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diff --git a/27436-h/27436-h.htm b/27436-h/27436-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..67145ba --- /dev/null +++ b/27436-h/27436-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10755 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Brand Blotters, by William MacLeod Raine. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + @media screen { + hr.ppg-pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.ppg-pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.2em;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + div.la p {text-align: left; margin: auto 0;} + .caption {font-size:.8em;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.tb {width: 35%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .blockquot {margin:0.5em 5% 0.5em 5%;} + div.ra p {text-align: right; margin: auto 0;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.4em;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Brand Blotters, by William MacLeod Raine + +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: Brand Blotters + +Author: William MacLeod Raine + +Illustrator: Clarence Rowe + +Release Date: December 7, 2008 [EBook #27436] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRAND BLOTTERS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 345px; height: 544px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 345px;'> +“WHO ARE YOU?” “WATER!” HE GASPED. <i>Page 20.</i><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='font-size:2em; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:2em;'>BRAND BLOTTERS</p> +<p>BY</p> +<p style='font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:3em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE</span></p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>AUTHOR OF</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>WYOMING, BUCKY O’CONNOR, MAVERICKS,</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>A TEXAS RANGER, RIDGWAY OF</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:4em;'>MONTANA, <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Etc.</span></p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>ILLUSTRATIONS BY</p> +<p style='margin-bottom:4em;'>CLARENCE ROWE</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-emb.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 62px; height: 33px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style='font-size:1.2em;'>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +<p style='margin-bottom:2em;'>PUBLISHERS NEW YORK</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:3em;'>Made in the United States of America</p> +</div> + +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div class='ce' style='font-size:0.8em;'> +<p>Copyright, 1909, by <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>J. B. Lippincott Co.</span></p> +<p style='margin-bottom:1em;'>Copyright, 1911, by <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Street & Smith</span></p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Copyright, 1912, by</span></p> +<p style='margin-bottom:2em;'>G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY</p> +<p><i>Brand Blotters</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div class='ce'> +<p>TO</p> +<p>FRANK N. SPINDLER</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>In Memory of Certain Sunday Afternoon Tramps</p> +<p>Long Ago, During Which We Solved the</p> +<p>Problems of the Nation</p> +</div> + +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>CONTENTS</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> + <tr> + <td colspan="3"> + <p style='font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:1em; text-align:center;'>PART I<br />MELISSY OF THE BAR DOUBLE G</p> + </td></tr> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Crossed Trail</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_A_CROSSED_TRAIL'>11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Brand Blotting</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_BRAND_BLOTTING'>18</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>An Accusation</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_AN_ACCUSATION'>35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Man with the Chihuahua Hat</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_THE_MAN_WITH_THE_CHIHUAHUA_HAT'>49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Tenderfoot Takes up a Claim</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_THE_TENDERFOOT_TAKES_UP_A_CLAIM'>61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>”Hands Up”</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI__HANDS_UP'>75</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Watering Sheep</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_WATERING_SHEEP'>98</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Boone-Bellamy Feud is Renewed</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_THE_BOONEBELLAMY_FEUD_IS_RENEWED'>109</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Danger Line</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_THE_DANGER_LINE'>121</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Jack Goes to the Head of the Class</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_JACK_GOES_TO_THE_HEAD_OF_THE_CLASS'>141</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Conversation</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_A_CONVERSATION'>156</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Tenderfoot Makes a Proposition</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_THE_TENDERFOOT_MAKES_A_PROPOSITION'>163</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Old Acquaintances</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_OLD_ACQUAINTANCES'>182</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Concerning the Boone-Bellamy-Yarnell Feud</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_CONCERNING_THE_BOONEBELLAMYYARNELL_FEUD'>191</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> + <p style='font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:1em; text-align:center;'>PART II<br />Dead MAN’S CACHE</p> + </td></tr> + <tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> + </tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Kidnapped</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_KIDNAPPED'>199</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Capture</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_A_CAPTURE'>209</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Tables Turned</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_THE_TABLES_TURNED'>217</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Real Bucky and the False</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_THE_REAL_BUCKY_AND_THE_FALSE'>231</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Photograph</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_A_PHOTOGRAPH'>243</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>In Dead Man’s Cache</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_IN_DEAD_MAN_S_CACHE'>255</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“Trapped!”</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII__TRAPPED'>266</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>An Escape and a Capture</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_AN_ESCAPE_AND_A_CAPTURE'>276</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Bargain</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_A_BARGAIN'>286</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Price</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_THE_PRICE'>301</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Squire Latimer Takes a Hand</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_SQUIRE_LATIMER_TAKES_A_HAND'>306</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Taking of the Cache</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_THE_TAKING_OF_THE_CACHE'>322</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Melissy Entertains</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_MELISSY_ENTERTAINS'>334</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Black MacQueen Cashes his Checks</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_BLACK_MACQUEEN_CASHES_HIS_CHECKS'>340</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='font-size:1.4em; margin-top:1em;'>PART I</p> +<p style='font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>MELISSY OF THE BAR DOUBLE G</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span></div> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_A_CROSSED_TRAIL' id='I_A_CROSSED_TRAIL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>A CROSSED TRAIL</h3> +</div> + +<p>The tenderfoot rose from the ledge upon +which he had been lying and stretched +himself stiffly. The chill of the long night +had set him shivering. His bones ached from the +pressure of his body upon the rock where he had +slept and waked and dozed again with troubled +dreams. The sharpness of his hunger made him +light-headed. Thirst tortured him. His throat +was a lime-kiln, his tongue swollen till it filled his +mouth.</p> +<p>If the night had been bad, he knew the day would +be a hundred times worse. Already a gray light +was sifting into the hollow of the sky. The vague +misty outlines of the mountains were growing +sharper. Soon from a crotch of them would rise +a red hot cannon ball to pour its heat into the +parched desert.</p> +<p>He was headed for the Sonora line, for the hills +where he had heard a man might drop out of sight +of the civilization that had once known him. There +were reasons why he had started in a hurry, without +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +a horse or food or a canteen, and these same +reasons held good why he could not follow beaten +tracks. All yesterday he had traveled without +sighting a ranch or meeting a human being. But +he knew he must get to water soon—if he were +to reach it at all.</p> +<p>A light breeze was stirring, and on it there was +borne to him a faint rumble as of thunder. Instantly +the man came to a rigid alertness. Thunder +might mean rain, and rain would be salvation. +But the sound did not die away. Instead, it deepened +to a steady roar, growing every instant louder. +His startled glance swept the caņon that drove like +a sword cleft into the hills. Pouring down it, with +the rush of a tidal wave, came a wall of cattle, a +thousand backs tossing up and down as the swell +of a troubled sea. Though he had never seen one +before, the man on the lip of the gulch knew that +he was watching a cattle stampede. Under the impact +of the galloping hoofs the ground upon which +he stood quaked.</p> +<p>A cry diverted his attention. From the bed of +the sandy wash a man had started up and was running +for his life toward the caņon walls. Before +he had taken half a dozen steps the avalanche was +upon him, had cut him down, swept over him.</p> +<p>The thud of the hoofs died away. Into the open +desert the stampede had passed. A huddled mass +lay motionless on the sand in the track of the avalanche. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></p> +<p>A long ragged breath whistled through the closed +lips of the tenderfoot. He ran along the edge of +the rock wall till he found a descent less sharp, +lowered himself by means of jutting quartz and +mesquit cropping out from the crevices, and so +came through a little draw to the caņon.</p> +<p>He dropped on a knee beside the sprawling, huddled +figure. No second glance was needed to see +that the man was dead. Life had been trampled +out of him almost instantly and his features battered +beyond any possible recognition. Unused to +scenes of violence, the stranger stooping over him +felt suddenly sick. It made him shudder to remember +that if he could have found a way down +in the darkness he, too, would have slept in the +warm sand of the dry wash. If he had, the fate +of this man would have been his.</p> +<p>Under the doubled body was a canteen. The +trembling fingers of the tenderfoot unscrewed the +cork. Tipping the vessel, he drank avidly. One +swallow, a second, then a few trickling drops. The +canteen had been almost empty.</p> +<p>Uncovering, he stood bareheaded before the inert +body and spoke gently in the low, soft voice +one instinctively uses in the presence of the dead.</p> +<p>“Friend, I couldn’t save your life, but your water +has saved mine, I reckon. Anyhow, it gives me +another chance to fight for it. I wish I could do +something for you ... carry a message to +your folks and tell them how it happened.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span></p> +<p>He dropped down again beside the dead man and +rifled the pockets. In them he found two letters +addressed in an illiterate hand to James Diller, +Cananea, Sonora, Mexico. An idea flashed into his +brain and for a moment held him motionless while +he worked it out. Why not? This man was about +his size, dressed much like him, and so mutilated +that identification was impossible.</p> +<p>From his own pocket he took a leather bill book +and a monogrammed cigarcase. With a sharp stone +he scarred the former. The metal case he crushed +out of shape beneath the heel of his boot. Having +first taken one twenty dollar yellowback from the +well-padded book, he slipped it and the cigarcase +into the inner coat pocket of the dead man. Irregularly +in a dozen places he gashed with his knife +the derby hat he was wearing, ripped the band half +loose, dragged it in the dust, and jumped on it till +the hat was flat as a pancake. Finally he kicked +it into the sand a dozen yards away.</p> +<p>“The cattle would get it tangled in their hoofs +and drag it that far with them,” he surmised.</p> +<p>The soft gray hat of the dead man he himself +appropriated. Again he spoke to the lifeless body, +lowering his voice to a murmur.</p> +<p>“I reckon you wouldn’t grudge me this if you +knew. I’m up against it. If I get out of these +hills alive I’ll be lucky. But if I do—well, it won’t +do you any harm to be mistaken for me, and it +will accommodate me mightily. I hate to leave you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +here alone, but it’s what I’ve got to do to save myself.”</p> +<p>He turned away and plodded up the dry creek +bed.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>The sun was at the meridian when three heavily +armed riders drew up at the mouth of the caņon. +They fell into the restful, negligent postures of +horsemen accustomed to take their ease in the +saddle.</p> +<p>“Do you figure maybe he’s working up to the +headwaters of Dry Sandy?” one suggested.</p> +<p>A squat, bandy-legged man with a face of tanned +leather presently answered. “No, Tim, I expect not. +The way I size him up Mr. Richard Bellamy +wouldn’t know Dry Sandy from an irrigation ditch. +Mr. R. B. hopes he’s hittin’ the high spots for +Sonora, but he ain’t anyways sure. Right about +now he’s ridin’ the grub line, unless he’s made a +strike somewhere.”</p> +<p>The third member of the party, a lean, wide-shouldered, +sinewy youth, blue silk kerchief knotted +loosely around his neck, broke in with a gesture +that swept the sky. “Funny about all them buzzards. +What are they doing here, sheriff?”</p> +<p>The squat man opened his mouth to answer, but +Tim took the word out of his mouth.</p> +<p>“Look!” His arm had shot straight out toward +the caņon. A coyote was disappearing on the lope. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +“Something lying there in the wash at the bend, +Burke.”</p> +<p>Sheriff Burke slid his rifle from its scabbard. +“We’ll not take any chances, boys. Spread out far +as you can. Tim, ride close to the left wall. You +keep along the right one, Flatray. Me, I’ll take the +center. That’s right.”</p> +<p>They rode forward cautiously. Once Flatray +spoke.</p> +<p>“By the tracks there has been a lot of cattle down +here on the jump recently.”</p> +<p>“That’s what,” Tim agreed.</p> +<p>Flatray swung from his saddle and stooped over +the body lying at the bend of the wash.</p> +<p>“Crushed to death in a cattle stampede, looks +like,” he called to the sheriff.</p> +<p>“Search him, Jack,” the sheriff ordered.</p> +<p>The young man gave an exclamation of surprise. +He was standing with a cigarcase in one hand and +a billbook in the other. “It’s the man we’re after—it’s +Bellamy.”</p> +<p>Burke left his horse and came forward. “How +do you know?”</p> +<p>“Initials on the cigarcase, R. B. Same monogram +on the billbook.”</p> +<p>The sheriff had stooped to pick up a battered hat +as he moved toward the deputy. Now he showed +the initials stamped on the sweat band. “R. B. +here, too.”</p> +<p>“Suit of gray clothes, derby hat, size and weight +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +about medium. We’ll never know about the scar +on the eyebrow, but I guess Mr. Bellamy is identified +without that.”</p> +<p>“Must have camped here last night and while +he was asleep the cattle stampeded down the caņon,” +Tim hazarded.</p> +<p>“That guess is as good as any. They ce’tainly +stomped the life out of him thorough. Anyhow, +Bellamy has met up with his punishment. We’ll +have to pack the body back to town, boys,” the +sheriff told them.</p> +<p>Half an hour later the party filed out to the creosote +flats and struck across country toward Mesa. +Flatray was riding pillion behind Tim. His own +horse was being used as a pack saddle.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_BRAND_BLOTTING' id='II_BRAND_BLOTTING'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>BRAND BLOTTING</h3> +</div> + +<p>The tenderfoot, slithering down a hillside of +shale, caught at a greasewood bush and +waited. The sound of a rifle shot had +drifted across the ridge to him. Friend or foe, it +made no difference to him now. He had reached +the end of his tether, must get to water soon or +give up the fight.</p> +<p>No second shot broke the stillness. A swift zigzagged +across the cattle trail he was following. +Out of a blue sky the Arizona sun still beat down +upon a land parched by æons of drought, a land +still making its brave show of greenness against a +dun background.</p> +<p>Arrow straight the man made for the hill crest. +Weak as a starved puppy, his knees bent under him +as he climbed. Down and up again a dozen times, +he pushed feverishly forward. All day he had been +seeing things. Cool lakes had danced on the horizon +line before his tortured vision. Strange fancies +had passed in and out of his mind. He wondered +if this, too, were a delusion. How long that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +stiff ascent took him he never knew, but at last he +reached the summit and crept over its cactus-covered +shoulder.</p> +<p>He looked into a valley dressed in its young +spring garb. Of all deserts this is the loveliest +when the early rains have given rebirth to the hope +that stirs within its bosom once a year. But the +tenderfoot saw nothing of its pathetic promise, of +its fragile beauty so soon to be blasted. His sunken +eyes swept the scene and found at first only a desert +waste in which lay death.</p> +<p>“I lose,” he said to himself out loud.</p> +<p>With the words he gave up the long struggle and +sank to the ground. For hours he had been exhausted +to the limit of endurance, but the will to +live had kept him going. Now the driving force +within had run down. He would die where he lay.</p> +<p>Another instant, and he was on his feet again +eager, palpitant, tremulous. For plainly there had +come to him the bleating of a calf.</p> +<p>Moving to the left, he saw rising above the hill +brow a thin curl of smoke. A dozen staggering +steps brought him to the edge of a draw. There +in the hollow below, almost within a stone’s throw, +was a young woman bending over a fire. He tried +to call, but his swollen tongue and dry throat refused +the service. Instead, he began to run toward +her.</p> +<p>Beyond the wash was a dead cow. Not far from +it lay a calf on its side, all four feet tied together. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +From the fire the young woman took a red-hot running +iron and moved toward the little bleater.</p> +<p>The crackling of a twig brought her around as +a sudden tight rein does a high-strung horse. The +man had emerged from the prickly pears and was +close upon her. His steps dragged. The sag of +his shoulders indicated extreme fatigue. The dark +hollows beneath the eyes told of days of torment.</p> +<p>The girl stood before him slender and straight. +She was pale to the lips. Her breath came fast +and ragged as if she had been running.</p> +<p>Abruptly she shot her challenge at him. “Who +are you?”</p> +<p>“Water,” he gasped.</p> +<p>One swift, searching look the girl gave him, then +“Wait!” she ordered, and was off into the mesquit +on the run. Three minutes later the tenderfoot +heard her galloping through the brush. With a +quick, tight rein she drew up, swung from the saddle +expertly as a <i>vaquero</i>, and began to untie a canteen +held by buckskin thongs to the side of the +saddle.</p> +<p>He drank long, draining the vessel to the last +drop.</p> +<p>From her saddle bags she brought two sandwiches +wrapped in oiled paper.</p> +<p>“You’re hungry, too, I expect,” she said, her eyes +shining with tender pity.</p> +<p>She observed that he did not wolf his food, voracious +though he was. While he ate she returned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +to the fire with the running iron and heaped live +coals around the end of it.</p> +<p>“You’ve had a pretty tough time of it,” she called +across to him gently.</p> +<p>“It hasn’t been exactly a picnic, but I’m all right +now.”</p> +<p>The girl liked the way he said it. Whatever else +he was—and already faint doubts were beginning +to stir in her—he was not a quitter.</p> +<p>“You were about all in,” she said, watching him.</p> +<p>“Just about one little kick left in me,” he smiled.</p> +<p>“That’s what I thought.”</p> +<p>She busied herself over the fire inspecting the +iron. The man watched her curiously. What could +it mean? A cow killed wantonly, a calf bawling +with pain and fear, and this girl responsible for it. +The tenderfoot could not down the suspicion stirring +in his mind. He knew little of the cattle country. +But he had read books and had spent a week +in Mesa not entirely in vain. The dead cow with +the little stain of red down its nose pointed surely +to one thing. He was near enough to see a hole +in the forehead just above the eyes. Instinctively +his gaze passed to the rifle lying in the sand close +to his hand. Her back was still turned to him. He +leaned over, drew the gun to him, and threw out +an empty shell from the barrel.</p> +<p>At the click of the lever the girl swung around +upon him.</p> +<p>“What are you doing?” she demanded. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></p> +<p>He put the rifle down hurriedly. “Just seeing +what make it is.”</p> +<p>“And what make is it?” she flashed.</p> +<p>He was trapped. “I hadn’t found out yet,” he +stammered.</p> +<p>“No, but you found out there was an empty shell +in it,” she retorted quickly.</p> +<p>Their eyes fastened. She was gray as ashes, but +she did not flinch. By chance he had stumbled upon +the crime of crimes in Cattleland, had caught a +rustler redhanded at work. Looking into the fine +face, nostrils delicately fashioned, eyes clear and +deep, the thing was scarce credible of her. Why, +she could not be a day more than twenty, and in +every line of her was the look of pride, of good +blood.</p> +<p>“Yes, I happened to throw it out,” he apologized.</p> +<p>But she would have no evasion, would not let his +doubts sleep. There was superb courage in the +scornful ferocity with which she retorted.</p> +<p>“Happened! And I suppose you <i>happened</i> to notice +that the brand on the cow is a Bar Double G, +while that on the calf is different.”</p> +<p>“No, I haven’t noticed that.”</p> +<p>“Plenty of time to see it yet.” Then, with a +swift blaze of feeling, “What’s the use of pretending? +I know what you think.”</p> +<p>“Then you know more than I do. My thoughts +don’t go any farther than this, that you have saved +my life and I’m grateful for it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span></p> +<p>“I know better. You think I’m a rustler. But +don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it.”</p> +<p>Brought up in an atmosphere of semi-barbaric +traditions, silken-strong, with instincts unwarped +by social pressure, she was what the sun and wind +and freedom of Arizona had made her, a poetic +creation far from commonplace. So he judged her, +and in spite of the dastardly thing she had done he +sensed an innate refinement strangely at variance +with the circumstances.</p> +<p>“All right. I won’t,” he answered, with a faint +smile.</p> +<p>“Now you’ve got to pay for your sandwiches by +making yourself useful. I’m going to finish this +job.” She said it with an edge of self-scorn. He +guessed her furious with self-contempt.</p> +<p>Under her directions he knelt on the calf so as +to hold it steady while she plied the hot iron. The +odor of burnt hair and flesh was already acrid in +his nostrils. Upon the red flank F was written in +raw, seared flesh. He judged that the brand she +wanted was not yet complete. Probably the iron +had got too cold to finish the work, and she had +been forced to reheat it.</p> +<p>The little hand that held the running iron was +trembling. Looking up, the tenderfoot saw that she +was white enough to faint.</p> +<p>“I can’t do it. You’ll have to let me hold him +while you blur the brand,” she told him.</p> +<p>They changed places. She set her teeth to it and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +held the calf steady, but the brander noticed that +she had to look away when the red-hot iron came +near the flesh of the victim.</p> +<p>“Blur the brand right out. Do it quick, please,” +she urged.</p> +<p>A sizzle of burning skin, a piteous wail from the +tortured animal, an acrid pungent odor, and the +thing was done. The girl got to her feet, quivering +like an aspen.</p> +<p>“Have you a knife?” she asked faintly.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Cut the rope.”</p> +<p>The calf staggered to all fours, shook itself together, +and went bawling to the dead mother.</p> +<p>The girl drew a deep breath. “They say it does +not hurt except while it is being done.”</p> +<p>His bleak eyes met hers stonily. “And of course +it will soon get used to doing without its mother. +That is a mere detail.”</p> +<p>A shudder went through her.</p> +<p>The whole thing was incomprehensible to him. +Why under heaven had she done it? How could +one so sensitive have done a wanton cruel thing +like this? Her reason he could not fathom. The +facts that confronted him were that she <i>had</i> done it, +and had meant to carry the crime through. Only +detection had changed her purpose.</p> +<p>She turned upon him, plainly sick of the whole +business. “Let’s get away from here. Where’s +your horse?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span></p> +<p>“I haven’t any. I started on foot and got lost.”</p> +<p>“From where?”</p> +<p>“From Mammoth.”</p> +<p>Sharply her keen eyes fixed him. How could a +man have got lost near Mammoth and wandered +here? He would have had to cross the range, and +even a child would have known enough to turn back +into the valley where the town lay.</p> +<p>“How long ago?”</p> +<p>“Day before yesterday.” He added after a moment: +“I was looking for a job.”</p> +<p>She took in the soft hands and the unweathered +skin of the dark face. “What sort of a job?”</p> +<p>“Anything I can do.”</p> +<p>“But what can you do?”</p> +<p>“I can ride.”</p> +<p>She must take him home with her, of course, +and feed and rest him. That went without saying. +But what after that? He knew too much to be +turned adrift with the story of what he had seen. +If she could get a hold on him—whether of fear +or of gratitude—so as to insure his silence, the +truth might yet be kept quiet. At least she could +try.</p> +<p>“Did you ever ride the range?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“What sort of work have you done?”</p> +<p>After a scarcely noticeable pause, “Clerical +work,” he answered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></p> +<p>“You’re from the East?” she suggested, her eyes +narrowing.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“My name is Melissy Lee,” she told him, watching +him very steadily.</p> +<p>Once more the least of pauses. “Mine is Diller—James +Diller.”</p> +<p>“That’s funny. I know another man of that +name. At least, I know him by sight.”</p> +<p>The man who had called himself Diller grew +wary. “It’s a common enough name.”</p> +<p>“Yes. If I find you work at my father’s ranch +would you be too particular about what it is?”</p> +<p>“Try me.”</p> +<p>“And your memory—is it inconveniently good?” +Her glance swept as by chance over the scene of +her recent operations.</p> +<p>“I’ve got a right good forgettery, too,” he assured +her.</p> +<p>“You’re not in the habit of talking much about +the things you see.” She put it in the form of a +statement, but the rising inflection indicated the interrogative.</p> +<p>His black eyes met hers steadily. “I can padlock +my mouth when it is necessary,” he answered, the +suggestion of a Southern drawl in his intonation.</p> +<p>She wanted an assurance more direct. “When +<i>you</i> think it necessary, I suppose.”</p> +<p>“That is what I meant to say.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></p> +<p>“Come. One good turn deserves another. What +about this?” She nodded toward the dead cow.</p> +<p>“I have not seen a thing I ought not to have +seen.”</p> +<p>“Didn’t you see me blot a brand on that calf?”</p> +<p>He shook his head. “Can’t recall it at all, Miss +Lee.”</p> +<p>Swiftly her keen glance raked him again. Judged +by his clothes, he was one of the world’s ineffectives, +flotsam tossed into the desert by the wash of fate; +but there was that in the steadiness of his eye, in +the set of his shoulders, in the carriage of his lean-loined, +slim body that spoke of breeding. He was +no booze-fighting grubliner. Disguised though he +was in cheap slops, she judged him a man of parts. +He would do to trust, especially since she could not +help herself.</p> +<p>“We’ll be going. You take my horse,” she +ordered.</p> +<p>“And let you walk?”</p> +<p>“How long since you have eaten?” she asked +brusquely.</p> +<p>“About seven minutes,” he smiled.</p> +<p>“But before that?”</p> +<p>“Two days.”</p> +<p>“Well, then. Anybody can see you’re as weak +as a kitten. Do as I say.”</p> +<p>“Why can’t we both ride?”</p> +<p>“We can as soon as we get across the pass. Until +then I’ll walk.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span></p> +<p>Erect as a willow sapling, she took the hills with +an elastic ease that showed her deep-bosomed in +spite of her slenderness. The short corduroy riding +skirt and high-laced boots were made for use, +not grace, but the man in the saddle found even +in her manner of walking the charm of her direct, +young courage. Free of limb, as yet unconscious +of sex, she had the look of a splendid boy. The +descending sun was in her sparkling hair, on the +lank, undulating grace of her changing lines.</p> +<p>Active as a cat though it was, the cowpony found +the steep pass with its loose rubble hard going. Melissy +took the climb much easier. In the way she +sped through the mesquit, evading the clutch of the +cholla by supple dips to right and left, there was a +kind of pantherine litheness.</p> +<p>At the summit she waited for the horse to clamber +up the shale after her.</p> +<p>“Get down in your collar, you Buckskin,” she +urged, and when the pony was again beside her +petted the animal with little love pats on the nose.</p> +<p>Carelessly she flung at Diller a question. “From +what part of the East did you say?”</p> +<p>He was on the spot promptly this time. “From +Keokuk.”</p> +<p>“Keokuk, Indiana?”</p> +<p>“Iowa,” he smiled.</p> +<p>“Oh, is it Iowa?” He had sidestepped her little +trap, but she did not give up. “Just arrived?”</p> +<p>“I’ve been herding sheep for a month.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></p> +<p>“Oh, sheep-herding!” Her disdain implied that +if he were fit for nothing better than sheep-herding, +the West could find precious little use for him.</p> +<p>“It was all I could get to do.”</p> +<p>“Where did you say you wrangled Mary’s little +lamb?”</p> +<p>“In the Catalinas.”</p> +<p>“Whose outfit?”</p> +<p>Question and answer were tossed back and forth +lightly, but both were watching warily.</p> +<p>“Outfit?” he repeated, puzzled.</p> +<p>“Yes. Who were you working for?”</p> +<p>“Don’t remember his name. He was a Mexican.”</p> +<p>“Must have been one of the camps of Antonio +Valdez.”</p> +<p>“Yes, that’s it. That’s the name.”</p> +<p>“Only he runs his sheep in the Galiuros,” she +demurred.</p> +<p>“Is it the Galiuros? Those Spanish names! I +can’t keep them apart in my mind.”</p> +<p>She laughed with hard, young cruelty. “It is +hard to remember what you never heard, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>The man was on the rack. Tiny beads of perspiration +stood out on his forehead. But he got +a lip smile into working order.</p> +<p>“Just what do you mean, Miss Lee?”</p> +<p>“You had better get your story more pat. I’ve +punched a dozen holes in it already. First you tell +me you are from the East, and even while you were +telling me I knew you were a Southerner from the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +drawl. No man ever got lost from Mammoth. +You gave a false name. You said you had been +herding sheep, but you didn’t know what an outfit +is. You wobbled between the Galiuros and the +Catalinas.”</p> +<p>“I’m not a native. I told you I couldn’t remember +Spanish names.”</p> +<p>“It wasn’t necessary to tell me,” she countered +quickly. “A man that can’t recall even the name +of his boss!”</p> +<p>“I’m not in the witness box, Miss Lee,” he told +her stiffly.</p> +<p>“Not yet, but you’re liable to be soon, I reckon.”</p> +<p>“In a cattle rustling case, I suppose you mean.”</p> +<p>“No, I don’t.” She went on with her indictment +of his story, though his thrust had brought the color +to her cheek. “When I offered you Antonio Valdez +for an employer you jumped at him. If you want +to know, he happens to be our herder. He doesn’t +own a sheep and never will.”</p> +<p>“You know all about it,” he said with obvious +sarcasm.</p> +<p>“I know you’re not who you say you are.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps you know who I am then.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know or care. It’s none of my business. +But others may think it is theirs. You can’t be so +reckless with the truth without folks having notions. +If I were you I’d get a story that will hang together.”</p> +<p>“You’re such a good detective. Maybe I could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +get you to invent one for me,” he suggested +maliciously.</p> +<p>Her indignation flashed. “I’m no such thing. +But I’m not quite a fool. A babe in arms wouldn’t +swallow that fairy tale.”</p> +<p>Awkward as her knowledge might prove, he +could not help admiring the resource and shrewdness +of the girl. She had virtually served notice +that if she had a secret that needed keeping so +had he.</p> +<p>They looked down over a desert green with bajadas, +prickly pears, and mesquit. To the right, +close to a spur of the hills, were the dwarfed houses +of a ranch. The fans of a windmill caught the sun +and flashed it back to the travelers.</p> +<p>“The Bar Double G. My father owns it,” Miss +Lee explained.</p> +<p>“Oh! Your father owns it.” He reflected a moment +while he studied her. “Let’s understand each +other, Miss Lee. I’m not what I claim to be, +you say. We’ll put it that you have guessed right. +What do you intend to do about it? I’m willing to +be made welcome at the Bar Double G, but I don’t +want to be too welcome.”</p> +<p>“I’m not going to do anything.”</p> +<p>“So long as I remember not to remember what +I’ve seen.”</p> +<p>The blood burned in her cheeks beneath their +Arizona tan. She did not look at him. “If you +like to put it that way.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span></p> +<p>He counted it to her credit that she was ashamed +of the bargain in every honest fiber of her.</p> +<p>“No matter what they say I’ve done. You’ll keep +faith?”</p> +<p>“I don’t care what you’ve done,” she flung back +bitterly. “It’s none of my affair. I told you that +before. Men come out here for all sorts of reasons. +We don’t ask for a bill of particulars.”</p> +<p>“Then I’ll be right glad to go down to the Bar +Double G with you, and say thanks for the chance.”</p> +<p>He had dismounted when they first reached the +pass. Now she swung to the saddle and he climbed +behind her. They reached presently one of the +nomadic trails of the cattle country which wander +leisurely around hills and over gulches along the +line of least resistance. This brought them to a +main traveled road leading to the ranch.</p> +<p>They rode in silence until the pasture fence was +passed.</p> +<p>“What am I to tell them your name is?” she +asked stiffly.</p> +<p>He took his time to answer. “Tom Morse is a +good name, don’t you think? How would T. L. +Morse do?”</p> +<p>She offered no comment, but sat in front of him, +unresponsive as the sphinx. The rigor of her flat +back told him that, though she might have to keep +his shameful secret for the sake of her own, he +could not presume upon it the least in the world.</p> +<p>Melissy turned the horse over to a little Mexican +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +boy and they were just mounting the steps of the +porch when a young man cantered up to the house. +Lean and muscular and sunbaked, he looked out +of cool, gray eyes upon a man’s world that had +often put him through the acid test. The plain, +cactus-torn chaps, flannel shirt open at the sinewy +throat, dusty, wide-brimmed hat, revolver peeping +from its leather pocket on the thigh: every detail +contributed to the impression of efficiency he created. +Even the one touch of swagger about him, the blue +silk kerchief knotted loosely around his neck, lent +color to his virile competency.</p> +<p>He dragged his horse to a standstill and leaped +off at the same instant. “Evenin’, ’Lissie.”</p> +<p>She was busy lacing her shoe and did not look +up. He guessed that he was being snubbed and +into his eyes came a gleam of fun. A day later +than he had promised, Jack Flatray was of opinion +that he was being punished for tardiness.</p> +<p>Casually he explained. “Couldn’t make it any +sooner. Burke had a hurry-up job that took us +into the hills. Fellow by the name of Bellamy, +wanted for murder at Nemo, Arkansas, had been +tracked to Mesa. A message came over the wires +to arrest him. When Burke sent me to his room +he had lit out, taken a swift hike into the hills. +Must a-had some warning, for he didn’t even wait +for a horse.”</p> +<p>The dilated eyes of the girl went past the deputy +to the man she had rescued. He was leaning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +against one of the porch posts, tense and rigid, on +his face the look of the hunted brought to bay.</p> +<p>“And did you find him?” she asked mechanically +of the deputy.</p> +<p>“We found him. He had been trampled to death +by a cattle stampede.”</p> +<p>Her mind groped blindly for an explanation. +Her woman’s instinct told her that the man panting +on the porch within six feet of the officer was +the criminal wanted. There must be a mistake +somewhere.</p> +<p>“Did you identify him?”</p> +<p>“I guess there is no doubt about it. His papers +and belongings all showed he was our man.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” The excitement of his news had for a +moment thawed her, but a dignified aloofness +showed again in her manner. “If you want to see +father you’ll find him in the corral, Mr. Flatray.”</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t know as I’m looking for him awful +hard,” the blue kerchiefed youth smiled genially. +“Anyway, I can wait a few minutes if I have to.”</p> +<p>“Yes.” She turned away indifferently. “I’ll +show you your room, Mr. Morse.”</p> +<p>The deputy watched them disappear into the +house with astonishment printed on his face. He +had ridden twenty-seven miles to see Melissy Lee +and he had not quite expected this sort of a greeting.</p> +<p>“If that don’t beat the Dutch. Looks like I’ll +do my callin’ on the old man after all, maybe,” he +murmured with a grin.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_AN_ACCUSATION' id='III_AN_ACCUSATION'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>AN ACCUSATION</h3> +</div> + +<p>The rescued man ate, drank, and from sheer +fatigue fell asleep within five minutes of +the time he was shown his bedroom.</p> +<p>Since he was not of the easily discouraged kind, +the deputy stayed to supper on invitation of Lee. +He sat opposite the daughter of his host, and that +young woman treated him with the most frigid +politeness. The owner of the Bar Double G was +quite unaware of any change of temperature. Jack +and his little girl had always been the best of friends. +So now he discoursed on the price of cows, the +good rains, the outrages of the rustlers, and kindred +topics without suspecting that the attention of +the young man was on more personal matters.</p> +<p>Though born in Arizona, Melissy was of the +South. Due westward rolls the tide of settlement, +and Beauchamp Lee had migrated from Tennessee +after the war, following the line of least resistance +to the sunburned territory. Later he had married +a woman a good deal younger than himself. She +had borne him two children, the elder of whom was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +now a young man. Melissy was the younger, and +while she was still a babe in arms the mother had +died of typhoid and left her baby girl to grow up +as best she might in a land where women were few +and far. This tiny pledge of her mother’s love +Champ Lee had treasured as a gift from Heaven. +He had tended her and nursed her through the ailments +of childhood with a devotion the most pure +of his reckless life. Given to heady gusts of passion, +there had never been a moment when his voice +had been other than gentle and tender to her.</p> +<p>Inevitably Melissy had become the product of her +inheritance and her environment. If she was the +heiress of Beauchamp Lee’s courage and generosity, +his quick indignation against wrong and injustice, +so, too, she was of his passionate lawlessness.</p> +<p>After supper Melissy disappeared. She wanted +very much to be alone and have a good cry. Wherefore +she slipped out of the back door and ran up +the Lone Tree trail in the darkness. Jack thought +he saw a white skirt fly a traitorous signal, and at +leisure he pursued.</p> +<p>But Melissy was not aware of that. She reached +Lone Tree rock and slipped down from boulder +to boulder until she came to the pine which gave +the place its name. For hours she had been forced +to repress her emotions, to make necessary small +talk, to arrange for breakfast and other household +details. Now she was alone, and the floods of her +bitterness were unloosed. She broke down and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +wept passionately, for she was facing her first great +disillusionment. She had lost a friend, one in whom +she had put great faith.</p> +<p>The first gust of the storm was past when Melissy +heard a step on the rocks above. She knew intuitively +that Jack Flatray had come in search of her, +and he was the last man on earth she wanted to +meet just now.</p> +<p>“’Lissie!” she heard him call softly; and again, +“’Lissie!”</p> +<p>Noiselessly she got to her feet, waiting to see +what he would do. She knew he must be standing +on the edge of the great rock, so directly above her +that if he had kicked a pebble it would have landed +beside her. Presently he began to clamber down.</p> +<p>She tiptoed along the ledge and slipped into the +trough at the farther end that led to the top. It +was a climb she had taken several times, but never +in the dark. The ascent was almost perpendicular, +and it had to be made by clinging to projecting +rocks and vegetation. Moreover, if she were to escape +undetected it had to be done in silence.</p> +<p>She was a daughter of the hills, as surefooted +as a mountain goat. Handily she went up, making +the most of the footholds that offered. In spite +of the best she could do the rustling of bushes betrayed +her.</p> +<p>Jack came to the foot of the trough and looked up.</p> +<p>“So you’re there, are you?” he asked.</p> +<p>Her foot loosened a stone and sent it rolling down. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span></p> +<p>“If I were you I wouldn’t try that at night, +’Liss,” he advised.</p> +<p>She made sure of the steadiness of her voice before +she answered. “You don’t need to try it.”</p> +<p>“I said if I were you, girl.”</p> +<p>“But you are not. Don’t let me detain you here, +Mr. Flatray,” she told him in a manner of icy precision.</p> +<p>The deputy began the climb too. “What’s the +use of being so hostile, little girl?” he drawled. +“Me, I came as soon as I could, burning the wind, +too.”</p> +<p>She set her teeth, determined to reach the top +in time to get away before he could join her. In +her eagerness she took a chance that proved her undoing. +A rock gave beneath her foot and clattered +down. Clinging by one hand and foot, she felt her +body swing around. From her throat a little cry +leaped. She knew herself slipping.</p> +<p>“Jack!”</p> +<p>In time, and just in time, he reached her, braced +himself, and gave her his knee for a foot rest.</p> +<p>“All right?” he asked, and “All right!” she answered +promptly.</p> +<p>“We’ll go back,” he told her.</p> +<p>She made no protest. Indeed, she displayed a +caution in lowering herself that surprised him. +Every foothold she tested carefully with her weight. +Once she asked him to place her shoe in the crevice +for her. He had never seen her take so much time +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +in making sure or be so fussy about her personal +safety.</p> +<p>Safely on the ledge again, she attempted a second +time to dismiss him. “Thank you, Mr. Flatray. +I won’t take any more of your time.”</p> +<p>He looked at her steadily before he spoke. +“You’re mighty high-heeled, ’Lissie. You know +my name ain’t Mr. Flatray to you. What’s it all +about? I’ve told you twice I couldn’t get here any +sooner.”</p> +<p>She flamed out at him in an upblaze of feminine +ferocity. “And I tell <i>you</i>, that I don’t care if you +had never come. I don’t want to see you or have +anything to do with you.”</p> +<p>“Why not?” He asked it quietly, though he began +to know that her charge against him was a +serious one.</p> +<p>“Because I know what you are now, because you +have made us believe in you while all the time you +were living a lie.”</p> +<p>“Meaning what?”</p> +<p>“I was gathering poppies on the other side of +Antelope Pass this afternoon.”</p> +<p>“What has that got to do with me being a liar +and a scoundrel,” he wanted to know.</p> +<p>“Oh, you pretend,” she scoffed. “But you know +as well as I do.”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid I don’t. Let’s have the indictment.”</p> +<p>“If everybody in Papago County had told me +I wouldn’t have believed it,” she cried. “I had to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +see it with my own eyes before I could have been +convinced.”</p> +<p>“Yes, well what is it you saw with your eyes?”</p> +<p>“You needn’t keep it up. I tell you I saw it all +from the time you fired the shot.”</p> +<p>He laughed easily, but without mirth. “Kept tab +on me, did you?”</p> +<p>She wheeled from him, gave a catch of her +breath, and caught at the rock wall to save herself +from falling.</p> +<p>He spoke sharply. “You hurt yourself in the +trough.”</p> +<p>“I sprained my ankle a little, but it doesn’t +matter.”</p> +<p>He understood now why she had made so slow +a descent and he suspected that the wrench was +more than she admitted. The moon had come out +from under a cloud and showed him a pale, tear-stained +face, with a row of even, little teeth set +firm against the lower lip. She was in pain and +her pride was keeping it from him.</p> +<p>“Let me look at your ankle.”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“I say yes. You’ve hurt it seriously.”</p> +<p>“That is my business, I think,” she told him with +cold finality.</p> +<p>“I’m going to make it mine. Think I don’t know +you, proud as Lucifer when you get set. You’ll +lame yourself for life if you’re not careful.”</p> +<p>“I don’t care to discuss it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span></p> +<p>“Fiddlesticks! If you’ve got anything against +me we’ll hear what it is afterward. Right now we’ll +give first aid to the injured. Sit down here.”</p> +<p>She had not meant to give way, but she did. Perhaps +it was because of the faintness that stole over +her, or because the pain was sharper than she could +well endure. She found herself seated on the rock +shelf, letting him cut the lace out of her shoe and +slip it off. Ever so gently he worked, but he could +tell by the catches of her breath that it was not +pleasant to endure. From his neck he untied the +silk kerchief and wrapped it tightly around the +ankle.</p> +<p>“That will have to do till I get you home.”</p> +<p>“I’ll not trouble you, sir. If you’ll stop and tell +my father that is all I’ll ask.”</p> +<p>“Different here,” he retorted cheerfully. “Just so +as to avoid any argument, I’ll announce right now +that Jack Flatray is going to see you home. It’s +his say-so.”</p> +<p>She rose. None knew better than she that he was +a dominating man when he chose to be. She herself +carried in her slim body a spirit capable of passion +and of obstinacy, but to-night she had not the +will to force the fighting.</p> +<p>Setting her teeth, she took a step or two forward, +her hand against the rock wall to help bear the +weight. With narrowed eyes, he watched her +closely, noting the catches of pain that shot through +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +her breathing. Half way up the boulder bed he interposed +brusquely.</p> +<p>“This is plumb foolishness, girl. You’ve got no +business putting your weight on that foot, and +you’re not going to do it.”</p> +<p>He slipped his arm around her waist in such a +way as to support her all he could. With a quick +turn of the body she tried to escape.</p> +<p>“No use. I’m going through with this, ’Lissie. +Someone has been lying to you about me, and just +now you hate the ground I walk on. Good enough. +That’s got nothing to do with this. You’re a woman +that needs help, and any old time J. F. meets up +with such a one he’s on the job. You don’t owe +me ’Thank you,’ but you’ve got to stand for me till +you reach the house.”</p> +<p>“You’re taking advantage of me because I can’t +help myself. Why don’t you go and bring father,” +she flung out.</p> +<p>“I’m younger than your father and abler to help. +That’s why?”</p> +<p>They reached the top of the bluff and he made +her sit down to rest. A pale moon suffused the +country, and in that stage set to lowered lights her +pallor was accented. From the colorless face shadowy, +troubled eyes spoke the misery through which +she was passing. The man divined that her pain +was more than physical, and the knowledge went +to him poignantly by the heart route. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></p> +<p>“What is it, ’Lissie? What have I done?” he +asked gently.</p> +<p>“You know. I don’t want to talk about it.”</p> +<p>“But I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“What’s the use of keeping it up? I caught you +this afternoon.”</p> +<p>“Caught me doing what?”</p> +<p>“Caught you rustling, caught you branding a +calf just after you had shot the cow.”</p> +<p>For an instant her charge struck him dumb. He +stared at her as if he thought she had gone suddenly +mad.</p> +<p>“What’s that? Say it again,” he got out at last.</p> +<p>“And the cow had the Bar Double G brand, belonged +to my father, your best friend,” she added +passionately.</p> +<p>He spoke very gently, but there was an edge to +his voice that was new to her. “Suppose you tell +me all about it.”</p> +<p>She threw out a hand in a gesture of despair. +“What’s the use? Nothing could have made me believe +it but my own eyes. You needn’t keep up a +pretense. I saw you.”</p> +<p>“Yes, so you said before. Now begin at the +start and tell your story.”</p> +<p>She had the odd feeling of being put on the defensive +and it angered her. How dared he look at +her with those cool, gray eyes that still appeared to +bore a hole through treachery? Why did her heart +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +convict her of having deserted a friend, when she +knew that the desertion was his?</p> +<p>“While I was gathering poppies I heard a shot. +It was so close I walked to the edge of the draw +and looked over. There I saw you.”</p> +<p>“What was I doing?”</p> +<p>“You were hogtying a calf.”</p> +<p>“And then?”</p> +<p>“I didn’t understand at first. I thought to slip +down and surprise you for fun. But as I got lower +I saw the dead cow. Just then you began to brand +the calf and I cried out to you.”</p> +<p>“What did I do?”</p> +<p>“You know what you did,” she answered wearily. +“You broke for the brush where your horse was +and galloped away.”</p> +<p>“Got a right good look at me, did you?”</p> +<p>“Not at your face. But I knew. You were wearing +this blue silk handkerchief.” Her finger indicated +the one bound around her ankle.</p> +<p>“So on that evidence you decide I’m a rustler, +and you’ve only known me thirteen years. You’re +a good friend, ’Lissie.”</p> +<p>Her eyes blazed on him like live coals. “Have +you forgotten the calf you left with your brand +on it?”</p> +<p>She had startled him at last. “With my brand +on it?” he repeated, his voice dangerously low and +soft.</p> +<p>“You know as well as I do. You had got the F +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +just about finished when I called. You dropped +the running iron and ran.”</p> +<p>“Dropped it and ran, did I? And what did +you do?”</p> +<p>“I reheated the iron and blurred the brand so +that nobody could tell what it had been.”</p> +<p>He laughed harshly without mirth. “I see. I’m +a waddy and a thief, but you’re going to protect +me for old times’ sake. That’s the play, is it? I +ought to be much obliged to you and promise to +reform, I reckon.”</p> +<p>His bitterness stung. She felt a tightening of the +throat. “All I ask is that you go away and never +come back to me,” she cried with a sob.</p> +<p>“Don’t worry about that. I ain’t likely to come +back to a girl that thinks I’m the lowest thing that +walks. You’re not through with me a bit more +than I am with you,” he answered harshly.</p> +<p>Her little hand beat upon the rock in her distress. +“I never would have believed it. Nobody could +have made me believe it. I—I—why, I trusted +you like my own father,” she lamented. “To think +that you would take that way to stock your ranch—and +with the cattle of my father, too.”</p> +<p>His face was hard as chiseled granite. “Distrust +all your friends. That’s the best way.”</p> +<p>“You haven’t even denied it—not that it would +do any good,” she said miserably.</p> +<p>There was a sound of hard, grim laughter in his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +throat. “No, and I ain’t going to deny it. Are +you ready to go yet?”</p> +<p>His repulse of her little tentative advance was +like a blow on the face to her.</p> +<p>She made a movement to rise. While she was +still on her knees he stooped, put his arms around +her, and took her into them. Before she could utter +her protest he had started down the trail toward +the house.</p> +<p>“How dare you? Let me go,” she ordered.</p> +<p>“You’re not able to walk, and you’ll go the way +I say,” he told her shortly in a flinty voice.</p> +<p>Her anger was none the less because she realized +her helplessness to get what she wanted. Her teeth +set fast to keep back useless words. Into his stony +eyes her angry ones burned. The quick, irregular +rise and fall of her bosom against his heart told +him how she was struggling with her passion.</p> +<p>Once he spoke. “Tell me where it was you saw +this rustler—the exact place near as you can locate +it.”</p> +<p>She answered only by a look.</p> +<p>The deputy strode into the living room of the +ranch with her in his arms. Lee was reading a +newspaper Jack had brought with him from Mesa. +At sight of them he started up hurriedly.</p> +<p>“Goddlemighty, what’s the matter, Jack?”</p> +<p>“Only a ricked ankle, Champ. Slipped on a +stone,” Flatray explained as he put Melissy down +on the lounge. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span></p> +<p>In two minutes the whole house was upset. Hop +Ling was heating water to bathe the sprain. A +rider from the bunkhouse was saddling to go for +the doctor. Another was off in the opposite direction +to buy some liniment at Mammoth.</p> +<p>In the confusion Flatray ran up his horse from +the pasture, slapped on the saddle, and melted into +the night.</p> +<p>An hour later Melissy asked her father what had +become of him.</p> +<p>“Doggone that boy, I don’t know where he went. +Reckon he thought he’d be in the way. Mighty +funny he didn’t give us a chanct to tell him to stay.”</p> +<p>“Probably he had business in Mesa,” Melissy answered, +turning her face to the wall.</p> +<p>“Business nothing,” retorted the exasperated +rancher. “He figured we couldn’t eat and sleep +him without extra trouble. Ain’t that a fine reputation +for him to be giving the Bar Double G? I’ll +curl his hair for him onct I meet up with him +again.”</p> +<p>“If you would put out the light, I think I could +sleep, dad,” she told him in the least of voices.</p> +<p>“Sure, honey. Has the throbbing gone out of +the ankle?” he asked anxiously.</p> +<p>“Not entirely, but it’s a good deal better. Good-night, +dad.”</p> +<p>“If Doc comes I’ll bring him in,” Lee said after +he had kissed her.</p> +<p>“Do, please.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span></p> +<p>But after she was left alone Melissy did not prepare +herself for sleep. Her wide open eyes stared +into the darkness, while her mind stormily reviewed +the day. The man who for years had been her best +friend was a scoundrel. She had proved him unworthy +of her trust, and on top of that he had +insulted her. Hot tears stung her eyes—tears of +shame, of wounded self-love, of mortification, and +of something more worthy than any of these.</p> +<p>She grieved passionately for that which had gone +out of her life, for the comradeship that had been +so precious to her. If this man were a waddy, who +of all her friends could she trust? She could have +forgiven him had he done wrong in the heat of +anger. But this premeditated evil was beyond forgiveness. +To make it worse, he had come direct +from the doing of it to meet her, with a brazen +smile on his lips and a lie in his heart. She would +never speak to him again—never so long as she lived.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_THE_MAN_WITH_THE_CHIHUAHUA_HAT' id='IV_THE_MAN_WITH_THE_CHIHUAHUA_HAT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>THE MAN WITH THE CHIHUAHUA HAT</h3> +</div> + +<p>A little dust cloud was traveling up the +trail toward the Bar Double G, the center +of which presently defined itself as a rider +moving at a road gait. He wore a Chihuahua hat +and with it the picturesque trappings the Southwest +borrows on occasion from across the border. Vanity +disclosed itself in the gold-laced hat, in the silver +conchos of the fringed chaps, in the fine workmanship +of the saddle and bit. The man’s finery was +overdone, carried with it the suggestion of being +on exhibition. But one look at the man himself, +sleek and graceful, black-haired and white-toothed, +exuding an effect of cold wariness in spite of the +masked smiling face, would have been enough to +give the lie to any charge of weakness. His fopperies +could not conceal the silken strength of him. +One meeting with the chill, deep-set eyes was certificate +enough for most people.</p> +<p>Melissy, sitting on the porch with her foot resting +on a second chair, knew a slight quickening of +the blood as she watched him approach.</p> +<p>“Good evenin’, Miss M’lissy,” he cried, sweeping +his sombrero as low as the stirrup. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span></p> +<p>“<i>Buenos tardes</i>, <i>Seņor</i> Norris,” she flung back +gayly.</p> +<p>Sitting at ease in the saddle, he leisurely looked +her over with eyes that smoldered behind half-shuttered +lids. To most of her world she was in spirit +still more boy than woman, but before his bold, possessive +gaze her long lashes wavered to the cheeks +into which the warm blood was beating. Her long, +free lines were still slender with the immaturity +of youth, her soul still hesitating reluctantly to +cross the border to womanhood toward which Nature +was pushing her so relentlessly. From a fund +of experience Philip Norris read her shrewdly, +knew how to evoke the latent impulses which +brought her eagerly to the sex duel.</p> +<p>“Playing off for sick,” he scoffed.</p> +<p>“I’m not,” she protested. “Never get sick. It’s +just a sprained ankle.”</p> +<p>“Sho! I guess you’re Miss Make Believe; just +harrowing the feelings of your beaux.”</p> +<p>“The way you talk! I haven’t got any beaux. +The boys are just my friends.”</p> +<p>“Oh, just friends! And no beaux. My, my! +Not a single sweetheart in all this wide open country. +Shall I go rope you one and bring him in, +<i>compadre</i>?”</p> +<p>“No!” she exploded. “I don’t want any. I’m +not old enough yet.” Her dancing eyes belied the +words.</p> +<p>“Now I wouldn’t have guessed it. You look to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +me most ready to be picked.” He rested his weight +on the farther stirrup and let his lazy smile mock +her. “My estimate would be sixteen. I’ll bet you’re +every day of that.”</p> +<p>“I only lack three months of being eighteen,” she +came back indignantly.</p> +<p>“You don’t say! You’ll ce’tainly have to be advertising +for a husband soon, Miss Three-Quarters-Past-Seventeen. +Maybe an ad in the Mesa paper +would help. You ain’t so awful bad looking.”</p> +<p>“I’ll let you write it. What would you say?” +she demanded, a patch of pink standing out near +the curve of the cheek bone.</p> +<p>He swung from the saddle and flung the reins +to the ground. With jingling spurs he came up +the steps and sat on the top one, his back against +a pillar. Boldly his admiring eyes swept her.</p> +<p>“<i>Nina</i>, I couldn’t do the subject justice. Honest, +I haven’t got the vocabulary.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you!” Laughter was in the eyes that studied +him with a side tilt of the chin. “That’s a fine +way to get out of it when your bluff is called.”</p> +<p>He leaned back against the post comfortably and +absorbed the beauty of the western horizon. The +sun had just set behind a saddle of the Galiuros in +a splash of splendor. All the colors of the rainbow +fought for supremacy in a brilliant-tinted sky that +blazed above the fire-girt peaks. Soon dusk would +slip down over the land and tone the hues to a +softer harmony. A purple sea would flow over the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +hills, to be in turn displaced by a deep, soft violet. +Then night, that night of mystery and romance +which transforms the desert to a thing of incredible +wonder!</p> +<p>“Did your father buy this sunset with the ranch? +And has he got a guarantee that it will perform +every night?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Did you ever see anything like it?” she cried. +“I have looked at them all my life and I never get +tired.”</p> +<p>He laughed softly, his indolent, sleepy look on +her. “Some things I would never get tired of looking +at either.”</p> +<p>Without speaking she nodded, still absorbing the +sunset.</p> +<p>“But it wouldn’t be that kind of scenery,” he +added. “How tall are you, <i>muchacha</i>?”</p> +<p>Her glance came around in surprise. “I don’t +know. About five foot five, I think. Why?”</p> +<p>“I’m working on that ad. How would this do? +‘Miss Three-Quarters-Past-Seventeen wants to meet +up with gentleman between eighteen and forty-eight. +Object, matrimony. Description of lady: +Slim, medium height, brunette, mop of blue-black +hair, the prettiest dimple you ever saw——’”</p> +<p>“Now I know you’re making fun of me. I’m +mad.” And the dimple flashed into being.</p> +<p>“‘—mostly says the opposite of what she means, +has a——’” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></p> +<p>“I don’t. I don’t”</p> +<p>“‘—has a spice of the devil in her, which——’”</p> +<p>“Now, I <i>am</i> mad,” she interrupted, laughing.</p> +<p>“‘—which is excusable, since she has the reddest +lips for kissing in Arizona.’”</p> +<p>He had gone too far. Her innocence was in +arms. Norris knew it by the swiftness with which +the smile vanished from her face, by the flash of +anger in the eyes.</p> +<p>“I prefer to talk about something else, Mr. Norris,” +she said with all the prim stiffness of a schoolgirl.</p> +<p>Her father relieved the tension by striding across +from the stable. With him came a bowlegged young +fellow in plain leathers. The youngster was Charley +Hymer, one of the riders for the Bar Double G.</p> +<p>“You’re here at the right time, Norris,” Lee said +grimly. “Charley has just come down from Antelope +Pass. He found one of my cows dead, with +a bullet hole through the forehead. The ashes of +a fire were there, and in the brush not far away a +running iron.”</p> +<p>The eyes of Norris narrowed to slits. He was +the cattle detective of the association and for a year +now the rustlers had outgeneraled him. “I’ll have +you take me to the spot, Charley. Get a move on +you and we’ll get there soon as the moon is up.”</p> +<p>Melissy gripped the arms of her chair tightly +with both hands. She was looking at Norris with +a new expression, a kind of breathless fear. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +knew him for a man who could not be swerved from +the thing he wanted. For all his easy cynicism, he +had the reputation of being a bloodhound on the +trail. Moreover, she knew that he was no friend +to Jack Flatray. Why had she left that running +iron as evidence to convict its owner? What folly +not to have removed it from the immediate scene of +the crime!</p> +<p>The cattle detective and her father had moved +a few steps away and were talking in low tones. +Melissy became aware of a footfall. The man who +called himself Morse came around the corner of +the house and stopped at the porch steps.</p> +<p>“May I speak to you a moment, Miss Lee?” he +said in a low voice.</p> +<p>“Of course.”</p> +<p>The voice of Norris rose to an irritated snarl. +“Tell you I’ve got evidence, Lee. Mebbe it’s not +enough to convict, but it satisfies me a-plenty that +Jack Flatray’s the man.”</p> +<p>Melissy was frozen to a tense attention. Her +whole mind was on what passed between the detective +and her father. Otherwise she would have noticed +the swift change that transformed the tenderfoot.</p> +<p>The rancher answered with impatient annoyance. +“You’re ’way off, Norris. I don’t care anything +about your evidence. The idea is plumb ridiculous. +Twenty odd years I’ve known him. He’s the best +they make, a pure through and through. Not a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +crooked hair in his head. I’ve eat out of the same +frying pan too often with that boy not to know +what he is. You go bury those suspicions of yours +immediate. There’s nothing to them.”</p> +<p>Norris grumbled objections as they moved toward +the stable. Melissy drew a long breath and brought +herself back to the tenderfoot.</p> +<p>He stood like a coiled spring, head thrust far +forward from the shoulders. The look in his black +eyes was something new to her experience. For +hate, passion, caution were all mirrored there.</p> +<p>“You know Mr. Norris,” she said quickly.</p> +<p>He started. “What did you say his name was?” +he asked with an assumption of carelessness.</p> +<p>“Norris—Philip Norris. He is a cattle detective.”</p> +<p>“Never heard of Mr. Norris before in my life,” +he answered, but it was observable that he still +breathed deep.</p> +<p>She did not believe him. Some tie in their buried +past bound these two men together. They must +have known each other in the South years ago, and +one of them at least was an enemy of the other. +There might come a day when she could use this +knowledge to save Jack Flatray from the punishment +dogging his heels. Melissy filed it away in +her memory for future reference.</p> +<p>“You wanted to speak to me,” she suggested.</p> +<p>“I’m going away.”</p> +<p>“What for?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span></p> +<p>“Because I’m not a hound. I can’t blackmail a +woman.”</p> +<p>“How do you mean?”</p> +<p>“I mean that you’ve found work here for me +because I saw what you did over by Antelope Pass. +We made a bargain. Oh, not in words, but a bargain +just the same! You were to keep my secret +because I knew yours. I release you from your part +of it. Give me up if you think it is your duty. +I’ll not tell what I know.”</p> +<p>“That wasn’t how you talked the other day.”</p> +<p>“No. It’s how I talk now. I’m a hunted man, +wanted for murder. I make you a present of the +information.”</p> +<p>“You make me a present of what I already know, +Mr. Diller, alias Morse, alias Bellamy.”</p> +<p>“You guessed it the first day?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“And meant to keep quiet about it?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I meant to shelter you from the punishment +you deserve.” She added with a touch of bitter +self-scorn: “I was doing what I had to do.”</p> +<p>“You don’t have to do it any longer.” He looked +straight at her with his head up. “And how do you +know what I deserve? Who made you a judge +about these facts? Grant for the sake of argument +I killed him. Do you know I wasn’t justified?”</p> +<p>His fierce boldness put her on the defense. “A +man sure of his cause does not run away. The +paper said this Shep Boone was shot from ambush. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +Nothing could justify such a thing. When you +did that——”</p> +<p>“I didn’t. Don’t believe it, Miss Lee.”</p> +<p>“He was shot from behind, the paper said.”</p> +<p>“Do I look like a man who would kill from +ambush?”</p> +<p>She admitted to herself that this clear-eyed Southerner +did not look like an assassin. Life in the open +had made her a judge of such men as she had been +accustomed to meet, but for days she had been telling +herself she could no longer trust her judgment. +Her best friend was a rustler. By a woman’s logic +it followed that since Jack Flatray was a thief this +man might have committed all the crimes in the +calendar.</p> +<p>“I don’t know.” Then, impulsively, “No, you +don’t, but you may be for all that.”</p> +<p>“I’m not asking anything for myself. You may +do as you please after I’ve gone. Send for Mr. +Flatray and tell him if you like.”</p> +<p>A horse cantered across the plaza toward the +store. Bellamy turned quickly to go.</p> +<p>“I’m not going to tell anyone,” the girl called +after him in a low voice.</p> +<p>Norris swung from the saddle. “Who’s our hurried +friend?” he asked carelessly.</p> +<p>“Oh, a new rider of ours. Name of Morse.” +She changed the subject. “Are you—do you think +you know who the rustler is?”</p> +<p>His cold, black eyes rested in hers. She read in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +them something cruel and sinister. It was as if he +were walking over the grave of an enemy.</p> +<p>“I’m gathering evidence, a little at a time.”</p> +<p>“Do I know him?”</p> +<p>“Maybe you do.”</p> +<p>“Tell me.”</p> +<p>He shook his head. “Wait till I’ve got him +cinched.”</p> +<p>“You told father,” she accused.</p> +<p>He laughed in a hard, mirthless fashion. “That +cured me. The Lee family is from Missouri. When +I talk next time I’ll have the goods to show.”</p> +<p>“I know who you mean. You’re making a mistake.” +Her voice seemed to plead with him.</p> +<p>“Not on your life, I ain’t. But we’ll talk about +that when the subject is riper. There will be a +showdown some day, and don’t you forget it. Well, +Charley is calling me. So long, Miss Three-Quarters-Past-Seventeen.” +He went jingling down the +steps and swung to the saddle. “I’ll not forget the +ad, and when I find the right man I’ll ce’tainly rope +and bring him to you.”</p> +<p>“The rustler?” she asked innocently.</p> +<p>“No, not the rustler, the gent between eighteen +and forty-eight, object matrimony.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to trouble you,” she flung at him +with her gay smile.</p> +<p>“No trouble at all. Fact is, I’ve got him in mind +already,” he assured her promptly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span></p> +<p>“Oh!” A pulse of excitement was beating in +her throat.</p> +<p>“You don’t ask me who he is,” suggested Norris +boldly, crouched in the saddle with his weight on +the far stirrup.</p> +<p>She had brought it upon herself, but now she +dodged the issue. “’Most anyone will do, and me +going on eighteen.”</p> +<p>“You’re wrong, girl. Only one out of a thousand +will do for your master.”</p> +<p>“Master, indeed! If he comes to the Bar +Double G he’ll find he is at the wrong address. +None wanted, thank you.”</p> +<p>“Most folks don’t want what’s best for them, I +allow. But if they have luck it sometimes comes +to them.”</p> +<p>“Luck!” she echoed, her chin in the air.</p> +<p>“You heard me right. What you need is a man +that ain’t afraid of you, one to ride close herd on +you so as to head off them stampede notions of +yours. Now this lad is the very one. He is a +black-haired guy, and when he says a thing——”</p> +<p>Involuntarily she glanced at his sleek black head. +Melissy felt a sudden clamor of the blood, a pounding +of the pulses.</p> +<p>“—he most generally means it. I’ve wrangled +around a heap with him and there’s no manner of +doubt he’s up to specifications. In appearance he +looks like me. Point of fact, he’s a dead ringer +for me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span></p> +<p>She saw her chance and flashed out. “Now you’re +flattering him. There can’t be two as—as fascinating +as Seņor Norris,” she mocked.</p> +<p>His smoldering eyes had the possessive insolence +she resented and yet found so stimulating.</p> +<p>“Did I say there were two?” he drawled.</p> +<p>It was his parting shot. With a touch of the +spur he was off, leaving her no time for an adequate +answer.</p> +<p>There were no elusions and inferences about +Philip Norris when he wanted to be direct. He had +fairly taken her breath away. Melissy’s instinct +told her there was something humiliating about +such a wooing. But picturesque and unconventional +conduct excuse themselves in a picturesque personality. +And this man had that if nothing else.</p> +<p>She told herself she was angry at him, that he +took liberties far beyond those of any of the other +young men. Yet, somehow, she went into the house +smiling. A color born of excitement burned beneath +her sparkling eyes. She had entered into her +heritage of womanhood and the call of sex was +summoning her to the adventure that is old as the +garden where Eve met Adam.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_THE_TENDERFOOT_TAKES_UP_A_CLAIM' id='V_THE_TENDERFOOT_TAKES_UP_A_CLAIM'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>THE TENDERFOOT TAKES UP A CLAIM</h3> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Diller, alias Morse, alias Bellamy, +did not long remain at the Bar Double G +as a rider. It developed that he had +money, and, tenderfoot though he was, the man +showed a shrewd judgment in his investments. He +bought sheep and put them on the government forest +reserve, much to the annoyance of the cattlemen +of the district.</p> +<p>Morse, as he now called himself, was not the +first man who had brought sheep into the border +country. Far up in the hills were several camps +of them. But hitherto these had been there on sufferance, +and it had been understood that they were +to be kept far from the cattle range. The extension +of the government reserves changed the equation. +A good slice of the range was cut off and +thrown open to sheep. When Morse leased this +and put five thousand bleaters upon the feeding +ground the sentiment against him grew very bitter.</p> +<p>Lee had been spokesman of a committee appointed +to remonstrate with him. Morse had met them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +pleasantly but firmly. This part of the reserve had +been set aside for sheep. If it were not leased by +him it would be by somebody else. Therefore, he +declined to withdraw his flocks. Champ lost his +temper and swore that he for one would never submit +to yield the range. Sharp bitter words were +passed. Next week masked men drove a small +flock belonging to Morse over a precipice.</p> +<p>The tenderfoot retaliated by jumping a mining +claim staked out by Lee upon which the assessment +work had not been kept up. The cattleman contested +this in the courts, lost the decision, and +promptly appealed. Meanwhile, he countered by +leasing from the forest supervisor part of the run +previously held by his opponent and putting sheep +of his own upon it.</p> +<p>“I reckon I’ll play Mr. Morse’s own game and +see how he likes it,” the angry cattleman told his +friends.</p> +<p>But the luck was all with Morse. Before he had +been working his new claim a month the Monte +Cristo (he had changed the name from its original +one of Melissy) proved a bonanza. His men ran +into a rich streak of dirt that started a stampede +for the vicinity.</p> +<p>Champ indulged in choice profanity. From his +point of view he had been robbed, and he announced +the fact freely to such acquaintances as dropped into +the Bar Double G store.</p> +<p>“Dad gum it, I was aimin’ to do that assessment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +work and couldn’t jest lay my hands on the time. +I’d been a millionaire three years and didn’t know +it. Then this damned Morse butts in and euchres +me out of the claim. Some day him and me’ll have +a settlement. If the law don’t right me, I reckon +I’m most man enough to ’tend to Mr. Morse.”</p> +<p>It was his daughter who had hitherto succeeded +in keeping the peace. When the news of the relocation +had reached Lee he had at once started to settle +the matter with a Winchester, but Melissy, getting +news of his intention, had caught up a horse and +ridden bareback after him in time to avert by her +entreaties a tragedy. For six months after this +the men had not chanced to meet.</p> +<p>Why the tenderfoot had first come West—to hide +what wounds in the great baked desert—no man +knew or asked. Melissy had guessed, but she did +not breathe to a soul her knowledge. It was a first +article of Arizona’s creed that a man’s past belonged +to him alone, was a blotted book if he chose +to have it so. No doubt many had private reasons +for their untrumpeted migration to that kindly +Southwest which buries identity, but no wise citizen +busied himself with questions about antecedents. +The present served to sift one, and by the way a +man met it his neighbors judged him.</p> +<p>And T. L. Morse met it competently. In every +emergency with which he had to cope the man +“stood the acid.” Arizona approved him a man, +without according him any popularity. He was too +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +dogmatic to win liking, but he had a genius for success. +Everything he touched turned to gold.</p> +<p>The Bar Double G lies half way between Mammoth +and Mesa. Its position makes it a central +point for ranchers within a radius of fifteen miles. +Out of the logical need for it was born the store +which Beauchamp Lee ran to supply his neighbors +with canned goods, coffee, tobacco, and other indispensables; +also the eating house for stage passengers +passing to and from the towns. Young as +she was, Melissy was the competent manager of +both of these.</p> +<p>It was one afternoon during the hour the stage +stopped to let the passengers dine that Melissy’s +wandering eye fell upon Morse seated at one of the +tables. Anger mounted within her at the cool impudence +of the man. She had half a mind to order +him out, but saw he was nearly through dinner +and did not want to make a scene. Unfortunately +Beauchamp Lee happened to come into the store +just as his enemy strolled out from the dining-room.</p> +<p>The ranchman stiffened. “What you been doing +in there, seh?” he demanded sharply.</p> +<p>“I’ve been eating a very good dinner in a public +café. Any objections?”</p> +<p>“Plenty of ’em, seh. I don’t aim to keep open +house for Mr. Morse.”</p> +<p>“I understand this is a business proposition. I +expect to pay seventy-five cents for my meal.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span></p> +<p>The eyes of the older man gleamed wrathfully. +“As for yo’ six bits, if you offer it to me I’ll take +it as an insult. At the Bar Double G we’re not +doing friendly business with claim jumpers. Don’t +you evah set yo’ legs under my table again, seh.”</p> +<p>Morse shrugged, turned away to the public desk, +and addressed an envelope, the while Lee glared at +him from under his heavy beetling brows. Melissy +saw that her father was still of half a mind to +throw out the intruder and she called him to her.</p> +<p>“Dad, José wants you to look at the hoof of one +of his wheelers. He asked if you would come as +soon as you could.”</p> +<p>Beauchamp still frowned at Morse, rasping his +unshaven chin with his hand. “Ce’tainly, honey. +Glad to look at it.”</p> +<p>“Dad! Please.”</p> +<p>The ranchman went out, grumbling. Five minutes +later Morse took his seat on the stage beside +the driver, having first left seventy-five cents on +the counter.</p> +<p>The stage had scarce gone when the girl looked +up from her bookkeeping to see the man with the +Chihuahua hat.</p> +<p>“<i>Buenos tardes, seņorita</i>,” he gave her with a +flash of white teeth.</p> +<p>“<i>Buenos</i>,” she nodded coolly.</p> +<p>But the dancing eyes of her could not deny their +pleasure at sight of him. They had rested upon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +men as handsome, but upon none who stirred her +blood so much.</p> +<p>He was in the leather chaps of a cowpuncher, +gray-shirted, and a polka dot kerchief circled the +brown throat. Life rippled gloriously from every +motion of him. Hermes himself might have envied +the perfect grace of the man.</p> +<p>She supplied his wants while they chatted.</p> +<p>“Jogged off your range quite a bit, haven’t you?” +she suggested.</p> +<p>“Some. I’ll take two bits’ worth of that smokin’, +<i>nina</i>.”</p> +<p>She shook her head. “I’m no little girl. Don’t +you know I’m now half past eighteen?”</p> +<p>“My—my. That ad didn’t do a mite of good, +did it?”</p> +<p>“Not a bit.”</p> +<p>“And you growing older every day.”</p> +<p>“Does my age show?” she wanted to know +anxiously.</p> +<p>The scarce veiled admiration of his smoldering +eyes drew the blood to her dusky cheeks. Something +vigilant lay crouched panther-like behind the +laughter of his surface badinage.</p> +<p>“You’re standing it well, honey.”</p> +<p>The color beat into her face, less at the word +than at the purring caress in his voice. A year ago +she had been a child. But in the Southland flowers +ripen fast. Adolescence steals hard upon the heels +of infancy, and, though the girl had never wakened +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +to love, Nature was pushing her relentlessly toward +a womanhood for which her unschooled impulses +but scantily safeguarded her.</p> +<p>She turned toward the shelves. “How many air-tights +did you say?”</p> +<p>“I didn’t say.” He leaned forward across the +counter. “What’s the hurry, little girl?”</p> +<p>“My name is Melissy Lee,” she told him over +her shoulder.</p> +<p>“Mine is Phil Norris. Glad to give it to you, +Melissy Lee,” the man retorted glibly.</p> +<p>“Can’t use it, thank you,” came her swift saucy +answer.</p> +<p>“Or to lend it to you—say, for a week or two.”</p> +<p>She flashed a look at him and passed quickly +from behind the counter. Her father was just coming +into the store.</p> +<p>“Will you wait on Mr. Norris, dad? Hop wants +to see me in the kitchen.”</p> +<p>Norris swore softly under his breath. The last +thing he had wanted was to drive her away. It +had been nearly a year since he had seen her last, +but the picture of her had been in the coals of +many a night camp fire.</p> +<p>The cattle detective stayed to dinner and to supper. +He and her father had their heads together +for hours, their voices pitched to a murmur. Melissy +wondered what business could have brought +him, whether it could have anything to do with the +renewed rustling that had of late annoyed the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +neighborhood. This brought her thoughts to Jack +Flatray. He, too, had almost dropped from her +world, though she heard of him now and again. +Not once had he been to see her since the night she +had sprained her ankle.</p> +<p>Later, when Melissy was watering the roses beside +the porch, she heard the name of Morse mentioned +by the stock detective. He seemed to be +urging upon her father some course of action at +which the latter demurred. The girl knew a vague +unrest. Lee did not need his anger against Morse +incensed. For months she had been trying to allay +rather than increase this. If Philip Norris had come +to stir up smoldering fires, she would give him a +piece of her mind.</p> +<p>The men were still together when Melissy told +her father good-night. If she had known that a +whisky bottle passed back and forth a good many +times in the course of the evening, the fears of the +girl would not have been lightened. She knew that +in the somber moods following a drinking bout the +lawlessness of Beauchamp Lee was most likely to +crop out.</p> +<p>As for the girl, now night had fallen—that wondrous +velvet night of Arizona, which blots out garish +day with a cloak of violet, purple-edged where +the hills rise vaguely in the distance, and softens +magically all harsh details beneath the starry vault—she +slipped out to the summit of the ridge in the +big pasture, climbing lightly, with the springy ease +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +born of the vigor her nineteen outdoor years had +stored in the strong young body. She wanted to +be alone, to puzzle out what the coming of this man +meant to her. Had he intended anything by that +last drawling remark of his in the store? Why was +it that his careless, half insulting familiarity set the +blood leaping through her like wine? He lured her +to the sex duel, then trampled down her reserves +roughshod. His bold assurance stung her to anger, +but there was a something deeper than anger that +left her flushed and tingling.</p> +<p>Both men slept late, but Norris was down first. +He found Melissy superintending a drive of sheep +which old Antonio, the herder, was about to make +to the trading-post at Three Pines. She was on +her pony near the entrance to the corral, her slender, +lithe figure sitting in a boy’s saddle with a businesslike +air he could not help but admire. The gate +bars had been lifted and the dog was winding its +way among the bleating gray mass, which began +to stir uncertainly at its presence. The sheep dribbled +from the corral by ones and twos until the +procession swelled to a swollen stream that poured +forth in a torrent. Behind them came Antonio in +his sombrero and blanket, who smiled at his mistress, +shouted an “<i>Adios, seņorita</i>,” and disappeared +into the yellow dust cloud which the herd left in its +wake.</p> +<p>“How does Champ like being in the sheep business,” +Norris said to the girl. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></p> +<p>Melissy did not remove her eyes from the vanishing +herd, but a slight frown puckered her forehead. +She chose to take this as a criticism of her father +and to resent it.</p> +<p>“Why shouldn’t he be?” she said quietly, +answering the spirit of his remark.</p> +<p>“I didn’t mean it that way,” he protested, with +his frank laugh.</p> +<p>“Then if you didn’t mean it so, I shan’t take it +that way;” and her smile met his.</p> +<p>“Here’s how I look at this sheep business. Some +ranges are better adapted for sheep than cattle, and +you can’t keep Mary’s little lamb away from those +places. No use for a man to buck against the thing +that’s bound to be. Better get into the band-wagon +and ride.”</p> +<p>“That’s what father thought,” the girl confessed. +“He never would have been the man to bring sheep +in, but after they got into the country he saw it was +a question of whether he was going to get the government +reserve range for his sheep, or another +man, some new-comer like Mr. Morse, for his. It +was going to be sheep anyhow.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’m glad your father took the chance he +saw.” He added reminiscently: “We got to be +right good friends again last night before we +parted.”</p> +<p>She took the opening directly. “If you’re so good +a friend of his, you must not excite him about Mr. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +Morse. You know he’s a Southerner, and he is +likely to do something rash—something we shall +all be sorry for afterward.”</p> +<p>“I reckon that will be all right,” he said evasively.</p> +<p>Her eyes swept to his. “You won’t get father +into trouble will you?”</p> +<p>The warm, affectionate smile came back to his +face, so that as he looked at her he seemed a sun-god. +But again there was something in his gaze +that was not the frankness of a comrade, some +smoldering fire that strangely stirred her blood and +yet left her uneasy.</p> +<p>“I’m not liable to bring trouble to those you love, +girl. I stand by my friends.”</p> +<p>Her pony began to move toward the house, and +he strode beside, as debonair and gallant a figure as +ever filled the eye and the heart of a woman. The +morning sun glow irradiated him, found its sparkling +reflection in the dark curls of his bare head, +in the bloom of his tanned cheeks, made a fit setting +for the graceful picture of lingering youth his slim, +muscular figure and springy stride personified. +Small wonder the untaught girl beside him found +the merely physical charm of him fascinating. If +her instinct sometimes warned her to beware, her +generous heart was eager to pay small heed to the +monition except so far as concerned her father.</p> +<p>After breakfast he came into the office to see her +before he left. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span></p> +<p>“Good-by for a day or two,” he said, offering +his hand.</p> +<p>“You’re coming back again, are you?” she asked +quietly, but not without a deeper dye in her cheeks.</p> +<p>“Yes, I’m coming back. Will you be glad to see +me?”</p> +<p>“Why should I be glad? I hardly know you +these days.”</p> +<p>“You’ll know me better before we’re through +with each other.”</p> +<p>She would acknowledge no interest in him, the +less because she knew it was there. “I may do that +without liking you better.”</p> +<p>And suddenly his swift, winning smile flashed +upon her. “But you’ve got to like me. I want +you to.”</p> +<p>“Do you get everything you want?” she smiled +back.</p> +<p>“If I want it enough, I usually do.”</p> +<p>“Then since you get so much, you’ll be better able +to do without my liking.”</p> +<p>“I’m going to have it too.”</p> +<p>“Don’t be too sure.” She had a feeling that +things were moving too fast, and she hailed the +appearance of her father with relief. “Good morning, +dad. Did you sleep well? Mr. Norris is just +leaving.”</p> +<p>“Wait till I git a bite o’ breakfast and I’ll go with +you, Phil,” promised Lee. “I got to ride over to +Mesa anyhow some time this week.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span></p> +<p>The girl watched them ride away, taking the road +gait so characteristic of the Southwest. As long +as they were in sight her gaze followed them, and +when she could see nothing but a wide cloud of +dust travelling across the mesa she went up to her +room and sat down to think it out. Something new +had come into her life. What, she did not yet know, +but she tried to face the fact with the elemental +frankness that still made her more like a boy than +a woman. Sitting there before the looking-glass, +she played absently with the thick braid of heavy, +blue-black hair which hung across her shoulder to +the waist. It came to her for the first time to +wonder if she was pretty, whether she was going to +be one of the women that men desire. Without the +least vanity she studied herself, appraised the soft +brown cheeks framed with ebon hair, the steady, +dark eyes so quick to passion and to gaiety, the +bronzed throat full and rounded, the supple, flowing +grace of the unrestrained body.</p> +<p>Gradually a wave of color crept into her cheeks +as she sat there with her chin on her little doubled +hand. It was the charm of this Apollo of the plains +that had set free such strange thoughts in her head. +Why should she think of him? What did it matter +whether she was good-looking? She shook herself +resolutely together and went down to the business +of the day.</p> +<p>It was not long after midnight the next day that +Champ Lee reached the ranch. His daughter came +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +out from her room in her night-dress to meet him.</p> +<p>“What kept you, Daddy?” she asked.</p> +<p>But before he could answer she knew. She read +the signs too clearly to doubt that he had been +drinking.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI__HANDS_UP' id='VI__HANDS_UP'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>“HANDS UP”</h3> +</div> + +<p>Melissy had been up the Caņ del Oro +for wild poppies in her runabout and had +just reached the ranch. She was disposing +of her flowers in ollas when Jim Budd, waiter, +chambermaid, and odd jobs man at the Bar Double +G, appeared in the hall with a frightened, mysterious +face.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, Jim? You and Hop Ling +been quarrelling again?” she asked carelessly.</p> +<p>“No’m, that ain’t it. It’s wusser’n that. I got +to tell you-all su’thin’ I hearn yore paw say.”</p> +<p>The girl looked up quickly at him. “What do +you mean, Jim?”</p> +<p>“That Mistah Norris he come back whilst you +wus away, and him and yore paw wus in that back +room a-talkin’ mighty confidential.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and you listened. Well?”</p> +<p>Jim swelled with offended dignity. “No’m, I +didn’t listen neither. I des natcherally hearn, ’count +of that hole fer the stovepipe what comes through +the floor of my room.”</p> +<p>“But what was it you heard?” she interrupted +impatiently. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span></p> +<p>“I wus a-comin’ to that. Plum proverdenshul, I +draps into my room des as yore paw wus sayin’, +’Twenty thousand dollars goin’ down to the Fort +on the stage to-day?’ ’Cose I pricks up my ears +then and tuk it all in. This yere Norris had foun’ +out that Mistah Morse was shippin’ gold from his +mine to-day on the Fort Allison stage, and he gits +yore paw to go in with him an’ hold it up. Yore +paw cussed and said as how ’t wus his gold anyhow +by rights.”</p> +<p>The girl went white and gave a little broken cry. +“Oh, Jim! Are you sure?”</p> +<p>“Yas’m, ’cose I’m suah. Them’s his ve’y words. +Hope to die if they ain’t. They wus drinkin’, and +when ’t wus all fixed up that ’t wus to be at the +mouth of the Box Caņon they done tore an old +black shirt you got for a dust-rag and made masks +out of it and then rode away.”</p> +<p>“Which way did they go?”</p> +<p>“Tow’ds the Box Caņon Miss M’lissy.”</p> +<p>A slender, pallid figure of despair, she leaned +against the wall to support the faintness that had +so suddenly stolen the strength from her limbs, +trying desperately to think of some way to save her +father from this madness. She was sure he would +bungle it and be caught eventually, and she was +equally sure he would never let himself be taken +alive. Her helplessness groped for some way out. +There must be some road of escape from this horrible +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +situation, and as she sought blindly for it the +path opened before her.</p> +<p>“Where is Hop?” she asked quickly.</p> +<p>“A-sleepin’ in his room, ma’am.”</p> +<p>“Go to the store and tend it till I come back, Jim. +I may be an hour, or mebbe two, but don’t you move +out of it for a moment. And don’t ever speak of +any of this, not a word, Jim.”</p> +<p>“No’m, ’cose I won’t.”</p> +<p>His loyalty she did not doubt an instant, though +she knew his simple wits might easily be led to +indiscretion. But she did not stay to say more +now, but flew upstairs to the room that had been +her brother’s before he left home. Scarce five minutes +elapsed before she reappeared transformed. It +was a slim youth garbed as a cowpuncher that now +slipped along the passage to the rear, softly opened +the door of the cook’s room, noiselessly abstracted +the key, closed the door again as gently, and locked +it from the outside. She ran into her own room, +strapped on her revolver belt, and took her empty +rifle from its case. As she ran through the room +below the one Jim occupied, she caught sight of a +black rag thrown carelessly into the fireplace and +stuffed it into her pocket.</p> +<p>“That’s just like Dad to leave evidence lying +around,” she said to herself, for even in the anxiety +that was flooding her she kept her quiet commonsense.</p> +<p>After searching the horizon carefully to see that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +nobody was in sight, she got into the rig and drove +round the corral to the irrigating ditch. This was +a wide lateral of the main canal, used to supply the +whole lower valley with water, and just now it was +empty. Melissy drove down into its sandy bed and +followed its course as rapidly as she could. If she +were only in time! If the stage had not yet passed! +That was her only fear, the dread of being too late. +Not once did the risk of the thing she intended +occur to her. Physical fear had never been part of +her. She had done the things her brother Dick had +done. She was a reckless rider, a good shot, could +tramp the hills or follow the round-up all day without +knowing fatigue. If her flesh still held its girlish +curves and softness, the muscles underneath +were firm and compact. Often for her own amusement +and that of her father she had donned her +brother’s chaps, his spurs, sombrero, and other paraphernalia, +to masquerade about the house in them. +She had learned to imitate the long roll of the +vaquero’s stride, the mannerisms common to his +class, and even the heavy voice of a man. More +than once she had passed muster as a young man +in the shapeless garments she was now wearing. +She felt confident that the very audacity of the thing +would carry it off. There would be a guard for the +treasure box, of course, but if all worked well he +could be taken by surprise. Her rifle was not loaded, +but the chances were a hundred to one that she +would not need to use it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span></p> +<p>For the first time in his life the roan got the +whip from his mistress.</p> +<p>“Git up, Bob. We’ve got to hurry. It’s for +dad,” she cried, as they raced through the sand +and sent it flying from the wheels.</p> +<p>The Fort Allison stage passed within three miles +of the Lee ranch on its way to Mesa. Where the +road met in intersection with the ditch she had +chosen as the point for stopping it, and no veteran +at the business could have selected more wisely, for +a reason which will hereafter appear. Some fifty +yards below this point of intersection the ditch ran +through a grove of cottonwoods fringing the bank. +Here the banks sloped down more gradually, and +Melissy was able to drive up one side, turn her rig +so that the horse faced the other way, and draw +down into the ditch again in order that the runabout +could not be seen from the road. Swiftly and skilfully +she obliterated the track she had made in the +sandy bank.</p> +<p>She was just finishing this when the sound of +wheels came to her. Rifle in hand, she ran back +along the ditch, stooping to pass under the bridge, +and waited at the farther side in a fringe of bushes +for the coming of the stage.</p> +<p>Even now fear had no place in the excitement +which burned high in her. The girl’s wits were +fully alert, and just in time she remembered the +need of a mask. Her searching fingers found the +torn black shirt in a pocket and a knife in another. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +Hastily she ripped the linen in half, cut out eyeholes, +and tied the mask about her head. With perfectly +steady hands she picked up the rifle from the ground +and pushed the muzzle of it through the bushes.</p> +<p>Leisurely the stage rolled up-grade toward the +crossing. The Mexican driver was half asleep and +the “shotgun messenger” was indolently rolling a +cigarette, his sawed-off gun between his knees. +Alan McKinstra was the name of this last young +gentleman. Only yesterday he had gone to work +for Morse, and this was the first job that had been +given him. The stage never had been held up since +the “Monte Cristo” had struck its pay-streak, and +there was no reason to suppose it would be. Nevertheless, +Morse proposed to err on the side of caution.</p> +<p>“I reckon the man that holds down this job don’t +earn his salt, José. It’s what they call a sinecure,” +Alan was saying at the very instant the summons +came.</p> +<p>“Throw up your hands!”</p> +<p>Sharp and crisp it fell on Alan’s ears. He sat for +a moment stunned, the half-rolled cigarette still +between his fingers. The driver drew up his four +horses with a jerk and brought them to a huddled +halt.</p> +<p>“Hands up!” came again the stinging imperative.</p> +<p>Now, for the first time, it reached Alan’s consciousness +that the stage was actually being held +up. He saw the sun shining on the barrel of a rifle +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +and through the bushes the masked face of a hidden +cowpuncher. His first swift instinct was to give +battle, and he reached for the shotgun between his +knees. Simultaneously the driver’s foot gave it a +push and sent the weapon clattering to the ground. +José at least knew better than to let him draw the +road agent’s fire while he sat within a foot of the +driver. His hands went into the air, and after his +Alan’s and those of the two passengers.</p> +<p>“Throw down that box.”</p> +<p>Alan lowered his hands and did as directed.</p> +<p>“Now reach for the stars again.”</p> +<p>McKinstra’s arms went skyward. Without his +weapon, he was helpless to do otherwise. The +young man had an odd sense of unreality about the +affair, a feeling that it was not in earnest. The +timbre of the fresh young voice that came from +the bushes struck a chord in his memory, though +for the life of him he could not place its owner.</p> +<p>“Drive on, José. Burn the wind and keep a-rollin’ +south.”</p> +<p>The Mexican’s whip coiled over the head of the +leaders and the broncos sprang forward with a +jump. It was the summit of a long hill, on the +edge of which wound the road. Until the stage +reached the foot of it there would be no opportunity +to turn back. Round a bend of the road it swung +at a gallop, and the instant it disappeared Melissy +leaped from the bushes, lifted the heavy box, and +carried it to the edge of the ditch. She flew down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +the sandy bottom to the place where the rig stood, +drove swiftly back again, and, though it took the +last ounce of strength in her, managed to tumble +the box into the trap.</p> +<p>Back to the road she went, and from the place +where the box had fallen made long strides back +to the bushes where she had been standing at the +moment of the hold-up. These tracks she purposely +made deep and large, returning in her first ones to +the same point, but from the marks where the falling +treasure box had struck into the road she carefully +obliterated with her hand the foot-marks leading +to the irrigation ditch, sifting the sand in carefully +so as to leave no impression. This took scarcely +a minute. She was soon back in her runabout, +driving homeward fast as whip and voice could +urge the horse.</p> +<p>She thought she could reason out what McKinstra +and the stage-driver would do. Mesa was twenty-five +miles distant, the “Monte Cristo” mine seventeen. +Nearer than these points there was no telephone +station except the one at the Lee ranch. Their +first thought would be to communicate with Morse, +with the officers at Mammoth, and with the sheriff +of Mesa County. To do this as soon as possible +they would turn aside and drive to the ranch after +they reached the bottom of the hill and could make +the turn. It was a long, steep hill, and Melissy +estimated that this would give her a start of nearly +twenty minutes. She would save about half a mile +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +by following the ditch instead of the road, but at +best she knew she was drawing it very fine.</p> +<p>She never afterward liked to think of that drive +home. It seemed to her that Bob crawled and that +the heavy sand was interminable. Feverishly she +plied the whip, and when at length she drew out +of the ditch she sent her horse furiously round the +big corral. Though she had planned everything +to the last detail, she knew that any one of a hundred +contingencies might spoil her plan. A cowpuncher +lounging about the place would have ruined everything, +or at best interfered greatly. But the windmill +clicked over sunlit silence, empty of life. No +stir or movement showed the presence of any human +being.</p> +<p>Melissy drove round to the side door, dumped out +the treasure-box, ran into the house, and quickly +returned with a hammer and some tacks, then fell +swiftly to ripping the oilcloth that covered the +box which stood against the wall to serve as a handy +wash-stand for use by dusty travellers before dining. +The two boxes were of the same size and shape, +and she draped the treasure chest with the cloth, +tacked it in place, restored to the top of it the tin +basin, and tossed the former wash-stand among a +pile of old boxes from the store, that were to be +used for kindling. After this she ran upstairs, +scudded softly along the corridor, and silently +unlocked the cook’s door, dropping the key on the +floor to make it appear as if something had shaken +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +it from the keyhole. Presently she was in her +brother’s room, doffing his clothes and dressing +herself in her own.</p> +<p>A glance out of the window sapped the color +from her cheek, for she saw the stage breasting the +hill scarce two hundred yards from the house. She +hurried downstairs, pinning her belt as she ran, and +flashed into the store, where Jim sat munching +peanuts.</p> +<p>“The stage is coming, Jim. Remember, you’re +not to know anything about it at all. If they ask +for Dad, say he’s out cutting trail of a bunch of hill +cows. Tell them I started after the wild flowers +about fifteen minutes ago. Don’t talk much about it, +though. I’ll be back inside of an hour.”</p> +<p>With that she was gone, back to her trap, which +she swung along a trail back of the house till it met +the road a quarter of a mile above. Her actions +must have surprised steady old Bob, for he certainly +never before had seen his mistress in such a desperate +hurry as she had been this day and still was. +Nearly a mile above, a less well defined track +deflected from the main road. Into this she turned, +following it until she came to the head-gates of the +lateral which ran through their place. The main +canal was full of water, and after some effort she +succeeded in opening the head-gates so as to let the +water go pouring through.</p> +<p>Returning to the runabout, the girl drove across +a kind of natural meadow to a hillside not far distant, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +gathered a double handful of wild flowers, and +turned homeward again. The stage was still there +when she came in sight of the group of buildings +at the ranch.</p> +<p>As she drew up and dismounted with her armful +of flowers, Alan McKinstra stepped from the store +to the porch and came forward to assist her.</p> +<p>“The Fort Allison stage has been robbed,” he +blurted out.</p> +<p>“What nonsense! Who would want to rob it?” +she retorted.</p> +<p>“Morse had a gold shipment aboard,” he explained +in a low voice, and added in bitter self-condemnation: +“He sent me along to guard it, and I never +even fired a shot to save it.”</p> +<p>“But—do you mean that somebody held up the +stage?” she gasped.</p> +<p>“Yes. But whoever it was can’t escape. I’ve +’phoned to Jack Flatray and to Morse. They’ll be +right out here. The sheriff of Mesa County has +already started with a posse. They’ll track him +down. That’s a cinch. He can’t get away with +the box without a rig. If he busts the box, he’s +got to carry it on a horse and a horse leaves tracks.”</p> +<p>“But who do you think it was?”</p> +<p>“Don’t know. One of the Roaring Fork bunch +of bad men, likely. But I don’t know.”</p> +<p>The young man was plainly very much excited +and disturbed. He walked nervously up and down, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +jerking his sentences out piecemeal as he thought +of them.</p> +<p>“Was there only one man? And did you see +him?” Melissy asked breathlessly.</p> +<p>He scarcely noticed her excitement, or if he did, +it seemed to him only natural under the circumstances.</p> +<p>“I expect there were more, but we saw only one. +Didn’t see much of him. He was screened by the +bushes and wore a black mask. So long as the stage +was in sight he never moved from that place; just +stood there and kept us covered.”</p> +<p>“But how could he rob you if he didn’t come +out?” she asked in wide-eyed innocence.</p> +<p>“He didn’t rob <i>us</i> any. He must ’a’ heard of the +shipment of gold, and that’s what he was after. +After he’d got us to rights he made me throw the +box down in the road. That’s where it was when +he ordered us to move on and keep agoing.”</p> +<p>“And you went?”</p> +<p>“José handled the lines, but ’t would ’a’ been the +same if I’d held them. That gun of his was a right +powerful persuader.” He stopped to shake a fist +in impotent fury in the air. “I wish to God I could +meet up with him some day when he didn’t have +the drop on me.”</p> +<p>“Maybe you will some time,” she told him soothingly. +“I don’t think you’re a bit to blame, Alan. +Nobody could think so. Ever so many times I’ve +heard Dad say that when a man gets the drop on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +you there’s nothing to do but throw up your hands.”</p> +<p>“Do you honest think so, Melissy? Or are you +just saying it to take the sting away? Looks like +I ought to ’a’ done something mor’n sit there like a +bump on a log while he walked off with the gold.”</p> +<p>His cheerful self-satisfaction was under eclipse. +The boyish pride of him was wounded. He had +not “made good.” All over Cattleland the news +would be wafted on the wings of the wind that +Alan McKinstra, while acting as shotgun messenger +to a gold shipment, had let a road agent hold him +up for the treasure he was guarding.</p> +<p>“Very likely they’ll catch him and get the gold +back,” she suggested.</p> +<p>“That won’t do me any good,” he returned +gloomily. “The only thing that can help me now +is for me to git the fellow myself, and I might just +as well look for a needle in a haystack.”</p> +<p>“You can’t tell. The robber may be right round +here now.” Her eyes, shining with excitement, +passed the crowd moving in and out of the store, +for already the news of the hold-up had brought +riders and ranchmen jogging in to learn the truth +of the wild tale that had reached them.</p> +<p>“More likely he’s twenty miles away. But whoever +he is, he knows this county. He made a slip +and called José by his name.”</p> +<p>Melissy’s gaze was turned to the dust whirl that +advanced up the road that ran round the corral. +“That doesn’t prove anything, Alan. Everybody +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +knows José. He’s lived all over Arizona—at Tucson +and Tombstone and Douglas.”</p> +<p>“That’s right too,” the lad admitted.</p> +<p>The riders in advance of the dust cloud resolved +themselves into the persons of her father and +Norris. Her incautious admission was already +troubling her.</p> +<p>“But I’m sure you’re right. No hold-up with +any sense would stay around here and wait to be +caught. He’s probably gone up into the Galiuros +to hide.”</p> +<p>“Unless he’s cached the gold and is trying to +throw off suspicion.”</p> +<p>The girl had moved forward to the end of the +house with Alan to meet her father. At that +instant, by the ironic humor of chance, her glance +fell upon a certain improvised wash-stand covered +with oilcloth. She shook her head decisively. “No, +he won’t risk waiting to do that. He’ll make sure +of his escape first.”</p> +<p>“I reckon.”</p> +<p>“Have you heard, Daddy?” Melissy called out +eagerly. She knew she must play the part expected +of her, that of a young girl much interested in this +adventure which had occurred in the community.</p> +<p>He nodded grimly, swinging from the saddle. +She observed with surprise that his eye did not meet +hers. This was not like him.</p> +<p>“What do you think?”</p> +<p>His gaze met that of Norris before he answered, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +and there was in it some hint of a great fear. +“Beats me, ’Lissy.”</p> +<p>He had told the simple truth, but not the whole +truth. The men had waited at the entrance to the +Box Caņon for nearly two hours without the arrival +of the stage. Deciding that something must have +happened, they started back, and presently met a +Mexican who stopped to tell them the news. To +say that they were dazed is to put it mildly. To +expect them to believe that somebody else had heard +of the secret shipment and had held up the stage +two miles from the place they had chosen, was to +ask a credulity too simple. Yet this was the fact +that confronted them.</p> +<p>Arrived at the scene of the robbery both men +had dismounted and had examined the ground +thoroughly. What they saw tended still more to +bewilder them. Neither of them was a tenderfoot, +and the little table at the summit of the long hill +told a very tangled tale to those who had eyes to +read. Obvious tracks took them at once to the +spot where the bandit had stood in the bushes, but +there was something about them that struck both +men as suspicious.</p> +<p>“Looks like these are worked out on purpose,” +commented Lee. “The guy’s leaving too easy a +trail to follow, and it quits right abrupt in the +bushes. Must ’a’ took an airship from here, I ’low.”</p> +<p>“Does look funny. Hello! What’s this?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></p> +<p>Norris had picked up a piece of black cloth and +was holding it out. A startled oath slipped from +the lips of the Southerner. He caught the rag from +the hands of his companion and studied it with a +face of growing astonishment.</p> +<p>“What’s up?”</p> +<p>Lee dived into his pocket and drew forth the +mask he had been wearing. Silently he fitted it to +the other. The pieces matched exactly, both in +length and in the figure of the pattern.</p> +<p>When the Southerner looked up his hands were +shaking and his face ashen.</p> +<p>“For God’s sake, Phil, what does this mean?” +he cried hoarsely.</p> +<p>“Search me.”</p> +<p>“It must have been—looks like the hold-up was +somebody—my God, man, we left this rag at the +ranch when we started!” the rancher whispered.</p> +<p>“That’s right.”</p> +<p>“We planned this thing right under the nigger’s +room. He must ’a’ heard and—— But it don’t +look like Jim Budd to do a thing like that.”</p> +<p>Norris had crossed the road again and was standing +on the edge of the lateral.</p> +<p>“Hello! This ditch is full of water. When we +passed down it was empty,” he said.</p> +<p>Lee crossed over and stood by his side, a puzzled +frown on his face. “There hadn’t ought to be water +running hyer now,” he said, as if to himself. “I +don’t see how it could ’a’ come hyer, for Bill Weston—he’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +the ditch rider—went to Mesa this mo’ning, +and couldn’t ’a’ got back to turn it in.”</p> +<p>The younger man stooped and examined a foot-print +at the edge of the ditch. It was the one +Melissy had made just as she stepped into the rig.</p> +<p>“Here’s something new, Lee. We haven’t seen +this gentleman’s track before. Looks like a boy’s. +It’s right firm and deep in this soft ground. I’ll +bet a cooky your nigger never made that track.”</p> +<p>The Southerner crouched down beside him, and +they looked at it together, head to head.</p> +<p>“No, it ain’t Jim’s. I don’t rightly <i>savez</i> this +thing at all,” the old man muttered, troubled at this +mystery which seemed to point to his household.</p> +<p>“By Moses, I’ve got it! The guy who did the +holding up had his horse down here. He loaded the +sack on its back and drove off up the ditch. All +we got to do is follow the ditch up or down till we +come to the place where he climbed out and struck +across country.”</p> +<p>“That’s right, Phil. He must have had a pardner +up at the head-gates. They had some kind of signal +arranged, and when Mr. Hold-up was ready down +come the water and washed out his tracks. It’s a +blame’ smooth piece of business if you ask me.”</p> +<p>“The fellow made two bad breaks, though. That +piece of shirt is one. This foot-print is another. +They may land him in the pen yet.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think it,” returned the old man with +composure, and as he spoke his foot erased the telltale +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +print. “I ’low there won’t anybody go to the +pen for he’pin himself to Mr. Morse’s gold dust. +I don’t give a cuss who it was.”</p> +<p>Norris laughed in his low, easy way. “I’m with +you, Mr. Lee. We’ll make a thorough job while +we’re at it and mess up these other tracks. After +that we’ll follow the ditch up and see if there’s +anything doing.”</p> +<p>They remounted their broncos and rode them +across the tracks several times, then followed the +lateral up, one on either side of the ditch, their +eyes fastened to the ground to see any evidence of +a horse having clambered over the bank. They +drew in sight of the ranch house without discovering +what they were looking for. Lee’s heart was +in his mouth, for he knew that he would see presently +what his eye sought.</p> +<p>“I reckon the fellow went down instead of up,” +suggested Norris.</p> +<p>“No, he came up.”</p> +<p>Lee had stopped and was studying wheel tracks +that ran up from the ditch to his ranch house. His +face was very white and set. He pointed to them +with a shaking finger.</p> +<p>“There’s where he went in the ditch, and there’s +where he came out.”</p> +<p>Norris forded the stream, cast a casual eye on +the double track, and nodded. He was still in a +fog of mystery, but the old man was already fearing +the worst. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></p> +<p>He gulped out his fears tremblingly. For himself, +he was of a flawless nerve, but this touched nearer +home than his own danger.</p> +<p>“Them wheel-tracks was made by my little +gyurl’s runabout, Phil.”</p> +<p>“Good heavens!” The younger man drew rein +sharply and stared at him. “You don’t think——”</p> +<p>He broke off, recalling the sharp, firm little foot-print +on the edge of the ditch some miles below.</p> +<p>“I don’t reckon I know what to think. If she +was in this, she’s got some good reason.” A wave +of passion suddenly swept the father. “By God! +I’d like to see the man that dares mix her name +up in this.”</p> +<p>Norris met this with his friendly smile. “You +can’t pick a row with me about that, old man. I’m +with you till the cows come home. But that ain’t +quite the way to go at this business. First thing, +we’ve got to wipe out these tracks. How? Why, +sheep! There’s a bunch of three hundred in that +pasture. We’ll drive the bunch down to the ditch +and water them here. <i>Savez?</i>”</p> +<p>“And wipe out the wheel-marks in the sand. +Bully for you, Phil.”</p> +<p>“That’s the idea. After twelve hundred chisel +feet have been over this sand I reckon the wheel-tracks +will be missing.”</p> +<p>They rode up to the house, and the first thing +that met them was the candid question of the girl: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span></p> +<p>“Have you heard, Daddy?”</p> +<p>And out of his troubled heart he had answered, +“Beats me, ’Lissie.”</p> +<p>“They’ve sent for the officers. Jack Flatray is +on the way himself. So is Sheriff Burke,” volunteered +Alan gloomily.</p> +<p>“Getting right busy, ain’t they?” Norris sneered.</p> +<p>Again Lee glanced quickly at Norris. “I reckon, +Phil, we better drive that bunch of sheep down to +water right away. I clean forgot them this +mo’ning.”</p> +<p>“Sure.” The younger man was not so easily +shaken. He turned to McKinstra naturally. “How +many of the hold-ups were there?”</p> +<p>“I saw only one, and didn’t see him very good. +He was a slim fellow in a black mask.”</p> +<p>“You don’t say. Were you the driver?”</p> +<p>Alan felt the color suffuse his face. “No, I was +the guard.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you were the guard.”</p> +<p>Alan felt the suave irony that covered this man’s +amusement, and he resented it impotently. When +Melissy came to his support he was the more +grateful.</p> +<p>“And we all think he did just right in using his +common sense, Mr. Norris,” the girl flashed.</p> +<p>“Oh, certainly.”</p> +<p>And with that he was gone after her father to +help him water the sheep.</p> +<p>“I don’t see why those sheep have to be watered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +right now,” she frowned to Alan. “Dad <i>did</i> water +them this morning. I helped him.”</p> +<p>Together they went into the store, where José +was telling his story for the sixth time to a listening +circle of plainsmen.</p> +<p>“And right then he come at you and ree-quested +yore whole outfit to poke a hole in the scenery with +yore front feet?” old Dave Ellis asked just as +Melissy entered.</p> +<p>“<i>Si, Seņor.</i>”</p> +<p>“One of MacQueen’s Roaring Fork gang did it, +I’ll bet,” Alan contributed sourly.</p> +<p>“What kind of a lookin’ guy was he?” spoke up +a dark young man known as Bob Farnum.</p> +<p>“A big man, <i>seņor</i>, and looked a ruffian.”</p> +<p>“They’re always that way until you run ’em +down,” grinned Ellis. “Never knew a hold-up +wasn’t eight foot high and then some—to the fellow +at the wrong end of the gun.”</p> +<p>“If you mean to say, Dave Ellis, that I lay down +to a bluff——” Alan was beginning hotly when the +old frontiersman interrupted.</p> +<p>“Keep your shirt on, McKinstra. I don’t mean +to say it. Nobody but a darn fool makes a gun-play +when the cards are stacked that-a-way. Yore +bad play was in reaching for the gun at all.”</p> +<p>“Well, Jack Flatray will git him. I’ll bet a stack +of blues on that,” contributed a fat ranchman +wheezily. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></p> +<p>“Unless you mussed up the trail coming back,” +said Ellis to the stage-driver.</p> +<p>“We didn’t. I thought of that, and I had José +drive clear round the place. Jack will find it all +right unless there’s too much travel before he gets +here,” said Alan.</p> +<p>Farnum laughed malevolently. “Mebbe he’ll get +him and mebbe he won’t. Jack’s human, like the +rest of us, if he is the best sheriff in Arizona. Here’s +hoping he don’t get him. Any man that waltzes out +of the cactus and appropriates twenty thousand +dollars belonging to Mr. Morse is welcome to it for +all of me. I don’t care if he is one of MacQueen’s +bad men. I wish it had been forty thousand.”</p> +<p>Farnum did not need to explain the reasons for +his sentiments. Everybody present knew that he +was the leader of that bunch of cattlemen who had +bunched themselves together to resist the encroachments +of sheep upon the range. Among these the +feeling against Morse was explosively dangerous. +It had found expression in more than one raid upon +his sheep. Many of them had been destroyed by +one means or another, but Morse, with the obstinacy +characteristic of him, had replaced them with others +and continually increased his herds. There had +been threats against his life, and one of his herders +had been wounded. But the mine-owner went his +way with quiet fearlessness and paid no attention to +the animosity he had stirred up. The general feeling +was that the trouble must soon come to a head. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +Nobody expected the rough and ready vaqueros, +reckless and impulsive as they were, to submit to the +loss of the range, which meant too the wiping out +of their means of livelihood, without a bitter struggle +that would be both lawless and bloody.</p> +<p>Wherefore there was silence after Farnum had +spoken, broken at length by the amiable voice of +the fat ranchman, Baker.</p> +<p>“Well, we’ll see what we’ll see,” he wheezed +complacently. “And anyways I got to have some +horseshoe plug, Melissy.”</p> +<p>The girl laughed nervously as she reached for +what he wanted. “You’re a safe prophet, Mr. +Baker,” she said.</p> +<p>“He’d be a safe one if he’d prophesy that Jack +Flatray would have Mr. Hold-up in the calaboose +inside of three days,” put in a half-grown lad in +leathers.</p> +<p>“I ain’t so sure about that. You’ll have to show +me, and so will Mr. Deputy Sheriff Flatray,” +retorted Farnum.</p> +<p>A shadow darkened the doorway.</p> +<p>“Good afternoon, gentlemen all—and Miss Lee,” +a pleasant voice drawled.</p> +<p>The circle of eyes focused on the new-comer +and saw a lean, muscular, young fellow of medium +height, cool and alert, with the dust of the desert +on every sunbaked inch of him.</p> +<p>“I’m damned if it ain’t Jack here already!” gasped +Baker.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_WATERING_SHEEP' id='VII_WATERING_SHEEP'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>WATERING SHEEP</h3> +</div> + +<p>The deputy glanced quietly round, nodded +here and there at sight of the familiar +face of an acquaintance, and spoke to the +driver.</p> +<p>“Let’s hear you say your little piece again, José.”</p> +<p>The Mexican now had it by heart, and he pattered +off the thing from beginning to end without a pause. +Melissy, behind the counter, leaned her elbows on +it and fastened her eyes on the boyish face of the +officer. In her heart she was troubled. How much +did he know? What could he discover from the +evidence she had left? He had the reputation of +being the best trailer and the most fearless officer +in Arizona. But surely she had covered her tracks +safely.</p> +<p>From José the ranger turned to Alan. “We’ll +hear your account of it now, seh,” he said gently.</p> +<p>While Alan talked, Jack’s gaze drifted through +the window to the flock of sheep that were being +driven up from the ditch by Lee and Norris. That +little pastoral scene had its significance for him. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +had arrived at the locality of the hold-up a few minutes +after they had left, and his keen intelligence had +taken in some of the points they had observed. A +rapid circuit of the spot at the distance of thirty +yards had shown him no tracks leading from the +place except those which ran up the lateral on either +side of it. It was possible that these belonged to +the horses of the robbers, but if so the fellows +were singularly careless of detection. Moreover, +the booty must be accounted for. They had not +carried it with them, since no empty box remained +to show that they had poured the gold into sacks, +and it would have been impossible to take the box +as it was on a horse. Nor had they buried it, +unless at the bottom of the irrigating ditch, for +some signs of their work must have remained.</p> +<p>Balancing probabilities, it had seemed to Flatray +that these might be the tracks of ranchmen who had +arrived after the hold-up and were following the +escaping bandits up the lateral. For unless these +were the robber’s, there was no way of escape except +either up or down the bottom of the ditch. His +search had eliminated the possibility of any other +but the road, and this was travelled too frequently +to admit of even a chance of escape by it without +detection. Jack filed away one or two questions in +his brain for future reference. The most important +of these was to discover whether there had been any +water in the ditch at the time of the hold-up.</p> +<p>He had decided to follow the tracks leading up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +the ditch and found no difficulty in doing so at a +fast walk. Without any hesitation they paralleled +the edge of the lateral. Nor had the deputy travelled +a quarter of a mile before he made a discovery. +The rider on the right hand side of the stream +had been chewing tobacco, and he had a habit of +splashing his mark on boulders he passed in the +form of tobacco juice. Half a dozen times before +he reached the Lee ranch the ranger saw this signature +of identity writ large on smooth rocks shining +in the sun. The last place he saw it was at the +point where the two riders deflected from the lateral +toward the ranch house, following tracks which led +up from the bottom of the ditch.</p> +<p>An instant later Flatray had dodged back into the +chaparral, for somebody was driving a flock of +sheep down to the ditch. He made out that there +were two riders behind them, and that they had +no dog. For the present his curiosity was satisfied. +He thought he knew why they were watering sheep +in this odd fashion. Swiftly he had made a circuit, +drawn rein in front of the store, and dropped in +just in time to hear his name. Now, as with one +ear he listened to Alan’s account of the hold-up, with +his subconscious mind he was with the sheep-herders +who were driving the flock back into the pasture.</p> +<p>“Looks like our friend the bad man was onto his +job all right,” was the deputy’s only comment when +Alan had finished.</p> +<p>“I’ll bet he’s making his getaway into the hills +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +mighty immediate,” chuckled Baker. “He can’t +find a bank in the mountainside to deposit that gold +any too soon to suit him.”</p> +<p>“Sho! I’ll bet he ain’t worried a mite. He’s got +his arrangements all made, and likely they’ll dovetail +to suit him. He’s put his brand on that gold +to stay,” answered Farnum confidently.</p> +<p>Jack’s mild blue eyes rested on him amiably. +“Think so, Bob?”</p> +<p>“I ain’t knockin’ you any, Jack. You’re all right. +But that’s how I figure it out, and, by Gad! I’m +hopin’ it too,” Farnum made answer recklessly.</p> +<p>Flatray laughed and strolled from the crowded +room to the big piazza. A man had just cantered +up and flung himself from his saddle. The ranger, +looking at him, thought he had never seen another +so strikingly handsome an Apollo. Black eyes +looked into his from a sun-tanned face perfectly +modelled. The pose of the head and figure would +have delighted a sculptor.</p> +<p>There was a vigor, an unspoken hostility, in the +gaze of both men.</p> +<p>“Mo’nin”, Mr. Deputy Sheriff, one said; and +the other, “Same to you, Mr. Norris.”</p> +<p>“You’re on the job quick,” sneered the cattle +detective.</p> +<p>“The quicker the sooner, I expect.”</p> +<p>“And by night you’ll have Mr. Hold-up roped +and hog-tied?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></p> +<p>“Not so you could notice it. Are you a sheep-herder +these days, Mr. Norris?”</p> +<p>The gentle irony of this was not lost on its object, +for in the West a herder of sheep is the next remove +from a dumb animal.</p> +<p>“No, I’m riding for the Quarter Circle K Bar +outfit. This is the first time I ever took the dust +of a sheep in my life. I did it to oblige Mr. Lee.”</p> +<p>“Oh! To oblige Mr. Lee?”</p> +<p>“He wanted to water them, and his herder wasn’t +here.”</p> +<p>“Must ’a’ been wanting water mighty bad, I +reckon,” commented Jack amiably.</p> +<p>“You bet! Lee feels better satisfied now he’s +watered them.”</p> +<p>“I don’t doubt it.”</p> +<p>Norris changed the subject. “You must have +burnt the wind getting here. I didn’t expect to see +you for some hours.”</p> +<p>“I happened to be down at Yeager’s ranch, and +one of the boys got me on the line from Mesa.”</p> +<p>“Picked up any clues yet?” asked the other carelessly, +yet always with that hint of a sneer; and +innocently Flatray answered, “They seem to be right +seldom.”</p> +<p>“Didn’t know but you’d happened on the fellow’s +trail.”</p> +<p>“I guess I’m as much at sea as you are,” was the +equivocal answer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></p> +<p>Lee came over from the stable, still wearing spurs +and gauntlets.</p> +<p>“Howdy, Jack!” he nodded, not quite so much +at his ease as usual. “Got hyer on the jump, +didn’t you?”</p> +<p>“I kept movin’.”</p> +<p>“This shorely beats hell, don’t it?” Lee glanced +around, selected a smooth boulder, and fired his +discharge of tobacco juice at it true to the inch. +“Reminds me of the old days. You boys ain’t old +enough to recall them, but stage hold-ups were right +numerous then.”</p> +<p>Blandly the deputy looked from one to the other. +“I don’t suppose either of you gentlemen happen +to have been down and looked over the ground +where the hold-up was? The tracks were right +cut up before I got there.”</p> +<p>This center shot silenced Lee for an instant, but +Norris was on the spot with smiling ease.</p> +<p>“No, Mr. Lee and I have been hunting strays +on the mesa. We didn’t hear about it till a few +minutes ago. We’re at your service, though, Mr. +Sheriff, to join any posses you want to send out.”</p> +<p>“Much obliged. I’m going to send one out +toward the Galiuros in a few minutes now. I’ll +be right glad to have you take charge of it, Mr. +Norris.”</p> +<p>The derisive humor in the newly appointed +deputy’s eyes did not quite reach the surface.</p> +<p>“Sure. Whenever you want me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span></p> +<p>“I’m going to send Alan McKinstra along to +guide you. He knows that country like a book. +You want to head for the lower pass, swing up +Diable Caņon, and work up in the headquarters of +the Three Forks.”</p> +<p>Within a quarter of an hour the posse was in +motion. Flatray watched it disappear in the dust +of the road without a smile. He had sent them out +merely to distract the attention of the public and +to get rid of as many as possible of the crowd. For +he was quite as well aware as the leader of the posse +that this search in the Galiuros was a wild-goose +chase. Somewhere within three hundred yards of +the place he stood both the robber and his booty +were in all probability to be found.</p> +<p>Flatray was quite right in his surmise, since +Melissy Lee, who had come out to see the posse off, +was standing at the end of the porch with her dusky +eyes fastened on him, the while he stood beside the +house with one foot resting negligently on the oilcloth +cover of the wash-stand.</p> +<p>She had cast him out of her friendship because +of his unworthiness, but there was a tumult in her +heart at sight of him. No matter how her judgment +condemned him as a villain, some instinct in +her denied the possibility of it. She was torn in +conflict between her liking for him and her conviction +that he deserved only contempt. Somehow +it hurt her too that he accepted without protest her +verdict, appeared so willing to be a stranger to her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span></p> +<p>Now that the actual physical danger of her adventure +was past, Melissy was aware too of a chill dread +lurking at her heart. She was no longer buoyed +up by the swiftness of action which had called for +her utmost nerve. There was nothing she could +do now but wait, and waiting was of all things the +one most foreign to her impulsive temperament. +She acknowledged too some fear of this quiet, soft-spoken +frontiersman. All Arizona knew not only +the daredevil spirit that fired his gentleness, but +the competence with which he set about any task +he assigned himself. She did not see how he <i>could</i> +unravel this mystery. She had left no clues behind +her, she felt sure of that, and yet was troubled lest +he guessed at her secret behind that mask of innocence +he wore. He did not even remotely guess it +as yet, but he was far closer to the truth than he +pretended. The girl knew she should leave him +and go about her work. Her rôle was to appear +as inconspicuous as possible, but she could not resist +the fascination of trying to probe his thoughts.</p> +<p>“I suppose your posse will come back with the +hold-ups in a few hours. Will it be worth while +to wait for them?” she asked with amiable derision.</p> +<p>The ranger had been absorbed in thought, his +chin in his hand, but he brought his gaze back +from the distance to meet hers. What emotion lay +behind those cold eyes she could not guess.</p> +<p>“You’re more hopeful than I am, Miss Lee.”</p> +<p>“What are you sending them out for, then?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span></p> +<p>“Oh, well, the boys need to work off some of +their energy, and there’s always a show they might +happen onto the robbers.”</p> +<p>“Do you think some of the Roaring Fork gang +did it?”</p> +<p>“Can’t say.”</p> +<p>“I suppose you are staying here in the hope that +they will drop in and deliver themselves to you.”</p> +<p>He looked at her out of an expressionless face. +“That’s about it, I reckon. But what I tell the public +is that I’m staying so as to be within telephone connection. +You see, Sheriff Burke is moving up to +cut them off from the Catalinas, Jackson is riding +out from Mammoth to haid them off that way, +these anxious lads that have just pulled out from +here are taking care of the Galiuros. I’m supposed +to be sitting with my fingers on the keys as a sort +of posse dispatcher.”</p> +<p>“Well, I hope you won’t catch them,” she told +him bluntly.</p> +<p>“That seems to be a prevailing sentiment round +here. You say it right hearty too; couldn’t be more +certain of your feelings if it had been your own +father.”</p> +<p>He said it carelessly, yet with his keen blue eyes +fixed on her. Nevertheless, he was totally unprepared +for the effect of his words. The color washed +from her bronzed cheeks, and she stood staring at +him with big, fear-filled eyes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span></p> +<p>“What—what do you mean?” she gasped. “How +dare you say that?”</p> +<p>“I ain’t said anything so terrible. You don’t need +to take it to heart like that.” He gave her a faint +smile for an instant. “I’m not really expecting to +arrest Mr. Lee for holding up that stage.”</p> +<p>The color beat back slowly into her face. She +knew she had made a false move in taking so +seriously his remark.</p> +<p>“I don’t think you ought to joke about a thing +like that,” she said stiffly.</p> +<p>“All right. I’ll not say it next time till I’m in +earnest,” he promised as he walked away.</p> +<p>“I wonder if he really meant anything,” the girl +was thinking in terror, and he, “she knows something; +now, I would like to know what.”</p> +<p>Melissy attended to her duties in the postoffice +after the arrival of the stage, and looked after the +dining-room as usual, but she was all the time +uneasily aware that Jack Flatray had quietly disappeared. +Where had he gone? And why? She +found no answer to that question, but the ranger +dropped in on his bronco in time for supper, imperturbable +and self-contained as ever.</p> +<p>“Think I’ll stay all night if you have a room for +me,” he told her after he had eaten.</p> +<p>“We have a room,” she said. “What more have +you heard about the stage robbery?”</p> +<p>“Nothing, Miss Lee.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I thought maybe you had,” she murmured +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +tremulously, for his blue eyes were unwaveringly +upon her and she could not know how much or +how little he might mean.</p> +<p>Later she saw him sitting on the fence, holding +genial converse with Jim Budd. The waiter +was flashing a double row of white teeth in deep +laughter at something the deputy had told him. +Evidently they were already friends. When she +looked again, a few minutes later, she knew Jack +had reached the point where he was pumping Jim +and the latter was disseminating misinformation. +That the negro was stanch enough, she knew, but +she was on the anxious seat lest his sharp-witted +inquisitor get what he wanted in spite of him. +After he had finished with Budd the ranger drifted +around to the kitchen in time to intercept Hop Ling +casually as he came out after finishing his evening’s +work. The girl was satisfied Flatray could not +have any suspicion of the truth. Nevertheless, she +wished he would let the help alone. He might accidentally +stumble on something that would set him +on the right track.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_THE_BOONEBELLAMY_FEUD_IS_RENEWED' id='VIII_THE_BOONEBELLAMY_FEUD_IS_RENEWED'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>THE BOONE-BELLAMY FEUD IS RENEWED</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Here’s six bits on the counter under a seed +catalogue. Did you leave it here, daddy?”</p> +<p>Champ Lee, seated on the porch just +outside the store door, took the pipe from his mouth +and answered:</p> +<p>“Why no, honey, I don’t reckon I did, not to my +ricollection.”</p> +<p>“That’s queer. I know I didn’t——”</p> +<p>Melissy broke her sentence sharply. There had +come into her eyes a spark of excitement, simultaneous +with the brain-flash which told her who +had left the money. No doubt the quarter and the +half dollar had been lying there ever since the day +last week when Morse had eaten at the Bar Double +G. She addressed an envelope, dropped the money +in, sealed the flap, and put the package beside a +letter addressed to T. L. Morse.</p> +<p>Lee, full of an unhappy restlessness which he +could not control, presently got up and moved away +to the stables. He was blaming himself bitterly +for the events of the past few days.</p> +<p>It was perhaps half an hour later that Melissy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +looked up to see the sturdy figure of Morse in the +doorway. During the past year he had filled out, +grown stronger and more rugged. His deep tan +and heavy stride pronounced him an outdoor man +no less surely than the corduroy suit and the high +laced miners’ boots.</p> +<p>He came forward to the postoffice window without +any sign of recognition.</p> +<p>“Is Mr. Flatray still here?”</p> +<p>“No!” Without further explanation Melissy +took from the box the two letters addressed to +Morse and handed them to him.</p> +<p>The girl observed the puzzled look that stole over +his face at sight of the silver in one envelope. A +glance at the business address printed on the upper +left hand corner enlightened him. He laid the +money down in the stamp window.</p> +<p>“This isn’t mine.”</p> +<p>“You heard what my father said?”</p> +<p>“That applies to next time, not to this.”</p> +<p>“I think it does apply to this time.”</p> +<p>“I can’t see how you’re going to make me take +it back. I’m an obstinate man.”</p> +<p>“Just as you like.”</p> +<p>A sudden flush of anger swept her. She caught +up the silver and flung it through the open window +into the dusty road.</p> +<p>His dark eyes met hers steadily and a dull color +burned in his tanned cheeks. Without a word he +turned away, and instantly she regretted what she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +had done. She had insulted him deliberately and +put herself in the wrong. At bottom she was a +tender-hearted child, even though her father and his +friends had always spoiled her, and she could not +but reproach herself for the hurt look she had +brought into his strong, sad face. He was their +enemy, of course, but even enemies have rights.</p> +<p>Morse walked out of the office looking straight +before him, his strong back teeth gripped so that +the muscles stood out on his salient jaw. Impulsively +the girl ran around the counter after him.</p> +<p>He looked up from untying his horse to see her +straight and supple figure running toward him. Her +eager face was full of contrition and the color of +pink rose petals came and went in it.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry, Mr. Morse. I oughtn’t to have done +that. I hurt your feelings,” she cried.</p> +<p>At best he was never a handsome man, but now +his deep, dark eyes lit with a glow that surprised +her.</p> +<p>“Thank you. Thank you very much,” he said +in a low voice.</p> +<p>“I’m so tempery,” she explained in apology, and +added: “I suppose a nice girl wouldn’t have +done it.”</p> +<p>“A nice girl did do it,” was all he could think +to say.</p> +<p>“You needn’t take the trouble to say that. I know +I’ve just scrambled up and am not ladylike and +proper. Sometimes I don’t care. I like to be able +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +to do things like boys. But I suppose it’s dreadful.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think it is at all. None of your friends +could think so. Not that I include myself among +them,” he hastened to disclaim. “I can’t be both +your friend and your enemy, can I?”</p> +<p>The trace of a sardonic smile was in his eyes. +For the moment as she looked at him she thought +he might. But she answered:</p> +<p>“I don’t quite see how.”</p> +<p>“You hate me, I suppose,” he blurted out bluntly.</p> +<p>“I suppose so.” And more briskly she added, +with dimples playing near the corners of her mouth: +“Of course I do.”</p> +<p>“That’s frank. It’s worth something to have so +decent an enemy. I don’t believe you would shoot +me in the back.”</p> +<p>“Some of the others would. You should be more +careful,” she cried before she could stop herself.</p> +<p>He shrugged. “I take my fighting chance.”</p> +<p>“It isn’t much of a one. You’ll be shot at from +ambush some day.”</p> +<p>“It wouldn’t be a new experience. I went through +it last week.”</p> +<p>“Where?” she breathed.</p> +<p>“Down by Willow Wash.”</p> +<p>“Who did it?”</p> +<p>He laughed, without amusement. “I didn’t have +my rifle with me, so I didn’t stay to inquire.”</p> +<p>“It must have been some of those wild vaqueros.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span></p> +<p>“That was my guess.”</p> +<p>“But you have other enemies, too.”</p> +<p>“Miss Lee,” he smiled.</p> +<p>“I mean others that are dangerous.”</p> +<p>“Your father?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Father would never do that except in a fair +fight. I wasn’t thinking of him.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know whom you mean, but a few extras +don’t make much difference when one is so liberally +supplied already,” he said cynically.</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t make light of them if I were you,” +she cautioned.</p> +<p>“Who do you mean?”</p> +<p>“I’ve said all I’m going to, and more than I +ought,” she told him decisively. “Except this, that +it’s your own fault. You shouldn’t be so stiff. Why +don’t you compromise? With the cattlemen, for instance. +They have a good deal of right on their +side. They <i>did</i> have the range first.”</p> +<p>“You should tell that to your father, too.”</p> +<p>“Dad runs sheep on the range to protect himself. +He doesn’t drive out other people’s cattle and take +away their living.”</p> +<p>“Well, I might compromise, but not at the end +of a gun.”</p> +<p>“No, of course not. Here comes dad now,” she +added hurriedly, aware for the first time that she +had been holding an extended conversation with +her father’s foe. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span></p> +<p>“We started enemies and we quit enemies. Will +you shake hands on that, Miss Lee?” he asked.</p> +<p>She held out her hand, then drew it swiftly back. +“No, I can’t. I forgot. There’s another reason.”</p> +<p>“Another reason! You mean the Arkansas +charge against me?” he asked quietly.</p> +<p>“No. I can’t tell you what it is.” She felt herself +suffused in a crimson glow. How could she +explain that she could not touch hands with him +because she had robbed him of twenty thousand +dollars?</p> +<p>Lee stopped at the steps, astonished to see his +daughter and this man in talk together. Yesterday +he would have resented it bitterly, but now the situation +was changed. Something of so much greater +magnitude had occurred that he was too perturbed +to cherish his feud for the present. All night he +had carried with him the dreadful secret he suspected. +He could not look Melissy in the face, nor +could he discuss the robbery with anybody. The +one fact that overshadowed all others was that his +little girl had gone out and held up a stage, that +if she were discovered she would be liable to a term +in the penitentiary. Laboriously his slow brain had +worked it all out. A talk with Jim Budd had confirmed +his conclusions. He knew that she had taken +this risk in order to save him. He was bowed down +with his unworthiness, with shame that he had +dragged her into this horrible tangle. He was convinced +that Jack Flatray would get at the truth, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +and already he was resolved to come forward and +claim the whole affair as his work.</p> +<p>“I’ve been apologizing to Mr. Morse for insulting +him, dad,” the girl said immediately.</p> +<p>Her father passed a bony hand slowly across his +unshaven chin. “That’s right, honey. If you done +him a meanness, you had ought to say so.”</p> +<p>“She has said so very handsomely, Mr. Lee,” +spoke up Morse.</p> +<p>“I’ve been warning him, dad, that he ought to +be more careful how he rides around alone, with +the cattlemen feeling the way they do.”</p> +<p>“It’s a fact they feel right hot under the collar. +You’re ce’tainly a temptation to them, Mr. Morse,” +the girl’s father agreed.</p> +<p>The mine owner shifted the subject of conversation. +He was not a man of many impulses, but he +yielded to one now.</p> +<p>“Can’t we straighten out this trouble between us, +Mr. Lee? You think I’ve done you an injury. Perhaps +I have. If we both mean what’s right, we can +get together and fix it up in a few minutes.”</p> +<p>The old Southerner stiffened and met him with +an eye of jade. “I ain’t asking any favors of you, +Mr. Morse. We’ll settle this matter some day, and +settle it right. But you can’t buy me off. I’ll not +take a bean from you.”</p> +<p>The miner’s eyes hardened. “I’m not trying to +buy you off. I made a fair offer of peace. Since +you have rejected it, there is nothing more to be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +said.” With that he bowed stiffly and walked away, +leading his horse.</p> +<p>Lee’s gaze followed him and slowly the eyes +under the beetled brows softened.</p> +<p>“Mebbe I done wrong, honey. Mebbe I’d ought +to have given in. I’m too proud to compromise +when he’s got me beat. That’s what’s ailin’ with +me. But I reckon I’d better have knuckled under.”</p> +<p>The girl slipped her arm through his. “Sometimes +I’m just like that too, daddy. I’ve just <i>got</i> +to win before I make up. I don’t blame you a mite, +but, all the same, we should have let him fix it up.”</p> +<p>It was characteristic of them both that neither +thought of reversing the decision he had made. It +was done now, and they would abide by the results. +But already both of them half regretted, though +for very different reasons. Lee was thinking that +for Melissy’s sake he should have made a friend of +the man he hated, since it was on the cards that +within a few days she might be in his power. The +girl’s feeling, too, was unselfish. She could not forget +the deep hunger for friendship that had shone +in the man’s eyes. He was alone in the world, a +strong man surrounded by enemies who would +probably destroy him in the end. There was stirring +in her heart a sweet womanly pity and sympathy +for the enemy whose proffer of friendship had +been so cavalierly rejected.</p> +<p>The sight of a horseman riding down the trail +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +from the Flagstaff mine shook Melissy into alertness.</p> +<p>“Look, dad. It’s Mr. Norris,” she cried.</p> +<p>Morse, who had not yet recognized him, swung +to the saddle, his heart full of bitterness. Every +man’s hand was against his, and every woman’s. +What was there in his nature that turned people +against him so inevitably? There seemed to be some +taint in him that corroded all natural human kindness.</p> +<p>A startled oath brought him from his somber reflections. +He looked up, to see the face of a man +with whom in the dead years of the past he had +been in bitter feud.</p> +<p>Neither of them spoke. Morse looked at him +with a face cold as chiselled marble and as hard. +The devil’s own passion burned in the storm-tossed +one of the other.</p> +<p>Norris was the first to break the silence.</p> +<p>“So it was all a lie about your being killed, Dick +Bellamy.”</p> +<p>The mine owner did not speak, but the rigor of +his eyes did not relax.</p> +<p>“Gave it out to throw me off your trail, did you? +Knew mighty well I’d cut the heart out of the man +who shot poor Shep.” The voice of the cattle detective +rang out in malignant triumph. “You +guessed it c’rect, seh. Right here’s where the +Boone-Bellamy feud claims another victim.”</p> +<p>The men were sitting face to face, so close that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +their knees almost touched. As Norris jerked out +his gun Bellamy caught his wrist. They struggled +for an instant, the one to free his arm, the other to +retain his grip. Bellamy spurred his horse closer. +The more powerful of the two, he slowly twisted +around the imprisoned wrist. Inch by inch the revolver +swung in a jerky, spasmodic circle. There +was a moment when it pointed directly at the mine +owner’s heart. His enemy’s finger crooked on the +trigger, eyes passionate with the stark lust to kill. +But the pressure on the wrist had numbed the hand. +The weapon jumped out of line, went clattering +down into the dust from the palsied fingers.</p> +<p>Lee ran forward and pushed between the men.</p> +<p>“Here. Ain’t you boys got ary bettah sense than +to clinch like wildcats?” he demanded, jerking one +of the horses away by the bridle. “No, you don’t, +Phil. I’ll take keer of this gun for the present.” +It was noticeable that Beauchamp Lee’s speech +grew more after the manner of the plantations +when he became excited.</p> +<p>The cowpuncher, white with anger, glared at his +enemy and poured curses at him, the while he +nursed his strained wrist. For the moment he was +impotent, but he promised himself vengeance in full +when they should meet again.</p> +<p>“That’ll be enough from you now, Phil,” said +the old ex-Confederate good-naturedly, leading him +toward the house and trying to soothe his malevolent +chagrin. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></p> +<p>Bellamy turned and rode away. At the corner +of the corral he met Jack Flatray riding up.</p> +<p>“Been having a little difference of opinion with +our friend, haven’t you, seh?” the deputy asked +pleasantly.</p> +<p>“Yes.” Bellamy gave him only the crisp monosyllable +and changed the subject immediately. +“What about this stage robbery? Have you been +able to make anything of it, Mr. Flatray?”</p> +<p>“Why, yes. I reckon we’ll be able to land the +miscreant mebbe, if things come our way,” drawled +the deputy. “Wouldn’t it be a good idea to offer +a reward, though, to keep things warm?”</p> +<p>“I thought of that. I made it a thousand dollars. +The posters ought to be out to-day on the stage.”</p> +<p>“Good enough!”</p> +<p>“Whom do you suspect?”</p> +<p>Jack looked at him with amiable imperturbability. +“I reckon I better certify my suspicions, seh, before +I go to shouting them out.”</p> +<p>“All right, sir. Since I’m paying the shot, it +ought to entitle me to some confidence. But it’s up +to you. Get back the twenty thousand dollars, +that’s all I ask, except that you put the fellow behind +the bars of the penitentiary for a few years.”</p> +<p>Flatray gave him an odd smile which he did not +understand.</p> +<p>“I hope to be able to accommodate you, seh, about +this time to-morrow, so far as getting the gold +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +goes. You’ll have to wait a week or two before +the rest of your expectations get gratified.”</p> +<p>“Any reasonable time. I want to see him there +eventually. That’s all.”</p> +<p>Jack laughed again, without giving any reason +for his mirth. That ironic smile continued to decorate +his face for some time. He seemed to have +some inner source of mirth he did not care to disclose.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_THE_DANGER_LINE' id='IX_THE_DANGER_LINE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>THE DANGER LINE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Though Champ Lee had business in Mesa +next day that would not be denied, he was +singularly loath to leave the ranch. He +wanted to stay close to Melissy until the dénouement +of the hunt for the stage robber. On the +other hand, it was well known that his contest with +Morse for the Monte Cristo was up for a hearing. +To stay at home would have been a confession of +his anxiety that he did not want to make. But it +was only after repeated charges to his daughter to +call him up by telephone immediately if anything +happened that he could bring himself to ride away.</p> +<p>He was scarcely out of sight when a Mexican +vaquero rode in with the information that old Antonio, +on his way to the post at Three Pines with +a second drove of sheep, had twisted his ankle badly +about fifteen miles from the ranch. After trying +in vain to pick up a herder at Mesa by telephone, +Melissy was driven to the only feasible course left +her, to make the drive herself in place of Antonio. +There were fifteen hundred sheep in the bunch, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +they must be taken care of at once by somebody +competent for the task. She knew she could handle +them, for it had amused her to take charge of a +herd often for an hour or two at a time. The long +stretch over the desert would be wearisome and +monotonous, but she had the slim, muscular tenacity +of a half-grown boy. It did not matter what +she wanted to do. The thing to which she came +back always was that the sheep must be taken +care of.</p> +<p>She left directions with Jim for taking care of +the place, changed to a khaki skirt and jacket, +slapped a saddle on her bronco, and disappeared +across country among the undulations of the sandhills. +A tenderfoot would have been hopelessly lost +in the sameness of these hills and washes, but Melissy +knew them as a city dweller does his streets. +Straight as an arrow she went to her mark. The +tinkle of distant sheep-bells greeted her after some +hours’ travel, and soon the low, ceaseless bleating +of the herd.</p> +<p>The girl found Antonio propped against a piņon +tree, solacing himself philosophically with cigarettes. +He was surprised to see her, but made only +a slight objection to her taking his place. His +ankle was paining him a good deal, and he was very +glad to get the chance to pull himself to her saddle +and ride back to the ranch.</p> +<p>A few quick words sent the dog Colin out among +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +the sheep, by now scattered far and wide over the +hill. They presently came pouring toward her, +diverged westward, and massed at the base of a +butte rising from a dry arroyo. The journey had +begun, and hour after hour it continued through +the hot day, always in a cloud of dust flung up by +the sheep, sometimes through the heavy sand of a +wash, often over slopes of shale, not seldom through +thick cactus beds that shredded her skirt and tore +like fierce, sharp fingers at her legging-protected +ankles. The great gray desert still stretched before +her to the horizon’s edge, and still she flung the +miles behind her with the long, rhythmic stride that +was her birthright from the hills. A strong man, +unused to it, would have been staggering with stiff +fatigue, but this slender girl held the trail with +light grace, her weight still carried springily on her +small ankles.</p> +<p>Once she rested for a few minutes, flinging herself +down into the sand at length, her head thrown +back from the full brown throat so that she could +gaze into the unstained sky of blue. Presently the +claims of this planet made themselves heard, for +she, too, was elemental and a creature of instinct. +The earth was awake and palpitating with life, the +low, indefatigable life of creeping things and vegetation +persisting even in this waste of rock and +sand.</p> +<p>But she could not rest long, for Diablo Caņon +must be reached before dark. The sheep would be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +very thirsty by the time they arrived, and she could +not risk letting them tear down the precipitous edge +among the sharp rocks in the dark. Already over +the sand stretches a peculiar liquid glow was flooding, +so that the whole desert seemed afire. The +burning sun had slipped behind a saddle of the purple +peaks, leaving a brilliant horizon of many +mingled shades.</p> +<p>It was as she came forward to the caņon’s edge +in this luminous dusk that Melissy became aware +of a distant figure on horseback, silhouetted for a +moment against the skyline. One glance was all +she got of it, for she was very busy with the sheep, +working them leisurely toward the black chasm that +seemed to yawn for them. High rock walls girt +the caņon, gigantic and bottomless in the gloom. +A dizzy trail zigzagged back and forth to the pool +below, and along this she and the collie skilfully +sent the eager, thirsty animals.</p> +<p>The mass of the sheep were still huddled on the +edge of the ravine when there came the thud of +horses’ hoofs and the crack of revolvers, accompanied +by hoarse, triumphant yells and cries. Melissy +knew instantly what it was—the attack of cattlemen +upon her defenseless flock. They had waited +until the sheep were on the edge of the precipice, +and now they were going to drive the poor creatures +down upon the rocks two hundred feet below. +Her heart leaped to her throat, but scarce more +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +quickly than she upon a huge boulder bordering +the trail.</p> +<p>“Back! Keep back!” she heard herself crying, +and even as she spoke a bullet whistled through the +rim of her felt hat.</p> +<p>Standing there boldly, unconscious of danger, the +wind draped and defined the long lines of her figure +like those of the Winged Victory.</p> +<p>The foremost rider galloped past, waving his +sombrero and shooting into the frightened mass in +front of him. Within a dozen feet of her he turned +his revolver upon the girl, then, with an oath of +recognition, dragged his pony back upon its +haunches. Another horse slithered into it, and a +third.</p> +<p>“It’s ’Lissie Lee!” a voice cried in astonishment; +and another, with a startled oath, “You’re right, +Bob!”</p> +<p>The first rider gave his pony the spur, swung it +from the trail in a half-circle which brought it back +at the very edge of the ravine, and blocked the forward +pour of terror-stricken sheep. Twice his revolver +rang out. The girl’s heart stood still, for +the man was Norris, and it seemed for an instant +as if he must be swept over the precipice by the +stampede. The leaders braced themselves to +stop, but were slowly pushed forward toward +the edge. One of the other riders had by this +time joined the daring cowpuncher, and together +they stemmed the tide. The pressure on the trail +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +relaxed and the sheep began to mill around and +around.</p> +<p>It was many minutes before they were sufficiently +quieted to trust upon the trail again, but at last the +men got them safely to the bottom, with the exception +of two or three killed in the descent.</p> +<p>Her responsibility for the safety of the sheep +gone, the girl began to crawl down the dark trail. +She could not see a yard in front of her, and at +each step the path seemed to end in a gulf of darkness. +She could not be sure she was on the trail +at all, and her nerve was shaken by the experience +through which she had just passed. Presently she +stopped and waited, for the first time in her life +definitely and physically afraid. She stood there +trembling, a long, long time it seemed to her, surrounded +by the impenetrable blackness of night.</p> +<p>Then a voice came to her.</p> +<p>“Melissy!”</p> +<p>She answered, and the voice came slowly nearer.</p> +<p>“You’re off the trail,” it told her presently, just +before a human figure defined itself in the gloom.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid,” she sobbed.</p> +<p>A strong hand came from nowhere and caught +hers. An arm slipped around her waist.</p> +<p>“Don’t be afraid, little girl. I’ll see no harm +comes to you,” the man said to her with a quick, +fierce tenderness.</p> +<p>The comfort of his support was unspeakable. It +stole into her heart like water to the roots of thirsty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +plants. To feel her head against his shoulder, to +know he held her tight, meant safety and life. He +had told her not to be afraid, and she was so no +longer.</p> +<p>“You shot at me,” she murmured in reproach.</p> +<p>“I didn’t know. We thought it was Bellamy’s +herd. But it’s true, God forgive me! I did.”</p> +<p>There was in his voice the warm throb of emotion, +and in his eyes something she had never seen +before in those of any human being. Like stars +they were, swimming in light, glowing with the +exultation of the triumph he was living. She was +a splendid young animal, untaught of life, generous, +passionate, tempestuous, and as her pliant, supple +body lay against his some sex instinct old as +creation stirred potently within her. She had found +her mate. It came to her as innocently as the same +impulse comes to the doe when the spring freshets +are seeking the river, and as innocently her lips +met his in their first kiss of surrender. Something +irradiated her, softened her, warmed her. Was it +love? She did not know, but as yet she was still +happy in the glow of it.</p> +<p>Slowly, hand in hand, they worked back to the +trail and down it to the bottom of the caņon. The +soft velvet night enwrapped them. It shut them +from the world and left them one to one. From +the meeting palms strange electric currents tingled +through the girl and flushed her to an ecstasy of +emotion. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span></p> +<p>A camp fire was already burning cheerfully when +they reached the base of the descent. A man came +forward to meet them. He glanced curiously at +the girl after she came within the circle of light. +Her eyes were shining as from some inner glow, +and she was warm with a soft color that vitalized +her beauty. Then his gaze passed to take in with +narrowed lids her companion.</p> +<p>“I see you found her,” he said dryly.</p> +<p>“Yes, I found her, Bob.”</p> +<p>He answered the spirit of Farnum’s words rather +than the letter of them, nor could he keep out of +his bearing and his handsome face the exultation +that betrayed success.</p> +<p>“H’mp!” Farnum turned from him and addressed +the girl: “I suppose Norris has explained +our mistake and eaten crow for all of us, Miss Lee. +I don’t see how come we to make such a blame’ +fool mistake. It was gitting dark, and we took +your skirt for a greaser’s blanket. It’s ce’tainly +on us.”</p> +<p>“Yes, he has explained.”</p> +<p>“Well, there won’t any amount of explaining +square the thing. We might ’a’ done you a terrible +injury, Miss Lee. It was gilt-edged luck for +us that you thought to jump on that rock and +holler.”</p> +<p>“I was thinking of the sheep,” she said.</p> +<p>“Well, you saved them, and I’m right glad of it. +We ain’t got any use for Mary’s little trotter, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +your father’s square about his. He keeps them +herded up on his own range. We may not like it, +but we ce’tainly aren’t going to the length of attackin’ +his herd.” Farnum’s gaze took in her slender +girlishness, and he voiced the question in his +mind. “How in time do you happen to be sheep-herding +all by your lone a thousand miles from nowhere, +Miss Lee?”</p> +<p>She explained the circumstances after she had +moved forward to warm herself by the fire. For +already night was bringing a chill breeze with it. +The man cooking the coffee looked up and nodded +pleasantly, continuing his work. Norris dragged +up a couple of saddle blankets and spread them on +the ground for her to sit upon.</p> +<p>“You don’t have to do a thing but boss this outfit,” +he told her with his gay smile. “You’re queen +of the range to-night, and we’re your herders or +your punchers, whichever you want to call us. To-morrow +morning two of us are going to drive these +sheep on to the trading post for you, and the other +one is going to see you safe back home. It’s all +arranged.”</p> +<p>They were as good as his word. She could not +move from her place to help herself. It was their +pleasure to wait upon her as if she had really been +a queen and they her subjects. Melissy was very +tired, but she enjoyed their deference greatly. She +was still young enough to find delight in the fact +that three young and more or less good-looking men +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +were vying with each other to anticipate her needs.</p> +<p>Like them, she ate and drank ravenously of the +sandwiches and the strong coffee, though before the +meal was over she found herself nodding drowsily. +The tactful courtesy of these rough fellows was perfect. +They got the best they had for her of their +blankets, dragged a piņon root to feed the glowing +coals, and with cheerful farewells of “<i>Buenos +Noches</i>” retired around a bend in the caņon and +lit another fire for themselves.</p> +<p>The girl snuggled down into the warmth of the +blankets and stretched her weary limbs in delicious +rest. She did not mean to go to sleep for a long +time. She had much to think about. So she looked +up the black sheer caņon walls to the deep blue, +starry sky above, and relived her day in memory.</p> +<p>A strange excitement tingled through her, born +of shame and shyness and fear, and of something +else she did not understand, something which had +lain banked in her nature like a fire since childhood +and now threw forth its first flame of heat. What +did it mean, that passionate fierceness with which +her lips had clung to his? She liked him, of course, +but surely liking would not explain the pulse that +her first kiss had sent leaping through her blood +like wine. Did she love him?</p> +<p>Then why did she distrust him? Why was there +fear in her sober second thought of him? Had +she done wrong? For the moment all her maiden +defenses had been wiped out and he had ridden +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +roughshod over her reserves. But somewhere in +her a bell of warning was ringing. The poignant +sting of sex appeal had come home to her for the +first time. Wherefore in this frank child of the +wilderness had been born a shy shame, a vague +trembling for herself that marked a change. At +sunrise she had been still treading gayly the primrose +path of childhood; at sunset she had entered +upon her heritage of womanhood.</p> +<p>The sun had climbed high and was peering down +the walls of the gulch when she awoke. She did +not at once realize where she was, but came presently +to a blinking consciousness of her surroundings. +The rock wall on one side was still shadowed, +while the painted side of the other was warm with +the light which poured upon it. The Gothic spires, +the Moorish domes, the weird and mysterious caves, +which last night had given more than a touch of +awe to her majestic bedchamber, now looked a good +deal less like the ruins of mediæval castles and the +homes of elfin sprites and gnomes.</p> +<p>“<i>Buenos dios, muchacha,</i>” a voice called cheerfully +to her.</p> +<p>She did not need to turn to know to whom it +belonged. Among a thousand she would have recognized +its tone of vibrant warmth.</p> +<p>“<i>Buenos,</i>” she answered, and, rising hurriedly, +she fled to rearrange her hair and dress.</p> +<p>It was nearly a quarter of an hour later that she +reappeared, her thick coils of ebon-hued tresses shining +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +in the sun, her skirt smoothed to her satisfaction, +and the effects of feminine touches otherwise +visible upon her fresh, cool person.</p> +<p>“Breakfast is served,” Norris sang out.</p> +<p>“Dinner would be nearer it,” she laughed. “Why +in the world didn’t you boys waken me? What +time is it, anyhow?”</p> +<p>“It’s not very late—a little past noon maybe. +You were all tired out with your tramp yesterday. +I didn’t see why you shouldn’t have your sleep out.”</p> +<p>He was pouring a cup of black coffee for her +from the smoky pot, and she looked around expectantly +for the others. Simultaneously she remembered +that she had not heard the bleating of the +sheep.</p> +<p>“Where are the others—Mr. Farnum and Sam? +And have you the sheep all gagged?” she laughed.</p> +<p>He gave her that odd look of smoldering eyes +behind half-shut lids.</p> +<p>“The boys have gone on to finish the drive for +you. They started before sun-up this morning. +I’m elected to see you back home safely.”</p> +<p>“But——”</p> +<p>Her protest died unspoken. She could not very +well frame it in words, and before his bold, possessive +eyes the girl’s long, dark lashes wavered to +the cheeks into which the hot blood was beating. +Nevertheless, the feeling existed that she wished +one of the others had stayed instead of him. It +was born, no doubt, partly of the wave of shyness +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +running through her, but partly too of instinctive +maidenly resistance to something in his look, in the +assurance of his manner, that seemed to claim too +much. Last night he had taken her by storm and +at advantage. Something of shame stirred in her +that he had found her so easy a conquest, something +too of a new vague fear of herself. She resented +the fact that he could so move her, even though +she still felt the charm of his personal presence. +She meant to hold herself in abeyance, to make +sure of herself and of him before she went further.</p> +<p>But the cowpuncher had no intention of letting +her regain so fully control of her emotions. Experience +of more than one young woman had taught +him that scruples were likely to assert themselves +after reflection, and he purposed giving her no time +for that to-day.</p> +<p>He did not count in vain upon the intimacy of +companionship forced upon them by the circumstances, +nor upon the skill with which he knew +how to make the most of his manifold attractions. +His rôle was that of the comrade, gay with good +spirits and warm with friendliness, solicitous of her +needs, but not oppressively so. If her glimpse of +him at breakfast had given the girl a vague alarm, +she laughed her fears away later before his open +good humor.</p> +<p>There had been a time when he had been a part +of that big world “back in the States,” peopled so +generously by her unfettered imagination. He knew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +how to talk, and entertainingly, of books and people, +of events and places he had known. She had +not knowledge enough of life to doubt his stories, +nor did she resent it that he spoke of this her native +section with the slighting manner of one who patronized +it with his presence. Though she loved +passionately her Arizona, she guessed its crudeness, +and her fancy magnified the wonders of that southern +civilization from which it was so far cut off.</p> +<p>Farnum had left his horse for the girl, and after +breakfast the cowpuncher saddled the broncos and +brought them up. Melissy had washed the dishes, +filled his canteen, and packed the saddle bags. Soon +they were off, climbing slowly the trail that led up +the caņon wall. She saw the carcass of a dead +sheep lying on the rocks half way down the cliff, +and had spoken of it before she could stop herself.</p> +<p>“What is that? Isn’t it——?”</p> +<p>“Looks to me like a boulder,” lied her escort unblushingly. +There was no use, he judged, in recalling +unpleasant memories.</p> +<p>Nor did she long remember. The dry, exhilarating +sunshine and the sting of gentle, wide-swept +breezes, the pleasure of swift motion and the ring +of that exultingly boyish voice beside her, combined +to call the youth in her to rejoice. Firm in the saddle +she rode, as graceful a picture of piquant girlhood +as could be conceived, thrilling to the silent +voices of the desert. They traveled in a sunlit sea +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +of space, under a sky of blue, in which tenuous +cloud lakes floated. Once they came on a small +bunch of hill cattle which went flying like deer into +the covert of a draw. A rattlesnake above a prairie +dog’s hole slid into the mesquit. A swift watched +them from the top of a smooth rock, motionless so +long as they could see. She loved it all, this immense, +deserted world of space filled with its multitudinous +dwellers.</p> +<p>They unsaddled at Dead Cow Creek, hobbled the +ponies, and ate supper. Norris seemed in no hurry +to resaddle. He lay stretched carelessly at full +length, his eyes upon her with veiled admiration. +She sat upright, her gaze on the sunset with its +splashes of topaz and crimson and saffron, watching +the tints soften and mellow as dusk fell. Every +minute now brought its swift quota of changing +beauty. A violet haze enveloped the purple mountains, +and in the crotch of the hills swam a lake of +indigo. The raw, untempered glare of the sun was +giving place to a limitless pour of silvery moonlight.</p> +<p>Her eyes were full of the soft loveliness of the +hour when she turned them upon her companion. +He answered promptly her unspoken question.</p> +<p>“You bet it is! A night for the gods—or for +lovers.”</p> +<p>He said it in a murmur, his eyes full on hers, +and his look wrenched her from her mood. The +mask of comradeship was gone. He looked at her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +hungrily, as might a lover to whom all spiritual +heights were denied.</p> +<p>Her sooty lashes fell before this sinister spirit +she had evoked, but were raised instantly at the +sound of him drawing his body toward her. Inevitably +there was a good deal of the young animal in +her superbly healthy body. She had been close to +nature all day, the riotous passion of spring flowing +free in her as in the warm earth herself. But the +magic of the mystic hills had lifted her beyond the +merely personal. Some sense of grossness in him +for the first time seared across her brain. She +started up, and her face told him she had taken +alarm.</p> +<p>“We must be going,” she cried.</p> +<p>He got to his feet. “No hurry, sweetheart.”</p> +<p>The look in his face startled her. It was new +to her in her experience of men. Never before had +she met elemental lust.</p> +<p>“You’re near enough,” she cautioned sharply.</p> +<p>He cursed softly his maladroitness.</p> +<p>“I was nearer last night, honey,” he reminded +her.</p> +<p>“Last night isn’t to-night.”</p> +<p>He hesitated. Should he rush her defenses, bury +her protests in kisses? Or should he talk her out +of this harsh mood? Last night she had been his. +There were moments during the day when she had +responded to him as a musical instrument does to +skilled fingers. But for the moment his power +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +over her was gone. And he was impatient of delay.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter with you?” he asked roughly.</p> +<p>“We’ll start at once.”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>Frightened though she was, her gaze held steadily +to his. It was the same instinct in her that +makes one look a dangerous wild beast straight in +the eye.</p> +<p>“What’s got into you?” he demanded sullenly.</p> +<p>“I’m going home.”</p> +<p>“After a while.”</p> +<p>“Now.”</p> +<p>“I reckon not just yet. It’s my say-so.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you dare stop me.”</p> +<p>The passion in him warred with prudence. He +temporized. “Why, honey! I’m the man that loves +you.”</p> +<p>She would not see his outstretched hands.</p> +<p>“Then saddle my horse.”</p> +<p>“By God, no! You’re going to listen to me.”</p> +<p>His anger ripped out unexpectedly, even to him. +Whatever fear she felt, the girl crushed down. He +must not know her heart was drowned in terror.</p> +<p>“I’ll listen after we’ve started.”</p> +<p>He cursed her fickleness. “What’s ailin’ you, +girl? I ain’t a man to be put off this way.”</p> +<p>“Don’t forget you’re in Arizona,” she warned.</p> +<p>He understood what she meant. In the ranch +country no man could with impunity insult a woman. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></p> +<p>Standing defiantly before him, her pliant form +very straight, the underlying blood beating softly +under the golden brown of her cheeks, one of the +thick braids of her heavy, blue-black hair falling +across the breast that rose and fell a little fast, she +was no less than a challenge of Nature to him. He +looked into a mobile face as daring and as passionate +as his own, warm with the life of innocent +youth, and the dark blood mantled his face.</p> +<p>“Saddle the horses,” she commanded.</p> +<p>“When I get good and ready.”</p> +<p>“Now.”</p> +<p>“No, ma’am. We’re going to have a talk first.”</p> +<p>She walked across to the place where her pony +grazed, slipped on the bridle, and brought the animal +back to the saddle. Norris watched her fitting +the blankets and tightening the cinch without a +word, his face growing blacker every moment. Before +she could start he strode forward and caught +the rein.</p> +<p>“I’ve got something to say to you,” he told her +rudely. “You’re not going now. So that’s all +about it.”</p> +<p>Her lips tightened. “Let go of my horse.”</p> +<p>“We’ll talk first.”</p> +<p>“Do you think you can force me to stay here?”</p> +<p>“You’re going to hear what I’ve got to say.”</p> +<p>“You bully!”</p> +<p>“I’ll tell what I know—Miss Hold-up.”</p> +<p>“Tell it!” she cried. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span></p> +<p>He laughed harshly, his narrowed eyes watching +her closely. “If you throw me down now, I’ll +ce’tainly tell it. Be reasonable, girl.”</p> +<p>“Let go my rein!”</p> +<p>“I’ve had enough of this. Tumble off that horse, +or I’ll pull you off.”</p> +<p>Her dark eyes flashed scorn of him. “You coward! +Do you think I’m afraid of you? Stand +back!”</p> +<p>The man looked long at her, his teeth set; then +caught at her strong little wrist. With a quick +wrench she freed it, her eyes glowing like live +coals.</p> +<p>“You dare!” she panted.</p> +<p>Her quirt rose and fell, the lash burning his wrist +like a band of fire. With a furious oath he dropped +his hand from the rein. Like a flash she was off, +had dug her heels home, and was galloping into +the moonlight recklessly as fast as she could send +forward her pony. Stark terror had her by the +throat. The fear of him flooded her whole being. +Not till the drumming hoofs had carried her far +did other emotions move her.</p> +<p>She was furious with him, and with herself for +having been imposed upon by him. His beauty, his +grace, his debonair manner—they were all hateful +to her now. She had thought him a god among +men, and he was of common clay. It was her vanity +that was wounded, not her heart. She scourged herself +because she had been so easily deceived, because +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +she had let herself become a victim of his good +looks and his impudence. For that she had let him +kiss her—yes, and had returned his kiss—she was +heartily contemptuous of herself. Always she had +held herself with an instinctive pride, but in her passion +of abandonment the tears confessed now that +this pride had been humbled to the dust.</p> +<p>This gusty weather of the spirit, now of chastened +pride and now of bitter anger, carried her +even through the group of live-oaks which looked +down upon the silent houses of the ranch, lying in +a sea of splendid moon-beat. She was so much less +confident of herself than usual that she made up her +mind to tell her father the whole story of the hold-up +and of what this man had threatened.</p> +<p>This resolution comforted her, and it was with +something approaching calmness that she rode past +the corral fence and swung from the saddle in front +of the house.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_JACK_GOES_TO_THE_HEAD_OF_THE_CLASS' id='X_JACK_GOES_TO_THE_HEAD_OF_THE_CLASS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>JACK GOES TO THE HEAD OF THE CLASS</h3> +</div> + +<p>She trailed the bridle reins, went up the porch +steps, and drew off her gauntlets. Her hand +was outstretched to open the door when her +gaze fell upon a large bill tacked to the wall. +Swiftly she read it through, and, having read it, +remained in suspended motion. For the first time +she fully realized the danger and the penalty that +confronted her.</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p>ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Will Be Paid By Thomas L. Morse</span></p> +</div> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>For the arrest and conviction of each of +the men who were implicated in the robbery +of the Fort Allison stage on April +twenty-seventh last. A further reward of +$1000 will be paid for the recovery of the +bullion stolen.</p> +</div> +<p>This was what she read, and her eye was running +over it a second time when she heard the +jingle of a spur approaching.</p> +<p>“We’re red-hot after them, you see, Miss Lee,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +a mocking voice drawled. “If you want to round +up a thousand plunks, all you’ve got to do is to tell +me who Mr. Hold-up is.”</p> +<p>He laughed quietly, as if it were a joke, but the +girl answered with a flush. “Is that all?”</p> +<p>“That’s all.”</p> +<p>“If I knew, do you suppose I would tell for five +thousand—or ten thousand?”</p> +<p>For some reason this seemed to give him sardonic +amusement. “No, I don’t suppose you +would.”</p> +<p>“You’ll have to catch him yourself if you want +him. I’m not in that business, Mr. Flatray.”</p> +<p>“I am. Sorry you don’t like the business, Miss +Lee.” He added dryly: “But then you always +were hard to please. You weren’t satisfied when +I was a rustler.”</p> +<p>Her eyes swept him with a look, whether of reproach +or contempt he was not sure. But the hard +derision of his gaze did not soften. Mentally as +well as physically he was a product of the sun and +the wind, as tough and unyielding as a greasewood +sapling. For a friend he would go the limit, and +he could not forgive her that she had distrusted +him.</p> +<p>“But mebbe you’d prefer it if I was rustling +stages,” he went on, looking straight at her.</p> +<p>“What do you mean?” she asked breathlessly.</p> +<p>“I want to have a talk with you.”</p> +<p>“What about?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></p> +<p>“Suppose we step around to the side of the house. +We’ll be freer from interruption there.”</p> +<p>He led the way, taking her consent for granted. +With him he carried a chair for her from the +porch.</p> +<p>“If you’ll be as brief as possible, Mr. Flatray. +I’ve been in the desert two days and want to change +my clothes.”</p> +<p>“I’ll not detain you. It’s about this gold robbery.”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>She could not take her eyes from him. Something +told her that he knew her secret, or part of +it. Her heart was fluttering like a caged thrush.</p> +<p>“Shall we begin at the beginning?”</p> +<p>“If you like.”</p> +<p>“Or in the middle, say.”</p> +<p>“If only you’ll begin anywhere,” she said impatiently.</p> +<p>“How will this do for a beginning, then? ‘One +thousand dollars will be paid by Thomas L. Morse +for the arrest and conviction of each of the men +who were implicated in the robbery of the Fort +Allison stage on April twenty-seventh last.’”</p> +<p>She was shaken, there was no denying it. He +could see the ebb of blood from her cheeks, the +sudden stiffening of the slender figure.</p> +<p>She did not speak until she had control of her +voice. “Dear me! What has all that to do with +me?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></p> +<p>“A good deal, I’m afraid. You know how much, +better than I do.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps I’m stupid. You’ll have to be a great +deal clearer before I can understand you.”</p> +<p>“I’ve noticed that it’s a lot easier to understand +what you want to than what you don’t want to.”</p> +<p>Sharply a thought smote her. “Have you seen +Phil Norris lately?”</p> +<p>“No, I haven’t. Do you think it likely that he +would confess?”</p> +<p>“Confess?” she faltered.</p> +<p>“I see I’ll have to start at the beginning, after +all. It’s pretty hard to say just where that is. It +might be when Morse got hold of your father’s +claim, or another fellow might say it was when +the Boone-Bellamy feud began, and that is a mighty +long time ago.”</p> +<p>“The Boone-Bellamy feud,” echoed the girl.</p> +<p>“Yes. The real name of our friend Norris is +Dunc Boone.”</p> +<p>“He’s no friend of mine.” She flamed it out +with such intensity that he was surprised.</p> +<p>“Glad to hear it. I can tell you, then, that he’s +a bad lot. He was driven out of Arkansas after +a suspected murder. It was a killing from ambush. +They couldn’t quite hang it on him, but he lit a +shuck to save his skin from lynchers. At that time +he was a boy. Couldn’t have been more than seventeen.”</p> +<p>“Who did he kill?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span></p> +<p>“One of the Bellamy faction. The real name of +T. L. Morse is——”</p> +<p>“—Richard Bellamy.”</p> +<p>“How do you know that?” he asked in surprise.</p> +<p>“I’ve known it since the first day I met him.”</p> +<p>“Known that he was wanted for murder in Arkansas?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“And you protected him?”</p> +<p>“I had a reason.” She did not explain that her +reason was Jack Flatray, between whom and the +consequences of his rustling she had stood.</p> +<p>He pondered that a moment. “Well, Morse, or +Bellamy, told me all about it. Now that Boone +has recognized him, the game is up. He’s ready +to go back and stand trial if he must. I’ve communicated +with the authorities in Arkansas and +I’ll hear from them in a day or two.”</p> +<p>“What has this to do with the hold-up?”</p> +<p>“That’s right, the hold-up. Well, this fellow +Boone got your father to drinking, and then sprung +it on him to rob the stage when the bullion was +being shipped. Somehow Boone had got inside information +about when this was to be. He had been +nosing around up at the mine, and may have overheard +something. O’ course we know what your +father would have done if he hadn’t been drinking. +He’s straight as a string, even if he does go off like +powder. But when a man’s making a blue blotter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +of himself, things don’t look the same to him. Anyhow +he went in.”</p> +<p>“He didn’t. I can prove he didn’t,” burst from +Melissy’s lips.</p> +<p>“Be glad to hear your proof later. He ce’tainly +planned the hold-up. Jim Budd overheard him.”</p> +<p>“Did Jim tell you that?”</p> +<p>“Don’t blame him for that. He didn’t mean to +tell, but I wound him up so he couldn’t get away +from it. I’ll show you later why he couldn’t.”</p> +<p>“I’m sure you must have been very busy, spying +and everything,” she told him bitterly.</p> +<p>“I’ve kept moving. But to get back to the point. +Your father and Boone were on the ground where +the stage was robbed <i>either at the time or right +after</i>. Their tracks were all over there. Then they +got on their horses and rode up the lateral.”</p> +<p>“But they couldn’t. The ditch was full,” broke +from the girl.</p> +<p>“You’re right it was. You must be some observing +to know when that ditch is full and empty to +an hour. I reckon you’ve got an almanac of tides,” +he said ironically.</p> +<p>She bit her lip with chagrin. “I just happened +to notice.”</p> +<p>“Some folks <i>are</i> more noticing than others. But +you’re surely right. They came up the ditch one on +each side. Now, why one on each side, do you +reckon?”</p> +<p>Melissy hid the dread that was flooding her heart. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +“I’m sure I don’t know. You know everything +else. I suppose you do that, too, if they really did.”</p> +<p>“They had their reasons, but we won’t go into +that now. First off when they reach the house +they take a bunch of sheep down to the ditch to +water them. Now, why?”</p> +<p>“Why, unless because they needed water?”</p> +<p>“We’ll let that go into the discard too just now. +Let’s suppose your father and Boone dumped the +gold box down into the creek somewhere after they +had robbed the stage. Suppose they had a partner +up at the head-gates. When the signal is given +down comes the water, and the box is covered by +it. Mebbe that night they take it away and bury +it somewhere else.”</p> +<p>The girl began to breathe again. He knew a +good deal, but he was still off the track in the main +points.</p> +<p>“And who is this partner up at the canal? Have +you got him located too?”</p> +<p>“I might guess.”</p> +<p>“Well?”—impatiently.</p> +<p>“A young lady hailing from this <i>hacienda</i> was +out gathering flowers all mo’ning. She was in her +runabout. The tracks led straight from here to +the head-gates. I followed them through the sands. +There’s a little break in one of the rubber tires. +You’ll find that break mark every eight feet or so +in the sand wash.”</p> +<p>“I opened the head-gates, then, did I?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span></p> +<p>“It looks that way, doesn’t it?”</p> +<p>“At a signal from father?”</p> +<p>“I reckon.”</p> +<p>“And that’s all the evidence you’ve got against +him and me?” she demanded, still outwardly scornful, +but very much afraid at heart.</p> +<p>“Oh, no, that ain’t all, Miss Lee. Somebody +locked the Chink in during this play. He’s still +wondering why.”</p> +<p>“He dreamed it. Very likely he had been rolling +a pill.”</p> +<p>“Did I dream this too?” From his coat pocket +he drew the piece of black shirting she had used as +a mask. “I found it in the room where your father +put me up that first night I stayed here. It was +your brother Dick’s room, and this came from the +pocket of a shirt hanging in the closet. Now, who +do you reckon put it there?”</p> +<p>For the first time in her life she knew what it +was to feel faint. She tried to speak, but the words +would not come from her parched throat. How +could he be so hard and cruel, this man who had +once been her best friend? How could he stand +there so like a machine in his relentlessness?</p> +<p>“We—we used to—to play at hold-up when he +was a boy,” she gasped.</p> +<p>He shook his head. “No, I reckon that won’t go. +You see, I’ve found the piece this was torn from, +<i>and I found it in your father’s coat</i>. I went into +his room on tiptoe that same hour. The coat was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +on the bed. He had gone downstairs for a minute +and left it there. Likely he hadn’t found a good +chance to burn it yet.” Taking the two pieces, he +fitted them together and held them up. “They +match exactly, you see. Did your father used to +play with you too when he was a boy?”</p> +<p>He asked this with what seemed to her tortured +soul like silken cruelty. She had no answer, none +at least that would avail. Desperately she snatched +at a straw.</p> +<p>“All this isn’t proof. It’s mere surmise. Some +one’s tracks were found by you. How do you know +they were father’s?”</p> +<p>“I’ve got that cinched too. I took his boots and +measured them.”</p> +<p>“Then where’s the gold, if he took it? It must +be somewhere. Where is it?”</p> +<p>“Now I’m going up to the head of the class, +ma’am. The gold—why, that’s a dead easy one. +<i>Near as I can make out, I’m sitting on it right now.</i>”</p> +<p>She gave a startled little cry that died in her +throat.</p> +<p>“Yes, it’s ce’tainly a valuable wash-stand. Chippendale +furniture ain’t in it with this kind. I reckon +the king of England’s is ace high against a straight +flush when it bucks up against yours.”</p> +<p>Melissy threw up her cards. “How did you find +out?” she asked hoarsely.</p> +<p>The deputy forced her to commit herself more +definitely. “Find out what?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></p> +<p>“Where I put the box.”</p> +<p>“I’ll go back and answer some of those other +questions first. I might as well own up that I knew +all the time your father didn’t hold up the stage.”</p> +<p>“You did?”</p> +<p>“He’s no fool. He wouldn’t leave his tracks all +over the place where he had just held up a stage. +He might jest as well have left a signed note saying +he had done it. No, that didn’t look like Champ +Lee to me. It seemed more likely he’d arrived after +the show than before. It wouldn’t be like him, +either, to go plowing up the side of the ditch, with +his partner on the other side, making a trail that +a blind man could follow in the night. Soon as I +knew Lee and Boone made those tracks, I had it +cinched that they were following the lateral to see +where the robber was going. They had come to +the same conclusion I had, that there wasn’t any +way of escape <i>except by that empty lateral</i>, <i>assuming +it had been empty</i>. The only point was to find +out where the hold-up left the lateral. That’s why +they rode one on each side of it. They weren’t +missing any bets, you see.”</p> +<p>“And that’s why they drove the sheep down to +water—to hide the wheel-tracks. I couldn’t understand +that.”</p> +<p>“I must ’a’ been right on their heels, for they +were jest getting the trotters out of the corral when +I reached the place where your rig left the water. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +’Course I fell back into the brush and circled around +so as to hit the store in front.”</p> +<p>“But if dad knew all the time, I don’t see—surely, +he wouldn’t have come right after me and made +plain the way I escaped.”</p> +<p>“That’s the point. He didn’t know. I reckon +he was sort of guessing around in the dark, plumb +puzzled; couldn’t find the switch at all at first. Then +it come to him, and he thought of the sheep to +blind the trail. If I’d been half a hour later he +would have got away with it too. No, if he had +guessed that you were in the hold-up, him and +Boone would have hiked right out on a false trail +and led us into the Galiuros. Having no notion of +it at first, he trails you down.”</p> +<p>“And the gold—how did you find that?”</p> +<p>“I knew it was either right around the place or +else you had taken it on with you when you went +to the head-gates and buried it up there somewhere. +Next day I followed your tracks and couldn’t find +any place where you might have left it. I knew +how clever you were by the way you planned your +getaway. Struck me as mighty likely that you had +left it lying around in plain view somewhere. If +you had dumped it out of the box into a sack, the +box must be somewhere. You hadn’t had time to +burn it before the stage got back. I drifted back +to your kindling pile, where all the old boxes from +the store are lying. I happened to notice a brass +tack in one near the end; then the marks of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +tack heads where they had pressed against the wood. +I figured you might have substituted one box for +another, and inside of ten minutes I stumbled +against your wash-stand and didn’t budge it. Then +I didn’t have to look any further.”</p> +<p>“I’ve been trying to get a chance to move it and +haven’t ever found one. You were always coming +around the corner on me,” she explained.</p> +<p>“Sorry I incommoded you,” he laughed. “But +it’s too heavy for a lady to lift alone, anyhow. I +don’t see how you managed it this far.”</p> +<p>“I’m pretty strong,” she said quietly.</p> +<p>She had no hope of escape from the net of evidence +in which he had entangled her. It was characteristic +of her that she would not stoop to tricks +to stir his pity. Deep in her heart she knew now +that she had wronged him when she had suspected +him of being a rustler. He <i>could</i> not be. It was +not in the man’s character. But she would ask no +mercy of him. All her pride rose to meet his. She +would show him how game she could be. What +she had sown she would reap. Nor would it have +been any use to beseech him to spare her. He was +a hard man, she told herself. Not even a fool +could have read any weakness in the quiet gray +eyes that looked so steadily into hers. In his voice +and movements there was a certain deliberation, but +this had nothing to do with indecision of character. +He would do his duty as he saw it, regardless +of whom it might affect. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></p> +<p>Melissy stood before him in the unconscious attitude +of distinction she often fell into when she +was moved, head thrown back so as to bare the +rounded throat column, brown little hands folded +in front of her, erectly graceful in all her slender +lines.</p> +<p>“What are you going to do with me?” she asked.</p> +<p>His stone-cold eyes met hers steadily. “It ain’t +my say-so. I’m going to put it up to Bellamy. I +don’t know what he’ll do.”</p> +<p>But, cold as his manner was, the heart of the +man leaped to her courage. He saw her worn out, +pathetically fearful, but she could face him with +that still little smile of hers. He longed to take +her in his arms, to tell her it would be all right—all +right.</p> +<p>“There’s one thing that troubles me. I don’t +know how father will take this. You know how +quick-tempered he is. I’m afraid he’ll shoot somebody +or do something rash when he finds out. You +must let me be alone with him when I tell him.”</p> +<p>He nodded. “I been thinking of that myself. +It ain’t going to do him any good to make a gun-play. +I have a notion mebbe this thing will unravel +itself if we give it time. It will only make things +worse for him to go off half-cocked.”</p> +<p>“How do you mean it may unravel itself?” she +asked.</p> +<p>“Bellamy is a whole lot better man than folks +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +give him credit for being. I expect he won’t be +hard on you when he knows why you did it.”</p> +<p>“And why did I do it?” she asked quietly.</p> +<p>“Sho! I know why you did it. Jim Budd told +you what he had heard, and you figured you could +save your father from doing it. You meant to +give the money back, didn’t you?”</p> +<p>“Yes, but I can’t prove that either in court or +to Mr. Bellamy.”</p> +<p>“You don’t need to prove it to me. If you say +so, that’s enough,” he said in his unenthusiastic +voice.</p> +<p>“But you’re not judge and jury, and you’re certainly +not Mr. Bellamy.”</p> +<p>“Scrape Arizona with a fine-tooth comb and you +couldn’t get a jury to convict when it’s up against +the facts in this case.”</p> +<p>At this she brightened. “Thank you, Mr. Flatray.” +And naïvely she added with a little laugh: +“Are you ready to put the handcuffs on me yet?”</p> +<p>He looked with a smile at her outstretched hands. +“They wouldn’t stay on.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you carry them in sizes to fit all +criminals?”</p> +<p>“I’ll have to put you on parole.”</p> +<p>“I’ll break it and climb out the window. Then +I’ll run off with this.”</p> +<p>She indicated the box of treasure.</p> +<p>“I need that wash-stand in my room. I’m going +to take it up there to-night,” he said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></p> +<p>“This <i>isn’t</i> a very good safety deposit vault,” +she answered, and, nodding a careless good-night, +she walked away in her slow-limbed, graceful +Southern fashion.</p> +<p>She had carried it off to the last without breaking +down, but, once in her own room, the girl’s face +showed haggard in the moonlight. It was one thing +to jest about it with him; it was another to face the +facts as they stood. She was in the power of her +father’s enemy, the man whose proffer of friendship +they had rejected with scorn. Her pride cried +out that she could not endure mercy from him even +if he wished to extend it. Surely there must be +some other way out than the humiliation of begging +him not to prosecute. She could see none but one, +and that was infinitely worse. Yet she knew it +would be her father’s first impulsive instinct to seek +to fight her out of her trouble, the more because it +was through him that it had fallen upon her. At +all hazards she must prevent this.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_A_CONVERSATION' id='XI_A_CONVERSATION'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>A CONVERSATION</h3> +</div> + +<p>Not five minutes after Melissy had left the +deputy sheriff, another rider galloped up +the road. Jack, returning from his room, +where he had left the box of gold locked up, waited +on the porch to see who this might be.</p> +<p>The horseman proved to be the man Norris, or +Boone, and in a thoroughly bad temper, as Jack +soon found out.</p> +<p>“Have you see anything of ’Lissie Lee?” he demanded +immediately.</p> +<p>“Miss Lee has just left me. She has gone to +her room,” answered Flatray quietly.</p> +<p>“Well, I want to see her,” said the other hoarsely.</p> +<p>“I reckon you better postpone it to to-morrow. +She’s some played out and needs sleep.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’m going to see her now.”</p> +<p>Jack turned, still all gentleness, and called to Jim +Budd, who was in the store.</p> +<p>“Oh, Jim! Run upstairs and knock on Miss Melissy’s +door and tell her Mr. Norris is down here. +Ask if she will see him to-night.”</p> +<p>“You’re making a heap of formality out of this, +Mr. Buttinsky,” sneered the cowpuncher. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span></p> +<p>Jack made no answer, unless it were one to +whistle gently and look out into the night as if +he were alone.</p> +<p>“No, seh. She doan’ wan’ tuh see him to-night,” +announced Jim upon his return.</p> +<p>“That seems to settle it, Mr. Norris,” said Jack +pleasantly.</p> +<p>“Not by a hell of a sight. I’ve got something +to say to her, and I’m going to say it.”</p> +<p>“To-morrow,” amended the officer.</p> +<p>“I said to-night.”</p> +<p>“But your say doesn’t go here against hers. I +reckon you’ll wait.”</p> +<p>“Not so’s you could notice it.” The cowpuncher +took a step forward toward the stairway, but Flatray +was there before him.</p> +<p>“Get out of the way, you. I don’t stand for any +butting-in,” the cowboy blustered.</p> +<p>“Don’t be a goat, Norris. She’s tired, and she +says she don’t want to see you. That’s enough, +ain’t it?”</p> +<p>Norris leaped back with an oath to draw his gun, +but Jack had the quickest draw in Arizona. The +puncher found himself looking into the business +end of a revolver.</p> +<p>“Better change your mind, seh,” suggested the +officer amiably. “I take it you’ve been drinking +and you’re some excited. If you were in condition +to <i>savez</i> the situation, you’d understand that the +young lady doesn’t care to see you now. Do you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +need a church to fall on you before you can take +a hint?”</p> +<p>“I reckon if you knew all about her, you wouldn’t +be so anxious to stand up for her,” Norris said +darkly.</p> +<p>“I expect we cayn’t any of us stand the great +white light on all our acts; but if any one can, it’s +that little girl upstairs.”</p> +<p>“What would you say if I told you that she’s +liable to go to Yuma if I lift my hand?”</p> +<p>“I’d say I was from Missouri and needed +showing.”</p> +<p>“Put up that gun, come outside with me, and if +I take a notion I’ll show you all right.”</p> +<p>Jack laughed as his gun disappeared. “I’d be +willing to bet high that there are a good many citizens +around here haided straighter for Yuma than +Miss Melissy.”</p> +<p>Without answering, Norris led the way out and +stopped only when his arm rested on the fence of +the corral.</p> +<p>“Nobody can hear us now,” he said brusquely, +and the ranger got a whiff of his hot whisky breath. +“You’ve put it up to me to make good. All right, +I’ll do it. That little girl in there, as you call +her, is the bad man who held up the Fort Allison +stage.”</p> +<p>The officer laughed tolerantly as he lit a +cigarette.</p> +<p>“I hear you say it, Norris.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></p> +<p>“I didn’t expect you to believe it right away, but +it’s a fact just the same.”</p> +<p>Flatray climbed to the fence and rested his feet +on a rail. “Fire ahead. I’m listenin’.”</p> +<p>“The first men on the ground after that hold-up +were me and Lee. We covered the situation +thorough and got hold of some points right away.”</p> +<p>“That’s right funny too. When I asked you if +you’d been down there you both denied it,” commented +the officer.</p> +<p>“We were protecting the girl. Mind you, we +didn’t know who had done it then, but we had reasons +to think the person had just come from this +ranch.”</p> +<p>“What reasons?” briefly demanded Flatray.</p> +<p>“We don’t need to go into them. We had them, +anyhow. Then I lit on a foot-print right on the +edge of the ditch that no man ever made. We +didn’t know what to make of it, but we wiped it +out and followed the ditch, one on each side. We’d +figured that was the way he had gone. You see, +though water was running in the ditch now, it +hadn’t been half an hour before.”</p> +<p>“You don’t say!”</p> +<p>“There wasn’t a sign of anybody leaving the +ditch till we got to the ranch; then we saw tracks +going straight to the house.”</p> +<p>“So you got a bunch of sheep and drove them +down there to muss things up some.”</p> +<p>Norris looked sharply at him. “You got there +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +while we were driving them back. Well, that’s +right. We had to help her out.”</p> +<p>“You’re helping her out now, ain’t you?” Jack +asked dryly.</p> +<p>“That’s my business. I’ve got my own reasons, +Mr. Deputy. All you got to do is arrest her.”</p> +<p>“Just as soon as you give me the evidence, seh.”</p> +<p>“Haven’t I given it to you? She was seen to +drive away from the house in her rig. She left footprints +down there. She came back up the ditch and +then rode right up to the head-gates and turned on +the water. Jim Little saw her cutting across country +from the head-gates hell-to-split.”</p> +<p>“Far as I can make out, all the evidence you’ve +given me ain’t against her, but against you. She +was out drivin’ when it happened, you say, and you +expect me to arrest her for it. It ain’t against the +law to go driving, seh. And as for that ditch fairy +tale, on your own say-so you wiped out all chance +to prove the story.”</p> +<p>“Then you won’t arrest her?”</p> +<p>“If you’ll furnish the evidence, seh.”</p> +<p>“I tell you we know she did it. Her father +knows it.”</p> +<p>“Is it worryin’ his conscience? Did he ask you +to lay an information against her?” asked the officer +sarcastically.</p> +<p>“That isn’t the point.”</p> +<p>“You’re right. Here’s the point.” Not by the +faintest motion of the body had the officer’s indolence +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +been lifted, but the quiet ring of his voice +showed it was gone. “You and Lee were overheard +planning that robbery the day after you were seen +hanging around the ’Monte Cristo.’ You started +out to hold up the stage. It was held up. By your +own story you were the first men on the ground +after the robbery. I tracked you straight from +there here along the ditch. I found a black mask +in Lee’s coat. A dozen people saw you on that +fool sheep-drive of yours. And to sum up, I found +the stolen gold right here where you must have +hidden it.”</p> +<p>“You found the gold? Where?”</p> +<p>“That ain’t the point either, seh. The point is +that I’ve got you where I want you, Mr. Norris, +alias Mr. Boone. You’re wound up in a net you +cayn’t get away from. You’re wanted back East, +and you’re wanted here. I’m onto your little game, +sir. Think I don’t know you’ve been trying to +manufacture evidence against me as a rustler? +Think I ain’t wise to your whole record? You’re +arrested for robbing the Fort Allison stage.”</p> +<p>Norris, standing close in front of him, shot his +right hand out and knocked the officer backward +from the fence. Before the latter could get on his +feet again the cowpuncher was scudding through +the night. He reached his horse, flung himself on, +and galloped away. Harmlessly a bullet or two +zipped after him as he disappeared.</p> +<p>The deputy climbed over the fence again and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +laughed softly to himself. “You did that right +well, Jack. He’ll always think he did that by his +lone, never will know you was a partner in that +escape. It’s a fact, though, I could have railroaded +him through on the evidence, but not without including +the old man. No, there wasn’t any way +for it but that grandstand escape of Mr. Boone’s.”</p> +<p>Still smiling, he dusted himself, put up his revolver, +and returned to the house.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_THE_TENDERFOOT_MAKES_A_PROPOSITION' id='XII_THE_TENDERFOOT_MAKES_A_PROPOSITION'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>THE TENDERFOOT MAKES A PROPOSITION</h3> +</div> + +<p>Melissy waited in dread expectancy to see +what would happen. Of quick, warm +sympathies, always ready to bear with +courage her own and others’ burdens, she had none +of that passive endurance which age and experience +bring. She was keyed to the heroism of an occasion, +but not yet to that which life lays as a daily +burden upon many without dramatic emphasis.</p> +<p>All next day nothing took place. On the succeeding +one her father returned with the news that +the “Monte Cristo” contest had been continued to +another term of court. Otherwise nothing unusual +occurred. It was after mail time that she stepped +to the porch for a breath of fresh air and noticed +that the reward placard had been taken down.</p> +<p>“Who did that?” she asked of Alan McKinstra, +who was sitting on the steps, reading a newspaper +and munching an apple.</p> +<p>“Jack Flatray took it down. He said the offer +of a reward had been withdrawn.”</p> +<p>“When did he do that?”</p> +<p>“About an hour ago. Just before he rode off.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span></p> +<p>“Rode off! Where did he go?”</p> +<p>“Heard him say he was going to Mesa. He told +your father that when he settled the bill.”</p> +<p>“He’s gone for good, then?”</p> +<p>“That’s the way I took it. Say, Melissy, Farnum +says Jack told him the gold had been found and +turned back to Morse. Is that right?”</p> +<p>“How should I know?”</p> +<p>“Well, it looks blamed funny they could get the +bullion back without getting the hold-up.”</p> +<p>“Maybe they’ll get him yet,” she consoled him.</p> +<p>“I wish I could get a crack at him,” the boy +murmured vengefully.</p> +<p>“You had one chance at him, didn’t you?”</p> +<p>“José spoiled it. Honest, I wasn’t going to lie +down, ’Lissie.”</p> +<p>Again the days followed each other uneventfully. +Bellamy himself never came for his mail now, but +sent one of the boys from the mine for it. Melissy +wondered whether he despised her so much he did +not ever want to see her again. Somehow she did +not like to think this. Perhaps it might be delicacy +on his part. He was going to drop the whole thing +magnanimously and did not want to put upon her +the obligation of thanking him by presenting himself +to her eyes.</p> +<p>But though he never appeared in person, he had +never been so much in her mind. She could not rid +herself of a growing sympathy and admiration for +this man who was holding his own against many. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +A story which was being whispered about reached +her ears and increased this. A bunch of his sheep +had been found poisoned on their feeding ground, +and certain cattle interests were suspected of having +done the dastardly thing.</p> +<p>When she could stand the silence no longer Melissy +called up Jack Flatray on the telephone at +Mesa.</p> +<p>“You caught me just in time. I’m leaving for +Phoenix to-night,” he told her. “What can I do +for you, Miss Lee?”</p> +<p>“I want to know what’s being done about that +Fort Allison stage hold-up.”</p> +<p>“The money has been recovered.”</p> +<p>“I know that, but—what about the—the criminals?”</p> +<p>“They made their getaway all right.”</p> +<p>“Aren’t you looking for them?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Did Mr. Morse want you to drop it?”</p> +<p>“Yes. He was very urgent about it.”</p> +<p>“Does he know who the criminals are?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“And isn’t going to prosecute?”</p> +<p>“So he told me.”</p> +<p>“What did Mr. Morse say when you made your +report?”</p> +<p>“Said, ‘Thank you.’”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, but—you know what I mean.”</p> +<p>“Not being a mind-reader——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span></p> +<p>“About the suspect. Did he say anything?”</p> +<p>“Said he had private reasons for not pushing the +case. I didn’t ask him what they were.”</p> +<p>This was all she could get out of him. It was +less than she had hoped. Still, it was something. +She knew definitely what Bellamy had done. +Wherefore she sat down to write him a note of +thanks. It took her an hour and eight sheets of +paper before she could complete it to her satisfaction. +Even then the result was not what she wanted. +She wished she knew how he felt about it, so that +she could temper it to the right degree of warmth +or coolness. Since she did not know, she erred +on the side of stiffness and made her message +formal.</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<div class='la'> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Mr. Thomas L. Morse,</span></p> +<p>“Monte Cristo Mine.</p> +</div> + +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Dear Sir:</span></p> +<p>“Father and I feel that we ought to thank +you for your considerate forbearance in a certain +matter you know of. Believe me, sir, +we are grateful.</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p style='margin-right:4em;'>“Very respectfully,</p> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Melissy Lee.</span>”</p> +</div> + +</div> +<p>She could not, however, keep herself from one +touch of sympathy, and as a postscript she naïvely +added:</p> +<p>“I’m sorry about the sheep.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span></p> +<p>Before mailing it she carried this letter to her +father. Neither of them had ever referred to the +other about what each knew of the affair of the +robbery. More than once it had been on the tip +of Champ Lee’s tongue to speak of it, but it was +not in his nature to talk out what he felt, and with +a sigh he had given it up. Now Melissy came +straight to the point.</p> +<p>“I’ve been writing a letter to Mr. Morse, dad, +thanking him for not having me arrested.”</p> +<p>Lee shot at her a glance of quick alarm.</p> +<p>“Does he know about it, honey?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Jack Flatray found out the whole thing +and told him. He was very insistent on dropping +it, Mr. Flatray says.”</p> +<p>“You say Jack found out all about it, honey?” +repeated Lee in surprise.</p> +<p>He was seated in a big chair on the porch, and +she nestled on one arm of it, rumpled his gray hair +as she had always done since she had been a little +girl, kissed him, and plunged into her story.</p> +<p>He heard her to the end without a word, but she +noticed that he gripped the chair hard. When she +had finished he swept her into his arms and broke +down over her, calling her the pet names of her +childhood.</p> +<p>“Honey-bird ... Dad’s little honey-bird ... +I’m that ashamed of myse’f. ’Twas the whisky +did it, lambie. Long as I live I’ll nevah touch +it again. I’ll sweah that befo’ God. All week +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +you been packin’ the troubles I heaped on you, precious, +and afteh you-all saved me from being a +criminal....”</p> +<p>So he went on, spending his tempestuous love in +endearments and caresses, and so together they +afterward talked it out and agreed to send the letter +she had written.</p> +<p>But Lee was not satisfied with her atonement. +He could not rest to let it go at that, without expressing +his own part in it to Bellamy. Next day +he rode up to the mine, and found its owner in +workman’s slops just stepping from the cage. If +Bellamy were surprised to see him, no sign of it +reached his face.</p> +<p>“If you’ll wait a minute till I get these things +off, I’ll walk up to the cabin with you, Mr. Lee,” +he said.</p> +<p>“I reckon you got my daughter’s letter,” said +Lee abruptly as he strode up the mountainside with +his host.</p> +<p>“Yes, I got it an hour ago.”</p> +<p>“I be’n and studied it out, Mr. Morse. I couldn’t +let it go at that, and so I reckoned I’d jog along +up hyer and tell you the whole story.”</p> +<p>“That’s as you please, Mr. Lee. I’m quite satisfied +as it is.”</p> +<p>The rancher went on as if he had not heard. +“’Course I be’n holding a grudge at you evah since +you took up this hyer claim. I expect that rankles +with me most of the time, and when I take to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +drinking seems to me that mine still belongs to me. +Well, I heerd tell of that shipment you was making, +and I sets out to git it, for it ce’tainly did seem to +belong to me. Understand, I wasn’t drunk, but +had be’n settin’ pretty steady to the bottle for several +days. Melissy finds it out, no matter how, and +undertakes to keep me out of trouble. She’s that +full of sand, she nevah once thought of the danger +or the consequences. Anyhow, she meant to git the +bullion back to you afteh the thing had blown over.”</p> +<p>“I haven’t doubted that a moment since I knew +she did it,” said Bellamy quietly.</p> +<p>“Glad to hear it. I be’n misjudgin’ you, seh, +but you’re a white man afteh all. Well, you know +the rest of the story: how she held up the stage, +how Jack drapped in befo’ our tracks were covered, +how smart he worked the whole thing out, and how +my little gyurl confessed to him to save me.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know all that.”</p> +<p>“What kind of a figure do I make in this? First +off, I act like a durn fool, and she has to step in +to save me. Then I let her tote the worry of it +around while I ride off to Mesa. When Jack runs +me down, she takes the blame again. To finish +up with, she writes you a letter of thanks, jes’ as +if the whole fault was hers.”</p> +<p>The old soldier selected a smooth rock and +splashed it with tobacco juice before he continued +with rising indignation against himself.</p> +<p>“I’m a fine father for a gyurl like that, ain’t I? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +Up to date I always had an idee I was some sort +of a man, but dad gum it! I cayn’t see it hyer. +To think of me lettin’ my little gyurl stand the consequences +of my meanness. No, Mr. Morse, that’s +one too much for Champ Lee. He’s nevah going to +touch another drop of whisky long as he lives.”</p> +<p>“Glad to hear it. That’s a square amend to make, +one she will appreciate.”</p> +<p>“So I took a <i>pasear</i> up hyer to explain this, and +to thank you for yore kindness. Fac’ is, Mr. +Morse, it would have jest about killed me if anything +had happened to my little ’Lissie. I want to +say that if you had a-be’n her brother you couldn’t +’a’ be’n more decent.”</p> +<p>“There was nothing else to do. It happens that +I am in her debt. She saved my life once. Besides, +I understood the motives for her action when she +broke the law, and I honored them with all my +heart. Flatray felt just as I did about it. So +would any right-thinking man.”</p> +<p>“Well, you cayn’t keep me from sayin’ again +that you’re a white man, seh,” the other said with +a laugh behind which the emotion of tears lay +near.</p> +<p>“That offer of a compromise is still open, Mr. +Lee.”</p> +<p>The Southerner shook his grizzled head. “No, I +reckon not, Mr. Morse. Understand, I got nothin’ +against you. The feud is wiped out, and I’ll make +you no mo’ trouble. But it’s yore mine, and I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +don’t feel like taking charity. I got enough anyhow.”</p> +<p>“It wouldn’t be charity. I’ve always felt as if +you had a moral claim on an interest in the ‘Monte +Cristo.’ If you won’t take this yourself, why not +let me make out the papers to Miss Lee? You +would feel then that she was comfortably fixed, no +matter what happened to you.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll lay it befo’ her. Anyhow, we’re +much obliged to you, Mr. Morse. I’ll tell you +what, seh,” he added as an after-thought. “You +come down and talk it over with ’Lissie. If you +can make her see it that way, good enough.”</p> +<p>When Champ Lee turned his bronco’s head homeward +he was more at peace with the world than he +had been for a long time. He felt that he would +be able to look his little girl in the face again. For +the first time in a week he felt at one with creation. +He rode into the ranch plaza humming “Dixie.”</p> +<p>On the day following that of Lee’s call, the mine-owner +saddled his mare and took the trail to the +half-way house. It was not until after the stage +had come and gone that he found the chance for a +word with Melissy alone.</p> +<p>“Your father submitted my proposition, did he?” +Bellamy said by way of introducing the subject.</p> +<p>“Let’s take a walk on it. I haven’t been out of +the house to-day,” she answered with the boyish +downrightness sometimes uppermost in her.</p> +<p>Calling Jim, she left him in charge of the store, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +caught up a Mexican sombrero, and led the way +up the trail to a grove of live-oaks perched on a +bluff above. Below them stretched the plain, fold +on fold to the blue horizon edge. Close at hand +clumps of cactus, thickets of mesquit, together with +the huddled adobe buildings of the ranch, made up +the details of a scene possible only in the sunburnt +territory. The palpitating heat quivered above the +hot brown sand. No life stirred in the valley except +a circling buzzard high in the sky, and the +tiny moving speck with its wake of dust each knew +to be the stage that had left the station an hour +before.</p> +<p>Melissy, unconscious of the charming picture she +made, stood upon a rock and looked down on it all.</p> +<p>“I suppose,” she said at last slowly, “that most +people would think this pretty desolate. But it’s +a part of me. It’s all I know.” She broke off and +smiled at him. “I had a chance to be civilized. +Dad wanted to send me East to school, but I +couldn’t leave him.”</p> +<p>“Where were you thinking of going?”</p> +<p>“To Denver.”</p> +<p>Her conception of the East amused him. It +was about as accurate as a New Yorker’s of the +West.</p> +<p>“I’m glad you didn’t. It would have spoiled you +and sent you back just like every other young lady +the schools grind out.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span></p> +<p>She turned curiously toward him. “Am I not +like other girls?”</p> +<p>It was on his tongue tip to tell her that she was +gloriously different from most girls he had known, +but discretion sealed his lips. Instead, he told her +of life in the city and what it means to society +women, its emptiness and unsatisfaction.</p> +<p>His condemnation was not proof positive to her. +“I’d like to go there for myself some time and see. +And anyhow it must be nice to have all the money +you want with which to travel,” she said.</p> +<p>This gave him his opening. “It makes one independent. +I think that’s the best thing wealth +can give—a sort of spaciousness.” He waited +perceptibly before he added: “I hope you have +decided to be my partner in the mine.”</p> +<p>“I’ve decided not to.”</p> +<p>“I’m sorry. But why?”</p> +<p>“It’s your mine. It isn’t ours.”</p> +<p>“That’s nonsense. I always in my heart, recognized +a moral claim you have. Besides, the case +isn’t finished yet. Perhaps your father may win +his contest. I’m all for settling out of court.”</p> +<p>“You know we won’t win.”</p> +<p>“I don’t.”</p> +<p>She gave him applause from her dark eyes. +“That’s very fair of you, but Dad and I can’t do it.”</p> +<p>“Then you still have a grudge at me,” he smiled.</p> +<p>“Not the least little bit of a one.”</p> +<p>“I shan’t take no for an answer, then. I’ll order +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +the papers made out whether you want me to or +not.” Without giving her a chance to speak, he +passed to another topic: “I’ve decided to go out +of the sheep business.”</p> +<p>“I’m so glad!” she cried.</p> +<p>“Those aren’t my feelings,” he answered ruefully. +“I hate to quit under fire.”</p> +<p>“Of course you do, but your friends will know +why you do it.”</p> +<p>“Why do I do it?”</p> +<p>“Because you know it’s right. The cattlemen +had the range first. Their living is tied up in cattle, +and your sheep are ruining the feed for them. +Yesterday when I was out riding I counted the +bones of eight dead cows.”</p> +<p>He nodded gravely. “Yes, in this country sheep +are death to cows. I hate to be a quitter, but I +hate worse to take the bread out of the mouths of a +dozen families. Two days ago I had an offer for +my whole bunch, and to-morrow I’m going to take +the first instalment over the pass and drive them +down to the railroad.”</p> +<p>“But you’ll have to cross the dead line to get +over the pass,” she said quickly; for all Cattleland +knew that a guard had been watching his herds to +see they did not cross the pass.</p> +<p>“Yes. I’m going to send Alan with a letter to +Farnum. I don’t think there will be any opposition +to my crossing it when my object is understood,” +he smiled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span></p> +<p>Melissy watched him ride away, strong and rugged +and ungraceful, from the head to the heel of +him a man. Life had gone hard with him. She +wondered whether that were the reason her heart +went out to him so warmly.</p> +<p>As she moved about her work that day and the +next little snatches of song broke from her, bubbling +forth like laughter, born of the quiet happiness +within, for which she could give no reason.</p> +<p>After the stage had gone she saddled her pony +and rode toward the head of the pass. In an hour +or two now the sheep would be pouring across the +divide, and she wanted to get a photograph of +them as they emerged from the pass. She was following +an old cattle trail which ran into the main +path just this side of the pass, and she was close +to the junction when the sound of voices stopped +her. Some instinct made her wait and listen.</p> +<p>The speakers were in a dip of the trail just ahead +of her, and the voice of the first she recognized as +belonging to the man Boone. The tone of it was +jubilantly cruel.</p> +<p>“No, sir. You don’t move a step of the way, +not a step, Mr. Alan McKinstra. I’ve got him +right where I want him, and I don’t care if you +talk till the cows come home.”</p> +<p>Alan’s voice rang out indignantly, “It’s murder +then—just plain, low-down murder. If you hold +me here and let Morse fall into a death trap without +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +warning him, you’re as responsible as if you +shot him yourself.”</p> +<p>“All right. Suits me down to the ground. We’ll +let it go at that. I’m responsible. If you want +the truth flat and plain, I don’t mind telling you +that I wouldn’t be satisfied if I wasn’t responsible. +I’m evening up some little things with Mr. Morse +to-day.”</p> +<p>Melissy needed to hear no more to understand +the situation, but if she had, the next words of +Boone would have cleared it up.</p> +<p>“When I met up with you and happened on the +news that you was taking a message to Farnum, +and when I got onto the fact that Morse, as you +call him, was moving his sheep across the dead +line, <i>relying on you having got his letter to the +cattlemen to make it safe</i>, it seemed luck too good +to be true. All I had to do was to persuade you +to stay right here with me, and Mr. Morse would +walk into the pass and be wiped out. You get the +beauty of it, my friend, don’t you? <i>I’m</i> responsible, +but it will be Farnum and his friends that will +bear the blame. There ain’t but one flaw in the +whole thing: Morse will never know that it’s me +that killed him.”</p> +<p>“You devil!” cried the boy, with impotent passion.</p> +<p>“I’ve waited ten years for this day, and it’s come +at last. Don’t you think for a moment I’m going +to weaken. No, sir! You’ll sit there with my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +gun poked in your face just as you’ve sat for six +hours. It’s my say-so to-day, sir,” Boone retorted, +malevolence riding triumph in his voice.</p> +<p>Melissy’s first impulse was to confront the man, +her next to slip away without being discovered and +then give the alarm.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” continued the cowpuncher; “I scored +on Mr. Morse two or three nights ago, when I +played hell with one of his sheep camps, and to-day +I finish up with him. His sheep have been +watched for weeks, and at the first move it’s all up +with him and them. Farnum’s vaqueros will pay +my debt in full. Just as soon as I’m right sure +of it I’ll be jogging along to Dead Man’s Cache, +and you can go order the coffin for your boss.”</p> +<p>The venom of the man was something to wonder +at. It filled the listening girl with sick apprehension. +She had not known that such hatred could +live in the world.</p> +<p>Quietly she led her pony back, mounted, and +made a wide detour until she struck the trail above. +Already she could hear the distant bleat of sheep +which told her that the herd was entering the pass. +Recklessly she urged her pony forward, galloping +into the saddle between the peaks without regard to +the roughness of the boulder-strewn path. A voice +from above hailed her with a startled shout as she +flew past. Again, a shot rang out, the bullet whistling +close to her ear. But nothing could stop her +till she reached the man she meant to save. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span></p> +<p>And so it happened that Richard Bellamy, walking +at the head of his herd, saw a horse gallop +wildly round a bend almost into his bleating flock. +The rider dragged the bronco to a halt and slipped +to the ground. She stood there ashen-hued, clinging +to the saddle-horn and swaying slightly.</p> +<p>“I’m in time.... Thank God!... +Thank God!” her parched lips murmured.</p> +<p>“Miss Lee! You here?” he cried.</p> +<p>They looked at each other, the man and the girl, +while the wild fear in her heart began to still. The +dust of the drive was thick on his boots, his clothes, +his face, but the soil of travel could not obscure +the power of his carriage, the strong lines of his +shoulders, the set of his broad, flat back, any more +than it could tarnish her rarity, the sweetness of +blood in her that under his gaze beat faintly into +her dusky cheeks. The still force of him somehow +carried reassurance to her. Such virility of manhood +could not be marked for extinction.</p> +<p>She panted out her story, and his eyes never +left her.</p> +<p>“You have risked your life to save mine and +my herders,” he said very quietly.</p> +<p>“You must go back,” she replied irrelevantly.</p> +<p>“I can’t. The entrance is guarded.”</p> +<p>This startled her. “Then—what shall we do?”</p> +<p>“You must ride forward at once. Tell the vaqueros +that I am moving my sheep only to take +them to the railroad. Explain to them how Alan is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +detained with the message I sent Farnum. In a +few minutes we shall follow with the sheep.”</p> +<p>“And if they don’t believe that you are going +out of the sheep business—what then?”</p> +<p>“I shall have to take my chance of that.”</p> +<p>She seemed about to speak, but changed her mind, +nodded, swung to the saddle, and rode forward. +After a few minutes Bellamy followed slowly. He +was unarmed, not having doubted that his letter +to the cattleman would make his journey safe. +That he should have waited for an answer was now +plain, but the contract called for an immediate delivery +of the sheep, as he had carefully explained +in his note to Farnum.</p> +<p>Presently he heard again the clatter of a horse’s +hoofs in the loose shale and saw Melissy returning.</p> +<p>“Well?” he asked as she drew up.</p> +<p>“I’ve told them. I think they believe me, but +I’m going through the gorge with you.”</p> +<p>He looked up quickly to protest, but did not. +He knew that her thought was that her presence +beside him would protect him from attack. The +rough chivalry of Arizona takes its hat off to a +woman, and Melissy Lee was a favorite of the +whole countryside.</p> +<p>So together they passed into the gulch, Bellamy +walking by the side of her horse. Neither of them +spoke. At their heels was the soft rustle of many +thousands of padding feet.</p> +<p>Once there came to them the sound of cheering, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +and they looked up to see a group of vaqueros waving +their hats and shouting down. Melissy shook +her handkerchief and laughed happily at them. It +was a day to be remembered by these riders.</p> +<p>They emerged into a roll of hill-tops upon which +the setting sun had cast a weird afterglow of radiance +in which the whole world burned. The cactus, +the stunted shrubbery, the painted rocks, seemed +all afire with some magic light that had touched +their commonness to a new wonder.</p> +<p>A sound came to them from below. A man, +rifle in hand and leading a horse, was stealthily +crossing the trail to disappear among the large +boulders beyond.</p> +<p>Melissy did not speak, scarce dared to draw +breath, for the man beneath them was Boone. +There was something furtive and lupine about him +that suggested the wild beast stalking its kill. No +doubt he had become impatient to see the end of +his foe and had ridden forward. He had almost +crossed the path before he looked up and caught +sight of them standing together in the fireglow of +the sunset.</p> +<p>Abruptly he came to a standstill.</p> +<p>“By God! you slipped through, did you?” he +said in a low voice of concentrated bitterness.</p> +<p>Bellamy did not answer, but he separated himself +from the girl by a step or two. He knew quite +well what was coming, and he looked down quietly +with steady eyes upon his foe. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span></p> +<p>From far below there came the faint sound of a +horse breaking its way through brush. Boone +paused to listen, but his eye never wandered from +the bareheaded, motionless figure silhouetted against +the skyline in the ruddy evening glow. He had +shifted his rifle so that it lay in both hands, ready +for immediate action.</p> +<p>Melissy, horror-stricken, had sat silent, but now +she found her voice.</p> +<p>“He is unarmed!” she cried to the cowpuncher.</p> +<p>He made no answer. Another sound in the +brush, close at hand, was distracting his attention, +though not his gaze.</p> +<p>Just as he whipped up his rifle Melissy sprang +forward. She heard the sound of the explosion fill +the draw, saw Bellamy clutch at the air and slowly +sink to the ground. Before the echoes had died +away she had flung herself toward the inert body.</p> +<p>The outlaw took a step or two forward, as if to +make sure of his work, but at the sound of running +footsteps he changed his mind, swung to the saddle +and disappeared among the rocks.</p> +<p>An instant later Bob Farnum burst into view.</p> +<p>“What’s up?” he demanded.</p> +<p>Melissy looked up. Her face was perfectly ashen. +“Phil Norris ... he shot Mr. Morse.”</p> +<p>Farnum stepped forward. “Hurt badly, Mr. +Morse?”</p> +<p>The wounded man grinned faintly. “Scared +worse, I reckon. He got me in the fleshy part of +the left arm.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_OLD_ACQUAINTANCES' id='XIII_OLD_ACQUAINTANCES'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>OLD ACQUAINTANCES</h3> +</div> + +<p>“You wanted to see me?”</p> +<p>The voice had the soft, slow intonation +of the South, and it held some quality that +haunted the memory. Or so Melissy thought afterward, +but that may have been because of its owner’s +appeal to sympathy.</p> +<p>“If you are Miss Yarnell.”</p> +<p>“Ferne Yarnell is my name.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Bellamy asked me to call on you. He +sent this letter of introduction.”</p> +<p>A faint wave of color beat into the cheek of the +stranger. “You know Mr. Bellamy then?”</p> +<p>“Yes. He would have been here to meet you, +but he met with an accident yesterday.”</p> +<p>“An accident!” There was a quick flash of +alarm in the lifted face.</p> +<p>“He told me to tell you that it was not serious. +He was shot in the arm.”</p> +<p>“Shot. By whom?” She was ashen to the +lips.</p> +<p>“By a man called Duncan Boone.”</p> +<p>“I know him. He is a dangerous man.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></p> +<p>“Yes,” Melissy nodded. “I don’t think we know +how very dangerous he is. We have all been deceived +in him till recently.”</p> +<p>“Does he live here?”</p> +<p>“Yes. The strange thing is that he and Mr. +Bellamy had never met in this country until a few +days ago. There used to be some kind of a feud +between the families. But you must know more +about that than I do.”</p> +<p>“Yes. My family is involved in the feud. Mr. +Bellamy is a distant cousin of mine.”</p> +<p>“So he told me.”</p> +<p>“Have you known him long?”</p> +<p>Melissy thought that there was a little more than +curiosity in the quick look the young woman flung +at her.</p> +<p>“I met him when he first came here. He was +lost on the desert and I found him. After that +we became very unfriendly. He jumped a mining +claim belonging to my father. But we’ve made it +up and agreed to be friends.”</p> +<p>“He wrote about the young lady who saved his +life.”</p> +<p>Melissy smiled. “Did he say that I was a cattle +and a stage rustler?”</p> +<p>“He said nothing that was not good.”</p> +<p>“I’m much obliged to him,” the Western girl +answered breezily. “And now do tell me, Miss +Yarnell, that you and your people have made up +your mind to stay permanently.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span></p> +<p>“Father is still looking the ground over. He +has almost decided to buy a store here. Yet he +has been in the town only a day. So you see he +must like it.”</p> +<p>Outside the open second story window of the +hotel Melissy heard a voice that sounded familiar. +She moved toward the window alcove, and at the +same time a quick step was heard in the hall. Someone +opened the door of the parlor and stood on the +threshold. It was the man called Boone.</p> +<p>Melissy, from the window, glanced round. Her +first impulse was to speak; her second to remain +silent. For the Arkansan was not looking at her. +His mocking ribald gaze was upon Ferne Yarnell.</p> +<p>That young woman looked up from the letter of +introduction she was reading and a startled expression +swept into her face.</p> +<p>“Dunc Boone,” she cried.</p> +<p>The man doffed his hat with elaborate politeness. +“Right glad to meet up with you again, Miss Ferne. +You was in short dresses when I saw you last. +My, but you’ve grown pretty. Was it because you +heard I was in Arizona that you came here?”</p> +<p>She rose, rejecting in every line of her erect +figure his impudent geniality, his insolent pretense +of friendliness.</p> +<p>“My brother is in the hotel. If he learns you +are here there will be trouble.”</p> +<p>A wicked malice lay in his smiling eyes. “Trouble +for him or for me?” he inquired silkily. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span></p> +<p>His lash flicked her on the raw. Hal Yarnell was +a boy of nineteen. This man had a long record as +a gunfighter to prove him a desperate man. Moreover, +he knew how hopelessly heart sick she was of +the feud that for many years had taken its toll of +blood.</p> +<p>“Haven’t you done us enough harm, you and +yours? Go away. Leave us alone. That’s all +I ask of you.”</p> +<p>He came in and closed the door. “But you see +it ain’t all I ask of you, Ferne Yarnell. I always +did ask all I could get of a girl as pretty as you.”</p> +<p>“Will you leave me, sir?”</p> +<p>“When I’m through.”</p> +<p>“Now.”</p> +<p>“No, I reckon not,” he drawled between half +shuttered eyes.</p> +<p>She moved toward the door, but he was there +before her. With a turn of his wrist he had +locked it.</p> +<p>“This interview quits at my say-so, honey. +Think after so many years of absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder +you’re going to trample over me +like I was a kid? Guess again.”</p> +<p>“Unlock that door,” she ordered.</p> +<p>“When I get good and ready. We’ll have our +talk out first.”</p> +<p>Her eyes blazed. She was white as paper though +she faced him steadily. But her heart wavered. +She dared not call out for fear her brother might +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +hear and come to her assistance. This she must +forestall at all costs.</p> +<p>A heel clicked in the alcove. For the first time +Norris, or Boone as the Southern girl had called +him, became aware of a third party in the room. +Melissy was leaning out of the window. She called +down to a man standing on the street.</p> +<p>“Jack, come up here quick. I want you.”</p> +<p>Boone took a step forward. “You here, ’Lissie +Lee?”</p> +<p>She laughed scornfully. “Yes, I’m here. An +unexpected pleasure, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Do you know Ferne Yarnell?” he asked, for +once taken aback.</p> +<p>“It looks as if I do.”</p> +<p>His quick furtive eye fell upon an envelope on +the floor. He picked it up. Upon it was written, +“Miss Ferne Yarnell,” and in the corner, “Introducing +Miss Lee.”</p> +<p>A muscle twitched in his face. When he looked +up there was an expression of devilish malignity +on it.</p> +<p>“Mr. Bellamy’s handwriting, looks like.” He +turned to the Arizona girl. “Then I didn’t put the +fellow out of business.”</p> +<p>“No, you coward.”</p> +<p>The angry color crept to the roots of his hair. +“Better luck next time.”</p> +<p>The door knob rattled. Someone outside was +trying to get in. Those inside the room paid no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +obvious attention to him. The venomous face of +the cattle detective held the women fascinated.</p> +<p>“When Dick Bellamy ambushed Shep he made +a hell of a bad play of it. My old mammy used +to say that the Boones were born wolves. I can +see where she was right. The man that killed my +brother gets his one of these days and don’t you +forget it. You just stick around. We’re due to +shoot this thing out, him and me,” the man continued, +his deep-socketed eyes burning from the +grim handsome face.</p> +<p>“Open the door,” ordered a voice from the hall, +shaking the knob violently.</p> +<p>“You don’t know he killed your brother. Someone +else may have done it. And it may have been +done in self defence,” the Arkansas girl said to +Boone in a voice so low and reluctant that it appeared +the words were wrung from her by torture.</p> +<p>“Think I’m a buzzard head? Why for did he +run away? Why did he jump for the sandhills +soon as the word came to arrest him?” He +snapped together his straight, thin-lipped mouth, +much as a trap closes on its prey.</p> +<p>A heavy weight hurtled against the door and +shook it to the hinges. Melissy had been edging +to the right. Now with a twist of her lissom body +she had slipped past the furious man and turned +the key.</p> +<p>Jack Flatray came into the room. His glance +swept the young women and fastened on the man. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +In the crossed eyes of the two was the thrust of +rapiers, the grinding of steel on steel, that deadly +searching for weakness in the other that duelists +employ.</p> +<p>The deputy spoke in a low soft drawl. “Mornin’, +Boone. Holding an executive session, are you?”</p> +<p>The lids of the detective narrowed to slits. From +the first there had been no pretense of friendship +between these two. There are men who have only +to look once at each other to know they will be +foes. It had been that way with them. Causes of +antagonism had arisen quickly enough. Both dominant +personalities, they had waged silent unspoken +warfare for the leadership of the range. Later +over the favor of Melissy Lee this had grown more +intense, still without having ever been put into +words. Now they were face to face, masks off.</p> +<p>“Why yes, until you butted in, Mr. Sheriff.”</p> +<p>“This isn’t my busy day. I thought I’d just drop +in to the meeting.”</p> +<p>“You’ve made a mistake. We’re not holding +a cattle rustlers’ convention.”</p> +<p>“There are so many ladies present I can’t hear +you, but maybe if you said it outside I could,” the +deputy suggested gently, a gleam of steely anger in +his eyes.</p> +<p>“Say it anywhere to oblige a friend,” sneered +Boone.</p> +<p>From the moment of meeting neither man had +lowered his gaze by the fraction of an inch. Red +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +tragedy was in the air. Melissy knew it. The girl +from Arkansas guessed as much. Yet neither of +them knew how to avert the calamity that appeared +impending. One factor alone saved the situation +for the moment. Flatray had not yet heard of the +shooting of Bellamy. Had he known he would +have arrested Boone on the spot and the latter +would have drawn and fought it out.</p> +<p>Into the room sauntered Lee. “Hello, ’Lissie. +Been looking for you an hour, honey. Mornin’, +Norris. Howdy, Jack! Dad burn yore ornery hide, +I ain’t see you long enough for a good talk in a +coon’s age.”</p> +<p>Melissy seized on her father joyfully as an interposition +of Providence. “Father, this is Miss +Yarnell, the young lady I told you about.”</p> +<p>The ranchman buried her little hand in his big +paw. “Right glad to meet up with you, Miss +Yarnell. How do you like Arizona by this time? +I reckon Melissy has introduced you to her friends. +No? Make you acquainted with Mr. Flatray. +Shake hands with Mr. Norris, Miss Yarnell. +Where are you, Norris?”</p> +<p>The owner of the Bar Double G swung round, +to discover for the first time that harmony was not +present. Boone stood back with a sullen vindictive +expression on his face.</p> +<p>“Why, what’s up, boys?” the rancher asked, his +glance passing from one to another. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span></p> +<p>“You ain’t in this, Lee,” Boone informed him. +Then, to Flatray: “See you later.”</p> +<p>The deputy nodded carelessly. “Any time you +like.”</p> +<p>The lank old Confederate took a step forward +to call Boone back, but Melissy caught him by the +sleeve.</p> +<p>“Let him go,” she whispered emphatically.</p> +<p>“I know my boss,” returned Lee with a laugh.</p> +<p>“If you’re quite through with me, Miss Lee, I’ll +not intrude longer,” Flatray said.</p> +<p>“But I’m not,” spoke Melissy quickly.</p> +<p>She did not intend to let him get away to settle +his quarrel with Boone.</p> +<p>“I’m rather busy,” he suggested.</p> +<p>“Your business will have to wait,” she came +back decisively.</p> +<p>Lee laughed and clapped Jack on the shoulder. +“Might as well know your boss too, boy.”</p> +<p>Melissy flushed with a flash of temper. “I’m +nothing of the kind, dad.”</p> +<p>“Sho! A joke’s a joke, girl. That’s twice hand-runnin’ +I get a call-down. You’re mighty high-heeled +to-day, ’pears like.”</p> +<p>Jack smiled grimly. He understood some things +that were hidden from Lee.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_CONCERNING_THE_BOONEBELLAMYYARNELL_FEUD' id='XIV_CONCERNING_THE_BOONEBELLAMYYARNELL_FEUD'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>CONCERNING THE BOONE-BELLAMY-YARNELL FEUD</h3> +</div> + +<p>The story that Ferne Yarnell told them in +the parlor of the hotel had its beginnings +far back in the days before the great war. +They had been neighbors, these three families, had +settled side by side in this new land of Arkansas, +had hunted and feasted together in amity. In an +hour had arisen the rift between them that was to +widen to a chasm into which much blood had since +been spilt. It began with a quarrel between hotheaded +young men. Forty years later it was still +running its blind wasteful course.</p> +<p>Even before the war the Boones had begun to +go down hill rapidly. Cad Boone, dissipated and +unprincipled, had found even the lax discipline of +the Confederate army too rigid and had joined the +guerrillas, that band of hangers-on which respected +neither flag and developed a cruelty that was appalling. +Falling into the hands of Captain Ransom +Yarnell, he had been tried by drumhead courtmartial +and executed within twenty four hours of his +capture.</p> +<p>The boast of the Boones was that they never +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +forgot an injury. They might wait many years for +the chance, but in the end they paid their debts. +Twenty years after the war Sugden Boone shot +down Colonel Yarnell as he was hitching his horse +in front of the courthouse at Nemo. Next Christmas +eve a brother of the murdered man—Captain +Tom, as his old troopers still called him—met old +Sugden in the postoffice and a revolver duel followed. +From it Captain Tom emerged with a +bullet in his arm. Sugden was carried out of the +store feet first to a house of mourning.</p> +<p>The Boones took their time. Another decade +passed. Old Richard Bellamy, father of the young +man, was shot through the uncurtained window of +his living rooms while reading the paper one night. +Though related to the Yarnells, he had never taken +any part in the feud beyond that of expressing his +opinion freely. The general opinion was that he +had been killed by Dunc Boone, but there was no +conclusive evidence to back it. Three weeks later +another one of the same faction met his fate. +Captain Tom was ambushed while riding from his +plantation to town and left dead on the road. Dunc +Boone had been seen lurking near the spot, and +immediately after the killing he was met by two +hunters as he was slipping through the underbrush +for the swamps. There was no direct evidence +against the young man, but Captain Tom had been +the most popular man in the county. Reckless +though he was, Duncan Boone had been forced +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +to leave the country by the intensity of the popular +feeling against him.</p> +<p>Again the feud had slumbered. It was understood +that the Yarnells and the Bellamys were ready +to drop it. Only one of the opposite faction remained +on the ground, a twin brother of Duncan. +Shep Boone was a drunken ne’er-do-well, but since +he now stood alone nothing more than empty +threats was expected of him. He spent his time +idly with a set of gambling loafers, but he lacked the +quality of active malice so pronounced in Dunc.</p> +<p>A small part of the old plantation, heavily mortgaged, +still belonged to Shep and was rented by +him to a tenant, Jess Munro. He announced one +day that he was going to collect the rent due him. +Having been drinking heavily, he was in an abusive +frame of mind. As it chanced he met young Hal +Yarnell, just going into the office of his kinsman +Dick Bellamy, with whom he was about to arrange +the details of a hunting trip they were starting +upon. Shep emptied his spleen on the boy, harking +back to the old feud and threatening vengeance at +their next meeting. The boy was white with rage, +but he shut his teeth and passed upstairs without +saying a word.</p> +<p>The body of Shep Boone was found next day +by Munro among the blackberry bushes at the fence +corner of his own place. No less than four witnesses +had seen young Yarnell pass that way with +a rifle in his hand about the same time that Shep +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +was riding out from town. They had heard a shot, +but had thought little of it. Munro had been hoeing +cotton in the field and had seen the lad as he +passed. Later he had heard excited voices, and +presently a shot. Other circumstantial evidence +wound a net around the boy. He was arrested. +Before the coroner held an inquest a new development +startled the community. Dick Bellamy fled +on a night train, leaving a note to the coroner exonerating +Hal. In it he practically admitted the +crime, pleading self defence.</p> +<p>This was the story that Ferne Yarnell told in +the parlor of the Palace Hotel to Jack Flatray and +the Lees.</p> +<p>Melissy spoke first. “Did Mr. Bellamy kill the +man to keep your brother from being killed?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know. It must have been that. It’s +all so horrible.”</p> +<p>The deputy’s eyes gleamed. “Think of it another +way, Miss Yarnell. Bellamy was up against it. +Your brother is only a boy. He took his place. A +friend couldn’t have done more for another.”</p> +<p>The color beat into the face of the Arkansas girl +as she looked at him. “No. He sacrificed his +career for him. He did a thing he must have hated +to do.”</p> +<p>“He’s sure some man,” Flatray pronounced.</p> +<p>A young man, slight, quick of step, and erect as +a willow sapling, walked into the room. He looked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +from one to another with clear level eyes. Miss +Ferne introduced him as her brother.</p> +<p>A thought crossed the mind of the deputy. Perhaps +this boy had killed his enemy after all and +Bellamy had shouldered the blame for him. If the +mine owner were in love with Ferne Yarnell this +was a hypothesis more than possible. In either +case he acquitted the slayer of blame. In his pocket +was a letter from the sheriff at Nemo, Arkansas, +stating that his county was well rid of Shep Boone +and that the universal opinion was that neither +Bellamy nor young Yarnell had been to blame for +the outcome of the difficulty. Unless there came +to him an active demand for the return of Bellamy +he intended to let sleeping dogs lie.</p> +<p>No such demand came. Within a month the +mystery was cleared. The renter Munro delivered +himself to the sheriff at Nemo, admitting that he +had killed Shep Boone in self defence. The dead +man had been drinking and was exceedingly quarrelsome. +He had abused his tenant and at last +drawn on him. Whereupon Munro had shot him +down. At first afraid of what might happen to +him, he had stood aside and let the blame be shouldered +upon young Yarnell. But later his conscience +had forced him to a confession. It is enough here +to say that he was later tried and acquitted, thus +closing the chapter of the wastrel’s tragic death.</p> +<p>The day after the news of Munro’s confession +reached Arizona Richard Bellamy called upon Flatray +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +to invite him to his wedding. As soon as his +name was clear he had asked Ferne Yarnell to +marry him.</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='font-size:1.4em; margin-top:1em;'>PART II</p> +<p style='font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>DEAD MAN’S CACHE</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></div> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_KIDNAPPED' id='I_KIDNAPPED'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>KIDNAPPED</h3> +</div> + +<p>As a lake ripples beneath a summer breeze, so +Mesa was stirred from its usual languor by +the visit of Simon West. For the little +Arizona town was dreaming dreams. Its imagination +had been aroused; and it saw itself no longer +a sleepy cow camp in the unfeatured desert, but a +metropolis, in touch with twentieth-century life.</p> +<p>The great Simon West, pirate of finance, empire +builder, molder of the destinies of the mighty +Southwestern Pacific system, was to touch the adobe +village with his transforming wand and make of +it a hive of industry. Rumors flew thick and fast.</p> +<p>Mesa was to be the junction for the new spur +that would run to the big Lincoln dam. The town +would be a division point; the machine shops of the +system would be located there. Its future, if still +a trifle vague, was potentially immense. Thus, with +cheerful optimism, did local opinion interpret the +visit of the great man.</p> +<p>Whatever Simon West may have thought of +Mesa and its prospects, he kept behind his thin, +close-shut lips. He was a dry, gray little man of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +fifty-five, with sharp, twinkling eyes that saw everything +and told nothing. Certainly he wore none of +the visible signs of greatness, yet at his nod Wall +Street trembled. He had done more to change the +map of industrial America than any other man, +alive or dead. Wherefore, big Beauchamp Lee, +mayor of Mesa, and the citizens on the reception +committee did their very best to impress him with +the future of the country, as they motored out to +the dam.</p> +<p>“Most promising spot on earth. Beats California +a city block on oranges and citrons. Ever see +an Arizona peach, Mr. West? It skins the world,” +the big cattleman ran on easily.</p> +<p>The financier’s eye took in the girl sitting beside +the chauffeur in the front seat, and he nodded assent.</p> +<p>Melissy Lee bloomed. She was vivid as a wild +poppy on the hillsides past which they went flashing. +But she had, too, a daintiness, a delicacy of coloring +and contour, that suggested the fruit named by +her father.</p> +<p>“You bet we raise the best here,” that simple +gentleman bragged patriotically. “All we need is +water, and the Lincoln dam assures us of plenty. +Yes, sir! It certainly promises to be an Eden.”</p> +<p>West unlocked his lips long enough to say: +“Any country can promise. I’m looking for one +that will perform.”</p> +<p>“You’re seeing it right now, seh,” the mayor assured +him, and launched into fluent statistics. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span></p> +<p>West heard, saw the thing stripped of its enthusiasm, +and made no comment either for or against. +He had plenty of imagination, or he could never +have accomplished the things he had done. However, +before any proposition appealed to him he had +to see money in the deal. Whether he saw it in this +particular instance, nobody knew; and only one person +had the courage to ask him point-blank what +his intentions were. This was Melissy.</p> +<p>Luncheon was served in the pleasant filtered sunlight, +almost under the shadow of the great dam.</p> +<p>On the way out Melissy had sat as demure and +dovelike as it was possible for her to be. But now +she showed herself to be another creature.</p> +<p>Two or three young men hovered about her; notable +among them was a young fellow of not many +words, good-humored, strong, with a look of power +about him which the railroad king appreciated. +Jack Flatray they called him. He was the newly-elected +sheriff of the county.</p> +<p>The great man watched the girl without appearing +to do so. He was rather at a loss to account +for the exotic, flamelike beauty into which she had +suddenly sparkled; but he was inclined to attribute +it to the arrival of Flatray.</p> +<p>Melissy sat on a flat rock beside West, swinging +her foot occasionally with the sheer active joy of +life, the while she munched sandwiches and pickles. +The young men bantered her and each other, and +she flashed back retorts which gave them alternately +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +deep delight at the discomfiture of some other. Toward +the close of luncheon, she turned her tilted +chin from Flatray, as punishment for some audacity +of his, and beamed upon the railroad magnate.</p> +<p>“It’s very good of you to notice me at last,” he +said, with his dry smile.</p> +<p>“I was afraid of you,” she confided cheerfully.</p> +<p>“Am I so awesome?”</p> +<p>“It’s your reputation, you know. You’re quite +a dragon. I’m told you gobble a new railroad every +morning for breakfast.”</p> +<p>“’Lissie,” her father warned.</p> +<p>“Let her alone,” the great man laughed. “Miss +Lee is going to give me the privilege of hearing the +truth about myself.”</p> +<p>“But I’m asking. I don’t know what the truth +is,” she protested.</p> +<p>“Well, what you think is the truth.”</p> +<p>“It doesn’t matter what we think about you. The +important thing to know is what you think about +us.”</p> +<p>“Am I to tell you what I think of you—with all +these young men here?” he countered.</p> +<p>She was excited by her own impudence. The +pink had spilled over her creamy cheeks. She +flashed a look of pretended disdain at her young +men. Nevertheless, she made laughing protest.</p> +<p>“It’s not me, but Mesa, that counts,” she +answered ungrammatically. “Tell me that you’re +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +going to help us set orchards blossoming in these +deserts, and we’ll all love you.”</p> +<p>“You offer an inducement, Miss Lee. Come—let +us walk up to the Point and see this wonderful +country of yours.”</p> +<p>She clapped her hands. “Oh, let’s! I’m tired +of boys, anyhow. They know nothing but nonsense.” +She made a laughing moue at Flatray, and +turned to join the railroad builder.</p> +<p>The young sheriff arose and trailed to his pony. +“My marching orders, I reckon.”</p> +<p>They walked up the hill together, the great man +and the untutored girl. He still carried himself with +the lightness of the spare, wiry man who has never +felt his age. As for her, she moved as one on +springs, her slender, willowy figure beautiful in +motion.</p> +<p>“You’re loyal to Mesa. Born and brought up +there?” West asked Melissy.</p> +<p>“No. I was brought up on the Bar Double G +ranch. Father sold it not long since. We’re interested +in the Monte Cristo mine, and it has done +so well that we moved to town,” she explained.</p> +<p>At the first bend in the mountain road Jack had +turned in his saddle to look at her as she climbed +the steep. A quarter of a mile farther up there was +another curve, which swept the trail within sight +of the summit. Here Flatray pulled up and got +out his field glasses. Leisurely the man and the +maid came into sight from the timber on the shoulder +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +of the hill, and topped the last ascent. Jack +could discern Melissy gesturing here and there as +she explained the lay of the land.</p> +<p>Something else caught and held his glasses. Four +riders had emerged from a little gulch of dense +aspens which ran up the Point toward the summit. +One of these had with him a led horse.</p> +<p>“Now, I wonder what that means?” the sheriff +mused aloud.</p> +<p>He was not left long in doubt. The four men +rode swiftly, straight toward the man and the girl +above. One of them swung from the saddle and +stepped forward. He spoke to West, who appeared +to make urgent protest. The dismounted rider answered. +Melissy began to run. Very faintly there +came to Flatray her startled cry. Simultaneously +he caught the flash of the sun on bright steel. The +leader of the four had drawn a revolver and was +covering West with it. Instantly the girl stopped +running. Plainly the life of the railroad president +had been threatened unless she stopped.</p> +<p>The man behind the weapon swept a gesture in +the direction of the led horse. Reluctantly West +moved toward it, still protesting. He swung to +the saddle, and four of the horses broke into a canter. +Only the man with the drawn revolver remained +on the ground with Melissy. He scabbarded +his gun, took a step or two toward her, and made +explanations. The girl stamped her foot, and half +turned from him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span></p> +<p>He laughed, stepped still closer to her, and spoke +again. Melissy, with tilted chin, seemed to be unaware +that he existed. Another step brought him +to her side. Once more he spoke. No stone wall +could have given him less recognition. Then Jack +let out a sudden fierce imprecation, and gave his +pony the spur. For the man had bent forward +swiftly, had kissed the girl on the lips once—twice—three +times, had swept his hat off in a low, mocking +bow, and had flung himself on his horse, and +galloped off.</p> +<p>Pebbles and shale went flying from the horse’s +hoofs as the sheriff tore down the trail toward Melissy. +He cut off at an angle and dashed through +cactus and over rain-washed gullies at breakneck +speed, pounding up the stiff slope to the summit. +He dragged his pony to a halt, and leaped off at +the same instant.</p> +<p>Melissy came to him with flashing eyes. “Why +didn’t you get here sooner?” she panted, as if she +had been running; for the blind rage was strong +in her.</p> +<p>His anger burst out to meet hers. “I wish I +had!” he cried, with a furious oath.</p> +<p>“He insulted me. He laughed at me, and taunted +me—and kissed me!”</p> +<p>Jack nodded. “I saw. If I had only had my +rifle with me! Who was he?”</p> +<p>“He wore a mask. But I knew him. It was +Dunc Boone.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span></p> +<p>“With the Roaring Fork gang?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know. Is he one of them?”</p> +<p>“I’ve been thinking so for years.”</p> +<p>“They must have known about our picnic. But +what do they want with Mr. West?”</p> +<p>“He’s one of the world’s richest men.”</p> +<p>“But he doesn’t carry his money with him.”</p> +<p>“He carries his life.”</p> +<p>“They must mean to hold him for a ransom. Is +that it?”</p> +<p>“You’ve guessed it. That’s the play.” Jack +considered, his eyes on the far-away hills. When +he spoke again it was with sharp decision. “Hit +the trail back to town with your motor. Don’t lose +a minute on the way. Send a dispatch to Bucky +O’Connor. You’d ought to get him at Douglas. +If not, some of his rangers will know where to reach +him. Keep the wires hot till you’re in touch with +him. Better sign my name. I’ve been writing him +about this outfit. This job is cut out for Bucky, +and we’ve got to get him on it.”</p> +<p>“And what are <i>you</i> going to do?”</p> +<p>“I can’t do much—I’m not armed. First time +I’ve been caught that way since I’ve been sheriff. +Came out to-day for a picnic and left my gun at +home. But if they’re the Roaring Fork outfit, +they’ll pass through the Elkhorn Caņon, heading +for Dead Man’s Cache. I’m going to cut around +Old Baldy and try to beat them to it. Maybe I +can recognize some of them.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span></p> +<p>“But if they see you?”</p> +<p>“I ain’t aiming to let them see me.”</p> +<p>“Still, they may.”</p> +<p>His quiet eyes met hers steadily. “Yes, they +may.”</p> +<p>They were friends again, though he had never fully +forgiven her doubt of him. It might be on the cards +that some day she would be more to him than a +friend. Understanding perfectly the danger of what +he proposed, she yet made no protest. The man +who would storm her heart must be one who would +go the limit, for her standards were those of the +outdoor West. She, too, was “game” to the core; +and she had never liked him better than she did +at this moment. A man must be a man, and take +his fighting chance.</p> +<p>“All right, Jack.”</p> +<p>Not for years before had she called him by his +first name. His heart leaped, but he did not let +even his look tell what he was feeling.</p> +<p>“I reckon I’ll cut right down from here, Melissy. +Better not lose any time getting to town. So-long!” +And with that he had swung to the saddle and +was off.</p> +<p>Melissy ran swiftly down to the picnic party and +cried out her news. It fell upon them like a bolt +out of a June sky. Some exclaimed and wondered +and deplored; but she was proud to see that her +father took instant command, without an unnecessary +word. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span></p> +<p>“They’ve caught us in swimming, boys! We’ve +got to burn the wind back to town for our guns. +Dick, you ride around by the Powder Horn and +gather up the boys on the ranch. Get Swain to +swing around to the south and comb the lower +gulches of the Roaring Fork. Tell him to get in +touch with me soon as he can. I’ll come through +by Elkhorn.”</p> +<p>Lee helped his daughter into the machine, and +took his place beside her.</p> +<p>“Hit the high spots, Jim. I’ve got an engagement +in the hills that won’t wait, prior to which +I’ve got to get back to town immediate,” he told +the chauffeur cheerfully; for he was beginning to +enjoy himself as in the old days, when he had been +the hard-riding sheriff of a border county which +took the premium for bad men.</p> +<p>The motor car leaped forward, fell into its pace, +and began to hum its song of the road as it ate up +swiftly the miles that lay between the dam and +Mesa.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_A_CAPTURE' id='II_A_CAPTURE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>A CAPTURE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Flatray swung around Old Baldy through +the sparse timber that edged its roots. He +knew this country well; for he had run +cattle here, and combed the draws and ridges on +the annual spring and fall round-ups.</p> +<p>There was no trail to follow. Often the lay of +the land forced him to a detour; for it was rough +with washes, with matted cactus, and with a thick +growth of netted mesquite and underbrush. But +true as the needle of a compass, he turned back +always to the direction he was following. He had +the instinct for direction, sharpened almost to infallibility +by the experience his work had given him.</p> +<p>So, hour after hour, he swung forward, pushing +his horse over the ground in a sort of running walk, +common to the plains. Sunset found him climbing +from the foothills into the mountains beyond. +Starlight came upon him in a saddle between the +peaks, still plodding up by winding paths to the +higher altitudes that make the ridge of the continent’s +backbone.</p> +<p>The moon was up long before he struck a gulch +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +spur that led to Elkhorn Caņon. Whether he would +be in time or not—assuming that he had guessed +aright as to the destination of the outlaws—he could +not tell. It would be, at best, a near thing. For, +though he had come more directly, they had followed +a trail which made the going much faster. +Fast as the cow pony could pick its way along the +rock-strewn gulch, he descended, eye and ear alert +to detect the presence of another human being in +this waste of boulders, of moonlit, flickering shadows, +of dark awesome peaks.</p> +<p>His quick ear caught the faintest of sounds. He +slipped from the saddle and stole swiftly forward +to the point where the gulch joined the main caņon. +Voices drifted to him—the sound of careless laughter, +wafted by the light night wind. He had missed +the outlaws by scarce a hundred yards. There was +nothing for it but to follow cautiously. As he was +turning to go back for his horse the moon emerged +from behind a cloud and flooded the caņon with a +cold, silvery light. It showed Jack a man and a +horse standing scarce twenty yards from him. The +man had his back to him. He had dismounted, and +was tightening the cinches of his saddle.</p> +<p>Flatray experienced a pang of disappointment. +He was unarmed. His second thought sent him +flying noiselessly back to his horse. Deftly he unloosed +the rope which always hung coiled below +the saddle horn. On tiptoe he ran back to the gulch +mouth, bearing to the right, so as to come directly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +opposite the man he wanted. As he ran he arranged +the lariat to his satisfaction, freeing the loop and +making sure that the coil was not bound. Very +cautiously he crept forward, taking advantage for +cover of a boulder which rose from the bed of the +gulch.</p> +<p>The man had finished tightening the girth. His +foot rose to the stirrup. He swung up from the +ground, and his right leg swept across the flank of +the pony. It did not reach the stirrup; for, even +as he rose, Jack’s lariat snaked forward and dropped +over his head to his breast. It tightened sharply +and dragged him back, pinioning his arms to his +side. Before he could shake one of them free to +reach the revolver in his chaps, he was lying on his +back, with Flatray astride of him. The cattleman’s +left hand closed tightly upon his windpipe, while the +right searched for and found the weapon in the holster +of the prostrate man.</p> +<p>Not until the steel rim of it pressed against the +teeth of the man beneath him did Jack’s fingers +loosen. “Make a sound, and you’re a dead man.”</p> +<p>The other choked and gurgled. He was not yet +able to cry out, even had he any intention of so +doing. But defiant eyes glared into those of the +man who had unhorsed and captured him.</p> +<p>“Where are your pals bound for?” Flatray demanded.</p> +<p>He got no answer in words, but sullen eyes flung +out an obstinate refusal to give away his associates. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span></p> +<p>“I reckon you’re one of the Roaring Fork outfit,” +Jack suggested.</p> +<p>“You know so darn much I’ll leave you to guess +the rest,” growled the prisoner.</p> +<p>“The first thing I’ll guess is that, if anything +happens to Simon West, you’ll hang for it, my +friend.”</p> +<p>“You’ll have to prove some things first.”</p> +<p>Flatray’s hand slid into the man’s coat pocket, +and drew forth a piece of black cloth that had been +used as a mask.</p> +<p>“Here’s exhibit A, to begin with.”</p> +<p>The man on the ground suddenly gave an upward +heave, grasped at the weapon, and let out a yell for +help that echoed back from the cliff, while the cattleman +let the butt of the revolver crash heavily down +upon his face. The heavy gun came down three +times before the struggling outlaw would subside, +and then not before blood streamed from ugly gashes +into his eyes.</p> +<p>“I’ve had enough, damn you!” the fellow muttered +sullenly. “What do you want with me?”</p> +<p>“You’ll go along with me. Let out another sound, +and I’ll bump you off. Get a move on you.”</p> +<p>Jack got to his feet and dragged up his prisoner. +The man was a heavy-set, bowlegged fellow of about +forty, hard-faced, and shifty-eyed—a frontier miscreant, +unless every line of the tough, leathery countenance +told a falsehood. But he had made his experiment +and failed. He knew what manner of man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +his captor was, and he had no mind for another +lesson from him. He slouched to his horse, under +propulsion of the revolver, and led the animal into +the gulch.</p> +<p>Both mounted, Jack keeping the captive covered +every moment of the time; and they began to retrace +the way by which the young cattleman had +just come.</p> +<p>After they had ridden about a quarter of a mile +Flatray made a readjustment of the rope. He let +the loop lie loosely about the neck of the outlaw, +the other end of it being tied to the horn of his own +saddle. Also, he tied the hands of the man in such +a way that, though they were free to handle the +bridle rein, he could not raise them from the saddle +as high as his neck.</p> +<p>“If you make any sudden moves, you’ll be committing +suicide. If you yell out, it will amount to +about the same thing. It’s up to you to be good, +looks like.”</p> +<p>The man cursed softly. He knew that the least +attempt to escape or to attract the attention of his +confederates would mean his undoing. Something +about this young man’s cold eye and iron jaw told +him that he would not hesitate to shoot, if necessary.</p> +<p>Voices came to them from the caņon. Flatray +guessed that a reconnaissance of the gulch would +be made, and prepared himself for it by deflecting +his course from the bed of the <i>arroyo</i> at a point +where the walls fell back to form a little valley. A +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +little grove of aspens covered densely the shoulder +of a hillock some fifty yards back, and here he took +his stand. He dismounted, and made his prisoner +do the same.</p> +<p>“Sit down,” he ordered crisply.</p> +<p>“What for?”</p> +<p>“To keep me from blowing the top of your head +off,” answered Jack quietly.</p> +<p>Without further discussion, the man sat down. +His captor stood behind him, one hand on the shoulder +of his prisoner, his eyes watching the point of +the gulch at which the enemy would appear.</p> +<p>Two mounted men showed presently in silhouette. +Almost opposite the grove they drew up.</p> +<p>“Mighty queer what has become of Hank,” one +of them said. “But I don’t reckon there’s any use +looking any farther. You don’t figure he’s aiming +to throw us down—do you, Buck?”</p> +<p>“Nope. He’ll stick, Hank will. But it sure looks +darned strange. Here’s him a-ridin’ along with us, +and suddenly he’s missin’. We hear a yell, and go +back to look for him. Nothin’ doin’. You don’t +allow the devil could have come for him sudden—do +you, Jeff?”</p> +<p>It was said with a laugh, defiantly, but none the +less Jack read uneasiness in the manner of the man. +It seemed to him that both were eager to turn back. +Giant boulders, carved to grotesque and ghostly +shapes by a million years’ wind and water, reared +themselves aloft and threw shadows in the moonlight. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +The wind, caught in the gulch, rose and fell +in unearthly, sibilant sounds. If ever fiends from +below walk the earth, this time and place was a +fitting one for them. Jack curved a hand around +his mouth, and emitted a strange, mournful, low cry, +which might have been the scream of a lost soul.</p> +<p>Jeff clutched at the arm of his companion. “Did +you hear that, Buck?”</p> +<p>“What—what do you reckon it was, Jeff?”</p> +<p>Again Jack let his cry curdle the night.</p> +<p>The outlaws took counsel of their terror. They +were hardy, desperate men, afraid of nothing mortal +under the sun. But the dormant superstition in them +rose to their throats. Fearfully they wheeled and +gave their horses the spur. Flatray could hear them +crashing through the brush.</p> +<p>He listened while the rapid hoofbeats died away, +until even the echoes fell silent. “We’ll be moving,” +he announced to his prisoner.</p> +<p>For a couple of hours they followed substantially +the same way that Jack had taken, descending gradually +toward the foothills and the plains. The stars +went out, and the moon slid behind banked clouds, +so that the darkness grew with the passing hours. +At length Flatray had to call a halt.</p> +<p>“We’ll camp here till morning,” he announced +when they reached a grassy park.</p> +<p>The horses were hobbled, and the men sat down +opposite each other in the darkness. Presently the +prisoner relaxed and fell asleep. But there was no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +sleep for his captor. The cattleman leaned against +the trunk of a cottonwood and smoked his pipe. The +night grew chill, but he dared not light a fire. At +last the first streaks of gray dawn lightened the sky. +A quarter of an hour later he shook his captive from +slumber.</p> +<p>“Time to hit the trail.”</p> +<p>The outlaw murmured sleepily, “How’s that, +Dunc? Twenty-five thousand apiece!”</p> +<p>“Wake up! We’ve got to vamose out of here.”</p> +<p>Slowly the fellow shook the sleep from his brain. +He looked at Flatray sullenly, without answering. +But he climbed into the saddle which Jack had +cinched for him. Dogged and wolfish as he was, +the man knew his master, and was cowed.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_THE_TABLES_TURNED' id='III_THE_TABLES_TURNED'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>THE TABLES TURNED</h3> +</div> + +<p>From the local eastbound a man swung to the +station platform at Mesa. He was a dark, +slim, little man, wiry and supple, with restless +black eyes which pierced one like bullets.</p> +<p>The depot loungers made him a focus of inquiring +looks. But, in spite of his careless ease, a shrewd +observer would have read anxiety in his bearing. It +was as if behind the veil of his indifference there +rested a perpetual vigilance. The wariness of a +beast of prey lay close to the surface.</p> +<p>“Mornin’, gentlemen,” he drawled, sweeping the +group with his eyes.</p> +<p>“Mornin’,” responded one of the loafers.</p> +<p>“I presume some of you gentlemen can direct me +to the house of Mayor Lee.”</p> +<p>“The mayor ain’t to home,” volunteered a lank, +unshaven native in butternut jeans and boots.</p> +<p>“I think it was his house I inquired for,” suggested +the stranger.</p> +<p>“Fust house off the square on the yon side of the +postoffice—a big two-story brick, with a gallery and +po’ches all round it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span></p> +<p>Having thanked his informant, the stranger +passed down the street. The curious saw him pass +in at the mayor’s gate and knock at the door. It +opened presently, and disclosed a flash of white, +which they knew to be the skirt of a girl.</p> +<p>“I reckon that’s Miss ’Lissie,” the others were informed +by the unshaven one. “She’s let him in and +shet the door.”</p> +<p>Inevitably there followed speculation as to who +the arrival might be. That his coming had something +to do with the affair of the West kidnapping, +all were disposed to agree; but just what it might +have to do with it, none of them could do more +than guess. If they could have heard what passed +between Melissy and the stranger, their curiosity +would have been gratified.</p> +<p>“Good mornin’, miss. Is Mayor Lee at home?”</p> +<p>“No—he isn’t. He hasn’t got back yet. Is there +anything I can do for you?”</p> +<p>Two rows of even white teeth flashed in a smile. +“I thought maybe there was something I could do +for you. You are Miss Lee, I take it?”</p> +<p>“Yes. But I don’t quite understand—unless you +have news.”</p> +<p>“I have no news—yet.”</p> +<p>“You mean——” Her eager glance swept over +him. The brown eyes, which had been full of questioning, +flashed to understanding. “You are not +Lieutenant O’Connor?”</p> +<p>“Am I not?” he smiled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span></p> +<p>“I mean—are you?”</p> +<p>“At your service, Miss Lee.”</p> +<p>She had heard for years of this lieutenant of +rangers, who was the terror of all Arizona “bad +men.” Her father, Jack Flatray, the range riders +whom she knew—game men all—hailed Bucky +O’Connor as a wonder. For coolness under fire, +for acumen, for sheer, unflawed nerve, and for his +skill in that deadly game he played of hunting down +desperadoes, they called him chief ungrudgingly. +He was a daredevil, who had taken his life in his +hands a hundred times. Yet always he came through +smiling, and brought back with him the man he +went after. The whisper ran that he bore a charmed +life, so many had been his hairbreadth escapes.</p> +<p>“Come in,” the girl invited. “Father said, if you +came, I was to keep you here until he got back or +sent a messenger for you. He’s hunting for the +criminals in the Roaring Fork country. Of course, +he didn’t know when you would get here. At the +time he left we hadn’t been able to catch you on the +wire. I signed Mr. Flatray’s name at his suggestion, +because he was in correspondence with you +once about the Roaring Fork outlaws. He is out +in the hills, too. He started half an hour after the +kidnappers. But he isn’t armed. I’m troubled about +him.”</p> +<p>Again the young man’s white-toothed smile +flashed. “You’d better be. Anybody that goes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +hunting Black MacQueen unarmed ought to be right +well insured.”</p> +<p>She nodded, a shadow in her eyes. “Yes—but +he would go. He doesn’t mean them to see him, +if he can help it.”</p> +<p>“Black sees a heap he isn’t expected to see. He +has got eyes all over the hills, and they see by night +as well as by day.”</p> +<p>“Yes—I know he has spies everywhere; and he +has the hill people terrorized, they say. You think +this is his work?”</p> +<p>“It’s a big thing—the kind of job he likes to +tackle. Who else would dare do such a thing?”</p> +<p>“That’s what father thinks. If he had stolen the +President of the United States, it wouldn’t have +stirred up a bigger fuss. Newspaper men and detectives +are hurrying here from all directions. They +are sure to catch him.”</p> +<p>“Are they?”</p> +<p>She noticed a curious, derisive contempt in the +man’s voice, and laid it to his vanity. “I don’t mean +that <i>they</i> are. I mean that <i>you</i> are sure to get him,” +she hastened to add. “Father thinks you are wonderful.”</p> +<p>“I’m much obliged to him,” said the man, with +almost a sneer.</p> +<p>He seemed to have so good an opinion of himself +that he was above praise even. Melissy was +coming to the decision that she did not like him—which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +was disappointing, since she had expected to +like him immensely.</p> +<p>“I didn’t look for you till night. You wired you +would be on number seven,” she said. “I understood +that was the earliest you could get here.”</p> +<p>His explanation of the change was brief, and invited +no further discussion. “I found I could make +an earlier train.”</p> +<p>“I’m glad you could. Father says it is always +well to start on the trail while it is fresh.”</p> +<p>“Have you ever seen this MacQueen, Miss Lee?” +he asked.</p> +<p>“Not unless he was there when Mr. West was +kidnapped.”</p> +<p>“Did you know any of the men?”</p> +<p>She hesitated. “I thought one was Duncan +Boone.”</p> +<p>“What made you think so?”</p> +<p>“He was the leader, I think, moved the way he +does.” Her anger flashed for an instant. “And +acted like him—detestably.”</p> +<p>“Was he violent to West? Injure him?”</p> +<p>“No—he didn’t do him any physical injury that +I saw. I wasn’t thinking about Mr. West.”</p> +<p>“Surely he didn’t lay hands on <i>you</i>!”</p> +<p>She looked up, in time to see the flicker of amusement +sponged from his face. It stirred vague anger +in her. “He was insolent and ungentlemanly.”</p> +<p>“As how?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span></p> +<p>“It doesn’t matter how.” Her manner specifically +declined to particularize.</p> +<p>“Would you recognize him again if you met +him? Describe him, if you can.”</p> +<p>“Yes. I used to know him well—before he became +known as an outlaw,” she added after a perceptible +hesitation. “There’s something ravenous +about him.”</p> +<p>“You mean that he is fierce and bloodthirsty?”</p> +<p>“No—I don’t mean that; though, for that matter, +I don’t think he would stick at anything. What +I mean is that he is pantherine in his movements—more +lithe and supple than most men are.”</p> +<p>“Is he a big man?”</p> +<p>“No—medium size, and dark.”</p> +<p>“There were four of them, you say?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Jack saw them, too, but at a distance.”</p> +<p>“He reached you after they were out of sight?”</p> +<p>“They had been gone about five minutes when I +saw him—five or ten. I couldn’t be sure.”</p> +<p>“Boone offered no personal indignity to you?”</p> +<p>“Why are you so sure?” she flashed.</p> +<p>“The story is that he is quite the ladies’ man.”</p> +<p>Melissy laughed scornfully.</p> +<p>At his request, she went over again the story of +the abduction, telling everything save the matter of +the ravished kisses. This she kept to herself. She +did not quite know why, except that there was +something she did not like about this Bucky O’Connor. +He had a trick of narrowing his eyes and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +gloating over her, as a cat gloats over its expected +kill.</p> +<p>However, his confidence impressed her. Cocksure +he was, and before long she knew him boastful; but +competence sat on him, none the less. She thought +she could see why he was held to be the most deadly +bloodhound on a trail that even Arizona could produce. +That he was fearless she did not need to be +told, any more than she needed a certificate that on +occasion he could be merciless. On the other hand, +he fitted very badly with the character of the young +lieutenant of rangers, as Jack Flatray had sketched +it for her. Her friend’s description of his hero had +been enthusiastic. She decided that the young cattleman +was a bad judge of men—though, of course, +he had never actually met O’Connor.</p> +<p>“I reckon I’ll not wait for your father’s report, +Miss Lee. I work independent of other men. That +is how I get the wonderful results I do.”</p> +<p>His conceit nettled her; also, it stung her filial +loyalty. “My father was the best sheriff this county +ever had,” she said stiffly.</p> +<p>He smiled satirically. “Still, I reckon I’ll handle +this my own way—unless your father’s daughter +wants to go partners with me in it.”</p> +<p>She gave him a look intended to crush his impudence. +“No, thank you.”</p> +<p>He ate a breakfast which she had the cook prepare +hurriedly for him, and departed on the horse +for which she had telephoned to the nearest livery +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +stable. Melissy was a singularly fearless girl; yet +she watched him go with a decided relief, for which +she could not account. He rode, she observed, like +a centaur—flat-backed, firm in the saddle with the +easy negligence of a plainsman. He turned as he +started, and waved a hand debonairly at her.</p> +<p>“If I have any luck, I’ll bring back one of the +Roaring Fork bunch with me—a present for a good +girl, Miss Melissy.”</p> +<p>She turned on her heel and went inside. Anger +pulsed fiercely through her. He laughed at her, +made fun of her, and yet called her by her first +name. How dared he treat her so! Worst of all, +she read admiration bold and unveiled in the eyes +that mocked her.</p> +<p>Half an hour later Flatray, riding toward town +with his prisoner in front of him, heard a sudden +sharp summons to throw up his hands. A man had +risen from behind a boulder, and held him covered +steadily.</p> +<p>Jack looked at the fellow without complying. He +needed no second glance to tell him that this man +was not one to be trifled with. “Who are you?” +he demanded quietly.</p> +<p>“Never mind who I am. Reach for the sky.”</p> +<p>The captured outlaw had given a little whoop, +and was now loosening the rope from his neck. +“You’re the goods, Cap! I knew the boys would +pull it off for me, but I didn’t reckon on it so durn +soon.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span></p> +<p>“Shut up!” ordered the man behind the gun, without +moving his eyes from Flatray.</p> +<p>“I’m a clam,” retorted the other.</p> +<p>“I’m waiting for those hands to go up; but I’ll not +wait long, seh.”</p> +<p>Jack’s hands went up reluctantly. “You’ve got +the call,” he admitted.</p> +<p>They led him a couple of hundred yards from +the trail and tied him hand and foot. Before they +left him the outlaw whom he had captured evened +his score. Three times he struck Flatray on the +head with the butt of his revolver. He was lying +on the ground bleeding and senseless when they +rode away toward the hills.</p> +<p>Jack came to himself with a blinding headache. +It was some time before he realized what had happened. +As soon as he did he set about freeing himself. +This was a matter of a few minutes. With +the handkerchief that was around his neck he tied +up his wounds. Fortunately his hair was very thick +and this had saved him from a fractured skull. +Dizzily he got to his feet, found his horse, and +started toward Mesa.</p> +<p>Not many people were on the streets when the +sheriff passed through the suburbs of the little +town, for it was about the breakfast hour. One +stout old negro mammy stopped to stare in surprise +at his bloody head.</p> +<p>“Laws a mussy, Mistah Flatray, what they done +be’n a-doin’ to you-all?” she asked. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span></p> +<p>The sheriff hardly saw her. He was chewing +the bitter cud of defeat and was absorbed in his +thoughts. He was still young enough to have +counted on the effect upon Melissy of his return +to town with one of the abductors as his prisoner.</p> +<p>It happened that she was on the porch watering +her flower boxes when he passed the house.</p> +<p>“Jack!” she cried, and on the heels of her exclamation: +“What’s the matter with you? Been +hurt?”</p> +<p>A gray pallor had pushed through the tan of +her cheeks. She knew her heart was beating fast.</p> +<p>“Bumped into a piece of bad luck,” he grinned, +and told her briefly what had occurred.</p> +<p>She took him into the house and washed his head +for him. After she saw how serious the cuts were +she insisted on sending for a doctor. When his +wounds were dressed she fed him and made him +lie down and sleep on her father’s bed.</p> +<p>The sun was sliding down the heavens to a +crotch in the hills before he joined her again. She +was in front of the house clipping her roses.</p> +<p>“Is the invalid better?” she asked him.</p> +<p>“He’s a false alarm. But he did have a mighty +thumping headache that has gone now.”</p> +<p>“I’ve been wondering why you didn’t meet Lieutenant +O’Connor. He must have taken the road +you came in on.”</p> +<p>The young man’s eyes lit. “Is Bucky here already?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span></p> +<p>“He was. He’s gone. I was greatly disappointed +in him. He’s not half the man you think he is.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but he is. Everybody says so.”</p> +<p>“I never saw a more conceited man, or a more +hateful one. There’s something about him—oh, I +don’t know. But he isn’t good. I’m sure of that.”</p> +<p>“His reputation isn’t of that kind. They say +he’s devoted to his wife and kids.”</p> +<p>“His wife and children.” Melissy recalled the +smoldering admiration in his bold eyes. She laughed +shortly. “That finishes him with me. He’s married, +is he? Well, I know the kind of husband +he is.”</p> +<p>Jack flashed a quick look at her. He guessed +what she meant. But this did not square at all +with what his friends had told him of O’Connor.</p> +<p>“Did he ask for me?”</p> +<p>“No. He said he preferred to play a lone hand. +His manner was unpleasant all the time. He knows +it all. I could see that.”</p> +<p>“Anyhow, he’s a crackerjack in his line. Have +you heard from your father since he set out?”</p> +<p>“Not yet.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’m going to start to-night with a posse +for the Cache. If O’Connor comes back, tell him +I’ll follow the Roaring Fork.”</p> +<p>“You’ll not go this time without a gun, Jack,” +she said with a ghost of a smile.</p> +<p>“No. I want to make good this trip.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span></p> +<p>“You did splendidly before. Not one man in +a hundred would have done so well.”</p> +<p>“I’m a wonder,” he admitted with a grin.</p> +<p>“But you will take care of yourself—not be +foolish.”</p> +<p>“I don’t aim to take up residence in Boot Hill +cemetery if I can help it.”</p> +<p>“Boone and his men are dangerous characters. +They are playing for high stakes. They would +snuff your life out as quick as they would wink. +Don’t forget that.”</p> +<p>“You don’t want me to lie down before Dunc +Boone, do you?”</p> +<p>“No-o. Only don’t be reckless. I told father +the same.”</p> +<p>Her dear concern for him went to Jack’s head, +but he steadied himself before he answered. “I’ve +got one real good reason for not being reckless. +I’ll tell you what it is some day.”</p> +<p>Her shy, alarmed eyes fled his at once. She +began an account of how her father had gathered +his posse and where she thought he must have +gone.</p> +<p>After dinner Jack went downtown. Melissy did +some household tasks and presently moved out to +the cool porch. She was just thinking about going +back in when a barefoot boy ran past and whistled. +From the next house a second youngster emerged.</p> +<p>“That you, Jimmie?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span></p> +<p>“Betcherlife. Say, ’ve you heard about the +sheriff?”</p> +<p>“Who? Jack Flatray! Course I have. The +Roaring Fork outfit ambushed him, beat him up, +and made him hit the trail for town.”</p> +<p>“Aw! That ain’t news. He’s started back after +them again. Left jes’ a little while ago. I saw +him go—him ’n’ Farnum ’n’ Charley Hymer ’n’ +Hal Yarnell ’n’ Mr. Bellamy.”</p> +<p>“Bet they git ’em.”</p> +<p>“Bet they don’t.”</p> +<p>“Aw, course they’ll git ’em, Tom.”</p> +<p>The other youngster assumed an air of mystery. +He swelled his chest and strutted a step or two +nearer. Urbane condescension oozed from him.</p> +<p>“Say, Jimmie. C’n you keep a secret?”</p> +<p>“Sure. Course I can.”</p> +<p>“Won’t ever snitch?”</p> +<p>“Cross my heart.”</p> +<p>“Well, then—I’m Black MacQueen, the captain +of the Roaring Fork bad men.”</p> +<p>“You!” Incredulity stared from Jimmie’s bulging +eyes.</p> +<p>“You betcher. I’m him, here in disguise as a +kid.”</p> +<p>The magnificent boldness of this claim stole Jimmie’s +breath for an instant. He was two years +younger than his friend, but he did not quite know +whether to applaud or to jeer. Before he could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +make up his mind a light laugh rippled to them +from behind the vines on the Lee porch.</p> +<p>The disguised outlaw and his friend were +startled. Both fled swiftly, with all the pretense +of desperate necessity young conspirators love to +assume.</p> +<p>Melissy went into the house and the laughter +died from her lips. She knew that either her +father’s posse or that of Jack Flatray would come +into touch with the outlaws eventually. When the +clash came there would be a desperate battle. Men +would be killed. She prayed it might not be one +of those for whom she cared most.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_THE_REAL_BUCKY_AND_THE_FALSE' id='IV_THE_REAL_BUCKY_AND_THE_FALSE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>THE REAL BUCKY AND THE FALSE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Number seven was churning its way furiously +through brown Arizona. The day +had been hot, with a palpitating heat +which shimmered over the desert waste. Defiantly +the sun had gone down beyond the horizon, a great +ball of fire, leaving behind a brilliant splash of bold +colors. Now this, too, had disappeared. Velvet +night had transformed the land. Over the distant +mountains had settled a smoke-blue film, which left +them vague and indefinite.</p> +<p>Only three passengers rode in the Pullman car. +One was a commercial traveler, busy making up his +weekly statement to the firm. Another was a Boston +lady, in gold-rimmed glasses and a costume that +helped the general effect of frigidity. The third +looked out of the open window at the distant hills. +He was a slender young fellow, tanned almost to +a coffee brown, with eyes of Irish blue which sometimes +bubbled with fun and sometimes were hard +as chisel steel. Wide-shouldered and lean-flanked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +he was, with well-packed muscles, which rippled like +those of a tiger.</p> +<p>At Chiquita the train stopped, but took up again +almost instantly its chant of the rail. Meanwhile, +a man had swung himself to the platform of the +smoker. He passed through that car, the two day +coaches, and on to the sleeper; his keen, restless +eyes inspected every passenger in the course of his +transit. Opposite the young man in the Pullman +he stopped.</p> +<p>“May I ask if you are Lieutenant O’Connor?”</p> +<p>“My name, seh.”</p> +<p>The young man in the seat had slewed his head +around sharply, and made answer with a crisp, businesslike +directness.</p> +<p>The new-comer smiled. “I’ll have to introduce +myself, lieutenant. My name is Flatray. I’ve come +to meet you.”</p> +<p>“Glad to meet you, Mr. Flatray. I hope that +together we can work this thing out right. MacQueen +has gathered a bunch that ought to be cleaned +out, and I reckon now’s the time to do it. I’ve been +reading about him for a year. I’ve got a notion +he’s about the ablest thing in bad men this Territory +has seen for a good many years.”</p> +<p>Flatray sat down on the seat opposite O’Connor. +A smile flicked across his face, and vanished. “I’m +of that opinion myself, lieutenant.”</p> +<p>“Tell me all about this affair of the West kidnapping,” +the ranger suggested. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span></p> +<p>The other man told the story while O’Connor +listened, alert to catch every point of the narrative.</p> +<p>The face of the lieutenant of rangers was a boyish +one—eager, genial, and frank; yet, none the +less, strength lay in the close-gripped jaw and in +the steady, watchful eye. His lithe, tense body was +like a coiled spring; and that, too, though he seemed +to be very much at ease.</p> +<p>With every sentence that the other spoke, O’Connor +was judging Flatray, appraising him for a fine +specimen of a hard-bitten breed—a vigilant frontiersman, +competent to the finger tips. Yet he was +conscious that, in spite of the man’s graceful ease +and friendly smile, he did not like Flatray. He +would not ask for a better man beside him in a +tight pinch; but he could not deny that something +sinister which breathed from his sardonic, devil-may-care +face.</p> +<p>“So that’s how the land lies,” the sheriff concluded. +“My deputies have got the pass to the +south blocked; Lee is closing in through Elkhorn; +and Fox, with a strong posse, is combing the hills +beyond Dead Man’s Cache. There’s only one way +out for him, and that is over Powderhorn Pass. +Word has just reached us that MacQueen is moving +in that direction. He is evidently figuring to +slip out over the hills during the night. I’ve arranged +for us to be met at Barker’s Tank by a +couple of the boys, with horses. We’ll drop off the +train quietly when it slows up to water, so that none +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +of his spies can get word of our movements to him. +By hard riding we’d ought to reach Powderhorn +in time to head him off.”</p> +<p>The ranger asked incisive questions, had the +topography of the country explained to him with +much detail, and decided at last that Flatray was +right. If MacQueen were trying to slip out, they +might trap him at the pass; if not, by closing it they +would put the cork in the bottle that held him.</p> +<p>“We’ll try it, seh. Y’u know this country better +than I do, and I’ll give y’u a free hand. Unless +there’s a slip up in your calculations, you’d ought +to be right.”</p> +<p>“Good enough, lieutenant. I’m betting on those +plans myself,” the other answered promptly, and +added, as he looked out into the night: “By that +notch in the hills, we’d ought to be close to the tank +now. She’s slowing up. I reckon we can slip out +to the vestibule, and get off at the far side of the +track without being noticed much.”</p> +<p>This they found easy enough. Five minutes later +number seven was steaming away into the distant +desert. Flatray gave a sharp, shrill whistle; and +from behind some sand dunes emerged two men +and four horses.</p> +<p>“Anything new?” asked the sheriff as they came +nearer.</p> +<p>“Not a thing, cap,” answered one of them.</p> +<p>“Boys, shake hands with the famous Lieutenant +O’Connor,” said Flatray, with a sneer hid by the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +darkness. “Lieutenant, let me make you acquainted +with Jeff Jackson and Buck Lane.”</p> +<p>“Much obliged to meet you,” grinned Buck as he +shook hands.</p> +<p>They mounted and rode toward the notch in the +hills that had been pointed out to the ranger. The +moon was up; and a cold, silvery light flooded the +plain. Seen in this setting, the great, painted desert +held more of mystery, of beauty, and less of the +dead monotony that glared endlessly from arid, barren +reaches. The sky of stars stretched infinitely +far, and added to the effect of magnitude.</p> +<p>The miles slipped behind them as they moved forward, +hour after hour, their horses holding to the +running walk that is the peculiar gait of the cow +country. They rode in silence, with the loose seat +and straight back of the vaquero. Except the +ranger, all were dressed for riding—Flatray in +corduroys and half-knee laced boots; his men in +overalls, chaps, flannel shirts, and the broad-brimmed +sombrero of the Southwest. All four +were young men; but there was an odd difference +in the expressions of their faces.</p> +<p>Jackson and Lane had the hard-lined faces, with +something grim and stony in them, of men who +ride far and hard with their lives in their hands. +The others were of a higher type. Flatray’s dark +eyes were keen, bold, and restless. One might have +guessed him a man of temperament, capable of any +extremes of conduct—often the victim of his own +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span> +ungovernable whims and passions. Just as he +looked a picture of all the passions of youth run +to seed, so the ranger seemed to show them in +flower. There was something fine and strong and +gallant in his debonair manner. His warm smile +went out to a world that pleased him mightily.</p> +<p>They rode steadily, untired and untiring. The +light of dawn began to flicker from one notched +summit to another. Out of the sandy waste they +came to a water hole, paused for a drink, and passed +on. For the delay of half an hour might mean the +escape of their prey.</p> +<p>They came into the country of crumbling mesas +and painted cliffs, of hillsides where greasewood +and giant cactus struggled from the parched earth. +This they traversed until they came to plateaus, terminating +in foothills, crevassed by gorges deep and +narrow. The caņons grew steeper, rock ridges +more frequent. Gradually the going became more +difficult.</p> +<p>Trails they seldom followed. Washes, with sides +like walls, confronted them. The ponies dropped +down and clambered up again like mountain goats. +Gradually they were ascending into the upper country, +which led to the wild stretches where the outlaws +lurked. In these watersheds were heavy pine +forests, rising from the gulches along the shoulders +of the peaks.</p> +<p>A maze of caņons, hopelessly lost in the hill tangle +into which they had plunged, led deviously to a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +twisting pass, through which they defiled, to drop +into a vista of rolling waves of forest-clad hills. +Among these wound countless hidden gulches, +known only to those who rode from out them on +nefarious night errands.</p> +<p>The ranger noted every landmark, and catalogued +in his mind’s map every gorge and peak; from what +he saw, he guessed much of which he could not +be sure. It would be hard to say when his suspicions +first became aroused. But as they rode, without +stopping, through what he knew must be Powderhorn +Pass, as the men about him quietly grouped +themselves so as to cut off any escape he might +attempt, as they dropped farther and farther into +the meshes of that forest-crowned net which he +knew to be the Roaring Fork country, he did not +need to be told he was in the power of MacQueen’s +gang.</p> +<p>Yet he gave no sign of what he knew. As daylight +came, so that they could see each other distinctly, +his face showed no shadow of doubt. It +was his cue to be a simple victim of credulity, and +he played it to the finish.</p> +<p>Without warning, through a narrow gulch which +might have been sought in vain for ten years by +a stranger, they passed into the rim of a bowl-shaped +valley. Timber covered it from edge to +edge, but over to the left a keen eye could see a +thinning of the foliage. Toward this they went, +following the sidehill and gradually dipping down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +through heavy underbrush. Before him the officer +of rangers saw daylight, and presently a corral, low +roofs, and grazing horses.</p> +<p>“Looks like some one lives here,” he remarked +amiably.</p> +<p>They were already riding into the open. In +front of one of the log cabins the man who had +called himself Flatray swung from his saddle.</p> +<p>“Better ’light, lieutenant,” he suggested carelessly. +“We’ll eat breakfast here.”</p> +<p>“Don’t care if we do. I could eat a leather mail +sack, I’m that hungry,” the ranger answered, as he, +too, descended.</p> +<p>His guide was looking at him with an expression +of open, malevolent triumph. He could scarce keep +it back long enough to get the effect he wanted.</p> +<p>“Yes, we’ll eat breakfast here—and dinner, and +supper, and breakfast to-morrow, and then about +two more breakfasts.”</p> +<p>“I reckon we’ll be too busy to sit around here,” +laughed his prisoner.</p> +<p>The other ignored his comment. “And after that, +it ain’t likely you’ll do much more eating.”</p> +<p>“I don’t quite get the point of that joke.”</p> +<p>“You’ll get it soon enough! You’d <i>savez</i> it now, +if you weren’t a muttonhead. As it is, I’ll have to +explain it. Do you remember capturing Tony +Chaves two years ago, lieutenant?”</p> +<p>The ranger nodded, with surprise in his round, +innocent eyes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></p> +<p>“What happened to him?” demanded the other. +A child could have seen that he was ridden by a +leering, savage triumph.</p> +<p>“Killed trying to escape four days later.”</p> +<p>“Who killed him?”</p> +<p>“I did. It was necessary. I regretted it.”</p> +<p>A sudden spasm of cruelty swept over the face +of the man confronting him. “Tony was my +partner.”</p> +<p>“Your partner?”</p> +<p>“That’s right. I’ve been wanting to say ‘How +d’ye do?’ ever since, Lieutenant O’Connor. I’m +right glad to meet you.”</p> +<p>“But—I don’t understand.” He did, however.</p> +<p>“It’ll soak through, by and by. Chew on this: +You’ve got just ninety-six hours to live—exactly +as long as Tony lived after you caught him! You’ll +be killed trying to escape. It will be necessary, just +as you say it was with him; but I reckon I’ll not do +any regretting to speak of.”</p> +<p>“You would murder me?”</p> +<p>“Well, I ain’t particular about the word I use.” +MacQueen leaned against the side of his horse, his +arm thrown across its neck, and laughed in slow +maliciousness. “Execute is the word I use, though—if +you want to know.”</p> +<p>He had made no motion toward his weapon, nor +had O’Connor; but the latter knew without looking +that he was covered vigilantly by both of the other +men. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span></p> +<p>“And who are you?” the ranger asked, though +he was quite sure of the answer.</p> +<p>“Men call me Black MacQueen,” drawled the +other.</p> +<p>“MacQueen! But you said——”</p> +<p>“That I was Flatray. Yep—I lied.”</p> +<p>O’Connor appeared to grope with this in amazement.</p> +<p>“One has to stretch the truth sometimes in my +profession,” went on the outlaw smoothly. “It may +interest you to know that yesterday I passed as +Lieutenant O’Connor. When I was O’Connor I +arrested Flatray; and now that I am Flatray I have +arrested O’Connor. Turn about is fair play, you +know.”</p> +<p>“Interesting, if true,” O’Connor retorted easily.</p> +<p>“You can bank on its truth, my friend.”</p> +<p>“And you’re actually going to kill me in cold +blood.”</p> +<p>The black eyes narrowed. “Just as I would a +dog,” said the outlaw, with savage emphasis.</p> +<p>“I don’t believe it. I’ve done you no harm.”</p> +<p>MacQueen glanced at him contemptuously. The +famous Bucky O’Connor looked about as competent +as a boy in the pimply age.</p> +<p>“I thought you had better sense. Do you think +I would have brought you to Dead Man’s Cache if +I had intended you to go away alive? I’m afraid, +Lieutenant Bucky O’Connor, that you’re a much +overrated man. Your reputation sure would have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span> +blown up, if you had lived. You ought to thank +me for preserving it.”</p> +<p>“Preserving it—how?”</p> +<p>“By bumping you off before you’ve lost it.”</p> +<p>“Sho! You wouldn’t do that,” the ranger murmured +ineffectively.</p> +<p>“We’ll see. Jeff, I put him in your charge. +Search him, and take him to Hank’s cabin. I hold +you responsible for him. Bring me any papers you +find on him. When I find time, I’ll drop around +and see that you’re keeping him safe.”</p> +<p>Bucky was searched, and his weapons and papers +removed. After being handcuffed, he was chained +to a heavy staple, which had been driven into one +of the log walls. He was left alone, and the door +was locked; but he could hear Jeff moving about +outside.</p> +<p>With the closing of the door the vacuous look +slipped from his face like a mask. The loose-lipped, +lost-dog expression was gone. He looked +once more alert, competent, fit for the emergency. +It had been his cue to let his adversary underestimate +him. During the long night ride he had had +chances to escape, had he desired to do so. But +this had been the last thing he wanted.</p> +<p>The outlaws had chosen to take him to their fastness +in the hills. He would back himself to use +the knowledge they were thrusting upon him, to +bring about their undoing. Only one factor in the +case had come upon him as a surprise. He had not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +reckoned that they would have a personal grudge +against him. And this was a factor that might +upset all his calculations.</p> +<p>It meant that he was playing against time, with +the chances of the game all against him. He had +forty-eight hours in which to escape—and he was +handcuffed, chained, locked up, and guarded. Truly, +the outlook was not radiant.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_A_PHOTOGRAPH' id='V_A_PHOTOGRAPH'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>A PHOTOGRAPH</h3> +</div> + +<p>On the third morning Beauchamp Lee returned +to Mesa—unshaven, dusty, and +fagged with hard riding. He brought +with him a handbill which he had picked up in the +street. Melissy hung over him and ministered to +his needs. While he was eating breakfast he talked.</p> +<p>“No luck yet, honey. He’s hiding in some pocket +of the hills, I reckon; and likely there he’ll stay till +the hunt is past. They don’t make them any slicker +than Dunc, dad gum his ugly hide!”</p> +<p>“What is that paper?” his daughter asked.</p> +<p>Lee curbed a disposition toward bad language, +as he viewed it with disgust. “This here is bulletin +number one, girl. It’s the cheekiest, most impudent +thing I ever saw. MacQueen serves notice to all +the people of this county to keep out of this fight. +Also, he mentions me and Jack Flatray by name—warning +us that, if we sit in the game, hell will be +popping for us.”</p> +<p>“What will you do?”</p> +<p>“Do? I’ll get back to my boys fast as horseflesh +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +will get me there, once I’ve had a talk with +that beef buyer from Kansas City I made an appointment +to see before this thing broke loose. You +don’t allow I’m going to let any rustler dictate to +me what I’ll do and what I won’t—do you?”</p> +<p>“Where do you reckon he had this printed?” she +asked.</p> +<p>“I don’t reckon, I know. Late last night a +masked man woke up Jim Snell. You know, he +sleeps in a room at the back of the printing office. +Well, this fellow made him dress, set up this bill, +and run off five hundred copies while he stood over +him. I’ll swan I never heard of such cheek!”</p> +<p>Melissy told what she had to tell—after which +her father shaved, took a bath, and went out to +meet the buyer from Kansas City. His business +kept him until noon. After dinner Melissy’s saddle +horse was brought around, and she joined her father +to ride back with him for a few miles.</p> +<p>About three o’clock she kissed him good-bye, and +turned homeward. After she had passed the point +where the Silver Creek trail ran into the road she +heard the sound of a galloping horse behind. A +rider was coming along the trail toward town. He +gained on her rapidly, and presently a voice hailed +her gayly:</p> +<p>“The top o’ the mornin’ to you, Miss ’Lissie.”</p> +<p>She drew up to wait for him. “My name is still +Miss Lee,” she told him mildly, by way of correction. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span></p> +<p>“I’m glad it is, but we can change it in three +minutes at any time, my dear,” he laughed.</p> +<p>She had been prepared to be more friendly toward +him, but at this she froze again.</p> +<p>“Did you leave Mrs. O’Connor and the children +well?” she asked pointedly, looking directly at him.</p> +<p>His smile vanished, and he stared at her in a very +strange fashion. She had taken the wind completely +out of his sails. It had not occurred to him that +O’Connor might be a married man. Nor did he +know but that it might be a trick to catch him. He +did the only thing he could do—made answer in an +ironic fashion, which might mean anything or +nothing.</p> +<p>“Very well, thank you.”</p> +<p>She saw at once that the topic did not allure him, +and pushed home her advantage. “You must miss +Mrs. O’Connor when you are away on duty.”</p> +<p>“Must I?”</p> +<p>“And the children, too. By the way, what are +their names?”</p> +<p>“You’re getting up a right smart interest in my +family, all of a sudden,” he countered.</p> +<p>“One can’t talk about the weather all the time.”</p> +<p>He boldly decided to slay the illusion of domesticity. +“If you want to know, I have neither wife +nor children.”</p> +<p>“But I’ve heard about them all,” she retorted.</p> +<p>“You have heard of Mrs. O’Connor, no doubt; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +but she happens to be the wife of a cousin of mine.”</p> +<p>The look which she flashed at him held more than +doubt.</p> +<p>“You don’t believe me?” he continued. “I give +you my word that I’m not married.”</p> +<p>They had left the road, and were following a +short cut which wound down toward Tonti, in and +out among the great boulders. The town, dwarfed +to microscopic size by distance, looked, in the glare +of the sunlight, as if it were made of white chalk. +Along the narrow trail they went singly, Melissy +leading the way.</p> +<p>She made no answer, but at the first opportunity +he forced his horse to a level with hers.</p> +<p>“Well—you heard what I said,” he challenged.</p> +<p>“The subject is of no importance to me,” she +said.</p> +<p>“It’s important to me. I’m not going to have +you doing me an injustice. I tell you I’m not married. +You’ve got to believe me.”</p> +<p>Her mind was again alive with suspicions. Jack +had told her Bucky O’Connor was married, and he +must have known what he was talking about.</p> +<p>“I don’t know whether you are married or not. +I am of the opinion that Lieutenant O’Connor has +a wife and three children. More than once I have +been told so,” she answered.</p> +<p>“You seem to know a heap about the gentleman.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span></p> +<p>“I know what I know.”</p> +<p>“More than I do, perhaps,” he suggested.</p> +<p>Her eyes dilated. He could see suspicion take +hold of her.</p> +<p>“Perhaps,” she answered quietly.</p> +<p>“Does that mean you think I’m not Bucky O’Connor?” +He had pushed his pony forward so as to +cut off her advance, and both had halted for the +moment.</p> +<p>She looked at him with level, fearless eyes. “I +don’t know who you are.”</p> +<p>“But you think I’m not Lieutenant O’Connor +of the rangers?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know whether you are or not.”</p> +<p>“There is nothing like making sure. Just look +over this letter, please.”</p> +<p>She did so. It was from the governor of the +Territory to the ranger officer. While he was very +complimentary as to past services, the governor +made it plain that he thought O’Connor must at all +hazards succeed in securing the release of Simon +West. This would be necessary for the good name +of the Territory. Otherwise, a widespread report +would go out that Arizona was a lawless place in +which to live.</p> +<p>Melissy folded the letter and handed it back. “I +beg your pardon, Lieutenant O’Connor. I see that +I was wrong.”</p> +<p>“Forget it, my dear. We all make mistakes.” +He had that curious mocking smile which so often +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +hovered about his lips. She felt as though he were +deriding her—as though his words held some hidden +irony which she could not understand.</p> +<p>“The governor seems very anxious to have you +succeed. It will be a black eye for Arizona if this +band of outlaws is not apprehended. You don’t +think, do you, that they will do Mr. West any +harm, if their price is not paid? They would never +dare.”</p> +<p>He took this up almost as though he resented it. +“They would dare anything. I reckon you’ll have +to get up early in the mornin’ to find a gamer man +than Black MacQueen.”</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t call it game to hurt an old man whom +he has in his power. But you mustn’t let it come +to that. You must save him. Are you making +any progress? Have you run down any of the +band? And while I think of it—have you seen to-day’s +paper?”</p> +<p>“No—why?”</p> +<p>“The biggest story on the front page is about +the West case. It seems that this MacQueen wired +to Chicago to Mr. Lucas, president of one of the +lines on the Southwestern system, that they would +release Mr. West for three hundred thousand dollars +in gold. He told him a letter had been mailed +to the agent at Mesa, telling under just what conditions +the money was to be turned over; and he +ended with a threat that, if steps were taken to capture +the gang, or if the money were not handed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +over at the specified time, Mr. West would disappear +forever.”</p> +<p>“Did the paper say whether the money would be +turned over?”</p> +<p>“It said that Mr. Lucas was going to get into +touch with the outlaws at once, to effect the release +of his chief.”</p> +<p>A gleam of triumph flashed in the eyes of the +man. “That’s sure the best way.”</p> +<p>“It won’t help your reputation, will it?” she +asked. “Won’t people say that you failed on this +case?”</p> +<p>He laughed softly, as if at some hidden source +of mirth. “I shouldn’t wonder if they did say that +Bucky O’Connor hadn’t made good this time. +They’ll figure he tried to ride herd on a job too big +for him.”</p> +<p>Her surprised eye brooded over this, too. Here +he was defending the outlaw chief, and rejoicing at +his own downfall. There seemed to be no end to +the contradictions in this man. She was to run +across another tangled thread of the puzzle a few +minutes later.</p> +<p>She had dismounted to let him tighten the saddle +cinch. Owing to the heat, he had been carrying +his coat in front of him. He tossed it on a boulder +by the side of the trail, in such a way that the inside +pocket hung down. From it slid some papers and +a photograph. Melissy looked down at the picture, +then instantly stooped and picked it up. For it was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +a photograph of a very charming woman and three +children, and across the bottom of it was written +a line.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto; '><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“To Bucky, from his loving wife and children.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The girl handed it to the man without a word, +and looked him full in the face.</p> +<p>“Bowled out, by ginger!” he said, with a light +laugh.</p> +<p>But as she continued to look at him—a man of +promise, who had plainly traveled far on the road +to ruin—the conviction grew on her that the sweet-faced +woman in the photograph was no loving wife +of his. He was a man who might easily take a +woman’s fancy, but not one to hold her love for +years through the stress of life. Moreover, Bucky +O’Connor held the respect of all men. She had +heard him spoken of, and always with a meed of +affection that is given to few men. Whoever this +graceless scamp was, he was not the lieutenant of +rangers.</p> +<p>The words slipped out before she could stop them: +“You’re not Lieutenant O’Connor at all.”</p> +<p>“Playing on that string again, are you?” he +jeered.</p> +<p>“I’m sure of it this time.”</p> +<p>“Since you know who I’m not, perhaps you can +tell me, too, who I am.”</p> +<p>In that instant before she spoke, while her steady +eyes rested on him, she put together many things +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +which had puzzled her. All of them pointed to one +conclusion. Even now her courage did not fail +her. She put it into words quietly:</p> +<p>“You are that villain Black MacQueen.”</p> +<p>He stared at her in surprise. “By God, girl—you’re +right. I’m MacQueen, though I don’t know +how you guessed it.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know how I kept from guessing it so +long. I can see it, now, as plain as day, in all that +you have done.”</p> +<p>After that they measured strength silently with +their eyes. If the situation had clarified itself, with +the added knowledge of the girl had come new +problems. Let her return to Mesa, and he could +no longer pose as O’Connor; and it was just the +audacity of this double play that delighted him. +He was the most reckless man on earth; he loved +to take chances. He wanted to fool the officers to +his heart’s content, and then jeer at them afterward. +Hitherto everything had come his way.</p> +<p>But if this girl should go home, he could not +show his face at Mesa; and the spice of the thing +would be gone. He was greatly taken with her +beauty, her daring, and the charm of high spirits +which radiated from her. Again and again he had +found himself drawn back to her. He was not in +love with her in any legitimate sense; but he knew +now that, if he could see her no more, life would +be a savorless thing, at least until his fancy had +spent itself. Moreover, her presence at Dead Man’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +Cache would be a safeguard. With her in his +power, Lee and Flatray, the most persistent of his +hunters, would not dare to move against the outlaws.</p> +<p>Inclination and interest worked together. He +decided to take her back with him to the country +of hidden pockets and gulches. There, in time, he +would win her love—so his vanity insisted. After +that they would slip away from the scene of his +crimes, and go back to the world from which he +had years since vanished.</p> +<p>The dream grew on him. It got hold of his +imagination. For a moment he saw himself as the +man he had been meant for—the man he might +have been, if he had been able to subdue his evil +nature. He saw himself respected, a power in the +community, going down to a serene old age, with +this woman and their children by his side. Then +he laughed derisively, and brushed aside the vision.</p> +<p>“Why didn’t the real Lieutenant O’Connor arrive +to expose you?” she asked.</p> +<p>“The real Bucky is handcuffed and guarded at +Dead Man’s Cache. I don’t think he’s enjoying +himself to-day.”</p> +<p>“You’re getting quite a collection of prisoners. +You’ll be starting a penitentiary on your own account +soon,” she told him sharply.</p> +<p>“That’s right. And I’m taking another one back +with me to-night.”</p> +<p>“Who is he?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span></p> +<p>“It’s a lady this time—Miss Melissy Lee.”</p> +<p>His words shook her. An icy hand seemed to +clamp upon her heart. The blood ebbed even from +her lips, but her brave eyes never faltered from +his.</p> +<p>“So you war on women, too!”</p> +<p>He gave her his most ironic bow. “I don’t war +on you, my dear. You shall have half of my kingdom, +if you ask it—and all my heart.”</p> +<p>“I can’t use either,” she told him quietly. “But +I’m only a girl. If you have a spark of manliness +in you, surely you won’t take me a prisoner among +those wild, bad men of yours.”</p> +<p>“Those wild, bad men of mine are lambs when +I give the word. They wouldn’t lift a hand against +you. And there is a woman there—the mother of +one of my boys, who was shot. We’ll have you +chaperoned for fair.”</p> +<p>“And if I say I won’t go?”</p> +<p>“You’ll go if I strap you to your saddle.”</p> +<p>It was characteristic of Melissy that she made no +further resistance. The sudden, wolfish gleam in +his eyes had told her that he meant what he said. +It was like her, too, that she made no outcry; that +she did not shed tears or plead with him. A gallant +spirit inhabited that slim, girlish body; and she +yielded to the inevitable with quiet dignity. This +surprised him greatly, and stung his reluctant admiration. +At the same time, it set her apart from +him and hedged her with spiritual barriers. Her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +body might ride with him into captivity; she was +still captain of her soul.</p> +<p>“You’re a game one,” he told her, as he helped +her to the saddle.</p> +<p>She did not answer, but looked straightforward +between her horse’s ears, without seeing him, waiting +for him to give the word to start.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_IN_DEAD_MAN_S_CACHE' id='VI_IN_DEAD_MAN_S_CACHE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>IN DEAD MAN’S CACHE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Not since the start of their journey had +Melissy broken silence, save to answer, in +few words as possible, the questions +put to her by the outlaw. Yet her silence had not +been sullenness. It had been the barrier which she +had set up between them—one which he could not +break down short of actual roughness.</p> +<p>Of this she could not accuse him. Indeed, he +had been thoughtful of her comfort. At sunset they +had stopped by a spring, and he had shared with +her such food as he had. Moreover, he had insisted +that she should rest for a while before they +took up the last stretch of the way.</p> +<p>It was midnight now, and they had been traveling +for many hours over rough mountain trails. +There was more strength than one would look for +in so slender a figure, yet Melissy was drooping +with fatigue.</p> +<p>“It’s not far now. We’ll be there in a few minutes,” +MacQueen promised her.</p> +<p>They were ascending a narrow trail which ran +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span> +along the sidehill through the timber. Presently +they topped the summit, and the ground fell away +from their feet to a bowl-shaped valley, over which +the silvery moonshine played so that the basin +seemed to swim in a magic sea of light.</p> +<p>“Welcome to the Cache,” he said to her.</p> +<p>She was surprised out of her silence. “Dead +Man’s Cache?”</p> +<p>“It has been called that.”</p> +<p>“Why?”</p> +<p>She knew, but she wanted to see if he would +tell a story which showed so plainly his own ruthlessness.</p> +<p>He hesitated, but only for a moment.</p> +<p>“There was a man named Havens. He had a +reputation as a bad man, and I reckon he deserved +it—if brand blotting, mail rustling, and shooting +citizens are the credentials to win that title. Hard +pressed on account of some deviltry, he drifted into +this country, and was made welcome by those living +here. The best we had was his. He was fed, outfitted, +and kept safe from the law that was looking +for him.</p> +<p>“You would figure he was under big obligations +to the men that did this for him—wouldn’t you? +But he was born skunk. When his chance came he +offered to betray these men to the law, in exchange +for a pardon for his own sneaking hide. The letter +was found, and it was proved he wrote it. What +ought those men to have done to him, Miss ’Lissie?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span></p> +<p>“I don’t know.” She shuddered.</p> +<p>“There’s got to be law, even in a place like this. +We make our own laws, and the men that stay here +have got to abide by them. Our law said this man +must die. He died.”</p> +<p>She did not ask him how. The story went that +the outlaws whom the wretched man had tried to +sell let him escape on purpose—that, just as he +thought he was free of them, their mocking laughter +came to him from the rocks all around. He was +completely surrounded. They had merely let him +run into a trap. He escaped again, wandered without +food for days, and again discovered that they +had been watching him all the time. Turn whichever +way he would, their rifles warned him back. +He stumbled on, growing weaker and weaker. They +would neither capture him nor let him go.</p> +<p>For nearly a week the cruel game went on. Frequently +he heard their voices in the hills about him. +Sometimes he would call out to them pitifully to put +him out of his misery. Only their horrible laughter +answered. When he had reached the limit of endurance +he lay down and died.</p> +<p>And the man who had engineered that heartless +revenge was riding beside her. He had been ready +to tell her the whole story, if she had asked for it, +and equally ready to justify it. Nothing could have +shown her more plainly the character of the villain +into whose hands she had fallen.</p> +<p>They descended into the valley, winding in and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span> +out until they came suddenly upon ranch houses +and a corral in a cleared space.</p> +<p>A man came out of the shadows into the moonlight +to meet them. Instantly Melissy recognized +his walk. It was Boone.</p> +<p>“Oh, it’s you,” MacQueen said coldly. “Any of +the rest of the boys up?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>Not a dozen words had passed between them, but +the girl sensed hostility. She was not surprised. +Dunc Boone was not the man to take second place +in any company of riff-raff, nor was MacQueen +one likely to yield the supremacy he had fought to +gain.</p> +<p>The latter swung from the saddle and lifted Melissy +from hers. As her feet struck the ground +her face for the first time came full into the moonlight.</p> +<p>Boone stifled a startled oath.</p> +<p>“Melissy Lee!” Like a swiftly reined horse he +swung around upon his chief. “What devil’s work +is this?”</p> +<p>“My business, Dunc!” the other retorted in suave +insult.</p> +<p>“By God, no! I make it mine. This young +lady’s a friend of mine—or used to be. <i>Sabe</i>?”</p> +<p>“I <i>sabe</i> you’d better not try to sit in at this game, +my friend.”</p> +<p>Boone swung abruptly upon Melissy. “How +come you here, girl? Tell me!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></p> +<p>And in three sentences she explained.</p> +<p>“What’s your play? Whyfor did you bring her?” +the Arkansan demanded of MacQueen.</p> +<p>The latter stood balanced on his heels with his +feet wide apart. There was a scornful grin on his +face, but his eyes were fixed warily on the other +man.</p> +<p>“What was I to do with her, Mr. Buttinski? She +found out who I was. Could I send her home? +If I did how was I to fix it so I could go to Mesa +when it’s necessary till we get this ransom business +arranged?”</p> +<p>“All right. But you understand she’s a friend +of mine. I’ll not have her hurt.”</p> +<p>“Oh, go to the devil! I’m not in the habit of +hurting young ladies.”</p> +<p>MacQueen swung on his heel insolently and +knocked on the door of a cabin near.</p> +<p>“Don’t forget that I’m here when you need me,” +Boone told Melissy in a low voice.</p> +<p>“I’ll not forget,” the girl made answer in a +murmur.</p> +<p>The wrinkled face of a Mexican woman appeared +presently at a window. MacQueen jabbered a sentence +or two in her language. She looked at Melissy +and answered.</p> +<p>The girl had not lived in Southern Arizona for +twenty years without having a working knowledge +of Spanish. Wherefore, she knew that her captor +had ordered his own room prepared for her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span></p> +<p>While they waited for this to be made ready MacQueen +hummed a snatch of a popular song. It +happened to be a love ditty. Boone ground his +teeth and glared at him, which appeared to amuse +the other ruffian immensely.</p> +<p>“Don’t stay up on our account,” MacQueen suggested +presently with a malicious laugh. “We’re +not needing a chaperone any to speak of.”</p> +<p>The Mexican woman announced that the bedroom +was ready and MacQueen escorted Melissy to the +door of the room. He stood aside with mock gallantry +to let her pass.</p> +<p>“Have to lock you in,” he apologized airily. +“Not that it would do you any good to escape. +We’d have you again inside of twenty-four hours. +This bit of the hills takes a heap of knowing. But +we don’t want you running away. You’re too tired. +So I lock the door and lie down on the porch under +your window. <i>Adios, seņorita.</i>”</p> +<p>Melissy heard the key turn in the lock, and was +grateful for the respite given her by the night. +She was glad, too, that Boone was here. She knew +him for a villain, but she hoped he would stand +between her and MacQueen if the latter proved unruly +in his attentions. Her guess was that Boone +was jealous of the other—of his authority with +the gang to which they both belonged, and now of +his relationship to her. Out of this division might +come hope for her.</p> +<p>So tired was she that, in spite of her alarms, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +sleep took her almost as soon as her head touched +the pillow. When she awakened the sun was shining +in at her window above the curtain strung across +its lower half.</p> +<p>Some one was knocking at the door. When she +asked who was there, in a voice which could not +conceal its tremors, the answer came in feminine +tones:</p> +<p>“’Tis I—Rosario Chaves.”</p> +<p>The Mexican woman was not communicative, nor +did she appear to be sympathetic. The plight of +this girl might have moved even an unresponsive +heart, but Rosario showed a stolid face to her distress. +What had to be said, she said. For the rest, +she declined conversation absolutely.</p> +<p>Breakfast was served Melissy in her room, after +which Rosario led her outdoors. The woman gave +her to understand that she might walk about the +cleared space, but must not pass into the woods +beyond. To point the need of obedience, Rosario +seated herself on the porch, and began doing some +drawn work upon which she was engaged.</p> +<p>Melissy walked toward the corral, but did not reach +it. An old hag was seated in a chair beside one of +the log cabins. From the color of her skin the girl +judged her to be an Indian squaw. She wore moccasins, +a dirty and shapeless one-piece dress, and +a big sunbonnet, in which her head was buried.</p> +<p>Sitting on the floor of the porch, about fifteen feet +from her, was a hard-faced customer, with stony +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span> +eyes like those of a snake. He was sewing on a +bridle that had given way. Melissy noticed that +from the pocket of his chaps the butt of a revolver +peeped. She judged it to be the custom in Dead +Man’s Cache to go garnished with weapons.</p> +<p>Her curiosity led her to deflect toward the old +woman. But she had not taken three steps toward +the cabin before the man with the jade eyes stopped +her.</p> +<p>“That’ll be near enough, ma’am,” he said, civilly +enough. “This old crone has a crazy spell whenever +a stranger comes nigh. She’s nutty. It ain’t +safe to come nearer—is it, old Sit-in-the-Sun?”</p> +<p>The squaw grunted. Simultaneously, she looked +up, and Miss Lee thought that she had never seen +more piercing eyes.</p> +<p>“Is Sit-in-the-Sun her name?” asked the girl +curiously.</p> +<p>“That’s the English of it. The Navajo word is +a jawbreaker.”</p> +<p>“Doesn’t she understand English?”</p> +<p>“No more’n you do Choctaw, miss.”</p> +<p>A quick step crunched the gravel behind Melissy. +She did not need to look around to know that here +was Black MacQueen.</p> +<p>“What’s this—what’s this, Hank?” he demanded +sharply.</p> +<p>“The young lady started to come up and speak to +old Sit-in-the-Sun. I was just explaining to her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +how crazy the old squaw is,” Jeff answered with a +grin.</p> +<p>“Oh! Is that all?” MacQueen turned to Melissy.</p> +<p>“She’s plumb loony—dangerous, too. I don’t +want you to go near her.”</p> +<p>The girl’s eyes flashed. “Very considerate of +you. But if you want to protect me from the really +dangerous people here, you had better send me +home.”</p> +<p>“I tell you they do as I say, every man jack of +them. I’d flay one alive if he insulted you.”</p> +<p>“It’s a privilege you don’t sublet then,” she retorted +swiftly.</p> +<p>Admiration gleamed through his amusement. +“Gad, you’ve got a sharp tongue. I’d pity the man +you marry—unless he drove with a tight rein.”</p> +<p>“That’s not what we’re discussing, Mr. MacQueen. +Are you going to send me home?”</p> +<p>“Not till you’ve made us a nice long visit, my +dear. You’re quite safe here. My men are plumb +gentle. They’ll eat out of your hand. They don’t +insult ladies. I’ve taught ’em——”</p> +<p>“Pity you couldn’t teach their leader, too.”</p> +<p>He acknowledged the hit. “Come again, dearie. +But what’s your complaint? Haven’t I treated you +white so far?”</p> +<p>“No. You insulted me grossly when you brought +me here by force.”</p> +<p>“Did I lay a hand on you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span></p> +<p>“If it had been necessary you would have.”</p> +<p>“You’re right, I would,” he nodded. “I’ve taken +a fancy to you. You’re a good-looking and a plucky +little devil. I’ve a notion to fall in love with you.”</p> +<p>“Don’t!”</p> +<p>“Why not? Say I’m a villain and a bad lot. +Wouldn’t it be a good thing for me to tie up with +a fine, straight-up young lady like you? Me, I like +the way your eyes flash. You’ve got a devil of a +temper, haven’t you?”</p> +<p>They had been walking toward a pile of rocks +some little way from the cluster of cabins. Now +he sat down and smiled impudently across at her.</p> +<p>“That’s my business,” she flung back stormily.</p> +<p>Genially he nodded. “So it is. Mine, too, when +we trot in double harness.”</p> +<p>Her scornful eyes swept up and down him. “I +wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on +earth.”</p> +<p>“No. Well, I’m not partial to that game myself. +I didn’t mention matrimony, did I?”</p> +<p>The meaning she read in his mocking, half-closed +eyes startled the girl. Seeing this, he added with +a shrug:</p> +<p>“Just as you say about that. We’ll make you +Mrs. MacQueen on the level if you like.”</p> +<p>The passion in her surged up. “I’d rather lie +dead at your feet—I’d rather starve in these hills—I’d +rather put a knife in my heart!”</p> +<p>He clapped his hands. “Fine! Fine! That +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +Bernhardt woman hasn’t got a thing on you when +it comes to acting, my dear. You put that across +bully. Never saw it done better.”</p> +<p>“You—coward!” Her voice broke and she +turned to leave him.</p> +<p>“Stop!” The ring of the word brought her feet +to a halt. MacQueen padded across till he faced +her. “Don’t make any mistake, girl. You’re mine. +I don’t care how. If it suits you to have a priest +mumble words over us, good enough. But I’m the +man you’ve got to get ready to love.”</p> +<p>“I hate you.”</p> +<p>“That’s a good start, you little catamount.”</p> +<p>“I’d rather die—a thousand times rather.”</p> +<p>“Not you, my dear. You think you would right +now, but inside of a week you’ll be hunting for pet +names to give me.”</p> +<p>She ran blindly toward the house where her room +was. On the way she passed at a little distance +Dunc Boone and did not see him. His hungry eyes +followed her—a slender creature of white and russet +and gold, vivid as a hillside poppy, compact of +life and fire and grace. He, too, was a miscreant +and a villain, lost to honor and truth, but just now +she held his heart in the hollow of her tightly +clenched little fist. Good men and bad, at bottom +we are all made of the same stuff, once we are +down to the primal emotions that go deeper than +civilization’s veneer.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII__TRAPPED' id='VII__TRAPPED'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>“TRAPPED!”</h3> +</div> + +<p>Black MacQueen rolled a cigarette and +sauntered toward the other outlaw.</p> +<p>“I reckon you better saddle up and take +a look over the Flattops, Dunc. The way I figure +it Lee’s posse must be somewhere over there. +Swing around toward the Elkhorns and get back +to report by to-morrow evening, say.”</p> +<p>Boone looked at him in an ugly manner. “Nothin’ +doing, MacQueen.”</p> +<p>“What’s that?”</p> +<p>“I’m no greaser, my friend. Orders don’t go +with me.”</p> +<p>“They don’t, eh? Who’s major domo of this +outfit?”</p> +<p>“I’m going to stay right here in this valley to-night. +See?”</p> +<p>“What’s eatin’ you, man?”</p> +<p>“And every night so long as Melissy Lee stays.”</p> +<p>MacQueen watched him with steady, hostile eyes. +“So it’s the girl, is it? Want to cut in, do you? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +Oh, no, my friend. Two’s company; three’s a +crowd. She’s mine.”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Yes. And another thing, Mr. Boone. I don’t +stand for any interference in my plans. Make a +break at it and you’ll take a hurry up journey to +kingdom come.”</p> +<p>“Or you will.”</p> +<p>“Don’t bank on that off chance. The boys are +with me. You’re alone. If I give the word they’ll +bump you off. <i>Don’t make a mistake, Boone.</i>”</p> +<p>The Arkansan hesitated. What MacQueen said +was true enough. His overbearing disposition had +made him unpopular. He knew the others would +side against him and that if it came to a showdown +they would snuff out his life as a man does the +flame of a candle. The rage died out of his eyes +and gave place to a look of cunning.</p> +<p>“It’s your say-so, Black. But there will be a day +when it ain’t. Don’t forget that.”</p> +<p>“And in the meantime you’ll ride the Flattops +when I give the word?”</p> +<p>Boone nodded sulkily. “I said you had the call, +didn’t I?”</p> +<p>“Then ride ’em now, damn you. And don’t show +up in the Cache till to-morrow night.”</p> +<p>MacQueen turned on his heel and strutted away. +He was elated at his easy victory. If he had seen +the look that followed him he might not have been +so quiet in his mind. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span></p> +<p>But on the surface he had cinched his leadership. +Boone saddled and rode out of the Cache without +another word to anybody. Sullen and vindictive he +might be, but cowed he certainly seemed. MacQueen +celebrated by frequent trips to his sleeping +quarters, where each time he resorted to a bottle +and a glass. No man had ever seen him intoxicated, +but there were times when he drank a good deal for +a few days at a stretch. His dissipation would be +followed by months of total abstinence.</p> +<p>All day the man persecuted Melissy with his attentions. +His passion was veiled under a manner +of mock deference, of insolent assurance, but as the +hours passed the fears of the girl grew upon her. +There were moments when she turned sick with +waves of dread. In the sunshine, under the open +sky, she could hold her own, but under cover of +the night’s blackness ghastly horrors would creep +toward her to destroy.</p> +<p>Nor was there anybody to whom she might turn +for help. Lane and Jackson were tools of their +leader. The Mexican woman could do nothing even +if she would. Boone alone might have helped her, +and he had ridden away to save his own skin. So +MacQueen told her to emphasize his triumph and +her helplessness.</p> +<p>To her fancy dusk fell over the valley like a pall. +It brought with it the terrible night, under cover +of which unthinkable things might be done. With +no appetite, she sat down to supper opposite her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span> +captor. To see him gloat over her made her heart +sink. Her courage was of no avail against the +thing that threatened.</p> +<p>Supper over, he made her sit with him on the +porch for an hour to listen to his boasts of former +conquests. And when he let her take her way to +her room it was not “Good-night” but a mocking +“Au revoir” he murmured as he bent to kiss her +hand.</p> +<p>Melissy found Rosario waiting for her, crouched +in the darkness of the room that had been given +the young woman. The Mexican spoke in her own +language, softly, with many glances of alarm to +make sure they were alone.</p> +<p>“Hist, seņorita. Here is a note. Read it. Destroy +it. Swear not to betray Rosario.”</p> +<p>By the light of a match Melissy read:</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>“Behind the big rocks. In half an hour.</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Friend.</span>”</p> +</div> + +</div> +<p>What could it mean? Who could have sent it? +Rosario would answer no questions. She snatched +the note, tore it into fragments, chewed them into +a pulp. Then, still shaking her head obstinately, +hurriedly left the room.</p> +<p>But at least it meant hope. Her mind flew from +her father to Jack Flatray, Bellamy, young Yarnell. +It might be any of them. Or it might be O’Connor, +who, perhaps, had by some miracle escaped. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></p> +<p>The minutes were hours to her. Interminably +they dragged. The fear rose in her that MacQueen +might come in time to cut off her escape. At last, +in her stocking feet, carrying her shoes in her hand, +she stole into the hall, out to the porch, and from +it to the shadows of the cottonwoods.</p> +<p>It was a night of both moon and stars. She had +to cross a space washed in silvery light, taking the +chance that nobody would see her. But first she +stooped in the shadows to slip the shoes upon her +feet. Her heart beat against her side as she had +once seen that of a frightened mouse do. It seemed +impossible for her to cover all that moonlit open +unseen. Every moment she expected an alarm to +ring out in the silent night. But none came.</p> +<p>Safely she reached the big rocks. A voice called +to her softly. She answered, and came face to face +with Boone. A drawn revolver was in his hand.</p> +<p>“You made it,” he panted, as a man might who +had been running hard.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she whispered. “But they’ll soon know. +Let us get away.”</p> +<p>“If you hadn’t come I was going in to kill him.”</p> +<p>She noticed the hard glitter in his eyes as he +spoke, the crouched look of the padding tiger ready +for its kill. The man was torn with hatred and jealousy.</p> +<p>Already they were moving back through the +rocks to a dry wash that ran through the valley. +The bed of this they followed for nearly a mile. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +Deflecting from it they pushed across the valley toward +what appeared to be a sheer rock wall. With +a twist to the left they swung back of a face of +rock, turned sharply to the right, and found themselves +in a fissure Melissy had not at all expected. +Here ran a little caņon known only to those few +who rode up and down it on the nefarious business +of their unwholesome lives.</p> +<p>Boone spoke harshly, breaking for the first time +in half an hour his moody silence.</p> +<p>“Safe at last. By God, I’ve evened my score +with Black MacQueen.”</p> +<p>And from the cliff above came the answer—a +laugh full of mocking deviltry and malice.</p> +<p>The Arkansan turned upon Melissy a startled face +of agony, in which despair and hate stood out of +a yellow pallor.</p> +<p>“Trapped.”</p> +<p>It was his last word to her. He swept the girl +back against the shelter of the wall and ran crouching +toward the entrance.</p> +<p>A bullet zipped—a second—a third. He stumbled, +but did not fall. Turning, he came back, +dodging like a hunted fox. As he passed her, Melissy +saw that his face was ghastly. He ran with +a limp.</p> +<p>A second time she heard the cackle of laughter. +Guns cracked. Still the doomed man pushed forward. +He went down, struck in the body, but +dragged himself to his feet and staggered on. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span></p> +<p>All this time he had seen nobody at whom he +could fire. Not a shot had come from his revolver. +He sank behind a rock for shelter. The ping of +a bullet on the shale beside him brought the tortured +man to his feet. He looked wildly about him, +the moon shining on his bare head, and plunged +up the caņon.</p> +<p>And now it appeared his unseen tormentors were +afraid he might escape them. Half a dozen shots +came close together. Boone sank to the ground, +writhed like a crushed worm, and twisted over so +that his face was to the moonlight.</p> +<p>Melissy ran forward and knelt beside him.</p> +<p>“They’ve got me ... in half a dozen places.... +I’m going fast.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no ... no,” the girl protested.</p> +<p>“Yep.... Surest thing you know.... +I did you dirt onct, girl. And I’ve been a bad lot—a +wolf, a killer.”</p> +<p>“Never mind that now. You died to save me. +Always I’ll remember that.”</p> +<p>“Onct you ’most loved me.... But it +wouldn’t have done. I’m a wolf and you’re a little +white lamb. Is Flatray the man?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Thought so. Well, he’s square. I rigged it up +on him about the rustling. I was the man you liked +to ’a’ caught that day years ago.”</p> +<p>“You!”</p> +<p>“Yep.” He broke off abruptly. “I’m going, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +girl.... It’s gittin’ black. Hold my hand till—till——”</p> +<p>He gave a shudder and seemed to fall together. +He was dead.</p> +<p>Melissy heard the sound of rubble slipping. +Some one was lowering himself cautiously down the +side of the caņon. A man dropped to the wash and +strutted toward her. He kept his eyes fixed on the +lifeless form, rifle ready for action at an instant’s +notice. When he reached his victim he pushed the +body with his foot, made sure of no trap, and relaxed +his alertness.</p> +<p>“Dead as a hammer.”</p> +<p>The man was MacQueen. He turned to Melissy +and nodded jauntily.</p> +<p>“Good evening, my dear. Just taking a little +stroll?” he asked ironically.</p> +<p>The girl leaned against the cold wall and covered +her face with her arm. She was sobbing hysterically.</p> +<p>The outlaw seized her by the shoulders and +swung her round. “Cut that out, girl,” he ordered +roughly.</p> +<p>Melissy caught at her sobs and tried to check +them.</p> +<p>“He got what was coming to him, what he’s been +playing for a long time. I warned him, but the fool +wouldn’t see it.”</p> +<p>“How did you know?” she asked, getting out her +question a word at a time. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span></p> +<p>“Knew it all the time. Rosario brought his note +to me. I told her to take it to you and keep her +mouth shut.”</p> +<p>“You planned his death.”</p> +<p>“If you like to put it that way. Now we’ll go +home and forget this foolishness. Jeff, bring the +horses round to the mouth of the gulch.”</p> +<p>Melissy felt suddenly very, very tired and old. +Her feet dragged like those of an Indian squaw +following her master. It was as though heavy irons +weighted her ankles.</p> +<p>MacQueen helped her to one of the horses Jackson +brought to the lip of the gulch. Weariness rode +on her shoulders all the way back. The soul of her +was crushed beneath the misfortunes that oppressed +her.</p> +<p>Long before they reached the ranch houses Rosario +came running to meet them. Plainly she was +in great excitement.</p> +<p>“The prisoners have escaped,” she cried to MacQueen.</p> +<p>“Escaped. How?” demanded Black.</p> +<p>“Some one must have helped them. I heard a +window smash and ran out. The young ranger +and another man were coming out of the last cabin +with the old man. I could do nothing. They ran.”</p> +<p>They had been talking in her own language. +MacQueen jabbed another question at her.</p> +<p>“Which way?”</p> +<p>“Toward the Pass.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span></p> +<p>The outlaw ripped out an oath. “We’ve got ’em. +They can’t reach it without horses as quick as we +can with them.” He whirled upon Melissy. +“March into the house, girl. Don’t you dare make +a move. I’m leaving Buck here to watch you.” +Sharply he swung to the man Lane. “Buck, if she +makes a break to get away, riddle her full of holes. +You hear me.”</p> +<p>A minute later, from the place where she lay face +down on the bed, Melissy heard him and his men +gallop away.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_AN_ESCAPE_AND_A_CAPTURE' id='VIII_AN_ESCAPE_AND_A_CAPTURE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>AN ESCAPE AND A CAPTURE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Far up in the mountains, in that section where +head the Roaring Fork, One Horse Creek, +and the Del Oro, is a vast tract of wild, untraveled +country known vaguely as the Bad Lands. +Somewhere among the thousand and one caņons +which cleft the huddled hills lay hidden Dead Man’s +Cache. Here Black MacQueen retreated on those +rare occasions when the pursuit grew hot on his +tracks. So the current report ran.</p> +<p>Whether the abductors of Simon West were to +be found in the Cache or at some other nest in the +almost inaccessible ridges Jack Flatray had no means +of knowing. His plan was to follow the Roaring +Fork almost to its headquarters, and there establish +a base for his hunt. It might take him a week +to flush his game. It might take a month. He +clamped his bulldog jaw to see the thing out to a +finish.</p> +<p>Jack did not make the mistake of underestimating +his job. He had followed the trail of bad men +often enough to know that, in a frontier country, +no hunt is so desperate as the man-hunt. Such men +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +are never easily taken, even if they do not have +all the advantage in the deadly game of hide and +seek that is played in the timber and the pockets of +the hills.</p> +<p>And here the odds all lay with the hunted. They +knew every ravine and gulch. Day by day their +scout looked down from mountain ledges to watch +the progress of the posse.</p> +<p>Moreover, Flatray could never tell at what moment +his covey might be startled from its run. The +greatest vigilance was necessary to make sure his +own party would not be ambushed. Yet slowly he +combed the arroyos and the ridges, drawing always +closer to that net of gulches in which he knew Dead +Man’s Cache must be located.</p> +<p>During the day the sheriff split his party into +couples. Bellamy and Alan McKinstra, Farnum +and Charlie Hymer, young Yarnell and the sheriff. +So Jack had divided his posse, thus leaving at the +head of each detail one old and wise head. Each +night the parties met at the rendezvous appointed +for the wranglers with the pack horses. From sunrise +to sunset often no face was seen other than +those of their own outfit. Sometimes a solitary +sheep herder was discovered at his post. Always +the work was hard, discouraging, and apparently +futile. But the young sheriff never thought of +quitting.</p> +<p>The provisions gave out. Jack sent back Hal +Yarnell and Hegler, the wrangler, to bring in a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +fresh supply. Meanwhile the young sheriff took a +big chance and scouted alone. He parted from the +young Arkansan at the head of a gulch which +twisted snakelike into the mountains; Yarnell and +the pack outfit to ride to Mammoth, Flatray to dive +still deeper into the mesh of hills. He had the instinct +of the scout to stick to the high places as +much as he could. Whenever it was possible he followed +ridges, so that no spy could look down upon +him as he traveled. Sometimes the contour of the +country drove him into the open or down into hollows. +But in such places he advanced with the +swift stealth of an Indian.</p> +<p>It was on one of these occasions, when he had +been driven into a dark and narrow caņon, that he +came to a sudden halt. He was looking at an +empty tomato can. Swinging down from his saddle, +he picked it up without dismounting. A little juice +dripped from the can to the ground.</p> +<p>Flatray needed no explanation. In Arizona men +on the range often carry a can of tomatoes instead +of a water canteen. Nothing alleviates thirst like +the juice of this acid fruit. Some one had opened +this can within two hours. Otherwise the sun would +have dried the moisture.</p> +<p>Jack took his rifle from its place beneath his legs +and set it across the saddle in front of him. Very +carefully he continued on his way, watching every +rock and bush ahead of him. Here and there in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +the sand were printed the signs of a horse going +in the same direction as his.</p> +<p>Up and down, in and out of a maze of crooked +paths, working by ever so devious a way higher into +the chain of mountains, Jack followed his leader. +Now he would lose the hoofmarks; now he would +pick them up again. And, at the last, they brought +him to the rim of a basin, a bowl of wooded ravines, +of twisted ridges, of bleak spurs jutting into late +pastures almost green. It was now past sunset. +Dusk was filtering down from the blue peaks. As +he looked a star peeped out low on the horizon.</p> +<p>But was it a star? He glimpsed it between trees. +The conviction grew on him that what he saw was +the light of a lamp. A tangle of rough country +lay between him and that beacon, but there before +him lay his destination. At last he had found his +way into Dead Man’s Cache.</p> +<p>The sheriff lost no time, for he knew that if he +should get lost in the darkness on one of these forest +slopes he might wander all night. A rough trail +led him down into the basin. Now he would lose +sight of the light. Half an hour later, pushing to +the summit of a hill, he might find it. After a time +there twinkled a second beside the first. He was +getting close to a settlement of some kind.</p> +<p>Below him in the darkness lay a stretch of open +meadow rising to the wooded foothills. Behind +these a wall of rugged mountains encircled the valley +like a gigantic crooked arm. Already he could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +make out faintly the outlines of the huddled +buildings.</p> +<p>Slipping from his horse, Jack went forward cautiously +on foot. He was still a hundred yards from +the nearest hut when dogs bayed warning of his +approach. He waited, rifle in hand. No sign of +human life showed except the two lights shining +from as many windows. Flatray counted four other +cabins as dark as Egypt.</p> +<p>Very slowly he crept forward, always with one +eye to his retreat. Why did nobody answer the +barking of the dogs? Was he being watched all +the time? But how could he be, since he was completely +cloaked in darkness?</p> +<p>So at last he came to the nearest cabin, crept to +the window, and looked in. A man lay on a bed. +His hands and feet were securely tied and a second +rope wound round so as to bind him to the bunk.</p> +<p>Flatray tapped softly on a pane. Instantly the +head of the bound man slewed round.</p> +<p>“Friend?”</p> +<p>The prisoner asked it ever so gently, but the sheriff +heard.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“The top part of the window is open. You can +crawl over, I reckon.”</p> +<p>Jack climbed on the sill and from it through the +window. Almost before he reached the floor his +knife was out and he was slashing at the ropes.</p> +<p>“Better put the light out, pardner,” suggested the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span> +man he was freeing, and the officer noticed that +there was no tremor in the cool, steady voice.</p> +<p>“That’s right. We’d make a fine mark through +the window.”</p> +<p>And the light went out.</p> +<p>“I’m Bucky O’Connor. Who are you?”</p> +<p>“Jack Flatray.”</p> +<p>They spoke together in whispers. Though both +were keyed to the highest pitch of excitement they +were as steady as eight-day clocks. O’Connor +stretched his limbs, flexing them this way and that, +so that he might have perfect control of them. He +worked especially over the forearm and fingers of +his right arm.</p> +<p>Flatray handed him a revolver.</p> +<p>“Whenever you’re ready, Lieutenant.”</p> +<p>“All right. It’s the cabin next to this.”</p> +<p>They climbed out of the window noiselessly and +crept to the next hut. The door was locked, the +window closed.</p> +<p>“We’ve got to smash the window. Nothing else +for it,” Flatray whispered.</p> +<p>“Looks like it. That means we’ll have to shoot +our way out.”</p> +<p>With the butt of his rifle the sheriff shattered the +woodwork of the window, driving the whole frame +into the room.</p> +<p>“What is it?” a frightened voice demanded.</p> +<p>“Friends, Mr. West. Just a minute.”</p> +<p>It took them scarce longer than that to free him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span> +and to get him into the open. A Mexican woman +came screaming out of an adjoining cabin.</p> +<p>The young men caught each an arm of the capitalist +and hurried him forward.</p> +<p>“Hell’ll be popping in a minute,” Flatray explained.</p> +<p>But they reached the shelter of the underbrush +without a shot having been fired. Nor had a single +man appeared to dispute their escape.</p> +<p>“Looks like most of the family is away from +home to-night,” Bucky hazarded.</p> +<p>“Maybe so, but they’re liable to drop in any minute. +We’ll keep covering ground.”</p> +<p>They circled round toward the sheriff’s horse. +As soon as they reached it West, still stiff from +want of circulation in his cramped limbs, was +boosted into the saddle.</p> +<p>“It’s going to be a good deal of a guess to find +our way out of the Cache,” Jack explained. “Even +in the daytime it would take a ’Pache, but at night—well, +here’s hoping the luck’s good.”</p> +<p>They found it not so good as they had hoped. +For hours they wandered in mesquit, dragged themselves +through cactus, crossed washes, and climbed +hills.</p> +<p>“This will never do. We’d better give it up till +daylight. We’re not getting anywhere,” the sheriff +suggested.</p> +<p>They did as he advised. As soon as a faint gray +sifted into the sky they were on the move again. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +But whichever way they climbed it was always to +come up against steep cliffs too precipitous to be +scaled.</p> +<p>The ranger officer pointed to a notch beyond a +cowbacked hill. “I wouldn’t be sure, but it looks +like that was the way they brought me into the +Cache. I could tell if I were up there. What’s the +matter with my going ahead and settling the thing? +If I’m right I’ll come back and let you know.”</p> +<p>Jack looked at West. The railroad man was +tired and drawn. He was not used to galloping +over the hills all night.</p> +<p>“All right. We’ll be here when you come back,” +Flatray said, and flung himself on the ground.</p> +<p>West followed his example.</p> +<p>It must have been half an hour later that Flatray +heard a twig snap under an approaching foot. He +had been scanning the valley with his glasses, having +given West instructions to keep a lookout in +the rear. He swung his head round sharply, and +with it his rifle.</p> +<p>“You’re covered, you fool,” cried the man who +was strutting toward them.</p> +<p>“Stop there. Not another step,” Flatray called +sharply.</p> +<p>The man stopped, his rifle half raised. “We’ve +got you on every side, man.” He lifted his voice. +“Jeff—Hank—Steve! Let him know you’re alive.”</p> +<p>Three guns cracked and kicked up the dust close +to the sheriff. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span></p> +<p>“What do you want with us?” Flatray asked, +sparring for time.</p> +<p>“Drop your gun. If you don’t we’ll riddle you +both.”</p> +<p>West spoke to Jack promptly. “Do as he says. +It’s MacQueen.”</p> +<p>Flatray hesitated. He could kill MacQueen probably, +but almost certainly he and West would pay +the penalty. He reluctantly put his rifle down. +“All right. It’s your call.”</p> +<p>“Where’s O’Connor?”</p> +<p>The sheriff looked straight at him. “Haven’t +you enough of us for one gather?”</p> +<p>The outlaws were closing in on them cautiously.</p> +<p>“Not without that smart man hunter. Where is +he?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“The devil you don’t.”</p> +<p>“We separated early this morning—thought it +would give us a better chance for a getaway.” +Jack gave a sudden exclamation of surprise. “So +it was Black MacQueen himself who posed as O’Connor +down at Mesa.”</p> +<p>“Guessed it right, my friend. And I’ll tell you +one thing: you’ve made the mistake of your life +butting into Dead Man’s Cache. Your missing +friend O’Connor was due to hand in his checks to-day. +Since you’ve taken his place it will be you +that crosses the divide, Mr. Sheriff. You’d better +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span> +tell where he is, for if we don’t get Mr. Bucky it +will be God help J. Flatray.”</p> +<p>The dapper little villain exuded a smug, complacent +cruelty. It was no use for the sheriff to remind +himself that such things weren’t done nowadays, +that the times of Geronimo and the Apache Kid +were past forever. Black MacQueen would go the +limit in deviltry if he set his mind to it.</p> +<p>Yet Flatray answered easily, without any perceptible +hesitation: “I reckon I’ll play my hand and +let Bucky play his.”</p> +<p>“Suits me if it does you. Jeff, collect that hardware. +Now, while you boys beat up the hills for +O’Connor, I’ll trail back to camp with these two +all-night picnickers.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_A_BARGAIN' id='IX_A_BARGAIN'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>A BARGAIN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Melissy saw the two prisoners brought in, +though she could not tell at that distance +who they were. Her watch told her that +it was four-thirty. She had slept scarcely at all +during the night, but now she lay down on the bed +in her clothes.</p> +<p>The next she knew, Rosario was calling her to +get up for breakfast. The girl dressed and followed +Rosario to the adjoining cabin. MacQueen +was not there, and Melissy ate alone. She was given +to understand that she might walk up and down in +front of the houses for a few minutes after breakfast. +Naturally she made the most of the little liberty +allowed her.</p> +<p>The old squaw Sit-in-the-Sun squatted in front +of the last hut, her back against the log wall. The +man called Buck sat yawning on a rock a few yards +away. What struck Melissy as strange was that +the squaw was figuring on the back of an old envelope +with the stub of a lead pencil. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span></p> +<p>The young woman walked leisurely past the cabin +for perhaps a dozen yards.</p> +<p>“That’ll be about far enough. You don’t want +to tire yourself, Miss Lee,” Buck Lane called, with +a grin.</p> +<p>Melissy stopped, stood looking at the mountains +for a few minutes, and turned back. Sit-in-the-Sun +looked quickly at her, and at the same moment +she tore the paper in two and her fingers opened to +release one piece of the envelope upon which she +had been writing. A puff of wind carried it almost +directly in front of the girl. Lane was still yawning +sleepily, his gaze directed toward the spot where +he presently expected Rosario to step out and call +him to breakfast. Melissy dropped her handkerchief, +stooped to pick it up, and gathered at the same +time in a crumpled heap into her hand the fragment +of an envelope. Without another glance at the +squaw, the young woman kept on her way, sauntered +to the porch, and lingered there as if in doubt.</p> +<p>“I’m tired,” she announced to Rosario, and +turned to her rooms.</p> +<p>“<i>Si, seņorita,</i>” answered her attendant quietly.</p> +<p>Once inside, Melissy lay down on her bed, with +her back to the window, and smoothed out the torn +envelope. On one side were some disjointed memoranda +which she did not understand.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto; '><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>K. C. & T. 93</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>D. & R. B. 87</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Float $10,000,000 Cortes for extension.</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span></div> +<p>That was all, but certainly a strange puzzle for +a Navajo squaw to set her.</p> +<p>She turned the paper over, to find the other side +close-packed with writing.</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>Miss Lee:</p> +<p>In the last cabin but one is a prisoner, +your friend Sheriff Flatray. He is to be +shot in an hour. I have offered any sum +for his life and been refused. For God’s +sake save him somehow.</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p>Simon West.</p> +</div> + +</div> +<p>Jack Flatray here, and about to be murdered! +The thing was incredible. And yet—and yet—— Was +it so impossible, after all? Some one had +broken into the Cache and released the prisoners. +Who more likely than Jack to have done this? And +later they had captured him and condemned him +for what he had done.</p> +<p>Melissy reconstructed the scene in a flash. The +Indian squaw was West. He had been rigged up +in that paraphernalia to deceive any chance mountaineer +who might drop into the valley by accident.</p> +<p>No doubt, when he first saw Melissy, the railroad +magnate had been passing his time in making notes +about his plans for the system he controlled. But +when he had caught sight of her, he had written +the note, under the very eyes of the guard, had torn +the envelope as if it were of no importance, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +tossed the pieces away. He had taken the thousandth +chance that his note might fall into the hands +of the person to whom it was directed.</p> +<p>All this she understood without giving it conscious +thought. For her whole mind was filled with +the horror of what she had learned. Jack Flatray, +the man she loved, was to be killed. He was to be +shot down in an hour.</p> +<p>With the thought, she was at her door—only to +find that it had been quietly locked while she lay +on the bed. No doubt they had meant to keep her +a close prisoner until the thing they were about to +do was finished. She beat upon it, called to Rosario +to let her out, wrung her hands in her desperation. +Then she remembered the window. It was a cheap +and flimsy case, and had been jammed so that her +strength was not sufficient to raise it.</p> +<p>Her eye searched the room for a weapon, and +found an Indian tom-tom club. With this she +smashed the panes and beat down the wooden cross +bars of the sash. Agile as a forest fawn, she slipped +through the opening she had made and ran toward +the far cabin.</p> +<p>A group of men surrounded the door; and, as +she drew near, it opened to show three central figures. +MacQueen was one, Rosario Chaves a second; +but the most conspicuous was a bareheaded +young man, with his hands tied behind him. He +was going to his death, but a glance was enough +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +to show that he went unconquered and unconquerable. +His step did not drag. There was a faint, +grave smile on his lips; and in his eye was the dynamic +spark that proclaimed him still master of his +fate. The woolen shirt had been unbuttoned and +pulled back to make way for the rope that lay +loosely about his neck, so that she could not miss +the well-muscled slope of his fine shoulders, or the +gallant set of the small head upon the brown +throat.</p> +<p>The man who first caught sight of Melissy spoke +in a low voice to his chief. MacQueen turned his +head sharply to see her, took a dozen steps toward +her, then upbraided the Mexican woman, who had +run out after Melissy.</p> +<p>“I told you to lock her door—to make sure of it.”</p> +<p>“<i>Si, seņor</i>—I did.”</p> +<p>“Then how——” He stopped, and looked to +Miss Lee for an explanation.</p> +<p>“I broke the window.”</p> +<p>The outlaw noticed then that her hand was bleeding. +“Broke the window! Why?”</p> +<p>“I had to get out! I had to stop you!”</p> +<p>He attempted no denial of what he was about to +do. “How did you know? Did Rosario tell you?” +he asked curtly.</p> +<p>“No—no! I found out—just by chance.”</p> +<p>“What chance?” He was plainly disconcerted +that she had come to interfere, and as plainly eager +to punish the person who had disclosed to her this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +thing, which he would have liked to do quietly, +without her knowledge.</p> +<p>“Never mind that. Nobody is to blame. Say I +overheard a sentence. Thank God I did, and I am +in time.”</p> +<p>There was no avoiding it now. He had to fight +it out with her. “In time for what?” he wanted to +know, his eyes narrowing to vicious pin points.</p> +<p>“To save him.”</p> +<p>“No—no! He must die,” cried the Mexican +woman.</p> +<p>Melissy was amazed at her vehemence, at the passion +of hate that trembled in the voice of the old +woman.</p> +<p>MacQueen nodded. “It is out of my hands, you +see. He has been condemned.”</p> +<p>“But why?”</p> +<p>“Tell her, Rosario.”</p> +<p>The woman poured her story forth fluently in +the native tongue. O’Connor had killed her son—did +not deny that he had done it. And just because +Tony had tried to escape. This man had freed the +ranger. Very well. He should take O’Connor’s +place. Let him die the death. A life for a life. +Was that not fair?</p> +<p>Flatray turned his head and caught sight of Melissy. +A startled cry died on his lips.</p> +<p>“Jack!” She held out both hands to him as she +ran toward him.</p> +<p>The sheriff took her in his arms to console her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +For the girl’s face was working in a stress of emotion.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’m in time—I’m in time. Thank God I’m +in time.”</p> +<p>Jack waited a moment to steady his voice. “How +came you here, Melissy?”</p> +<p>“He brought me—Black MacQueen. I hated +him for it, but now I’m glad—so glad—because I +can save you.”</p> +<p>Jack winced. He looked over her shoulder at +MacQueen, taking it all in with an air of pleasant +politeness. And one look was enough to tell him +that there was no hope for him. The outlaw had +the complacent manner of a cat which has just got +at the cream. That Melissy loved him would be +an additional reason for wiping him off the map. +And in that instant a fierce joy leaped up in Flatray +and surged through him, an emotion stronger +than the fear of death. She loved him. MacQueen +could not take that away from him.</p> +<p>“It’s all a mistake,” Melissy went on eagerly. +“Of course they can’t blame you for what Lieutenant +O’Connor did. It is absurd—ridiculous.”</p> +<p>“Certainly.” MacQueen tugged at his little black +mustache and kept his black eyes on her constantly. +“That’s not what we’re blaming him for. The indictment +against your friend is that he interfered +when it wasn’t his business.”</p> +<p>“But it was his business. Don’t you know he’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +sheriff? He had to do it.” Melissy turned to the +outlaw impetuously.</p> +<p>“So. And I have to play my hand out, too. It +wipes out Mr. Flatray. Sorry, but business is business.”</p> +<p>“But—but——” Melissy grew pale as the icy +fear gripped her heart that the man meant to go +on with the crime. “Don’t you see? He’s the +sheriff?”</p> +<p>“And I never did love sheriffs,” drawled MacQueen.</p> +<p>The girl repeated herself helplessly. “It was his +sworn duty. That was how he looked at it.”</p> +<p>A ghost of an ironic smile flitted across the face +of the outlaw chief. “Rosario’s sworn duty is to +avenge her son’s death. That is how she looks at it. +The rest of us swore the oath with her.”</p> +<p>“But Lieutenant O’Connor had the law back of +him. This is murder!”</p> +<p>“Not at all. It is the law of the valley—a life +for a life.”</p> +<p>“But—— Oh, no—no—no!”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>The finality of it appalled her. She felt as if she +were butting her head against a stone wall. She +knew that argument and entreaty were of no avail, +yet she desperately besought first one and then another +of them to save the prisoner. Each in turn +shook his head. She could see that none of them, +save Rosario, bore him a grudge; yet none would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +move to break the valley oath. At the last, she was +through with her promises and her prayers. She +had spent them all, and had come up against the +wall of blank despair.</p> +<p>Then Jack’s grave smile thanked her. “You’ve +done what you could, Melissy.”</p> +<p>She clung to him wildly. “Oh, no—no! I can’t +let you go, Jack. I can’t. I can’t.”</p> +<p>“I reckon it’s got to be, dear,” he told her gently.</p> +<p>But her breaking heart could not stand that. +There must somehow be a way to save him. She +cast about desperately for one, and had not found +it when she begged the outlaw chief to see her +alone.</p> +<p>“No use.” He shook his head.</p> +<p>“But just for five minutes! That can’t do any +harm, can it?”</p> +<p>“And no good, either.”</p> +<p>“Yet I ask it. You might do that much for +me,” she pleaded.</p> +<p>Her despair had moved him; for he was human, +after all. That he was troubled about it annoyed +him a good deal. Her arrival on the scene had +made things unpleasant for everybody. Ungraciously +he assented, as the easiest way out of the +difficulty.</p> +<p>The two moved off to the corral. It was perhaps +thirty yards distant, and they reached it before +either of them spoke. She was the first to break +the silence.</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span> +<img src='images/illus-294.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 351px; height: 550px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 351px;'> +“OH, NO—NO! I CAN’T LET YOU GO, JACK. I CAN’T. I CAN’T.” <i>Page 294.</i><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span></div> +<p>“You won’t do this dreadful thing—surely, you +won’t do it.”</p> +<p>“No use saying another word about it. I told +you that,” he answered doggedly.</p> +<p>“But—— Oh, don’t you see? It’s one of those +things no white man can do. Once it’s done, you +have put the bars up against decency for the rest +of your life.”</p> +<p>“I reckon I’ll have to risk that—and down in +your heart you don’t believe it, because you think +I’ve had the bars up for years.”</p> +<p>She had come to an impasse already. She tried +another turn. “And you said you cared for me! +Yet you are willing to make me unhappy for the +rest of my life.”</p> +<p>“Why, no! I’m willing to make you happy. +There’s fish in the sea just as good as any that +ever were caught,” he smirked.</p> +<p>“But it would help you to free him. Don’t you +see? It’s your chance. You can begin again, now. +You can make him your friend.”</p> +<p>His eyes were hard and grim. “I don’t want +him for a friend, and you’re dead wrong if you +think I could make this a lever to square myself +with the law. I couldn’t. He wouldn’t let me, for +one thing—he isn’t that kind.”</p> +<p>“And you said you cared for me!” she repeated +helplessly, wringing her hands in her despair. “But +at the first chance you fail me.”</p> +<p>“Can’t you see it isn’t a personal matter? I’ve +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +got nothing against him—nothing to speak of. I’d +give him to you, if I could. But it’s not my say-so. +The thing is out of my hands.”</p> +<p>“You could save him, if you set yourself to.”</p> +<p>“Sure, I could—if I would pay the price. But +I won’t pay.”</p> +<p>“That’s it. You would have to give Rosario +something—make some concession,” she said +eagerly.</p> +<p>“And I’m not willing to pay the price,” he told +her. “His life’s forfeit. Hasn’t he been hunting +us for a week?”</p> +<p>“Let me pay it,” she cried. “I have money in +my own right—seven thousand dollars. I’ll give it +all to save him.”</p> +<p>He shook his head. “No use. We’ve turned +down a big offer from West. Your seven thousand +isn’t a drop in the bucket.”</p> +<p>She beat her hands together wildly. “There +must be some way to save him.”</p> +<p>The outlaw was looking at her with narrowed +eyes. He saw a way, and was working it out in +his mind. “You’re willing to pay, are you?” he +asked.</p> +<p>“Yes—yes! All I have.”</p> +<p>He put his arms akimbo on the corral fence, and +looked long at her. “Suppose the price can’t be +paid in money, Miss Lee.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> +<p>“Money isn’t the only thing in this world. There +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span> +are lots of things it won’t buy that other things +will,” he said slowly.</p> +<p>She groped for his meaning, her wide eyes fixed +on his, and still did not find it. “Be plainer, please. +What can I do to save him?”</p> +<p>“You might marry me.”</p> +<p>“Never!”</p> +<p>“Just as you say. You were looking for a way, +and I suggested one. Anyhow, you’re mine.”</p> +<p>“I won’t do it!”</p> +<p>“You wanted me to pay the price; but you don’t +want to pay yourself.”</p> +<p>“I couldn’t do it. It would be horrible!” But +she knew she could and must.</p> +<p>“Why couldn’t you? I’m ready to cut loose from +this way of living. When I pull off this one big +thing, I’ll quit. We’ll go somewhere and begin life +again. You said I could. Well, I will. You’ll help +me to keep straight. It won’t be only his life you +are saving. It will be mine, too.”</p> +<p>“No—I don’t love you! How could a girl marry +a man she didn’t care for and didn’t respect?”</p> +<p>“I’ll make you do both before long. I’m the +kind of man women love.”</p> +<p>“You’re the kind I hate,” she flashed bitterly.</p> +<p>“I’ll risk your hate, my dear,” he laughed easily.</p> +<p>She did not look at him. Her eyes were on the +horizon line, where sky and pine tops met. He knew +that she was fighting it out to a decision, and he did +not speak again. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span></p> +<p>After all, she was only a girl. Right and wrong +were inextricably mixed in her mind. It was not +right to marry this man. It was not right to let +the sheriff die while she could save him. She was +generous to the core. But there was something +deeper than generosity. Her banked love for Flatray +flooded her in a great cry of protest against his +death. She loved him. She loved him. Much as +she detested this man, revolting as she found the +thought of being linked to him, the impulse to sacrifice +herself was the stronger feeling of the two. +Deep in her heart she knew that she could not let +Jack go to his death so long as it was possible to +prevent it.</p> +<p>Her grave eyes came back to MacQueen. “I’ll +have to tell you one thing—I’ll hate you worse than +ever after this. Don’t think I’ll ever change my +mind about that. I won’t.”</p> +<p>He twirled his little mustache complacently.</p> +<p>“I’ll have to risk that, as I said.”</p> +<p>“You’ll take me to Mesa to-day. As soon as we +get there a justice of the peace will marry us. From +his house we’ll go directly to father’s. You won’t +lie to me.”</p> +<p>“No. I’ll play out the game square, if you do.”</p> +<p>“And after we’re married, what then?”</p> +<p>“You may stay at home until I get this ransom +business settled. Then we’ll go to Sonora.”</p> +<p>“How do you know I’ll go?”</p> +<p>“I’ll trust you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span></p> +<p>“Then it’s a bargain.”</p> +<p>Without another word, they turned back to rejoin +the group by the cabin. Before they had gone +a dozen steps she stopped.</p> +<p>“What about Mr. Flatray? You will free him, +of course.”</p> +<p>“Yes. I’ll take him right out due north of here, +about four miles. He’ll be blindfolded. There +we’ll leave him, with instructions how to reach +Mesa.”</p> +<p>“I’ll go with you,” she announced promptly.</p> +<p>“What for?”</p> +<p>“To make sure that you do let him go—alive.”</p> +<p>He shrugged his shoulders. “All right. I told +you I was going to play fair. I haven’t many good +points, but that is one of them. I don’t give my +word and then break it.”</p> +<p>“Still, I’ll go.”</p> +<p>He laughed angrily. “That’s your privilege.”</p> +<p>She turned on him passionately. “You’ve got no +right to resent it, though I don’t care a jackstraw +whether you do or not. I’m not going into this because +I want to, but to save this man from the den +of wolves into which he has fallen. If you knew +how I despise and hate you, how my whole soul +loathes you, maybe you wouldn’t be so eager to go +on with it! You’ll get nothing out of this but the +pleasure of torturing a girl who can’t defend herself.”</p> +<p>“We’ll see about that,” he answered doggedly.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_THE_PRICE' id='X_THE_PRICE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>THE PRICE</h3> +</div> + +<p>MacQueen lost no time in announcing his +new program.</p> +<p>“Boys, the hanging’s off. I’ve decided +to accept West’s offer for Flatray’s life. It’s too +good to turn down.”</p> +<p>“That’s what I told you all the time,” growled +Buck.</p> +<p>“Well, I’m telling <i>you</i> now. The money will be +divided equally among you, except that Rosario will +get my share as well as hers.”</p> +<p>Rosario Chaves broke into fierce protests. Finding +these unheeded, she cursed the outlaws furiously +and threatened vengeance upon them. She did not +want money; she wanted this man’s life. The men +accepted this as a matter of course, and paid little +attention to the ravings of the old woman.</p> +<p>At the first news of his reprieve, Jack saw things +through a haze for a moment. But he neither broke +down nor showed undue exultation.</p> +<p>His first thought was of relief, of profound comfort; +his next of wonder and suspicion. How under +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span> +heaven had Melissy won his life for him? He +looked quickly at her, but the eyes of the girl did +not meet his.</p> +<p>“Melissy.” Flatray spoke very gently, but something +in the way he spoke compelled the young +woman to meet his eyes.</p> +<p>Almost instantly the long lashes went down to +her pale cheeks again.</p> +<p>MacQueen cut in suavely: “I reckon this is the +time for announcements. Boys, Miss Lee has promised +to marry me.”</p> +<p>Before the stir which this produced had died +away, Flatray flashed a question: “In exchange for +my life?”</p> +<p>The chief of the outlaws looked at him with insolence +smoldering in his black eyes. “Now, I wonder +when you ever will learn to mind your own +business, sheriff! Nobody invited you to sit into +this game.”</p> +<p>“This <i>is</i> my business. I make it mine. Give me +a straight answer, Melissy. Am I right? Is it for +my life?”</p> +<p>“Yes.” Her voice was so low he could hardly +hear it.</p> +<p>“Then I won’t have it! The thing is infamous. +I can’t hide behind the skirts of a girl, least of all +you. I can die, but, by God, I’ll keep my self-respect.”</p> +<p>“It’s all arranged,” Melissy answered in a +whisper. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span></p> +<p>Flatray laughed harshly. “I guess not. You +can’t pay my debts by giving yourself to life-long +misery.”</p> +<p>“You’re right pessimistic, sheriff,” sneered MacQueen.</p> +<p>“What do you take me for? I won’t have it. +I won’t have it.” The sheriff’s voice was rough +and hoarse. “I’d rather die fifty times.”</p> +<p>“It’s not up to you to choose, as it happens,” the +leader of the outlaws suggested suavely.</p> +<p>“You villain! You damned white-livered coward!” +The look of the young sheriff scorched.</p> +<p>“Speaks right out in meeting, don’t he?” grinned +Lane.</p> +<p>“I know what he is, Jack,” Melissy cried. “And +he knows I think he’s the lowest thing that crawls. +But I’ve got to save you. Don’t you see, I’ve got +to do it?”</p> +<p>“No, I don’t see it,” Flatray answered hotly. +“I can take what’s coming to me, can’t I? But if +you save my life that way you make me as low a +thing as he is. I say I’ll not have it.”</p> +<p>Melissy could stand it no longer. She began to +sob. “I—I—Oh, Jack, I’ve got to do it. Don’t +you see? Don’t you see? <i>It won’t make any difference +with me if I don’t.</i> No difference—except +that you’ll be—dead.”</p> +<p>She was in his embrace, her arms around his +neck, whispering the horrible truth in his ear +brokenly. And as he felt her dear young fragrance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span> +of hair in his nostrils, the warm, soft litheness of +her body against his, the rage and terror in him +flooded his veins. Could such things be? Was it +possible a man like that could live? Not if he could +help it.</p> +<p>Gently he unfastened her arms from his neck. +MacQueen was standing a dozen feet away, his +hands behind his back and his legs wide apart. As +Flatray swung around the outlaw read a warning +in the blazing eyes. Just as Jack tore loose from +his guards MacQueen reached for his revolver.</p> +<p>The gun flashed. A red hot blaze scorched +through Jack’s arm. Next instant MacQueen lay +flat on his back, the sheriff’s fingers tight around +his throat. If he could have had five seconds more +the man’s neck would have been broken. But they +dragged him away, fighting like a wild cat. They +flung him down and tied his hands behind him.</p> +<p>Melissy caught a glimpse of his bleeding arm, +his torn and dusty face, the appalling ferocity of +the men who were hammering him into the ground. +She took a step forward blindly. The mountains +in front of her tilted into the sky. She moved forward +another step, then stumbled and went down. +She had fainted.</p> +<p>“Just as well,” MacQueen nodded. “Here, Rosario, +look after the young lady. Lift Flatray to +a horse, boys, after you’ve blindfolded him. Good +enough. Oh, and one thing more, Flatray. You’re +covered by a rifle. If you lift a hand to slip that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span> +handkerchief from your eyes, you’re giving the signal +for Jeff to turn loose at you. We’re going to +take you away, but we don’t aim to let you out of +the Cache for a few days yet.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> +<p>MacQueen jeered at his prisoner openly. “I +mean, Mr. Sheriff, that you’ll stay with us till the +girl does as she has promised. Understand?”</p> +<p>“I think so, you hellhound. You’re going to hold +me against her so that she can’t change her mind.”</p> +<p>“Exactly. So that she can’t rue back. You’ve +guessed it.”</p> +<p>They rode for hours, but in what direction it was +impossible for Flatray to guess. He could tell when +they were ascending, when dropping down hill, but +in a country so rugged this meant nothing.</p> +<p>When at last he dismounted and the kerchief was +taken from his eyes he found himself in a little +pocket of the hills in front of an old log cabin. +Jeff stayed with him. The others rode away. But +not till they had him safely tied to a heavy table +leg within the hut.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_SQUIRE_LATIMER_TAKES_A_HAND' id='XI_SQUIRE_LATIMER_TAKES_A_HAND'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>SQUIRE LATIMER TAKES A HAND</h3> +</div> + +<p>“You’re to make ready for a trip to town, +<i>seņorita</i>.”</p> +<p>“When?”</p> +<p>“At once,” Rosario answered. “By orders of +<i>Seņor</i> MacQueen.”</p> +<p>“Then he is back?” the girl flashed.</p> +<p>“Just back.”</p> +<p>“Tell him I want to see him—immediately.”</p> +<p>“I am to take you to him as soon as you are +ready to ride.”</p> +<p>“Oh, very well.”</p> +<p>In a very few minutes the young woman was +ready. Rosario led her to the cabin in front of +which she had seen the old Indian squaw. In it +were seated Simon West and Black MacQueen. +Both of them rose at her entrance.</p> +<p>“Please take a chair, Miss Lee. We have some +business to talk over,” the outlaw suggested.</p> +<p>Melissy looked straight at him, her lips shut tight. +“What have you done with Jack Flatray?” she presently +demanded. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span></p> +<p>“Left him to find his way back to his friends.”</p> +<p>“You didn’t hurt him ... any more?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“And you left him alone, wounded as he was.”</p> +<p>“We fixed up his wound,” lied MacQueen.</p> +<p>“Was it very bad?”</p> +<p>“A scratch. I had to do it.”</p> +<p>“You needn’t apologize to me.”</p> +<p>“I’m not apologizing, you little wild-cat.”</p> +<p>“What do you want with me? Why did you +send for me?”</p> +<p>“We’re going to Mesa to see a parson. But before +we start there’s some business to fix up. Mr. +West and I will need your help to fix up the negotiations +for his release.”</p> +<p>“My help!” She looked at him in surprise. +“How can I help?”</p> +<p>“I’ve laid my demands before his friends. They’ll +come through with the money, sure. But I want +them to understand the conditions right plainly, so +there won’t be any mistake. What they have got +to get soaked into their heads is that, if they do +make any mistakes, they will not see Simon West +again alive. You put that up to them strong.”</p> +<p>“I’m not going to be your agent in robbing +people of their money!” she told him swiftly.</p> +<p>“You don’t understand. Mr. West wants you +to do it. He wants you to explain the facts to his +friends, so they won’t act rash and get off wrong +foot first.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span></p> +<p>“Oh! If Mr. West wishes it,” she conceded.</p> +<p>“I do wish it,” the great man added.</p> +<p>Though his face and hands were still stained +with the dye that had been used on them, the railroad +builder was now dressed in his own clothes. +The girl thought that he looked haggard and anxious, +and she was sure that her presence brought +him relief. In his own way he was an indomitable +fighter, but his experience had not included anything +of this nature.</p> +<p>Jack Flatray could look at death level-eyed, and +with an even pulse, because for him it was all in +the day’s work; but the prospect of it shook West’s +high-strung nerves. Nevertheless, he took command +of the explanations, because it had been his +custom for years to lead.</p> +<p>MacQueen, his sardonic smile in play, sat back +and let West do most of the talking. Both men +were working for the same end—to get the ransom +paid as soon as possible—and the multimillionaire +released; and the outlaw realized that Melissy +would coöperate the more heartily if she felt she +were working for West and not for himself.</p> +<p>“This is Tuesday, Miss Lee. You will reach +Mesa some time to-night. My friends ought to be +on the ground already. I want you and your father +to get in touch with them right away, and arrange +the details along the line laid down by Mr. MacQueen. +In case they agree to everything and understand +fully, have the Stars and Stripes flying +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span> +from your house all day to-morrow as a signal. +Don’t on any account omit this—because, if you do, +my captors will have to hold me longer, pending +further negotiations. I have written a letter to Mr. +Lucas, exonerating you completely, Miss Lee; and +I have ordered him to comply with all these demands +without parley.”</p> +<p>“Our proposition seems to Mr. West very reasonable +and fair,” grinned MacQueen impishly, +paring his finger nails.</p> +<p>“At any rate, I think that my life is worth to +this country a good deal more than three hundred +thousand dollars,” West corrected.</p> +<p>“Besides being worth something to Simon West,” +the outlaw added carelessly.</p> +<p>West plunged into the details of delivering the +money. Once or twice the other man corrected him +or amplified some statement. In order that there +could be no mistake, a map of Sweetwater Caņon +was handed to Melissy to be used by the man who +would bring the money to the rendezvous at the +Devil’s Causeway.</p> +<p>When it came to saying good-bye, the old man +could scarce make up his mind to release the girl’s +hand. It seemed to him that she was the visible +sign of his safety, and that with her departure went +a safeguard from these desperate men. He could +not forget that she had saved the life of the sheriff, +even though he did not know what sacrifice she +had made so to do. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span></p> +<p>“I know you’ll do your best for me,” he said, with +tears in his eyes. “Make Lucas see this thing right. +Don’t let any fool detectives bunco him into refusing +to pay the ransom. Put it to him as strongly +as you can, that it will be either my life or the +money. I have ordered him to pay it, and I want +it paid.”</p> +<p>Melissy nodded. “I’ll tell him how it is, Mr. +West. I know it will be all right. By Thursday +afternoon we shall have you with us to dinner again. +Trust us.”</p> +<p>“I do.” He lowered his voice and glanced at +MacQueen, who had been called aside to speak to +one of his men. “And I’m glad you’re going away +from here. This is no place for you.”</p> +<p>“It isn’t quite the place for you, either,” she answered, +with a faint, joyless smile.</p> +<p>They started an hour before midday. Rosario +had packed a lunch for both of them in MacQueen’s +saddlebags, for it was the intention of the latter to +avoid ranches and traveled trails on the way down. +He believed that the girl would go through with +what she had pledged herself to do, but he did not +mean to take chances of a rescue.</p> +<p>In the middle of the afternoon they stopped for +lunch at Round-up Spring—a water hole which had +not dried up in a dozen years. It was a somber +meal. Melissy’s spirits had been sinking lower and +lower with every mile that brought her nearer the +destiny into which this man was forcing her. Food +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span> +choked her, and she ate but little. Occasionally, +with staring eyes, she would fall into a reverie, +from which his least word would startle her to a +shiver of apprehension. This she always controlled +after the first instinctive shudder.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter with you, girl? I’m not going +to hurt you any. I never hit a woman in my life,” +the man said once roughly.</p> +<p>“Perhaps you may, after you’re married. It’s +usually one’s wife one beats. Don’t be discouraged. +You’ll have the experience yet,” she retorted, but +without much spirit.</p> +<p>“To hear you tell it, I’m a devil through and +through! It’s that kind of talk that drives a man +to drink,” he flung out angrily.</p> +<p>“And to wife beating. Of course, I’m not your +chattel yet, because the ceremony hasn’t been read; +but if you would like to anticipate a few hours and +beat me, I don’t suppose there is any reason you +shouldn’t.”</p> +<p>“Gad! How you hate me!”</p> +<p>Her inveteracy discouraged him. His good looks, +his debonair manner, the magnetic charm he knew +how to exert—these, which had availed him with +other women, did not seem to reach her at all. She +really gave him no chance to prove himself. He +was ready to be grave or gay—to be a light-hearted +boy or a blasé man of the world—to adopt any rôle +that would suit her. But how could one play up +effectively to a chill silence which took no note of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span> +him, to a depression of the soul which would not +let itself be lifted? He felt that she was living up +to the barest letter of the law in fulfilling their contract, +and because of it he steeled himself against +her sufferings.</p> +<p>There was one moment of their ride when she +stood on the tiptoe of expectation and showed again +the sparkle of eager life. MacQueen had resaddled +after their luncheon, and they were climbing a long +sidehill that looked over a dry valley. With a gesture, +the outlaw checked her horse.</p> +<p>“Look!”</p> +<p>Some quarter of a mile from them two men were +riding up a wash that ran through the valley. The +mesquite and the cactus were thick, and it was for +only an occasional moment that they could be seen. +Black and the girl were screened from view by a +live oak in front of them, so that there was no danger +of being observed. The outlaw got out his field +glasses and watched the men intently.</p> +<p>Melissy could not contain the question that trembled +on her lips: “Do you know them?”</p> +<p>“I reckon not.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps——”</p> +<p>“Well!”</p> +<p>“May I look—please?”</p> +<p>He handed her the glasses. She had to wait for +the riders to reappear, but when they did she gave +a little cry.</p> +<p>“It’s Mr. Bellamy!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span></p> +<p>“Oh, is it?”</p> +<p>He looked at her steadily, ready to crush in her +throat any call she might utter for help. But he +soon saw that she had no intention of making her +presence known. Her eyes were glued to the glasses. +As long as the men were in sight she focused her +gaze on them ravenously. At last a bend in the +dry river bed hid them from view. She lowered the +binoculars with a sigh.</p> +<p>“Lucky they didn’t see us,” he said, with his easy, +sinister laugh. “Lucky for them.”</p> +<p>She noticed for the first time that he had uncased +his rifle and was holding it across the saddle-tree.</p> +<p>Night slipped silently down from the hills—the +soft, cool, velvet night of the Arizona uplands. The +girl drooped in the saddle from sheer exhaustion. +The past few days had been hard ones, and last +night she had lost most of her sleep. She had ridden +far on rough trails, had been subjected to a +stress of emotion to which her placid maiden life +had been unused. But she made no complaint. It +was part of the creed she had unconsciously learned +from her father to game out whatever had to be +endured.</p> +<p>The outlaw, though he saw her fatigue, would +not heed it. She had chosen to set herself apart +from him. Let her ask him to stop and rest, if she +wanted to. It would do her pride good to be humbled. +Yet in his heart he admired her the more, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span> +because she asked no favors of him and forbore the +womanish appeal of tears.</p> +<p>His watch showed eleven o’clock by the moon +when the lights of Mesa glimmered in the valley +below.</p> +<p>“We’ll be in now in half an hour,” he said.</p> +<p>She had no comment to make, and silence fell +between them again until they reached the outskirts +of the town.</p> +<p>“We’ll get off here and walk in,” he ordered; +and, after she had dismounted, he picketed the +horses close to the road. “You can send for yours +in the mornin’. Mine will be in the livery barn +by that time.”</p> +<p>The streets were practically deserted in the residential +part of the town. Only one man they saw, +and at his approach MacQueen drew Melissy behind +a large lilac bush.</p> +<p>As the man drew near the outlaw’s hand tightened +on the shoulder of the girl. For the man was +her father—dusty, hollow-eyed, and haggard. The +two crouching behind the lilacs knew that this iron +man was broken by his fears for his only child, the +girl who was the apple of his eye.</p> +<p>Not until he was out of hearing did Melissy open +her lips to the stifled cry she had suppressed. Her +arms went out to him, and the tears rolled down +her cheeks. For herself she had not let herself +break down, but for her father’s grief her heart +was like water. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span></p> +<p>“All right. Don’t break down now. You’ll be +with him inside of half an hour,” the outlaw told +her gruffly.</p> +<p>They stopped at a house not much farther down +the street, and he rang the bell. It took a second +ring to bring a head out of the open window upstairs.</p> +<p>“Well?” a sleepy voice demanded.</p> +<p>“Is this Squire Latimer?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Come down. We want to get married.”</p> +<p>“Then why can’t you come at a reasonable hour?—consarn +it!”</p> +<p>“Never mind that. There’s a good fee in it. +Hurry up!”</p> +<p>Presently the door opened. “Come in. You can +wait in the hall till I get a light.”</p> +<p>“No—I don’t want a light. We’ll step into this +room, and be married at once,” MacQueen told him +crisply.</p> +<p>“I don’t know about that. I’m not marrying +folks that can’t be looked at.”</p> +<p>“You’ll marry us, and at once. I’m Black MacQueen!”</p> +<p>It was ludicrous to see how the justice of the +peace fell back in terror before the redoubtable bad +man of the hills.</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t know as a light is a legal necessity; +but we got to have witnesses.”</p> +<p>“Have you any in the house?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span></p> +<p>“My daughter and a girl friend of hers are sleeping +upstairs. I’ll call them, Mr. Black—er—I +mean Mr. MacQueen.”</p> +<p>The outlaw went with the squire to the foot of +the stairs, whence Latimer wakened the girls and +told them to dress at once, as quickly as possible. +A few minutes later they came down—towsled, eyes +heavy with sleep, giggling at each other in girlish +fashion. But when they knew whose marriage they +were witnessing, giggles and sleep fled together.</p> +<p>They were due for another surprise later. MacQueen +and his bride were standing in the heavy +shadows, so that both bulked vaguely in mere outline. +Hitherto, Melissy had not spoken a word. +The time came when it was necessary for the justice +to know the name of the girl whom he was +marrying. Her answer came at once, in a low, +scarcely audible voice:</p> +<p>“Melissy Lee.”</p> +<p>An electric shock could scarce have startled them +more. Of all the girls in Mesa none was so proud +as Melissy Lee, none had been so far above criticism, +such a queen in the frontier town. She had +spent a year in school at Denver; she had always +been a social leader. While she had always been +friendly to the other girls, they had looked upon +her with a touch of awe. She had all the things +they craved, from beauty to money. And now she +was marrying at midnight, in the dark, the most +notorious bad man of Arizona! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span></p> +<p>Here was a wonder of wonders to tell the other +girls to-morrow. The only pity was that they could +not see her face—and his. They had heard that +he was handsome. No doubt that accounted for it. +And what could be more romantic than a love match +with such a fascinating villain? Probably he had +stormed her heart irresistibly.</p> +<p>The service proceeded. The responses of the +man came clearly and triumphantly, those of the +girl low but distinctly. It was the custom of the +justice to join the hands of the parties he was marrying; +but when he moved to do so this girl put both +of hers quickly behind her. It was his custom also +to kiss the bride after pronouncing them man and +wife; but he omitted this, too, on the present occasion. +Nor did the groom kiss her.</p> +<p>The voice of the justice died away. They stood +before him man and wife. The witnesses craned +forward to see the outlaw embrace his bride. Instead, +he reached into his pocket and handed Latimer +a bill. The denomination of it was one hundred +dollars, but the justice did not discover that +until later.</p> +<p>“I reckon that squares us,” the bad man said unsentimentally. +“Now, all of you back to bed.”</p> +<p>MacQueen and his bride passed out into the night. +The girls noticed that she did not take his arm; +that she even drew back, as if to avoid touching +him as they crossed the threshold. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span></p> +<p>Not until they reached the gate of her father’s +house did MacQueen speak.</p> +<p>“I’m not all coyote, girl. I’ll give you the three +days I promised you. After that you’ll join me +wherever I say.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” she answered without spirit.</p> +<p>“You’ll stand pat to our agreement. When they +try to talk you out of it you won’t give in?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>She was deadly weary, could scarce hold up her +head.</p> +<p>“If you lie to me I’ll take it out on your folks. +Don’t forget that Jack Flatray will have to pay if +you double-cross me.”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“He’ll have to pay in full.”</p> +<p>“You mean you’ll capture him again.”</p> +<p>“I mean we won’t have to do that. We haven’t +turned him loose yet.”</p> +<p>“Then you lied to me?” She stared at him with +wide open eyes of horror.</p> +<p>“I had to keep him to make sure of you.”</p> +<p>Her groan touched his vanity, or was it perhaps +his pity?</p> +<p>“I’m not going to hurt him—if you play fair. +I tell you I’m no cur. Help me, girl, and I’ll quit +this hell raising and live decent.”</p> +<p>She laughed without joy, bitterly.</p> +<p>“Oh, I know what you think,” he continued. “I +can’t blame you. But what do you know about my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span> +life? What do you know about what I’ve had to +fight against? All my life there has been some devil +in me, strangling all the good. There has been nobody +to give me a helping hand—none to hold me +back. I was a dog with a bad name—good enough +for hanging, and nothing else.”</p> +<p>He was holding the gate, and perforce she had +to hear him out.</p> +<p>“What do I care about that?” she cried, in a +fierce gust of passion. “I see you are cur and coward! +You lied to me. You didn’t keep faith and +free Jack Flatray. That is enough.”</p> +<p>She was the one person in the world who had +power to wound him. Nor did it hurt the less that +it was the truth. He drew back as if the lash of a +whip had swept across his face.</p> +<p>“No man alive can say that to me and live!” he +told her. “Cur I may be; but you’re my wife, +’Lissie MacQueen. Don’t forget that.”</p> +<p>“Go! Go!” she choked. “I hope to God I’ll +never see your face again!”</p> +<p>She flew along the grass-bordered walk, whipped +open the front door, and disappeared within. She +turned the key in the lock, and stood trembling in +the darkness. She half expected him to follow, to +attempt to regain possession of her.</p> +<p>But the creak of his quick step on the porch did +not come. Only her hammering heart stirred in +the black silence. She drew a long breath of relief, +and sank down on the stairs. It was over at last, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span> +the horrible nightmare through which she had been +living.</p> +<p>Gradually she fought down her fears and took +hold of herself. She must find her father and relieve +his anxiety. Quietly she opened the door of +the hall into the living room.</p> +<p>A man sat at the table, with his back to her, in +an attitude of utter dejection. He was leaning forward, +with his head buried in his arms. It was her +father. She stepped forward, and put her hands +on his bowed shoulders.</p> +<p>“Daddy,” she said softly.</p> +<p>At her touch the haggard, hopeless, unshaven face +was lifted toward her. For a moment Lee looked at +her as if she had been a wraith. Then, with a +hoarse cry, he arose and caught her in his arms.</p> +<p>Neither of them could speak for emotion. He +tried it twice before he could get out:</p> +<p>“Baby! Honey!”</p> +<p>He choked back the sobs in his throat. “Where +did you come from? I thought sure MacQueen had +you.”</p> +<p>“He had. He took me to Dead Man’s Cache +with him.”</p> +<p>“And you escaped. Praise the Lord, honey!”</p> +<p>“No—he brought me back.”</p> +<p>“MacQueen did! Goddlemighty—he knows +what’s best for him!”</p> +<p>“He brought me back to—to——” She broke +down, and buried her head in his shoulder. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span></p> +<p>Long, dry sobs racked her. The father divined +with alarm that he did not know the worst.</p> +<p>“Tell me—tell me, ’Lissie! Brought you back +to do what, honey?” He held her back from him, +his hands on her shoulders.</p> +<p>“To marry me.”</p> +<p>“What!”</p> +<p>“To marry me. And he did—fifteen minutes ago, +I am Black MacQueen’s wife.”</p> +<p>“Black MacQueen’s wife! My God, girl!” Big +Beauchamp Lee stared at her in a horror of incredulity.</p> +<p>She told him the whole story, from beginning +to end.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_THE_TAKING_OF_THE_CACHE' id='XII_THE_TAKING_OF_THE_CACHE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>THE TAKING OF THE CACHE</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was understood that in the absence of the +sheriff Richard Bellamy should have charge +of the posse, and after the disappearance of +Flatray he took command.</p> +<p>With the passing years Bellamy had become a +larger figure in the community. The Monte Cristo +mine had made him independently wealthy, even +though he had deeded one-third of it to Melissy +Lee. Arizona had forgiven him his experiment at +importing sheep and he was being spoken of as a +territorial delegate to Congress, a place the mine +owner by no means wanted. For his interests were +now bound up in the Southwest. His home was +there. Already a little toddler’s soft fat fist was +clinging to the skirt of Ferne.</p> +<p>At first Bellamy, as well as Farnum, McKinstra, +young Yarnell and the rest of the posse looked expectantly +for the return of the sheriff. It was hard +to believe that one so virile, so competent, so much +a dominant factor of every situation he confronted, +could have fallen a victim to the men he hunted. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span> +But as the days passed with no news of him the +conviction grew that he had been waylaid and shot. +The hunt went on, but the rule now was that no +move should be made singly. Not even for an hour +did the couples separate.</p> +<p>One evening a woman drifted into camp just as +they were getting ready to roll into their blankets. +McKinstra was on sentry duty, but she got by him +unobserved and startled Farnum into drawing his +gun.</p> +<p>Yet all she said was: “<i>Buenos tardes, seņor</i>.”</p> +<p>The woman was a wrinkled Mexican with a close-shut, +bitter mouth and bright, snappy eyes.</p> +<p>Farnum stared at her in surprise. “Who in Arizona +are you?”</p> +<p>It was decidedly disturbing to think what might +have happened if MacQueen’s outfit had dropped +in on them, instead of one lone old woman.</p> +<p>“Rosario Chaves.”</p> +<p>“Glad to meet you, ma’am. Won’t you sit down?”</p> +<p>The others had by this time gathered around.</p> +<p>Rosario spoke in Spanish, and Bob Farnum answered +in the same language. “You want to find +the way into Dead Man’s Cache, seņor?”</p> +<p>“Do we? I reckon yes!”</p> +<p>“Let me be your guide.”</p> +<p>“You know the way in?”</p> +<p>“I live there.”</p> +<p>“Connected with MacQueen’s outfit, maybe?”</p> +<p>“I cook for him. My son was one of his men.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span></p> +<p>“Was?”</p> +<p>“Yes. He was killed—shot by Lieutenant O’Connor, +the same man who was a prisoner at the Cache +until yesterday morning.”</p> +<p>“Killed lately, ma’am?”</p> +<p>“Two years ago. We swore revenge. MacQueen +did not keep his oath, the oath we all swore together.”</p> +<p>Bellamy began to understand the situation. She +wanted to get back at MacQueen, unless she were +trying to lead them into a trap.</p> +<p>“Let’s get this straight. MacQueen turned +O’Connor loose, did he?” Bellamy questioned.</p> +<p>“No. He escaped. This man—what you call +him?—the sheriff, helped him and Seņor West to +break away.”</p> +<p>The mine owner’s eye met Farnum’s. They +were being told much news.</p> +<p>“So they all escaped, did they?”</p> +<p>“<i>Si, seņor</i>, but MacQueen took West and the +sheriff next morning. They could not find their +way out of the valley.”</p> +<p>“But O’Connor escaped. Is that it?”</p> +<p>Her eyes flashed hatred. “He escaped because +the sheriff helped him. His life was forfeit to me. +So then was the sheriff’s. MacQueen he admit it. +But when the girl promise to marry him he speak +different.”</p> +<p>“What girl?”</p> +<p>“<i>Seņorita</i> Lee.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325' name='page_325'></a>325</span></p> +<p>“Not Melissy Lee.”</p> +<p>“<i>Si, seņor</i>.”</p> +<p>“My God! Melissy Lee a prisoner of that infernal +villain. How did she come there?”</p> +<p>The Mexican woman was surprised at the sudden +change that had come over the men. They +had grown tense and alert. Interest had flamed +into a passionate eagerness.</p> +<p>Rosario Chaves told the story from beginning +to end, so far as she knew it; and every sentence +of it wrung the big heart of these men. The pathos +of it hit them hard. Their little comrade, the girl +they had been fond of for years—the bravest, truest +lass in Arizona—had fallen a victim to this intolerable +fate! They could have wept with the agony +of it if they had known how.</p> +<p>“Are you sure they were married? Maybe the +thing slipped up,” Alan suggested, the hope father +to the thought.</p> +<p>But this hope was denied him; for the woman +had brought with her a copy of the Mesa <i>Sentinel</i>, +with an account of the marriage and the reason for +it. This had been issued on the morning after the +event, and MacQueen had brought it back with him +to the Cache.</p> +<p>Bellamy arranged with the Mexican woman a +plan of attack upon the valley. Camp was struck +at once, and she guided them through tortuous +ravines and gulches deeper into the Roaring Fork +country. She left them in a grove of aspens, just +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326' name='page_326'></a>326</span> +above the lip of the valley, on the side least frequented +by the outlaws.</p> +<p>They were to lie low until they should receive +from her a signal that most of the gang had left +to take West to the place appointed for the exchange. +They were then to wait through the day +until dusk, slip quietly down, and capture the ranch +before the return of the party with the gold. In +case anything should occur to delay the attack on +the ranch, another signal was to be given by Rosario.</p> +<p>The first signal was to be the hanging of washing +upon the line. If this should be removed before +nightfall, Bellamy was to wait until he should hear +from her again.</p> +<p>Bellamy believed that the Chaves woman was +playing square with him, but he preferred to take +no chances. As soon as she had left to return to +the settlement of the outlaws he moved camp again +to a point almost half a mile from the place where +she had last seen them. If the whole thing were a +“plant,” and a night attack had been planned, he +wanted to be where he and his men could ambush +the ambushers, if necessary.</p> +<p>But the night passed without any alarm. As the +morning wore away the scheduled washing appeared +on the line. Farnum crept down to the valley lip +and trained his glasses on the ranch house. Occasionally +he could discern somebody moving about, +though there were not enough signs of activity to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327' name='page_327'></a>327</span> +show the presence of many people. All day the +wash hung drying on the line. Dusk came, the +blankets still signaling that all was well.</p> +<p>Bellamy led his men forward under cover, following +the wooded ridge above the Cache so long +as there was light enough by which they might be +observed from the valley. With the growing darkness +he began the descent into the bowl just behind +the corral. A light shone in the larger cabin; and +Bellamy knew that, unless Rosario were playing him +false, the men would be at supper there. He left +his men lying down behind the corral, while he crept +forward to the window from which the light was +coming.</p> +<p>In the room were two men and the Mexican +woman. The men, with elbows far apart, and knives +and forks very busy, were giving strict attention +to the business in hand. Rosario waited upon them, +but with ear and eye guiltily alert to catch the least +sound. The mine owner could even overhear fragments +of the talk.</p> +<p>“Ought to get back by midnight, don’t you +reckon? Pass the cow and the sugar, Buck. Keep +a-coming with that coffee, Rosario. I ain’t a mite +afraid but what MacQueen will pull it off all right, +you bet.”</p> +<p>“Sure, he will. Give that molasses a shove, +Tom——”</p> +<p>Bellamy drew his revolver and slipped around to +the front door. He came in so quietly that neither +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328' name='page_328'></a>328</span> +of the men heard him. Both had their backs to +the door.</p> +<p>“Figure it up, and it makes a right good week’s +work. I reckon I’ll go down to Chihuahua and +break the bank at Miguel’s,” one of them was +saying.</p> +<p>“Better go to Yuma and break stones for a spell, +Buck,” suggested a voice from the doorway.</p> +<p>Both men slewed their heads around as if they +had been worked by the same lever. Their mouths +opened, and their eyes bulged. A shining revolver +covered them competently.</p> +<p>“Now, don’t you, Buck—nor you either, Tom!” +This advice because of a tentative movement each +had made with his right hand. “I’m awful careless +about spilling lead, when I get excited. Better +reach for the roof; then you won’t have any temptations +to suicide.”</p> +<p>The hard eyes of the outlaws swept swiftly over +the cattleman. Had he shown any sign of indecision, +they would have taken a chance and shot it +out. But he was so easily master of himself that +the impulse to “draw” died stillborn.</p> +<p>Bellamy gave a sharp, shrill whistle. Footsteps +came pounding across the open, and three armed +men showed at the door.</p> +<p>“Darn my skin if the old son of a gun hasn’t +hogged all the glory!” Bob Farnum complained +joyfully. “Won’t you introduce us to your friends, +Bellamy?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329' name='page_329'></a>329</span></p> +<p>“This gentleman with the biscuit in his hand is +Buck; the one so partial to porterhouse steak is +Tom,” returned Bellamy gravely.</p> +<p>“Glad to death to meet you, gents. Your hands +seem so busy drilling for the ceiling, we won’t shake +right now. If it would be any kindness to you, I’ll +unload all this hardware, though. My! You tote +enough with you to start a store, boys.”</p> +<p>“How did you find your way in?” growled Buck.</p> +<p>“Jest drifted in on our automobiles and airships,” +Bob told him airily, as he unbuckled the revolver +belt and handed it to one of his friends.</p> +<p>The outlaws were bound, after which Rosario +cooked the posse a dinner. This was eaten voraciously +by all, for camp life had sharpened the appetite +for a woman’s cooking.</p> +<p>One of the men kept watch to notify them when +MacQueen and his gang should enter the valley, +while the others played “pitch” to pass the time. +In spite of this, the hours dragged. It was a good +deal like waiting for a battle to begin. Bellamy and +Farnum had no nerves, but the others became nervous +and anxious.</p> +<p>“I reckon something is keeping them,” suggested +Alan, after looking at his watch for the fifth time +in half an hour. “Don’t you reckon we better go +up the trail a bit to meet them?”</p> +<p>“I reckon we better wait here, Alan. Bid three,” +returned Farnum evenly.</p> +<p>As he spoke, their scout came running in. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330' name='page_330'></a>330</span></p> +<p>“They’re here, boys!”</p> +<p>“Good enough! How many of them?”</p> +<p>“Four of ’em, looked like. They were winding +down the trail, and I couldn’t make out how many.”</p> +<p>“All right, boys. Steady, now, till they get down +from their horses. Hal, out with the light when I +give the word.”</p> +<p>It was a minute to shake nerves of steel. They +could hear the sound of voices, an echo of jubilant +laughter, the sound of iron shoes striking stones in +the trail. Then some one shouted:</p> +<p>“Oh, you, Buck!”</p> +<p>The program might have gone through as arranged, +but for an unlooked-for factor in the proceedings. +Buck let out a shout of warning to his +trapped friends. Almost at the same instant the +butt of Farnum’s revolver smashed down on his +head; but the damage was already done.</p> +<p>Bellamy and his friends swarmed out like bees. +The outlaws were waiting irresolutely—some +mounted, others beside their horses. Among them +were two pack horses.</p> +<p>“Hands up!” ordered the mine owner sharply.</p> +<p>The answer was a streak of fire from a rifle. Instantly +there followed a fusillade. Flash after flash +lit up the darkness. Staccato oaths, cries, a moan +of pain, the trampling of frightened horses, filled +the night with confusion.</p> +<p>In spite of the shout of warning, the situation +had come upon the bandits as a complete surprise. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331' name='page_331'></a>331</span> +How many were against them, whether or not they +were betrayed, the certainty that the law had at +last taken them at a disadvantage—these things +worked with the darkness for the posse. A man +flung himself on his pony, lay low on its back, and +galloped wildly into the night. A second wheeled +and followed at his heels. Hank Irwin was down, +with a bullet from a carbine through his jaw and +the back of his head. A wild shot had brought +down another. Of the outlaws only MacQueen, +standing behind his horse as he fired, remained on +the field uninjured.</p> +<p>The cattlemen had scattered as the firing began, +and had availed themselves of such cover as was +to be had. Now they concentrated their fire on the +leader of the outlaws. His horse staggered and +went down, badly torn by a rifle bullet. A moment +later the special thirty-two carbine he carried was +knocked from his hands by another shot.</p> +<p>He crouched and ran to Irwin’s horse, flung himself +to the saddle, deliberately emptied his revolver +at his foes, and put spurs to the broncho. As he +vanished into the hills Bob Farnum slowly sank to +the ground.</p> +<p>“I’ve got mine, Bellamy. Blamed if he ain’t +plumb bust my laig!”</p> +<p>The mine owner covered the two wounded outlaws, +while his men disarmed them. Then he walked +across to his friend, laid down his rifle, and knelt +beside him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332' name='page_332'></a>332</span></p> +<p>“Did he get you bad, old man?”</p> +<p>“Bad enough so I reckon I’ll have a doc look at +it one of these days.” Bob grinned to keep down +the pain.</p> +<p>Once more there came the sound of hoofs beating +the trail of decomposed granite. Bellamy looked +up and grasped his rifle. A single rider loomed out +of the darkness and dragged his horse to a halt, a +dozen yards from the mine owner, in such a position +that he was directly behind one of the pack +horses.</p> +<p>“Up with your hands!” ordered Bellamy on suspicion.</p> +<p>Two hands went swiftly up from beside the saddle. +The moonlight gleamed on something bright +in the right hand. A flash rent the night. A jagged, +red-hot pain tore through the shoulder of Hal Yarnell. +He fired wildly, the shock having spoiled his +aim.</p> +<p>The attacker laughed exultantly, mockingly, as +he swung his horse about.</p> +<p>“A present from Black MacQueen,” he jeered.</p> +<p>With that, he was gone again, taking the pack +animal with him. He had had the audacity to come +back after his loot—and had got some of it, too.</p> +<p>One of the unwounded cowpunchers gave pursuit, +but half an hour later he returned ruefully.</p> +<p>“I lost him somehow—darned if I know how. I +seen him before me one minute; the next he was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333' name='page_333'></a>333</span> +gone. Must ’a’ known some trail that led off from +the road, I reckon.”</p> +<p>Bellamy said nothing. He intended to take up +the trail in person; but first the wounded had to be +looked to, a man dispatched for a doctor, and things +made safe against another possible but improbable +attack. It was to be a busy night; for he had on +hand three wounded men, as well as two prisoners +who were sound. An examination showed him that +neither of the two wounded outlaws nor Farnum +nor Yarnell were fatally shot. All were hardy outdoors +men, who had lived in the balsamic air of +the hills; if complications did not ensue, they would +recover beyond question.</p> +<p>In this extremity Rosario was a first aid to the +injured. She had betrayed the bandits without the +least compunction, because they had ignored the oath +of vengeance against the slayer of her son; but she +nursed them all impartially and skillfully until the +doctor arrived, late next day.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Bellamy and McKinstra, guided by +one of the outlaws, surprised Jeff and released Flatray, +who returned with them to camp.</p> +<p>With the doctor had come also four members of +the Lee posse. To the deputy in charge Jack turned +over his four prisoners and the gold recovered. +As soon as the doctor had examined and dressed +his wound he mounted and took the trail after MacQueen. +With him rode Bellamy.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_MELISSY_ENTERTAINS' id='XIII_MELISSY_ENTERTAINS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334' name='page_334'></a>334</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>MELISSY ENTERTAINS</h3> +</div> + +<p>The notes of Schumann’s “Traümerei” died +away. Melissy glanced over her music, +and presently ran lightly into Chopin’s +“Valse Au Petit Chien.” She was, after all, only +a girl; and there were moments when she forgot +to remember that she was wedded to the worst +of unhanged villains. When she drowned herself +fathoms deep in her music, she had the best chance +of forgetting.</p> +<p>Chaminade’s “The Flatterer” followed. In the +midst of this the door opened quietly and closed +again. Melissy finished, fingered her music, and +became somehow aware that she was not alone. She +turned unhurriedly on the seat and met the smiling +eyes of her husband.</p> +<p>From his high-heeled boots to his black, glossy +hair, Black MacQueen was dusty with travel. Beside +him was a gunny sack, tied in the middle and +filled at both ends. Picturesque he was and always +would be, but his present costume scarce fitted the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335' name='page_335'></a>335</span> +presence of a lady. Yet of this he gave no sign. +He was leaning back in a morris chair, rakish, +debonair, and at his ease. Evidently, he had been +giving appreciative ear to the music, and more appreciative +eye to the musician.</p> +<p>“So it’s you,” said Melissy, white to the lips.</p> +<p>MacQueen arose, recovered his dusty hat from +the floor, and bowed theatrically. “Your long-lost +husband, my dear.”</p> +<p>“What are you doing here?”</p> +<p>“I’m visiting my wife. The explanation seems +a trifle obvious.”</p> +<p>“What do you want?”</p> +<p>“Have I said I wanted anything?”</p> +<p>“Then you had better leave. I’ll give you up if +I get a chance.”</p> +<p>He looked at her with lazy derision. “I like +you angry. Your eyes snap electricity, sweet.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” She gave a gesture of impatience. “Do +you know that, if I were to step to that window +and call out your name, the whole town would be +in arms against you?”</p> +<p>“Why don’t you?”</p> +<p>“I shall, if you don’t go.”</p> +<p>“Are you alone in the house?”</p> +<p>“Why do you ask?” Her heart was beating fast.</p> +<p>“Because you must hide me till night. Is your +father here?”</p> +<p>“Not now. He is hunting you—to kill you if he +finds you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_336' name='page_336'></a>336</span></p> +<p>“Servants?”</p> +<p>“The cook is out for the afternoon. She will be +back in an hour or two.”</p> +<p>“Good! Get me food.”</p> +<p>She did not rise. “I must know more. What is +it? Are they hunting you? What have you done +now?” A strong suppressed excitement beat in her +pulses.</p> +<p>“It is not what I have done, but what your friends +have done. Yesterday I went to exchange West +for the ransom money. Most of my men I had to +take with me, to guard against foul play. We held +the caņon from the flat tops, and everything went +all right. The exchange was made. We took the +ransom money back to the Cache. I don’t know +how it was—whether somebody played me false and +sold us, or whether your friend Flatray got loose +and his posse stumbled in by accident. But there +they were in the Cache when we got back.”</p> +<p>“Yes?” The keenest agitation was in Melissy’s +voice.</p> +<p>“They took us by surprise. We fought. Two +of my men ran away. Two were shot down. I +was alone.”</p> +<p>“And then?”</p> +<p>The devil of torment moved in him. “Then I +shot up one of your friend’s outfit, rode away, +changed my mind, and went back, shot your friend, +and hiked off into the hills with a pack horse loaded +with gold.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_337' name='page_337'></a>337</span></p> +<p>Out of all this one thing stood out terribly to +her. “You shot Jack Flatray—again!”</p> +<p>He laughed. One lie more or less made no difference. +“I sure did.”</p> +<p>She had to moisten her lips before she could ask +the next question: “You—killed him?”</p> +<p>“No—worse luck!”</p> +<p>“How do you know?”</p> +<p>“He and another man were on the trail after me +to-day. I saw them pass up Moose Creek from a +ledge on which I was lying. If I had had a rifle, +I would have finished the job; but my carbine was +gone. It was too far for a six-gun.”</p> +<p>“But, if you wounded him last night, how could +he be trailing you to-day?”</p> +<p>“I reckon it was a flesh wound. His shoulder +was tied up, I noticed.” Impatiently he waved +Flatray out of the conversation. “I didn’t come +here to tell you about him. I got to get out on tonight’s +train. This country has grown too hot for +me. You’re going with me?”</p> +<p>“No!”</p> +<p>“Yes, by God!”</p> +<p>“I’ll never go with you—never—never!” she +cried passionately. “I’m free of the bargain. You +broke faith. So shall I.”</p> +<p>She saw his jaw clamp. “So you’re going to +throw me down, are you?”</p> +<p>Melissy stood before him, slim and straight, without +yielding an inch. She was quite colorless, for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_338' name='page_338'></a>338</span> +he was a man with whose impulses she could not +reckon. But one thing she knew. He could never +take her away with him and escape. And she knew +that he must know it, too.</p> +<p>“If you want to call it that. You tricked me +into marrying you. You meant to betray me all +the time. Go, while there’s still a chance. I don’t +want your blood on my hands.”</p> +<p>It was characteristic of him that he always wanted +more what he could not get.</p> +<p>“Don’t answer so quick, girl. Listen to me. +I’ve got enough in that sack to start us in the cattle +business in Argentina. There’s more buried in +the hills, if we need it. Girl, I tell you I’m going +to run straight from to-day!”</p> +<p>She laughed scornfully. “And in the same +breath you tell me how much you have stolen and +are taking with you. If you were a Crœsus, I +wouldn’t go with you.” She flamed into sudden, +fierce passion. “Will you never understand that I +hate and detest you?”</p> +<p>“You think you do, but you don’t. You love me—only +you won’t let yourself believe it.”</p> +<p>“There’s no arguing with such colossal conceit,” +she retorted, with hard laughter. “It’s no use to +tell you that I should like to see you dead at my +feet.”</p> +<p>Swiftly he slid a revolver from its holster, and +presented it to her, butt first. “You can have your +wish right easy, if you mean it. Go to it. There’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_339' name='page_339'></a>339</span> +no danger. All you’ve got to give out is that I +frightened you. You’ll be a heroine, too.”</p> +<p>She looked at the weapon and at him, and the +very thought of it made her sick. She saw the +thing almost as if it were already done—the smoking +revolver in her hand, and the man lying motionless +before her.</p> +<p>“Take it away,” she said, with a shudder.</p> +<p>“You see, you can’t do it! You can’t even go +to the window there and shout out that Black MacQueen +is with you in the house. You don’t hate +me at all, my dear.”</p> +<p>“Because I won’t kill you with my own hand? +You reason logically.”</p> +<p>“Then why don’t you betray my presence? Why +don’t you call your friends in to take me?”</p> +<p>“I’m not sure that I won’t; but if I don’t, it will +be for their sakes, and not for yours. They could +not take you without loss of life.”</p> +<p>“You’re right there,” he agreed, with a flash of +his tigerish ferocity. “They couldn’t take me alive +at all, and I reckon before I checked in a few of +them would.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_BLACK_MACQUEEN_CASHES_HIS_CHECKS' id='XIV_BLACK_MACQUEEN_CASHES_HIS_CHECKS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_340' name='page_340'></a>340</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>BLACK MACQUEEN CASHES HIS CHECKS</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was part of his supreme audacity to trust +her. While he was changing his dusty, travel-stained +clothes for some that belonged to her +brother she prepared a meal for him downstairs. +A dozen times the impulse was on her to fly into +the street and call out that Black MacQueen was +in the house, but always she restrained herself. He +was going to leave the country within a few hours. +Better let him go without bloodshed.</p> +<p>He came down to his dinner fresh from a bath +and a shave, wearing a new tweed suit, which fitted +him a trifle loosely, but was not unbecoming to his +trim, lithe figure. No commercial traveler at a +familiar hotel could have been more jauntily and +blithely at home.</p> +<p>“So you didn’t run away!” He grinned.</p> +<p>“Not yet. I’m going to later. I owe you a meal, +and I wanted to pay it first.”</p> +<p>It was his very contempt of fear that had held +her. To fool away half an hour in dressing, knowing +that it was very likely she might be summoning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_341' name='page_341'></a>341</span> +men to kill him—to come down confident and unperturbed, +possibly to meet his death—was such a +piece of dare-deviltry as won reluctant admiration, +in spite of her detestation of him. Even if she did +not give him up, his situation was precarious in the +extreme. All the trains were being watched; and +in spite of this he had to walk boldly to the station, +buy a ticket, and pass himself off for an ordinary +traveler.</p> +<p>Both knew that the chances were against him, +but he gave no sign of concern or anxiety. Never +had Melissy seen him so full of spirits. The situation +would have depressed most men; him it merely +stimulated. The excitement of it ran like wine +through his blood. Driven from his hills, with +every man’s hand against him, with the avenues +of escape apparently closed, he was in his glory. +He would play his cards out to the end, without +whining, no matter how the game might go.</p> +<p>Melissy washed the dishes, in order that the cook +might not know that she had had a guest for luncheon. +The two returned to the living room. It was +his whim to have her play for him; and she was +glad to comply, because it interfered with his wooing. +She was no longer greatly afraid of him, for +she knew that he was on his good behavior to win +her liking.</p> +<p>Fortune favored her. For some time they had +heard the cook moving about in the kitchen. Once +she had poked her head in to know whether her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_342' name='page_342'></a>342</span> +young mistress would like the cherry pie for dinner.</p> +<p>“I didn’t know yez had company, Miss ’Lissie,” +she had apologized.</p> +<p>“This gentleman will stay to dinner,” Melissy +had announced.</p> +<p>At luncheon Melissy had not eaten with him; +but at dinner it was necessary, on account of the +cook, that she sit down, too. The meal had scarce +begun when Kate came beaming in.</p> +<p>“Shure, Miss ’Lissie, there’s another young gentleman +at the door. It’s Mr. Bellamy. I tould him +to come right in. He’s washing his face first.”</p> +<p>Melissy rose, white as a sheet. “All right, Kate.”</p> +<p>But as soon as the cook had left the room she +turned to the outlaw. “What shall I do? What +shall I do?”</p> +<p>Little whimsical imps of mischief shone in his +eyes. “Have him in and introduce him to your +husband, my dear.”</p> +<p>“You must go—quick. If I don’t get rid of him, +you’ll be able to slip out the back way and get to +the depot. He doesn’t know you are here.”</p> +<p>MacQueen sat back and gave her his easy, reckless +smile. “Guess again. Bellamy can’t drive me +out.”</p> +<p>She caught her hands together. “Oh, go—go! +There will be trouble. You wouldn’t kill him before +my very eyes!”</p> +<p>“Not unless he makes the first play. It’s up to +him.” He laughed with the very delight of it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_343' name='page_343'></a>343</span> +“I’d as lief settle my account with him right now. +He’s meddled too much in my affairs.”</p> +<p>She broke out in a cry of distress: “You +wouldn’t! I’ve treated you fair. I could have betrayed +you, and I didn’t. Aren’t you going to play +square with me?”</p> +<p>He nodded. “All right. Show him in. He +won’t know me except as Lieutenant O’Connor. It +was too dark last night to see my face.”</p> +<p>Bellamy came into the room.</p> +<p>“How’s Jack?” Melissy asked quickly as she +caught his hand.</p> +<p>“Good as new. And you?”</p> +<p>“All right.”</p> +<p>The outlaw stirred uneasily in his seat. His vanity +objected to another man holding the limelight +while he was present.</p> +<p>Melissy turned. “I think you have never met +Lieutenant O’Connor, Mr. Bellamy. Lieutenant—Mr. +Bellamy.”</p> +<p>They shook hands. MacQueen smiled. He was +enjoying himself.</p> +<p>“Glad to meet you, Mr. Bellamy. You and Flatray +have won the honors surely. You beat us all +to it, sir. As I rode in this mornin’, everybody was +telling how you rounded up the outlaws. Have +you caught MacQueen himself?”</p> +<p>“Not yet. We have reason to believe that he +rode within ten miles of town this morning before +he cut across to the railroad. The chances are that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_344' name='page_344'></a>344</span> +he will try to board a train at some water tank in +the dark. We’re having them all watched. I came +in to telephone all stations to look out for him.”</p> +<p>“Where’s Jack?” Melissy asked.</p> +<p>“He’ll be here presently. His arm was troubling +him some, so he stopped to see the doctor. Then +he has to talk with his deputy.”</p> +<p>“You’re sure he isn’t badly hurt?”</p> +<p>“No, only a scratch, he calls it.”</p> +<p>“Did you happen on Dead Man’s Cache by accident?” +asked MacQueen with well-assumed carelessness.</p> +<p>Bellamy had no intention of giving Rosario away +to anybody. “You might call it that,” he said +evenly. “You know, I had been near there once +when I was out hunting.”</p> +<p>“Do you expect to catch MacQueen?” the outlaw +asked, a faint hint of irony in his amused voice.</p> +<p>“I can’t tell. That’s what I’m hoping, lieutenant.”</p> +<p>“We hope for a heap of things we never get,” +returned the outlaw, in a gentle voice, his eyes half +shuttered behind drooping lids.</p> +<p>Melissy cut into the conversation hurriedly. +“Lieutenant O’Connor is going on the seven-five +this evening, Mr. Bellamy. He has business that +will take him away for a while. It is time we were +going. Won’t you walk down to the train with us?”</p> +<p>MacQueen swore softly under his breath, but +there was nothing he could say in protest. He knew +he could not take the girl with him. Now he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_345' name='page_345'></a>345</span> +been cheated out of his good-byes by her woman’s +wit in dragging Bellamy to the depot with them. +He could not but admire the adroitness with which +she had utilized her friend to serve her end.</p> +<p>They walked to the station three abreast, the outlaw +carrying as lightly as he could the heavy suitcase +that held his plunder. Melissy made small talk +while they waited for the train. She was very nervous, +and she was trying not to show it.</p> +<p>“Next time you come, lieutenant, we’ll have a fine +stone depot to show you. Mr. West has promised +to make Mesa the junction point, and we’re sure +to have a boom,” she said.</p> +<p>A young Mexican vaquero trailed softly behind +them, the inevitable cigarette between his lips. From +under his broad, silver-laced sombrero he looked +keenly at each of the three as he passed.</p> +<p>A whistle sounded clearly in the distance.</p> +<p>The outlaw turned to the girl beside him. “I’m +coming back some day soon. Be sure of that, Mrs. +MacQueen.”</p> +<p>The audacity of the name used, designed as it +was to stab her friend and to remind Melissy how +things stood, made the girl gasp. She looked +quickly at Bellamy and saw him crush the anger +from his face.</p> +<p>The train drew into the station. Presently the +conductor’s “All aboard!” served notice that it was +starting. The outlaw shook hands with Melissy +and then with the mine owner. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_346' name='page_346'></a>346</span></p> +<p>“Good-bye. Don’t forget that I’m coming back,” +he said, in a perfectly distinct, low tone.</p> +<p>And with that he swung aboard the Pullman car +with his heavy suitcase. An instant later the Mexican +vaquero pulled himself to the vestibule of the +smoking car ahead.</p> +<p>MacQueen looked back from the end of the train +at the two figures on the platform. A third figure +had joined them. It was Jack Flatray. The girl +and the sheriff were looking at each other. With +a furious oath, he turned on his heel. For the evidence +of his eyes had told him that they were lovers.</p> +<p>MacQueen passed into the coach and flung himself +down into his section discontentedly. The savor +of his adventure was gone. He had made his escape +with a large share of the plunder, in spite of spies +and posses. But in his heart he knew that he had +lost forever the girl whom he had forced to marry +him. He was still thinking about it somberly when +a figure appeared in the aisle at the end of the car.</p> +<p>Instantly the outlaw came to alert attention, and +his hand slipped to the butt of a revolver. The +figure was that of the Mexican vaquero whom he +had carelessly noted on the platform of the station. +Vigilantly his gaze covered the approaching man. +Surely in Arizona there were not two men with +that elastic tread or that lithe, supple figure.</p> +<p>His revolver flashed in the air. “Stand back, +Bucky O’Connor—or, by God, I’ll drill you!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_347' name='page_347'></a>347</span></p> +<p>The vaquero smiled. “Right guess, Black MacQueen. +I arrest you in the name of the law.”</p> +<p>Black’s revolver spat flame twice before the +ranger’s gun got into action, but the swaying of the +train caused him to stagger as he rose to his feet.</p> +<p>The first shot of Bucky’s revolver went through +the heart of the outlaw; but so relentless was the +man that, even after that, his twitching fingers emptied +the revolver. O’Connor fired only once. He +watched his opponent crumple up, fling wild shots +into the upholstery and through the roof, and sink +into the silence from which there is no awakening +on this side of the grave. Then he went forward +and looked down at him.</p> +<p>“I reckon that ends Black MacQueen,” he said +quietly. “And I reckon Melissy Lee is a widow.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Jack Flatray had met O’Connor at his own office +and the two had come down to the station on the +off chance that MacQueen might try to make his +getaway from Mesa in some disguise. But as soon +as he saw Melissy the sheriff had eyes for nobody +else except the girl he loved. One sleeve of his +coat was empty, and his shoulder was bandaged. +He looked very tired and drawn; for he had ridden +hard more than sixteen hours with a painful wound. +But the moment his gaze met hers she knew that +his thoughts were all for her and her trouble.</p> +<p>His free hand went out to meet hers. She forgot +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_348' name='page_348'></a>348</span> +MacQueen and all the sorrow he had brought +her. Her eyes were dewy with love and his answered +eagerly. She knew now that she would +love Jack Flatray for better or worse until death +should part them. But she knew, too, that the +shadow of MacQueen, her husband by law, was +between them.</p> +<p>Together they walked back from the depot. In +the shadow of the vines on her father’s porch they +stopped. Jack caught her hands in his and looked +down into her tired, haggard face all lit with love. +Tears were in the eyes of both.</p> +<p>“You’re entitled to the truth, Jack,” she told him. +“I love you. I think I always have. And I know +I always shall. But I’m another man’s wife. It +will have to be good-bye between us, Jack,” she told +him wistfully.</p> +<p>He took her in his arms and kissed her. “You’re +my sweetheart. I’ll not give you up. Don’t +think it.”</p> +<p>He spoke with such strength, such assurance, that +she knew he would not yield without a struggle.</p> +<p>“I’ll never be anything to him—never. But he +stands between us. Don’t you see he does?”</p> +<p>“No. Your marriage to him is empty words. +We’ll have it annulled. It will not stand in any +court. I’ve won you and I’m going to keep you. +There’s no two ways about that.”</p> +<p>She broke down and began to sob quietly in a +heartbroken fashion, while he tried to comfort her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_349' name='page_349'></a>349</span> +It was not so easy as he thought. So long as MacQueen +lived Flatray would walk in danger if she +did as he wanted her to do.</p> +<p>Neither of them knew that Bucky O’Connor’s +bullet had already annulled the marriage, that happiness +was already on the wing to them.</p> +<p>This hour was to be for their grief, the next for +their joy.</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:2em; font-variant:small-caps;'>The End</p> +</div> + +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2em;'>NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE BY</p> +<p style='font-size:1.4em;'>WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:2em;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list.</p> +</div> + +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>MAVERICKS</span></p> +<p>A tale of the western frontier, where the “rustler” abounds. One of the sweetest +love stories ever told.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>A TEXAS RANGER</span></p> +<p>How a member of the border police saved the life of an innocent man, followed a +fugitive to Wyoming, and then passed through deadly peril to ultimate happiness.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>WYOMING</span></p> +<p>In this vivid story the author brings out the turbid life of the frontier with all its +engaging dash and vigor.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>RIDGWAY OF MONTANA</span></p> +<p>The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics and mining industries +are the religion of the country.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>BUCKY O’CONNOR</span></p> +<p>Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with the dashing +spirit of the border.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT</span></p> +<p>A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of a bitter feud between +cattlemen and sheep-herders.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>BRAND BLOTTERS</span></p> +<p>A story of the turbid life of the frontier with a charming love interest running +through its pages.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>STEVE YEAGER</span></p> +<p>A story brimful of excitement, with enough gun-play and adventure to suit anyone.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>A DAUGHTER OF THE DONS</span></p> +<p>A Western story of romance and adventure, comprising a vivacious and stirring +tale.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE HIGHGRADER</span></p> +<p>A breezy, pleasant and amusing love story of Western mining life.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE PIRATE OF PANAMA</span></p> +<p>A tale of old-time pirates and of modern love, hate and adventure.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE YUKON TRAIL</span></p> +<p>A crisply entertaining love story in the land where might makes right.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE VISION SPLENDID</span></p> +<p>In which two cousins are contestants for the same prizes: political honors and the +hand of a girl.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE SHERIFF’S SON</span></p> +<p>The hero finally conquers both himself and his enemies and wins the love of a +wonderful girl.</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='font-size:1.4em; margin-top:1em;'>JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD’S</p> +<p style='font-size:1.2em;'>STORIES OF ADVENTURE</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:2em;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list.</p> +</div> + +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE RIVER’S END</span></p> +<p>A story of the Royal Mounted Police.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE GOLDEN SNARE</span></p> +<p>Thrilling adventures in the Far Northland.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>NOMADS OF THE NORTH</span></p> +<p>The story of a bear-cub and a dog.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>KAZAN</span></p> +<p>The tale of a “quarter-strain wolf and three-quarters husky” torn +between the call of the human and his wild mate.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>BAREE, SON OF KAZAN</span></p> +<p>The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the gallant part +he played in the lives of a man and a woman.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM</span></p> +<p>The story of the King of Beaver Island, a Mormon colony, and his +battle with Captain Plum.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE DANGER TRAIL</span></p> +<p>A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a mystery of the North.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE HUNTED WOMAN</span></p> +<p>A tale of a great fight in the “valley of gold” for a woman.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH</span></p> +<p>The story of Fort o’ God, where the wild flavor of the wilderness +is blended with the courtly atmosphere of France.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE GRIZZLY KING</span></p> +<p>The story of Thor, the big grizzly.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>ISOBEL</span></p> +<p>A love story of the Far North.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE WOLF HUNTERS</span></p> +<p>A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE GOLD HUNTERS</span></p> +<p>The story of adventure in the Hudson Bay wilds.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>THE COURAGE OF MARGE O’DOONE</span></p> +<p>Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and women.</p> +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>BACK TO GOD’S COUNTRY</span></p> +<p>A thrilling story of the Far North. The great Photoplay was made +from this book.</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> +</div> + +<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.58 --> +<!-- timestamp: Sun Dec 07 06:01:41 -0700 2008 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Brand Blotters, by William MacLeod Raine + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRAND BLOTTERS *** + +***** This file should be named 27436-h.htm or 27436-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/4/3/27436/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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