until I opened the door and saw +the body a few moments ago." + +"You'd better stick to your story, Valois," the other said sternly, +"The police will be here shortly. I'm going to call them, now." + +He was calm, efficient, self-contained now as he got Central Station +upon the wire and began talking. + +"Hello, lieutenant? Yes. This is John Cavendish of the Waldron +apartments speaking. My cousin, Frederick Cavendish, has been found +dead in his room and his safe rifled. Nothing has been disturbed. +Yes, at the Waldron, Fifty-Seventh Street. Please hurry." + +Perhaps half an hour later the police came--two bull-necked +plain-clothes men and a flannel-mouthed "cop." + +With them came three reporters, one of them a woman. She was a young +woman, plainly dressed and, though she could not be called beautiful, +there was a certain patrician prettiness in her small, oval, womanly +face with its grey kind eyes, its aquiline nose, its firm lips and +determined jaw, a certain charm in the manner in which her chestnut +hair escaped occasionally from under her trim hat. Young, aggressive, +keen of mind and tireless, Stella Donovan was one of the few good woman +reporters of the city and the only one the _Star_ kept upon its pinched +pay-roil. They did so because she could cover a man-size job and get a +feminine touch into her story after she did it. And, though her +customary assignments were "sob" stories, divorces, society events and +the tracking down of succulent bits of general scandal, she +nevertheless enjoyed being upon the scene of the murder even though she +was not assigned to it. This casual duty was for Willis, the _Star's_ +"police" man, who had dragged her along with him for momentary company +over her protest that she must get a "yarn" concerning juvenile +prisoners for the Sunday edition. + +"Now, we'll put 'em on the rack." Willis smiled as he left her side +and joined the detectives. + +A flood of questions from the officers, interspersed frequently with a +number from Willis, and occasionally one from the youthful _Chronicle_ +man, came down upon Valois and John Cavendish, while Miss Donovan, +silent and watchful, stood back, frequently letting her eyes admire the +tasteful prints upon the walls and the rich hangings in the room of +death. + +Valois repeated his experience, which was corroborated in part by the +testimony of John Cavendish's valet whom he had met and talked with in +the hall. The valet also testified that his employer, John Cavendish, +had come home not later than twelve o'clock and immediately retired. +Then John Cavendish established the fact that ten minutes before +arriving home he had dropped Celeste La Rue at her apartment. There +was no flaw in any of the stories to which the inquisitors could attach +suspicion. One thing alone seemed to irritate Willis. + +"Are you sure," he said to Cavendish, "that the dead man is your +cousin? The face and chest are pretty badly burned you know, and I +thought perhaps----" + +A laugh from the detectives silenced him while Cavendish ended any +fleeting doubts with a contemptuous gaze. + +"You can't fool a man on his own cousin, youngster," he said flatly. +"The idea is absurd." + +The crime unquestionably was an outside job; the window opening on the +fire-escape had been jimmied, the marks left being clearly visible. +Apparently Frederick Cavendish had previously opened the safe +door--since it presented no evidence of being tampered with--and was +examining certain papers on the table, when the intruder had stolen up +from behind and dealt him a heavy blow probably, from the nature of the +wound, using a piece of lead pipe. Perhaps in falling Cavendish's arm +had caught in the curtains, pulling them from the supporting rod and +dragging them across the table, thus sweeping the candlestick with its +lighted tapers down to the floor with it. There the extinguished wicks +had ignited the draperies, which had fallen across the stricken man's +face and body. The clothes, torso, and legs, had been charred beyond +recognition but the face, by some peculiar whim of fate, had been +partly preserved. + +The marauder, aware that the flames would obliterate a portion, if not +all of the evidence against him, had rifled the safe in which, John +testified, his cousin always kept considerable money. Scattering +broadcast valueless papers, he had safely made his escape through the +window, leaving his victim's face to the licking flames. Foot-prints +below the window at the base of the fire-escape indicated that the +fugitive had returned that way. This was the sum of the evidence, +circumstantial and true, that was advanced. Satisfied that nothing +else was to be learned, the officers, detectives, Willis, and Miss +Donovan and the pale _Chronicle_ youth withdrew, leaving the officer on +guard. + +The same day, young John, eager to be away from the scene, moved his +belongings to the Fairmount Hotel, and, since no will was found in the +dead man's papers, the entire estate came to him, as next of kin. A +day or two later the body was interred in the family lot beside the +father's grave, and the night of the funeral young John Cavendish dined +at an out-of-the-way road-house with a blonde with a hard metallic +voice. Her name was Miss Celeste La Rue. + +And the day following he discharged Francois Valois without apparent +cause, in a sudden burst of temper. So, seemingly, the curtain fell on +the last act of the play. + + + + +CHAPTER III: MR. ENRIGHT DECLARES HIMSELF + +One month after the Cavendish murder and two days after he had +despatched a casual, courteous note to John Cavendish requesting that +he call, Mr. Patrick Enright, of Enright and Dougherty, sat in his +private office on the top floor of the Collander Building in Cortlandt +Street waiting for the youth's appearance. Since young Cavendish had +consulted him before in minor matters, Mr. Enright had expected that he +would call voluntarily soon after the murder, but in this he was +disappointed. Realising that Broadway was very dear to the young man, +Enright had made allowances, until, weary of waiting, he decided to get +into the game himself and to this end had despatched the note, to which +Cavendish had replied both by telephone and note. + +"He ought to be here now," murmured Mr. Enright sweetly, looking at his +watch, and soon the expected visitor was ushered in. Arising to his +feet the attorney extended a moist, pudgy hand. + +"Quite prompt, John," he greeted. "Take the chair there--and pardon me +a moment." + +As the youth complied Enright opened the door, glanced into the outer +room, and gave orders not to be disturbed for the next half-hour. +Then, drawing in his head, closed the door and turned the key. + +"John," he resumed smoothly, "I have been somewhat surprised that you +failed to consult me earlier regarding the will of your late cousin +Frederick." + +"His--his will!" John leaned forward amazed, as he stared into the +other's expressionless face. "Did--did he leave one?" + +"Oh! that's it," the attorney chuckled. "You didn't know about it, did +you? How odd. I thought I informed you of the fact over the phone the +same night Frederick died." + +"You told me he had called upon you to prepare a will--but there was +none found in his papers." + +"So I inferred from the newspaper accounts," Enright chuckled dryly, +his eyes narrowing, "as well as the information that you had applied +for letters of administration. In view of that, I thought a little +chat advisable--yes, quite advisable, since on the night of his death I +did draw up his will. Incidentally, I am the only one living aware +that such a will was drawn. You see my position?" + +Young Cavendish didn't; this was all strange, confusing. + +"The will," resumed Mr. Enright, "was drawn in proper form and duly +witnessed." + +"There can't be such a will. None was found. You phoned me shortly +before midnight, and twenty minutes later Frederick was in his +apartments. He had no time to deposit it elsewhere. There is no such +will." + +Enright smiled, not pleasantly by any means. + +"Possibly not," he said with quiet sinister gravity. "It was probably +destroyed and it was to gain possession of that will that Frederick +Cavendish was killed." + +John leaped to his feet, his face bloodless: "My God!" he muttered +aghast, "do you mean to say----" + +"Sit down, John; this is no cause for quarrel. Now listen. I am not +accusing you of crime; not intentional crime, at least. There is no +reason why you should not naturally have desired to gain possession of +the will. If an accident happened, that was your misfortune. I merely +mention these things because I am your friend. Such friendship leads +me first to inform you what had happened over the phone. I realised +that Frederick's hasty determination to devise his property elsewhere +was the result of a quarrel. I believed it my duty to give you +opportunity to patch that quarrel up with the least possible delay. +Perhaps this was not entirely professional on my part, but the claims +of friendship are paramount to mere professional ethics." + +He sighed, clasping and unclasping his hands, yet with eyes steadily +fixed upon Cavendish, who had sunk back into his chair. + +"Now consider the situation, my dear fellow. I have, it is true, +performed an unprofessional act which, if known, would expose me to +severe criticism. There is, however, no taint of criminal intent about +my conduct and, no doubt, my course would be fully vindicated, were I +now to go directly before the court and testify to the existence of a +will." + +"But that could not be proved. You have already stated that Frederick +took the will with him; it has never been found." + +"Quite true--or rather, it may have been found, and destroyed. It +chances, however, that I took the precaution to make a carbon copy." + +"Unsigned?" + +"Yes, but along with this unsigned copy I also retain the original +memoranda furnished me in Frederick Cavendish's own handwriting. I +believe, from a legal standpoint, by the aid of my evidence, the court +would be very apt to hold such a will proved." + +He leaned suddenly forward, facing the shrinking Cavendish and bringing +his hand down hard upon the desk. + +"Do you perceive now what this will means? Do you realise where such +testimony would place you? Under the law, providing he died without a +will, you were the sole heir to the property of Frederick Cavendish. +It was widely known you were not on friendly terms. The evening of his +death you quarrelled openly in a public restaurant. Later, in a spirit +of friendship, I called you up and said he had made a will practically +disinheriting you. Between that time and the next morning he is +murdered in his own apartments, his safe rifled, and yet, the only +paper missing is this will, to the existence of which I can testify. +If suspicion is once cast upon you, how can you clear yourself? Can +you prove that you were in your own apartments, asleep in your own bed +from one o'clock until eight? Answer that." + +Cavendish tried, but although his lips moved, they gave utterance to no +sound. He could but stare into those eyes confronting him. Enright +scarcely gave him opportunity. + +"So, the words won't come. I thought not. Now listen. I am not that +kind of a man and I have kept still. No living person--not even my +partner--has been informed of what has occurred. The witnesses, I am +sure, do not know the nature of the paper they signed. I am a lawyer; +I realise fully the relations I hold to my client, but in this +particular case I contend that my duty as a man is of more importance +than any professional ethics. Frederick Cavendish had this will +executed in a moment of anger and devised his estate to a number of +charities. I personally believe he was not in normal mind and that the +will did not really reflect his purpose. He had no thought of +immediate death, but merely desired to teach you a lesson. He proposed +to disappear--or at least, that is my theory--in order that he might +test you on a slender income. I am able to look upon the whole matter +from this standpoint, and base my conduct accordingly. No doubt this +will enable us to arrive at a perfectly satisfactory understanding." + +The lawyer's voice had fallen, all the threat gone, and the younger man +straightened in his chair. + +"You mean you will maintain silence as to the will?" + +"Absolutely; as a client your interests will always be my first +concern. Of course I shall expect to represent you in a legal capacity +in settling up the estate, and consequently feel it only just that the +compensation for such services shall be mutually agreed upon. In this +case there are many interests to guard. Knowing, as I do, all the +essential facts, I am naturally better prepared to conserve your +interests than any stranger. I hope you appreciate this." + +"And your fee?" + +"Reasonable, very reasonable, when you consider the service I am doing +you, and the fact that my professional reputation might so easily be +involved and the sums to be distributed, which amount to more than a +million dollars. My silence, my permitting the estate to go to +settlement, and my legal services combined, ought to be held as rather +valuable--at, let us say, a hundred thousand. Yes, a hundred thousand; +I hardly think that is unfair." + +Cavendish leaped to his feet, his hand gripping his cane. + +"You damned black----" + +"Wait!" and Enright arose also. "Not so loud, please; your voice might +be heard in the outer office. Besides it might be well for you to be +careful of your language. I said my services would cost you a hundred +thousand dollars. Take the proposition or leave it, Mr. John +Cavendish. Perhaps, with a moment's thought, the sum asked may not +seem excessive." + +"But--but," the other stammered, all courage leaving him, "I haven't +the money." + +"Of course not," the threat on Enright's face changing to a smile. +"But the prospects that you will have are unusually good. I am quite +willing to speculate on your fortunes. A memoranda for legal services +due one year from date--such as I have already drawn up--and bearing +your signature, will be quite satisfactory. Glance over the items, +please; yes, sit here at the table. Now, if you will sign that there +will be no further cause for you to feel any uneasiness--this line, +please." + +Cavendish grasped the penholder in his fingers, and signed. It was the +act of a man dazed, half stupefied, unable to control his actions. +With trembling hand, and white face, he sat staring at the paper, +scarcely comprehending its real meaning. In a way it was a confession +of guilt, an acknowledgment of his fear of exposure, yet he felt +utterly incapable of resistance. Enright unlocked the door, and +projected his head outside, comprehending clearly that the proper time +to strike was while the iron was hot. + +Calling Miss Healey, one of his stenographers, he made her an official +witness to the document and the signature of John Cavendish. + +Not until ten minutes later when he was on the street did it occur to +John Cavendish that the carbon copy of the will, together with the +rough notes in his cousin's handwriting, still remained in Enright's +possession. Vainly he tried to force himself to return and demand +them, but his nerve failed, and he shuffled away hopelessly in the +hurrying crowds. + + + + +CHAPTER IV: A BREATH OF SUSPICION + +As Francois Valois trudged along the night streets toward his rooming +house his heart was plunged in sorrow and suspicion. To be discharged +from a comfortable position for no apparent reason when one +contemplated no sweet alliance was bad enough, but to be discharged +when one planned marriage to so charming a creature as Josette La Baum +was nothing short of a blow. Josette herself had admitted that and +promptly turned Francois's hazards as to young Cavendish's motives into +smouldering suspicion, which he dared not voice. Now, as he paused +before a delicatessen window realising that unless he soon obtained +another position its dainties would be denied him, these same +suspicions assailed him again. + +Disheartened, he turned from the pane and was about to move away, when +he came face to face with a trim young woman in a smart blue serge. +"Oh, hello!" she cried pleasantly, bringing up short. Then seeing the +puzzled look upon the valet's face, she said: "Don't you remember me? +I'm Miss Donovan of the _Star_. I came up to the apartments the +morning of the Cavendish murder with one of the boys." + +Valois smiled warmly; men usually did for Miss Donovan. "I remember," +he said dolorously. + +The girl sensed some underlying sorrow in his voice and with +professional skill learned the cause within a minute. Then, because +she believed that there might be more to be told, and because she was +big-hearted and interested in every one's troubles, she urged him to +accompany her to a near-by restaurant and pour out his heart while she +supped. Lonely and disheartened, Valois accepted gladly and within +half an hour they were seated at a tiny table in an Italian café. + +"About your discharge?" she queried after a time. + +"I was not even asked to accompany Mr. Frederick's body," he burst out, +"even though I had been with him a year. So I stayed in the apartment +to straighten things, expecting to be retained in John Cavendish's +service. I even did the work in his apartments, but when he returned +and saw me there he seemed to lose his temper, wanted to know why I was +hanging around, and ordered me out of the place." + +"The ingrate!" exclaimed the girl, laying a warm, consoling hand on the +other's arm. "You're sure he wasn't drinking?" + +"I don't think so, miss. Just the sight of me seemed to drive him mad. +Flung money at me, he did, told me to get out, that he never wanted to +see me again. Since then I have tried for three weeks to find work, +but it has been useless." + +While she gave him a word of sympathy, Miss Donovan was busily +thinking. She remembered Willis's remark in the apartments, "Are you +sure of the dead man's identity? His face is badly mutilated, you +know"; and her alert mind sensed a possibility of a newspaper story +back of young Cavendish's unwarranted and strange act. How far could +she question the man before her? That she had established herself in +his good grace she was sure, and to be direct with him she decided +would be the best course to adopt. + +"Mr. Valois," she said kindly, "would you mind if I asked you a +question or two more?" + +"No," the man returned. + +"All right. First, what sort of a man was your master?" + +Valois answered almost with reverence: + +"A nice, quiet gentleman. A man that liked outdoors and outdoor +sports. He almost never drank, and then only with quiet men like +himself that he met at various clubs. Best of all, he liked to spend +his evenings at home reading." + +"Not much like his cousin John," she ventured with narrowing eyes. + +"No, ma'am, God be praised! There's a young fool for you, miss, crazy +for the women and his drinking. Brought up to spend money, but not to +earn any." + +"I understand that he was dependent upon Frederick Cavendish." + +"He was, miss," Valois said disgustedly, "for every cent. He could +never get enough of it, either, although Mr. Frederick gave him a +liberal allowance." + +"Did they ever quarrel?" + +"I never heard them. But I do know there was no love lost between +them, and I know that young John was always broke." + +"Girls cost lots on Broadway," Miss Donovan suggested, "and they keep +men up late, too." + +Valois laughed lightly. "John only came home to sleep occasionally," +he said; "and as for the women--one of them called on him the day after +Mr. Frederick was killed. I was in the hall, and saw her go straight +to his door--like she had been there before. A swell dresser, miss, if +I ever saw one. One of those tall blondes with a reddish tinge in her +hair. He likes that kind." + +Miss Donovan started imperceptibly. This was interesting; a woman in +John Cavendish's apartment the day after his cousin's murder! But who +was she? There were a million carrot-blondes in Manhattan. Still, the +woman must have had some distinguishing mark; her hat, perhaps, or her +jewels. + +"Did the woman wear any diamonds?" she asked. + +"No diamonds," Valois returned; "a ruby, though. A ruby set in a big +platinum ring. I saw her hand upon the knob." + +Miss Donovan's blood raced fast. She knew that woman. It was Celeste +La Rue! She remembered her because of a press-agent story that had +once been written about the ring, and from what Miss Donovan knew of +Miss La Rue, she did not ordinarily seek men; therefore there must have +been a grave reason for her presence in John Cavendish's apartments +immediately after she learned of Frederick's death. + +Had his untimely end disarranged some plan of these two? What was the +reason she had come in person instead of telephoning? Had her +mysterious visit anything to do with the death of the elder Cavendish? + +A thousand speculations entered Miss Donovan's mind. + +"How long was she in the apartment?" she demanded sharply. + +"Fifteen or twenty minutes, miss--until after the hall-man came back. +I had to help lay out the body, and could not remain there any longer." + +"Have you told any one else what you have told me?" + +"Only Josette. She's my _fiancée_. Miss La Baum is her last name." + +"You told her nothing further that did not come out at the inquest?" + +Valois hesitated. + +"Maybe I did, miss," he admitted nervously. "She questioned me about +losing my job, and her questions brought things into my mind that I +might never have thought of otherwise. And at last I came to believe +that it wasn't Mr. Frederick who was dead at all." + +The valet's last remark was crashing in its effect. + +Miss Donovan's eyes dilated with eagerness and amazement. + +"Not Frederick Cavendish! Mr. Valois, tell me--why?" + +The other's voice fell to a whisper. + +"Frederick Cavendish, miss," he said hollowly, "had a scar on his +chest--from football, he once told me--and the man we laid out, well, +of course his body was a bit burned, but he appeared to have no scar at +all!" + +"You know that?" demanded the girl, frightened by the import of the +revelation. + +"Yes, miss. The assistant in the undertaking rooms said so, too. +Doubting my own mind, I asked him. The man we laid out had no scar on +his chest." + +Miss Donovan sprang suddenly to her feet. + +"Mr. Valois," she said breathlessly, "you come and tell that story to +my city editor, and he'll see that you get a job--and a real one. You +and I have started something, Mr. Valois." + +And, tossing money to cover the bill on the table, she took Valois's +arm, and with him in tow hurried through the restaurant to the city +streets on one of which was the _Star_ office, where Farriss, the city +editor, daily damned the doings of the world. + +That night when Farriss had heard the evidence his metallic eyes +snapped with an unusual light. Farriss, for once, was enthusiastic. + +"A great lead! By God, it is! Now to prove it, Stella"--Farriss +always resorted to first names--"you drop everything else and go to +this, learn what you can, spend money if you have to. I'll drag Willis +off police, and you work with him. And damn me, if you two spend +money, you've got to get results! I'll give you a week--when you've +got something, come back!" + + + + +CHAPTER V: ON THE TRACK OF A CRIME + +In the city room of the _Star_, Farriss, the city editor, sat back in +his swivel chair smoking a farewell pipe preparatory to going home. +The final edition had been put to bed, the wires were quiet, and as he +sat there Farriss was thinking of plunging "muskies" in Maine streams. +His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a clatter of footsteps, and, +slapping his feet to the floor, he turned to confront Willis and Miss +Donovan. + +"Great God!" he started, at their appearance at so late an hour. + +Miss Donovan smiled at him. "No; great luck!" + +"Better than that, Mr. Farriss," echoed Willis. "We've got something; +and we dug all week to get it." + +"But it cost us real money--enough to make the business office moan, I +expect, too," Miss Donovan added. + +"Well, for Pete's sake, shoot!" demanded Farriss. "Cavendish, I +suppose?" + +The two nodded. Their eyes were alight with enthusiasm. + +"In the first place," said the girl, with grave emphasis, "Frederick +Cavendish did not die intestate as supposed. He left a will." + +Farriss blinked. "By God!" he exclaimed. "That's interesting. There +was no evidence of that before." + +"I got that from the servants of the College Club," Willis interposed. +"The will was drawn the night before the murder. And the man that drew +it was Patrick Enright of Enright and Dougherty. Cavendish took away a +copy of it in his pocket. And, Mr. Farriss, I got something else, +too--Enright and young John Cavendish are in communication further. I +saw him leaving Enright's office all excited. Following my hunch, I +cultivated Miss Healey, Enright's stenographer, and learned that the +two had an altercation and that it was evidently over some document." + +Farriss was interested. + +"Enright's in this deep," he muttered thoughtfully, "but how? +Well--what else?" + +Stella Donovan began speaking now: + +"I fixed it with Chambers, the manager of the Fairmount, to get Josette +La Baum--she's Valois's _fiancée_, you remember--into the hotel as a +maid. Josette 'soaped the keyhole' of the drawers in John Cavendish's +rooms there. I had a key made from the soap impression, and from the +contents of the correspondence we found I learned that Celeste La Rue, +the blonde of the Revue, had got some kind of hold on him. It isn't +love, either; it's something stronger. He jumps when she holds the +hoop." + +"La Rue's mixed up in this deeply, too," Willis cut in. "Neither one +of us could shadow her without uncovering ourselves, so we hired an +International operative. They cost ten dollars a day--and expenses. +What he learned was this--that while she was playing with young +Cavendish and seeing him almost daily, the lovely Celeste was also in +communication with--guess who!" + +"Enright?" Farriss ventured. + +"Exactly--Enright," he concluded, lighting his half-smoked cigarette. + +"Well," the city editor tapped his desk; "you two have done pretty +well, so far. You've got considerable dope. Now, what do you make of +it?" + +He bent an inquiring gaze on both the girl and the youth. + +"You do the talking, Jerry," Miss Donovan begged Willis; "I'm very +tired." + +Willis was only too eager; Willis was young, enthusiastic, +reliable--three reasons why the _Star_ kept him. + +"It may be a dream," he said, smiling, "but here is the way I stack it +up. The night after he quarrelled with John, Frederick Cavendish +called in Enright and made a will, presumably, cutting John off with +practically nothing. + +"Immediately after Frederick's departure, Enright calls Carbon's Café +and talks to John Cavendish, who had been dining there with Celeste La +Rue. + +"It is reasonable to suppose that he told him of the will. Less than +five hours afterward Frederick Cavendish is found dead in his +apartments. Again it is reasonable to suppose that he was croaked by +John Cavendish, who wanted to destroy the will so that he could claim +the estate. + +"These Broadway boys need money when they travel with chorines. +Anyhow, the dead man is buried, and John starts spending money like +water. One month later he receives a letter--Josette patched the +pieces together--asking him to call at Enright's office. + +"What happened there is probably this: Young Cavendish was informed of +the existence of the will, and it was offered to him at a price which +he couldn't afford to pay--just then. + +"Perhaps he was frightened into signing a promise to pay as soon as he +came into the estate--tricked by Enright. Enright, as soon as he heard +no will had been found in Frederick's effects, may have figured that +perhaps John killed him, or even if he did not, that, nevertheless, he +could use circumstances to extract money from the youngster, who, even +if innocent, would fear the trial and notoriety that would follow if +Enright publicly disclosed the existence of that will. + +"John Cavendish may be innocent, or he may be guilty, but one thing is +certain--he's being badgered to death by two people, from what little +we know. One of them is the La Rue woman; the other is Enright. + +"Now I wonder--Mr. Farriss, doesn't it occur to you that they may be +working together like the woman and the man in the Skittles case last +year? You remember then they got a youngster in their power and nearly +trimmed him down to his eye-teeth!" + +Farriss sat reflecting deeply, chewing the stem of his dead pipe. + +"There's something going on--that's as plain as a red banner-head. +You've got a peach of a start, so far, and done good pussyfooting--you, +too, Stella--but there's one thing that conflicts with your +hypothesis----" + +The two leaned forward. + +"Valois's statement that he was almost positive that the dead man was +not Cavendish," the city editor snapped. + +"I now believe Valois is mistaken, in view of developments," said +Willis with finality. "So does Stella--Miss Donovan, I mean. Remember +the body was charred across the face and chest--and Valois was excited." + +Farriss was silent a moment. + +"Stick to it a while longer," he rapped out; "and get La Rue and +Cavendish together at their meeting-place, if you can discover it." + +"We can!" interjected Willis. "That's something I learned less than an +hour ago. It's Steinway's Café, the place where the police picked up +Frisco Danny and Mad Mike Meighan two years ago. I followed them, but +could not get near enough to hear what they said." + +"Then hop to it," Farriss rejoined. "Stick around there until you get +something deeper. As for me--I'm going home. It's two o'clock." + + + + +CHAPTER VI: AT STEINWAY'S + +It was the second night after Farriss had given them his instructions +that Miss Donovan and Willis, sitting in the last darkened booth in +Steinway's Café, were rewarded for their vigil. The booth they +occupied was selected for the reason that it immediately joined that +into which Willis had but three days before seen Cavendish and the La +Rue woman enter, and now as they sat toying with their food, their eyes +commanding the entire room, they saw a woman swing into the café +entrance and enter the booth directly ahead of them. + +"La Rue!" whispered Willis to Miss Donovan. + +Ten minutes later a young man entered the café, swept it quickly with +his eyes, then made directly for the enclosure occupied by his +inamorata. The man was Cavendish. + +In the booth behind. Miss Donovan and Willis were all attention, their +ears strained to catch the wisps of conversation that eddied over the +low partition. + +"Pray for the orchestra to stop playing," whispered Miss Donovan, and, +strangely enough, as she uttered the words the violins obeyed, leaving +the room comparatively quiet in which it was not impossible to catch +stray sentences of the subdued conversation. + +"Well, I'm here." It was John's voice, an ill-humoured voice, too. +"But this is the last time, Celeste. These meetings are dangerous." + +"Yes--when you talk so loud." Her soft voice scarcely reached the +listeners. "But this time there was a good reason." She laughed. +"You didn't think it was love, did you, deary?" + +"Oh, cut that out!" disgustedly. "I have been foolish enough to +satisfy even your vanity. You want more money, I suppose." + +"Well, of course," her voice hardening. "Naturally I feel that I +should share in your good fortune. But the amount I want now, and must +have to-night--to-night, John Cavendish--is not altogether for myself. +I've heard from the West." + +"My God! Has he been located?" + +"Yes, and is safe for the present. Here, read this telegram. It's not +very clear, but Beaton wants money and asks me to bring it." + +"You? Why does he need you?" + +"Lack of nerve, I guess; he's out of his element in that country. If +it was the Bowery he'd do this sort of job better. Anyhow, I'm going, +and I want a roll. We can't either of us afford to lie down now." + +Cavendish half smothered an oath. + +"Money," he ejaculated fiercely. "That is all I hear. Enright has +held me up something fierce, and you never let me alone. Suppose I say +I haven't got it." + +"Why, then, I'd laugh at you, that's ail. You may not love me any +more, my dear, but surely you have no occasion to consider me a fool. +I endeavour to keep posted on what the court is doing in our case; I am +naturally interested, you know. You were at the Commercial National +Bank this afternoon." + +"How the devil did you know that?" + +"I play my cards safe," she laughed mirthlessly. "I could even tell +you the size of your check, and that the money is still on your person. +You intended to place it in a safe-deposit box and keep it hidden for +your own use." + +"You hellion, you!" Cavendish's voice rose high, then later Miss +Donovan heard him say more softly: "How much do you want?" + +"Ten thousand. I'm willing enough to split fifty-fifty. This Colorado +job is getting to be expensive, deary. I wouldn't dare draw on you +through the banks." + +Miss Donovan had only time to nudge Willis enthusiastically before she +overheard the next plea. + +"Celeste, are you trimming me again?" + +"Don't be a fool!" came back in subdued tones. "Do you think that +telegram is a fake? My Gawd--that is what I want money for! Moreover, +I should think you would be tickled, Johnnie boy, to get me out of +town--and the price is so low." + +In the back booth Willis muttered: + +"God, things are going great." Then he bent his ear to sedulous +attention and again he could hear the voice of Cavendish. + +"You've got to tell me what you're going to do with the money," it said. + +The La Rue woman's answer could not be heard; evidently it was a +whispered one, and therefore of utmost importance. Came a pause, a +clink of glasses, and then a few straggling words filtered over the +partition. + +"Isn't that the best way?" Celeste La Rue's voice was easily +recognisable. "Of course it will be a--well, a mere accident, and no +questions asked." + +"But if the man should talk!" + +"Forget it! Ned Beaton is an oyster. Besides, I've got the screws on +him. Come on, Johnnie boy, don't be a fool. We are in this game and +must play it out. It has been safe enough so far, and I know what I am +doing now. You've got too much at stake to haggle over a few thousand, +when the money has come to you as easily as this has. Why, if I'd +breathe a word of what I know in this town----" + +"For God's sake, not so loud!" + +"Bah! No one here is paying any attention to us. Enright is the only +one who even suspicions, and his mouth is shut. It makes me laugh to +think how easily the fools were gulled. We've got a clear field if you +will only let me play the game out in my own way. Do I get the money?" + +He must have acceded, for his voice no longer rose to a high pitch. +Presently, when the orchestra began playing again. Miss Donovan and +Willis judged the pair were giving their attention to the dinner. +Finally, after an hour had passed, Cavendish emerged from the booth, +went to the check-room, and hurriedly left the café. Waiting only long +enough to satisfy herself that Cavendish was gone, Celeste La Rue +herself emerged from the booth and paused for a moment beside its +bamboo curtains. Then turning suddenly, she made her way, not toward +the exit of the café, but to another small booth near the check-room, +and into this she disappeared. + +But before she had started this short journey, a yellow piece of paper, +closely folded, slipped from her belt where it had been tucked. + +"It's the telegram! The one of which they were speaking." Miss +Donovan's voice whispered dramatically as her eyes swept the tiny clue +within their ambit. + +Willis started. He almost sprung from the booth to pick it up, but the +girl withheld him with a pressure of the hand. + +"Not yet," she begged. "Wait until we see who leaves the other booth +into which La Rue just went." + +And Willis fell back into the seat, his pulse pounding. Presently, +with startled eyes, they beheld Celeste la Rue leave the booth, and +then five minutes later a well-dressed man, a suave, youthful man with +a head inclined toward baldness. + +"Enright!" muttered Willis. + +"Enright," echoed Miss Donovan, "and, Jerry, our hunch was right. He +and La Rue are playing Cavendish--and for something big. But now is +our time to get the telegram. Quick--before the waiter returns." + +At her words Willis was out of the booth. As Miss Donovan watched, she +saw him pass by the folded evidence. What was wrong? But, +no--suddenly she saw his handkerchief drop, saw him an instant later +turn and pick it up, and with it the telegram. Disappearing in the +direction of the men's room, he returned a moment later, paid the +check, and with Miss Donovan on his arm left the café. + +Outside, and three blocks away from Steinway's, they paused under an +arc-light, and with shaking hands Willis showed her the message. There +in the flickering rays the girl read its torn and yet enlightening +message. + + + lorado, May 19, 1915. + + him safe. Report and collect. + come with roll Monday sure + 've seen papers. Remember Haskell. + + NED. + + +"It's terribly cryptic, Jerry," she said to the other, "but two things +we know from it." + +"One is that La Rue's going to blow the burg some day--soon." + +"The other, that 'Ned' is Ned Beaton, the man mentioned back there in +Steinway's. Whatever his connection is, we don't know. I think we had +better go to Farriss, don't you?" + +"A good hunch," Willis replied, taking her arm. "And let's move on it +quick. One of us may have to hop to Colorado if Farriss thinks well of +what we've dug up." + +"I hope it's you--you've worked hard," said Miss Donovan. + +"But you got the big clue of it all--the telegram," gallantly returned +her companion, as he raised his arm to signal a passing cab which would +take them to the Star office. + +Once there, in their enthusiasm they upset the custom of the office and +broke into Farriss's fullest hour, dragged him from his slot in the +copy desk and into his private office, which he rarely used. There, +into his impatient ears they dinned the story of what they had just +learned, ending up by passing him the telegram. + +For a mere instant he glanced at them, then his lips began to move. +"Beaton--Ned--Ned Beaton--Ned Beaton," he mused, and then sat bolt +upright in his chair, while he banged the desk with a round, hard fist. +"Hell's bells!" he ejaculated. "You've run across something. I know +that name. I know the man. Ned Beaton is a 'gun,' and he pulled his +first job when I was doing 'police' in Philadelphia for the _Record_. +Well, well, my children, this is splendid! And what next?" + +"But, Mr. Farriss, where is he?" put in Stella Donovan. "Where was the +message sent from? Colorado, yes, but where in Colorado? That's the +thing to find out." + +"I thought it might be the last word in the message--Haskell," ventured +Willis. + +Mr. Farriss paused a moment, then, + +"Boy!" he yelled through the open door. + +"Boy, get me an atlas here quick, or I'll hang your hair on a +proof-hook!" + +A young hopeful, frightened into frenzy, obeyed with alacrity, and +Farriss, seizing the atlas from his hand, thumbed it until he found a +map of Colorado. Together the three pored over it. + +"There it is!" Stella Donovan cried suddenly. "Down toward the bottom. +Looks like desert country." + +"Pretty dry place for Celeste," laughed Willis. "I might call her up +and kid her about it if----" + +Farriss looked at him sourly. "You might get a raise in salary," he +snapped sharply, "if you'd keep your mind on the job. What you can do +is call up, say you're the detective bureau, and ask carelessly about +Beaton. That'll throw a scare into her. You've got her number?" + +"Riverside 7683," Willis said in a businesslike voice. "The Beecher +apartments. I'll try it." + +He disappeared into the clattering local room, to return a moment +later, white of face, bright of eye, and with lips parted. + +"What's the dope?" Farriss shot at him. + +"Nothing!" cried the excited young man. "Nothing except that fifteen +minutes ago Celeste La Rue kissed the Beecher apartments good-bye and, +with trunk, puff, and toothbrush, beat it." + +"To Haskell," added the city editor, "or my hair is pink. And by God, +I believe there's a story there. What's more, I believe we can get it. +It's blind chance, but we'll take it." + +"Let Mr. Willis----" began Miss Donovan. + +"Mind your own business, Stella," commanded Farriss, "and see that your +hat's on straight. Because within half an hour you're going to draw on +the night cashier for five hundred dollars and pack your little +portmanteau for Haskell." + +Willis's face fell. "Can't I go, too?" he began, but Farriss silenced +him on the instant. + +"Kid," he said sharply but kindly, "you're too good a hound for the +desert. The city needs you here--and, dammit, you keep on sniffing." + +Turning to the unsettled girl beside him, he went on briskly: + +"Work guardedly; query us when you have to; be sure of your facts, and +consign your soul to God. Do I see you moving?" + +And when Farriss looked again he did. + + + + +CHAPTER VII: MISS DONOVAN ARRIVES + +When the long overland train paused a moment before the ancient box car +that served as the depot for the town of Haskell, nestled in the gulch +half a mile away, it deposited Miss Stella Donovan almost in the arms +of Carson, the station-agent, and he, wary of the wiles of women and +the ethics of society, promptly turned her over to Jim Westcott, who +had come down to inquire if the station-agent held a telegram for +him--a telegram that he expected from the East. + +"She oughtn't to hike to the Timmons House alone, Jim," Carson said. +"This yere is pay-day up at the big mines, an' the boys are havin' a +hell of a time. That's them yellin' down yonder, and they're mighty +likely to mix up with the Bar X gang before mornin', bein' how the +liquor is runnin' like blood in the streets o' Lundun, and there's half +a mile between 'em." + +In view of these disclosures, Miss Donovan welcomed the courteous +acquiescence of Westcott, whom she judged to be a man of thirty-one, +with force and character--these written in the lines of his big body +and his square, kind face. + +"I'm Miss Stella Donovan of New York," she said directly. + +"And I," he returned, with hat off in the deepening gloom, "am Jim +Westcott, who plugs away at a mining claim over yonder." + +"There!" laughed the girl frankly. "We're introduced. And I suppose +we can start for the Timmons House." + +As her words trailed off there came again the sound of yelling, sharp +cries, and revolver shots from the gulch below where lights twinkled +faintly. + +Laughing warmly, Westcott picked up her valise, threw a "So-long" to +Carson, and with Miss Donovan close behind him, began making for the +distant lights of the Timmons House. As they followed the road, which +paralleled a whispering stream, the girl began to draw him out +skilfully, and was amazed to find that for all of his rough appearance +he was excellently educated and a gentleman of taste. Finally the +reason came out. + +"I'm a college man," he explained proudly. "So was my partner--same +class. But one can't always remain in the admirable East, and three +years ago he and I came here prospecting. Actually struck some +pay-dirt in the hills yonder, too, but it sort of petered out on us." + +"Oh, I'm sorry." Miss Donovan's condolence was genuine. + +"We lost the ore streak. It was broken in two by some upheaval of +nature. We were still trying to find it when my partner's father died +and he went East to claim the fortune that was left. I couldn't work +alone, so I drifted away, and didn't come back until about four months +ago, when I restaked the claim and went to work again." + +"You had persistence, Mr. Westcott," the girl laughed. + +"It was rewarded. I struck the vein again--when my last dollar was +gone. That was a month ago, I wired my old partner for help, but----" +He stopped, listening intently. + +They were nearing a small bridge over Bear Creek, the sounds of +Haskell's revellers growing nearer and louder. Suddenly they heard an +oath and a shot, and the next moment a wild rider, lashing a foaming +horse with a stinging quirt, was upon them. Westcott barely had time +to swing the girl to safety as the tornado flew past. + +"The drunken fool!" he muttered quietly. "A puncher riding for camp. +There will be more up ahead probably." + +His little act of heroism drew the man strangely near to Miss Donovan, +and as they hurried along in the silent night she felt that above all +he was dependable, as if, too, she had known him months, aye years, +instead of a scant hour. And in this strange country she needed a +friend. + +"Now that I've laid bare my past," he was saying, "don't you think you +might tell me why you are here?" + +The girl stiffened. To say that she was from the New York _Star_ would +close many avenues of information to her. No, the thing to do was to +adopt some "stall" that would enable her to idle about as much as she +chose. Then the mad horseman gave her the idea. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I forgot I hadn't mentioned it. I'm assigned by +_Scribbler's Magazine_ to do an article on 'The Old West, Is It Really +Gone?' and, Mr. Westcott, I think I have a lovely start." + +A few moments later she thanked Providence for her precaution, for her +companion resumed the story of his mining claim. + +"It's mighty funny I haven't heard from that partner. It isn't like +him not to answer my wire. That's why I've waited every night at the +depot. No, it's not like 'Pep,' even if he does take his leisure at +the College Club." + +Miss Donovan's spine tingled at the mention of the name: "Pep," she +murmured, trying to be calm. "What was his other name?" + +"Cavendish," Westcott replied. "Frederick Cavendish." + +A gasp almost escaped the girl's lips. Here, within an hour, she had +linked the many Eastern dues of the Cavendish affair with one in the +West. Was ever a girl so lucky? And immediately her brain began to +work furiously as she walked along. + +A sudden turn about the base of a large cliff brought them to Haskell, +a single street running up the broadening valley, lined mostly with +shacks, although a few more pretentious buildings were scattered here +and there, while an occasional tent flapped its discoloured canvas in +the night wind. There were no street lamps, and only a short stretch +of wooden sidewalk, but lights blazed in various windows, shedding +illumination without, and revealing an animated scene. + +They went forward, Westcott, in spite of his confident words, watchful +and silent, the valise in one hand, the other grasping her arm. The +narrow stretch of sidewalk was jammed with men, surging in and out +through the open door of a saloon, and the two held to the middle of +the road, which was lined with horses tied to long poles. Men reeled +out into the street, and occasionally the sharp crack of some +frolicsome revolver punctuated the hoarse shouts and bursts of drunken +laughter. No other woman was visible, yet, apparently, no particular +attention was paid to their progress. But the stream of men thickened +perceptibly, until Westcott was obliged to shoulder them aside +good-humouredly in order to open a passage. The girl, glancing in +through the open doors, saw crowded bar-rooms, and eager groups about +gambling tables. One place dazzlingly lighted was evidently a +dance-hall, but so densely jammed with humanity she could not +distinguish the dancers. A blare of music, however, proved the +presence of a band within. She felt the increasing pressure of her +escort's hand. + +"Can we get through?" + +"Sure; some crowd, though. 'Tisn't often as bad as this; miners and +punchers all paid off at once." He released her arm, and suddenly +gripped the shoulder of a man passing. He was the town marshal. + +"Say, Dan, I reckon this is your busy night, but I wish you'd help me +run this lady through as far as Timmons; this bunch of long-horns +appear to be milling, and we're plum stalled." + +The man turned and stared at them. Short, stockily built, appearing at +first view almost grotesque under the broad brim of his hat, Stella, +recognising the marshal, was conscious only of a clean-shaven face, a +square jaw, and a pair of stern blue eyes. + +"Oh, is that you, Jim?" he asked briefly. "Lord, I don't see why a big +boob like you should need a guardian. The lady? Pardon me, madam," +and he touched his hat. "Stand back there, you fellows. Come on, +folks!" + +The little marshal knew his business, and it was also evident that the +crowd knew the little marshal. Drunk and quarrelsome as many of them +were, they made way--the more obstreperous sullenly, but the majority +in a spirit of rough good humour. The time had not come for war +against authority, and even the most reckless were fully aware that +there was a law-and-order party in Haskell, ready and willing to back +their officer to the limit. Few were drunk enough as yet to openly +defy his authority and face the result, as most of them had previously +seen him in action. To the girl it was all terrifying enough--the +rough, hairy faces, the muttered threats, the occasional oath, the +jostling figures--but the two men, one on each side of her, accepted +the situation coolly enough, neither touching the revolver at his belt, +but, sternly thrusting aside those in their way, they pressed straight +through the surging mass in the man-crowded lobby of the disreputable +hotel. + +The building itself was a barnlike structure, unpainted, but with a +rude, unfinished veranda in front. One end contained a saloon, crowded +with patrons, but the office, revealed in the glare of a smoky lamp, +disclosed a few occupants, a group of men about a card-table. + +At the desk, wide-eyed with excitement, Miss Donovan took a +service-worn pen proffered by landlord Pete Timmons, whose grey +whiskers were as unkempt as his hotel, and registered her name. + +"A telegram came to-day for you, ma'am," Peter said in a cracked voice, +and tossed it over. + +Miss Donovan tore it open. It was from Farriss. It read: + + +If any clues, advise immediately. Willis digging hard. Letter of +instruction follows. + +FARRISS. + + +The girl folded the message, thrust it in her jacket-pocket, then +turning to the marshal and Westcott, gave each a firm hand. + +"You've both been more than kind," she said gratefully. + +"Hell, ma'am," Dan deprecated, "that warn't nothin'!" And he hurried +into the street as loud cries sounded outside. + +"Good night, Miss Donovan," Westcott said simply. "If you are ever +frightened or in need of a friend, call on me. I'll be in town two +days yet, and after that Pete here can get word to me." Then, with an +admiring, honest gaze, he searched her eyes a moment before he turned +and strolled toward the rude cigar-case. + +"All right, now, ma'am?" Pete Timmons said, picking, up her valise. +The girl nodded, and together they went up the rude stairs to her room +where Timmons paused at the door. + +"Well, I'm glad you're here," he said, moving away. "We've been +waitin' for you to show. I may be wrong, ma'am, but I'd bet my belt +that you're the lady that's been expected by Ned Beaton." + +"You're mistaken," she replied shortly. + +As she heard him clatter down the stairs, Miss Stella Donovan of the +New York _Star_ knew that her visit would not be in vain. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII: A GANG OF ENEMIES + +The miner waited, leaning against the desk. His eyes had followed the +slender figure moving after the rotund Timmons up the uncarpeted stairs +until it had vanished amid the shadows of the second story. He smiled +quietly in imagination of her first astonished view of the interior of +room eighteen, and recalled to mind a vivid picture of its +adornments--the bare wood walls, the springless bed, the crack-nosed +pitcher standing disconsolate in a blue wash-basin of tin; the little +round mirror in a once-gilt frame with a bullet-hole through its +centre, and the strip of dingy rag-carpet on the floor--all this +suddenly displayed by the yellowish flame of a small hand-lamp left +sitting on the window ledge. + +Timmons came down the stairs, and bustled in back of the desk, eager to +ask questions. + +"Lady a friend o' yours, Jim?" he asked. "If I'd a knowed she wus +comin' I'd a saved a better room." + +"I have never seen her until to-night, Pete. She got off the train, +and Carson asked me to escort her up-town--it was dark, you know. How +did she like the palatial apartment?" + +"Well, she didn't say nothin'; just sorter looked around. I reckon +she's a good sport, all right. What do ye suppose she's come yere for?" + +"Not the slightest idea; I take it that's her business." + +"Sure; but a feller can't help wonderin', can he? Donovan," he mused, +peering at the name; "that's Irish, I take it--hey?" + +"Suspiciously so; you are some detective, Pete. I'll give you another +clue--her eyes are Irish grey." + +He sauntered across to the stove, and stood looking idly at the +card-players, blue wreaths of tobacco smoke circling up from the bowl +of his pipe. Some one opened the street door, letting in a babel of +noise, and walked heavily across the office floor. Westcott turned +about to observe the newcomer. He was a burly, red-faced man, who had +evidently been drinking heavily, yet was not greatly under the +influence of liquor, dressed in a checked suit of good cut and fashion, +but hardly in the best of taste. His hat, a Stetson, was pushed back +on his head, and an unlighted cigar was clinched tightly between his +teeth. He bore all the earmarks of a commercial traveller of a certain +sort--a domineering personality, making up by sheer nerve what he might +lack in brains. But for his words the miner would have given the +fellow no further thought. + +"Say, Timmons," he burst forth noisily, and striding over to the desk, +"the marshal tells me a dame blew in from New York to-night--is she +registered here?" + +The landlord shoved the book forward, with one finger on the last +signature. + +"Yep," he said shortly, "but she ain't the one you was lookin' for--I +asked her that, furst thing." + +"Stella Donovan--huh! That's no name ever I heard; what's she look +like?" + +"Like a lady, I reckon; I ain't seen one fer quite a spell now." + +"Dark or light?" + +"Waal, sorter medium, I should say; brown hair with a bit o' red in it, +an' a pair o' grey eyes full of fun--some girl, to my notion." + +The questioner struck his fist on the wood sharply. + +"Well, what the devil do you suppose such a woman has come to this hole +clear from New York for, Timmons? What's her game, anyhow?" + +"Blessed if I know," and the proprietor seated himself on a high stool. +"I didn't ask no questions like that; maybe the gent by the stove there +might give yer all the information yer want. He brought her up from +the dapoo, an' kin talk English. Say, Jim, this yere is a short horn +frum New York, named Beaton, an' he seems ter be powerfully interested +in skirts--Beaton, Mr. Jim Westcott." + +The two men looked at each other, the miner stepping slightly forward, +and knocking the ashes out of his pipe. Beaton laughed, assuming a +semblance of good nature. + +"My questions were prompted solely by curiosity," he explained, +evidently not wholly at ease. "I was expecting a young woman, and +thought this new arrival might prove to be my friend." + +"Hardly," returned Westcott dryly. "As the landlord informed you, Miss +Donovan is a lady." + +If he expected this shot to take effect he was disappointed, for the +grin never left Beaton's face. + +"Ah, a good joke; a very good joke, indeed. But you misunderstand; +this is altogether a business matter. This young woman whom I expect +is coming here on a mining deal--it is not a love affair at all, I +assure you." + +Westcott's eyes sparkled, yet without merriment. + +"Quite pleased to be so assured," he answered carelessly. "In what +manner can I satisfy your curiosity? You have already been informed, I +believe, that the person relative to whom you inquire is a Miss Stella +Donovan, of New York; that she has the appearance and manners of a +lady, and possesses brown hair and grey eyes. Is there anything more?" + +"Why, no--certainly not." + +"I thought possibly you might care to question me regarding my +acquaintance with the young woman?" Westcott went on, his voice +hardening slightly. "If so, I have not the slightest objection to +telling you that it consists entirely of acting as her escort from the +station to the hotel. I do not know why she is here, how long she +intends staying, or what her purpose may be. Indeed, there is only one +fact I do know which may be of interest to you." + +Beaton, surprised by the language of the other, remained silent, his +face turning purple, as a suspicion came to him that he was being made +a fool of. + +"It is this, my friend--who she is, what she is, and why she happens to +be here, is none of your damn business, and if you so much as mention +her name again in my presence you are going to regret it to your dying +day. That's all." + +Beaton, glancing about at the uplifted faces of the card-players, chose +to assume an air of indifference, which scarcely accorded with the +anger in his eyes. + +"Ah, come now," he blurted forth, "I didn't mean anything; there's no +harm done--let's have a drink, and be friends." + +Westcott shook his head. + +"No, I think not," he said slowly. "I'm not much of a drinking man +myself, and when I do I choose my own company. But let me tell you +something, Beaton, for your own good. I know your style, and you are +mighty apt to get into trouble out here if you use any Bowery tactics." + +"Bowery tactics!" + +"Yes; you claim to live in New York, and you possess all the earmarks +of the East-Side bad man. There is nothing keeping you now from +roughing it with me but the sight of this gun in my belt, and a +suspicion in your mind that I may know how to use it. That suspicion +is correct. Moreover, you will discover this same ability more or less +prevalent throughout this section. However, I am not looking for +trouble; I am trying to avoid it. I haven't sought your company; I do +not want to know you. Now you go back to your bar-room where you will +find plenty of your own kind to associate with. It's going to be +dangerous for you to hang around here any longer." + +Beaton felt the steady eyes upon him, but was carrying enough liquor to +make him reckless. Still his was naturally the instinct of the New +York gunman, seeking for some adventure. He stepped backward, feigning +a laugh, watchful to catch Westcott off his guard. + +"All right, then," he said, "I'll go get the drink; you can't bluff me." + +Westcott's knowledge of the class alone brought to him the man's +purpose. Beaton's hand was in the pocket of his coat, and, as he +turned, apparently to leave the room, the cloth bulged. With one leap +forward the miner was at his throat. There was a report, a flash of +flame, the speeding bullet striking the stove, and the next instant +Beaton, his hand still helplessly imprisoned within the coat-pocket, +was hurled back across the card-table, the players scattering to get +out of the way. All the pent-up dislike in Westcott's heart found +expression in action; the despicable trick wrought him to a sudden +fury, yet even then there came to him no thought of killing the fellow, +no memory even of the loaded gun at his hip. He wanted to choke him, +strike him with his hands. + +"You dirty coward," he muttered fiercely. "So you thought the pocket +trick was a new one out here, did you? Come, give the gun up! Oh! so +there is some fight left in you? Then let's settle it here." + +It was a struggle between two big, strong men--the one desperate, +unscrupulous, brutal; the other angry enough, but retaining +self-control. They crashed onto the floor, Westcott still retaining +the advantage of position, and twice he struck, driving his clenched +fist home. Suddenly he became aware that some one had jerked his +revolver from its holster, and, almost at the same instant a hard hand +gripped the neck-band of his shirt and tore him loose from Beaton. + +"Here, now--enough of that, Jim," said a voice sternly, and his hands +arose instinctively as he recognised the gleam of two drawn weapons +fronting him. "Help Beaton up, Joe. Now, look yere, Mr. Bully +Westcott," and the speaker shook his gun threateningly. "As it +happens, you have jumped on a friend o' ours, an' we naturally propose +to take a hand in this game--you know me!" + +Westcott nodded, an unpleasant smile on his lips. + +"I do, Lacy," he said coolly, "and that if there is any dirty work +going on in this camp, it is quite probable you and your gang are in +it. So, this New Yorker is a protégé of yours?" + +"That's none of your business; we're here for fair play." + +"Since when? Now listen; you've got me covered, and that is my gun +which Moore has in his hand. I cannot fight you alone and unarmed; but +I can talk yet." + +"I reckon yer can, if that's goin' ter do yer eny good." + +"So the La Rosita Mining Company is about to be revived, is it? +Eastern capital becoming interested. I've heard rumours of that for a +week past. What's the idea? struck anything?" + +Lacy, a long, rangy fellow, with a heavy moustache, and a scar over one +eye, partially concealed by his hat brim, grinned at the others as +though at a good joke. + +"No, nuthin' particular as yet," he answered; "but you hev', an' I +reckon thet's just about as good. Tryin' ter keep it dark, wasn't yer? +Never even thought we'd caught on." + +"Oh, yes, I did; you flatter yourselves. I caught one of your +stool-pigeons up the gulch yesterday, and more than ten days ago Moore +and Edson made a trip into my tunnel while I happened to be away; they +forgot to hide their trail. I knew what you were up to, and you can +all of you look for a fight." + +"When your partner gets out here, I suppose," sneered Lacy. + +"He'll be here." + +"Oh, will he? Well, he's a hell of a while coming. You wired him a +month ago, and yer've written him twice since. Oh, I've got the cases +on you, all right, Westcott. I know you haven't got a cent left to go +on with, and nowhere to get eny except through him." He laughed. +"Ain't that right? Well, then, yer chances look mighty slim ter me +just at present, ol'-timer. However, there's no fight on yet; will yer +behave yerself, an' let this man Beaton alone if I hand yer back yer +gun?" + +"There is no choice left me." + +"Sure; that's sensible enough; give it to him, Moore." + +He broke the chamber, shaking the cartridges out into his palm; then +handed the emptied weapon over to Westcott. His manner was purposely +insulting, but the latter stood with lips firmly set, realising his +position. + +"Now, then, go on over thar an' sit down," continued Lacy. "Maybe, if +yer wait long enough, that partner o' yours might blow in. I got some +curiosity myself as to why that girl showed up ter-night under yer +guidance, an' why yer so keen ter fight about her, Jim; but I reckon +we'll clear that up ter-morrow without makin' yer talk." + +"You mean to question Miss Donovan?" + +"Hell, no; just keep an eye on her. 'Tain't likely she's in Haskell +just fer the climate. Come on, boys, let's liquor. Big Jim Westcott +has his claws cut, and it's Beaton's turn to spend a little." + +Westcott sat quietly in the chair as they filed out; then took the pipe +from his pocket and filled it slowly. He realised his defeat, his +helplessness, but his mind was already busy with the future. + +Timmons came out from behind the desk a bit solicitous. + +"Hurt eny?" he asked. "Didn't wing yer, or nuthin'?" + +"No; the stove got the bullet. He shot through his pocket." + +"Whut's all the row about?" + +"Oh, not much, Timmons; this is my affair," and Westcott lit his pipe +with apparent indifference. "Lacy and I have got two mining claims +tapping the same lead, that's all. There's been a bit o' feeling +between us for some time. I reckon it's got to be fought out, now." + +"Then yer've really struck ore?" + +"Yes." + +"And the young woman? Hes she got enything ter do with it?" + +"Not a thing, Timmons; but I want to keep her out of the hands of that +bunch. Give me a lamp and I'll go up-stairs and think this game out." + + + + +CHAPTER IX: A NIGHT AND A MORNING + +Stella Donovan never forgot the miseries of her first night in Haskell. +When old man Timmons finally left her, after placing the flaring lamp +on a chair, and went pattering back down the bare hall, she glanced +shudderingly about at her unpleasant surroundings, none too pleased +with the turn of events. + +The room was scarcely large enough to contain the few articles of +furniture absolutely required. Its walls were of unplaned plank +occasionally failing to meet, and the only covering to the floor was a +dingy strip of rag-carpet. The bed was a cot, shapeless, and propped +up on one side by the iron leg of some veranda bench, while the open +window looked out into the street. There was a bolt, not appearing +particularly secure, with which Miss Donovan immediately locked the +door before venturing across to take a glance without. + +The view was hardly reassuring, as the single street was still the +scene of pandemonium, the saloon and dance-hall almost directly +opposite, operating in full blast. Oaths and ribald laughter assailed +her ears, while directly beneath, although out of her view, a quarrel +threatened to lead to serious consequences. She pulled down the window +to shut out these sounds, but the room became so stuffy and hot without +even this slight ventilation, as to oblige her opening it again. As a +compromise she hauled down the curtain, a green paper affair, torn +badly, and which occasionally flapped in the wind with a startling +noise. + +The bed-clothing, once turned back and inspected, was of a nature to +prevent the girl from disrobing; but finally she lay down, seeking such +rest as was possible, after turning the flickering flames of the lamp +as low as she dared, and then finally blowing it out altogether. The +glare from the street crept in through the cracks in the curtain, +playing in fantastic light and shadow across ceiling and wall, while +the infernal din never ceased. + +Sleep was not to be attained, although she closed her eyes and muffled +her ears. The misshapen bed brought no comfort to her tired body, for +no matter how she adjusted herself, the result was practically the +same. Not even her mind rested. + +Miss Donovan was not naturally of a nervous disposition. She had been +brought up very largely to rely upon herself, and life had never been +sufficiently easy for her to find time in which to cultivate nerves. +Her newspaper training had been somewhat strenuous, and had won her a +reputation in New York for unusual fearlessness and devotion to duty. +Yet this situation was so utterly different, and so entirely +unexpected, that she confessed to herself she would be very glad to be +safely out of it. + +A revolver shot rang out sharply from one of the rooms below, followed +by the sound of loud voices, and a noise of struggle. The startled +girl sat upright on the cot, listening, but the disturbance ceased +almost immediately, and she finally lay down again, her heart still +beating wildly. Her thoughts, never still, wandered over the events of +the evening--the arrival at Haskell station, the strange meeting with +Westcott, and the sudden revelation that he was the partner of +Frederick Cavendish. + +The big, good-natured miner had interested her from the first as +representing a perfect type of her preconceived ideal of the real +Westerner. She had liked the firm character of his face, the quiet, +thoughtful way in which he acted, the whole unobtrusive bearing of the +man. Then, as they had walked that long mile together in the darkness, +she had learned things about him--little glimpses of his past, and of +dawning hopes--which only served to increase her confidence. Already +he had awakened her trust; she felt convinced that if she needed +friendship, advice, even actual assistance, here was one whom she could +implicitly trust. + +The racket outside died away slowly. She heard various guests return +to their rooms, staggering along the hall and fumbling at their doors; +voices echoed here and there, and one fellow, mistaking his domicile +entirely, struggled with her latch in a vain endeavour to gain +entrance. She was upon her feet, when companions arrived and led the +invader elsewhere, their loud laughter dying away in the distance. It +was long after this before nature finally conquered and the girl slept +outstretched on the hard cot, the first faint grey of dawn already +visible in the eastern sky. + +She was young, though, and she awoke rested and refreshed, in spite of +the fact that her body ached at first from the discomfort of the cot. +The sunlight rested in a sheet of gold on her drawn curtain, and the +silence of the morning, following so unexpectedly the dismal racket of +the night, seemed to fairly shock her into consciousness. Could this +be Haskell? Could this indeed be the inferno into which she had been +precipitated from the train in the darkness of the evening before? She +stared about at the bare, board walls, the bullet-scarred mirror, the +cracked pitcher, before she could fully reassure herself; then stepped +upon the disreputable rug, and crossed to the open window. + +Haskell at nine in the morning bore but slight resemblance to that same +environment during the hours of darkness--especially on a night +immediately following pay-day at the mines. As Miss Donovan, now +thoroughly awake, and obsessed by the memory of those past hours of +horror, cautiously drew aside the corner of torn curtain, and gazed +down upon the deserted street below, she could scarcely accept the +evidence of her own eyes. + +True, there were many proofs visible of the wild riot of the evening +before--torn papers, emptied bottles, a shattered sign or two, an +oil-lamp blown into bits by some well-directed shot, a bat lying in the +middle of the road, and a dejected pony or two, still at the +hitching-rack, waiting a delayed rider. But, except for these mute +reminiscences of past frolic, the long street seemed utterly dead, the +doors of saloons and dance-halls closed, the dust swirling back and +forth to puffs of wind, the only moving object visible being a gaunt, +yellow dog trotting soberly past. + +However, it was not upon this view of desolation that Miss Donovan's +eyes clung. They had taken all this in at a glance, startled, scarcely +comprehending, but the next instant wandered to the marvellous scene +revealed beyond that squalid street, and those miserable shacks, to the +green beauty of the outspread valley, and the wondrous vista of +mountain peaks beyond. + +She straightened up, emitting a swift breath of delight, as her +wide-open eyes surveyed the marvellous scene of mingled loveliness and +grandeur. The stream, curving like a great snake, gleamed amid the +acres of green grass, its swift waters sparkling in the sun. Here and +there it would dip down between high banks, or disappear for a moment +behind a clump of willows, only to reappear in broader volume. Beyond, +seemingly at no distance at all, yet bordered by miles of turf and +desert, the patches of vivid green interspersed with the darker +colouring of spruce, and the outcropping of brown rocks, the towering +peaks of a great mountain-chain swept up into the clear blue of the +sky, black almost to their summits, which were dazzling with the white +of unmelted snow. Marvellous, awe-inspiring as the picture was in +itself alone, it was rendered even more wonderful when contrasted with +the ugly squalidness of the town below, its tents and shacks sprawling +across the flat, the sunlight revealing its dust and desolation. + +The girl's first exclamation of delight died away as she observed these +works of man projected against this screen of nature's building; yet +her eyes dwelt lovingly for some time on the far-flung line of +mountains, before she finally released the green shade, and shut out +the scene. Her toilet was a matter of but a few minutes, although she +took occasion to slip on a fresh waist, and to brighten up the shoes, +somewhat soiled by the tramp through the thick dust the evening before. +Indeed, it was a very charming young woman, her dress and appearance +quite sufficiently Eastern, who finally ventured out into the rough +hall, and down the single flight of stairs. The hotel was silent, +except for the heavy breathing of a sleeper in one of the rooms she +passed, and a melancholy-looking Chinaman, apparently engaged in +chamber work at the further end of the hall. Timmons was alone in the +office, playing with a shaggy dog, and the floor remained unswept, +while a broken chair still bore evidence of the debauch of the previous +night. The landlord greeted her rather sullenly, his eyes heavy and +red from lack of sleep. + +"Morning," he said, without attempting to rise. "Lie down thar, +Towser; the lady don't likely want yer nosin' around. Yer a bit late +fer breakfast; it's ginerally over with by eight o'clock." + +"I am not at all hungry," she answered. "Is it far to the post-office?" + +"'Bout two blocks, ter yer right. If yer intendin' ter stay yere, ye +better have yer mail sent ter the hotel." + +"Thank you; I'll see. I do not know yet the length of my stay." + +"Are ye yere on business?" + +"Partly; but it may require only a few days." + +"Waal, if yer do stay over, maybe I kin fix yer up a bit more +comfortable-like. Thar'll be some drummers a goin' out to-day, I +reckon." + +"Thank you very much; I'll let you know what I decide the moment I know +myself. Is that a hunting-dog?" + +"Bones mostly," he responded gloomily, but stroking the animal's head. +"Leastwise, he ain't been trained none. I just naturally like a darg +round fer company--they sorter seem homelike." + +She passed out into the bright sunshine, and clear mountain air. The +board-walk ended at the corner of the hotel, but a narrow cinder-patch +continued down that side of the street for some distance. The houses +were scattered, the vacant spaces between grown up to weeds, and more +or less ornamented by tin cans, and as she advanced she encountered +only two pedestrians--a cowboy, so drunk that he hung desperately to +the upper board of a fence in order to let her pass, staring at her as +if she was some vision, and a burly fellow in a checked suit, with some +mail in his hand, who stopped after they had passed each other, and +gazed back at her as though more than ordinarily interested. From the +hotel stoop he watched until she vanished within the general store, +which contained the post-office. + +Through the rude window the clerk pushed a plain manila envelope into +her outstretched hand. Evidently from the thinness of the letter, +Farriss had but few instructions to give and, thrusting the unopened +missive into her hand-bag, she retraced her steps to her room. + +There she vented a startled gasp. The suitcase which she had left +closed upon the floor was open--wide open--its contents disarranged. +Some one had rummaged it thoroughly. And Miss Donovan knew that she +was under suspicion. + + + + +CHAPTER X: AT A NEW ANGLE + +The knowledge that she was thus being spied upon gave the girl a sudden +thrill, but not of fear. Instead it served to strengthen her resolve. +There had been nothing in her valise to show who she really was, or why +she was in Haskell, and consequently, if any vague suspicion had been +aroused as to her presence in that community, the searchers had +discovered no proof by this rifling of her bag. + +She examined the room thoroughly, and glanced out into the still, +deserted hall before bolting the door. The cracks in the wall were +scarcely wide enough to be dangerous, yet she took the precaution of +shrinking back into the darkest corner before opening her hand-bag and +extracting the letter. It bore a typewritten address, with no +suspicious characteristics about the envelope, the return card +(typewritten also) being the home address of Farriss. + +Farriss's letter contained nothing of interest except the fact that +Enright had also left for the West. He instructed her to be on the +lookout for him in Haskell, added a line or two of suggestions, and +ordered her to proceed with caution, as her quest might prove to be a +dangerous one. + +Miss Donovan tore the letter into small bits, wrapping the fragments in +a handkerchief until she could throw them safely away. For some time +she stood motionless at the window, looking out, but seeing nothing, +her mind busy with the problem. She thought rapidly and clearly, more +than ordinarily eager to solve this mystery. She was a newspaperwoman, +and the strange story in which she was involved appealed to her +imagination, yet its appeal was far more effective in a purely personal +way. It was Frederick Cavendish who had formerly been the partner of +Jim Westcott. This was why no answer had come to the telegrams and +letters the latter had sent East. What had become of them? Had they +fallen into the hands of these others? Was this the true reason for +Beaton's presence in Haskell, and also why the La Rue woman had been +hastily sent for? She was not quite ready to accept that theory; the +occasion hardly seemed important enough by itself alone. + +Westcott's discovery was not even proven yet; its value had not been +definitely established; it was of comparatively small importance +contrasted with the known wealth left by the murdered man in the East. +No, there must be some other cause for this sudden visit to Colorado. +But what? She gave little credence to the vague suspicions advanced by +Valois; that was altogether too impossible, too melodramatic, this +thought of the substitution of some other body. It might be done, of +course; indeed, she had a dim remembrance of having read of such a case +somewhere, but there could be no object attained in this affair. +Frederick dead, apparently killed by a burglar in his own apartments, +was quite understandable: but kidnapped and still alive, another body +substituted for his, resembling him sufficiently to be unrecognised as +a fraud, would be a perfectly senseless procedure. No doubt there had +been a crime committed, its object the attainment of money, but without +question the cost had been the life of Frederick Cavendish. + +Yet why was the man Beaton out here? For what purpose had he wired the +La Rue woman to join him? And why had some one already entered her +room and examined the contents of Stella Donovan's bag? To these +queries there seemed to be no satisfactory answers. She must consult +with Westcott, and await an opportunity to make the acquaintance of +Celeste La Rue. + +She was still there, her elbows on the window-ledge, her face half +concealed in the hollow of her hands, so lost in thought as to be +oblivious to the flight of time, when the harsh clang of the +dinner-bell from the porch below aroused her to a sense of hunger. + +Ten minutes later Timmons, guiltless of any coat, but temporarily +laying aside his pipe as a special act of courtesy, escorted her into +the dining-room and seated her at a table between the two front +windows. Evidently this was reserved for the more distinguished +guests--travelling men and those paying regular day rates--for its only +other occupant was the individual in the check suit whom she vaguely +remembered passing on the street a few hours before. + +The two long tables occupying the centre of the room were already well +filled with hungry men indiscriminately attired, not a few coatless and +with rolled-up sleeves, as though they had hurried in from work at the +first sound of the gong. These paid little attention to her entrance, +except to stare curiously as she crossed the floor in Timmons's wake, +and immediately afterward again devoted themselves noisily to their +food. + +A waitress, a red-haired, slovenly girl, with an impediment in her +speech, took her order and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, +and Miss Donovan discreetly lifted her eyes to observe the man sitting +nearly opposite. He was not prepossessing, yet she instantly +recognised his type, and the probability that he would address her if +the slightest opportunity occurred. Beneath lowered lashes she studied +the fellow--the prominent jaw and thick lips shadowed by a closely +trimmed moustache; the small eyes beneath overhanging brows; the heavy +hair brushed back from a rather low forehead, and the short, stubby +fingers grasping knife and fork. + +If he is a drummer, she thought, his line would be whisky; then, almost +as suddenly, it occurred to her that perhaps he may prove to be Ned +Beaton, and she drew in her breath sharply, determined to break the ice. + +The waitress spread out the various dishes before her, and she glanced +at them hopelessly. As she lifted her gaze she met that of her +_vis-à-vis_ fairly, and managed to smile. + +"Some chuck," he said in an attempt at good-fellowship, "but not to +remind you of the Waldorf-Astoria." + +"I should say not," she answered, testing one of her dishes cautiously. +"But why associate me with New York?" + +"You can't hide those things in a joint like this. Besides, that's the +way you registered." + +"Oh, so you've looked me up." + +"Well, naturally," he explained, as though with a dim idea that an +explanation was required, "I took a squint at the register; then I +became more interested, for I'm from little old New York myself." + +"You are? Selling goods on the road away out here?" + +"Not me; that ain't my line at all. I've got a considerable mining +deal on up the cañon. I'll earn every dollar I'll make, though, eating +this grub. Believe me, I'd like to be back by the Hudson right now." + +"You've been here some time, then?" + +"'Bout a month altogether, but not here in Haskell all that time. When +did you leave New York?" + +"Oh, more than a week ago," she lied gracefully. + +He stroked his moustache. + +"Then I suppose you haven't much late New York news? Nothing +startling, I mean?" + +"No; only what has been reported in the Western papers. I do not +recall anything particularly interesting." She dropped her eyes to her +plate and busied herself with a piece of tough beef. "The usual +murders, of course, and things of that kind." + +There was a moment's silence, then the man laughed as though slightly +ill at ease. + +"These fellows out here think they are a pretty tough lot," he said +grimly, "but there are plenty of boys back on the East Side who could +show them a few tricks. You know that part of the old town?" + +"Not very well," she admitted with apparent regret, "but of course I +read a good bit about it in the papers--the desperate characters, +gunmen, and all those the police have so much trouble with. Are those +stories really true?" + +"There ain't a third of them ever told," and he leaned forward, quite +at his ease again. "I have some business interests down that way, and +so hear a good deal of what is going on at first hand. A New York +gunman is so much worse than these amateurs out here there ain't no +comparison. Why, I know a case----" + +He stopped suddenly and took a sip of coffee. + +"Tell me about it." + +"'Tisn't anything to interest you, and, besides, it wouldn't sound well +here at the table; some other time, maybe, when you and I get better +acquainted. What ever brought a girl like you down in here?" + +She smiled. + +"I'm a feature writer; I'm doing a series on the West for +_Scribbler's_," she told him. "I visit New Mexico next, but I'm after +something else besides a description of mountains and men; I'm also +going to hunt up an old friend interested in mining, who told me if I +ever got out this way I must look him up. + +"I haven't seen him for years. He was continually singing this +valley's charms, and so here I am. And I'm planning a great surprise +on him. And, of course, I'm literally drinking in atmosphere--to say +nothing of local colour, which seems mostly to be men and revolvers." + +The man opposite wet his lips with his tongue in an effort to speak, +but the girl was busy eating and apparently paid no attention. Her +calm indifference convinced him that her words were entirely innocent, +and his audacity returned. + +"Well," he ventured, "do you agree with this prospector friend?" + +"The scenery, you mean?" glancing up brightly. "Why, it is wonderful, +of course, and I am not at all sorry having made the journey, although +it hardly compares with Tennessee Pass or Silver Plume. Still, you +know, it will be pleasant to tell Mr. Cavendish when I go back that I +was here." + +He choked and his face seemed to whiten suddenly. + +"Mr. Cavendish?" he gasped. "Of New York? Not the one that was +killed?" + +It was her turn to stare across the table, her eyes wide with horror, +which she simulated excellently. + +"Killed! Has a man by that name been killed lately in New York? It +was Frederick Cavendish I referred to." Her pretence was admirable. + +He was silent, realising lie had already said too much; the red had +come back into his cheeks, but his hand shook as it rested clenched on +the table. + +"Tell me," she insisted, "has he been killed? How do you know?" + +Her earnestness, her perfect acting, convinced him. It was a mere +coincidence, he thought, that this name should have cropped up between +them, but, now that it had, he must explain the whole affair so as not +to arouse suspicion. He cleared his throat and compelled his eyes to +meet those across the table. + +"Well, I don't know much about it, only what I read," he began, feeling +for words. "But that was the name; I remembered it as soon as you +spoke, and that the papers said he had been mining in Colorado before +he came into money. He was found dead in his apartments, apparently +killed by a burglar who had rifled his safe." + +"Is this true? Why have I never heard? When did it happen?" + +"It must have been a month ago." + +"But how did you learn these particulars? You have been West that +length of time." + +"I read about it in a New York paper," he answered a trifle sullenly. +"It was sent to me." + +She sat with her chin in the palm of one hand, watching him from +beneath the shadow of lowered lashes, but his eyes were bent downward +at his plate. + +"Are you through?" he questioned suddenly. + +"Yes; this--this awful news has robbed me of all appetite." + +Neither had noticed Westcott as he entered the room, but his first +glance about revealed their presence, and without an instant of +hesitancy the big miner crossed the room and approached the table where +the two were sitting. + +Beaton, as though anticipating trouble, arose to his feet, but Westcott +merely drew back a vacant chair and seated himself, his eyes ignoring +the presence of the man and seeking the uplifted face of the girl +questioningly. + +"I hope I do not interrupt," he said pleasantly. "I had reason to +suppose you were unacquainted with Mr. Beaton here." + +"What reason?" her surprised tone slightly indignant. + +"I believe the gentleman so informed me. It chanced that we had a +slight controversy last night." + +"Over me?" + +"Over his curiosity regarding you--who you were; your presence here." + +She pushed back her chair and stood up. + +"A natural curiosity enough, surely. And you felt important enough to +rebuke him on my behalf? Is that what I am to understand?" + +"Why," he explained, startled by her strange manner, "I informed him +that it was none of his business, and that if he mentioned your name in +my presence again there was liable to be trouble. We scrapped it out." + +"You--you scrapped it out? You mean there was a fight over me--a +barroom squabble over me?" + +"Not in the barroom; in the hotel office. Beaton drew a gun, and I had +to slug him." + +"But the affair originated over me--my name was brought into it?" she +insisted. "You actually threatened him because he asked about me?" + +"I reckon that was about how it started," he admitted slowly. "You +see, I rather thought I was a sorter friend of yours, and that I ought +to stand up for you." + +"Did--did this man say anything against me?" + +"No--not exactly; he--he just asked questions." + +Her eyes were scornful, angry, + +"Indeed! Well, permit me to say, Mr. Westcott, that I choose my own +friends, and am perfectly competent to defend my own character. This +closes our acquaintanceship." + +She moved about the end of the table, and touched Beaton's sleeve with +her fingers. + +"Would you escort me to the foot of the stairs?" she asked, her voice +softening. "We will leave this belligerent individual to his own +company." + +Neither of them glanced back, the girl still speaking as they +disappeared, but Westcott turned in his chair to watch them cross the +room. He had no sense of anger, no desire to retaliate, but he felt +dazed and as though the whole world was suddenly turned upside down. +So she really belonged with that outfit, did she? Well, it was a good +joke on him. + +The waitress spoke to him twice before he was sufficiently aroused to +give his order. + + + + +CHAPTER XI: DEAD OR ALIVE + +Before Westcott finished his meal his mood had changed to tolerant +amusement. That the girl had deliberately deceived him was plain, +enough, revealed now in both her manner and words. What her true +purpose might have been in apparently seeking his friendship at first +could not now be conjectured--indeed, made little difference--but it +was clear enough she really belonged to the Lacy crowd, and had no more +use for him. + +Westcott was sorry for the turn things had taken; he made no attempt to +disguise this from his own mind. He was beginning to like Miss +Donovan, to think about her, to feel a distinct interest in her. Some +way she had impressed him deeply as a young woman of character and +unusual charm--a breath out of the East to arouse his imagination and +memory. He had begun to hope for a friendship which would endure, and +now--the house of cards fell at a single touch. + +He could scarcely comprehend the situation; how a girl of her apparent +refinement and gentility could ever be attracted by a rough, brutal +type such as Ned Beaton so evidently was. Why, the man's lack of taste +in dress, the expression of his face, his ungrammatical language, +stamped him as belonging to a distinctly lower order. + +There surely must be some other cause drawing them together. Yet, +whatever it was, there was no doubt but that he had been very properly +snubbed. Her words stung; yet it was the manner in which she had +looked at him and swept past at Beaton's side which hurt the most. Oh, +well, an enemy more or less made small difference in his life; he would +laugh at it and forget. She had made her choice of companionship, and +it was just as well, probably, that the affair had gone no further +before he discovered the sort of girl she really was. + +Westcott reached this decision and the outer office at the same time, +exchanged a careless word or two with Timmons, and finally purchased a +cigar and retired to one corner to peruse an old newspaper. It was not +so easy to read, however, for the news failed to interest or keep his +mind from wandering widely. Soon he was staring out through the +unwashed window, oblivious to everything but his own thoughts. + +Who was this Beaton, and what connection could he have with Bill Lacy's +gang? The row last night had revealed a mutual interest between the +men, but what was its nature? To Westcott's judgment the burly New +Yorker did not resemble an Eastern speculator in mining property; he +was far more typical of a Bowery rough--a tool rather than an employer +in the commission of crime. + +Lacy's purpose he believed he understood to some extent--a claim that +it was an extension of the La Rosita vein which Westcott had tapped in +his recent discovery. There had been bad blood between them for some +time--threats of violence, and rumours of lawsuits. No doubt Lacy +would resort to any dirty trick to get him out of the way and gain +control of the property. But he had no personal fear of Lacy: not, at +least, if he could once get the backing of Cavendish's money. But +these other people--Beaton, Miss Donovan, and still another expected to +arrive soon from the East--how were they connected with the deal? + +How were they involved in the controversy? Had Lacy organised a +company and got hold of some money in New York? It might be possible, +and yet neither the man nor the woman impressed him as financiers +risking fortunes in the exploitation of mines. The problem was +unsolvable; the only thing he could do was guard his property and wait +until they showed their hand. If he could only hear from Fred +Cavendish---- + +He was so deeply engrossed in these thoughts, the smoked-out cigar +substituted by a pipe, that he remained unaware that Timmons had left +the office, or that the Chinese man-of-all-work had silently tiptoed +down the stairs and was cautiously peering in through the open doorway +to make sure the coast was clear. Assured as to this, the wily +Oriental sidled noiselessly across the floor and paused beside him. + +"Zis Meester Vest-c-ott?" he asked softly. + +The miner looked up at the implacable face in surprise, lowering his +feet. + +"That's my name, John; what is it?" + +The messenger shook a folded paper out of his sleeve, thrust it into +the other's hand hastily, and, with a hurried glance about, started to +glide away as silently as he had come. Westcott stared at the note, +which was unaddressed. + +"Sure this is for me, John?" + +"Ally same sure--for Meester Vest-c-ott." + +He vanished into the dark hall, and there was the faint clatter of his +shoes on the stairs. + +Westcott, fully aroused, cast his glance about the deserted room, and +unfolded the paper which had been left in his fingers. His eyes took +in the few penciled words instantly. + + +Do not be angry. I had the best of reasons. Meet me near the lower +bridge at three o'clock. Very important. + +S. D. + + +He read the lines over again, his lips emitting a low whistle, his eyes +darkening with sudden appreciation. Slowly he tore the paper into +strips, crossed the room, and flung the remnants into the stove. It +had been a trick, then, a bit of play-acting! But had it? Was not +this rather the real fraud--this sudden change of heart? Perhaps +something had occurred to cause the girl to realise that she had made a +mistake; to awaken her to a knowledge that a pretence at friendship +would serve her cause better than an open break. + +This note might have a sinister purpose; be intended to deceive. No! +He would not believe this. All his old lurking faith in her came back +in a flash of revelation. He would continue to believe in her, trust +her, feel that some worthy purpose had influenced her strange action. +And, above all, he would be at the lower bridge on the hour set. He +was at the desk when Timmons returned. + +"What do I owe you, old man?" + +He paid the bill jokingly and in the best of humour, careful to tell +the proprietor that he was leaving for his mine and might not return +for several days. He possessed confidence that Timmons would make no +secret of this in Haskell after his departure. He was glad to notice +that Beaton observed him as he passed the Good Luck Saloon and went +tramping down the dusty road. He never glanced back until he turned +into the north trail at the edge of town; there the path dropped +suddenly toward the bed of the creek, and he was concealed from view. +In the rock shadow he paused, chuckling grimly as he observed the New +Yorker cross the street to the hotel, hastening, no doubt, to interview +Timmons. + +There was a crooked trail along the bank of the stream which joined the +main road at the west end of the lower bridge. It led up the cañon +amid rocks and cedars, causing it to assume a strangely tortuous +course, and its lower end was shadowed by overhanging willows. Along +this Westcott lingered at the hour set, watchful of the road leading +toward Haskell. + +The only carriage belonging to the town livery passed soon after his +arrival, evidently bound for the station, and from his covert he +recognised Beaton lolling carelessly in the back seat. This must mean +that the man expected arrivals on the afternoon train, important +arrivals whom he desired to honour. There was no sign, however, of +Miss Donovan; the time was up, yet with no evidence of her approach. + +Westcott waited patiently, arguing to himself that her delay might be +caused by her wish to get Beaton well out of the way before she +ventured to leave the hotel. At last he strode down the path to the +bridge, and saw her leaning over the rail, staring at the ripples below. + +"Why," he exclaimed in surprise, "how long have you been here?" + +"Several minutes," and she turned to face him. "I waited until the +carriage passed before coming onto the bridge. I took the foot-path +from the hotel." + +"Oh, I see--from the other way. I was waiting in the trail below. You +saw who was in the carriage?" + +"Beaton--yes," quietly. "He expects some friends, and wishes me to +meet them--Eastern people, you know." + +Her indifference ruffled his temper, aroused his suspicion of her +purpose. + +"You sent for me; there is some explanation, no doubt?" + +The lady smiled, lifting her eyes to his face. + +"There is," she answered. "A perfectly satisfactory one, I believe; +but this place is too prominent, as I have a rather long story to tell. +Beaton and his friends will be returning soon." + +"There is a rock seat below, just beyond the clump of willows, quite +out of sight from the road," he suggested. "Perhaps you would go with +me there?" + +"What trail is that?" + +"It leads to mines up the cañon, my own included, but is not greatly +travelled; the main trail is farther east." + +She walked to the edge of the bridge, and permitted him to assist her +down the steep bank. There was something of reserve about her manner, +which prevented Westcott from feeling altogether at ease. In his own +mind he began once more to question her purpose, to doubt the sincerity +of her intentions. She appeared different from the frankly outspoken +girl of the night before. Neither broke the silence between them until +they reached the flat boulder and had found seats in the shelter of +overhanging trees. She sat a moment, her eyes on the water, her cheeks +shadowed by the wide brim of her hat, and Westcott noted the almost +perfect contour of her face silhouetted against the green leaves. She +turned toward him questioningly. + +"I was very rude," she said, "but you will forgive me when I explain +the cause. I had to act as I did or else lose my hold entirely on that +man--you understand?" + +"I do not need to understand," he answered gallantly. "It is enough +that you say so." + +"No, it is not enough. I value your friendship, Mr. Westcott, and I +need your advice. I find myself confronting a very complicated case +under unfamiliar conditions. I hardly know what to do." + +"You may feel confidence in me." + +"Oh, I do; indeed, you cannot realise how thoroughly I trust you," and +impulsively she touched his hand with her own. "That is why I wrote +you to meet me here--so I could tell you the whole story." + +He waited, his eyes on her face. + +"I received my letter this morning--the letter I told you I expected, +containing my instructions. They--they relate to this man Ned Beaton +and the woman he expects on this train." + +"Your instructions?" he echoed doubtfully. "You mean you have been +sent after these people on some criminal matter? You are a detective?" + +There must have been a tone of distrust to his voice, for she turned +and faced him defiantly. + +"No; not that. Listen: I am a newspaperwoman, a special writer on the +New York _Star_." She paused, her cheeks flushing with nervousness. +"It--it was very strange that I met you first of all, for--for it seems +that the case is of personal interest to you." + +"To me! Why, that is hardly likely, if it originated in New York." + +"It did"--she drew in a sharp breath--"for it originated in the murder +of Frederick Cavendish." + +"The murder of Cavendish! He has been killed?" + +"Yes; at least that is what every one believes, except possibly one +man--his former valet. His body was found lying dead on the floor of +his private apartment, the door of his safe open, the money and papers +missing. The coroner's jury brought in a verdict of murder on these +facts." + +"And the murderer?" + +"Left no clue; it was believed to be the work of a burglar." + +"But when was this?" + +She gave the date, and he studied over it. + +"The same day he should have received my telegram," he said gravely. +"That's why the poor fellow never answered." He turned to her +suddenly. "But what became of my others," he asked, "and of all the +letters I wrote?" + +"That is exactly what I want to learn. They must have been delivered +to his cousin, John Cavendish. I'll tell you all I know, and then +perhaps, between us, we may be able to figure it out." + +Briefly and clearly, she set before him the facts she and Willis had +been able to gather: the will, the connection between Enright and John +Cavendish, the quarrel between John and Frederick, the visit of John to +Enright's office, the suspicion of Valois that the murdered man was not +Cavendish, and, finally, the conversation overheard in Steinway's, the +torn telegram, and the meeting between Celeste La Rue and Enright. + +When she had finished, Westcott sat, chin in hand, turning the evidence +over in his mind. "Do you believe Frederick Cavendish is dead?" he +asked suddenly. + +"Yes." + +Westcott struck his hand down on the rock, his eyes glowing dangerously. + +"Well, I don't!" he exclaimed. "I believe he is alive! My theory is +that this was all carefully arranged, but that circumstances compelled +them to act quickly, and before they were entirely ready. Two +unexpected occurrences hurried them into action." + +She leaned forward, stirred by his earnestness. + +"What?" + +"The quarrel in the restaurant, leading to the making of the will," he +answered gravely, "and my telegram. The two things fit together +exactly. He must have received my first message that same night. In +my judgment he was glad of some excuse to leave New York and determined +to take the first train West. His quarrel with John, coupled with his +disgust of the company he kept, caused him to draw up this will +hurriedly. He left the club intending to pack up and take the first +train." + +"And was killed before he could do so?" + +"Possibly; but if that dead man had no scar on his chest, he was not +Frederick Cavendish; he was an impostor; some poor victim deliberately +substituted because of his facial resemblance. Tell me, if it was Fred +who was murdered, what became of the money he was known to have in his +private safe? What became of the original copy of the will he had in +his pocket when he left the club?" + +She shook her head, convinced that his argument had force. + +"I--I do not know." + +"Yet these things are true, are they not? No money, no will was found. +There is but one reason possible, unless others entered after the +murder and stole these things. My belief is that Fred returned to his +apartments, took what money he required, packed his valise, and +departed without a word to any one. He often did things like +that--hastily, on the spur of the moment." + +"But what happened afterward?" + +"The rest is all theory. I do not know, but I'll make a guess. In +some way the conspirators learned what had occurred, but not in time to +intercept his departure; yet they had everything ready for action, and +realised this was the opportunity. Frederick had disappeared leaving +no trace behind; they could attend to him later, intercept him, +perhaps---- Wait! Keep still. There comes the carriage from the +train." + +He drew her back into the denser undergrowth and they looked out +through the leaves to where the road circled in toward the bridge. The +hoof-beats of horses alone broke the silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XII: VIEWED FROM BOTH SIDES + +The team trotted on to the bridge, and then slowed down to a walk. Above +the dull reverberation of hoofs the listeners below could hear the sound +of voices, and an echo of rather forced laughter. Then the carriage +emerged into full view. Beside the driver it contained three +passengers--Beaton on the front seat, his face turned backward toward the +two behind, a man and a woman. Westcott and Miss Donovan, peering +through the screen of leaves, caught only a swift glimpse of their +faces--the man middle-aged, inclined to stoutness, with an unusually red +face, smoking viciously at a cigar, the woman young and decidedly blonde, +with stray locks of hair blowing about her face, and a vivacious manner. +The carriage rolled on to the smooth road, and the driver touched up the +horses with his whip, the lowered back curtain shutting off the view. + +The girl seized Westcott's arm while she directed his gaze with her free +hand. "Look!" she cried. "The woman is La Rue. And the man--the man is +Enright! He is the lawyer I told you of, the one whose hand is not clear +in this affair. And he is here!" + +"Good!" Westcott exclaimed. "I'm glad they're both here. It means that +there will be more to observe, and it means that there will be +action--and that, too, quick! They are out here for a definite purpose +which must soon be disclosed. And, Miss Donovan, I may be a little +rock-worn and a little bit out of style, but I think their presence here +has something to do with the whereabouts of Fred Cavendish." + +The girl looked straight into his honest, clear eyes. His remark opened +a vast field for speculation. "You think he is alive then?" she said +earnestly. "It is an interesting hypothesis. Perhaps--perhaps he may be +in this neighbourhood, even. And that," she added, her Irish eyes +alight, "would be more interesting still." + +"I hadn't finished my argument when that carriage appeared," Westcott +answered. "Do you remember? Well, that might be the answer. Beaton has +been in this neighbourhood ever since about the time of that murder in +New York. Nobody knows what his business is, but he is hand-in-glove +with Bill Lacy and his gang. Lacy, besides running a saloon, pretends to +be a mining speculator, but it is my opinion there is nothing he wouldn't +do for money, if he considered the game safe. And now, with everything +quiet in the East, and no thought that there is any suspicion remaining, +Beaton sends for the woman to join him here. Why? Because there is some +job to be done too big for him to tackle alone. He's merely a gunman; he +can do the strong-arm stuff, all right, but lacks brains. There is a +problem out here requiring a little intellect; and it is my guess it is +how to dispose of Cavendish until they can get away safely with the swag." + +"Exactly! That would be a stake worth playing for." + +"It certainly would; and, as I figure it out, that is their game. John +Cavendish is merely the catspaw. Right now there is nothing for them to +do but wait until the boy gets full possession of the property; then +they'll put the screws on him good and proper. Meantime Frederick must +be kept out of sight--must remain dead." + +"I wonder how this was ever planned out--if it be true?" + +"It must have originated in some cunning, criminal brain," he admitted +thoughtfully. "Not Beaton's, surely; and, while she is probably much +brighter, I am inclined to think the girl is merely acting under orders. +There is somebody connected with this scheme higher up--a master +criminal." + +Miss Donovan was no fool; newspaper work had taught her to suspect men of +intellect, and that nothing, however wicked, low or depraved, was beyond +them. + +"Enright!" she said definitely. "Obviously now. I've thought so from +the first. But always he worked so carefully, so guardedly, that +sometimes I have doubted. But now I say without qualifications--Enright, +smooth Mr. Enright, late of New York." + +"That's my bet," Westcott agreed, his hand on her shoulder, forgetful of +his intense earnestness, "Enright is the only one who could do it, and he +has schemed so as to get John into a hole where he dare not emit a sound, +no matter what they do to him. Do you see? If the boy breathes a +suspicion he'll be indicted for murder. If they can only succeed in +keeping Frederick safely out of sight until after the court awards the +property to his heir, they can milk John at their leisure. It's a +lawyer's graft, all right." + +"Then Frederick may be confined not far away?" + +"Likely enough; it's wild country. There are a hundred places within +fifty miles where he might be hidden away for years. That is the job +which was given to Beaton; he had the dirty work to perform, while the +girl took care of John. I do not know how he did it--knockout drops, +possibly, in a glass of beer; the blow of a fist on a train-platform at +night; a ride into the desert to look at some thing of interest--there +are plenty of ways in which it could be quietly done by a man of Mr. +Beaton's expert experience." + +"Yes, but he does not know this country--if it was only New York now." + +"But Bill Lacy does, and these fellows are well acquainted--friends +apparently. Lacy and I are at daggers-points over a mining claim, and he +believes my only chance is through the use of money advanced by Fred +Cavendish. He'd ride through hell to lick me. Why, look here, Miss +Donovan, when Bill Lacy had me stuck up against the wall last night at +the hotel with a gun at my head, he lost his temper and began to taunt me +about not getting any reply from my telegrams and letters. How did he +know about them? Beaton must have told him. There's the answer; those +fellows are in cahoots, and if Fred is actually alive, Bill Lacy knows +where he is, and all about it." + +She did not answer. Westcott's theory of the situation, his quick +decision that Frederick Cavendish still lived, completely overturned her +earlier conviction. Yet his argument did not seem unfair or his +conclusion impossible. Her newspaper experience had made her aware that +there is nothing in this world so strange as truth, and nothing so +unusual as to be beyond the domain of crime. + +"What do you think?" he asked quietly. + +"Oh, I do not know; it all grows less comprehensible every moment. But +whatever is true I cannot see that anything remains for us to do, but +wait and watch the actions of these people; they are certain to betray +themselves. We have been here together now longer than we should, and I +must return to the hotel." + +"You expect Beaton to seek you?" + +She smiled. + +"He appeared very devoted, quite deeply interested; I hope it continues." + +"So do I, now that I understand," earnestly. "Although I confess your +intimacy was a shock to me this noon. Well, I am going to busy myself +also and take a scouting trip to La Rosita." + +"Is that Lacy's mine?" + +"Yes; up the gulch here about two miles. I may pick up some information +worth having. I am to see you again--alone?" + +"We must have some means of communication; have you any suggestion?" + +"Yes, but we'll take for our motto, 'Safety first.' We mustn't be seen +together, or suspected in any way of being friends. The livery-stable +keeper has a boy about twelve, who is quite devoted to me; a bright, +trustworthy little fellow. He is about the hotel a good deal, and will +bring me word from you any time. You need have no fear that I shall fail +to respond to any message you send." + +"I shall not doubt." She held out her hand frankly. "You believe in me +now, Mr. Westcott?" + +"Absolutely; indeed I think I always have. That other thing hurt, yet I +kept saying to myself, 'She had some good reason.'" + +"Always think so, please, no matter what happens. I was nearly wild +until I got the note to you; I was so afraid you would leave the hotel. +We must trust each other." + +He stood before her, his hat in hand, a strong, robust figure, his +bronzed face clearly revealed; the sunlight making manifest the grey hair +about his temples. To Miss Donovan he seemed all man, instinct with +character and purpose, a virile type of the out-of-doors. + +"To the death," and his lips and eyes smiled. "I believe in you utterly." + +"Thank you. Good-bye." + +He watched her climb the bank and emerge upon the bridge. He still stood +there, bare-headed, when she turned and smiled back at him, waving her +hand. Then the slender figure vanished, and he was left alone. A moment +later, Westcott was striding up the trail, intent upon a plan to entrap +Lacy. + +They would have felt less confident in the future could they have +overheard a conversation being carried on in a room of the Timmons House. +It was Miss La Rue's apartments, possessing two windows, but furnished in +a style so primitive as to cause that fastidious young lady to burst into +laughter when she first entered and gazed about. Both her companions +followed her, laden with luggage, and Beaton, sensing instantly what had +thus affected her humour, dropped his bag on the floor. + +"It's the best there is here," he protested. "Timmons has held it for +you three days." + +"Oh, I think it is too funny, Ned," she exclaimed, staring around, and +then flinging her wraps on the bed. "Look at that mirror, will you, and +those cracks in the wall? Say, do I actually have to wash in that tin +basin? Lord! I didn't suppose there was such a place in the world. +Why, if this is the prize, what kind of a room have you got?" + +"Tough enough," he muttered gloomily, "but you was so close with your +money I had to sing low. What was the matter with you, anyhow?" + +"Sweetie wouldn't produce, or couldn't, rather. He hasn't got his hands +on much of the stuff yet. Enright coughed up the expense money, or most +of it. I made John borrow some, but I needed that myself." + +"Well, damn little got out here, and Lacy pumped the most of that out of +me. However, if you feel like kicking about this room, you ought to see +some of the others--mine, for instance, or the one Timmons put that other +woman in." + +"Oh, yes," she said, finding a seat and staring at him. "That reminds +me. Did you say there was a girl here from New York? Never mind +quarrelling about the room, I'll endure it all right; it makes me think +of old times," and she laughed mirthlessly. "Sit down, Mr. Enright, and +let's talk. How's the door, Ned?" + +He opened it and glanced out into the hall, throwing the bolt as he came +back. + +"All right, Celeste, but I wouldn't talk quite so loud; the partitions +are not very tight." + +"No objections to a cigarette, I suppose," and she produced a case. +"Thanks; now I feel better--certainly, light up. Well, Ned, the first +thing I want to know is, who is this other New York skirt, and how did +she happen to blow in here just at this time?" + +Beaton completed the lighting of his cigar, flinging the match carelessly +out of the window. + +"Oh, she's all right," he said easily. "Just an innocent kid writer for +_Scribbler's_ who's trying to make good writing about the beautiful +scenery around here. I was a bit suspicious of her at first myself, but +picked her up this morning an' we had quite a talk. Mighty pretty little +girl." + +Miss La Rue elevated her eyebrows, watchfully regarding him through smoke +wreaths. + +"Oh, cut it, Ned," she exclaimed curtly. "We all know you are a perfect +devil with the women. The poor thing is in love with you, no doubt, but +that doesn't answer my question, who is she?" + +"Her name is Donovan." + +"That sounds promising; what do you make it, shanty Irish?" + +"I should say not," warmly. "She's a lady, all right. Oh, I know 'em, +if I don't meet many of that kind. We got chummy enough, so she told me +all about herself--her father's a big contractor and has money to burn." + +"Did you ever hear the beat of that, Enright? Neddy is about to feather +his nest. Well, go on." + +"That's about all, I guess, only she ain't nothin' you need be afraid of." + +"Sure not, with a watch-dog like you on guard. But if you ask me, I +don't like the idea of her happening in here just at this time. This is +no place for an innocent child," and she looked about, her lip curling. +"Lord, I should say not. Do you happen to remember any New York +contractor by that name, Mr. Enright?" + +The rotund lawyer, his feet elevated on the window-sill, a cigar between +his lips, shook his head in emphatic dissent. + +"Not lately; there was a Tim Donovan who had a pull in the subway +excavation--he was a Tammany man--but he died, and was never married. +There may have been others, of course, but I had tab on most of them. +Did she mention his name, Beaton?" + +"No; anyhow, I don't remember." + +"What's the girl look like?" + +"Rather slender, with brown hair, sorter coppery in the sun, and grey +eyes that grow dark when she's interested. About twenty-three or four, I +should say. She's a good-looker, all right; and not a bit stuck up." + +"Did you get her full name?" + +"Sure; it's on the register--Stella Donovan." + +Enright lowered his feet to the floor, a puzzled look un his face, his +teeth clinched on his cigar. + +"Hold on a bit till I think." he muttered. "That sounds mighty +familiar--Stella Donovan! My God, I've heard that name before somewhere; +ah, I have it--she's on the New York _Star_. I've seen her name signed +to articles in the Sunday edition." He wheeled and faced Miss La Rue. +"Do you remember them?" + +"No; I never see the _Star_." + +"Well, I do, and sometimes she's damn clever. I'll bet she's the girl." + +"A New York newspaperwoman; well, what do you suppose she is doing out +here? After us?" + +Enright had a grip on himself again and slowly relit his cigar, leaning +back, and staring out the window. His mind gripped the situation coldly. + +"Well, we'd best be careful," he said slowly. "Probably it's merely a +coincidence, but I don't like her lying to Beaton. That don't look just +right. Yet the _Star_ can't have anything on us: the case is closed in +New York; forgotten and buried nearly a month ago. Even my partner don't +know where I am." + +"I had to show John the telegram in order to get some money." + +"You can gamble he won't say anything--there's no one else?" + +"No; this game ain't the kind you talk about." + +"You'd be a fool to trust anybody. So, if there's no leak we don't need +to be afraid of her, only don't let anything slip. We'll lay quiet and +try the young lady out. Beaton here can give her an introduction to Miss +La Rue, and the rest is easy. What do you say, Celeste?" + +"Oh, I'll get her goat; you boys trot on now while I tog up a little for +dinner; when is it, six o'clock?" + +"Yes," answered Beaton, still somewhat dazed by this revealment of Miss +Donovan's actual identity. "But don't try to put on too much dog out +here, Celeste; it ain't the style." + +She laughed. + +"The simple life, eh! What does your latest charmer wear--a skirt and a +shirtwaist?" + +"I don't know; she was all in black, but looked mighty neat." + +"Well, I'll go her one better--a bit of Broadway for luck. So-long, both +of you, and, Enright, you better come up for me; Ned, no doubt, has a +previous engagement with Miss Donovan." + +Mr. Enright paused at the door, his features exhibiting no signs of +amusement. + +"Better do as Beaton says, make it plain," he said shortly. "The less +attention we attract the less talk there will be, and this is too damn +serious an affair to be bungled. You hear?" + +She crossed over and rested her hands on his arm. + +"Sure; I was only guying Ned--it's a shirt-waist for me. I'll play the +game, old man." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII: THE SHOT OF DEATH + +Westcott's purpose in visiting the La Rosita mine was a rather vague +one. His thought had naturally associated Bill Lacy with whatever form +of deviltry had brought Beaton to the neighbourhood of Haskell, and he +felt convinced firmly that this special brand of deviltry had some +direct connection with the disappearance of Frederick Cavendish. Just +what the connection between these people might prove to be was still a +matter of doubt, but as Miss Donovan was seeking this information at +the hotel, all that remained for him to do at present was an +investigation of Lacy. + +Yet it was not in the nature of the big miner to go at anything +recklessly. He possessed a logical mind and needed to think out +clearly a course of action before putting it into execution. This +revelation had come to him suddenly, and the conclusion which he had +arrived at, and expressed to the girl, was more of an inspiration than +the result of calm mental judgment. After she had disappeared on her +walk back to Haskell, Westcott lit his pipe and resumed his seat on the +big rock again, to think it all out in detail, and decide on a course +of action. He was surprised how swiftly and surely the facts of the +case as already understood marshalled themselves into line in support +of the theory he had advanced. The careful review of all Miss Donovan +had told him only served to increase his confidence that his old +partner still lived. No other conception seemed possible, or would +account for the presence of Ned Beaton in Haskell, or the hurried call +for Miss La Rue. Yet it was equally evident this was not caused by any +miscarriage of their original plans. It was not fear that had led to +this meeting--no escape of their prisoner, no suspicion that their +conspiracy had been discovered, no alarm of exposure--but merely the +careful completion of plans long before perfected. Apparently every +detail of the crime, which meant the winning of Frederick Cavendish's +fortune, had been thus far successfully carried out. The money was +already practically in their possession, and not the slightest +suspicion had been aroused. It had been a masterpiece of criminal +ingenuity, so boldly carried out as to avoid danger of discovery. + +Westcott believed he saw the purpose which had actuated the ruling +spirit--a desire to attain these millions without bloodshed; without +risking any charge of murder. This whole affair had been no vulgar, +clumsy crime; it was more nearly a business proposition, cold-blooded, +deliberately planned, cautiously executed. Every step had been taken +exactly in accord with the original outlines, except possibly that they +had been hurried by Cavendish's sudden determination to return West, +and his will disinheriting John. These had compelled earlier action, +yet no radical change in plans, as the machinery was already prepared +and in position. Luck had been with the conspirators when Frederick +called in Enright to draw up the will. What followed was merely the +pressure of his finger on the button. + +Enright! Beyond doubt his were the brains dominating the affair. It +was impossible to believe that either Celeste La Rue or Ned +Beaton--chorus girl or gunman--could have ever figured out such a +scheme. They were nothing but pawns, moved by the hand of the chief +player. Aye! and John Cavendish was another! + +The whole foul thing lay before Westcott's imagination in its +diabolical ingenuity--Enright's legal mind had left no loophole. He +intended to play the game absolutely safe, so far, at least, as he was +personally concerned. + +The money was to go legally to John without the shadow of a suspicion +resting upon it; and then--well, he knew how to do the rest; already he +had a firm grip on a large portion. Yes, all this was reasonably +clear; what remained obscure was the fate of Frederick Cavendish. + +Had they originally intended to take his life, and been compelled to +change the plan? Had his sudden, unexpected departure from New York, +on the very eve possibly of their contemplated action, driven them to +the substitution of another body? It hardly seemed probable--for a man +bearing so close a resemblance could not have been discovered in so +short a time. The knowledge of the existence of such a person, +however, might have been part of the original conspiracy--perhaps was +the very basis of it; may have first put the conception into Enright's +ready brain. Aye, that was doubtless the way of it. Frederick was to +be spirited out of the city, accompanied, taken care of by Beaton or +some other murderous crook, and this fellow, a corpse, substituted. If +he resembled Frederick at all closely, there was scarcely a chance that +his identity would be questioned. Why should it be--found in his +apartments? There was nothing to arouse suspicion; while, if anything +did occur, the conspirators were in no danger of discovery. They +risked a possible failure of their plan, but that was all. But if this +was true what had since become of Frederick? + +Westcott came back from his musings to this one important question. +The answer puzzled him. If the man was dead why should Beaton remain +at Haskell and insist on Miss La Rue's joining him? And if the man was +alive and concealed somewhere in the neighbourhood, what was their +present object? Had they decided they were risking too much in +permitting him to live? Had something occurred to make them feel it +safer to have him out of the way permanently? What connection did Bill +Lacy have with the gang? + +Westcott rose to his feet and began following the trail up the cañon. +He was not serving Cavendish nor Miss Donovan by sitting there. He +would, at least, discover where Lacy was and learn what the fellow was +engaged at. He walked rapidly, but the sun was nearly down by the time +he reached the mouth of his own drift. + +While waiting word from the East which would enable him to develop the +claim, Westcott had thought it best to discontinue work, and hide, as +best he could, from others the fact that he had again discovered the +lost lead of rich ore. To that end, after taking out enough for his +immediate requirements in the form of nuggets gathered from a single +pocket, which he had later negotiated quietly at a town down the +railroad, he had blocked up the new tunnel and discontinued operations. +He had fondly believed his secret secure, until Lacy's careless words +had aroused suspicion that the latter might have seen his telegrams to +Cavendish. His only assistant, a Mexican, who had been with him for +some time, remained on guard at the bunk-house, and, so far as he knew, +no serious effort had been made to explore the drift by any of Lacy's +satellites. Now, as he came up the darkening gulch, and crunched his +way across the rock-pile before the tunnel entrance, he saw the +cheerful blaze of a fire in the Mexican's quarters and stopped to +question him. + +"_Señor_--you!" + +"Yes, José," and Westcott dropped on to a bench. "Anything wrong? You +seem nervous." + +"No, _señor_. I expected you not to-night; there was a man there by +the big tree at sunset." + +"You saw him?" + +"Yes, but not his face, _señor_. He think me gone at first, but when I +walk out on the edge of the cliff then he go--quick, like that. When +the door creak I say maybe he come back." + +"One of the La Rosita gang likely. Don't fight them, José. Let them +poke around inside if they want to; they won't find anything but rock. +There is no better way to fool that bunch than let them investigate to +their heart's content. Got a bite there for me?" + +"_Si, señor_, aplenty." + +"All right then; I'm hungry and have a bit of work ahead. Put it on +the table here, and sit down yourself, José." + +The Mexican did as ordered, glancing across at the other between each +mouthful of food, as though not exactly at ease. Westcott ate +heartily, without pausing to talk. + +"You hear yet Señor Cavendish?" José asked at last. + +"No." Westcott hesitated an instant, but decided not to explain +further. "He must be away, I think." + +"What you do if you no hear at all?" + +"We'll go on with the digging ourselves, José. It'll pay wages until I +can interest capital somewhere to come in on shares." + +"You no sell Lacy then?" + +"Sell Lacy! Not in a thousand years. What put that in your head?" + +The Mexican rubbed the back of his pate. + +"You know Señor Moore--no hair so?" an expressive gesture. + +"Sure; what about him?" + +"He meet me at the spring; he come up the trail from Haskell on +horseback with another man not belong 'round here." + +"What did he look like--big, red-faced fellow, with checked suit and +round hat?" + +"_Si, señor_; he say to Moore, 'Why the hell you talk that damn +greaser,' an' Moore laugh, an' say because I work for Señor Westcott." + +"But what was it Moore said to you, José?" + +"He cussed me first, an' when I wouldn't move, he swore that Lacy would +own this whole hill before thirty days." + +"Was that all? Didn't the other fellow say anything?" + +"No, _señor_; but he swung his horse against me as they went by--he +mighty poor rider." + +"No doubt; that is not one of the amusements of the Bowery. Where did +they go? Up to La Rosita?" + +"_Si, señor_; I watched, they were there two hour." + +Westcott stared into the fireplace; then the gravity of his face +relaxed into a smile. + +"Things are growing interesting, José," he said cheerfully. "If I only +knew just which way the cat was about to jump I'd be somewhat happier. +There seemed to be more light than usual across the gulch as I came +up--what's going on?" + +"They have put on more men, _señor_--a night shift. Last night I went +in our drift clear to the end, and put my ear to the rock. It was far +away, but I hear." + +"No, no, José; that's impossible. Why, their tunnel as over a hundred +yards away; not even the sound of dynamite would penetrate that +distance through solid rock. You heard your heart beat." + +"No, _señor_," and José was upon his feet gesticulating. "It was the +pick--strike, strike, strike; then stop an' begin, strike, strike, +strike again. I hear, I know." + +"Then they must be running a lateral, hoping to cut across our vein +somewhere within their lines." + +"And will that give them the right, _señor_?" + +Westcott sat, his head resting on one hand, staring thoughtfully into +the dying fire; the yellow flame of the oil lamp between them on the +table flickered in the draft from the open window. Here was a +threatening combination of forces. + +"I am not sure, Jose," he answered slowly. "The mining law is full of +quirks, although, of course, the first discoverer of a lead is entitled +to follow it--it's his. The trouble here is, that instead of giving +notice of discovery, I have kept it a secret, and even blocked up the +tunnel. If the La Rosita gang push their drift in, and strike that +same vein, they will claim original discovery, and I reckon they'd make +it stick. I didn't suppose Lacy had the slightest idea we had struck +colour. Nobody knew it, but you and I, Jose." + +"Never I say a word, _señor_." + +"I am sure of that, for I know exactly where the news came from. Lacy +spilled the beans in a bit of misunderstanding we had last night down +in Haskell. My letters and telegrams East to Cavendish went wrong, and +the news has come back here to those fellows. They know just what +we've struck, and how our tunnel runs; I was fool enough to describe it +all to Cavendish and send him a map of the vein. Now they are driving +their tunnel to get in ahead of us." + +He got to his feet, bringing his fist down with such a crash on the +table as to set the lamp dancing. + +"But, by God, it's not too late! We've got them yet. The very fact +that Lacy is working a night shift is evidence he hasn't uncovered the +vein. We'll tear open that tunnel the first thing in the morning, +José, and I'll make proof of discovery before noon. Then we'll put a +bunch of good men in here, and fight it out, if those lads get ugly. +Come on, let's take a look in there to-night." + +He picked up the lamp, and turned. At the same instant a sudden red +glare flamed in the black of the open window, accompanied by a sharp +report. The bullet whizzed past Westcott's head so closely as to sear +the flesh, crashed into the lamp in his hand, extinguishing it, then +struck something beyond. There was no cry, no sound except a slight +movement in the dark. Westcott dropped to the floor, below the radius +of dim light thrown by the few embers left in the fireplace, and +revolver in hand, sought to distinguish the outlines of the window +frame. Failing in this, he crept noiselessly across the floor, +unlatched the closed door, and emerged into the open air. + +It was a dark night, with scarcely a star visible, the only gleam of +radiance coming from a light across the gulch, which he knew burned in +the shaft-house of the La Rosita. + +Everything about was still, with the intense silence of mountain +solitude. Not a breath of air stirred the motionless cedars. +Cautiously he circled the black cabin, every nerve taut for struggle, +every sense alert. He found nothing to reward his search--whoever the +coward had been, he had disappeared among the rocks, vanishing +completely in the black night. The fellow had not even waited to learn +the effect of his shot. He had fired pointblank into the lighted room, +sighting at Westcott's head, and then ran, assured no doubt the +speeding bullet had gone straight to the mark. It was not until he +came back to the open door that the miner thought of his companion. +What had become of José? Could it be that the Mexican was hit? He +entered, shrinking from the task, yet resolute to learn the truth; felt +his way along the wall as far as the fireplace, and stirred the embers +into flame. They leaped up, casting a flickering glow over the +interior. A black, shapeless figure, scarcely discernible as a man, +lay huddled beneath the table. Westcott bent over it, feeling for the +heart and turning the face upward. There was no visible mark of the +bullet wound, but the body was limp, the face ghastly in the grotesque +dance of the flames. The assassin had not wasted his shot--José +Salvari would never see Mexico again. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV: LACY LEARNS THE TRUTH + +Westcott straightened the body out, crossing the dead hands, and +covered the face with a blanket stripped from a bunk. The brief burst +of flame died down, leaving the room in semi-darkness. The miner was +conscious only of a feeling of dull rage, a desire for revenge. The +shot had been clearly intended for himself. The killing of José had +been a mere accident. In all probability the murderer had crept away +believing he had succeeded in his purpose. If he had lingered long +enough to see any one emerge from the hut, he would naturally imagine +the survivor to be the Mexican. Good! This very confidence would tend +to throw the fellow off his guard; he would have no fear of José. + +Westcott's heart rose in his throat as he stood hesitating. The dead +man was only a Mexican, a servant, but he had been faithful, had proven +himself an honest soul; and he had died in his service, as his +substitute. All right, the affair was not going to end now; this was +war, and, while he might not know who had fired the fatal shot, he +already felt abundantly satisfied as to who had suggested its efficacy. +There was only one outfit to be benefited by his being put out of the +way--Bill Lacy's gang. If they already had Fred Cavendish killed, or +held prisoner in their power, it would greatly simplify matters if he +should meet death accidentally, or at the hands of parties unknown. +Why not? Did he not stand alone between them and fortune? Once his +lips were sealed, who else could combat their claims? No one; not a +human being knew his secret--except the little he had confided that +afternoon to Stella Donovan. + +The thought of the girl served to break his reflections. This was all +a part of that tragedy in New York. Both were in some way connected +together, the assassination in the Waldron apartments, and the shooting +of José here in this mountain shack. They seemed far apart, yet they +were but steps in the same scheme. + +He could not figure it all out, yet no doubt this was true--the +struggle for the Cavendish millions had come to include the gold he had +discovered here in the hills. Bill Lacy was merely the agent of those +others, of Ned Beaton, of Celeste La Rue, of Patrick Enright. Aye, +that was it--Enright! Instinctively, from the very first moment when +he had listened to the girl's story, his mind had settled on Enright as +the real leader. The lawyer's arrival in Haskell with the La Rue woman +only served to strengthen that conviction. For certainly a man playing +for potential stakes as big as those Enright was gaming for, would +intrust no cunning moves to a mere Broadway chorus-girl. No, Enright +was on the ground in person because the matter in prospect needed a +director, an excessively shrewd trickster, and the others were with him +to do his bidding. If Cavendish really lived, all their plans depended +on his being kept out of sight, disposed of, at least until they had +the money safe in their grasp. + +He reached beneath the blanket and drew forth the dead Mexican's +revolver, slipped the weapon into his own belt, opened the door and +went out, closing it tightly behind him. José could lie there until +morning. While the darkness lasted he had work to do. His purpose +settled, there was no hesitancy in his movements. His was the code of +the West; his methods those of the desert and the mountains, the code +and method of a fighting man. + +A dim trail, rock strewn, led to the spring, where it connected with an +ore road extending down the valley to Haskell. Another trail across +the spur shortened the distance to the La Rosita shaft-house. But +Westcott chose to follow none of these, lest he run into some +ambuscade. The fellow who had fired into the shack was, +unquestionably, hiding somewhere in the darkness, probably along one of +these trails in the hope of completing his work. + +To avoid encountering him the miner crept along the far side of the +cabin through the dense shadow, and then struck directly across the +hill crest, guided by the distant gleam of light. It was a rough +climb, dangerous in places, but not unfamiliar. Slowly and silently, +cautious to dislodge no rolling stone, and keeping well concealed among +the rocks, he finally descended to the level of the shaft feeling +confident that his presence was not discovered. He was near enough now +to hear the noise of the hoisting-engine, and to mark the figure of the +engineer in the dim light of a lantern. + +Rock was being brought up the shaft, and cast onto the dump, but was +evidently of small value, proof to the mind of the watcher that the +gang below were merely engaged in tunnel work, and had not yet struck +ore in any paying quantity. + +He lay there watching operations for several minutes, carefully +studying out the situation. He had no clearly defined plan, only a +desire to learn exactly what was being done. The office beyond the +shaft was lighted, although the faint gleam was only dimly revealed +along the edge of lowered curtains concealing the interior. However, +this evidence that some one was within served to attract Westcott's +attention, and he crept around, under the shadow of the dump, and +approached the farther corner. He could perceive now two men on the +hoisting platform, and hear the growl of their voices, but without +being able to distinguish speech. Every few moments there sounded the +crash of falling rock as the buckets were emptied. Revolver in hand he +made the round of the building to assure himself that no guard had been +posted there, then chose the window farthest away from the shaft, and +endeavoured to look in. + +The heavy green curtain extended to the sill, but was slit in one +corner. With his eye close to this slight opening he gained a partial +glimpse of the interior. It was that of a rough office with a cot in +one corner as though occasionally utilised for a sleeping room, the +other furniture consisting of a small desk with roll-top, an unpainted +table, and a few chairs. In one corner stood a rusty-looking safe, the +door open, and a fat-bellied wood-stove occupied the centre of the +floor. + +There were three men in the room, and Westcott drew a quick breath of +surprise as he recognised the two faces fronting him--Bill Lacy at the +desk, a pipe in his mouth, his feet elevated on a convenient chair, and +Beaton, leaning back against the wall, apparently half asleep with his +eyes closed. The third man was facing Lacy, but concealed by the +stove; he seemed to be doing the talking, and held a paper in his hand +resembling a map. Suddenly he arose to his feet, and bent over the +edge of the desk, and Westcott knew him--Enright! + +The man spoke earnestly, evidently arguing a point with emphasis, but +the sound of his voice failed to penetrate to the ears of the listener +without. Desperately determined to learn what was being said, the +miner thrust the heavy blade of his jack-knife beneath the ill-fitting +window sash, and succeeded in noiselessly lifting it a scant half inch. +He bent lower, the speaker's voice clearly audible through the narrow +opening. + +"That isn't the point, Lacy," the tone smooth enough, yet containing a +trace of anger. "You are paid to do these things the way I plan. This +mining proposition is all right, but our important job just now is at +the other end. A false move at this time will not only cost us a +fortune, but would send some of us to the pen. Don't you know that?" + +"Sure I do; but I thought this was my end of it." + +"So it is; but it can wait until later, until we have the money in +hand, and have decided about Cavendish. You say your tunnel is within +twenty feet of the lead, which it must be according to this map, and +you propose breaking through and holding on until the courts decide. +Now don't you know that will kick up a hell of a row? It will bring us +all in the limelight, and just at present we are better off +underground. That's why I came out here. I am no expert in mining +law, and am not prepared to say that your claim is not legal. It may +be, and it may not be--we'll waive that discussion. The point is +this--from all I can learn of Westcott, he is the kind who will fight +to the last ditch. Perhaps he hasn't any chance, but if he ever does +learn how we got hold of his letters and discovered the location of +that vein of ore, he's going to turn this whole affair inside out, and +catch us red-handed. You made a fool play to-night." + +"That wasn't my fault," Lacy protested sullenly. "The fellow +misunderstood; however, there won't be no fuss made over a Mexican." + +"I'm not so sure of that; Westcott will know it was meant for him and +be on his guard. Anyhow it was a fool's trick." + +"Well, we do things different out here from what you do in New York. +It's my way to take no chances, and when a man's dead he can't talk." + +"I'm not so sure of that; there's been many a lad hung on the testimony +of a dead man. Now see here, Lacy, this is my game, and I propose +playing it in my own way. You came in under those conditions, didn't +you?" + +"I reckon so, still there wasn't much to it when I came in. This +mining stunt developed later out of those letters Westcott sent East. +This man Beaton here offered me so much to do a small job for him, and +I named my price without caring a whoop in hell what it was all about. +I don't now, but I've learned a few things since, and am beginning to +think my price was damn low. You never came way out here just to stop +me from tunnelling into Westcott's mine." + +The other hesitated. + +"No," he admitted at last, "I did not even learn what was being done +until after I got here." + +"Beaton sent for you?" + +"Not exactly. I never had any personal connection with him in the +case. I am not sure he ever heard of me, unless the woman told him. +He was working under her orders, and wired her when Cavendish got away +to come out at once. He didn't know what to do." + +Lacy laughed, and began to refill his pipe. + +"That was when I first began to smell a mouse," he said, more at ease. +"The fellow was so scared I caught on that this was no common +kidnapping outfit, like I had thought before. He wasn't easy pumped, +but I pumped him. I told him we'd have the guy safe enough inside of +twenty-four hours--hell! there wasn't no chance for him to get away, +for the blame fool headed East on foot straight across the desert--but +he sent off the wire just the same. That's what I thought brought you +along." He leaned over, and lowered his voice. "There was a dead man +back East, wasn't there?" + +"What difference does that make?" + +"None, particularly, except to naturally increase the worth of my +services. I'm not squeamish about stiffs, but I like to know what I am +doing. What are you holding on to this other fellow for?" + +Enright walked nervously across the room, chewing at his cigar, only to +come back and face his questioner. + +"Well, I suppose I might as well tell you," he said almost savagely. +"You know so damn much now, you better know it all. You're in too deep +already to wiggle out. We made rather a mess of it in New York, and +only a bit of luck helped us through. We had the plans ready for three +months, but nothing occurred to give us a chance. Then all at once +Cavendish got his first telegram from Westcott, and decided to pull +out, not telling any one where he was going. That would have been all +right, for we had a man shadowing him, but at the last moment he +quarrelled with the boy we had the woman slated up with." + +"Hold on; what boy? Let me get this straight." + +"His nephew, and only relative--John Cavendish." + +"Oh, I see; he was his heir; and you had him fixed?" + +"We had him where he couldn't squeal, and have yet. That was Miss La +Rue's part of the game. But, as I was saying, there was a quarrel and +the uncle suddenly decided to draw up a will, practically cutting John +out entirely." + +"Hell! Some joke that!" + +"There was where luck came to our help. He employed me to draw the +will, and told me he planned to leave the city for some time. As soon +as I could I told the others over the phone, and we got busy." + +Lacy struck his knee with his hand, and burst into a laugh. + +"So, he simply disappeared! Your idea was that an accident might +happen, and our friend Beaton here took the same train to render any +necessary assistance." + +"No," said Enright frankly, "murder wasn't part of our plan; it's too +risky. We had other means for getting this money--legally." + +Lacy stared incredulous. + +"And there hasn't been no killin'?" + +Enright shook his head. + +"Not by any of us." + +"Then how about that dead man in New York--the one that was buried for +Cavendish? Oh, I read about that. Beaton showed it to me in the +paper." + +"That's the whole trouble," Enright answered gravely. "I do not know +who he was, or how he came there. All I know is, he was not Frederick +Cavendish. But his being found there dead in Cavendish's apartments, +and identified, puts us in an awful hole, if the rest of this affair +should ever become known. Do you see? The charge would be murder, and +how are we going to hold the real Cavendish alive, and not have it come +out?" + +"The other one--the stiff--wasn't Cavendish?" + +"Certainly not; you know where Cavendish is." + +"I never saw Fred Cavendish; I wouldn't know him from Adam's off-ox. +I've got the fellow Beaton turned over to me." + +"Well, he's the man; the dead one isn't." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because Frederick Cavendish bought and signed a round-trip ticket to +Los Angeles, and boarded the midnight train. My man reported that to +me, and Beaton just had time to catch the same train before it pulled +out. Isn't that true, Ned?" + +"Yes, it is, and I never left him." + +"But," insisted Lacy stubbornly, "did you see the dead one?" + +"Yes. I kept away from the inquest, but attended the funeral to get a +glance at his face. It seemed too strange to be true. The fellow +wasn't Cavendish; I'd swear to that, but he did look enough like him to +fool anybody who had no suspicions aroused. You see no one so much as +questioned his identity--Cavendish had disappeared without a word even +to his valet; this fellow, despite the wounds on his face, looking +enough like him to be a twin, dressed like him, is found dead in his +apartments. Dammit, it's spooky, the very thought of it." + +"But you saw a difference?" + +"Because I looked for it; I never would have otherwise. Of course what +I looked at was a dead face in the coffin, a dead face that was seared +and burned. But anyway, I was already convinced that he was not the +man. I am not sure what I should have thought if I had met him alive +upon the street." + +Lacy appeared amused, crossing the room, and expectorating into the +open stove. + +"You fellows make me laugh," he said grimly. "I am hardly idiot enough +to be taken in by that sort of old wives' tale. However, if that is +your story stick to it--but if you were to ever tell it in court, it +would take a jury about five minutes to bring in their verdict. Still +I see what you're up against--the death of this fellow means that you +are afraid now to leave Cavendish alive. If he ever appears again in +the flesh this New York murder will have to be accounted for. Is that +it?" + +"It leaves us in an awkward position." + +"All right. We understand each other then. Let's get to business. +You want me to help out in a sort of accident, I presume--a fall over a +cliff, or the premature discharge of blasting powder; these things are +quite common out here." + +Neither Enright nor Beaton answered, but Lacy was in no way embarrassed +by their silence. He knew now he had the whip-hand. + +"And to prevent any stir at this end, before you fellows get hold of +the stuff, you want me to call off my working gang and let Westcott +alone. Come, now, speak up." + +"Yes," acknowledged Enright. "I don't care so much for Westcott, but I +want things kept quiet. There's a newspaperwoman down at the hotel. I +haven't been able to discover yet what she is doing out here, but she's +one of the big writers on the New York _Star_. If she got an inkling +of this affair----" + +"Who is she? Not the girl you had that row over, Beaton?" + +The gunman nodded. + +"She's the one." + +"Do you suppose Jim Westcott knew her before? He brought her to the +hotel and was mighty touchy about her." + +"Hell, no; she told me all about that--why she cut that fellow dead in +the dining-room when he tried to speak to her the next day." + +Lacy whistled a few bars, his hands thrust deep into his +trouser-pockets. Then, after a few minutes' cogitation, he resumed: + +"All right then; we'll take it as it lies. The only question +unsettled, Enright, is--what is all this worth to me?" + + + + +CHAPTER XV: MISS LA RUE PAYS A CALL + +Some slight noise caused Westcott to straighten up, and turn partially +around. He had barely time to fling up one arm in the warding off of a +blow. The next instant was one of mad, desperate struggle, in which he +realised only that he dare not relax his grip on the wrist of his +unknown antagonist. It was a fierce, intense grapple, every muscle +strained to the utmost, silent except for the stamping of feet, deadly +in purpose. + +The knife fell from the cramped fingers, but the fellow struggled like +a demon, clutching at the miner's throat, but unable to confine his +arms. Twice Westcott drove his clenched right into the shadowed face, +smashing it the last time so hard the man's grip relaxed, and he went +staggering back. With a leap forward, the battle-fury on him, Westcott +closed before the other could regain position. Again the clenched fist +struck and the fellow went down in the darkness, whirling backward to +the earth--and lay there, motionless. + +An instant, panting, breathless, scarcely yet comprehending what had +occurred, the victor stared at the huddled figure, his arm drawn back. +Then he became aware of excitement within, the sound of voices, the +tramp of feet on the floor, the sudden opening of a door. A gleam of +light shot out, revealing the figures of men. With one spring he was +across the shapeless form on the ground, and had vanished into the +darkness beyond. + +Lacy was first to reach the unconscious body, stumbling over it in the +black shadow, as he rushed forward, revolver in hand. He cursed, +rising to his knees, and staring about in the silent darkness. + +"There's a man lying here--dead likely. Bring a light. No, the fellow +is alive. Dammit, it's Moore, and completely knocked out. Here +you--what happened?" + +The fellow groaned, opened his eyes, and looked about dazedly. + +"Speak up, man!" and Lacy dragged him to a sitting position in no +gentle fashion. "Who hit you?" + +"There--there was a fellow at that window there. I--I saw him from +below, and crept up behind but he turned around just as I struck." + +"Who was he?" + +"I never saw his face. He hit me first." + +"He was at that window, you say?" + +"Yes; kneelin' down like he was lookin' into the room. Oh, Lord!" + +Lacy crunched over to the side of the shack, and bent down to get a +better view. His fingers came in contact with the knife which upheld +the sash, and he plucked it out, holding it up into the beam of light +passing through the rent in the torn curtain. He stared at the +curiously carved handle intently. + +"This is certainly hell," he said soberly. "That's Jim Westcott's +jack-knife. He's been listening to all we said. Now we are up against +it." + +"What's that?" The question came from Enright, still at the corner of +the house, unable to tell what had happened. + +"Westcott has been here listening to our talk. He pried up the window +with this knife, so he could hear. Moore caught him, and got knocked +out." + +"He--he heard our talk in--in there," repeated the dazed lawyer, his +lips trembling. "And--has got away? Good God! man, where has he gone? +After the sheriff?" + +Lacy stared at him through the darkness, and burst into a roar of +unrestrained laughter. + +"Who? Jim Westcott? The sheriff? Well, hardly at this stage of the +game. That's your way down East, no doubt, but out in this country the +style is different. No, sir; Westcott isn't after any sheriff. In the +first place he hasn't any evidence. He knows a thing or two, but he +can't prove it; and if we move faster than he does we'll block his +game--see?" + +"What do you mean?" + +Lacy leaned forward, and hissed his answer into Enright's ear. + +"Put Cavendish where he can't get at him. There's no other chance. If +Jim Westcott ever finds that fellow alive our goose is cooked. And +we've got the advantage--we know where the man is." + +"And Westcott doesn't?" + +"Exactly, but he will know. He'll comb these hills until he finds the +trail--that's Jim Westcott. Come on back inside, both of you, and I'll +tell you my plan. No, there is no use trying to run him down +to-night--a hundred men couldn't do it. What's that, Moore? Go on to +the shaft-house, and let Dan fix you up. No, we won't need any guard. +That fellow will never come back here again to-night. Come on, boys." + +The door closed behind them, shutting out the yellow glow, and leaving +the hillside black and lonely. A bucket of rock rattled onto the dump, +and Moore, limping painfully, swearing with every step, clambered up +the dark trail toward the shaft-house. + +Miss Donovan did not go down to supper. Beaton waited some time in the +office, his eyes on the stairs, but she failed to appear, and he lacked +the necessary courage to seek her in her own room. Then Enright called +him and compelled his attendance. The absence of the girl was not +caused from any lack of appetite as she subsidised the Chinaman to +smuggle her a supply of food by way of the back stairs, which she ate +with decided relish, but she had no desire to show any anxiety +regarding a meeting with the newcomers. + +Her newspaper experience had given her some knowledge of human nature +and she felt convinced that her task of extracting information would be +greatly simplified if these people sought her company first. To hold +aloof would have a tendency to increase their interest, for Beaton +would certainly tell of her presence in the hotel, and, if their +purpose there had any criminal intent, suspicion would be aroused. + +This theory, however, became somewhat strained as the time passed +quietly, and seemed to break entirely when from her window she saw +Beaton and the heavy-set man ride out of town on a pair of livery +horses. She watched them move down the long street, and turn into the +trail leading out across the purple hills. The lowering darkness +finally hid them from view. She was still at the window beginning to +regret her choice when some one rapped at the door. She arose to her +feet, and took a step or two forward, her heart beating swifter. + +"Come in." + +The door opened, and the light from the windows revealed Miss La Rue, +rather tastefully attired in green silk, her blond hair fluffed +artfully, and a dainty patch of black court-plaster adorning one cheek. +She stood hesitating on the threshold, her eyes searching the other's +face. + +"Pardon me, please," the voice somewhat high-pitched, "but they told me +down-stairs you were from New York." + +"Yes, that is my home; won't you come in?" + +"Sure I will. Why I was so lonesome in this hole I simply couldn't +stand it any longer. Have you only one chair?" She glanced about, her +eyes widening. "Heavens, what a funny room! Why, I thought mine was +the limit, but it's a palace beside this. You been here long?" + +"Since yesterday; take the chair, please; I am used to the bed--no, +really, I don't mind in the least. It is rather funny, but then I +haven't always lived at the Ritz-Carlton, so I don't mind." + +"Huh! for the matter of that no more have I, but believe me, there +would be some howl if they ever gave me a room like this--even in +Haskell. I know your name; it's Stella Donovan--well, mine is Celeste +La Rue." + +"A very pretty name; rather unusual. Are you French?" + +The other laughed, crossing her feet carelessly, and extracting a +cigarette case from a hand-bag. + +"French? Well, I guess not. You don't mind if I smoke, do you? +Thanks. Have one yourself--they're imported. No? All right. I +suppose it is a beastly habit, but most of the girls I know have picked +it up. Seems sociable, somehow. No, I'm not French. My dad's name +was Capley, and I annexed this other when I went on the stage. It +tickles the Johnnies, and sounds better than Sadie Capley. You liked +it yourself." + +"It is better adapted to that purpose--you are an actress then?" + +"Well, nobody ever said so. I can dance and sing a bit, and know how +to wear clothes. It's an easier job than some others I've had, and +gets me into a swell set. Tell me, when were you in New York?" + +"About a month ago." + +"Well, didn't you see the Revue?" + +"The last one? Certainly." + +"That's where I shone--second girl on the right in the chorus, and I +was in the eccentric dance with Joe Steams; some hit--what?" + +"Yes, I remember now; they called you the Red Fairy--because of your +ruby ring. What in the world ever brought you out here?" + +Celeste laughed, a cloud of smoke curling gracefully above her blonde +hair. + +"Some joke, isn't it? Well, it's no engagement at the Good Luck Dance +Hall yonder, you can bet on that. The fact is I've quit the business, +and am going to take a flier in mining." + +"Mining? That sounds like money in these days. They tell me there is +no placer-mining any longer, and that it requires a fortune to develop. +I wouldn't suppose a chorus girl----" + +"Oh, pshaw!" and Miss La Rue leaned forward, a bright glow on each +cheek. "There are more ways of making money in New York than drawing a +salary. Still, that wasn't so bad. I pulled down fifty a week, but of +course that was only a drop in the bucket. I don't mind telling you, +but all a good-looking girl needs is a chance before the +public--there's plenty of rich fools in the world yet. I've caught on +to a few things in the last five years. It pays better to be Celeste +La Rue than it ever did to be Sadie Capley. Do you get me?" + +Miss Donovan nodded. Her acquaintance with New York fast life supplied +all necessary details, and it was quite evident this girl had no sense +of shame. Instead she was rather proud of the success she had achieved. + +"I imagine you are right," she admitted pleasantly. "So you found a +backer? A mining man?" + +"Not on your life. None of your wild west for me. As soon as some +business is straightened out here, it's back to Broadway." + +"Who is it?" ventured the other cautiously. "Mr. Beaton?" + +"Ned Beaton!" Miss La Rue's voice rose to a shriek. "Oh, Lord! I +should say not! Why that fellow never had fifty dollars of his own at +one time in his life. You know Beaton, don't you?" + +"Well, hardly that. We have conversed at the table down-stairs." + +"I suppose any sort of a man in a decent suit of clothes looks good +enough to talk to out here. But don't let Beaton fool you. He's only +a tin-horn sport." + +"Then it is the other?" + +"Sure; he's the real thing. Not much to look at, maybe, but he fairly +oozes the long green. He's a lawyer." + +"Oh, indeed," and Miss Donovan's eyes darkened. She was interested, +now feeling herself on the verge of discovery. "From New York?" + +"Sure, maybe you've heard of him? He knew you as soon as Beaton +mentioned your name; he's Patrick Enright of Enright and Dougherty." + +Miss Donovan's fingers gripped hard on the footboard of the bed, and +her teeth clinched to keep back a sudden exclamation of surprise. This +was more than she had bargained for, yet the other woman, coolly +watching, in spite of her apparent flippancy, observed no change in the +girl's manner. Apparently the disclosure meant little. + +"Enright, you say? No, I think not. He claimed to know me? That is +rather strange. Who did he think I was?" + +Miss La Rue bit her lip. She had found her match evidently, but would +strike harder. + +"A reporter on the _Star_. Naturally we couldn't help wondering what +you was doing out here. You are in the newspaper business, ain't you?" + +"Yes," realising further concealment was useless, "but on my vacation. +I thought I explained all that to Mr. Beaton. I am not exactly a +reporter. I am what they call a special writer--sometimes write for +magazines like _Scribbler's_, other times for newspapers. I do +feature-stuff." + +"Whatever that is." + +"Human-interest stories; anything unusual; strange happenings in +every-day life, you know." + +"Murders, and--and robberies." + +"Occasionally, if they are out of the ordinary." She took a swift +breath, and made the plunge. "Like the Frederick Cavendish case--do +you remember that?" + +Miss La Rue stared at her across the darkening room, but if she changed +colour the gloom concealed it, and her voice was steady enough. + +"No," she said shortly, "I never read those things. What happened?" + +"Oh, nothing much. It occurred to my mind because it was about the +last thing I worked on before leaving home. He was very rich, and was +found dead in his apartments at the Waldron--evidently killed by a +burglar." + +"Did they get the fellow?" + +"No, there was no clue; the case is probably forgotten by this time. +Let's speak about something else--I hate to talk shop." + +Miss La Rue stood up, and shook out her skirt. + +"That's what I say; and it seems to me it would be more social if we +had something to drink. You ain't too nice to partake of a cocktail, +are you? Good! Then we'll have one. What's the hotelkeeper's name?" + +"Timmons." + +"Do you suppose he'd come up if I pounded on the floor?" + +Miss Donovan slipped off the bed. + +"I don't believe he is in the office. He went up the street just +before dark. You light the lamp while I'll see if I can find the +Chinaman out in the hall." + +She closed the door behind her, strode noisily down the hall, then +silently and swiftly retraced her steps and stooped silently down to +where a crack yawned in the lower panel. That same instant a match +flared within the room and was applied to the wick of the lamp. The +narrow opening gave only a glimpse of half the room--the wash-stand, +the chair, and lower part of the bed. She saw Miss La Rue drop the +match, then open her valise and go through it, swiftly. She found +nothing, and turned to the wash-stand drawer. The latter was empty, +and was instantly closed again, the girl staring about the room, as +though at her wit's end. Suddenly she disappeared along the edge of +the bed, beyond the radius of the crack in the door. What was it she +was doing? Searching the bed, no doubt; seeking something hidden +beneath the pillow, or mattress. + +Whatever her purpose, she was gone scarcely a moment, gliding silently +back to the chair beside the window, with watchful eyes again fixed on +the closed door. Miss Donovan smiled, and straightened up, well +satisfied with her ruse. It had served to demonstrate that the +ex-chorus-girl was far from being as calmly indifferent as she had +assumed and it had made equally evident the fact that her visit had an +object--the discovery of why Miss Donovan was in Haskell. Doubtless +she had made the call at Enright's suggestion. Very well, the lady was +quite welcome to all the information obtained. Stella opened the door, +and the eyes of the two met. + +"The Chinaman seems to have gone home," the mistress of the room said +quietly. "At least he is not on this floor or in the office, and I +could see nothing of Timmons anywhere." + +"Then I suppose we don't drink," complained Miss La Rue. "Well, I +might as well go to bed. There ain't much else to do in this jay town." + +She got up, and moved toward the door. + +"If you're only here viewing the scenery, I guess you won't remain +long." + +"Not more than a day or so. I am planning a ride into the mountains +before leaving," pleasantly. "I hope I shall see you again." + +"You're quite liable to," an ugly curl to the lip, "maybe more than +you'll want. Good night." + +Miss Donovan stood there motionless after the door closed behind her +guest. She was conscious of the sting in those final words, the +half-expressed threat, but the smile did not desert her lips. Her only +thought was that the other was angry, irritated over her failure, her +inability to make a report to her masters. She looked at the valise on +the floor, and laughed outright, but as her eyes lifted once more, she +beheld her travelling suit draped over the head-board of the bed, and +instantly the expression of her face changed. She had forgotten +hanging it there. That must have been where the woman went when she +disappeared. It was not to rummage the bed at all, but to hastily run +through the pockets of her jacket. The girl swiftly crossed the room, +and flung coat and skirt onto the bed. She remembered now thrusting +the telegram from Farriss into a pocket on the morning of its receipt. +It was gone! + + + + +CHAPTER XVI: CAPTURED + +Her first thought was to search elsewhere, although she immediately +realised the uselessness of any such attempt. The message had been in +her pocket as she recalled distinctly; she had fully intended +destroying it at the same time she had torn up the letter of +instruction, but failed to do so. Now it was in the hands of the La +Rue woman, and would be shown to the others. Stella blew out the light +and sat down by the open window endeavouring to figure out what all +this would mean. It was some time before she could recall to memory +the exact wording of the telegram, but finally it came to her bit by +bit: + + +If any clues, advise immediately. Willis digging hard. Letter of +instruction follows. + +FARRISS. + + +There was no mention of names, yet these people could scarcely fail to +recognise that this had reference to the Cavendish case. Their fears +would lead to this conclusion, and they could safely argue that nothing +else would require the presence in Haskell of a New York newspaper +writer. Besides, if the man Enright had recognised her and knew of her +connection with the _Star_, it was scarcely probable that he would be +wholly unfamiliar with the name of Farriss, the city editor. No, they +would be on guard now, and she could hope to win no confidence. The +thought of personal danger never once entered her mind. Timidity was +not part of her nature and she gave this phase of the matter no +thought. All that seriously troubled her was the knowledge that she +was handicapped in the case, unable to carry out the plans previously +outlined. + +From now on she would be watched, guarded against, deceived. That +these people--Enright particularly--were playing a desperate game for +big stakes, was already evident. They had not hesitated at murder to +achieve their ends, and yet the girl somehow failed to comprehend that +this discovery by them, that she was on their trail, placed her in +personal peril. + +There were two reasons causing indifference--a carelessness engendered +by long newspaper experience, and a feeling that the telegram told so +little they would never realise how far the investigation had +progressed. All she could do then, would be to remain quiet, watch +closely for results, and, if necessary, have some one else sent out +from the home office to take up the work. But meanwhile she must +communicate with Westcott, tell him all that had occurred. She would +send him a note the first thing in the morning. + +Somewhat reassured by this reasoning, she was still seated there, +staring out into the night, when Enright and Beaton returned. It must +have been late, for the street was practically deserted, the saloons +even being closed. The hotel was silent, although a lamp yet burned in +the office, the dull glow falling across the roadway in front of the +door. Stella heard the tread of horses' feet, before her eyes +distinguished the party approaching, and she drew back cautiously. In +the glow of the light she could perceive four men in saddle halted in +front of the hotel, three of whom dismounted, and entered the building, +the fourth grasping the reins of the riderless animals, and leading +them up the street. No word was spoken, except an order to the +departing horseman, and the girl could not be certain of the identity +of those below, although convinced the first two to disappear within +were Enright and Beaton. She heard the murmur of voices below and the +heavy steps of the men as they came slowly up the stairs. Then a door +opened creakingly and she caught the sound of a woman's voice. + +"Is that you, Ned?" + +"Sure; what are you doing up at this hour?" + +"Never mind that. Who have you got with you?" + +"Enright and Lacy--why?" + +"I want you all to come in here a minute; don't make so much noise." + +A voice or two grumbled, but feet shuffled along the bare floor, and +the door creaked again as it was carefully closed behind them. Stella +opened her own door a crack and listened; the hall, lighted only by a +single oil-lamp at the head of the stairs, was deserted and silent. +She stole cautiously forward, but the voices in Miss La Rue's room were +muffled and indistinct, not an audible word reaching her ears. The key +was in the lock, shutting out all view of the interior. Well, what was +the difference? She knew what was occurring within--the stolen +telegram was being displayed, and discussed. That would not delay them +long, and it would never do for her to be discovered in the hall. + +Convinced of the uselessness of remaining, she returned to her own +room, closing and bolting the door. + +This time she removed some of her clothing, and lay down on the bed, +conscious of being exceedingly tired, yet in no degree sleepy. She +rested there, with wide-open eyes, listening until the distant door +creaked again, and she heard the footsteps of the men in the hall. +They had not remained in the chorus girl's room long, nor was anything +said outside to arouse her suspicions. Reassured, Miss Donovan +snuggled down into her pillow, unable to distinguish where the men +went, but satisfied they had sought their rooms. They would attempt +nothing more that night, and she had better gain what rest she could. +It was not easy falling asleep, in spite of the silence, but at last +she dropped off into a doze. + +Suddenly some unusual noise aroused her, and she sat upright, unable +for the moment to comprehend what had occurred. All was still, +oppressively still; she could hear the pounding of her own heart. Then +something tingled at the glass of her window, sharply distinct, as +though a pebble had been tossed upward. Instantly she was upon her +feet, and had crossed the room, her head thrust out. The light in the +office had been extinguished, and the night was black, yet she could +make out dimly the figure of a man close in against the side of the +house, a mere hulking shadow. At the same instant he seemed to move +slightly, and some missile grazed her face, and fell upon the floor, +striking the rug with a dull thud. She drew back in alarm, yet +immediately grasped the thought that this must be some secret message, +some communication from Westcott. + +Drawing down the torn curtain, she touched a match to the lamp and +sought the intruding missile. It had rolled beneath the bed--a small +stone with a bit of paper securely attached. The girl tore this open +eagerly, her eyes searching the few lines: + + +Must see you to-night. Have learned things, and am going away. Go +down back stairs, and meet me at big cottonwood behind hotel; don't +fail. + +J. W. + + +Her breath came fast as she read, and crunched the paper into the palm +of her hand. She understood, and felt no hesitancy. Westcott had made +discoveries so important he must communicate them at once and there was +no other way. He dare not come to her openly at that hour. Well, she +was not afraid--not of Jim Westcott. Even in her hurry she was dimly +conscious of the utter, complete confidence she felt in the man; even +of the strange interest he had inspired. She paused in her hasty +dressing, wondering at herself, dimly aware that a new feeling partly +actuated her desire to meet the man again--a feeling thoroughly alien +to the Cavendish mystery. She glanced into the cracked mirror and +laughed, half ashamed at her eagerness, yet utterly unable to suppress +the quickened beat of her pulse. + +She was ready almost in a minute, and had blown out the lamp. Again +she ventured a glance out into the street below, but the skulking +figure had disappeared, no one lurked anywhere in the gloom. There was +not a sound to disturb the night. She almost held her breath as she +opened the door silently and crept out into the hall. Stella possessed +no knowledge of any back stairway, but the dim light enabled her to +advance in comparative quiet. + +Once a board creaked slightly, even under her light tread, and she +paused, listening intently. She could distinguish the sound of heavy +sleepers, but no movement to cause alarm, and, assured of this, crept +forward. The hall turned sharply to the right, narrowing and becoming +dark as the rays of light failed to negotiate the corner. Twenty feet +down this passage ended in a door. This was unlocked, and yielded +easily to the grasp of her hand. It opened upon a narrow platform, and +she ventured forth. Gripping the hand-rail she descended slowly into +the darkness below, the excitement of the adventure causing her heart +to beat like a trip-hammer. + +At the bottom she was in a gloom almost impenetrable, but her feet felt +a cinder path and against the slightly lighter sky her eyes managed to +distinguish the gaunt limbs of a tree not far distant, the only one +visible and doubtless the cottonwood referred to in the note. + +Shrinking there in the black shadow of the building she realised +suddenly the terror of her position--the intense loneliness; the +silence seemed to smite her. There occurred to her mind the wild, +rough nature of the camp, the drunkenness of the night before; the wide +contrast between that other scene of debauchery and this solitude of +silence leaving her almost unnerved. She endeavoured to recall her +surroundings, how the land lay here at the rear of the hotel. She +could see only a few shapeless outlines of scattered buildings, not +enough to determine what they were like. She had passed along that way +toward the bridge that afternoon, yet now she could remember little, +except piles of discarded tin cans, a few scattered tents, and a cattle +corral on the summit of the ridge. + +Still it was not far to the tree, and surely there could be no danger +at this hour. If there had been Westcott would never have asked her to +come. The very recurrence of his name gave her strength and courage. +Her hands clenched with determination and she drew in a long breath, +her body straightening. Why, actually, she had been frightened of the +dark; like a child she had been peopling the void with the demons of +fancy. It struck her as so ridiculous that she actually laughed to +herself as she started straight toward the tree, which now seemed to +beckon her. + +It was a rough path, sandy, interspersed with small rocks, and led down +into a gully. The tree stood on the opposite bank, which was so steep +she had to grasp its outcropping roots in order to pull herself up. +Even after gaining footing she saw nothing of Westcott, heard no sound +indicating his presence. + +A coyote howled mournfully in the distance, and a stray breath of air +stirred one of the great leaves above into a startled rustling. She +crept about the gnarled trunk, every nerve aquiver, shaded her eyes +with one hand, and peered anxiously around into the gloom. Suddenly +something moved to her right, and she shrank back against the tree, +uncertain if the shapeless thing approaching was man or beast. He was +almost upon her before she was sure; then her lips gave utterance to a +little sob of relief. + +"Oh! You frightened me so!" + +The man stopped, scarcely a yard away, a burly figure, but with face +indistinguishable. + +"Sorry to do that," he said, "but no noise, please." + +She shrank back to the edge of the bank, conscious of the grip of a +great fear. + +"You--you are not Mr. Westcott?" she choked. "Who are you? What is it +you want?" + +The man laughed, but made no move. + +"Hard luck to come out here to meet Jim, an' run up against a totally +different proposition--hey, miss?" he said grimly. "However, this +ain't goin' ter be no love affair--not yit, at least. If I wuz you I +wouldn't try makin' no run fer it; an' if yer let out a screech, I'll +hav' ter be a bit rough." + +"You--you are after me?" + +"Sure; you've been playin' in a game what's none o' your business. Now +I reckon it's the other party's turn to throw some cards. Thought yer +was comin' out yere ter meet up with Jim Westcott, didn't yer?" + +She made no answer, desperately seeking some means of escape, the full +significance of her position clear before her. + +"Got a nice little note from Jim," the fellow went on, "an' lost no +time a gittin' yere. Well, Westcott is not liable to be sendin' fer +yer again very soon. What ther hell----" + +She had dashed forward, seeking to place the trunk of the tree between +them, the unexpected movement so sudden, she avoided his grasp. But +success was only for an instant. Another hand gripped her, hurling her +back helplessly. + +"You are some sweet little lady's man, Moore," snarled a new voice +raspingly. "Now let me handle this business my own way. Go get that +team turned around. I'll bring the girl. Come on now, miss, and the +less you have to say the better." + +She grasped at the bark, but the fellow wrenched her loose, forcing her +forward. Her resistance evidently angered him, for he suddenly +snatched her up into the iron grip of his arms and held her there, +despite her struggles. + +"Keep still, you damn tiger-cat," he hissed, "or I'll quiet you for +good. Don't take this for any play acting, or you'll soon be sorry. +There now, try it again on your own feet." + +"Take your hands off me then." + +"Very well--I will; but I've got something here to keep you quiet," and +he touched his belt threateningly. + +"What is it you want of me? Who are you?" + +"We'll discuss that later. Just now, move on--yes, straight ahead. +You see that wagon over there? Well, that is where you are bound at +present. Move on pronto." + +She realised the completeness of the trap into which she had fallen, +the futility of resistance. If the man who seemed in control exhibited +any consideration, it was not from the slightest desire to show mercy, +but rather to render the work as easy as possible. She was as +helplessly in his power as though bound and gagged. Before them +appeared the dim outline of a canvas covered wagon silhouetted against +the sky, to which was hitched a team of horses. + +As they approached the shapeless figures of two men appeared in the +gloom, one at the head of the team and the other holding back the +canvas top. Her guard gripped her arm, and peered about through the +darkness. + +"Isn't Ned here yet?" + +"Yes, all right," answered a muffled voice to the left. "I just came +out; here are the grips and other things." + +"Sure you cleaned up everything?" + +"Never left a pin; here, Moore, pass them up inside." + +"And about the note?" + +"She wrote that, and pinned it on the pillow." + +"Good, that will leave things in fine shape," he laughed. "I'd like to +see Jim's face when he reads that, and the madder he gets the less he +will know what to do." + +"And you want us to stay?" asked the other doubtfully. + +"Stay--of course; I am going to stay myself. It is the only way to +divert suspicion. Good Lord, man, if we all disappeared at once they +would know easy enough what had happened. Don't you ever believe +Westcott is that kind of a fool. More than that--there will be no +safety for us now until we get him out of the way; he knows too much. +Whereas your fat friend--old money-bags?" + +"He thought it best to keep out of it; he's back inside." + +"I imagined so; this sort of thing is not in his line. All ready, Joe?" + +The man at the wagon muttered some response. + +"Then up you go, miss; here, put your foot on the wheel; give her a +lift, will you?" + +Anxious to escape further indignities, and comprehending the +uselessness of any further struggle, with a man on either side of her, +Miss Donovan silently clambered into the wagon, and seated herself on a +wide board, evidently arranged for that purpose. The fellow who had +held back the top followed, and snuggled into the seat beside her. She +noticed now he held a gun in his hand, which he deposited between his +knees. The leader drew back the flap of canvas endeavouring to peer +into the dark interior. + +"All set?" + +"Sure." + +"Well, keep awake, Joe, and mind what I told yer. Now, Moore, up with +you, and drive like hell; you must be in the bad lands before daylight." + +A fellow clambered to the seat in front, his figure outlined against +the sky, and picked up the reins. Those within could hear the +shuffling of the horses' feet as though they were eager to be off. The +driver leaned forward. + +"Whoa, there, now; quiet, Jerry. Did you say I was to take the ridge +road?" + +"You bet; it's all rock and will leave no trail. Take it easy and +quiet until you are beyond Hennessey's ranch, and then give them the +whip." + +The next moment they were under way, slowly advancing through the +darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII: IN THE SHOSHONE DESERT + +Her guard spoke no word as the wagon rolled slowly onward, but she +judged that he leaned back against the bow supporting the canvas in an +effort to make himself as comfortable as possible. She could see +nothing of the fellow in the darkness, but had formed an impression +that he was of medium size, his face covered with a scraggly beard. +The driver sat bundled up in formless perspective against the line of +sky, but she knew from his voice that he was the man who had first +accosted her. In small measure this knowledge afforded some degree of +courage, for he had then appeared less brutal, more approachable than +the others. Perhaps she might lead him to talk, once they were alone +together, and thus learn the purpose of this outrage. + +Yet deep down in her mind she felt little doubt of the object in view, +or who were involved. Excited as she was, and frightened, the girl was +still composed enough to grasp the nature of her surroundings, and she +had time now, as the wagon rumbled forward, to think over all that had +been said, and fit it into the circumstances. + +Moreover she had recognised another voice--although the speaker had +kept out of sight, and spoken only in disguised, rumbling tones--that +of Ned Beaton. The fact of his presence alone served to make the +affair reasonably clear. The telegram stolen from her room by Miss La +Rue had led to this action. They had suspected her before, but that +had served to confirm their suspicions, and as soon as it had been +shown to Enright, he had determined to place her where she would be +helpless to interfere with their plans. + +But what did they propose doing with her? The question caused her +blood to run cold. That these people were desperate she had every +reason to believe; they were battling for big stakes: not even murder +had hitherto stood in their way? Why then, should they hesitate to +take her life, if they actually deemed it necessary to the final +success of their plans? She remembered what Beaton had said about her +room--the condition in which it had been left. It was not all clear, +yet it was clear enough, that they had taken every precaution to make +her sudden disappearance appear natural. They had removed all her +things, and left a note behind in womanly handwriting to explain her +hurried departure. There was a master criminal mind, watchful of every +detail, behind this conspiracy. He was guarding against every +possibility of rescue. + +The driver began to use his whip and urge the team forward, the wagon +pounding along over the rough road at a rate which compelled the girl +to hang on closely to keep her seat. The man beside her bounced about, +and swore, but made no effort to touch her, or open conversation. The +uncertainty, the fear engendered by her thought, the drear silence +almost caused her to scream. She conquered this, yet could remain +speechless no longer. + +"Where are you taking me?" she asked suddenly. + +There was no reply, and she stared toward her silent companion, unable +to even perceive his outlines. His silence sent a thrill of anger +through her, and she lost control. Her hand gripped the coarse +shirt-sleeve in determination to compel him to speak. + +"Answer me or I'll scream!" + +He chuckled grimly, not in the least alarmed. + +"Little good that'll do yer now, young woman," he said gruffly, and the +driver turned his head at the sound, "unless yer voice will carry five +miles or so; where are we now, Matt?" + +"Comin' down ter the Big Slough," answered the other, expectorating +over the wheel, and flickering a horse with his whip-lash. "'Twouldn't +do no harm now ter fasten back the canvas, Joe; maybe she'd feel a bit +more ter home that away." + +There was a good-natured drawl to the voice which had a tendency to +hearten the girl. The driver seemed human, sympathetic: perhaps he +would respond to questioning. The other merely grunted, and began to +unloosen the cover. She leaned forward, and addressed the rounded back +of the fellow in front. + +"Are you Mr. Moore?" + +He wheeled partly about, surprised into acknowledgment. + +"Well, I ain't heered the mister part fer some time, but my name's Matt +Moore, though, how the hell did you know it?" + +"The other man called you by name--don't you remember? Besides I had +heard about you before." + +"Well, I'll be damned. Do yer hear that, Joe? Who told yer 'bout me?" + +"Mr. Westcott; he mentioned you as being one of the men who attacked +him in the hotel office yesterday. He said you were one of Lacy's men. +So when I heard your name mentioned to-night I knew in whose hands I +had fallen. Was the brute who ordered you about Bill Lacy?" + +"I reckon it was, miss," doubtfully. "It don't make no difference, +does it, Joe?" + +"Not as I kin see," growled the other. "Leastwise, her knowin' thet +much. 'Tain't likely to do her no good, whichever way the cat jumps. +I reckon I'll have a smoke, Matt; I'm dry as a fish." + +"Same here; 'bout an hour till daylight, I reckon, Joe; pass the +terbacco after yer light up." + +The glow of the match gave her swift view of the man's face; it was +strange and by no means reassuring, showing hard, repulsive, the +complexion as dark as an Indian's, the eyes bold and a bit bloodshot +from drink. Meeting her glance, he grinned unpleasantly. + +"I don't pose fer no lady's man, like Matt," he said sneeringly, the +match flaring between his fingers. "That's what Bill sent me 'long +fer, 'cause he know'd I'd 'tend ter business, an' not talk too much." + +"Your name is Joe?" + +"Out yere--yes; Joe Sikes, if it pleases yer eny ter know. Yer might +call me Mr. Sikes, if yer want ter be real polite." + +He passed the tobacco-bag up to Moore, who thrust the reins under him +while deliberately filling his pipe, the team trotting quietly along +what seemed to be a hard road. The wagon lurched occasionally, as the +wheels struck a stone, but the night was still so dark, the girl could +perceive little of their surroundings in spite of the looped-up +curtains. There seemed to be a high ridge of earth to their right, +crowned by a fringe of low trees, but everything appeared indistinct +and desolate. Outside the rumble of their own progress the silence was +profound. + +"And you will not tell me where we are going?" she insisted, "or what +you propose doing with me?" + +The pipe-glow revealed Sikes's evil countenance; Moore resumed his +reins, and there was the sharp swish of a whip lash. + +"'Twouldn't mean nuthin' ter yer if I did," said the former finally, +after apparently turning the matter over slowly in his mind. "Yer +don't know nuthin' 'bout this country. 'Tain't no place a tenderfoot +like you kin find yer way back frum; so, as fer as I see, thar ain't +nuthin' fer yer to do but just naturally wait till we takes yer back." + +"I am to be held a prisoner--indefinitely?" + +"I reckon so; not that I knows enything 'bout the programme, miss; but +that's 'bout the understandin' that Matt an' I has--ain't it, Matt?" + +The driver turned his head, and nodded. + +"Sure; we're just ter take keer of yer till he comes." + +"Lacy?" + +"Er--some word from him, miss. It might not be safe for him to come +himself. Yer see," apologetically, "I don't just know what the game +is, and Bill might want to skip out before you was turned loose. I +knowed wunst when he was gone eight months, an' nobody knowed where he +was--do yer mind thet time, Joe, after he shot up Medicine Lodge? +Well, I reckon thar must be some big money in this job, an' he won't +take no chance of gettin' pinched. That seems to be the trouble, +miss--you've sorter stuck yerself in whar it warn't none o' yer +business. Thet's what got Lacy down on yer." + +"Yes; but what is it to you, and--and Mr. Sikes, here?" + +Matt grinned. + +"Nuthin' much ter me, or ter--ter Mr. Sikes--how's it sound, +Joe?--'cept maybe a slice o' coin. Still there's reason fer us both +ter jump when Bill Lacy whistles. Enyhow thar ain't no use a talkin' +'bout it, fer we've got ter do what we're told. So let's shut up." + +"You say you do not know what this all means?" + +"No, an' what's more, we don't give a damn." + +"But if I told you it was robbery and murder---that you were aiding in +the commission of crime!" + +"It wouldn't make a plum bit o' difference, ma'm," said Sikes +deliberately, "we never reckoned it wus enything else--so yer might +just as well stop hollerin', fer yer goin' whar we take yer, an' ye'll +stay thar till Bill Lacy says yer ter go. Hit 'em up, Matt; I'm plum' +tired of talkin'." + +The grey dawn came at last, spectral and ghastly, gradually yielding +glimpse of the surroundings. They were travelling steadily south, the +horses beginning to exhibit traces of weariness, yet still keeping up a +dogged trot. All about extended a wild, desolate scene of rock and +sand, bounded on every horizon by barren ridges. The only vegetation +was sage brush, while the trail, scarcely visible to the eye, would +circle here and there among grotesque formations, and occasionally +seemed to disappear altogether. Nowhere was there slightest sign of +life--no bird, no beast, no snake even, crossed their path. All was +dead, silent, stricken with desolation. The spires and chimneys of +rock, ugly and distorted in form, assumed strange shapes in the grey +dusk. It was all grey wherever the eyes turned; grey of all shades, +grey sand, grey rocks, grey over-arching sky, relieved only by the soft +purple of the sage--a picture of utter loneliness, of intense +desolation, which was a horror. The eye found nothing to rest upon--no +landmark, no distant tree, no gleam of water, no flash of colour--only +that dull monotony of drab, motionless, and with no apparent end. + +Stella stared about at it, and closed her eyes, unable to bear the +sight; her head drooped wearily, every nerve giving away before the +depressing scene outspread in every direction. Sikes, watching her +slightest movement, seemed to sense the meaning of the action. + +"Hell, ain't it?" he said expressively. "You know whar we are?" + +"No; but I never before dreamed any spot could be so terrible." + +"This is the Shoshone desert; thar ain't nobody ever comes in yere +'cept wunst in a while a prospector, maybe, er a band o' cattle +rustlers. Even the Injuns keep out." + +She lifted her eyes again, shuddering as they swept about over the +dismal waste. + +"But there is a trail; you could not become lost?" + +"Well, yer might call it a trail, tho' thar ain't much left of it after +a sand storm. I reckon thar ain't so many as could follow it any time +o' year, but Matt knows the way all right--you don't need to worry none +about that. He's drove many a load along yere--hey, Matt?" + +"You bet; I've got it all marked out, the same as a pilot on the +Missouri. Ye see that sway-back ridge yonder?" pointing with his whip +into the distance ahead. "That's what I'm headin' for now an' when I +git thar a round rock will show up down a sorter gully. Furst time I +came over yere long with Lacy, I wrote all these yere things down." + +Conversation ceased, the drear depression of the scene resting heavily +on the minds of all three. Moore sat humped shapelessly in his seat, +permitting the horses to toil on wearily, the wagon rumbling along +across the hard packed sand, the wheels leaving scarcely a mark behind. +Sikes stared gloomily out on his side, the rifle still between his +knees, his jaws working vigorously on a fresh chew of tobacco. Stella +looked at the two men, their faces now clearly revealed in the +brightening dawn, but the survey brought little comfort. Sikes was +evidently of wild blood--a half-breed, if his swarthy skin and high +cheek bones meant any characteristics of race--scarcely more than a +savage by nature, and rendered even more decadent by the ravages of +drink. He was sober enough now, but this only left him the more morose +and sullen, his bloodshot eyes ugly and malignant. The girl shrank +from him as a full realisation of what the man truly was came to her +with this first distinct view. + +Moore was a much younger man, his face roughened, and tanned, to almost +the colour of mahogany, yet somehow retaining a youthful look. He was +not unprepossessing in a bold, daring way; a fellow who would seek +adventure, and meet danger with a laugh. He turned as she looked at +him, and grinned back at her, pointing humorously to a badly +discoloured eye. + +"Friend o' yours gave me that," he admitted, quite as a matter of +course. "Did a good job, too." + +"A friend of mine?" in surprise. + +"Sure; you're a friend o' Jim Westcott, ain't yer? Lacy said so, and +Jim's the laddy-buck who whaled me." + +"Mr. Westcott! When?" + +"Last night. You see it was this way. I caught him hanging round the +office at La Rosita, an' we had a fight. I don't just know what I did +to him, but that's part o' what he did to me. I never knowed much +about him afore, but he's sure some scrapper; an' I had a knife in my +fist, too." + +"Then--then," her breath choking her, "he got away?" + +Moore laughed, no evidence of animosity in his actions. + +"I reckon so, miss. I ain't seen nuthin' of him since, an' the way +Bill Lacy wus cussing when I got breathin' straight agin would 'a' +shocked a coyote. He'll git him, though." + +"Get him?" + +"Sure--Bill will. He always gets his man. I've seen more'n one fellow +try to put something over on Lacy, but it never worked in the end. +He's hell on the trigger, an' the next time he and Bill come together, +Westcott's bound to get his. Ain't that the truth, Joe?" + +Sikes nodded his head, a gleam of appreciation in his eyes. + +"I'd like fer to see the scrap," he said slowly. "They tell me +Westcott ain't so slow on the draw--but Bill will get him!" + +The sun rose a red ball of fire, colouring the ridges of sand, and +painting the grotesque rocks with crimson streamers. As it ascended +higher into the pale blue of the sky the heat-waves began to sweep +across the sandy waste. In the shadow of a bald cliff the wagon was +halted briefly, and the two men brought forth materials from within, +making a hasty fire, and preparing breakfast. Water was given the team +also, before the journey was resumed; while during the brief halt the +girl was left to do as she pleased. Then they moved on again, +surrounded by the same drear landscape, the very depression of it +keeping them silent. Sikes nodded sleepily, his head against a wagon +bow. Once Moore roused up, pointing into the distance with one hand. + +"What do yer make o' that out thar?" he asked sharply. "'Tain't a +human, is it?" + +Sikes straightened up with a start, and stared blankly in the direction +indicated. Apparently he could perceive nothing clearly, for he +reached back into the wagon-box, and drew forth a battered field-glass, +quickly adjusting it to his eyes. Stella's keener vision made out a +black, indistinct figure moving against the yellow background of a far +away sand-ridge, and she stood up, clinging to Moore's seat, to gain a +better view. Sikes got the object in focus. + +"Nothin' doing," he announced. "It's travellin' on four legs--a b'ar, +likely, although I never afore heard of a b'ar being in yere." + +They settled down to the same monotony, mile after mile. The way +became rockier with less sand, but with no more evidence of life. A +high cliff rose menacingly to their right, bare of the slightest trace +of vegetation, while in the opposite direction the plain assumed a dead +level, mirages appearing occasionally in the far distance. Far away +ahead a strange buttress of rock rose into the sky resembling the +turret of a huge castle. The sun was directly overhead when Moore +turned his team suddenly to the left, and drove down a sharp declivity +leading into a ravine. + +"Drop the canvas, Joe," he said shortly, "there's only 'bout a mile +more." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII: IN MEXICAN POWER + +The passage was so narrow, and so diversified by sharp turns, that Miss +Donovan, shut in behind the closed cover, could perceive little of its +nature. Apparently the ravine was a mere gash in the surface of the +desert plain, to be originally discovered purely through accident. One +might pass a hundred yards to either side, and never realise its +existence, the hard rock, covered by a thin layer of sand, retaining no +trace of wheel-marks in guidance. How Moore had ever driven so +unerringly to the spot was a mystery. Yet he had done so, and now the +team was slowly creeping down the narrow ledge utilised as a road, the +slipping wheels securely locked, as they drifted here and there about +the sharp corners, ever descending into the unknown depths. + +The cliffs arose precipitously on either side, absolutely bare. To the +left nothing could be seen but black rock, but on the other side an +open space yawned, perhaps twenty feet across, its bottom +imperceptible. The horses stumbled over the rough stones, held only by +Moore's firm grip on the reins, and the light began to fade as they +descended. At last nothing appeared above but a narrow strip of sky, +and the glimmer of sun had totally vanished. Almost at the same moment +the driver released the creaking brake, and at a trot the wagon swept +forward between two pinnacles of rock, and came out into an open valley. + +The transition was so sudden and startling as to cause the girl to give +utterance to a cry of surprise. She had been clinging desperately to +the seat in front, expecting every instant to be hurled headlong. +Intense fear gripped her and it seemed as if every drop of blood in her +veins stood still. The change was like a leap into fairy land; as +though they had emerged from the mouth of hell into the beauty of +paradise. They were in a green, watered valley, a clear stream +wandering here and there through its centre, shadowed by groves of +trees. All about, as far as eye could reach, stood great precipices, +their bold, rugged fronts rising hundreds of feet, unbroken, and +unscalable; the sun directly above bathed these with showers of gold, +and cast a blanket of colour across the sheltered valley. + +This valley itself was nearly square, possibly extending not over a +mile in either direction, merely a great hole rimmed by desert, a +strange, hidden oasis, rendered fertile and green by some outburst of +fresh water from the rocks. Emerging upon it in midst of the barren +desolation through which they had been toiling for hours, blinded by +alkali dust, jolted down that dangerous decline, it seemed like some +beautiful dream, a fantasy of imagination. + +Miss Donovan doubted the evidence of her own eyes, half convinced that +she slept. It was Moore's voice which aroused her. + +"Mendez must have got back, Joe," he said eagerly. "There are horses +and cattle over yonder." + +The other pushed up the canvas and looked out. + +"That's right. Must just got here, or there'd 'a' been a guard up +above. The fellow is comin' now--see?" + +He was loping along carelessly, Mexican from high hat to jingling +spurs, sitting the saddle as though moulded there, a young fellow, dark +faced, but with a livid scar along one cheek. + +"Juan Cateras, the little devil," muttered Sikes, as the rider drew +nearer. "There's some pot brewing if he is in it." + +The rider drew up his horse, and lifted his hat, his smiling lips +revealing a row of white teeth. + +"A pleasant day, _señor_," he said graciously, his dark eyes searching +the faces of the two men, and then dwelling with interest on the woman. +"Ah, your pardon, _señorita_; your presence is more than welcome here." +He rested one hand on the wagon box, the expression of his face +hardening. "Yet an explanation might not be out of place--the Señor +Mendez may not be pleased." + +"We came under orders from Lacy," replied Moore confidently. "You have +seen us both before." + +"True, but not the lady; you will tell me about her?" + +Sikes climbed down over the wheel. + +"It is like this, _señor_," he began. "Lacy did not know your party +was here; he thought you were all south for another month yet. He +would keep this girl quiet, out of the way for a time. She is from New +York, and knows too much." + +"From New York?" The quick eyes of the Mexican again sought her face. +"She is to be held prisoner?" + +"Yes, _señor_." + +"Again the case of that man Cavendish?" + +"We were not told, only ordered to bring her here and guard her until +we heard otherwise. It was not known you were back." + +"We came three hours ago; you see what we brought," with a wave of the +hand. "All was clear above?" + +"Not a sign; I searched with field-glasses." + +"Then I will ride with you to Mendez; 'tis well to have the matter +promptly over with." + +The wagon, rumbled on, Moore urging the wearied team with whip and +voice to little result. Sikes remained on foot, glad of the change, +striding along in front, while the Mexican rode beside the wheel, his +equipment jingling, the sunlight flashing over his bright attire. He +made a rather gallant figure, of which he was fully conscious, glancing +frequently aside into the shadow beneath the canvas top to gain glimpse +of its occupant. At last their eyes met, and he could no longer +forbear speech, his English expression a bit precise. + +"Pardon, _señorita_, I would be held your friend," he murmured, leaning +closer, "for it is ever a misfortune to incur the enmity of Señor Lacy. +You will trust me?" + +"But," she ventured timidly, "I do not know you, _señor_; who you may +be." + +"You know Señor Mendez?" + +She shook her head negatively. + +"'Tis strange! Yet I forget you come from New York. They know him +here on this border. If you ask these men they will tell you. Even +Señor Lacy takes his orders from Pascual Mendez. He care not who he +kill, who he fight--some day it come his turn, and then he liberate +Mexico--see? The day is not yet, but it will come." + +"You mean he is a revolutionist?" + +"He hate; he live to hate; to revenge the wrong. Twice already he lead +the people, but they fail him--the cowards. He return here where it is +safe: yet the right time will come." + +"But you, _señor_?" + +"I am his lieutenant--Juan Cateras," and he bowed low, "and I ride now +to tell him of his guest." + +She watched him as he spurred forward, proud of his horsemanship, and +making every effort to attract her attention. Moore turned in his +seat, and grinned. + +"Some tin soldier," he said sneeringly, "that's a feller I always +wanted ter kick, an' some day I'm a goin' ter do it." + +"You heard what he said?" + +"Sure; he was tellin' yer 'bout old Mendez being a Mexican +revolutionary leader down in Mex, wa'n't he? Hell of a leader he is! +I reckon he's been mixed up in scrapes enough down thar, but they had +mighty little to do with revolutin'. He's just plain bad man, +miss--cattle thief, an' all round outlaw. There's a price on his head +in three States, but nobody dares go after it, because of the dangerous +gang he controls." + +Her eyes sought the distant figure doubtfully. + +"And this man--this Juan Cateras--what of him?" + +"One of the devil's own imps; I'd a heap rather play with a rattlesnake +than him." He paused, to assure him self that Sikes was safely out of +hearing. "I thought maybe I better tell yer while I had a chance. +That fellar is plumb pisen, miss." + +She reached out her hand, and touched him. + +"Thank you," she said gratefully, "I--I am glad you did. Am--am I to +be left here with these--these men?" + +"No, not exactly. I suppose they'll naturally sorter expect to run +things while they're here, fer this yere valley is their camp, Mendez +has been hidin' out yere fer some time. But Joe and I are goin' to +stay, and even old Mendez ain't liable to make no enemy outer Bill +Lacy. They had a row wunst, an' I reckon they don't neither of 'em +want another. I ain't greatly afeerd o' Mendez, but I wouldn't put +nuthin' past this Cateras lad, if he got some hell idea in his head. +He's Injun-Mex, an' that's the worst kind." + +The wagon lurched down a steep bank, splashed its way across the narrow +stream, and up the other side, the horses straining in their harness to +the sharp snap of the driver's whip. A towering precipice of rock +confronted them, and at its very foot stood two cabins of log +construction, so closely resembling their stone background as to be +almost imperceptible, at the distance of a few yards. Sikes leaned on +his rifle waiting, and as Moore halted the panting team, and leaped +over the wheel to the ground, Cateras came forth from one of the open +doors and crossed the intervening space on foot. He was smoking a +cigarette, the blue wreath of smoke circling above his head in the +still air. + +"The lady is to be placed in my care," he said almost insolently. +"Your hand, _señorita_." + +Miss Donovan hesitated, the memory of Moore's words of warning yet +ringing in her ears. The handsome face, with its smiling lips and +eyes, suddenly appeared to her a mask assumed to conceal the unclean +soul behind. Moore broke the silence with a protest. + +"In your care, _señor_? The girl is here as prisoner to Bill Lacy." + +"So I told Mendez," he said indifferently. "But he is in ill humour +this morning, and took small interest in the affair. It was only when +I promised to take full charge that he consented to your remaining at +all. 'Tis my advice that you let well enough alone. You know who +rules here." + +"If there is evil done, the debt will be paid." + +Cateras laughed, one hand at his incipient moustache. + +"Billy Lacy, you mean, no doubt. That is a matter for him to settle +with Mendez. It is not my affair, for I only obey my chief. However, +_señors_, 'tis no evil that is contemplated, only we prefer guarding +the secrets of this valley ourselves. That is what angers Mendez, the +fact that Lacy uses this rendezvous as a prison during our absence. We +found one here when we returned--guarded by an American. Now you come +with another. _Caramba_! You think we stand this quietly? How do we +know what may result from such acts? What sheriff's posse may be on +your trail? Bill Lacy! _Dios_! if Bill Lacy would make prisoners, let +him keep them somewhere else than here. Mendez takes no prisoners--he +knows a better way than doing things like that." + +"But, _señor_, this is a woman." + +"Of which I am well aware," bowing gallantly. "Otherwise I should not +have interfered, and offered my services. But we have talked enough. +You have had the word, and you know the law of our compact. Do you +obey me, or shall I call the chief--God be merciful to your soul, if I +do." + +Moore stood silent, realising the full meaning of the threat; he +glanced aside at Sikes, but that individual only shook his head. + +"All right then," went on the Mexican sharply. "'Tis well you show +sense. You know what to do with your team; then the both of you report +to Casas at the upper camp--you know him?" + +"Yes, _señor_." + +"Tell him I sent you. He will have his orders; they are that you be +shot if you attempt to leave before Mendez gives the word. 'Tis not +long now till we learn who is chief here--Bill Lacy or Pascual Mendez. +Come, _señorita_, you are safe with me." + +Concealing a dread that was almost overpowering, yet realising the +impossibility of resistance, Stella permitted him to touch her hand, +and assist her to clamber over the wheel. The baffled, helpless rage +in Moore's face was sufficient proof of the true power possessed by +Cateras, that his was no idle boast. Under some conditions the change +in captors might have been welcomed--certainly she felt no desire to +remain in the hands of the two who had brought her there, for Sikes, +plainly enough, was a mere drunken brute, and Moore, while of somewhat +finer fibre, lacked the courage and manhood to ever develop into a true +friend. + +Yet she would have infinitely preferred such as these--men, at least, +of her own race--to this smirking Mexican, hiding his devilish +instincts behind a pretence at gallantry. She knew him, now, +understood him, felt convinced, indeed, that this was all some cunning +scheme originating within his own brain. He had hastened ahead to +Mendez; told a tale in his own way, rendering the chief's suspicions of +Lacy more acute, and thus gaining permission to assume full charge. +Her only hope was to go herself into the presence of the leader, and +make a plea to him face to face. Moore was already at the horses' +heads, and was turning them about in the trail. Cateras, smiling, +pressed her arm with his fingers. + +"This way, _señorita_." + +"Wait," and her eyes met his, showing no sign of fear. "You take me, I +presume, to Señor Mendez?" + +"Of what need?" in surprise. "He has already placed me in charge." + +"Yet without hearing a word as to why I am here," indignantly. "I am +an American woman, and you will yet pay dearly for this outrage. I +demand an interview with the chief, and refuse to go with you until it +is granted." + +"You refuse! Ha!" and he burst into laughter. "Why, what power have +you got, you little fool? Do you know where you are? What fear do we +have of your damn Americanos. None!" and he snapped his fingers +derisively. "We spit on the dogs. I will show you--come!" + +He gripped her shoulder in his lean hand, his eyes glaring into her +face savagely. The grasp hurt, and a sudden anger spurred her to +action. With a quick twist she freed herself, and, scarcely knowing +how it was done, snatched the heavy driver's whip from Moore's hand. +The next instant, before the astounded Mexican could even throw up an +arm in defence, the infuriated girl struck, the stinging lash raising a +red welt across the swarthy cheek. Cateras staggered back, his lips +giving utterance to a curse. + +Again she struck, but this time his fingers gripped the leather, and +tore it from her hands, with sufficient force to send her to her knees. +With a spring forward the man had her in his grasp, all tiger now, the +pretence at gentleness forgotten. He jerked her to her feet, with +fingers clutching her neck mercilessly. + +"Here, Silva, Merodez," he cried, "come take this spitfire. _Caramba_! +we'll teach her." + +Two men ran from between the huts and Cateras flung her, helpless from +her choking, into their grasp. + +"Take her within--no, there; the second door, you fools." + +Breathless from effort, a mere child in their grip, Miss Donovan +struggled vainly. They forced her through the door, and Cateras, still +cursing furiously followed, the whip in his hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX: WESTCOTT FINDS HIMSELF ALONE + +It never occurred to Westcott on his escape through the darkness that +his night's adventure would in any way endanger Miss Donovan. He was +on the property of La Rosita Mining Company upon his own account, and +not in reference to the Cavendish Case at all--or, at least, this last +was merely incidental. + +To be sure he had listened to a confession from Enright bearing +directly upon the affair in New York, a confession so strange he could +scarcely grasp its true meaning. But this never brought to his mind +the thought that suspicion already rested upon the girl's presence in +Haskell. His whole interest centred for the moment on Lacy's daring +attempt to break through the wall of rock below and lay claim to his +lead of ore. Not until this effort had been abandoned would he dare to +desert his mine--and even then safety could be assured only by the +establishment of an armed guard in the tunnel prepared to repel any +invasion. + +While undoubtedly the mining law of the State would eventually sustain +his claim, yet the fact that he had for so long kept his discovery +secret would seriously operate against him; while, if Lacy's gang once +acquired actual possession of the property, the only way of proving +prior ownership would be through an official survey and long protracted +proceedings in court. + +Here he would be at great disadvantage because of lack of money and +influence. In this respect Westcott realised, fully what he was up +against, for while it was quietly known that Lacy was a questionable +character, his name associated with the leadership of a desperate gang, +yet his wealth and power rendered him a decidedly dangerous opponent. +As proprietor of the biggest saloon, dance-hall, and gambling den in +Haskell, he wielded an influence not to be ignored--especially as the +sheriff of the county was directly indebted to him for his office. A +dangerous man himself, with the reputation of a killer, he had about +him others capable of any crime to carry out his orders, confident that +his wealth and influence would assure their safety. To such as he the +stealing of a mine was a mere incident. + +This was the situation confronting Westcott as he crouched behind a +rock on the black hillside, endeavouring to decide upon a course of +action. The events of the last few hours had almost entirely forced +aside memory of the girl at the hotel--and her mission. He was +fighting now for his own life, his own future--and fighting alone. The +blade of Moore's knife had slashed his forearm, in the early moments of +their fierce struggle, and blood was trickling down his wrist, yet not +in sufficient quantity to give him any great concern. Once beyond the +probability of pursuit, he turned up his sleeve and made some effort to +minister to the gash, satisfying himself quickly that it was of trivial +nature. + +From where he lay he could see across the bare, rock-strewn hillside to +the distant hut, outlined by the gleam of light within, and perceive +the black silhouette of the shaft-house. The sound of clanking +machinery reached his ears, but the voices of the men failed to carry +so far. He could dimly distinguish their figures as they passed in and +out of the glare of light, and was aware that Moore had been found and +carried within the hut, but remained ignorant of the fact that the +leaving of a knife in the window had revealed his identity. There was +no attempt at pursuit, which gave him confidence that Lacy failed to +comprehend the importance of what had been overheard, yet he clung +closely to his hiding-place until all the men had re-entered the office. + +However, he was too wary to approach the window again, fearing some +trap, but crept cautiously along the slope of the hill through the +black shadows until he attained safe shelter close in against the dump. +His hope was that Enright's arguments would induce Lacy to discontinue +operations for the present and thus give him time in which to prepare +for resistance. In this he was not disappointed. What took place +within the office could only be guessed at, but in less than half an +hour a man emerged from the open door and hailed the fellows at work in +the shaft-house. The messenger stood in the full glare of light, +revealing to the silent watcher the face and figure of Moore, +convincing evidence that this worthy had not been seriously injured +during the late encounter. + +"Hey, Tom!" he shouted. + +The lantern above was waved out over the edge of the timbered platform +and a deep voice responded. + +"Well, what'che want?" + +"Send word down to the boys to come up. They're laid off fer a while, +an' their pay's ready for 'em." + +"Lay 'em off! Who says so?" + +"Lacy, of course; hustle them out now--them's the orders." + +"Well, that beats hell!" But the lantern vanished as he went grumbling +back to his engine. + +They came up, talking excitedly among themselves, stumbled down the +rough path, and filed into the open door of the lighted office. There +were twenty of them, according to Westcott's count, and the interview +within must have been satisfactory as they departed quietly enough, +disappearing down the trail toward Haskell. Moore remained outside, +apparently checking the fellows off as they passed, and when the last +one vanished again hailed the shaft-house: + +"What's the matter with you, Tom? Why don't you close down and come +and get your stuff?" + +"You want me too?" + +"Sure--we're here waitin' fer yer." + +Westcott clung to his hiding-place, but greatly relieved in mind. This +unexpected action had postponed his struggle and left him free to plan +for defence. For the first time almost his brain grasped the full +significance of this movement, its direct connection with the +disappearance of Frederick Cavendish, and the presence of Stella +Donovan. Enright had suggested and urged the closing down of the mine +temporarily to avoid unnecessary publicity--to throw Westcott off the +trail. His argument must have been a powerful one to thus influence +Lacy--nothing less than a pledge of money could cause the latter to +forego immediate profit. + +Undoubtedly the lawyer had convinced the man of the certainty of their +gaining possession of the Cavendish fortune, and had offered him a +goodly share for his assistance. Then the plan was at a head--if +Cavendish was not dead he was safely in their hands, where his death +could be easily accomplished, if other means failed. + +This was to be Lacy's part of the bargain, and he was already too +deeply involved in the hellish conspiracy to withdraw. Enright, with +his lawyer-astuteness, had seen to that--had even got this Western +gambler securely into his grip and put on the screws. The miner, +realising now the full situation, or, at least, imagining that he did, +smiled grimly and waited in his covert on the hillside for the +conspirators to make their next move. He dare not approach the cabin +any closer, or permit his presence to become known, for Moore was kept +outside the door on guard. However, the delay was not a long one, +horses being brought up from the near-by corral, and the entire party +mounting rode down the trail toward Haskell. The cabin was left dark +and deserted, the mine silent. Westcott made no effort to follow, +feeling assured that no important movement would be attempted that +night. + +It was late the next morning before he rode into Haskell and, stabling +his horse, which bore all the marks of hard riding, proceeded toward +the Timmons House. He had utilised, as best he could, the hours since +that cavalcade had departed from La Rosita to put his own affairs in +order so that he might feel free to camp on the conspirators' trail and +risk all in an effort to rescue Cavendish. The night had been a hard +one, but Westcott was still totally unconscious of fatigue--his whole +thought centred on his purpose. + +Alone he had explored the tunnels in Lacy's mine, creeping about in the +darkness, guided only by the flash of an electric torch, until he +thoroughly understood the nature of the work being accomplished. As +soon as dawn came he sought two reliable men in the valley below, and +posted them as guards over his own property; but, before he finally +rode away, the three brought forth the body of the murdered Mexican and +reverently buried it on a secluded spot of the bleak hillside. + +Then, convinced that every precaution had been taken, Westcott turned +his horse's head toward Haskell. As he rode slowly up the street in +the bright sunlight his mind reverted to Stella Donovan. The stern +adventures of the night had temporarily driven the girl from his +thoughts, but now the memory returned, and her bright, womanly face +arose before him, full of allurement. He seemed to look once more into +the wonderful depths of her eyes and to feel the fascination of her +smile. Eager for the greeting, which he felt assured awaited him, he +strode through the open door into the office. The room was vacant, but +as he crossed the floor toward the desk the proprietor entered through +the opening leading into the barroom beyond. Timmons had quite +evidently been drinking more than usual--the effect being largely +disclosed by loquacity of speech. + +"Hello, Jim!" he cried at sight of the other. "Thought you'd be back, +but, damn it, yer too late--she's--she's gone; almighty pretty girl, +too. I told the boys it was a blame shame fer her ter run off +thataway." + +"Who has run off?" And Westcott's hand crushed down on the man's +shoulder with a force that half-sobered him. "What are you talking +about?" + +"Me! Let up, will yer? Yer was here hopin' ter see that New York +girl, wasn't yer?" + +"Miss Donovan? Yes." + +"I'd forgot her name. Well, she ain't yere--she's left." + +"Left--gone from town?" + +"Sure; skipped out sudden in the night; took the late train East, I +reckon. Never sed no word to nobody--just naturally packed up her duds +an' hiked." + +Westcott drew a deep breath. + +"Surely you do not mean she left without any explanation? She must +have paid her bill." + +"Oh, she was square enough--sure. She left money an' a note pinned to +her pillow; sed she'd just got a message callin' her back home--want +ter see whut she wrote?" + +"You bet I do, Timmons! Have you got the note here?" + +Timmons waddled around behind the desk and ran his hand into a drawer. +Evidently he considered the matter a huge joke, but Westcott snatched +the paper from his fingers impatiently and eagerly read the few hastily +pencilled lines: + + +Have received a message calling me East at once. Shall take the night +train, and enclose sufficient money to pay for my entertainment. + +S. D. + + +He stared at the words, a deep crease between his eyes. It was a +woman's handwriting, and at first glance there was nothing impossible +in such an action on her part. Yet it was strange, if she had departed +so suddenly, without leaving any message for him. After that meeting +at the bridge, and the understanding between them, it didn't seem to +Westcott at all probable that she would thus desert without some +plausible explanation. His eyes narrowed with aroused suspicion as he +looked up from the slip of paper and confronted the amused Timmons +across the desk. + +"I'll keep this," he said soberly, folding it and thrusting it into his +pocket. + +"All right"--and Timmons smiled blandly--"I got the money." + +"And that was all, was it--just this note and the cash? There was +nothing addressed to me?" + +The hotel-keeper shook his head. + +"When did you see her last?" + +"'Bout nine o'clock, I reckon; she come down inter the dinin'-room fer +a drink o' water." + +"She said nothing then about going away?" + +"She didn't speak to nobody--just got a swig an' went up-stairs agin." + +"How much longer were you up?" + +"Oh, maybe an hour; there was some boys playing poker here an' I waited +round till they quit." + +"No message for Miss Donovan up to that time?" + +"No." + +"You left the door unlocked?" + +"Sure; them New York fellers was both out. I oughter waited till they +come in, maybe, but I was plum' tired out." + +"When did they come back?" + +"Oh, 'bout midnight, I reckon. Bill Lacy an' Matt Moore was along with +'em. They didn't disturb me none; just went inter the sample-room, an' +slept on the floor. I found 'em thar in the mornin', and Bill told me +how they come to be thar--leastwise 'bout himself, fer Moore had got up +an' gone afore I got down." + +"I see! And these New York people--they are still here?" + +"They wus all three down ter breakfast; ain't seen nuthin' of 'em +since; I reckon they're up-stairs somewhar." + +"What became of Lacy?" + +"He's down in his saloon; he sed if you showed up, an' asked fer him, +ter tell yer that's whar he'd be." + +"He told you that? He expected me to show up then?" + +"I reckon as how he did," and Timmons grinned in drunken good humour. +"He's pretty blame smart, Bill Lacy is; he most allars knows whut's +goin' ter happen." He leaned over the desk and lowered his voice. "If +yer do hunt him up, Jim," he said confidentially, "you better go +heeled." + +Westcott laughed. The first shock of the discovery of Miss Donovan's +disappearance had passed, and he was himself again. He must have time +to think and arrange some plan and, above all, must retain a clear mind +and proceed coolly. + +"All right, old man," he said easily. "I'll try and look out for +myself. I haven't eaten yet to-day. What can you find for me in the +larder?" + + + + +CHAPTER XX: TO COMPEL AN ANSWER + +Although feeling the need of food, Westcott entered the dining-room of +the Timmons' House more desirous of being alone than for any other +purpose. He realised that he was suddenly brought face to face with a +most serious condition, and one which must be solved unaided. He dare +not venture upon a single step forward until he had first thought out +carefully the entire course to be followed. Two lives, and perhaps +three, including his own, were now in imminent peril, and any mistake +on his part would prove most disastrous. First of all he must keep his +own counsel. Not even the half-drunken Timmons could be allowed to +suspect the real depth of his interest in this affair. + +Fortunately, it was so late in the morning he was left undisturbed at a +side table, screened from the open door leading into the office. +Sadie, the waitress, took his order and immediately disappeared, +leaving him to his own thoughts. These were far from happy ones, as +his mind rapidly reviewed the situation and endeavoured to concentrate +upon some practical plan of action. + +So Bill Lacy expected him? Had left word where he was to be found? +What was the probable meaning of this? Westcott did not connect this +message directly with the strange disappearance of Miss Donovan. +Whether or not Lacy was concerned in that outrage had nothing to do +with this, for the man could scarcely be aware of his deep interest in +the girl. No, this must be his own personal affair, complicated by the +case of Cavendish. Moore must have recognised him during their fight, +and reported to his master who it was that had been discovered +listening at the window. Realising the nature of that conversation, +Lacy naturally anticipated being sought the very moment Westcott came +to town. That was what this meant. All right, he would hunt Lacy as +soon as he was ready to do so; and, as Timmons suggested, would go +"heeled." + +But the girl? What had really become of the girl? There was no way of +proving she had not gone East, for there was no agent at the station at +that hour, and the night train could be halted by any one waving a +signal light. Westcott drew the brief note from his pocket, smoothed +out its creases and read the few words over again. The writing was +unquestionably feminine, and he could recall seeing nothing Miss +Donovan had ever indited, with which it could be compared. But would +she have departed, however hurriedly, without leaving him some message? +To be sure there had been little enough between them of intimacy or +understanding; nothing he could really construe into a promise--yet he +had given her complete trust, and had felt a friendly response. He +could not compel himself to believe she would prove unfaithful. +Unconsciously he still held the letter in his hand when the waitress +came in with his breakfast. She glanced about to make certain they +were alone and leaned over, her lips close to his ear. + +"Is that the note they say that New York young lady left?" + +"Yes, Sadie," in surprise. "Why?" + +"Well, she never wrote it, Mr. Westcott," hurriedly placing the dishes +before him, "that's all. Now don't yer say a word to anybody that I +told yer; but she didn't go East at all; she wus took in a wagon down +the desert road. I saw 'em take her." + +"You saw them? Who?" + +"Well, I don't just know that, 'cept it was Matt Moore's team, an' he +wus drivin' it. I didn't see the others so es to be sure. Yer see us +help sleep over the kitchen, an' 'bout one o'clock I woke up--here +comes Timmons; he mustn't see me talkin' ter yer." + +She flicked her napkin over the table, picked up an emptied dish and +vanished through the swinging-doors. Timmons, however, merely came in +searching for the Chinaman, and not finding the latter immediately, +retired again to the office, without even addressing his guest, who was +busily eating. Sadie peered in once more and, seeing all was clear, +crossed over beside Westcott. + +"Well, as I was sayin'," she resumed, "I thought I heard a noise +outside, an' got up an' went to the winder. I couldn't see much, not +'nough so I could swear to nuthin'; but there was three or four men out +there just across that little gully, you know, an' they had a woman +with 'em. She didn't scream none, but she was tryin' ter git away; +wunst she run, but they caught her. I didn't see no wagon then, it was +behind the ridge, I reckon. After a while it drove off down the south +trail, an' a little later three men come up them outside stairs back +into the hotel. They was mighty still 'bout it, too." + +"You couldn't tell who they were?" + +"They wa'n't like nuthin' but shadders; it was a purty dark night." + +"So it was, Sadie. Do you imagine Timmons had anything to do with the +affair?" + +"Timmons? Not him. There wa'n't no figure like his in that bunch; I'd +know him in the dark." + +"But the woman might not have been Miss Donovan; isn't there another +young lady here from the East?" + +Sadie tossed her head, but with her eyes cautiously fixed on the office +door. + +"Humph; you mean the peroxid blonde! She ain't no _lady_. Well, it +wa'n't her, that's a cinch; she was down yere to breakfast, a laughin' +an' gigglin' with them two men 'bout an hour ago. They seemed ter feel +mighty good over something but I couldn't quite make out just what the +joke was. Say, did yer ever hear tell of a Mexican named Mendez?" + +"Well, rather; he's a cattle thief, or worse. Arizona has a big reward +out for him, dead or alive." + +"That's the gink, I bet yer; has he got a hang-out anywhar 'round this +country?" + +"Not so far as I know; in fact, I haven't heard the fellow's name +mentioned for six months, or more. What makes you suspect this?" + +Sadie leaned even closer, her voice trembling with excitement, +evidently convinced that her information was of the utmost importance. + +"For God's sake, Mr. Westcott," she whispered, "don't never tell +anybody I told yer, but she was awful good ter me, an' that pasty-faced +blonde makes me sick just ter look at her. You know the feller they +call Enright, I reckon he's a lawyer." + +Westcott nodded. + +"Well, he was doin' most of the talkin', an' I was foolin' round the +sideboard yonder, pretendin' ter clean it up. Nobody thought I was in +ear distance, but I got hold ov a word now an' then. He kept tellin' +'em, 'specially the blonde, 'bout this Mexican, who's a friend of Bill +Lacy, an' I judge has a place whar he hangs out with his gang somewhar +in the big desert." + +"Was anything said about Miss Donovan?" + +"Not by name; they was too smart for that; but that was the direction +Matt Moore drove off last night--there's Enright comin' down-stairs +now; won't yer hav' some more cakes, sir?" + +Westcott pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. He had extracted +all the information the girl possessed, and had no wish to expose her +to suspicion. There was no longer a doubt in his mind as to the fate +of Miss Donovan. She had been forcibly abducted by this gang of +thieves, and put where her knowledge could do them no harm. But where? +The clue had been given him, but before it could be of any value he +must learn more of this Mexican, Mendez. The name itself was familiar +enough, for it was one often spoken along the border in connection with +crime, but beyond this meant nothing to him. The fellow had always +appeared a rather mythical character, but now became suddenly real. +The marshal might know; if not, then he must choke the truth out of +Lacy. Determined to make the effort, he muttered a swift word of +thanks to Sadie and left the room. + +Enright was not in the office, but had evidently merely passed through +and gone out. Timmons was sound asleep in a chair by the window, +oblivious to any ordinary noise. From the open doorway Westcott took +careful survey Of the street, adjusting his belt so that the butt of +his revolver was more convenient to the hand. He had no conception +that his coming interview with Lacy was to be altogether a pleasant +one, and realised fully the danger confronting him. + +Very few of the citizens of Haskell were abroad, although a small group +were ornamenting the platform in front of Healey's saloon opposite. At +that moment the little marshal, his broad-brimmed hat cocked over one +eye, emerged from the narrow alleyway between the Red Dog and the +adjacent dance-hall, and stood there doubtfully, his gaze wandering up +and down the deserted street. As Westcott descended the hotel-steps, +the marshal saw him, and came forward. His manner was prompt and +businesslike. + +"Hello, Jim," he said rather briskly, "I was sorter lookin' 'round fer +yer; somebody said yer hoss was up at the stable. Had a little trouble +up your way last night, I hear." + +"Nothing to bother you, Dan; my Mexican watchman was shot up through a +window of the shack." + +"Kill him?" + +"Instantly; I told the coroner all about it. Whoever the fellow was I +reckon he meant the shot for me, but poor José got it." + +"Yer didn't glimpse the critter?" + +"No, it was long after dark. I've got my suspicions, but they'll keep. +Seen Bill Lacy this morning?" + +The marshal's thin lips smiled grimly as his eyes lifted to Westcott's +face. + +"He's back there in his office. That's what I stopped yer for. He +said he rather expected ye'd be along after awhile. What's up between +yer, Jim? Not this Mexican shootin' scrape?" + +"Not unless he mentions it, Dan, although I reckon he might be able to +guess how it happened. Just now I've got some other things to talk +about--he's cutting into my vein." + +"The hell he is!" + +"Sure; I got proof of it last night. He's running a cross channel. I +was down his shaft." + +"I heard he's knocked off work; discharged his men." + +"Yes, but only to give him time in which to pull off some other +deviltry. That gave me opportunity to learn just what was being done. +I slipped into the workings after the gang had left, and now I've +blocked his game. Say, Dan, what do you know about that Mexican, +Mendez?" + +"Nuthin' good. I never put eyes on the fellow. Some claim he's got a +place where he hides, out thar in the Shoshone desert, but I never got +hold of anybody yet as really knew." + +"There is such a man, then?" + +"Sure. Why he an' his gang had a pitched battle down on Rattlesnake +'bout six months ago; killed three of the sheriff's posse, an' got +away. Seemed like the whole outfit naturally dropped inter the earth. +Never saw hide ner hair of 'em afterward." + +"I've heard that he and Bill Lacy were in cahoots." + +"Likely enough; ain't much Lacy ain't into. He's been sellin' a pile +of cattle over at Taylorsville lately, an' likely most of 'em was +stole. But hell! What can I do? Besides, that's the sheriff's job, +ain't it? What yer goin' in to see him about, Jim?" + +"Only to ask a few questions." + +"There ain't goin' ter be no fight er nuthin'?" anxiously. + +Westcott laughed. + +"I don't see any cause for any," he answered. "But Bill might be a bit +touchy. Maybe, Dan, it might be worth while for you to hang around. +Do as you please about that." + +He turned away and went up the wooden steps to the door of the Red Dog. +The marshal's eyes followed him solicitously until he disappeared +within; then he slipped back into the alleyway, skirting the side of +the building, until he reached a window near the rear. + +Westcott closed the door behind him and took a swift view of the +barroom. There were not many present at that hour--only a few habitual +loafers, mostly playing cards; a porter was sweeping up sawdust and a +single bartender was industriously swabbing the bar with a towel. +Westcott recognised most of the faces with a slight feeling of relief. +Neither Enright nor Beaton were present, and it was his desire to meet +Lacy alone, away from the influence of these others. He crossed over +to the bar. + +"Where's Bill?" he asked. + +"Back there," and the dispenser of drinks inclined his head toward a +door at the rear. "Go on in." + +The fellow's manner was civil enough, yet Westcott's teeth set with a +feeling that he was about to face an emergency. Yet there was no other +way; he must make Lacy talk. He walked straight to the door, opened +it, stepped into the room beyond, and turned the key in the lock, +dropping it into his pocket. Then he faced about. He was not alone +with Lacy; Enright sat beside the desk of the other and was staring at +him in startled surprise. Westcott also had a hazy impression that +there was or had been another person. The saloon-keeper rose to his +feet, angry, and thrown completely off his guard by Westcott's +unexpected action. + +"What the hell does that mean?" he demanded hotly. "Why did you lock +the door?" + +"Naturally, to keep you in here until I am through with you," returned +the miner coldly. "Sit down, Lacy; we've got a few things to talk +over. You left word for me at the hotel, and, being a polite man, I +accepted your invitation. I supposed I would find you alone." + +Lacy sank back into his chair, endeavouring to smile. + +"This gentleman is a friend of mine," he explained. "Whatever you care +to say can be said before him." + +"I am quite well aware of that and also that he is now present so that +you may use him as a witness in case anything goes wrong. This is once +you have got in bad, Mr. Patrick Enright, of New York." + +The lawyer's face whitened, and his hands gripped the arms of his chair. + +"You--you know me?" + +"By reputation only," and Westcott bowed, "but that is scarcely to your +credit. I know this, however, that for various reasons you possess no +desire to advertise your presence in Haskell. It would be rather a +difficult matter to explain back in the city just what you were doing +out here in such intimate association with a chorus girl and a Bowery +gunman, let alone our immaculate friend, Lacy, yonder. The courts, I +believe, have not yet distributed the Cavendish money." + +Enright's mouth was open, but no sound came from his lips; he seemed to +be gasping for breath. + +"I merely mention this," went on Westcott slowly, "to help you grasp +the situation. We have a rough, rude way of handling such matters out +here. Now Lacy and I have got a little affair to settle between us +and, being a fair-minded man, he sent for me to talk it over. However, +he realises that an argument of that nature might easily become +personal and that if anything unpleasant occurred he would require a +witness. So he arranges to have you present. Do you see the point, +Mr. Enright?" + +The lawyer's eyes sought Lacy, and then returned to the stern face +confronting him. His lips sputtered: + +"As--as a witness?" + +"Sure; there may be honour among thieves, but not Lacy's kind." He +strode forward and with one hand crunched Enright back into his chair. +"Now, listen to me," he said fiercely. "I've got only one word of +advice for you: don't take any hand in this affair, except as a +peacemaker, for if you do, you are going to get hurt. Now, Bill Lacy, +I'm ready to talk with you. I was down in your shaft last night." + +The saloonman lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair. + +"I ought to have thought of that, Westcott," he admitted. "Still, I +don't know that I give a damn." + +"The work hadn't been left in very good shape, and I found the cross +tunnel and measured it. You are within a few feet of my vein. The +county surveyor ought to have been out there two hours ago." + +Lacy straightened up, all semblance of indifference gone, an oath on +his lips. + +"You cur! You filed complaint? When?" + +"At seven o'clock this morning. We'll fight that out in the courts. +However, that isn't what I came here for at all. I came to ask you a +question and one of you two are going to answer before I leave--keep +your hand up, and in sight, Lacy; make another move like that and it's +liable to be your last. I am not here in any playful mood, and I know +your style. Lay that gun on the desk where I can see it--that's right. +Now move your chair back." + +Lacy did this with no good grace, his face purple with passion. +Westcott had been too quick, too thoroughly prepared for him, but he +would watch his opportunity. He could afford to wait, knowing the +cards he had up his sleeve. + +"Some considerable gun-play just to ask a question," he said +tauntingly, "must be mighty important. All right, what is it?" + +"Where did your man Moore take Miss Donovan last night?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI: THE MARSHAL PLAYS A HAND + +Neither man had anticipated this; neither had the slightest conception +that any suspicion of this kind pointed at them. The direct question +was like the sudden explosion of a bomb. What did Westcott know? How +had he discovered their participation in the affair? The fact that +Westcott unhesitatingly connected Matt Moore with the abduction was in +itself alone sufficient evidence that he based his inquiry on actual +knowledge. Enright had totally lost power of speech, positive terror +plainly depicted in his eyes, but Lacy belonged to another class of the +_genus homo_. He was a Western type, prepared to bluff to the end. +His first start of surprise ended in a sarcastic smile. + +"You have rather got the better of me, Westcott," he said, shrugging +his shoulders, as though dismissing the subject. "You refer to the New +York newspaper woman?" + +"I do--Miss Stella Donovan." + +"I have not the pleasure of that lady's acquaintance, but Timmons +informed me this morning that she had taken the late train last night +for the East--isn't that true, Enright?" + +The lawyer managed to nod, but without venturing to remove his gaze +from Westcott's face. The latter never moved, but his eyes seemed to +harden. + +"I have had quite enough of that, Lacy," he said sternly, and the +watchful saloon-keeper noted his fingers close more tightly on the butt +of his revolver. "This is no case for an alibi. I know exactly what I +am talking about, and--I am going to have a direct answer, either from +you or Enright. + +"This is the situation: I was the man listening at the window of your +shack last night. Moore may, or may not have recognised me, but, +nevertheless, I was the man. I was there long enough to overhear a +large part of your conversation. I know why you consented to close +down La Rosita for the present; I know your connection with this gang +of crooks from New York; I know that Fred Cavendish was not murdered, +but is being held a prisoner somewhere, until Enright, here, can steal +his money under some legal form. I know you have claimed, and been +promised, your share of the swag--isn't that true?" + +"It's very damn interesting anyway--but not so easy to prove. What +next?" + +"This: Enright told you who Stella Donovan was, and what he suspected +her object might be. Force is the only method you know anything about, +and no other means occurred to you whereby the girl could be quickly +put out of the way. This was resorted to last night after you returned +to Haskell. I do not pretend to know how it was accomplished, nor do I +greatly care. Through some lie, no doubt. But, anyway, she was +inveigled into leaving the hotel, seized by you and some of your gang, +forced into a wagon, and driven off by Matt Moore." + +"You are a good dreamer. Why not ask Timmons to show you the letter +she left?" + +"I have already seen it. You thought you had the trail well covered. +That note was written not by Miss Donovan, but by the blonde in your +outfit. The whole trouble is that your abduction of Stella Donovan was +witnessed from a back window of the hotel." + +Lacy leaped to his feet, but Westcott's gun rose steadily, and the man +stood with clenched hands, helpless in his tracks. + +"Who says that?" he demanded. + +"I am mentioning no names at present, but the very fact that I know +these things ought to be sufficient. You better sit down, Lacy, before +you forget yourself and get hurt. If you imagine this gun isn't +loaded, a single step forward will test it. Sit down! I am not +through yet." + +There was a quiet, earnest threat in the voice which Lacy understood, +the sort of threat which meant strict attention to business, and he +relaxed into his chair. + +"I'll get you for this, Westcott," he muttered savagely, hate burning +in his eyes. "I haven't played my last cards--yet." + +The miner smiled grimly, but with no relaxation of vigilance. He was +into it now, and proposed seeing it through. + +"I have a few left myself," he returned soberly. "Your man Moore drove +south, taking the road leading into the Shoshone desert, and he had +another one of your gang with him. Then you, and two others, went back +into the hotel, using the outside stairs. I take it the two others +were Enright, here, and Ned Beaton." + +He leaned forward, his face set like flint. + +"Now see here, Lacy. I know these things. I can prove them by a +perfectly competent witness. It is up to you to answer my questions, +and answer them straight. I've got you two fellows dead to rights +anyway you look at it. If you dare lay hands on me I'll kill you; if +you refuse to tell me what I want to know, I'll swear out warrants +inside of thirty minutes. Now what do you choose?" + +For the first time Lacy's eyes wavered, their defiance gone, as he +glanced aside at Enright, who had collapsed in his chair, a mere +heavily breathing, shapeless thing. The sight of the coward seemed to +stiffen him to a species of resistance. + +"If I answer--what then?" he growled desperately. + +"What is offered me?" + +Westcott moistened his lips. He had not before faced the situation +from this standpoint, yet, with only one thought in his mind, he +answered promptly. + +"I am not the law," he said, "and all I am interested in now is the +release of Fred Cavendish and Stella Donovan. I'll accomplish that if +it has to be over your dead bodies. Beyond this, I wash my hands of +the whole affair. What I want to know is--where are these two?" + +"Would you believe me if I said I did not know?" + +"No, Lacy. It has come down to the truth, or your life. Where is +Pasqual Mendez?" + +He heard no warning, no sound of movement, yet some change in the +expression of the man's eyes confronting him caused him to slightly +turn his head so as to vaguely perceive a shadow behind. It was all +so quickly, silently done, he barely had time to throw up one hand in +defence, when his arms were gripped as though in a vise, and he was +thrown backward to the floor, the chair crushed beneath his weight. +Lacy fairly leaped on his prostrate body, forgetting his gun lying on +the desk in the violence of hate, his hands clutching at the exposed +throat. For an instant Westcott was so dazed and stunned by this +sudden attack from behind as to lie there prone and helpless, fairly +crushed beneath the bodies of his two antagonists. + +It was this that gave him his chance, for, convinced that he was +unconscious, both men slightly relaxed their grip, thus giving him +opportunity to regain breath, and stiffen his muscles for a supreme +effort. With one lashing out of a foot that sent Enright hurtling +against the farther wall, he cracked Lacy's head against a corner of +the desk, and closed in deadly struggle with the third man, whom he now +recognised as Beaton. + +Before the latter could comprehend what had happened the miner was on +top, and a clenched fist was driven into his face with all the force of +a sledge-hammer. But barroom fighting was no novelty to the gunman, +nor had he any scruples as to the methods employed. With teeth sunk in +his opponent's arm, and fingers gouging at his eyes, the fellow +struggled like a mad dog; yet, in spite of every effort to restrain +him, Westcott, now filled with the fierce rage of battle, broke free, +fairly tearing himself from Beaton's desperate clutch, and pinning him +helplessly against the wall. + +At the same instant Lacy, who had regained his feet, leaped upon him +from behind, striking with all his force, the violence of the blow, +even though a grazing one, driving the miner's head into the face of +the gunman. + +Both went down together, but Westcott was on his feet again before Lacy +could act, closing with the latter. It was hand-to-hand, the silent +struggle for mastery between two men not unevenly matched, men asking +and receiving no mercy. The revolver of one lay on the floor, the +other still reposed on the open desk, and neither could be reached. It +was a battle to be fought out with bare hands. Twice Westcott struck, +his clenched fist bringing blood, but Lacy clung to him, one hand +twisted in his neck-band, the other viciously forcing back his head. +Unable to release the grip, Westcott gave back, bending until his +adversary was beyond balance; then, suddenly straightening, hurled the +fellow sidewise. But by now Beaton, dazed and confused, was upon his +feet. With the bellow of a wild bull he flung himself on the +struggling men, forcing Lacy aside, and smashing into Westcott with all +the strength of his body. The impetus sent all three crashing to the +floor. + +Excited voices sounded without; then blows resounded against the wood +of the locked door, but the three men were oblivious to all but their +own struggle. Like so many wild beasts they clutched and struck, +unable to disentangle themselves. Enright, his face like chalk, got to +his knees and crept across the floor until his hand closed on +Westcott's revolver. Lifting himself by a grip on the desk, he swung +the weapon forward at the very instant the miner rose staggering, +dragging Beaton with him. There was a flash of flame, a sharp report, +and Westcott sprang aside, gripping the back of a chair. The gunman +sank into shapelessness on the floor as the chair hurtled through the +air straight at Enright's head. + +With a crash the door fell, and a black mass of men surged in through +the opening, the big bartender leading them, an axe in his hand. +Beaton lay motionless just as he had dropped; Enright was in one +corner, dazed, unnerved, a red gash across his forehead, from which +blood dripped, the revolver, struck from his fingers, yet smoking on +the floor; Westcott, his clothes torn, his face bruised by blows, +breathing heavily, went slowly backward, step by step, to the farther +wall, conscious of nothing now but the savagely hostile faces of these +new enemies. Lacy, staggering as though drunk, managed to attain his +feet, hate, the desire for revenge, yielding him strength. This was +his crowd, and his mind was quick to grasp the opportunity. + +"There's the man who did it," he shouted, his arm flung out toward +Westcott. "I saw him shoot. See, that's his gun lying on the floor. +Don't let the murderer get away!" + +He started forward, an oath on his lips, and the excited crowd surged +after, growling anger. Then the mass of them seemed suddenly rent +asunder, and the marshal ploughed his way through heedlessly, his hat +gone, and a blue-barrelled gun in either hand. He swept the muzzle of +one of these into the bartender's face menacingly, his eyes searching +the maddened crowd. + +"Wait a minute, you," he commanded sharply. "I reckon I've got +something to say 'bout this. Put down that axe, Mike, or ye'll never +draw another glass o' beer in this camp. You know me, lads, an' I +never draw except fer business. Shut your mouth, Lacy; don't touch +that gun, you fool! I am in charge here--this is my job; and if there +is going to be any lynching done, it will be after you get me. Stand +back now; all of you--yes, get out into that barroom. I mean you, +Mike! This man is my prisoner, and, by God, I'll defend him. Ay! I'll +do more, I'll let him defend himself. Here, Westcott, pick up your gun +on the floor. Now stand here with me! We're going out through that +bunch, and if one of those coyotes puts a paw on you, let him have it." + +The crowd made way, reluctantly enough, growling curses, but with no +man among them sufficiently reckless to attempt resistance. They +lacked leadership, for the little marshal never once took his eye off +Lacy. At the door he turned, walking backward, trusting in Westcott to +keep their path clear, both levelled revolvers ready for any movement. +He knew Haskell, and he knew the character of these hangers-on at the +"Red Dog." He realised fully the influence of Bill Lacy, and +comprehended that the affair was far from being ended; but just now he +had but one object before him--to get his prisoner safely outside into +the open. Beyond that he would trust to luck, and a fair chance. His +grey eyes were almost black as they gleamed over the levelled revolver +barrels, and his clipped moustache fairly bristled. + +"Not a step, you!" he muttered. "What's the matter, Lacy? Do you want +to die in your tracks? Mike, all I desire is an excuse to make you the +deadest bung-starter in Colorado. Put down that gun, Carter! If just +one of you lads come through that door, I'll plug these twelve shots, +and you know how I shoot--Lacy will get the first one, and Mike the +second. Stand there now! Go on out, Jim; I'm right along with you." + +They were far from free even outside the swinging doors and in the +sunshine. Already a rumour of what had occurred had spread like +wildfire, and men were on the street, eager enough to take some hand in +the affray. A few were already about the steps, while others were +running rapidly toward them, excited but uncertain. + +It was this uncertainty which gave the little marshal his one slender +chance. His eyes swept the crowd, but there was no face visible on +whom he could rely in this emergency. They were the roughs of the +camp, the idlers, largely parasites of Lacy; those fellows would only +hoot him if he asked for help. No, there was no way but to fight it +out themselves, and the only possibility of escape came to him in a +flash. Suddenly as this emergency had arisen the marshal was prepared; +he knew the lawless nature of the camp, and had anticipated that some +time just such a situation as this might arise. Now that it had come, +he was ready. There was scarcely an instant of hesitancy, his quick +searching eyes surveying the scene, and then seeking the face of his +prisoner. + +"Willing to fight this out, Jim?" he asked shortly. + +"You bet, Dan; what's the plan?" + +"The big rock in Bear Creek. We can hold out there until dark. +Perhaps there'll be some men come to help us by that time; if not we +might crawl away in the night. Take the alley and turn at the hotel. +Don't let anybody stop you; here comes those hell-hounds from inside. +Christopher Columbus, I hate to run from such cattle, but it's our only +chance." + +There was no time to waste. They were not yet at the mouth of the +alley when the infuriated pursuers burst through the saloon doors, +cursing and shouting. Lacy led them, animated by the one desire to +kill Westcott, fully aware that this alone would prevent the exposure +of his own crime. + +"There they go!" he yelled madly, and fired. "Get that dirty murderer, +boys--get him!" + +There were a dozen shots, but the two runners plunged about the corner +of the building, and disappeared, apparently untouched. Lacy leaped +from the platform to the ground, shouting his orders, and the crowd +surged after him in pursuit, some choosing the alley, others the +street. Revolvers cracked sharply, little spits of smoke showing in +the sunlight; men shouted excitedly, and two mounted cowboys lashed +their ponies up the dusty road in an effort to head off the fugitives. +Twice the two turned and fired, yet at that, hardly paused in their +race. Westcott held back, retarded by the shorter legs of his +companion, nevertheless they were fully a hundred feet in advance of +their nearest pursuers when they reached the hotel. In spite of Lacy's +urging the cowardly crew exhibited small desire to close in. The +marshal, glancing back over his shoulder, grinned cheerfully. + +"We've got 'em beat, Jim," he panted, "less thar's others headin' us +off; run like a white-head; don't mind me." + +The road ahead was clear, except for the speeding cowboys, and the +marshal made extremely quick work of them. There was a fusillade of +shots, and when these ended, one rider was down in the dust, the other +galloping madly away, lying flat on his pony, with no purpose but to +get out of range. The two fugitives plunged into the bushes opposite, +taking the roughest but most direct course to where the rather +precipitous banks dropped off to the stream below. There was a dam a +half mile down, and even at this point the water was wide and deep +enough to make any attempt at crossing dangerous. But half-way over an +upheaval of rock parted the current, forcing the swirling waters to +either side, and presenting a stern grey face to the shore. The +marshal, pausing for nothing, flung himself bodily down the steep bank, +unclasping his belt, as he half ran, half rolled to the bottom. + +"Here, take these cartridges," he said, "and hold 'em up. Save yer +own, too, fer we're going to need 'em. That water out thar is plumb up +to my neck. Come on now; keep them things dry, an' don't bother 'bout +me." + +He plunged in, and Westcott followed, both cartridge belts held above +his head. There was a crackling of bushes on the bank behind them, +showing their pursuers had crossed the road and were already beating up +the brush. Neither man glanced back, assured that those fellows would +hunt them first in the chaparral, cautiously beating the coverts, +before venturing beyond. + +The water deepened rapidly, and Westcott was soon to his waist, leaning +to his right to keep his feet; he heard the marshal splashing along +behind, convinced by his ceaseless profanity that he also made progress +in spite of his shortness of limbs. Indeed they attained the rock +shelter almost together, creeping up through a narrow crevasse, leaving +a wet trail along the grey stone. This was accomplished none too soon, +a yell from the bank telling of their discovery, followed by the crack +of a gun. The marshal, who was still exposed, hastily crept under +cover, wiping a drop of blood from his cheek where a splinter of rock +dislodged by the bullet had slashed the flesh. He was, nevertheless, +in excellent humour, his keen grey eyes laughing, as he peered out over +the rock rampart. + +"If they keep up shootin' like that, Jim, I reckon our insurance won't +be high," he said, "I'm plumb ashamed of the camp, the way them boys +waste lead. Must 'a' took twenty shots at us so far an' only skinned +me with a rock. Hell! 'tain't even interestin'. Hand over them +cartridges; let's see what sorter stock we got." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII: THE ROCK IN THE STREAM + +Westcott was sensible now of a feeling of intense exhaustion. The +fierce fighting in the room behind the saloon; the excitement of the +attempt to escape; the chase, ending with the plunge through the stream +had left him pitifully weak. He could perceive his hand tremble as he +handed over the cartridge belt. The marshal noticed it also, and cast +a swift glance into the other's face. + +"About all in, Jim?" he inquired understandingly. "Little out of your +usual line, I reckon. Take a bit o' rest thar, an' ye'll be all right. +It's safe 'nough fer the present whar we are, fer as thet bunch o' +chicken thieves is concerned. Yer wa'n't hurt, or nuthin', durin' the +scrap?" + +"No more than a few bruises, but it an happened so quickly I haven't +any breath left. I'll be all right in a minute. How are we fixed for +ammunition?" + +"Blame pore, if yer ask me; not more'n twenty cartridges atween us. I +wa'n't a lookin' fer no such scrap just now; but we'll get along, I +reckon, fer thar ain't any o' that bunch anxious ter get hurt none, +less maybe it might be Lacy. What gets my goat is this yere plug +tobacco," and he gazed mournfully at the small fragment in his hand. +"That ain't hardly 'nough ov it left fer a good chaw; how are you +fixed, Jim?" + +"Never use it, Dan, but here's a badly smashed cigar." + +"That'll help some--say, ain't that one o' them shirky birds yonder? +Sure; it's Bill himself. I don't know whether ter take a snap-shot at +the cuss, er wait an' hear what he's got ter say--Hello, there!" + +The fellow who stood partially revealed above the bank stared in the +direction of the voice, and then ventured to expose himself further. + +"Hello yourself," he answered. "Is that you, Brennan?" + +The marshal hoisted himself to the top of the rock, the revolver in his +hand clearly revealed in the bright sunlight. + +"It's me all right, Lacy," he replied deliberately. "You ought ter +organise a sharpshooters' club among that gang o' yours; I was plumb +disgusted the way they handle fire-arms." + +"Well, we've got yer now, Dan, so yer might as well quit yer crowin'. +We don't have ter do no more shootin'; we'll just naturally sit down +yere, an' starve yer out. Maybe yer ready to talk now?" + +"Sure; what's the idea?" + +"Well, yer an officer ov the law, ain't yer? Yer was chose marshal ter +keep the peace, an' take care o' them that raised hell in Haskell. +Ain't that yer job?" + +"I reckon it is." + +"And didn't I do more'n anybody else ter get yer appointed? Then what +are yer goin' back on me for, and the rest ov the boys, an' takin' +sides along with a murderer? We want Jim Westcott, an' you bet we're +a-goin' ter get him." + +The little marshal spat into the water below, his face expressionless. +To all appearances he felt slight interest in the controversy. + +"Nice of yer ter declare yer intentions, Lacy," he admitted soberly, +"only it sorter looks as if yer didn't consider me as bein' much in the +way. I reckon yer outlined my duty all right; that's exactly my way o' +looking at it--ter keep the peace, an' take care o' them that raised +hell in Haskell. I couldn't 'a' told it no better myself." + +"Then what are yer fightin' fer Westcott fer?" + +"'Cause he's my prisoner, an' is goin' ter get a fair trial. If he was +the orneriest Mexican that ever come 'cross the line I'd stay with +him--that's the law." + +"An' yer won't give him up?" + +"Not in a thousand years, an' yer might as well save yer breath, Bill, +an' get out. I've told you straight, and I reckon you and your gang +know me. Nobody never told you that Dan Brennan was a quitter, did +they?" + +"But you blame fool," and Lacy's voice plainly indicated his anger. +"You can't fight this whole camp; we'll get yer, dead or alive." + +"Yer welcome ter try; I ain't askin' no sorter favour; only yer better +be blame keerful about it, fer my trigger finger appears ter be +almighty nervous ter-day--drop that!" + +His hand shot out like lightning, the blue steel of his revolver +flashing. Lacy flung up his arms, and backed down out of view, but +just beyond where he had stood, a gun barked from out the chaparral and +a bullet crashed against the rock scarcely a foot from Brennan's head. +The latter answered it so promptly the two reports sounded almost as +one, and then rolled back into shelter, laughing as though the whole +affair was a joke. + +"One ov Mike's little tricks," he chuckled, peering back at the shore, +"I know the bark of that old girl. Hope I pricked him. That guy used +to be a good shot, too, afore he got to drinkin' so much. I reckon +we're in fer a siege, Jim." + +Westcott extended his hand. + +"It's mighty white of you, Dan, to stay by me," he said gravely. "It's +liable to cost you your job." + +"Ter hell with the job. I kin earn more in the mines eny day. I'm not +doin' eny more for you than I would fer eny other galoot in bad. I +wouldn't let 'em lynch a hoss-thief without givin' 'em a fight first. +Don't be givin' any sympathy ter me." + +"But we haven't any chance." + +"Well, I don't know about that now," and the marshal looked up and down +the stream thoughtfully. "It might be worse. Look a here, Jim. I +said I'd 'a' stayed with yer no matter what yer was guilty of, so long +as yer was my prisoner, an' that's the gospel truth. There ain't a +goin' ter be no lynchin' in Haskell while I'm marshal, unless them rats +get me first. But this yere case ain't even that kind. It's a put-up +job frum the beginnin' an' Bill Lacy ain't a goin' ter get away with +it, as long as I kin either fight er bluff. This yere fuss ain't your +fault, an' yer never shot the man either." + +"No. I didn't, Dan. I never fired a gun." + +"I know it; that's why all hell can't pry me loose. I saw most ov the +row, an' I reckon I ain't so dumb that I can't catch onto the game what +Lacy is tryin' ter play. I didn't hear what you an' him was talkin' +about, so I don't know just the cause o' the rumpus, but the way he +played his hand didn't make no hit with me." + +"You saw what happened?" + +"Sure; it didn't look good ter me, his gittin' yer ter come ter his +place, specially when I knew he wasn't there alone; so, after ye'd gone +in through the saloon, I sasshayed down the alley an' took a peek in +through that rear window. The tarnation thing is barred up with sheet +iron, an' I couldn't see much, nor hear a blame word, but I caught on +that there was liable ter be a row a fore it was over with. Through +that peep-hole I got sight o' you, Lacy, an' that fat feller--what's +his name?" + +"Enright, a New York lawyer." + +"That's it; well I could make out the three of yer, but I never got +sight of the other buck--his name was Beaton, wasn't it?--till he came +out from behind the curtain and gripped yer. It was a put-up job all +right, an' maybe I ought to have hustled round to the door an' took a +hand. But I don't aim to mix up in no scrimmage as long as both sides +has got a fair show. Course thar was three ag'in' one, but arter you +kicked the wind out o' the lawyer, the odds wasn't so bad, an' I sorter +hated to lose out seeing how the scrap came out. Holy smoke! but you +sure put up some dandy fight, Jim. I ain't seen nuthin' better since I +struck this yere camp. You had them two guys licked to a frazzle, when +that Enright come back to life agin, an' crawled out on the floor an' +picked up your gun. The fust thing I knew he had it, an' the next +thing I knew he'd pulled the trigger. He meant it fer you, but Beaton +got it." + +"It was Enright then who fired the shot?" + +"Sure it was Enright; I saw him, but that didn't cut any ice after I +got inside. Do you see? The whole crowd was Lacy's gang; they'd do +whatever he said. It was your gun that had the discharged cartridge; +Bill was yellin' that you fired it, and Enright, o' course, would have +backed him up to save his own neck. You was in a fight with the feller +what was shot. See! It was a mighty ugly fix, an' nobody in that +outfit would 'a' listened to me. It struck me, son, that Lacy was +all-fired anxious to get rid of you--he saw a chance, and jumped for +it. What was the row about--your mine?" + +"Partly, but mostly another affair. The best thing I can do is tell +you about it. What's going on up there?" + +He pointed up the stream, and Brennan shaded his eyes to look, although +careful to keep well under cover, confident that any movement would be +observed from the shore. He gazed for some time before he seemed +entirely satisfied. + +"A bunch of the boys crossin' the old ford," he said quietly. "Goin' +to picket the other bank, I reckon. There's likely to be some more +comin' down the opposite way from the bridge. That's Lacy's idea--to +starve us out." + +"They seem quiet enough." + +"There won't be any more fightin' unless we try to get away, I reckon. +They know we are armed and can shoot. You better keep down, though, +Jim, for they're sure a watchin' us all right, an' all Lacy cares about +is to put you out o' the way. He'd just as soon do it with a bullet as +a rope. Go on with your story." + +Westcott told it simply, but in full detail, beginning with the +discovery of ore in his mine, and including his telegram to Fred +Cavendish; the discovery of what was supposed to be the dead body of +the latter in the Waldron Apartments, New York; the investigations into +the mystery of his death by Willis and Miss Donovan, and the +despatching of Miss Donovan to Haskell to intercept Enright's party; +the arrival of the latter and the events, so far as he understood them, +leading up to the forcible abduction of the girl. + +The marshal listened quietly to the narrative, the quick action of his +jaws alone evidencing his interest, although he occasionally interposed +a question. Except for Westcott's voice there was no sound, beyond the +lapping of water against the rock, and no figures of men became visible +along either bank. The party above had crossed the stream, and +disappeared up a ravine, and nothing remained to indicate that these +two were fugitives, hiding for their lives, and facing a desperate +expedient in an effort to escape their pursuers. As the speaker +finally concluded the silence was almost oppressive. + +"How do yer suppose Bill Lacy got into the affair?" asked Brennan, at +last thoughtfully. "I don't put no sorter deviltry beyond him, yer +understand, but I don't quite see how he ever come to get mixed up in +this yere New York mess. Seems like he had enough hell brewing here at +home." + +"I'm just as much in the dark as you are, as to that," admitted +Westcott doubtfully. "I am convinced, however, that Cavendish is still +alive, and that another body strangely resembling his was found in the +New York apartments. According to Enright this was not part of their +scheme, but merely an accident of which they took advantage. How true +this is will never be known unless we discover Cavendish, and learn his +story. Now, if he is alive, where has he been concealed, and for what +purpose? Another thing begins to loom up. The mere hiding of the man +was all right so long as the conspirators were not suspected. But now +when they are aware that they are being followed, what is likely to +happen? Will they become desperate enough to kill their victim, hoping +thus to destroy absolutely the evidence of their crime? Will their +vengeance also include Miss Donovan?" + +"Not unless they can get you out of the way first," decided the marshal +grimly. "That is Lacy's most important job--you are more dangerous to +them now than the girl. That meeting to-day was prearranged, and +Beaton was expected to land you. That was why he hid behind the +curtain, but something caused him to make a false move; they never +expected you to put up that sort o' fight, Jim, for nobody knew yer in +this camp fer a fightin' man. But what's yer theory 'bout Cavendish? +Let's leave the dead man in New York go, an' get down ter cases." + +"I figure it out like this, Dan. I believe Fred got my telegram, and +decided to come out here at once without telling anybody what his plans +were. All he did was to make a will, so as to dispose of his property +in case anything happened. His employing Enright for that job +unfortunately put the whole thing in the hands of this crowd. They +were ready to act, and they acted. Beaton must have taken the same +train, and the two men got friendly; probably they never knew each +other in New York, but, being from the same place, it was easy enough +to strike up an acquaintance. What occurred on board is all guesswork, +but a sudden blow at night, on an observation platform, at some desert +station, is not impossible; or it might be sickness, and the two men +left behind to seek a physician. Here was where Lacy must have come +in. He goes East occasionally, doesn't he?" + +"Sure; come to think of it he was in New York 'bout three months ago on +some cattle deal, an' I heard he had an agent there sellin' wildcat +minin' stock. There ain't no doubt in my mind but he knew some o' +these fellers. They wouldn't 'a' planned this unless they had some +cache fixed out yere in this country--that's plain as a wart on the +nose. But whar is it? I'll bet yer that if we ever find Cavendish, +we'll find the girl along with him; an' what's more, that spot ain't +liable ter be more'n fifty miles from Haskell." + +"What makes you think that?" + +"'Cause this is Lacy's bailiwick, an' thar ain't no man knows this +country better'n he does; he's rode it night and day for ten years, an' +most o' the hangers-on in this camp get money out o' him one way er +another--mostly another. Then, why should Enright an' his crowd come +yere, unless that was a fact? They must have come for something; that +lawyer ain't yere on no minin' deal; an' no more has Beaton been layin' +round town fer a month doin' nuthin' but drinkin' whisky. The whole +blame outfit is right here in Haskell, and they wouldn't be if this +wasn't headquarters. That's good common sense, ain't it?" He stopped +suddenly, patting his hand on the rock, and then lifting his head to +scan the line of shore. "They're there all right, Jim," he announced. +"I just got a glimpse o' two back in the brush yonder. What made yer +ask me 'bout Pasqual Mendez this mornin'? You don't hook the Mexican +up with this affair, do yer?" + +"Sadie told me she heard Enright speak of him at breakfast; that was +all she heard, just the name." + +"Sadie? Oh, the red-headed waitress at Timmons's, you mean? Big Tim's +girl?" + +"Yes; she was the one who saw Miss Donovan forced into the wagon, and +driven off." + +"And they took the old Shoshone trail; out past Hennessey's ranch?" + +"So she described it. Does that mean anything?" + +Brennan did not answer at once, sitting silent, his brows wrinkled, +staring through a crevasse of the rock up the stream. Finally he +grinned into the anxious face of the other. + +"Danged if I know," he said drawlingly. "Maybe it does, and maybe +again it don't. I was sorter puttin' this an' that tergether. There's +a Mex who used to hang about here a couple of years ago they allers +said belonged to Mendez's gang. His name is Cateras, a young feller, +an' a hell ov a gambler. It just comes ter me that he was in the Red +Dog three er four nights ago playin' monte. I didn't see him myself, +but Joe Mapes said he was there, an' that makes it likely 'nough that +Mendez isn't so blame far away." + +"And he and Lacy have interests in common?" + +"That is the rumour. I never got hold ov any proof, but Lacy has +shipped a pile o' cattle out o' Villa Real, although why he should ever +drive his cows there across the desert instead o' shippin' them here in +Haskell or Taylorville, I never could understand. That's the principal +reason I've got for thinkin' he an' Mendez are in cahoots, an' if they +be, then the Mexican must have some kind o' a camp out there in the +sand whar he hides between raids; though, damn if I know whar it can +be." He paused reflectively. "It'll be like hunting a needle in the +haystack, Jim, but I reckon you an' I'll have to get out that way, an' +we might have luck enough to stumble onto the old devil." + +Westcott changed his position, inadvertently bringing his head above +the protection of the rock. Instantly there was a sharp report, and a +speeding bullet grazed his hair, flattening out against the stone. The +rapidity with which he ducked caused the marshal to laugh. + +"Not hurt, are you? No. That was a rifle; Mike isn't such a bad shot +with that weapon. He's over there behind that tree--see the smoke? If +the cuss pokes his head out, I'll try the virtue of this .45; it ought +to carry that far. Hah! there he is; I made the bark fly anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII: THE ESCAPE + +The afternoon wore away slowly, the two men realising more and more +clearly the nature of the siege. Their only safety lay in the +protection of the rocks, as they were now entirely surrounded, and +fired upon from either bank the moment either raised a head. No +attempt was made, however, to assault their position, nor did they +often return the fire, desiring to preserve for future use their small +supply of ammunition. Brennan remained watchful, but silent, brooding +over his plans for the night, but Westcott became overpowered by +fatigue and slept quietly for several hours. + +The sun was already sinking behind the range of mountains when he +finally aroused himself, and sat up. There was no apparent change in +the situation; the running water murmured musically against the rocks, +the distant banks, already in shadow, exhibited no sign of human +presence. Below in the distance was the deserted street of the town, +and farther away a few of the shacks were visible. The scene was +peaceable enough, and the awakened sleeper could scarcely comprehend +that he was in truth a fugitive being hunted for his life, that all +about him were men eager to kill, watchful of the slightest movement. +It was rather the sight of Brennan which restored his faculties, and +yielded clear memory. The latter greeted him with a good-humoured grin. + +"Well, do you feel better, Jim?" he asked pleasantly. "Thought I'd let +you sleep as long as I could, for we've got some job ahead of us. +Sorry thar ain't no breakfast waitin', fer I wouldn't object ter a bit +o' ham bone myself. I reckon if Lacy coops me up yere much longer, +he's liable ter win his bet; I'm plumb near starved out already." + +"I'm afraid they've got us, Dan." + +"Oh, I don't know; leastwise I ain't put up no white flag yet. You're +game fer a try at gettin' out o' yere, ain't yer, old man? I've sorter +been reckonin' on yer." + +"I'll take any chance there is," returned Westcott heartily, staring +into the other's face. "Have you some plan?" + +"Maybe 'tain't that exactly, but I've been doin' a powerful lot o' +thinkin' since you was asleep, Jim, an' I reckon we might beat these +fellers with a fair show o' luck. This is how I figure it out. Thar +won't be no attack; that's a cinch. Lacy knows we can shoot, an' he +also knows we're marooned yere without food. The easiest thing is ter +starve us out." + +"But there are good men in this camp, law abiding men," interrupted the +miner. "What about them? Won't they take a hand?" + +"Maybe they might if I was free ter get 'em together; but I ain't. +Most o' 'em are out in the mines anyway; they don't know which party is +right in this rumpus, an' they ain't got no leader. Lacy runs the +town, an' he's got a big gang o' toughs behind him. There ain't nobody +wants to buck up against his game. Of course the boys might get mad +after a while, but I reckon we'd be starved plumb ter death long afore +that happened. An' that ain't the worst ov it, Jim--the sheriff is +Lacy's man. I wouldn't never dare turn you over ter him--not by a +jugful." + +"Then we are blocked at every turn." + +"We sure are, unless we can dig out ourselves," gravely. "My notion is +to get a fair start, drift out into Shoshone, whar we'll leave no +trail, an' then hit for over the line. Sam Watts is sheriff of +Coconino, an' he'd give us a square deal." + +"On foot?" + +"Hell, no! I ain't no such walker as all that. Come over yere; keep +yer head down; now look out between these two rocks. Do yer see them +cow-ponies hitched ter the rack alongside o' the Red Dog? Well, +they've been thar fer a matter o' three hours, I reckon, an' their +riders ain't liable ter leave as long as thar's any excitement in town. +They're XL men, and mostly drunk by this time. It's my aim ter get a +leg over one o' them animals. How does that notion strike you?" + +Westcott shook his head doubtfully, his eyes still on those distant +specks. The prospect looked practically hopeless. + +"You don't think it can be done? Well now listen. Here's my scheme, +an' I reckon it'll work. Naturally Lacy will think we'll try to get +away--make a break for it in the dark. He'll have both them banks +guarded, an' ther fellers will have orders ter shoot. He'd rather have +us dead than alive. But, to my notion, he won't expect us ter try any +getaway before midnight. Anyhow, that's how I'd figure if I was in his +place. But my idea is to pull one off on him, an' start the minute it +gets dark enough, so them lads can't see what's goin' on out yere." + +"We'll fight our way through?" + +"Not a fight, my son; we'll make it so softly that not a son-of-a-gun +will ever know how it happened. When they wake up we'll be twenty +miles out in the desert, an' still a goin'. Thar's a big log clinging +ter the upper end o' the rock. I saw it when I fust come over; an' +'bout an hour ago I crept back through that gully an' took a good look. +A shove will send it floatin'. An' with a good pair o' legs to steer +with, thar ain't nuthin' to stop it this side the curve, an' I don't +calculate any o' the rifle brigade will be down as fur as that--do you?" + +"Not likely," and Westcott measured the distance with eyes that had +lost their despondency. "Your idea is that we drift past under cover +of the log?" + +"Sure. We'll tie our guns an' cartridges on top, where they'll be out +o' water, an' keep down below ourselves. Them fellers may glimpse the +log an' blaze away, but 'tain't likely they'll have luck enough to hit +either one o' us, an' the flare will show 'em it's only a log, an' +they'll likely quit an' pass the word along. It sounds blame good ter +me, Jim; what d'ye say?" + +Westcott's hand went out, and the fingers of the two men clasped +silently. There was no need for more speech; they understood each +other. + +The night closed down swiftly, as it does in the West, the purple of +the hills becoming black as though by some magic. There was a heavy +cloud hanging in the Western sky, constantly sweeping higher in pledge +of a dark night. The banks of the stream became obscured, and finally +vanished altogether; while the water ceased to glimmer and turned to an +inky blackness. Lights twinkled in the distant shacks, and the front +of the Red Dog burst into illumination. The saloon was too far away +for the watchers to pick out the moving figures of men, but Brennan +chuckled, and pointed his finger at the glare. + +"Lacy ain't fergettin' the profit in all this," he whispered hoarsely. +"The boys are goin' ter be dry, an' he'll sell 'em all they +want--wouldn't mind if I had some myself. Is it dark enough, mate?" + +"The sooner the better!" + +"That's my ticket. Come on then, but don't make a sound; them lads are +more liable to hear than they are to see us. Let me go first." + +The log was at the other end of the little island, but there was a +considerable rift in the rock surface, not deep, but of sufficient +width to permit the passage of a body. The jagged stone made the way +rough in the dark, and Westcott found himself at the upper extremity, +gashed and bruised by the contact. + +Brennan had already lowered himself into the water, assisted in the +downward climb by some low, tough bushes whose tendrils clung +tenaciously to the smooth rock. Westcott followed silently, and found +footing in about three feet of water, where it swirled around the base +of the island. From this low point, their eyes close to the surface of +the stream, the men could dimly discern the shore lines silhouetted +against the slightly lighter sky. They crouched there in deep shadow, +but discovered no evidence that their effort at escape had been +observed. A dog was barking somewhere not far away, and once there was +a rustle along the nearer bank, as though a man wormed his way +cautiously through the thick chaparral. But this sound also ceased +after a moment, and all was still. Brennan put his lips close to his +companion's ear. + +"Got yer cartridges tied up? That's all right; hand 'em over. Now +give me your belt. No; pass the end under the log an' buckle it; not +too tight. You hang on to the outside, an' I'll push off. If yer have +ter paddle ter keep in the current don't let yer hands er feet come to +the surface--understand?" + +"Certainly." + +"All right then; are you all set? Holy smoke, this is going to be some +yacht ride." + +The log did not even grate as it loosened its slight hold on the rock, +and began the voyage down-stream. The current was swift enough to bear +it and its burden free from the island, although it moved slowly and +noiselessly on its way. The two men deeply emerged on either side, +with heads held rigid against the wet bark, were indistinguishable. +Out from the deeper shadow of the rock they drifted into the wider +stream below, Brennan gently controlling the unwieldy affair, and +keeping it as nearly as possible to the centre, by the noiseless +movement of a hand under water. The men scarcely ventured to breathe +and it seemed as though they were ages slowly sidling along, barely +able to perceive that they really moved. They must have gone a hundred +yards or more before there was any alarm. Then a voice spoke from the +bank to the right, followed almost instantly by the flash of a gun and +a sharp report. The flare lit up the stream, and the bullet thudded +into the log, without damage. + +"What was it, Jack?" the voice unmistakably Lacy's. "Did you see +something?" + +"Nothin' but a floatin' log," was the disgusted reply, "but I made a +bull's-eye." + +"That's better than you did any time before to-day. Where is it? Oh, +yes, I see the blame thing now. You don't need ter be any quail-hunter +ter hit that. It's goin' 'bout a mile an hour. However, there is no +harm done; the shot will show those fellows that we are awake out here." + +Slowly the log floated on, vanishing in the darkness. No other alarm +greeted its progress, and at last, confident that they were already +safely below the extent of the guard lines, the two men, clinging to +its wet sides, ventured to kick out quietly, and thus hasten its +progress. It came ashore at the extreme end of the curve, and, after a +moment of intent listening, the voyagers crept up the sand, and in +whispers discussed the next effort of their escape. The belts were +unstrapped from about the log, reloaded with cartridges, and buckled +around dripping waists before they clambered cautiously up the low +bank. The road was just beyond, but between them and it arose the +almost shapeless form of a small house, a mere darker shadow in the +gloom of the night. + +"Where are we?" questioned Westcott. + +"Just back of old Beecher's shack. He's trucking down Benson way, but +is liable to have some grub stored inside. I was countin' on this for +our commissary department. Come on, Jim; time is money just now." + +The door was unlocked, and they trusted wholly to the sense of touch to +locate the object of their search. However, as there were but two +rooms, not overly stocked with furniture, the gloom was not a serious +obstacle, so that in less than ten minutes they emerged once more into +the open bearing their spoils--Westcott, a slab of bacon and a small +frying-pan; Brennan, a paper sack of corn meal, with a couple of +specimens of canned goods. He had also resurrected a gunny sack +somewhere, in which their things were carefully wrapped, and made +secure for transportation. + +"Didn't feel no terbacco, did yer, Jim?" the marshal questioned +solicitously. "I reckon not though; ol' Beecher never would leave +nuthin' like that lyin' round. Well, Lord! we ought ter be thankful +fer what we've got. Now if we can only get away with them hosses." + +They wormed their way forward to the edge of the road through a fringe +of bushes, Westcott laden with the bundle. Except for the sound of +distant voices and an occasional loud laugh, the night was still. They +could almost hear their own breathing, and the crackle of a dry twig +underfoot sounded to strained nerves like the report of a gun. +Crouching at the edge of the road they could see fairly well what was +before them, as revealed by the lights shining forth through the dingy +windows of the saloon. The Red Dog was not more than a hundred yards +away, and seemingly well patronised in spite of the fact that its owner +and many of his parasites were busily engaged elsewhere. The wide-open +front gave view of much of the barroom including even a section of the +bar. Numerous figures moving about were easily discernible, while up +above in the gambling rooms, the outlines of men were reflected upon +the windows. + +A hum of voices echoed out into the night, but the platform in front of +the door was deserted. Occasionally some wanderer either entered or +departed, merging into the crowd within or disappearing through the +darkness without. To the left of the building, largely within its +shadow, stretched the hitch rail to which were fastened fully a dozen +cow-ponies, most of them revealed only by their restless movements, +although the few nearest the door were plainly enough visible in the +reflection of light. A fellow, ungainly in "chaps," reeled drunkenly +down the steps, mounted one of these and spurred up the road, yelling +as he disappeared. The noise he made was re-echoed by the restless +crowd within. The two men, crouched in the bushes, surveyed the scene +anxiously, marking its every detail. Brennan's hand closed heavily on +the arm of the other. + +"We better pick out the two critters farthest from the light," he +muttered, "an' trust ter luck. We'll have to lead 'em a ways afore we +mount. They're XL outfit mostly, an' that means fair stock. Shall we +try it, now?" + +"The sooner the better." + +"That's me. Blamed if ever I thought I'd be a hoss thief, but when a +feller associates with Bill Lacy there's no knowin' what he will come +to. Howsumever, the foreman an' I are good friends, an' I don't reckon +he'd ever let me be hung fer this job. We better try the other side o' +the road, Jim." + +They were in the flicker of light for scarcely an instant, merely two +darting shadows, vanishing once more swiftly and silently into the +gloom. Nor were they much longer in releasing the two cow-ponies. +Westcott tied his bundle to the cantle of the saddle and then, bridle +reins in hand, the docile animals following their new masters without +resistance, the men led them over the smooth turf well back from the +range of light. They were a quarter of a mile from the Red Dog before +Brennan, slightly in advance, ventured to enter the road. + +"It's safe enough now, Jim, an' we don't wanter lose no time. Got the +grub, haven't yer?" + +"Tied it on the saddle; which way do we go?" + +"Straight south at the bridge; that will bring us to the old trail in +about five miles, an' after that the devil himself couldn't find us. +Ever crossed Shoshone?" + +"No." + +"Well, it's a little bit o' hell after sunup, an' we'll have a twenty +mile ride before we strike water. We'll start slow." + +They swung into saddle, the road before them a mere black ribbon +revealed only by the gleam of a few far-off stars peering through rifts +in the clouds. Brennan rode slightly in advance, trusting his mount +largely to pick out the way, yet leaning forward eagerly scanning every +shadow and listening for the slightest warning sound. They were upon +the grade leading to the bridge when his vigilance was rewarded. There +was some movement to the left, where the hotel trail led down the bank, +and instantly both men drew up their ponies and remained intent and +rigid. Brennan's hand rested on the butt of his revolver, but for the +moment neither could determine what was moving in the intense blackness +of the hillside. Then something spectral advanced into the starlight +of the road and confronted them. + +"Is this you, Mr. Cassady?" asked a woman's voice softly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV: THE CAVE IN THE CLIFF + +Dazed, helpless, yet continuing to struggle futilely, Stella realised +little except giving a glance at the hated faces of her captors. She +heard Cateras's voice ordering the men forward, vibrant with Spanish +oaths, and trembling yet with the fury which possessed him--but all +else was a dim haze, out of which few remembrances ever came. They +were in a large room, opening into another behind, a heavy door +between. She was dragged forward, and thrust through this with no +knowledge of what it was like. She could not think; she was only +conscious of a deadly, paralysing horror. Cateras slammed the +intervening door, and strode past. + +What occurred was not clear to her mind; but suddenly what appeared to +be an open fireplace seemed to swing aside, leaving revealed a great +black opening in the rock. To the lieutenant's snarl of command, one +of the men released his grip of her arm, and lit a lantern which he +took from a near-by shelf. The dim flicker of light penetrated a few +feet into the dark hole, only serving to render the opening more grim +and sinister. The girl shrank back, but the fellow still holding her +tightened his grip. Cateras seemed to have regained his good humour, +although the red welt across his face stood forth ugly in the flare. +His thin lips smiled, and he bowed hat in hand, hatefully polite. + +"Go ahead with the light, Silva; not too fast, my man; the room beyond +the _señor's_. Now, Merodez, release the girl." + +"Ah, so you can stand alone, _señorita_; that is well. Step in here, +ahead of me, and follow the lantern--there is nothing to fear." + +She hesitated, and the smile on the Mexican's lips changed into a cruel +grin. + +"Shall I make you again?" + +"No, _señor_." + +"Then you will do as I bid." + +"Yes, _señor_; I cannot resist." + +The passage was clean and dry, and seemed to lead directly back into +the cliff. The faint light revealed the side walls and low roof, and +the girl, again partially mistress of herself, recognised the nature of +the rock to be limestone. Occasionally the floor exhibited evidences +that human hands had been employed in levelling it, and there were +marks along the side-walls to show where the passage had been widened; +but the opening itself was originally a cave, through which water had +run in long past ages--a cave wide enough to allow six men to walk +abreast, but with an average height of about seven feet. For twenty +feet it ran almost straight in; then they came to a sharp turn to the +right, and entered a much narrower passage. The air was so pure and +fresh, even after this turn was made, as to lead her to believe there +must somewhere be another opening. The vague thought brought with it a +throb of hope. + +Her view was limited to the slight radius illumined by the lantern, and +even within that small area, her own shadow, and those of the three +men, helped render everything indistinct. The side walls appeared to +be of solid rock; she perceived no evidence of entrances into any side +chamber, only that her eyes twice caught glimpses of what seemed like +narrow slits at about the level of her head. She could not be certain +as to their purpose, or ascertain exactly what they were, only they +bore resemblance to an opening cleft in the rock, either for +ventilation, or to permit of observation from without of some interior +cell. Near each of these was a strangely shaped bracket of wood +fastened in some manner to the side wall, apparently intended for the +support of a light, as the ceiling above exhibited marks of smoke. + +They had turned the sharp corner, and advanced a few feet beyond when +the man with the lantern stopped suddenly, and held it up to permit the +light to stream full on the exposed wall to the right. Another of +these odd slits in the rock was visible here, and the girl was able to +perceive more clearly its nature--beyond question it was an artificial +opening, leading into a space on the farther side of the wall. Cateras +pushed past her, his body interfering with her view, and bent down, +fumbling along the rock surface. + +"Hold the light closer," he demanded. "Aye, that's it. 'Tis some +trick to find the thing---- Ah! now I have it." + +It seemed like a bit of wood, so resembling the colour of the rock as +to be practically imperceptible to the eye in that dim light--a bit of +wood which slid back to reveal a heavy iron bolt, shot firmly into the +stone. This the Mexican forced back, and an opening yawned in the side +wall, the rays of the lantern revealing the interior of a black cave. +Cateras stepped within. + +"Bring the woman," he commanded shortly, "and you, Merodez, see first +to the light." + +Silva thrust her forward, his grip no light one, while the other struck +a match and applied it to the wick of a lamp occupying a bracket beside +the doorway. As this caught the full interior was revealed beneath the +sickly glow, a cell-like place, although of a fair size, unfurnished +except for a rude bench, and one three-legged stool, the floor of +stone, and the sides and roof apparently of the same solid structure. +It was gloomy, bare, horrible in its dreariness--a veritable grave. +The girl covered her face with her hands, appalled at the sight, +unnerved at the thought of being left alone in such a place. Cateras +saw the movement, and laughed, gazing about carelessly. + +"Some boudoir, _señorita_," he said meaningly. "Well, we will see what +can be done for you later. Perhaps a few hours in such a hole may work +a miracle. When I come again you will be glad to see even me. That's +all, lads; there's plenty of oil, and you can bring along some blankets +with the evening meal." + +He stopped, standing alone in the narrow opening, the light of the +lantern without bringing his face into bold relief. The girl had sunk +helplessly onto the bench, her head bowed within her hands. The +Mexican eyed her frowningly. + +"Quite tamed already," he said sarcastically. "Bah! I have done it to +worse than you. Look up at me." + +She lifted her eyes slowly, her lips pressed tightly together. She was +conscious of depression, of fear, yet as her glance encountered his, a +sudden spirit of defiance caused her to stand erect. + +"There are some women with whom you are not acquainted, Señor Cateras," +she said quietly, desperation rendering her voice firm. "And possibly +I may prove one of them. I am your prisoner it seems, yet I advise you +not to go too far, or I may prove to be a dangerous one. In the first +place it might be well for you to remember that, helpless as I seem at +present, I have friends--whatever befalls me will be known." + +"How known?" his white teeth gleamed. "Do you think what goes on here +is published to the world? If I should tell you the history of this +secret valley it would take some of the defiance out of you, I imagine." + +"Then you reckon wrong, I am not afraid of you, and I believe in my +friends. All I ask now is that I be left alone." + +"Which will bring you to your senses. I have seen that tried out here, +and know how it works. All right, I'll leave you to think it over; +then I'll come back for an answer. Until then, _señorita, adios_." + +The fellow lifted his hat, and stepped back into the passage, his +manner insolent. She remained motionless, contempt in her eyes, but in +truth hopeless and crushed. Silva closed the door silently, although +her ears caught the click of the bolt when it was shot home. + +No sound of their retreating footsteps reached her through the thick +wall. The stillness of her prison seemed to strike her like a blow. +For a moment she stood staring at the bare wall, her lips parted, her +limbs trembling from the reaction of excitement; then she stepped +forward, and felt along the smooth surface of rock. + +The door fitted so closely she could not even determine its exact +outlines. Baffled, her glance wandered about the cell, seeking vainly +for any sign of weakness, and then, giving way utterly to her despair, +the girl flung herself on the bench, covering her eyes to shut out +those hideous surroundings. What should she do? What could she do? +What possibility of hope lay in her own endeavours? From what source +could she expect any outside help? + +After those first moments of complete despair, there came greater +calmness, in which her mind began to grapple with the situation. Life +had never been an easy problem, and discouragement was no part of her +creed. She sat up once more, her lips pressed tightly together, her +eyes dry of tears. + +In spite of Cateras's cowardly threats these outlaws would never dare +to take her life. There was no occasion for them to resort to so +desperate a deed. Besides this Mexican was only an under officer of +the band, and would never venture to oppose the will of his chief. Her +fate rested not on his word, but upon the decision of Pasqual Mendez, +and, if that bandit was associated with Bill Lacy, as undoubtedly he +was, then as the prisoner of the American, she was certainly safe until +the latter expressed his own wish regarding her. + +And why should Lacy desire to take her life? Most assuredly he did +not, or the act would have been already accomplished. The very fact of +her having been transported such a distance was sufficient evidence of +his purpose. The conspirators merely suspected her mission in Haskell; +they were afraid she knew more of their plans than she really did. The +telegram, stolen by Miss La Rue, had convinced the leaders that she +might prove dangerous if left at large, and they had determined to hold +her helpless until their scheme had been worked out and they were +safely beyond pursuit. That was undoubtedly the one object of her +capture. Lacy had no knowledge that Mendez's band was at the +rendezvous; he supposed them to be on a cattle raid to the south, with +only a man or two of his own left as guard over Cavendish. + +Cavendish! Her mind grasped clearly now the fact that the man was not +dead. It had not been his body found in the Waldron Apartments, but +that of some other man substituted for purposes of crime. Cavendish +himself had been lured westward, waylaid in some manner and made +prisoner, as she and Westcott had suspected. + +Through the co-operation of Lacy he had been brought to this desert +den, where he could be held indefinitely, with no chance of +discovery--killed if necessary. She had heard of such places as this, +read of them, yet never before had she realised the possibility of +their real existence. It all seemed more like a delirium of fever than +an actual fact. She rubbed her eyes, gazing about on the rock walls, +scarcely sure she was actually awake. Why, one might ride across that +desert, and pass by within a hundred yards of its rim, and never even +be aware of the existence of this sunken valley. Perhaps not a dozen +men outside this gang of outlaws had ever gazed down into its green +depths, and possibly no others knew of that narrow, winding trail +leading down to its level. Yet these men must have made use of it for +years, as a place to hide stolen cattle, and into which to retreat +whenever pursuit became dangerous. + +Those huts without were not newly built, and this underground cavern +had been extended and changed by no small labour. What deeds of +violence must have happened here; what scenes of unbridled debauchery +this desert rendezvous must have witnessed. She shuddered at the +thought, comprehending that these cells had never been chiselled +without a purpose, and that she was utterly helpless in the hands of a +band of thieves and cutthroats, to whom murder meant little enough, if +it only served their ends. Mendez, no doubt, was brute and monster, +yet it was Juan Cateras whom she really feared--he was cruel, slimy, +seeking to hide his hatefulness behind that hideous smile; and he had +already chosen her for his victim. Who would save her--Mendez? Lacy? +God, she did not know: and somehow neither of these was the name which +arose to her lips, almost in the form of prayer; the name she whispered +with a faint throb of hope in its utterance--Jim Westcott. + +The big miner was all she had to rely upon; he had been in her mind all +through the long ride; he arose before her again now, and she welcomed +the memory with a conscious throb of expectation. Those people back +there could not conceal for long her absence from him; if he lived he +would surely seek her again. + +Her womanly instinct had read the message in the man's eyes; she was of +interest to him, he cared; it was no mere ordinary friendliness which +would bring him back; no! not even their mutual connection with the +case of Frederick Cavendish. Her eyes brightened, and a flush of +colour crept into her cheeks. She believed in him, in his courage--he +had appealed to her as a man. + +Suddenly she seemed to realise the yearning of her own heart, her utter +faith in him. He would come, he must come; even now he might have +discovered her sudden disappearance, and suspected the cause. He would +never believe any lies they might tell--that she had departed without a +word, without a message--he would find out the truth somehow; he was +not the kind to lie down, to avoid danger when it confronted duty--and, +besides, he cared. She knew this, comprehended without question; there +had been no word spoken, yet she knew. + +Once she had accepted this knowledge with a smile, but now it thrilled +her with hope, and set her heart throbbing strangely. Not that she +dreamed love in return, or permitted it to even enter her mind; yet the +very thought that this man would, if necessary, wade into the very +waters of death for her sake, was somehow sweet and consoling. She was +no longer alone; no longer hopeless and unnerved--deep down in her +consciousness she trusted him. + +"If"--how often that recurred; how it brought back memory of Lacy, of +Enright, of Beaton, of the La Rue woman. What else could they have +remained behind for, except to hide and close the trail? It was +Westcott they would guard against; he was the only one they now had any +cause to fear. They suspected his connection with her, his knowledge +of their purpose; they knew of his presence the night before at the +shaft-house of Lacy's mine; they would "get" him, if they could, and by +no such simple methods as they got her. If she could only have warned +him; if he was only placed on guard before they were ready to +act--"if"---- + +Suddenly the girl's slender body grew taut, and her thin white, +delicate hands clutched the granite wall back of her, and into her grey +eyes crept the light of terror, a terror that was new and strange to +her, a nameless clutching fear that her varied experiences in the city +had never brought her, an insidious, terrible fright for her bodily +safety. Her delicate ears, strained under their spun-brown covering of +hair--there was no doubt of it; she heard footsteps in the passageway. +Juan Cateras with his leering, lustful smile was coming back. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV: IN THE DARK PASSAGE + +The uncertainty was of scarcely an instant. The open slit above the +door was a perfect conveyer of sound, and a voice pierced the silence. +It was the voice of Juan Cateras, vibrant with anger. + +"You sleepy swine," he ejaculated fiercely, "and is this the way you +keep watch? Come out of that!" the command punctuated by the scuffling +of feet. "Damn you, Silva, but I will teach you a lesson for this when +I return. Now go to the hut and stay there until I come. This is a +matter where Mendez shall name the penalty. Get you gone, you sleepy +dog." + +He either struck or kicked the man, hurrying the fellow down the +passage to the echo of Spanish oaths. Apparently no resistance was +made, for the next instant the key turned in the lock and the door +opened. Cateras, smiling, seemingly unruffled by this encounter, +stepped within, calmly closed the door behind him, and then turned to +greet the lady. She met his bow with eyes of firm resolve, though her +heart ached. + +"Why do you come, _señor_?" she asked so quietly that the man in +surprise halted his step forward. + +"To keep my word," and his white teeth gleamed in an effort at +pleasantness. "I am always truthful with your sex; and I told you I +would return shortly." + +"Yet why?" she insisted, anxious only to keep him away as long as +possible, and yet enchain his interest. "If I am prisoner here, I am +not your prisoner. Do you come, then, to serve me?" + +"Can you doubt that, _señorita_?" still endeavouring to retain the mask +he had first assumed. "Because circumstances make me defy the law--a +mere love of adventure, no more--is no reason why I should be devoid of +heart and sympathy." He took a step nearer. "Since leaving here I +have questioned the men who brought you, and learned why you were made +prisoner. I care nothing for this Bill Lacy--nothing," and he snapped +his fingers derisively. "Why should I? But, instead, I would be your +friend." + +"You mean your purpose is to aid me to escape?" + +He bowed low. + +"It would be my great happiness to do so. There is danger, yet what is +danger to Juan Cateras? 'Tis only part of my life. The _señorita_ is +an American, and to her one of my race may not appeal, yet I would +prove my devotion with my life." + +"Your devotion, _señor_!"' + +"Is not the word expressive! Though I have seen you but once before, +my heart is already devoted to your interest. I am of a Southern race, +_señorita_, and we do not calculate--we feel. Why, then, should I +conceal my eagerness? It is love which causes me to thus defy all and +offer you freedom." + +"Love!" she laughed. "Why, that is impossible. Surely you only jest, +_señor_." + +The smile deserted his lips, and with a quick, unexpected movement he +grasped her hand. + +"Jest! You would call it a jest. You will not think so for long. +Why, what can you do? No; stop shrinking back from me. It will be +well that you listen. This is no parlour where you can turn me away +with a word of scorn," and his eyes swept the bare walls. "I come to +you with a chance of escape; I will take the risk and pledge you my +aid. I alone can save you; there is no other to whom you can turn. In +return I but ask my reward." + +She hesitated, her eyes lifting to his face. + +"You promise me your assistance?" + +"Within the hour." + +"How? What plan have you?" + +"That I will not tell; you must trust me. I am the lieutenant of +Pasqual Mendez," a touch of pride in his voice. "And my word alone +will open the way. You will come?" + +"Wait; I must know more. You say it is love which prompts your offer, +_señor_. I cannot understand; and even if this be true, I must be +frank and honest in my answer--I do not return your love." + +"Bah! That is nothing. I know women; they learn love quickly when the +way opens. I am not so ill to look at, _señorita_. A kiss now will +seal the bargain! I will wait the rest." + +"You ask no pledge, then, of me?" + +"Only your consent to accompany me, and the kiss. Beyond that I take +the gambler's chance. Only you must say yes or no; for it will require +time for me to clear the road." + +"It must be to-night?" + +"The sooner the better; they tell me Lacy will be here himself soon, +and after he comes the one chance is over with. You will give the +kiss?" + +"Do not ask it, _señor_!" + +"Oh, but I will--aye, more, I'll take it. A dozen will do no harm, and +no scream from those lips will be heard. You may as well be nice, my +beauty." + +She was against the wall, helpless, and the grip of his hands was like +steel. She made no sound, although struggling to break free. His +breath was on her cheek; his eyes burning with lust gazing straight +into her own. + +Slowly, remorselessly, he bent her head backward until she feared her +neck would snap. A sob started in her throat, but she silenced it with +the will of a superwoman. Into her terror-stricken mind leaped the +sudden conclusion that resistance with this beast was futile; she must +outwit him with her brains. Suddenly relaxing herself, she slipped to +the granite floor on her knees. + +"Please, please," she begged. "I give in, _señor_, I give in." + +But as she spoke her right hand closed about a square jagged bit of +rock. + +"So, my pretty," sneered Cateras, "you have learned that Juan Cateras +is not a man to trifle with. It is well." And, releasing his grip +upon her, he allowed the girl to rise. + +As she stood there in the half light, her grey eyes flashing, her young +bosom rising and falling, she was a vaguely defined but alluring +figure. So Juan Cateras thought, and he took a step nearer, his thick, +red lips curling with lust, eager to claim their rich reward. As they +came closer Stella Donovan stiffened. + +"Look, _señor_," she whispered--"behind you!" + +The Mexican in his eagerness was off his guard. He turned to look, and +at that instant the girl drew back her sturdy arm and then brought it +forward again with all her vigour. _Cluk_! She heard the rock sound +against her oppressor's head, heard a low moan escape his lips, and saw +him sink slowly to the floor at her feet. + +The next instant she was beside him, in terror lest she had killed him; +but a hurried glance, supplemented by her fingers which reached for his +pulse, assured her that she had only stunned her assailant. Her heart +beat less rapidly now, and she again had control of her mental +processes. With deft hands that worked speedily in the darkness she +unstrapped from around his waist the belt with its thirty-six +cartridges and revolver, then pulled from his pocket the keys, not only +to her cell, but, she judged, to others. + +The feel of their bronze coldness in her hot hands brought a quick +message to her brain; beyond a question of doubt, the missing Cavendish +was concealed in one of the dark, dank cells in the immediate vicinage, +if not actually in this same passage, then in another one perhaps not +greatly distant. The speculation gave her determination and decision. + +Reaching beneath her outer skirt, she jerked loose her white petticoat, +and then began tearing it into long strips which she knotted together. +This done, she bound Juan Cateras's hand and foot, and, with some +difficulty, turned him over on his face after first thrusting into his +half-open mouth a gag, which she had fashioned from stray ends of the +providential petticoat. + +Then leaping to her feet and strapping the ammunition belt and revolver +about her waist, she stole on tiptoe to the doorway and peered out; the +silent, cavernous passage was empty. + +Lithely, like a young panther, she slipped out of the cell and began +making down the passageway to a spot of light which she judged to be +its opening. She had scarcely gone ten feet, however, before she +stopped short--somewhere in the dark she heard a voice. + +Flattening herself against the sides of the passage, she thought +quickly; to return to the cell in which lay Juan Cateras would be +unwise, for he might break the bonds, which were none too strong, and, +in his fury at having been so easily duped, subject her to unknown but +anyway horrible indignities, if not death itself. But what other +course was there? + +As she stood there a fraction of a second against the wall, knowing not +which way to turn, the girl wished with all her heart that big Jim +Westcott, strong, cool, collected, the master of any situation +requiring force, tact, and acumen, were there by her side to take her +arm and guide her out of this terrible predicament. But Jim was +elsewhere--where, she could hardly guess. + +What was to be done? Her temples throbbed as the voices sounded +nearer. Then it came home to her--why not try one of the other cells? +Possibly she would be lucky enough to find an empty one; the chances +were, she felt, that most of them were. + +Suiting action to the thought, she stepped quietly from the niche in +the wall, moved noiselessly along its surface, and came at length to +another dungeon similar to She one she had occupied, except that it had +no window in its oaken door. Fumbling with the bunch of keys, she took +the first one around which her fingers fell and thrust it hurriedly +into the lock. Would it open the haven to temporary safety? She +struggled with it--turning it first to the left and then to the right. +The footsteps were sounding nearer and nearer every minute, the voices +were growing louder. + +Frantic, she gave the key a final desperate twist, and as a sigh of +relief escaped her lips the door swung open. Slipping through the +aperture, she closed it softly after her and, panting from excitement +and her exertions, turned and faced the recesses of her hiding-place. + +It was black, pitch-black, except for a long ray of light that +struggled in between the heavy door and its casing, but as Stella +Donovan stood there in the gloom she was aware that she was not the +only occupant of the cell. She crouched back, gripped in the hands of +another fear, but the next moment her alarm was lessened somewhat by +the sound of a soft, well-modulated voice. + +"Who's that?" it said faintly. + +Then followed the repeated scratching of a wet match, a flame of yellow +light, which was immediately carried to a short tallow candle, and in +the aura of its sickly flame Stella Donovan saw the face of a man with +long, unkempt beard and feverish eyes that stared at her as though she +were an apparition. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI: THE REAPPEARANCE OF CAVENDISH + +As her eyes became more accustomed to the light she saw that the +stranger was a man of approximately thirty, of good robust health. His +hair was sandy of colour and thin, and his beard, which was of the same +hue, had evidently gone untrimmed for days, perhaps weeks; yet for all +of his unkempt appearance, for all the strangeness of his presence +there, he was a gentleman, that was plain. And as she scrutinised him +Miss Donovan thought she beheld a mild similarity in the contour of the +man's head, the shape of his face, the lines of his body, to the man +whom, several weeks before, she had seen lying dead upon the floor of +his rooms in the Waldron apartments. + +Could this be Frederick Cavendish? By all that had gone before, he +should be; but the longer she looked at him the less certain she was of +the correctness of this surmise. Of course the face of the man in the +Waldron apartments had been singed by fire so that it was virtually +unrecognisable, thus making comparisons in the present instance +difficult. At any rate, she dismissed the speculation temporarily from +her mind, and resolved to divulge nothing for the time, but merely to +draw the man out. Her thoughts, rapid as they had been, were +interrupted by the fellow's sudden exclamation. + +"My God!" he cried in a high voice, "I--I thought I was seeing things. +You are really a woman--and alive?" + +Miss Donovan hesitated a moment before she answered, wondering whether +to tell him of her narrow escape. This she decided to do. + +"Alive, but only by luck," she said in a friendly voice, and then +recounted the insults of Cateras, her struggle with him, and capture of +his cartridge belt and revolver, and how finally she had left him bound +and gagged in the adjoining cell. The man listened attentively, though +his mind seemed slow to grasp details. + +"But," he insisted, unable to clear his brain, "why are you here? +Surely you are not one of this gang of outlaws?" + +"I am inclined to think," she answered soberly, "that much the same +cause must account for the presence of both of us. I am a prisoner. +That is true of you also, is it not?" + +"Yes," his voice lowered almost to a whisper. "But do not speak so +loud, please; there is an opening above the door, so voices can be +heard by any guard in the corridor. I--I am a prisoner, although I do +not in the least know why. When did you come?" + +"Not more than two hours ago. Two men brought me across the desert +from Haskell." + +"I do not know how I came. I was unconscious until I woke up in that +cell. I was on the platform of an observation car the last I +remember," his utterance slow, as though his mind struggled with a +vague memory, "talking with a gentleman whom I had met on the train. +There--there must have been an accident, I think, for I never knew +anything more until I woke up here." + +"Do you know how long ago that was?" + +He shook his head. + +"It was a long while. There has been no light, so I could not count +the days, but, if they have fed me twice every twenty-hours, it is +certainly a month since I came." + +"A month! Do you recall the name of the man you were conversing with +on the observation car?" + +He pressed his hand against his forehead, a wrinkle appearing straight +between his eyes. + +"I've tried to remember that," he admitted regretfully, "but it doesn't +quite come to me." + +"Was it Beaton?" + +"Yes. Why, how strange! Of course, he was Edward Beaton, of New York. +He told me he was a broker. Why, how did you know?" + +She hesitated for an instant, uncertain just how far it was best to +confide in him. Unquestionably, the man's mind was not entirely clear, +and he might say and do things to the injury of them both if he once +became aware of the whole truth. Besides, the meeting him there alive +was in itself a shock. She had firmly believed him dead--murdered in +New York. No, she would keep that part of the story to herself for the +present; let it be told to him later by others. + +"It is not so strange," she said at last, "for your disappearance is +indirectly the occasion of my being here also. I believe I can even +call you by name. You are Mr. Cavendish?" + +"Yes," he admitted, his hands gripping the back of the bench nervously, +his eyes filled with amazement "But--but I do not know you." + +"For the best of reasons," she answered smilingly, advancing and +extending her hand--"because we have never met before. However +mysterious all this must seem to you, Mr. Cavendish, it is extremely +simple when explained. I am Stella Donovan, a newspaperwoman. Your +strange disappearance about a month ago aroused considerable interest, +and I chanced to be detailed on the case. My investigations led me to +visit Haskell, where unfortunately my mission became known to those who +were responsible for your imprisonment here. So, to keep me quiet, I +was also abducted and brought to this place." + +"You--you mean it was not an accident--that I was brought here +purposely?" + +"Exactly; you were trailed from New York by a gang of thieves having +confederates in this country. I am unable to give you all the details; +but this man Beaton, whom you met on the train, is a notorious gunman +and gambler. His being on the same train with you was a part of a +well-laid plan, and I have no doubt but what he deliberately slugged +you while you two were alone on the observation platform. As I +understand, that is exactly his line of work." + +"But--but," he stammered, "what was his object? Why did those people +scheme to get me?" + +"Why! Money, no doubt; you are wealthy, are you not?" + +"Yes, to an extent. I inherited property, but I had no considerable +sum with me that day; not more than a few hundred dollars." + +"As I told you, Mr. Cavendish, I do not know all the details, but I +think these men--one of whom is a lawyer--planned to gain possession of +your fortune, possibly by means of a forged will; and, in order to +accomplish this, it was necessary to get you out of the way. It looks +as though they were afraid to resort to actual murder, but ready enough +to take any other desperate chance. Do you see what I mean?" + +"They will rob me! While holding me here a prisoner they propose +robbing me through the courts?" + +"That is undoubtedly their object, but, I happen to know, it has not +yet been fully accomplished. If either of us can make escape from this +place we shall be in time to foil them completely." + +"But how," he questioned, still confused and with only the one thought +dominating his mind, "could they hope to obtain possession of my +fortune unless I was dead?" + +"They are prepared to prove you dead. I believed so myself. The only +way to convince the courts otherwise will be your appearance in person. +After they once get full possession of the money they do not care what +becomes of you. Living or dead, you can never get it back again." + +He sank down on the bench and buried his face in his hands, thoroughly +unnerved. The girl looked at him a moment in silence, then touched his +shoulder. + +"Look here, Mr. Cavendish," she said firmly, "there is no use losing +your nerve. Surely there must be some way of getting out of here. For +one, I am going to try." + +He looked up at her, but with no gleam of hope in his eyes. + +"I have tried," he replied despondently, "but it is no use. We are +buried alive." + +"Yet there must be ways out," she insisted. "The air in that passage +was perfectly pure; do you know anything about it?" + +"Yes; it leads to the top of the cliff, up a steep flight of steps. +But it is impossible to reach the passage, and since these Mexicans +came I have reason to believe they keep a guard." + +"They were not here, then, at first?" + +"Only for a few days; before that two rough-looking fellows, but +Americans, were all I saw. Now they have gone, and Mexicans have taken +their places--they are worse than the others. Do you know what it +means?" + +"Only partially. I have overheard some talk. It seems this is a +rendezvous for a band of outlaws headed by one known as Pasqual Mendez. +I have not seen their leader; but his lieutenant had charge of me." + +"Miss Donovan," he said with gravity, "we are in the hands of desperate +men. We will have to take desperate measures to outwit them, and we +will have to make desperate breaks to obtain our freedom." + +The girl nodded. + +"Mr. Cavendish," she said with womanly courage, "you will not find me +wanting. I am ready for anything, even shooting. I do hope you're a +good shot." + +Cavendish smiled. + +"I have had some experience," he said. + +"Then," the girl added, "you had better take the revolver. I never +fired one except on the Fourth of July, and I would not want to trust +to my marksmanship in a pinch. Not that we will meet any such +situation, Mr. Cavendish--I hope we do not--but in case we do I want to +depend upon you." + +"I am glad you said that, Miss Donovan; it gives me courage." + +The girl handed the revolver over to him without a word and then held +out the cartridge belt. He snapped open the weapon to assure himself +it was loaded and then ran his fingers over the belt pockets. + +"Thirty-six rounds," adjusting the belt to his waist; "that ought to +promise a good fight. Do you feel confidence in me again?" + +"Yes," she answered, her eyes lifting to meet his. "I trust you." + +"Good. I am not a very desperate character, but will do the best I +can. Shall we try the passage?" + +"Yes. It is the only hope." + +"All right then; I'll go first, and you follow as close as possible. +There mustn't be the slightest sound made." + +Cavendish thrust his head cautiously through the door, the revolver +gripped in his hand; Miss Donovan, struggling to keep her nerves +steady, touched the coat of her companion, fearful of being alone. The +passage-way was dark, except for the little bars of light streaming out +through the slits in the stone above the cell doors. These, however, +were sufficient to convince Cavendish that no guards were in the +immediate neighbourhood. He felt the grip of the girl's fingers on his +coat, and reached back to clasp her hand. + +"All clear," he whispered. "Hurry, and let's get this door closed." + +They slipped through, crouching in the shadow as the door shut behind +them, eagerly seeking to pierce the mystery of the gloom into which the +narrow corridor vanished. Beyond the two cells and their dim rays all +was black silence, yet both felt a strange relief at escaping from the +confines of their prison. The open passage was cool, and the fugitives +felt fresh air upon their cheeks; nowhere did any sound break the +silence. Stella had a feeling as though they were buried alive. + +"That--that is the way, is it not?" she asked. "I was brought from +below." + +"Yes; it is not far; see, the passage leads upward. Come, we might as +well learn what is ahead." + +They advanced slowly, keeping closely against the wall, and testing the +floor cautiously before venturing a step. A few yards plunged them +into total darkness, and, although Cavendish had been conducted along +there a prisoner, he retained small recollection of the nature of the +passage. + +Their progress was slow but silent, neither venturing to exchange +speech, but with ears anxiously strained to catch the least sound. +Stella was conscious of the loud beating of her heart, the slight +rasping of Cavendish's feet on the rock floor. The slightest noise +seemed magnified. The grade rose sharply, until it became almost a +climb, yet the floor had evidently been levelled, and there were no +obstructions to add to the difficulty of advance. Then the passage +swerved rather sharply to the right, and Cavendish, leading, halted to +peer about the corner. An instant they both remained motionless, and +then, seeing and hearing nothing, she could restrain her impatience no +longer. + +"What is it?" she questioned. "Is there something wrong?" + +He reached back and drew her closer, without answering, until her eyes +also were able to look around the sharp edge of rock. Far away, it +seemed a long distance up that narrow tunnel, a lantern glowed dully, +the light so dim and flickering as to scarcely reveal even its +immediate surroundings; yet from that distance, her eyes accustomed to +the dense gloom, she could distinguish enough to quicken her breathing +and cause her to clutch the sleeve of her companion. + +The lantern occupied a niche in the side wall at the bottom of a flight +of rude steps. Not more than a half-dozen of these were revealed, but +at their foot, where the passage had been widened somewhat, extended a +stone bench, on which lounged two men. One was lying back, his head +pillowed on a rolled coat, yet was evidently awake; for the other, +seated below him, with knees drawn up for comfort, kept up conversation +in a low voice, the words being inaudible at that distance. Even in +that dim light the two were clearly Mexican. + +"What shall we do?" she asked, her lips at Cavendish's ear. "We cannot +pass them--they are on guard." + +"I was wondering how close I could creep in before they saw me," he +answered, using the same caution. "If I was only sure they were alone, +and could once get the drop, we might make it." + +"You fear there may be others posted at the top?" + +"There is quite likely to be; the fellows are evidently taking no +chances of surprise. What do you think best?" + +"Even if you succeeded in overawing these two, we would have no way of +securing them. An alarm would be given before we could get beyond +reach. Our only hope of escape lies in getting out of here unseen." + +"Yes, and before Cateras is discovered." + +"He gave no orders to the guard to return?" + +"No; but he will be missed after a while and sought for. We cannot +count on any long delay, and when it is found that he has been knocked +out, and we have disappeared, every inch of this cave will be searched. +There is no place to hide, and only the two ways by which to get out." + +"Then, let's go back and try the other," she urged. "That opens +directly into the valley and is probably not guarded. What is +happening now?" + +A grey gleam of light struck the steps from above, recognised instantly +as a reflection of day, as though some cover had been uplifted +connecting this underground labyrinth with the clear sky. A dim shadow +touched the illumined rocks for a brief moment, a moving shadow +uncertain in its outlines, grotesque, shapeless: and then the daylight +vanished as suddenly as it dawned. There was a faint click, as though +a door closed, while darkness resumed sway, the silence unbroken, but +for the scraping of a step on those rude stairs. The two guards below +came to their feet, rigid in the glow of the lantern, their faces +turned upward. Then a man came slowly down the last few steps and +joined them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII: A DANGEROUS PRISONER + +He was tall and thin, wearing a wide cloak about his shoulders, and +high hat with broad brim. Even at that distance it could be seen that +his long hair was grey, and that a heavy moustache, snow-white, made +more noticeable the thin features of his face. The man was Mexican, no +doubt of that, but of the higher class, the dead pallor of his skin +accented by the black, deep-seated eyes. He looked at the two men +closely, and his voice easily reached the ears of the listeners. + +"Who posted you here?" + +"Juan Cateras, _señor_," answered one. + +"Not on my order. Dias is watching above. Did the lieutenant give you +a reason?" + +"The prisoners, _señor_." + +"The prisoners! Oh, yes; those that Lacy had confined here. Well, +they will not be here for long. I do not believe in prisoners, and +because I do business with that dog is no reason why he is privileged +to use this place to hold his victims. I have just despatched a +messenger to Haskell to that effect, and we'll soon be rid of them. +Where is Cateras?" + +"In the valley, _señor_! he went back down the passage with Silva after +posting us here." + +"And the prisoners?" + +"Occupy the two inner cells. Merodiz here says one of them is a girl." + +"A girl!" the tall man laughed. "That then will account for the +unusual interest of Juan Cateras, and why he preferred being left in +charge. A girl, hey, Merodiz! You saw the witch? What sort was she?" + +"An American, _señor_, young, and good to look at," the other man +explained. "Her eyes as blue as the skies." + +"Good! 'tis not often the gods serve us so well. I forgive Cateras for +failure to report such a prize, but from now on will see that he takes +his proper place. She was here when we came?" + +"No, _señor_; the two Americanos brought her; it was Silva and I who +put her in the cell." + +"At Cateras's order?" + +"Yes, _señor_." + +"In what cell?" + +"The second in the passage; the man who was here when we came has the +one this way." + +"Caramba! this is all pleasant enough. I will pay my respects to the +lady, and there is no time like the present." + +He turned away, thumbing his moustache, quite pleased with his conceit, +but one of the men stopped him with a question. + +"We remain here, _señor_?" + +"Yes, you might as well," his lips smiling, "and if the Señor Cateras +passes, you can tell him that I visit the fair American. It will give +him joy." + +The girl drew Cavendish back hurriedly, her mind working in a flash of +inspiration. + +"Quick," she breathed in his ear. "There is a niche where we can hide +a few yards back. If he follows the other wall he might pass, and not +notice." + +"But he goes to your cell; 'tis Pasqual Mendez." + +"I know, but come. He must not go there. I will tell you my plan." + +They were pressed back within the slight recess before the Mexican +turned the corner, and she had hastily breathed her desperate scheme. + +"It can be done," she insisted, "and there is nought else possible. We +dare not let him enter, and find Cateras, and to kill the man will +serve no good end. You will not? Then give me the revolver. Good! +Be silent now." + +Mendez came down the black passage evidently in rare good humour, +humming a tune, with one hand pressed upon the wall to better guide his +movements. So dark it was, even the outlines of his form were +indistinguishable, yet, as he felt no need for caution, it was easy +enough to trace his forward progress. The girl stood erect, the +revolver gripped in one hand, the other pressing back her companion +into the recess. She had lost all sense of fear in the determination +to act; better risk all than surrender without a struggle. Mendez +fumbled along the wall, stumbled over some slight projection and swore; +another step, and his groping hand would touch her. He never took the +step, but was whirled against the side wall, with the cold barrel of a +revolver pressed against his cheek. A stern, sibilant whisper held him +motionless. + +"If you move I fire, _señor_; raise your hands--quick!" + +He responded mechanically, too profoundly astounded to dream of +resistance. It was the sound of the voice which impressed him. + +"Santa Maria! A woman?" + +"Yes, _señor_, a woman; the same you sought, but I have found you +first." + +He chuckled. + +"A good jest surely; how came you here?" + +"Not to discuss that, _señor_," quietly. "Nor is this to be laughed +over. If you would live, do as I say. Mr. Cavendish, see if the man +bears weapons." + +"Only a belt with a knife." + +"Keep the knife; it may come handy for some purpose. Now bind his +hands with the belt. Cross your wrists, _señor_." + +He had lost his temper, no longer deeming this a joke. + +"You damn vixen," he growled savagely. "This play will soon be done; +do you know who I am?" + +"The Señor Pasqual Mendez, but that means nothing," she answered. +"This revolver will kill you as surely as any one else. Do what I say +then, and talk no more--cross your wrists behind." + +He did so, and Cavendish strapped the stout belt about them, winding it +in and out until he had sure purchase. He drew it so tightly the +fellow winced. + +"It hurts, _señor_," she said, satisfied. "Well, to hurt you a little +is better than what you planned for me. Now lead on. No, listen +first. I know who you are and your power here. That is why we took +this chance of making you prisoner. We are desperate; it is either +your life, or ours, _señor_. You are an outlaw, with a price on your +head, and you realise what chances one will take to escape. Now there +is just one opportunity given you to live." + +"What, _señorita_?" + +"That you accompany us down this passage into the valley as hostage. +You will compel your men, if we encounter any, to furnish us horses." + +"But the men may not obey. I cannot promise; Señor Cateras----" + +"Señor Cateras will not be there," she interrupted sharply. "We have +already seen to Señor Cateras. The others will obey you?" + +"They may; I cannot promise." + +"Then it will be your own loss; for if there be a shot fired, you will +get either a bullet or a knife thrust. I would try no sharp tricks, +Señor Mendez. Now we go on." + +Mendez smiled grimly in the dark, his mind busy. He had seen much of +life of a kind and felt no doubt but this young woman would keep her +word. She had become sufficiently desperate to be dangerous, and he +felt no desire to drive her to extremes. Besides he was helpless to +resist, but would watch for opportunity, trusting in luck. + +"I am to go first?" and his voice assumed polite deference. + +"Beside Mr. Cavendish," she replied, "and I will be behind." + +"This gentleman, you mean?" + +"Yes; and there is no need for any more acting. This is the revolver +pressing against your back, _señor_. I could scarcely miss you at that +distance." + +They advanced in silence, through the faint gleam of light which +illumined the passage through the stone slits over the cell doors. +Only then did Mendez venture to pause, and glance back at his captor. + +"Pardon, _señorita_," he said gallantly, "but I would have view of the +first lady who ever took Pasqual Mendez prisoner. The sight robs me of +all displeasure. In truth it is hardly necessary for you to resort to +fire-arms." + +"I prefer them," shortly. "Go on!" + +The darkness swallowed them again, but the way was clear, and, once +around the sharp turn, a glimmer of distant daylight made advance +easier. There was no sign of any guard visible, nor any movement +perceptible in the open vista beyond the cave entrance. The girl +touched Mendez's arm. + +"Wait; I would ask a question, or two first, before we venture further. +I was brought in this way, yet my memory is not clear. There are two +log houses before the cave?" + +"Yes," he answered readily, "one somewhat larger than the other--the +men occupy that; the other is for myself and my officers." + +"Besides Cateras?" + +"No, not at present; at times I have guests. It would be pleasurable +to entertain you, and your friend." + +"No doubt. You expect Lacy?" + +"You know that also? How did you learn?" + +"I heard you talk to the men at the other end. It is true, is it not?" + +"I have sent for him; it was yesterday." + +"And he could be here now?" + +"Not before night; it is a hard ride; why ask all this?" + +"I have reasons. Now another thing; where are your men?" + +His eyes wandered to the gleam of daylight. + +"There will be one or two in the bunk-house likely; the others are with +the cattle up the valley." + +"But none in your cabin?" + +He shook his head. + +"And you say Lacy cannot get here before dark? How late?" + +He hesitated over his reply, endeavouring shrewdly to conjecture what +could be the object of all this questioning, yet finally concluding +that the truth would make very little difference. + +"Well, _señorita_, I may as well tell you, I suppose. It is the rule +not to enter this valley until after dark. I expect the Americanos to +arrive about ten o'clock." + +"The Americanos?" + +"_Si_, there will be three in the party, one of them a man from New +York, who has business with me." + +Miss Donovan's decision was rapidly made, her mind instantly grasping +the situation. This man would be Enright, and the business he had with +Mendez concerned Cavendish, and possibly herself also. She glanced +again into the stern, hawklike face of the Mexican, recognising its +lines of relentless cruelty, the complete absence of any sense of +mercy. His piercing eyes and thin lips gave evidence enough that he +was open to any bargain if the reward should be commensurate with the +risk. The man's age, and grey hair, only served to render more +noticeable his real character--he was a human tiger, held now in +restraint, but only waiting a chance to break his chains, and sink +teeth in any victim. The very sight of him sent a shudder through her +body, even as it stiffened her purpose. + +Her clear, thoughtful eyes turned inquiringly toward Cavendish, but the +survey brought with it no encouragement. The man meant well, no doubt, +and would fight valiantly on occasion; he was no coward, no +weakling--equally clear his was not the stuff from which leaders are +made. There was uncertainty in his eyes, a lack of force in his face +which told the story. Whatever was decided upon, or accomplished, must +be by her volition; she could trust him to obey, but that was all. Her +body straightened into new resolve, all her womanhood called to the +front by this emergency. + +"Then we will make no attempt to leave the valley until after dark," +she said slowly. "Even if we got away now, we would be pursued, and +overtaken, for the desert offers few chances for concealment. If we +can reach that smaller cabin unseen we ought to be safe enough there +for hours. Cateras will not bother, and with Mendez captive, his men +will not learn what has occurred. Is not this our best plan, Mr. +Cavendish?" + +"And at night?" + +"We must work some scheme to get horses, and depart before those others +reach here. There will be plenty of time between dark and ten o'clock. +If we leave this man securely bound, his plight will not even be +discovered until Lacy arrives. By that time, with any good fortune, we +will be beyond pursuit, lost in the desert. Do you think of anything +better?" + +That he did not was evidenced by the vacant look in his eyes, and she +waited for no answer. + +"Here," she said, thrusting the revolver into his hand, "take this, and +guard Mendez until I return. It will only be a moment. Don't take +your eyes off him; there must be no alarm." + +She moved forward through the gloomy shadows toward the light showing +at the mouth of the cave. The rocks here were in their natural state, +exactly as left by the forces which had originally disrupted them, the +cavern's mouth much wider than the tunnel piercing the hill, and +somewhat obstructed by ridges of stone. + +Sheltered by these Stella crept to the very edge of the opening, and +was able to gain a comprehensive view of the entire scene beyond. +Within the cave itself there was no movement, no evidence of life. +Quite clearly no guard had been posted here, and no precautions taken, +although doubtless the only entrance to the deep valley was carefully +watched. + +A glance without convinced her that no other guardianship was necessary +to assure safety. The valley lay before her, almost a level plain, +except for the stream winding through its centre, and all about, +unbroken and precipitous, arose the rampart of rocks, which seemed +unscalable. + +She rested there long enough to trace this barrier inch by inch in its +complete circle, but found no opening, no cleft, promising a possible +exit, except where the trail led up almost directly opposite, and only +memory of her descent enabled her to recognise this. Satisfied that +the top could be attained in no other way, her eyes sought the things +of more immediate interest. The two cabins were directly before the +entrance, the smaller closely in against the cliff, the larger slightly +advanced. Neither exhibited any sign of life; indeed the only evidence +that the valley contained human occupants was the distant view of two +herders, busily engaged in rounding up a bunch of cattle on the +opposite bank of the stream. These were too far away, and too intently +engaged at their task, to observe any movement at this distance. + +Her study of the situation concentrated on the small cabin immediately +in front. It was low, a scant story in height, but slightly elevated +from the ground, leaving a vacant space beneath. It was built of logs, +well mortised together, and plastered between with clay. The roof +sloped barely enough to shed water, and there were no windows on the +end toward the cliff, or along the one side which she could see from +where she lay. The single door must open from the front, and +apparently the house had been erected with the thought that it might +some time be used for purposes of defence, as it had almost the +appearance of a fort. The larger building was not entirely unlike this +in general design, except that small openings had been cut in the log +walls, and a rude chimney arose through the roof. Both appeared +deserted. Confident there could be no better time for the venture, +Stella signalled with her hand for the others to join her. + +They advanced slowly, Cavendish holding the revolver at the Mexican's +head, the latter grinning savagely, his dark eyes never still. Bitter +hate, desperate resolve, marked his every action, although he sought to +appear indifferent. The girl's lips were compressed, and her eyes met +his firmly. + +"The way is clear," she said, "and, listen to my warning, _señor_. We +are going straight along the north side of your cabin there, until we +reach the door. For about twenty feet we shall be exposed to view from +that other cabin, if any of your men are there. If you dare utter a +sound, or make a motion, this man will shoot you dead in your +tracks--do you understand?" + +His look was ugly enough, although he compelled the thin lips to smile. + +"Quite clearly--yes; but pardon me if I doubt. You might kill me; I +think that, yet how would it serve you? One shot fired would bring +here a dozen men--then what?" + +"I thank you, _señor_; there will be no shot fired. Give me the +revolver, Mr. Cavendish; now take this knife. As we advance walk one +step behind Mendez. You will know what to do. Now, _señor_, if you +wish to try an experiment--we go now." + +There was not a sound, not a word. Not unlike three shadows they +crossed the open space, and found shelter behind the walls of the hut. +The girl never removed her eyes from the other cabin, and Cavendish, a +step behind his prisoner, poised for a quick blow, the steel blade +glittering in uplifted hand, saw nothing but the back of the man before +him. The latter shrugged his shoulders and marched forward, his eyes +alone evidencing the passion raging within. + +Without pausing they reached the door, which stood slightly ajar. +Stella pushed it open, took one swift glance within and stepped aside. +The other two entered, and she instantly followed, closing the door, +and securing it with a stout wooden bar. Her face was white, marked by +nervous emotion, her eyes bright and fearless. With one swift glance +she visioned the interior; there were two rooms, both small, divided by +a solid log partition, pierced by a narrow door-way. + +The back room was dark, seemingly without windows, but this in which +they stood had an opening to the right, letting in the sunlight. It +was a mere slash in the logs, unframed, and could be closed by a heavy +wooden shutter. She stepped across and glanced out. The view revealed +included a large portion of the valley, and the entrance to the other +cabin. There was no excitement, no evidence of any alarm--their +crossing from the mouth of the cave had escaped observation. Thus far +at least they were safe. + +Her heart beat faster as she turned away, satisfied with the success of +her plan. Nothing remained now but to secure Mendez, to make it +impossible for him to raise an alarm. If he could be bound, and locked +into that rear room. She looked at the two men--the Mexican had +slouched down into a chair, apparently having abandoned all hope of +escape, his chin lowered on his breast, his eyes hidden beneath the +wide brim of his hat. He was a perfect picture of depression, but +Cavendish appeared alert enough, the deadly knife still gripped in his +hand, a motionless, threatening figure. Feeling no trepidation, she +crossed toward the other room, noting as she passed that Mendez lifted +his head to observe her movements. She paused at the door, turning +suspiciously, but the man had already seemingly lost interest, and his +head again drooped. She stepped within. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII: WITH BACK TO THE WALL + +It was dingy dark once she had crossed the threshold, yet enough of +light flickered in through the doorway to enable her to perceive the +few articles of furniture. The room itself was a small one, but +contained a roughly constructed wooden bed, two stools, and a square +table of unplaned boards. A strip of rag carpet covered a portion of +the floor, and there was a sort of cupboard in one corner, the door of +which stood open, revealing a variety of parcels, littering the +shelves. Against the wall in a corner leaned a short-barrelled gun, a +canvas bag draped over its muzzle. + +She had no opportunity to observe more. To her ears there came the +sound of a blow in the room she had just left, a groan, the dull thud +of a body striking the floor, accompanied by a Spanish oath, and a +shuffling of feet. She sprang back into the open doorway, startled, +certain only of some catastrophe, her fingers gripping hard on the +revolver. + +Cavendish lay writhing on the floor, the chair overturned beside him, +and the Mexican, with one swift leap forward, cleared the body, and +reached the window. Even as she caught this movement, too dazed for +the instant to act, the injured man struggled up on one elbow, and, +with all the force he possessed, hurled the knife straight at the +fleeing figure. It flashed through the air, a savage gleam of steel, +barely missing Mendez's shoulder, and buried itself in a log, quivering +from the force of impact. With a yell of derision, his hands still +bound, the desperate fugitive cast himself head-first through the +opening. Without aim, scarcely aware of what she did, the girl flung +up her weapon and fired. With revolver yet smoking she rushed forward +to look without. Rolling over and over on the ground, his face covered +with blood, Mendez was seeking to round the corner of the cabin, to get +beyond range. Again she pulled the trigger, the powder smoke blowing +back into her face, and blinding her. When she could see once more, he +was gone, but men were leaping out through the door of the bunk-house, +shouting in excitement. + +One of these caught sight of her, and fired, the bullet chugging into +the end of a log, so closely it caught a strand of her hair, but, +before another shot could follow, she had seized the shutter, and +closed the opening, driving the latch fast with the revolver butt. She +was cool enough now, every nerve on edge, realising fully the danger of +their position. All the blood of a fighting race surged through her +veins, and she was conscious of no fear, only of a wild exultation, a +strange desire to win. As she turned she faced Cavendish, only vaguely +visible in the twilight caused by the closed window. He was still +seated on the floor, his expression betraying bewilderment. + +"Are you hurt?" + +"No--not--not much. He knocked all the wind out of me. I--I'm all +right now." + +"Get up then! There's fighting enough ahead to make you forget that. +What happened?" + +"He--he kicked me, I guess. I--I don't exactly know. I heard you go +past us into that other room, and--and just turned my head to see. The +next I knew I was on the floor, so damned sick--I beg your pardon--I +thought I was going to faint. Did I get him with the knife?" + +"No, it's over there, and I am afraid I didn't touch him either; it was +all so sudden I got no aim. Do you hear those voices? There must be a +dozen of the band outside already." + +He looked up at her, his glance almost vacant, and she could but +perceive how his chin shook. + +"What shall we do?" + +"Do!" she gripped his shoulder. "Are you a man and ask that? We will +fight! Did you imagine I would ever surrender myself into the hands of +that devil, after what has happened? I would rather die; yes, I will +die before he ever puts hand on me. And what about you, Mr. Cavendish? +Are you going to lie there moping? Answer me--I thought you were a +man--a gentleman." + +The words were like a blow in his face, and under their sting he +staggered to his feet; scarlet blazed in both his cheeks. + +"You have no right to say that to me," he said angrily. "I'm not that +kind." + +"I know it," she admitted, "but you lose your nerve; this isn't your +game. Well, it isn't mine either, for the matter of that. +Nevertheless it has got to be played, and we're going to play it +together. Those fellows will be at that door presently--just so soon +as Mendez tells them who are inside here. They'll try us once, and, if +we can beat them back, that will give us a breathing spell." + +She paused, glancing swiftly about, listening to the increasing hubbub +without. + +"There is no other way they can break in except through this door, +unless, perhaps, they smash that shutter. Two of us ought to hold them +for some time." + +"But we have only one weapon--that knife is no use." + +"There is a sawed-off shotgun back yonder; go get it, and hunt for some +cartridges. They may be in the cupboard--quick now; that's Mendez's +voice, and he'll be savage." + +There was a shouting of commands without in Spanish, punctuated by +oaths, the meaning of which the girl alone understood. She leaned +forward, her eyes on the door, the cocked revolver held ready. She had +meant what she said to Cavendish; to her mind death was far preferable +to any surrender to that infuriated Mexican; she expected death, but +one hope yet buoyed her up--Westcott. Odd that any memory of him +should have come to her at that moment--yet it did; as though he spoke, +and bade her believe in his coming. She had thought of him before, +often in the past two days, but now he was real, tangible; she could +almost feel the strong grip of his hand, and hear the sound of his +voice. It was exactly as though the man called to her, and she +responded. A dream, or what, it brought her courage, hope. + +He would come; she had faith in that--and he would find she had fought +to the end, even if he came too late. She buried her face in her +hands, stifling a sob that shook her body, yet when she lifted the head +again, there was no glimmer of tears in her eyes, and her cheeks were +crimson. She waited motionless, scarcely seeming to breathe--the +statue of a woman at bay. + +All this was but for a moment, a moment of swift thought, of equally +swift decision. The next Cavendish stood beside her, grasping the +shotgun, no longer a victim of weakness, his eyes meeting hers eagerly. + +"I could only find twelve cartridges," he exclaimed, "but I know how to +use those." + +He took a step forward, and held out his hand. + +"Forgive me, Miss Donovan," he pleaded. "Really I do not know what +makes me like that, but you would make a man out of anybody." + +Her firm, slim fingers met his eagerly, her eyes instantly glowing in +appreciation. + +"Of course I forgive you," she exclaimed. "Your fear is no greater +than my own. I am a woman, and dread this sort of thing. All that +gives me courage is the knowledge that death is preferable to +dishonour," her voice lost its firmness, "and--and my faith in a man." + +"You mean in possible rescue?" + +Her eyes lifted to his face. + +"Yes, Mr. Cavendish. It may prove all imagination, yet there is one--a +real man, I am sure--who must know of my plight before this. If he +does, and lives, he will come to me. If we can only defend ourselves +long enough there will be rescue." + +He hesitated, yet something told him this was no time to fear asking +all. + +"Surely you are not married? Of course not; then he----" + +"Is merely a friend; no, there has been no other word spoken between +us, yet," her voice trembling slightly, "there are secrets a woman +knows instinctively without speech. I know this man cares--enough to +come. Isn't that strange, Mr. Cavendish, when we have only met three +times?" + +"No," he said gallantly, "not to any one who has known you. I believe +you might even trust me. Where is this man?" + +"In Haskell; but please do not ask any more--there! They are coming." + +A blow struck the outer door, and was repeated, evidently dealt by the +butt of a gun; then the two, standing silent and almost breathless +within, heard Mendez's voice. There was no mistaking his slow, +carefully chosen English. + +"_Senorita_, and you also, Señor Cavendish," he called his words +intended to be conciliatory. "It is of no use that you resist. We are +many and armed. If you surrender, and not fight, I pledge you +protection." + +The girl glanced at Cavendish. + +"You answer him." + +He stepped closer to the door. + +"Protection from whom?" he asked briefly. + +"From my men; I am Pasqual Mendez." + +"But you propose holding us prisoners? You intend delivering us up to +the man Lacy as soon as he arrives?" + +"Yes," he admitted, "but I hold no animosity--none. The _señorita_ +need not fear. I will intercede for you both with the Senor Lacy, and +he will listen to what I say. You may trust me, if you unbar the door." + +"And if we refuse?" + +"We shall break in, and there will be no promise. I ask you now for +the last time." + +Cavendish turned his head slightly to regard his companion. + +"What shall I say?" he whispered. + +"The man lies; he will keep no promise once we are in his power. +Besides they have not yet found Cateras. When they do there will be no +thought of mercy." + +"Then we fight it out?" + +"I shall; I will never give myself into the hands of that creature." + +"Señor," and Cavendish stepped aside to the protection of the logs, "we +will not surrender. That is our answer." + +"Fools!" he called back, his voice rising harsh above the growling of +others. "We will show you. Silva, Felipe, quick now; do what I told +you. We will teach these Americano dogs a lesson. No, stand back! +Wait until I speak the word."' + +A faint glimmer of light through one of the log crevices caught +Cavendish's attention, and he bent down, his eye to the crack, one hand +grasping the barrel of his gun. Stella watched him motionless and +silent, her face again pale from strain. A moment he stared out, +without speaking, the only noise the movement of men beyond the log +walls, and the occasional sound of a voice in Spanish. + +"I can count about a dozen out there," he said finally, his words +barely audible, and his eye still at the slight opening. "All Mexican +except two--they look American. Most of them are armed. You must have +pricked Mendez, for he has one arm in a sling, and the cloth shows +bloody. Ah! Wait! The fellows have searched the cells and discovered +Cateras. Do you hear that yell? It will be a fight to a finish now. +Here come two men with a log--that's their game then; they mean to +smash in the door." + +He straightened up, casting a swift glance about the apartment. All +hesitancy, doubt, had left him, now that the supreme test had come. He +was again capable of thinking clearly, and acting. + +"Miss Donovan," he burst out, "we can never hope to hold back those men +here--in this room. There must be fifteen of them, and our ammunition +is scanty. We shall be in bright light as soon as the door is battered +down, and then, if they crush in the window also, we shall surely be +attacked from two sides." + +"What will be better?" she asked. + +"The back room; it is dark, with no windows, and there are strips +nailed between the logs. We can force that heavy wooden bed across the +door, and hide behind it. We ought to hold them there as long as our +cartridges last, unless they set the cabin afire. Good God! They have +begun already. Three more blows like that and the door goes down. +Come; it's our only chance." + +It was the work of a moment; it had to be. The inner room was so dark +they had to feel their way about blindly, yet those splintering crashes +on the outer door, interspersed by the shouts of the men, spurred both +to hurried effort. Nor was there much to be done. The heavy bed was +thrown upon its side, and hauled and pushed forward until it rested +against the door jambs, the mattress and blankets so caught and held as +to form protection against bullets. Breathless the two sank to their +knees in the darkness behind, their eyes on the brightening daylight of +the room beyond. Already a hole had been stove through the upper panel +of the door, the surrounding wood splintered. Some one fired once +through the jagged opening, and an exultant yell followed from without. + +"No firing!" the voice was Mendez's rising sharply above the other +sounds. "I don't want the girl shot, you fools. Take that other log +around to the window. They'll surrender fast enough once we're inside. +Now, another one. Here, five of you swing her!" + +Stella touched Cavendish's sleeve. + +"Show me how to load, please," she urged feverishly. "I've fired two +shots already." + +His gun rested across the rude barricade, and he left it there, seizing +the revolver from her hand. + +"You have never handled one before?" + +"No; not like this. Oh, I see; you press that spring. I can do that. +You have the belt with the revolver cartridges--fasten it about my +waist; quick! The door is almost down." + +"Rest your barrel on the edge of the bed," he muttered, gripping the +shotgun again, "and aim at that door. The instant you see one of those +devils, give it to him." + +With a crash the remaining wood gave way, the end of the log, used as a +battering ram, projecting into the room. Over the shattered door, now +held only by one bent hinge, a half dozen forms swarmed inward, the +quick rush blocking their passage. + +Cavendish pulled trigger, the deep boom of his shotgun echoed instantly +by the sharper report of the girl's revolver. She fired twice before +the swirling smoke obstructed the view, conscious only that one man had +leaped straight into the air, and another had sprawled forward on hands +and knees. Cavendish pushed home a fresh cartridge, and the smoke +cloud lifted just enough to permit them to perceive the farther +doorway. A Mexican lay curled up in the centre of the floor, his gun a +dozen feet away; another hung dangling across an over-turned stool, but +the opening was vacant. Just outside, a fellow, wounded, was dragging +himself out of range. + +"Great Scott!" exclaimed Cavendish, excitedly. "Every shot counted. +Here, load up quick. They'll try the window next. Get down!" + +The warning was not an instant too soon, the hasty volley largely +thudding harmlessly into the thick mattress, although a bullet or two +sang past and found billets in the logs behind. Cavendish returned the +fire, shooting blindly into the smoke, but the girl only lifted her +head, staring intently into the smother, until the cloud floated away +through the door. The attackers had again vanished, all semblance of +them, except those two motionless bodies. + +She had not before been conscious of any feeling; all she had done had +been automatic, as though under compulsion; but now she felt strangely +sick, and faint. An unutterable horror seized her and her hands +gripped the edge of the bed to keep her erect. She could seem to see +nothing but the ghastly face of that dead man hanging over the stool, +and she closed her eyes. Yet this reaction was only momentary. She +had fired in defence; in a struggle for the preservation of life and +honour. Under spur of this thought she once more gained control. + +But how still it was! Even the sound of voices had ceased; and out +through the open door there was no sign of movement. The light seemed +dimmer, also, as though the sun had sunk below the opposite cliffs, and +night was slowly descending upon the valley. What could be happening +out there? Were those men planning some new attempt? Or had they +decided it was better to wait for a larger force? The silence and +uncertainty were harder to combat than the violence of assault; she +struggled to refrain from screaming. Cavendish never moved, his gun +flung forward across the improvised barricade, the very grip of his +hand proving the intensity of nervous strain. Something caused him to +glance toward her. + +"Looks as though they had enough of it," he said grimly, "and have +decided to starve us out." + +"Oh, do you think so? I heard a noise then." + +He heard it also, his glance returning instantly to the front, his form +stiffening into preparation. For a moment neither could determine the +meaning of the sounds. Then he cocked his gun, the sharp click echoing +almost loudly in the stillness. + +"Trying the window this time," he murmured, "Do you hear that? Be +ready." + +Nothing happened; even the slight noise in the outer room ceased; there +was not a sound except their own breathing. The two knelt motionless, +peering over the edge of the bed into the dim twilight, seeing nothing, +each with finger on trigger--tense, expectant. Then, without warning, +the flying figure of a man leaped across the doorway into the security +of the opposite wall. It was done so quickly neither fired, but +Cavendish licked his parched lips with a dry tongue. + +"I'll get the next one who tries that trick," he muttered, "It will be +easier than partridge shooting." + +A minute--two passed, every nerve on edge; then a second flying form, +almost a blur in the gathering gloom, shot across the narrow opening. +The shotgun spoke, and the wildly leaping figure seemed to crumble to +the floor--its lower half had reached shelter, but head and shoulders +lay exposed, revealing grey hair and a white moustache. Cavendish +sprang erect, all caution forgotten. + +"It's Mendez," he cried. "I got the arch-fiend of them----" + +A rifle cracked and he went plunging back, his body striking the girl, +and crushing her to the floor beside him. There was no cry, no groan +of agony, yet he lay there motionless. She crept across and bent over +him, almost dumb with fear. + +"You--you are shot?" she made herself speak. + +"Yes; they've got me," the utterance of the words a struggle. "It's +here in the chest; I--I don't know how bad; perhaps if you tear open my +shirt, you--you might stop the blood." + +She could see nothing, not even the man's face, yet her fingers rent +the shirt asunder and searched for the wound. It was not bleeding +greatly, and she had no water, but not knowing what else to do, she +tore a strip from her skirt and bound it hastily. He never moved, or +spoke, and she bent her head closer. The wounded man had lost +consciousness. + +Alone, in the dark, she crept back on her knees to her place behind the +barricade. Her hand touched the empty gun he had dropped, and she +reloaded it slowly, only half comprehending its mechanism. The +revolver, every chamber filled, rested on the upturned edge of the bed; +her lips were firmly pressed together. Quietly she pushed forward the +barrel of the shotgun, and waited. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX: A NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK + +The little marshal of Haskell had the reputation of being as quick of +wit as of trigger finger. Startled as he was by that sudden apparition +appearing before them in the dark road, and at being addressed by a +woman's voice, the mention of the name Cassady gave him an instant +clue. There was but one Cassady in camp, and that individual's +reputation was scarcely of a kind to recommend him in the eyes of the +law. If any woman sought that fellow in this out-of-the-way spot, it +was surely for no good purpose. Brennan caught his breath, these +thoughts flashing through his brain. He leaned forward over his saddle +horn, lowering his voice confidentially, and managing to achieve a +highly meritorious brogue. + +"Sure, Oi'm Cassady," he admitted grouchily. "How iver come yer ter +guess thot?" + +"I was sent here to meet you," she explained hurriedly, as though eager +to have her task done. "I thought maybe it wasn't you, with another +man along. Who is he?" + +"His noime's Crowley; just a friend o' moine; mebbe yer know the lad?" + +"No; certainly not. Does he go along with you?" + +"Fer only a bit o' ther way"; he lowered his voice to even greater +intimacy. "Shure, it's a parfectly still tongue the b'y has in the +cheek o' him." + +She laughed nervously. + +"Well, I'm glad of that; and we'll not stand here discussing the +matter. Do you know who I am?" + +"Divil a thought have Oi." + +"You were expecting to meet Mr. Enright, weren't you? That was what +Bill Lacy told you. He was to explain to you just what you were to do." + +Brennan mumbled something indistinctly, now thoroughly aroused to the +situation. + +"Well, Mr. Enright couldn't come, and Lacy is over across the creek +yet, hunting down Ned Beaton's murderer. I am Miss La Rue," she +hurried on, almost breathlessly, "and I've brought you Lacy's note, +which you are to give to that Mexican--Pasqual Mendez. You understand? +You are to give it to him, and no one else. Lacy said you could kill +your horse, if necessary, but the note must be there by daylight +to-morrow. Here--take it." + +Brennan thrust it into an inner pocket, and cleared his throat. There +was no small risk in asking questions, yet, unless he learned more, +this information might prove utterly useless. The note to Mendez meant +little until he discovered where that bandit was to be found. He felt +his flesh prickle in the intensity of his suppressed excitement. + +"Shure now, miss," he said insinuatingly. "Mr. Lacy must hev' sint +more insthructions 'long with ye then them. All ther word thet iver +come ter me wus ter saddle oop, ride down here an' mate this man +Enright. I don't aven know fer shure whar ol' Mendez is--likely 'nough +he be in Mexico." + +"In Mexico!" indignantly. "Of course not. Lacy said you knew the +trail. It's a place they call 'Sunken Valley'--out there somewhere," +and Brennan could barely distinguish the movement of her arm +desert-ward. "It's across that sand flat." + +"Shoshone?" + +"Yes; I couldn't remember the name. That's all I know about it, only +Lacy said you'd been there before." + +"Shure, miss," assured the marshal softly, clearly realising that he +had already gone the limit, and that any further questioning must lead +inevitably to trouble. "If it is Sunken Valley I'm ter ride ter, +thet's aisy." + +"Then it's good night." + +She vanished up the side-trail, as though the wind had blown away a +shadow. Except for the slight rustling of dried leaves under her feet, +the two men, staring blindly through the darkness, could not have told +the direction in which she had gone. Then all was silence, the mystery +of night. Brennan gathered up his reins, straightening his body in the +saddle. He glanced back toward the dim shade of his companion, +chuckling. + +"Some bit of luck that, Jim." + +"Doesn't seem to me we know much more than we did before," Westcott +answered gloomily. "Only that this chap Mendez is at a place called +Sunken Valley. I never heard of it; did you?" + +"No; I reckon it's no spot the law has ever had any use for. I've +supposed all along them Mexican cattle thieves had a hidden corral +somewhar in this country; but nobody has ever found it yet. Right now, +thanks to this Miss La Rue, I've got a hunch that we're goin' to make +the discovery, and put Bill Lacy and ol' Mendez out of business. But +there's no sense of our gassin' here. We got a right smart bit o' +ridin' to do afore daylight." + +They advanced cautiously as far as the bridge, but at that point +Brennan turned his pony's head southward, and spurred the reluctant +animal up the steep bank. Without question Westcott followed, and the +two horses broke into a trot as soon as they attained the more level +land beyond. They were slightly above the town now, and could gaze +back at the glittering lights in the valley below. The sound of men's +voices failed to reach them over the soft pounding of the ponies' hoofs +on the prairie sod, but suddenly the distant crackling of a half dozen +shots pierced the silence, and their eyes caught the sparkle of the +discharges, winking like fireflies in the night. Before they could +draw up their mounts, the fusillade had ended, and all beneath them was +unbroken gloom. + +"Must be rushing the rock," commented Westcott. + +"More likely saw something and blazed away at it, just as they did at +that log," and Brennan laughed. "Anyhow they haven't discovered we +have vanished yet. With an hour more we'll be where trails are +unknown." + +"In the desert?" + +"That is the only safe hiding place around here. Besides we're +carrying a message to Mendez." + +"Without the slightest knowledge of where that party is." + +"Well, hardly that, Jim. I may not know exactly, but I've got a +glimmer of a notion about where the cuss hangs out, an' I'm going to +have a hunt for it. There's five thousand dollars posted down in +Arizona for that fellow, dead or alive; an' I need the money. Besides, +I reckon this yere Miss Donovan, an' yer ol' partner--what's his +name?--sure, Cavendish--will be mighty glad to see us. You're game for +a try, ain't yer?" + +"I shall never stop until I do find them, Dan," said the other +earnestly, the very tone of his voice carrying conviction. "Every cent +of reward is yours; it will be satisfaction enough for me to know those +two are safe." + +"That's how I figured it. Now let's trot on; we ain't gaining nothing +by sittin' our saddles here. We can talk while we travel." + +There was a few moments of silence, both men evidently busied with +their thoughts; then Westcott asked: + +"What is your idea, Dan?" + +The marshal rode steadily, humped up over his saddle-horn, his eyes on +the uncertainties in front. + +"I ain't really got none," he admitted doggedly, "less it be a blind +trust in Divine Providence; still I got a medium strong grip on a few +things. That Capley girl told you that Matt Moore drove out on the +ridge road?" + +"Yes; I asked her about that twice." + +"Well, he likely was headed for this yere Sunken Valley. That's point +number one. But he never followed the ridge road very far, for it +skirts the desert. He must have turned off south--but where?" + +"Near the lone cottonwood is my guess." + +"Why?" + +"Because there is a swale there of hard sand, which is easily followed, +and leaves no trail. On either side for miles the sand is in drifts, +and no two horses would ever pull a wagon through it. This hard ridge, +which is more rock than sand, goes straight south to Badger Springs, +the only place to get water. I was there once, three years ago." + +"You've hit it, old man," exclaimed the other confidently. "That's +exactly how I had it doped out. He'd have to use that swale, or go ten +miles farther east. I never was at Badger myself, but I've travelled +that ridge road some, with my eyes open. Then, I take it, that our +course is already laid out pretty straight as far as them springs. +Beyond there the general lay of the land may help us, and I aim to +reach that point along about daylight. Accordin' to Miss La Rue--she's +that blond female I seen at the hotel, ain't she--Cassady was expected +to reach this place where Mendez is about dawn, if he had to kill his +hoss to do it. That would mean some considerable of a ride, I reckon." + +"And yet," put in Westcott, with increasing interest, "would seem +naturally to limit the spot to within a radius of ten miles from Badger +Springs." + +"Likely enough--yes; either south, southeast, or southwest; what sort +o' country is it?" + +"Absolutely barren; a desolate waste as far as the eye can see, except +that range of mountains away to the south, fifty miles or more off. It +would be a dead level, except for the sand-hills; that's all the memory +I've got of it." + +"Well, thar's allers some landmark to a trail, an' I used ter be a +pretty fair tracker. Speed yer hoss up a bit, Jim; we've got to ride +faster than this." + +"How about the note she gave you?" + +"We'll wait a while to read that. I don't want to strike no light just +yet. Maybe it had best be kept till daybreak." + +The men rode steadily, and mostly in silence, a large part of the way +side by side. The animals they bestrode were fairly mated, quite +capable of maintaining their gait for several hours, and needing little +urging. The night air was cool, and a rather stiff breeze swept over +the wide extent of desert, occasionally hurling spits of loosened sand +into their faces, and causing them to ride with lowered heads. The +night gloom enveloped them completely; their strained eyes were +scarcely able to trace the dim outlines of the ridge road, but the +horses were desert broke, and held closely to the beaten track, Before +they arrived at the lone cottonwood, Westcott's pony, which carried by +far the heavier load, began to show signs of fatigue. They drew up +here, and the marshal dismounted, searching about blindly in the +darkness. + +"Too damn dark," he said, coming back, and catching up his rein. "A +cat couldn't find anything there; but there's firm sand. Wait a +minute; I've got a pocket compass." + +He struck a match, sheltering the sputtering blaze with one hand. The +light illuminated his face for an instant, and then went out, leaving +the night blacker than before. + +"That's south," he announced, snapping the compass-case shut, "and this +blame wind is southeast; that ought to keep us fairly straight." + +"The ponies will do that; they'll keep where the travelling is good. +Shift this bag back of your saddle, Dan. You ride lighter, and my +horse is beginning to pant already; that will ease him a few pounds." + +The transfer was made, and the two men rode out into the rear desert, +urging their animals forward, trusting largely to their natural +instinct for guidance. They would follow the hard sand, and before +long the scent of water would as certainly lead them directly toward +the spring. With reins dangling and bodies crouched to escape the +blast of the sharp wind, neither spoke as they plunged through the +gloom which circled about them like a black wall. + +Yet it was not long until dawn began to turn the desert grey, gradually +revealing its forlorn desolation. Westcott lifted his head, and gazed +about with wearied eyes, smarting still from the whipping of the +sand-grit. On every side stretched away a scene of utter desolation, +unrelieved by either shrub or tree--an apparently endless ocean of +sand, in places levelled by the wind, and elsewhere piled into +fantastic heaps. There were no landmarks, nothing on which the mind +could concentrate--just sand, barren, shapeless, ever-changing form, +stretching to the far horizons. The breeze slackened somewhat as the +sun reddened the east, and the ponies threw up their heads and whinnied +slightly, increasing their speed. Westcott saw the marshal arouse +himself, straighten in the saddle, and stare about, his eyes still dull +and heavy. + +"One hell of a view, Jim," he said disgustedly, "but I reckon we can't +be a great ways from that spring. We've been ridin' right smart." + +"It's not far ahead; the ponies sniff water. Did you ever see anything +more dismal and desolate?" + +"Blamed if I see how even a Mex can run cattle through here." + +"They know the trails, and the water-holes--ah! there's a bunch o' +green ahead; that'll likely be Badger Springs." + +Assured they were beyond pursuit, the two unsaddled, and turned the +ponies out to crop the few handfuls of wire grass which the sweet water +bubbling up from a slight depression had coaxed into stunted growth. +There was no wood to be had, although they found evidence of several +camp-fires, and consequently they were obliged to content themselves +with what they could find eatable in their bag. It was hardly a +satisfying meal, and their surroundings did not tend toward a joyful +spirit. Except for a few sentences neither spoke, until Brennan, +having partially satisfied his appetite, produced the note given him by +Miss La Rue, and deliberately slashed open the sealed envelope. + +"In the name of the law," he said grimly, hauling out the enclosure. +"Now we'll see what's the row. Holy smoke! it's in Spanish! Here, +Jim, do you read that lingo?" + +"I know words here and there," and Westcott bent over the paper, his +brows wrinkling. "Let's see, it's not quite clear, but the sense is +that Mendez will be paid a thousand dollars for something--I can't make +out what, only it has to do with prisoners. Lacy says he'll be there +to confer with him some time to-night." + +"Where? At Sunken Valley?" + +"The place is not mentioned." + +"Lacy write it?" + +"Yes; at least he signed it; there's a message there about cattle, too, +but I can't quite make it out." + +"Well, we don't care about that. If Lacy aims to meet Mendez to-night, +he ought to be along here soon after nightfall. How'd it do to hide in +these sand-hills, and wait?" + +"We can do that, Dan, if we don't hit any trail," said Westcott, +leaning over, his hand on the other's knee, "but if we can get there +earlier, I'd rather not waste time. There's no knowing what a devil +like Mendez may do. Let's take a scout around anyhow." + +They started, the one going east, the other west, and made a semicircle +until they met, a hundred yards or so, south of the spring, having +found nothing. Again they circled out, ploughing their way through the +sand, and all at once Brennan lifted his hand into the air and called. +Westcott hurried over to where he stood motionless, staring down at the +track of a wagon-wheel. It had slid along a slight declivity, and left +a mark so deep as not yet to be obliterated. They traced it for thirty +feet before it entirely disappeared. + +"Still goin' south," affirmed the marshal, gazing in that direction. +"Don't look like there's nothin' out there, but we might try--what do +you say?" + +"I vote we keep moving; that wagon is bound to leave a trail here and +there, and so long as we get the general direction, we can't go far +wrong." + +"I reckon you're right. Come on then; let's saddle up." + +It was a blind trail, and progress was slow. The men separated, riding +back and forth, leaning forward in the saddles, scanning the sand for +the slightest sign. Again and again they were encouraged by some +discovery which proved they were on the right track--the clear print of +a horse's hoof; a bit of greasy paper which might have been tied round +a lunch, and thrown away; impresses in the sand which bore resemblance +to a man's footprints; a tin can, newly opened, and an emptied +tobacco-pouch. Twice they encountered an undoubted wheel mark, and +once traces of the whole four wheels were plainly visible. These could +be followed easily for nearly a quarter of a mile, but then as quickly +vanished as the wagon came again to an outcropping of rock. Yet this +was assured--the outfit had headed steadily southward. + +This was desperately slow work, and beyond that ridge of rock they +discovered no other evidence. An hour passed, and not the slightest +sign gave encouragement. Could the wagon have turned in some other +direction? In the shadow of a sand-dune they halted finally to discuss +the situation. Should they go on? Or explore further to the east and +west? Might it not even be better to retrace their way to the springs, +and wait the coming of Lacy? All in front of them the vast sand plain +stretched out, almost as level as a floor. So far as the eye would +carry there was no visible sign of any depression or change in +conformity. Certainly there was no valley in that direction. Beyond +this dune, in whose shelter they stood, there was nothing on which the +gaze could rest; all was utter desolation, apparently endless. + +Brennan was for turning back, arguing the uselessness of going further, +and the necessity of water for the ponies. + +"Come on, Jim," he urged. "Be sensible; we've lost the trail, and +that's no fault o' ours. An Apache Indian couldn't trace a herd o' +steers through this sand. And look ahead thar! It's worse, an' more +of it. I'm for stalking Lacy at the springs." He stopped suddenly, +staring southward as though he had seen a vision. "Holy smoke! What's +that? By God! It's a wagon, Jim; an' it come right up out of the +earth. There wasn't no wagon there a second ago." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX: ON THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF + +For a moment both men suspected that what they looked upon was a +mirage--its actual existence there in that place seemed impossible. +Yet there was no disputing the fact, that yonder in the very midst of +that desolation of sand, a wagon drawn by straining horses was slowly +moving directly toward them. Westcott was first to grasp the truth, +hastily jerking the marshal back to where the tired ponies stood with +drooping heads behind the protection of the dune. + +"It's the same outfit coming back," he explained. "The Sunken Valley +must be out there--just a hole in the surface of the desert--and that's +how that wagon popped up out of the earth the way it did. I couldn't +believe my eyes." + +"Nor me neither," and the marshal drew one of his guns, and held it +dangling in his hand. "I'm a bit flustered yet, but I reckon that's +about the truth. Get them ponies round a bit more, an' we'll wait and +see what's behind that canvas." + +The distance must have been farther than it seemed, or else the +travelling difficult, for it was some time before the heavy wagon and +straining team drew near enough for the two watchers to determine +definitely the character of the outfit. Westcott lay outstretched on +the far side of the dune, his hat beside him, and his eyes barely able +to peer over the summit, ready to report observations to the marshal +crouched below. + +"It's Moore's team, all right," he whispered back, "and Matt is driving +them. There isn't any one else on the seat, so I guess he must be +alone." + +"We can't be sure of that," returned Brennan, wise in guarding against +surprises. "There was another fellow with him on the out trip, and he +might be lying down back in the wagon. We'd better both of us hold 'em +up. I can hear the creak of the wheels now, so maybe you best slide +down. Is the outfit loaded?" + +"Travelling light, I should say," and Westcott, after one more glance, +crept down the sand-heap and joined the waiting man below. Both stood +intent and ready, revolvers drawn, listening. The heavy wheels grated +in the sand, the driver whistling to while away the dreary pull and the +horses breathing heavily. Moore pulled them up with a jerk, as two +figures leaped into view, his whistle coming to an abrupt pause. + +"Hell's fire!" was all he said, staring dumbly down into Brennan's face +over the front wheel. "Where in Sam Hill did you come from?" + +"I'm the one to ask questions, son," returned the little marshal, the +vicious blue barrel shining in the sunlight, "and the smarter you +answer, the less reason I shall have to hurt yer. Don't reach for that +gun! Are you travelling alone?" + +Moore nodded, his hands up, but still grasping the reins. + +"Then climb down over the wheel. Jim, take a look under that canvas; +Moore, here, is generally a genial sort o' liar, and we'd better be +sure. All right--hey? Then dismount, Matt, and be quick about it. +Now unbuckle that belt, and hand the whole outfit over to Westcott; +then we'll talk business together." + +He shoved his own weapon back into its holster, and faced the prisoner, +who had recovered from his first shock of surprise, and whose +pugnacious temper was beginning to assert itself. Brennan read this in +the man's sulky, defiant glance, and his lips smiled grimly. + +"Getting bullish, are you, Matt?" he said, rather softly. "Goin' ter +keep a close tongue in your head; so that's the game? Well, I +wouldn't, son, if I was you. Now, see here, Moore," and the voice +perceptibly hardened, and the marshal's eyes were like flints. "You +know me, I reckon, an' that I ain't much on boys' play. You never +heard tell o' my hittin' anybody just fer fun, did yer?" + +There was no answer. + +"An' yer never heard no one say," went on Brennan, "that I was afraid +ter hit when I needed to. I reckon also yer know what sorter man Jim +Westcott is. Now the two ov us ain't out here in this damned Shoshone +desert fer the fun of it--not by a jugful. Get that fact into yer +head, son, an' maybe it'll bring yer some sense. Do yer get me?" + +"Yes," sullenly and reluctantly. "But yer haven't got nuthin' on me." + +"Oh, haven't I? Well, you shut up like a clam, and find out what I've +got. You drove a young woman out here from Haskell night afore last, +for Bill Lacy. Ain't abduction no crime? An' that's only one count. +I've had an eye on you for more'n six months, an' Lacy's been makin' a +damn cat's-paw out of you all that time. Well, Lacy is playin' his +last hand right now, an' I've got the cards." The marshal paused, +fully aware that he had struck home, then added quietly: "It allers +struck me, Matt, that naturally you was a pretty decent fellow, but had +drifted in with a bad crowd. I'm offering you now a chance to get +straight again." He threw back his coat and exhibited his star. "Yer +see, I ain't just talkin' ter yer as Dan Brennan--I'm the law." + +The boy, for he was scarcely more than that in years, shuffled his feet +uneasily, and his eyes wandered from Brennan to Westcott. The look of +sullen defiance had vanished. + +"Whar is Lacy?" he asked. + +"Back in town, but he will be at Badger Springs about dark. We've got +him corralled this time. Yer better climb inter the band-wagon, son; +it's the last call." + +"Wotcher wanter ask?" + +"Who was with you the out-trip, along with Miss Donovan?" + +"Joe Sikes." + +"And yer left him back there, guarding the girl?" + +"He stayed; them was the orders, while I was to bring back the team; +but I reckon he won't need to do no guardin' to speak of, fer we run +inter a bunch o' fellows." + +"Mendez's outfit?" + +"You got the right dope, marshal, so I reckon I ain't spillin' no +beans. It was the Mex all right, an' some o' his bunch." + +"And Lacy didn't know they were there?" + +"I reckon not; leastways he never said so, an' they'd only come a few +days." + +"How many are they?" + +"Maybe a dozen; I don't just know. I saw eight, or ten, round the +bunk-house, besides ol' Mendez an' that dude lieutenant of his, Juan +Cateras. I ain't got no use fer that duck; I allers did want ter soak +him. Then ther' was others out with the cow herd." + +"They had a bunch o' cattle?" + +"Maybe three hundred head, run in from Arizona. I heard that much, but +I don't talk their lingo." + +"What was done with the young lady?" + +Moore spat vindictively into the sand, digging a hole with his heel. +He had talked already more than he intended, but what was the +difference? + +"Cateras took her," he admitted, "but I don't know whar. I rather +liked that girl; she's got a hell ov a lot o' sand, an' never put up a +whimper. I tried ter find out whar she was, but nobody'd tell me. +Then I had ter pull out." + +Westcott interjected a question. + +"Did you learn if there was any other prisoner there?" + +"Not that I heard of. Who do yer mean?" + +"A man named Cavendish." + +"No, I reckon not." He turned back to the marshal. + +"What are you guys goin' ter do with me?" + +"That depends, Matt. When a lad is straight with me, I generally play +square with him. All this took place in Sunken Valley?" + +"Yep; whar'd you hear it called that?" + +"Oh, I know more'n some ov you boys think I do. That name's been +floatin' 'bout fer some time. I've even got the spot located--it's +straight south thar a ways. But you've been in it, an' I never have. +Here's whar you can serve the law, an' so get out of yer own trouble if +yer so minded. It don't make a hell ov a lot o' difference to me +whether yer speak up or not, but it's liable to ter you. What do yer +say?" + +"Fire away; I reckon I'm up against it anyhow." + +"What's the valley like, an' how do you get into it?" + +"Well, I'd say it was just a sort o' sink in the desert, a kinder +freak. Anyhow, I never saw nuthin' like it afore. You'd never know it +was thar a hundred yards away; it kinder scares me sometimes when I +come up to it thro' all this sand. The walls is solid rock, almost +straight up an' down, but thar's a considerable stream flowin' down +thar that just bursts out a hole in the rock, an' plenty o' grass fer +quite a bunch of steers." + +"How do they get down into it?" + +"'Long a windin' trail on the west side. It used to be mighty rough, I +reckon, an' only good fer hikers, but they fixed it up so they can +drive cattle down, an' even a wagon if yer take it easy." + +"Mendez fixed it?" + +"No; I heerd that Bill Lacy sorter handled that job. The Mex can't do +nuthin' but steal." + +"Then Lacy is the go-between? He sells the cattle?" + +"Sure; I s'posed yer knew that. He ships them east from Bolton +Junction, an' pretends they come from his ranch over on Clear Water. +The Mexicans drive 'em in that way, an' they're all branded 'fore they +leave the valley. It's a cinch." + +The marshal's eyes brightened; he was gaining the information he most +desired. + +"And there is no other way to the bottom except along this trail?" + +"That's 'bout all." + +"Well, could Jim and I make it--say after dark?" + +Moore laughed, the reckless boy in him again uppermost. + +"Mebbe so; but I reckon ye'd be dead when yer got thar. Thar's allers +two Mexes on guard when Mendez is in the valley. He ain't takin' no +chances o' gettin' caught that way." + +"Where are they?" + +"Just below the top, whar they kin see out over the desert. Hell, yer +couldn't get within half a mile an' not be spotted. It's bull luck yer +run inter me." + +Brennan and Westcott looked at each other, both uncertain as to the +next step. What were they to do with their prisoner? And how could +they proceed toward effecting the rescue of the helpless girl? It was +a problem not easy to solve, if what Moore told them was true. The +latter shuffled his feet in the sand, lifted his eyes shrewdly, and +studied the faces of his captors. He was figuring his own chance. + +"You fellows want ter get down inter the valley?" he asked at last. + +"Yes," and Brennan turned again quickly, "if it can be done. Of course +thar's only two of us, an' it would be sort o' foolish tryin' ter fight +a way through, even ag'in' Mexicans. Fifteen ter two is some odds, but +'tain't in my nature, or Jim's here, ter turn round an' leave that girl +in the hands o' them cusses--is it, Jim?" + +"I never will," replied Westcott earnestly. "Not if I have to tackle +the whole outfit alone." + +"You won't never have to do that. What's the idea, Moore?" + +"Oh, I was just thinkin'," he answered, still uncertain. "She's a good +fellow, all right, an' I wouldn't mind givin' her a hand myself, +pervidin' you men do the square thing. If I show yer a way, what is +thar in it fer me?" + +Brennan stiffened, his features expressing nothing. + +"What do yer mean? I'm an officer o' the law?" + +"I know it; I ain't asking yer ter make no promise. But yer word will +go a hell ov a ways if this ever gets in court. + +"If I help yer I've got ter be protected frum Bill Lacy. He'd kill me +as quick as he'd look at me. Then I'd want yer ter tell the judge how +it all happened. If yer got the cards stacked, an' I reckon yer have, +I ain't big enough fool to try an' play no hand against 'em. But I +want ter know what's goin' ter happen ter me. You don't need ter +promise nuthin'; only say yer'll give me a show. I know ye're square, +Dan Brennan, an' whatever yer say goes." + +The marshal stuck out his hand. + +"That's the gospel truth, Matt," he said gravely, "an' I'm with yer +till the cows come home. What is it you know?" + +"Well," with a quick breath as he took the plunge, "it's like this, +marshal; there is just one place out yonder," and he waved his hand to +indicate the direction, "on the east rim o' the valley, where yer might +get down. Ye'd have ter hang on, tooth an' toe-nail; but both of yer +are mountain men, an' I reckon yer could make the trip if yer took it +careful an' slow like. Leastwise that's the one chance, an' I don't +believe thar's another white critter who even knows thar is such a +trail." + +"Have you ever been down?" + +"Wunst, an' that was enough fer me," he confessed, drawling his words. +"Yer see it was this a-way. One time I was out there in that hell hole +plum' alone fer a whole week, just a waitin' fer Mendez ter show up so +I could ride into Haskell and tell Lacy he'd come. It was so damn +lonesome I explored every nook an' cranny between them rocks, an' one +day, lyin' out in front o' ther bunk-house, I happened to trace this +ol' trail. I got a notion to give it a trial, an' I did that same +afternoon. I got down all right, but it was no place fer a lady, +believe me, an' I reckon no white man ever made it afore." + +"It had been used once?" + +"There was some signs made me think so; Injuns, I reckon, an' a long +while ago." + +Westcott asked: "How can we get there safely? Can you guide us?" + +Moore swept his eyes over the dull range of sand, expectorated +thoughtfully, and rammed his hands deep into his trouser-pockets. He +was slow about answering, but the two men waited motionless. + +"If it was me," he said finally. "I'd take it on foot. It'll be a +jaunt ov near on to three miles, unless yer want ter risk bein' seen by +them Mexes on the main trail. You couldn't go straight, but would have +ter circle out an' travel mostly behind that ridge o' sand thar to the +left. Goin' that a-way nobody's likely ter get sight o' yer on foot. +You couldn't take no hoss, though. Here'd be my plan; lead this yere +outfit o' mine an' your ponies back inter them sand dunes whar nobody +ever goes. They're tired 'nough ter stand, an' there ain't anything +fer 'em to graze on. Then we kin hoof it over ter the place I'm +tellin' yer about, an' yer kin sorter size it up fer yerselves. That's +fair, ain't it?" + +They went at it with a will, glad to have something clearly defined +before them, Brennan in his slow, efficient way, but Westcott, eager +and hopeful, spurred on by his memory of the girl, whose rescue was the +sole object which had brought him there. The team was driven into the +security of the sand drifts and unhitched. The saddles were taken from +the backs of the ponies, and what grain Moore had in the wagon was +carefully apportioned among the four animals. Satisfied these would +not stray, the men looked carefully to their supply of ammunition and +set forth on their tramp. + +This proved a harder journey than either Brennan or Westcott had +anticipated, for Moore led off briskly, taking a wide circle, until a +considerable ridge concealed their movements from the south. The sand +was loose, and in places they sank deeply, their feet sliding back and +retarding progress. All three were breathing heavily from the exertion +when, under protection of the ridge, they found better walking. + +Even here, however, the way was treacherous and deceiving, yet they +pressed forward steadily, following the twists and turns of the pile of +sand on their right. The distance seemed more than three miles, but at +last Moore turned sharply and plunged into what resembled a narrow +ravine through the ridge. Here they struggled knee deep in the sand, +but finally emerged on the very rim overlooking the valley. + +So perfectly was it concealed they were within ten feet of the edge +before the men, their heads bent in the strenuous effort to advance, +even realised its immediate presence. They halted instantly, +awestruck, and startled into silence by the wonder of that scene +outspread below. Moore grinned as he noted the surprise depicted on +their faces, and waved his hand. + +"Yer better lie down an' crawl up ter the edge," he advised. "Some +hole, ain't it?" + +"I should say so," and Westcott dropped to his knees. "I never dreamed +of such a place. Why it looks like a glimpse into heaven from this +sand. Dan, ain't this an eye-opener?" + +"It sure is," and the marshal crept cautiously forward. "Only it's +devils who've got possession. Look at them cattle up at the further +end; they don't look no bigger than sheep, but there's quite a bunch of +'em. What's that down below, Matt? Houses, by Jingo! Well, don't +that beat hell?--all the comforts of home." + +"Two big cabins," explained Moore, rather proud of his knowledge. +"Carted the logs in from ol' Baldy, more'n forty miles. One is the +bunk-house; the other is whar Mendez stops when the ol' cuss is yere. +Creep up a bit an' I'll show yer how the trail runs. Don't be afeerd; +nobody kin see yer from down below." + +"All right, son, where is it?" + +"It starts at the foot o' that boulder," indicating with his finger, +"an' goes along the shelf clear to the end; then thar's a drop ov maybe +five feet to that outcroppin' o' rock just below. It's wider than it +looks to be from yere. After that yer can trace it quite a spell with +yer eyes, kinder sidlin' ter the left, till yer come to that dead root +ov a cedar. Then thar's a gap or two that ain't over easy, an' a slide +down ter another shelf. Yer can't miss it, cause there's no other way +ter go." + +"And what's at the bottom?" + +"Them huts, an' the mouth of a damn big cave just behind 'em. I reckon +it's in the cave they've got the gal; there's places there they kin +shut up, but I don't know what they was ever made fer. I asked Lacy +wunst, but he only laughed." + +The two men lay flat, staring down. It was almost a sheer wall, and +the very thought of climbing along the almost impassable path pointed +out by Moore made Westcott dizzy. He had clambered along the ragged +crags of many a mountain in search for gold, but the necessity of +finding blindly in the dark that obscure and perilous passage brought +with it a sensation of horror which he had to fight in order to +conquer. It was such a sheer, precipitous drop, a path--if path it +could be called--so thickly studded with danger the mind actually +recoiled in contemplation. + +"You have really been down there, Moore?" he questioned, half +unbelieving. + +"Oh, I made it all right," boastfully. "But it's no picnic. I'd hate +like hell to risk it at night, but that's the only chance you fellows +will have to git down. It would be like trap-shootin' for them Mexes +if you tried it now." + +They lay there for some time talking to each other, and staring down at +the strange scene so far beneath them, and which appeared almost like a +painted picture within its dark frame of towering rocks and wide +expanse of sand. Except for the rather restless herd of cattle there +was little movement perceptible--a herder or two could be distinguished +riding here and there on some duty; there was a small horse corral a +short distance to their right, with something like a dozen ponies +confined within, and a bunch of saddles piled outside the fence. Once +a man came out of the bunk-house and went down to the stream for a +bucket of water, returning leisurely. He wore the braided jacket and +high, wide-brimmed hat of the Mexican peon, and spurs glittered on his +boot-heels. Beyond this the cabins below gave no sign of occupancy. +Moore pointed out to them the main trail leading across the valley and +winding up along the front of the opposite wall. They could trace it a +large part of the way, but it disappeared entirely as it approached the +summit. + +The three men, wearied with looking, and knowing there was nothing more +to do, except wait for night, crept back into the sand hollow and +nibbled away at the few eatables brought with them in their pockets. +Brennan alone seemed cheerful and talkative--Moore had liberally +divided with him his stock of chewing-tobacco. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI: WITH FORCE OF ARMS + +They were still sitting there cross-legged in the sand when the silence +was suddenly punctuated by the sharp report of a revolver. The sound +barely reached their ears, yet it undoubtedly came from below, and all +three were upon their feet, when a second shot decided the matter. + +Westcott was first at the rim, staring eagerly downward. It was +growing dusk down there in the depths, yet was still light enough to +enable him to perceive movement, and the outlines of the cabins. For a +moment all he noticed was a man lying on the ground in front of the +small hut, but almost immediately men began to swarm out through the +door of the bunk-house, and a horseman came spurring from the field +beyond. + +The men were armed, several with guns in their hands; all with +revolvers buckled at the waist, and they bunched there, just outside +the door, evidently startled, but not knowing which way to turn. The +figure on the ground lifted itself partly, and the fellow must have +called to the others, although no sound of a voice attained the summit +of the cliff, for the whole gang rushed in that direction, and +clustered about, gesticulating excitedly. + +An occasional Spanish oath exploded from the mass with sufficient +vehemence to reach the strained ears above, and the watchers were able +to perceive the fellows lift the fallen man to his feet, and untie his +hands, which were apparently secured behind his back. He must have +been wounded also, for one sleeve was hastily rolled up, and water +brought from the stream, in which it was bathed. Not until this had +been attended to did the crowd fall away, sufficiently to permit the +fellow himself to be distinctly seen. Moore's hand closed convulsively +on the marshal's arm. + +"It's ol' Mendez, as I'm a livin' sinner,", he announced hoarsely. +"An' somebody's plunked him. What'd yer make o' that?" + +Brennan never removed his gaze from the scene below, but his face was +tense with interest. + +"Blamed if I know; might be a mere row--hold on, there! Whoever did it +is in that cabin; watch what they're up to, now." + +The three hung there scanning every movement of those below, too +intently interested to talk, yet unable for some time to determine +clearly what was impending. Occasionally the sound of a voice reached +them, shouting orders in Spanish, and men came and went in obedience to +the commands. More guns were brought forth from the bunk-house, and +distributed; the single horseman rode swiftly up the valley, and a +half-dozen of the fellows lugged a heavy timber up from the corral, and +dropped it on the ground in front of the smaller cabin. Mendez, his +arm in a sling, passed from group to group, profanely busy, snapping +out orders. + +"They are going to break in the door with that log!" muttered Westcott +between his clenched teeth. "That white-head down there is boiling +with rage, and whoever the poor devil, or devils, may be, they'll have +to fight." + +"Yes, but who are they?" and Brennan sat up. "The whole gang must be +outside there; I counted fourteen. Then, did you notice? Mendez had +his hands bound behind his back. He couldn't even get up until those +fellows untied him. That's what puzzles me." + +"It would take more than one to do that job. Maybe we'll find out +now--he's pounding with a revolver butt on the front door." + +They listened breathlessly, hanging recklessly over the rim of the +chasm, and staring at that strange scene below, but the man's words +only reached them broken and detached. They got enough, however, to +realise that he demanded the unbarring of the door, and that he both +threatened and promised protection to whoever was within. It was the +language he employed that aroused Westcott. + +"Did you hear that?" he asked shortly. "The man spoke English. +Whoever's in there doesn't understand Spanish. Were any Americans down +there when you left, Moore?" + +"Joe Sikes, and a fellow they call 'Shorty,' but they're both outside; +that was Joe who bound up ol' Mendez's arm, an' Shorty was helpin' +bring up the log." + +The eyes of Brennan and Westcott met understandingly. + +"Yer don't suppose that girl----" + +"Aye, but I do," and Westcott's voice proved his conviction. "There's +nothing too nervy for her to tackle if it needed to be done. But she +never could have corralled Mendez alone." + +"Then there must be another along with her--that fellow yer told me +about likely." + +"Fred Cavendish! By Jove, it would be like him. Say, boys, I'm going +down and take a hand in this game." + +The marshal gripped him. + +"Not yet, Jim! It ain't dark enough. Wait a bit more an' I'm with +yer, old man. It'll be blacker than hell down there in fifteen +minutes, an' then we'll have some chance. They'd pot us now sure afore +we got as far as that cedar. What is the gang up to now, Matt?" + +"They're a goin' ter bust in the door," and Moore craned his head +farther out over the edge in eagerness to see. "I reckon they didn't +git no answer that pleased 'em. See ol' Mendez hoppin' about! Lord! +he's mad 'nough to eat nails. Thar comes the log--say, they hit that +some thump; thar ain't no wood that's goin' ter stand agin them blows +long. Do yer hear?" + +They did; the dull reverberation as the log butt crashed against the +closed door was plainly audible. Once, twice, three times it struck, +giving forth at last the sharper crackling of splintered wood. They +could see little now distinctly--only the dim outlines of the men's +figures, Mendez shouting and gesticulating, the fellows grasping the +rough battering-ram, a group of others on either side the door, +evidently gathered for a rush the moment the latter gave way. + +"My God!" cried Westcott, struggling to restrain himself. "Suppose I +take a crack at them!" + +Brennan caught the hand tugging at the half-drawn revolver. + +"Are you mad, man? You couldn't even hit the house at that distance. +Holy smoke! There she goes!" + +The door crashed in; there was a fusillade of shots, the spits of fire +cleaving the dusk, and throwing the figures of the men into sudden bold +relief. The log wielders sprang aside, and the others leaped forward, +yelling wildly and plunging in through the broken doorway. An instant +later three muffled reports rang out from the interior--one deep and +booming, the others sharper, more resonant--and the invaders tumbled +backward into the open, seeking shelter. Westcott was erect, Brennan +on hands and knees. + +"Damn me!" ejaculated the latter, his excitement conquering restraint. +"Whoever they are, Jim, they're givin' ol' Mendez his belly full. Did +yer hear them shots? There's sure two of 'em in thar--one's got a +shotgun an' the other a revolver. I'll bet yer they punctuated some o' +those lads. Lord! They come out like rats." + +Westcott's teeth gripped. + +"I'm going down," he said grimly, "if I have to go alone." + +Brennan scrambled to his feet. + +"Just a second, Jim, an' I'm with yer. Moore, get up yere. Now, what +do yer say? Can we count you in on this shindig?" + +"Go down thar with yer?" + +"Sure! Y're a man, ain't yer? If yer say y're game, I'll play +square--otherwise we'll see to your case afore we start. I don't leave +yer up yere to play no tricks--now which is it?" + +Moore stared over the edge into the black depths. + +"Yer want me to show you the way?" + +"Yer say you've made the trip wunst. If yer have, yer kin do it again. +I'm askin' yer fer the last time." + +The boy shivered, but his jaw set. + +"I don't give a damn fer you, Dan Brennan," he returned half angrily, +"but I reckon that might be the girl down thar, an' I'll risk it fer +her." + +"You'll go then?" + +"Sure; didn't I just tell you so?" + +Brennan wheeled about. + +"Give him his gun, Jim, and the belt," he commanded briefly. "I don't +send no man into a fracas like this unless he's heeled. Leave yer +coats here, an' take it slow. Both of yer ready?" + +Not until his dying day will Westcott ever forget the moment he hung +dangling over the edge of that pit, following Moore who had +disappeared, and felt gingerly in the darkness for the narrow rock +ledge below. The young miner possessed imagination, and could not +drive from memory the mental picture of those depths beneath; the +horror was like a nightmare, and yet the one dominant thought was not +of an awful death, of falling headlong, to be crushed shapeless +hundreds of feet below. This dread was there, an intense agony at +first, but beyond it arose the more important thought of what would +become of her if he failed to attain the bottom of that cliff alive. +Yet this was the very thing which steadied him, and brought back his +courage. + +At best they could only creep, feeling a way blindly from crag to crag, +clinging desperately to every projection, never venturing even the +slightest movement until either hand or loot found solid support. +Moore led, his boyish recklessness and knowledge of the way, giving him +an advantage. Westcott followed, keeping as close as possible, +endeavouring to shape his own efforts in accordance with the dimly +outlined form below; while Brennan, short-legged and stout, probably +had the hardest task of all in bringing up the rear. + +No one spoke, except as occasionally Moore sent back a brief whisper of +warning at some spot of unusual danger, but they could hear each +other's laboured breathing, the brushing of their clothing against the +surface of the rock, the scraping of their feet, and occasionally the +faint tinkle of a small stone, dislodged by their passage and striking +far below. There was nothing but intense blackness down there--a +hideous chasm of death clutching at them; the houses, the men, the +whole valley was completely swallowed in the night. + +Above it all they clung to the almost smooth face of the cliff, +gripping for support at every crevice, the rock under them barely wide +enough to yield purchase to their feet. Twice Westcott had to let go +entirely, trusting to a ledge below to stop his fail; once he travelled +a yard, or more, dangling on his hands over the abyss, his feet feeling +for the support beyond; and several times he paused to assist the +shorter-legged marshal down to a lower level. Their progress was that +of the snail, yet every inch of the way they played with death. + +Now and then voices shouted out of the gloom beneath them, and they +hung motionless to listen. The speech was Spanish garnished with +oaths, its meaning not altogether clear. They could distinguish +Mendez's harsh croak easily among the others. + +"What's he saying, Moore?" whispered Westcott to the black shape just +below. + +"Something 'bout the log. I don't just make it, but I reckon they aim +now to batter in the winder." + +"Well, go on," passed down the marshal gruffly. "What in Sam Hill are +yer holdin' us up yere for? I ain't got more'n two inches ter stand +on." + +Fifty feet below, just as Moore rounded the dead cedar, the guns began +again, the spits of red flame lighting up the outlines of the cabin, +and the dark figures of men. It was as though they looked down into +the pit, watching the brewing of some sport of demons--the movements +below them weird, grotesque--rendered horrible by those sudden glares +of light. This firing was all from without, and was unanswered; no +boom of shotgun replied, no muffled crack of revolver. Yet it must +have been for a purpose, for the men crouching against the cliff, their +faces showing ghastly in the flashes of powder, were able to perceive a +massing of figures below. Then the shots ceased, and the butt of the +great log crashed against something with the force of a catapult, and a +yell rolled up through the night. + +At last Moore stopped, and waited until Westcott was near enough for +him to whisper in the other's ear. + +"There's a drop yere, 'bout ten er twelve feet, I reckon; an' then just +a slope to ther bottom. Don't make no more noise then yer have to, an' +give me a chance ter git out of ther way afore yer let go." + +Westcott passed the word back across his shoulder to Brennan who was +panting heavily, and, watched, as best he could on hands and knees, +while Moore lowered himself at arm's length over the narrow rock ledge. +The boy loosened his grip, but landed almost noiselessly. Westcott, +peering over, could see nothing; there was beneath only impenetrable +blackness. Silently he also dropped and his feet struck earth, sloping +rapidly downward. Hardly had he advanced a yard, when the little +marshal struck the dirt, with a force that made him grunt audibly. At +the foot of this pile of debris, Moore waited for them, the night so +dark down there in the depths, Westcott's outstretched hand touched the +fellow before he was assured of his presence. + +The Mexicans were still; whatever deviltry they were up to, it was +being carried on now in silence; the only sound was a muffled scraping. +Brennan yet struggled for breath, but was eager for action. He shoved +his head forward, listening. + +"What do yer make o' that noise?" he asked, his words scarcely audible. + +"I heerd it afore yer come up," returned Moore. "'Tain't nuthin' +regular. I figure the Mex are goin' in through that winder they +busted. That sound's their boots scaling the wall." + +"Ever been inside?" + +"Wunst, ter take some papers ter Lacy." + +"Well, what's it like? For God's sake speak up--there's goin' ter be +hell to pay in a minute." + +"Thar's two rooms; ther outside door an' winder are in the front one, +which is the biggest. The other is whar Mendez sleeps, an' thar's a +door between 'em." + +"No windows in the rear room?" + +"None I ever see." + +"And just the one door; what sort o' partition?" + +"Just plain log, I reckon." + +"That's all right, Jim," and Westcott felt the marshal's fingers grasp +his arm. "I got it sized up proper. Whoever them folks be, they've +barricaded inter that back room. Likely they've got a dead range on +the front door, an' them Mexes have had all they want tryin' to get to +'em in that way. So now they're crawlin' in through the window. +There'll be some hellabaloo in there presently to my notion, an' I want +ter be thar ter see the curtain go up. Wharabouts are we, Matt?" + +"Back o' the bunk-house. Whar do yer want ter go? I kin travel 'round +yere with my eyes shut." + +"The front o' Mendez's cabin," said the marshal shortly. "Better take +the other side; if that door is down we'll take those fellows in the +rear afore they know what's happening." He chuckled grimly. "We've +sure played in luck so far, boys; go easy now, and draw yer guns." + +They were half-way along the side wall when the firing began--but it +was not the Mexicans this time who began it. The shotgun barked; there +was the sound of a falling body; two revolver shots and then the sharp +ping of a Winchester. Brennan leaped past the boy ahead, and rounded +the corner. A Mexican stood directly in front of the shattered door +peering in, a rifle yet smoking in his hands. With one swift blow of a +revolver butt the marshal dropped him in his tracks, the fellow rolling +off the steps onto the ground. With outstretched hands he stopped the +others, holding them back out of any possible view from within. + +"Quick now, before that bunch inside gets wise to what's up. We've got +'em cornered. You, Matt, strip the jacket off that Mex, an' get his +hat; bunch 'em up together, and set a match to 'em. That's the stuff! +Now, the minute they blaze throw 'em in through that doorway. Come on, +Westcott, be ready to jump." + +The hat was straw, and the bundle of blazing material landed almost in +the centre of the floor, lighting up the whole interior. Almost before +it struck, the three men, revolvers gleaming in their hands, had leaped +across the shattered door, and confronted the startled band huddled in +one corner. Brennan wasted no time, his eyes sweeping over the array +of faces, revealed by the blaze of fire on the floor. + +"Hands up, my beauties--every mother's son of yer. Yes, I mean you, +yer human catapiller. Don't waste any time about it; I'm the caller +fer this dance. Put 'em up higher, less yer want ter commit suicide. +Now drop them rifles on the floor--gently, friends, gently. Matt, +frisk 'em and see what other weapons they carry. Ever see nicer bunch +o' lambs, Jim?" His lips smiling, but with an ugly look to his +gleaming teeth, and steady eyes. "Why they'd eat outer yer hand. +Which one of yer is Mendez?" + +"He dead, _señor_," one fellow managed to answer in broken English. +"That heem lie dar." + +"Well, that's some comfort," but without glancing about. "Now kick the +guns over this way, Matt, and touch a match to the lamp on that shelf +yonder; and, Jim, perhaps you better stamp out the fire; we'll not need +it any more. Great Scott! What's this?" + +It was Miss Donovan, her dress torn, her hair dishevelled, a revolver +still clasped in her hand, half levelled as though she yet doubted her +realisation of what had occurred. She emerged from the blackness of +the rear room, advanced a step and stood there hesitating, her +wide-open eyes gazing about in bewilderment on the strange scene +revealed by the glow of the lamp. That searching, pathetic glance +swept from face to face about the motionless circle--the cowed Mexican +prisoners with uplifted hands backed against the wall; the three dead +bodies huddled on the floor; Moore, with the slowly expiring match yet +smoking in his fingers; the little marshal, erect, a revolver poised in +either hand, his face set and stern. Then she saw Westcott, and her +whole expression changed. An instant their eyes met; then the revolver +fell to the floor unnoticed, and the girl sprang toward him, both hands +outstretched. + +"You!" she cried, utterly giving way, forgetful of all else except the +sense of relief the recognition brought her. "You! Oh! Now I know it +is all right! I was so sure you would come." + +He caught the extended hands eagerly, drawing her close, and looking +straight down into the depths of her uplifted eyes. To him, at that +moment, there was no one else in the room, no one else in the wide, +wide world. + +"You knew I would come?" he echoed. "You believed that much in me?" + +"Yes; I have never had a doubt. I told him so; that if we could only +hold out long enough we would be saved. But," her lips quivered, and +there were tears glistening in the uplifted eyes, "you came too late +for him." + +"For him? The man who was with you, you mean? Has he been shot?" + +She bent her head, the lips refusing to answer. + +"Who was he?" + +"Mr. Cavendish--oh!" + +It was a cry of complete reaction; the room reeled about her and she +would have fallen headlong had not Westcott clasped the slender form +closely in his arms. An instant he stood there gazing down into her +face. Then he turned toward Brennan. + +"Leave us alone, Dan," he said simply. "Get that gang of blacklegs out +of here." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII: IN THE TWO CABINS + +The marshal's lips smiled. + +"Sure, Jim," he drawled, "anything to oblige, although this is a new +one on me. Come on, Matt; it seems the gentleman does not wish to be +disturbed---- Well, neither would I under such circumstances. Here +you! line up there in single file, and get a move on you--pronto! Show +'em what I mean, Matt; put that guy that talks English at the head---- +Yes, he's the one. Now look here, _amigo_, you march straight out +through that door, and head for the bunk-house--do you get that?" + +"_Si, señor_; I savvy!" + +"Well, you better; tell those fellows that if one of 'em makes a break +he's goin' ter be a dead Mex--will yer? Get to the other side of them, +Matt; now step ahead--not too fast." + +Westcott watched the procession file out, still clasping the partially +unconscious girl in his arms. Moore, bringing up the rear, disappeared +through the entrance, and vanished into the night without. Except for +the three motionless bodies, they were alone. The lamp on the high +shelf flared fitfully in the wind, and the charred embers on the floor +exhibited a glowing spark of colour. From a distance Brennan's voice +growled out a gruff order to his line of prisoners. Then all was +still. The eyes of the girl opened slowly, her lids trembling, but as +they rested on Westcott's face, she smiled. + +"You are glad I came?" + +"Glad! Why I never really knew what gladness meant before." + +He bent lower, his heart pounding fiercely, strange words struggling +for utterance. + +"You love me?" + +She looked at him, all the fervent Irish soul of her in her eyes. Then +one arm stole upward to his shoulder. + +"As you love me," she whispered softly, "as you love me!" + +"I can ask no more, sweetheart," he breathed soberly, and kissed her. +At last she drew back, still restrained by his arms, but with her eyes +suddenly grave and thoughtful. + +"We forget," she chided, "where we are. You must let me go now, and +see if he is alive. I will wait on the bench, here." + +"But you said he had been killed." + +"I do not know; there was no time for me to be sure of that. The shot +struck him here in the chest, and when he fell he knocked me down. I +tore open his shirt, and bound up the wound hastily; it did not bleed +much. He never spoke after that, and lay perfectly still." + +"Poor old Fred. I'll do what I can for him--I'll not be away a minute, +dear." + +He could see little from the doorway, only the dark shadow of a man's +form lying full length on the floor. To enter he pushed aside the +uptilted bed, picking up the shotgun, and setting it against the log +wall. Then he took the lamp down from the shelf, and held it so the +feeble light fell upon the upturned face. He stared down at the +features thus revealed, unable for the moment to find expression for +his bewilderment. + +"Can you come here, dear?" he called. + +She stood beside him, gazing from his face into those features on which +the rays of the lamp fell. + +"What is it?" she questioned breathlessly. "Is he dead?" + +"I do not know; but that man is not Cavendish." + +"Not Cavendish! Why he told me that was his name; he even described +being thrown from the back platform of a train by that Ned Beaton; who +can he be, then?" + +"That is more than I can guess; only he is not Fred Cavendish. Will +you hold the lamp until I learn if he is alive?" + +She took it in trembling hands, supporting herself against the wall, +while he crossed the room, and knelt beside the motionless figure. A +careful examination revealed the man's wound to be painful though not +particularly serious, Westcott carefully redressed the wound as best he +could, then with one hand he lifted the man's head and the motion +caused the eyelids to flutter. Slowly the eyes opened, and stared up +into the face bending over him. The wounded man breathed heavily, the +dull stare in his eyes changing to a look of bewildered intelligence. + +"Where am I?" he asked thickly. "Oh, yes, I remember; I was shot. Who +are you?" + +"I am Jim Westcott; do you remember me?" + +The searching eyes evidenced no sense of recollection. + +"No," he said, struggling to make the words clear. "I never heard that +name before." + +Miss Donovan came forward, the lamp in her hand, the light shining full +in her face. + +"But you told me you were Mr. Cavendish," she exclaimed, "and Mr. +Westcott was an old friend of his--surely you must remember?" + +He looked up at her, and endeavoured to smile, yet for the moment did +not answer. He seemed fascinated by the picture she made, as though +some vision had suddenly appeared before him. + +"I--I remember you," he said at last. "You--you are Miss Donovan; I'll +never forget you; but I never saw this man before--I'm sure of that." + +"And I am equally convinced as to the truth of that remark," returned +Westcott, "but why did you call yourself Cavendish?" + +"Because that is my name--why shouldn't I?" + +"Why, see here, man," and Westcott's voice no longer concealed his +indignation, "you no more resemble Fred Cavendish than I do; there is +not a feature in common between you." + +"Fred Cavendish?" + +"Certainly; of New York; who do you think we were talking about?" + +"I've had no chance to think; you jump on me here, and insist I'm a +liar, without even explaining what the trouble is all about. I claim +my name is Cavendish, and it is; but I've never once said I was Fred +Cavendish of New York. If you must know, I am Ferdinand Cavendish of +Los Angeles." + +Westcott permitted the man's head to rest back on the floor, and he +arose to his feet. He felt dazed, stunned, as though stricken a sudden +blow. His gaze wandered from the startled face of the motionless girl +to the figure of the man outstretched on the floor at his feet. + +"Good God!" he exclaimed. "What can all this mean? You came from New +York City?" + +"Yes; I had been there a month attending to some business." + +"And when you left for the coast, you took the midnight train on the +New York Central?" + +"Yes. I had intended taking an earlier one, but was delayed." + +"You bought return tickets at the station?" + +"No; I had return tickets; they had to be validated." + +"Then your name was signed to them; what is your usual signature?" + +"F. Cavendish." + +"I thought so. Stella, this has all been a strange blunder, but it is +perfectly clear how it happened. That man Beaton evidently had never +seen Frederick Cavendish. He was simply informed that he would leave +New York on that train. He met this Cavendish on board, perhaps even +saw his signature on the ticket, and cultivated his acquaintance. The +fellow never doubted but what he had the right man." + +The wounded man managed to lift himself upon one elbow. + +"What's that?" he asked anxiously. "You think he knocked me overboard, +believing I was some one else? That all this has happened on account +of my name?" + +"No doubt of it. You have been the victim of mistaken identity. So +have we, for the matter of that." + +He paused suddenly, overwhelmed by a swift thought. "But what about +Fred?" he asked breathless. + +Stella's hand touched his arm. + +"He--he must have been the dead man in the Waldron Apartments," she +faltered. "There is no other theory possible now." + +The marshal of Haskell came out of the bunk-house, and closed the door +carefully behind him. He was rather proud of his night's work, and +felt quite confident that the disarmed Mexicans locked within those +strong log walls, and guarded by Moore, with a loaded rifle across his +knee, would remain quiet until daylight. The valley before him was +black and silent. A blaze of light shone out through the broken door +and window of the smaller cabin, and he chuckled at remembrance of the +last scene he had witnessed there--the fainting girl lying in +Westcott's arms. Naturally, and ordinarily, Mr. Brennan was +considerable of a cynic, but just now he felt in a far more genial and +sympathetic mood. + +"Jim's some man," he confided to himself, unconsciously speaking aloud. +"An' the girl's a nervy little thing--almighty good lookin', too. I +reckon it'll cost me a month's salary fer a weddin' present, so maybe +the joke's on me." His mind reverted to Mendez. "Five thousand on the +old cuss," he muttered gloomily, "an' somebody else got the chance to +pot him. Well, by hooky, whoever it was sure did a good job--it was +thet shotgun cooked his goose, judgin' from the way his face was +peppered. Five thousand dollars--oh, hell!" + +His eyes followed the outline of the valley, able to distinguish the +darker silhouette of the cliffs outstanding against the sky sprinkled +with stars. Far away toward the northern extremity a dull red glow +indicated the presence of a small fire. + +"Herders," Brennan soliloquised, his thought instantly shifting. +"Likely to be two, maybe three ov 'em out there; an' then there's them +two on guard at the head o' the trail. I reckon they're wonderin' what +all this yere shootin' means; but 'tain't probable they'll kick up any +fuss yet awhile. We can handle them all right, if they do--hullo, +there! What's comin' now?" + +It was the thud of a horse's hoofs being ridden rapidly. Brennan +dropped to the ground, and skurried out of the light. He could +perceive nothing of the approaching rider, but whoever the fellow was +he made no effort at secrecy. He drove his horse down the bank and +into the stream at a gallop, splashed noisily through the water, and +came loping up the nearer incline. Almost in front of the bunk-house +he seemed suddenly struck by the silence and gleam of lights, for he +pulled his pony up with a jerk, and sat there, staring about. To the +marshal, crouching against the earth, his revolver drawn, horse and man +appeared a grotesque shadow. + +"Hullo!" the fellow shouted. "What's up? Did you think this was +Christmas Eve? Hey, there--Mendez; Cateras." + +The little marshal straightened up, and took a step forward; the light +from the cabin window glistened wickedly on the blue steel of his gun +barrel. + +"Hands up, Bill!" he said quietly, in a voice carrying conviction. +"None of that--don't play with me. Take your left hand an' unbuckle +your belt--I said the left. Now drop it into the dirt." + +"Who the hell are you?" + +"That doesn't make much difference, does it, as long as I've got the +drop?" asked the other genially. "But, if you must know to be +happy--I'm the marshal o' Haskell. Go easy, boy; you've seen me shoot +afore this, an' I was born back in Texas with a weapon in each hand. +Climb down off'n that hoss." + +Lacy did so, his hands above his head, cursing angrily. + +"What kind of a low-down trick is this, Brennan?" he snapped, glaring +through the darkness at the face of his captor. "What's become of +Pasqual Mendez? Ain't his outfit yere?" + +"His outfit's here all right, dead an' alive," and Brennan chuckled +cheerfully, "but not being no gospel sharp I can't just say whar ol' +Mendez is. What's left ov his body is in thet cabin yonder, so full o' +buckshot it ought ter weigh a ton." + +"Dead?" + +"As a door nail, if yer ask me. It was some nice ov yer ter come +ridin' long here ter-night, Lacy. It sorter helps me ter make a good, +decent clean-up ov this whole measly outfit. I reckon I'll stow yer +away, along with them others. Mosey up them steps there, an' don't +take no chances lookin' back." + +"I'll get you for this, Brennan." + +"Not if the Circuit Court ain't gone out o' business, you won't. I've +got yer cinched an' hog tied--here now; get in thar." + +He opened the door just wide enough for Lacy to pass, holding it with +one hand, his revolver ready and eager in the other. + +A single lamp lit the room dingily, revealing the Mexicans bunched on +the farther side, a number of them lying down. Moore sat on a stool +beside the door, a rifle in the hollow of his arm. He rose up as the +door opened, and grinned at sight of Lacy's face. + +"Well, I'll be dinged," he said. "What have we got here?" + +Brennan thrust his new prisoner forward. + +"Another one of yer ol' pals, Matt. You two ought ter have a lot ter +talk over, an' thar's six hours yet till daylight." + +The little marshal drew back, and closed the door. He heard the echo +of an oath, or two, within as he turned the key in the lock. Then he +straightened up and laughed, slapping his knee with his hand. + +"Well," he said at last, soberly. "I reckon my place will be about +yere till sun-up; thar might be some more critters like that +gallivantin' round in these parts--I hope Matt's enjoyin' himself." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII: THE REAL MR. CAVENDISH + +It was a hard, slow journey back across the desert. Moore's team and +wagon were requisitioned for the purpose, but Matt himself remained +behind to help Brennan with the prisoners and cattle, until the party +returning to Haskell could send them help. + +Westcott drove, with Miss Donovan perched beside him on the +spring-seat, and Cavendish lying on a pile of blankets beneath the +shadow of the canvas top. It became exceedingly hot as the sun mounted +into the sky, and once they encountered a sand storm, which so blinded +horses and driver, they were compelled to halt and turn aside from its +fury for nearly an hour. The wounded man must have suffered, yet made +no complaint. Indeed he seemed almost cheerful, and so deeply +interested in the strange story in which he had unconsciously borne +part, as to constantly question those riding in front for details. + +Westcott and Stella, in spite of the drear, dread monotony of those +miles of sand, the desolate barrenness of which extended about in every +direction, and, at last, weighed heavily upon their spirits, found the +ride anything but tedious. They had so much to be thankful for, +hopeful over: so much to say to each other. She described all that had +occurred during her imprisonment, and he, in turn, told the story of +what himself and Brennan had passed through in the search for her +captors. Cavendish listened eagerly to each recital, lifting his head +to interject a question of interest, and then dropping wearily back +again upon his blankets. + +They stopped to lunch at Baxter Springs, and to water the team; and it +was considerably after dark when they finally drove creaking up the +main street of Haskell and stopped in front of the Timmons House to +unload. The street was devoid of excitement, although the Red Dog was +wide open for business, and Westcott caught a glimpse of Mike busily +engaged behind the bar. A man or two passing glanced at them +curiously, but, possibly because of failure to recognise him in the +darkness, no alarm was raised, or any effort made to block their +progress. Without Lacy to urge them on, the disciples of Judge Lynch +had likely enough forgotten the whole affair. Timmons, hearing the +creak of approaching wheels, and surmising the arrival of guests, came +lumbering out through the open door, his face beaming welcome. Behind +him the vacant office stood fully revealed in the light of +bracket-lamps. + +As Westcott clambered over the wheel, and then assisted the lady to +alight, the face of the landlord was sufficiently expressive of +surprise. + +"You!" he exclaimed, staring into their faces doubtfully. "What the +Sam Hill does this mean?" + +"Only that we've got back, Timmons. Why this frigid reception?" + +"Well, this yere is a respectable hotel, an' I ain't goin' ter have it +all mussed up by no lynchin' party," the landlord's voice full of +regret. "Then this yere gal; she wrote me she'd gone back East." + +Westcott laughed. + +"Stow your grouch, old man, and give us a hand. There will be no +lynching, because Lacy is in the hands of the marshal. As to this +lady, she never sent you that note. She was abducted by force, and has +just escaped. Don't stand there like a fool." + +"But where did yer come from? This yere is Matt Moore's outfit." + +"From the Shoshone Desert, if you must know. I'll tell you the story +later. There's a wounded man under the canvas there. Come on, and +help me carry him inside." + +Timmons, sputtering but impotent to resist, took hold reluctantly, and +the two together bore the helpless Cavendish through the deserted +office and up the stairs to the second floor, where he was comfortably +settled and a doctor sent for. The task was sufficiently strenuous to +require all the breath Timmons possessed, and he managed to repress his +eager curiosity until the wounded man had been attended to. Once in +the hall, however, and the door closed, he could no longer control +himself. + +"Now see yere, Jim Westcott," he panted, one hand gripping the +stair-rail. "I've got ter know what's up, afore I throw open this yere +hotel to yer free use this-away. As a gineral thing I ain't 'round +huntin' trouble--I reckon yer know that--but this yere affair beats me. +What was it yer said about Bill Lacy?" + +"He's under arrest, charged with cattle-stealing, abduction, +conspiracy, and about everything else on the calendar. Brennan's got +him, and likewise the evidence to convict." + +"Good Lord! Is that so!" + +"It is; the whole Mendez gang has been wiped out. Old Mendez has been +killed. The rest of the outfit, including Juan Cateras, are prisoners." + +Timmons's eyes were fairly popping out of his head, his voice a mere +thread of sound. + +"Don't that beat hell!" he managed to articulate. "Where's the +marshal?" + +"Riding herd at a place they call Sunken Valley, about fifty miles +south of here. He and Moore have got ten or twelve Mexicans, and maybe +three hundred head of cattle to look after, until I can send somebody +out there to help him bring them in. Now that's all you need to know, +Timmons; but I've got a question or two I want to ask you. Come on +back into the office." + +Miss Donovan sat in one of the chairs by the front window waiting. As +they entered she arose to her feet. + +Westcott crossed the room and took her hand. + +"He's all right," he assured her quickly, interpreting the question in +her eyes. "Tired from the trip, of course, but a night's rest will do +wonders. And now, Timmons," he turned to the bewildered landlord, "is +that man Enright upstairs?" + +"The New York lawyer? No, he got frightened and left. He skipped out +the next day after you fellers got away. Bill wanted him to go along +with him, but he said he was too sick. Then he claimed to have a +telegram callin' him East, but he never did. I reckon he must 've got +cold feet 'bout somethin'--enyhow he's gone." + +"And Miss La Rue?" + +"Sure; she took the same train," eager now to divulge all he knew. +"But that ain't her real name--it's a kind o' long name, an' begins +with C. I saw it in a letter she left up-stairs, but I couldn't make +it all out. She's married." + +The eyes of Westcott and Miss Donovan met. Here was a bit of strange +news--the La Rue woman married, and to a man with a long name beginning +with C. The same thought occurred to them both, yet it was evidently +useless to question Timmons any longer. He would know nothing, and +comprehend less. The girl looked tired, completely worn out, and the +affair could rest until morning. + +"Take Miss Donovan to a room," Westcott said shortly, "and I'll run +up-stairs and have another look at Cavendish." + +"At who?" + +"Cavendish, the wounded man we just carried in." + +"Well, that's blamed funny. Say, I don't remember ever hearin' that +name before in all my life till just now. Come ter think of it, I +believe that was the name in that La Rue girl's letter. I got it yere +in the desk; it's torn some, an' don't mean nothin' to me; sounds +kinder nutty." He threw open a drawer, rummaging within, but without +pausing in speech, "Then a fellow blew in yere this mornin' off the +Limited, asking about you, Jim, an' danged if I don't believe he said +his name was Cavendish. The register was full so he didn't write it +down, but that was the name all right. And now you tote in another +one. What is this, anyhow--a family reunion?" + +"You say a man by that name was here--asking for me?" + +"Yep; I reckon he's asleep up-stairs, for he never showed up at supper." + +"In what room, Pete?" + +"Nine." + +Westcott, with a swift word of excuse to Stella, dashed into the hall, +and disappeared up the stairway, taking three steps at a time. A +moment later those below heard him pounding at a door; then his voice +sounded: + +"This is Jim Westcott; open up." + +Timmons stood gazing blankly at the empty stair-case, mopping his face +with a bandanna handkerchief. Then he removed his horn-rimmed +spectacles, and polished them, as though what mind he possessed had +become completely dazed. + +"Well, I'll be jiggered," he confessed audibly. "What's a comin' now, +I wonder?" + +He turned around and noticed Miss Donovan, the sight of her standing +there bringing back a reminder of his duty. + +"He was a sayin' as how likely yer wanted to go to bed, Miss." + +"Not now; I'll wait until Mr. Westcott comes down. What is that paper +in your hand? Is that the letter Miss La Rue left?" + +He held it up in surprise, gazing at it through his glasses. + +"Why, Lord bless me--it is, isn't it? Must have took it out o' ther +drawer an' never thought of the darned thing agin." + +"May I see it?" + +"Sure; 'tain't o' no consequence ter me; I reckon the woman sorter +packed in a hurry, and this got lost. The Chink found it under the +bed." + +She took it in her hand, and crossed the room, finding a seat beneath +one of the bracket-lamps, but with her face turned toward the hall. It +was just a single sheet of folded paper, not enclosed in an envelope, +and had been torn across, so that the two parts barely held together. +She stared at it for a moment, almost motionless, her fingers nervously +moving up and down the crease, as though she dreaded to learn what was +within. She felt that here was the key which was to unlock the secret +of this strange crime. Whoever the man upstairs might prove to be--the +real Cavendish or some impostor--this paper she held in her hands was +destined to be a link in the chain. She unfolded it slowly and her +eyes traced the written words within. It was a hasty scrawl, written +on the cheap paper of some obscure hotel in Jersey City, extremely +difficult to decipher, the hand of the man who wrote exhibiting plainly +the excitement under which he laboured. + +It was a message of warning, he was leaving New York, and would sail +that evening for some place in South America, where he did not say. +Love only caused him to tell her what had occurred. A strange word +puzzled her, and before she could decipher it, voices broke the +silence, followed by steps on the stairs. She glanced up quickly; it +was Westcott returning, accompanied by a tall, rather slender man with +a closely-trimmed beard. The two crossed the room, and she met them +standing, the opened letter still in her hand. + +"Miss Donovan, this is Frederick Cavendish--the real Frederick +Cavendish. I have told him something of the trouble he has been to us +all." + +The real Frederick Cavendish smiled down into her eyes, while he held +her fingers tightly clasped in his own. She believed in him, liked him +instantly. + +"A trouble which I regret very much," he said humbly. "Westcott has +told me a little, a very little, of what has occurred since I left New +York so hurriedly two months ago. This is the first I knew about it, +and the mystery of the whole affair is as puzzling as ever." + +Her eyes widened wonderingly. + +"You cannot explain? Not even who the dead man was found murdered in +your apartments?" + +"I haven't the least idea." + +"Fred has told me all he knows," broke in Westcott "but it only extends +to midnight when he left the city. He was in his apartments less than +ten minutes after his valet retired. He supposed he left everything in +good order, with a note on the writing-table instructing Valois what to +do during his absence, and enclosing a sum of money. Afterward, on the +train, he discovered that he had mislaid the key to his safe but this +occasioned no worry, as he had taken with him all the cash it held, and +the papers were of slight importance." + +"But," she broke in impatiently, "where did he go? How did he escape +encountering Beaton and why did he fail to answer your message?" + +The eyes of the two men met, and they both smiled. "The very questions +I asked," replied Westcott instantly. "In the instructions left Valois +was a check for five thousand dollars made to my order, to be forwarded +at once. Fred's destination was Sonora, Mexico, where he had some +large copper interests. He intended to look after these and return +here to Haskell within a week, or ten days. But the war in Mexico made +this impossible--once across the border he couldn't get back. He wrote +me, but evidently the letter miscarried." + +"And Beaton missed him entirely." + +"By pure luck. Fred phoned the New York Central for a lower to +Chicago, and they were all gone. Enright must have learned, in some +way, of his calling that office, and so informed Beaton, who took that +train. Later, from his own rooms, Cavendish secured accommodations on +the Pennsylvania." + +He paused, endeavouring to see out through the window, hearing the hoof +beats of an approaching team. + +"What's that, Pete?" he asked of Timmons, who was hovering as closely +as he dared. "Pretty late, isn't it?" + +"Guests, I reckon; the Overland was three hours late; sure, they're +stoppin' yere." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV: MISS DONOVAN DECIDES + +Two men came in through the door together, each with a small grip in +his hand, which Timmons took from them, and deposited beside the stove. +The larger wrote both names in the register, and then straightened up, +and surveyed the landlord. + +"Any chance to eat?" he asked. "We're both of us about starved." + +Timmons scratched his head. + +"I reckon there's plenty o' cold provender out thar," he said +doubtfully, "an' maybe I could hustle you up some hot coffee, but we +don't aim ter do no feedin' at this time o' night. What's the matter +with the diner?" + +"Hot box, and had to cut her off; be a good fellow, and hustle us up +something." + +"I'll see what there is," and Timmons started for the kitchen, "but I +wouldn't wake Ma Timmons up fer a thousand dollars. She'd never git +over it." + +The large man, a rather heavy-footed fellow, with scraggly grey +moustache, turned to his companion. + +"Better luck than I expected at that, Colgate," he said, restored to +good humour. "The old duffer seems to be quite human." + +His eyes caught sight of Cavendish, and hardened, the grizzly moustache +seeming to stiffen. His mouth was close to the ear of his companion, +and he spoke without moving his lips. + +"Our bird; stand ready." + +The three were talking earnestly, and he was standing before them +before any of the group marked his approach. His eyes were on +Cavendish, who instantly arose to his feet, startled by the man's +sudden appearance. + +"There is no use making a scene, Burke," the big man said sternly, "for +my partner there has you covered." + +"My name is not Burke; it is Cavendish." + +"So I heard in Denver," dryly. "We hardly expected to find you here, +for we were down on another matter So you are not Gentleman Tom Burke?" + +"No." + +"I know he is not," interposed Westcott. "I have been acquainted with +this man for nearly twenty years; he is a New York capitalist." + +"And who the hell are you--a pal?" the fellow sneered. "Now, see here, +both of you. I've met plenty of your kind before, and it is my +business not to forget a face. This man is under arrest," and he laid +a hand heavily on Cavendish's shoulder. + +"Under the name of Burke? On what charge?" + +"Robbery, at Poughkeepsie, New York; wanted also for burglary and +assault in Denver. My name is Roberts," he added, stiffly, "assistant +superintendent of the Pinkerton agency; the man with me is an operative +from the New York office." + +Cavendish glanced past Roberts toward Colgate, who stood with one hand +thrust in his side pocket. + +"You know this man Burke?" he asked. + +"I saw him once; that's why I was put on the case. You certainly gave +me some hot chase, Tom." + +"Some chase? What do you mean?" + +"Well, I've been on your trail ever since that Poughkeepsie job--let's +see, that was two months ago. You jumped first to New York City, and I +didn't really get track of you until the night of April 16. Then a +copper in the Pennsylvania depot, to whom I showed your picture, gave +me a tip that you'd taken a late train West. After that I trailed you +through Chicago, down into Mexico, and back as far as Denver. It +wasn't hard because you always signed the same name." + +"Of course; it's my own. You say you had a photograph of me?" + +"A police picture; here it is if you want to look at it--taken in +Joliet." + +Westcott grasped the sheet, and spread it open. It was Cavendish's +face clearly enough, even to the closely trimmed beard and the peculiar +twinkle in the eyes. Below was printed a brief description, and this +also fitted Cavendish almost exactly. + +"Well," said Roberts, none too pleasantly, "what have you got to say +now?" + +"Only this," and the miner squared his shoulders, looking the other +straight in the eyes. "This man is not Tom Burke, but I can tell you +where Tom Burke is." + +"Yes, you can?" + +"Yes, I can. I cannot only tell you, but I can prove it," he went on +earnestly. "This description says that Burke had a small piece clipped +out of one ear, and that he had a gold-crowned tooth in front, rather +prominent. This man's ears are unmarked, and his teeth are of the +ordinary kind." + +The two detectives exchanged glances and Roberts grinned sarcastically. + +"You'll have to do better than that," he said gruffly. "All right. Is +there any mention in that description of a peculiar and vivid scar on +the chest of this man Burke? It would be spoken about, if he had any, +wouldn't it?" + +"Sure; they never overlook them things." + +"Good; unbutton the front of your shirt, Fred." + +The two stared at the scar thus revealed, still incredulous, yet unable +to refute the evidence of its existence. Roberts touched it with his +fingers to better assure himself of its reality. + +"Darn it all," he confessed. "This beats hell." + +"It does," coincided Westcott. "This whole affair has been of that +kind. Now I'll tell you where Tom Burke is--he lies buried in the +Cavendish family lot in Brooklyn." + +He turned to Colgate, who stood with mouth half open. + +"You're from New York; ever hear of the Cavendish murder?" + +"Only saw a paragraph in the Chicago papers. It wasn't my case, and +the only thing that interested me was that the name happened to be the +same as assumed by the man I was following--why?" + +"Because this gentleman here is Frederick Cavendish, who was reported +as killed--struck down in his apartments on the night of April 16. +Instead he took the midnight flier West and you followed him. The dead +man was Tom Burke; wait a minute and I'll tell you the story--all I +know of it, at least." + +He told it rapidly, yet omitting no detail of any interest. The two +detectives, already half convinced of their mistake, listened +fascinated to the strange narrative; it was a tale of crime peculiarly +attractive to their minds; they could picture each scene in all its +colours of reality. As the speaker ended, Roberts drew in his breath +sharply. + +"But who slugged Burke?" he asked. "The fellow went in there after +swag; but who got him?" + +"That is the one question I can't answer," replied Westcott gravely, +"and neither can Fred. It doesn't seem to accord with the rest of our +theories. Enright told Lacy he didn't know who the dead man was, or +who killed him." + +Miss Donovan pushed her way in front of Cavendish, and faced the +others, her cheeks flushed with excitement, a paper clasped in one hand. + +"Perhaps I can help clear that up," she said clearly. "This is the +letter found under Miss La Rue's bed. I have read part of it. It was +written by Jack Cavendish just as he was taking a boat for South +America. It is not a confession," she explained, her eyes searching +their faces, "just a frightened boy's letter. I wouldn't understand it +at all if I didn't know so much about the case. What it seems to make +clear is this: The La Rue girl and Patrick Enright schemed to get +possession of the Cavendish property through her marriage to John; this +part of the programme worked out fairly well, but John could not get +hold of enough money to satisfy them. + +"Enright and the girl decided to put Frederick out of the way, but +lacked the nerve to commit murder--at least in New York. Their scheme +seems to have been to inveigle their victim away from the city, and +then help him to get killed through an accident. In that case the law +would award the entire estate to John. They never told John this plan, +but their constant demands for money fairly drove the young man to +desperation. + +"The making of the will, and the sudden proposed departure of Frederick +for the West, compelled immediate action, yet even then John was kept +largely in the dark as to what they proposed doing. All he knew was +that Frederick had made a will disinheriting him; that he left the +College Club with this document in his pocket, and intended later to +take a night train." + +She paused, turning the letter over in her hands, and the men seemed to +draw closer in the intensity of their interest. + +"Some of what I say I learned from this letter," she went on quietly, +"and some I merely deduce from the circumstances. I believe the boy +went home half mad, his only thought being to destroy that will. In +this state of mind, and fortified by drink, he stole later into +Frederick's apartments. I don't believe the boy actually intended to +murder his cousin, but he did intend to stun him with a blow from +behind, seize the paper, and escape unseen. It was a wild, +hare-brained project, but he was only a boy, half drunk, worked into +frenzy by Celeste La Rue. He got into the room--probably through the +bath-room window--unobserved, but after Frederick had departed. This +other man--Burke--was then at the table, running through the papers he +had taken from the safe, to see if any were of value. John, convinced +the man was his cousin, stole up behind him and struck him down. He +had no idea of the force of the blow delivered, and may even have left +the apartment without realising that the blow had been a fatal one. +Afterward there was nothing to do but keep still, and let matters take +their own course." + +"And what happened then?" + +"Naturally this: the La Rue woman wormed the truth out of him, and told +Enright. From that moment the boy was entirely in their hands. While +they remained in New York they helped him keep his nerve, but as soon +as he was left alone, he went entirely to pieces. He was no criminal, +merely a victim of circumstances. At last something happened to +frighten him into flight." + +The four men straightened up as her voice ceased speaking. Then +Roberts laughed, as though ashamed of the breathless interest he had +exhibited. + +"I guess she's got that doped out about right, Colgate," he said, +almost regretfully. "And it's clear enough that we are on the wrong +trail. Anyhow this man here isn't Tom Burke, although he would deceive +the very devil. What is it, landlord? Am I ready to eat? Just lead +the way, and I'll show you." He glanced about at the others. "Any of +you missed your supper? If so, we'd be glad to have your company." + +"I'll accept the invitation," returned Cavendish. "I was asleep +up-stairs, and failed to hear the bell. Perhaps you gentlemen can tell +me what steps I'd better take in a case like mine." + +The three passed out together, following the guidance of Timmons, and +as the sound of their voices subsided into a confused murmur, Westcott +glanced into the face beside him. + +"You must be very tired, dear." + +"I am tired, Jim," she said, "but I mustn't allow it. I have a big job +on hand. Farriss will want three thousand words of this and he'll want +it to-night so that he can scoop the town." + +"Scoop the town?" Westcott repeated. + +"Yes, that means my paper gets a story that no other paper gets. And +this Cavendish case is going to be my scoop. Will you walk with me +down to the station?" + +Big Jim Westcott nodded silently and took her arm in his and together +they went out into the night. + +Each stone, shrub, each dark frowning cliff reminded them of their +meeting, and silently, with their hearts full, they walked along until +a dilapidated box car hove into view, with one oil-lamp still burning, +twinkling evidence that Carson had not retired for the night; and as +they came abreast the door they found him dozing. + +"Wake up, Carson," cried Jim, tapping him on the shoulder, "wake up and +get ready to do a big job on the keys. And keep your ears open, too, +old timer, for it's interesting, every word of it--Miss Donovan is +going to tell a story." + +Carson rubbed his eyes, sat up, gave ample greeting, got up, lit +another lamp, and tested his wire. + +"East wire free as air, Jim," he said. "You can begin that there story +whenever you want." + +And so, weary as she was, and with nerves still high-pitched, Stella +Donovan began, slowly at first, until she got the swing of her "lead," +and then more rapidly; one after another the yellow sheets on which she +wrote were fed past Westcott's critical eyes and into the hands of +Carson, who operated his "bug" like a madman. + +An hour went past, an hour and a quarter--Stella Donovan was still +writing. An hour and a half. Westcott saw her face tensing under the +strain, saw it grow wan and white, and, reaching down he gripped the +fingers that clenched the pencil. + +"No more, Stella," he said firmly, "you've sent four thousand!" + +She looked at him tenderly. "Please, Jim," she begged, "just let me +add one more paragraph. It's the most important one of all." + +The miner released her hand and the girl wrote hurriedly, this time +passing the sheets direct to Carson. Heroically the station agent +stuck to his task, and as he tossed the first of the sheets aside, an +eddying wisp of wind caught it, danced it a moment on the table-top, +then slid it over under the very palm of big Jim Westcott's right hand. +Slowly he picked it up and read it. + +"So!" he said, with something strangely like a cry in his deep voice, +"so you've resigned from the _Star_, and you're going to stay in +Haskell?" + +The girl looked at him, her lips trembling. + +"I never want to be a lady reporter again," she whispered. "Never!" + +They were in the open doorway now, and through the lush, warm gloom a +belated light twinkled down in Haskell, slumbering like a bad child in +the gulch below. And as they stood there watching a fair young moon +making its first bow in a purple sky, their lips met in a long tender +kiss; when they lifted their eyes again it was to let them range over +the eternal misty hills with their hearts of gold in which lay the +future--their future. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRANGE CASE OF CAVENDISH*** + + +******* This file should be named 17647-8.txt or 17647-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/6/4/17647 + + + +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. 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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: + + http://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/17647-8.zip b/17647-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7bb067d --- /dev/null +++ b/17647-8.zip diff --git a/17647.txt b/17647.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e8833e --- /dev/null +++ b/17647.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10704 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Strange Case of Cavendish, by Randall +Parrish + + +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: The Strange Case of Cavendish + + +Author: Randall Parrish + + + +Release Date: January 31, 2006 [eBook #17647] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRANGE CASE OF CAVENDISH*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +THE STRANGE CASE OF CAVENDISH + +by + +RANDALL PARRISH + +Author of +"The Devils Own," "Beyond the Frontier," "When Wilderness Was King," +Etc. + + + + + + + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers New York +Published by arrangement with George H. Doran Company +Copyright, 1918, +by Randall Parrish +Printed in the United States of America + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I THE REACHING OF A DECISION + II THE BODY ON THE FLOOR + III MR. ENRIGHT DECLARES HIMSELF + IV A BREATH OF SUSPICION + V ON THE TRACK OF A CRIME + VI AT STEINWAY'S + VII MISS DONOVAN ARRIVES + VIII A GANG OF ENEMIES + IX A NIGHT AND A MORNING + X AT A NEW ANGLE + XI DEAD OR ALIVE + XII VIEWED FROM BOTH SIDES + XIII THE SHOT OF DEATH + XIV LACY LEARNS THE TRUTH + XV MISS LA RUE PAYS A CALL + XVI CAPTURED + XVII IN THE SHOSHONE DESERT + XVIII IN MEXICAN POWER + XIX WESTCOTT FINDS HIMSELF ALONE + XX TO COMPEL AN ANSWER + XXI THE MARSHAL PLAYS A HAND + XXII THE ROCK IN THE STREAM + XXIII THE ESCAPE + XXIV THE CAVE IN THE CLIFF + XXV IN THE DARK PASSAGE + XXVI THE REAPPEARANCE OF CAVENDISH + XXVII A DANGEROUS PRISONER + XXVIII WITH BACK TO THE WALL + XXIX A NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK + XXX ON THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF + XXXI WITH FORCE OF ARMS + XXXII IN THE TWO CABINS + XXXIII THE REAL MR. CAVENDISH + XXXIV MISS DONOVAN DECIDES + + + + +THE STRANGE CASE OF CAVENDISH + + +CHAPTER I: THE REACHING OF A DECISION + +For the second time that night Frederick Cavendish, sitting at a small +table in a busy cafe where the night life of the city streamed +continually in and out, regarded the telegram spread out upon the white +napery. It read: + + +Bear Creek, Colorado, 4/2/15. + +FREDERICK CAVENDISH, + College Club, + New York City. + +Found big lead; lost it again. Need you badly. + +WESTCOTT. + + +For the second time that night, too, a picture rose before him, a +picture of great plains, towering mountains, and open spaces that spoke +the freedom and health of outdoor living. He had known that life once +before, when he and Jim Westcott had prospected and hit the trail +together, and its appeal to him now after three years of shallow +sightseeing in the city was deeper than ever. + +"Good old Jim," he murmured, "struck pay-dirt at last only to lose it +and he needs me. By George, I think I'll go." + +And why should he not? Only twenty-nine, he could still afford to +spend a few years in search of living. His fortune left him at the +death of his father was safely invested, and he had no close friends in +the city and no relatives, except a cousin, John Cavendish, for whom he +held no love, and little regard. + +He had almost determined upon going to Bear Creek to meet Westcott and +was calling for his check when his attention was arrested by a noisy +party of four that boisterously took seats at a near-by table. +Cavendish recognised the two women as members of the chorus of the +prevailing Revue, one of them Celeste La Rue, an aggressive blonde with +thin lips and a metallic voice, whose name was synonymous with midnight +escapades and flowing wine. His contemptuous smile at the sight of +them deepened into a disgusted sneer when he saw that one of the men +was John Cavendish, his cousin. + +The two men's eyes met, and the younger, a slight, mild-eyed youth with +a listless chin, excused himself and presented himself at the elder's +table. + +"Won't you join us?" he said nervously. + +Frederick Cavendish's trim, bearded jaw tightened and he shook his +head. "They are not my people," he said shortly, then retreating, +begged, "John, when are you going to cut that sort out?" + +"You make me weary!" the boy snapped. "It's easy enough for you to +talk when you've got all the money--that gives you an excuse to read me +moral homilies every time I ask you for a dollar, but Miss La Rue is as +good as any of your friends any day." + +The other controlled himself. "What is it you want?" he demanded +directly: "Money? If so, how much?" + +"A hundred will do," the younger man said eagerly. "I lost a little on +cards lately, and have to borrow. To-night I met the girl----" + +Frederick Cavendish silenced him and tendered him the bills. "Now," he +said gravely, "this is the last, unless--unless you cut out such people +as Celeste La Rue and others that you train with. I'm tired of paying +bills for your inane extravagances and parties. I can curtail your +income and what's more, I will unless you change." + +"Cut me off?" The younger Cavendish's voice took on an incredulous +note. + +The other nodded. "Just that," he said. "You've reached the limit." + +For a moment the dissipated youth surveyed his cousin, then an angry +flush mounted into his pasty face. + +"You--you--" he stuttered, "--you go to hell." + +Without another word the elderly Cavendish summoned the waiter, paid +the bill, and walked toward the door. John stared after him, a smile +of derision on his face. He had heard Cavendish threaten before. + +"Your cousin seemed peeved," suggested Miss La Rue. + +"It's his nature," explained John. "Got sore because I asked him for a +mere hundred and threatened to cut off my income unless I quit you two." + +"You told him where to go," Miss La Rue said, laughing. "I heard you, +but I don't suppose he'll go--he doesn't look like that kind." + +"Anyhow, I told him," laughed John; then producing a large bill, cried: +"Drink up, people, they're on me--and goody-goody cousin Fred." + + +When Frederick Cavendish reached the street and the fresh night air +raced through his lungs he came to a sudden realisation and then a +resolution. The realisation was that since further pleading would +avail nothing with John Cavendish, he needed a lesson. The resolution +was to give it to him. Both strengthened his previous half-hearted +desire to meet Westcott, into determination. + +He turned the matter over in his mind as he walked along until +reflection was ended by the doors of the College Club which appeared +abruptly and took him in their swinging circle. He went immediately to +the writing-room, laid aside his things and sat down. The first thing +to do, he decided, was to obtain an attorney and consult him regarding +the proper steps. For no other reason than that they had met +occasionally in the corridor he thought of Patrick Enright, a heavy-set +man with a loud voice and given to wearing expensive clothes. + +Calling a page boy, he asked that Enright be located if possible. +During the ensuing wait he outlined on a scrap of paper what he +proposed doing. Fifteen minutes passed before Enright, suave and +apparently young except for growing baldness, appeared. + +"I take it you are Mr. Cavendish," he said, advancing, "and that you +are in immediate need of an attorney's counsel." + +Cavendish nodded, shook hands, and motioned him into a chair. "I have +been called suddenly out of town, Mr. Enright," he explained, "and for +certain reasons which need not be disclosed I deem it necessary to +execute a will. I am the only son of the late William Huntington +Cavendish; also his sole heir, and in the event of my death without a +will, the property would descend to my only known relative, a cousin." + +"His name?" Mr. Enright asked. + +"John Cavendish." + +The lawyer nodded. Of young Cavendish he evidently knew. + +"Because of his dissolute habits I have decided to dispose of a large +portion of my estate elsewhere in case of my early death. I have here +a rough draft of what I want done." He showed the paper. "All that I +require is that it be transposed into legal form." + +Enright took the paper and read it carefully. The bulk of the +$1,000,000 Cavendish estate was willed to charitable organisations, and +a small allowance, a mere pittance, was provided for John Cavendish. +After a few inquiries the attorney said sharply: "You want this +transcribed immediately?" + +Cavendish nodded. + +"Since it can be made brief I may possibly be able to do it on the +girl's machine in the office. You do not mind waiting a moment?" + +Cavendish shook his head, and rising, the attorney disappeared in the +direction of the office. Cavendish heaved a sigh of relief; now he was +free, absolutely free, to do as he chose. His disappearance would mean +nothing to his small circle of casual friends, and when he was settled +elsewhere he could notify the only two men who were concerned with his +whereabouts--his valet, Valois, and the agent handling the estate. He +thought of beginning a letter to John, but hesitated, and when Enright +returned he found him with pen in hand. + +"A trifling task," the attorney smiled easily. "All ready for your +signature, too. You sign there, the second line. But wait--we must +have witnesses." + +Simms, the butler, and the doorman were called in and wrote their names +to the document and then withdrew, after which Enright began folding it +carefully. + +"I presume you leave this in my care?" he asked shortly. + +Cavendish shook his head: "I think not. I prefer holding it myself in +case it is needed suddenly. I shall keep my rooms, and my man Valois +will remain there indefinitely. Now as to your charges." + +A nominal sum was named and paid, after which Cavendish rose, picked up +his hat and stick and turned to Enright. + +"You have obliged me greatly," he smiled, "and, of course, the +transaction will be considered as strictly confidential." And then +seeing Enright's nod bade him a courteous "Good night." + +The attorney watched him disappear. Suddenly he struck the table with +one hand. + +"By God!" he muttered, "I'll have to see this thing a little further." + +Wheeling suddenly, he walked to a telephone booth, called a number and +waited impatiently several moments before he said in intense subdued +tones: "Is this Carlton's Cafe? Give me Jackson, the head-waiter. +Jackson, is Mr. Cavendish--John Cavendish--there? Good! Call him to +the phone will you, Jackson? It's important." + + + + +CHAPTER II: THE BODY ON THE FLOOR + +The early light of dawn stealing in faintly through the spider-web of +the fire-escape ladder, found a partially open window on the third +floor of the Waldron apartments, and began slowly to brighten the walls +of the room within. There were no curtains on this window as upon the +others, and the growing radiance streamed in revealing the whole +interior. It was a large apartment, furnished soberly and in excellent +taste as either lounging-room or library, the carpet a dark green, the +walls delicately tinted, bearing a few rare prints rather sombrely +framed, and containing a few upholstered chairs; a massive sofa, and a +library table bearing upon it a stack of magazines. + +Its tenant evidently was of artistic leanings for about the room were +several large bronze candle-sticks filled with partially burned tapers. +A low bookcase extended along two sides of the room, each shelf filled, +and at the end of the cases a heavy imported drapery drawn slightly +aside revealed the entrance to a sleeping apartment, the bed's snowy +covering unruffled. Wealth, taste and comfort were everywhere manifest. + +Yet, as the light lengthened, the surroundings evidenced disorder. One +chair lay overturned, a porcelain vase had fallen from off the +table-top to the floor and scattered into fragments. A few magazines +had fallen also, and there were miscellaneous papers scattered about +the carpet, one or two of them torn as though jerked open by an +impatient hand. Still others lying near the table disclosed corners +charred by fire, and as an eddy of wind whisked through the window and +along the floor it tumbled brown ashes along with it, at the same time +diluting the faint odour of smoke that clung to the room. Back of the +table a small safe embedded in the wall stood with its door wide open, +its inner drawer splintered as with a knife blade and hanging half out, +and below it a riffle of papers, many of them apparently legal +documents. + +But the one object across which the golden beams of light fell as +though in soft caress was the motionless figure of a man lying upon his +back beside the table near the drapeless window. Across his face and +shoulders were the charred remains of what undoubtedly had been +curtains on that window. A three-socketed candle-stick filled with +partially burned candles which doubtless had been knocked from the +table was mute evidence of how the tiny flame had started upon its +short march. As to the man's injuries, a blow from behind had +evidently crushed his skull and, though the face was seared and burned, +though the curtain's partial ashes covered more than a half of it, +though the eye-lashes above the sightless eyes were singed and the trim +beard burned to black stubs, the face gave mute evidence of being that +of Frederick Cavendish. + +In this grim scene a tiny clock on the mantel began pealing the hour of +eight. As though this were a signal for entrance, the door at the end +of the bookcase opened noiselessly and a man, smooth faced, his hair +brushed low across his forehead, stepped quietly in. As his eyes +surveyed the grewsome object by the table, they dilated with horror; +then his whole body stiffened and he fled back into the hall, crashing +the door behind him. + +Ten minutes later he returned, not alone, however. This time his +companion was John Cavendish but partially dressed, his features white +and haggard. + +With nervous hands he pushed open the door. At the sight of the body +he trembled a moment, then, mastering himself, strode over and touched +the dead face, the other meanwhile edging into the room. + +"Dead, sir, really _dead_?" the late comer asked. + +Cavendish nodded: "For several hours," he answered in an unnatural +voice. "He must have been struck from behind. Robbery evidently was +the object--cold-blooded robbery." + +"The window is open, sir, and last night at twenty minutes after twelve +I locked it. Mr. Cavendish came in at twelve and locking the window +was the last thing I did before he told me I could go." + +"He left no word for a morning call?" + +Valois shook his head: "I always bring his breakfast at eight," he +explained. + +"Did he say anything about suddenly leaving the city for a trip West? +I heard such a rumour." + +"No, sir. He was still up when I left and had taken some papers from +his pocket. When last I saw him he was looking at them. He seemed +irritated." + +There was a moment's silence, during which the flush returned to +Cavendish's cheeks, but his hands still trembled. + +"You heard nothing during the night?" he demanded. + +"Nothing, sir. I swear I knew nothing until I opened the door and saw +the body a few moments ago." + +"You'd better stick to your story, Valois," the other said sternly, +"The police will be here shortly. I'm going to call them, now." + +He was calm, efficient, self-contained now as he got Central Station +upon the wire and began talking. + +"Hello, lieutenant? Yes. This is John Cavendish of the Waldron +apartments speaking. My cousin, Frederick Cavendish, has been found +dead in his room and his safe rifled. Nothing has been disturbed. +Yes, at the Waldron, Fifty-Seventh Street. Please hurry." + +Perhaps half an hour later the police came--two bull-necked +plain-clothes men and a flannel-mouthed "cop." + +With them came three reporters, one of them a woman. She was a young +woman, plainly dressed and, though she could not be called beautiful, +there was a certain patrician prettiness in her small, oval, womanly +face with its grey kind eyes, its aquiline nose, its firm lips and +determined jaw, a certain charm in the manner in which her chestnut +hair escaped occasionally from under her trim hat. Young, aggressive, +keen of mind and tireless, Stella Donovan was one of the few good woman +reporters of the city and the only one the _Star_ kept upon its pinched +pay-roil. They did so because she could cover a man-size job and get a +feminine touch into her story after she did it. And, though her +customary assignments were "sob" stories, divorces, society events and +the tracking down of succulent bits of general scandal, she +nevertheless enjoyed being upon the scene of the murder even though she +was not assigned to it. This casual duty was for Willis, the _Star's_ +"police" man, who had dragged her along with him for momentary company +over her protest that she must get a "yarn" concerning juvenile +prisoners for the Sunday edition. + +"Now, we'll put 'em on the rack." Willis smiled as he left her side +and joined the detectives. + +A flood of questions from the officers, interspersed frequently with a +number from Willis, and occasionally one from the youthful _Chronicle_ +man, came down upon Valois and John Cavendish, while Miss Donovan, +silent and watchful, stood back, frequently letting her eyes admire the +tasteful prints upon the walls and the rich hangings in the room of +death. + +Valois repeated his experience, which was corroborated in part by the +testimony of John Cavendish's valet whom he had met and talked with in +the hall. The valet also testified that his employer, John Cavendish, +had come home not later than twelve o'clock and immediately retired. +Then John Cavendish established the fact that ten minutes before +arriving home he had dropped Celeste La Rue at her apartment. There +was no flaw in any of the stories to which the inquisitors could attach +suspicion. One thing alone seemed to irritate Willis. + +"Are you sure," he said to Cavendish, "that the dead man is your +cousin? The face and chest are pretty badly burned you know, and I +thought perhaps----" + +A laugh from the detectives silenced him while Cavendish ended any +fleeting doubts with a contemptuous gaze. + +"You can't fool a man on his own cousin, youngster," he said flatly. +"The idea is absurd." + +The crime unquestionably was an outside job; the window opening on the +fire-escape had been jimmied, the marks left being clearly visible. +Apparently Frederick Cavendish had previously opened the safe +door--since it presented no evidence of being tampered with--and was +examining certain papers on the table, when the intruder had stolen up +from behind and dealt him a heavy blow probably, from the nature of the +wound, using a piece of lead pipe. Perhaps in falling Cavendish's arm +had caught in the curtains, pulling them from the supporting rod and +dragging them across the table, thus sweeping the candlestick with its +lighted tapers down to the floor with it. There the extinguished wicks +had ignited the draperies, which had fallen across the stricken man's +face and body. The clothes, torso, and legs, had been charred beyond +recognition but the face, by some peculiar whim of fate, had been +partly preserved. + +The marauder, aware that the flames would obliterate a portion, if not +all of the evidence against him, had rifled the safe in which, John +testified, his cousin always kept considerable money. Scattering +broadcast valueless papers, he had safely made his escape through the +window, leaving his victim's face to the licking flames. Foot-prints +below the window at the base of the fire-escape indicated that the +fugitive had returned that way. This was the sum of the evidence, +circumstantial and true, that was advanced. Satisfied that nothing +else was to be learned, the officers, detectives, Willis, and Miss +Donovan and the pale _Chronicle_ youth withdrew, leaving the officer on +guard. + +The same day, young John, eager to be away from the scene, moved his +belongings to the Fairmount Hotel, and, since no will was found in the +dead man's papers, the entire estate came to him, as next of kin. A +day or two later the body was interred in the family lot beside the +father's grave, and the night of the funeral young John Cavendish dined +at an out-of-the-way road-house with a blonde with a hard metallic +voice. Her name was Miss Celeste La Rue. + +And the day following he discharged Francois Valois without apparent +cause, in a sudden burst of temper. So, seemingly, the curtain fell on +the last act of the play. + + + + +CHAPTER III: MR. ENRIGHT DECLARES HIMSELF + +One month after the Cavendish murder and two days after he had +despatched a casual, courteous note to John Cavendish requesting that +he call, Mr. Patrick Enright, of Enright and Dougherty, sat in his +private office on the top floor of the Collander Building in Cortlandt +Street waiting for the youth's appearance. Since young Cavendish had +consulted him before in minor matters, Mr. Enright had expected that he +would call voluntarily soon after the murder, but in this he was +disappointed. Realising that Broadway was very dear to the young man, +Enright had made allowances, until, weary of waiting, he decided to get +into the game himself and to this end had despatched the note, to which +Cavendish had replied both by telephone and note. + +"He ought to be here now," murmured Mr. Enright sweetly, looking at his +watch, and soon the expected visitor was ushered in. Arising to his +feet the attorney extended a moist, pudgy hand. + +"Quite prompt, John," he greeted. "Take the chair there--and pardon me +a moment." + +As the youth complied Enright opened the door, glanced into the outer +room, and gave orders not to be disturbed for the next half-hour. +Then, drawing in his head, closed the door and turned the key. + +"John," he resumed smoothly, "I have been somewhat surprised that you +failed to consult me earlier regarding the will of your late cousin +Frederick." + +"His--his will!" John leaned forward amazed, as he stared into the +other's expressionless face. "Did--did he leave one?" + +"Oh! that's it," the attorney chuckled. "You didn't know about it, did +you? How odd. I thought I informed you of the fact over the phone the +same night Frederick died." + +"You told me he had called upon you to prepare a will--but there was +none found in his papers." + +"So I inferred from the newspaper accounts," Enright chuckled dryly, +his eyes narrowing, "as well as the information that you had applied +for letters of administration. In view of that, I thought a little +chat advisable--yes, quite advisable, since on the night of his death I +did draw up his will. Incidentally, I am the only one living aware +that such a will was drawn. You see my position?" + +Young Cavendish didn't; this was all strange, confusing. + +"The will," resumed Mr. Enright, "was drawn in proper form and duly +witnessed." + +"There can't be such a will. None was found. You phoned me shortly +before midnight, and twenty minutes later Frederick was in his +apartments. He had no time to deposit it elsewhere. There is no such +will." + +Enright smiled, not pleasantly by any means. + +"Possibly not," he said with quiet sinister gravity. "It was probably +destroyed and it was to gain possession of that will that Frederick +Cavendish was killed." + +John leaped to his feet, his face bloodless: "My God!" he muttered +aghast, "do you mean to say----" + +"Sit down, John; this is no cause for quarrel. Now listen. I am not +accusing you of crime; not intentional crime, at least. There is no +reason why you should not naturally have desired to gain possession of +the will. If an accident happened, that was your misfortune. I merely +mention these things because I am your friend. Such friendship leads +me first to inform you what had happened over the phone. I realised +that Frederick's hasty determination to devise his property elsewhere +was the result of a quarrel. I believed it my duty to give you +opportunity to patch that quarrel up with the least possible delay. +Perhaps this was not entirely professional on my part, but the claims +of friendship are paramount to mere professional ethics." + +He sighed, clasping and unclasping his hands, yet with eyes steadily +fixed upon Cavendish, who had sunk back into his chair. + +"Now consider the situation, my dear fellow. I have, it is true, +performed an unprofessional act which, if known, would expose me to +severe criticism. There is, however, no taint of criminal intent about +my conduct and, no doubt, my course would be fully vindicated, were I +now to go directly before the court and testify to the existence of a +will." + +"But that could not be proved. You have already stated that Frederick +took the will with him; it has never been found." + +"Quite true--or rather, it may have been found, and destroyed. It +chances, however, that I took the precaution to make a carbon copy." + +"Unsigned?" + +"Yes, but along with this unsigned copy I also retain the original +memoranda furnished me in Frederick Cavendish's own handwriting. I +believe, from a legal standpoint, by the aid of my evidence, the court +would be very apt to hold such a will proved." + +He leaned suddenly forward, facing the shrinking Cavendish and bringing +his hand down hard upon the desk. + +"Do you perceive now what this will means? Do you realise where such +testimony would place you? Under the law, providing he died without a +will, you were the sole heir to the property of Frederick Cavendish. +It was widely known you were not on friendly terms. The evening of his +death you quarrelled openly in a public restaurant. Later, in a spirit +of friendship, I called you up and said he had made a will practically +disinheriting you. Between that time and the next morning he is +murdered in his own apartments, his safe rifled, and yet, the only +paper missing is this will, to the existence of which I can testify. +If suspicion is once cast upon you, how can you clear yourself? Can +you prove that you were in your own apartments, asleep in your own bed +from one o'clock until eight? Answer that." + +Cavendish tried, but although his lips moved, they gave utterance to no +sound. He could but stare into those eyes confronting him. Enright +scarcely gave him opportunity. + +"So, the words won't come. I thought not. Now listen. I am not that +kind of a man and I have kept still. No living person--not even my +partner--has been informed of what has occurred. The witnesses, I am +sure, do not know the nature of the paper they signed. I am a lawyer; +I realise fully the relations I hold to my client, but in this +particular case I contend that my duty as a man is of more importance +than any professional ethics. Frederick Cavendish had this will +executed in a moment of anger and devised his estate to a number of +charities. I personally believe he was not in normal mind and that the +will did not really reflect his purpose. He had no thought of +immediate death, but merely desired to teach you a lesson. He proposed +to disappear--or at least, that is my theory--in order that he might +test you on a slender income. I am able to look upon the whole matter +from this standpoint, and base my conduct accordingly. No doubt this +will enable us to arrive at a perfectly satisfactory understanding." + +The lawyer's voice had fallen, all the threat gone, and the younger man +straightened in his chair. + +"You mean you will maintain silence as to the will?" + +"Absolutely; as a client your interests will always be my first +concern. Of course I shall expect to represent you in a legal capacity +in settling up the estate, and consequently feel it only just that the +compensation for such services shall be mutually agreed upon. In this +case there are many interests to guard. Knowing, as I do, all the +essential facts, I am naturally better prepared to conserve your +interests than any stranger. I hope you appreciate this." + +"And your fee?" + +"Reasonable, very reasonable, when you consider the service I am doing +you, and the fact that my professional reputation might so easily be +involved and the sums to be distributed, which amount to more than a +million dollars. My silence, my permitting the estate to go to +settlement, and my legal services combined, ought to be held as rather +valuable--at, let us say, a hundred thousand. Yes, a hundred thousand; +I hardly think that is unfair." + +Cavendish leaped to his feet, his hand gripping his cane. + +"You damned black----" + +"Wait!" and Enright arose also. "Not so loud, please; your voice might +be heard in the outer office. Besides it might be well for you to be +careful of your language. I said my services would cost you a hundred +thousand dollars. Take the proposition or leave it, Mr. John +Cavendish. Perhaps, with a moment's thought, the sum asked may not +seem excessive." + +"But--but," the other stammered, all courage leaving him, "I haven't +the money." + +"Of course not," the threat on Enright's face changing to a smile. +"But the prospects that you will have are unusually good. I am quite +willing to speculate on your fortunes. A memoranda for legal services +due one year from date--such as I have already drawn up--and bearing +your signature, will be quite satisfactory. Glance over the items, +please; yes, sit here at the table. Now, if you will sign that there +will be no further cause for you to feel any uneasiness--this line, +please." + +Cavendish grasped the penholder in his fingers, and signed. It was the +act of a man dazed, half stupefied, unable to control his actions. +With trembling hand, and white face, he sat staring at the paper, +scarcely comprehending its real meaning. In a way it was a confession +of guilt, an acknowledgment of his fear of exposure, yet he felt +utterly incapable of resistance. Enright unlocked the door, and +projected his head outside, comprehending clearly that the proper time +to strike was while the iron was hot. + +Calling Miss Healey, one of his stenographers, he made her an official +witness to the document and the signature of John Cavendish. + +Not until ten minutes later when he was on the street did it occur to +John Cavendish that the carbon copy of the will, together with the +rough notes in his cousin's handwriting, still remained in Enright's +possession. Vainly he tried to force himself to return and demand +them, but his nerve failed, and he shuffled away hopelessly in the +hurrying crowds. + + + + +CHAPTER IV: A BREATH OF SUSPICION + +As Francois Valois trudged along the night streets toward his rooming +house his heart was plunged in sorrow and suspicion. To be discharged +from a comfortable position for no apparent reason when one +contemplated no sweet alliance was bad enough, but to be discharged +when one planned marriage to so charming a creature as Josette La Baum +was nothing short of a blow. Josette herself had admitted that and +promptly turned Francois's hazards as to young Cavendish's motives into +smouldering suspicion, which he dared not voice. Now, as he paused +before a delicatessen window realising that unless he soon obtained +another position its dainties would be denied him, these same +suspicions assailed him again. + +Disheartened, he turned from the pane and was about to move away, when +he came face to face with a trim young woman in a smart blue serge. +"Oh, hello!" she cried pleasantly, bringing up short. Then seeing the +puzzled look upon the valet's face, she said: "Don't you remember me? +I'm Miss Donovan of the _Star_. I came up to the apartments the +morning of the Cavendish murder with one of the boys." + +Valois smiled warmly; men usually did for Miss Donovan. "I remember," +he said dolorously. + +The girl sensed some underlying sorrow in his voice and with +professional skill learned the cause within a minute. Then, because +she believed that there might be more to be told, and because she was +big-hearted and interested in every one's troubles, she urged him to +accompany her to a near-by restaurant and pour out his heart while she +supped. Lonely and disheartened, Valois accepted gladly and within +half an hour they were seated at a tiny table in an Italian cafe. + +"About your discharge?" she queried after a time. + +"I was not even asked to accompany Mr. Frederick's body," he burst out, +"even though I had been with him a year. So I stayed in the apartment +to straighten things, expecting to be retained in John Cavendish's +service. I even did the work in his apartments, but when he returned +and saw me there he seemed to lose his temper, wanted to know why I was +hanging around, and ordered me out of the place." + +"The ingrate!" exclaimed the girl, laying a warm, consoling hand on the +other's arm. "You're sure he wasn't drinking?" + +"I don't think so, miss. Just the sight of me seemed to drive him mad. +Flung money at me, he did, told me to get out, that he never wanted to +see me again. Since then I have tried for three weeks to find work, +but it has been useless." + +While she gave him a word of sympathy, Miss Donovan was busily +thinking. She remembered Willis's remark in the apartments, "Are you +sure of the dead man's identity? His face is badly mutilated, you +know"; and her alert mind sensed a possibility of a newspaper story +back of young Cavendish's unwarranted and strange act. How far could +she question the man before her? That she had established herself in +his good grace she was sure, and to be direct with him she decided +would be the best course to adopt. + +"Mr. Valois," she said kindly, "would you mind if I asked you a +question or two more?" + +"No," the man returned. + +"All right. First, what sort of a man was your master?" + +Valois answered almost with reverence: + +"A nice, quiet gentleman. A man that liked outdoors and outdoor +sports. He almost never drank, and then only with quiet men like +himself that he met at various clubs. Best of all, he liked to spend +his evenings at home reading." + +"Not much like his cousin John," she ventured with narrowing eyes. + +"No, ma'am, God be praised! There's a young fool for you, miss, crazy +for the women and his drinking. Brought up to spend money, but not to +earn any." + +"I understand that he was dependent upon Frederick Cavendish." + +"He was, miss," Valois said disgustedly, "for every cent. He could +never get enough of it, either, although Mr. Frederick gave him a +liberal allowance." + +"Did they ever quarrel?" + +"I never heard them. But I do know there was no love lost between +them, and I know that young John was always broke." + +"Girls cost lots on Broadway," Miss Donovan suggested, "and they keep +men up late, too." + +Valois laughed lightly. "John only came home to sleep occasionally," +he said; "and as for the women--one of them called on him the day after +Mr. Frederick was killed. I was in the hall, and saw her go straight +to his door--like she had been there before. A swell dresser, miss, if +I ever saw one. One of those tall blondes with a reddish tinge in her +hair. He likes that kind." + +Miss Donovan started imperceptibly. This was interesting; a woman in +John Cavendish's apartment the day after his cousin's murder! But who +was she? There were a million carrot-blondes in Manhattan. Still, the +woman must have had some distinguishing mark; her hat, perhaps, or her +jewels. + +"Did the woman wear any diamonds?" she asked. + +"No diamonds," Valois returned; "a ruby, though. A ruby set in a big +platinum ring. I saw her hand upon the knob." + +Miss Donovan's blood raced fast. She knew that woman. It was Celeste +La Rue! She remembered her because of a press-agent story that had +once been written about the ring, and from what Miss Donovan knew of +Miss La Rue, she did not ordinarily seek men; therefore there must have +been a grave reason for her presence in John Cavendish's apartments +immediately after she learned of Frederick's death. + +Had his untimely end disarranged some plan of these two? What was the +reason she had come in person instead of telephoning? Had her +mysterious visit anything to do with the death of the elder Cavendish? + +A thousand speculations entered Miss Donovan's mind. + +"How long was she in the apartment?" she demanded sharply. + +"Fifteen or twenty minutes, miss--until after the hall-man came back. +I had to help lay out the body, and could not remain there any longer." + +"Have you told any one else what you have told me?" + +"Only Josette. She's my _fiancee_. Miss La Baum is her last name." + +"You told her nothing further that did not come out at the inquest?" + +Valois hesitated. + +"Maybe I did, miss," he admitted nervously. "She questioned me about +losing my job, and her questions brought things into my mind that I +might never have thought of otherwise. And at last I came to believe +that it wasn't Mr. Frederick who was dead at all." + +The valet's last remark was crashing in its effect. + +Miss Donovan's eyes dilated with eagerness and amazement. + +"Not Frederick Cavendish! Mr. Valois, tell me--why?" + +The other's voice fell to a whisper. + +"Frederick Cavendish, miss," he said hollowly, "had a scar on his +chest--from football, he once told me--and the man we laid out, well, +of course his body was a bit burned, but he appeared to have no scar at +all!" + +"You know that?" demanded the girl, frightened by the import of the +revelation. + +"Yes, miss. The assistant in the undertaking rooms said so, too. +Doubting my own mind, I asked him. The man we laid out had no scar on +his chest." + +Miss Donovan sprang suddenly to her feet. + +"Mr. Valois," she said breathlessly, "you come and tell that story to +my city editor, and he'll see that you get a job--and a real one. You +and I have started something, Mr. Valois." + +And, tossing money to cover the bill on the table, she took Valois's +arm, and with him in tow hurried through the restaurant to the city +streets on one of which was the _Star_ office, where Farriss, the city +editor, daily damned the doings of the world. + +That night when Farriss had heard the evidence his metallic eyes +snapped with an unusual light. Farriss, for once, was enthusiastic. + +"A great lead! By God, it is! Now to prove it, Stella"--Farriss +always resorted to first names--"you drop everything else and go to +this, learn what you can, spend money if you have to. I'll drag Willis +off police, and you work with him. And damn me, if you two spend +money, you've got to get results! I'll give you a week--when you've +got something, come back!" + + + + +CHAPTER V: ON THE TRACK OF A CRIME + +In the city room of the _Star_, Farriss, the city editor, sat back in +his swivel chair smoking a farewell pipe preparatory to going home. +The final edition had been put to bed, the wires were quiet, and as he +sat there Farriss was thinking of plunging "muskies" in Maine streams. +His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a clatter of footsteps, and, +slapping his feet to the floor, he turned to confront Willis and Miss +Donovan. + +"Great God!" he started, at their appearance at so late an hour. + +Miss Donovan smiled at him. "No; great luck!" + +"Better than that, Mr. Farriss," echoed Willis. "We've got something; +and we dug all week to get it." + +"But it cost us real money--enough to make the business office moan, I +expect, too," Miss Donovan added. + +"Well, for Pete's sake, shoot!" demanded Farriss. "Cavendish, I +suppose?" + +The two nodded. Their eyes were alight with enthusiasm. + +"In the first place," said the girl, with grave emphasis, "Frederick +Cavendish did not die intestate as supposed. He left a will." + +Farriss blinked. "By God!" he exclaimed. "That's interesting. There +was no evidence of that before." + +"I got that from the servants of the College Club," Willis interposed. +"The will was drawn the night before the murder. And the man that drew +it was Patrick Enright of Enright and Dougherty. Cavendish took away a +copy of it in his pocket. And, Mr. Farriss, I got something else, +too--Enright and young John Cavendish are in communication further. I +saw him leaving Enright's office all excited. Following my hunch, I +cultivated Miss Healey, Enright's stenographer, and learned that the +two had an altercation and that it was evidently over some document." + +Farriss was interested. + +"Enright's in this deep," he muttered thoughtfully, "but how? +Well--what else?" + +Stella Donovan began speaking now: + +"I fixed it with Chambers, the manager of the Fairmount, to get Josette +La Baum--she's Valois's _fiancee_, you remember--into the hotel as a +maid. Josette 'soaped the keyhole' of the drawers in John Cavendish's +rooms there. I had a key made from the soap impression, and from the +contents of the correspondence we found I learned that Celeste La Rue, +the blonde of the Revue, had got some kind of hold on him. It isn't +love, either; it's something stronger. He jumps when she holds the +hoop." + +"La Rue's mixed up in this deeply, too," Willis cut in. "Neither one +of us could shadow her without uncovering ourselves, so we hired an +International operative. They cost ten dollars a day--and expenses. +What he learned was this--that while she was playing with young +Cavendish and seeing him almost daily, the lovely Celeste was also in +communication with--guess who!" + +"Enright?" Farriss ventured. + +"Exactly--Enright," he concluded, lighting his half-smoked cigarette. + +"Well," the city editor tapped his desk; "you two have done pretty +well, so far. You've got considerable dope. Now, what do you make of +it?" + +He bent an inquiring gaze on both the girl and the youth. + +"You do the talking, Jerry," Miss Donovan begged Willis; "I'm very +tired." + +Willis was only too eager; Willis was young, enthusiastic, +reliable--three reasons why the _Star_ kept him. + +"It may be a dream," he said, smiling, "but here is the way I stack it +up. The night after he quarrelled with John, Frederick Cavendish +called in Enright and made a will, presumably, cutting John off with +practically nothing. + +"Immediately after Frederick's departure, Enright calls Carbon's Cafe +and talks to John Cavendish, who had been dining there with Celeste La +Rue. + +"It is reasonable to suppose that he told him of the will. Less than +five hours afterward Frederick Cavendish is found dead in his +apartments. Again it is reasonable to suppose that he was croaked by +John Cavendish, who wanted to destroy the will so that he could claim +the estate. + +"These Broadway boys need money when they travel with chorines. +Anyhow, the dead man is buried, and John starts spending money like +water. One month later he receives a letter--Josette patched the +pieces together--asking him to call at Enright's office. + +"What happened there is probably this: Young Cavendish was informed of +the existence of the will, and it was offered to him at a price which +he couldn't afford to pay--just then. + +"Perhaps he was frightened into signing a promise to pay as soon as he +came into the estate--tricked by Enright. Enright, as soon as he heard +no will had been found in Frederick's effects, may have figured that +perhaps John killed him, or even if he did not, that, nevertheless, he +could use circumstances to extract money from the youngster, who, even +if innocent, would fear the trial and notoriety that would follow if +Enright publicly disclosed the existence of that will. + +"John Cavendish may be innocent, or he may be guilty, but one thing is +certain--he's being badgered to death by two people, from what little +we know. One of them is the La Rue woman; the other is Enright. + +"Now I wonder--Mr. Farriss, doesn't it occur to you that they may be +working together like the woman and the man in the Skittles case last +year? You remember then they got a youngster in their power and nearly +trimmed him down to his eye-teeth!" + +Farriss sat reflecting deeply, chewing the stem of his dead pipe. + +"There's something going on--that's as plain as a red banner-head. +You've got a peach of a start, so far, and done good pussyfooting--you, +too, Stella--but there's one thing that conflicts with your +hypothesis----" + +The two leaned forward. + +"Valois's statement that he was almost positive that the dead man was +not Cavendish," the city editor snapped. + +"I now believe Valois is mistaken, in view of developments," said +Willis with finality. "So does Stella--Miss Donovan, I mean. Remember +the body was charred across the face and chest--and Valois was excited." + +Farriss was silent a moment. + +"Stick to it a while longer," he rapped out; "and get La Rue and +Cavendish together at their meeting-place, if you can discover it." + +"We can!" interjected Willis. "That's something I learned less than an +hour ago. It's Steinway's Cafe, the place where the police picked up +Frisco Danny and Mad Mike Meighan two years ago. I followed them, but +could not get near enough to hear what they said." + +"Then hop to it," Farriss rejoined. "Stick around there until you get +something deeper. As for me--I'm going home. It's two o'clock." + + + + +CHAPTER VI: AT STEINWAY'S + +It was the second night after Farriss had given them his instructions +that Miss Donovan and Willis, sitting in the last darkened booth in +Steinway's Cafe, were rewarded for their vigil. The booth they +occupied was selected for the reason that it immediately joined that +into which Willis had but three days before seen Cavendish and the La +Rue woman enter, and now as they sat toying with their food, their eyes +commanding the entire room, they saw a woman swing into the cafe +entrance and enter the booth directly ahead of them. + +"La Rue!" whispered Willis to Miss Donovan. + +Ten minutes later a young man entered the cafe, swept it quickly with +his eyes, then made directly for the enclosure occupied by his +inamorata. The man was Cavendish. + +In the booth behind. Miss Donovan and Willis were all attention, their +ears strained to catch the wisps of conversation that eddied over the +low partition. + +"Pray for the orchestra to stop playing," whispered Miss Donovan, and, +strangely enough, as she uttered the words the violins obeyed, leaving +the room comparatively quiet in which it was not impossible to catch +stray sentences of the subdued conversation. + +"Well, I'm here." It was John's voice, an ill-humoured voice, too. +"But this is the last time, Celeste. These meetings are dangerous." + +"Yes--when you talk so loud." Her soft voice scarcely reached the +listeners. "But this time there was a good reason." She laughed. +"You didn't think it was love, did you, deary?" + +"Oh, cut that out!" disgustedly. "I have been foolish enough to +satisfy even your vanity. You want more money, I suppose." + +"Well, of course," her voice hardening. "Naturally I feel that I +should share in your good fortune. But the amount I want now, and must +have to-night--to-night, John Cavendish--is not altogether for myself. +I've heard from the West." + +"My God! Has he been located?" + +"Yes, and is safe for the present. Here, read this telegram. It's not +very clear, but Beaton wants money and asks me to bring it." + +"You? Why does he need you?" + +"Lack of nerve, I guess; he's out of his element in that country. If +it was the Bowery he'd do this sort of job better. Anyhow, I'm going, +and I want a roll. We can't either of us afford to lie down now." + +Cavendish half smothered an oath. + +"Money," he ejaculated fiercely. "That is all I hear. Enright has +held me up something fierce, and you never let me alone. Suppose I say +I haven't got it." + +"Why, then, I'd laugh at you, that's ail. You may not love me any +more, my dear, but surely you have no occasion to consider me a fool. +I endeavour to keep posted on what the court is doing in our case; I am +naturally interested, you know. You were at the Commercial National +Bank this afternoon." + +"How the devil did you know that?" + +"I play my cards safe," she laughed mirthlessly. "I could even tell +you the size of your check, and that the money is still on your person. +You intended to place it in a safe-deposit box and keep it hidden for +your own use." + +"You hellion, you!" Cavendish's voice rose high, then later Miss +Donovan heard him say more softly: "How much do you want?" + +"Ten thousand. I'm willing enough to split fifty-fifty. This Colorado +job is getting to be expensive, deary. I wouldn't dare draw on you +through the banks." + +Miss Donovan had only time to nudge Willis enthusiastically before she +overheard the next plea. + +"Celeste, are you trimming me again?" + +"Don't be a fool!" came back in subdued tones. "Do you think that +telegram is a fake? My Gawd--that is what I want money for! Moreover, +I should think you would be tickled, Johnnie boy, to get me out of +town--and the price is so low." + +In the back booth Willis muttered: + +"God, things are going great." Then he bent his ear to sedulous +attention and again he could hear the voice of Cavendish. + +"You've got to tell me what you're going to do with the money," it said. + +The La Rue woman's answer could not be heard; evidently it was a +whispered one, and therefore of utmost importance. Came a pause, a +clink of glasses, and then a few straggling words filtered over the +partition. + +"Isn't that the best way?" Celeste La Rue's voice was easily +recognisable. "Of course it will be a--well, a mere accident, and no +questions asked." + +"But if the man should talk!" + +"Forget it! Ned Beaton is an oyster. Besides, I've got the screws on +him. Come on, Johnnie boy, don't be a fool. We are in this game and +must play it out. It has been safe enough so far, and I know what I am +doing now. You've got too much at stake to haggle over a few thousand, +when the money has come to you as easily as this has. Why, if I'd +breathe a word of what I know in this town----" + +"For God's sake, not so loud!" + +"Bah! No one here is paying any attention to us. Enright is the only +one who even suspicions, and his mouth is shut. It makes me laugh to +think how easily the fools were gulled. We've got a clear field if you +will only let me play the game out in my own way. Do I get the money?" + +He must have acceded, for his voice no longer rose to a high pitch. +Presently, when the orchestra began playing again. Miss Donovan and +Willis judged the pair were giving their attention to the dinner. +Finally, after an hour had passed, Cavendish emerged from the booth, +went to the check-room, and hurriedly left the cafe. Waiting only long +enough to satisfy herself that Cavendish was gone, Celeste La Rue +herself emerged from the booth and paused for a moment beside its +bamboo curtains. Then turning suddenly, she made her way, not toward +the exit of the cafe, but to another small booth near the check-room, +and into this she disappeared. + +But before she had started this short journey, a yellow piece of paper, +closely folded, slipped from her belt where it had been tucked. + +"It's the telegram! The one of which they were speaking." Miss +Donovan's voice whispered dramatically as her eyes swept the tiny clue +within their ambit. + +Willis started. He almost sprung from the booth to pick it up, but the +girl withheld him with a pressure of the hand. + +"Not yet," she begged. "Wait until we see who leaves the other booth +into which La Rue just went." + +And Willis fell back into the seat, his pulse pounding. Presently, +with startled eyes, they beheld Celeste la Rue leave the booth, and +then five minutes later a well-dressed man, a suave, youthful man with +a head inclined toward baldness. + +"Enright!" muttered Willis. + +"Enright," echoed Miss Donovan, "and, Jerry, our hunch was right. He +and La Rue are playing Cavendish--and for something big. But now is +our time to get the telegram. Quick--before the waiter returns." + +At her words Willis was out of the booth. As Miss Donovan watched, she +saw him pass by the folded evidence. What was wrong? But, +no--suddenly she saw his handkerchief drop, saw him an instant later +turn and pick it up, and with it the telegram. Disappearing in the +direction of the men's room, he returned a moment later, paid the +check, and with Miss Donovan on his arm left the cafe. + +Outside, and three blocks away from Steinway's, they paused under an +arc-light, and with shaking hands Willis showed her the message. There +in the flickering rays the girl read its torn and yet enlightening +message. + + + lorado, May 19, 1915. + + him safe. Report and collect. + come with roll Monday sure + 've seen papers. Remember Haskell. + + NED. + + +"It's terribly cryptic, Jerry," she said to the other, "but two things +we know from it." + +"One is that La Rue's going to blow the burg some day--soon." + +"The other, that 'Ned' is Ned Beaton, the man mentioned back there in +Steinway's. Whatever his connection is, we don't know. I think we had +better go to Farriss, don't you?" + +"A good hunch," Willis replied, taking her arm. "And let's move on it +quick. One of us may have to hop to Colorado if Farriss thinks well of +what we've dug up." + +"I hope it's you--you've worked hard," said Miss Donovan. + +"But you got the big clue of it all--the telegram," gallantly returned +her companion, as he raised his arm to signal a passing cab which would +take them to the Star office. + +Once there, in their enthusiasm they upset the custom of the office and +broke into Farriss's fullest hour, dragged him from his slot in the +copy desk and into his private office, which he rarely used. There, +into his impatient ears they dinned the story of what they had just +learned, ending up by passing him the telegram. + +For a mere instant he glanced at them, then his lips began to move. +"Beaton--Ned--Ned Beaton--Ned Beaton," he mused, and then sat bolt +upright in his chair, while he banged the desk with a round, hard fist. +"Hell's bells!" he ejaculated. "You've run across something. I know +that name. I know the man. Ned Beaton is a 'gun,' and he pulled his +first job when I was doing 'police' in Philadelphia for the _Record_. +Well, well, my children, this is splendid! And what next?" + +"But, Mr. Farriss, where is he?" put in Stella Donovan. "Where was the +message sent from? Colorado, yes, but where in Colorado? That's the +thing to find out." + +"I thought it might be the last word in the message--Haskell," ventured +Willis. + +Mr. Farriss paused a moment, then, + +"Boy!" he yelled through the open door. + +"Boy, get me an atlas here quick, or I'll hang your hair on a +proof-hook!" + +A young hopeful, frightened into frenzy, obeyed with alacrity, and +Farriss, seizing the atlas from his hand, thumbed it until he found a +map of Colorado. Together the three pored over it. + +"There it is!" Stella Donovan cried suddenly. "Down toward the bottom. +Looks like desert country." + +"Pretty dry place for Celeste," laughed Willis. "I might call her up +and kid her about it if----" + +Farriss looked at him sourly. "You might get a raise in salary," he +snapped sharply, "if you'd keep your mind on the job. What you can do +is call up, say you're the detective bureau, and ask carelessly about +Beaton. That'll throw a scare into her. You've got her number?" + +"Riverside 7683," Willis said in a businesslike voice. "The Beecher +apartments. I'll try it." + +He disappeared into the clattering local room, to return a moment +later, white of face, bright of eye, and with lips parted. + +"What's the dope?" Farriss shot at him. + +"Nothing!" cried the excited young man. "Nothing except that fifteen +minutes ago Celeste La Rue kissed the Beecher apartments good-bye and, +with trunk, puff, and toothbrush, beat it." + +"To Haskell," added the city editor, "or my hair is pink. And by God, +I believe there's a story there. What's more, I believe we can get it. +It's blind chance, but we'll take it." + +"Let Mr. Willis----" began Miss Donovan. + +"Mind your own business, Stella," commanded Farriss, "and see that your +hat's on straight. Because within half an hour you're going to draw on +the night cashier for five hundred dollars and pack your little +portmanteau for Haskell." + +Willis's face fell. "Can't I go, too?" he began, but Farriss silenced +him on the instant. + +"Kid," he said sharply but kindly, "you're too good a hound for the +desert. The city needs you here--and, dammit, you keep on sniffing." + +Turning to the unsettled girl beside him, he went on briskly: + +"Work guardedly; query us when you have to; be sure of your facts, and +consign your soul to God. Do I see you moving?" + +And when Farriss looked again he did. + + + + +CHAPTER VII: MISS DONOVAN ARRIVES + +When the long overland train paused a moment before the ancient box car +that served as the depot for the town of Haskell, nestled in the gulch +half a mile away, it deposited Miss Stella Donovan almost in the arms +of Carson, the station-agent, and he, wary of the wiles of women and +the ethics of society, promptly turned her over to Jim Westcott, who +had come down to inquire if the station-agent held a telegram for +him--a telegram that he expected from the East. + +"She oughtn't to hike to the Timmons House alone, Jim," Carson said. +"This yere is pay-day up at the big mines, an' the boys are havin' a +hell of a time. That's them yellin' down yonder, and they're mighty +likely to mix up with the Bar X gang before mornin', bein' how the +liquor is runnin' like blood in the streets o' Lundun, and there's half +a mile between 'em." + +In view of these disclosures, Miss Donovan welcomed the courteous +acquiescence of Westcott, whom she judged to be a man of thirty-one, +with force and character--these written in the lines of his big body +and his square, kind face. + +"I'm Miss Stella Donovan of New York," she said directly. + +"And I," he returned, with hat off in the deepening gloom, "am Jim +Westcott, who plugs away at a mining claim over yonder." + +"There!" laughed the girl frankly. "We're introduced. And I suppose +we can start for the Timmons House." + +As her words trailed off there came again the sound of yelling, sharp +cries, and revolver shots from the gulch below where lights twinkled +faintly. + +Laughing warmly, Westcott picked up her valise, threw a "So-long" to +Carson, and with Miss Donovan close behind him, began making for the +distant lights of the Timmons House. As they followed the road, which +paralleled a whispering stream, the girl began to draw him out +skilfully, and was amazed to find that for all of his rough appearance +he was excellently educated and a gentleman of taste. Finally the +reason came out. + +"I'm a college man," he explained proudly. "So was my partner--same +class. But one can't always remain in the admirable East, and three +years ago he and I came here prospecting. Actually struck some +pay-dirt in the hills yonder, too, but it sort of petered out on us." + +"Oh, I'm sorry." Miss Donovan's condolence was genuine. + +"We lost the ore streak. It was broken in two by some upheaval of +nature. We were still trying to find it when my partner's father died +and he went East to claim the fortune that was left. I couldn't work +alone, so I drifted away, and didn't come back until about four months +ago, when I restaked the claim and went to work again." + +"You had persistence, Mr. Westcott," the girl laughed. + +"It was rewarded. I struck the vein again--when my last dollar was +gone. That was a month ago, I wired my old partner for help, but----" +He stopped, listening intently. + +They were nearing a small bridge over Bear Creek, the sounds of +Haskell's revellers growing nearer and louder. Suddenly they heard an +oath and a shot, and the next moment a wild rider, lashing a foaming +horse with a stinging quirt, was upon them. Westcott barely had time +to swing the girl to safety as the tornado flew past. + +"The drunken fool!" he muttered quietly. "A puncher riding for camp. +There will be more up ahead probably." + +His little act of heroism drew the man strangely near to Miss Donovan, +and as they hurried along in the silent night she felt that above all +he was dependable, as if, too, she had known him months, aye years, +instead of a scant hour. And in this strange country she needed a +friend. + +"Now that I've laid bare my past," he was saying, "don't you think you +might tell me why you are here?" + +The girl stiffened. To say that she was from the New York _Star_ would +close many avenues of information to her. No, the thing to do was to +adopt some "stall" that would enable her to idle about as much as she +chose. Then the mad horseman gave her the idea. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I forgot I hadn't mentioned it. I'm assigned by +_Scribbler's Magazine_ to do an article on 'The Old West, Is It Really +Gone?' and, Mr. Westcott, I think I have a lovely start." + +A few moments later she thanked Providence for her precaution, for her +companion resumed the story of his mining claim. + +"It's mighty funny I haven't heard from that partner. It isn't like +him not to answer my wire. That's why I've waited every night at the +depot. No, it's not like 'Pep,' even if he does take his leisure at +the College Club." + +Miss Donovan's spine tingled at the mention of the name: "Pep," she +murmured, trying to be calm. "What was his other name?" + +"Cavendish," Westcott replied. "Frederick Cavendish." + +A gasp almost escaped the girl's lips. Here, within an hour, she had +linked the many Eastern dues of the Cavendish affair with one in the +West. Was ever a girl so lucky? And immediately her brain began to +work furiously as she walked along. + +A sudden turn about the base of a large cliff brought them to Haskell, +a single street running up the broadening valley, lined mostly with +shacks, although a few more pretentious buildings were scattered here +and there, while an occasional tent flapped its discoloured canvas in +the night wind. There were no street lamps, and only a short stretch +of wooden sidewalk, but lights blazed in various windows, shedding +illumination without, and revealing an animated scene. + +They went forward, Westcott, in spite of his confident words, watchful +and silent, the valise in one hand, the other grasping her arm. The +narrow stretch of sidewalk was jammed with men, surging in and out +through the open door of a saloon, and the two held to the middle of +the road, which was lined with horses tied to long poles. Men reeled +out into the street, and occasionally the sharp crack of some +frolicsome revolver punctuated the hoarse shouts and bursts of drunken +laughter. No other woman was visible, yet, apparently, no particular +attention was paid to their progress. But the stream of men thickened +perceptibly, until Westcott was obliged to shoulder them aside +good-humouredly in order to open a passage. The girl, glancing in +through the open doors, saw crowded bar-rooms, and eager groups about +gambling tables. One place dazzlingly lighted was evidently a +dance-hall, but so densely jammed with humanity she could not +distinguish the dancers. A blare of music, however, proved the +presence of a band within. She felt the increasing pressure of her +escort's hand. + +"Can we get through?" + +"Sure; some crowd, though. 'Tisn't often as bad as this; miners and +punchers all paid off at once." He released her arm, and suddenly +gripped the shoulder of a man passing. He was the town marshal. + +"Say, Dan, I reckon this is your busy night, but I wish you'd help me +run this lady through as far as Timmons; this bunch of long-horns +appear to be milling, and we're plum stalled." + +The man turned and stared at them. Short, stockily built, appearing at +first view almost grotesque under the broad brim of his hat, Stella, +recognising the marshal, was conscious only of a clean-shaven face, a +square jaw, and a pair of stern blue eyes. + +"Oh, is that you, Jim?" he asked briefly. "Lord, I don't see why a big +boob like you should need a guardian. The lady? Pardon me, madam," +and he touched his hat. "Stand back there, you fellows. Come on, +folks!" + +The little marshal knew his business, and it was also evident that the +crowd knew the little marshal. Drunk and quarrelsome as many of them +were, they made way--the more obstreperous sullenly, but the majority +in a spirit of rough good humour. The time had not come for war +against authority, and even the most reckless were fully aware that +there was a law-and-order party in Haskell, ready and willing to back +their officer to the limit. Few were drunk enough as yet to openly +defy his authority and face the result, as most of them had previously +seen him in action. To the girl it was all terrifying enough--the +rough, hairy faces, the muttered threats, the occasional oath, the +jostling figures--but the two men, one on each side of her, accepted +the situation coolly enough, neither touching the revolver at his belt, +but, sternly thrusting aside those in their way, they pressed straight +through the surging mass in the man-crowded lobby of the disreputable +hotel. + +The building itself was a barnlike structure, unpainted, but with a +rude, unfinished veranda in front. One end contained a saloon, crowded +with patrons, but the office, revealed in the glare of a smoky lamp, +disclosed a few occupants, a group of men about a card-table. + +At the desk, wide-eyed with excitement, Miss Donovan took a +service-worn pen proffered by landlord Pete Timmons, whose grey +whiskers were as unkempt as his hotel, and registered her name. + +"A telegram came to-day for you, ma'am," Peter said in a cracked voice, +and tossed it over. + +Miss Donovan tore it open. It was from Farriss. It read: + + +If any clues, advise immediately. Willis digging hard. Letter of +instruction follows. + +FARRISS. + + +The girl folded the message, thrust it in her jacket-pocket, then +turning to the marshal and Westcott, gave each a firm hand. + +"You've both been more than kind," she said gratefully. + +"Hell, ma'am," Dan deprecated, "that warn't nothin'!" And he hurried +into the street as loud cries sounded outside. + +"Good night, Miss Donovan," Westcott said simply. "If you are ever +frightened or in need of a friend, call on me. I'll be in town two +days yet, and after that Pete here can get word to me." Then, with an +admiring, honest gaze, he searched her eyes a moment before he turned +and strolled toward the rude cigar-case. + +"All right, now, ma'am?" Pete Timmons said, picking, up her valise. +The girl nodded, and together they went up the rude stairs to her room +where Timmons paused at the door. + +"Well, I'm glad you're here," he said, moving away. "We've been +waitin' for you to show. I may be wrong, ma'am, but I'd bet my belt +that you're the lady that's been expected by Ned Beaton." + +"You're mistaken," she replied shortly. + +As she heard him clatter down the stairs, Miss Stella Donovan of the +New York _Star_ knew that her visit would not be in vain. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII: A GANG OF ENEMIES + +The miner waited, leaning against the desk. His eyes had followed the +slender figure moving after the rotund Timmons up the uncarpeted stairs +until it had vanished amid the shadows of the second story. He smiled +quietly in imagination of her first astonished view of the interior of +room eighteen, and recalled to mind a vivid picture of its +adornments--the bare wood walls, the springless bed, the crack-nosed +pitcher standing disconsolate in a blue wash-basin of tin; the little +round mirror in a once-gilt frame with a bullet-hole through its +centre, and the strip of dingy rag-carpet on the floor--all this +suddenly displayed by the yellowish flame of a small hand-lamp left +sitting on the window ledge. + +Timmons came down the stairs, and bustled in back of the desk, eager to +ask questions. + +"Lady a friend o' yours, Jim?" he asked. "If I'd a knowed she wus +comin' I'd a saved a better room." + +"I have never seen her until to-night, Pete. She got off the train, +and Carson asked me to escort her up-town--it was dark, you know. How +did she like the palatial apartment?" + +"Well, she didn't say nothin'; just sorter looked around. I reckon +she's a good sport, all right. What do ye suppose she's come yere for?" + +"Not the slightest idea; I take it that's her business." + +"Sure; but a feller can't help wonderin', can he? Donovan," he mused, +peering at the name; "that's Irish, I take it--hey?" + +"Suspiciously so; you are some detective, Pete. I'll give you another +clue--her eyes are Irish grey." + +He sauntered across to the stove, and stood looking idly at the +card-players, blue wreaths of tobacco smoke circling up from the bowl +of his pipe. Some one opened the street door, letting in a babel of +noise, and walked heavily across the office floor. Westcott turned +about to observe the newcomer. He was a burly, red-faced man, who had +evidently been drinking heavily, yet was not greatly under the +influence of liquor, dressed in a checked suit of good cut and fashion, +but hardly in the best of taste. His hat, a Stetson, was pushed back +on his head, and an unlighted cigar was clinched tightly between his +teeth. He bore all the earmarks of a commercial traveller of a certain +sort--a domineering personality, making up by sheer nerve what he might +lack in brains. But for his words the miner would have given the +fellow no further thought. + +"Say, Timmons," he burst forth noisily, and striding over to the desk, +"the marshal tells me a dame blew in from New York to-night--is she +registered here?" + +The landlord shoved the book forward, with one finger on the last +signature. + +"Yep," he said shortly, "but she ain't the one you was lookin' for--I +asked her that, furst thing." + +"Stella Donovan--huh! That's no name ever I heard; what's she look +like?" + +"Like a lady, I reckon; I ain't seen one fer quite a spell now." + +"Dark or light?" + +"Waal, sorter medium, I should say; brown hair with a bit o' red in it, +an' a pair o' grey eyes full of fun--some girl, to my notion." + +The questioner struck his fist on the wood sharply. + +"Well, what the devil do you suppose such a woman has come to this hole +clear from New York for, Timmons? What's her game, anyhow?" + +"Blessed if I know," and the proprietor seated himself on a high stool. +"I didn't ask no questions like that; maybe the gent by the stove there +might give yer all the information yer want. He brought her up from +the dapoo, an' kin talk English. Say, Jim, this yere is a short horn +frum New York, named Beaton, an' he seems ter be powerfully interested +in skirts--Beaton, Mr. Jim Westcott." + +The two men looked at each other, the miner stepping slightly forward, +and knocking the ashes out of his pipe. Beaton laughed, assuming a +semblance of good nature. + +"My questions were prompted solely by curiosity," he explained, +evidently not wholly at ease. "I was expecting a young woman, and +thought this new arrival might prove to be my friend." + +"Hardly," returned Westcott dryly. "As the landlord informed you, Miss +Donovan is a lady." + +If he expected this shot to take effect he was disappointed, for the +grin never left Beaton's face. + +"Ah, a good joke; a very good joke, indeed. But you misunderstand; +this is altogether a business matter. This young woman whom I expect +is coming here on a mining deal--it is not a love affair at all, I +assure you." + +Westcott's eyes sparkled, yet without merriment. + +"Quite pleased to be so assured," he answered carelessly. "In what +manner can I satisfy your curiosity? You have already been informed, I +believe, that the person relative to whom you inquire is a Miss Stella +Donovan, of New York; that she has the appearance and manners of a +lady, and possesses brown hair and grey eyes. Is there anything more?" + +"Why, no--certainly not." + +"I thought possibly you might care to question me regarding my +acquaintance with the young woman?" Westcott went on, his voice +hardening slightly. "If so, I have not the slightest objection to +telling you that it consists entirely of acting as her escort from the +station to the hotel. I do not know why she is here, how long she +intends staying, or what her purpose may be. Indeed, there is only one +fact I do know which may be of interest to you." + +Beaton, surprised by the language of the other, remained silent, his +face turning purple, as a suspicion came to him that he was being made +a fool of. + +"It is this, my friend--who she is, what she is, and why she happens to +be here, is none of your damn business, and if you so much as mention +her name again in my presence you are going to regret it to your dying +day. That's all." + +Beaton, glancing about at the uplifted faces of the card-players, chose +to assume an air of indifference, which scarcely accorded with the +anger in his eyes. + +"Ah, come now," he blurted forth, "I didn't mean anything; there's no +harm done--let's have a drink, and be friends." + +Westcott shook his head. + +"No, I think not," he said slowly. "I'm not much of a drinking man +myself, and when I do I choose my own company. But let me tell you +something, Beaton, for your own good. I know your style, and you are +mighty apt to get into trouble out here if you use any Bowery tactics." + +"Bowery tactics!" + +"Yes; you claim to live in New York, and you possess all the earmarks +of the East-Side bad man. There is nothing keeping you now from +roughing it with me but the sight of this gun in my belt, and a +suspicion in your mind that I may know how to use it. That suspicion +is correct. Moreover, you will discover this same ability more or less +prevalent throughout this section. However, I am not looking for +trouble; I am trying to avoid it. I haven't sought your company; I do +not want to know you. Now you go back to your bar-room where you will +find plenty of your own kind to associate with. It's going to be +dangerous for you to hang around here any longer." + +Beaton felt the steady eyes upon him, but was carrying enough liquor to +make him reckless. Still his was naturally the instinct of the New +York gunman, seeking for some adventure. He stepped backward, feigning +a laugh, watchful to catch Westcott off his guard. + +"All right, then," he said, "I'll go get the drink; you can't bluff me." + +Westcott's knowledge of the class alone brought to him the man's +purpose. Beaton's hand was in the pocket of his coat, and, as he +turned, apparently to leave the room, the cloth bulged. With one leap +forward the miner was at his throat. There was a report, a flash of +flame, the speeding bullet striking the stove, and the next instant +Beaton, his hand still helplessly imprisoned within the coat-pocket, +was hurled back across the card-table, the players scattering to get +out of the way. All the pent-up dislike in Westcott's heart found +expression in action; the despicable trick wrought him to a sudden +fury, yet even then there came to him no thought of killing the fellow, +no memory even of the loaded gun at his hip. He wanted to choke him, +strike him with his hands. + +"You dirty coward," he muttered fiercely. "So you thought the pocket +trick was a new one out here, did you? Come, give the gun up! Oh! so +there is some fight left in you? Then let's settle it here." + +It was a struggle between two big, strong men--the one desperate, +unscrupulous, brutal; the other angry enough, but retaining +self-control. They crashed onto the floor, Westcott still retaining +the advantage of position, and twice he struck, driving his clenched +fist home. Suddenly he became aware that some one had jerked his +revolver from its holster, and, almost at the same instant a hard hand +gripped the neck-band of his shirt and tore him loose from Beaton. + +"Here, now--enough of that, Jim," said a voice sternly, and his hands +arose instinctively as he recognised the gleam of two drawn weapons +fronting him. "Help Beaton up, Joe. Now, look yere, Mr. Bully +Westcott," and the speaker shook his gun threateningly. "As it +happens, you have jumped on a friend o' ours, an' we naturally propose +to take a hand in this game--you know me!" + +Westcott nodded, an unpleasant smile on his lips. + +"I do, Lacy," he said coolly, "and that if there is any dirty work +going on in this camp, it is quite probable you and your gang are in +it. So, this New Yorker is a protege of yours?" + +"That's none of your business; we're here for fair play." + +"Since when? Now listen; you've got me covered, and that is my gun +which Moore has in his hand. I cannot fight you alone and unarmed; but +I can talk yet." + +"I reckon yer can, if that's goin' ter do yer eny good." + +"So the La Rosita Mining Company is about to be revived, is it? +Eastern capital becoming interested. I've heard rumours of that for a +week past. What's the idea? struck anything?" + +Lacy, a long, rangy fellow, with a heavy moustache, and a scar over one +eye, partially concealed by his hat brim, grinned at the others as +though at a good joke. + +"No, nuthin' particular as yet," he answered; "but you hev', an' I +reckon thet's just about as good. Tryin' ter keep it dark, wasn't yer? +Never even thought we'd caught on." + +"Oh, yes, I did; you flatter yourselves. I caught one of your +stool-pigeons up the gulch yesterday, and more than ten days ago Moore +and Edson made a trip into my tunnel while I happened to be away; they +forgot to hide their trail. I knew what you were up to, and you can +all of you look for a fight." + +"When your partner gets out here, I suppose," sneered Lacy. + +"He'll be here." + +"Oh, will he? Well, he's a hell of a while coming. You wired him a +month ago, and yer've written him twice since. Oh, I've got the cases +on you, all right, Westcott. I know you haven't got a cent left to go +on with, and nowhere to get eny except through him." He laughed. +"Ain't that right? Well, then, yer chances look mighty slim ter me +just at present, ol'-timer. However, there's no fight on yet; will yer +behave yerself, an' let this man Beaton alone if I hand yer back yer +gun?" + +"There is no choice left me." + +"Sure; that's sensible enough; give it to him, Moore." + +He broke the chamber, shaking the cartridges out into his palm; then +handed the emptied weapon over to Westcott. His manner was purposely +insulting, but the latter stood with lips firmly set, realising his +position. + +"Now, then, go on over thar an' sit down," continued Lacy. "Maybe, if +yer wait long enough, that partner o' yours might blow in. I got some +curiosity myself as to why that girl showed up ter-night under yer +guidance, an' why yer so keen ter fight about her, Jim; but I reckon +we'll clear that up ter-morrow without makin' yer talk." + +"You mean to question Miss Donovan?" + +"Hell, no; just keep an eye on her. 'Tain't likely she's in Haskell +just fer the climate. Come on, boys, let's liquor. Big Jim Westcott +has his claws cut, and it's Beaton's turn to spend a little." + +Westcott sat quietly in the chair as they filed out; then took the pipe +from his pocket and filled it slowly. He realised his defeat, his +helplessness, but his mind was already busy with the future. + +Timmons came out from behind the desk a bit solicitous. + +"Hurt eny?" he asked. "Didn't wing yer, or nuthin'?" + +"No; the stove got the bullet. He shot through his pocket." + +"Whut's all the row about?" + +"Oh, not much, Timmons; this is my affair," and Westcott lit his pipe +with apparent indifference. "Lacy and I have got two mining claims +tapping the same lead, that's all. There's been a bit o' feeling +between us for some time. I reckon it's got to be fought out, now." + +"Then yer've really struck ore?" + +"Yes." + +"And the young woman? Hes she got enything ter do with it?" + +"Not a thing, Timmons; but I want to keep her out of the hands of that +bunch. Give me a lamp and I'll go up-stairs and think this game out." + + + + +CHAPTER IX: A NIGHT AND A MORNING + +Stella Donovan never forgot the miseries of her first night in Haskell. +When old man Timmons finally left her, after placing the flaring lamp +on a chair, and went pattering back down the bare hall, she glanced +shudderingly about at her unpleasant surroundings, none too pleased +with the turn of events. + +The room was scarcely large enough to contain the few articles of +furniture absolutely required. Its walls were of unplaned plank +occasionally failing to meet, and the only covering to the floor was a +dingy strip of rag-carpet. The bed was a cot, shapeless, and propped +up on one side by the iron leg of some veranda bench, while the open +window looked out into the street. There was a bolt, not appearing +particularly secure, with which Miss Donovan immediately locked the +door before venturing across to take a glance without. + +The view was hardly reassuring, as the single street was still the +scene of pandemonium, the saloon and dance-hall almost directly +opposite, operating in full blast. Oaths and ribald laughter assailed +her ears, while directly beneath, although out of her view, a quarrel +threatened to lead to serious consequences. She pulled down the window +to shut out these sounds, but the room became so stuffy and hot without +even this slight ventilation, as to oblige her opening it again. As a +compromise she hauled down the curtain, a green paper affair, torn +badly, and which occasionally flapped in the wind with a startling +noise. + +The bed-clothing, once turned back and inspected, was of a nature to +prevent the girl from disrobing; but finally she lay down, seeking such +rest as was possible, after turning the flickering flames of the lamp +as low as she dared, and then finally blowing it out altogether. The +glare from the street crept in through the cracks in the curtain, +playing in fantastic light and shadow across ceiling and wall, while +the infernal din never ceased. + +Sleep was not to be attained, although she closed her eyes and muffled +her ears. The misshapen bed brought no comfort to her tired body, for +no matter how she adjusted herself, the result was practically the +same. Not even her mind rested. + +Miss Donovan was not naturally of a nervous disposition. She had been +brought up very largely to rely upon herself, and life had never been +sufficiently easy for her to find time in which to cultivate nerves. +Her newspaper training had been somewhat strenuous, and had won her a +reputation in New York for unusual fearlessness and devotion to duty. +Yet this situation was so utterly different, and so entirely +unexpected, that she confessed to herself she would be very glad to be +safely out of it. + +A revolver shot rang out sharply from one of the rooms below, followed +by the sound of loud voices, and a noise of struggle. The startled +girl sat upright on the cot, listening, but the disturbance ceased +almost immediately, and she finally lay down again, her heart still +beating wildly. Her thoughts, never still, wandered over the events of +the evening--the arrival at Haskell station, the strange meeting with +Westcott, and the sudden revelation that he was the partner of +Frederick Cavendish. + +The big, good-natured miner had interested her from the first as +representing a perfect type of her preconceived ideal of the real +Westerner. She had liked the firm character of his face, the quiet, +thoughtful way in which he acted, the whole unobtrusive bearing of the +man. Then, as they had walked that long mile together in the darkness, +she had learned things about him--little glimpses of his past, and of +dawning hopes--which only served to increase her confidence. Already +he had awakened her trust; she felt convinced that if she needed +friendship, advice, even actual assistance, here was one whom she could +implicitly trust. + +The racket outside died away slowly. She heard various guests return +to their rooms, staggering along the hall and fumbling at their doors; +voices echoed here and there, and one fellow, mistaking his domicile +entirely, struggled with her latch in a vain endeavour to gain +entrance. She was upon her feet, when companions arrived and led the +invader elsewhere, their loud laughter dying away in the distance. It +was long after this before nature finally conquered and the girl slept +outstretched on the hard cot, the first faint grey of dawn already +visible in the eastern sky. + +She was young, though, and she awoke rested and refreshed, in spite of +the fact that her body ached at first from the discomfort of the cot. +The sunlight rested in a sheet of gold on her drawn curtain, and the +silence of the morning, following so unexpectedly the dismal racket of +the night, seemed to fairly shock her into consciousness. Could this +be Haskell? Could this indeed be the inferno into which she had been +precipitated from the train in the darkness of the evening before? She +stared about at the bare, board walls, the bullet-scarred mirror, the +cracked pitcher, before she could fully reassure herself; then stepped +upon the disreputable rug, and crossed to the open window. + +Haskell at nine in the morning bore but slight resemblance to that same +environment during the hours of darkness--especially on a night +immediately following pay-day at the mines. As Miss Donovan, now +thoroughly awake, and obsessed by the memory of those past hours of +horror, cautiously drew aside the corner of torn curtain, and gazed +down upon the deserted street below, she could scarcely accept the +evidence of her own eyes. + +True, there were many proofs visible of the wild riot of the evening +before--torn papers, emptied bottles, a shattered sign or two, an +oil-lamp blown into bits by some well-directed shot, a bat lying in the +middle of the road, and a dejected pony or two, still at the +hitching-rack, waiting a delayed rider. But, except for these mute +reminiscences of past frolic, the long street seemed utterly dead, the +doors of saloons and dance-halls closed, the dust swirling back and +forth to puffs of wind, the only moving object visible being a gaunt, +yellow dog trotting soberly past. + +However, it was not upon this view of desolation that Miss Donovan's +eyes clung. They had taken all this in at a glance, startled, scarcely +comprehending, but the next instant wandered to the marvellous scene +revealed beyond that squalid street, and those miserable shacks, to the +green beauty of the outspread valley, and the wondrous vista of +mountain peaks beyond. + +She straightened up, emitting a swift breath of delight, as her +wide-open eyes surveyed the marvellous scene of mingled loveliness and +grandeur. The stream, curving like a great snake, gleamed amid the +acres of green grass, its swift waters sparkling in the sun. Here and +there it would dip down between high banks, or disappear for a moment +behind a clump of willows, only to reappear in broader volume. Beyond, +seemingly at no distance at all, yet bordered by miles of turf and +desert, the patches of vivid green interspersed with the darker +colouring of spruce, and the outcropping of brown rocks, the towering +peaks of a great mountain-chain swept up into the clear blue of the +sky, black almost to their summits, which were dazzling with the white +of unmelted snow. Marvellous, awe-inspiring as the picture was in +itself alone, it was rendered even more wonderful when contrasted with +the ugly squalidness of the town below, its tents and shacks sprawling +across the flat, the sunlight revealing its dust and desolation. + +The girl's first exclamation of delight died away as she observed these +works of man projected against this screen of nature's building; yet +her eyes dwelt lovingly for some time on the far-flung line of +mountains, before she finally released the green shade, and shut out +the scene. Her toilet was a matter of but a few minutes, although she +took occasion to slip on a fresh waist, and to brighten up the shoes, +somewhat soiled by the tramp through the thick dust the evening before. +Indeed, it was a very charming young woman, her dress and appearance +quite sufficiently Eastern, who finally ventured out into the rough +hall, and down the single flight of stairs. The hotel was silent, +except for the heavy breathing of a sleeper in one of the rooms she +passed, and a melancholy-looking Chinaman, apparently engaged in +chamber work at the further end of the hall. Timmons was alone in the +office, playing with a shaggy dog, and the floor remained unswept, +while a broken chair still bore evidence of the debauch of the previous +night. The landlord greeted her rather sullenly, his eyes heavy and +red from lack of sleep. + +"Morning," he said, without attempting to rise. "Lie down thar, +Towser; the lady don't likely want yer nosin' around. Yer a bit late +fer breakfast; it's ginerally over with by eight o'clock." + +"I am not at all hungry," she answered. "Is it far to the post-office?" + +"'Bout two blocks, ter yer right. If yer intendin' ter stay yere, ye +better have yer mail sent ter the hotel." + +"Thank you; I'll see. I do not know yet the length of my stay." + +"Are ye yere on business?" + +"Partly; but it may require only a few days." + +"Waal, if yer do stay over, maybe I kin fix yer up a bit more +comfortable-like. Thar'll be some drummers a goin' out to-day, I +reckon." + +"Thank you very much; I'll let you know what I decide the moment I know +myself. Is that a hunting-dog?" + +"Bones mostly," he responded gloomily, but stroking the animal's head. +"Leastwise, he ain't been trained none. I just naturally like a darg +round fer company--they sorter seem homelike." + +She passed out into the bright sunshine, and clear mountain air. The +board-walk ended at the corner of the hotel, but a narrow cinder-patch +continued down that side of the street for some distance. The houses +were scattered, the vacant spaces between grown up to weeds, and more +or less ornamented by tin cans, and as she advanced she encountered +only two pedestrians--a cowboy, so drunk that he hung desperately to +the upper board of a fence in order to let her pass, staring at her as +if she was some vision, and a burly fellow in a checked suit, with some +mail in his hand, who stopped after they had passed each other, and +gazed back at her as though more than ordinarily interested. From the +hotel stoop he watched until she vanished within the general store, +which contained the post-office. + +Through the rude window the clerk pushed a plain manila envelope into +her outstretched hand. Evidently from the thinness of the letter, +Farriss had but few instructions to give and, thrusting the unopened +missive into her hand-bag, she retraced her steps to her room. + +There she vented a startled gasp. The suitcase which she had left +closed upon the floor was open--wide open--its contents disarranged. +Some one had rummaged it thoroughly. And Miss Donovan knew that she +was under suspicion. + + + + +CHAPTER X: AT A NEW ANGLE + +The knowledge that she was thus being spied upon gave the girl a sudden +thrill, but not of fear. Instead it served to strengthen her resolve. +There had been nothing in her valise to show who she really was, or why +she was in Haskell, and consequently, if any vague suspicion had been +aroused as to her presence in that community, the searchers had +discovered no proof by this rifling of her bag. + +She examined the room thoroughly, and glanced out into the still, +deserted hall before bolting the door. The cracks in the wall were +scarcely wide enough to be dangerous, yet she took the precaution of +shrinking back into the darkest corner before opening her hand-bag and +extracting the letter. It bore a typewritten address, with no +suspicious characteristics about the envelope, the return card +(typewritten also) being the home address of Farriss. + +Farriss's letter contained nothing of interest except the fact that +Enright had also left for the West. He instructed her to be on the +lookout for him in Haskell, added a line or two of suggestions, and +ordered her to proceed with caution, as her quest might prove to be a +dangerous one. + +Miss Donovan tore the letter into small bits, wrapping the fragments in +a handkerchief until she could throw them safely away. For some time +she stood motionless at the window, looking out, but seeing nothing, +her mind busy with the problem. She thought rapidly and clearly, more +than ordinarily eager to solve this mystery. She was a newspaperwoman, +and the strange story in which she was involved appealed to her +imagination, yet its appeal was far more effective in a purely personal +way. It was Frederick Cavendish who had formerly been the partner of +Jim Westcott. This was why no answer had come to the telegrams and +letters the latter had sent East. What had become of them? Had they +fallen into the hands of these others? Was this the true reason for +Beaton's presence in Haskell, and also why the La Rue woman had been +hastily sent for? She was not quite ready to accept that theory; the +occasion hardly seemed important enough by itself alone. + +Westcott's discovery was not even proven yet; its value had not been +definitely established; it was of comparatively small importance +contrasted with the known wealth left by the murdered man in the East. +No, there must be some other cause for this sudden visit to Colorado. +But what? She gave little credence to the vague suspicions advanced by +Valois; that was altogether too impossible, too melodramatic, this +thought of the substitution of some other body. It might be done, of +course; indeed, she had a dim remembrance of having read of such a case +somewhere, but there could be no object attained in this affair. +Frederick dead, apparently killed by a burglar in his own apartments, +was quite understandable: but kidnapped and still alive, another body +substituted for his, resembling him sufficiently to be unrecognised as +a fraud, would be a perfectly senseless procedure. No doubt there had +been a crime committed, its object the attainment of money, but without +question the cost had been the life of Frederick Cavendish. + +Yet why was the man Beaton out here? For what purpose had he wired the +La Rue woman to join him? And why had some one already entered her +room and examined the contents of Stella Donovan's bag? To these +queries there seemed to be no satisfactory answers. She must consult +with Westcott, and await an opportunity to make the acquaintance of +Celeste La Rue. + +She was still there, her elbows on the window-ledge, her face half +concealed in the hollow of her hands, so lost in thought as to be +oblivious to the flight of time, when the harsh clang of the +dinner-bell from the porch below aroused her to a sense of hunger. + +Ten minutes later Timmons, guiltless of any coat, but temporarily +laying aside his pipe as a special act of courtesy, escorted her into +the dining-room and seated her at a table between the two front +windows. Evidently this was reserved for the more distinguished +guests--travelling men and those paying regular day rates--for its only +other occupant was the individual in the check suit whom she vaguely +remembered passing on the street a few hours before. + +The two long tables occupying the centre of the room were already well +filled with hungry men indiscriminately attired, not a few coatless and +with rolled-up sleeves, as though they had hurried in from work at the +first sound of the gong. These paid little attention to her entrance, +except to stare curiously as she crossed the floor in Timmons's wake, +and immediately afterward again devoted themselves noisily to their +food. + +A waitress, a red-haired, slovenly girl, with an impediment in her +speech, took her order and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, +and Miss Donovan discreetly lifted her eyes to observe the man sitting +nearly opposite. He was not prepossessing, yet she instantly +recognised his type, and the probability that he would address her if +the slightest opportunity occurred. Beneath lowered lashes she studied +the fellow--the prominent jaw and thick lips shadowed by a closely +trimmed moustache; the small eyes beneath overhanging brows; the heavy +hair brushed back from a rather low forehead, and the short, stubby +fingers grasping knife and fork. + +If he is a drummer, she thought, his line would be whisky; then, almost +as suddenly, it occurred to her that perhaps he may prove to be Ned +Beaton, and she drew in her breath sharply, determined to break the ice. + +The waitress spread out the various dishes before her, and she glanced +at them hopelessly. As she lifted her gaze she met that of her +_vis-a-vis_ fairly, and managed to smile. + +"Some chuck," he said in an attempt at good-fellowship, "but not to +remind you of the Waldorf-Astoria." + +"I should say not," she answered, testing one of her dishes cautiously. +"But why associate me with New York?" + +"You can't hide those things in a joint like this. Besides, that's the +way you registered." + +"Oh, so you've looked me up." + +"Well, naturally," he explained, as though with a dim idea that an +explanation was required, "I took a squint at the register; then I +became more interested, for I'm from little old New York myself." + +"You are? Selling goods on the road away out here?" + +"Not me; that ain't my line at all. I've got a considerable mining +deal on up the canon. I'll earn every dollar I'll make, though, eating +this grub. Believe me, I'd like to be back by the Hudson right now." + +"You've been here some time, then?" + +"'Bout a month altogether, but not here in Haskell all that time. When +did you leave New York?" + +"Oh, more than a week ago," she lied gracefully. + +He stroked his moustache. + +"Then I suppose you haven't much late New York news? Nothing +startling, I mean?" + +"No; only what has been reported in the Western papers. I do not +recall anything particularly interesting." She dropped her eyes to her +plate and busied herself with a piece of tough beef. "The usual +murders, of course, and things of that kind." + +There was a moment's silence, then the man laughed as though slightly +ill at ease. + +"These fellows out here think they are a pretty tough lot," he said +grimly, "but there are plenty of boys back on the East Side who could +show them a few tricks. You know that part of the old town?" + +"Not very well," she admitted with apparent regret, "but of course I +read a good bit about it in the papers--the desperate characters, +gunmen, and all those the police have so much trouble with. Are those +stories really true?" + +"There ain't a third of them ever told," and he leaned forward, quite +at his ease again. "I have some business interests down that way, and +so hear a good deal of what is going on at first hand. A New York +gunman is so much worse than these amateurs out here there ain't no +comparison. Why, I know a case----" + +He stopped suddenly and took a sip of coffee. + +"Tell me about it." + +"'Tisn't anything to interest you, and, besides, it wouldn't sound well +here at the table; some other time, maybe, when you and I get better +acquainted. What ever brought a girl like you down in here?" + +She smiled. + +"I'm a feature writer; I'm doing a series on the West for +_Scribbler's_," she told him. "I visit New Mexico next, but I'm after +something else besides a description of mountains and men; I'm also +going to hunt up an old friend interested in mining, who told me if I +ever got out this way I must look him up. + +"I haven't seen him for years. He was continually singing this +valley's charms, and so here I am. And I'm planning a great surprise +on him. And, of course, I'm literally drinking in atmosphere--to say +nothing of local colour, which seems mostly to be men and revolvers." + +The man opposite wet his lips with his tongue in an effort to speak, +but the girl was busy eating and apparently paid no attention. Her +calm indifference convinced him that her words were entirely innocent, +and his audacity returned. + +"Well," he ventured, "do you agree with this prospector friend?" + +"The scenery, you mean?" glancing up brightly. "Why, it is wonderful, +of course, and I am not at all sorry having made the journey, although +it hardly compares with Tennessee Pass or Silver Plume. Still, you +know, it will be pleasant to tell Mr. Cavendish when I go back that I +was here." + +He choked and his face seemed to whiten suddenly. + +"Mr. Cavendish?" he gasped. "Of New York? Not the one that was +killed?" + +It was her turn to stare across the table, her eyes wide with horror, +which she simulated excellently. + +"Killed! Has a man by that name been killed lately in New York? It +was Frederick Cavendish I referred to." Her pretence was admirable. + +He was silent, realising lie had already said too much; the red had +come back into his cheeks, but his hand shook as it rested clenched on +the table. + +"Tell me," she insisted, "has he been killed? How do you know?" + +Her earnestness, her perfect acting, convinced him. It was a mere +coincidence, he thought, that this name should have cropped up between +them, but, now that it had, he must explain the whole affair so as not +to arouse suspicion. He cleared his throat and compelled his eyes to +meet those across the table. + +"Well, I don't know much about it, only what I read," he began, feeling +for words. "But that was the name; I remembered it as soon as you +spoke, and that the papers said he had been mining in Colorado before +he came into money. He was found dead in his apartments, apparently +killed by a burglar who had rifled his safe." + +"Is this true? Why have I never heard? When did it happen?" + +"It must have been a month ago." + +"But how did you learn these particulars? You have been West that +length of time." + +"I read about it in a New York paper," he answered a trifle sullenly. +"It was sent to me." + +She sat with her chin in the palm of one hand, watching him from +beneath the shadow of lowered lashes, but his eyes were bent downward +at his plate. + +"Are you through?" he questioned suddenly. + +"Yes; this--this awful news has robbed me of all appetite." + +Neither had noticed Westcott as he entered the room, but his first +glance about revealed their presence, and without an instant of +hesitancy the big miner crossed the room and approached the table where +the two were sitting. + +Beaton, as though anticipating trouble, arose to his feet, but Westcott +merely drew back a vacant chair and seated himself, his eyes ignoring +the presence of the man and seeking the uplifted face of the girl +questioningly. + +"I hope I do not interrupt," he said pleasantly. "I had reason to +suppose you were unacquainted with Mr. Beaton here." + +"What reason?" her surprised tone slightly indignant. + +"I believe the gentleman so informed me. It chanced that we had a +slight controversy last night." + +"Over me?" + +"Over his curiosity regarding you--who you were; your presence here." + +She pushed back her chair and stood up. + +"A natural curiosity enough, surely. And you felt important enough to +rebuke him on my behalf? Is that what I am to understand?" + +"Why," he explained, startled by her strange manner, "I informed him +that it was none of his business, and that if he mentioned your name in +my presence again there was liable to be trouble. We scrapped it out." + +"You--you scrapped it out? You mean there was a fight over me--a +barroom squabble over me?" + +"Not in the barroom; in the hotel office. Beaton drew a gun, and I had +to slug him." + +"But the affair originated over me--my name was brought into it?" she +insisted. "You actually threatened him because he asked about me?" + +"I reckon that was about how it started," he admitted slowly. "You +see, I rather thought I was a sorter friend of yours, and that I ought +to stand up for you." + +"Did--did this man say anything against me?" + +"No--not exactly; he--he just asked questions." + +Her eyes were scornful, angry, + +"Indeed! Well, permit me to say, Mr. Westcott, that I choose my own +friends, and am perfectly competent to defend my own character. This +closes our acquaintanceship." + +She moved about the end of the table, and touched Beaton's sleeve with +her fingers. + +"Would you escort me to the foot of the stairs?" she asked, her voice +softening. "We will leave this belligerent individual to his own +company." + +Neither of them glanced back, the girl still speaking as they +disappeared, but Westcott turned in his chair to watch them cross the +room. He had no sense of anger, no desire to retaliate, but he felt +dazed and as though the whole world was suddenly turned upside down. +So she really belonged with that outfit, did she? Well, it was a good +joke on him. + +The waitress spoke to him twice before he was sufficiently aroused to +give his order. + + + + +CHAPTER XI: DEAD OR ALIVE + +Before Westcott finished his meal his mood had changed to tolerant +amusement. That the girl had deliberately deceived him was plain, +enough, revealed now in both her manner and words. What her true +purpose might have been in apparently seeking his friendship at first +could not now be conjectured--indeed, made little difference--but it +was clear enough she really belonged to the Lacy crowd, and had no more +use for him. + +Westcott was sorry for the turn things had taken; he made no attempt to +disguise this from his own mind. He was beginning to like Miss +Donovan, to think about her, to feel a distinct interest in her. Some +way she had impressed him deeply as a young woman of character and +unusual charm--a breath out of the East to arouse his imagination and +memory. He had begun to hope for a friendship which would endure, and +now--the house of cards fell at a single touch. + +He could scarcely comprehend the situation; how a girl of her apparent +refinement and gentility could ever be attracted by a rough, brutal +type such as Ned Beaton so evidently was. Why, the man's lack of taste +in dress, the expression of his face, his ungrammatical language, +stamped him as belonging to a distinctly lower order. + +There surely must be some other cause drawing them together. Yet, +whatever it was, there was no doubt but that he had been very properly +snubbed. Her words stung; yet it was the manner in which she had +looked at him and swept past at Beaton's side which hurt the most. Oh, +well, an enemy more or less made small difference in his life; he would +laugh at it and forget. She had made her choice of companionship, and +it was just as well, probably, that the affair had gone no further +before he discovered the sort of girl she really was. + +Westcott reached this decision and the outer office at the same time, +exchanged a careless word or two with Timmons, and finally purchased a +cigar and retired to one corner to peruse an old newspaper. It was not +so easy to read, however, for the news failed to interest or keep his +mind from wandering widely. Soon he was staring out through the +unwashed window, oblivious to everything but his own thoughts. + +Who was this Beaton, and what connection could he have with Bill Lacy's +gang? The row last night had revealed a mutual interest between the +men, but what was its nature? To Westcott's judgment the burly New +Yorker did not resemble an Eastern speculator in mining property; he +was far more typical of a Bowery rough--a tool rather than an employer +in the commission of crime. + +Lacy's purpose he believed he understood to some extent--a claim that +it was an extension of the La Rosita vein which Westcott had tapped in +his recent discovery. There had been bad blood between them for some +time--threats of violence, and rumours of lawsuits. No doubt Lacy +would resort to any dirty trick to get him out of the way and gain +control of the property. But he had no personal fear of Lacy: not, at +least, if he could once get the backing of Cavendish's money. But +these other people--Beaton, Miss Donovan, and still another expected to +arrive soon from the East--how were they connected with the deal? + +How were they involved in the controversy? Had Lacy organised a +company and got hold of some money in New York? It might be possible, +and yet neither the man nor the woman impressed him as financiers +risking fortunes in the exploitation of mines. The problem was +unsolvable; the only thing he could do was guard his property and wait +until they showed their hand. If he could only hear from Fred +Cavendish---- + +He was so deeply engrossed in these thoughts, the smoked-out cigar +substituted by a pipe, that he remained unaware that Timmons had left +the office, or that the Chinese man-of-all-work had silently tiptoed +down the stairs and was cautiously peering in through the open doorway +to make sure the coast was clear. Assured as to this, the wily +Oriental sidled noiselessly across the floor and paused beside him. + +"Zis Meester Vest-c-ott?" he asked softly. + +The miner looked up at the implacable face in surprise, lowering his +feet. + +"That's my name, John; what is it?" + +The messenger shook a folded paper out of his sleeve, thrust it into +the other's hand hastily, and, with a hurried glance about, started to +glide away as silently as he had come. Westcott stared at the note, +which was unaddressed. + +"Sure this is for me, John?" + +"Ally same sure--for Meester Vest-c-ott." + +He vanished into the dark hall, and there was the faint clatter of his +shoes on the stairs. + +Westcott, fully aroused, cast his glance about the deserted room, and +unfolded the paper which had been left in his fingers. His eyes took +in the few penciled words instantly. + + +Do not be angry. I had the best of reasons. Meet me near the lower +bridge at three o'clock. Very important. + +S. D. + + +He read the lines over again, his lips emitting a low whistle, his eyes +darkening with sudden appreciation. Slowly he tore the paper into +strips, crossed the room, and flung the remnants into the stove. It +had been a trick, then, a bit of play-acting! But had it? Was not +this rather the real fraud--this sudden change of heart? Perhaps +something had occurred to cause the girl to realise that she had made a +mistake; to awaken her to a knowledge that a pretence at friendship +would serve her cause better than an open break. + +This note might have a sinister purpose; be intended to deceive. No! +He would not believe this. All his old lurking faith in her came back +in a flash of revelation. He would continue to believe in her, trust +her, feel that some worthy purpose had influenced her strange action. +And, above all, he would be at the lower bridge on the hour set. He +was at the desk when Timmons returned. + +"What do I owe you, old man?" + +He paid the bill jokingly and in the best of humour, careful to tell +the proprietor that he was leaving for his mine and might not return +for several days. He possessed confidence that Timmons would make no +secret of this in Haskell after his departure. He was glad to notice +that Beaton observed him as he passed the Good Luck Saloon and went +tramping down the dusty road. He never glanced back until he turned +into the north trail at the edge of town; there the path dropped +suddenly toward the bed of the creek, and he was concealed from view. +In the rock shadow he paused, chuckling grimly as he observed the New +Yorker cross the street to the hotel, hastening, no doubt, to interview +Timmons. + +There was a crooked trail along the bank of the stream which joined the +main road at the west end of the lower bridge. It led up the canon +amid rocks and cedars, causing it to assume a strangely tortuous +course, and its lower end was shadowed by overhanging willows. Along +this Westcott lingered at the hour set, watchful of the road leading +toward Haskell. + +The only carriage belonging to the town livery passed soon after his +arrival, evidently bound for the station, and from his covert he +recognised Beaton lolling carelessly in the back seat. This must mean +that the man expected arrivals on the afternoon train, important +arrivals whom he desired to honour. There was no sign, however, of +Miss Donovan; the time was up, yet with no evidence of her approach. + +Westcott waited patiently, arguing to himself that her delay might be +caused by her wish to get Beaton well out of the way before she +ventured to leave the hotel. At last he strode down the path to the +bridge, and saw her leaning over the rail, staring at the ripples below. + +"Why," he exclaimed in surprise, "how long have you been here?" + +"Several minutes," and she turned to face him. "I waited until the +carriage passed before coming onto the bridge. I took the foot-path +from the hotel." + +"Oh, I see--from the other way. I was waiting in the trail below. You +saw who was in the carriage?" + +"Beaton--yes," quietly. "He expects some friends, and wishes me to +meet them--Eastern people, you know." + +Her indifference ruffled his temper, aroused his suspicion of her +purpose. + +"You sent for me; there is some explanation, no doubt?" + +The lady smiled, lifting her eyes to his face. + +"There is," she answered. "A perfectly satisfactory one, I believe; +but this place is too prominent, as I have a rather long story to tell. +Beaton and his friends will be returning soon." + +"There is a rock seat below, just beyond the clump of willows, quite +out of sight from the road," he suggested. "Perhaps you would go with +me there?" + +"What trail is that?" + +"It leads to mines up the canon, my own included, but is not greatly +travelled; the main trail is farther east." + +She walked to the edge of the bridge, and permitted him to assist her +down the steep bank. There was something of reserve about her manner, +which prevented Westcott from feeling altogether at ease. In his own +mind he began once more to question her purpose, to doubt the sincerity +of her intentions. She appeared different from the frankly outspoken +girl of the night before. Neither broke the silence between them until +they reached the flat boulder and had found seats in the shelter of +overhanging trees. She sat a moment, her eyes on the water, her cheeks +shadowed by the wide brim of her hat, and Westcott noted the almost +perfect contour of her face silhouetted against the green leaves. She +turned toward him questioningly. + +"I was very rude," she said, "but you will forgive me when I explain +the cause. I had to act as I did or else lose my hold entirely on that +man--you understand?" + +"I do not need to understand," he answered gallantly. "It is enough +that you say so." + +"No, it is not enough. I value your friendship, Mr. Westcott, and I +need your advice. I find myself confronting a very complicated case +under unfamiliar conditions. I hardly know what to do." + +"You may feel confidence in me." + +"Oh, I do; indeed, you cannot realise how thoroughly I trust you," and +impulsively she touched his hand with her own. "That is why I wrote +you to meet me here--so I could tell you the whole story." + +He waited, his eyes on her face. + +"I received my letter this morning--the letter I told you I expected, +containing my instructions. They--they relate to this man Ned Beaton +and the woman he expects on this train." + +"Your instructions?" he echoed doubtfully. "You mean you have been +sent after these people on some criminal matter? You are a detective?" + +There must have been a tone of distrust to his voice, for she turned +and faced him defiantly. + +"No; not that. Listen: I am a newspaperwoman, a special writer on the +New York _Star_." She paused, her cheeks flushing with nervousness. +"It--it was very strange that I met you first of all, for--for it seems +that the case is of personal interest to you." + +"To me! Why, that is hardly likely, if it originated in New York." + +"It did"--she drew in a sharp breath--"for it originated in the murder +of Frederick Cavendish." + +"The murder of Cavendish! He has been killed?" + +"Yes; at least that is what every one believes, except possibly one +man--his former valet. His body was found lying dead on the floor of +his private apartment, the door of his safe open, the money and papers +missing. The coroner's jury brought in a verdict of murder on these +facts." + +"And the murderer?" + +"Left no clue; it was believed to be the work of a burglar." + +"But when was this?" + +She gave the date, and he studied over it. + +"The same day he should have received my telegram," he said gravely. +"That's why the poor fellow never answered." He turned to her +suddenly. "But what became of my others," he asked, "and of all the +letters I wrote?" + +"That is exactly what I want to learn. They must have been delivered +to his cousin, John Cavendish. I'll tell you all I know, and then +perhaps, between us, we may be able to figure it out." + +Briefly and clearly, she set before him the facts she and Willis had +been able to gather: the will, the connection between Enright and John +Cavendish, the quarrel between John and Frederick, the visit of John to +Enright's office, the suspicion of Valois that the murdered man was not +Cavendish, and, finally, the conversation overheard in Steinway's, the +torn telegram, and the meeting between Celeste La Rue and Enright. + +When she had finished, Westcott sat, chin in hand, turning the evidence +over in his mind. "Do you believe Frederick Cavendish is dead?" he +asked suddenly. + +"Yes." + +Westcott struck his hand down on the rock, his eyes glowing dangerously. + +"Well, I don't!" he exclaimed. "I believe he is alive! My theory is +that this was all carefully arranged, but that circumstances compelled +them to act quickly, and before they were entirely ready. Two +unexpected occurrences hurried them into action." + +She leaned forward, stirred by his earnestness. + +"What?" + +"The quarrel in the restaurant, leading to the making of the will," he +answered gravely, "and my telegram. The two things fit together +exactly. He must have received my first message that same night. In +my judgment he was glad of some excuse to leave New York and determined +to take the first train West. His quarrel with John, coupled with his +disgust of the company he kept, caused him to draw up this will +hurriedly. He left the club intending to pack up and take the first +train." + +"And was killed before he could do so?" + +"Possibly; but if that dead man had no scar on his chest, he was not +Frederick Cavendish; he was an impostor; some poor victim deliberately +substituted because of his facial resemblance. Tell me, if it was Fred +who was murdered, what became of the money he was known to have in his +private safe? What became of the original copy of the will he had in +his pocket when he left the club?" + +She shook her head, convinced that his argument had force. + +"I--I do not know." + +"Yet these things are true, are they not? No money, no will was found. +There is but one reason possible, unless others entered after the +murder and stole these things. My belief is that Fred returned to his +apartments, took what money he required, packed his valise, and +departed without a word to any one. He often did things like +that--hastily, on the spur of the moment." + +"But what happened afterward?" + +"The rest is all theory. I do not know, but I'll make a guess. In +some way the conspirators learned what had occurred, but not in time to +intercept his departure; yet they had everything ready for action, and +realised this was the opportunity. Frederick had disappeared leaving +no trace behind; they could attend to him later, intercept him, +perhaps---- Wait! Keep still. There comes the carriage from the +train." + +He drew her back into the denser undergrowth and they looked out +through the leaves to where the road circled in toward the bridge. The +hoof-beats of horses alone broke the silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XII: VIEWED FROM BOTH SIDES + +The team trotted on to the bridge, and then slowed down to a walk. Above +the dull reverberation of hoofs the listeners below could hear the sound +of voices, and an echo of rather forced laughter. Then the carriage +emerged into full view. Beside the driver it contained three +passengers--Beaton on the front seat, his face turned backward toward the +two behind, a man and a woman. Westcott and Miss Donovan, peering +through the screen of leaves, caught only a swift glimpse of their +faces--the man middle-aged, inclined to stoutness, with an unusually red +face, smoking viciously at a cigar, the woman young and decidedly blonde, +with stray locks of hair blowing about her face, and a vivacious manner. +The carriage rolled on to the smooth road, and the driver touched up the +horses with his whip, the lowered back curtain shutting off the view. + +The girl seized Westcott's arm while she directed his gaze with her free +hand. "Look!" she cried. "The woman is La Rue. And the man--the man is +Enright! He is the lawyer I told you of, the one whose hand is not clear +in this affair. And he is here!" + +"Good!" Westcott exclaimed. "I'm glad they're both here. It means that +there will be more to observe, and it means that there will be +action--and that, too, quick! They are out here for a definite purpose +which must soon be disclosed. And, Miss Donovan, I may be a little +rock-worn and a little bit out of style, but I think their presence here +has something to do with the whereabouts of Fred Cavendish." + +The girl looked straight into his honest, clear eyes. His remark opened +a vast field for speculation. "You think he is alive then?" she said +earnestly. "It is an interesting hypothesis. Perhaps--perhaps he may be +in this neighbourhood, even. And that," she added, her Irish eyes +alight, "would be more interesting still." + +"I hadn't finished my argument when that carriage appeared," Westcott +answered. "Do you remember? Well, that might be the answer. Beaton has +been in this neighbourhood ever since about the time of that murder in +New York. Nobody knows what his business is, but he is hand-in-glove +with Bill Lacy and his gang. Lacy, besides running a saloon, pretends to +be a mining speculator, but it is my opinion there is nothing he wouldn't +do for money, if he considered the game safe. And now, with everything +quiet in the East, and no thought that there is any suspicion remaining, +Beaton sends for the woman to join him here. Why? Because there is some +job to be done too big for him to tackle alone. He's merely a gunman; he +can do the strong-arm stuff, all right, but lacks brains. There is a +problem out here requiring a little intellect; and it is my guess it is +how to dispose of Cavendish until they can get away safely with the swag." + +"Exactly! That would be a stake worth playing for." + +"It certainly would; and, as I figure it out, that is their game. John +Cavendish is merely the catspaw. Right now there is nothing for them to +do but wait until the boy gets full possession of the property; then +they'll put the screws on him good and proper. Meantime Frederick must +be kept out of sight--must remain dead." + +"I wonder how this was ever planned out--if it be true?" + +"It must have originated in some cunning, criminal brain," he admitted +thoughtfully. "Not Beaton's, surely; and, while she is probably much +brighter, I am inclined to think the girl is merely acting under orders. +There is somebody connected with this scheme higher up--a master +criminal." + +Miss Donovan was no fool; newspaper work had taught her to suspect men of +intellect, and that nothing, however wicked, low or depraved, was beyond +them. + +"Enright!" she said definitely. "Obviously now. I've thought so from +the first. But always he worked so carefully, so guardedly, that +sometimes I have doubted. But now I say without qualifications--Enright, +smooth Mr. Enright, late of New York." + +"That's my bet," Westcott agreed, his hand on her shoulder, forgetful of +his intense earnestness, "Enright is the only one who could do it, and he +has schemed so as to get John into a hole where he dare not emit a sound, +no matter what they do to him. Do you see? If the boy breathes a +suspicion he'll be indicted for murder. If they can only succeed in +keeping Frederick safely out of sight until after the court awards the +property to his heir, they can milk John at their leisure. It's a +lawyer's graft, all right." + +"Then Frederick may be confined not far away?" + +"Likely enough; it's wild country. There are a hundred places within +fifty miles where he might be hidden away for years. That is the job +which was given to Beaton; he had the dirty work to perform, while the +girl took care of John. I do not know how he did it--knockout drops, +possibly, in a glass of beer; the blow of a fist on a train-platform at +night; a ride into the desert to look at some thing of interest--there +are plenty of ways in which it could be quietly done by a man of Mr. +Beaton's expert experience." + +"Yes, but he does not know this country--if it was only New York now." + +"But Bill Lacy does, and these fellows are well acquainted--friends +apparently. Lacy and I are at daggers-points over a mining claim, and he +believes my only chance is through the use of money advanced by Fred +Cavendish. He'd ride through hell to lick me. Why, look here, Miss +Donovan, when Bill Lacy had me stuck up against the wall last night at +the hotel with a gun at my head, he lost his temper and began to taunt me +about not getting any reply from my telegrams and letters. How did he +know about them? Beaton must have told him. There's the answer; those +fellows are in cahoots, and if Fred is actually alive, Bill Lacy knows +where he is, and all about it." + +She did not answer. Westcott's theory of the situation, his quick +decision that Frederick Cavendish still lived, completely overturned her +earlier conviction. Yet his argument did not seem unfair or his +conclusion impossible. Her newspaper experience had made her aware that +there is nothing in this world so strange as truth, and nothing so +unusual as to be beyond the domain of crime. + +"What do you think?" he asked quietly. + +"Oh, I do not know; it all grows less comprehensible every moment. But +whatever is true I cannot see that anything remains for us to do, but +wait and watch the actions of these people; they are certain to betray +themselves. We have been here together now longer than we should, and I +must return to the hotel." + +"You expect Beaton to seek you?" + +She smiled. + +"He appeared very devoted, quite deeply interested; I hope it continues." + +"So do I, now that I understand," earnestly. "Although I confess your +intimacy was a shock to me this noon. Well, I am going to busy myself +also and take a scouting trip to La Rosita." + +"Is that Lacy's mine?" + +"Yes; up the gulch here about two miles. I may pick up some information +worth having. I am to see you again--alone?" + +"We must have some means of communication; have you any suggestion?" + +"Yes, but we'll take for our motto, 'Safety first.' We mustn't be seen +together, or suspected in any way of being friends. The livery-stable +keeper has a boy about twelve, who is quite devoted to me; a bright, +trustworthy little fellow. He is about the hotel a good deal, and will +bring me word from you any time. You need have no fear that I shall fail +to respond to any message you send." + +"I shall not doubt." She held out her hand frankly. "You believe in me +now, Mr. Westcott?" + +"Absolutely; indeed I think I always have. That other thing hurt, yet I +kept saying to myself, 'She had some good reason.'" + +"Always think so, please, no matter what happens. I was nearly wild +until I got the note to you; I was so afraid you would leave the hotel. +We must trust each other." + +He stood before her, his hat in hand, a strong, robust figure, his +bronzed face clearly revealed; the sunlight making manifest the grey hair +about his temples. To Miss Donovan he seemed all man, instinct with +character and purpose, a virile type of the out-of-doors. + +"To the death," and his lips and eyes smiled. "I believe in you utterly." + +"Thank you. Good-bye." + +He watched her climb the bank and emerge upon the bridge. He still stood +there, bare-headed, when she turned and smiled back at him, waving her +hand. Then the slender figure vanished, and he was left alone. A moment +later, Westcott was striding up the trail, intent upon a plan to entrap +Lacy. + +They would have felt less confident in the future could they have +overheard a conversation being carried on in a room of the Timmons House. +It was Miss La Rue's apartments, possessing two windows, but furnished in +a style so primitive as to cause that fastidious young lady to burst into +laughter when she first entered and gazed about. Both her companions +followed her, laden with luggage, and Beaton, sensing instantly what had +thus affected her humour, dropped his bag on the floor. + +"It's the best there is here," he protested. "Timmons has held it for +you three days." + +"Oh, I think it is too funny, Ned," she exclaimed, staring around, and +then flinging her wraps on the bed. "Look at that mirror, will you, and +those cracks in the wall? Say, do I actually have to wash in that tin +basin? Lord! I didn't suppose there was such a place in the world. +Why, if this is the prize, what kind of a room have you got?" + +"Tough enough," he muttered gloomily, "but you was so close with your +money I had to sing low. What was the matter with you, anyhow?" + +"Sweetie wouldn't produce, or couldn't, rather. He hasn't got his hands +on much of the stuff yet. Enright coughed up the expense money, or most +of it. I made John borrow some, but I needed that myself." + +"Well, damn little got out here, and Lacy pumped the most of that out of +me. However, if you feel like kicking about this room, you ought to see +some of the others--mine, for instance, or the one Timmons put that other +woman in." + +"Oh, yes," she said, finding a seat and staring at him. "That reminds +me. Did you say there was a girl here from New York? Never mind +quarrelling about the room, I'll endure it all right; it makes me think +of old times," and she laughed mirthlessly. "Sit down, Mr. Enright, and +let's talk. How's the door, Ned?" + +He opened it and glanced out into the hall, throwing the bolt as he came +back. + +"All right, Celeste, but I wouldn't talk quite so loud; the partitions +are not very tight." + +"No objections to a cigarette, I suppose," and she produced a case. +"Thanks; now I feel better--certainly, light up. Well, Ned, the first +thing I want to know is, who is this other New York skirt, and how did +she happen to blow in here just at this time?" + +Beaton completed the lighting of his cigar, flinging the match carelessly +out of the window. + +"Oh, she's all right," he said easily. "Just an innocent kid writer for +_Scribbler's_ who's trying to make good writing about the beautiful +scenery around here. I was a bit suspicious of her at first myself, but +picked her up this morning an' we had quite a talk. Mighty pretty little +girl." + +Miss La Rue elevated her eyebrows, watchfully regarding him through smoke +wreaths. + +"Oh, cut it, Ned," she exclaimed curtly. "We all know you are a perfect +devil with the women. The poor thing is in love with you, no doubt, but +that doesn't answer my question, who is she?" + +"Her name is Donovan." + +"That sounds promising; what do you make it, shanty Irish?" + +"I should say not," warmly. "She's a lady, all right. Oh, I know 'em, +if I don't meet many of that kind. We got chummy enough, so she told me +all about herself--her father's a big contractor and has money to burn." + +"Did you ever hear the beat of that, Enright? Neddy is about to feather +his nest. Well, go on." + +"That's about all, I guess, only she ain't nothin' you need be afraid of." + +"Sure not, with a watch-dog like you on guard. But if you ask me, I +don't like the idea of her happening in here just at this time. This is +no place for an innocent child," and she looked about, her lip curling. +"Lord, I should say not. Do you happen to remember any New York +contractor by that name, Mr. Enright?" + +The rotund lawyer, his feet elevated on the window-sill, a cigar between +his lips, shook his head in emphatic dissent. + +"Not lately; there was a Tim Donovan who had a pull in the subway +excavation--he was a Tammany man--but he died, and was never married. +There may have been others, of course, but I had tab on most of them. +Did she mention his name, Beaton?" + +"No; anyhow, I don't remember." + +"What's the girl look like?" + +"Rather slender, with brown hair, sorter coppery in the sun, and grey +eyes that grow dark when she's interested. About twenty-three or four, I +should say. She's a good-looker, all right; and not a bit stuck up." + +"Did you get her full name?" + +"Sure; it's on the register--Stella Donovan." + +Enright lowered his feet to the floor, a puzzled look un his face, his +teeth clinched on his cigar. + +"Hold on a bit till I think." he muttered. "That sounds mighty +familiar--Stella Donovan! My God, I've heard that name before somewhere; +ah, I have it--she's on the New York _Star_. I've seen her name signed +to articles in the Sunday edition." He wheeled and faced Miss La Rue. +"Do you remember them?" + +"No; I never see the _Star_." + +"Well, I do, and sometimes she's damn clever. I'll bet she's the girl." + +"A New York newspaperwoman; well, what do you suppose she is doing out +here? After us?" + +Enright had a grip on himself again and slowly relit his cigar, leaning +back, and staring out the window. His mind gripped the situation coldly. + +"Well, we'd best be careful," he said slowly. "Probably it's merely a +coincidence, but I don't like her lying to Beaton. That don't look just +right. Yet the _Star_ can't have anything on us: the case is closed in +New York; forgotten and buried nearly a month ago. Even my partner don't +know where I am." + +"I had to show John the telegram in order to get some money." + +"You can gamble he won't say anything--there's no one else?" + +"No; this game ain't the kind you talk about." + +"You'd be a fool to trust anybody. So, if there's no leak we don't need +to be afraid of her, only don't let anything slip. We'll lay quiet and +try the young lady out. Beaton here can give her an introduction to Miss +La Rue, and the rest is easy. What do you say, Celeste?" + +"Oh, I'll get her goat; you boys trot on now while I tog up a little for +dinner; when is it, six o'clock?" + +"Yes," answered Beaton, still somewhat dazed by this revealment of Miss +Donovan's actual identity. "But don't try to put on too much dog out +here, Celeste; it ain't the style." + +She laughed. + +"The simple life, eh! What does your latest charmer wear--a skirt and a +shirtwaist?" + +"I don't know; she was all in black, but looked mighty neat." + +"Well, I'll go her one better--a bit of Broadway for luck. So-long, both +of you, and, Enright, you better come up for me; Ned, no doubt, has a +previous engagement with Miss Donovan." + +Mr. Enright paused at the door, his features exhibiting no signs of +amusement. + +"Better do as Beaton says, make it plain," he said shortly. "The less +attention we attract the less talk there will be, and this is too damn +serious an affair to be bungled. You hear?" + +She crossed over and rested her hands on his arm. + +"Sure; I was only guying Ned--it's a shirt-waist for me. I'll play the +game, old man." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII: THE SHOT OF DEATH + +Westcott's purpose in visiting the La Rosita mine was a rather vague +one. His thought had naturally associated Bill Lacy with whatever form +of deviltry had brought Beaton to the neighbourhood of Haskell, and he +felt convinced firmly that this special brand of deviltry had some +direct connection with the disappearance of Frederick Cavendish. Just +what the connection between these people might prove to be was still a +matter of doubt, but as Miss Donovan was seeking this information at +the hotel, all that remained for him to do at present was an +investigation of Lacy. + +Yet it was not in the nature of the big miner to go at anything +recklessly. He possessed a logical mind and needed to think out +clearly a course of action before putting it into execution. This +revelation had come to him suddenly, and the conclusion which he had +arrived at, and expressed to the girl, was more of an inspiration than +the result of calm mental judgment. After she had disappeared on her +walk back to Haskell, Westcott lit his pipe and resumed his seat on the +big rock again, to think it all out in detail, and decide on a course +of action. He was surprised how swiftly and surely the facts of the +case as already understood marshalled themselves into line in support +of the theory he had advanced. The careful review of all Miss Donovan +had told him only served to increase his confidence that his old +partner still lived. No other conception seemed possible, or would +account for the presence of Ned Beaton in Haskell, or the hurried call +for Miss La Rue. Yet it was equally evident this was not caused by any +miscarriage of their original plans. It was not fear that had led to +this meeting--no escape of their prisoner, no suspicion that their +conspiracy had been discovered, no alarm of exposure--but merely the +careful completion of plans long before perfected. Apparently every +detail of the crime, which meant the winning of Frederick Cavendish's +fortune, had been thus far successfully carried out. The money was +already practically in their possession, and not the slightest +suspicion had been aroused. It had been a masterpiece of criminal +ingenuity, so boldly carried out as to avoid danger of discovery. + +Westcott believed he saw the purpose which had actuated the ruling +spirit--a desire to attain these millions without bloodshed; without +risking any charge of murder. This whole affair had been no vulgar, +clumsy crime; it was more nearly a business proposition, cold-blooded, +deliberately planned, cautiously executed. Every step had been taken +exactly in accord with the original outlines, except possibly that they +had been hurried by Cavendish's sudden determination to return West, +and his will disinheriting John. These had compelled earlier action, +yet no radical change in plans, as the machinery was already prepared +and in position. Luck had been with the conspirators when Frederick +called in Enright to draw up the will. What followed was merely the +pressure of his finger on the button. + +Enright! Beyond doubt his were the brains dominating the affair. It +was impossible to believe that either Celeste La Rue or Ned +Beaton--chorus girl or gunman--could have ever figured out such a +scheme. They were nothing but pawns, moved by the hand of the chief +player. Aye! and John Cavendish was another! + +The whole foul thing lay before Westcott's imagination in its +diabolical ingenuity--Enright's legal mind had left no loophole. He +intended to play the game absolutely safe, so far, at least, as he was +personally concerned. + +The money was to go legally to John without the shadow of a suspicion +resting upon it; and then--well, he knew how to do the rest; already he +had a firm grip on a large portion. Yes, all this was reasonably +clear; what remained obscure was the fate of Frederick Cavendish. + +Had they originally intended to take his life, and been compelled to +change the plan? Had his sudden, unexpected departure from New York, +on the very eve possibly of their contemplated action, driven them to +the substitution of another body? It hardly seemed probable--for a man +bearing so close a resemblance could not have been discovered in so +short a time. The knowledge of the existence of such a person, +however, might have been part of the original conspiracy--perhaps was +the very basis of it; may have first put the conception into Enright's +ready brain. Aye, that was doubtless the way of it. Frederick was to +be spirited out of the city, accompanied, taken care of by Beaton or +some other murderous crook, and this fellow, a corpse, substituted. If +he resembled Frederick at all closely, there was scarcely a chance that +his identity would be questioned. Why should it be--found in his +apartments? There was nothing to arouse suspicion; while, if anything +did occur, the conspirators were in no danger of discovery. They +risked a possible failure of their plan, but that was all. But if this +was true what had since become of Frederick? + +Westcott came back from his musings to this one important question. +The answer puzzled him. If the man was dead why should Beaton remain +at Haskell and insist on Miss La Rue's joining him? And if the man was +alive and concealed somewhere in the neighbourhood, what was their +present object? Had they decided they were risking too much in +permitting him to live? Had something occurred to make them feel it +safer to have him out of the way permanently? What connection did Bill +Lacy have with the gang? + +Westcott rose to his feet and began following the trail up the canon. +He was not serving Cavendish nor Miss Donovan by sitting there. He +would, at least, discover where Lacy was and learn what the fellow was +engaged at. He walked rapidly, but the sun was nearly down by the time +he reached the mouth of his own drift. + +While waiting word from the East which would enable him to develop the +claim, Westcott had thought it best to discontinue work, and hide, as +best he could, from others the fact that he had again discovered the +lost lead of rich ore. To that end, after taking out enough for his +immediate requirements in the form of nuggets gathered from a single +pocket, which he had later negotiated quietly at a town down the +railroad, he had blocked up the new tunnel and discontinued operations. +He had fondly believed his secret secure, until Lacy's careless words +had aroused suspicion that the latter might have seen his telegrams to +Cavendish. His only assistant, a Mexican, who had been with him for +some time, remained on guard at the bunk-house, and, so far as he knew, +no serious effort had been made to explore the drift by any of Lacy's +satellites. Now, as he came up the darkening gulch, and crunched his +way across the rock-pile before the tunnel entrance, he saw the +cheerful blaze of a fire in the Mexican's quarters and stopped to +question him. + +"_Senor_--you!" + +"Yes, Jose," and Westcott dropped on to a bench. "Anything wrong? You +seem nervous." + +"No, _senor_. I expected you not to-night; there was a man there by +the big tree at sunset." + +"You saw him?" + +"Yes, but not his face, _senor_. He think me gone at first, but when I +walk out on the edge of the cliff then he go--quick, like that. When +the door creak I say maybe he come back." + +"One of the La Rosita gang likely. Don't fight them, Jose. Let them +poke around inside if they want to; they won't find anything but rock. +There is no better way to fool that bunch than let them investigate to +their heart's content. Got a bite there for me?" + +"_Si, senor_, aplenty." + +"All right then; I'm hungry and have a bit of work ahead. Put it on +the table here, and sit down yourself, Jose." + +The Mexican did as ordered, glancing across at the other between each +mouthful of food, as though not exactly at ease. Westcott ate +heartily, without pausing to talk. + +"You hear yet Senor Cavendish?" Jose asked at last. + +"No." Westcott hesitated an instant, but decided not to explain +further. "He must be away, I think." + +"What you do if you no hear at all?" + +"We'll go on with the digging ourselves, Jose. It'll pay wages until I +can interest capital somewhere to come in on shares." + +"You no sell Lacy then?" + +"Sell Lacy! Not in a thousand years. What put that in your head?" + +The Mexican rubbed the back of his pate. + +"You know Senor Moore--no hair so?" an expressive gesture. + +"Sure; what about him?" + +"He meet me at the spring; he come up the trail from Haskell on +horseback with another man not belong 'round here." + +"What did he look like--big, red-faced fellow, with checked suit and +round hat?" + +"_Si, senor_; he say to Moore, 'Why the hell you talk that damn +greaser,' an' Moore laugh, an' say because I work for Senor Westcott." + +"But what was it Moore said to you, Jose?" + +"He cussed me first, an' when I wouldn't move, he swore that Lacy would +own this whole hill before thirty days." + +"Was that all? Didn't the other fellow say anything?" + +"No, _senor_; but he swung his horse against me as they went by--he +mighty poor rider." + +"No doubt; that is not one of the amusements of the Bowery. Where did +they go? Up to La Rosita?" + +"_Si, senor_; I watched, they were there two hour." + +Westcott stared into the fireplace; then the gravity of his face +relaxed into a smile. + +"Things are growing interesting, Jose," he said cheerfully. "If I only +knew just which way the cat was about to jump I'd be somewhat happier. +There seemed to be more light than usual across the gulch as I came +up--what's going on?" + +"They have put on more men, _senor_--a night shift. Last night I went +in our drift clear to the end, and put my ear to the rock. It was far +away, but I hear." + +"No, no, Jose; that's impossible. Why, their tunnel as over a hundred +yards away; not even the sound of dynamite would penetrate that +distance through solid rock. You heard your heart beat." + +"No, _senor_," and Jose was upon his feet gesticulating. "It was the +pick--strike, strike, strike; then stop an' begin, strike, strike, +strike again. I hear, I know." + +"Then they must be running a lateral, hoping to cut across our vein +somewhere within their lines." + +"And will that give them the right, _senor_?" + +Westcott sat, his head resting on one hand, staring thoughtfully into +the dying fire; the yellow flame of the oil lamp between them on the +table flickered in the draft from the open window. Here was a +threatening combination of forces. + +"I am not sure, Jose," he answered slowly. "The mining law is full of +quirks, although, of course, the first discoverer of a lead is entitled +to follow it--it's his. The trouble here is, that instead of giving +notice of discovery, I have kept it a secret, and even blocked up the +tunnel. If the La Rosita gang push their drift in, and strike that +same vein, they will claim original discovery, and I reckon they'd make +it stick. I didn't suppose Lacy had the slightest idea we had struck +colour. Nobody knew it, but you and I, Jose." + +"Never I say a word, _senor_." + +"I am sure of that, for I know exactly where the news came from. Lacy +spilled the beans in a bit of misunderstanding we had last night down +in Haskell. My letters and telegrams East to Cavendish went wrong, and +the news has come back here to those fellows. They know just what +we've struck, and how our tunnel runs; I was fool enough to describe it +all to Cavendish and send him a map of the vein. Now they are driving +their tunnel to get in ahead of us." + +He got to his feet, bringing his fist down with such a crash on the +table as to set the lamp dancing. + +"But, by God, it's not too late! We've got them yet. The very fact +that Lacy is working a night shift is evidence he hasn't uncovered the +vein. We'll tear open that tunnel the first thing in the morning, +Jose, and I'll make proof of discovery before noon. Then we'll put a +bunch of good men in here, and fight it out, if those lads get ugly. +Come on, let's take a look in there to-night." + +He picked up the lamp, and turned. At the same instant a sudden red +glare flamed in the black of the open window, accompanied by a sharp +report. The bullet whizzed past Westcott's head so closely as to sear +the flesh, crashed into the lamp in his hand, extinguishing it, then +struck something beyond. There was no cry, no sound except a slight +movement in the dark. Westcott dropped to the floor, below the radius +of dim light thrown by the few embers left in the fireplace, and +revolver in hand, sought to distinguish the outlines of the window +frame. Failing in this, he crept noiselessly across the floor, +unlatched the closed door, and emerged into the open air. + +It was a dark night, with scarcely a star visible, the only gleam of +radiance coming from a light across the gulch, which he knew burned in +the shaft-house of the La Rosita. + +Everything about was still, with the intense silence of mountain +solitude. Not a breath of air stirred the motionless cedars. +Cautiously he circled the black cabin, every nerve taut for struggle, +every sense alert. He found nothing to reward his search--whoever the +coward had been, he had disappeared among the rocks, vanishing +completely in the black night. The fellow had not even waited to learn +the effect of his shot. He had fired pointblank into the lighted room, +sighting at Westcott's head, and then ran, assured no doubt the +speeding bullet had gone straight to the mark. It was not until he +came back to the open door that the miner thought of his companion. +What had become of Jose? Could it be that the Mexican was hit? He +entered, shrinking from the task, yet resolute to learn the truth; felt +his way along the wall as far as the fireplace, and stirred the embers +into flame. They leaped up, casting a flickering glow over the +interior. A black, shapeless figure, scarcely discernible as a man, +lay huddled beneath the table. Westcott bent over it, feeling for the +heart and turning the face upward. There was no visible mark of the +bullet wound, but the body was limp, the face ghastly in the grotesque +dance of the flames. The assassin had not wasted his shot--Jose +Salvari would never see Mexico again. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV: LACY LEARNS THE TRUTH + +Westcott straightened the body out, crossing the dead hands, and +covered the face with a blanket stripped from a bunk. The brief burst +of flame died down, leaving the room in semi-darkness. The miner was +conscious only of a feeling of dull rage, a desire for revenge. The +shot had been clearly intended for himself. The killing of Jose had +been a mere accident. In all probability the murderer had crept away +believing he had succeeded in his purpose. If he had lingered long +enough to see any one emerge from the hut, he would naturally imagine +the survivor to be the Mexican. Good! This very confidence would tend +to throw the fellow off his guard; he would have no fear of Jose. + +Westcott's heart rose in his throat as he stood hesitating. The dead +man was only a Mexican, a servant, but he had been faithful, had proven +himself an honest soul; and he had died in his service, as his +substitute. All right, the affair was not going to end now; this was +war, and, while he might not know who had fired the fatal shot, he +already felt abundantly satisfied as to who had suggested its efficacy. +There was only one outfit to be benefited by his being put out of the +way--Bill Lacy's gang. If they already had Fred Cavendish killed, or +held prisoner in their power, it would greatly simplify matters if he +should meet death accidentally, or at the hands of parties unknown. +Why not? Did he not stand alone between them and fortune? Once his +lips were sealed, who else could combat their claims? No one; not a +human being knew his secret--except the little he had confided that +afternoon to Stella Donovan. + +The thought of the girl served to break his reflections. This was all +a part of that tragedy in New York. Both were in some way connected +together, the assassination in the Waldron apartments, and the shooting +of Jose here in this mountain shack. They seemed far apart, yet they +were but steps in the same scheme. + +He could not figure it all out, yet no doubt this was true--the +struggle for the Cavendish millions had come to include the gold he had +discovered here in the hills. Bill Lacy was merely the agent of those +others, of Ned Beaton, of Celeste La Rue, of Patrick Enright. Aye, +that was it--Enright! Instinctively, from the very first moment when +he had listened to the girl's story, his mind had settled on Enright as +the real leader. The lawyer's arrival in Haskell with the La Rue woman +only served to strengthen that conviction. For certainly a man playing +for potential stakes as big as those Enright was gaming for, would +intrust no cunning moves to a mere Broadway chorus-girl. No, Enright +was on the ground in person because the matter in prospect needed a +director, an excessively shrewd trickster, and the others were with him +to do his bidding. If Cavendish really lived, all their plans depended +on his being kept out of sight, disposed of, at least until they had +the money safe in their grasp. + +He reached beneath the blanket and drew forth the dead Mexican's +revolver, slipped the weapon into his own belt, opened the door and +went out, closing it tightly behind him. Jose could lie there until +morning. While the darkness lasted he had work to do. His purpose +settled, there was no hesitancy in his movements. His was the code of +the West; his methods those of the desert and the mountains, the code +and method of a fighting man. + +A dim trail, rock strewn, led to the spring, where it connected with an +ore road extending down the valley to Haskell. Another trail across +the spur shortened the distance to the La Rosita shaft-house. But +Westcott chose to follow none of these, lest he run into some +ambuscade. The fellow who had fired into the shack was, +unquestionably, hiding somewhere in the darkness, probably along one of +these trails in the hope of completing his work. + +To avoid encountering him the miner crept along the far side of the +cabin through the dense shadow, and then struck directly across the +hill crest, guided by the distant gleam of light. It was a rough +climb, dangerous in places, but not unfamiliar. Slowly and silently, +cautious to dislodge no rolling stone, and keeping well concealed among +the rocks, he finally descended to the level of the shaft feeling +confident that his presence was not discovered. He was near enough now +to hear the noise of the hoisting-engine, and to mark the figure of the +engineer in the dim light of a lantern. + +Rock was being brought up the shaft, and cast onto the dump, but was +evidently of small value, proof to the mind of the watcher that the +gang below were merely engaged in tunnel work, and had not yet struck +ore in any paying quantity. + +He lay there watching operations for several minutes, carefully +studying out the situation. He had no clearly defined plan, only a +desire to learn exactly what was being done. The office beyond the +shaft was lighted, although the faint gleam was only dimly revealed +along the edge of lowered curtains concealing the interior. However, +this evidence that some one was within served to attract Westcott's +attention, and he crept around, under the shadow of the dump, and +approached the farther corner. He could perceive now two men on the +hoisting platform, and hear the growl of their voices, but without +being able to distinguish speech. Every few moments there sounded the +crash of falling rock as the buckets were emptied. Revolver in hand he +made the round of the building to assure himself that no guard had been +posted there, then chose the window farthest away from the shaft, and +endeavoured to look in. + +The heavy green curtain extended to the sill, but was slit in one +corner. With his eye close to this slight opening he gained a partial +glimpse of the interior. It was that of a rough office with a cot in +one corner as though occasionally utilised for a sleeping room, the +other furniture consisting of a small desk with roll-top, an unpainted +table, and a few chairs. In one corner stood a rusty-looking safe, the +door open, and a fat-bellied wood-stove occupied the centre of the +floor. + +There were three men in the room, and Westcott drew a quick breath of +surprise as he recognised the two faces fronting him--Bill Lacy at the +desk, a pipe in his mouth, his feet elevated on a convenient chair, and +Beaton, leaning back against the wall, apparently half asleep with his +eyes closed. The third man was facing Lacy, but concealed by the +stove; he seemed to be doing the talking, and held a paper in his hand +resembling a map. Suddenly he arose to his feet, and bent over the +edge of the desk, and Westcott knew him--Enright! + +The man spoke earnestly, evidently arguing a point with emphasis, but +the sound of his voice failed to penetrate to the ears of the listener +without. Desperately determined to learn what was being said, the +miner thrust the heavy blade of his jack-knife beneath the ill-fitting +window sash, and succeeded in noiselessly lifting it a scant half inch. +He bent lower, the speaker's voice clearly audible through the narrow +opening. + +"That isn't the point, Lacy," the tone smooth enough, yet containing a +trace of anger. "You are paid to do these things the way I plan. This +mining proposition is all right, but our important job just now is at +the other end. A false move at this time will not only cost us a +fortune, but would send some of us to the pen. Don't you know that?" + +"Sure I do; but I thought this was my end of it." + +"So it is; but it can wait until later, until we have the money in +hand, and have decided about Cavendish. You say your tunnel is within +twenty feet of the lead, which it must be according to this map, and +you propose breaking through and holding on until the courts decide. +Now don't you know that will kick up a hell of a row? It will bring us +all in the limelight, and just at present we are better off +underground. That's why I came out here. I am no expert in mining +law, and am not prepared to say that your claim is not legal. It may +be, and it may not be--we'll waive that discussion. The point is +this--from all I can learn of Westcott, he is the kind who will fight +to the last ditch. Perhaps he hasn't any chance, but if he ever does +learn how we got hold of his letters and discovered the location of +that vein of ore, he's going to turn this whole affair inside out, and +catch us red-handed. You made a fool play to-night." + +"That wasn't my fault," Lacy protested sullenly. "The fellow +misunderstood; however, there won't be no fuss made over a Mexican." + +"I'm not so sure of that; Westcott will know it was meant for him and +be on his guard. Anyhow it was a fool's trick." + +"Well, we do things different out here from what you do in New York. +It's my way to take no chances, and when a man's dead he can't talk." + +"I'm not so sure of that; there's been many a lad hung on the testimony +of a dead man. Now see here, Lacy, this is my game, and I propose +playing it in my own way. You came in under those conditions, didn't +you?" + +"I reckon so, still there wasn't much to it when I came in. This +mining stunt developed later out of those letters Westcott sent East. +This man Beaton here offered me so much to do a small job for him, and +I named my price without caring a whoop in hell what it was all about. +I don't now, but I've learned a few things since, and am beginning to +think my price was damn low. You never came way out here just to stop +me from tunnelling into Westcott's mine." + +The other hesitated. + +"No," he admitted at last, "I did not even learn what was being done +until after I got here." + +"Beaton sent for you?" + +"Not exactly. I never had any personal connection with him in the +case. I am not sure he ever heard of me, unless the woman told him. +He was working under her orders, and wired her when Cavendish got away +to come out at once. He didn't know what to do." + +Lacy laughed, and began to refill his pipe. + +"That was when I first began to smell a mouse," he said, more at ease. +"The fellow was so scared I caught on that this was no common +kidnapping outfit, like I had thought before. He wasn't easy pumped, +but I pumped him. I told him we'd have the guy safe enough inside of +twenty-four hours--hell! there wasn't no chance for him to get away, +for the blame fool headed East on foot straight across the desert--but +he sent off the wire just the same. That's what I thought brought you +along." He leaned over, and lowered his voice. "There was a dead man +back East, wasn't there?" + +"What difference does that make?" + +"None, particularly, except to naturally increase the worth of my +services. I'm not squeamish about stiffs, but I like to know what I am +doing. What are you holding on to this other fellow for?" + +Enright walked nervously across the room, chewing at his cigar, only to +come back and face his questioner. + +"Well, I suppose I might as well tell you," he said almost savagely. +"You know so damn much now, you better know it all. You're in too deep +already to wiggle out. We made rather a mess of it in New York, and +only a bit of luck helped us through. We had the plans ready for three +months, but nothing occurred to give us a chance. Then all at once +Cavendish got his first telegram from Westcott, and decided to pull +out, not telling any one where he was going. That would have been all +right, for we had a man shadowing him, but at the last moment he +quarrelled with the boy we had the woman slated up with." + +"Hold on; what boy? Let me get this straight." + +"His nephew, and only relative--John Cavendish." + +"Oh, I see; he was his heir; and you had him fixed?" + +"We had him where he couldn't squeal, and have yet. That was Miss La +Rue's part of the game. But, as I was saying, there was a quarrel and +the uncle suddenly decided to draw up a will, practically cutting John +out entirely." + +"Hell! Some joke that!" + +"There was where luck came to our help. He employed me to draw the +will, and told me he planned to leave the city for some time. As soon +as I could I told the others over the phone, and we got busy." + +Lacy struck his knee with his hand, and burst into a laugh. + +"So, he simply disappeared! Your idea was that an accident might +happen, and our friend Beaton here took the same train to render any +necessary assistance." + +"No," said Enright frankly, "murder wasn't part of our plan; it's too +risky. We had other means for getting this money--legally." + +Lacy stared incredulous. + +"And there hasn't been no killin'?" + +Enright shook his head. + +"Not by any of us." + +"Then how about that dead man in New York--the one that was buried for +Cavendish? Oh, I read about that. Beaton showed it to me in the +paper." + +"That's the whole trouble," Enright answered gravely. "I do not know +who he was, or how he came there. All I know is, he was not Frederick +Cavendish. But his being found there dead in Cavendish's apartments, +and identified, puts us in an awful hole, if the rest of this affair +should ever become known. Do you see? The charge would be murder, and +how are we going to hold the real Cavendish alive, and not have it come +out?" + +"The other one--the stiff--wasn't Cavendish?" + +"Certainly not; you know where Cavendish is." + +"I never saw Fred Cavendish; I wouldn't know him from Adam's off-ox. +I've got the fellow Beaton turned over to me." + +"Well, he's the man; the dead one isn't." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because Frederick Cavendish bought and signed a round-trip ticket to +Los Angeles, and boarded the midnight train. My man reported that to +me, and Beaton just had time to catch the same train before it pulled +out. Isn't that true, Ned?" + +"Yes, it is, and I never left him." + +"But," insisted Lacy stubbornly, "did you see the dead one?" + +"Yes. I kept away from the inquest, but attended the funeral to get a +glance at his face. It seemed too strange to be true. The fellow +wasn't Cavendish; I'd swear to that, but he did look enough like him to +fool anybody who had no suspicions aroused. You see no one so much as +questioned his identity--Cavendish had disappeared without a word even +to his valet; this fellow, despite the wounds on his face, looking +enough like him to be a twin, dressed like him, is found dead in his +apartments. Dammit, it's spooky, the very thought of it." + +"But you saw a difference?" + +"Because I looked for it; I never would have otherwise. Of course what +I looked at was a dead face in the coffin, a dead face that was seared +and burned. But anyway, I was already convinced that he was not the +man. I am not sure what I should have thought if I had met him alive +upon the street." + +Lacy appeared amused, crossing the room, and expectorating into the +open stove. + +"You fellows make me laugh," he said grimly. "I am hardly idiot enough +to be taken in by that sort of old wives' tale. However, if that is +your story stick to it--but if you were to ever tell it in court, it +would take a jury about five minutes to bring in their verdict. Still +I see what you're up against--the death of this fellow means that you +are afraid now to leave Cavendish alive. If he ever appears again in +the flesh this New York murder will have to be accounted for. Is that +it?" + +"It leaves us in an awkward position." + +"All right. We understand each other then. Let's get to business. +You want me to help out in a sort of accident, I presume--a fall over a +cliff, or the premature discharge of blasting powder; these things are +quite common out here." + +Neither Enright nor Beaton answered, but Lacy was in no way embarrassed +by their silence. He knew now he had the whip-hand. + +"And to prevent any stir at this end, before you fellows get hold of +the stuff, you want me to call off my working gang and let Westcott +alone. Come, now, speak up." + +"Yes," acknowledged Enright. "I don't care so much for Westcott, but I +want things kept quiet. There's a newspaperwoman down at the hotel. I +haven't been able to discover yet what she is doing out here, but she's +one of the big writers on the New York _Star_. If she got an inkling +of this affair----" + +"Who is she? Not the girl you had that row over, Beaton?" + +The gunman nodded. + +"She's the one." + +"Do you suppose Jim Westcott knew her before? He brought her to the +hotel and was mighty touchy about her." + +"Hell, no; she told me all about that--why she cut that fellow dead in +the dining-room when he tried to speak to her the next day." + +Lacy whistled a few bars, his hands thrust deep into his +trouser-pockets. Then, after a few minutes' cogitation, he resumed: + +"All right then; we'll take it as it lies. The only question +unsettled, Enright, is--what is all this worth to me?" + + + + +CHAPTER XV: MISS LA RUE PAYS A CALL + +Some slight noise caused Westcott to straighten up, and turn partially +around. He had barely time to fling up one arm in the warding off of a +blow. The next instant was one of mad, desperate struggle, in which he +realised only that he dare not relax his grip on the wrist of his +unknown antagonist. It was a fierce, intense grapple, every muscle +strained to the utmost, silent except for the stamping of feet, deadly +in purpose. + +The knife fell from the cramped fingers, but the fellow struggled like +a demon, clutching at the miner's throat, but unable to confine his +arms. Twice Westcott drove his clenched right into the shadowed face, +smashing it the last time so hard the man's grip relaxed, and he went +staggering back. With a leap forward, the battle-fury on him, Westcott +closed before the other could regain position. Again the clenched fist +struck and the fellow went down in the darkness, whirling backward to +the earth--and lay there, motionless. + +An instant, panting, breathless, scarcely yet comprehending what had +occurred, the victor stared at the huddled figure, his arm drawn back. +Then he became aware of excitement within, the sound of voices, the +tramp of feet on the floor, the sudden opening of a door. A gleam of +light shot out, revealing the figures of men. With one spring he was +across the shapeless form on the ground, and had vanished into the +darkness beyond. + +Lacy was first to reach the unconscious body, stumbling over it in the +black shadow, as he rushed forward, revolver in hand. He cursed, +rising to his knees, and staring about in the silent darkness. + +"There's a man lying here--dead likely. Bring a light. No, the fellow +is alive. Dammit, it's Moore, and completely knocked out. Here +you--what happened?" + +The fellow groaned, opened his eyes, and looked about dazedly. + +"Speak up, man!" and Lacy dragged him to a sitting position in no +gentle fashion. "Who hit you?" + +"There--there was a fellow at that window there. I--I saw him from +below, and crept up behind but he turned around just as I struck." + +"Who was he?" + +"I never saw his face. He hit me first." + +"He was at that window, you say?" + +"Yes; kneelin' down like he was lookin' into the room. Oh, Lord!" + +Lacy crunched over to the side of the shack, and bent down to get a +better view. His fingers came in contact with the knife which upheld +the sash, and he plucked it out, holding it up into the beam of light +passing through the rent in the torn curtain. He stared at the +curiously carved handle intently. + +"This is certainly hell," he said soberly. "That's Jim Westcott's +jack-knife. He's been listening to all we said. Now we are up against +it." + +"What's that?" The question came from Enright, still at the corner of +the house, unable to tell what had happened. + +"Westcott has been here listening to our talk. He pried up the window +with this knife, so he could hear. Moore caught him, and got knocked +out." + +"He--he heard our talk in--in there," repeated the dazed lawyer, his +lips trembling. "And--has got away? Good God! man, where has he gone? +After the sheriff?" + +Lacy stared at him through the darkness, and burst into a roar of +unrestrained laughter. + +"Who? Jim Westcott? The sheriff? Well, hardly at this stage of the +game. That's your way down East, no doubt, but out in this country the +style is different. No, sir; Westcott isn't after any sheriff. In the +first place he hasn't any evidence. He knows a thing or two, but he +can't prove it; and if we move faster than he does we'll block his +game--see?" + +"What do you mean?" + +Lacy leaned forward, and hissed his answer into Enright's ear. + +"Put Cavendish where he can't get at him. There's no other chance. If +Jim Westcott ever finds that fellow alive our goose is cooked. And +we've got the advantage--we know where the man is." + +"And Westcott doesn't?" + +"Exactly, but he will know. He'll comb these hills until he finds the +trail--that's Jim Westcott. Come on back inside, both of you, and I'll +tell you my plan. No, there is no use trying to run him down +to-night--a hundred men couldn't do it. What's that, Moore? Go on to +the shaft-house, and let Dan fix you up. No, we won't need any guard. +That fellow will never come back here again to-night. Come on, boys." + +The door closed behind them, shutting out the yellow glow, and leaving +the hillside black and lonely. A bucket of rock rattled onto the dump, +and Moore, limping painfully, swearing with every step, clambered up +the dark trail toward the shaft-house. + +Miss Donovan did not go down to supper. Beaton waited some time in the +office, his eyes on the stairs, but she failed to appear, and he lacked +the necessary courage to seek her in her own room. Then Enright called +him and compelled his attendance. The absence of the girl was not +caused from any lack of appetite as she subsidised the Chinaman to +smuggle her a supply of food by way of the back stairs, which she ate +with decided relish, but she had no desire to show any anxiety +regarding a meeting with the newcomers. + +Her newspaper experience had given her some knowledge of human nature +and she felt convinced that her task of extracting information would be +greatly simplified if these people sought her company first. To hold +aloof would have a tendency to increase their interest, for Beaton +would certainly tell of her presence in the hotel, and, if their +purpose there had any criminal intent, suspicion would be aroused. + +This theory, however, became somewhat strained as the time passed +quietly, and seemed to break entirely when from her window she saw +Beaton and the heavy-set man ride out of town on a pair of livery +horses. She watched them move down the long street, and turn into the +trail leading out across the purple hills. The lowering darkness +finally hid them from view. She was still at the window beginning to +regret her choice when some one rapped at the door. She arose to her +feet, and took a step or two forward, her heart beating swifter. + +"Come in." + +The door opened, and the light from the windows revealed Miss La Rue, +rather tastefully attired in green silk, her blond hair fluffed +artfully, and a dainty patch of black court-plaster adorning one cheek. +She stood hesitating on the threshold, her eyes searching the other's +face. + +"Pardon me, please," the voice somewhat high-pitched, "but they told me +down-stairs you were from New York." + +"Yes, that is my home; won't you come in?" + +"Sure I will. Why I was so lonesome in this hole I simply couldn't +stand it any longer. Have you only one chair?" She glanced about, her +eyes widening. "Heavens, what a funny room! Why, I thought mine was +the limit, but it's a palace beside this. You been here long?" + +"Since yesterday; take the chair, please; I am used to the bed--no, +really, I don't mind in the least. It is rather funny, but then I +haven't always lived at the Ritz-Carlton, so I don't mind." + +"Huh! for the matter of that no more have I, but believe me, there +would be some howl if they ever gave me a room like this--even in +Haskell. I know your name; it's Stella Donovan--well, mine is Celeste +La Rue." + +"A very pretty name; rather unusual. Are you French?" + +The other laughed, crossing her feet carelessly, and extracting a +cigarette case from a hand-bag. + +"French? Well, I guess not. You don't mind if I smoke, do you? +Thanks. Have one yourself--they're imported. No? All right. I +suppose it is a beastly habit, but most of the girls I know have picked +it up. Seems sociable, somehow. No, I'm not French. My dad's name +was Capley, and I annexed this other when I went on the stage. It +tickles the Johnnies, and sounds better than Sadie Capley. You liked +it yourself." + +"It is better adapted to that purpose--you are an actress then?" + +"Well, nobody ever said so. I can dance and sing a bit, and know how +to wear clothes. It's an easier job than some others I've had, and +gets me into a swell set. Tell me, when were you in New York?" + +"About a month ago." + +"Well, didn't you see the Revue?" + +"The last one? Certainly." + +"That's where I shone--second girl on the right in the chorus, and I +was in the eccentric dance with Joe Steams; some hit--what?" + +"Yes, I remember now; they called you the Red Fairy--because of your +ruby ring. What in the world ever brought you out here?" + +Celeste laughed, a cloud of smoke curling gracefully above her blonde +hair. + +"Some joke, isn't it? Well, it's no engagement at the Good Luck Dance +Hall yonder, you can bet on that. The fact is I've quit the business, +and am going to take a flier in mining." + +"Mining? That sounds like money in these days. They tell me there is +no placer-mining any longer, and that it requires a fortune to develop. +I wouldn't suppose a chorus girl----" + +"Oh, pshaw!" and Miss La Rue leaned forward, a bright glow on each +cheek. "There are more ways of making money in New York than drawing a +salary. Still, that wasn't so bad. I pulled down fifty a week, but of +course that was only a drop in the bucket. I don't mind telling you, +but all a good-looking girl needs is a chance before the +public--there's plenty of rich fools in the world yet. I've caught on +to a few things in the last five years. It pays better to be Celeste +La Rue than it ever did to be Sadie Capley. Do you get me?" + +Miss Donovan nodded. Her acquaintance with New York fast life supplied +all necessary details, and it was quite evident this girl had no sense +of shame. Instead she was rather proud of the success she had achieved. + +"I imagine you are right," she admitted pleasantly. "So you found a +backer? A mining man?" + +"Not on your life. None of your wild west for me. As soon as some +business is straightened out here, it's back to Broadway." + +"Who is it?" ventured the other cautiously. "Mr. Beaton?" + +"Ned Beaton!" Miss La Rue's voice rose to a shriek. "Oh, Lord! I +should say not! Why that fellow never had fifty dollars of his own at +one time in his life. You know Beaton, don't you?" + +"Well, hardly that. We have conversed at the table down-stairs." + +"I suppose any sort of a man in a decent suit of clothes looks good +enough to talk to out here. But don't let Beaton fool you. He's only +a tin-horn sport." + +"Then it is the other?" + +"Sure; he's the real thing. Not much to look at, maybe, but he fairly +oozes the long green. He's a lawyer." + +"Oh, indeed," and Miss Donovan's eyes darkened. She was interested, +now feeling herself on the verge of discovery. "From New York?" + +"Sure, maybe you've heard of him? He knew you as soon as Beaton +mentioned your name; he's Patrick Enright of Enright and Dougherty." + +Miss Donovan's fingers gripped hard on the footboard of the bed, and +her teeth clinched to keep back a sudden exclamation of surprise. This +was more than she had bargained for, yet the other woman, coolly +watching, in spite of her apparent flippancy, observed no change in the +girl's manner. Apparently the disclosure meant little. + +"Enright, you say? No, I think not. He claimed to know me? That is +rather strange. Who did he think I was?" + +Miss La Rue bit her lip. She had found her match evidently, but would +strike harder. + +"A reporter on the _Star_. Naturally we couldn't help wondering what +you was doing out here. You are in the newspaper business, ain't you?" + +"Yes," realising further concealment was useless, "but on my vacation. +I thought I explained all that to Mr. Beaton. I am not exactly a +reporter. I am what they call a special writer--sometimes write for +magazines like _Scribbler's_, other times for newspapers. I do +feature-stuff." + +"Whatever that is." + +"Human-interest stories; anything unusual; strange happenings in +every-day life, you know." + +"Murders, and--and robberies." + +"Occasionally, if they are out of the ordinary." She took a swift +breath, and made the plunge. "Like the Frederick Cavendish case--do +you remember that?" + +Miss La Rue stared at her across the darkening room, but if she changed +colour the gloom concealed it, and her voice was steady enough. + +"No," she said shortly, "I never read those things. What happened?" + +"Oh, nothing much. It occurred to my mind because it was about the +last thing I worked on before leaving home. He was very rich, and was +found dead in his apartments at the Waldron--evidently killed by a +burglar." + +"Did they get the fellow?" + +"No, there was no clue; the case is probably forgotten by this time. +Let's speak about something else--I hate to talk shop." + +Miss La Rue stood up, and shook out her skirt. + +"That's what I say; and it seems to me it would be more social if we +had something to drink. You ain't too nice to partake of a cocktail, +are you? Good! Then we'll have one. What's the hotelkeeper's name?" + +"Timmons." + +"Do you suppose he'd come up if I pounded on the floor?" + +Miss Donovan slipped off the bed. + +"I don't believe he is in the office. He went up the street just +before dark. You light the lamp while I'll see if I can find the +Chinaman out in the hall." + +She closed the door behind her, strode noisily down the hall, then +silently and swiftly retraced her steps and stooped silently down to +where a crack yawned in the lower panel. That same instant a match +flared within the room and was applied to the wick of the lamp. The +narrow opening gave only a glimpse of half the room--the wash-stand, +the chair, and lower part of the bed. She saw Miss La Rue drop the +match, then open her valise and go through it, swiftly. She found +nothing, and turned to the wash-stand drawer. The latter was empty, +and was instantly closed again, the girl staring about the room, as +though at her wit's end. Suddenly she disappeared along the edge of +the bed, beyond the radius of the crack in the door. What was it she +was doing? Searching the bed, no doubt; seeking something hidden +beneath the pillow, or mattress. + +Whatever her purpose, she was gone scarcely a moment, gliding silently +back to the chair beside the window, with watchful eyes again fixed on +the closed door. Miss Donovan smiled, and straightened up, well +satisfied with her ruse. It had served to demonstrate that the +ex-chorus-girl was far from being as calmly indifferent as she had +assumed and it had made equally evident the fact that her visit had an +object--the discovery of why Miss Donovan was in Haskell. Doubtless +she had made the call at Enright's suggestion. Very well, the lady was +quite welcome to all the information obtained. Stella opened the door, +and the eyes of the two met. + +"The Chinaman seems to have gone home," the mistress of the room said +quietly. "At least he is not on this floor or in the office, and I +could see nothing of Timmons anywhere." + +"Then I suppose we don't drink," complained Miss La Rue. "Well, I +might as well go to bed. There ain't much else to do in this jay town." + +She got up, and moved toward the door. + +"If you're only here viewing the scenery, I guess you won't remain +long." + +"Not more than a day or so. I am planning a ride into the mountains +before leaving," pleasantly. "I hope I shall see you again." + +"You're quite liable to," an ugly curl to the lip, "maybe more than +you'll want. Good night." + +Miss Donovan stood there motionless after the door closed behind her +guest. She was conscious of the sting in those final words, the +half-expressed threat, but the smile did not desert her lips. Her only +thought was that the other was angry, irritated over her failure, her +inability to make a report to her masters. She looked at the valise on +the floor, and laughed outright, but as her eyes lifted once more, she +beheld her travelling suit draped over the head-board of the bed, and +instantly the expression of her face changed. She had forgotten +hanging it there. That must have been where the woman went when she +disappeared. It was not to rummage the bed at all, but to hastily run +through the pockets of her jacket. The girl swiftly crossed the room, +and flung coat and skirt onto the bed. She remembered now thrusting +the telegram from Farriss into a pocket on the morning of its receipt. +It was gone! + + + + +CHAPTER XVI: CAPTURED + +Her first thought was to search elsewhere, although she immediately +realised the uselessness of any such attempt. The message had been in +her pocket as she recalled distinctly; she had fully intended +destroying it at the same time she had torn up the letter of +instruction, but failed to do so. Now it was in the hands of the La +Rue woman, and would be shown to the others. Stella blew out the light +and sat down by the open window endeavouring to figure out what all +this would mean. It was some time before she could recall to memory +the exact wording of the telegram, but finally it came to her bit by +bit: + + +If any clues, advise immediately. Willis digging hard. Letter of +instruction follows. + +FARRISS. + + +There was no mention of names, yet these people could scarcely fail to +recognise that this had reference to the Cavendish case. Their fears +would lead to this conclusion, and they could safely argue that nothing +else would require the presence in Haskell of a New York newspaper +writer. Besides, if the man Enright had recognised her and knew of her +connection with the _Star_, it was scarcely probable that he would be +wholly unfamiliar with the name of Farriss, the city editor. No, they +would be on guard now, and she could hope to win no confidence. The +thought of personal danger never once entered her mind. Timidity was +not part of her nature and she gave this phase of the matter no +thought. All that seriously troubled her was the knowledge that she +was handicapped in the case, unable to carry out the plans previously +outlined. + +From now on she would be watched, guarded against, deceived. That +these people--Enright particularly--were playing a desperate game for +big stakes, was already evident. They had not hesitated at murder to +achieve their ends, and yet the girl somehow failed to comprehend that +this discovery by them, that she was on their trail, placed her in +personal peril. + +There were two reasons causing indifference--a carelessness engendered +by long newspaper experience, and a feeling that the telegram told so +little they would never realise how far the investigation had +progressed. All she could do then, would be to remain quiet, watch +closely for results, and, if necessary, have some one else sent out +from the home office to take up the work. But meanwhile she must +communicate with Westcott, tell him all that had occurred. She would +send him a note the first thing in the morning. + +Somewhat reassured by this reasoning, she was still seated there, +staring out into the night, when Enright and Beaton returned. It must +have been late, for the street was practically deserted, the saloons +even being closed. The hotel was silent, although a lamp yet burned in +the office, the dull glow falling across the roadway in front of the +door. Stella heard the tread of horses' feet, before her eyes +distinguished the party approaching, and she drew back cautiously. In +the glow of the light she could perceive four men in saddle halted in +front of the hotel, three of whom dismounted, and entered the building, +the fourth grasping the reins of the riderless animals, and leading +them up the street. No word was spoken, except an order to the +departing horseman, and the girl could not be certain of the identity +of those below, although convinced the first two to disappear within +were Enright and Beaton. She heard the murmur of voices below and the +heavy steps of the men as they came slowly up the stairs. Then a door +opened creakingly and she caught the sound of a woman's voice. + +"Is that you, Ned?" + +"Sure; what are you doing up at this hour?" + +"Never mind that. Who have you got with you?" + +"Enright and Lacy--why?" + +"I want you all to come in here a minute; don't make so much noise." + +A voice or two grumbled, but feet shuffled along the bare floor, and +the door creaked again as it was carefully closed behind them. Stella +opened her own door a crack and listened; the hall, lighted only by a +single oil-lamp at the head of the stairs, was deserted and silent. +She stole cautiously forward, but the voices in Miss La Rue's room were +muffled and indistinct, not an audible word reaching her ears. The key +was in the lock, shutting out all view of the interior. Well, what was +the difference? She knew what was occurring within--the stolen +telegram was being displayed, and discussed. That would not delay them +long, and it would never do for her to be discovered in the hall. + +Convinced of the uselessness of remaining, she returned to her own +room, closing and bolting the door. + +This time she removed some of her clothing, and lay down on the bed, +conscious of being exceedingly tired, yet in no degree sleepy. She +rested there, with wide-open eyes, listening until the distant door +creaked again, and she heard the footsteps of the men in the hall. +They had not remained in the chorus girl's room long, nor was anything +said outside to arouse her suspicions. Reassured, Miss Donovan +snuggled down into her pillow, unable to distinguish where the men +went, but satisfied they had sought their rooms. They would attempt +nothing more that night, and she had better gain what rest she could. +It was not easy falling asleep, in spite of the silence, but at last +she dropped off into a doze. + +Suddenly some unusual noise aroused her, and she sat upright, unable +for the moment to comprehend what had occurred. All was still, +oppressively still; she could hear the pounding of her own heart. Then +something tingled at the glass of her window, sharply distinct, as +though a pebble had been tossed upward. Instantly she was upon her +feet, and had crossed the room, her head thrust out. The light in the +office had been extinguished, and the night was black, yet she could +make out dimly the figure of a man close in against the side of the +house, a mere hulking shadow. At the same instant he seemed to move +slightly, and some missile grazed her face, and fell upon the floor, +striking the rug with a dull thud. She drew back in alarm, yet +immediately grasped the thought that this must be some secret message, +some communication from Westcott. + +Drawing down the torn curtain, she touched a match to the lamp and +sought the intruding missile. It had rolled beneath the bed--a small +stone with a bit of paper securely attached. The girl tore this open +eagerly, her eyes searching the few lines: + + +Must see you to-night. Have learned things, and am going away. Go +down back stairs, and meet me at big cottonwood behind hotel; don't +fail. + +J. W. + + +Her breath came fast as she read, and crunched the paper into the palm +of her hand. She understood, and felt no hesitancy. Westcott had made +discoveries so important he must communicate them at once and there was +no other way. He dare not come to her openly at that hour. Well, she +was not afraid--not of Jim Westcott. Even in her hurry she was dimly +conscious of the utter, complete confidence she felt in the man; even +of the strange interest he had inspired. She paused in her hasty +dressing, wondering at herself, dimly aware that a new feeling partly +actuated her desire to meet the man again--a feeling thoroughly alien +to the Cavendish mystery. She glanced into the cracked mirror and +laughed, half ashamed at her eagerness, yet utterly unable to suppress +the quickened beat of her pulse. + +She was ready almost in a minute, and had blown out the lamp. Again +she ventured a glance out into the street below, but the skulking +figure had disappeared, no one lurked anywhere in the gloom. There was +not a sound to disturb the night. She almost held her breath as she +opened the door silently and crept out into the hall. Stella possessed +no knowledge of any back stairway, but the dim light enabled her to +advance in comparative quiet. + +Once a board creaked slightly, even under her light tread, and she +paused, listening intently. She could distinguish the sound of heavy +sleepers, but no movement to cause alarm, and, assured of this, crept +forward. The hall turned sharply to the right, narrowing and becoming +dark as the rays of light failed to negotiate the corner. Twenty feet +down this passage ended in a door. This was unlocked, and yielded +easily to the grasp of her hand. It opened upon a narrow platform, and +she ventured forth. Gripping the hand-rail she descended slowly into +the darkness below, the excitement of the adventure causing her heart +to beat like a trip-hammer. + +At the bottom she was in a gloom almost impenetrable, but her feet felt +a cinder path and against the slightly lighter sky her eyes managed to +distinguish the gaunt limbs of a tree not far distant, the only one +visible and doubtless the cottonwood referred to in the note. + +Shrinking there in the black shadow of the building she realised +suddenly the terror of her position--the intense loneliness; the +silence seemed to smite her. There occurred to her mind the wild, +rough nature of the camp, the drunkenness of the night before; the wide +contrast between that other scene of debauchery and this solitude of +silence leaving her almost unnerved. She endeavoured to recall her +surroundings, how the land lay here at the rear of the hotel. She +could see only a few shapeless outlines of scattered buildings, not +enough to determine what they were like. She had passed along that way +toward the bridge that afternoon, yet now she could remember little, +except piles of discarded tin cans, a few scattered tents, and a cattle +corral on the summit of the ridge. + +Still it was not far to the tree, and surely there could be no danger +at this hour. If there had been Westcott would never have asked her to +come. The very recurrence of his name gave her strength and courage. +Her hands clenched with determination and she drew in a long breath, +her body straightening. Why, actually, she had been frightened of the +dark; like a child she had been peopling the void with the demons of +fancy. It struck her as so ridiculous that she actually laughed to +herself as she started straight toward the tree, which now seemed to +beckon her. + +It was a rough path, sandy, interspersed with small rocks, and led down +into a gully. The tree stood on the opposite bank, which was so steep +she had to grasp its outcropping roots in order to pull herself up. +Even after gaining footing she saw nothing of Westcott, heard no sound +indicating his presence. + +A coyote howled mournfully in the distance, and a stray breath of air +stirred one of the great leaves above into a startled rustling. She +crept about the gnarled trunk, every nerve aquiver, shaded her eyes +with one hand, and peered anxiously around into the gloom. Suddenly +something moved to her right, and she shrank back against the tree, +uncertain if the shapeless thing approaching was man or beast. He was +almost upon her before she was sure; then her lips gave utterance to a +little sob of relief. + +"Oh! You frightened me so!" + +The man stopped, scarcely a yard away, a burly figure, but with face +indistinguishable. + +"Sorry to do that," he said, "but no noise, please." + +She shrank back to the edge of the bank, conscious of the grip of a +great fear. + +"You--you are not Mr. Westcott?" she choked. "Who are you? What is it +you want?" + +The man laughed, but made no move. + +"Hard luck to come out here to meet Jim, an' run up against a totally +different proposition--hey, miss?" he said grimly. "However, this +ain't goin' ter be no love affair--not yit, at least. If I wuz you I +wouldn't try makin' no run fer it; an' if yer let out a screech, I'll +hav' ter be a bit rough." + +"You--you are after me?" + +"Sure; you've been playin' in a game what's none o' your business. Now +I reckon it's the other party's turn to throw some cards. Thought yer +was comin' out yere ter meet up with Jim Westcott, didn't yer?" + +She made no answer, desperately seeking some means of escape, the full +significance of her position clear before her. + +"Got a nice little note from Jim," the fellow went on, "an' lost no +time a gittin' yere. Well, Westcott is not liable to be sendin' fer +yer again very soon. What ther hell----" + +She had dashed forward, seeking to place the trunk of the tree between +them, the unexpected movement so sudden, she avoided his grasp. But +success was only for an instant. Another hand gripped her, hurling her +back helplessly. + +"You are some sweet little lady's man, Moore," snarled a new voice +raspingly. "Now let me handle this business my own way. Go get that +team turned around. I'll bring the girl. Come on now, miss, and the +less you have to say the better." + +She grasped at the bark, but the fellow wrenched her loose, forcing her +forward. Her resistance evidently angered him, for he suddenly +snatched her up into the iron grip of his arms and held her there, +despite her struggles. + +"Keep still, you damn tiger-cat," he hissed, "or I'll quiet you for +good. Don't take this for any play acting, or you'll soon be sorry. +There now, try it again on your own feet." + +"Take your hands off me then." + +"Very well--I will; but I've got something here to keep you quiet," and +he touched his belt threateningly. + +"What is it you want of me? Who are you?" + +"We'll discuss that later. Just now, move on--yes, straight ahead. +You see that wagon over there? Well, that is where you are bound at +present. Move on pronto." + +She realised the completeness of the trap into which she had fallen, +the futility of resistance. If the man who seemed in control exhibited +any consideration, it was not from the slightest desire to show mercy, +but rather to render the work as easy as possible. She was as +helplessly in his power as though bound and gagged. Before them +appeared the dim outline of a canvas covered wagon silhouetted against +the sky, to which was hitched a team of horses. + +As they approached the shapeless figures of two men appeared in the +gloom, one at the head of the team and the other holding back the +canvas top. Her guard gripped her arm, and peered about through the +darkness. + +"Isn't Ned here yet?" + +"Yes, all right," answered a muffled voice to the left. "I just came +out; here are the grips and other things." + +"Sure you cleaned up everything?" + +"Never left a pin; here, Moore, pass them up inside." + +"And about the note?" + +"She wrote that, and pinned it on the pillow." + +"Good, that will leave things in fine shape," he laughed. "I'd like to +see Jim's face when he reads that, and the madder he gets the less he +will know what to do." + +"And you want us to stay?" asked the other doubtfully. + +"Stay--of course; I am going to stay myself. It is the only way to +divert suspicion. Good Lord, man, if we all disappeared at once they +would know easy enough what had happened. Don't you ever believe +Westcott is that kind of a fool. More than that--there will be no +safety for us now until we get him out of the way; he knows too much. +Whereas your fat friend--old money-bags?" + +"He thought it best to keep out of it; he's back inside." + +"I imagined so; this sort of thing is not in his line. All ready, Joe?" + +The man at the wagon muttered some response. + +"Then up you go, miss; here, put your foot on the wheel; give her a +lift, will you?" + +Anxious to escape further indignities, and comprehending the +uselessness of any further struggle, with a man on either side of her, +Miss Donovan silently clambered into the wagon, and seated herself on a +wide board, evidently arranged for that purpose. The fellow who had +held back the top followed, and snuggled into the seat beside her. She +noticed now he held a gun in his hand, which he deposited between his +knees. The leader drew back the flap of canvas endeavouring to peer +into the dark interior. + +"All set?" + +"Sure." + +"Well, keep awake, Joe, and mind what I told yer. Now, Moore, up with +you, and drive like hell; you must be in the bad lands before daylight." + +A fellow clambered to the seat in front, his figure outlined against +the sky, and picked up the reins. Those within could hear the +shuffling of the horses' feet as though they were eager to be off. The +driver leaned forward. + +"Whoa, there, now; quiet, Jerry. Did you say I was to take the ridge +road?" + +"You bet; it's all rock and will leave no trail. Take it easy and +quiet until you are beyond Hennessey's ranch, and then give them the +whip." + +The next moment they were under way, slowly advancing through the +darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII: IN THE SHOSHONE DESERT + +Her guard spoke no word as the wagon rolled slowly onward, but she +judged that he leaned back against the bow supporting the canvas in an +effort to make himself as comfortable as possible. She could see +nothing of the fellow in the darkness, but had formed an impression +that he was of medium size, his face covered with a scraggly beard. +The driver sat bundled up in formless perspective against the line of +sky, but she knew from his voice that he was the man who had first +accosted her. In small measure this knowledge afforded some degree of +courage, for he had then appeared less brutal, more approachable than +the others. Perhaps she might lead him to talk, once they were alone +together, and thus learn the purpose of this outrage. + +Yet deep down in her mind she felt little doubt of the object in view, +or who were involved. Excited as she was, and frightened, the girl was +still composed enough to grasp the nature of her surroundings, and she +had time now, as the wagon rumbled forward, to think over all that had +been said, and fit it into the circumstances. + +Moreover she had recognised another voice--although the speaker had +kept out of sight, and spoken only in disguised, rumbling tones--that +of Ned Beaton. The fact of his presence alone served to make the +affair reasonably clear. The telegram stolen from her room by Miss La +Rue had led to this action. They had suspected her before, but that +had served to confirm their suspicions, and as soon as it had been +shown to Enright, he had determined to place her where she would be +helpless to interfere with their plans. + +But what did they propose doing with her? The question caused her +blood to run cold. That these people were desperate she had every +reason to believe; they were battling for big stakes: not even murder +had hitherto stood in their way? Why then, should they hesitate to +take her life, if they actually deemed it necessary to the final +success of their plans? She remembered what Beaton had said about her +room--the condition in which it had been left. It was not all clear, +yet it was clear enough, that they had taken every precaution to make +her sudden disappearance appear natural. They had removed all her +things, and left a note behind in womanly handwriting to explain her +hurried departure. There was a master criminal mind, watchful of every +detail, behind this conspiracy. He was guarding against every +possibility of rescue. + +The driver began to use his whip and urge the team forward, the wagon +pounding along over the rough road at a rate which compelled the girl +to hang on closely to keep her seat. The man beside her bounced about, +and swore, but made no effort to touch her, or open conversation. The +uncertainty, the fear engendered by her thought, the drear silence +almost caused her to scream. She conquered this, yet could remain +speechless no longer. + +"Where are you taking me?" she asked suddenly. + +There was no reply, and she stared toward her silent companion, unable +to even perceive his outlines. His silence sent a thrill of anger +through her, and she lost control. Her hand gripped the coarse +shirt-sleeve in determination to compel him to speak. + +"Answer me or I'll scream!" + +He chuckled grimly, not in the least alarmed. + +"Little good that'll do yer now, young woman," he said gruffly, and the +driver turned his head at the sound, "unless yer voice will carry five +miles or so; where are we now, Matt?" + +"Comin' down ter the Big Slough," answered the other, expectorating +over the wheel, and flickering a horse with his whip-lash. "'Twouldn't +do no harm now ter fasten back the canvas, Joe; maybe she'd feel a bit +more ter home that away." + +There was a good-natured drawl to the voice which had a tendency to +hearten the girl. The driver seemed human, sympathetic: perhaps he +would respond to questioning. The other merely grunted, and began to +unloosen the cover. She leaned forward, and addressed the rounded back +of the fellow in front. + +"Are you Mr. Moore?" + +He wheeled partly about, surprised into acknowledgment. + +"Well, I ain't heered the mister part fer some time, but my name's Matt +Moore, though, how the hell did you know it?" + +"The other man called you by name--don't you remember? Besides I had +heard about you before." + +"Well, I'll be damned. Do yer hear that, Joe? Who told yer 'bout me?" + +"Mr. Westcott; he mentioned you as being one of the men who attacked +him in the hotel office yesterday. He said you were one of Lacy's men. +So when I heard your name mentioned to-night I knew in whose hands I +had fallen. Was the brute who ordered you about Bill Lacy?" + +"I reckon it was, miss," doubtfully. "It don't make no difference, +does it, Joe?" + +"Not as I kin see," growled the other. "Leastwise, her knowin' thet +much. 'Tain't likely to do her no good, whichever way the cat jumps. +I reckon I'll have a smoke, Matt; I'm dry as a fish." + +"Same here; 'bout an hour till daylight, I reckon, Joe; pass the +terbacco after yer light up." + +The glow of the match gave her swift view of the man's face; it was +strange and by no means reassuring, showing hard, repulsive, the +complexion as dark as an Indian's, the eyes bold and a bit bloodshot +from drink. Meeting her glance, he grinned unpleasantly. + +"I don't pose fer no lady's man, like Matt," he said sneeringly, the +match flaring between his fingers. "That's what Bill sent me 'long +fer, 'cause he know'd I'd 'tend ter business, an' not talk too much." + +"Your name is Joe?" + +"Out yere--yes; Joe Sikes, if it pleases yer eny ter know. Yer might +call me Mr. Sikes, if yer want ter be real polite." + +He passed the tobacco-bag up to Moore, who thrust the reins under him +while deliberately filling his pipe, the team trotting quietly along +what seemed to be a hard road. The wagon lurched occasionally, as the +wheels struck a stone, but the night was still so dark, the girl could +perceive little of their surroundings in spite of the looped-up +curtains. There seemed to be a high ridge of earth to their right, +crowned by a fringe of low trees, but everything appeared indistinct +and desolate. Outside the rumble of their own progress the silence was +profound. + +"And you will not tell me where we are going?" she insisted, "or what +you propose doing with me?" + +The pipe-glow revealed Sikes's evil countenance; Moore resumed his +reins, and there was the sharp swish of a whip lash. + +"'Twouldn't mean nuthin' ter yer if I did," said the former finally, +after apparently turning the matter over slowly in his mind. "Yer +don't know nuthin' 'bout this country. 'Tain't no place a tenderfoot +like you kin find yer way back frum; so, as fer as I see, thar ain't +nuthin' fer yer to do but just naturally wait till we takes yer back." + +"I am to be held a prisoner--indefinitely?" + +"I reckon so; not that I knows enything 'bout the programme, miss; but +that's 'bout the understandin' that Matt an' I has--ain't it, Matt?" + +The driver turned his head, and nodded. + +"Sure; we're just ter take keer of yer till he comes." + +"Lacy?" + +"Er--some word from him, miss. It might not be safe for him to come +himself. Yer see," apologetically, "I don't just know what the game +is, and Bill might want to skip out before you was turned loose. I +knowed wunst when he was gone eight months, an' nobody knowed where he +was--do yer mind thet time, Joe, after he shot up Medicine Lodge? +Well, I reckon thar must be some big money in this job, an' he won't +take no chance of gettin' pinched. That seems to be the trouble, +miss--you've sorter stuck yerself in whar it warn't none o' yer +business. Thet's what got Lacy down on yer." + +"Yes; but what is it to you, and--and Mr. Sikes, here?" + +Matt grinned. + +"Nuthin' much ter me, or ter--ter Mr. Sikes--how's it sound, +Joe?--'cept maybe a slice o' coin. Still there's reason fer us both +ter jump when Bill Lacy whistles. Enyhow thar ain't no use a talkin' +'bout it, fer we've got ter do what we're told. So let's shut up." + +"You say you do not know what this all means?" + +"No, an' what's more, we don't give a damn." + +"But if I told you it was robbery and murder---that you were aiding in +the commission of crime!" + +"It wouldn't make a plum bit o' difference, ma'm," said Sikes +deliberately, "we never reckoned it wus enything else--so yer might +just as well stop hollerin', fer yer goin' whar we take yer, an' ye'll +stay thar till Bill Lacy says yer ter go. Hit 'em up, Matt; I'm plum' +tired of talkin'." + +The grey dawn came at last, spectral and ghastly, gradually yielding +glimpse of the surroundings. They were travelling steadily south, the +horses beginning to exhibit traces of weariness, yet still keeping up a +dogged trot. All about extended a wild, desolate scene of rock and +sand, bounded on every horizon by barren ridges. The only vegetation +was sage brush, while the trail, scarcely visible to the eye, would +circle here and there among grotesque formations, and occasionally +seemed to disappear altogether. Nowhere was there slightest sign of +life--no bird, no beast, no snake even, crossed their path. All was +dead, silent, stricken with desolation. The spires and chimneys of +rock, ugly and distorted in form, assumed strange shapes in the grey +dusk. It was all grey wherever the eyes turned; grey of all shades, +grey sand, grey rocks, grey over-arching sky, relieved only by the soft +purple of the sage--a picture of utter loneliness, of intense +desolation, which was a horror. The eye found nothing to rest upon--no +landmark, no distant tree, no gleam of water, no flash of colour--only +that dull monotony of drab, motionless, and with no apparent end. + +Stella stared about at it, and closed her eyes, unable to bear the +sight; her head drooped wearily, every nerve giving away before the +depressing scene outspread in every direction. Sikes, watching her +slightest movement, seemed to sense the meaning of the action. + +"Hell, ain't it?" he said expressively. "You know whar we are?" + +"No; but I never before dreamed any spot could be so terrible." + +"This is the Shoshone desert; thar ain't nobody ever comes in yere +'cept wunst in a while a prospector, maybe, er a band o' cattle +rustlers. Even the Injuns keep out." + +She lifted her eyes again, shuddering as they swept about over the +dismal waste. + +"But there is a trail; you could not become lost?" + +"Well, yer might call it a trail, tho' thar ain't much left of it after +a sand storm. I reckon thar ain't so many as could follow it any time +o' year, but Matt knows the way all right--you don't need to worry none +about that. He's drove many a load along yere--hey, Matt?" + +"You bet; I've got it all marked out, the same as a pilot on the +Missouri. Ye see that sway-back ridge yonder?" pointing with his whip +into the distance ahead. "That's what I'm headin' for now an' when I +git thar a round rock will show up down a sorter gully. Furst time I +came over yere long with Lacy, I wrote all these yere things down." + +Conversation ceased, the drear depression of the scene resting heavily +on the minds of all three. Moore sat humped shapelessly in his seat, +permitting the horses to toil on wearily, the wagon rumbling along +across the hard packed sand, the wheels leaving scarcely a mark behind. +Sikes stared gloomily out on his side, the rifle still between his +knees, his jaws working vigorously on a fresh chew of tobacco. Stella +looked at the two men, their faces now clearly revealed in the +brightening dawn, but the survey brought little comfort. Sikes was +evidently of wild blood--a half-breed, if his swarthy skin and high +cheek bones meant any characteristics of race--scarcely more than a +savage by nature, and rendered even more decadent by the ravages of +drink. He was sober enough now, but this only left him the more morose +and sullen, his bloodshot eyes ugly and malignant. The girl shrank +from him as a full realisation of what the man truly was came to her +with this first distinct view. + +Moore was a much younger man, his face roughened, and tanned, to almost +the colour of mahogany, yet somehow retaining a youthful look. He was +not unprepossessing in a bold, daring way; a fellow who would seek +adventure, and meet danger with a laugh. He turned as she looked at +him, and grinned back at her, pointing humorously to a badly +discoloured eye. + +"Friend o' yours gave me that," he admitted, quite as a matter of +course. "Did a good job, too." + +"A friend of mine?" in surprise. + +"Sure; you're a friend o' Jim Westcott, ain't yer? Lacy said so, and +Jim's the laddy-buck who whaled me." + +"Mr. Westcott! When?" + +"Last night. You see it was this way. I caught him hanging round the +office at La Rosita, an' we had a fight. I don't just know what I did +to him, but that's part o' what he did to me. I never knowed much +about him afore, but he's sure some scrapper; an' I had a knife in my +fist, too." + +"Then--then," her breath choking her, "he got away?" + +Moore laughed, no evidence of animosity in his actions. + +"I reckon so, miss. I ain't seen nuthin' of him since, an' the way +Bill Lacy wus cussing when I got breathin' straight agin would 'a' +shocked a coyote. He'll git him, though." + +"Get him?" + +"Sure--Bill will. He always gets his man. I've seen more'n one fellow +try to put something over on Lacy, but it never worked in the end. +He's hell on the trigger, an' the next time he and Bill come together, +Westcott's bound to get his. Ain't that the truth, Joe?" + +Sikes nodded his head, a gleam of appreciation in his eyes. + +"I'd like fer to see the scrap," he said slowly. "They tell me +Westcott ain't so slow on the draw--but Bill will get him!" + +The sun rose a red ball of fire, colouring the ridges of sand, and +painting the grotesque rocks with crimson streamers. As it ascended +higher into the pale blue of the sky the heat-waves began to sweep +across the sandy waste. In the shadow of a bald cliff the wagon was +halted briefly, and the two men brought forth materials from within, +making a hasty fire, and preparing breakfast. Water was given the team +also, before the journey was resumed; while during the brief halt the +girl was left to do as she pleased. Then they moved on again, +surrounded by the same drear landscape, the very depression of it +keeping them silent. Sikes nodded sleepily, his head against a wagon +bow. Once Moore roused up, pointing into the distance with one hand. + +"What do yer make o' that out thar?" he asked sharply. "'Tain't a +human, is it?" + +Sikes straightened up with a start, and stared blankly in the direction +indicated. Apparently he could perceive nothing clearly, for he +reached back into the wagon-box, and drew forth a battered field-glass, +quickly adjusting it to his eyes. Stella's keener vision made out a +black, indistinct figure moving against the yellow background of a far +away sand-ridge, and she stood up, clinging to Moore's seat, to gain a +better view. Sikes got the object in focus. + +"Nothin' doing," he announced. "It's travellin' on four legs--a b'ar, +likely, although I never afore heard of a b'ar being in yere." + +They settled down to the same monotony, mile after mile. The way +became rockier with less sand, but with no more evidence of life. A +high cliff rose menacingly to their right, bare of the slightest trace +of vegetation, while in the opposite direction the plain assumed a dead +level, mirages appearing occasionally in the far distance. Far away +ahead a strange buttress of rock rose into the sky resembling the +turret of a huge castle. The sun was directly overhead when Moore +turned his team suddenly to the left, and drove down a sharp declivity +leading into a ravine. + +"Drop the canvas, Joe," he said shortly, "there's only 'bout a mile +more." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII: IN MEXICAN POWER + +The passage was so narrow, and so diversified by sharp turns, that Miss +Donovan, shut in behind the closed cover, could perceive little of its +nature. Apparently the ravine was a mere gash in the surface of the +desert plain, to be originally discovered purely through accident. One +might pass a hundred yards to either side, and never realise its +existence, the hard rock, covered by a thin layer of sand, retaining no +trace of wheel-marks in guidance. How Moore had ever driven so +unerringly to the spot was a mystery. Yet he had done so, and now the +team was slowly creeping down the narrow ledge utilised as a road, the +slipping wheels securely locked, as they drifted here and there about +the sharp corners, ever descending into the unknown depths. + +The cliffs arose precipitously on either side, absolutely bare. To the +left nothing could be seen but black rock, but on the other side an +open space yawned, perhaps twenty feet across, its bottom +imperceptible. The horses stumbled over the rough stones, held only by +Moore's firm grip on the reins, and the light began to fade as they +descended. At last nothing appeared above but a narrow strip of sky, +and the glimmer of sun had totally vanished. Almost at the same moment +the driver released the creaking brake, and at a trot the wagon swept +forward between two pinnacles of rock, and came out into an open valley. + +The transition was so sudden and startling as to cause the girl to give +utterance to a cry of surprise. She had been clinging desperately to +the seat in front, expecting every instant to be hurled headlong. +Intense fear gripped her and it seemed as if every drop of blood in her +veins stood still. The change was like a leap into fairy land; as +though they had emerged from the mouth of hell into the beauty of +paradise. They were in a green, watered valley, a clear stream +wandering here and there through its centre, shadowed by groves of +trees. All about, as far as eye could reach, stood great precipices, +their bold, rugged fronts rising hundreds of feet, unbroken, and +unscalable; the sun directly above bathed these with showers of gold, +and cast a blanket of colour across the sheltered valley. + +This valley itself was nearly square, possibly extending not over a +mile in either direction, merely a great hole rimmed by desert, a +strange, hidden oasis, rendered fertile and green by some outburst of +fresh water from the rocks. Emerging upon it in midst of the barren +desolation through which they had been toiling for hours, blinded by +alkali dust, jolted down that dangerous decline, it seemed like some +beautiful dream, a fantasy of imagination. + +Miss Donovan doubted the evidence of her own eyes, half convinced that +she slept. It was Moore's voice which aroused her. + +"Mendez must have got back, Joe," he said eagerly. "There are horses +and cattle over yonder." + +The other pushed up the canvas and looked out. + +"That's right. Must just got here, or there'd 'a' been a guard up +above. The fellow is comin' now--see?" + +He was loping along carelessly, Mexican from high hat to jingling +spurs, sitting the saddle as though moulded there, a young fellow, dark +faced, but with a livid scar along one cheek. + +"Juan Cateras, the little devil," muttered Sikes, as the rider drew +nearer. "There's some pot brewing if he is in it." + +The rider drew up his horse, and lifted his hat, his smiling lips +revealing a row of white teeth. + +"A pleasant day, _senor_," he said graciously, his dark eyes searching +the faces of the two men, and then dwelling with interest on the woman. +"Ah, your pardon, _senorita_; your presence is more than welcome here." +He rested one hand on the wagon box, the expression of his face +hardening. "Yet an explanation might not be out of place--the Senor +Mendez may not be pleased." + +"We came under orders from Lacy," replied Moore confidently. "You have +seen us both before." + +"True, but not the lady; you will tell me about her?" + +Sikes climbed down over the wheel. + +"It is like this, _senor_," he began. "Lacy did not know your party +was here; he thought you were all south for another month yet. He +would keep this girl quiet, out of the way for a time. She is from New +York, and knows too much." + +"From New York?" The quick eyes of the Mexican again sought her face. +"She is to be held prisoner?" + +"Yes, _senor_." + +"Again the case of that man Cavendish?" + +"We were not told, only ordered to bring her here and guard her until +we heard otherwise. It was not known you were back." + +"We came three hours ago; you see what we brought," with a wave of the +hand. "All was clear above?" + +"Not a sign; I searched with field-glasses." + +"Then I will ride with you to Mendez; 'tis well to have the matter +promptly over with." + +The wagon, rumbled on, Moore urging the wearied team with whip and +voice to little result. Sikes remained on foot, glad of the change, +striding along in front, while the Mexican rode beside the wheel, his +equipment jingling, the sunlight flashing over his bright attire. He +made a rather gallant figure, of which he was fully conscious, glancing +frequently aside into the shadow beneath the canvas top to gain glimpse +of its occupant. At last their eyes met, and he could no longer +forbear speech, his English expression a bit precise. + +"Pardon, _senorita_, I would be held your friend," he murmured, leaning +closer, "for it is ever a misfortune to incur the enmity of Senor Lacy. +You will trust me?" + +"But," she ventured timidly, "I do not know you, _senor_; who you may +be." + +"You know Senor Mendez?" + +She shook her head negatively. + +"'Tis strange! Yet I forget you come from New York. They know him +here on this border. If you ask these men they will tell you. Even +Senor Lacy takes his orders from Pascual Mendez. He care not who he +kill, who he fight--some day it come his turn, and then he liberate +Mexico--see? The day is not yet, but it will come." + +"You mean he is a revolutionist?" + +"He hate; he live to hate; to revenge the wrong. Twice already he lead +the people, but they fail him--the cowards. He return here where it is +safe: yet the right time will come." + +"But you, _senor_?" + +"I am his lieutenant--Juan Cateras," and he bowed low, "and I ride now +to tell him of his guest." + +She watched him as he spurred forward, proud of his horsemanship, and +making every effort to attract her attention. Moore turned in his +seat, and grinned. + +"Some tin soldier," he said sneeringly, "that's a feller I always +wanted ter kick, an' some day I'm a goin' ter do it." + +"You heard what he said?" + +"Sure; he was tellin' yer 'bout old Mendez being a Mexican +revolutionary leader down in Mex, wa'n't he? Hell of a leader he is! +I reckon he's been mixed up in scrapes enough down thar, but they had +mighty little to do with revolutin'. He's just plain bad man, +miss--cattle thief, an' all round outlaw. There's a price on his head +in three States, but nobody dares go after it, because of the dangerous +gang he controls." + +Her eyes sought the distant figure doubtfully. + +"And this man--this Juan Cateras--what of him?" + +"One of the devil's own imps; I'd a heap rather play with a rattlesnake +than him." He paused, to assure him self that Sikes was safely out of +hearing. "I thought maybe I better tell yer while I had a chance. +That fellar is plumb pisen, miss." + +She reached out her hand, and touched him. + +"Thank you," she said gratefully, "I--I am glad you did. Am--am I to +be left here with these--these men?" + +"No, not exactly. I suppose they'll naturally sorter expect to run +things while they're here, fer this yere valley is their camp, Mendez +has been hidin' out yere fer some time. But Joe and I are goin' to +stay, and even old Mendez ain't liable to make no enemy outer Bill +Lacy. They had a row wunst, an' I reckon they don't neither of 'em +want another. I ain't greatly afeerd o' Mendez, but I wouldn't put +nuthin' past this Cateras lad, if he got some hell idea in his head. +He's Injun-Mex, an' that's the worst kind." + +The wagon lurched down a steep bank, splashed its way across the narrow +stream, and up the other side, the horses straining in their harness to +the sharp snap of the driver's whip. A towering precipice of rock +confronted them, and at its very foot stood two cabins of log +construction, so closely resembling their stone background as to be +almost imperceptible, at the distance of a few yards. Sikes leaned on +his rifle waiting, and as Moore halted the panting team, and leaped +over the wheel to the ground, Cateras came forth from one of the open +doors and crossed the intervening space on foot. He was smoking a +cigarette, the blue wreath of smoke circling above his head in the +still air. + +"The lady is to be placed in my care," he said almost insolently. +"Your hand, _senorita_." + +Miss Donovan hesitated, the memory of Moore's words of warning yet +ringing in her ears. The handsome face, with its smiling lips and +eyes, suddenly appeared to her a mask assumed to conceal the unclean +soul behind. Moore broke the silence with a protest. + +"In your care, _senor_? The girl is here as prisoner to Bill Lacy." + +"So I told Mendez," he said indifferently. "But he is in ill humour +this morning, and took small interest in the affair. It was only when +I promised to take full charge that he consented to your remaining at +all. 'Tis my advice that you let well enough alone. You know who +rules here." + +"If there is evil done, the debt will be paid." + +Cateras laughed, one hand at his incipient moustache. + +"Billy Lacy, you mean, no doubt. That is a matter for him to settle +with Mendez. It is not my affair, for I only obey my chief. However, +_senors_, 'tis no evil that is contemplated, only we prefer guarding +the secrets of this valley ourselves. That is what angers Mendez, the +fact that Lacy uses this rendezvous as a prison during our absence. We +found one here when we returned--guarded by an American. Now you come +with another. _Caramba_! You think we stand this quietly? How do we +know what may result from such acts? What sheriff's posse may be on +your trail? Bill Lacy! _Dios_! if Bill Lacy would make prisoners, let +him keep them somewhere else than here. Mendez takes no prisoners--he +knows a better way than doing things like that." + +"But, _senor_, this is a woman." + +"Of which I am well aware," bowing gallantly. "Otherwise I should not +have interfered, and offered my services. But we have talked enough. +You have had the word, and you know the law of our compact. Do you +obey me, or shall I call the chief--God be merciful to your soul, if I +do." + +Moore stood silent, realising the full meaning of the threat; he +glanced aside at Sikes, but that individual only shook his head. + +"All right then," went on the Mexican sharply. "'Tis well you show +sense. You know what to do with your team; then the both of you report +to Casas at the upper camp--you know him?" + +"Yes, _senor_." + +"Tell him I sent you. He will have his orders; they are that you be +shot if you attempt to leave before Mendez gives the word. 'Tis not +long now till we learn who is chief here--Bill Lacy or Pascual Mendez. +Come, _senorita_, you are safe with me." + +Concealing a dread that was almost overpowering, yet realising the +impossibility of resistance, Stella permitted him to touch her hand, +and assist her to clamber over the wheel. The baffled, helpless rage +in Moore's face was sufficient proof of the true power possessed by +Cateras, that his was no idle boast. Under some conditions the change +in captors might have been welcomed--certainly she felt no desire to +remain in the hands of the two who had brought her there, for Sikes, +plainly enough, was a mere drunken brute, and Moore, while of somewhat +finer fibre, lacked the courage and manhood to ever develop into a true +friend. + +Yet she would have infinitely preferred such as these--men, at least, +of her own race--to this smirking Mexican, hiding his devilish +instincts behind a pretence at gallantry. She knew him, now, +understood him, felt convinced, indeed, that this was all some cunning +scheme originating within his own brain. He had hastened ahead to +Mendez; told a tale in his own way, rendering the chief's suspicions of +Lacy more acute, and thus gaining permission to assume full charge. +Her only hope was to go herself into the presence of the leader, and +make a plea to him face to face. Moore was already at the horses' +heads, and was turning them about in the trail. Cateras, smiling, +pressed her arm with his fingers. + +"This way, _senorita_." + +"Wait," and her eyes met his, showing no sign of fear. "You take me, I +presume, to Senor Mendez?" + +"Of what need?" in surprise. "He has already placed me in charge." + +"Yet without hearing a word as to why I am here," indignantly. "I am +an American woman, and you will yet pay dearly for this outrage. I +demand an interview with the chief, and refuse to go with you until it +is granted." + +"You refuse! Ha!" and he burst into laughter. "Why, what power have +you got, you little fool? Do you know where you are? What fear do we +have of your damn Americanos. None!" and he snapped his fingers +derisively. "We spit on the dogs. I will show you--come!" + +He gripped her shoulder in his lean hand, his eyes glaring into her +face savagely. The grasp hurt, and a sudden anger spurred her to +action. With a quick twist she freed herself, and, scarcely knowing +how it was done, snatched the heavy driver's whip from Moore's hand. +The next instant, before the astounded Mexican could even throw up an +arm in defence, the infuriated girl struck, the stinging lash raising a +red welt across the swarthy cheek. Cateras staggered back, his lips +giving utterance to a curse. + +Again she struck, but this time his fingers gripped the leather, and +tore it from her hands, with sufficient force to send her to her knees. +With a spring forward the man had her in his grasp, all tiger now, the +pretence at gentleness forgotten. He jerked her to her feet, with +fingers clutching her neck mercilessly. + +"Here, Silva, Merodez," he cried, "come take this spitfire. _Caramba_! +we'll teach her." + +Two men ran from between the huts and Cateras flung her, helpless from +her choking, into their grasp. + +"Take her within--no, there; the second door, you fools." + +Breathless from effort, a mere child in their grip, Miss Donovan +struggled vainly. They forced her through the door, and Cateras, still +cursing furiously followed, the whip in his hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX: WESTCOTT FINDS HIMSELF ALONE + +It never occurred to Westcott on his escape through the darkness that +his night's adventure would in any way endanger Miss Donovan. He was +on the property of La Rosita Mining Company upon his own account, and +not in reference to the Cavendish Case at all--or, at least, this last +was merely incidental. + +To be sure he had listened to a confession from Enright bearing +directly upon the affair in New York, a confession so strange he could +scarcely grasp its true meaning. But this never brought to his mind +the thought that suspicion already rested upon the girl's presence in +Haskell. His whole interest centred for the moment on Lacy's daring +attempt to break through the wall of rock below and lay claim to his +lead of ore. Not until this effort had been abandoned would he dare to +desert his mine--and even then safety could be assured only by the +establishment of an armed guard in the tunnel prepared to repel any +invasion. + +While undoubtedly the mining law of the State would eventually sustain +his claim, yet the fact that he had for so long kept his discovery +secret would seriously operate against him; while, if Lacy's gang once +acquired actual possession of the property, the only way of proving +prior ownership would be through an official survey and long protracted +proceedings in court. + +Here he would be at great disadvantage because of lack of money and +influence. In this respect Westcott realised, fully what he was up +against, for while it was quietly known that Lacy was a questionable +character, his name associated with the leadership of a desperate gang, +yet his wealth and power rendered him a decidedly dangerous opponent. +As proprietor of the biggest saloon, dance-hall, and gambling den in +Haskell, he wielded an influence not to be ignored--especially as the +sheriff of the county was directly indebted to him for his office. A +dangerous man himself, with the reputation of a killer, he had about +him others capable of any crime to carry out his orders, confident that +his wealth and influence would assure their safety. To such as he the +stealing of a mine was a mere incident. + +This was the situation confronting Westcott as he crouched behind a +rock on the black hillside, endeavouring to decide upon a course of +action. The events of the last few hours had almost entirely forced +aside memory of the girl at the hotel--and her mission. He was +fighting now for his own life, his own future--and fighting alone. The +blade of Moore's knife had slashed his forearm, in the early moments of +their fierce struggle, and blood was trickling down his wrist, yet not +in sufficient quantity to give him any great concern. Once beyond the +probability of pursuit, he turned up his sleeve and made some effort to +minister to the gash, satisfying himself quickly that it was of trivial +nature. + +From where he lay he could see across the bare, rock-strewn hillside to +the distant hut, outlined by the gleam of light within, and perceive +the black silhouette of the shaft-house. The sound of clanking +machinery reached his ears, but the voices of the men failed to carry +so far. He could dimly distinguish their figures as they passed in and +out of the glare of light, and was aware that Moore had been found and +carried within the hut, but remained ignorant of the fact that the +leaving of a knife in the window had revealed his identity. There was +no attempt at pursuit, which gave him confidence that Lacy failed to +comprehend the importance of what had been overheard, yet he clung +closely to his hiding-place until all the men had re-entered the office. + +However, he was too wary to approach the window again, fearing some +trap, but crept cautiously along the slope of the hill through the +black shadows until he attained safe shelter close in against the dump. +His hope was that Enright's arguments would induce Lacy to discontinue +operations for the present and thus give him time in which to prepare +for resistance. In this he was not disappointed. What took place +within the office could only be guessed at, but in less than half an +hour a man emerged from the open door and hailed the fellows at work in +the shaft-house. The messenger stood in the full glare of light, +revealing to the silent watcher the face and figure of Moore, +convincing evidence that this worthy had not been seriously injured +during the late encounter. + +"Hey, Tom!" he shouted. + +The lantern above was waved out over the edge of the timbered platform +and a deep voice responded. + +"Well, what'che want?" + +"Send word down to the boys to come up. They're laid off fer a while, +an' their pay's ready for 'em." + +"Lay 'em off! Who says so?" + +"Lacy, of course; hustle them out now--them's the orders." + +"Well, that beats hell!" But the lantern vanished as he went grumbling +back to his engine. + +They came up, talking excitedly among themselves, stumbled down the +rough path, and filed into the open door of the lighted office. There +were twenty of them, according to Westcott's count, and the interview +within must have been satisfactory as they departed quietly enough, +disappearing down the trail toward Haskell. Moore remained outside, +apparently checking the fellows off as they passed, and when the last +one vanished again hailed the shaft-house: + +"What's the matter with you, Tom? Why don't you close down and come +and get your stuff?" + +"You want me too?" + +"Sure--we're here waitin' fer yer." + +Westcott clung to his hiding-place, but greatly relieved in mind. This +unexpected action had postponed his struggle and left him free to plan +for defence. For the first time almost his brain grasped the full +significance of this movement, its direct connection with the +disappearance of Frederick Cavendish, and the presence of Stella +Donovan. Enright had suggested and urged the closing down of the mine +temporarily to avoid unnecessary publicity--to throw Westcott off the +trail. His argument must have been a powerful one to thus influence +Lacy--nothing less than a pledge of money could cause the latter to +forego immediate profit. + +Undoubtedly the lawyer had convinced the man of the certainty of their +gaining possession of the Cavendish fortune, and had offered him a +goodly share for his assistance. Then the plan was at a head--if +Cavendish was not dead he was safely in their hands, where his death +could be easily accomplished, if other means failed. + +This was to be Lacy's part of the bargain, and he was already too +deeply involved in the hellish conspiracy to withdraw. Enright, with +his lawyer-astuteness, had seen to that--had even got this Western +gambler securely into his grip and put on the screws. The miner, +realising now the full situation, or, at least, imagining that he did, +smiled grimly and waited in his covert on the hillside for the +conspirators to make their next move. He dare not approach the cabin +any closer, or permit his presence to become known, for Moore was kept +outside the door on guard. However, the delay was not a long one, +horses being brought up from the near-by corral, and the entire party +mounting rode down the trail toward Haskell. The cabin was left dark +and deserted, the mine silent. Westcott made no effort to follow, +feeling assured that no important movement would be attempted that +night. + +It was late the next morning before he rode into Haskell and, stabling +his horse, which bore all the marks of hard riding, proceeded toward +the Timmons House. He had utilised, as best he could, the hours since +that cavalcade had departed from La Rosita to put his own affairs in +order so that he might feel free to camp on the conspirators' trail and +risk all in an effort to rescue Cavendish. The night had been a hard +one, but Westcott was still totally unconscious of fatigue--his whole +thought centred on his purpose. + +Alone he had explored the tunnels in Lacy's mine, creeping about in the +darkness, guided only by the flash of an electric torch, until he +thoroughly understood the nature of the work being accomplished. As +soon as dawn came he sought two reliable men in the valley below, and +posted them as guards over his own property; but, before he finally +rode away, the three brought forth the body of the murdered Mexican and +reverently buried it on a secluded spot of the bleak hillside. + +Then, convinced that every precaution had been taken, Westcott turned +his horse's head toward Haskell. As he rode slowly up the street in +the bright sunlight his mind reverted to Stella Donovan. The stern +adventures of the night had temporarily driven the girl from his +thoughts, but now the memory returned, and her bright, womanly face +arose before him, full of allurement. He seemed to look once more into +the wonderful depths of her eyes and to feel the fascination of her +smile. Eager for the greeting, which he felt assured awaited him, he +strode through the open door into the office. The room was vacant, but +as he crossed the floor toward the desk the proprietor entered through +the opening leading into the barroom beyond. Timmons had quite +evidently been drinking more than usual--the effect being largely +disclosed by loquacity of speech. + +"Hello, Jim!" he cried at sight of the other. "Thought you'd be back, +but, damn it, yer too late--she's--she's gone; almighty pretty girl, +too. I told the boys it was a blame shame fer her ter run off +thataway." + +"Who has run off?" And Westcott's hand crushed down on the man's +shoulder with a force that half-sobered him. "What are you talking +about?" + +"Me! Let up, will yer? Yer was here hopin' ter see that New York +girl, wasn't yer?" + +"Miss Donovan? Yes." + +"I'd forgot her name. Well, she ain't yere--she's left." + +"Left--gone from town?" + +"Sure; skipped out sudden in the night; took the late train East, I +reckon. Never sed no word to nobody--just naturally packed up her duds +an' hiked." + +Westcott drew a deep breath. + +"Surely you do not mean she left without any explanation? She must +have paid her bill." + +"Oh, she was square enough--sure. She left money an' a note pinned to +her pillow; sed she'd just got a message callin' her back home--want +ter see whut she wrote?" + +"You bet I do, Timmons! Have you got the note here?" + +Timmons waddled around behind the desk and ran his hand into a drawer. +Evidently he considered the matter a huge joke, but Westcott snatched +the paper from his fingers impatiently and eagerly read the few hastily +pencilled lines: + + +Have received a message calling me East at once. Shall take the night +train, and enclose sufficient money to pay for my entertainment. + +S. D. + + +He stared at the words, a deep crease between his eyes. It was a +woman's handwriting, and at first glance there was nothing impossible +in such an action on her part. Yet it was strange, if she had departed +so suddenly, without leaving any message for him. After that meeting +at the bridge, and the understanding between them, it didn't seem to +Westcott at all probable that she would thus desert without some +plausible explanation. His eyes narrowed with aroused suspicion as he +looked up from the slip of paper and confronted the amused Timmons +across the desk. + +"I'll keep this," he said soberly, folding it and thrusting it into his +pocket. + +"All right"--and Timmons smiled blandly--"I got the money." + +"And that was all, was it--just this note and the cash? There was +nothing addressed to me?" + +The hotel-keeper shook his head. + +"When did you see her last?" + +"'Bout nine o'clock, I reckon; she come down inter the dinin'-room fer +a drink o' water." + +"She said nothing then about going away?" + +"She didn't speak to nobody--just got a swig an' went up-stairs agin." + +"How much longer were you up?" + +"Oh, maybe an hour; there was some boys playing poker here an' I waited +round till they quit." + +"No message for Miss Donovan up to that time?" + +"No." + +"You left the door unlocked?" + +"Sure; them New York fellers was both out. I oughter waited till they +come in, maybe, but I was plum' tired out." + +"When did they come back?" + +"Oh, 'bout midnight, I reckon. Bill Lacy an' Matt Moore was along with +'em. They didn't disturb me none; just went inter the sample-room, an' +slept on the floor. I found 'em thar in the mornin', and Bill told me +how they come to be thar--leastwise 'bout himself, fer Moore had got up +an' gone afore I got down." + +"I see! And these New York people--they are still here?" + +"They wus all three down ter breakfast; ain't seen nuthin' of 'em +since; I reckon they're up-stairs somewhar." + +"What became of Lacy?" + +"He's down in his saloon; he sed if you showed up, an' asked fer him, +ter tell yer that's whar he'd be." + +"He told you that? He expected me to show up then?" + +"I reckon as how he did," and Timmons grinned in drunken good humour. +"He's pretty blame smart, Bill Lacy is; he most allars knows whut's +goin' ter happen." He leaned over the desk and lowered his voice. "If +yer do hunt him up, Jim," he said confidentially, "you better go +heeled." + +Westcott laughed. The first shock of the discovery of Miss Donovan's +disappearance had passed, and he was himself again. He must have time +to think and arrange some plan and, above all, must retain a clear mind +and proceed coolly. + +"All right, old man," he said easily. "I'll try and look out for +myself. I haven't eaten yet to-day. What can you find for me in the +larder?" + + + + +CHAPTER XX: TO COMPEL AN ANSWER + +Although feeling the need of food, Westcott entered the dining-room of +the Timmons' House more desirous of being alone than for any other +purpose. He realised that he was suddenly brought face to face with a +most serious condition, and one which must be solved unaided. He dare +not venture upon a single step forward until he had first thought out +carefully the entire course to be followed. Two lives, and perhaps +three, including his own, were now in imminent peril, and any mistake +on his part would prove most disastrous. First of all he must keep his +own counsel. Not even the half-drunken Timmons could be allowed to +suspect the real depth of his interest in this affair. + +Fortunately, it was so late in the morning he was left undisturbed at a +side table, screened from the open door leading into the office. +Sadie, the waitress, took his order and immediately disappeared, +leaving him to his own thoughts. These were far from happy ones, as +his mind rapidly reviewed the situation and endeavoured to concentrate +upon some practical plan of action. + +So Bill Lacy expected him? Had left word where he was to be found? +What was the probable meaning of this? Westcott did not connect this +message directly with the strange disappearance of Miss Donovan. +Whether or not Lacy was concerned in that outrage had nothing to do +with this, for the man could scarcely be aware of his deep interest in +the girl. No, this must be his own personal affair, complicated by the +case of Cavendish. Moore must have recognised him during their fight, +and reported to his master who it was that had been discovered +listening at the window. Realising the nature of that conversation, +Lacy naturally anticipated being sought the very moment Westcott came +to town. That was what this meant. All right, he would hunt Lacy as +soon as he was ready to do so; and, as Timmons suggested, would go +"heeled." + +But the girl? What had really become of the girl? There was no way of +proving she had not gone East, for there was no agent at the station at +that hour, and the night train could be halted by any one waving a +signal light. Westcott drew the brief note from his pocket, smoothed +out its creases and read the few words over again. The writing was +unquestionably feminine, and he could recall seeing nothing Miss +Donovan had ever indited, with which it could be compared. But would +she have departed, however hurriedly, without leaving him some message? +To be sure there had been little enough between them of intimacy or +understanding; nothing he could really construe into a promise--yet he +had given her complete trust, and had felt a friendly response. He +could not compel himself to believe she would prove unfaithful. +Unconsciously he still held the letter in his hand when the waitress +came in with his breakfast. She glanced about to make certain they +were alone and leaned over, her lips close to his ear. + +"Is that the note they say that New York young lady left?" + +"Yes, Sadie," in surprise. "Why?" + +"Well, she never wrote it, Mr. Westcott," hurriedly placing the dishes +before him, "that's all. Now don't yer say a word to anybody that I +told yer; but she didn't go East at all; she wus took in a wagon down +the desert road. I saw 'em take her." + +"You saw them? Who?" + +"Well, I don't just know that, 'cept it was Matt Moore's team, an' he +wus drivin' it. I didn't see the others so es to be sure. Yer see us +help sleep over the kitchen, an' 'bout one o'clock I woke up--here +comes Timmons; he mustn't see me talkin' ter yer." + +She flicked her napkin over the table, picked up an emptied dish and +vanished through the swinging-doors. Timmons, however, merely came in +searching for the Chinaman, and not finding the latter immediately, +retired again to the office, without even addressing his guest, who was +busily eating. Sadie peered in once more and, seeing all was clear, +crossed over beside Westcott. + +"Well, as I was sayin'," she resumed, "I thought I heard a noise +outside, an' got up an' went to the winder. I couldn't see much, not +'nough so I could swear to nuthin'; but there was three or four men out +there just across that little gully, you know, an' they had a woman +with 'em. She didn't scream none, but she was tryin' ter git away; +wunst she run, but they caught her. I didn't see no wagon then, it was +behind the ridge, I reckon. After a while it drove off down the south +trail, an' a little later three men come up them outside stairs back +into the hotel. They was mighty still 'bout it, too." + +"You couldn't tell who they were?" + +"They wa'n't like nuthin' but shadders; it was a purty dark night." + +"So it was, Sadie. Do you imagine Timmons had anything to do with the +affair?" + +"Timmons? Not him. There wa'n't no figure like his in that bunch; I'd +know him in the dark." + +"But the woman might not have been Miss Donovan; isn't there another +young lady here from the East?" + +Sadie tossed her head, but with her eyes cautiously fixed on the office +door. + +"Humph; you mean the peroxid blonde! She ain't no _lady_. Well, it +wa'n't her, that's a cinch; she was down yere to breakfast, a laughin' +an' gigglin' with them two men 'bout an hour ago. They seemed ter feel +mighty good over something but I couldn't quite make out just what the +joke was. Say, did yer ever hear tell of a Mexican named Mendez?" + +"Well, rather; he's a cattle thief, or worse. Arizona has a big reward +out for him, dead or alive." + +"That's the gink, I bet yer; has he got a hang-out anywhar 'round this +country?" + +"Not so far as I know; in fact, I haven't heard the fellow's name +mentioned for six months, or more. What makes you suspect this?" + +Sadie leaned even closer, her voice trembling with excitement, +evidently convinced that her information was of the utmost importance. + +"For God's sake, Mr. Westcott," she whispered, "don't never tell +anybody I told yer, but she was awful good ter me, an' that pasty-faced +blonde makes me sick just ter look at her. You know the feller they +call Enright, I reckon he's a lawyer." + +Westcott nodded. + +"Well, he was doin' most of the talkin', an' I was foolin' round the +sideboard yonder, pretendin' ter clean it up. Nobody thought I was in +ear distance, but I got hold ov a word now an' then. He kept tellin' +'em, 'specially the blonde, 'bout this Mexican, who's a friend of Bill +Lacy, an' I judge has a place whar he hangs out with his gang somewhar +in the big desert." + +"Was anything said about Miss Donovan?" + +"Not by name; they was too smart for that; but that was the direction +Matt Moore drove off last night--there's Enright comin' down-stairs +now; won't yer hav' some more cakes, sir?" + +Westcott pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. He had extracted +all the information the girl possessed, and had no wish to expose her +to suspicion. There was no longer a doubt in his mind as to the fate +of Miss Donovan. She had been forcibly abducted by this gang of +thieves, and put where her knowledge could do them no harm. But where? +The clue had been given him, but before it could be of any value he +must learn more of this Mexican, Mendez. The name itself was familiar +enough, for it was one often spoken along the border in connection with +crime, but beyond this meant nothing to him. The fellow had always +appeared a rather mythical character, but now became suddenly real. +The marshal might know; if not, then he must choke the truth out of +Lacy. Determined to make the effort, he muttered a swift word of +thanks to Sadie and left the room. + +Enright was not in the office, but had evidently merely passed through +and gone out. Timmons was sound asleep in a chair by the window, +oblivious to any ordinary noise. From the open doorway Westcott took +careful survey Of the street, adjusting his belt so that the butt of +his revolver was more convenient to the hand. He had no conception +that his coming interview with Lacy was to be altogether a pleasant +one, and realised fully the danger confronting him. + +Very few of the citizens of Haskell were abroad, although a small group +were ornamenting the platform in front of Healey's saloon opposite. At +that moment the little marshal, his broad-brimmed hat cocked over one +eye, emerged from the narrow alleyway between the Red Dog and the +adjacent dance-hall, and stood there doubtfully, his gaze wandering up +and down the deserted street. As Westcott descended the hotel-steps, +the marshal saw him, and came forward. His manner was prompt and +businesslike. + +"Hello, Jim," he said rather briskly, "I was sorter lookin' 'round fer +yer; somebody said yer hoss was up at the stable. Had a little trouble +up your way last night, I hear." + +"Nothing to bother you, Dan; my Mexican watchman was shot up through a +window of the shack." + +"Kill him?" + +"Instantly; I told the coroner all about it. Whoever the fellow was I +reckon he meant the shot for me, but poor Jose got it." + +"Yer didn't glimpse the critter?" + +"No, it was long after dark. I've got my suspicions, but they'll keep. +Seen Bill Lacy this morning?" + +The marshal's thin lips smiled grimly as his eyes lifted to Westcott's +face. + +"He's back there in his office. That's what I stopped yer for. He +said he rather expected ye'd be along after awhile. What's up between +yer, Jim? Not this Mexican shootin' scrape?" + +"Not unless he mentions it, Dan, although I reckon he might be able to +guess how it happened. Just now I've got some other things to talk +about--he's cutting into my vein." + +"The hell he is!" + +"Sure; I got proof of it last night. He's running a cross channel. I +was down his shaft." + +"I heard he's knocked off work; discharged his men." + +"Yes, but only to give him time in which to pull off some other +deviltry. That gave me opportunity to learn just what was being done. +I slipped into the workings after the gang had left, and now I've +blocked his game. Say, Dan, what do you know about that Mexican, +Mendez?" + +"Nuthin' good. I never put eyes on the fellow. Some claim he's got a +place where he hides, out thar in the Shoshone desert, but I never got +hold of anybody yet as really knew." + +"There is such a man, then?" + +"Sure. Why he an' his gang had a pitched battle down on Rattlesnake +'bout six months ago; killed three of the sheriff's posse, an' got +away. Seemed like the whole outfit naturally dropped inter the earth. +Never saw hide ner hair of 'em afterward." + +"I've heard that he and Bill Lacy were in cahoots." + +"Likely enough; ain't much Lacy ain't into. He's been sellin' a pile +of cattle over at Taylorsville lately, an' likely most of 'em was +stole. But hell! What can I do? Besides, that's the sheriff's job, +ain't it? What yer goin' in to see him about, Jim?" + +"Only to ask a few questions." + +"There ain't goin' ter be no fight er nuthin'?" anxiously. + +Westcott laughed. + +"I don't see any cause for any," he answered. "But Bill might be a bit +touchy. Maybe, Dan, it might be worth while for you to hang around. +Do as you please about that." + +He turned away and went up the wooden steps to the door of the Red Dog. +The marshal's eyes followed him solicitously until he disappeared +within; then he slipped back into the alleyway, skirting the side of +the building, until he reached a window near the rear. + +Westcott closed the door behind him and took a swift view of the +barroom. There were not many present at that hour--only a few habitual +loafers, mostly playing cards; a porter was sweeping up sawdust and a +single bartender was industriously swabbing the bar with a towel. +Westcott recognised most of the faces with a slight feeling of relief. +Neither Enright nor Beaton were present, and it was his desire to meet +Lacy alone, away from the influence of these others. He crossed over +to the bar. + +"Where's Bill?" he asked. + +"Back there," and the dispenser of drinks inclined his head toward a +door at the rear. "Go on in." + +The fellow's manner was civil enough, yet Westcott's teeth set with a +feeling that he was about to face an emergency. Yet there was no other +way; he must make Lacy talk. He walked straight to the door, opened +it, stepped into the room beyond, and turned the key in the lock, +dropping it into his pocket. Then he faced about. He was not alone +with Lacy; Enright sat beside the desk of the other and was staring at +him in startled surprise. Westcott also had a hazy impression that +there was or had been another person. The saloon-keeper rose to his +feet, angry, and thrown completely off his guard by Westcott's +unexpected action. + +"What the hell does that mean?" he demanded hotly. "Why did you lock +the door?" + +"Naturally, to keep you in here until I am through with you," returned +the miner coldly. "Sit down, Lacy; we've got a few things to talk +over. You left word for me at the hotel, and, being a polite man, I +accepted your invitation. I supposed I would find you alone." + +Lacy sank back into his chair, endeavouring to smile. + +"This gentleman is a friend of mine," he explained. "Whatever you care +to say can be said before him." + +"I am quite well aware of that and also that he is now present so that +you may use him as a witness in case anything goes wrong. This is once +you have got in bad, Mr. Patrick Enright, of New York." + +The lawyer's face whitened, and his hands gripped the arms of his chair. + +"You--you know me?" + +"By reputation only," and Westcott bowed, "but that is scarcely to your +credit. I know this, however, that for various reasons you possess no +desire to advertise your presence in Haskell. It would be rather a +difficult matter to explain back in the city just what you were doing +out here in such intimate association with a chorus girl and a Bowery +gunman, let alone our immaculate friend, Lacy, yonder. The courts, I +believe, have not yet distributed the Cavendish money." + +Enright's mouth was open, but no sound came from his lips; he seemed to +be gasping for breath. + +"I merely mention this," went on Westcott slowly, "to help you grasp +the situation. We have a rough, rude way of handling such matters out +here. Now Lacy and I have got a little affair to settle between us +and, being a fair-minded man, he sent for me to talk it over. However, +he realises that an argument of that nature might easily become +personal and that if anything unpleasant occurred he would require a +witness. So he arranges to have you present. Do you see the point, +Mr. Enright?" + +The lawyer's eyes sought Lacy, and then returned to the stern face +confronting him. His lips sputtered: + +"As--as a witness?" + +"Sure; there may be honour among thieves, but not Lacy's kind." He +strode forward and with one hand crunched Enright back into his chair. +"Now, listen to me," he said fiercely. "I've got only one word of +advice for you: don't take any hand in this affair, except as a +peacemaker, for if you do, you are going to get hurt. Now, Bill Lacy, +I'm ready to talk with you. I was down in your shaft last night." + +The saloonman lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair. + +"I ought to have thought of that, Westcott," he admitted. "Still, I +don't know that I give a damn." + +"The work hadn't been left in very good shape, and I found the cross +tunnel and measured it. You are within a few feet of my vein. The +county surveyor ought to have been out there two hours ago." + +Lacy straightened up, all semblance of indifference gone, an oath on +his lips. + +"You cur! You filed complaint? When?" + +"At seven o'clock this morning. We'll fight that out in the courts. +However, that isn't what I came here for at all. I came to ask you a +question and one of you two are going to answer before I leave--keep +your hand up, and in sight, Lacy; make another move like that and it's +liable to be your last. I am not here in any playful mood, and I know +your style. Lay that gun on the desk where I can see it--that's right. +Now move your chair back." + +Lacy did this with no good grace, his face purple with passion. +Westcott had been too quick, too thoroughly prepared for him, but he +would watch his opportunity. He could afford to wait, knowing the +cards he had up his sleeve. + +"Some considerable gun-play just to ask a question," he said +tauntingly, "must be mighty important. All right, what is it?" + +"Where did your man Moore take Miss Donovan last night?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI: THE MARSHAL PLAYS A HAND + +Neither man had anticipated this; neither had the slightest conception +that any suspicion of this kind pointed at them. The direct question +was like the sudden explosion of a bomb. What did Westcott know? How +had he discovered their participation in the affair? The fact that +Westcott unhesitatingly connected Matt Moore with the abduction was in +itself alone sufficient evidence that he based his inquiry on actual +knowledge. Enright had totally lost power of speech, positive terror +plainly depicted in his eyes, but Lacy belonged to another class of the +_genus homo_. He was a Western type, prepared to bluff to the end. +His first start of surprise ended in a sarcastic smile. + +"You have rather got the better of me, Westcott," he said, shrugging +his shoulders, as though dismissing the subject. "You refer to the New +York newspaper woman?" + +"I do--Miss Stella Donovan." + +"I have not the pleasure of that lady's acquaintance, but Timmons +informed me this morning that she had taken the late train last night +for the East--isn't that true, Enright?" + +The lawyer managed to nod, but without venturing to remove his gaze +from Westcott's face. The latter never moved, but his eyes seemed to +harden. + +"I have had quite enough of that, Lacy," he said sternly, and the +watchful saloon-keeper noted his fingers close more tightly on the butt +of his revolver. "This is no case for an alibi. I know exactly what I +am talking about, and--I am going to have a direct answer, either from +you or Enright. + +"This is the situation: I was the man listening at the window of your +shack last night. Moore may, or may not have recognised me, but, +nevertheless, I was the man. I was there long enough to overhear a +large part of your conversation. I know why you consented to close +down La Rosita for the present; I know your connection with this gang +of crooks from New York; I know that Fred Cavendish was not murdered, +but is being held a prisoner somewhere, until Enright, here, can steal +his money under some legal form. I know you have claimed, and been +promised, your share of the swag--isn't that true?" + +"It's very damn interesting anyway--but not so easy to prove. What +next?" + +"This: Enright told you who Stella Donovan was, and what he suspected +her object might be. Force is the only method you know anything about, +and no other means occurred to you whereby the girl could be quickly +put out of the way. This was resorted to last night after you returned +to Haskell. I do not pretend to know how it was accomplished, nor do I +greatly care. Through some lie, no doubt. But, anyway, she was +inveigled into leaving the hotel, seized by you and some of your gang, +forced into a wagon, and driven off by Matt Moore." + +"You are a good dreamer. Why not ask Timmons to show you the letter +she left?" + +"I have already seen it. You thought you had the trail well covered. +That note was written not by Miss Donovan, but by the blonde in your +outfit. The whole trouble is that your abduction of Stella Donovan was +witnessed from a back window of the hotel." + +Lacy leaped to his feet, but Westcott's gun rose steadily, and the man +stood with clenched hands, helpless in his tracks. + +"Who says that?" he demanded. + +"I am mentioning no names at present, but the very fact that I know +these things ought to be sufficient. You better sit down, Lacy, before +you forget yourself and get hurt. If you imagine this gun isn't +loaded, a single step forward will test it. Sit down! I am not +through yet." + +There was a quiet, earnest threat in the voice which Lacy understood, +the sort of threat which meant strict attention to business, and he +relaxed into his chair. + +"I'll get you for this, Westcott," he muttered savagely, hate burning +in his eyes. "I haven't played my last cards--yet." + +The miner smiled grimly, but with no relaxation of vigilance. He was +into it now, and proposed seeing it through. + +"I have a few left myself," he returned soberly. "Your man Moore drove +south, taking the road leading into the Shoshone desert, and he had +another one of your gang with him. Then you, and two others, went back +into the hotel, using the outside stairs. I take it the two others +were Enright, here, and Ned Beaton." + +He leaned forward, his face set like flint. + +"Now see here, Lacy. I know these things. I can prove them by a +perfectly competent witness. It is up to you to answer my questions, +and answer them straight. I've got you two fellows dead to rights +anyway you look at it. If you dare lay hands on me I'll kill you; if +you refuse to tell me what I want to know, I'll swear out warrants +inside of thirty minutes. Now what do you choose?" + +For the first time Lacy's eyes wavered, their defiance gone, as he +glanced aside at Enright, who had collapsed in his chair, a mere +heavily breathing, shapeless thing. The sight of the coward seemed to +stiffen him to a species of resistance. + +"If I answer--what then?" he growled desperately. + +"What is offered me?" + +Westcott moistened his lips. He had not before faced the situation +from this standpoint, yet, with only one thought in his mind, he +answered promptly. + +"I am not the law," he said, "and all I am interested in now is the +release of Fred Cavendish and Stella Donovan. I'll accomplish that if +it has to be over your dead bodies. Beyond this, I wash my hands of +the whole affair. What I want to know is--where are these two?" + +"Would you believe me if I said I did not know?" + +"No, Lacy. It has come down to the truth, or your life. Where is +Pasqual Mendez?" + +He heard no warning, no sound of movement, yet some change in the +expression of the man's eyes confronting him caused him to slightly +turn his head so as to vaguely perceive a shadow behind. It was all +so quickly, silently done, he barely had time to throw up one hand in +defence, when his arms were gripped as though in a vise, and he was +thrown backward to the floor, the chair crushed beneath his weight. +Lacy fairly leaped on his prostrate body, forgetting his gun lying on +the desk in the violence of hate, his hands clutching at the exposed +throat. For an instant Westcott was so dazed and stunned by this +sudden attack from behind as to lie there prone and helpless, fairly +crushed beneath the bodies of his two antagonists. + +It was this that gave him his chance, for, convinced that he was +unconscious, both men slightly relaxed their grip, thus giving him +opportunity to regain breath, and stiffen his muscles for a supreme +effort. With one lashing out of a foot that sent Enright hurtling +against the farther wall, he cracked Lacy's head against a corner of +the desk, and closed in deadly struggle with the third man, whom he now +recognised as Beaton. + +Before the latter could comprehend what had happened the miner was on +top, and a clenched fist was driven into his face with all the force of +a sledge-hammer. But barroom fighting was no novelty to the gunman, +nor had he any scruples as to the methods employed. With teeth sunk in +his opponent's arm, and fingers gouging at his eyes, the fellow +struggled like a mad dog; yet, in spite of every effort to restrain +him, Westcott, now filled with the fierce rage of battle, broke free, +fairly tearing himself from Beaton's desperate clutch, and pinning him +helplessly against the wall. + +At the same instant Lacy, who had regained his feet, leaped upon him +from behind, striking with all his force, the violence of the blow, +even though a grazing one, driving the miner's head into the face of +the gunman. + +Both went down together, but Westcott was on his feet again before Lacy +could act, closing with the latter. It was hand-to-hand, the silent +struggle for mastery between two men not unevenly matched, men asking +and receiving no mercy. The revolver of one lay on the floor, the +other still reposed on the open desk, and neither could be reached. It +was a battle to be fought out with bare hands. Twice Westcott struck, +his clenched fist bringing blood, but Lacy clung to him, one hand +twisted in his neck-band, the other viciously forcing back his head. +Unable to release the grip, Westcott gave back, bending until his +adversary was beyond balance; then, suddenly straightening, hurled the +fellow sidewise. But by now Beaton, dazed and confused, was upon his +feet. With the bellow of a wild bull he flung himself on the +struggling men, forcing Lacy aside, and smashing into Westcott with all +the strength of his body. The impetus sent all three crashing to the +floor. + +Excited voices sounded without; then blows resounded against the wood +of the locked door, but the three men were oblivious to all but their +own struggle. Like so many wild beasts they clutched and struck, +unable to disentangle themselves. Enright, his face like chalk, got to +his knees and crept across the floor until his hand closed on +Westcott's revolver. Lifting himself by a grip on the desk, he swung +the weapon forward at the very instant the miner rose staggering, +dragging Beaton with him. There was a flash of flame, a sharp report, +and Westcott sprang aside, gripping the back of a chair. The gunman +sank into shapelessness on the floor as the chair hurtled through the +air straight at Enright's head. + +With a crash the door fell, and a black mass of men surged in through +the opening, the big bartender leading them, an axe in his hand. +Beaton lay motionless just as he had dropped; Enright was in one +corner, dazed, unnerved, a red gash across his forehead, from which +blood dripped, the revolver, struck from his fingers, yet smoking on +the floor; Westcott, his clothes torn, his face bruised by blows, +breathing heavily, went slowly backward, step by step, to the farther +wall, conscious of nothing now but the savagely hostile faces of these +new enemies. Lacy, staggering as though drunk, managed to attain his +feet, hate, the desire for revenge, yielding him strength. This was +his crowd, and his mind was quick to grasp the opportunity. + +"There's the man who did it," he shouted, his arm flung out toward +Westcott. "I saw him shoot. See, that's his gun lying on the floor. +Don't let the murderer get away!" + +He started forward, an oath on his lips, and the excited crowd surged +after, growling anger. Then the mass of them seemed suddenly rent +asunder, and the marshal ploughed his way through heedlessly, his hat +gone, and a blue-barrelled gun in either hand. He swept the muzzle of +one of these into the bartender's face menacingly, his eyes searching +the maddened crowd. + +"Wait a minute, you," he commanded sharply. "I reckon I've got +something to say 'bout this. Put down that axe, Mike, or ye'll never +draw another glass o' beer in this camp. You know me, lads, an' I +never draw except fer business. Shut your mouth, Lacy; don't touch +that gun, you fool! I am in charge here--this is my job; and if there +is going to be any lynching done, it will be after you get me. Stand +back now; all of you--yes, get out into that barroom. I mean you, +Mike! This man is my prisoner, and, by God, I'll defend him. Ay! I'll +do more, I'll let him defend himself. Here, Westcott, pick up your gun +on the floor. Now stand here with me! We're going out through that +bunch, and if one of those coyotes puts a paw on you, let him have it." + +The crowd made way, reluctantly enough, growling curses, but with no +man among them sufficiently reckless to attempt resistance. They +lacked leadership, for the little marshal never once took his eye off +Lacy. At the door he turned, walking backward, trusting in Westcott to +keep their path clear, both levelled revolvers ready for any movement. +He knew Haskell, and he knew the character of these hangers-on at the +"Red Dog." He realised fully the influence of Bill Lacy, and +comprehended that the affair was far from being ended; but just now he +had but one object before him--to get his prisoner safely outside into +the open. Beyond that he would trust to luck, and a fair chance. His +grey eyes were almost black as they gleamed over the levelled revolver +barrels, and his clipped moustache fairly bristled. + +"Not a step, you!" he muttered. "What's the matter, Lacy? Do you want +to die in your tracks? Mike, all I desire is an excuse to make you the +deadest bung-starter in Colorado. Put down that gun, Carter! If just +one of you lads come through that door, I'll plug these twelve shots, +and you know how I shoot--Lacy will get the first one, and Mike the +second. Stand there now! Go on out, Jim; I'm right along with you." + +They were far from free even outside the swinging doors and in the +sunshine. Already a rumour of what had occurred had spread like +wildfire, and men were on the street, eager enough to take some hand in +the affray. A few were already about the steps, while others were +running rapidly toward them, excited but uncertain. + +It was this uncertainty which gave the little marshal his one slender +chance. His eyes swept the crowd, but there was no face visible on +whom he could rely in this emergency. They were the roughs of the +camp, the idlers, largely parasites of Lacy; those fellows would only +hoot him if he asked for help. No, there was no way but to fight it +out themselves, and the only possibility of escape came to him in a +flash. Suddenly as this emergency had arisen the marshal was prepared; +he knew the lawless nature of the camp, and had anticipated that some +time just such a situation as this might arise. Now that it had come, +he was ready. There was scarcely an instant of hesitancy, his quick +searching eyes surveying the scene, and then seeking the face of his +prisoner. + +"Willing to fight this out, Jim?" he asked shortly. + +"You bet, Dan; what's the plan?" + +"The big rock in Bear Creek. We can hold out there until dark. +Perhaps there'll be some men come to help us by that time; if not we +might crawl away in the night. Take the alley and turn at the hotel. +Don't let anybody stop you; here comes those hell-hounds from inside. +Christopher Columbus, I hate to run from such cattle, but it's our only +chance." + +There was no time to waste. They were not yet at the mouth of the +alley when the infuriated pursuers burst through the saloon doors, +cursing and shouting. Lacy led them, animated by the one desire to +kill Westcott, fully aware that this alone would prevent the exposure +of his own crime. + +"There they go!" he yelled madly, and fired. "Get that dirty murderer, +boys--get him!" + +There were a dozen shots, but the two runners plunged about the corner +of the building, and disappeared, apparently untouched. Lacy leaped +from the platform to the ground, shouting his orders, and the crowd +surged after him in pursuit, some choosing the alley, others the +street. Revolvers cracked sharply, little spits of smoke showing in +the sunlight; men shouted excitedly, and two mounted cowboys lashed +their ponies up the dusty road in an effort to head off the fugitives. +Twice the two turned and fired, yet at that, hardly paused in their +race. Westcott held back, retarded by the shorter legs of his +companion, nevertheless they were fully a hundred feet in advance of +their nearest pursuers when they reached the hotel. In spite of Lacy's +urging the cowardly crew exhibited small desire to close in. The +marshal, glancing back over his shoulder, grinned cheerfully. + +"We've got 'em beat, Jim," he panted, "less thar's others headin' us +off; run like a white-head; don't mind me." + +The road ahead was clear, except for the speeding cowboys, and the +marshal made extremely quick work of them. There was a fusillade of +shots, and when these ended, one rider was down in the dust, the other +galloping madly away, lying flat on his pony, with no purpose but to +get out of range. The two fugitives plunged into the bushes opposite, +taking the roughest but most direct course to where the rather +precipitous banks dropped off to the stream below. There was a dam a +half mile down, and even at this point the water was wide and deep +enough to make any attempt at crossing dangerous. But half-way over an +upheaval of rock parted the current, forcing the swirling waters to +either side, and presenting a stern grey face to the shore. The +marshal, pausing for nothing, flung himself bodily down the steep bank, +unclasping his belt, as he half ran, half rolled to the bottom. + +"Here, take these cartridges," he said, "and hold 'em up. Save yer +own, too, fer we're going to need 'em. That water out thar is plumb up +to my neck. Come on now; keep them things dry, an' don't bother 'bout +me." + +He plunged in, and Westcott followed, both cartridge belts held above +his head. There was a crackling of bushes on the bank behind them, +showing their pursuers had crossed the road and were already beating up +the brush. Neither man glanced back, assured that those fellows would +hunt them first in the chaparral, cautiously beating the coverts, +before venturing beyond. + +The water deepened rapidly, and Westcott was soon to his waist, leaning +to his right to keep his feet; he heard the marshal splashing along +behind, convinced by his ceaseless profanity that he also made progress +in spite of his shortness of limbs. Indeed they attained the rock +shelter almost together, creeping up through a narrow crevasse, leaving +a wet trail along the grey stone. This was accomplished none too soon, +a yell from the bank telling of their discovery, followed by the crack +of a gun. The marshal, who was still exposed, hastily crept under +cover, wiping a drop of blood from his cheek where a splinter of rock +dislodged by the bullet had slashed the flesh. He was, nevertheless, +in excellent humour, his keen grey eyes laughing, as he peered out over +the rock rampart. + +"If they keep up shootin' like that, Jim, I reckon our insurance won't +be high," he said, "I'm plumb ashamed of the camp, the way them boys +waste lead. Must 'a' took twenty shots at us so far an' only skinned +me with a rock. Hell! 'tain't even interestin'. Hand over them +cartridges; let's see what sorter stock we got." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII: THE ROCK IN THE STREAM + +Westcott was sensible now of a feeling of intense exhaustion. The +fierce fighting in the room behind the saloon; the excitement of the +attempt to escape; the chase, ending with the plunge through the stream +had left him pitifully weak. He could perceive his hand tremble as he +handed over the cartridge belt. The marshal noticed it also, and cast +a swift glance into the other's face. + +"About all in, Jim?" he inquired understandingly. "Little out of your +usual line, I reckon. Take a bit o' rest thar, an' ye'll be all right. +It's safe 'nough fer the present whar we are, fer as thet bunch o' +chicken thieves is concerned. Yer wa'n't hurt, or nuthin', durin' the +scrap?" + +"No more than a few bruises, but it an happened so quickly I haven't +any breath left. I'll be all right in a minute. How are we fixed for +ammunition?" + +"Blame pore, if yer ask me; not more'n twenty cartridges atween us. I +wa'n't a lookin' fer no such scrap just now; but we'll get along, I +reckon, fer thar ain't any o' that bunch anxious ter get hurt none, +less maybe it might be Lacy. What gets my goat is this yere plug +tobacco," and he gazed mournfully at the small fragment in his hand. +"That ain't hardly 'nough ov it left fer a good chaw; how are you +fixed, Jim?" + +"Never use it, Dan, but here's a badly smashed cigar." + +"That'll help some--say, ain't that one o' them shirky birds yonder? +Sure; it's Bill himself. I don't know whether ter take a snap-shot at +the cuss, er wait an' hear what he's got ter say--Hello, there!" + +The fellow who stood partially revealed above the bank stared in the +direction of the voice, and then ventured to expose himself further. + +"Hello yourself," he answered. "Is that you, Brennan?" + +The marshal hoisted himself to the top of the rock, the revolver in his +hand clearly revealed in the bright sunlight. + +"It's me all right, Lacy," he replied deliberately. "You ought ter +organise a sharpshooters' club among that gang o' yours; I was plumb +disgusted the way they handle fire-arms." + +"Well, we've got yer now, Dan, so yer might as well quit yer crowin'. +We don't have ter do no more shootin'; we'll just naturally sit down +yere, an' starve yer out. Maybe yer ready to talk now?" + +"Sure; what's the idea?" + +"Well, yer an officer ov the law, ain't yer? Yer was chose marshal ter +keep the peace, an' take care o' them that raised hell in Haskell. +Ain't that yer job?" + +"I reckon it is." + +"And didn't I do more'n anybody else ter get yer appointed? Then what +are yer goin' back on me for, and the rest ov the boys, an' takin' +sides along with a murderer? We want Jim Westcott, an' you bet we're +a-goin' ter get him." + +The little marshal spat into the water below, his face expressionless. +To all appearances he felt slight interest in the controversy. + +"Nice of yer ter declare yer intentions, Lacy," he admitted soberly, +"only it sorter looks as if yer didn't consider me as bein' much in the +way. I reckon yer outlined my duty all right; that's exactly my way o' +looking at it--ter keep the peace, an' take care o' them that raised +hell in Haskell. I couldn't 'a' told it no better myself." + +"Then what are yer fightin' fer Westcott fer?" + +"'Cause he's my prisoner, an' is goin' ter get a fair trial. If he was +the orneriest Mexican that ever come 'cross the line I'd stay with +him--that's the law." + +"An' yer won't give him up?" + +"Not in a thousand years, an' yer might as well save yer breath, Bill, +an' get out. I've told you straight, and I reckon you and your gang +know me. Nobody never told you that Dan Brennan was a quitter, did +they?" + +"But you blame fool," and Lacy's voice plainly indicated his anger. +"You can't fight this whole camp; we'll get yer, dead or alive." + +"Yer welcome ter try; I ain't askin' no sorter favour; only yer better +be blame keerful about it, fer my trigger finger appears ter be +almighty nervous ter-day--drop that!" + +His hand shot out like lightning, the blue steel of his revolver +flashing. Lacy flung up his arms, and backed down out of view, but +just beyond where he had stood, a gun barked from out the chaparral and +a bullet crashed against the rock scarcely a foot from Brennan's head. +The latter answered it so promptly the two reports sounded almost as +one, and then rolled back into shelter, laughing as though the whole +affair was a joke. + +"One ov Mike's little tricks," he chuckled, peering back at the shore, +"I know the bark of that old girl. Hope I pricked him. That guy used +to be a good shot, too, afore he got to drinkin' so much. I reckon +we're in fer a siege, Jim." + +Westcott extended his hand. + +"It's mighty white of you, Dan, to stay by me," he said gravely. "It's +liable to cost you your job." + +"Ter hell with the job. I kin earn more in the mines eny day. I'm not +doin' eny more for you than I would fer eny other galoot in bad. I +wouldn't let 'em lynch a hoss-thief without givin' 'em a fight first. +Don't be givin' any sympathy ter me." + +"But we haven't any chance." + +"Well, I don't know about that now," and the marshal looked up and down +the stream thoughtfully. "It might be worse. Look a here, Jim. I +said I'd 'a' stayed with yer no matter what yer was guilty of, so long +as yer was my prisoner, an' that's the gospel truth. There ain't a +goin' ter be no lynchin' in Haskell while I'm marshal, unless them rats +get me first. But this yere case ain't even that kind. It's a put-up +job frum the beginnin' an' Bill Lacy ain't a goin' ter get away with +it, as long as I kin either fight er bluff. This yere fuss ain't your +fault, an' yer never shot the man either." + +"No. I didn't, Dan. I never fired a gun." + +"I know it; that's why all hell can't pry me loose. I saw most ov the +row, an' I reckon I ain't so dumb that I can't catch onto the game what +Lacy is tryin' ter play. I didn't hear what you an' him was talkin' +about, so I don't know just the cause o' the rumpus, but the way he +played his hand didn't make no hit with me." + +"You saw what happened?" + +"Sure; it didn't look good ter me, his gittin' yer ter come ter his +place, specially when I knew he wasn't there alone; so, after ye'd gone +in through the saloon, I sasshayed down the alley an' took a peek in +through that rear window. The tarnation thing is barred up with sheet +iron, an' I couldn't see much, nor hear a blame word, but I caught on +that there was liable ter be a row a fore it was over with. Through +that peep-hole I got sight o' you, Lacy, an' that fat feller--what's +his name?" + +"Enright, a New York lawyer." + +"That's it; well I could make out the three of yer, but I never got +sight of the other buck--his name was Beaton, wasn't it?--till he came +out from behind the curtain and gripped yer. It was a put-up job all +right, an' maybe I ought to have hustled round to the door an' took a +hand. But I don't aim to mix up in no scrimmage as long as both sides +has got a fair show. Course thar was three ag'in' one, but arter you +kicked the wind out o' the lawyer, the odds wasn't so bad, an' I sorter +hated to lose out seeing how the scrap came out. Holy smoke! but you +sure put up some dandy fight, Jim. I ain't seen nuthin' better since I +struck this yere camp. You had them two guys licked to a frazzle, when +that Enright come back to life agin, an' crawled out on the floor an' +picked up your gun. The fust thing I knew he had it, an' the next +thing I knew he'd pulled the trigger. He meant it fer you, but Beaton +got it." + +"It was Enright then who fired the shot?" + +"Sure it was Enright; I saw him, but that didn't cut any ice after I +got inside. Do you see? The whole crowd was Lacy's gang; they'd do +whatever he said. It was your gun that had the discharged cartridge; +Bill was yellin' that you fired it, and Enright, o' course, would have +backed him up to save his own neck. You was in a fight with the feller +what was shot. See! It was a mighty ugly fix, an' nobody in that +outfit would 'a' listened to me. It struck me, son, that Lacy was +all-fired anxious to get rid of you--he saw a chance, and jumped for +it. What was the row about--your mine?" + +"Partly, but mostly another affair. The best thing I can do is tell +you about it. What's going on up there?" + +He pointed up the stream, and Brennan shaded his eyes to look, although +careful to keep well under cover, confident that any movement would be +observed from the shore. He gazed for some time before he seemed +entirely satisfied. + +"A bunch of the boys crossin' the old ford," he said quietly. "Goin' +to picket the other bank, I reckon. There's likely to be some more +comin' down the opposite way from the bridge. That's Lacy's idea--to +starve us out." + +"They seem quiet enough." + +"There won't be any more fightin' unless we try to get away, I reckon. +They know we are armed and can shoot. You better keep down, though, +Jim, for they're sure a watchin' us all right, an' all Lacy cares about +is to put you out o' the way. He'd just as soon do it with a bullet as +a rope. Go on with your story." + +Westcott told it simply, but in full detail, beginning with the +discovery of ore in his mine, and including his telegram to Fred +Cavendish; the discovery of what was supposed to be the dead body of +the latter in the Waldron Apartments, New York; the investigations into +the mystery of his death by Willis and Miss Donovan, and the +despatching of Miss Donovan to Haskell to intercept Enright's party; +the arrival of the latter and the events, so far as he understood them, +leading up to the forcible abduction of the girl. + +The marshal listened quietly to the narrative, the quick action of his +jaws alone evidencing his interest, although he occasionally interposed +a question. Except for Westcott's voice there was no sound, beyond the +lapping of water against the rock, and no figures of men became visible +along either bank. The party above had crossed the stream, and +disappeared up a ravine, and nothing remained to indicate that these +two were fugitives, hiding for their lives, and facing a desperate +expedient in an effort to escape their pursuers. As the speaker +finally concluded the silence was almost oppressive. + +"How do yer suppose Bill Lacy got into the affair?" asked Brennan, at +last thoughtfully. "I don't put no sorter deviltry beyond him, yer +understand, but I don't quite see how he ever come to get mixed up in +this yere New York mess. Seems like he had enough hell brewing here at +home." + +"I'm just as much in the dark as you are, as to that," admitted +Westcott doubtfully. "I am convinced, however, that Cavendish is still +alive, and that another body strangely resembling his was found in the +New York apartments. According to Enright this was not part of their +scheme, but merely an accident of which they took advantage. How true +this is will never be known unless we discover Cavendish, and learn his +story. Now, if he is alive, where has he been concealed, and for what +purpose? Another thing begins to loom up. The mere hiding of the man +was all right so long as the conspirators were not suspected. But now +when they are aware that they are being followed, what is likely to +happen? Will they become desperate enough to kill their victim, hoping +thus to destroy absolutely the evidence of their crime? Will their +vengeance also include Miss Donovan?" + +"Not unless they can get you out of the way first," decided the marshal +grimly. "That is Lacy's most important job--you are more dangerous to +them now than the girl. That meeting to-day was prearranged, and +Beaton was expected to land you. That was why he hid behind the +curtain, but something caused him to make a false move; they never +expected you to put up that sort o' fight, Jim, for nobody knew yer in +this camp fer a fightin' man. But what's yer theory 'bout Cavendish? +Let's leave the dead man in New York go, an' get down ter cases." + +"I figure it out like this, Dan. I believe Fred got my telegram, and +decided to come out here at once without telling anybody what his plans +were. All he did was to make a will, so as to dispose of his property +in case anything happened. His employing Enright for that job +unfortunately put the whole thing in the hands of this crowd. They +were ready to act, and they acted. Beaton must have taken the same +train, and the two men got friendly; probably they never knew each +other in New York, but, being from the same place, it was easy enough +to strike up an acquaintance. What occurred on board is all guesswork, +but a sudden blow at night, on an observation platform, at some desert +station, is not impossible; or it might be sickness, and the two men +left behind to seek a physician. Here was where Lacy must have come +in. He goes East occasionally, doesn't he?" + +"Sure; come to think of it he was in New York 'bout three months ago on +some cattle deal, an' I heard he had an agent there sellin' wildcat +minin' stock. There ain't no doubt in my mind but he knew some o' +these fellers. They wouldn't 'a' planned this unless they had some +cache fixed out yere in this country--that's plain as a wart on the +nose. But whar is it? I'll bet yer that if we ever find Cavendish, +we'll find the girl along with him; an' what's more, that spot ain't +liable ter be more'n fifty miles from Haskell." + +"What makes you think that?" + +"'Cause this is Lacy's bailiwick, an' thar ain't no man knows this +country better'n he does; he's rode it night and day for ten years, an' +most o' the hangers-on in this camp get money out o' him one way er +another--mostly another. Then, why should Enright an' his crowd come +yere, unless that was a fact? They must have come for something; that +lawyer ain't yere on no minin' deal; an' no more has Beaton been layin' +round town fer a month doin' nuthin' but drinkin' whisky. The whole +blame outfit is right here in Haskell, and they wouldn't be if this +wasn't headquarters. That's good common sense, ain't it?" He stopped +suddenly, patting his hand on the rock, and then lifting his head to +scan the line of shore. "They're there all right, Jim," he announced. +"I just got a glimpse o' two back in the brush yonder. What made yer +ask me 'bout Pasqual Mendez this mornin'? You don't hook the Mexican +up with this affair, do yer?" + +"Sadie told me she heard Enright speak of him at breakfast; that was +all she heard, just the name." + +"Sadie? Oh, the red-headed waitress at Timmons's, you mean? Big Tim's +girl?" + +"Yes; she was the one who saw Miss Donovan forced into the wagon, and +driven off." + +"And they took the old Shoshone trail; out past Hennessey's ranch?" + +"So she described it. Does that mean anything?" + +Brennan did not answer at once, sitting silent, his brows wrinkled, +staring through a crevasse of the rock up the stream. Finally he +grinned into the anxious face of the other. + +"Danged if I know," he said drawlingly. "Maybe it does, and maybe +again it don't. I was sorter puttin' this an' that tergether. There's +a Mex who used to hang about here a couple of years ago they allers +said belonged to Mendez's gang. His name is Cateras, a young feller, +an' a hell ov a gambler. It just comes ter me that he was in the Red +Dog three er four nights ago playin' monte. I didn't see him myself, +but Joe Mapes said he was there, an' that makes it likely 'nough that +Mendez isn't so blame far away." + +"And he and Lacy have interests in common?" + +"That is the rumour. I never got hold ov any proof, but Lacy has +shipped a pile o' cattle out o' Villa Real, although why he should ever +drive his cows there across the desert instead o' shippin' them here in +Haskell or Taylorville, I never could understand. That's the principal +reason I've got for thinkin' he an' Mendez are in cahoots, an' if they +be, then the Mexican must have some kind o' a camp out there in the +sand whar he hides between raids; though, damn if I know whar it can +be." He paused reflectively. "It'll be like hunting a needle in the +haystack, Jim, but I reckon you an' I'll have to get out that way, an' +we might have luck enough to stumble onto the old devil." + +Westcott changed his position, inadvertently bringing his head above +the protection of the rock. Instantly there was a sharp report, and a +speeding bullet grazed his hair, flattening out against the stone. The +rapidity with which he ducked caused the marshal to laugh. + +"Not hurt, are you? No. That was a rifle; Mike isn't such a bad shot +with that weapon. He's over there behind that tree--see the smoke? If +the cuss pokes his head out, I'll try the virtue of this .45; it ought +to carry that far. Hah! there he is; I made the bark fly anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII: THE ESCAPE + +The afternoon wore away slowly, the two men realising more and more +clearly the nature of the siege. Their only safety lay in the +protection of the rocks, as they were now entirely surrounded, and +fired upon from either bank the moment either raised a head. No +attempt was made, however, to assault their position, nor did they +often return the fire, desiring to preserve for future use their small +supply of ammunition. Brennan remained watchful, but silent, brooding +over his plans for the night, but Westcott became overpowered by +fatigue and slept quietly for several hours. + +The sun was already sinking behind the range of mountains when he +finally aroused himself, and sat up. There was no apparent change in +the situation; the running water murmured musically against the rocks, +the distant banks, already in shadow, exhibited no sign of human +presence. Below in the distance was the deserted street of the town, +and farther away a few of the shacks were visible. The scene was +peaceable enough, and the awakened sleeper could scarcely comprehend +that he was in truth a fugitive being hunted for his life, that all +about him were men eager to kill, watchful of the slightest movement. +It was rather the sight of Brennan which restored his faculties, and +yielded clear memory. The latter greeted him with a good-humoured grin. + +"Well, do you feel better, Jim?" he asked pleasantly. "Thought I'd let +you sleep as long as I could, for we've got some job ahead of us. +Sorry thar ain't no breakfast waitin', fer I wouldn't object ter a bit +o' ham bone myself. I reckon if Lacy coops me up yere much longer, +he's liable ter win his bet; I'm plumb near starved out already." + +"I'm afraid they've got us, Dan." + +"Oh, I don't know; leastwise I ain't put up no white flag yet. You're +game fer a try at gettin' out o' yere, ain't yer, old man? I've sorter +been reckonin' on yer." + +"I'll take any chance there is," returned Westcott heartily, staring +into the other's face. "Have you some plan?" + +"Maybe 'tain't that exactly, but I've been doin' a powerful lot o' +thinkin' since you was asleep, Jim, an' I reckon we might beat these +fellers with a fair show o' luck. This is how I figure it out. Thar +won't be no attack; that's a cinch. Lacy knows we can shoot, an' he +also knows we're marooned yere without food. The easiest thing is ter +starve us out." + +"But there are good men in this camp, law abiding men," interrupted the +miner. "What about them? Won't they take a hand?" + +"Maybe they might if I was free ter get 'em together; but I ain't. +Most o' 'em are out in the mines anyway; they don't know which party is +right in this rumpus, an' they ain't got no leader. Lacy runs the +town, an' he's got a big gang o' toughs behind him. There ain't nobody +wants to buck up against his game. Of course the boys might get mad +after a while, but I reckon we'd be starved plumb ter death long afore +that happened. An' that ain't the worst ov it, Jim--the sheriff is +Lacy's man. I wouldn't never dare turn you over ter him--not by a +jugful." + +"Then we are blocked at every turn." + +"We sure are, unless we can dig out ourselves," gravely. "My notion is +to get a fair start, drift out into Shoshone, whar we'll leave no +trail, an' then hit for over the line. Sam Watts is sheriff of +Coconino, an' he'd give us a square deal." + +"On foot?" + +"Hell, no! I ain't no such walker as all that. Come over yere; keep +yer head down; now look out between these two rocks. Do yer see them +cow-ponies hitched ter the rack alongside o' the Red Dog? Well, +they've been thar fer a matter o' three hours, I reckon, an' their +riders ain't liable ter leave as long as thar's any excitement in town. +They're XL men, and mostly drunk by this time. It's my aim ter get a +leg over one o' them animals. How does that notion strike you?" + +Westcott shook his head doubtfully, his eyes still on those distant +specks. The prospect looked practically hopeless. + +"You don't think it can be done? Well now listen. Here's my scheme, +an' I reckon it'll work. Naturally Lacy will think we'll try to get +away--make a break for it in the dark. He'll have both them banks +guarded, an' ther fellers will have orders ter shoot. He'd rather have +us dead than alive. But, to my notion, he won't expect us ter try any +getaway before midnight. Anyhow, that's how I'd figure if I was in his +place. But my idea is to pull one off on him, an' start the minute it +gets dark enough, so them lads can't see what's goin' on out yere." + +"We'll fight our way through?" + +"Not a fight, my son; we'll make it so softly that not a son-of-a-gun +will ever know how it happened. When they wake up we'll be twenty +miles out in the desert, an' still a goin'. Thar's a big log clinging +ter the upper end o' the rock. I saw it when I fust come over; an' +'bout an hour ago I crept back through that gully an' took a good look. +A shove will send it floatin'. An' with a good pair o' legs to steer +with, thar ain't nuthin' to stop it this side the curve, an' I don't +calculate any o' the rifle brigade will be down as fur as that--do you?" + +"Not likely," and Westcott measured the distance with eyes that had +lost their despondency. "Your idea is that we drift past under cover +of the log?" + +"Sure. We'll tie our guns an' cartridges on top, where they'll be out +o' water, an' keep down below ourselves. Them fellers may glimpse the +log an' blaze away, but 'tain't likely they'll have luck enough to hit +either one o' us, an' the flare will show 'em it's only a log, an' +they'll likely quit an' pass the word along. It sounds blame good ter +me, Jim; what d'ye say?" + +Westcott's hand went out, and the fingers of the two men clasped +silently. There was no need for more speech; they understood each +other. + +The night closed down swiftly, as it does in the West, the purple of +the hills becoming black as though by some magic. There was a heavy +cloud hanging in the Western sky, constantly sweeping higher in pledge +of a dark night. The banks of the stream became obscured, and finally +vanished altogether; while the water ceased to glimmer and turned to an +inky blackness. Lights twinkled in the distant shacks, and the front +of the Red Dog burst into illumination. The saloon was too far away +for the watchers to pick out the moving figures of men, but Brennan +chuckled, and pointed his finger at the glare. + +"Lacy ain't fergettin' the profit in all this," he whispered hoarsely. +"The boys are goin' ter be dry, an' he'll sell 'em all they +want--wouldn't mind if I had some myself. Is it dark enough, mate?" + +"The sooner the better!" + +"That's my ticket. Come on then, but don't make a sound; them lads are +more liable to hear than they are to see us. Let me go first." + +The log was at the other end of the little island, but there was a +considerable rift in the rock surface, not deep, but of sufficient +width to permit the passage of a body. The jagged stone made the way +rough in the dark, and Westcott found himself at the upper extremity, +gashed and bruised by the contact. + +Brennan had already lowered himself into the water, assisted in the +downward climb by some low, tough bushes whose tendrils clung +tenaciously to the smooth rock. Westcott followed silently, and found +footing in about three feet of water, where it swirled around the base +of the island. From this low point, their eyes close to the surface of +the stream, the men could dimly discern the shore lines silhouetted +against the slightly lighter sky. They crouched there in deep shadow, +but discovered no evidence that their effort at escape had been +observed. A dog was barking somewhere not far away, and once there was +a rustle along the nearer bank, as though a man wormed his way +cautiously through the thick chaparral. But this sound also ceased +after a moment, and all was still. Brennan put his lips close to his +companion's ear. + +"Got yer cartridges tied up? That's all right; hand 'em over. Now +give me your belt. No; pass the end under the log an' buckle it; not +too tight. You hang on to the outside, an' I'll push off. If yer have +ter paddle ter keep in the current don't let yer hands er feet come to +the surface--understand?" + +"Certainly." + +"All right then; are you all set? Holy smoke, this is going to be some +yacht ride." + +The log did not even grate as it loosened its slight hold on the rock, +and began the voyage down-stream. The current was swift enough to bear +it and its burden free from the island, although it moved slowly and +noiselessly on its way. The two men deeply emerged on either side, +with heads held rigid against the wet bark, were indistinguishable. +Out from the deeper shadow of the rock they drifted into the wider +stream below, Brennan gently controlling the unwieldy affair, and +keeping it as nearly as possible to the centre, by the noiseless +movement of a hand under water. The men scarcely ventured to breathe +and it seemed as though they were ages slowly sidling along, barely +able to perceive that they really moved. They must have gone a hundred +yards or more before there was any alarm. Then a voice spoke from the +bank to the right, followed almost instantly by the flash of a gun and +a sharp report. The flare lit up the stream, and the bullet thudded +into the log, without damage. + +"What was it, Jack?" the voice unmistakably Lacy's. "Did you see +something?" + +"Nothin' but a floatin' log," was the disgusted reply, "but I made a +bull's-eye." + +"That's better than you did any time before to-day. Where is it? Oh, +yes, I see the blame thing now. You don't need ter be any quail-hunter +ter hit that. It's goin' 'bout a mile an hour. However, there is no +harm done; the shot will show those fellows that we are awake out here." + +Slowly the log floated on, vanishing in the darkness. No other alarm +greeted its progress, and at last, confident that they were already +safely below the extent of the guard lines, the two men, clinging to +its wet sides, ventured to kick out quietly, and thus hasten its +progress. It came ashore at the extreme end of the curve, and, after a +moment of intent listening, the voyagers crept up the sand, and in +whispers discussed the next effort of their escape. The belts were +unstrapped from about the log, reloaded with cartridges, and buckled +around dripping waists before they clambered cautiously up the low +bank. The road was just beyond, but between them and it arose the +almost shapeless form of a small house, a mere darker shadow in the +gloom of the night. + +"Where are we?" questioned Westcott. + +"Just back of old Beecher's shack. He's trucking down Benson way, but +is liable to have some grub stored inside. I was countin' on this for +our commissary department. Come on, Jim; time is money just now." + +The door was unlocked, and they trusted wholly to the sense of touch to +locate the object of their search. However, as there were but two +rooms, not overly stocked with furniture, the gloom was not a serious +obstacle, so that in less than ten minutes they emerged once more into +the open bearing their spoils--Westcott, a slab of bacon and a small +frying-pan; Brennan, a paper sack of corn meal, with a couple of +specimens of canned goods. He had also resurrected a gunny sack +somewhere, in which their things were carefully wrapped, and made +secure for transportation. + +"Didn't feel no terbacco, did yer, Jim?" the marshal questioned +solicitously. "I reckon not though; ol' Beecher never would leave +nuthin' like that lyin' round. Well, Lord! we ought ter be thankful +fer what we've got. Now if we can only get away with them hosses." + +They wormed their way forward to the edge of the road through a fringe +of bushes, Westcott laden with the bundle. Except for the sound of +distant voices and an occasional loud laugh, the night was still. They +could almost hear their own breathing, and the crackle of a dry twig +underfoot sounded to strained nerves like the report of a gun. +Crouching at the edge of the road they could see fairly well what was +before them, as revealed by the lights shining forth through the dingy +windows of the saloon. The Red Dog was not more than a hundred yards +away, and seemingly well patronised in spite of the fact that its owner +and many of his parasites were busily engaged elsewhere. The wide-open +front gave view of much of the barroom including even a section of the +bar. Numerous figures moving about were easily discernible, while up +above in the gambling rooms, the outlines of men were reflected upon +the windows. + +A hum of voices echoed out into the night, but the platform in front of +the door was deserted. Occasionally some wanderer either entered or +departed, merging into the crowd within or disappearing through the +darkness without. To the left of the building, largely within its +shadow, stretched the hitch rail to which were fastened fully a dozen +cow-ponies, most of them revealed only by their restless movements, +although the few nearest the door were plainly enough visible in the +reflection of light. A fellow, ungainly in "chaps," reeled drunkenly +down the steps, mounted one of these and spurred up the road, yelling +as he disappeared. The noise he made was re-echoed by the restless +crowd within. The two men, crouched in the bushes, surveyed the scene +anxiously, marking its every detail. Brennan's hand closed heavily on +the arm of the other. + +"We better pick out the two critters farthest from the light," he +muttered, "an' trust ter luck. We'll have to lead 'em a ways afore we +mount. They're XL outfit mostly, an' that means fair stock. Shall we +try it, now?" + +"The sooner the better." + +"That's me. Blamed if ever I thought I'd be a hoss thief, but when a +feller associates with Bill Lacy there's no knowin' what he will come +to. Howsumever, the foreman an' I are good friends, an' I don't reckon +he'd ever let me be hung fer this job. We better try the other side o' +the road, Jim." + +They were in the flicker of light for scarcely an instant, merely two +darting shadows, vanishing once more swiftly and silently into the +gloom. Nor were they much longer in releasing the two cow-ponies. +Westcott tied his bundle to the cantle of the saddle and then, bridle +reins in hand, the docile animals following their new masters without +resistance, the men led them over the smooth turf well back from the +range of light. They were a quarter of a mile from the Red Dog before +Brennan, slightly in advance, ventured to enter the road. + +"It's safe enough now, Jim, an' we don't wanter lose no time. Got the +grub, haven't yer?" + +"Tied it on the saddle; which way do we go?" + +"Straight south at the bridge; that will bring us to the old trail in +about five miles, an' after that the devil himself couldn't find us. +Ever crossed Shoshone?" + +"No." + +"Well, it's a little bit o' hell after sunup, an' we'll have a twenty +mile ride before we strike water. We'll start slow." + +They swung into saddle, the road before them a mere black ribbon +revealed only by the gleam of a few far-off stars peering through rifts +in the clouds. Brennan rode slightly in advance, trusting his mount +largely to pick out the way, yet leaning forward eagerly scanning every +shadow and listening for the slightest warning sound. They were upon +the grade leading to the bridge when his vigilance was rewarded. There +was some movement to the left, where the hotel trail led down the bank, +and instantly both men drew up their ponies and remained intent and +rigid. Brennan's hand rested on the butt of his revolver, but for the +moment neither could determine what was moving in the intense blackness +of the hillside. Then something spectral advanced into the starlight +of the road and confronted them. + +"Is this you, Mr. Cassady?" asked a woman's voice softly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV: THE CAVE IN THE CLIFF + +Dazed, helpless, yet continuing to struggle futilely, Stella realised +little except giving a glance at the hated faces of her captors. She +heard Cateras's voice ordering the men forward, vibrant with Spanish +oaths, and trembling yet with the fury which possessed him--but all +else was a dim haze, out of which few remembrances ever came. They +were in a large room, opening into another behind, a heavy door +between. She was dragged forward, and thrust through this with no +knowledge of what it was like. She could not think; she was only +conscious of a deadly, paralysing horror. Cateras slammed the +intervening door, and strode past. + +What occurred was not clear to her mind; but suddenly what appeared to +be an open fireplace seemed to swing aside, leaving revealed a great +black opening in the rock. To the lieutenant's snarl of command, one +of the men released his grip of her arm, and lit a lantern which he +took from a near-by shelf. The dim flicker of light penetrated a few +feet into the dark hole, only serving to render the opening more grim +and sinister. The girl shrank back, but the fellow still holding her +tightened his grip. Cateras seemed to have regained his good humour, +although the red welt across his face stood forth ugly in the flare. +His thin lips smiled, and he bowed hat in hand, hatefully polite. + +"Go ahead with the light, Silva; not too fast, my man; the room beyond +the _senor's_. Now, Merodez, release the girl." + +"Ah, so you can stand alone, _senorita_; that is well. Step in here, +ahead of me, and follow the lantern--there is nothing to fear." + +She hesitated, and the smile on the Mexican's lips changed into a cruel +grin. + +"Shall I make you again?" + +"No, _senor_." + +"Then you will do as I bid." + +"Yes, _senor_; I cannot resist." + +The passage was clean and dry, and seemed to lead directly back into +the cliff. The faint light revealed the side walls and low roof, and +the girl, again partially mistress of herself, recognised the nature of +the rock to be limestone. Occasionally the floor exhibited evidences +that human hands had been employed in levelling it, and there were +marks along the side-walls to show where the passage had been widened; +but the opening itself was originally a cave, through which water had +run in long past ages--a cave wide enough to allow six men to walk +abreast, but with an average height of about seven feet. For twenty +feet it ran almost straight in; then they came to a sharp turn to the +right, and entered a much narrower passage. The air was so pure and +fresh, even after this turn was made, as to lead her to believe there +must somewhere be another opening. The vague thought brought with it a +throb of hope. + +Her view was limited to the slight radius illumined by the lantern, and +even within that small area, her own shadow, and those of the three +men, helped render everything indistinct. The side walls appeared to +be of solid rock; she perceived no evidence of entrances into any side +chamber, only that her eyes twice caught glimpses of what seemed like +narrow slits at about the level of her head. She could not be certain +as to their purpose, or ascertain exactly what they were, only they +bore resemblance to an opening cleft in the rock, either for +ventilation, or to permit of observation from without of some interior +cell. Near each of these was a strangely shaped bracket of wood +fastened in some manner to the side wall, apparently intended for the +support of a light, as the ceiling above exhibited marks of smoke. + +They had turned the sharp corner, and advanced a few feet beyond when +the man with the lantern stopped suddenly, and held it up to permit the +light to stream full on the exposed wall to the right. Another of +these odd slits in the rock was visible here, and the girl was able to +perceive more clearly its nature--beyond question it was an artificial +opening, leading into a space on the farther side of the wall. Cateras +pushed past her, his body interfering with her view, and bent down, +fumbling along the rock surface. + +"Hold the light closer," he demanded. "Aye, that's it. 'Tis some +trick to find the thing---- Ah! now I have it." + +It seemed like a bit of wood, so resembling the colour of the rock as +to be practically imperceptible to the eye in that dim light--a bit of +wood which slid back to reveal a heavy iron bolt, shot firmly into the +stone. This the Mexican forced back, and an opening yawned in the side +wall, the rays of the lantern revealing the interior of a black cave. +Cateras stepped within. + +"Bring the woman," he commanded shortly, "and you, Merodez, see first +to the light." + +Silva thrust her forward, his grip no light one, while the other struck +a match and applied it to the wick of a lamp occupying a bracket beside +the doorway. As this caught the full interior was revealed beneath the +sickly glow, a cell-like place, although of a fair size, unfurnished +except for a rude bench, and one three-legged stool, the floor of +stone, and the sides and roof apparently of the same solid structure. +It was gloomy, bare, horrible in its dreariness--a veritable grave. +The girl covered her face with her hands, appalled at the sight, +unnerved at the thought of being left alone in such a place. Cateras +saw the movement, and laughed, gazing about carelessly. + +"Some boudoir, _senorita_," he said meaningly. "Well, we will see what +can be done for you later. Perhaps a few hours in such a hole may work +a miracle. When I come again you will be glad to see even me. That's +all, lads; there's plenty of oil, and you can bring along some blankets +with the evening meal." + +He stopped, standing alone in the narrow opening, the light of the +lantern without bringing his face into bold relief. The girl had sunk +helplessly onto the bench, her head bowed within her hands. The +Mexican eyed her frowningly. + +"Quite tamed already," he said sarcastically. "Bah! I have done it to +worse than you. Look up at me." + +She lifted her eyes slowly, her lips pressed tightly together. She was +conscious of depression, of fear, yet as her glance encountered his, a +sudden spirit of defiance caused her to stand erect. + +"There are some women with whom you are not acquainted, Senor Cateras," +she said quietly, desperation rendering her voice firm. "And possibly +I may prove one of them. I am your prisoner it seems, yet I advise you +not to go too far, or I may prove to be a dangerous one. In the first +place it might be well for you to remember that, helpless as I seem at +present, I have friends--whatever befalls me will be known." + +"How known?" his white teeth gleamed. "Do you think what goes on here +is published to the world? If I should tell you the history of this +secret valley it would take some of the defiance out of you, I imagine." + +"Then you reckon wrong, I am not afraid of you, and I believe in my +friends. All I ask now is that I be left alone." + +"Which will bring you to your senses. I have seen that tried out here, +and know how it works. All right, I'll leave you to think it over; +then I'll come back for an answer. Until then, _senorita, adios_." + +The fellow lifted his hat, and stepped back into the passage, his +manner insolent. She remained motionless, contempt in her eyes, but in +truth hopeless and crushed. Silva closed the door silently, although +her ears caught the click of the bolt when it was shot home. + +No sound of their retreating footsteps reached her through the thick +wall. The stillness of her prison seemed to strike her like a blow. +For a moment she stood staring at the bare wall, her lips parted, her +limbs trembling from the reaction of excitement; then she stepped +forward, and felt along the smooth surface of rock. + +The door fitted so closely she could not even determine its exact +outlines. Baffled, her glance wandered about the cell, seeking vainly +for any sign of weakness, and then, giving way utterly to her despair, +the girl flung herself on the bench, covering her eyes to shut out +those hideous surroundings. What should she do? What could she do? +What possibility of hope lay in her own endeavours? From what source +could she expect any outside help? + +After those first moments of complete despair, there came greater +calmness, in which her mind began to grapple with the situation. Life +had never been an easy problem, and discouragement was no part of her +creed. She sat up once more, her lips pressed tightly together, her +eyes dry of tears. + +In spite of Cateras's cowardly threats these outlaws would never dare +to take her life. There was no occasion for them to resort to so +desperate a deed. Besides this Mexican was only an under officer of +the band, and would never venture to oppose the will of his chief. Her +fate rested not on his word, but upon the decision of Pasqual Mendez, +and, if that bandit was associated with Bill Lacy, as undoubtedly he +was, then as the prisoner of the American, she was certainly safe until +the latter expressed his own wish regarding her. + +And why should Lacy desire to take her life? Most assuredly he did +not, or the act would have been already accomplished. The very fact of +her having been transported such a distance was sufficient evidence of +his purpose. The conspirators merely suspected her mission in Haskell; +they were afraid she knew more of their plans than she really did. The +telegram, stolen by Miss La Rue, had convinced the leaders that she +might prove dangerous if left at large, and they had determined to hold +her helpless until their scheme had been worked out and they were +safely beyond pursuit. That was undoubtedly the one object of her +capture. Lacy had no knowledge that Mendez's band was at the +rendezvous; he supposed them to be on a cattle raid to the south, with +only a man or two of his own left as guard over Cavendish. + +Cavendish! Her mind grasped clearly now the fact that the man was not +dead. It had not been his body found in the Waldron Apartments, but +that of some other man substituted for purposes of crime. Cavendish +himself had been lured westward, waylaid in some manner and made +prisoner, as she and Westcott had suspected. + +Through the co-operation of Lacy he had been brought to this desert +den, where he could be held indefinitely, with no chance of +discovery--killed if necessary. She had heard of such places as this, +read of them, yet never before had she realised the possibility of +their real existence. It all seemed more like a delirium of fever than +an actual fact. She rubbed her eyes, gazing about on the rock walls, +scarcely sure she was actually awake. Why, one might ride across that +desert, and pass by within a hundred yards of its rim, and never even +be aware of the existence of this sunken valley. Perhaps not a dozen +men outside this gang of outlaws had ever gazed down into its green +depths, and possibly no others knew of that narrow, winding trail +leading down to its level. Yet these men must have made use of it for +years, as a place to hide stolen cattle, and into which to retreat +whenever pursuit became dangerous. + +Those huts without were not newly built, and this underground cavern +had been extended and changed by no small labour. What deeds of +violence must have happened here; what scenes of unbridled debauchery +this desert rendezvous must have witnessed. She shuddered at the +thought, comprehending that these cells had never been chiselled +without a purpose, and that she was utterly helpless in the hands of a +band of thieves and cutthroats, to whom murder meant little enough, if +it only served their ends. Mendez, no doubt, was brute and monster, +yet it was Juan Cateras whom she really feared--he was cruel, slimy, +seeking to hide his hatefulness behind that hideous smile; and he had +already chosen her for his victim. Who would save her--Mendez? Lacy? +God, she did not know: and somehow neither of these was the name which +arose to her lips, almost in the form of prayer; the name she whispered +with a faint throb of hope in its utterance--Jim Westcott. + +The big miner was all she had to rely upon; he had been in her mind all +through the long ride; he arose before her again now, and she welcomed +the memory with a conscious throb of expectation. Those people back +there could not conceal for long her absence from him; if he lived he +would surely seek her again. + +Her womanly instinct had read the message in the man's eyes; she was of +interest to him, he cared; it was no mere ordinary friendliness which +would bring him back; no! not even their mutual connection with the +case of Frederick Cavendish. Her eyes brightened, and a flush of +colour crept into her cheeks. She believed in him, in his courage--he +had appealed to her as a man. + +Suddenly she seemed to realise the yearning of her own heart, her utter +faith in him. He would come, he must come; even now he might have +discovered her sudden disappearance, and suspected the cause. He would +never believe any lies they might tell--that she had departed without a +word, without a message--he would find out the truth somehow; he was +not the kind to lie down, to avoid danger when it confronted duty--and, +besides, he cared. She knew this, comprehended without question; there +had been no word spoken, yet she knew. + +Once she had accepted this knowledge with a smile, but now it thrilled +her with hope, and set her heart throbbing strangely. Not that she +dreamed love in return, or permitted it to even enter her mind; yet the +very thought that this man would, if necessary, wade into the very +waters of death for her sake, was somehow sweet and consoling. She was +no longer alone; no longer hopeless and unnerved--deep down in her +consciousness she trusted him. + +"If"--how often that recurred; how it brought back memory of Lacy, of +Enright, of Beaton, of the La Rue woman. What else could they have +remained behind for, except to hide and close the trail? It was +Westcott they would guard against; he was the only one they now had any +cause to fear. They suspected his connection with her, his knowledge +of their purpose; they knew of his presence the night before at the +shaft-house of Lacy's mine; they would "get" him, if they could, and by +no such simple methods as they got her. If she could only have warned +him; if he was only placed on guard before they were ready to +act--"if"---- + +Suddenly the girl's slender body grew taut, and her thin white, +delicate hands clutched the granite wall back of her, and into her grey +eyes crept the light of terror, a terror that was new and strange to +her, a nameless clutching fear that her varied experiences in the city +had never brought her, an insidious, terrible fright for her bodily +safety. Her delicate ears, strained under their spun-brown covering of +hair--there was no doubt of it; she heard footsteps in the passageway. +Juan Cateras with his leering, lustful smile was coming back. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV: IN THE DARK PASSAGE + +The uncertainty was of scarcely an instant. The open slit above the +door was a perfect conveyer of sound, and a voice pierced the silence. +It was the voice of Juan Cateras, vibrant with anger. + +"You sleepy swine," he ejaculated fiercely, "and is this the way you +keep watch? Come out of that!" the command punctuated by the scuffling +of feet. "Damn you, Silva, but I will teach you a lesson for this when +I return. Now go to the hut and stay there until I come. This is a +matter where Mendez shall name the penalty. Get you gone, you sleepy +dog." + +He either struck or kicked the man, hurrying the fellow down the +passage to the echo of Spanish oaths. Apparently no resistance was +made, for the next instant the key turned in the lock and the door +opened. Cateras, smiling, seemingly unruffled by this encounter, +stepped within, calmly closed the door behind him, and then turned to +greet the lady. She met his bow with eyes of firm resolve, though her +heart ached. + +"Why do you come, _senor_?" she asked so quietly that the man in +surprise halted his step forward. + +"To keep my word," and his white teeth gleamed in an effort at +pleasantness. "I am always truthful with your sex; and I told you I +would return shortly." + +"Yet why?" she insisted, anxious only to keep him away as long as +possible, and yet enchain his interest. "If I am prisoner here, I am +not your prisoner. Do you come, then, to serve me?" + +"Can you doubt that, _senorita_?" still endeavouring to retain the mask +he had first assumed. "Because circumstances make me defy the law--a +mere love of adventure, no more--is no reason why I should be devoid of +heart and sympathy." He took a step nearer. "Since leaving here I +have questioned the men who brought you, and learned why you were made +prisoner. I care nothing for this Bill Lacy--nothing," and he snapped +his fingers derisively. "Why should I? But, instead, I would be your +friend." + +"You mean your purpose is to aid me to escape?" + +He bowed low. + +"It would be my great happiness to do so. There is danger, yet what is +danger to Juan Cateras? 'Tis only part of my life. The _senorita_ is +an American, and to her one of my race may not appeal, yet I would +prove my devotion with my life." + +"Your devotion, _senor_!"' + +"Is not the word expressive! Though I have seen you but once before, +my heart is already devoted to your interest. I am of a Southern race, +_senorita_, and we do not calculate--we feel. Why, then, should I +conceal my eagerness? It is love which causes me to thus defy all and +offer you freedom." + +"Love!" she laughed. "Why, that is impossible. Surely you only jest, +_senor_." + +The smile deserted his lips, and with a quick, unexpected movement he +grasped her hand. + +"Jest! You would call it a jest. You will not think so for long. +Why, what can you do? No; stop shrinking back from me. It will be +well that you listen. This is no parlour where you can turn me away +with a word of scorn," and his eyes swept the bare walls. "I come to +you with a chance of escape; I will take the risk and pledge you my +aid. I alone can save you; there is no other to whom you can turn. In +return I but ask my reward." + +She hesitated, her eyes lifting to his face. + +"You promise me your assistance?" + +"Within the hour." + +"How? What plan have you?" + +"That I will not tell; you must trust me. I am the lieutenant of +Pasqual Mendez," a touch of pride in his voice. "And my word alone +will open the way. You will come?" + +"Wait; I must know more. You say it is love which prompts your offer, +_senor_. I cannot understand; and even if this be true, I must be +frank and honest in my answer--I do not return your love." + +"Bah! That is nothing. I know women; they learn love quickly when the +way opens. I am not so ill to look at, _senorita_. A kiss now will +seal the bargain! I will wait the rest." + +"You ask no pledge, then, of me?" + +"Only your consent to accompany me, and the kiss. Beyond that I take +the gambler's chance. Only you must say yes or no; for it will require +time for me to clear the road." + +"It must be to-night?" + +"The sooner the better; they tell me Lacy will be here himself soon, +and after he comes the one chance is over with. You will give the +kiss?" + +"Do not ask it, _senor_!" + +"Oh, but I will--aye, more, I'll take it. A dozen will do no harm, and +no scream from those lips will be heard. You may as well be nice, my +beauty." + +She was against the wall, helpless, and the grip of his hands was like +steel. She made no sound, although struggling to break free. His +breath was on her cheek; his eyes burning with lust gazing straight +into her own. + +Slowly, remorselessly, he bent her head backward until she feared her +neck would snap. A sob started in her throat, but she silenced it with +the will of a superwoman. Into her terror-stricken mind leaped the +sudden conclusion that resistance with this beast was futile; she must +outwit him with her brains. Suddenly relaxing herself, she slipped to +the granite floor on her knees. + +"Please, please," she begged. "I give in, _senor_, I give in." + +But as she spoke her right hand closed about a square jagged bit of +rock. + +"So, my pretty," sneered Cateras, "you have learned that Juan Cateras +is not a man to trifle with. It is well." And, releasing his grip +upon her, he allowed the girl to rise. + +As she stood there in the half light, her grey eyes flashing, her young +bosom rising and falling, she was a vaguely defined but alluring +figure. So Juan Cateras thought, and he took a step nearer, his thick, +red lips curling with lust, eager to claim their rich reward. As they +came closer Stella Donovan stiffened. + +"Look, _senor_," she whispered--"behind you!" + +The Mexican in his eagerness was off his guard. He turned to look, and +at that instant the girl drew back her sturdy arm and then brought it +forward again with all her vigour. _Cluk_! She heard the rock sound +against her oppressor's head, heard a low moan escape his lips, and saw +him sink slowly to the floor at her feet. + +The next instant she was beside him, in terror lest she had killed him; +but a hurried glance, supplemented by her fingers which reached for his +pulse, assured her that she had only stunned her assailant. Her heart +beat less rapidly now, and she again had control of her mental +processes. With deft hands that worked speedily in the darkness she +unstrapped from around his waist the belt with its thirty-six +cartridges and revolver, then pulled from his pocket the keys, not only +to her cell, but, she judged, to others. + +The feel of their bronze coldness in her hot hands brought a quick +message to her brain; beyond a question of doubt, the missing Cavendish +was concealed in one of the dark, dank cells in the immediate vicinage, +if not actually in this same passage, then in another one perhaps not +greatly distant. The speculation gave her determination and decision. + +Reaching beneath her outer skirt, she jerked loose her white petticoat, +and then began tearing it into long strips which she knotted together. +This done, she bound Juan Cateras's hand and foot, and, with some +difficulty, turned him over on his face after first thrusting into his +half-open mouth a gag, which she had fashioned from stray ends of the +providential petticoat. + +Then leaping to her feet and strapping the ammunition belt and revolver +about her waist, she stole on tiptoe to the doorway and peered out; the +silent, cavernous passage was empty. + +Lithely, like a young panther, she slipped out of the cell and began +making down the passageway to a spot of light which she judged to be +its opening. She had scarcely gone ten feet, however, before she +stopped short--somewhere in the dark she heard a voice. + +Flattening herself against the sides of the passage, she thought +quickly; to return to the cell in which lay Juan Cateras would be +unwise, for he might break the bonds, which were none too strong, and, +in his fury at having been so easily duped, subject her to unknown but +anyway horrible indignities, if not death itself. But what other +course was there? + +As she stood there a fraction of a second against the wall, knowing not +which way to turn, the girl wished with all her heart that big Jim +Westcott, strong, cool, collected, the master of any situation +requiring force, tact, and acumen, were there by her side to take her +arm and guide her out of this terrible predicament. But Jim was +elsewhere--where, she could hardly guess. + +What was to be done? Her temples throbbed as the voices sounded +nearer. Then it came home to her--why not try one of the other cells? +Possibly she would be lucky enough to find an empty one; the chances +were, she felt, that most of them were. + +Suiting action to the thought, she stepped quietly from the niche in +the wall, moved noiselessly along its surface, and came at length to +another dungeon similar to She one she had occupied, except that it had +no window in its oaken door. Fumbling with the bunch of keys, she took +the first one around which her fingers fell and thrust it hurriedly +into the lock. Would it open the haven to temporary safety? She +struggled with it--turning it first to the left and then to the right. +The footsteps were sounding nearer and nearer every minute, the voices +were growing louder. + +Frantic, she gave the key a final desperate twist, and as a sigh of +relief escaped her lips the door swung open. Slipping through the +aperture, she closed it softly after her and, panting from excitement +and her exertions, turned and faced the recesses of her hiding-place. + +It was black, pitch-black, except for a long ray of light that +struggled in between the heavy door and its casing, but as Stella +Donovan stood there in the gloom she was aware that she was not the +only occupant of the cell. She crouched back, gripped in the hands of +another fear, but the next moment her alarm was lessened somewhat by +the sound of a soft, well-modulated voice. + +"Who's that?" it said faintly. + +Then followed the repeated scratching of a wet match, a flame of yellow +light, which was immediately carried to a short tallow candle, and in +the aura of its sickly flame Stella Donovan saw the face of a man with +long, unkempt beard and feverish eyes that stared at her as though she +were an apparition. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI: THE REAPPEARANCE OF CAVENDISH + +As her eyes became more accustomed to the light she saw that the +stranger was a man of approximately thirty, of good robust health. His +hair was sandy of colour and thin, and his beard, which was of the same +hue, had evidently gone untrimmed for days, perhaps weeks; yet for all +of his unkempt appearance, for all the strangeness of his presence +there, he was a gentleman, that was plain. And as she scrutinised him +Miss Donovan thought she beheld a mild similarity in the contour of the +man's head, the shape of his face, the lines of his body, to the man +whom, several weeks before, she had seen lying dead upon the floor of +his rooms in the Waldron apartments. + +Could this be Frederick Cavendish? By all that had gone before, he +should be; but the longer she looked at him the less certain she was of +the correctness of this surmise. Of course the face of the man in the +Waldron apartments had been singed by fire so that it was virtually +unrecognisable, thus making comparisons in the present instance +difficult. At any rate, she dismissed the speculation temporarily from +her mind, and resolved to divulge nothing for the time, but merely to +draw the man out. Her thoughts, rapid as they had been, were +interrupted by the fellow's sudden exclamation. + +"My God!" he cried in a high voice, "I--I thought I was seeing things. +You are really a woman--and alive?" + +Miss Donovan hesitated a moment before she answered, wondering whether +to tell him of her narrow escape. This she decided to do. + +"Alive, but only by luck," she said in a friendly voice, and then +recounted the insults of Cateras, her struggle with him, and capture of +his cartridge belt and revolver, and how finally she had left him bound +and gagged in the adjoining cell. The man listened attentively, though +his mind seemed slow to grasp details. + +"But," he insisted, unable to clear his brain, "why are you here? +Surely you are not one of this gang of outlaws?" + +"I am inclined to think," she answered soberly, "that much the same +cause must account for the presence of both of us. I am a prisoner. +That is true of you also, is it not?" + +"Yes," his voice lowered almost to a whisper. "But do not speak so +loud, please; there is an opening above the door, so voices can be +heard by any guard in the corridor. I--I am a prisoner, although I do +not in the least know why. When did you come?" + +"Not more than two hours ago. Two men brought me across the desert +from Haskell." + +"I do not know how I came. I was unconscious until I woke up in that +cell. I was on the platform of an observation car the last I +remember," his utterance slow, as though his mind struggled with a +vague memory, "talking with a gentleman whom I had met on the train. +There--there must have been an accident, I think, for I never knew +anything more until I woke up here." + +"Do you know how long ago that was?" + +He shook his head. + +"It was a long while. There has been no light, so I could not count +the days, but, if they have fed me twice every twenty-hours, it is +certainly a month since I came." + +"A month! Do you recall the name of the man you were conversing with +on the observation car?" + +He pressed his hand against his forehead, a wrinkle appearing straight +between his eyes. + +"I've tried to remember that," he admitted regretfully, "but it doesn't +quite come to me." + +"Was it Beaton?" + +"Yes. Why, how strange! Of course, he was Edward Beaton, of New York. +He told me he was a broker. Why, how did you know?" + +She hesitated for an instant, uncertain just how far it was best to +confide in him. Unquestionably, the man's mind was not entirely clear, +and he might say and do things to the injury of them both if he once +became aware of the whole truth. Besides, the meeting him there alive +was in itself a shock. She had firmly believed him dead--murdered in +New York. No, she would keep that part of the story to herself for the +present; let it be told to him later by others. + +"It is not so strange," she said at last, "for your disappearance is +indirectly the occasion of my being here also. I believe I can even +call you by name. You are Mr. Cavendish?" + +"Yes," he admitted, his hands gripping the back of the bench nervously, +his eyes filled with amazement "But--but I do not know you." + +"For the best of reasons," she answered smilingly, advancing and +extending her hand--"because we have never met before. However +mysterious all this must seem to you, Mr. Cavendish, it is extremely +simple when explained. I am Stella Donovan, a newspaperwoman. Your +strange disappearance about a month ago aroused considerable interest, +and I chanced to be detailed on the case. My investigations led me to +visit Haskell, where unfortunately my mission became known to those who +were responsible for your imprisonment here. So, to keep me quiet, I +was also abducted and brought to this place." + +"You--you mean it was not an accident--that I was brought here +purposely?" + +"Exactly; you were trailed from New York by a gang of thieves having +confederates in this country. I am unable to give you all the details; +but this man Beaton, whom you met on the train, is a notorious gunman +and gambler. His being on the same train with you was a part of a +well-laid plan, and I have no doubt but what he deliberately slugged +you while you two were alone on the observation platform. As I +understand, that is exactly his line of work." + +"But--but," he stammered, "what was his object? Why did those people +scheme to get me?" + +"Why! Money, no doubt; you are wealthy, are you not?" + +"Yes, to an extent. I inherited property, but I had no considerable +sum with me that day; not more than a few hundred dollars." + +"As I told you, Mr. Cavendish, I do not know all the details, but I +think these men--one of whom is a lawyer--planned to gain possession of +your fortune, possibly by means of a forged will; and, in order to +accomplish this, it was necessary to get you out of the way. It looks +as though they were afraid to resort to actual murder, but ready enough +to take any other desperate chance. Do you see what I mean?" + +"They will rob me! While holding me here a prisoner they propose +robbing me through the courts?" + +"That is undoubtedly their object, but, I happen to know, it has not +yet been fully accomplished. If either of us can make escape from this +place we shall be in time to foil them completely." + +"But how," he questioned, still confused and with only the one thought +dominating his mind, "could they hope to obtain possession of my +fortune unless I was dead?" + +"They are prepared to prove you dead. I believed so myself. The only +way to convince the courts otherwise will be your appearance in person. +After they once get full possession of the money they do not care what +becomes of you. Living or dead, you can never get it back again." + +He sank down on the bench and buried his face in his hands, thoroughly +unnerved. The girl looked at him a moment in silence, then touched his +shoulder. + +"Look here, Mr. Cavendish," she said firmly, "there is no use losing +your nerve. Surely there must be some way of getting out of here. For +one, I am going to try." + +He looked up at her, but with no gleam of hope in his eyes. + +"I have tried," he replied despondently, "but it is no use. We are +buried alive." + +"Yet there must be ways out," she insisted. "The air in that passage +was perfectly pure; do you know anything about it?" + +"Yes; it leads to the top of the cliff, up a steep flight of steps. +But it is impossible to reach the passage, and since these Mexicans +came I have reason to believe they keep a guard." + +"They were not here, then, at first?" + +"Only for a few days; before that two rough-looking fellows, but +Americans, were all I saw. Now they have gone, and Mexicans have taken +their places--they are worse than the others. Do you know what it +means?" + +"Only partially. I have overheard some talk. It seems this is a +rendezvous for a band of outlaws headed by one known as Pasqual Mendez. +I have not seen their leader; but his lieutenant had charge of me." + +"Miss Donovan," he said with gravity, "we are in the hands of desperate +men. We will have to take desperate measures to outwit them, and we +will have to make desperate breaks to obtain our freedom." + +The girl nodded. + +"Mr. Cavendish," she said with womanly courage, "you will not find me +wanting. I am ready for anything, even shooting. I do hope you're a +good shot." + +Cavendish smiled. + +"I have had some experience," he said. + +"Then," the girl added, "you had better take the revolver. I never +fired one except on the Fourth of July, and I would not want to trust +to my marksmanship in a pinch. Not that we will meet any such +situation, Mr. Cavendish--I hope we do not--but in case we do I want to +depend upon you." + +"I am glad you said that, Miss Donovan; it gives me courage." + +The girl handed the revolver over to him without a word and then held +out the cartridge belt. He snapped open the weapon to assure himself +it was loaded and then ran his fingers over the belt pockets. + +"Thirty-six rounds," adjusting the belt to his waist; "that ought to +promise a good fight. Do you feel confidence in me again?" + +"Yes," she answered, her eyes lifting to meet his. "I trust you." + +"Good. I am not a very desperate character, but will do the best I +can. Shall we try the passage?" + +"Yes. It is the only hope." + +"All right then; I'll go first, and you follow as close as possible. +There mustn't be the slightest sound made." + +Cavendish thrust his head cautiously through the door, the revolver +gripped in his hand; Miss Donovan, struggling to keep her nerves +steady, touched the coat of her companion, fearful of being alone. The +passage-way was dark, except for the little bars of light streaming out +through the slits in the stone above the cell doors. These, however, +were sufficient to convince Cavendish that no guards were in the +immediate neighbourhood. He felt the grip of the girl's fingers on his +coat, and reached back to clasp her hand. + +"All clear," he whispered. "Hurry, and let's get this door closed." + +They slipped through, crouching in the shadow as the door shut behind +them, eagerly seeking to pierce the mystery of the gloom into which the +narrow corridor vanished. Beyond the two cells and their dim rays all +was black silence, yet both felt a strange relief at escaping from the +confines of their prison. The open passage was cool, and the fugitives +felt fresh air upon their cheeks; nowhere did any sound break the +silence. Stella had a feeling as though they were buried alive. + +"That--that is the way, is it not?" she asked. "I was brought from +below." + +"Yes; it is not far; see, the passage leads upward. Come, we might as +well learn what is ahead." + +They advanced slowly, keeping closely against the wall, and testing the +floor cautiously before venturing a step. A few yards plunged them +into total darkness, and, although Cavendish had been conducted along +there a prisoner, he retained small recollection of the nature of the +passage. + +Their progress was slow but silent, neither venturing to exchange +speech, but with ears anxiously strained to catch the least sound. +Stella was conscious of the loud beating of her heart, the slight +rasping of Cavendish's feet on the rock floor. The slightest noise +seemed magnified. The grade rose sharply, until it became almost a +climb, yet the floor had evidently been levelled, and there were no +obstructions to add to the difficulty of advance. Then the passage +swerved rather sharply to the right, and Cavendish, leading, halted to +peer about the corner. An instant they both remained motionless, and +then, seeing and hearing nothing, she could restrain her impatience no +longer. + +"What is it?" she questioned. "Is there something wrong?" + +He reached back and drew her closer, without answering, until her eyes +also were able to look around the sharp edge of rock. Far away, it +seemed a long distance up that narrow tunnel, a lantern glowed dully, +the light so dim and flickering as to scarcely reveal even its +immediate surroundings; yet from that distance, her eyes accustomed to +the dense gloom, she could distinguish enough to quicken her breathing +and cause her to clutch the sleeve of her companion. + +The lantern occupied a niche in the side wall at the bottom of a flight +of rude steps. Not more than a half-dozen of these were revealed, but +at their foot, where the passage had been widened somewhat, extended a +stone bench, on which lounged two men. One was lying back, his head +pillowed on a rolled coat, yet was evidently awake; for the other, +seated below him, with knees drawn up for comfort, kept up conversation +in a low voice, the words being inaudible at that distance. Even in +that dim light the two were clearly Mexican. + +"What shall we do?" she asked, her lips at Cavendish's ear. "We cannot +pass them--they are on guard." + +"I was wondering how close I could creep in before they saw me," he +answered, using the same caution. "If I was only sure they were alone, +and could once get the drop, we might make it." + +"You fear there may be others posted at the top?" + +"There is quite likely to be; the fellows are evidently taking no +chances of surprise. What do you think best?" + +"Even if you succeeded in overawing these two, we would have no way of +securing them. An alarm would be given before we could get beyond +reach. Our only hope of escape lies in getting out of here unseen." + +"Yes, and before Cateras is discovered." + +"He gave no orders to the guard to return?" + +"No; but he will be missed after a while and sought for. We cannot +count on any long delay, and when it is found that he has been knocked +out, and we have disappeared, every inch of this cave will be searched. +There is no place to hide, and only the two ways by which to get out." + +"Then, let's go back and try the other," she urged. "That opens +directly into the valley and is probably not guarded. What is +happening now?" + +A grey gleam of light struck the steps from above, recognised instantly +as a reflection of day, as though some cover had been uplifted +connecting this underground labyrinth with the clear sky. A dim shadow +touched the illumined rocks for a brief moment, a moving shadow +uncertain in its outlines, grotesque, shapeless: and then the daylight +vanished as suddenly as it dawned. There was a faint click, as though +a door closed, while darkness resumed sway, the silence unbroken, but +for the scraping of a step on those rude stairs. The two guards below +came to their feet, rigid in the glow of the lantern, their faces +turned upward. Then a man came slowly down the last few steps and +joined them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII: A DANGEROUS PRISONER + +He was tall and thin, wearing a wide cloak about his shoulders, and +high hat with broad brim. Even at that distance it could be seen that +his long hair was grey, and that a heavy moustache, snow-white, made +more noticeable the thin features of his face. The man was Mexican, no +doubt of that, but of the higher class, the dead pallor of his skin +accented by the black, deep-seated eyes. He looked at the two men +closely, and his voice easily reached the ears of the listeners. + +"Who posted you here?" + +"Juan Cateras, _senor_," answered one. + +"Not on my order. Dias is watching above. Did the lieutenant give you +a reason?" + +"The prisoners, _senor_." + +"The prisoners! Oh, yes; those that Lacy had confined here. Well, +they will not be here for long. I do not believe in prisoners, and +because I do business with that dog is no reason why he is privileged +to use this place to hold his victims. I have just despatched a +messenger to Haskell to that effect, and we'll soon be rid of them. +Where is Cateras?" + +"In the valley, _senor_! he went back down the passage with Silva after +posting us here." + +"And the prisoners?" + +"Occupy the two inner cells. Merodiz here says one of them is a girl." + +"A girl!" the tall man laughed. "That then will account for the +unusual interest of Juan Cateras, and why he preferred being left in +charge. A girl, hey, Merodiz! You saw the witch? What sort was she?" + +"An American, _senor_, young, and good to look at," the other man +explained. "Her eyes as blue as the skies." + +"Good! 'tis not often the gods serve us so well. I forgive Cateras for +failure to report such a prize, but from now on will see that he takes +his proper place. She was here when we came?" + +"No, _senor_; the two Americanos brought her; it was Silva and I who +put her in the cell." + +"At Cateras's order?" + +"Yes, _senor_." + +"In what cell?" + +"The second in the passage; the man who was here when we came has the +one this way." + +"Caramba! this is all pleasant enough. I will pay my respects to the +lady, and there is no time like the present." + +He turned away, thumbing his moustache, quite pleased with his conceit, +but one of the men stopped him with a question. + +"We remain here, _senor_?" + +"Yes, you might as well," his lips smiling, "and if the Senor Cateras +passes, you can tell him that I visit the fair American. It will give +him joy." + +The girl drew Cavendish back hurriedly, her mind working in a flash of +inspiration. + +"Quick," she breathed in his ear. "There is a niche where we can hide +a few yards back. If he follows the other wall he might pass, and not +notice." + +"But he goes to your cell; 'tis Pasqual Mendez." + +"I know, but come. He must not go there. I will tell you my plan." + +They were pressed back within the slight recess before the Mexican +turned the corner, and she had hastily breathed her desperate scheme. + +"It can be done," she insisted, "and there is nought else possible. We +dare not let him enter, and find Cateras, and to kill the man will +serve no good end. You will not? Then give me the revolver. Good! +Be silent now." + +Mendez came down the black passage evidently in rare good humour, +humming a tune, with one hand pressed upon the wall to better guide his +movements. So dark it was, even the outlines of his form were +indistinguishable, yet, as he felt no need for caution, it was easy +enough to trace his forward progress. The girl stood erect, the +revolver gripped in one hand, the other pressing back her companion +into the recess. She had lost all sense of fear in the determination +to act; better risk all than surrender without a struggle. Mendez +fumbled along the wall, stumbled over some slight projection and swore; +another step, and his groping hand would touch her. He never took the +step, but was whirled against the side wall, with the cold barrel of a +revolver pressed against his cheek. A stern, sibilant whisper held him +motionless. + +"If you move I fire, _senor_; raise your hands--quick!" + +He responded mechanically, too profoundly astounded to dream of +resistance. It was the sound of the voice which impressed him. + +"Santa Maria! A woman?" + +"Yes, _senor_, a woman; the same you sought, but I have found you +first." + +He chuckled. + +"A good jest surely; how came you here?" + +"Not to discuss that, _senor_," quietly. "Nor is this to be laughed +over. If you would live, do as I say. Mr. Cavendish, see if the man +bears weapons." + +"Only a belt with a knife." + +"Keep the knife; it may come handy for some purpose. Now bind his +hands with the belt. Cross your wrists, _senor_." + +He had lost his temper, no longer deeming this a joke. + +"You damn vixen," he growled savagely. "This play will soon be done; +do you know who I am?" + +"The Senor Pasqual Mendez, but that means nothing," she answered. +"This revolver will kill you as surely as any one else. Do what I say +then, and talk no more--cross your wrists behind." + +He did so, and Cavendish strapped the stout belt about them, winding it +in and out until he had sure purchase. He drew it so tightly the +fellow winced. + +"It hurts, _senor_," she said, satisfied. "Well, to hurt you a little +is better than what you planned for me. Now lead on. No, listen +first. I know who you are and your power here. That is why we took +this chance of making you prisoner. We are desperate; it is either +your life, or ours, _senor_. You are an outlaw, with a price on your +head, and you realise what chances one will take to escape. Now there +is just one opportunity given you to live." + +"What, _senorita_?" + +"That you accompany us down this passage into the valley as hostage. +You will compel your men, if we encounter any, to furnish us horses." + +"But the men may not obey. I cannot promise; Senor Cateras----" + +"Senor Cateras will not be there," she interrupted sharply. "We have +already seen to Senor Cateras. The others will obey you?" + +"They may; I cannot promise." + +"Then it will be your own loss; for if there be a shot fired, you will +get either a bullet or a knife thrust. I would try no sharp tricks, +Senor Mendez. Now we go on." + +Mendez smiled grimly in the dark, his mind busy. He had seen much of +life of a kind and felt no doubt but this young woman would keep her +word. She had become sufficiently desperate to be dangerous, and he +felt no desire to drive her to extremes. Besides he was helpless to +resist, but would watch for opportunity, trusting in luck. + +"I am to go first?" and his voice assumed polite deference. + +"Beside Mr. Cavendish," she replied, "and I will be behind." + +"This gentleman, you mean?" + +"Yes; and there is no need for any more acting. This is the revolver +pressing against your back, _senor_. I could scarcely miss you at that +distance." + +They advanced in silence, through the faint gleam of light which +illumined the passage through the stone slits over the cell doors. +Only then did Mendez venture to pause, and glance back at his captor. + +"Pardon, _senorita_," he said gallantly, "but I would have view of the +first lady who ever took Pasqual Mendez prisoner. The sight robs me of +all displeasure. In truth it is hardly necessary for you to resort to +fire-arms." + +"I prefer them," shortly. "Go on!" + +The darkness swallowed them again, but the way was clear, and, once +around the sharp turn, a glimmer of distant daylight made advance +easier. There was no sign of any guard visible, nor any movement +perceptible in the open vista beyond the cave entrance. The girl +touched Mendez's arm. + +"Wait; I would ask a question, or two first, before we venture further. +I was brought in this way, yet my memory is not clear. There are two +log houses before the cave?" + +"Yes," he answered readily, "one somewhat larger than the other--the +men occupy that; the other is for myself and my officers." + +"Besides Cateras?" + +"No, not at present; at times I have guests. It would be pleasurable +to entertain you, and your friend." + +"No doubt. You expect Lacy?" + +"You know that also? How did you learn?" + +"I heard you talk to the men at the other end. It is true, is it not?" + +"I have sent for him; it was yesterday." + +"And he could be here now?" + +"Not before night; it is a hard ride; why ask all this?" + +"I have reasons. Now another thing; where are your men?" + +His eyes wandered to the gleam of daylight. + +"There will be one or two in the bunk-house likely; the others are with +the cattle up the valley." + +"But none in your cabin?" + +He shook his head. + +"And you say Lacy cannot get here before dark? How late?" + +He hesitated over his reply, endeavouring shrewdly to conjecture what +could be the object of all this questioning, yet finally concluding +that the truth would make very little difference. + +"Well, _senorita_, I may as well tell you, I suppose. It is the rule +not to enter this valley until after dark. I expect the Americanos to +arrive about ten o'clock." + +"The Americanos?" + +"_Si_, there will be three in the party, one of them a man from New +York, who has business with me." + +Miss Donovan's decision was rapidly made, her mind instantly grasping +the situation. This man would be Enright, and the business he had with +Mendez concerned Cavendish, and possibly herself also. She glanced +again into the stern, hawklike face of the Mexican, recognising its +lines of relentless cruelty, the complete absence of any sense of +mercy. His piercing eyes and thin lips gave evidence enough that he +was open to any bargain if the reward should be commensurate with the +risk. The man's age, and grey hair, only served to render more +noticeable his real character--he was a human tiger, held now in +restraint, but only waiting a chance to break his chains, and sink +teeth in any victim. The very sight of him sent a shudder through her +body, even as it stiffened her purpose. + +Her clear, thoughtful eyes turned inquiringly toward Cavendish, but the +survey brought with it no encouragement. The man meant well, no doubt, +and would fight valiantly on occasion; he was no coward, no +weakling--equally clear his was not the stuff from which leaders are +made. There was uncertainty in his eyes, a lack of force in his face +which told the story. Whatever was decided upon, or accomplished, must +be by her volition; she could trust him to obey, but that was all. Her +body straightened into new resolve, all her womanhood called to the +front by this emergency. + +"Then we will make no attempt to leave the valley until after dark," +she said slowly. "Even if we got away now, we would be pursued, and +overtaken, for the desert offers few chances for concealment. If we +can reach that smaller cabin unseen we ought to be safe enough there +for hours. Cateras will not bother, and with Mendez captive, his men +will not learn what has occurred. Is not this our best plan, Mr. +Cavendish?" + +"And at night?" + +"We must work some scheme to get horses, and depart before those others +reach here. There will be plenty of time between dark and ten o'clock. +If we leave this man securely bound, his plight will not even be +discovered until Lacy arrives. By that time, with any good fortune, we +will be beyond pursuit, lost in the desert. Do you think of anything +better?" + +That he did not was evidenced by the vacant look in his eyes, and she +waited for no answer. + +"Here," she said, thrusting the revolver into his hand, "take this, and +guard Mendez until I return. It will only be a moment. Don't take +your eyes off him; there must be no alarm." + +She moved forward through the gloomy shadows toward the light showing +at the mouth of the cave. The rocks here were in their natural state, +exactly as left by the forces which had originally disrupted them, the +cavern's mouth much wider than the tunnel piercing the hill, and +somewhat obstructed by ridges of stone. + +Sheltered by these Stella crept to the very edge of the opening, and +was able to gain a comprehensive view of the entire scene beyond. +Within the cave itself there was no movement, no evidence of life. +Quite clearly no guard had been posted here, and no precautions taken, +although doubtless the only entrance to the deep valley was carefully +watched. + +A glance without convinced her that no other guardianship was necessary +to assure safety. The valley lay before her, almost a level plain, +except for the stream winding through its centre, and all about, +unbroken and precipitous, arose the rampart of rocks, which seemed +unscalable. + +She rested there long enough to trace this barrier inch by inch in its +complete circle, but found no opening, no cleft, promising a possible +exit, except where the trail led up almost directly opposite, and only +memory of her descent enabled her to recognise this. Satisfied that +the top could be attained in no other way, her eyes sought the things +of more immediate interest. The two cabins were directly before the +entrance, the smaller closely in against the cliff, the larger slightly +advanced. Neither exhibited any sign of life; indeed the only evidence +that the valley contained human occupants was the distant view of two +herders, busily engaged in rounding up a bunch of cattle on the +opposite bank of the stream. These were too far away, and too intently +engaged at their task, to observe any movement at this distance. + +Her study of the situation concentrated on the small cabin immediately +in front. It was low, a scant story in height, but slightly elevated +from the ground, leaving a vacant space beneath. It was built of logs, +well mortised together, and plastered between with clay. The roof +sloped barely enough to shed water, and there were no windows on the +end toward the cliff, or along the one side which she could see from +where she lay. The single door must open from the front, and +apparently the house had been erected with the thought that it might +some time be used for purposes of defence, as it had almost the +appearance of a fort. The larger building was not entirely unlike this +in general design, except that small openings had been cut in the log +walls, and a rude chimney arose through the roof. Both appeared +deserted. Confident there could be no better time for the venture, +Stella signalled with her hand for the others to join her. + +They advanced slowly, Cavendish holding the revolver at the Mexican's +head, the latter grinning savagely, his dark eyes never still. Bitter +hate, desperate resolve, marked his every action, although he sought to +appear indifferent. The girl's lips were compressed, and her eyes met +his firmly. + +"The way is clear," she said, "and, listen to my warning, _senor_. We +are going straight along the north side of your cabin there, until we +reach the door. For about twenty feet we shall be exposed to view from +that other cabin, if any of your men are there. If you dare utter a +sound, or make a motion, this man will shoot you dead in your +tracks--do you understand?" + +His look was ugly enough, although he compelled the thin lips to smile. + +"Quite clearly--yes; but pardon me if I doubt. You might kill me; I +think that, yet how would it serve you? One shot fired would bring +here a dozen men--then what?" + +"I thank you, _senor_; there will be no shot fired. Give me the +revolver, Mr. Cavendish; now take this knife. As we advance walk one +step behind Mendez. You will know what to do. Now, _senor_, if you +wish to try an experiment--we go now." + +There was not a sound, not a word. Not unlike three shadows they +crossed the open space, and found shelter behind the walls of the hut. +The girl never removed her eyes from the other cabin, and Cavendish, a +step behind his prisoner, poised for a quick blow, the steel blade +glittering in uplifted hand, saw nothing but the back of the man before +him. The latter shrugged his shoulders and marched forward, his eyes +alone evidencing the passion raging within. + +Without pausing they reached the door, which stood slightly ajar. +Stella pushed it open, took one swift glance within and stepped aside. +The other two entered, and she instantly followed, closing the door, +and securing it with a stout wooden bar. Her face was white, marked by +nervous emotion, her eyes bright and fearless. With one swift glance +she visioned the interior; there were two rooms, both small, divided by +a solid log partition, pierced by a narrow door-way. + +The back room was dark, seemingly without windows, but this in which +they stood had an opening to the right, letting in the sunlight. It +was a mere slash in the logs, unframed, and could be closed by a heavy +wooden shutter. She stepped across and glanced out. The view revealed +included a large portion of the valley, and the entrance to the other +cabin. There was no excitement, no evidence of any alarm--their +crossing from the mouth of the cave had escaped observation. Thus far +at least they were safe. + +Her heart beat faster as she turned away, satisfied with the success of +her plan. Nothing remained now but to secure Mendez, to make it +impossible for him to raise an alarm. If he could be bound, and locked +into that rear room. She looked at the two men--the Mexican had +slouched down into a chair, apparently having abandoned all hope of +escape, his chin lowered on his breast, his eyes hidden beneath the +wide brim of his hat. He was a perfect picture of depression, but +Cavendish appeared alert enough, the deadly knife still gripped in his +hand, a motionless, threatening figure. Feeling no trepidation, she +crossed toward the other room, noting as she passed that Mendez lifted +his head to observe her movements. She paused at the door, turning +suspiciously, but the man had already seemingly lost interest, and his +head again drooped. She stepped within. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII: WITH BACK TO THE WALL + +It was dingy dark once she had crossed the threshold, yet enough of +light flickered in through the doorway to enable her to perceive the +few articles of furniture. The room itself was a small one, but +contained a roughly constructed wooden bed, two stools, and a square +table of unplaned boards. A strip of rag carpet covered a portion of +the floor, and there was a sort of cupboard in one corner, the door of +which stood open, revealing a variety of parcels, littering the +shelves. Against the wall in a corner leaned a short-barrelled gun, a +canvas bag draped over its muzzle. + +She had no opportunity to observe more. To her ears there came the +sound of a blow in the room she had just left, a groan, the dull thud +of a body striking the floor, accompanied by a Spanish oath, and a +shuffling of feet. She sprang back into the open doorway, startled, +certain only of some catastrophe, her fingers gripping hard on the +revolver. + +Cavendish lay writhing on the floor, the chair overturned beside him, +and the Mexican, with one swift leap forward, cleared the body, and +reached the window. Even as she caught this movement, too dazed for +the instant to act, the injured man struggled up on one elbow, and, +with all the force he possessed, hurled the knife straight at the +fleeing figure. It flashed through the air, a savage gleam of steel, +barely missing Mendez's shoulder, and buried itself in a log, quivering +from the force of impact. With a yell of derision, his hands still +bound, the desperate fugitive cast himself head-first through the +opening. Without aim, scarcely aware of what she did, the girl flung +up her weapon and fired. With revolver yet smoking she rushed forward +to look without. Rolling over and over on the ground, his face covered +with blood, Mendez was seeking to round the corner of the cabin, to get +beyond range. Again she pulled the trigger, the powder smoke blowing +back into her face, and blinding her. When she could see once more, he +was gone, but men were leaping out through the door of the bunk-house, +shouting in excitement. + +One of these caught sight of her, and fired, the bullet chugging into +the end of a log, so closely it caught a strand of her hair, but, +before another shot could follow, she had seized the shutter, and +closed the opening, driving the latch fast with the revolver butt. She +was cool enough now, every nerve on edge, realising fully the danger of +their position. All the blood of a fighting race surged through her +veins, and she was conscious of no fear, only of a wild exultation, a +strange desire to win. As she turned she faced Cavendish, only vaguely +visible in the twilight caused by the closed window. He was still +seated on the floor, his expression betraying bewilderment. + +"Are you hurt?" + +"No--not--not much. He knocked all the wind out of me. I--I'm all +right now." + +"Get up then! There's fighting enough ahead to make you forget that. +What happened?" + +"He--he kicked me, I guess. I--I don't exactly know. I heard you go +past us into that other room, and--and just turned my head to see. The +next I knew I was on the floor, so damned sick--I beg your pardon--I +thought I was going to faint. Did I get him with the knife?" + +"No, it's over there, and I am afraid I didn't touch him either; it was +all so sudden I got no aim. Do you hear those voices? There must be a +dozen of the band outside already." + +He looked up at her, his glance almost vacant, and she could but +perceive how his chin shook. + +"What shall we do?" + +"Do!" she gripped his shoulder. "Are you a man and ask that? We will +fight! Did you imagine I would ever surrender myself into the hands of +that devil, after what has happened? I would rather die; yes, I will +die before he ever puts hand on me. And what about you, Mr. Cavendish? +Are you going to lie there moping? Answer me--I thought you were a +man--a gentleman." + +The words were like a blow in his face, and under their sting he +staggered to his feet; scarlet blazed in both his cheeks. + +"You have no right to say that to me," he said angrily. "I'm not that +kind." + +"I know it," she admitted, "but you lose your nerve; this isn't your +game. Well, it isn't mine either, for the matter of that. +Nevertheless it has got to be played, and we're going to play it +together. Those fellows will be at that door presently--just so soon +as Mendez tells them who are inside here. They'll try us once, and, if +we can beat them back, that will give us a breathing spell." + +She paused, glancing swiftly about, listening to the increasing hubbub +without. + +"There is no other way they can break in except through this door, +unless, perhaps, they smash that shutter. Two of us ought to hold them +for some time." + +"But we have only one weapon--that knife is no use." + +"There is a sawed-off shotgun back yonder; go get it, and hunt for some +cartridges. They may be in the cupboard--quick now; that's Mendez's +voice, and he'll be savage." + +There was a shouting of commands without in Spanish, punctuated by +oaths, the meaning of which the girl alone understood. She leaned +forward, her eyes on the door, the cocked revolver held ready. She had +meant what she said to Cavendish; to her mind death was far preferable +to any surrender to that infuriated Mexican; she expected death, but +one hope yet buoyed her up--Westcott. Odd that any memory of him +should have come to her at that moment--yet it did; as though he spoke, +and bade her believe in his coming. She had thought of him before, +often in the past two days, but now he was real, tangible; she could +almost feel the strong grip of his hand, and hear the sound of his +voice. It was exactly as though the man called to her, and she +responded. A dream, or what, it brought her courage, hope. + +He would come; she had faith in that--and he would find she had fought +to the end, even if he came too late. She buried her face in her +hands, stifling a sob that shook her body, yet when she lifted the head +again, there was no glimmer of tears in her eyes, and her cheeks were +crimson. She waited motionless, scarcely seeming to breathe--the +statue of a woman at bay. + +All this was but for a moment, a moment of swift thought, of equally +swift decision. The next Cavendish stood beside her, grasping the +shotgun, no longer a victim of weakness, his eyes meeting hers eagerly. + +"I could only find twelve cartridges," he exclaimed, "but I know how to +use those." + +He took a step forward, and held out his hand. + +"Forgive me, Miss Donovan," he pleaded. "Really I do not know what +makes me like that, but you would make a man out of anybody." + +Her firm, slim fingers met his eagerly, her eyes instantly glowing in +appreciation. + +"Of course I forgive you," she exclaimed. "Your fear is no greater +than my own. I am a woman, and dread this sort of thing. All that +gives me courage is the knowledge that death is preferable to +dishonour," her voice lost its firmness, "and--and my faith in a man." + +"You mean in possible rescue?" + +Her eyes lifted to his face. + +"Yes, Mr. Cavendish. It may prove all imagination, yet there is one--a +real man, I am sure--who must know of my plight before this. If he +does, and lives, he will come to me. If we can only defend ourselves +long enough there will be rescue." + +He hesitated, yet something told him this was no time to fear asking +all. + +"Surely you are not married? Of course not; then he----" + +"Is merely a friend; no, there has been no other word spoken between +us, yet," her voice trembling slightly, "there are secrets a woman +knows instinctively without speech. I know this man cares--enough to +come. Isn't that strange, Mr. Cavendish, when we have only met three +times?" + +"No," he said gallantly, "not to any one who has known you. I believe +you might even trust me. Where is this man?" + +"In Haskell; but please do not ask any more--there! They are coming." + +A blow struck the outer door, and was repeated, evidently dealt by the +butt of a gun; then the two, standing silent and almost breathless +within, heard Mendez's voice. There was no mistaking his slow, +carefully chosen English. + +"_Senorita_, and you also, Senor Cavendish," he called his words +intended to be conciliatory. "It is of no use that you resist. We are +many and armed. If you surrender, and not fight, I pledge you +protection." + +The girl glanced at Cavendish. + +"You answer him." + +He stepped closer to the door. + +"Protection from whom?" he asked briefly. + +"From my men; I am Pasqual Mendez." + +"But you propose holding us prisoners? You intend delivering us up to +the man Lacy as soon as he arrives?" + +"Yes," he admitted, "but I hold no animosity--none. The _senorita_ +need not fear. I will intercede for you both with the Senor Lacy, and +he will listen to what I say. You may trust me, if you unbar the door." + +"And if we refuse?" + +"We shall break in, and there will be no promise. I ask you now for +the last time." + +Cavendish turned his head slightly to regard his companion. + +"What shall I say?" he whispered. + +"The man lies; he will keep no promise once we are in his power. +Besides they have not yet found Cateras. When they do there will be no +thought of mercy." + +"Then we fight it out?" + +"I shall; I will never give myself into the hands of that creature." + +"Senor," and Cavendish stepped aside to the protection of the logs, "we +will not surrender. That is our answer." + +"Fools!" he called back, his voice rising harsh above the growling of +others. "We will show you. Silva, Felipe, quick now; do what I told +you. We will teach these Americano dogs a lesson. No, stand back! +Wait until I speak the word."' + +A faint glimmer of light through one of the log crevices caught +Cavendish's attention, and he bent down, his eye to the crack, one hand +grasping the barrel of his gun. Stella watched him motionless and +silent, her face again pale from strain. A moment he stared out, +without speaking, the only noise the movement of men beyond the log +walls, and the occasional sound of a voice in Spanish. + +"I can count about a dozen out there," he said finally, his words +barely audible, and his eye still at the slight opening. "All Mexican +except two--they look American. Most of them are armed. You must have +pricked Mendez, for he has one arm in a sling, and the cloth shows +bloody. Ah! Wait! The fellows have searched the cells and discovered +Cateras. Do you hear that yell? It will be a fight to a finish now. +Here come two men with a log--that's their game then; they mean to +smash in the door." + +He straightened up, casting a swift glance about the apartment. All +hesitancy, doubt, had left him, now that the supreme test had come. He +was again capable of thinking clearly, and acting. + +"Miss Donovan," he burst out, "we can never hope to hold back those men +here--in this room. There must be fifteen of them, and our ammunition +is scanty. We shall be in bright light as soon as the door is battered +down, and then, if they crush in the window also, we shall surely be +attacked from two sides." + +"What will be better?" she asked. + +"The back room; it is dark, with no windows, and there are strips +nailed between the logs. We can force that heavy wooden bed across the +door, and hide behind it. We ought to hold them there as long as our +cartridges last, unless they set the cabin afire. Good God! They have +begun already. Three more blows like that and the door goes down. +Come; it's our only chance." + +It was the work of a moment; it had to be. The inner room was so dark +they had to feel their way about blindly, yet those splintering crashes +on the outer door, interspersed by the shouts of the men, spurred both +to hurried effort. Nor was there much to be done. The heavy bed was +thrown upon its side, and hauled and pushed forward until it rested +against the door jambs, the mattress and blankets so caught and held as +to form protection against bullets. Breathless the two sank to their +knees in the darkness behind, their eyes on the brightening daylight of +the room beyond. Already a hole had been stove through the upper panel +of the door, the surrounding wood splintered. Some one fired once +through the jagged opening, and an exultant yell followed from without. + +"No firing!" the voice was Mendez's rising sharply above the other +sounds. "I don't want the girl shot, you fools. Take that other log +around to the window. They'll surrender fast enough once we're inside. +Now, another one. Here, five of you swing her!" + +Stella touched Cavendish's sleeve. + +"Show me how to load, please," she urged feverishly. "I've fired two +shots already." + +His gun rested across the rude barricade, and he left it there, seizing +the revolver from her hand. + +"You have never handled one before?" + +"No; not like this. Oh, I see; you press that spring. I can do that. +You have the belt with the revolver cartridges--fasten it about my +waist; quick! The door is almost down." + +"Rest your barrel on the edge of the bed," he muttered, gripping the +shotgun again, "and aim at that door. The instant you see one of those +devils, give it to him." + +With a crash the remaining wood gave way, the end of the log, used as a +battering ram, projecting into the room. Over the shattered door, now +held only by one bent hinge, a half dozen forms swarmed inward, the +quick rush blocking their passage. + +Cavendish pulled trigger, the deep boom of his shotgun echoed instantly +by the sharper report of the girl's revolver. She fired twice before +the swirling smoke obstructed the view, conscious only that one man had +leaped straight into the air, and another had sprawled forward on hands +and knees. Cavendish pushed home a fresh cartridge, and the smoke +cloud lifted just enough to permit them to perceive the farther +doorway. A Mexican lay curled up in the centre of the floor, his gun a +dozen feet away; another hung dangling across an over-turned stool, but +the opening was vacant. Just outside, a fellow, wounded, was dragging +himself out of range. + +"Great Scott!" exclaimed Cavendish, excitedly. "Every shot counted. +Here, load up quick. They'll try the window next. Get down!" + +The warning was not an instant too soon, the hasty volley largely +thudding harmlessly into the thick mattress, although a bullet or two +sang past and found billets in the logs behind. Cavendish returned the +fire, shooting blindly into the smoke, but the girl only lifted her +head, staring intently into the smother, until the cloud floated away +through the door. The attackers had again vanished, all semblance of +them, except those two motionless bodies. + +She had not before been conscious of any feeling; all she had done had +been automatic, as though under compulsion; but now she felt strangely +sick, and faint. An unutterable horror seized her and her hands +gripped the edge of the bed to keep her erect. She could seem to see +nothing but the ghastly face of that dead man hanging over the stool, +and she closed her eyes. Yet this reaction was only momentary. She +had fired in defence; in a struggle for the preservation of life and +honour. Under spur of this thought she once more gained control. + +But how still it was! Even the sound of voices had ceased; and out +through the open door there was no sign of movement. The light seemed +dimmer, also, as though the sun had sunk below the opposite cliffs, and +night was slowly descending upon the valley. What could be happening +out there? Were those men planning some new attempt? Or had they +decided it was better to wait for a larger force? The silence and +uncertainty were harder to combat than the violence of assault; she +struggled to refrain from screaming. Cavendish never moved, his gun +flung forward across the improvised barricade, the very grip of his +hand proving the intensity of nervous strain. Something caused him to +glance toward her. + +"Looks as though they had enough of it," he said grimly, "and have +decided to starve us out." + +"Oh, do you think so? I heard a noise then." + +He heard it also, his glance returning instantly to the front, his form +stiffening into preparation. For a moment neither could determine the +meaning of the sounds. Then he cocked his gun, the sharp click echoing +almost loudly in the stillness. + +"Trying the window this time," he murmured, "Do you hear that? Be +ready." + +Nothing happened; even the slight noise in the outer room ceased; there +was not a sound except their own breathing. The two knelt motionless, +peering over the edge of the bed into the dim twilight, seeing nothing, +each with finger on trigger--tense, expectant. Then, without warning, +the flying figure of a man leaped across the doorway into the security +of the opposite wall. It was done so quickly neither fired, but +Cavendish licked his parched lips with a dry tongue. + +"I'll get the next one who tries that trick," he muttered, "It will be +easier than partridge shooting." + +A minute--two passed, every nerve on edge; then a second flying form, +almost a blur in the gathering gloom, shot across the narrow opening. +The shotgun spoke, and the wildly leaping figure seemed to crumble to +the floor--its lower half had reached shelter, but head and shoulders +lay exposed, revealing grey hair and a white moustache. Cavendish +sprang erect, all caution forgotten. + +"It's Mendez," he cried. "I got the arch-fiend of them----" + +A rifle cracked and he went plunging back, his body striking the girl, +and crushing her to the floor beside him. There was no cry, no groan +of agony, yet he lay there motionless. She crept across and bent over +him, almost dumb with fear. + +"You--you are shot?" she made herself speak. + +"Yes; they've got me," the utterance of the words a struggle. "It's +here in the chest; I--I don't know how bad; perhaps if you tear open my +shirt, you--you might stop the blood." + +She could see nothing, not even the man's face, yet her fingers rent +the shirt asunder and searched for the wound. It was not bleeding +greatly, and she had no water, but not knowing what else to do, she +tore a strip from her skirt and bound it hastily. He never moved, or +spoke, and she bent her head closer. The wounded man had lost +consciousness. + +Alone, in the dark, she crept back on her knees to her place behind the +barricade. Her hand touched the empty gun he had dropped, and she +reloaded it slowly, only half comprehending its mechanism. The +revolver, every chamber filled, rested on the upturned edge of the bed; +her lips were firmly pressed together. Quietly she pushed forward the +barrel of the shotgun, and waited. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX: A NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK + +The little marshal of Haskell had the reputation of being as quick of +wit as of trigger finger. Startled as he was by that sudden apparition +appearing before them in the dark road, and at being addressed by a +woman's voice, the mention of the name Cassady gave him an instant +clue. There was but one Cassady in camp, and that individual's +reputation was scarcely of a kind to recommend him in the eyes of the +law. If any woman sought that fellow in this out-of-the-way spot, it +was surely for no good purpose. Brennan caught his breath, these +thoughts flashing through his brain. He leaned forward over his saddle +horn, lowering his voice confidentially, and managing to achieve a +highly meritorious brogue. + +"Sure, Oi'm Cassady," he admitted grouchily. "How iver come yer ter +guess thot?" + +"I was sent here to meet you," she explained hurriedly, as though eager +to have her task done. "I thought maybe it wasn't you, with another +man along. Who is he?" + +"His noime's Crowley; just a friend o' moine; mebbe yer know the lad?" + +"No; certainly not. Does he go along with you?" + +"Fer only a bit o' ther way"; he lowered his voice to even greater +intimacy. "Shure, it's a parfectly still tongue the b'y has in the +cheek o' him." + +She laughed nervously. + +"Well, I'm glad of that; and we'll not stand here discussing the +matter. Do you know who I am?" + +"Divil a thought have Oi." + +"You were expecting to meet Mr. Enright, weren't you? That was what +Bill Lacy told you. He was to explain to you just what you were to do." + +Brennan mumbled something indistinctly, now thoroughly aroused to the +situation. + +"Well, Mr. Enright couldn't come, and Lacy is over across the creek +yet, hunting down Ned Beaton's murderer. I am Miss La Rue," she +hurried on, almost breathlessly, "and I've brought you Lacy's note, +which you are to give to that Mexican--Pasqual Mendez. You understand? +You are to give it to him, and no one else. Lacy said you could kill +your horse, if necessary, but the note must be there by daylight +to-morrow. Here--take it." + +Brennan thrust it into an inner pocket, and cleared his throat. There +was no small risk in asking questions, yet, unless he learned more, +this information might prove utterly useless. The note to Mendez meant +little until he discovered where that bandit was to be found. He felt +his flesh prickle in the intensity of his suppressed excitement. + +"Shure now, miss," he said insinuatingly. "Mr. Lacy must hev' sint +more insthructions 'long with ye then them. All ther word thet iver +come ter me wus ter saddle oop, ride down here an' mate this man +Enright. I don't aven know fer shure whar ol' Mendez is--likely 'nough +he be in Mexico." + +"In Mexico!" indignantly. "Of course not. Lacy said you knew the +trail. It's a place they call 'Sunken Valley'--out there somewhere," +and Brennan could barely distinguish the movement of her arm +desert-ward. "It's across that sand flat." + +"Shoshone?" + +"Yes; I couldn't remember the name. That's all I know about it, only +Lacy said you'd been there before." + +"Shure, miss," assured the marshal softly, clearly realising that he +had already gone the limit, and that any further questioning must lead +inevitably to trouble. "If it is Sunken Valley I'm ter ride ter, +thet's aisy." + +"Then it's good night." + +She vanished up the side-trail, as though the wind had blown away a +shadow. Except for the slight rustling of dried leaves under her feet, +the two men, staring blindly through the darkness, could not have told +the direction in which she had gone. Then all was silence, the mystery +of night. Brennan gathered up his reins, straightening his body in the +saddle. He glanced back toward the dim shade of his companion, +chuckling. + +"Some bit of luck that, Jim." + +"Doesn't seem to me we know much more than we did before," Westcott +answered gloomily. "Only that this chap Mendez is at a place called +Sunken Valley. I never heard of it; did you?" + +"No; I reckon it's no spot the law has ever had any use for. I've +supposed all along them Mexican cattle thieves had a hidden corral +somewhar in this country; but nobody has ever found it yet. Right now, +thanks to this Miss La Rue, I've got a hunch that we're goin' to make +the discovery, and put Bill Lacy and ol' Mendez out of business. But +there's no sense of our gassin' here. We got a right smart bit o' +ridin' to do afore daylight." + +They advanced cautiously as far as the bridge, but at that point +Brennan turned his pony's head southward, and spurred the reluctant +animal up the steep bank. Without question Westcott followed, and the +two horses broke into a trot as soon as they attained the more level +land beyond. They were slightly above the town now, and could gaze +back at the glittering lights in the valley below. The sound of men's +voices failed to reach them over the soft pounding of the ponies' hoofs +on the prairie sod, but suddenly the distant crackling of a half dozen +shots pierced the silence, and their eyes caught the sparkle of the +discharges, winking like fireflies in the night. Before they could +draw up their mounts, the fusillade had ended, and all beneath them was +unbroken gloom. + +"Must be rushing the rock," commented Westcott. + +"More likely saw something and blazed away at it, just as they did at +that log," and Brennan laughed. "Anyhow they haven't discovered we +have vanished yet. With an hour more we'll be where trails are +unknown." + +"In the desert?" + +"That is the only safe hiding place around here. Besides we're +carrying a message to Mendez." + +"Without the slightest knowledge of where that party is." + +"Well, hardly that, Jim. I may not know exactly, but I've got a +glimmer of a notion about where the cuss hangs out, an' I'm going to +have a hunt for it. There's five thousand dollars posted down in +Arizona for that fellow, dead or alive; an' I need the money. Besides, +I reckon this yere Miss Donovan, an' yer ol' partner--what's his +name?--sure, Cavendish--will be mighty glad to see us. You're game for +a try, ain't yer?" + +"I shall never stop until I do find them, Dan," said the other +earnestly, the very tone of his voice carrying conviction. "Every cent +of reward is yours; it will be satisfaction enough for me to know those +two are safe." + +"That's how I figured it. Now let's trot on; we ain't gaining nothing +by sittin' our saddles here. We can talk while we travel." + +There was a few moments of silence, both men evidently busied with +their thoughts; then Westcott asked: + +"What is your idea, Dan?" + +The marshal rode steadily, humped up over his saddle-horn, his eyes on +the uncertainties in front. + +"I ain't really got none," he admitted doggedly, "less it be a blind +trust in Divine Providence; still I got a medium strong grip on a few +things. That Capley girl told you that Matt Moore drove out on the +ridge road?" + +"Yes; I asked her about that twice." + +"Well, he likely was headed for this yere Sunken Valley. That's point +number one. But he never followed the ridge road very far, for it +skirts the desert. He must have turned off south--but where?" + +"Near the lone cottonwood is my guess." + +"Why?" + +"Because there is a swale there of hard sand, which is easily followed, +and leaves no trail. On either side for miles the sand is in drifts, +and no two horses would ever pull a wagon through it. This hard ridge, +which is more rock than sand, goes straight south to Badger Springs, +the only place to get water. I was there once, three years ago." + +"You've hit it, old man," exclaimed the other confidently. "That's +exactly how I had it doped out. He'd have to use that swale, or go ten +miles farther east. I never was at Badger myself, but I've travelled +that ridge road some, with my eyes open. Then, I take it, that our +course is already laid out pretty straight as far as them springs. +Beyond there the general lay of the land may help us, and I aim to +reach that point along about daylight. Accordin' to Miss La Rue--she's +that blond female I seen at the hotel, ain't she--Cassady was expected +to reach this place where Mendez is about dawn, if he had to kill his +hoss to do it. That would mean some considerable of a ride, I reckon." + +"And yet," put in Westcott, with increasing interest, "would seem +naturally to limit the spot to within a radius of ten miles from Badger +Springs." + +"Likely enough--yes; either south, southeast, or southwest; what sort +o' country is it?" + +"Absolutely barren; a desolate waste as far as the eye can see, except +that range of mountains away to the south, fifty miles or more off. It +would be a dead level, except for the sand-hills; that's all the memory +I've got of it." + +"Well, thar's allers some landmark to a trail, an' I used ter be a +pretty fair tracker. Speed yer hoss up a bit, Jim; we've got to ride +faster than this." + +"How about the note she gave you?" + +"We'll wait a while to read that. I don't want to strike no light just +yet. Maybe it had best be kept till daybreak." + +The men rode steadily, and mostly in silence, a large part of the way +side by side. The animals they bestrode were fairly mated, quite +capable of maintaining their gait for several hours, and needing little +urging. The night air was cool, and a rather stiff breeze swept over +the wide extent of desert, occasionally hurling spits of loosened sand +into their faces, and causing them to ride with lowered heads. The +night gloom enveloped them completely; their strained eyes were +scarcely able to trace the dim outlines of the ridge road, but the +horses were desert broke, and held closely to the beaten track, Before +they arrived at the lone cottonwood, Westcott's pony, which carried by +far the heavier load, began to show signs of fatigue. They drew up +here, and the marshal dismounted, searching about blindly in the +darkness. + +"Too damn dark," he said, coming back, and catching up his rein. "A +cat couldn't find anything there; but there's firm sand. Wait a +minute; I've got a pocket compass." + +He struck a match, sheltering the sputtering blaze with one hand. The +light illuminated his face for an instant, and then went out, leaving +the night blacker than before. + +"That's south," he announced, snapping the compass-case shut, "and this +blame wind is southeast; that ought to keep us fairly straight." + +"The ponies will do that; they'll keep where the travelling is good. +Shift this bag back of your saddle, Dan. You ride lighter, and my +horse is beginning to pant already; that will ease him a few pounds." + +The transfer was made, and the two men rode out into the rear desert, +urging their animals forward, trusting largely to their natural +instinct for guidance. They would follow the hard sand, and before +long the scent of water would as certainly lead them directly toward +the spring. With reins dangling and bodies crouched to escape the +blast of the sharp wind, neither spoke as they plunged through the +gloom which circled about them like a black wall. + +Yet it was not long until dawn began to turn the desert grey, gradually +revealing its forlorn desolation. Westcott lifted his head, and gazed +about with wearied eyes, smarting still from the whipping of the +sand-grit. On every side stretched away a scene of utter desolation, +unrelieved by either shrub or tree--an apparently endless ocean of +sand, in places levelled by the wind, and elsewhere piled into +fantastic heaps. There were no landmarks, nothing on which the mind +could concentrate--just sand, barren, shapeless, ever-changing form, +stretching to the far horizons. The breeze slackened somewhat as the +sun reddened the east, and the ponies threw up their heads and whinnied +slightly, increasing their speed. Westcott saw the marshal arouse +himself, straighten in the saddle, and stare about, his eyes still dull +and heavy. + +"One hell of a view, Jim," he said disgustedly, "but I reckon we can't +be a great ways from that spring. We've been ridin' right smart." + +"It's not far ahead; the ponies sniff water. Did you ever see anything +more dismal and desolate?" + +"Blamed if I see how even a Mex can run cattle through here." + +"They know the trails, and the water-holes--ah! there's a bunch o' +green ahead; that'll likely be Badger Springs." + +Assured they were beyond pursuit, the two unsaddled, and turned the +ponies out to crop the few handfuls of wire grass which the sweet water +bubbling up from a slight depression had coaxed into stunted growth. +There was no wood to be had, although they found evidence of several +camp-fires, and consequently they were obliged to content themselves +with what they could find eatable in their bag. It was hardly a +satisfying meal, and their surroundings did not tend toward a joyful +spirit. Except for a few sentences neither spoke, until Brennan, +having partially satisfied his appetite, produced the note given him by +Miss La Rue, and deliberately slashed open the sealed envelope. + +"In the name of the law," he said grimly, hauling out the enclosure. +"Now we'll see what's the row. Holy smoke! it's in Spanish! Here, +Jim, do you read that lingo?" + +"I know words here and there," and Westcott bent over the paper, his +brows wrinkling. "Let's see, it's not quite clear, but the sense is +that Mendez will be paid a thousand dollars for something--I can't make +out what, only it has to do with prisoners. Lacy says he'll be there +to confer with him some time to-night." + +"Where? At Sunken Valley?" + +"The place is not mentioned." + +"Lacy write it?" + +"Yes; at least he signed it; there's a message there about cattle, too, +but I can't quite make it out." + +"Well, we don't care about that. If Lacy aims to meet Mendez to-night, +he ought to be along here soon after nightfall. How'd it do to hide in +these sand-hills, and wait?" + +"We can do that, Dan, if we don't hit any trail," said Westcott, +leaning over, his hand on the other's knee, "but if we can get there +earlier, I'd rather not waste time. There's no knowing what a devil +like Mendez may do. Let's take a scout around anyhow." + +They started, the one going east, the other west, and made a semicircle +until they met, a hundred yards or so, south of the spring, having +found nothing. Again they circled out, ploughing their way through the +sand, and all at once Brennan lifted his hand into the air and called. +Westcott hurried over to where he stood motionless, staring down at the +track of a wagon-wheel. It had slid along a slight declivity, and left +a mark so deep as not yet to be obliterated. They traced it for thirty +feet before it entirely disappeared. + +"Still goin' south," affirmed the marshal, gazing in that direction. +"Don't look like there's nothin' out there, but we might try--what do +you say?" + +"I vote we keep moving; that wagon is bound to leave a trail here and +there, and so long as we get the general direction, we can't go far +wrong." + +"I reckon you're right. Come on then; let's saddle up." + +It was a blind trail, and progress was slow. The men separated, riding +back and forth, leaning forward in the saddles, scanning the sand for +the slightest sign. Again and again they were encouraged by some +discovery which proved they were on the right track--the clear print of +a horse's hoof; a bit of greasy paper which might have been tied round +a lunch, and thrown away; impresses in the sand which bore resemblance +to a man's footprints; a tin can, newly opened, and an emptied +tobacco-pouch. Twice they encountered an undoubted wheel mark, and +once traces of the whole four wheels were plainly visible. These could +be followed easily for nearly a quarter of a mile, but then as quickly +vanished as the wagon came again to an outcropping of rock. Yet this +was assured--the outfit had headed steadily southward. + +This was desperately slow work, and beyond that ridge of rock they +discovered no other evidence. An hour passed, and not the slightest +sign gave encouragement. Could the wagon have turned in some other +direction? In the shadow of a sand-dune they halted finally to discuss +the situation. Should they go on? Or explore further to the east and +west? Might it not even be better to retrace their way to the springs, +and wait the coming of Lacy? All in front of them the vast sand plain +stretched out, almost as level as a floor. So far as the eye would +carry there was no visible sign of any depression or change in +conformity. Certainly there was no valley in that direction. Beyond +this dune, in whose shelter they stood, there was nothing on which the +gaze could rest; all was utter desolation, apparently endless. + +Brennan was for turning back, arguing the uselessness of going further, +and the necessity of water for the ponies. + +"Come on, Jim," he urged. "Be sensible; we've lost the trail, and +that's no fault o' ours. An Apache Indian couldn't trace a herd o' +steers through this sand. And look ahead thar! It's worse, an' more +of it. I'm for stalking Lacy at the springs." He stopped suddenly, +staring southward as though he had seen a vision. "Holy smoke! What's +that? By God! It's a wagon, Jim; an' it come right up out of the +earth. There wasn't no wagon there a second ago." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX: ON THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF + +For a moment both men suspected that what they looked upon was a +mirage--its actual existence there in that place seemed impossible. +Yet there was no disputing the fact, that yonder in the very midst of +that desolation of sand, a wagon drawn by straining horses was slowly +moving directly toward them. Westcott was first to grasp the truth, +hastily jerking the marshal back to where the tired ponies stood with +drooping heads behind the protection of the dune. + +"It's the same outfit coming back," he explained. "The Sunken Valley +must be out there--just a hole in the surface of the desert--and that's +how that wagon popped up out of the earth the way it did. I couldn't +believe my eyes." + +"Nor me neither," and the marshal drew one of his guns, and held it +dangling in his hand. "I'm a bit flustered yet, but I reckon that's +about the truth. Get them ponies round a bit more, an' we'll wait and +see what's behind that canvas." + +The distance must have been farther than it seemed, or else the +travelling difficult, for it was some time before the heavy wagon and +straining team drew near enough for the two watchers to determine +definitely the character of the outfit. Westcott lay outstretched on +the far side of the dune, his hat beside him, and his eyes barely able +to peer over the summit, ready to report observations to the marshal +crouched below. + +"It's Moore's team, all right," he whispered back, "and Matt is driving +them. There isn't any one else on the seat, so I guess he must be +alone." + +"We can't be sure of that," returned Brennan, wise in guarding against +surprises. "There was another fellow with him on the out trip, and he +might be lying down back in the wagon. We'd better both of us hold 'em +up. I can hear the creak of the wheels now, so maybe you best slide +down. Is the outfit loaded?" + +"Travelling light, I should say," and Westcott, after one more glance, +crept down the sand-heap and joined the waiting man below. Both stood +intent and ready, revolvers drawn, listening. The heavy wheels grated +in the sand, the driver whistling to while away the dreary pull and the +horses breathing heavily. Moore pulled them up with a jerk, as two +figures leaped into view, his whistle coming to an abrupt pause. + +"Hell's fire!" was all he said, staring dumbly down into Brennan's face +over the front wheel. "Where in Sam Hill did you come from?" + +"I'm the one to ask questions, son," returned the little marshal, the +vicious blue barrel shining in the sunlight, "and the smarter you +answer, the less reason I shall have to hurt yer. Don't reach for that +gun! Are you travelling alone?" + +Moore nodded, his hands up, but still grasping the reins. + +"Then climb down over the wheel. Jim, take a look under that canvas; +Moore, here, is generally a genial sort o' liar, and we'd better be +sure. All right--hey? Then dismount, Matt, and be quick about it. +Now unbuckle that belt, and hand the whole outfit over to Westcott; +then we'll talk business together." + +He shoved his own weapon back into its holster, and faced the prisoner, +who had recovered from his first shock of surprise, and whose +pugnacious temper was beginning to assert itself. Brennan read this in +the man's sulky, defiant glance, and his lips smiled grimly. + +"Getting bullish, are you, Matt?" he said, rather softly. "Goin' ter +keep a close tongue in your head; so that's the game? Well, I +wouldn't, son, if I was you. Now, see here, Moore," and the voice +perceptibly hardened, and the marshal's eyes were like flints. "You +know me, I reckon, an' that I ain't much on boys' play. You never +heard tell o' my hittin' anybody just fer fun, did yer?" + +There was no answer. + +"An' yer never heard no one say," went on Brennan, "that I was afraid +ter hit when I needed to. I reckon also yer know what sorter man Jim +Westcott is. Now the two ov us ain't out here in this damned Shoshone +desert fer the fun of it--not by a jugful. Get that fact into yer +head, son, an' maybe it'll bring yer some sense. Do yer get me?" + +"Yes," sullenly and reluctantly. "But yer haven't got nuthin' on me." + +"Oh, haven't I? Well, you shut up like a clam, and find out what I've +got. You drove a young woman out here from Haskell night afore last, +for Bill Lacy. Ain't abduction no crime? An' that's only one count. +I've had an eye on you for more'n six months, an' Lacy's been makin' a +damn cat's-paw out of you all that time. Well, Lacy is playin' his +last hand right now, an' I've got the cards." The marshal paused, +fully aware that he had struck home, then added quietly: "It allers +struck me, Matt, that naturally you was a pretty decent fellow, but had +drifted in with a bad crowd. I'm offering you now a chance to get +straight again." He threw back his coat and exhibited his star. "Yer +see, I ain't just talkin' ter yer as Dan Brennan--I'm the law." + +The boy, for he was scarcely more than that in years, shuffled his feet +uneasily, and his eyes wandered from Brennan to Westcott. The look of +sullen defiance had vanished. + +"Whar is Lacy?" he asked. + +"Back in town, but he will be at Badger Springs about dark. We've got +him corralled this time. Yer better climb inter the band-wagon, son; +it's the last call." + +"Wotcher wanter ask?" + +"Who was with you the out-trip, along with Miss Donovan?" + +"Joe Sikes." + +"And yer left him back there, guarding the girl?" + +"He stayed; them was the orders, while I was to bring back the team; +but I reckon he won't need to do no guardin' to speak of, fer we run +inter a bunch o' fellows." + +"Mendez's outfit?" + +"You got the right dope, marshal, so I reckon I ain't spillin' no +beans. It was the Mex all right, an' some o' his bunch." + +"And Lacy didn't know they were there?" + +"I reckon not; leastways he never said so, an' they'd only come a few +days." + +"How many are they?" + +"Maybe a dozen; I don't just know. I saw eight, or ten, round the +bunk-house, besides ol' Mendez an' that dude lieutenant of his, Juan +Cateras. I ain't got no use fer that duck; I allers did want ter soak +him. Then ther' was others out with the cow herd." + +"They had a bunch o' cattle?" + +"Maybe three hundred head, run in from Arizona. I heard that much, but +I don't talk their lingo." + +"What was done with the young lady?" + +Moore spat vindictively into the sand, digging a hole with his heel. +He had talked already more than he intended, but what was the +difference? + +"Cateras took her," he admitted, "but I don't know whar. I rather +liked that girl; she's got a hell ov a lot o' sand, an' never put up a +whimper. I tried ter find out whar she was, but nobody'd tell me. +Then I had ter pull out." + +Westcott interjected a question. + +"Did you learn if there was any other prisoner there?" + +"Not that I heard of. Who do yer mean?" + +"A man named Cavendish." + +"No, I reckon not." He turned back to the marshal. + +"What are you guys goin' ter do with me?" + +"That depends, Matt. When a lad is straight with me, I generally play +square with him. All this took place in Sunken Valley?" + +"Yep; whar'd you hear it called that?" + +"Oh, I know more'n some ov you boys think I do. That name's been +floatin' 'bout fer some time. I've even got the spot located--it's +straight south thar a ways. But you've been in it, an' I never have. +Here's whar you can serve the law, an' so get out of yer own trouble if +yer so minded. It don't make a hell ov a lot o' difference to me +whether yer speak up or not, but it's liable to ter you. What do yer +say?" + +"Fire away; I reckon I'm up against it anyhow." + +"What's the valley like, an' how do you get into it?" + +"Well, I'd say it was just a sort o' sink in the desert, a kinder +freak. Anyhow, I never saw nuthin' like it afore. You'd never know it +was thar a hundred yards away; it kinder scares me sometimes when I +come up to it thro' all this sand. The walls is solid rock, almost +straight up an' down, but thar's a considerable stream flowin' down +thar that just bursts out a hole in the rock, an' plenty o' grass fer +quite a bunch of steers." + +"How do they get down into it?" + +"'Long a windin' trail on the west side. It used to be mighty rough, I +reckon, an' only good fer hikers, but they fixed it up so they can +drive cattle down, an' even a wagon if yer take it easy." + +"Mendez fixed it?" + +"No; I heerd that Bill Lacy sorter handled that job. The Mex can't do +nuthin' but steal." + +"Then Lacy is the go-between? He sells the cattle?" + +"Sure; I s'posed yer knew that. He ships them east from Bolton +Junction, an' pretends they come from his ranch over on Clear Water. +The Mexicans drive 'em in that way, an' they're all branded 'fore they +leave the valley. It's a cinch." + +The marshal's eyes brightened; he was gaining the information he most +desired. + +"And there is no other way to the bottom except along this trail?" + +"That's 'bout all." + +"Well, could Jim and I make it--say after dark?" + +Moore laughed, the reckless boy in him again uppermost. + +"Mebbe so; but I reckon ye'd be dead when yer got thar. Thar's allers +two Mexes on guard when Mendez is in the valley. He ain't takin' no +chances o' gettin' caught that way." + +"Where are they?" + +"Just below the top, whar they kin see out over the desert. Hell, yer +couldn't get within half a mile an' not be spotted. It's bull luck yer +run inter me." + +Brennan and Westcott looked at each other, both uncertain as to the +next step. What were they to do with their prisoner? And how could +they proceed toward effecting the rescue of the helpless girl? It was +a problem not easy to solve, if what Moore told them was true. The +latter shuffled his feet in the sand, lifted his eyes shrewdly, and +studied the faces of his captors. He was figuring his own chance. + +"You fellows want ter get down inter the valley?" he asked at last. + +"Yes," and Brennan turned again quickly, "if it can be done. Of course +thar's only two of us, an' it would be sort o' foolish tryin' ter fight +a way through, even ag'in' Mexicans. Fifteen ter two is some odds, but +'tain't in my nature, or Jim's here, ter turn round an' leave that girl +in the hands o' them cusses--is it, Jim?" + +"I never will," replied Westcott earnestly. "Not if I have to tackle +the whole outfit alone." + +"You won't never have to do that. What's the idea, Moore?" + +"Oh, I was just thinkin'," he answered, still uncertain. "She's a good +fellow, all right, an' I wouldn't mind givin' her a hand myself, +pervidin' you men do the square thing. If I show yer a way, what is +thar in it fer me?" + +Brennan stiffened, his features expressing nothing. + +"What do yer mean? I'm an officer o' the law?" + +"I know it; I ain't asking yer ter make no promise. But yer word will +go a hell ov a ways if this ever gets in court. + +"If I help yer I've got ter be protected frum Bill Lacy. He'd kill me +as quick as he'd look at me. Then I'd want yer ter tell the judge how +it all happened. If yer got the cards stacked, an' I reckon yer have, +I ain't big enough fool to try an' play no hand against 'em. But I +want ter know what's goin' ter happen ter me. You don't need ter +promise nuthin'; only say yer'll give me a show. I know ye're square, +Dan Brennan, an' whatever yer say goes." + +The marshal stuck out his hand. + +"That's the gospel truth, Matt," he said gravely, "an' I'm with yer +till the cows come home. What is it you know?" + +"Well," with a quick breath as he took the plunge, "it's like this, +marshal; there is just one place out yonder," and he waved his hand to +indicate the direction, "on the east rim o' the valley, where yer might +get down. Ye'd have ter hang on, tooth an' toe-nail; but both of yer +are mountain men, an' I reckon yer could make the trip if yer took it +careful an' slow like. Leastwise that's the one chance, an' I don't +believe thar's another white critter who even knows thar is such a +trail." + +"Have you ever been down?" + +"Wunst, an' that was enough fer me," he confessed, drawling his words. +"Yer see it was this a-way. One time I was out there in that hell hole +plum' alone fer a whole week, just a waitin' fer Mendez ter show up so +I could ride into Haskell and tell Lacy he'd come. It was so damn +lonesome I explored every nook an' cranny between them rocks, an' one +day, lyin' out in front o' ther bunk-house, I happened to trace this +ol' trail. I got a notion to give it a trial, an' I did that same +afternoon. I got down all right, but it was no place fer a lady, +believe me, an' I reckon no white man ever made it afore." + +"It had been used once?" + +"There was some signs made me think so; Injuns, I reckon, an' a long +while ago." + +Westcott asked: "How can we get there safely? Can you guide us?" + +Moore swept his eyes over the dull range of sand, expectorated +thoughtfully, and rammed his hands deep into his trouser-pockets. He +was slow about answering, but the two men waited motionless. + +"If it was me," he said finally. "I'd take it on foot. It'll be a +jaunt ov near on to three miles, unless yer want ter risk bein' seen by +them Mexes on the main trail. You couldn't go straight, but would have +ter circle out an' travel mostly behind that ridge o' sand thar to the +left. Goin' that a-way nobody's likely ter get sight o' yer on foot. +You couldn't take no hoss, though. Here'd be my plan; lead this yere +outfit o' mine an' your ponies back inter them sand dunes whar nobody +ever goes. They're tired 'nough ter stand, an' there ain't anything +fer 'em to graze on. Then we kin hoof it over ter the place I'm +tellin' yer about, an' yer kin sorter size it up fer yerselves. That's +fair, ain't it?" + +They went at it with a will, glad to have something clearly defined +before them, Brennan in his slow, efficient way, but Westcott, eager +and hopeful, spurred on by his memory of the girl, whose rescue was the +sole object which had brought him there. The team was driven into the +security of the sand drifts and unhitched. The saddles were taken from +the backs of the ponies, and what grain Moore had in the wagon was +carefully apportioned among the four animals. Satisfied these would +not stray, the men looked carefully to their supply of ammunition and +set forth on their tramp. + +This proved a harder journey than either Brennan or Westcott had +anticipated, for Moore led off briskly, taking a wide circle, until a +considerable ridge concealed their movements from the south. The sand +was loose, and in places they sank deeply, their feet sliding back and +retarding progress. All three were breathing heavily from the exertion +when, under protection of the ridge, they found better walking. + +Even here, however, the way was treacherous and deceiving, yet they +pressed forward steadily, following the twists and turns of the pile of +sand on their right. The distance seemed more than three miles, but at +last Moore turned sharply and plunged into what resembled a narrow +ravine through the ridge. Here they struggled knee deep in the sand, +but finally emerged on the very rim overlooking the valley. + +So perfectly was it concealed they were within ten feet of the edge +before the men, their heads bent in the strenuous effort to advance, +even realised its immediate presence. They halted instantly, +awestruck, and startled into silence by the wonder of that scene +outspread below. Moore grinned as he noted the surprise depicted on +their faces, and waved his hand. + +"Yer better lie down an' crawl up ter the edge," he advised. "Some +hole, ain't it?" + +"I should say so," and Westcott dropped to his knees. "I never dreamed +of such a place. Why it looks like a glimpse into heaven from this +sand. Dan, ain't this an eye-opener?" + +"It sure is," and the marshal crept cautiously forward. "Only it's +devils who've got possession. Look at them cattle up at the further +end; they don't look no bigger than sheep, but there's quite a bunch of +'em. What's that down below, Matt? Houses, by Jingo! Well, don't +that beat hell?--all the comforts of home." + +"Two big cabins," explained Moore, rather proud of his knowledge. +"Carted the logs in from ol' Baldy, more'n forty miles. One is the +bunk-house; the other is whar Mendez stops when the ol' cuss is yere. +Creep up a bit an' I'll show yer how the trail runs. Don't be afeerd; +nobody kin see yer from down below." + +"All right, son, where is it?" + +"It starts at the foot o' that boulder," indicating with his finger, +"an' goes along the shelf clear to the end; then thar's a drop ov maybe +five feet to that outcroppin' o' rock just below. It's wider than it +looks to be from yere. After that yer can trace it quite a spell with +yer eyes, kinder sidlin' ter the left, till yer come to that dead root +ov a cedar. Then thar's a gap or two that ain't over easy, an' a slide +down ter another shelf. Yer can't miss it, cause there's no other way +ter go." + +"And what's at the bottom?" + +"Them huts, an' the mouth of a damn big cave just behind 'em. I reckon +it's in the cave they've got the gal; there's places there they kin +shut up, but I don't know what they was ever made fer. I asked Lacy +wunst, but he only laughed." + +The two men lay flat, staring down. It was almost a sheer wall, and +the very thought of climbing along the almost impassable path pointed +out by Moore made Westcott dizzy. He had clambered along the ragged +crags of many a mountain in search for gold, but the necessity of +finding blindly in the dark that obscure and perilous passage brought +with it a sensation of horror which he had to fight in order to +conquer. It was such a sheer, precipitous drop, a path--if path it +could be called--so thickly studded with danger the mind actually +recoiled in contemplation. + +"You have really been down there, Moore?" he questioned, half +unbelieving. + +"Oh, I made it all right," boastfully. "But it's no picnic. I'd hate +like hell to risk it at night, but that's the only chance you fellows +will have to git down. It would be like trap-shootin' for them Mexes +if you tried it now." + +They lay there for some time talking to each other, and staring down at +the strange scene so far beneath them, and which appeared almost like a +painted picture within its dark frame of towering rocks and wide +expanse of sand. Except for the rather restless herd of cattle there +was little movement perceptible--a herder or two could be distinguished +riding here and there on some duty; there was a small horse corral a +short distance to their right, with something like a dozen ponies +confined within, and a bunch of saddles piled outside the fence. Once +a man came out of the bunk-house and went down to the stream for a +bucket of water, returning leisurely. He wore the braided jacket and +high, wide-brimmed hat of the Mexican peon, and spurs glittered on his +boot-heels. Beyond this the cabins below gave no sign of occupancy. +Moore pointed out to them the main trail leading across the valley and +winding up along the front of the opposite wall. They could trace it a +large part of the way, but it disappeared entirely as it approached the +summit. + +The three men, wearied with looking, and knowing there was nothing more +to do, except wait for night, crept back into the sand hollow and +nibbled away at the few eatables brought with them in their pockets. +Brennan alone seemed cheerful and talkative--Moore had liberally +divided with him his stock of chewing-tobacco. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI: WITH FORCE OF ARMS + +They were still sitting there cross-legged in the sand when the silence +was suddenly punctuated by the sharp report of a revolver. The sound +barely reached their ears, yet it undoubtedly came from below, and all +three were upon their feet, when a second shot decided the matter. + +Westcott was first at the rim, staring eagerly downward. It was +growing dusk down there in the depths, yet was still light enough to +enable him to perceive movement, and the outlines of the cabins. For a +moment all he noticed was a man lying on the ground in front of the +small hut, but almost immediately men began to swarm out through the +door of the bunk-house, and a horseman came spurring from the field +beyond. + +The men were armed, several with guns in their hands; all with +revolvers buckled at the waist, and they bunched there, just outside +the door, evidently startled, but not knowing which way to turn. The +figure on the ground lifted itself partly, and the fellow must have +called to the others, although no sound of a voice attained the summit +of the cliff, for the whole gang rushed in that direction, and +clustered about, gesticulating excitedly. + +An occasional Spanish oath exploded from the mass with sufficient +vehemence to reach the strained ears above, and the watchers were able +to perceive the fellows lift the fallen man to his feet, and untie his +hands, which were apparently secured behind his back. He must have +been wounded also, for one sleeve was hastily rolled up, and water +brought from the stream, in which it was bathed. Not until this had +been attended to did the crowd fall away, sufficiently to permit the +fellow himself to be distinctly seen. Moore's hand closed convulsively +on the marshal's arm. + +"It's ol' Mendez, as I'm a livin' sinner,", he announced hoarsely. +"An' somebody's plunked him. What'd yer make o' that?" + +Brennan never removed his gaze from the scene below, but his face was +tense with interest. + +"Blamed if I know; might be a mere row--hold on, there! Whoever did it +is in that cabin; watch what they're up to, now." + +The three hung there scanning every movement of those below, too +intently interested to talk, yet unable for some time to determine +clearly what was impending. Occasionally the sound of a voice reached +them, shouting orders in Spanish, and men came and went in obedience to +the commands. More guns were brought forth from the bunk-house, and +distributed; the single horseman rode swiftly up the valley, and a +half-dozen of the fellows lugged a heavy timber up from the corral, and +dropped it on the ground in front of the smaller cabin. Mendez, his +arm in a sling, passed from group to group, profanely busy, snapping +out orders. + +"They are going to break in the door with that log!" muttered Westcott +between his clenched teeth. "That white-head down there is boiling +with rage, and whoever the poor devil, or devils, may be, they'll have +to fight." + +"Yes, but who are they?" and Brennan sat up. "The whole gang must be +outside there; I counted fourteen. Then, did you notice? Mendez had +his hands bound behind his back. He couldn't even get up until those +fellows untied him. That's what puzzles me." + +"It would take more than one to do that job. Maybe we'll find out +now--he's pounding with a revolver butt on the front door." + +They listened breathlessly, hanging recklessly over the rim of the +chasm, and staring at that strange scene below, but the man's words +only reached them broken and detached. They got enough, however, to +realise that he demanded the unbarring of the door, and that he both +threatened and promised protection to whoever was within. It was the +language he employed that aroused Westcott. + +"Did you hear that?" he asked shortly. "The man spoke English. +Whoever's in there doesn't understand Spanish. Were any Americans down +there when you left, Moore?" + +"Joe Sikes, and a fellow they call 'Shorty,' but they're both outside; +that was Joe who bound up ol' Mendez's arm, an' Shorty was helpin' +bring up the log." + +The eyes of Brennan and Westcott met understandingly. + +"Yer don't suppose that girl----" + +"Aye, but I do," and Westcott's voice proved his conviction. "There's +nothing too nervy for her to tackle if it needed to be done. But she +never could have corralled Mendez alone." + +"Then there must be another along with her--that fellow yer told me +about likely." + +"Fred Cavendish! By Jove, it would be like him. Say, boys, I'm going +down and take a hand in this game." + +The marshal gripped him. + +"Not yet, Jim! It ain't dark enough. Wait a bit more an' I'm with +yer, old man. It'll be blacker than hell down there in fifteen +minutes, an' then we'll have some chance. They'd pot us now sure afore +we got as far as that cedar. What is the gang up to now, Matt?" + +"They're a goin' ter bust in the door," and Moore craned his head +farther out over the edge in eagerness to see. "I reckon they didn't +git no answer that pleased 'em. See ol' Mendez hoppin' about! Lord! +he's mad 'nough to eat nails. Thar comes the log--say, they hit that +some thump; thar ain't no wood that's goin' ter stand agin them blows +long. Do yer hear?" + +They did; the dull reverberation as the log butt crashed against the +closed door was plainly audible. Once, twice, three times it struck, +giving forth at last the sharper crackling of splintered wood. They +could see little now distinctly--only the dim outlines of the men's +figures, Mendez shouting and gesticulating, the fellows grasping the +rough battering-ram, a group of others on either side the door, +evidently gathered for a rush the moment the latter gave way. + +"My God!" cried Westcott, struggling to restrain himself. "Suppose I +take a crack at them!" + +Brennan caught the hand tugging at the half-drawn revolver. + +"Are you mad, man? You couldn't even hit the house at that distance. +Holy smoke! There she goes!" + +The door crashed in; there was a fusillade of shots, the spits of fire +cleaving the dusk, and throwing the figures of the men into sudden bold +relief. The log wielders sprang aside, and the others leaped forward, +yelling wildly and plunging in through the broken doorway. An instant +later three muffled reports rang out from the interior--one deep and +booming, the others sharper, more resonant--and the invaders tumbled +backward into the open, seeking shelter. Westcott was erect, Brennan +on hands and knees. + +"Damn me!" ejaculated the latter, his excitement conquering restraint. +"Whoever they are, Jim, they're givin' ol' Mendez his belly full. Did +yer hear them shots? There's sure two of 'em in thar--one's got a +shotgun an' the other a revolver. I'll bet yer they punctuated some o' +those lads. Lord! They come out like rats." + +Westcott's teeth gripped. + +"I'm going down," he said grimly, "if I have to go alone." + +Brennan scrambled to his feet. + +"Just a second, Jim, an' I'm with yer. Moore, get up yere. Now, what +do yer say? Can we count you in on this shindig?" + +"Go down thar with yer?" + +"Sure! Y're a man, ain't yer? If yer say y're game, I'll play +square--otherwise we'll see to your case afore we start. I don't leave +yer up yere to play no tricks--now which is it?" + +Moore stared over the edge into the black depths. + +"Yer want me to show you the way?" + +"Yer say you've made the trip wunst. If yer have, yer kin do it again. +I'm askin' yer fer the last time." + +The boy shivered, but his jaw set. + +"I don't give a damn fer you, Dan Brennan," he returned half angrily, +"but I reckon that might be the girl down thar, an' I'll risk it fer +her." + +"You'll go then?" + +"Sure; didn't I just tell you so?" + +Brennan wheeled about. + +"Give him his gun, Jim, and the belt," he commanded briefly. "I don't +send no man into a fracas like this unless he's heeled. Leave yer +coats here, an' take it slow. Both of yer ready?" + +Not until his dying day will Westcott ever forget the moment he hung +dangling over the edge of that pit, following Moore who had +disappeared, and felt gingerly in the darkness for the narrow rock +ledge below. The young miner possessed imagination, and could not +drive from memory the mental picture of those depths beneath; the +horror was like a nightmare, and yet the one dominant thought was not +of an awful death, of falling headlong, to be crushed shapeless +hundreds of feet below. This dread was there, an intense agony at +first, but beyond it arose the more important thought of what would +become of her if he failed to attain the bottom of that cliff alive. +Yet this was the very thing which steadied him, and brought back his +courage. + +At best they could only creep, feeling a way blindly from crag to crag, +clinging desperately to every projection, never venturing even the +slightest movement until either hand or loot found solid support. +Moore led, his boyish recklessness and knowledge of the way, giving him +an advantage. Westcott followed, keeping as close as possible, +endeavouring to shape his own efforts in accordance with the dimly +outlined form below; while Brennan, short-legged and stout, probably +had the hardest task of all in bringing up the rear. + +No one spoke, except as occasionally Moore sent back a brief whisper of +warning at some spot of unusual danger, but they could hear each +other's laboured breathing, the brushing of their clothing against the +surface of the rock, the scraping of their feet, and occasionally the +faint tinkle of a small stone, dislodged by their passage and striking +far below. There was nothing but intense blackness down there--a +hideous chasm of death clutching at them; the houses, the men, the +whole valley was completely swallowed in the night. + +Above it all they clung to the almost smooth face of the cliff, +gripping for support at every crevice, the rock under them barely wide +enough to yield purchase to their feet. Twice Westcott had to let go +entirely, trusting to a ledge below to stop his fail; once he travelled +a yard, or more, dangling on his hands over the abyss, his feet feeling +for the support beyond; and several times he paused to assist the +shorter-legged marshal down to a lower level. Their progress was that +of the snail, yet every inch of the way they played with death. + +Now and then voices shouted out of the gloom beneath them, and they +hung motionless to listen. The speech was Spanish garnished with +oaths, its meaning not altogether clear. They could distinguish +Mendez's harsh croak easily among the others. + +"What's he saying, Moore?" whispered Westcott to the black shape just +below. + +"Something 'bout the log. I don't just make it, but I reckon they aim +now to batter in the winder." + +"Well, go on," passed down the marshal gruffly. "What in Sam Hill are +yer holdin' us up yere for? I ain't got more'n two inches ter stand +on." + +Fifty feet below, just as Moore rounded the dead cedar, the guns began +again, the spits of red flame lighting up the outlines of the cabin, +and the dark figures of men. It was as though they looked down into +the pit, watching the brewing of some sport of demons--the movements +below them weird, grotesque--rendered horrible by those sudden glares +of light. This firing was all from without, and was unanswered; no +boom of shotgun replied, no muffled crack of revolver. Yet it must +have been for a purpose, for the men crouching against the cliff, their +faces showing ghastly in the flashes of powder, were able to perceive a +massing of figures below. Then the shots ceased, and the butt of the +great log crashed against something with the force of a catapult, and a +yell rolled up through the night. + +At last Moore stopped, and waited until Westcott was near enough for +him to whisper in the other's ear. + +"There's a drop yere, 'bout ten er twelve feet, I reckon; an' then just +a slope to ther bottom. Don't make no more noise then yer have to, an' +give me a chance ter git out of ther way afore yer let go." + +Westcott passed the word back across his shoulder to Brennan who was +panting heavily, and, watched, as best he could on hands and knees, +while Moore lowered himself at arm's length over the narrow rock ledge. +The boy loosened his grip, but landed almost noiselessly. Westcott, +peering over, could see nothing; there was beneath only impenetrable +blackness. Silently he also dropped and his feet struck earth, sloping +rapidly downward. Hardly had he advanced a yard, when the little +marshal struck the dirt, with a force that made him grunt audibly. At +the foot of this pile of debris, Moore waited for them, the night so +dark down there in the depths, Westcott's outstretched hand touched the +fellow before he was assured of his presence. + +The Mexicans were still; whatever deviltry they were up to, it was +being carried on now in silence; the only sound was a muffled scraping. +Brennan yet struggled for breath, but was eager for action. He shoved +his head forward, listening. + +"What do yer make o' that noise?" he asked, his words scarcely audible. + +"I heerd it afore yer come up," returned Moore. "'Tain't nuthin' +regular. I figure the Mex are goin' in through that winder they +busted. That sound's their boots scaling the wall." + +"Ever been inside?" + +"Wunst, ter take some papers ter Lacy." + +"Well, what's it like? For God's sake speak up--there's goin' ter be +hell to pay in a minute." + +"Thar's two rooms; ther outside door an' winder are in the front one, +which is the biggest. The other is whar Mendez sleeps, an' thar's a +door between 'em." + +"No windows in the rear room?" + +"None I ever see." + +"And just the one door; what sort o' partition?" + +"Just plain log, I reckon." + +"That's all right, Jim," and Westcott felt the marshal's fingers grasp +his arm. "I got it sized up proper. Whoever them folks be, they've +barricaded inter that back room. Likely they've got a dead range on +the front door, an' them Mexes have had all they want tryin' to get to +'em in that way. So now they're crawlin' in through the window. +There'll be some hellabaloo in there presently to my notion, an' I want +ter be thar ter see the curtain go up. Wharabouts are we, Matt?" + +"Back o' the bunk-house. Whar do yer want ter go? I kin travel 'round +yere with my eyes shut." + +"The front o' Mendez's cabin," said the marshal shortly. "Better take +the other side; if that door is down we'll take those fellows in the +rear afore they know what's happening." He chuckled grimly. "We've +sure played in luck so far, boys; go easy now, and draw yer guns." + +They were half-way along the side wall when the firing began--but it +was not the Mexicans this time who began it. The shotgun barked; there +was the sound of a falling body; two revolver shots and then the sharp +ping of a Winchester. Brennan leaped past the boy ahead, and rounded +the corner. A Mexican stood directly in front of the shattered door +peering in, a rifle yet smoking in his hands. With one swift blow of a +revolver butt the marshal dropped him in his tracks, the fellow rolling +off the steps onto the ground. With outstretched hands he stopped the +others, holding them back out of any possible view from within. + +"Quick now, before that bunch inside gets wise to what's up. We've got +'em cornered. You, Matt, strip the jacket off that Mex, an' get his +hat; bunch 'em up together, and set a match to 'em. That's the stuff! +Now, the minute they blaze throw 'em in through that doorway. Come on, +Westcott, be ready to jump." + +The hat was straw, and the bundle of blazing material landed almost in +the centre of the floor, lighting up the whole interior. Almost before +it struck, the three men, revolvers gleaming in their hands, had leaped +across the shattered door, and confronted the startled band huddled in +one corner. Brennan wasted no time, his eyes sweeping over the array +of faces, revealed by the blaze of fire on the floor. + +"Hands up, my beauties--every mother's son of yer. Yes, I mean you, +yer human catapiller. Don't waste any time about it; I'm the caller +fer this dance. Put 'em up higher, less yer want ter commit suicide. +Now drop them rifles on the floor--gently, friends, gently. Matt, +frisk 'em and see what other weapons they carry. Ever see nicer bunch +o' lambs, Jim?" His lips smiling, but with an ugly look to his +gleaming teeth, and steady eyes. "Why they'd eat outer yer hand. +Which one of yer is Mendez?" + +"He dead, _senor_," one fellow managed to answer in broken English. +"That heem lie dar." + +"Well, that's some comfort," but without glancing about. "Now kick the +guns over this way, Matt, and touch a match to the lamp on that shelf +yonder; and, Jim, perhaps you better stamp out the fire; we'll not need +it any more. Great Scott! What's this?" + +It was Miss Donovan, her dress torn, her hair dishevelled, a revolver +still clasped in her hand, half levelled as though she yet doubted her +realisation of what had occurred. She emerged from the blackness of +the rear room, advanced a step and stood there hesitating, her +wide-open eyes gazing about in bewilderment on the strange scene +revealed by the glow of the lamp. That searching, pathetic glance +swept from face to face about the motionless circle--the cowed Mexican +prisoners with uplifted hands backed against the wall; the three dead +bodies huddled on the floor; Moore, with the slowly expiring match yet +smoking in his fingers; the little marshal, erect, a revolver poised in +either hand, his face set and stern. Then she saw Westcott, and her +whole expression changed. An instant their eyes met; then the revolver +fell to the floor unnoticed, and the girl sprang toward him, both hands +outstretched. + +"You!" she cried, utterly giving way, forgetful of all else except the +sense of relief the recognition brought her. "You! Oh! Now I know it +is all right! I was so sure you would come." + +He caught the extended hands eagerly, drawing her close, and looking +straight down into the depths of her uplifted eyes. To him, at that +moment, there was no one else in the room, no one else in the wide, +wide world. + +"You knew I would come?" he echoed. "You believed that much in me?" + +"Yes; I have never had a doubt. I told him so; that if we could only +hold out long enough we would be saved. But," her lips quivered, and +there were tears glistening in the uplifted eyes, "you came too late +for him." + +"For him? The man who was with you, you mean? Has he been shot?" + +She bent her head, the lips refusing to answer. + +"Who was he?" + +"Mr. Cavendish--oh!" + +It was a cry of complete reaction; the room reeled about her and she +would have fallen headlong had not Westcott clasped the slender form +closely in his arms. An instant he stood there gazing down into her +face. Then he turned toward Brennan. + +"Leave us alone, Dan," he said simply. "Get that gang of blacklegs out +of here." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII: IN THE TWO CABINS + +The marshal's lips smiled. + +"Sure, Jim," he drawled, "anything to oblige, although this is a new +one on me. Come on, Matt; it seems the gentleman does not wish to be +disturbed---- Well, neither would I under such circumstances. Here +you! line up there in single file, and get a move on you--pronto! Show +'em what I mean, Matt; put that guy that talks English at the head---- +Yes, he's the one. Now look here, _amigo_, you march straight out +through that door, and head for the bunk-house--do you get that?" + +"_Si, senor_; I savvy!" + +"Well, you better; tell those fellows that if one of 'em makes a break +he's goin' ter be a dead Mex--will yer? Get to the other side of them, +Matt; now step ahead--not too fast." + +Westcott watched the procession file out, still clasping the partially +unconscious girl in his arms. Moore, bringing up the rear, disappeared +through the entrance, and vanished into the night without. Except for +the three motionless bodies, they were alone. The lamp on the high +shelf flared fitfully in the wind, and the charred embers on the floor +exhibited a glowing spark of colour. From a distance Brennan's voice +growled out a gruff order to his line of prisoners. Then all was +still. The eyes of the girl opened slowly, her lids trembling, but as +they rested on Westcott's face, she smiled. + +"You are glad I came?" + +"Glad! Why I never really knew what gladness meant before." + +He bent lower, his heart pounding fiercely, strange words struggling +for utterance. + +"You love me?" + +She looked at him, all the fervent Irish soul of her in her eyes. Then +one arm stole upward to his shoulder. + +"As you love me," she whispered softly, "as you love me!" + +"I can ask no more, sweetheart," he breathed soberly, and kissed her. +At last she drew back, still restrained by his arms, but with her eyes +suddenly grave and thoughtful. + +"We forget," she chided, "where we are. You must let me go now, and +see if he is alive. I will wait on the bench, here." + +"But you said he had been killed." + +"I do not know; there was no time for me to be sure of that. The shot +struck him here in the chest, and when he fell he knocked me down. I +tore open his shirt, and bound up the wound hastily; it did not bleed +much. He never spoke after that, and lay perfectly still." + +"Poor old Fred. I'll do what I can for him--I'll not be away a minute, +dear." + +He could see little from the doorway, only the dark shadow of a man's +form lying full length on the floor. To enter he pushed aside the +uptilted bed, picking up the shotgun, and setting it against the log +wall. Then he took the lamp down from the shelf, and held it so the +feeble light fell upon the upturned face. He stared down at the +features thus revealed, unable for the moment to find expression for +his bewilderment. + +"Can you come here, dear?" he called. + +She stood beside him, gazing from his face into those features on which +the rays of the lamp fell. + +"What is it?" she questioned breathlessly. "Is he dead?" + +"I do not know; but that man is not Cavendish." + +"Not Cavendish! Why he told me that was his name; he even described +being thrown from the back platform of a train by that Ned Beaton; who +can he be, then?" + +"That is more than I can guess; only he is not Fred Cavendish. Will +you hold the lamp until I learn if he is alive?" + +She took it in trembling hands, supporting herself against the wall, +while he crossed the room, and knelt beside the motionless figure. A +careful examination revealed the man's wound to be painful though not +particularly serious, Westcott carefully redressed the wound as best he +could, then with one hand he lifted the man's head and the motion +caused the eyelids to flutter. Slowly the eyes opened, and stared up +into the face bending over him. The wounded man breathed heavily, the +dull stare in his eyes changing to a look of bewildered intelligence. + +"Where am I?" he asked thickly. "Oh, yes, I remember; I was shot. Who +are you?" + +"I am Jim Westcott; do you remember me?" + +The searching eyes evidenced no sense of recollection. + +"No," he said, struggling to make the words clear. "I never heard that +name before." + +Miss Donovan came forward, the lamp in her hand, the light shining full +in her face. + +"But you told me you were Mr. Cavendish," she exclaimed, "and Mr. +Westcott was an old friend of his--surely you must remember?" + +He looked up at her, and endeavoured to smile, yet for the moment did +not answer. He seemed fascinated by the picture she made, as though +some vision had suddenly appeared before him. + +"I--I remember you," he said at last. "You--you are Miss Donovan; I'll +never forget you; but I never saw this man before--I'm sure of that." + +"And I am equally convinced as to the truth of that remark," returned +Westcott, "but why did you call yourself Cavendish?" + +"Because that is my name--why shouldn't I?" + +"Why, see here, man," and Westcott's voice no longer concealed his +indignation, "you no more resemble Fred Cavendish than I do; there is +not a feature in common between you." + +"Fred Cavendish?" + +"Certainly; of New York; who do you think we were talking about?" + +"I've had no chance to think; you jump on me here, and insist I'm a +liar, without even explaining what the trouble is all about. I claim +my name is Cavendish, and it is; but I've never once said I was Fred +Cavendish of New York. If you must know, I am Ferdinand Cavendish of +Los Angeles." + +Westcott permitted the man's head to rest back on the floor, and he +arose to his feet. He felt dazed, stunned, as though stricken a sudden +blow. His gaze wandered from the startled face of the motionless girl +to the figure of the man outstretched on the floor at his feet. + +"Good God!" he exclaimed. "What can all this mean? You came from New +York City?" + +"Yes; I had been there a month attending to some business." + +"And when you left for the coast, you took the midnight train on the +New York Central?" + +"Yes. I had intended taking an earlier one, but was delayed." + +"You bought return tickets at the station?" + +"No; I had return tickets; they had to be validated." + +"Then your name was signed to them; what is your usual signature?" + +"F. Cavendish." + +"I thought so. Stella, this has all been a strange blunder, but it is +perfectly clear how it happened. That man Beaton evidently had never +seen Frederick Cavendish. He was simply informed that he would leave +New York on that train. He met this Cavendish on board, perhaps even +saw his signature on the ticket, and cultivated his acquaintance. The +fellow never doubted but what he had the right man." + +The wounded man managed to lift himself upon one elbow. + +"What's that?" he asked anxiously. "You think he knocked me overboard, +believing I was some one else? That all this has happened on account +of my name?" + +"No doubt of it. You have been the victim of mistaken identity. So +have we, for the matter of that." + +He paused suddenly, overwhelmed by a swift thought. "But what about +Fred?" he asked breathless. + +Stella's hand touched his arm. + +"He--he must have been the dead man in the Waldron Apartments," she +faltered. "There is no other theory possible now." + +The marshal of Haskell came out of the bunk-house, and closed the door +carefully behind him. He was rather proud of his night's work, and +felt quite confident that the disarmed Mexicans locked within those +strong log walls, and guarded by Moore, with a loaded rifle across his +knee, would remain quiet until daylight. The valley before him was +black and silent. A blaze of light shone out through the broken door +and window of the smaller cabin, and he chuckled at remembrance of the +last scene he had witnessed there--the fainting girl lying in +Westcott's arms. Naturally, and ordinarily, Mr. Brennan was +considerable of a cynic, but just now he felt in a far more genial and +sympathetic mood. + +"Jim's some man," he confided to himself, unconsciously speaking aloud. +"An' the girl's a nervy little thing--almighty good lookin', too. I +reckon it'll cost me a month's salary fer a weddin' present, so maybe +the joke's on me." His mind reverted to Mendez. "Five thousand on the +old cuss," he muttered gloomily, "an' somebody else got the chance to +pot him. Well, by hooky, whoever it was sure did a good job--it was +thet shotgun cooked his goose, judgin' from the way his face was +peppered. Five thousand dollars--oh, hell!" + +His eyes followed the outline of the valley, able to distinguish the +darker silhouette of the cliffs outstanding against the sky sprinkled +with stars. Far away toward the northern extremity a dull red glow +indicated the presence of a small fire. + +"Herders," Brennan soliloquised, his thought instantly shifting. +"Likely to be two, maybe three ov 'em out there; an' then there's them +two on guard at the head o' the trail. I reckon they're wonderin' what +all this yere shootin' means; but 'tain't probable they'll kick up any +fuss yet awhile. We can handle them all right, if they do--hullo, +there! What's comin' now?" + +It was the thud of a horse's hoofs being ridden rapidly. Brennan +dropped to the ground, and skurried out of the light. He could +perceive nothing of the approaching rider, but whoever the fellow was +he made no effort at secrecy. He drove his horse down the bank and +into the stream at a gallop, splashed noisily through the water, and +came loping up the nearer incline. Almost in front of the bunk-house +he seemed suddenly struck by the silence and gleam of lights, for he +pulled his pony up with a jerk, and sat there, staring about. To the +marshal, crouching against the earth, his revolver drawn, horse and man +appeared a grotesque shadow. + +"Hullo!" the fellow shouted. "What's up? Did you think this was +Christmas Eve? Hey, there--Mendez; Cateras." + +The little marshal straightened up, and took a step forward; the light +from the cabin window glistened wickedly on the blue steel of his gun +barrel. + +"Hands up, Bill!" he said quietly, in a voice carrying conviction. +"None of that--don't play with me. Take your left hand an' unbuckle +your belt--I said the left. Now drop it into the dirt." + +"Who the hell are you?" + +"That doesn't make much difference, does it, as long as I've got the +drop?" asked the other genially. "But, if you must know to be +happy--I'm the marshal o' Haskell. Go easy, boy; you've seen me shoot +afore this, an' I was born back in Texas with a weapon in each hand. +Climb down off'n that hoss." + +Lacy did so, his hands above his head, cursing angrily. + +"What kind of a low-down trick is this, Brennan?" he snapped, glaring +through the darkness at the face of his captor. "What's become of +Pasqual Mendez? Ain't his outfit yere?" + +"His outfit's here all right, dead an' alive," and Brennan chuckled +cheerfully, "but not being no gospel sharp I can't just say whar ol' +Mendez is. What's left ov his body is in thet cabin yonder, so full o' +buckshot it ought ter weigh a ton." + +"Dead?" + +"As a door nail, if yer ask me. It was some nice ov yer ter come +ridin' long here ter-night, Lacy. It sorter helps me ter make a good, +decent clean-up ov this whole measly outfit. I reckon I'll stow yer +away, along with them others. Mosey up them steps there, an' don't +take no chances lookin' back." + +"I'll get you for this, Brennan." + +"Not if the Circuit Court ain't gone out o' business, you won't. I've +got yer cinched an' hog tied--here now; get in thar." + +He opened the door just wide enough for Lacy to pass, holding it with +one hand, his revolver ready and eager in the other. + +A single lamp lit the room dingily, revealing the Mexicans bunched on +the farther side, a number of them lying down. Moore sat on a stool +beside the door, a rifle in the hollow of his arm. He rose up as the +door opened, and grinned at sight of Lacy's face. + +"Well, I'll be dinged," he said. "What have we got here?" + +Brennan thrust his new prisoner forward. + +"Another one of yer ol' pals, Matt. You two ought ter have a lot ter +talk over, an' thar's six hours yet till daylight." + +The little marshal drew back, and closed the door. He heard the echo +of an oath, or two, within as he turned the key in the lock. Then he +straightened up and laughed, slapping his knee with his hand. + +"Well," he said at last, soberly. "I reckon my place will be about +yere till sun-up; thar might be some more critters like that +gallivantin' round in these parts--I hope Matt's enjoyin' himself." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII: THE REAL MR. CAVENDISH + +It was a hard, slow journey back across the desert. Moore's team and +wagon were requisitioned for the purpose, but Matt himself remained +behind to help Brennan with the prisoners and cattle, until the party +returning to Haskell could send them help. + +Westcott drove, with Miss Donovan perched beside him on the +spring-seat, and Cavendish lying on a pile of blankets beneath the +shadow of the canvas top. It became exceedingly hot as the sun mounted +into the sky, and once they encountered a sand storm, which so blinded +horses and driver, they were compelled to halt and turn aside from its +fury for nearly an hour. The wounded man must have suffered, yet made +no complaint. Indeed he seemed almost cheerful, and so deeply +interested in the strange story in which he had unconsciously borne +part, as to constantly question those riding in front for details. + +Westcott and Stella, in spite of the drear, dread monotony of those +miles of sand, the desolate barrenness of which extended about in every +direction, and, at last, weighed heavily upon their spirits, found the +ride anything but tedious. They had so much to be thankful for, +hopeful over: so much to say to each other. She described all that had +occurred during her imprisonment, and he, in turn, told the story of +what himself and Brennan had passed through in the search for her +captors. Cavendish listened eagerly to each recital, lifting his head +to interject a question of interest, and then dropping wearily back +again upon his blankets. + +They stopped to lunch at Baxter Springs, and to water the team; and it +was considerably after dark when they finally drove creaking up the +main street of Haskell and stopped in front of the Timmons House to +unload. The street was devoid of excitement, although the Red Dog was +wide open for business, and Westcott caught a glimpse of Mike busily +engaged behind the bar. A man or two passing glanced at them +curiously, but, possibly because of failure to recognise him in the +darkness, no alarm was raised, or any effort made to block their +progress. Without Lacy to urge them on, the disciples of Judge Lynch +had likely enough forgotten the whole affair. Timmons, hearing the +creak of approaching wheels, and surmising the arrival of guests, came +lumbering out through the open door, his face beaming welcome. Behind +him the vacant office stood fully revealed in the light of +bracket-lamps. + +As Westcott clambered over the wheel, and then assisted the lady to +alight, the face of the landlord was sufficiently expressive of +surprise. + +"You!" he exclaimed, staring into their faces doubtfully. "What the +Sam Hill does this mean?" + +"Only that we've got back, Timmons. Why this frigid reception?" + +"Well, this yere is a respectable hotel, an' I ain't goin' ter have it +all mussed up by no lynchin' party," the landlord's voice full of +regret. "Then this yere gal; she wrote me she'd gone back East." + +Westcott laughed. + +"Stow your grouch, old man, and give us a hand. There will be no +lynching, because Lacy is in the hands of the marshal. As to this +lady, she never sent you that note. She was abducted by force, and has +just escaped. Don't stand there like a fool." + +"But where did yer come from? This yere is Matt Moore's outfit." + +"From the Shoshone Desert, if you must know. I'll tell you the story +later. There's a wounded man under the canvas there. Come on, and +help me carry him inside." + +Timmons, sputtering but impotent to resist, took hold reluctantly, and +the two together bore the helpless Cavendish through the deserted +office and up the stairs to the second floor, where he was comfortably +settled and a doctor sent for. The task was sufficiently strenuous to +require all the breath Timmons possessed, and he managed to repress his +eager curiosity until the wounded man had been attended to. Once in +the hall, however, and the door closed, he could no longer control +himself. + +"Now see yere, Jim Westcott," he panted, one hand gripping the +stair-rail. "I've got ter know what's up, afore I throw open this yere +hotel to yer free use this-away. As a gineral thing I ain't 'round +huntin' trouble--I reckon yer know that--but this yere affair beats me. +What was it yer said about Bill Lacy?" + +"He's under arrest, charged with cattle-stealing, abduction, +conspiracy, and about everything else on the calendar. Brennan's got +him, and likewise the evidence to convict." + +"Good Lord! Is that so!" + +"It is; the whole Mendez gang has been wiped out. Old Mendez has been +killed. The rest of the outfit, including Juan Cateras, are prisoners." + +Timmons's eyes were fairly popping out of his head, his voice a mere +thread of sound. + +"Don't that beat hell!" he managed to articulate. "Where's the +marshal?" + +"Riding herd at a place they call Sunken Valley, about fifty miles +south of here. He and Moore have got ten or twelve Mexicans, and maybe +three hundred head of cattle to look after, until I can send somebody +out there to help him bring them in. Now that's all you need to know, +Timmons; but I've got a question or two I want to ask you. Come on +back into the office." + +Miss Donovan sat in one of the chairs by the front window waiting. As +they entered she arose to her feet. + +Westcott crossed the room and took her hand. + +"He's all right," he assured her quickly, interpreting the question in +her eyes. "Tired from the trip, of course, but a night's rest will do +wonders. And now, Timmons," he turned to the bewildered landlord, "is +that man Enright upstairs?" + +"The New York lawyer? No, he got frightened and left. He skipped out +the next day after you fellers got away. Bill wanted him to go along +with him, but he said he was too sick. Then he claimed to have a +telegram callin' him East, but he never did. I reckon he must 've got +cold feet 'bout somethin'--enyhow he's gone." + +"And Miss La Rue?" + +"Sure; she took the same train," eager now to divulge all he knew. +"But that ain't her real name--it's a kind o' long name, an' begins +with C. I saw it in a letter she left up-stairs, but I couldn't make +it all out. She's married." + +The eyes of Westcott and Miss Donovan met. Here was a bit of strange +news--the La Rue woman married, and to a man with a long name beginning +with C. The same thought occurred to them both, yet it was evidently +useless to question Timmons any longer. He would know nothing, and +comprehend less. The girl looked tired, completely worn out, and the +affair could rest until morning. + +"Take Miss Donovan to a room," Westcott said shortly, "and I'll run +up-stairs and have another look at Cavendish." + +"At who?" + +"Cavendish, the wounded man we just carried in." + +"Well, that's blamed funny. Say, I don't remember ever hearin' that +name before in all my life till just now. Come ter think of it, I +believe that was the name in that La Rue girl's letter. I got it yere +in the desk; it's torn some, an' don't mean nothin' to me; sounds +kinder nutty." He threw open a drawer, rummaging within, but without +pausing in speech, "Then a fellow blew in yere this mornin' off the +Limited, asking about you, Jim, an' danged if I don't believe he said +his name was Cavendish. The register was full so he didn't write it +down, but that was the name all right. And now you tote in another +one. What is this, anyhow--a family reunion?" + +"You say a man by that name was here--asking for me?" + +"Yep; I reckon he's asleep up-stairs, for he never showed up at supper." + +"In what room, Pete?" + +"Nine." + +Westcott, with a swift word of excuse to Stella, dashed into the hall, +and disappeared up the stairway, taking three steps at a time. A +moment later those below heard him pounding at a door; then his voice +sounded: + +"This is Jim Westcott; open up." + +Timmons stood gazing blankly at the empty stair-case, mopping his face +with a bandanna handkerchief. Then he removed his horn-rimmed +spectacles, and polished them, as though what mind he possessed had +become completely dazed. + +"Well, I'll be jiggered," he confessed audibly. "What's a comin' now, +I wonder?" + +He turned around and noticed Miss Donovan, the sight of her standing +there bringing back a reminder of his duty. + +"He was a sayin' as how likely yer wanted to go to bed, Miss." + +"Not now; I'll wait until Mr. Westcott comes down. What is that paper +in your hand? Is that the letter Miss La Rue left?" + +He held it up in surprise, gazing at it through his glasses. + +"Why, Lord bless me--it is, isn't it? Must have took it out o' ther +drawer an' never thought of the darned thing agin." + +"May I see it?" + +"Sure; 'tain't o' no consequence ter me; I reckon the woman sorter +packed in a hurry, and this got lost. The Chink found it under the +bed." + +She took it in her hand, and crossed the room, finding a seat beneath +one of the bracket-lamps, but with her face turned toward the hall. It +was just a single sheet of folded paper, not enclosed in an envelope, +and had been torn across, so that the two parts barely held together. +She stared at it for a moment, almost motionless, her fingers nervously +moving up and down the crease, as though she dreaded to learn what was +within. She felt that here was the key which was to unlock the secret +of this strange crime. Whoever the man upstairs might prove to be--the +real Cavendish or some impostor--this paper she held in her hands was +destined to be a link in the chain. She unfolded it slowly and her +eyes traced the written words within. It was a hasty scrawl, written +on the cheap paper of some obscure hotel in Jersey City, extremely +difficult to decipher, the hand of the man who wrote exhibiting plainly +the excitement under which he laboured. + +It was a message of warning, he was leaving New York, and would sail +that evening for some place in South America, where he did not say. +Love only caused him to tell her what had occurred. A strange word +puzzled her, and before she could decipher it, voices broke the +silence, followed by steps on the stairs. She glanced up quickly; it +was Westcott returning, accompanied by a tall, rather slender man with +a closely-trimmed beard. The two crossed the room, and she met them +standing, the opened letter still in her hand. + +"Miss Donovan, this is Frederick Cavendish--the real Frederick +Cavendish. I have told him something of the trouble he has been to us +all." + +The real Frederick Cavendish smiled down into her eyes, while he held +her fingers tightly clasped in his own. She believed in him, liked him +instantly. + +"A trouble which I regret very much," he said humbly. "Westcott has +told me a little, a very little, of what has occurred since I left New +York so hurriedly two months ago. This is the first I knew about it, +and the mystery of the whole affair is as puzzling as ever." + +Her eyes widened wonderingly. + +"You cannot explain? Not even who the dead man was found murdered in +your apartments?" + +"I haven't the least idea." + +"Fred has told me all he knows," broke in Westcott "but it only extends +to midnight when he left the city. He was in his apartments less than +ten minutes after his valet retired. He supposed he left everything in +good order, with a note on the writing-table instructing Valois what to +do during his absence, and enclosing a sum of money. Afterward, on the +train, he discovered that he had mislaid the key to his safe but this +occasioned no worry, as he had taken with him all the cash it held, and +the papers were of slight importance." + +"But," she broke in impatiently, "where did he go? How did he escape +encountering Beaton and why did he fail to answer your message?" + +The eyes of the two men met, and they both smiled. "The very questions +I asked," replied Westcott instantly. "In the instructions left Valois +was a check for five thousand dollars made to my order, to be forwarded +at once. Fred's destination was Sonora, Mexico, where he had some +large copper interests. He intended to look after these and return +here to Haskell within a week, or ten days. But the war in Mexico made +this impossible--once across the border he couldn't get back. He wrote +me, but evidently the letter miscarried." + +"And Beaton missed him entirely." + +"By pure luck. Fred phoned the New York Central for a lower to +Chicago, and they were all gone. Enright must have learned, in some +way, of his calling that office, and so informed Beaton, who took that +train. Later, from his own rooms, Cavendish secured accommodations on +the Pennsylvania." + +He paused, endeavouring to see out through the window, hearing the hoof +beats of an approaching team. + +"What's that, Pete?" he asked of Timmons, who was hovering as closely +as he dared. "Pretty late, isn't it?" + +"Guests, I reckon; the Overland was three hours late; sure, they're +stoppin' yere." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV: MISS DONOVAN DECIDES + +Two men came in through the door together, each with a small grip in +his hand, which Timmons took from them, and deposited beside the stove. +The larger wrote both names in the register, and then straightened up, +and surveyed the landlord. + +"Any chance to eat?" he asked. "We're both of us about starved." + +Timmons scratched his head. + +"I reckon there's plenty o' cold provender out thar," he said +doubtfully, "an' maybe I could hustle you up some hot coffee, but we +don't aim ter do no feedin' at this time o' night. What's the matter +with the diner?" + +"Hot box, and had to cut her off; be a good fellow, and hustle us up +something." + +"I'll see what there is," and Timmons started for the kitchen, "but I +wouldn't wake Ma Timmons up fer a thousand dollars. She'd never git +over it." + +The large man, a rather heavy-footed fellow, with scraggly grey +moustache, turned to his companion. + +"Better luck than I expected at that, Colgate," he said, restored to +good humour. "The old duffer seems to be quite human." + +His eyes caught sight of Cavendish, and hardened, the grizzly moustache +seeming to stiffen. His mouth was close to the ear of his companion, +and he spoke without moving his lips. + +"Our bird; stand ready." + +The three were talking earnestly, and he was standing before them +before any of the group marked his approach. His eyes were on +Cavendish, who instantly arose to his feet, startled by the man's +sudden appearance. + +"There is no use making a scene, Burke," the big man said sternly, "for +my partner there has you covered." + +"My name is not Burke; it is Cavendish." + +"So I heard in Denver," dryly. "We hardly expected to find you here, +for we were down on another matter So you are not Gentleman Tom Burke?" + +"No." + +"I know he is not," interposed Westcott. "I have been acquainted with +this man for nearly twenty years; he is a New York capitalist." + +"And who the hell are you--a pal?" the fellow sneered. "Now, see here, +both of you. I've met plenty of your kind before, and it is my +business not to forget a face. This man is under arrest," and he laid +a hand heavily on Cavendish's shoulder. + +"Under the name of Burke? On what charge?" + +"Robbery, at Poughkeepsie, New York; wanted also for burglary and +assault in Denver. My name is Roberts," he added, stiffly, "assistant +superintendent of the Pinkerton agency; the man with me is an operative +from the New York office." + +Cavendish glanced past Roberts toward Colgate, who stood with one hand +thrust in his side pocket. + +"You know this man Burke?" he asked. + +"I saw him once; that's why I was put on the case. You certainly gave +me some hot chase, Tom." + +"Some chase? What do you mean?" + +"Well, I've been on your trail ever since that Poughkeepsie job--let's +see, that was two months ago. You jumped first to New York City, and I +didn't really get track of you until the night of April 16. Then a +copper in the Pennsylvania depot, to whom I showed your picture, gave +me a tip that you'd taken a late train West. After that I trailed you +through Chicago, down into Mexico, and back as far as Denver. It +wasn't hard because you always signed the same name." + +"Of course; it's my own. You say you had a photograph of me?" + +"A police picture; here it is if you want to look at it--taken in +Joliet." + +Westcott grasped the sheet, and spread it open. It was Cavendish's +face clearly enough, even to the closely trimmed beard and the peculiar +twinkle in the eyes. Below was printed a brief description, and this +also fitted Cavendish almost exactly. + +"Well," said Roberts, none too pleasantly, "what have you got to say +now?" + +"Only this," and the miner squared his shoulders, looking the other +straight in the eyes. "This man is not Tom Burke, but I can tell you +where Tom Burke is." + +"Yes, you can?" + +"Yes, I can. I cannot only tell you, but I can prove it," he went on +earnestly. "This description says that Burke had a small piece clipped +out of one ear, and that he had a gold-crowned tooth in front, rather +prominent. This man's ears are unmarked, and his teeth are of the +ordinary kind." + +The two detectives exchanged glances and Roberts grinned sarcastically. + +"You'll have to do better than that," he said gruffly. "All right. Is +there any mention in that description of a peculiar and vivid scar on +the chest of this man Burke? It would be spoken about, if he had any, +wouldn't it?" + +"Sure; they never overlook them things." + +"Good; unbutton the front of your shirt, Fred." + +The two stared at the scar thus revealed, still incredulous, yet unable +to refute the evidence of its existence. Roberts touched it with his +fingers to better assure himself of its reality. + +"Darn it all," he confessed. "This beats hell." + +"It does," coincided Westcott. "This whole affair has been of that +kind. Now I'll tell you where Tom Burke is--he lies buried in the +Cavendish family lot in Brooklyn." + +He turned to Colgate, who stood with mouth half open. + +"You're from New York; ever hear of the Cavendish murder?" + +"Only saw a paragraph in the Chicago papers. It wasn't my case, and +the only thing that interested me was that the name happened to be the +same as assumed by the man I was following--why?" + +"Because this gentleman here is Frederick Cavendish, who was reported +as killed--struck down in his apartments on the night of April 16. +Instead he took the midnight flier West and you followed him. The dead +man was Tom Burke; wait a minute and I'll tell you the story--all I +know of it, at least." + +He told it rapidly, yet omitting no detail of any interest. The two +detectives, already half convinced of their mistake, listened +fascinated to the strange narrative; it was a tale of crime peculiarly +attractive to their minds; they could picture each scene in all its +colours of reality. As the speaker ended, Roberts drew in his breath +sharply. + +"But who slugged Burke?" he asked. "The fellow went in there after +swag; but who got him?" + +"That is the one question I can't answer," replied Westcott gravely, +"and neither can Fred. It doesn't seem to accord with the rest of our +theories. Enright told Lacy he didn't know who the dead man was, or +who killed him." + +Miss Donovan pushed her way in front of Cavendish, and faced the +others, her cheeks flushed with excitement, a paper clasped in one hand. + +"Perhaps I can help clear that up," she said clearly. "This is the +letter found under Miss La Rue's bed. I have read part of it. It was +written by Jack Cavendish just as he was taking a boat for South +America. It is not a confession," she explained, her eyes searching +their faces, "just a frightened boy's letter. I wouldn't understand it +at all if I didn't know so much about the case. What it seems to make +clear is this: The La Rue girl and Patrick Enright schemed to get +possession of the Cavendish property through her marriage to John; this +part of the programme worked out fairly well, but John could not get +hold of enough money to satisfy them. + +"Enright and the girl decided to put Frederick out of the way, but +lacked the nerve to commit murder--at least in New York. Their scheme +seems to have been to inveigle their victim away from the city, and +then help him to get killed through an accident. In that case the law +would award the entire estate to John. They never told John this plan, +but their constant demands for money fairly drove the young man to +desperation. + +"The making of the will, and the sudden proposed departure of Frederick +for the West, compelled immediate action, yet even then John was kept +largely in the dark as to what they proposed doing. All he knew was +that Frederick had made a will disinheriting him; that he left the +College Club with this document in his pocket, and intended later to +take a night train." + +She paused, turning the letter over in her hands, and the men seemed to +draw closer in the intensity of their interest. + +"Some of what I say I learned from this letter," she went on quietly, +"and some I merely deduce from the circumstances. I believe the boy +went home half mad, his only thought being to destroy that will. In +this state of mind, and fortified by drink, he stole later into +Frederick's apartments. I don't believe the boy actually intended to +murder his cousin, but he did intend to stun him with a blow from +behind, seize the paper, and escape unseen. It was a wild, +hare-brained project, but he was only a boy, half drunk, worked into +frenzy by Celeste La Rue. He got into the room--probably through the +bath-room window--unobserved, but after Frederick had departed. This +other man--Burke--was then at the table, running through the papers he +had taken from the safe, to see if any were of value. John, convinced +the man was his cousin, stole up behind him and struck him down. He +had no idea of the force of the blow delivered, and may even have left +the apartment without realising that the blow had been a fatal one. +Afterward there was nothing to do but keep still, and let matters take +their own course." + +"And what happened then?" + +"Naturally this: the La Rue woman wormed the truth out of him, and told +Enright. From that moment the boy was entirely in their hands. While +they remained in New York they helped him keep his nerve, but as soon +as he was left alone, he went entirely to pieces. He was no criminal, +merely a victim of circumstances. At last something happened to +frighten him into flight." + +The four men straightened up as her voice ceased speaking. Then +Roberts laughed, as though ashamed of the breathless interest he had +exhibited. + +"I guess she's got that doped out about right, Colgate," he said, +almost regretfully. "And it's clear enough that we are on the wrong +trail. Anyhow this man here isn't Tom Burke, although he would deceive +the very devil. What is it, landlord? Am I ready to eat? Just lead +the way, and I'll show you." He glanced about at the others. "Any of +you missed your supper? If so, we'd be glad to have your company." + +"I'll accept the invitation," returned Cavendish. "I was asleep +up-stairs, and failed to hear the bell. Perhaps you gentlemen can tell +me what steps I'd better take in a case like mine." + +The three passed out together, following the guidance of Timmons, and +as the sound of their voices subsided into a confused murmur, Westcott +glanced into the face beside him. + +"You must be very tired, dear." + +"I am tired, Jim," she said, "but I mustn't allow it. I have a big job +on hand. Farriss will want three thousand words of this and he'll want +it to-night so that he can scoop the town." + +"Scoop the town?" Westcott repeated. + +"Yes, that means my paper gets a story that no other paper gets. And +this Cavendish case is going to be my scoop. Will you walk with me +down to the station?" + +Big Jim Westcott nodded silently and took her arm in his and together +they went out into the night. + +Each stone, shrub, each dark frowning cliff reminded them of their +meeting, and silently, with their hearts full, they walked along until +a dilapidated box car hove into view, with one oil-lamp still burning, +twinkling evidence that Carson had not retired for the night; and as +they came abreast the door they found him dozing. + +"Wake up, Carson," cried Jim, tapping him on the shoulder, "wake up and +get ready to do a big job on the keys. And keep your ears open, too, +old timer, for it's interesting, every word of it--Miss Donovan is +going to tell a story." + +Carson rubbed his eyes, sat up, gave ample greeting, got up, lit +another lamp, and tested his wire. + +"East wire free as air, Jim," he said. "You can begin that there story +whenever you want." + +And so, weary as she was, and with nerves still high-pitched, Stella +Donovan began, slowly at first, until she got the swing of her "lead," +and then more rapidly; one after another the yellow sheets on which she +wrote were fed past Westcott's critical eyes and into the hands of +Carson, who operated his "bug" like a madman. + +An hour went past, an hour and a quarter--Stella Donovan was still +writing. An hour and a half. Westcott saw her face tensing under the +strain, saw it grow wan and white, and, reaching down he gripped the +fingers that clenched the pencil. + +"No more, Stella," he said firmly, "you've sent four thousand!" + +She looked at him tenderly. "Please, Jim," she begged, "just let me +add one more paragraph. It's the most important one of all." + +The miner released her hand and the girl wrote hurriedly, this time +passing the sheets direct to Carson. Heroically the station agent +stuck to his task, and as he tossed the first of the sheets aside, an +eddying wisp of wind caught it, danced it a moment on the table-top, +then slid it over under the very palm of big Jim Westcott's right hand. +Slowly he picked it up and read it. + +"So!" he said, with something strangely like a cry in his deep voice, +"so you've resigned from the _Star_, and you're going to stay in +Haskell?" + +The girl looked at him, her lips trembling. + +"I never want to be a lady reporter again," she whispered. "Never!" + +They were in the open doorway now, and through the lush, warm gloom a +belated light twinkled down in Haskell, slumbering like a bad child in +the gulch below. And as they stood there watching a fair young moon +making its first bow in a purple sky, their lips met in a long tender +kiss; when they lifted their eyes again it was to let them range over +the eternal misty hills with their hearts of gold in which lay the +future--their future. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRANGE CASE OF CAVENDISH*** + + +******* This file should be named 17647.txt or 17647.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/6/4/17647 + + + +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. 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