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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/28585-8.txt b/28585-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4d53470 --- /dev/null +++ b/28585-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9309 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of With Hoops of Steel, by Florence Finch Kelly + +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: With Hoops of Steel + +Author: Florence Finch Kelly + +Illustrator: Dan Smith + +Release Date: April 22, 2009 [EBook #28585] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH HOOPS OF STEEL *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + WITH + HOOPS OF STEEL + + BY + FLORENCE FINCH KELLY + + ILLUSTRATED BY + DAN SMITH + + "_The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, + Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel._" + + NEW YORK + GROSSET & DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS + + Made in the United States of America + + + + +COPYRIGHT 1900 + +THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + + +[Illustration: "ON AND ON THROUGH THE NIGHT THEY GALLOPED, NECK TO +NECK AND HEEL TO HEEL."--_p. 63_] + + + + +PUBLISHERS' NOTE + +Owen Wister's THE VIRGINIAN and Florence Finch Kelly's WITH +HOOPS OF STEEL were the first of the modern cow-boy novels. Twenty-five +years have passed since Mrs. Kelly's enthralling story first +appeared--September, 1900. Most of the novels published then and +since, are dead and forgotten. Not so WITH HOOPS OF STEEL. It +was in continuous demand from its first friendly welcome by the critics +until the World War turned public attention to Europe. Even so its +vitality persisted, justified this new edition, and seems to warrant +the belief that the present generation will find its story interest as +vivid and as exciting as did the past, and its value even greater, for +it presents an authentic portrait of the old southwestern cattlemen +and a fascinating picture of a phase of national development now passed +into history. + + THE PUBLISHERS. + + + + +WITH HOOPS OF STEEL + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The soft, muffling dusk settled slowly downward from the darkening +blue sky and little by little smothered the weird gleam that rose from +the gray-white plain. Away toward the east a range of mountains +gloomed faintly, rimming the distance. Another towered against the +western horizon. Cactus clumps and bunches of mesquite and greasewood +blotted the whitely gleaming earth. In and out among these dark spots +a man was slowly riding. Now and then he leaned forward and looked +keenly through the growing darkness as though searching for some +familiar landmark. The horse lagged across the heavy sand, with +drooping head and ears. The rider patted its neck with a buckskin +gloved hand and spoke cheerily to the tired animal: + +"Hot and tired, ain't you, old fellow? You want your supper and a big +drink of water. Well, you oughtn't to have wandered off the road while +I was asleep. Now, I sure reckon we've got to bunk on a sand heap +to-night and wait till daylight to find out where we are." + +Again he peered through the dusk, and a little ray of light came +glimmering from far away toward the right. He knew that it must come +from either a ranch house or a camp-fire. + +"I don't remember any ranch as far up toward the White Sands as that +seems to be," he thought. "It must be a camp-fire. We don't know whose +it is, old pard, but we're goin' to take chances on it." + +He rode on in silence, the bridle lying loosely on the horse's neck. +All the senses of the plainsman were on the alert, his ears were +strained to catch the faintest sound that might come from the +direction of the fire, while his eyes alternately swept the darkened +plain and fastened themselves on the light. His horse pricked up its +ears and gave a loud whinny, which was answered in kind from the +direction of the fire. Presently the man shouted a loud "hello," but +there was no reply. "That's queer!" he thought. "My voice ought to +carry that far, sure!" He waited a few moments, listening intently, +then, drawing in a deep breath, he sent out another long, loud call +that bellowed across the plain and sank into the far darkness. Still +there was no reply, but when his horse neighed again there was instant +response. The animal had quickened its pace and with head up and ears +bent forward was rapidly lessening the distance between them and the +light. The rider could see that it was a camp-fire, and soon could +distinguish the flickering of the flames, but, in the illuminated +circle around it there was no sign of human beings nor shadow of +moving life. He drew rein and again sent a full lunged, far-reaching +"hello-o-o" across the distance. The moon, just showing a silver edge +above the mountain tops, threw a faint glimmer of light across the +plain, making visible the nearest clumps of bushes. + +"I guess that would mighty near wake a dead man. If there's anybody +alive around that camp they sure heard me this time," he thought, as +he looked and listened with straining eyes and ears. But there was no +movement about the fire, and another whinny was the only sound that +came from its direction. "Mighty queer!" was his inward comment, as +his hand sought the revolver which hung by his side, while a light +pressure of spurs started his horse forward again. Suddenly there was +a swift rustle of the bushes beside him. + +"Stop! Throw up your hands!" + +A man had sprung from a tall clump of mesquite, and the traveler saw +the faint light reflected from a gun barrel pointed straight at his +breast. He stopped his horse, but did not respond to the other +summons; instead, his fingers closed quickly over the butt of his +revolver. + +"Throw up your hands, or I'll blow a hole through you!" + +"Well, the drop's yours, stranger, so here goes," and the traveler's +hands went straight above his head. + +"That's better! Now, what do you want here?" + +"I saw your camp-fire and I reckoned I might get some water for my +horse and some supper for myself." + +"Who are you?" + +"My name is Thomson Tuttle." + +"What are you doing here?" + +"Attendin' to my own affairs and lettin' other people's alone." + +"You allowed just now it was my drop." There was a note of warning in +the man's voice. The traveler hesitated a moment. The click of a +trigger quickened his discretion. + +"I am on my way from Muletown to Las Plumas, but I lost the road this +afternoon and I've no idea where I am now. As soon as I saw your +camp-fire I came straight for it, for my horse needs water mighty +bad." + +There was a moment of silence. The moon was well above the mountains, +and in its brightening light the form of the traveler stood out in +ridiculous silhouette, his hands held high above his head. He could +see plainly the figure of the man and the gun leveled at his breast. + +"How long had you been in Muletown?" + +"I got in this forenoon, and I guess I stopped an hour. I left about +noon." + +"Where from?" + +"I started yesterday morning from Millbank. I had been there two days. +I went there from Santa Fe. I've been in New Mexico about ten years, +and I was born--" + +"Never mind about that. You can have some supper. Unfasten your belt +with your left hand, and be sure to keep your right hand where it is." +Tuttle's left hand fumbled a moment with his cartridge belt, and +revolver and belt dropped to the ground. + +"Anything else?" + +"No." + +"Put up your hands again until I fix these things." + +Again the traveler lifted his hands above his head, while the other +buckled the belt around his own body, which it circled above another +already heavy with cartridges and revolver. This latter weapon he drew +from his holster, and, coming close beside Tuttle, held it at cock +while he passed his hand lightly over the rider's person. + +"I guess you spoke the truth," he said, returning the pistol to his +belt, and again leveling the shot-gun. "Now, Mr. Thomson Tuttle, +you've been a gentleman so far, and as long as you keep up that play +you'll be all right. You won't be hurt if you don't make any breaks. +Take down your hands and we'll go into camp and have some supper." + +Tuttle held his hands motionless in the air a moment longer as he +said: + +"Any objection to my askin' who you are?" + +"You said yourself that the drop's mine." + +"All right, pard." + +As they neared the camp, the man called to him to dismount, walk +forward and sit down in a wagon seat near the fire. Tuttle could see +the wagon from which the seat had been taken, a small, light affair, +standing back in the shadow, and near it two horses feeding. Another +man stood a little way off with leveled gun, apparently relieving +guard for the first. He was in the shade of a tall mesquite bush, but +Tuttle could see that he was of medium height and build and was +dressed in a Mexican suit of closely fitting, braided trousers and +jacket. The wide brim of his Mexican sombrero was pulled low over his +eyes, so that only the lower part of his face could be seen, and that +dimly. But it was evidently dark-skinned, and the mouth was shaded by +a black mustache. "Some Greaser scalawag," was Tuttle's immediate +decision. The other unsaddled, watered and fed the horse, and then +returned to the fire and began making coffee. + +"We haven't much to eat," he said apologetically, "but you're welcome +to a share of whatever we've got." + +Soon he put beside Tuttle a supper of hot coffee, fried bacon, canned +baked beans, and a loaf of bread. Then he sat on the ground near by +and talked cheerfully while Tuttle ate, now and then urging him, in +hospitable fashion, to eat heartily. But all the time he held his +revolver in his hand, and the other man stood in the shadow with his +Winchester ready to fire at a second's notice. Tuttle and his captor +talked on in a friendly way for half an hour after supper, while the +other still kept guard from the shadow of the mesquite bush. At last +the first man got up leisurely, took a flask from his pocket and +handed it to Tuttle with the request, "Drink hearty, pard." With a +little flourish and a kindly "Here's luck," he took a long pull +himself, then, telling Tuttle he could use his saddle for a pillow and +lie down near the fire, he picked up his shot-gun and sat down on the +wagon seat and the man who had stood beside the mesquite walked away +into the bushes. + +"Now," said the man with the shot-gun, "you can sleep just as sound as +a baby in its cradle, for I'm going to watch here and see that the +coyotes don't bite you. You'll be safe," and the note of warning +filled his voice again, "as long as you don't make any breaks." + +"I'm not a fool," responded Tuttle, stretching out on the ground and +resting his head against the saddle. Whenever he awoke during the +night he saw his guard keeping alert watch, gun in hand and revolver +by his side. Just before daybreak the other man returned and held +guard while the first watered and saddled Tuttle's horse and prepared +breakfast. The captive was dimly conscious of the change, and then +slept again until he was awakened at sunrise. + +"I had a mind to wake you by shooting a button off your coat, just to +see if that would do the business," said his host, smiling pleasantly, +as he handed Tuttle the flask which had done duty the night before. "I +reckon you're about the soundest sleeper I ever saw." + +By daylight Tuttle saw that the man was well along in middle life and +that his face was smoothly shaven. Tuttle himself looked to be less +than thirty years old. He was tall, broad of shoulder and big of +girth, with large hands and great, round, well-muscled wrists that +told of arms like limbs of oak and of legs like iron pillars. + +The young man ate his breakfast alone, his captor standing near by and +talking pleasantly with him, but holding alertly a shot-gun at half +cock, while crouching behind a bunch of greasewood was the Mexican +with a drawn pistol in his hands. As Tuttle mounted, the tall man +called out sternly: + +"Hold up your hands!" + +Tuttle hesitated for a moment, looking at him in surprise. + +"I mean it!" and the trigger of his shot-gun clicked to full cock. +Tuttle's hands went up quickly. The man came beside him and buckled on +his cartridge belt, with the revolver in its holster. Then he backed +to his own horse, mounted it, and leveled his shot-gun at Tuttle's +breast. + +"Now you can take down your hands and go," he said. "But remember that +I'm ridin' behind you, ready to bang a hole through your head if you +make the first motion toward your gun, or anything happens that ain't +straight. I'll put you on the road to Plumas, and then I want you to +make tracks, for we've got no time to waste." + +As they rode away, Tuttle could hear the hoof beats of two horses and +knew that both men were following. After a few miles the tall man +called to Tuttle to halt and said, pointing to a road that wound a +white line across the distance: + +"That's your road over there, and you can go on, now alone. But I want +you to remember that I'm here watchin' you, with two loads of buckshot +and six of lead, and every one of them is goin' plumb through you if +you ain't square. You've been a gentleman so far, and dead game, and +I'm proud to've met you, Mr. Thomson Tuttle. If it ever comes my way +to treat you whiter than I have this time, I'll be glad to do it. +Good-bye, sir." + +As Tuttle rode away, he saw, from the corner of his eye, the tall man, +shot-gun in hand, sitting motionless on his horse, and the other, +watchful, holding a rifle, a little distance behind him. The young man +put spurs to his horse and rode several miles with his eyes steadily +in front of him, discreetly holding curiosity in check. He did not +look back until he reached the highroad, and then he saw his two +captors galloping across the plain toward their camp. He took out his +pistol and examined it carefully. It was just as he had left it the +night before. + +"They might have put every bullet into my head," was his mental +comment, "but they didn't, and they might have emptied 'em all out and +left me in a box. But they didn't do that, either. I guess they played +as square as they could." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +"Me, Tom Tuttle, holding up my hands while a fellow takes my gun! What +will Emerson Mead say to that! Well, I reckon he wouldn't have done +different, for Emerson's got good judgment." + +Such was Tuttle's soliloquy as he mounted the gradual ascent of the +range that bounded the plain on the west. Alternately he chuckled and +slapped his thigh in appreciation of the joke on himself, and exploded +an indignant oath as mortified pride asserted itself. + +After a time he espied a black dot in a halo of dust coming down the +mountain side. He considered it a moment and then decided, "It's a man +on horseback." He took out his revolver and, holding it in his hand, +made another scrutiny of the approaching figure. + +"Je-e-mima! If he don't ride like Nick Ellhorn! I shouldn't wonder if +it's Nick!" + +Presently the figure flourished a black sombrero and down the dusty +road came a yell which began full-lunged and ended in a screeching +"whee-ee-e." Tuttle answered with a loud "hello," and both men put +spurs to their horses and were soon shaking hands. + +"What's the news at Plumas and out at Emerson's?" asked Tuttle. + +"Oh, things are fairly quiet at Plumas just now, but you never know +when hell is going to break loose there. You're just in time, though, +for Emerson's up to his ears in fight. Goin' to stay?" + +"I will if Emerson needs me. I've been with Marshal Black over to +Millbank after some counterfeiters from Colorado. He took 'em back, +and, as he didn't need me, I thought I'd just ride over here and see +if you-all mightn't be in trouble and need some help." + +"Ain't after anybody, then?" + +"No. But, say, Nick! I struck the darndest outfit last night! I got +regularly held up!" + +"What! You! Held up?" + +"Yes, I did. Sat with my hands in the air like a fool tenderfoot while +a man took my gun and cross-questioned me like a lawyer." + +Ellhorn rolled and rocked on his horse with laughter. When he could +speak he demanded the whole story, which Tuttle told him in detail. + +"What was their lay?" he asked. + +"I'll give it up. I've thought of everything I could, and there ain't +a blamed thing that'll explain it." + +"Tommy, I reckon they need to be arrested about as bad as two men ever +needed anything. Come along and we'll corral 'em." + +"We've got no warrants, Nick!" + +"Haven't you got any in your pockets?" + +"Yes, but not for them." + +"Tommy, you're a deputy marshal, and that outfit took you at a +disadvantage and misused you shameful. You're an officer of the law, +Tommy, and it was as bad as contempt of court! It's our duty to arrest +'em for it and bring 'em in." + +"But we can't do it without warrants, Nick." + +Ellhorn took some papers from his pocket and looked them over. "I'm +lookin' for a Mexican named Antonio Diaz," he said. "Here's the +warrant for his arrest. Violation of the Edmunds act. You say one of +these men was a Mexican. I think likely he's Antonio. We'll go and +find out. Never mind tellin' me how he looked," he went on hastily, as +Tuttle began to speak. "It's likely he's Antonio, and it's my duty to +go and find out. Of course, they'll resist arrest, and then they'll +get their punishment for the way they treated you." + +Tuttle looked disapproving. "Nick, what do you think would be +Emerson's judgment?" + +"Emerson ain't here, and I'm acting on my own judgment, which is to go +after this outfit and pepper 'em full of holes if they're sassy." + +Tuttle shook his head. "I don't like the scheme." + +"Well, it ain't your scheme, and you don't have to like it. I think we +ought to go after these men right now. They've done something they +ought to be arrested for. And, anyway, they ought to be punished for +holdin' you up." + +"Nick, I'd go with you in a minute, you know I would, if we had a +warrant for 'em, or if I had any reason to think that the Mexican is +the man you want. You don't think so yourself. They might have blowed +my brains out any minute, and nobody would ever have known a thing +about it. But they didn't and I reckon they treated me as white as +they could and look after their own interests. It's my judgment, and I +think it would be Emerson's, too, that it would be a mean trick for me +to come up behind 'em and begin shootin', just for holdin' me up, when +they might have treated me a whole heap worse. I won't go with you, +Nick." + +"Sure, then, and I'll go alone," Ellhorn responded cheerfully. + +"They'll be two to one." + +"Not very long, I reckon." + +"Better wait a few days, Nick, till you can go after 'em legally." + +"They'll be out of the country by that time. I'm under no obligations +to be kind to 'em, and I don't mean to be. I'm goin' to camp on their +trail right now." He dismounted and cinched up his saddle and +inspected his revolver. + +Tuttle regarded him dubiously and in silence until he remounted. Then +he said, slowly: "Well, my judgment's against it, Nick, but I won't +see you go off alone into any such scrape as this is bound to be. +I'll go with you, but I won't do any shootin'--unless you need me +mighty bad." + +They galloped back to the scene of Tuttle's captivity the night +before. They found the trail of the wagon, and followed it rapidly +toward the north. Soon they saw a glaring white line against the +horizon. "There's the White Sands," said Ellhorn. "We ought to catch +'em before they get there." A few moments later they came within sight +of the wagon. Tuttle and Ellhorn spurred their horses to a quicker +pace and when they were within hailing distance Ellhorn shouted to its +two occupants to surrender. Their only response was to put whip to +their horses, and Ellhorn sent a pistol ball whizzing past them. They +replied in kind and a quick fusillade began. Tuttle rode silently +beside his companion, not even drawing his six-shooter from its +holster. A bullet bit into the rim of his sombrero, and he grumbled a +big oath under his breath. Another nicked the ear of Ellhorn's horse. +In the wagon, the Mexican was crouched in the bottom, shooting from +behind the seat, apparently taking careful aim. The tall man stood up, +lashing the horses furiously. He turned, holding the reins in one +hand, and with the other discharged another volley, necessarily +somewhat at random. But it came near doing good execution, for one +bullet went through Tuttle's sleeve and another singed the shoulder of +Ellhorn's coat. + +"Whee-ee-e!" shouted Ellhorn. "Sure, and I've winged him! I've hit the +big one in the leg!" + +The next moment his pistol dropped to the ground. A bullet from the +Mexican's Winchester had plowed through his right arm. Tuttle, who had +not even put hand to his revolver, drew rein beside him while the +other men stopped shooting and devoted all their energies to getting +away as quickly as possible. Tuttle tore strips from his shirt with +which to bind Ellhorn's wound, and persuaded him to return to Las +Plumas, where he could have the services of a physician. + +"I guess I'll have to, Tom," he said regretfully. "I'd like to go +after 'em and finish this job up right now. I got one into the big +one, but that's nothin' to what they deserve. Lord! but they need to +be peppered full of holes! But I can't fight now, and you won't, so +it's no use." + +As they rode back Tuttle said: "You say that Emerson's up to his ears +in fight? What's it about? That cattle business?" + +"Yes, that's it. You know he's been havin' trouble for some time with +Colonel Whittaker and the Fillmore Cattle Company, and I reckon hell's +a-popping over there by this time. Colonel Whittaker--he's manager of +the company now, and one of the stock-holders--wants to corral the +whole blamed country for his range. Well, there's Emerson Mead has had +his range for the last five years, and Willet still longer, and +McAlvin and Brewer, they've been there a long time, too, and they all +say they've got more right to the range than the company has, because +they own the water holes, and they don't propose to be crowded out by +no corporation. But I reckon they'll have to fight for their rights if +they get 'em." + +"How's Whittaker off for men? Got anybody that can shoot?" + +"You bet he has. Young Will Whittaker is mighty near as good a shot as +Emerson is. He does most of the managing at their ranch headquarters, +while the old man works politics over in Plumas." + +"Have they had any fights yet?" + +"I haven't seen Emerson for a month. He was over in Plumas then and he +said he expected to have trouble and wanted me to come out." + +"You don't mean to say that the Fillmore outfit is really tryin' to +drive Emerson and the rest of them out of the Fernandez mountains?" + +"Well, they want to get control of the whole range for about a hundred +miles, if they can. And there's some politics mixed up in it, of +course. Old Whittaker is a Republican, you know, with a lot of +political schemes he wants to put through. Of course Emerson and the +others are Democrats and stand in with the party, and the Colonel +thinks he'll be doing the Republicans a big service if he can break +them up. Emerson expected the trouble to come to a head over the +spring round-up, for Colonel Whittaker said that Emerson and McAlvin +and the rest of them shouldn't round-up with him." + +"Well, Emerson won't stand any such nonsense as that!" + +"I guess Whittaker and his cow-boys will have to flirt gravel mighty +fast if they keep him from it!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Unkempt, dusty and dirty, straggling its narrow length for a mile +along the irrigating ditch, the village of Las Plumas lay sleepily +quiet under the hot, white, brooding spring sunshine. A few +trim-looking places cuddled their yards and gardens close against the +life-giving channel, whose green banks, covered with vegetation and +shaded by trees, bisected the town. Elsewhere, naked adobe walls +flanked the dusty streets and from their stark surfaces gave back the +sunshine in a blinding glare. Here and there an umbrella tree, or a +locust, made a welcome splotch of green and shade down the length of +the barren, dusty streets, or the tiny yard of a house set back a +little from the adobe sidewalk held a few clumps of shrubs and +flowers. A half dozen cross streets sprang up among the scattered +adobe houses that dotted the edge of the plain rising to the Hermosa +mountains on the east, crossed the bridges of the irrigating ditch, +and ended in the one business street, which trailed a few closely +built blocks along the western edge of the town, near the railroad and +its depot. On one of these cross streets a yard and orchard of goodly +size extended from the ditch a block or more to the east and +surrounded a flat-roofed, square adobe house. A wide veranda, its +white pillars covered with rose and honeysuckle vines, ran around the +house, and a square of lawn, with shrubs and flowers and trees, filled +the yard. A little boy, perhaps four years old, with flaxen curls +floating about his neck, played in the shade of a fig tree beside the +veranda. + +Down the dusty road which wound a white strip over the pale, +gray-green upland and merged into the street which passed this house, +a man came riding at a leisurely lope. He was tall and broad +shouldered, straight in the back and trim in the girth, and he sat his +horse with the easy, unconscious grace of a man who has lived much in +the saddle. His black sombrero shaded a dark-skinned face, tanned to a +rosy brown. An unshaven stubble of beard darkened his cheeks and a +soft, drooping, black mustache covered his lip. A constant smile +seemed lurking in the corners of his mouth and in his brown eyes. But +his face was square, firm-jawed and resolute, and had in it the look +of a man accustomed to meet men on their own ground and to ask favors +of none. + +He checked his horse to a slow trot and, without turning his head, +searched with a sidewise glance the yard and veranda of the adobe +house. When he saw a flutter of pink inside a window he stopped at the +gate and called to the child: + +"Hello, little Bye-Bye! Don't you want a ride?" + +The child ran to the gate with a shout of welcome. + +"Better ask your sister if you can come." + +"Daisy! Daisy! May I go?" the boy called, running back to the porch. A +young woman in a pale pink muslin gown came out and led the child to +the gate. + +"Good morning, Miss Delarue. May I take little Bye-Bye for a ride?" + +The roses in her cheeks deepened as she looked up and saw the +admiration in his eyes. + +"Certainly, Mr. Mead. It is very kind of you, I'm sure. But please +don't take him far." + +The boy, shouting with laughter, was lifted to the saddle in front of +the rider, and the girl, smiling in sympathy with his delight, leaned +against the gate watching them. She was tall, with the broad +shoulders, deep bosom, slender waist, and clear, blooming complexion +that tell of English nativity. Her eyes were blue, the soft, dark blue +of the cornflower, and her face, a long, thin oval, was gentle and +sweet in expression. Her light brown hair, which shone with an elusive +glimmer of gold in the sunlight, was gathered on her neck in a loose, +rippling mass. She took the child from Mead's hands when they +returned, and her eyes went from the boy's laughing face to the +smiling one of the man. Then the roses deepened again and she looked +away. The man said nothing and they both waited, silent and smiling, +watching the antics of the child. Presently she turned to him again: + +"Are you--do you expect to stay long in town, Mr. Mead?" + +"I think--I--do not know. It will depend on business." + +They were silent again, and after a moment he gravely said, "Good +morning," and rode away. He frowned and bit his lip, muttered a mild +oath under his breath, and then put spurs to his horse and rode on a +gallop up the main street. The girl glanced after him, still blushing +and smiling. Then a frown wrinkled her forehead and she said, "Well!" +under her breath with such emphasis that the child looked up at her +curiously. At that, she laughed with a little touch of embarrassment +in her manner, and, taking the boy in her arms, ran into the house. + +In the busiest part of the main street, a flat-roofed adobe house with +a narrow, covered porch forming the sidewalk in front, flanked the +street for half a block. Offices and shops of various kinds filled its +many rooms, and the open door of a saloon showed a cool and pleasant +interior. In front of this saloon Emerson Mead halted as Tuttle and +Ellhorn came out of a lawyer's office beside it. Ellhorn explained his +non-appearance at the ranch and told the story of Tuttle's capture, +over which they made jokes at his expense. + +"The doctor says this is only a flesh wound," said Nick, touching his +sling-swung arm and speaking in answer to Mead's question, "and that +I can use my gun again in another week." + +"I'd have been out right away, Emerson," said Tuttle, "but Nick had to +stay here for the doctor to take care of his arm, and I didn't dare +leave him alone. He was bound he'd go on a spree, and he couldn't +shoot, and the Lord knows what trouble he'd have got into. Maybe I +haven't had a time of it! I'd rather have had a fight with the +Fillmore outfit every day!" + +"Yes," growled Ellhorn, "he put me to bed one night and sat on my neck +till I went to sleep. And yesterday morning he planted himself against +the door and held his six-shooter on me till I promised I wouldn't +drink all day. Lord! the week's been long enough for the +resurrection!" + +"How's things at the ranch, Emerson?" asked Tuttle. "Have you had any +fightin' yet with the Fillmore outfit?" + +"No, not real fightin'. I caught 'em puttin' a branded steer into one +of my herds, so they could say I stole it, about a week ago, and Will +Whittaker and I exchanged compliments over the affair." + +As he spoke a tall, gray-haired man, riding a sweating horse at a hard +gallop, rushed up the street and dismounted on the opposite side. His +thin, pale face bore a look of angry excitement. + +"What's the matter with Colonel Whittaker?" exclaimed Ellhorn. "He +looks as if he'd heard the devil behind him!" + +Whittaker had spoken to a man in the doorway of an office bearing the +sign, "Fillmore Cattle Company," and already several others had +gathered around the two and all were listening eagerly. + +"Something's happened, boys," said Mead, as they watched the group +across the way. "They told me in Muletown that Colonel Whittaker had +passed through there the day before on his way to the ranch." + +Just then Miss Delarue came up the sidewalk leading the flaxen-haired +child, and as she passed the three men she smiled a pleasant +recognition to Ellhorn and Mead. + +"Who's she?" Tuttle asked, gazing after her admiringly. + +"Why, Frenchy Delarue's daughter!" Ellhorn answered. "Didn't you ever +see her before? That's queer. You remember Delarue, the Frenchman who +has the store up the street a-ways and loves to hear himself talk so +well. He came here two years ago with a sick wife. She was an +Englishwoman and the girl looks just like her. She died in a little +while and the daughter has taken care of the kid ever since as if she +was its mother. She's a fine girl." + +"She's mighty fine lookin', anyway," Tuttle declared. + +"Well, boys," said Mead, "I'm goin' to my room to slick up. If you +find out what the excitement's about, come over and tell me." + +"I reckon if Emerson was rich he'd be a dude," said Ellhorn, looking +meditatively after Mead. "He keeps a room and his best duds here all +the time, and the first thing he does after he strikes town is to go +and put on a bald-faced shirt and a long-tailed coat. He don't even +stop to take a drink first." + +The crowd across the street had increased, and the men who composed it +were talking in low, excited tones. As Emerson Mead walked away many +turned to look at him, and significant glances were sent over the way +to Ellhorn and Tuttle, who still stood on the sidewalk. They stopped a +man who was hurrying across the street and asked him what the +excitement was about. + +"Will Whittaker has disappeared. His father thinks he's been killed. +He left the ranch a week ago to come to town and nobody's seen him +since. I'm goin' after Sheriff Daniels." + +"Gee-ee! Moses!" Ellhorn exclaimed, as his eyes, full of amazed +inquiry, sought Tuttle's. But amazed inquiry of like sort was all that +flashed back at him from Tuttle's mild blue orbs, and after an +instant's pause he went on: "Whew! won't hell's horns be a-tootin' +this afternoon! Confound this arm! Say, Tom, you-all go and tell +Emerson about it and I'll skate around and find out what's goin' on." + +Tuttle hesitated. "You won't go to drinkin'?" + +"Not this time, Tommy! There'll be excitement enough here in another +two hours without me making any a-purpose, and don't you forget it! +Things are a-goin' to be too serious for me to soak any of my wits in +whisky just now!" + +"No, Nick," said Tuttle, looking at the other's helpless arm, "I +reckon I better go along with you-all, if there's likely to be any +trouble." + +It was as Ellhorn predicted. Before night the town was buzzing with +excitement. Wild rumors flew from tongue to tongue, and with every +flight took new shape. Shops and offices were deserted and men +gathered in knots on the sidewalk, discussing the quarrel between the +cattlemen and Emerson Mead's possible connection with young +Whittaker's disappearance, and predicting many and varied tragic +results. All those who congregated on one side of the street scouted +the idea that the young man had been murdered, indignantly denied the +possibility of Emerson Mead's connection with his disappearance, +insisted that it was all a trick of the Republicans to throw discredit +on the Democrats, and declared that Will Whittaker would show up again +in a few days just as much alive as anybody. Nearly all the men who +had offices or stores in the long adobe building were Democrats, and +the saloon it contained, called the Palmleaf, was the place where the +men of that party congregated when any unusual excitement arose. On +the other side of the street were the offices of the Fillmore Cattle +Company, the White Horse saloon, and Delarue's store, all gathering +places for the Republican clans. There it was declared that +undoubtedly Emerson Mead had killed young Whittaker, and had come into +town to kill the father, too, that other outrages against the +Republicans would probably follow, and that the thing ought to be +stopped at once. But each party kept to its own side of the street, +and each watched the other as a bulldog about to spring watches its +antagonist. + +A man, whose manner and well-groomed appearance betokened city +residence, mingled with the groups about the cattle company's office, +listening with interest to everything that was said. He himself did +not often speak, but when he did every one listened with attention. He +was of medium stature, of compact, wiry build, had large eyes of a +pale, brilliant gray, and a thin face with prominent features. He +joined Miss Delarue when she came down the street on her way home. + +"You get up very sudden storms in your quiet town, Miss Delarue," he +said. "An hour ago Las Plumas was as sleepy and decorous--and dead--as +the graveyard on the hill over yonder. But a man rides up and says ten +words and, br-r-r, the whole population is agog and ready to spring at +one another's throats." + +"Yes," she assented, "when I went up town a little while ago +everything was as quiet as usual. What is the excitement all about?" + +"Why, they are saying that Emerson Mead has killed Will Whittaker!" + +"What!" + +Her face suddenly went white, and she stared at him with wide, +horrified eyes. + +"It may not be true." + +"Oh, I don't believe it can be true!" + +He swept her face with a sudden, curious glance. + +"Nobody seems to know, certainly, that Will is dead. He and Mead had a +quarrel a week ago and Mead threatened to kill him. Will left the +ranch that day to come to town, and he hasn't been seen since. Of +course, he may have changed his mind and gone off to some other part +of the range." + +"Of course," she assented eagerly. "At this time of year he is very +likely to have been needed somewhere else on the range. I don't +believe he has--he is dead." + +"There is much feeling about it on the street. And it seems to be +quite as much a matter of politics as a personal quarrel." + +"Oh, everything is politics here, Mr. Wellesly!" said the girl. "If +the people all over the United States take as much interest in +politics as they do here, I don't see how they have found time to +build railroads and cities." + +Wellesly laughed. "They don't take it the same way, Miss Delarue. Las +Plumas politics is a thing apart and of its own kind. Except in party +names, it has no connection with the politics of the states. Here it +is merely a case of 'follow your leader,' of personal loyalty to some +man who has run, or who expects to run, for office. Being so +personal, of course, it is more virulent." + +"Do you think there is likely to be any violence this time?" she +asked, with a tremor of anxiety in her voice. + +"There is violent talk already. I heard more than one man say that +Mead ought to be lynched"--he was watching her face as he talked--"and +his two friends, Ellhorn and Tuttle, along with him. There is a great +deal of feeling against Mead, and the general idea seems to be that he +is an inveterate cattle thief, and that the country would be better +off without him." + +She turned an indignant face and flashing eyes upon him and opened her +mouth to reply. Then she blushed a little, caught her breath, and +asked him if he thought her father was in any danger. When Wellesly +left her he said to himself: "That's an unusually fine girl. Handsome, +too. Or she would be if she didn't wear English shoes and walk like an +elephant. She seems to be interested in Emerson Mead, but old Delarue +certainly wouldn't permit anything serious. He's too ardently on our +side, or thinks he is, the old French windbag, though he's never even +been naturalized. I'll see her again while I'm here and find out if +there is anything between them. It might have some consequence for us +if there is. I wish the Colonel hadn't got the company so mixed up in +their political quarrels. But there may be an advantage in it, after +all, for I guess it will furnish the easiest way of getting rid of +those one-horse outfits. The old man's got the upper hand now, and as +long as he keeps it we'll be all right." + +Marguerite Delarue stood on her veranda looking after Wellesly as he +walked away. "What a nice looking man he is," ran her thoughts. "He is +interesting to talk with, too. The people here may be just as good as +he is, but--well, at least, he isn't tongue-tied." + +Ellhorn and Tuttle met Emerson Mead as he stepped from his room, +freshly shaven and clad in black frock coat and vest, gray trousers +and newly polished shoes. As he listened to Ellhorn's account of the +sudden storm that was already shaking the little town from end to end, +a yellow light flashed in his brown eyes and there came into them an +intent, defiant look, the look of battle, like that in the eyes of a +captured eagle. He went back into the room, buckled on a full +cartridge belt, and transferred his revolver from his waistband to its +usual holster. + +"Now, boys," said Mead, "we'll go back up town and have a drink, and +I'll talk with Judge Harlin about this matter." + +The three friends walked leisurely up Main street, talking quietly +together, and apparently unconscious of any unusual disturbance. +Except that their eyes were restless and alert and that Mead's glowed +with the yellow light and the defiant look, they showed no sign of +the excitement they felt. They were all three of nearly the same age, +they were all Texan born and bred, and for many years had been the +closest of friends. Each one stood six feet and some inches in his +stockings, and their great stature, broad shoulders, deep chests and +sinewy figures marked them for notice, even in the southwest, the land +of tall, well-muscled men. + +Thomson Tuttle was the tallest and by far the heaviest of the three--a +great, blond giant, with the round, frank, sincere face of an +overgrown school-boy, glowing with the red tan which fair skins take +on in the hot, dry air of the southwest. From this red expanse a pair +of serious blue eyes looked out, while a short, tawny mustache covered +his lip, and auburn hair curled in close rings over his head. It was +never necessary for Thomson Tuttle to do any swearing, for the colors +that dwelt in his face kept up a constant profanity. There was a +strain of German blood in him--his mother had come from Germany in her +childhood--which showed in his impassive countenance and in the open, +serious directness of his mental habit. + +Ellhorn was the handsome one of the three friends. He was straight, +slender, long of limb, clean of muscle, and remarkably quick and +graceful in his movements. His regular features were clear-cut and his +dancing eyes were bright and black and keen. His sweeping black +mustache curled up at the ends in a wide curve that shaded a dimple +in each cheek. He was as proud of the fact that both of his maternal +grandparents had been born in Ireland as he was that he himself was a +native of Texas. The vigorous Celtic strain, that in the clash of +nationalities can always hold its own against any blood with which it +mingles, had dowered him well with Celtic characteristics. A trace of +the brogue still lingered in his speech, along with the slurred r's +and the soft drawl of his southern tongue, while his spontaneous +rebellion under restraint and his brilliant disregard of the +consequences of his behavior were as truly Celtic as was the +honey-sweet persuasiveness with which he could convince his friends +that whatever he had done had been exactly right and the only thing +possible. He was all Irish that wasn't Texan, and all Texan that +wasn't Irish, and everybody he knew he either loved or hated, and was +ready, according to his feeling, either to do anything for, or to "do +up" on a moment's notice. + +Emerson Mead's stronger and more sober intelligence harked back to New +England, whence his mother had come in her bridal days, and although +the Puritan characteristics showed less plainly in his nature than she +wished, having been much warmed and mellowed by their transplantation +to southern soil, no Puritan of them all could have outdone this tall +Texan in dogged adherence to what he believed to be his rights. His +mother had kept faith with the land of her nativity, and as part of +her worship from afar at the shrine of its great sage had given his +name to her only son. By virtue of his stronger character and better +poised intelligence, Emerson Mead had always been the leader of the +three friends. Tuttle yielded unquestioning obedience to "Emerson's +judgment," and, if Emerson were not present, to what he imagined that +judgment would be. Ellhorn, in whose nature dwelt the instinctive +rebellion of the Irish blood, was less loyal in this respect, but not +a whit behind in the whole-heartedness with which he threw himself +into his friend's service. For years they had taken share and share +alike in one another's needs, and whenever one was in trouble the +other two rushed to his help. Together they had gone through the usual +routine of southwestern occupations. They had prospected together, had +herded cattle together, together they had battled their way through +sudden quarrels and fore-planned gunfights, and together, with +official warrants in their pockets, had helped to keep the peace in +riotous frontier towns. Some years before, they had gone into +partnership in the cattle business, on the ranch which Mead still +owned. But Tuttle and Ellhorn had tired of it, had sold their interest +to Mead, and ever since, as deputy United States marshals, had upheld +the arm of the law in its contests with the "bad men" of the frontier. +All three men were known far and wide for the marvelous quickness and +accuracy with which they could handle their guns. + +Main street was lined, in the vicinity of the two saloons, with knots +of men who talked in excited, repressed tones, as though they feared +to be overheard. These knots constantly broke up and reformed as men +hurried from one to another, but there was no crossing the street. +Each party kept to its own side, the Democrats on the east and the +Republicans on the west, and each constantly watched the other. The +women had all disappeared from Main street, gone scuttling home like +fowls, rushing to cover from a hailstorm, and the whole town was in a +state of strained expectancy, waiting for the battle to begin. When +the three friends came walking leisurely down the street, there were +nods and meaning glances on the Republican side and excited whispers +of "There they are!" "They are ready for work!" "That's what they are +all here together for!" "We'd better get ready for them!" + +On the Democratic side of the street it was declared that this was a +scheme of the cattle company to get Mead away from his ranch, so they +could do as they liked at the round-up, and that the Republicans had +planned the whole story of Will Whittaker's disappearance in order +that they might arrest Mead, kill him if he resisted, and inaugurate a +general slaughter of the Democrats if they should come to his help. + +The three friends went at once to the office of Judge Harlin, who was +Mead's lawyer, and Harlin and Mead had a long conference in private, +while Ellhorn and Tuttle talked on the sidewalk with the changing +groups of men. Beyond the surprised inquiry which each had darted into +the eyes of the other when they were first told of Whittaker's +disappearance, neither Tom Tuttle nor Nick Ellhorn had said a word to +each other, or exchanged a meaning look, as to the possibility of +Mead's guilt. They did not know whether or not he had killed the +missing man, and, except as a matter of curiosity, they did not +particularly care. If he had, they knew that either of them would have +done the same thing in his place. Whatever he might have done, he was +their friend and in trouble, and they would have put on belts and guns +and rushed to his assistance, even though they had known they would be +dropped in their tracks beside him. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Pierre Delarue, "Frenchy" Delarue, as all Las Plumas called him, had +been born and brought up in the south of France, whence he had +wandered to many parts of the earth. He had married and lived for +years in England, and, finally, he had come to Las Plumas with his +invalid wife in the hope that its healing airs might restore her to +health. But she had died in a few months, and he, perhaps because the +flooding sunshine and the brilliant skies of the southwestern plains +reminded him of the home of his youth, stayed on and on, went into +business, and became one of the prominent citizens of the town. The +leisurely, let-things-drift spirit of the region, which could be so +easily stirred to violent storms and ardent enthusiasms, was near akin +to his own volatile nature. Nobody in the town could be more quickly +and more thoroughly convinced by first appearances than he, and nobody +held opinions more volubly and more aggressively, so that from the +start he had assumed a leading place in the discussion of all public +matters. Although he had not taken even the first step toward +naturalization, he was active in the constantly sizzling political +life of the town, and along all that side of Main street there was +none more staunchly and violently Republican than he. + +He believed, and voiced his belief loudly and aggressively, that Will +Whittaker had been slain and that swift punishment should be visited +upon his murderer. The Gascogne nimbleness of tongue which enabled him +to express his conviction with volubility made him, all through that +excited day, the constant center of an assenting crowd. As night came +on, the groups of men all gathered about his store. By that time every +one among them was convinced that Emerson Mead had killed young +Whittaker. At first this theory had been a mere guess, a hazard of +probability. But it had been asserted and repeated and insisted upon +so many times during the day that every man on the west side of the +street had finally adopted it as his own original opinion, and by +nightfall refused to entertain any other explanation. Inside the +store, Delarue was expounding the necessity of swift retribution. Men +crowded in and packed the room to its last capacity. They made Delarue +get up on the counter, so that all could hear what he said. Those +outside struggled and pushed about the door. A man on the sidewalk +cried out: + +"We can't hear! Let's go to the hall and give everybody a chance!" + +The crowd gave instant response: "To the hall, so everybody can hear! +Let's go to the hall!" + +Those within took up the cry and drowned the speaker's voice with +cries of, "Let's go to the hall! Let's go to the hall!" + +Delarue stopped in his harangue and shouted: "Yes, my friends, let us +go to the hall and make this a public meeting of indignation against +the cowardly murder that has been done!" + +Out they rushed, and with Delarue in front, gesticulating and calling +to them to come on, they hurried to the public hall. A man quickly +mounted the platform and nominated Pierre Delarue for presiding +officer of the meeting. The crowd responded with yells of, "Yes, yes!" +"Of course!" "Go on, Frenchy!" "Hurrah for Frenchy!" There were many +Mexicans among them, and as Delarue stepped to his place, there was a +call for an interpreter and a young half-Mexican walked to the +platform. Some one was sent to hold guard at the door, with orders to +admit "no turbulent persons." Then Delarue began an impassioned +speech, pausing after each sentence for it to be translated into +Spanish. With each flaming outburst the "hurrahs" of the Americans +were mingled with the "vivas" of the Mexicans. + +The interpreter leaned far over the edge of the platform, swaying and +gesticulating as though the speech were his own, his face glowing with +excitement. The crowd yelled madly, while with flushed face, streaming +forehead, and heaving chest the speaker went on, each fiery sentiment +increasing his conviction in the righteousness of his cause, and the +cries of approval urging him to still more inflamed denunciation and +outright accusal. + +Those who had gathered in Judge Harlin's office and in and about the +Palmleaf saloon were closely watching developments. Two or three men +who mingled with the Republicans, and were apparently in sympathy with +them, came in occasionally by way of back doors, and reported all that +was being said and done. Emerson Mead talked in a brief aside with one +of these men, and presently he stepped out alone into the deserted +street. The other man hastened to the hall, took the place of the one +on guard, giving him the much-wished-for opportunity to go inside, and +when, hands in pockets, Mead strolled up, his confederate quickly +admitted him, and he stood unobserved in the semi-darkness at the back +of the room. A single small lamp on the speaker's table and one +bracketed against the wall on each side made a half circle of dusky +light about the platform, showing a mass of eager, excited faces with +gleaming eyes, while it left the rear part of the bare room in shadow. + +"I demand justice," cried the speaker, "upon the murderer, the +assassin of poor Will Whittaker! And I say to you, friends and +neighbors, that unless you now, at once, mete out justice upon that +murderer's head, there is no surety that justice will be done. To-day +you have seen him walking defiantly about the streets, armed to the +teeth, ready to plunge his hands still deeper into the blood of +innocent men. Your own lives may yet pay the penalty if you do not +stop his lawless career! Such a measure as he measures to others it is +right that you should measure to him!" + +There was an instant of solemn, breathless hush as the speaker leaned +forward, shaking an uplifted finger at the audience. Then some one on +a front seat cried out, "Emerson Mead! He ought to be lynched!" The +cry was a firebrand thrown into a powder box. The whole mass of men +broke into a yell: "Emerson Mead! Lynch him! Lynch the murderer!" The +speaker stood with uplifted hands, demanding further attention, but +the crowd was beyond his control. Moved by one impulse, it had sprung +to its feet, clamoring and yelling, "A rope! A rope! for Emerson +Mead!" + +Then, like men pierced through with sudden death, they halted in +mid-gesture, with shout half uttered, and stood staring, struck dumb +with amazement. For Emerson Mead, a half smile on his face, his hat +pushed back from his forehead, was walking quietly across the +platform. The speaker, turning to follow the staring eyes of his +audience, saw him just as he put out his hand and said, "How do you +do, Mr. Delarue!" The orator's jaw fell, his hands dropped nervelessly +beside him, and involuntarily he jumped backward, as if to shelter +himself behind the table. The interpreter leaped to the floor and +crouched against the platform. All over the hall hands went to +revolver butts in waistband, hip-pocket and holster. The dim light +shone back from the barrels of a score of weapons already drawn. Mead +faced the audience, the half smile still lingering about his mouth. + +"I understand," he said quietly, "that you want to lynch me. Well, I'm +here!" + +A sudden, bellowing voice roared through the room: "Stop in your +tracks, you cowards!" + +Judge Harlin, having guessed where Mead had gone, had just plunged +through the door and was shouldering his way up the aisle, his robust, +broad-backed frame, big head and bull neck dominating the crowd. +Behind him came Tom Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn, their guns in their +hands. A young Mexican, who was with them, leaped to the back of a +seat, and on light toes raced by Harlin's side from seat to seat, +interpreting into Spanish as he ran. + +"A nice lot you are!" shouted Judge Harlin. "A nice lot to prate about +law and order, and ready to do murder yourselves! That is what you are +preparing to do! Murder! As cold-blooded a murder as ever man did!" + +He mounted the platform and faced Delarue, while Tuttle and Ellhorn, +with revolvers drawn, stood beside Mead. + +"Better put your guns away, boys," whispered Mead. + +"Not much!" Ellhorn replied. "We can't draw as quick as you can!" + +"Let's go for 'em!" pleaded Tuttle in a whisper. "You and Nick and me +can down half of 'em before they know what's happened, and the other +half before they could shoot." + +"No, Tommy; it wouldn't do." + +"It would be the best thing that could happen to the town," he +grumbled back. "Say, Emerson, we'd better go for 'em before they make +a rush." + +"No, no, Tom; better not shoot. I tell you it wouldn't do!" + +"Well, if you say so, as long as they don't begin it. But they shan't +touch you while there's a cartridge left in my belt." + +The crowd, arrested and controlled, first by the spectacle of Mead's +audacity and then by the compelling roar of Judge Harlin's +denunciation, listened quietly, still subdued by its amazement, while +Harlin went on, standing beside Delarue and shaking at him an +admonishing finger. + +"Pierre Delarue, I am astonished that a good citizen like you should +be here inciting to murder! You have not one jot of evidence that +Emerson Mead killed Will Whittaker! You do not even know that +Whittaker is dead!" + +The crowd shuffled and muttered angrily at this defiance of its +conviction. It was returning to its former frame of mind, and was +beginning to feel incensed at the irruption into the meeting. + +"We do know it!" a man in the front row flamed out, his face working +with the violent back-rush of recent passion. "And we know Mead did +it!" another one yelled. Murmurs of "Lynch him! Lynch him!" quickly +followed. Tuttle and Ellhorn were white with suppressed rage, and +their eyes were wide and blazing. Tuttle was nervously fingering his +trigger guard. "Then bring your evidence into a court of law and let +unprejudiced men judge its value," Judge Harlin roared back. "Accusers +who have the right on their side are not afraid to face the law!" + +Mead caught the angry eye of a brutal-faced man directly in front of +him, and saw that the man's revolver was at full cock and his hand on +the trigger. In the flash that went from eye to eye he saw with surety +what would happen in another moment. And he knew what the sequence of +one shot would be. + +"Neighbors!" he shouted. "Jim Halliday has a warrant for my arrest. +I protest that it has been illegally issued, because there is no +evidence upon which it can be based. But to avoid any further trouble, +here and now, I will submit to having it served. I will not be +disarmed, and I warn you that any attempt of that sort will make +trouble. But I give you my word, for both myself and my friends, +that otherwise there shall be no disturbance." + +Judge Harlin shot at Mead a surprised look, hesitated an instant, +and then nodded approval. Tuttle and Ellhorn looked at him in +open-mouthed, open-eyed amazement for a moment, then dropped their +pistols to their holsters and stepped back. A sudden hush fell over +the crowd, which waited expectantly, no one moving. + +"I think Jim Halliday is here," Mead said quietly. "He has my word. He +can come and take me and there shall be no trouble, if he don't try to +take my gun." + +A stout, red-haired young man worked his way forward through the +crowded aisle to the platform and took a paper from his pocket. Mead +glanced at it, said "All right," and the two walked away together. The +crowd in the hall quickly poured out after them. Tuttle, his lips +white and trembling, looked after Mead's retreating figure and his +huge chest began to heave and his big blue eyes to fill with tears. He +turned to Ellhorn, his voice choking with sobs: + +"Emerson Mead goin' off to jail with Jim Halliday! Nick, why didn't he +let us shoot? He needn't have been arrested! Here was a good chance to +clean up more'n half his enemies, and he wouldn't let us do it!" He +looked at Ellhorn in angry, regretful grief, and the tears dropped +over his tanned cheeks. "Say, Nick," he went on, lowering his voice to +a hoarse whisper, "you-all don't think he was afraid, do you?" + +"Sure, and I don't," Ellhorn replied promptly. "I reckon Emerson Mead +never was afraid of anybody or anything." + +"Well, I'm glad you don't," Tom replied, his voice still shaking with +sobs. "I couldn't help thinkin' when he kept tellin' us not to shoot, +that maybe he was afraid, with all those guns in front and only us +four against 'em, and I said to myself, 'Good Lord, have I been +runnin' alongside a coward all these years!' And I was sure sick for a +minute. But I guess it was just his judgment that there'd better not +be any shootin' just now." + +Ellhorn looked over the empty hall with one eye shut. "Well, I reckon +there would have been a heap o' dead folks in this room by now if +we-all had turned loose." + +"About as many as we-all had cartridges," and Tuttle glanced at their +well-filled belts. He was silent a moment, while he wiped his eyes and +blew his nose, and his sobs gradually ceased. "No, Emerson couldn't +have been afraid. Though I sure thought for a minute I'd have to quit +him. But you're right, Nick. Emerson ain't afraid of anything, livin' +or dead. It was just his judgment. And Emerson's got powerful good +judgment, too. I ought to have known better than to think anything +else. But, Lord! I did hate to see that measly crowd sneakin' out of +here alive!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The next morning there were only faint traces of the excitement of the +day before. Men began to cross Main street from one side to the other, +at first with cautious, apprehensive glances that swept the hostile +territory and penetrated open doors and windows, but, as the day wore +quietly on, with increasing confidence and unconcern. At noon Colonel +Whittaker and Pierre Delarue walked over to the Palmleaf saloon, and +while they clinked the ice in their mint juleps, good-natured and +smiling, they leaned on the bar and chatted with the two or three +Democrats who were in the room. An hour or so later, Judge Harlin +strolled across to the White Horse saloon and called for a whisky +straight. Then all Las Plumas knew that the war was over and went +about its usual affairs as amiably as if the day before had never +been. + +At the breakfast table Pierre Delarue told his daughter about the +mass-meeting, its balked determination to lynch Emerson Mead, and +Mead's subsequent arrest. + +"But, Father, how could they be so sure that Mr. Mead killed him? Did +they have any evidence?" + +"Ah," he replied, shrugging his shoulders protestingly, "you women +never understand such things! Because Mead is a handsome young man and +looks good-natured, you think he can't possibly be a murderer. But it +is well known that he had killed more than one man before he murdered +poor Whittaker, and he is notorious as one of the worst cattle thieves +in the southwest." + +"Father! These are dreadful things! Do you know them to be true?" + +She looked across the table at him with horror in her face and eyes. +Delarue considered her indulgently. + +"Everybody knows them to be true. There is plenty of proof." + +"Then why hasn't he been arrested and tried and--punished?" + +"That is what many are saying now--why has he not been punished long +before this? People have been lenient with him for a long time, but he +has at last reached the end of his career. They are now determined +that a stop shall be put to his crimes and that he shall suffer the +punishment he has so long deserved." + +Marguerite was accustomed to having the remnants of her father's +down-town speeches served up at home, and her cooler judgment had +learned not to put much dependence upon them. She gave a perfunctory +assent and made another effort to reach facts. + +"Yes, Father, it is certainly very dreadful that such things should +be allowed to go unpunished. But did any one see him stealing the +Fillmore Company's cattle, and do they really know that he killed Mr. +Whittaker?" + +"The proof is as clear as any unprejudiced person need want. Will +Whittaker and some of his men caught Mead in the very act of driving +into his own herd a steer plainly marked with their brand. They +stopped him, and he foolishly tried to crawl out of his predicament +by accusing them of driving the branded steer into his herd. A most +absurd story! They had a quarrel, and Mead threatened to kill +Whittaker. Immediately after that Will disappeared and has not been +seen since. Evidently, he has been killed, and there is no one except +Mead, who had threatened to kill him, who could possibly have had any +motive for murdering him. The evidence may be circumstantial, but it +is conclusive. Besides, if Mead had not known that the case against +him was complete, he would not have given himself up last night as he +did. And if he had not done so he would certainly have been lynched. +The people were thoroughly aroused, and it was impossible to control +their indignation." + +A little shiver ran through Marguerite's frame and she turned away, +looking much disturbed. Her father patted her head indulgently. +"There, there, my dear child, these things do not concern you in the +least. Don't trouble yourself about public affairs." + +He hurried down-town and she sat alone, a little frown on her +forehead and her mouth drooping, as she thought: "I can not believe he +is a thief and a murderer, without more evidence than this. And +still--how can it be that so many men are so sure of his guilt +that--and he is in jail now--Oh, a thief and a murderer!" + +She hurried from the room calling, "Paul! Paul!" The boy ran in from +the veranda and she caught him in her arms and pressed him to her +bosom, kissing him over and over again and calling him her darling, +her treasure, and all the dear names with which womankind voices its +love, and at last, sobbing, buried her face in his flaxen curls. The +child put his arms about her head and patted her cheek and said, "Poor +sister! Poor Daisy!" until, frightened by her emotion, he too began to +cry. The necessity of soothing and comforting him gave her that +distraction which has been woman's chief comfort since woman first had +trouble. But her face was still sad and anxious when Wellesly appeared +on the veranda in the late afternoon. + +Albert Wellesly, who lived in Denver, disliked very much the +occasional visits to Las Plumas which his financial interests made +necessary. He was still on the under side of thirty, but his business +associates declared that he possessed a shrewdness and a capacity that +would have done credit to a man of twice his years. Possibly people +not infatuated with commercial success might have said that his +ability was nothing more than an unscrupulous determination to grab +everything in sight. Whatever it was, it had made him remarkably +successful. The saying was common among those who knew him that +everything he touched turned to gold. They also prophesied that in +twenty years he would be one of the financial giants of the country. +Las Plumas bored him to desperation, but on this occasion he thought +it would be the part of wisdom to stay longer than had been his first +intention. As long as the town was feverish with excitement he found +it endurable. But when the dullness of peace settled over the streets +again he walked about listlessly, wondering how he could manage to get +through the day. At last he thought of Miss Delarue. + +"That's so!" he inwardly exclaimed. "I can go and find out if the +English girl is in love with this handsome big fellow who has been +stealing my cattle. I suppose it will be necessary for me to drink a +cup of tea, but she will amuse me for an hour." + +Marguerite Delarue's friends always thought of her and spoke of her as +English, notwithstanding her French paternity. For her appearance and +her temperament she had inherited from her English mother, who had +given her also English training. Miss Delarue laughed at the forlorn +dejection of Wellesly's face and figure. + +"My face is a jovial mask," he gravely told her. "You should see the +melancholy gloom that shrouds my mind." + +"I hope nothing has happened," she exclaimed, with sudden alarm. + +"That's just the trouble, Miss Delarue. It's because nothing does +happen here, and I have to endure the aching void, that I am filled +with such melancholy." + +"Surely there was enough excitement yesterday and last night." + +"Ah, yesterday! That was something like! But it was yesterday, and +to-day the deadly dullness is enough to turn the blood in one's veins +to mud!" + +"Then everything is quiet down-town? There is no more danger of +trouble?" + +"There is no danger of anything, except that every blessed person in +the place may lie down in his tracks and fall into a hundred years' +sleep. I assure you, Miss Delarue, the town is as peaceful as the +plain out yonder, and birds in their little nests are not nearly so +quiet as are the valiant warriors of Las Plumas." + +"Oh, that is good! I am very glad, on my father's account. He is so +aggressive in his opinions that whenever there is any excitement of +this kind I am anxious about him until the trouble is over." She +hesitated a moment, her lips trembling on the verge of further speech, +and he waited for her to go on. "Mr. Wellesly," she said, a note of +uncertainty sounding in her voice, "you are not prejudiced by the +political feeling which colors people's opinions here. I wish you +would tell me what you think about this matter. Do you believe Mr. +Mead has killed Will Whittaker?" + +Wellesly noted her earnest expression and the intentness of her voice +and pose, and he decided at once that this was not mere curiosity. He +paused a moment, looking thoughtful. His keen, brilliant eyes were +bent on her face. + +"It's a hard question you've asked me, Miss Delarue. One does not like +to decide against a man in such serious accusations unless he can be +sure. The evidence against Emerson Mead, in this murder case, is all +circumstantial, it is true, but, at least to me, it is strongly +convincing." His eyes were almost closed, only a strip of brilliant +gray light showing between their lids, but he was watching her +narrowly. "We know that he has been stealing cattle from us. We have +found many bearing our brand among his herds. Our men have even caught +him driving them into his own bands. In fact, there is no doubt about +this matter. Emerson Mead is a cattle thief of the wiliest sort." He +paused a moment, noting the horrified expression on her downcast face. +But she did not speak, and he went on: + +"About this murder, if murder it is, of course nobody knows anything +with certainty. But in my judgment there is only one tenable theory of +Will Whittaker's disappearance, and that is, that he was murdered and +his body hidden. Mead is the only enemy he was known to have, and Mead +had threatened to kill him. The evidence, while, of course, not +conclusive, is shockingly bad for Mead." + +She looked away, toward the Hermosa mountains looming sharp and jagged +in the fierce afternoon sunlight, and he saw her lips tremble. Then, +as if her will caught and held them, the movements ceased with a +little inrush of breath. He lowered his voice and made it very kindly +and sympathetic as he leaned toward her and went on: + +"For your sake, I am very sorry for all this if Mr. Mead is a friend +of yours. He is a very taking young fellow, with his handsome face and +good-natured smile. But, also for your sake," and his voice went down +almost to a murmur, "I hope he is not a friend." + +There were tears in her eyes and distress, perplexity and pain in her +face as she turned impulsively toward him, as if grasping at his +sympathy. + +"I have it!" he thought. "She is in love with Mead! Now we'll find out +how far it has gone. Papa Frenchy couldn't have known of it." + +"I can not say he is a friend," she said slowly. "He is scarcely an +acquaintance. I have not met him, I think, more than half a dozen +times, and only a few minutes each time. But he has always been so +kind to my little brother that I find it hard to believe a man so +gentle and thoughtful with a child could be so--criminal." + +"Ah! Love at first sight, probably not reciprocated!" was Wellesly's +mental comment. "I guess it is a case in which it would be proper to +offer consolation, and watch the effect." Gradually he led the +conversation away from this painful topic and talked with her about +other places in which she had lived. Then they drifted to more +personal matters, to theories upon life and duty, and he spoke with +the warmest admiration of what he called the ideal principles by which +she guided her life and declared that they would be impossible to a +man, unless he had the good fortune to be stimulated and helped by +some noble woman who realized them in her own life. It was admiration +of the most delicate, impersonal sort, seemingly directed not to the +girl herself, but to the girl she had wished and tried to be. It set +Marguerite Delarue's heart a-flutter with pleasure. No one had ever +given her such open and such delicate admiration, and she was too +unsophisticated to conceal her delight. He smiled to himself at her +evident pleasure in his words, and, with much the same feeling with +which he might have cuddled a purring, affectionate kitten, he went a +step farther and made love--a very shadowy, intangible sort of love, +in a very indefinite sort of way. + +Albert Wellesly usually made love to whatever woman happened to be at +hand, if he had nothing else to do, or if he thought it would advance +his interests. With men he was keen and forceful, studying them +shrewdly, seeing quickly their weak points, turning these to his own +advantage, and helping himself over their heads by every means he +could grasp. In his dealings and relations with women he aimed at the +same masterful result, but while with men this might be attained in +many ways, with women he held there was but one way, and that was to +make love to them. + +Marguerite bade him good-by with the same deep pain still in her +heart, but pleased in spite of herself. His words had been laden +heavily with the honey of admiration of a sort that to her serious +nature was most pleasing, while about them had hovered the faintest, +most elusive aroma of love. In her thought, she went over their long +conversation again and again, and dwelt on all that he had said with +constant delight. For to women admiration is always pleasing, even +though they may know it to be insincere. To young women it is a wine +that makes them feel themselves rulers of the earth, and to their +elders it is a cordial which makes them forget their years. + +Marguerite Delarue had had little experience with either love or +admiration. Her heart had been virgin ground when her face had first +flushed under the look in Emerson Mead's brown eyes. And the first +words of love to fall upon her ears had been the uncertain ones of +Wellesly that afternoon. She conned them over to herself, saying that +of course they meant only that he was a high-minded gentleman who +admired high ideals. She repeated all that he had said on the subject +of Mead's guilt. + +"He seemed fair and unprejudiced," she thought, "but I can not believe +it without certain proof. I know more about Mr. Mead than some of +those who think they know so much, for I have seen him with my little +Bye-Bye, and until they can prove what they say I shall believe him +just as good as he seems to be." + +So she locked up in her heart her belief in Mead's innocence, saying +nothing about the matter to any one, till after a little that belief +came to be like a secret treasure, hidden away from all other eyes, +but in her own thought held most dear. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The jail at Las Plumas was a spreading, one-story adobe building, with +a large, high-walled court at the back. This wall was also of adobe, +some ten feet high and three feet thick, without an opening, and +crowned with a luxuriant growth of prickly-pear cactus. At certain +hours of the day the prisoners were allowed the freedom of this court, +while a guard kept on them an occasional eye. Behind the court, and +coming up to its very walls, was a small tract of land planted with +vegetables, flowers and fruit trees and worked by an old Mexican who +lived alone in a tiny hut at the farther end of the enclosure. + +For two days after the night of Emerson Mead's arrest his friends +tried every device known to the law to get him free of the prison +walls. But each attempt was cleverly met and defeated by the opposing +party, and he was still behind the bars. Then Nick Ellhorn and Thomson +Tuttle held a conference, and agreed that Mead must get back to his +ranch at once in order to save his affairs from further injury. + +"That's what they are doin' this thing for," said Nick, "so they +can get a good chance to steal all his cattle. And what they don't +steal they'll scatter over the plains till it will be more than +they're worth to get 'em together again. They think they can just +everlastingly do him up by keepin' him in jail for a month." + +Tuttle broke out with an indignant oath. "It's the meanest, +low-downest, dirtiest, measliest trick they've ever tried to do, and +that's sayin' a whole heap! But they'll find out they've got more to +buck against than they're a-lookin' for now!" + +"You bet they will! They've got to travel mighty fast if they keep up +with this procession! Talk about measly tricks! Tom, that Fillmore +outfit's the biggest cattle thief in the southwest. It's just plum' +ridiculous to hear them talk about Emerson stealin' their cattle! Why, +if he'd stayed up nights to steal from them he couldn't have got even +for what they've taken from him." + +They talked over the plan Ellhorn had proposed and when it was all +arranged Tuttle asked, "Shall we tell the judge?" + +"Tell nothin' to nobody!" Nick exclaimed. "The judge will find it out +soon enough, and if we don't tell him he won't bother us with advice +to give it up. We've got some horse sense, Tommy, and I reckon we-all +can run this here excursion without help from any darn fool lawyer in +the territory. If they'd left it to us in the first place, we'd have +had Emerson at home long before this." + +"I guess we-all can play our part of this game if Emerson can play +his." + +"Don't you worry about Emerson. He's ready to ride the devil through +hell to get back to his round-up." + +The next morning Nick Ellhorn hunted up the Mexican who worked the +garden behind the jail and talked through the enclosure with the old +man, who was crippled and half blind. Ellhorn talked with him about +the garden and finally said he would like to eat some onions. The +Mexican pulled a bunch of young green ones for him, and he sat down on +a bench under a peach tree near the wall of the jail-court to eat +them. He sent the Mexican back to his hut for some salt, and at once +began whistling loudly the air of "Bonnie Dundee." Presently he broke +into the words of the song and woke the echoes round about, as he and +Emerson Mead had done on many a night around the camp-fire on the +range: + + "Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, + Come saddle my horse and call out my men." + +There he stopped and waited, and in a moment a baritone voice on the +other side of the wall took up the song: + + "Come ope the west port and let us go free + To follow the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee!" + +Ellhorn went on singing as he threw one of his onions, then another, +over the wall. One of them came sailing back and fell beside the +peach tree. Then he took a slip of folded paper from his pocket, tied +it to another onion and sent it over the cactus-crowned adobe. The +Mexican returned with the salt and they sat down together under the +tree, chatting sociably. Presently Mead's voice came floating out from +behind the wall in the stirring first lines of the old Scotch ballad: + + "To the lords of convention, 'twas Claverhouse spoke: + 'If there are heads to be crowned, there are heads to be broke!'" + +Nick chuckled, winked at the old Mexican, and hurried off to find +Tuttle. + +That evening, soon after the full darkness of night had mantled the +earth, Nick Ellhorn and Tommy Tuttle rode toward the jail, leading an +extra horse. Ellhorn gave Tuttle a lariat. + +"You'd better manage this part," he said in a low tone. "My arm's not +strong enough yet to be depended on in such ticklish matters. I tried +it to-day with my gun, and it's mighty near as steady as ever for +shooting, but I won't risk it on this." + +They rode into the Mexican's garden and Ellhorn stood with the extra +horse under the drooping branches of the peach tree. They listened and +heard the sound of a soft whistling in the _patio_, as if some one +were idly walking to and fro. + +"That's him!" Ellhorn whispered excitedly. "That's what I told him to +be doing at just this time! He's listening for us!" Ellhorn whistled +softly several bars of the same air, which were at once repeated from +within. Tuttle rode beside the wall and threw over it the end of his +lariat. He waited until the whistling ceased, and then, winding the +rope around the pommel, he struck home the spurs and the horse leaped +forward, straining to the work. It was a trained cow-pony, Mead's own +favorite "cutting-out" horse, and it answered with perfect will and +knowledge the urging of Tuttle's spurs. With a soft "f-s-s-t" the rope +wore over the top of the wall and Mead's tall form stood dimly +outlined behind the battlement of cactus. He untied the rope from his +waist, threw it to the ground, and with foot and fist thrust aside the +bristling, sharp-spined masses, dropped over the outer edge, hung at +full length by his hands for an instant, and landed in the soft earth +at the bottom. + +They heard his name called inside the _patio_. It was the guard, who +had just missed him. As they quickly mounted there came over the wall +the sound of hurrying feet and the rapid conference of excited voices. +Mead shot his revolver into the air and Ellhorn, lifting his voice to +its loudest and fullest, sang: + + "Come ope the west port and let us go free + To follow the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee!" + +"Whoo-oo-oo-ee-ee!" + +Spur met with flank and the three horses bounded forward, over the +fence of the Mexican's garden, and up the street at a breakneck +gallop. They clattered across the _acequia_ bridge and past Delarue's +place, where Mead, eagerly sweeping the house with a sidewise glance, +had a brief glimpse of a brightly lighted room. Instantly his memory +went back, as it had done a thousand times, to that day, more than a +year before, when he had stood at the door of that room and had first +seen Marguerite Delarue. As they galloped up the street the vision of +the room and of the girl came vividly back--the inviting, homelike +room, with its easy-chairs, its pictures and shaded lamps, its tables +with their tidy litter of papers and fancy work, its pillowed lounges, +and deep cushioned window-seats, and the tall, anxious-eyed girl with +the sick child in her arms, held close to her breast. Unconsciously he +turned his head, possessed for the moment by the vision, and looked +back at the dark mass of the house and trees, lighted by the one +gleaming window. + +"Think they'll follow us?" asked Tuttle, noticing the movement. + +"Who? Oh! No, I guess not." + +Beyond the town, in the edge of the rising plain, they drew rein and +listened for the sound of pursuing hoof-beats. Facing their horses +roundabout, they bent forward, their hands hollowed behind their ears. +Out of the darkness, where it was gemmed by the lights of the town, +came the sound of galloping horses. + +"They're after us!" cried Nick. "Three of 'em!" + +Mead took off his sombrero and as his left hand sent it twirling +through the air, a vague, black shape in the darkness, his right drew +his revolver from its holster and three quick, sharp explosions +flashed through the night. A pressure of his heels, and he was leaning +far over from his darting horse and snatching the hat as it barely +touched the gray earth. He held it up toward the sky and in the +starlight three bullet holes showed dimly through the crown, inside +the space a silver dollar could cover. Ellhorn waved his hat and sent +his peculiar "Whoo-oo-ee-e!" back through the darkness toward the +town. They listened again and heard the pursuing horsemen clattering +over the _acequia_ bridge and into the street through which they had +come. + +"I reckon we could keep ahead of 'em if we wanted to," said Mead, "but +we'll make the pass, and then if they are still following we'll teach +them some manners." + +Ellhorn shouted out again his yell of defiance and clicked the trigger +of his gun to follow it with a challenging volley of bullets, but Mead +stopped him with a cautioning word that they might need all their +cartridges. + +They spurred their horses forward again and galloped over the rolling +foothills, neck to neck and heel to heel. The cool, dry night air +streamed into their faces, braced their nerves and filled their hearts +with exultation. Behind them they could hear the hoof-beats of their +pursuers, now gaining on them and again falling behind. On and on they +went, sometimes sending back a defiant yell, but for the most part +riding silently. They reached the steep grade leading to the mountain +pass and eased their horses, letting them walk slowly up the incline. +But the others took it at a furious pace, and presently, at the +entrance to the pass, a voice shouted Mead's name and ordered him to +halt. Mead, laughing aloud, sent a pistol ball whizzing back through +the darkness. Ellhorn and Tuttle followed his example, and their three +pursuers discharged a volley in concert. The fugitives put spurs to +their horses, and, turning in their saddles, fired rapidly back at the +vague, moving shapes they could barely see in the darkness. Ellhorn +heard an angry oath and guessed that somebody had been injured. The +bullets whistled past their ears, and now and then they heard the dull +ping of lead against the rocky walls of the narrow pass. Their horses +had kept their wind through the slow walk up the hill and sprang +forward with fresh, willing speed. But the others had been exhausted +by the fierce gallop up the steep ascent, and could not hold the pace +that Mead and his friends set for them. Slowly the officers fell back, +until they were so far in the rear that they ceased shooting. Mead, +Tuttle and Ellhorn put away their revolvers and galloped on in +silence for some distance before they stopped to listen. Far back in +the darkness they could hear the faint footfalls of the three horses. + +"They blowed their horses so bad comin' up the hill," said Mead, "that +they'll never catch up with us again. I reckon they won't try now. +They'll stay in Muletown to-night and go on to the Fillmore ranch +to-morrow." + +"If they don't turn round and go back," said Ellhorn. "I don't believe +they'll want to try this thing on at the ranch." + +"We'll sure be ready for 'em if they show up there," said Tuttle, the +grim note of battle in his voice. + +Ellhorn laughed joyously. "I guess we're just goin' to everlastingly +get even with that Fillmore outfit!" + +"Well, it will keep us busy, but we'll do our best," Mead cheerfully +assented. + +They galloped down the long eastern declivity of the mountain, +stopping once at a miner's camp, a little way off the road, to water +and breathe their horses. A little later they stopped to listen again, +but they could not catch the faintest sound of hoof-beats from the +mountain side. They did not know whether their pursuers had turned +about and gone back to Las Plumas, or were taking the road leisurely, +intending to stop at Muletown until morning. + +On again they galloped, neck to neck and heel to heel, with the +starry sky above and the long level of the plain before them. Mead +glanced to the north, where the Big Dipper, pivoted on the twinkling +pole star, was swinging its mighty course through the blue spaces of +the sky, and said, "It's about midnight, boys." The dim, faintly +gleaming, dusty gray of the road contracted to a lance-like point in +front of them and sped onward, seeming to cleave the wall of darkness +and open the way through which they galloped. The three tall, +broad-shouldered, straight-backed figures sat their horses with +constant grace, galloping abreast, neck to neck and heel to heel, +without pause or slackened pace. The rhythmical, resounding hoof-beats +made exhilarating music for their ears, and now and again Ellhorn's +yell went calling across the empty darkness or the sound of Mead's or +Tuttle's gun cleft the air. On and on through the night they went, +their wiry ponies with ears closely laid and muscles strained in +willing compliance, the starry sky above and the long level of the +plain behind them. + +At Muletown they stopped to water their horses at the brimming +pump-trough in the plaza and, as the thirsty creatures drank, Ellhorn +glanced at the swinging starry Dipper in the northern sky again and +said, "I reckon it's three o'clock, boys." Then on they went, +clattering down the long adobe street, flanked by dim houses, dark and +silent; and out into the rising edge of the plain, where it lifted +itself into the uplands. The black silence was unbroken now save as a +distant coyote filled the night with its yelping bark, or a low word +from one or another of the riders told of human presence. On and on +they galloped, neck to neck and heel to heel, without pause or +slackened pace. At last they swerved to the right and began mounting +the low, rolling foothills of the Fernandez mountains. The cold night +air, dry and sharp, stung their faces and cooled the sweating flanks +of their horses. The creatures' ears were bent forward, as if they +recognized their surroundings, and their springing muscles were still +strong and willing. Over the hills they galloped, the lance-like point +of the road cleaving the black wall in front and the hoof-beats +volleying into the silence and darkness behind them. + +The gray walls of an adobe house took dim shape in the darkness, and +beyond it a mass of trees, their leaves rustling in the night wind, +told of running water. The three men halted and with lowered bridles +allowed their horses to drink. + +"Is this old Juan Garcia's ranch?" Tuttle asked. + +"Yes," Mead replied, "old Juan still lives here. And a very good old +fellow he is, too. He isn't any lazier than he has to be, considering +he's a Mexican. He keeps his ranch in pretty good order, and he raises +all the corn and _chili_ and wheat and _frijoles_ that he needs +himself and has some to sell, which is a very good record for a +Mexican." + +"What's become of his pretty daughter?" asked Ellhorn. "Is she married +yet?" + +"Amada? She's still here, and she's about the prettiest Mexican girl I +ever saw. She's a great belle among all the Mexicans from Muletown to +the other side of the Fernandez mountains, and with some of the +Americans, too. Will Whittaker used to hang around here a good deal, +and Amada seemed to be pretty well stuck on him." + +Again the horses sprang to the pace they had kept so gallantly, and on +and on their hoofs flew over the low, rolling hills. The riders sat +their horses as if they were part and parcel of the beasts, horse and +rider with one will and one motion, and all galloping on with rhythmic +hoof-beats, neck to neck and heel to heel, without pause or slackened +pace, while the cold, dry night wind whistled past their ears and the +stars measured their courses through the violet blue of the bending +vault above. On they went over the slowly rising hills, and the +slender, silver sickle of the old moon shone brightly in the graying +east. Soon the mountains ranged themselves against the brightening +sky, and as they galloped, on and on, the stars vanished, and from out +the black void below the plain emerged, gray-green and grim, spreading +itself out, miles and miles into the distance, to the rimming mass of +mountains in the west. Still the hoof-beats rang out as the sky +blushed with the dawn and the cloud-flecks flamed crimson and the +peaks of the distant mountain range glittered with the first golden +rays. + +Neck to neck and heel to heel they galloped on over the faint track +of the road, which now they could see, winding over the hills in front +of them. The men spoke cheerily to the horses and patted their wet +sides, and the spirited beasts still bent willingly to their task. The +three riders sat erect, straight-shouldered, graceful in their saddles +and the gentle morning breeze bathed their faces as on they rode over +the hills, while the sun mounted above the Fernandez range and flooded +all the plain with its soft, early light. + +They swept around the curving bend in the road, where it half-circled +the corrals, and Ellhorn's lusty "Whoo-oo-oo-ee-ee" rang out as they +drew rein at Mead's door; Las Plumas, the night and ninety miles +behind them. Ellhorn's yell brought the cook to the door, coffee-pot +in hand, with two _vaqueros_ following close behind. One of these took +the horses to the stables and the three friends stood up against the +wall in the sunshine, stretching themselves. Mead took out his +pocket-knife and began cutting the cactus spines from his swollen +hands. + +"I'm glad to have a chance to get rid of these things," he said. +"They've been stinging like hornets all night." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Emerson Mead's ranch house was a small, white, flat-roofed adobe +building, with cottonwood trees growing all about it, and the water +from a spring on the hillside beyond, flowing in a little rill past +the kitchen door. Inside, on the whitewashed walls, hung the skins of +rattlesnakes, coyotes, wild cats, the feet, head and spread wings of +an eagle, and some deer heads and horns. There were also some colored +posters and prints from weekly papers. A banjo stood in one corner of +the dining room, while guns and revolvers of various kinds and +patterns and belts heavy with cartridges hung against the walls or +sprawled in corners. + +The cook and housekeeper was a stockily built, round-faced Englishman, +whom Mead had found stranded in Las Plumas. He had been put off the +overland train at that place because the conductor had discovered that +he was riding on a scalper's ticket. Mead had taken a liking to the +man's jovial manner, and, being in need of a cook, had offered him the +place. The Englishman, who said his name was Bill Haney, had accepted +it gladly and had since earned his wage twice over by the care he took +of the house and by the entertainment he afforded his employer. For +he told many tales of his life in many lands, enough, had they all +been true, to have filled the years of a Methuselah to overflowing. +Mead did not believe any of his stories, and, indeed, strongly +suspected that they were told for the purpose of throwing doubt upon +any clue to his past life which he might inadvertently give. +Good-natured and jovial though he was in face and talk and manner, +there was a look at times in his small, keen, dark eyes which Mead did +not like. + +As Haney bustled about getting a fresh breakfast for the three men he +said to Mead, "It's mighty lucky you've come 'ome, sir. There's been +merry 'ell 'erself between our boys and the Fillmore boys, and they're +likely to be killin' each other off at Alamo Springs to-day. They 'ad +shots over a maverick yesterday, and the swearin' they've been doin' +'ad enough fire and brimstone in it to swamp 'ell 'erself." + +Haney's conversation contained frequent reference to the abode of lost +spirits, and always in the feminine gender. Mead asked him once why he +always spoke of "hell" as "her," and he replied: + +"Well, sir, accordin' to my reckonings, 'ell is a woman, or two women, +or a thousand of 'em, accordin' as a man 'as made it, and bein' female +it 'as to be called 'er." + +As the three men mounted fresh horses after a hasty breakfast, Nick +Ellhorn said to Mead: + +"Emerson, you're in big luck that that confounded thug in the kitchen +hasn't cut your throat yet." + +"Oh, he won't do anything to me," Mead replied, smiling. "I reckon +likely he is a thug, or a crook of some sort, but he won't do me any +harm." + +"Don't you be too sure, Emerson," said Tuttle, looking concerned. +"It's the first time I've ever seen him, but I don't think I'd like to +have him around me on dark nights." + +"He is a good cook and he keeps the house as neat and clean as a woman +would. He won't try to do anything to me because I'm not big enough +game. He knows I never keep money at the ranch, and that I haven't got +very much, any way. Besides, he's seen me shoot, and I don't think he +wants to run up against my gun." + +They were hurrying to Alamo Springs, a watering place which Mead +controlled farther up in the Fernandez mountains, where they arrived +just in time to stop a pistol fight between the cow-boys of the +opposing interests, half-a-dozen on each side, who had quarreled +themselves into such anger that they were ready to end the whole +matter by mutual annihilation. + +Mead found that the round-up had progressed slowly during his absence. +There had been constant quarreling, occasional exchange of shots, and +unceasing effort on each side to retard the interests of the other. +The Fillmore Company had routed the cow-boys of the small cattlemen, +Mead's included, and for the last two days had prevented them from +joining in the round-up. Mead found his neighbors and their and his +employees disorganized, angry, and determined on revenge. Accompanied +by Tuttle and Ellhorn, he galloped over the hills all that day and the +next, visiting the camps on his own range and on the ranges of his +neighbors who were leagued with him in the fight against the Fillmore +Cattle Company. He smoothed down ruffled tempers, inquired into the +justice of claims, gave advice, issued orders, and organized all the +interests opposed to the cattle company into a compact, determined +body. + +After those two days there was a change in the way affairs were going, +and the allied cattlemen began to win the disputes which were +constantly coming up. There were not many more attempts to prevent the +round-up from being carried on in concert, but there was no lessening +of the bad temper and the bad words with which the work was done. Each +side constantly harassed and defied the other, and each constantly +accused the other of all the cattle-crimes known to the raisers of +hoofed beasts. The mavericks were an unfailing source of quarrels. +According to the Law of the Herds, as it is held in the southwest, +each cattleman is entitled to whatever mavericks he finds on his own +range, and none may say him nay. But the leagued cattle growers and +the Fillmore people struggled valiantly over every unbranded calf they +found scurrying over the hillsides. Each side accused the other of +driving the mavericks off the ranges on which they belonged, and the +_vaqueros_ belonging to each force declared that they recognized as +their own every calf which they found, no matter where or on whose +range it chanced to be, and they branded it at once with small saddle +irons if the other side did not prevent the operation. + +Mead was the leader of his side, and, guarded always by his two +friends, rode constantly over the ranges, helping in the bunching, +cutting-out and branding of the cattle, giving orders, directing the +movements of the herds and deciding quarrels. Colonel Whittaker came +out from Las Plumas, and was as active in the management of the +Fillmore Company's interests as was Emerson Mead for those of his +faction. Ellhorn and Tuttle would not allow Mead to go out of their +sight. They rode with him every day and at night slept by his side. If +he protested that he was in no danger, Ellhorn would reply: + +"You-all may not need us, but I reckon you're a whole heap less likely +to need us if we're right with you in plain view." + +And so they saw to it that they and their guns were never out of +"plain view." And, possibly in consequence, for the reputation of the +three as men of dare-devil audacity and unequalled skill with rifle +and revolver was supreme throughout that region, wherever the three +tall Texans appeared the battle was won. The maverick was given up, +the quarrel was dropped, the brand was allowed, and the accusation +died on its maker's lips if Emerson Mead, Tom Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn +were present or came galloping to the scene. + +The look of smiling good nature seldom left Mead's face, but his lips +were closely shut in a way that brought out lines of dogged +resolution. He was determined that the cattle company should recognize +as their right whatever claims he and his neighbors should make. +Tuttle and Ellhorn talked over the situation with him many times, and +they were as determined as he, partly from love of him and partly from +lust of fight, that the cattle company should be vanquished and +compelled to yield whatever was asked of it. But they took the +situation less seriously than did Mead, looking upon the whole affair +as something of a lark well spiced with the danger which they enjoyed. + +Ellhorn heard one day that Jim Halliday was at the Fillmore ranch +house, and they decided at once that his business was to lay hands +upon Mead. It was also rumored that several people from Las Plumas had +been riding over the Fernandez plain and the foothills of the +Fernandez mountains trying to find Will Whittaker's body or some clue +to his disappearance. The three friends learned that all these people +had been able to discover was that he had left the ranch on the +morning of his disappearance with a _vaquero_, a newly hired man who +had just come out of the Oro Fino mountains, where he had been +prospecting, in the hope of making another stake. A man had seen them +driving down through the foothills, but after that all trace of them +was lost. Old Juan Garcia and his wife, past whose house the road +would have taken them, had been away, gathering firewood in the hills, +but Amada, their daughter, had been at home all day, and she declared +she had seen nothing of them, and that she did not think they could +have gone past without her seeing them. It was accordingly argued that +whatever had happened must have taken place not far from the junction +of the main road with the road which led to Emerson Mead's ranch, and +all that region was searched for traces of recent burial. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The round-up was almost finished, and, so far, Emerson Mead had won +the day. Backed always by his two friends, he had compelled the +recognition of every general claim which had been made, and in most of +the daily quarrels his side had come out victor. + +Toward the end of the round-up, Mead and two _vaqueros_, accompanied +by Tuttle and Ellhorn, had worked all day, getting together a +scattered band of cattle, and at night had them bunched at a water +hole near the edge of his range. The next day they were to be driven a +few miles farther and joined with the droves collected by the Fillmore +Company's men and by two or three of his neighbors for the last work +of the spring round-up. In the evening one of the cow-boys was sent to +the ranch house with a message to the foreman, and a little later the +other was seized with a sudden illness from having drunk at an alkali +spring during the day. Mead, Tuttle and Ellhorn then arranged to share +the night in watches of three hours each with the cattle. Mead's began +at midnight. He saddled and mounted his horse and began the monotonous +patrol of the herd. + +There were some three hundred steers in the bunch of cattle. They lay, +sleeping quietly, so closely huddled together that there was barely +room for them to move. Occasionally, one lying at the outer edge got +up, stretched himself, nibbled a few bunches of grass, and then lay +down again. Now and then, as one changed his position, a long, blowing +breath, or a satisfied grunt and groan, came out of the darkness. When +Mead started his horse on the slow walk round and round the sleeping +herd the sky was clear. In its violet-blue the stars were blazing big +and bright, and he said to himself that the cattle would sleep quietly +and he would probably have an uneventful watch. He let the horse poke +round the circle at its own pace, while his thoughts wandered back to +his last visit to Las Plumas and hovered about the figure of +Marguerite Delarue as she stood beside her gate and took little Paul +from his hands. With a sudden warming of the heart he saw again her +tall figure in the pink gown, with the rose bloom in her cheeks and +the golden glimmer in her brown hair and the loving mother-look in her +eyes as she smiled at the happy child. But with a sigh and a shake of +the head he checked his thoughts and sent them to the mass-meeting and +the days he had spent in the jail. + +Presently it occurred to him that his watch must be nearly over and he +looked up at the Great Dipper, swinging on its north star pivot. Then +he smiled at himself, for it seemed scarcely to have changed position +since he had mounted his horse. "Not an hour yet," was his mental +comment. Clouds were beginning to roll up from the horizon, and he +could hear low mutterings of thunder and among the mountain tops see +occasional flashes of lightning. Soon the sky was heavily overcast, +and the darkness was so dense that it seemed palpable, like an +enveloping, smothering cover, which might almost be grasped in the +hands, torn down and thrown away. Mead could not see the horse's head, +so, letting the reins lie loosely on its neck, he allowed the animal +to pick its own way around the circle. + +The cattle began to show signs of nervousness, and from the huddled +mass there came sounds of uneasy movements. Mead urged his horse into +a quicker walk and with one leg over its neck as they went round and +round the herd, he sang to them in a crooning monotone, like a +mother's lullaby to a babe that is just dropping into dreamland. It +quieted the incipient disturbance, the rumbling thunder ceased for a +time, and after a little moving about the cattle settled down to sleep +again. + +Suddenly, without forerunner or warning, a vivid flash of lightning +cleft the clouds and a roar of thunder rattled and boomed from the +mountain peaks. And on the instant, as one animal, hurled by sudden +fright, the whole band of cattle was on its feet and plunging forward. +There was a snorting breath, a second of muffled noise as they sprang +to their feet, and the whole stampeded herd was rushing pell-mell +into the darkness. They chanced to head toward Mead, and he, idling +along with one leg over his saddle horn, with a quick jab of the spur +sent his pony in a long, quick leap to one side, barely in time to +escape their maddened rush. A second's delay and he and his horse +would have been thrown down by the sheer overpowering mass of the +frenzied creatures and trampled under their hoofs, for the horn of a +plunging steer tore the leg of his overalls as the mad animals passed. +Away went the herd, silent, through the dense blackness of the night, +running at the top of their speed. And Mead, spurring his horse, was +after them without a moment's loss of time, galloping close beside the +frightened beasts, alertly watchful lest they might suddenly change +their course and trample him down. They ran in a close mass, straight +ahead, paying heed to nothing, beating under their hoofs whatever +stood in their way. + +They rushed crazily on through the darkness which was so intense that +Mead's face seemed to cleave it as the head cleaves water when one +dives. He galloped so close to the running band that by reaching out +one arm he could almost touch one or another heaving side. But he +could see nothing, not a tossing horn nor a lumbering back of the +whole three hundred steers, except when an occasional flash of +lightning gave him a second's half-blinded glimpse of the plunging +mass. By hearing rather than by sight he could outline the rushing +huddle at his right hand. And watching it as intently as if it had +been a rattlesnake ready to strike, he galloped on by its side in a +wild race through the darkness, over the plain, up and down hills, +through cactus and sagebrush, over boulders and through treacherous, +tunneled prairie dog towns, plunging headlong into whatever might be +in front of them. + +From the rushing herd beside him there came the muffled roar of their +thousand hoofs, overtoned by the constant popping and scraping of +their clashing horns. The noise filled his ears and could not quite be +drowned even by the rattling peals of thunder. Swift drops of rain +stung his face and the water of a pelting shower dripped from his hat +brim and trickled from his boot heels. The beating rain, the vivid +flashes of lightning and the loud peals of thunder drove the maddened +creatures on at a still faster pace. Mead put frequent spurs to his +horse and held on to the side of the mob of cattle, bent only on going +wherever they went and being with them at the dawn, when it might be +possible to get them under control. + +They plunged on at a frenzied gallop through the darkness and the +storm, and when at last the sky brightened and a wet, gray light made +the earth dimly visible, Mead could see beside him a close huddle of +lumbering, straining backs and over it a tangle of tossing and +knocking horns. The crowding, crazy herd, and he beside it, were +rushing pell-mell down a long, sloping hill. With one keen, sweeping +glance through the dim light and the streaming rain he saw a clump of +trees, which meant water, at the foot of the hill, and near it a herd +of cattle, some lying down, and some standing with heads up, looking +toward him; while his own senseless mass of thundering hoofs and +knocking horns was headed straight toward them. + +With a whooping yell he dashed at the head of the plunging herd, sent +a pistol ball whizzing in front of their eyes and with a quick, sharp +turn leaped his horse to one side, barely in time to escape the hoofs +and horns of the nearest steer. They swerved a little, and making a +detour he came yelling down upon them again, with his horse at its +topmost speed, and sent a bullet crashing through the skull of the +creature in the lead. It dropped to its knees, struggled a moment, +fell over dead, and the herd turned a little more to the right. +Spurring his horse till it leaped, straining, with outstretched legs, +he charged the head of the rushing column again, and bending low fired +his revolver close over their heads. Again they swerved a little to +the right, and dashing past the foremost point he sent a pistol ball +into the eye of the leader. It fell, struggling, and with a sudden +jerk he swung the horse round on its hind legs and struck home the +spurs for a quick, long leap, for he was directly in the front of the +racing herd. As the horse's fore feet came down on the wet earth it +slipped, and fell to its knees, scrambled an instant and was up +again, and leaped to one side with a bleeding flank, torn by the horns +of the leading steer. The startled animals had made a more decided +turn to the right, and by scarcely more than a hand's breadth horse +and rider had escaped their hoofs. The crazy, maddened creatures +slackened their pace and the outermost ones and those in the rear +began to drop off, one by one, grazing and tailing off behind in a +straggling procession. Another rush, and Mead had the mob of cattle, +half turned back on itself, struggling, twisting and turning in a +bewildered mass. The stampeding impulse had been checked, but the +senseless brutes were not yet subdued to their usual state. + +Glancing down the hill to the clump of trees, he saw men rushing about +and horses being saddled. Shouting and yelling, he rushed again at the +turned flank of his herd, firing his pistol under their noses, forcing +the leaders this time to turn tail completely and trot toward the rear +of the band. The rest followed, and with another furious yell he +swerved them again to the right and forced them into a circle, a sort +of endless chain of cattle, trotting round and round. He knew they +would keep up that motion until they were thoroughly subdued and +restored to their senses, and would then scatter over the hillside to +graze. + +He had conquered the crazy herd of cattle, but four horsemen were +galloping up the hill, and he knew they were part of the Fillmore +Company's outfit. He reloaded his revolver, put it in its holster, +and rode a little way toward them. Then he checked his horse and +waited, with his back to the "milling" herd, for them to come near +enough to hail. Through the lances of the rain he could see that +one of the men was Jim Halliday, the deputy sheriff from Las Plumas, +who had arrested him on the night of the mass-meeting. Another he +recognized as the Fillmore Company's foreman, and the two others +he knew were cow-boys. One of these he saw was a red-headed, +red-whiskered Mexican known as Antone Colorow--Red Antony--who was +famous in all that region for the skill with which he could throw the +lariat. His eye was accurate and his wrist was quick and supple, and +it was his greatest pride in life that the rope never missed landing +where he meant it should. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The thunder clap which frightened the herd of cattle also roused +Tuttle and Ellhorn, and through half-awakened consciousness they heard +the noise of the stampede. + +"What's that! The cattle?" exclaimed Tuttle, rising on his elbow. +Ellhorn jumped to his feet. + +"Tom, there goes ten thousand dollars on the hoof and a-runnin' like +hell!" + +"Where are the horses? Come on, Nick! Buck! Buck! Hello, Buck! Whoa! +Here's mine, Nick! Yours is over by the chuck wagon!" + +Fumbling in the darkness, they hurried to release and saddle the +hobbled horses, and, calling to the sick cow-boy that when the foreman +should come in the morning he must make haste after them, they jumped +upon the ponies and set out on the gallop through the darkness to +trail the noise of the running cattle. With every flash of lightning +Nick Ellhorn looked about with keen, quick glances, and with +half-blinded eyes located mountain peaks and arroyos, considered the +direction in which they were headed, and the general lay of the land, +and after a time he broke out with a string of oaths: + +"Tommy, them cow-brutes are headed straight for Sweetwater Springs, +and the Fillmore outfit's camped there to-night! Jim Halliday is +there, and so is that measly Wellesly, if he hasn't gone back to town. +He was out here two days ago. Emerson and the cattle will sure strike +the Springs just about daylight, if they keep up their gait and +nothing stops 'em!" + +Tuttle swore angrily under his breath. "That's just the snap they've +been waitin' for all this time! Their only show to get Emerson, or to +kill him either, is to come down on him half a dozen to one, and they +know it. Well, if they kill him he won't be the first to drop--nor the +last, either," he added with a little break in his voice, as he gave +his sombrero a nervous pull over his forehead. + +"I reckon," Ellhorn replied, "they don't want to kill Emerson, as long +as you and me are alive. They know what would happen afterward. Jim +Halliday has got that same old warrant over there, and what they want +to do is to shut him up in jail again." + +The first stinging drops of rain dashed in their faces and they +buttoned their coats and galloped on in silence. Tuttle was the first +to speak again: + +"What's that scrub Wellesly doing out here?" + +"I don't know, unless he came to bring 'em some brains. They need some +bad enough. Wellesly and Colonel Whittaker have been ridin' around +over the range for the last two or three days, though I didn't know +about it till yesterday. I guess they've been so everlastingly beaten +on every proposition that he thought he'd better come out himself and +see if he couldn't save the day for 'em on something." + +They hurried on in the trail of the roar from the stampeding herd, but +suddenly Ellhorn's horse struck his fore feet on the slope of a wet +and slippery mound beside a prairie dog's hole. Before the animal +could recover, its feet slid down the bank into the mouth of the hole +with a forward jerk, and it came down with a groaning cry of pain. +Ellhorn rose to his feet in the stirrups, and as the horse struck the +ground he stood astride its body and with a quick leap jumped to one +side unhurt. By the light of a match, which Tuttle sheltered under his +sombrero, standing bareheaded, meanwhile, with the rain running in +streams down his neck, Ellhorn examined the fallen horse. + +"He's broke both his forelegs, Tom. There's only one thing to do with +him, now." + +Tuttle stroked the beast's nose. "I reckon so, Nick. You-all better do +it." Then he turned away, while Ellhorn put his revolver to the +horse's head and ended its pain. + +"Now, Tom, you go on after Emerson as fast as you can and I'll hoof it +back to camp and get Bob's horse." + +"No, you-all jump on behind me, Nick, and we'll go on together. +Emerson will need us both in the morning. If that crowd gets after him +maybe he can stand 'em off till we-all get there. But he'll need us by +daylight, Nick." + +"I 'low you're right, Tommy, but ain't you on that horse that always +bucks at double?" + +"Yes, but I reckon he'll have to pack double, if you and me fork him." + +"You bet he will!" and Ellhorn leaped to the horse's back behind +Tuttle. "Whoo-oo-ee-ee!" Two pairs of spurs dug the horse's flank and +a rein as tight as a steel band held its head so high that bucking was +impossible. The horse jumped and danced and stood on its hind legs and +snorted defiance and with stiffened legs did its best to hump its back +and dismount its unwelcome double burden. It might as well have tried +to get rid of its own mane. The riders swayed and bent with its motion +as if they were a part of its own bounding body. Tuttle gave the +animal its head just enough to allow it to work off its disapproval +harmlessly, and for the rest, it did nothing that he did not allow it +to do. Finally it recognized the mastery, and, pretending to be +dreadfully frightened by a sudden vivid flash of lightning, it started +off on a run. + +"Hold on there, old man!" said Tuttle. "This won't do with two heavy +weights on top of you. You've got to pack double, but you'd better go +slow about it." + +[Illustration: "WITH A WHOOPING YELL, HE DASHED AT THE HEAD OF THE +PLUNGING HERD"--_p. 82_] + +Calming the horse down to a quick trot, they hurried on in the wake of +the stampede. They had lost all sound of the herd, and the trail which +the ploughing hoofs had made at the beginning of the storm had been +nearly obliterated by the beating rain. Once they thought they +caught the sound again and must be off the track. They followed it and +found it was the roaring of a high wave coming down an arroyo from a +cloudburst farther up in the mountain. Hurrying back, they kept to the +general direction the cattle had taken until the trail began to show +more plainly in the soaked earth, like a strip of ploughed land across +the hills. When they reached the next arroyo, they found it a torrent +of roaring water. The greater part of the cloudburst had flowed down +this channel, and where Mead and the cattle had to cross merely wet +sand and soaked earth, they would have to swim. + +"See here, Tom," said Ellhorn, "two's too much for this beast in the +water. You take care of my belt and gun and I'll swim across." + +"That's a mighty swift current, Nick. Don't you think we-all can make +it together?" + +"I don't want to take any chances. Buck can get across with you all +right, but if he's got us both on him he might go down and then we'd +have to follow Emerson on foot. We're coverin' ground almighty slow, +anyway. I'm the best swimmer, and you-all can take care of my boots +and gun." + +They waited a few moments for a flash of lightning to show them the +banks of the arroyo. By its light they saw a water course thirty feet +wide and probably ten feet deep, bank-full of a muddy, foaming flood, +in which waves two feet high roared after one another, carrying clumps +of bushes, stalks of cactus, bones, and other debris. As they plunged +into the torrent, Ellhorn seized the tail of Tuttle's horse, and, +holding it with one hand and swimming with the other, made good +progress. But in mid-stream a big clump of mesquite struck him in the +side, stunning him for an instant, and he let go his hold upon the +pony's tail. A high wave roared down upon him the next moment, and +carried him his length and more down stream. He fought with all his +strength against the swift current, but, faint and stunned, could +barely hold his own. He shouted to Tuttle, who was just landing, and +Tom threw the end of his lariat far out into the middle of the stream. +Ellhorn felt the rope across his body, grasped it and called to Tuttle +to pull. + +"Tommy," he said, when safe on land, "I hope we'll find the whole +Fillmore outfit just a-walkin' all over Emerson. I don't want more'n +half an excuse to get even with 'em for this trip. Sure and I wish I +had 'em all here right now! I'm just in the humor to make sieves of +'em!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Emerson Mead waited until the four horsemen were within two hundred +yards of him, and then he called out a good-natured "hello." The +others checked their horses to a slow walk, and after a moment one of +them hastily shouted an answering salutation. Mead instantly called in +reply: + +"I reckon you'd better stay where you are, boys. We can talk this way +just as well as any other." The others halted and he went on: "Suppose +you say, right now, whether you want anything particular." + +They looked at one another, apparently surprised by this speech, and +presently the foreman said: + +"We thought you must be having trouble with your cattle. Stampede on +you?" + +"They're all right now. They're 'milling,' and won't give me any more +trouble. But I reckon you didn't ride up here to ask me if my cattle +had stampeded. You better talk straight just what you do want." + +They hesitated again, looking at one another as if their plans had +miscarried. "They expected I'd begin poppin' at 'em and give 'em an +excuse to open out on me all at once," Mead thought. Then he called +out: + +"Jim, you out here to buy some cattle? Can I sell you some of mine?" + +"You know I don't want to buy cattle," Halliday replied, sulkily. + +"No? Then maybe you've come to ask me if it's goin' to rain?" Mead +smilingly replied. + +"I reckon you know what I want, Emerson Mead," Halliday said angrily, +as if nettled by Mead's assured, good-natured tone and manner. "You +know you're a fugitive from justice, and that it's my duty to take you +back to jail." + +"Oh, then you want me!" said Mead, as if greatly surprised. + +"That's what, old man!" Halliday's voice and manner suddenly became +genial. He thought Mead was going to surrender, as he had done before. +He had no desire for a battle, even four to one, with the man who had +the reputation of being the best and coolest shot in the southwest, +for he knew that he would be the first target for that unerring aim, +and he was accordingly much relieved by the absence of defiance and +anger in Mead's manner. + +"You want me, do you?" said Mead, his voice suddenly becoming +sarcastic. "Is that what you've been waitin' around the Fillmore ranch +the last three weeks for? Why didn't you come straight over to my +house and say so, like a man who wasn't afraid? You want me, do you? +Well, now, what are you goin' to do about it?" There was a taunt in +Mead's tone that stirred the others to anger. Mead knew perfectly +well what his reputation was, and he knew, too, that they were afraid +of him. + +"You won't surrender?" + +"Whenever you've got any evidence for a warrant to stand on I'll give +myself up. I let you take me in before to stop trouble, but I won't do +it again, and you, and all your outfit, had better let me alone. I'm +not goin' to be run in on any fool charge fixed up to help the +Fillmore Company do me up. That's all there is about it, and you-all +had better turn tail and go back to camp." + +While he was speaking the foreman said something to Antone Colorow, +and the man left the group and trotted away toward Mead's left as if +he were going back to camp. Without seeming to notice his departure, +Mead watched the cow-boy's actions from a corner of his eye while he +listened to Jim Halliday: + +"Now, Emerson, be reasonable about this matter and give yourself up. +You know I've got to take you in, and I don't want to have any +gun-fight over it. The best thing you can do is to stand trial, and +clear yourself, if you can. That'll end the whole business." + +Antone Colorow turned and came galloping back, his lariat in his hand. +Mead's revolver was still untouched in his holster, and his horse, +standing with drooping mane and tail, faced Halliday and the others. +The cow-boy came galloping through the rain from Mead's left, and so +far behind him that he could barely see the man from the corner of +his eye. He was apparently unconscious of Antone's approach as he +quietly replied to Halliday, but his fingers tightened on the bridle, +and the horse, answering a closer pressure of heel and knee, suddenly +lifted its head and stiffened its lax muscles into alertness. + +"I'd hate to make you lose your job, Jim," said Mead, smiling, "but +you can't expect a fellow to let himself be arrested for nothing, just +so you can keep a soft snap as deputy sheriff. You get some evidence +against me, and then I'll go with you as quiet as any maverick you +ever saw." + +As Mead spoke he was listening intently. He heard Antone's horse stop +a little way behind him, and, as the last word left his lips, the hiss +of the rope through the air. With a dig of the spurs and a sharp jerk +of the bridle the horse reared. The noose fell over Mead's head, but +his revolver was already in his hand, and with a turn as quick as a +lightning flash he swung the horse round on its hind legs in a quarter +circle and before the astounded Mexican could tighten the loop there +were two flashing reports and a bullet had crashed through each wrist. +Antone's arms dropped on his saddle, and through the shrill din of the +mingled Spanish and English curses he shrieked at Mead came the sharp +cracking of three revolvers. Emerson Mead felt one bullet whistle +through his sleeve and one through the rim of his sombrero, as, with +the rope still on his shoulders, he whirled his horse round again +with his smoking revolver leveled at Halliday. + +"Whoo-oo-oo-ee-ee!" Ellhorn's long-drawn-out yell came floating down +from the top of the hill and close on its heels the report of a +pistol. + +"That was a very pretty trick, Emerson," said the foreman, in a voice +which tried hard to sound unconcerned, "even if it was my man you +played it on." + +"It will be played on you if you make another break," Mead replied in +an even tone, with his revolver still leveled at Halliday. He turned +his horse slightly so that a sidewise glance up the hill showed Tom +Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn, guns in hand, both astride one horse, coming +toward them on a gallop. Tuttle's deep-lunged voice bellowed down the +slope: + +"We're a-comin', Emerson! Hold 'em off! We're a-comin'!" and another +pistol ball sung through the rain and dropped beside Halliday's horse. +Mead flung the rope from his shoulders and grinned at Halliday and his +party. + +"Well, what are you going to do now? Do you want to fight?" + +Halliday put his gun in its holster: "I don't want any pitched battle +over this business. We'll call the game off for this morning." + +"It's all right, boys," Mead yelled to his friends. "Don't shoot any +more." + +"You're a fool, Emerson," Halliday went on, "or you'd give yourself +up, go down to Plumas and clear yourself,--if you can--and have this +thing over with. For we're goin' to get you yet, somehow." + +Antone Colorow spurred his horse close to Mead and with all the varied +and virulent execration of which the cow-boy is capable shouted at +him: + +"Yes, and if they don't get you, I will! I come after you till I get +you, and I come a-smoking every time! You won't need a trial after I +get through with you! You've done me up, but I'll get even and more +too!" + +Mead listened quietly, looking the man in the eye. "Look here," he +said, "what did you reckon would happen to any man who tried to rope +me? Did you think I'd let you-all drag me into camp at your horse's +tail? I'm sorry I had to do that, but I didn't want to kill you. Here, +Jim, you fellows better tie up Antone's wrists." Mead offered his own +handkerchief to help out the bandages, and, suddenly remembering the +whisky flask in his breast pocket, took it out and told the wounded +man to finish its contents. + +While this was going on Tuttle and Ellhorn rode up. The rain had +stopped, and through a rift in the eastern clouds the level, red rays +of the sun were shining. Mead met their eager, anxious faces with a +smile. + +"It's all right, boys. Jim says the game's off for this morning." + +Nick and Tom turned black and scowling looks on Halliday and his +party, and the deputy sheriff, manifestly nervous, rode toward them +with an exaggeratedly genial greeting: + +"Howdy, boys! Put up your guns! We ain't goin' to have any gun-fight +this morning." + +"How do you know we ain't?" growled Tom. + +"Well, Emerson says so," he replied, with an apprehensive glance at +Mead. + +"Well," said Nick, "if Emerson says so it's all right. But we've had a +devil of a ride, and we'd like to get square somehow!" + +Mead laughed. "You can tally up with Jim, who's going to lose his job +because I'm too mean to let him run me in." + +Tuttle and Ellhorn turned grimly joyous faces toward Halliday. "If you +want to arrest Emerson this morning," said Ellhorn, "just begin right +now! We're three to three! Come on now and try it!" + +The officer edged his horse away: "I'll wait till the round-up is +over. Then you can't have the excuse that the Fillmore Company's doing +it. But I'll have him yet, and don't you forget it!" + +"Just like you got him this time!" taunted Ellhorn. + +Halliday turned back a red and angry face: "I'll have him," he yelled, +"if I have to kill the whole damned three of you to get him!" + +A derisive shout of laughter was the only answer he received as he and +his party galloped back to camp. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +After the round-up was finished Emerson Mead and his two friends +started, with two _vaqueros_, to drive a band of cattle to Las Plumas +for shipment. When they reached Juan Garcia's ranch Mead remembered +that he wished to see the old Mexican, and the two cow-boys were sent +on with the cattle while he and Tuttle and Ellhorn tied their horses +in the shade of the cottonwoods at the foot of the hill. They found +Amada Garcia leaning on her folded arms across the window-sill and +making a picture in the frame of the gray adobe walls that was very +good to see. + +It is not often that the señorita of the southwest can lay claim to +any more of beauty than glows in midnight hair and eyes. But Amada +Garcia was one of the favored few. Her short, plump figure was rounded +into dainty curves and her oval face, with its smooth, brown skin, its +dimples, its regular features, its little, rosebud, pouting mouth, and +its soft, black, heavy-lidded eyes, was alluring with sensuous beauty. +A red handkerchief tied into a saucy cap was perched on her shining, +black hair, and her black dress, carelessly open a little at the neck, +showed a full, soft, brown throat. + +She received the three men with that dignified courtesy that is never +forgotten in the humblest Mexican adobe hut, but she tempered its +gravity with many coquettish glances of her great black eyes. They +talked in Spanish, the only language Amada knew, which the men spoke +as readily as they did their own. No, her father was not at home, she +said. He had gone to Muletown and would not be back until night. But +was it the wish of the señores to be seated and rest themselves from +their travel and refresh themselves with a drink of cool water? Mead +presented Tuttle, who had never seen the girl before, and Amada said, +with many flashes of languorous light from under her heavy lids, ah, +she had heard of the señor, a most brave _caballero_, a man whom all +women must admire, so brave and skillful. Her carriage and the poise +of her body as she stood, or sat down, or walked about the room, would +have befitted a queen's approach to her throne, so unconsciously regal +and graceful were they. For ever since she was old enough Amada had +carried every day to the house, up the hill from the spring, in an +_olla_ poised on her head, all the water for their domestic +necessities. And in consequence she walked with a grace and carried +her head with an air that not one American woman in a hundred thousand +could equal. + +She brought them water from an _olla_ which stood in the _portal_, +where it would be free to the breeze and shaded from the sun, and as +she handed it to one after another she smiled and dimpled, her white +teeth gleamed, her black eyes shone alluringly in sudden flashes from +under their long-fringed covers, and her sweet, soft voice prattled +airy, beguiling flatteries and dear little complimentary nothings. As +she talked, she tossed her head and swayed her body and made graceful, +eloquent little gestures with her hands and arms. There was +unconscious coquetry in every movement and a mischievous "you dare +not" in every glance of her eyes and in every dimpling smile. She was +like a plump, saucy, sweet-throated bobolink, perched on a swaying +bough and singing a joyous and daring "catch me if you can." + +She walked across the room to put the cup on the table and Ellhorn +sprang to her side and threw his arm about her. She drew back a +little, tossed her head, and looked at him with eyes gleaming "if you +dare, if you dare," from under their soft lids. She faced the door as +she did so and as he bent his head to take the kiss she dared, a +sudden, gray horror fell over her laughing face and changed it in a +second to a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, drawn thing, pitiful in its +helpless, ashen fear. The sudden change stopped him with his lips +close to hers, and with his hand on his gun he wheeled toward the door +to see what had frightened her. The other two, looking and laughing, +saw the sudden horror transform her face and they also sprang toward +the open entrance, revolvers in hand. But there was nothing there. The +_portal_ was empty of any living thing. And all across the gray-green +plain the only sign of life was the drove of cattle far down the +winding road. They turned to the girl in surprise and asked her what +was the matter. She had recovered her smiling, coquettish self, and +declared that Señor Ellhorn had frightened her. She scolded him +prettily, in the soft, sweet, Mexican tones that are a caress in +themselves, and, with a demure expression, to which only the black +eyes would not lend themselves, she told him it was not right for a +man to take advantage of a girl when she was all alone. If he wished +to kiss her when her mother was present, ah, that was different. Yes, +she would forgive him this one time if he truly were very sorry, but +he must never, never frighten her so again. And her eyes flashed a +smile at him that flouted every word she said. + +As the three men rode away Tuttle asked: + +"Emerson, did she really mean what she said about Nick's frightening +her?" + +Mead looked at him with an indulgent smile: "Tom Tuttle, you're the +biggest maverick I ever saw. I reckon havin' a man want to kiss her +ain't such an unusual thing that it's goin' to frighten Amada Garcia +into a conniption fit." + +"What in thunder was the matter with her then?" said Ellhorn, a bit +nettled over the outcome of his gallantry. "It couldn't have been +because she didn't want me to kiss her." + +Mead broke into a loud, hearty roar, Tuttle grinned broadly, and +Ellhorn regarded the two of them with an angry look. Mead leaned over +and slapped his shoulder. + +"Nick, you're a devil of a fellow with the women, and I know it as +well as you do. I guess Amada's not very different from the rest of +'em, if she did stop your performance. She looked as if she saw a +ghost, and maybe she thought she did. These Mexicans are a +superstitious lot. Maybe she's kissed one too many some time and +happened to think of it just when it spoiled your fun." + +"She's a stunner, anyway!" said Ellhorn enthusiastically, his good +humor restored. "I say, Emerson, is she straight?" + +"I guess so. Yes, I sure reckon she must be, or Juan Garcia would have +made trouble. Old Juan and his wife are fine old people, and any man +who wronged Amada would have to answer for it to her father. He'd have +to either kill the old man or be killed himself in mighty short order. +Oh, yes, Amada's a good girl, but she's an awful little flirt." + +As soon as the cattle were secured in the pens at the railroad +station, ready to be transferred to the cars, Emerson Mead put spurs +to his horse and rode off alone to the northward without a word to his +friends. Nick and Tom, perched on the high fence of a cattle-pen, +watched him gallop away with amazement. His action was unusual and +surprising, for when the three were together where one went the others +went also, or, at least, knew all about it. The two left behind +discussed what it might mean. Nick watched him until, half a dozen +blocks away, he turned off toward the mountains from which they had +just come. Then a light broke upon Ellhorn and he slapped his knee +with his palm and broke into a laugh. + +"Tom Tuttle, I reckon I'm onto his curves! He's goin' to strike the +mountain road back of town a ways and come in alone, past Frenchy +Delarue's place, as if he'd just come to town!" + +"Frenchy Delarue! Does he mean to have it out with Frenchy for the way +he talked at that mass-meetin'? Say, Nick, we ought to be handy, for +he'll sure need us. Come on, let's ride out that way." And Tuttle +began to climb down from his high perch. Ellhorn stopped him with +another roar of laughter. + +"Tommy, sometimes I think you sure ain't got any more sense than a +two-year-old! Emerson don't care anything about Frenchy Delarue, or +what he said at a dozen mass-meetings. He don't hold things against a +man that way." Ellhorn ended with another laugh and sat there +chuckling while Tom looked at him resentfully. + +"I don't see what you want to make a fool of a fellow for," he said +sulkily. "If you-all don't want to tell me what it's all about, say +so, and I won't ask any more questions." + +Ellhorn slapped him on the shoulder. "That's all right, Tommy. It was +such a good joke I couldn't help it. Don't you remember that stunning +pretty girl we saw on the street with the kid the day Emerson came +into town, that I told you was Frenchy Delarue's daughter?" + +"What? Emerson! You don't mean--say, Nick! I don't--Emerson?" And +Tuttle stopped, from sheer inability to express his mingled feelings, +and stared at his companion, his face the picture of mystified +amazement. + +Ellhorn nodded. "I don't know anything about it, but two or three +times I've seen things about Emerson that made me think he must be +gettin' into that sort of trouble somewhere, and if he is I sure think +it can't be anybody but Miss Delarue." + +Tuttle was silent a few moments, thinking the matter over. Then he +shook his head doubtfully. + +"If it was you or me, Nick, I could understand it. But Emerson! Nick, +I can't believe it until I know it's so!" + +"I wouldn't have thought so either, but you never can tell," Nick +replied oracularly. "Now, I'd kiss Amada Garcia, or any other pretty +girl, every time I got a chance. You wouldn't do it unless you could +sneak around behind the house where nobody could see, and you wouldn't +say a word about it afterward. But Emerson, well, maybe Emerson would +too, but I don't reckon he would even think about kissin' her unless +she asked him to, and I'm dead sure he'd never think about it +afterward. But that's just the sort of a man who gets knocked plumb +out when a woman does hit him. It wouldn't make any difference to you +or me, or not very long anyway, because we'd go right along and love +some other girl just as much the next time. Likely you've been in love +as many times as I have, and I don't know how many that is, but I +don't believe Emerson ever thought more'n twice about any woman before +this. But I sure reckon he's knocked out now, and bad enough to last +him a long time. He's just the sort that don't want any woman if he +can't get the one he does want. But you and me, Tommy,--Lord-a-mighty! +We'll have a sweetheart every time we can get one!" + +Tuttle blushed a still deeper crimson under his red tan at this frank +account of his possible love affairs, and after a few moments of +silence he nodded thoughtfully: + +"I guess you-all have hit it off about right, Nick, But I never +thought Emerson would be the first one of us three to go and get +married! I thought likely none of us ever would!" + +"He ain't married yet, and I don't know as she'd have him." + +"Why not? Of course she would!" said Tom, resentful at the idea that +any girl could refuse his idolized friend. He whittled the board fence +despondently a few moments, and then added with a brighter look: "But +he's on the wrong side of politics to suit her father, and I reckon +Frenchy wouldn't have it." + +The whistle of the northbound train came up the track and they +climbed down from the fence and went to the depot. The telegraph +operator called Tom and handed him a dispatch. + +"It's from Marshal Black," said Tuttle to Ellhorn, "and he wants me to +go up to Santa Fe as quick as I can get there. I reckon I'd better +jump right onto this train. Emerson don't need me any more now. Tell +him about it, and if he wants me for anything, or you-all think I'd +better come, wire, and I'll flirt gravel in a minute. Good-bye, old +man." + +Emerson Mead made a detour through the northern end of the town and +came into the mountain road at the lower edge of the uplands. He +galloped down the street, checking his horse to a slow trot as he +neared Pierre Delarue's house. With sidelong glances he keenly +examined the veranda and the open doors and windows, but he could see +no flutter of drapery, nor the flaxen curls of the child. With a +protesting disappointment in his heart he held the horse back to a +walk while he stooped over and examined the cinch. He had almost +passed the place when little Paul came around the house, trailing a +subdued looking puppy at the end of a string, saw him, and ran to the +gate shrieking his name. Mead turned back, a warm flood of delight +surging into his breast. + +"Hello, little Bye-Bye! Do you want to ride with me? Run back to the +house and ask your sister if you can go." + +The child ran back to the porch and from within the house Mead heard +Marguerite give permission. "Won't she come out?" he thought, +anxiously. + +"You must come and lift me up," said Paul, and Mead determined to buy +him the finest toy in the town. + +"Climb on the fence and let Mr. Mead put you on." + +"She won't come. She does not want to see me," thought Mead. + +"No, I want you to come," persisted Paul, who was in a naughty mood. + +"No, dearie, Mr. Mead can stoop over and help you on just as well as I +can." + +"She is determined not to see me," thought Mead. "She never did so +before." + +Paul began to cry. "I can't, Daisy. Truly, I can't get on if you don't +come. And then I can't have any ride." + +Marguerite came out with a little, white, high-crowned sunbonnet +pulled over her head. She had been arranging her hair and had put on +the bonnet to conceal its disarray, when she found that the child +could not be persuaded to let her remain indoors. Mead thought her +face more adorable than ever as it looked out from its dainty frame. +Paul kicked his heels into the horse's shoulders, but a firm hand held +the bridle and the animal did not move. Marguerite turned a smiling +face upon Mead and met in his eyes the same look she always saw there. +She glanced down again, blushing, and felt the silence embarrassing, +but all the things she would ordinarily have said suddenly seemed +trivial and out of place, so she turned to the child with a gentle, +"Be a good boy, Paul." Mead looked at her in silence, smiling gravely. +Many things were whirling about in his mind to say, but he hesitated +before each one, doubting if that were the best. Paul kicked +vigorously and shouted, "Come on! Come on! Aren't you ready to go, Mr. +Mead?" Emerson's grave smile relaxed into a foolish grin, he lifted +his hat to Marguerite, and he and the boy cantered off. + +Marguerite hurried back to her room and as she stood before her +mirror, trembling, she resumed her hair dressing to the accompaniment +of thoughts that ran contrariwise: + +"I would think the man was dumb if I didn't know better. Why doesn't +he ever say anything? He is certainly the rudest creature I ever saw! +He stares at me until I am so confused that I can not even be +courteous. He isn't nearly so nice as Mr. Wellesly--I don't care, he +isn't! I like Mr. Wellesly, and he seems to like me, but--he does not +look at me out of his eyes as Mr. Mead does. I wonder--if he--looks at +any one else that way?" + +After Mead had returned the child he rode at once to his room, and +while he bathed and shaved and dressed himself in the garments of +civilization he gave himself up to gloomy thoughts about Marguerite. + +"Of course, she thinks I am a criminal of the worst sort,--a thief and +a murderer,--and maybe she does not like to have me stop at her gate. +She was nervous about it to-day, and she wouldn't come out until the +kid made her. It is plain enough that she doesn't want to see me any +more, and I suppose I ought not to stop there again. Still, the boy is +always so pleased to ride with me that it would be a shame to take +that pleasure away from him. But she doesn't like it--how sweet she +looked in that sunbonnet!--and she's too kind-hearted to ask me not +to. Well, she would rather I would not--yes, it is plain that she does +not want me to do it--so--well--all right--I'll not stop there again." + +His revolver lay on the table, hidden by some of the clothing he had +just taken off. Under the stress of his thoughts it escaped both eye +and mind. As he put on vest and coat he struggled to his final +resolution. Then he quickly jammed his hat on his head, thinking, "I +suppose I can't see her any more at all," and hurried into the street. +Presently he heard a loud whoop from the direction of the jail. +"That's Nick's yell, sure," he thought, "and it sounds as if he was +drunk. Now what's to pay, I wonder!" + +He hurried in the direction from which the sound had come, and was +just in time to see Ellhorn, yelling and waving his hat, led by Jim +Halliday into the jail, while a half-dozen excited Chinese, who had +been following close behind, stood chattering at the door. + +When the train which carried Thomson Tuttle northward left the +station, Nick Ellhorn watched it disappear in the hot, white, +quivering distance, and then wandered forlornly up town. He went first +to Emerson Mead's room, but Mead had not yet returned. He went to +Judge Harlin's office, and found that he was out of town. He next +tried the Palmleaf saloon, where he solaced and cooled himself with +some glasses of beer. Several men were already there, and others came +in, whom he knew, and all wanted to hear about Emerson Mead's round-up +and to congratulate him on its success. He drank mint juleps with two, +straight whisky with two others, a cocktail with another, and ended +with more beer. He walked up the street to the hotel, and as he talked +with the landlord he could feel the liquors he had so recklessly mixed +beginning to bite into his blood and raise little commotions in remote +corners of his brain. A pleasant-faced young Mexican came into the +office, and the landlord asked him how his patient was. The young man +replied in broken English that the man was a little better but very +sad, and that he wished to find some one to stay with him a few +minutes while he went out on an errand. + +Nick Ellhorn's heart was warmed and expansive and he promptly +volunteered to sit with the invalid and entertain him for an hour, +and with effusive thanks the Mexican nurse conducted the tall Texan to +the sick-room. White, gaunt and weak, the invalid lay in his bed and +looked with eyes of envy and admiration at the tall, firm, well-knit +frame, the big muscles and the tanned face of his companion. By that +time Nick began to be conscious of a high, swift tide in his veins, +and through his dancing brain came the conviction that he must hold a +steady hand on himself and be very serious. He sat up stiff and +straight in his chair by the bedside, and his demeanor was grave and +solemn. When the sick man spoke of his health and strength, Nick +replied with admonishing seriousness: + +"I'd be just such a lookin' thing as you are if I stayed indoors like +you do. You can't expect to be worth a whoop in hell if you stay in +the house and in bed all the time. I'll steal you away from here so +that coyote of a Mexican can't get hold of you again, and I'll take +you out to Emerson Mead's ranch and put you on a horse and make you +ride after the cattle, and sure and you'll be a well man before you +know it." + +The invalid appeared apprehensive, and, feeling himself weakened by +the fear lest something untoward might happen, he asked Ellhorn to +give him a drink of brandy from a flask which stood on the mantel. +Nick poured the measured dose into a glass, smelt of it, and looked +frowningly at the sick man. + +"Do you-all mean to say that you drink this stuff, as sick as you are? +You can have it if you insist, but I tell you you'll be dead by +sundown if you drink it! Sure and you ought to be ashamed of yourself, +lyin' in bed and soakin' with brandy, right on the ragged edge of the +tomb! That Mexican coyote ought to be shot as full of holes as a +pepper box for keepin' this stuff in the room, and I'll do it when he +comes back! I've taken a notion to you-all, and I'm goin' to carry you +off on my horse to Emerson's ranch and make a well man of you. But you +must sure let brandy and whisky alone, I'll tell you that right now! +And I'll put this out of your sight, so it won't be a temptation to +you. I'll drink it myself, just to save your life!" + +He poured the glass full and drank it off without a breath. Then he +began to lecture the thoroughly frightened invalid on the evil results +of too much indulgence in strong drink. "Look at me!" he solemnly +exclaimed. "I used to drink just as bad as you do, and where did it +bring me! Yes, sir! I've had feathers enough in my time to make me a +good bed, but I scattered and wasted 'em all with whisky and brandy, +just as you're doin' now, and here I am a-layin' on the hard ground! +But I've quit! No, sirree! I don't drink another drop, unless it's to +save a friend, same as I'm drinkin' this." + +When the Mexican nurse returned he found his patient fainting from +fright, and a very drunken man solemnly marching up and down the room, +flourishing an empty flask and uttering incoherent remarks about the +evils of strong drink and the certainty of death. + +"I've saved him!" Nick proudly exclaimed to the Mexican. "I've saved +his life! He'd 'a' been drunk as I am, and dead, too, if I hadn't drunk +all the brandy myself! I didn't let him touch a drop!" + +The nurse pitched him out of the room and locked the door behind him, +and he, after a dazed stare, stalked off indignantly to the front +entrance. A Chinaman was passing by, with placid face, folded arms and +long queue flopping in the wind. Ellhorn grabbed the queue with a +drunken shout. The man yelled from sudden fright, and started off on +the run with Ellhorn hanging on to the braid, shouting, his spurs +clicking and his revolver flapping at his side. Nick's yells and the +Chinaman's frightened screams filled the street with noise and brought +people running to see what was happening. Ellhorn whipped out his +knife and cut off the queue at the Chinaman's neck, and the man, +feeling the sudden release from the grip of the "white devil" behind +him, ran with flying leaps down the street and at the end of the block +banged against Jim Halliday, himself running to learn the cause of the +uproar. The Chinaman knew Halliday's office, and with wild gestures +and screaming chatter demanded that he should go back and arrest the +man who had despoiled him of his dearest possession. Halliday, +guessing that his enemy was too drunk to offer much resistance, +hastened at once to the task, and in five minutes Nick Ellhorn was +locked in the jail. + +Emerson Mead at once went to work to get his friend out on bail. He +saw the sheriff, John Daniels, go into the White Horse saloon and +hurried after him. As they stood facing each other, leaning against +the bar and talking earnestly, Mead saw Daniels flash a look of +intelligence and nod his head slightly to some one who had entered +from a back room toward which Emerson's back was turned. Instinctively +he reached for his gun, and Jim Halliday grabbed his right wrist with +both hands while John Daniels seized his left. With the first touch of +their fingers, the remembrance flashed through his brain that he had +left his revolver on the table in his room. He would have thought it +as impossible to forget that as to forget his trousers, but the thing +was done, and here was the result. He shrugged his shoulders and said +quietly: + +"You've caught me unarmed, boys. I'm at your service--this time." + +They looked at him in doubting surprise. To catch Emerson Mead unarmed +seemed a most unlikely fairy tale. The two men held his arms and +Daniels called a third to search him. Mead flushed and bit his lip. + +"I'm not used to having my word doubted," he said, "but I can't blame +you for doubting it this time. I can hardly believe it myself. Jim, +you've struck just the one chance in a thousand years." + +Halliday laughed. "Well, I've been lucky twice to-day, and I reckon I +haven't worn out the run yet." + +Mead smiled indulgently down from his superior height, and said: "Work +it while it runs, Jim; work it while it runs. You can have your +innings now, but mine won't be long coming." + +"Well, you won't have any chance to get yourself hauled over the back +wall this time, I'll tell you that right now." + +They hurried their prisoner off to jail, and in a few minutes he also +was locked behind thick adobe walls. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Albert Wellesly never made a new investment, nor allowed any change to +be made in property in which he was interested, without first making a +thorough personal inspection. For that reason he spent a number of +busy days at the ranch, near the close of the round-up, inspecting the +range and debating with Colonel Whittaker whether it would be better +to enlarge it or to run the risk of overstocking by increasing the +number of cattle on the land which they already held. They decided +that if they could get control of certain springs and surrounding +ranges, especially Emerson Mead's Alamo and Cienega springs and +another belonging to McAlvin, which joined the range they already +held, it would be exactly what they needed. + +"These water holes would be worth a lot to us," said Colonel +Whittaker, "but it would be just like these contrary cusses to refuse +to sell at any price, especially to us." + +"Then they'll have to be persuaded," Wellesly replied. + +It was necessary for Colonel Whittaker to return to Las Plumas before +they had quite finished their inspection, and Wellesly decided to +remain a little longer and go back to town alone. Whittaker hesitated +over the arrangement, for he knew that Wellesly had neither the +instinct nor the training of the plainsman, and that he was unusually +deficient in that sense of direction which is the traveler's best +pilot over monotonous levels and rolling hills. + +"Do you think you can find your way?" he said. "One of the boys can +guide you over the range, and when you start back to town, unless you +are perfectly sure of yourself, you'd better have him go with you, as +far as Muletown, at least." + +"Oh, I'll have no trouble about getting back," Wellesly replied. "It's +a perfectly plain, straight road all the way, and all I'll have to do +will be to follow the main track. I'll stay here two days longer and +I'll take two days for the trip to town. You can expect me--this is +Monday--some time Thursday afternoon." + +The misadventure of Nick Ellhorn, which landed both him and Emerson +Mead in jail, was on Tuesday afternoon, and it was early the next +morning that Albert Wellesly left the ranch house and rode down +through the foothills. He decided that the horse knew more about the +road than he did, and would do just as well if left to its own +guidance. So he let the reins lie loosely on its neck and, forgetful +of his surroundings, was soon absorbed in a consideration of the +problems of the cattle ranch. Well down toward the plain the road +forked, one branch turning sharply to the right and the other to the +left. The horse which he rode had, until recently, belonged to Emerson +Mead, from whom the Fillmore Company had bought it. Left to its own +will, at the forks it chose the left hand branch and cantered +contentedly on over rising foothills. Wellesly's thoughts turned from +the ranch to other business ventures in which he was interested. It +was a long time and the horse had covered much ground before he +finally looked about him to take his bearings and consider his +progress. Looking at his watch he thought he ought to be well down in +the plain toward Muletown, and wondered that he was still among the +foothills. He had an uneasy feeling that there was something wrong, +but he said to himself that he had followed the straight road all the +way and that therefore it must be all right. At any rate, it would be +foolish not to go straight ahead until he should meet some one from +whom he could ask directions. So he rode on and on and the sun rose +higher and higher, and nowhere was there sign of human being. But at +last he saw in the distance a splotch of green trees through which +shone whitewashed walls. And presently he was hallooing in front of +Emerson Mead's ranch house. + +A thick-set, elderly man, with a round, smooth, pleasant face, out of +which shrewdly looked small dark eyes, came out to see what was +wanted. In his knocking around the world Billy Haney had kept fast +hold of two principles. One was to find out all that he could about +any stranger whom he chanced to meet, and the other, never to tell +that stranger anything about himself that was true. In response to +Wellesly's question, Haney told him that he was far off the road to +Las Plumas, and then by means of two or three shrewd, roundabout +questions and suggestions, he brought out enough information to enable +him to guess who his visitor was. He knew about Wellesly's connection +with the cattle company and his recent presence at the ranch, and the +man's personal appearance had been described to him by Mead and +Ellhorn. So he felt very sure of his ground when he shortly surprised +the traveler by addressing him by name. Then he told Wellesly that his +own name was Mullford, which was the name of a man who owned a cattle +range much farther to the south and who had not been engaged in the +recent trouble over the round-up. He represented himself as the owner +of the place and said that he had been engaged in the cattle business +ten years, but that he was not pleased with it and intended to pull +out within the next year. It was nearly noon and he insisted that +Wellesly should stay to dinner. An idea was dawning in his brain and +he wanted time to consider it. + +A hammock hung in the shade of the cottonwoods, where the breeze blew +cool and refreshing, and he invited Wellesly to stretch himself there +until dinner should be ready. A _vaquero_ took his horse to the stable +and Wellesly threw himself into the hammock and looked up into the +green thickets of the trees with a soul-satisfying sense of relief and +comfort. His revolver in his hip pocket interfered with his ease and +he took it out and laid it on a chair beside the hammock. Then he +pulled his hat over his eyes and in five minutes was asleep. + +There was only one _vaquero_ at the ranch house, and he and Billy +Haney and Wellesly were the only human beings within many miles. When +the cow-boy had taken care of Wellesly's horse Haney called him into +the kitchen. The man was tall and sinewy, with a hatchet face, a +thin-lipped mouth and a sharp chin. + +"Jim," said Haney, "I've got a scheme in my 'ead about that man, and I +think there'll be lots of money in it. Do you want to come in?" + +"What'll it be worth to me?" + +"If there's anything in it, there'll be a big pile and we'll go 'alf +and 'alf, and if there isn't--well, of course there's chances to be +took in everything." + +"What'll it cost?" + +"Some work and some nerve, and then a quick scoot." + +"All right, Billy. What's your play?" + +When they had finished their planning Haney walked softly toward the +hammock. A gentle snore from beneath the hat told him that Wellesly +was sleeping quietly. He took the revolver from the chair, removed the +cartridges from the six chambers and put it back in the same position. +Then he walked around to the other side of the sleeper and called him +in a hearty tone. Wellesly rose yawning, and they started toward the +house for luncheon. + +"You've forgotten your revolver, sir," said Billy. + +"So I have! I'm not accustomed to carrying the thing, and if you had +not reminded me I probably wouldn't have thought of it again for a +week. I don't believe it is necessary to carry one, anyway, but my +friend, Colonel Whittaker, insisted that I should do so." + +"You never know when you'll need one down in this country," Haney +replied, with a sad shake of the head. "It's pretty tough, I can tell +you. There's that Emerson Mead outfit. They're the worst in the +southwest. You'd need your gun if you should meet any of them." + +"Yes, our company has had very serious and very sad experience with +them." + +"Ah, yes! Poor young Whittaker! I 'eard about 'is death. That was the +wickedest thing they've ever dared to do. Most everybody in this +country 'as lost cattle by them and we'd all be glad to see 'em driven +out." + +"They belong to that class of cattlemen," Wellesly replied, "who start +in the business with one old steer and a branding iron, and then let +nature take its course." + +Haney laughed uproariously and when he could speak added: "Yes, and in +three years they 'ave bigger 'erds than any of their neighbors. +You're right, sir, and the sooner the country gets rid of such men the +better. I don't think, Mr. Wellesly, it's safe for you to ride alone +where you are likely to meet any of that outfit. You know the feeling +they 'ave for your company, and what they did for young Will, poor +boy, they'd do for you if they got the chance. I've got business out +your way, over at Muletown, and if you don't mind I'll ride along with +you that far. That will put you on the right road and if we should +meet any of the Mead outfit they wouldn't be so likely to shoot as if +you were alone." + +"All right, Mr. Mullford, I'll be very glad of your company. I'm no +plainsman, and it is the easiest thing in the world for me to get lost +out here among the mesquite and sagebrush, where the country all looks +alike. I suppose I have about the least sense of direction of any man +who ever tried to find his way across a plain alone." + +"You needn't worry about that now. Just leave it to me and I'll get +you to Muletown by the shortest route. I know all this country +thoroughly, every cow-path and water 'ole in it, and you couldn't lose +me if you tried. You needn't think about the road again this +afternoon." + +Haney buckled on a full cartridge belt and a revolver, put a pair of +saddle bags with a big canteen of water in each side over his horse, +slung a rifle on one side of his saddle, and they started off along a +slightly beaten road straight toward the southeast. Wellesly asked +Haney if he were sure they were going in the right direction, and +Haney assured him that it was all right and chaffed him a little that +he so easily lost the points of the compass. In the distance, a mile +or so ahead of them, they saw a man on horseback leading another horse +which carried a pack. When Wellesly again said that he did not +understand how he could be so entirely at sea, Haney suggested that +they overtake this traveler and get his assurance in the matter. They +galloped up beside him and called out a friendly hail. It was Jim, the +_vaquero_ from Mead's ranch, but he and Haney looked at each other as +if they had never met before. He assured Wellesly that they were +certainly on the road which led to Las Plumas by the way of Muletown, +that he knew it perfectly well, having traveled it many times, and +that he himself was going past Muletown to the Hermosa mountains. + +"You see," he explained, "Muletown ain't on the straight line between +here and Las Plumas. It's away off to one side and you have to go +quite a ways around to get there. That's what has mixed you up so, +stranger. The road has to go past Muletown, because it's the only +place on the plain where there's water." + +"Well," said Wellesly, "since you both say so, it must be all right. +The joke is on me, gentlemen." He took a flask from his breast pocket. +"There isn't much left in this bottle, but as far as it will go, I +acknowledge the corn." + +The men each took a drink, Wellesly finished the liquor and threw the +empty flask on a sandheap beside the road. Light clouds had risen, so +that the sun and all the western sky were obscured and there were no +shadows to suggest to him that they were going east instead of west. +They were nearing a depression in the Fernandez mountains. Haney +pointed to it, saying: + +"When we get there we can show you just the lay of the land." + +They passed through the break and a barren plain lay spread out before +them bounded by precipitous mountains which swerved on either hand +toward the range in which they were riding. + +"That," said Haney, "is the Fernandez plain. You remember crossing +that, surely?" Wellesly nodded. "And the mountains over there," Haney +went on, "are the 'Ermosas." + +"The range just this side of Las Plumas," said Wellesly. "Yes, I am +getting my bearings now." + +"I'm going prospecting in them mountains," said Jim. "I'm satisfied +there's heaps of gold there. I'm going up into that canyon you see at +the foot of that big peak. I was in there two weeks ago and I found +quartz that was just lousy with gold. You fellows better break away +and come along with me. I'll bet you can't make more money anywhere +else." + +"I don't care to go prospecting," said Wellesly, "but if you make a +good strike, and develop it enough to show what it is, I'll engage to +sell it for you." + +"Good enough! It's a bargain!" Jim cried. "Just give me your address, +stranger, so I'll know where to dig you up when I need you." + +Wellesly handed his card and Jim carefully put it away in his +pocketbook. + +Haney laughed jovially. "You may count me out, pard, on any of that +sort of business. I've blowed all the money into this damn country +that I want to. You'll never get anything out of it but 'orned toads +and rattlesnakes and 'bad men' as long as it lasts. If I can pull out +'alf I've planted 'ere I'll skip, and think I'm lucky to get out with +a whole skin." + +They trotted across the dry, hot, barren levels of the desert into +which they had descended, seeing nowhere the least sign of human life. +The faintly beaten track of the road stretched out in front of them in +an almost straight line across the gray sand between interminable +clumps of cactus and frowsy, wilted sagebrush. Bunches of yellow, +withered grass cropped out of the earth here and there. But even these +forlorn caricatures of vegetation gave up and stayed their feet on the +edges of frequent alkali flats, where the white, powdery dust covered +the sand and dealt death to any herbage that ventured within its +domain. Hot, parched, forbidding, the desert grew more and more +desolate as they proceeded. To Wellesly there was an awe-inspiring +menace in its dry, bleaching, monotonous levels. He felt more keenly +than ever his own helplessness in such a situation and congratulated +himself on having fallen in with his two guides. He wondered that the +plain had not impressed him more deeply with its desolation and +barrenness when he came out to the ranch. But he had no doubt of the +ability and good faith of his two companions and he drew his horse a +little nearer to them and said: + +"My God! What a place this desert would be for a man to be lost in!" + +Then they told him stories of men who had been lost in it, who had +wandered for days without water and had been found raving maniacs or +bleaching skeletons--the sort of stories that make the blood of any +but a plainsman seem to dry in his veins and his tongue to cleave to +the roof of his mouth. Told in all their details and surrounded by the +very scenes in which their agonies had been suffered, they brought the +perspiration to Wellesly's brow and a look of horror to his eyes. +Haney and Jim saw that they made him nervous, and racked their +memories and their imaginations for more of the same sort. + +They were approaching the mountains and the country around them was +broken into barren, rocky hills. The road grew rougher and the +mountains towered above them in jagged peaks of seemingly solid rock. +The day was nearly ended and Wellesly remembered enough of the +distances along the Las Plumas road to be sure that they ought to be +approaching Muletown. But in this stern wilderness of rock and sand, +human habitation did not seem possible. He looked back across the +desert at the Fernandez mountains, standing out sharply against the +red sunset clouds, and it suddenly flashed across his mind that if the +sun were setting there they must have been traveling in an easterly +direction all the afternoon, which meant that they had been getting +farther and farther away from Las Plumas. Enlightened by this idea, he +sent a quick, seeing glance along the range of mountains standing out +boldly and barrenly in front of them, and he knew it was not the +Hermosa range. Haney turned with a jovial remark on his lips and met +Wellesly's eyes, two narrow strips of pale gray shining brilliantly +from between half-closed lids, and saw that his game had played itself +smoothly as far as it would go. + +Wellesly disregarded Haney's jest and looking him squarely in the eyes +said: "I suppose, Mr. Mullford, if we keep on in this direction a +matter of some twenty-five thousand miles we might reach Muletown. But +don't you think we would save time if we were to turn around and +travel the other way?" + +Haney laughed good-naturedly and exclaimed: "You've not got that +notion out of your 'ead yet, 'ave you! Say, pard," he added to Jim, +"Mr. Wellesly is still turned around. 'E thinks we ought to right +about face and take the back track to get to Muletown. What can we do +to convince 'im 'e's all right?" + +Wellesly was watching the two men narrowly, his suspicions aroused and +all his faculties alert. Haney's calm, solicitous tone for a moment +almost made him think he must be mistaken. But another glance at the +rocky, precipitous mountains reassured him that they were not the +Hermosas and settled the conviction in his mind that he had fallen +into the trap of a pair of very smooth rogues. A still, white rage +rose in his heart and mettled his nerves to his finger-tips, as he +thought of the plausible pretensions of good will with which they had +led him into this wilderness. He scarcely heard Jim's reply: + +"I don't know what else he wants. We're going to Muletown, and if he +don't want to get lost out on this desert and have the coyotes pickin' +his bones inside of a week he'd better come along with us." + +"My friends," said Wellesly, in an even tone in which could barely be +heard here and there the note of suppressed anger, "if you think you +are going to Muletown in this direction, all right, go ahead. That's +your funeral. But it isn't mine. If anybody in this crowd is turned +around I'm not the man. I have been, thanks to your very ingenious +efforts, but I'm not now, and I'm not going any farther in this +direction. Unless you can get a little more light on which way is west +I'm afraid we'll have to part company. Good-bye, gentlemen. I'm going +back." + +He turned his horse squarely around and faced the long, gray levels of +the darkening desert. As his eye swept over that forbidding, +waterless, almost trackless waste, a sudden fear of its horrors smote +through his anger and chilled his resolution. Haney spurred his horse +to Wellesly's side, exclaiming: + +"Stop, Mr. Wellesly! You can't go back over that desert alone in the +night! Why, you couldn't follow the road two miles after dark! You +know 'ow uncertain it is by day, and in the dark you simply can't see +it at all. The desert is 'ell 'erself in the daytime, and it's worse +at night." + +Wellesly did not reply, for his resolve was wavering. Jim came beside +them, swearing over the delay. "See here," he said, "we've got no time +to fool away. If this here tenderfoot thinks he knows better than we +do which way we're going, just let him round-up by himself. I've been +over this here road dozens of times, I reckon, and I know every inch +of it, but I wouldn't undertake to travel a mile after night and keep +to the trail. Maybe he can. If he thinks he's so darned much smarter +than we are let him try it." + +"Can we make Muletown to-night?" asked Haney. + +Jim swore a big oath. "Didn't you hear me say I don't do no travelin' +on this road at night? No, sir. I know a canyon up in the mountain a +ways where there's sweet water and I'm goin' to camp there to-night. +If you folks want to come with me and eat prospector's grub, all +right, you're welcome." + +"Thank you, pard," said Haney. "For my part, I'll be glad to get it. +You'd better come too, Mr. Wellesly. It will be sure death, of the +sort we've been talking about this afternoon, for you to start back +alone." + +"You're right," said Wellesly. "I'll go with you." + +Jim rode into a canyon which led them into the mountains and for a +mile or more their horses scrambled and stumbled over boulders and +sand heaps. Then they turned into another, opening at right angles +into the first, and after a time they could hear the crunching of wet +sand under their horses' feet and finally the tinkle of a little +waterfall met their ears. + +"Here's the place," said Jim, dismounting. + +"Sure this isn't h'alkali?" said Haney. + +"You and the tenderfoot needn't drink it if you don't want to," +growled Jim. "And you needn't stay with me if you're afraid I'm +a-going to pizen your coffee." + +"Don't get angry, my friend," said Wellesly. "Mr. Mullford didn't mean +anything out of the way. We are both very much obliged to you for +allowing us to share your camp." + +"Yes," assented Haney warmly, "it's w'ite, that's what it is, to take +in two 'ungry fellows and feed us out of your grub. And we'll see that +you don't lose by it." + +They watered their horses, which Jim hobbled and left to graze upon +the vegetation of the little canyon. All three men hunted about in the +dim light for wood with which to make a fire, and they soon had ready +a supper of coffee, bacon, and canned baked beans, which Jim produced +from his pack. Afterward, he brought out a blanket apiece and each man +rolled himself up and lay down on the ground with his saddle for a +pillow. Wellesly thought the matter all over as he lay on his back and +stared up at the moon-lighted sky. He finally decided there was +nothing to do but to wait for the next day and its developments, and +in the meantime to get as much sleep as he could. + +When he awakened the next morning he found that the others were +already up and had prepared breakfast. The blue sky was brilliant with +the morning sun, but the little canyon was still damp and cool in the +black shadow of its walls and of the beetling mountains that towered +beyond. Their camp was at the very head of the canyon. On two sides +the walls reached high above them in almost perpendicular cliffs. At +the end, the rocky barrier was more broken and was heaped with +boulders, through which the clear waters of the streamlet came +trickling and gurgling and finally leaped over the wall into a little +pool. The floor of the canyon was barely more than two hundred feet +across, and twice that distance below the pool the walls drew so near +together that they formed a narrow pass. In this little oval enclosure +grew several pine trees of fairly good size, some scrub pines and +cedars and other bushes, and the ground was well covered with green +grass and flowers. + +Haney was hearty and jovial in his greeting to Wellesly, solicitous +about his physical welfare and genial and talkative all through +breakfast. Jim grinned at his jokes and stories and ventured some +facetious remarks of his own, and Wellesly told a story or two that +sent the others into peals of laughter. He searched his pockets and +found three cigars, and the three men sat down on the rocks and smoked +them in silence. Each side was waiting for the other to make a move. +At last Wellesly said that he would start back across the plain if the +others still wished to continue in the same direction. They +expostulated and argued with him and reminded him of the probability +that he could not find his way alone, and of the dangers from heat and +thirst which he would have to face. + +Wellesly guessed that they wanted money and were trying to force him +into making an offer. He held to his determination and while they +talked he saddled and mounted his horse. Then they tried to beat down +his resolution by picturing to him the certain death he would meet on +the waterless plain. In his heart he was really very much afraid of +that scorching, sandy waste, but he let no sign of his fear show in +his face as he curtly replied: + +"I'm very much obliged to you for all your concern about my welfare, +but I'll be still more obliged if you won't worry about me any more. +I'm going back and I'm going to start now, and if you are so sure I'll +get lost and die you can come along a week or so later, hunt up my +bones and collect the reward that will be offered for news of me." + +At that suggestion Jim glanced hastily at Haney and Wellesly saw the +Englishman shake his head in reply. + +"We don't want to be responsible for your death, Mr. Wellesly," Haney +began, but Wellesly cut him off short: + +"You won't be. I release you from all responsibility, after I leave +you. Good morning, gentlemen." And with a cut of the quirt his horse +started. They had been standing near the lower end of the head of the +canyon, and as he moved forward the two men sprang in front of him, +blocking the narrow pass which gave the only outlet. + +"Will you let me pass?" demanded Wellesly, his lips white and his +voice trembling with anger. + +"We're not ready for you to go yet," said Haney, all the joviality +gone from his face and voice. His look was that of brutal +determination and his voice was harsh and guttural. Jim added an +oath and both men drew their guns. + +"Then, by God, we'll shoot it out!" cried Wellesly, whipping his +revolver from his pocket. The hammer fell with a flat thud, and with +an angry exclamation he clicked the trigger again. With furious haste +he went the round of the cylinder. Jim and Haney stood grinning at +him, their guns in their hands. + +"Something the matter with your pop-gun, I reckon," said Jim. + +Wellesly opened it and looked through the empty cylinder. Then he put +it carefully in his hip pocket, rested his hands on the pommel of his +saddle and looked the two men slowly over, first one and then the +other, from head to foot. At last he spoke: + +"Well, whenever you are ready to make your proposition I will listen +to it." + +"We 'aven't any proposition to make," Haney replied. "We're not ready +to leave 'ere yet, and we're not willing for you to risk your life +alone on the desert. That's all there is about it." + +"Oh, very well! I can stay here as long as you can," Wellesly replied, +dismounting. He unsaddled his horse, hobbled it and turned it loose to +graze. Then he sat down in the shade of a tree, while the others still +held guard over the narrow pass. He had made up his mind that he would +not offer them money. He would watch his chance to outwit them, he +would match his intelligence against their cunning, his patience +against their brute force. It would be worth a week's captivity to +turn the tables on these two rogues and get back to civilization in +time to set at work the police machinery of a hundred cities, so that, +whatever way they might turn, there would be no escape for them. He +turned several schemes over in his mind as he watched Haney preparing +their noon meal of bread, coffee, beans and bacon. Jim was taking a +pebble from the shoe of one of the horses. Wellesly sauntered up and +watched the operation, asked some questions about the horses and +gradually led Jim into conversation. After a time he broke abruptly +into the talk with the question: + +"What is the name of these mountains?" + +"The Oro Fino," Jim answered promptly. Then he remembered that he and +Haney had been insisting that they were the Hermosas ever since the +day before and he stammered a little and added: + +"That is, that's what the--the Mexicans call them. The Americans call +them the Hermosas." + +"So you told me last night," Wellesly answered calmly, "but I had +forgotten." + +He remembered the name and recalled a topographical map of the region +which he had looked at one day in Colonel Whittaker's office. He +remembered how the three ranges looked on the map--the Hermosas, the +first range east of Las Plumas, with the wide Fernandez plain lying +beyond, then the Fernandez range, more like high, grassy hills than +mountains, with only their highest summits barren and rocky, and +separated from the Oro Fino--the Fine Gold--mountains, by the desert +they had crossed the day before. He recalled the descriptions he had +heard of these Oro Fino mountains--high, barren, precipitous cliffs, +separated by boulder-strewn canyons and cleft by deep gorges and +chasms, a wild and almost impassable region. He remembered, too, that +he had been told that these mountains were rich in minerals, that the +whole rocky, jumbled, upreared, deep-cleft mass was streaked and +striped and crisscrossed with veins of silver and gold, turquoise, +marble, coal and iron, but that it was all practically safe from the +hand of man because of the lack of wholesome water. Alkali and mineral +springs and streams there were, but of so baneful nature that if a +thirsty man were to drink his fill but once he would drink to his +death. Recalling these things, Wellesly concluded that this trickling +spring of sweet, cool water and the little green canyon must be rare +exceptions to the general character of the mountains and that this +must have been the objective point of his captors from the start. + +Along with the awakened memories came also a sudden recollection of a +tale once told him in Denver by a prospector, whom he was grubstaking +for the San Juan country, of a lost mine in the Oro Fino mountains of +New Mexico. He was able to recall the salient points of the story and +it occurred to him that it might be useful in the present emergency. +While they ate dinner Wellesly spoke again of the dangers of the +desert and of the risks he knew he would be taking if he should +attempt to cross it alone. + +"With my deficient sense of direction," he said, "I should probably +wander all over it a dozen times before I could find my way out." + +"You'd be dead long before that time," said Jim. + +"Yes, it's very likely I would," Wellesly calmly assented. + +"Of course," said Haney, "our friend 'ere 'asn't got much grub and if +you and me continue to live off 'im it won't last long. 'E knows a way +to get through these mountains and go down to El Paso, but of course +'e can't be expected to pilot you down there for nothin'. Now, if you +made it worth 'is w'ile, I dare say 'e'd be willin' to stop 'is +prospecting long enough to get you safe into the town. Eh, pard?" + +"Yes, I can," Jim replied, "if the tenderfoot wants to make it enough +worth while. I ain't stuck on the trip and I don't want to fool any +more time away around here. You two have got to decide what you're +a-going to do mighty quick. I want to get to prospectin', and if I +have to tote you-all down to El Paso you'll have to pay big for the +favor." + +Wellesly did not reply and Haney, who was looking critically at a big +boulder on the top of the canyon wall, burst into the conversation +with an exclamation: + +"My stars! Do you see that 'uge boulder up there, just above the +narrow place in the canyon? 'Ow easy it would be, now, wouldn't it, +for two men to get up there and pry it loose. It would crash down +there and fill up that whole blamed trail, wouldn't it, Mr. Wellesly?" + +"Yes, and effectually wall up anybody who might have had the bad luck +to be left in here," Wellesly dryly replied. "But speaking of the +dangers of crossing the desert," he went on, "I remember a story told +me once in Denver by a prospector who had been down in this country. +It was about a lost mine, the Winters mine. Did you ever hear of it?" + +"Yes," said Jim, "I have. I've heard about it many a time. It's in +these mountains somewhere." + +"It was so rich," Wellesly went on, "that Dick Winters knocked the +quartz to pieces with a hammer and selected the chunks that were +filled with gold. He said the rock was seamed and spotted with yellow +and he brought out in his pocket a dozen bits as big as walnuts that +were almost solid gold." + +The two men were listening with interested faces. Jim nodded. "Yes, +that's just what I've heard about it. But there are so darn many of +them lost mines and so many lies told about 'em that you never can +believe anything of the sort." + +"What became of this chap and 'is mine?" asked Haney. + +"I reckon the mine's there yet, just where he left it," Jim answered, +"but Dick went luny, crossin' the desert, and wandered around so long +in the heat without water that when he was picked up he was ravin' +crazy and he didn't get his senses back before he died. All anybody +knows about his mine is what he said while he was luny, and you can't +put much stock in that sort of thing." + +"I don't know about that," said Wellesly. "I had the story from the +man who took care of him before he died, the prospector I spoke of +just now--I think his name was Frank, Bill Frank. He said that the old +man was conscious part of the time and told him a good deal about the +strike--enough, I should think, to make it possible to find the place +again." + +Haney and Jim were looking at him with intent faces, their interest +thoroughly aroused. Wellesly decided to draw on his imagination for +any necessary or interesting details that the prospector had not told +him. + +"What did he say," Jim demanded, "and why didn't he go after it +himself?" + +"As I remember it, he said that during his delirium Winters talked +constantly of his rich find, that he seemed to be going over the whole +thing again. He would exclaim, 'There, just look at that! As big as my +fist and solid gold!' 'Look at that seam! There's ten thousand dollars +there if there's a cent!' and many other such things. He would jump up +in bed and yell in his excitement. If he was really repeating what he +had seen and done while he was working his strike, Bill Frank said +that he must have taken out a big pile, probably up near a hundred +thousand dollars. That he really had found gold was proved by the +nuggets in his pockets." + +"Did Winters tell him what he'd done with the ore?" Jim demanded. He +was evidently becoming very much interested. + +"Frank told me that at the very last he seemed to be rational. He +realized that he was about to die and tried to tell Frank how to find +the gold he had taken out. He said he had hidden it in several places +and had tried to conceal the lead in which he had worked. It is likely +that the strike, whatever it was, had upset his head a little and made +him do queer things before he got lost and heat-crazed on the desert." + +"Well, did this man tell you where he'd hid the dust?" + +"Do you know where it is?" + +"My informant, Bill Frank, said that Winters was very weak when he +came to his senses and could only whisper a few disconnected sentences +before he died, and part of those," Wellesly went on, smiling at the +recollection, "Frank said 'the darn fool wasted on gratitude.' But he +gathered that the Winters mine was somewhere in the southern part of +the Oro Fino mountains, not far from a canyon where there was good +water, and that he had hidden the nuggets and dust and rich rock that +he had taken out, in tin cans and kettles and bottles in another +canyon not far away." + +"Why didn't your chap go and 'unt for it 'imself?" asked Haney. + +"He did spend several weeks trying to find it, and nearly died of +thirst, and broke his leg falling off a precipice, and had a devil of +a time getting out and getting well again. Then he wanted me to +grubstake him for another hunt for it, but I think a man is more +likely to find a new mine than he is a lost one and so I sent him to +the San Juan instead." + +"Lots of men have gone into these mountains hunting for the Winters +mine," said Jim, "but all I've known anything about have always gone +farther north than this." + +"Yes," said Wellesly, as easily as if it were not an inspiration of +the moment, "Bill Frank told me that when he talked about it he always +made people think that Winters had said it was in the northern part of +the range, but that it was really in the southern part." + +Jim got up and walked away and presently called Haney. Wellesly lay +down and pulled his hat over his face. He fell into a light slumber +and awoke himself with a snore. He heard the voices of the two men, +and so he kept on snoring, listening intently, meanwhile, to their +conversation. He could not hear all that they said, but he soon found +that they were talking about the lost mine. + +"If this here tenderfoot ain't lyin'," said Jim, "the Winters mine +ain't far from here. I know these mountains and I know this here +spring is the only sweet water within ten miles, yes, twenty of 'em, +unless there may be one up so high among the cliffs that nothing but a +goat could find it. If Dick Winters' mine is in the southern part of +the Oro Fino mountains it's somewhere within two miles of us." + +Then he heard them talk about "finishing up" with him and coming back +to look for the mine. Haney suggested that as they had enough +provisions to last two or three days longer they might spend a day +examining the near-by canyons and "finish up" with Wellesly afterward. + +"If we find the stuff," he heard Haney say, "and this chap don't +conclude to be reasonable, we can leave 'im 'ere. If 'e does come to +time, we'll 'ave so much the more." + +Then they walked farther away and Wellesly heard no more. His scheme +was coming out as he wished, for they would of course take him with +them, and in their search for the lost mine they might become so +interested that their vigilance would relax and he would find an +opportunity to slip away unobserved. He thought he could find his way +out of the mountains by following the downward course of the canyons. +That would be sure to bring him to the desert. + +After breakfast the next morning Haney said: + +"Well, Mr. Wellesly, do you think you would like to go to El Paso +to-morrow?" + +Wellesly looked him squarely in the eye and replied: "I have no +business in El Paso and do not care to go there." + +An ugly look came into Haney's face, and Wellesly saw that his captors +were ready to throw off all pretense and take extreme measures. + +"Well," said Haney; "this is what we've decided to do. We'll give you +till to-morrow morning to make up your mind whether you'll go to El +Paso and give us ten thousand dollars apiece for taking you there. If +you don't want to get away that bad, that big rock will roll down into +this canyon and shut up that outlet and you will stay 'ere and starve. +We are going to leave you 'ere alone to-day to think the matter over, +and we are going to tie you fast to that big tree, so you won't 'ave +anything to distract your attention. We'll be back to-night and then +you can 'ave your supper and I 'ope we'll find you in a reasonable +frame of mind." + +Jim approached with a picket rope, and Wellesly whitened with anger. +For a moment, earth and sky turned black before him, and before he +realized what he was doing he had hit Jim a smashing blow in the jaw. +Jim staggered backward, and then, with a howling oath, whipped out and +leveled his revolver. Haney, who had grabbed one of Wellesly's wrists +and was struggling to keep it in his grasp, jumped between them and +shouted in a tone of command: "Don't shoot, Jim, don't shoot! You'll +spoil the whole game if you kill 'im!" + +Jim lowered his revolver sullenly and vented his anger in vile +epithets instead of bullets. + +"'Ere, stop your swearing and grab that arm," said Haney. "You can't +blame the man for kicking. You or me would do the same thing in 'is +place. Now push 'im up against this pine tree and 'and me the rope. +I'm sorry we 'ave to treat you this way, Mr. Wellesly, but if you +won't be reasonable it's the only thing we can do." + +Wellesly struggled at first, but he soon realized that they were much +the stronger and wasted no more strength in useless resistance, though +grinding his teeth with rage. They tied his arms to his body, and +then, standing him upright, bound him close against the tree. They +stepped back and Jim shook his fist at the captive. + +"I'll get even with you yet," he shouted, "for the way you took me in +the jaw! If you ain't ready to do what we want to-morrow morning you +won't get a chance to starve, you hear me shout! I'll wait till then, +but I won't wait no longer!" + +"Shut up, Jim! Don't be a fool!" said Haney. "After 'e's meditated +about it all day 'e'll be reasonable." + +Wellesly did not speak, but the two men read a "never surrender" in +his blazing eyes. Haney laughed excitedly and said, replying to his +look: + +"You'll feel differently to-night, Mr. Wellesly. That rope's likely +to 'ave a big effect on your state of mind. Jim, we don't want to +leave any knives on 'im." + +They went through his pockets and took out everything they contained, +dividing the money between them, while Haney took charge of his +papers. Then they made ready for their own trip, saddling their horses +and preparing to lead the two others. + +"We won't leave 'im the least possibility of getting away," said Haney +to Jim, "even if 'e should 'appen to get loose." + +"He'll never get out of that rope till we let him out." + +"If the 'orses ain't 'ere he won't 'ave any temptation to try. 'E'd +never undertake the desert alone and afoot." + +As they started, Haney called out, as good-naturedly as if they were +the best of friends: "Good morning, Mr. Wellesly! I 'ope we'll find +you more reasonable to-night." + +Jim took out his revolver and turned in his saddle toward the captive. +Haney grabbed his arm. + +"Don't you worry," said Jim. "I ain't a-goin' to kill him, like I +ought to do. I'm just a-goin' to put my mark on him." + +Wellesly heard the clicking of the trigger and the thought sped +through his mind that this was his last moment on earth. He saw the +flash and heard the report, and then it seemed many long minutes until +the whizzing of the bullet filled his ear and he heard it thump into +the bark of the tree beside his head. There was a stinging in the rim +of his left ear, where it had nicked out a little rounded segment. + +"There!" said Jim, with an ugly laugh, as he put away his gun, "he's +my maverick now, and if anybody else claims him there'll be war." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The next morning after his arrest Nick Ellhorn was released on bail. +He came out thoroughly sobered, and when he learned what had been the +result of his drunken trick his vocabulary of abusive epithets ran dry +in his effort to characterize his conduct. + +"How did you happen to get drunk, Nick?" Judge Harlin asked. "I +thought you had quit. What did you do it for?" + +"Sure, and what did I do it for?" said Nick, and the strong Irish +accent in his speech told how deeply he felt his misdeed. For he was +always most Irish when most moved. "I reckon," he went on, and the +rolling intonation fell from his tongue like a faint breath from the +green isle itself, "I reckon I did it just to show my friends what a +measly, coyote, white-livered, tackey, ornery, spavined, colicky, +mangy, blitherin' sort of a beast I am. Sure, now, Judge, I just +wanted everybody to know what a gee-whillikined damn fool I can be if +I try. And they know, now. Oh, yes, they know. There's nothin' more I +can tell. Hold on, Judge! Sure, and I'm thinkin' it all came along of +the way I mixed my drinks yesterday when I first struck the Palmleaf. +I had beer, and whisky, and some mint juleps, yes, and maybe a +cocktail, and I think there was some more beer--yes, there was more +beer, and I think likely that I had some brandy up there in that sick +man's room. For I seem to remember that I took a drink of brandy +because it was goin' to kill him if he drank it, and so I took it in +his place. Yes, I must have had some brandy, sure, because nothin' but +brandy will set me up that way. Now, just look at that, Judge! Ain't +that a fine lay-out for a man to swallow that knows better? If I'd +never been inside a saloon before there'd be some excuse. But me +a-mixin' my drinks like that! It's plumb ridiculous!" + +"Jim Halliday isn't sorry you did it. He's as proud as a boy with his +first pants over the haul he made yesterday. I hear he's going to be +measured for a brand-new, tailor-made cartridge belt and six-shooter +as a memento of the occasion." + +"He'd better hurry up, then, before the occasion turns a back +somersault on him. I reckon what he needs most is a new hat that will +be about six sizes too big for him a week from now. Jim Halliday's all +right as long as he keeps to his own side of the street, but he'd +better not come over here or he'll be filled so full of bullets that +he won't know himself from a dice box. Say, Judge, what's become of +that John Chiny's pigtail they say I cut off?" + +"I suppose it's in the hands of the district attorney and will be +brought in as part of the evidence when your case is tried." + +"Harry Gillam's got it, has he? Well, I want it myself. It's mine, and +I want it as a reminder not to mix my drinks. What had I better do +about this business, Judge?" + +"There's only one thing you can do, Nick--plead guilty and throw +yourself on the mercy of the court, and trust to your confounded Irish +luck to get you off easy." + +Nick Ellhorn sent a telegram to Thomson Tuttle to return as quickly as +possible and then attended to the shipment of Emerson Mead's cattle. +When he appeared on Main street again in the afternoon he found the +town dividing itself into two hostile camps. The Palmleaf and the +White Horse saloons were, respectively, the headquarters of the two +factions, and men were dropping their work and leaving their shops and +offices to join the excited crowds that filled the two saloons and +gathered in groups on the sidewalks. On the west side of Main street +the general temper was pleased, exultant, and inclined to jeer at the +other side whenever a Republican met a Democrat. On the east side, +anger and the determination to get even, shone in men's eyes and +sounded in their talk. + +In the afternoon news came that the territorial district court had +decided in favor of the Democrats a controversy over the sheriff's +office that had been going on ever since the election the previous +autumn, when on the face of the returns the Republican candidate, +John Daniels, had been declared elected. The Democrats had cried +"fraud," and carried the case into the courts, where it had ever since +been crawling slowly along, while Daniels held the office. The +election had been so hotly contested that each side had counted more +votes than had been registered. But each had felt so confident that it +could cover up its own misdeeds and hide behind its execration of +those of its enemy that neither had had any doubt about the outcome. + +The news of the decision embittered the quarrel which had been opened +by the arrest of Emerson Mead. There were threats of armed resistance +if the Democrats should attempt to take the office, and both John +Daniels and Joe Davis, who had been the Democratic candidate, went +about heavily armed and attended by armed friends as bodyguards, lest +sudden death at the mouth of a smoking gun should end the dispute. + +Toward night the angry talk and the buzzing rumors again centered +about Emerson Mead. It began to be said on the west side of the street +that this whole controversy over the sheriff's office had been worked +up by Mead and his friends in order that they might get his party into +power and, under its protection, harass the cattle company and by +arrests and murders ruin their business and take their stock. As the +talk whizzed and buzzed along the street men grew more and more +reckless and angry in their assertions. They lashed themselves into a +state in which they really believed, for the time being, that Mead's +continued existence would be a peril to themselves and a danger to the +community. Suggestions of lynching were hazarded and quickly taken up +and discussed. There were many who thought this the best thing that +could be done, and a little group of these got together in the coolest +corner of the White Horse saloon and formed themselves into a secret +vigilance committee. News of these things came by way of the back door +into Judge Harlin's office. He took the lead on the Democratic side of +the street and organized a party of twelve of their bravest men and +best shots to guard the jail during the night and resist any attempt +to take out Emerson Mead. He was careful also to see that news of what +he was doing was carried to the leaders on the other side. Late in the +evening he and Ellhorn and the rest of their party posted themselves +in dark corners and convenient hiding-places in the neighborhood of +the jail. An hour or more passed and there was no sign that the +vigilance committee had survived the fervors of the afternoon. Finally +Nick Ellhorn began to suspect what had happened and he called Judge +Harlin to account. + +"I call it downright mean, Judge," he complained, "to bring us fellows +out here in the hope of havin' a scrimmage and then send the other +side word we're here, so they'll be sure not to come! You'll be +runnin' on their ticket next thing we know! Now that we are out here +and all ready for business, and nothin' to do, we'd better just +slam-bang ourselves against that jail over there and get Emerson out." + +Judge Harlin, Ellhorn, Joe Davis and two others were standing in the +recess of a deep doorway under a _portal_. On the top of the _portal_, +stretched at full length, with one ear over the edge, lay a Mexican +listening to their talk. He could not hear Harlin's reply to Nick's +suggestion, but one of the others quickly agreed. The listener did not +wait to hear more, and in five minutes the back room of the White +Horse saloon was in a bustle of excitement. John Daniels and Jim +Halliday called for a posse of citizens to help them defend the jail, +and the party set out at once on a quick run up the street. + +Judge Harlin was trying to restrain Ellhorn's enthusiasm over the idea +of assaulting the jail. "No, Nick," he said, "we don't want to do +anything illegal. We are all right so far, because we are here to +protect human life and uphold the law. But the minute you throw +yourself against the doors of the jail you forfeit the law's +protection and--" + +"Here they come!" Nick interrupted excitedly. His quick ear had caught +the hurried tramp of the approaching party. + +With Daniels, Whittaker and Halliday in the lead and the others +trailing on close behind, they came down the middle of the street on a +half run, plainly revealed in the bright moonlight. They expected to +find the Democrats battering down the jail door, if they were not +already taking the prisoner out, and all their attention was turned +toward that building. Presently they saw that the entrance and all the +street round about were silent and apparently deserted, and they +concluded that the rescuing party was already inside the jail. Daniels +turned and made a hushing gesture. + +"Softly, boys," he said in a repressed voice. "Come along as quietly +as you possibly can and get up to the door in a bunch. Have your guns +ready." + +Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when from the darkness and +silence of a _portal_ a block beyond them came a flash and a report, +and on the instant a dozen more blazed out along that side of the +street, for half a block. + +The sheriff's party came to a sudden stop, stunned for a moment by the +complete surprise. One of their number threw out his hands and sank +down groaning into the dust. + +"We're ambushed, boys! It's a trick!" shouted a man in the rear, and +he started off as fast as his legs could carry him. Another and +another followed his example, and three others picked up the wounded +man and carried him away. Daniels and Halliday and three or four +others returned the fire, guessing at the location of the enemy, but +one of their party fell to the ground and another dropped his pistol +as his arm suddenly went limp and helpless. + +"It's nothin' but a trick to get us out here and kill us," said +Daniels. + +"It's no use to stand here and make targets of ourselves in the +moonlight," added Halliday. "We'd better get out as quick as we can." + +They picked up the wounded man, and supporting him between two others, +sought the shadow of the sidewalk and hurried away, followed by a +jeering "Whoo-oo-oo-ee" in Nick Ellhorn's well-known voice. + +"No more shooting, boys!" shouted Judge Harlin. "We've buffaloed +'em--let 'em go!" + +"You're always spoilin' the fun, Judge," Nick complained. "This job +was too easy! Now, did you ever see such a pack of cowards start on a +lynchin' bee? But I reckon they've learned one lesson and won't try to +lynch Emerson again in a hurry." + +The next day excitement ran higher than ever. The Republicans, +smarting under their defeat, were in a white heat of indignation over +what they believed was a deliberate plan to ambush and kill their +leading men. The Democrats, while they were jubilant over their +victory, were equally indignant over what they declared was an +attempt, by the very men who ought to have protected him, to lynch +Emerson Mead. In reality, each side had been trying to protect him and +uphold the law, but each scoffed at and spurned the story of the +other. Main street was in two hostile camps and all the fire-arms in +the town that were not already in evidence in holsters and hip +pockets, were brought to the center of hostilities and placed within +handy reaching distance in shops and offices. Behind the bar in each +of the saloons was a stack of shot-guns and rifles. The sidewalk on +each side of the street was constantly crowded, but nobody crossed +from one side to the other. + +The women began to feel the war spirit and early in the day Judge +Harlin's wife and John Daniels' wife, who were ordinarily the dearest +friends, passed each other on the street without speaking. The ladies +of Las Plumas were accustomed to meet at frequent teas, luncheons and +card parties on terms of the greatest cordiality, but long before +night, if any one whose masculine affiliations were on one side met +one belonging to the other, they passed with a haughty stare. + +Sheriff Daniels was much disturbed over the situation, fearing that he +would be unable to keep his prisoner in jail. He talked the matter +over with his advisers and together they decided that the best plan +would be to get Emerson Mead out of town for the present, and +accordingly a telegram was sent to the sheriff of the adjoining county +asking permission to lodge Mead temporarily in his jail. The Democrats +heard of this plan, and Nick Ellhorn fumed indignantly. Judge Harlin +was secretly pleased, and contrived to send word to Colonel +Whittaker, Sheriff Daniels and Jim Halliday that he approved their +plan and would do his best to control the Democratic faction while +they were making the change. He did not tell Nick Ellhorn that he had +done this, but he reasoned with that loyal friend at great length on +the matter. + +"But see here, Judge," Nick replied to all his arguments, "I got +Emerson into trouble this time and I've got to get him out. If he +hadn't been chasin' around alone, tryin' to get me out of the beastly +drunken scrape I'd been fool enough to get into, this wouldn't have +happened. You know it wouldn't, Judge. It's all my fault, and I've got +to get Emerson out of it." + +"That's all right, Nick. Your loyalty to Emerson does you great +credit. Much more than your judgment does. But if you'll just wait a +week or two the grand jury will pronounce on his case, and they're +bound to let the bottom out of the whole thing. They'll never find a +true bill against him, with no evidence to go on and no proof even +that Will Whittaker is dead. Then Emerson will come out a vindicated +man and they will have to let him alone after that. His interests will +not suffer now by his being detained a few days, and he will gain in +the respect of the community by submitting quietly. Take my advice, +Nick, and keep still, and let matters follow their legal course for +the next week or two." + +"A week or two, Judge! And let Emerson stay in jail all that time? +When he's no more right to be there than you or me! Sure, now, Judge! +and what do you-all take me for, anyway?" + +"For a sensible man, Nick, who will see the reason in what I have been +saying and will take my advice in the matter." + +Nick leaned his face on his hand and gloomed across the desk at the +big judge, who sat calm and judicial on the other side. Judge Harlin +pleased himself much by believing that he could handle Nick Ellhorn +better than any other man in the county, except Emerson Mead, and he +liked to have the opportunity to try his hand, just as he liked to +drive a nervous, mettlesome, erratic horse. He could drive the horse, +but he could not manage Nick Ellhorn. The tall Texan had learned not +to batter words against the judge's determination, which was as big +and bulky as his figure. He simply gave tacit acquiescence, and then +went away and did as he pleased. If his scheme succeeded he adroitly +flattered the judge by giving him the credit; if it failed he +professed penitence and said how much better it would have been to +follow the judge's advice. He saw that Judge Harlin had decided to +allow Emerson Mead to stay in jail until the grand jury should meet, +so he presently said: + +"Oh, I reckon you-all are right about it, Judge, but it's damn hard on +Emerson. But if it's the only way to keep this blamed town from +fallin' to and gettin' rid of itself I reckon we'll have to let him +stand it." He got up and walked up and down the room for a few minutes +and then, with his black eyes dancing and a broad smile curling his +mustache around the dimple in each cheek, he went to the telegraph +office and sent to Thomson Tuttle a telegram which read: + +"Get off the train to-morrow at Escondida and ride to Bosque Grande, +where you will find Missouri Bill with horses and instructions." +Escondida was the first station on the railroad north of Las Plumas +and the Bosque Grande was a river flat, covered with a dense growth of +cottonwoods and willow bushes through which the railroad ran, about +midway between the two towns. Missouri Bill was one of Mead's cow-boys +who had come in with the herd of cattle. + +When it became known that Emerson Mead was to be taken to the +Silverado county jail to await the session of the grand jury and that +the Democrats would not object to the scheme, the war feeling at once +began to abate. The town still rested on its arms and glared across +Main street, each party from its own side. There was no more talk of +extreme measures and there were no more threats of blood letting. So +things went on for a few hours, until the matter of Mead's transfer to +the Silverado jail was finally settled. Then all the town looked on +while Judge Harlin strolled leisurely across the street, nodded to +Colonel Whittaker and Sheriff Daniels, and the three men went into +the White Horse saloon and clinked glasses together over the bar. A +little later Jim Halliday went to the Palmleaf and he and Joe Davis +joined in a friendly "here's luck." After which all the town put away +its guns and went quietly about its usual affairs. + +The Republicans frankly gave out that Emerson Mead would be taken away +on the north bound overland train, which passed through Las Plumas in +the middle of the day. Nick Ellhorn decided that this was told too +openly to be true. He guessed that the journey would be made on a +"local" train which passed through the town in the early morning and +that Sheriff Daniels hoped, by thus secretly carrying off his +prisoner, to forestall any possible attempt at a rescue. Accordingly, +he sent another telegram to Tuttle to be in the Bosque Grande for this +train and started off Missouri Bill with two extra horses before +daybreak on the second morning after the fight. + +With Sheriff Daniels beside him and Jim Halliday walking close behind, +Emerson Mead stepped into the rear coach of the "local" train with +none to witness his departure other than the handful of regular +travelers, and a half dozen well armed Republicans who were at the +station to help prevent any attempt at escape. Mead greeted these with +smiling good nature, as if there were no thought of quarrel between +them, and cast his eyes about for sight of his own friends. Not one +could he see. He did not know what plan for his assistance Ellhorn and +Tuttle might have schemed, he did not even know that Tuttle had gone +away, but he felt sure they would not allow him to be taken away from +Las Plumas any more than they would allow him to remain in jail longer +than the earliest possible moment at which they could get him out. So +he went along quietly and good-naturedly with his keepers, his eyes +watchful and his mind alert, alike for any relaxation of their +vigilance which would give him a chance of escape, and for the first +sign from his friends. + +Nick Ellhorn did not appear on the station platform at all. He rushed +up from the opposite side just as the train was starting and jumped on +the steps of the smoking car. Inside he saw a man whom he knew, and, +sitting down beside him, they smoked and chatted and laughed together +until the train reached the edge of the Bosque Grande, when Nick +walked leisurely into the baggage compartment which formed the front +half of the smoking car. He nodded a friendly good morning to the +baggage man, handed him a cigar, lighted a fresh one himself, and with +one eye out at the open door stood and bandied a joke or two with the +train man. Presently he caught sight of a bunch of horses behind a +willow thicket a little way ahead and saw a big, burly figure near the +track. + +Then he leaped to the top of the tender, and in another moment was +sitting with his long legs dangling from the front end of the coal +box. "Whoo-oo-oo-ee!" sounded in the ears of the engineer and fireman, +above the rattle of the train and the roar of the engine. They looked +around, astonished and startled by the sudden yell, and saw themselves +covered by two cocked revolvers. + +"Stop your old engine before she gets to that trestle yonder or I'll +blow both of you through your headlight!" yelled Nick. + +The engineer knew Ellhorn and he yelled back, "What for, Nick?" + +"Never mind what for! Stop her quick or--one, two--" + +The engineer waited no longer, but let his lever forward with a sudden +jerk. The wheels ground and scraped and the train trembled and stood +still with the rear coach only a few feet in front of Tuttle's post. + +Inside the car, Halliday, who sat in the seat behind Mead and the +sheriff, had walked to the front end of the car and was drinking at +the ice-water tank when the train came to a sudden stop. He went to +the front platform and looked up the track to see what was the matter. +Seeing nothing there he turned to face the rear. By that time Tom +Tuttle was on the back platform and nothing was to be seen in that +direction. So he turned to the other side of the platform and looked +diligently up and down the road. Sheriff Daniels and his prisoner were +sitting on the opposite side of the train from that on which Tuttle +was entering. The sheriff stepped into the next seat and put his head +out of the window. Mead's faculties were on the alert, and when he +heard a quick, heavy step leaping up the back steps of the car he +knew, without turning his head, that it was either Tuttle or Ellhorn. +He leaned over the back of the seat in front of him and jerked the +sheriff's pistol from its holster just as Tuttle stood beside him. +Daniels jumped back, as he felt his gun drawn out, and found himself, +unarmed, confronted by cocked revolvers in the hands of two of the +best shots in the territory. He yelled for Halliday, and Mead and +Tuttle backed quickly toward the rear door. The train was moving again +as Halliday came rushing in, and Tuttle, disappearing through the back +door, transferred his aim from the sheriff to the deputy. Halliday +knew well that if he fired he would shoot to his own death, and he +paused midway of the car, with his gun half raised, as the two men +leaped from the moving train. + +"Much obliged!" yelled Nick Ellhorn, jumping to the ground from +his perch on the coal box. Daniels and Halliday stood on the rear +platform as the three men leaped on the horses which Missouri Bill had +ready beside the track. Daniels shook his fist at them in rage, and +Halliday emptied the chambers of his six-shooter, but the bullets did +no more damage than to cut some hairs from the tail of Mead's horse. +Ellhorn waved his sombrero and shouted his loudest and longest +"Whoo-oo-oo-ee!" Tuttle yelled "Buffaloed!" and Mead kissed his hand +to the two angry men on the rear platform of the departing train. Then +they put spurs to their horses and rode away over the plains and the +mountains. They stopped over night at Muletown, and reached Mead's +ranch about noon the next day. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Wellesly waited in silence and apparent resignation until his captors +disappeared down the canyon and the last sound of the horses' feet +stumbling over the boulders melted into the distance. Then he began +wriggling his body and twisting his arms to see if there were any +possibility of loosening the rope. It would give just enough +everywhere to allow a very slight movement of limbs and body, but it +was impossible to work this small slack from any two of the loops into +one. Wellesly pulled and worked and wriggled for a long time without +making any change in his bonds. Then he put all his attention upon his +right arm, which he could move up and down a very little. He had a +narrow hand, with thumb and wrist joints as supple as a conjurer's, so +that he could almost fold the palm upon itself and the hand upon the +arm. One turn of the rope which bound his arms to his body was just +above the wrist, and by working his hand up and down, until he rubbed +the skin off against the bark of the tree, he managed to get this band +a little looser, so that, by doubling his hand back, he could catch it +with his thumb. Then it was only a matter of a few minutes until he +had the right arm free to the elbow. On the ground at his feet lay a +match, which had dropped there when his captors rifled his pockets. If +he could only get it he might possibly burn through some of the bands +of rope. He thought that if he could get rid of the rope across his +chest he might be able to reach the match. He worked at this with his +one free hand for some time, but could neither loosen nor move it. He +picked at it until his finger-ends were bleeding, but he could make no +impression on its iron-like strands. + +A breeze blew the lapel of his light coat out a little way and there +his eye caught the glint of a pin-head. He remembered that Marguerite +Delarue had pinned a rose in his buttonhole the day before he left Las +Plumas. He had been saying pretty, half-loverlike nothings to her +about her hair and her eyes, and to conceal her embarrassed pleasure +she had turned away and plucked a rosebud from the vine that clambered +over the veranda. He had begged for the flower, and she, smiling and +blushing so winsomely that he had been tempted to forget his +discretion, had pinned it in his buttonhole. It had fallen out +unnoticed and he had forgotten all about it until the welcome sight of +the pin brought the incident back to his memory. With a little +exclamation of delight he thrust his free hand upward for the pin, but +he could not reach it. Neither could he pull his coat down through the +bands of rope. He worked at it for a long time, and finally stopped +his efforts, baffled, despairing, his heart filled with angry +hopelessness. Again the breeze fluttered the lapel, and with a sudden +impulse of revengeful savagery he thrust down his head and snapped at +the coat. Unexpectedly, he caught it in his teeth. Filled with a new +inspiration, he kept fast hold of the cloth and by working it along +between his lips, he finally got the head of the pin between his +teeth. Then he easily drew it out, and, leaning his head over, +transferred it to his fingers. + +He drew a deep breath of exultation. "Now," he thought, "this settles +the matter, and I'll soon be free--if I don't drop the pin. My blessed +Marguerite! I could almost marry you for this!" + +Carefully he began picking the rope with the pin, fiber by fiber, and +slowly, strand by strand, the hard, twisted, weather-beaten cords gave +way and stood out on each side in stubby, frazzled ends. The pin bent +and turned in his fingers, and the blood oozed from their raw ends. +But he held a tight grip upon his one hope of freedom, and finally the +rope was so nearly separated that a sudden wrench of his body broke +the last strands. He put the bent, twisted, bloody pin carefully away +in his pocket and, stooping over, found that he could barely reach the +match on the ground. He was able to grasp also two or three dry twigs +and sticks that lay near it. On the bark of the pine tree to which he +was tied were many little balls and drops of pitch. He felt over the +surface of the tree as far as he could reach and pulled off all that +he could get of this. Then he found that the only part of the rope +that he could at once reach and see was that directly in front of his +body. He turned and twisted, but there was no other way. If he +attempted to burn it anywhere else he would have to guess at the best +way to hold the match, and he might waste the precious heat in which +lay his only hope. + +He stuck the pitch in a ring around the rope where it circled his body +just below the stomach. Then he set his teeth together, and with his +face gone all white and sick-looking, lighted the match and held it +under the pitch. Eagerly he watched the little flames dart upward over +the rope. He flattened his body against the tree as the scorching heat +reached his skin. The match burned low, and by its dying flame he +lighted one of the dry twigs. It was full of pitch and burned up +brightly. The flame leaped up and caught his shirt. Holding the +burning stick in his mouth he slapped the fire with the palm of his +one free hand and soon smothered it, before it had done more than +scorch the skin of his chest. The cloth of his trousers charred under +the fire and held a constant heat against his body, and the pain from +the blistering wound almost made him forget his desperation. Twice he +started impulsively to fling away the tiny brand, but quick +remembrance of his desperate situation stopped the instinctive +movement, and, with grinding teeth, he held it again under the rope. +The smell of the burning flesh rose to his nostrils and sickened him. +He felt himself turning faint. "I can not stand it!" he groaned and +flung away the burning twig. In an instant he realized what he had +done, and stooping over he tried to reach it where it blazed upon the +ground. But it was too far away. In an agony of hopelessness he seized +the rope with his one free hand and jerked it with all his strength. +It broke at the burned place and left him free as far as the hips, +although the left arm was still bound to his body. + +An empty tin can caught his eye in the grass a little way off. It was +out of his reach, but he saw a stick on the ground part way around the +tree. By twisting and stretching his body to the utmost he could reach +the stick, and by its aid he soon had the can in his hand. The top had +been almost cut out, and holding the can in his hand and the flying +leaf of tin in his teeth he worked and twisted and pulled until he +tore it out. Its edge was sharp and jagged, and sawing and cutting +with it he soon freed himself from the remaining bonds of rope. As the +last one dropped away and he stood up and stretched himself in the +shade of the pine tree he found that he was trembling like a leaf and +that a cold sweat covered him from head to foot. Shivering, he stepped +out into the hot sunshine. + +But he had no time to waste on a nervous collapse. He found some tea +in the pack, and hastily stirring up the embers of the breakfast fire, +he made the coffee pot full of a brew as strong as he could drink. +There was also part of a small sack of flour, and he quickly mixed a +paste of flour and water and spread it over the deep, blistered burn +on his abdomen. Then, with a can of baked beans in one hand and the +coffee pot of tea in the other, he started down the canyon. + +The tiny stream from the spring grew smaller and smaller and finally +lost itself in the thirsty earth. For a little way farther the +straggling vegetation and the moist sand showed its course, but long +before he reached the mouth of the canyon all sign of water +disappeared and nothing remained but hot sand and barren rocks. When +he reached the larger canyon through which they had come up from the +plain two days before, he hid behind some huge boulders and watched +and listened for sign of his captors. He thought he heard the faint +sound of a horse's hoofs far in the distance. He started from his +hiding-place and ran down the canyon, hoping to get out of sight, if +it should be his two enemies returning, before they could reach the +place. He was still trembling with the exhaustion of the forenoon's +long nervous strain, and when his foot slipped upon a stone he could +not save himself from a fall. He went down full length upon the sand, +and half his precious store of tea was spilled. He dared not take the +time to go back and make more. There was still left nearly a quart of +the strong liquid, and he thought that if he would be very careful and +remember to swallow only a little each time it might take him safely +across the desert. He hurried on, running where the way was smooth and +hard enough, and again clambering over boulders or ploughing heavily +through the sand. + +When he came to the mouth of the canyon and looked out over the low, +rocky hills and the sandy, white waste beyond, the sun was already in +its downward course. He was red and panting with the heat, which had +been well nigh intolerable between the high, narrow walls of the +canyon, and his whole body smarted and glowed as if it had been +encased in some stinging hot metal. He carefully studied the sky line +of the Fernandez mountains, which rimmed the desert on the west, and +marked the pass through which he and his companions had come, +impressing it upon his mind that he must keep that constantly before +his eyes. It seemed easy enough, and he said to himself that if he +just kept his face toward that pass he would have no trouble and that +he would certainly reach it before noon the next day. He listened +intently for sounds from the canyon, but could hear nothing, and with +much relief he decided that he must have been mistaken and that he +would be safe from immediate pursuit. + +"I'm lucky so far," he said to himself as he started on the faintly +marked trail across the barren foothills, "even if I did spill my tea. +If they should follow me, it would be my last day on earth. That +damned Jim would shoot me down as soon as he could get near enough." +Then he remembered that this was Thursday, and that Colonel Whittaker +would expect him in Las Plumas that afternoon. "He'll send to the +ranch to inquire about me when I don't show up to-morrow," Wellesly +thought, "and then everybody will turn out to search for me. But, Good +Lord! I needn't pin any hopes to that! I'd be dead and my bones picked +and bleached long before anybody would think of looking in this hell +hole for me. There would be absolutely no way of tracing me. My only +hope is to--now, where is that pass! Yes, there it is. I'm headed all +right." + +He walked rapidly over the low, rocky hills, still fearing possible +pursuit and frequently looking back, until he reached the sandy levels +of the desert. There the trail was so faint that he could scarcely +follow it with his eye. He stopped, perplexed and doubtful, for he +could not remember that it seemed so blind when he traveled it before. +"But there is the pass," he thought. "I'm headed all right, and this +must be the road. It is just another indication of my general +stupidity about everything out of doors. I never look at a road, or +think about directions, or notice the lay of the land, as long as +there is anybody with me upon whom I can depend. I might as well pay +no more attention to this trail and strike straight across the desert. +If I keep my face toward the pass I'm all right." + +As long as the road kept a straight course across the sand and alkali +wastes he followed it. But when it bent away in a detour he chose the +air line which he constantly drew from his objective point, and +congratulated himself that he would thus save a little space. He +tramped along, in and out among the cactus and greasewood, and +finally, near sunset, he came upon a great, field-like growth of +prickly-pear cactus. The big, bespined joints spread themselves in a +thick carpet over the sand and climbed over one another in great +hummocks and stuck out their millions upon millions of needles in +every direction. The growth looked as if it might cover hundreds of +acres. + +"So that's the reason the trail bent like a bow," thought Wellesly as +he looked at the field of cactus in dismay. "I ought to have known +there was some good reason for it. If I'm lucky enough to find it +again I'll know enough to stick to it. Well, I must skirt along this +field of devil's fingers till I find the road again. I wonder if I'll +know it when I see it." + +The sun went down, a dazzling ball of yellow fire, behind the rounded, +rolling outlines of the Fernandez mountains, and from out the towering +crags of the Oro Fino range the moon rose, white and cool, looking +like a great, round wheel of snow. Wellesly had planned to keep on +with his journey through the greater part of the night, in order to +take advantage of the cooler atmosphere. But the trail was so faint he +feared he might not recognize it in the less certain light of the +moon, and so he decided to stop where he was for the night. With his +heel and a sharp-edged stone he stamped in the head of the can of +baked beans and with his fingers helped himself to a goodly share of +its contents. He forced himself to drink sparingly of what remained of +his tea. Not more than a pint was left and he dared take no more than +a few sips. To keep from pouring the whole of it down his throat in +great gulps strained his will power to the utmost. His whole body +clamored for drink. He would seize the coffee pot with a savage grip +and carry it half way to his lips, stop it there with gritting teeth, +and with conjured visions of men dying with thirst force himself to +put it down again. He said to himself that of all the times in his +life which had required self-control none had ever made such sweeping +demands upon his will power as did this. After he had finished his +supper and was ready to lie down on the sand to sleep, he carried the +coffee pot some rods away, to the edge of the growth of cactus, and +hid it there under the protection of the branching, needle-covered +joints of the prickly-pear, where he could not get it without having +his hands pierced and stung by the spines. For he feared that his +thirst might rouse him in the night and that, with his faculties +benumbed with sleep, he might drink the whole of the precious store. + +By midnight the air of the desert had cooled enough for him to sleep +with comfort, save for the thirst that now and again wakened him with +parched mouth and clinging tongue. In the morning, he resolutely ate +his breakfast of cold baked beans, helping himself with his fingers, +forcing himself to swallow the very last morsel he could choke down, +before he took the coffee pot from its hiding-place. His eyelids fell, +and with a gasping breath he put it to his lips. Then he summoned all +his will power and took two small swallows. + +As he plodded through the sand he wondered what would be the outcome +of his journey, even if he should succeed in getting safely across the +desert and beyond the mountain pass. He remembered that there was no +sign of water and no human habitation between the desert and the ranch +where his misfortunes had begun. He had seen no one there but the +Englishman, and he wondered whether he would find the place deserted +or whether he would run into the arms of other members of the same +gang that had lured him away. No matter. He would find water there, +and he was ready to face any danger or run any risk for the chance of +once more having all the water he could drink. + +The sun was well up in the sky and the desert glowed like an oven. Hot +winds began to blow across it--light, variable winds, rushing now this +way and now that. They made little whirlwinds that picked up the sand, +carried it some distance, and then dropped it and died away. Wellesly +saw one of these sand clouds dancing across the plain not far away, +and instantly the hopeful thought flashed upon him that it was the +dust raised by some horsemen. He ran toward it, shouting and waving +his hat. It turned and whirled along the sandy levels in another +direction, and he turned too and ran toward a point at which he +thought he could intercept it. Presently it vanished into the heated +air and he stopped, bewildered, and for a moment dazed, that no +horsemen came galloping out of the cloud. He looked helplessly about +him and saw another, a high, round column that reached to mid-sky, +swirling across the plain. Then he knew that he had been chasing a +"dust-devil." He swore angrily at himself and started on, and when +next he swept the mountain range with his eye for the pass that was +his objective point he could not find it. Suddenly he stopped and shut +his eyes, and a shuddering fear held his heart. Slowly he turned +squarely around and looked up, afraid and trembling. There were the +Fernandez mountains and there was the pass he wished to reach. He had +no idea how long he had been traveling in the backward direction. A +sudden panic seized him and he ran wildly about, now in one direction +and now in another. Panting with the exertion he savagely grasped the +coffee pot and drained it of its last drop. + +"Now I have signed my death warrant," he thought, as he threw away the +empty vessel. He sank down on the hot sands and buried his face in his +arms. For the first time his courage was all gone. Presently he felt +the effects of the tea and he stood up, ready to go on. + +"It is no use trying to find the road again," he mused. "It would be +just so much lost time and effort. I'll just keep my eye on the pass +and go directly toward it, as nearly as I can." + +He tried to eat more of the beans, but they stuck in his parched +throat. The tin was so hot that it burned his fingers, and, believing +they would be of no more use to him, he threw them away. The draught +of tea had much refreshed him and he started across the trackless +waste of sand and alkali with renewed determination. + +He tramped on and on, the sun blazed down from a cloudless sky and +beat upon the level plain, and the sand, filled with heat, threw back +the rays into the scorching air. The heat seemed to fill the plain as +if it were a deep, transparent lake of some hot, shimmering liquid. At +a little distance every object loomed through the heat-haze distorted, +elongated and wavering. The hot sand burned Wellesly's feet through +his boots. The notion seized him that if he touched his body anywhere +it would blister his fingers. Even the blood in his veins felt fiery +hot and as if it were ready to burst through its channels. The sun +seemed to follow him and blaze down upon him with the malicious +persecution of a personal enemy. He shook his fist and swore at the +ball of fire. + +For a long time he kept his eyes resolutely upon the Fernandez pass +and would look neither to left nor right. But after a while his brain +grew dizzy and his determination faltered. He stopped and looked +about him. Off to one side he thought he saw a lake, lying blue and +limpid in a circlet of gray sand, and he ran panting toward it, +reaching out his hands, and ready to plunge into its cool depths. He +ran and ran, until he stumbled and fell with exhaustion. It happened +that he lay in the shadow of a big clump of greasewood, and after a +little he revived and sat up. Then he rose and looked all about--and +knew that the longed-for lake was only the lying cheat of the desert +sands. He fastened his eyes again upon the mountain pass and trudged +on over the burning waste and through the burning heat, mumbling oaths +of threat and anger. His tongue seemed to fill his whole mouth, and +tongue and mouth and throat burned like red-hot metal. + +The stories he had heard from Jim and Haney constantly haunted him. He +could not drive them away. In imagination he saw himself lying on the +white, hot sands with open mouth, protruding tongue, black face and +sightless eyes. The picture sent a thrill of horror through him and +moved his dizzy, flagging brain to fresh resolution. He stumbled on +through the blazing, parching, cruel heat, sometimes falling and lying +motionless for a time, then pulling himself up and going on with will +newly braced by the fear that he might not rise again. Once he sank, +groaning, his courage quite broken, and mumbled to himself that he +could go no farther. As he fell the loud whirr of a rattlesnake +sounded from the bush of greasewood beside him. Instinctive fear +instantly mettled his nerves and he sprang up and leaped away from the +hidden enemy. The fear of this danger, of which he had not thought +before, steadied his brain once more and helped him bend his will +unyieldingly to the task of going on and on and on, forever and +forever, through the burning, blasting heat. + +Often he turned from his course and wandered aimlessly about in wrong +directions, forgetting for a time his objective point and remembering +only that he must keep going. Once he came upon human bones, with +shreds of clothing lying about, and stood staring at them, his eyes +held by the fascination of horror. Finally he forced himself to move +on, and after he had tramped through the scorching sand for a long +time, he found himself staring again at the bleaching skeleton. +Through his heat-dazed brain the thought made way that the fascination +of this white, nameless thing had cast a spell upon him and had drawn +him back to die here, where his bones might lie beside these that had +whitened this desert spot for so many months. Perhaps this poor +creature's soul hovered over his death place and in its loneliness and +desolation had fastened ghoulish talons into his and would pin him +down to die in the same spot. The idea took instant possession of his +bewildered mind and filled him with such quaking fear and horror that +he turned and ran with new strength and speed, as if the clawing, +clamoring ghost were really at his heels. + +By mere blind luck he ran in the right direction, and when next he had +conscious knowledge of his surroundings he was lying on the ground at +the mouth of the Fernandez pass, well up in the mountains, with the +white moonlight all about him. Dazedly he thought it would be better +for him to lie still and rest, but from somewhere back in his mind +came the conviction that there was something upon which he must keep +his eyes fastened, some place toward which he must go, and that he +must keep on going and going, until he should reach it. Determination +rose spontaneously, and he got up and stumbled on, frequently falling, +but always soon rising again and keeping on with his journey. After a +long time he saw something that glittered in the moonlight. His first +thought was "water!" and with a cry that died in his parched, swollen +throat he sprang forward and seized it. But it was only a bottle, a +flat, empty whisky flask. He turned it over and over in his hands with +a haunting notion that in some way it was connected with his past. + +Slowly the recollection shaped itself in his heat-bewildered faculties +that he and the two men who were luring him away had drunk from this +flask here and that then he had thrown it beside the road. Presently +the idea grew out of this recollection that he was on the right road +and that soon he would come to the house where there was water. The +thought made him spring forward again, and he rushed on aimlessly, +thinking of nothing but that somewhere ahead of him there was water. +He ran on and on, now this way and now that, falling and lying +unconscious, then, revived by the cool night air of the mountains, +rising and staggering on again. The sun rose and looked hotly down +upon him as he dragged himself along, hatless, haggard, his skin +burned to a blister, his eyes red and his swollen, blackened tongue +hanging from his mouth. + +After a time he caught sight of a clump of green trees with something +shining behind them, which he thought was the water he was looking +for--water, for which every boiling drop of blood in his body was +fiercely calling; water, which his blistering throat and tongue must +have; water, for which the very marrow of his bones cried +out--water--water--and he ran with all the speed his frenzied longing +could force into his legs. Presently he could hear the rustle of green +leaves, and he thought it was the purring of wavelets on the bank, the +white, shining bank that beckoned him on. He put out his hands to +plunge into the cool, bright waves. They struck a blank, white hall, +and he fell unconscious beside the doorway of Emerson Mead's ranch +house. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Three horsemen galloped around the curve in the road that half circled +the house and the corral and the stables at Emerson Mead's ranch. One +of them swung his hat and shouted a loud "Whoo-oo-oo-ee!" But there +was no response from the house. Doors and windows were closed and not +a soul appeared in sight. + +"That's queer," said Tuttle. "What's become of Billy Haney?" + +"Boys, there's a man lyin' beside the door!" exclaimed Mead. "Somebody +is either drunk or dead!" + +They swung off their horses and rushed to the prostrate figure, which +lay almost on its face. + +"Great God, boys, it's Wellesly, and he's dying of thirst!" cried +Mead. "Nick, bring water, lots of it, cold from the pump! Here, Tom, +help me put him in the hammock." + +They laid him in the hammock, in the cool shade of the cottonwoods, +where he had slept, to his own undoing, three days before. They +moistened his black, protruding tongue and let a few drops of the cool +liquid trickle down his parched throat. They poured water carefully +over his head and neck and on his wrists, and then drenched him from +head to foot with pailful after pailful of the fresh, cold water. + +The patient moaned and moved his head. "He's alive, boys. We'll save +him yet," said Mead. + +Through dim, half-awakened consciousness Wellesly heard the swish of +the water as it poured over his body, and felt the cool streams +trickling down his face. He gasped and his dry, cracked lips drew back +wolfishly from his teeth as he threw up his hands and seized the cup +from which Mead was carefully pouring the water over his head. Mead's +fingers closed tightly over the handle and his arm stiffened to iron. + +"Softly, there, softly," he said in a gentle voice. "I can't let you +drink any now, because it would kill you. You shall have some soon." + +With a choking yell Wellesly half raised himself and clung to the cup +with both hands, trying to force it to his mouth. Nick Ellhorn sprang +to his side and took hold of his shoulders. + +"Sure, now, Mr. Wellesly," he began, and the Irish accent was rich and +strong in his coaxing, wheedling tones, "sure, now, you don't want to +be killin' yourself, after you've held out this far. Just you-all do +as we say and we'll bring you through all right. Sure, and you shall +be after havin' all the water you want, but you must take it on the +outside first. Ah, now, but isn't this shower bath nice!" + +While he talked he gently forced the patient back and as Wellesly lay +down again Mead poured a little water into his mouth. + +"If he goes luny now that's the end of him," said Emerson in a +repressed, tense voice. "We must not let him get excited. Nick, you'd +better stand there and keep him quiet, if you can, and pour water over +his face and head and put a little in his mouth sometimes." + +Tuttle carried the water for their use, two pailsful at a time, and +Mead kept his body well drenched. Ellhorn stooped over the hammock and +continued his coaxing talk, drawling one sentence after another with +slurred r's and soft southern accents. With one hand he patted the +patient's head and shoulders and with the other he dashed water over +his face or trickled it, drop by drop, into his mouth. After a while +they gave the half-conscious man some weak tea, took off his wet +clothes and put him to bed. There they looked after him carefully, +giving him frequent but small instalments of food in liquid form and +an occasional swallow of water. After some hours they decided he was +out of danger and would recover without an illness. Then Nick Ellhorn +mounted a horse and rode away. When he returned he carried a burden +tied in a gunny sack, which he suspended from the limb of a tree and +carefully drenched with water many times before he retired. The next +day he anxiously watched the bag, keeping it constantly wet and shaded +and free to the breezes. And in the afternoon, with a smile curling +his mustache almost up to his eyes, he spread before Wellesly a big, +red watermelon, cold and luscious. With delight in his face and +chuckling in his voice he watched the sick man eat as much as Emerson +would allow him to have, and then begged that he be given more. To get +the melon Ellhorn had ridden fifteen miles and back, to the nearest +ranch beyond Mead's. + +"I never saw a man look happier that you-all do right now," he said as +he watched Wellesly. + +"And you never saw anybody who felt happier than I do with this melon +slipping down my throat," Wellesly responded. "I feel now as if I +should never want to do anything but swallow wet things all the rest +of my life. By the way, did one of you fellows stand beside me a long +time yesterday, coaxing me to lie still?" + +"Yes," said Nick, "it was me. We had to make you keep quiet, or you'd +have gone luny because we wouldn't give you all the water you wanted +to drink. It would have killed you to drink the water, and if you had +yelled and fought yourself crazy for it I reckon you'd have died +anyway." + +[Illustration: "ONCE HE CAME UPON HUMAN BONES, WITH SHREDS OF +CLOTHING."--_p. 179_] + +"Well, I guess you saved my life, then. For if you hadn't kept me +quiet I'd have fought all creation for water. The notion took hold of +me that I was a helpless baby and that my mother was beside me, +turning a crank and making it rain into my mouth, and that all I had +to do was to lie still and listen to her voice and hold my mouth open +so that the drops could trickle down my throat. Lord! How good they +did feel! That was how I happened to lie still so contentedly." + +"Nick could quiet a whole insane asylum when he gets on that +Blarneystone brogue of his," said Emerson. + +All that day they did not allow Wellesly to do much talking, but kept +him lying most of the time in the hammock, in the shade of the +cottonwoods, where he slept or luxuriously spent the time slowly +swallowing the cool drinks the others brought to him. + +In the early evening of the next day, when he had sufficiently +recovered his strength, they heard his story. He lay in the hammock, +with the mountain breeze blowing across his face and a pitcher of cold +tea beside him, and told them all that had happened to him from the +time he started for Las Plumas until consciousness failed him, with +his hands against the solid wall of Mead's house. The three tall +Texans listened gravely, Mead and Tuttle sitting one on each side of +the hammock and Ellhorn leaning against the tree at its foot. They +said nothing, but their eyes were fastened on his with the keenest +interest, and now and then they exchanged a nod or a look of +appreciation. When he finished silence fell on the group for a moment. +Then Mead stretched out a sun-browned hand and shook Wellesly's. + +"I've never been a friend of yours, Mr. Wellesly," he said, "or +considered you one of mine. But I want to say, right now, that you've +got more grit than anybody I know in the southwest, and I'm proud to +have had the chance to save as brave a man as you are." + +Tuttle seized Wellesly's other hand and exclaimed, "That's so! That's +straight talk! I'm with you there, Emerson!" + +Ellhorn walked up to Wellesly's side and put his hand in a brotherly +way on the invalid's arm. + +"I tell you what, Mr. Wellesly, we've fought you and the cattle +company straight from the shoulder, and I reckon we're likely to keep +on fightin' you as long as you fight us, but if you're goin' to give +us the sort of war you showed that desert--well, I reckon Emerson will +need all the help Tom and me can give him!" + +Wellesly laughed in an embarrassed way and Ellhorn went on: "Now, just +see how things turn out. There's been another war over in Las Plumas +and we-all have been fightin' you and your interests and the cattle +company and the Republicans for all we were worth. They arrested +Emerson again on that same old murder fake, to say nothin' of me for +bein' drunk and disorderly, which I sure was, and there was hell to +pay for two days. They tried to take Emerson out of town, and Tom and +me held up the train they had him on. I buffaloed the engineer while +they took care of Daniels and Halliday, and then we pulled our +freight. And here we ride up to the ranch, fugitives from justice, +just barely in time to save you-all." + +Wellesly laughed. "I am very glad you did it. My only regret is that +you didn't break jail several days earlier." + +"I don't know whether or not you-all understand the position I take +about that Whittaker case," said Mead. "I reckon likely you think I +break jail every time you get me in just out of pure cussedness. But I +don't. I do it because I think you-all haven't any reason but pure +cussedness for puttin' me in. I consider that you haven't any right to +arrest me on mere suspicion, and I shall keep on resistin' arrest and +breakin' jail just as long as you fellows keep on tryin' to run me in +without any proof against me. Why, you don't even know that Will +Whittaker's dead! Now, Mr. Wellesly, I'll make a bargain with you." +Mead's eyes were fastened on Wellesly's with an intent look which +gripped the invalid's attention. Wellesly's eyelids suddenly half +closed and between them flashed out the strips of pale, brilliant +gray. + +"All right, go on. I must hear it before I assent." + +"It is this: I won't ask you to have any evidence that I had a hand in +the killing of Will Whittaker, if he is dead. But whenever you can +prove that he is dead and show that he died by violence, I give you my +word, and my friends here, Tom Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn, will add +theirs to mine, I give you my word that I'll submit quietly to arrest +and will stand trial for his murder. But unless you can do that I +shall keep on fightin' you till kingdom come!" + +Tuttle and Ellhorn nodded. "He's right!" they exclaimed. "We'll stick +to what he says." + +Wellesly considered Mead's challenge in silence for a moment. He was +wondering whether this was the courage of innocence or whether it was +mere bluffing audacity. It was very like the former, but he decided +that it must be the latter, because he was quite convinced that Mead +had killed Whittaker. + +"Of course," he said, "after what you have done for me here--you have +saved my life and showed me the greatest kindness and generosity--I +can not allow any further proceedings to be taken against you, if I +can prevent them, which is not--" + +"Oh, hang all that!" Mead interrupted with a gesture of irritation. "I +don't expect and don't want anything we have done just now to make any +difference with your feelings toward me, or change the policy of the +Fillmore Cattle Company. And I don't want it to influence the actions +of the Republicans in Las Plumas, either. We didn't do it for that +purpose, and I'm not buying protection for myself that way. What we +did was the barest humanity." + +"No, Mr. Wellesly," Nick Ellhorn broke in, "you needn't have it on +your conscience that you must be grateful to us, because if we hadn't +saved you the Republicans over in Plumas would have said that we +killed you. We sure had to save you to save our own skins." + +There was a general laugh at this, and Mead added quietly: "As it was +my men who were to blame for your condition, I suppose I would have +been, in a way, responsible." + +Tuttle rose and began walking about uneasily. "When are we goin' to +start after 'em, Nick?" he said. + +"I'm ready whenever you are." + +"All right. To-morrow morning, then." + +Wellesly looked up in surprise. It was the first word he had heard +from either of the three concerning his captors, and he was startled +by the calm assurance with which Tom had taken it for granted that he +and Nick would "go after 'em." "You two won't go alone!" he exclaimed. + +"We're enough," Tuttle replied, a grim, expectant look on his big, +round face. + +"You bet we are!" added Nick. "If they see Tom and me comin' they'll +know they've got to give up. They've seen us shoot, and that scrub, +Haney, has got some sense, though I reckon Jim would be just fool +enough to get behind a rock and pop at us till we blowed his brains +out." + +"Oh, I say, now! This is a foolhardy scheme! Let them go, and if they +come out of there alive we'll get hold of them somehow. It would be +dangerous to the last degree for you two alone to attempt to bring +them out across that desert." + +"Don't you worry," said Nick. "We ain't 'lowing to bring 'em out." + +The next morning Tuttle and Ellhorn, with two loaded pack horses, set +out on their journey to the Oro Fino mountains, where they felt sure +the two kidnappers would still be engaged in their hunt for the lost +Winters mine. Mead had already sent word to the Fillmore ranch that +Wellesly was at his house and that some one might meet them at +Muletown that afternoon and carry him on to Las Plumas. + +When the two men parted they looked each other in the eyes and shook +hands. Wellesly began to acknowledge his debt of gratitude. Mead cut +him short. + +"That's all right, Mr. Wellesly," he said, "but I don't want you to +think for a minute that I expect this little affair to make any +difference in our relations. In the cattle business I still consider +you my enemy, and I propose to fight you as long as you try to prevent +what I hold to be just and fair dealing between the Fillmore Company +and the rest of us cattle raisers. We still stand exactly where we did +before." + +Wellesly smiled admiringly. "Personally, I like your pluck, Mr. Mead, +but, if you will pardon my saying so, I think it is very ill-advised. +I'll frankly admit that you've beaten us this year at every turn. But +you can't keep up this sort of thing year after year, against the +resources and organization of a big company. The most distinctive +commercial feature of this period is the constant growth of big +interests at the expense of smaller ones. It is something that the +individual members of a big concern can't help, because it is bigger +than they are. Our stock-holders will undoubtedly wish to enlarge +their holdings and increase their profits, and I, being only one of a +number, can have no right to put my personal feelings above their +interests. You ought to see that the result is going to be inevitable +in your case, just as it is everywhere else. The little fellows can't +hold their own against the big ones. I am telling you all this in the +most friendly spirit, and I assure you it will be to your interest to +take my advice and compromise the whole matter. I'll guarantee that +the Fillmore people will meet you half way, and I am sure it will cost +you less in the long run." + +As he listened to Wellesly the good-natured smile left Mead's face, +his lips shut in a hard line, and the defiant yellow flame, the light +of battle, which his friends knew to be the sign that he would fight +to the death, leaped into his eyes. He stared into Wellesly's face a +moment before he spoke. + +"Compromise! I've got nothing to compromise! I reckon that means that +you want my two water holes and grazing land that join yours! Well, +you can't have them! But if you want any more fight over this cattle +business you can have all you want, and whenever you want it!" And he +turned on his heel and walked away. "I reckon they would like me to +compromise," he said to himself. "It would be lots of money in their +pockets, and holes in mine. It's a pity that a man with Wellesly's +grit should be such a hog!" + +Wellesly shrugged his shoulders and climbed into the carriage that was +to take him to Las Plumas. "I can't help it," he thought, "if he +chooses to look at it that way. I told him the truth, and I put it in +the kindest way. The little fellows are sure to go down before the big +ones. That is the law that governs all commerce nowadays. He is bound +to be eaten up, and he ought to have sense enough to see it. He'd save +himself trouble and money if he would take my advice, compromise, and +get out now with what he can. He can't stop things from taking their +natural course, and the more he fights the sooner he'll go under. Of +course, I don't like to do anything against him, after he has saved my +life, but my private sentiments can't interfere with the company's +interests, and measures will have to be taken before next fall's +round-up to put a stop to this whole thing. I offered the olive +branch, and he refused it, and now he can have all the war he wants. +He is the head and backbone of all the opposition to us, and if we +were rid of him the Fillmore Company could double its profits. I don't +doubt for a minute that he killed Will Whittaker, and if we could +prove it that would solve the whole matter. He said he would submit to +arrest and trial if we could prove that Will died a violent death. +That means, of course, that nobody saw him commit the murder and that +he has hid the body where he thinks it can't be found. + +"Then it must be very much out of the way, where he is sure nobody +would think of looking for it. Probably it isn't any where near the +traveled road, the cattle ranges, nor the ranches in the foothills. It +must be in some out of the way corner of the Fernandez plain. +Whittaker says the searching parties have been all over this part of +the country, so it must be farther up toward the north. The White +Sands are up that way, I remember, and if a body were buried there, +deep enough, it might as well be at the bottom of the sea. Yes, I +think that's a pretty good idea. Whittaker must send a searching party +up to the White Sands as soon as he can get one together. If we can +find that body--there's _adios_ to Emerson Mead and the fight against +us. He'll have to hang or go to the penitentiary for life." + +When Wellesly reached Las Plumas he found the town basking in peace +and friendliness. Colonel Whittaker and Judge Harlin were enjoying a +midday mint julep together over the bar of the Palmleaf saloon; John +Daniels and Joe Davis were swapping yarns over a watermelon in the +back room of Pierre Delarue's store, while Delarue himself was +laughing gleefully at their stories, and Mrs. Harlin was assisting +Mrs. Daniels in preparations for the swellest card party of the +summer, which the sheriff's wife was to give that afternoon. + +In the late afternoon Wellesly sat beside Marguerite Delarue on her +veranda and told her the story of his abduction and of his fight, +which he had come so near to losing, with the fiends of heat and +thirst. He showed her the bent and bloody pin which had helped to +liberate him from his captivity in the canyon and in soft and +lover-like tones told her that he owed his life to her and that a +lifetime of devotion would not be sufficient to express his gratitude. +But he stopped just short of asking her to accept the lifetime of +devotion. She was much moved and her tender blue eyes were misty with +tears as she listened to the story of his sufferings. He thought he +had never seen her look so sweet and attractive and so entirely in +accord with his ideal of womanly sympathy. When he told her how +Emerson Mead and his two friends had worked over him and by what a +narrow margin they had saved him from severe illness and probably from +death, her face brightened and she seemed much pleased. She asked some +questions about Mead, and was evidently so interested in this part of +the story that Wellesly, much to his surprise, felt a sudden impulse +of personal dislike and enmity toward the big Texan. That night, as he +sat at his window smoking and looking thoughtfully at the lop-sided +moon rising over the Hermosa mountains, he was thinking about +Marguerite Delarue and the advisability of asking her to marry him. + +"Undoubtedly," he owned to himself, "I think more of her than I +usually do of women, because I never before cared a hang what their +feelings were toward other men. I must have been mistaken in thinking +there was anything between her and Mead. Her heart is as fresh as her +face, and I can go in and take it, and feel there have been no +predecessors, if I want to. Do I want to? I don't know. She's handsome +and she's got a stunning figure. Her feet aren't pretty, but they +would look better if she didn't wear such clumsy shoes. Well, I'd see +that she didn't. She seems to be sweet and gentle and sympathetic, and +the sort of woman that would be absorbed in her husband and his +interests. She's overfond of flattery, moral, mental and physical. +Gets that from Frenchy, I suppose, for you can start him strutting +like a rooster any time with a dozen words. But that isn't much of a +fault in a wife, after all, for if a fellow can only remember about it +it's the easiest way in the world to keep a woman happy. Well, I'll +think about it. There are no rivals in the field, and it will be time +enough to decide when I make my next visit to Las Plumas." + +The next day he went to tell Marguerite good-bye and sat talking with +her a long time upon her veranda. Las Plumas had noticed the frequency +of his calls at the Delarue house on his last trip to the town, and +when it saw him there again two days in succession it felt sure that +a love story was going on under the roses and honeysuckles. The smoke +of the engine which carried him away had scarcely melted on the +horizon before people were saying to one another that it would be a +splendid match and what a fine thing it was for Marguerite Delarue +that so rich a man as Wellesly had fallen in love with her. + +Judge Harlin at once drove out to Emerson Mead's ranch in order that +he might learn, from Mead's own lips, exactly what had happened to +Wellesly and what sort of a compact Mead had made with him concerning +the finding of Will Whittaker's body. They sat under the trees +discussing Wellesly's character, after Mead had told the whole story +down to their parting at Muletown. + +"By the way," said Harlin, "they are saying, over in town, that +Wellesly is stuck on Frenchy Delarue's daughter, and that they are to +be married next fall. She is a stunning pretty girl, and as good as +she is pretty, but it seems to me rather odd for Wellesly to come down +here to get a wife. He's the sort of man you would expect to look for +money and position in a wife, rather than real worth." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +When Thomson Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn reached the little canyon in the +Oro Fino mountains they saw that the two would-be kidnappers must have +been there since Wellesly's departure for three of the four horses +were quietly grazing, with hobbled feet, beside the rivulet. They +speculated upon what the absence of the fourth horse might mean while +they staked their own beasts and started on the trail of the two men. +Up the larger canyon a little way they saw buzzards flying low and +heavily. + +"That looks as if one of 'em was dead," said Nick. + +"It would be just like the scrubs," Tom grumbled, "for both of 'em to +go and die before we get a pop at 'em. I want to see the color of +their hair just once. Confound their measly skins, they might have got +Emerson into a worse scrape than this Whittaker business." + +They were both silent for some moments, watching the buzzards as they +swooped low over some dark object on the floor of the canyon. As they +came nearer they saw that the dead thing on which the birds were +feeding was the missing horse. + +"They killed it for meat," said Nick, pointing to a clean cut which +had severed one hind leg from the body. + +"Yes, and not so very long ago, either," Tom assented, "or the +buzzards wouldn't have left this much flesh on it, and it would be +dried up more." + +"Say, Tom, they brought this beast up here to kill it, and they sure +wouldn't have brought it so far away if they had wanted the meat down +there in that canyon. They must have changed camp." + +"Then there's water higher up. They're in here yet, Nick, and we'll +find 'em. We must keep our eyes and ears peeled, so they can't get the +first pop." + +They picked their way carefully up the canyon, watching the gorge that +lengthened beyond them and the walls that towered above their heads, +listening constantly for the faintest sounds of human voice or foot, +speaking rarely and always in a whisper. The floor of the canyon was +strewn with boulders large and small, and its sides rose above them in +rugged, barren, precipitous cliffs. Nowhere did they see the slightest +sign of vegetation to relieve the wilderness of sand and rock and +barren walls. Not even a single grass blade thrust a brave green head +between forbidding stones. Above them was a sky of pure, brilliant +blue, and around them was the gray of the everlasting granite. Except +for the sound of their own footsteps, the canyon was absolutely +silent. There was no call of animals one to another, or twitter of +birds, or whirr of feathered wings, or piping of insects. Now and +then a slender, graceful lizard darted silently out of the sunshine +to hide beneath a stone, and far behind them in the canyon the +buzzards wheeled in low, awkward flights above the carcass of the dead +horse. But aside from these no living creature was to be seen. + +The sun shone squarely down upon the canyon and the baking heat +between its narrow walls would have dazed the brains and shaken the +knees of men less hardy and less accustomed to the fierce, pounding +sunshine of the southwest. Tuttle stole several inquiring glances at +Nick's face. Then he stopped and cast a searching look all about them, +carefully scanning the canyon before and behind them and its walls +above their heads. He looked at Nick again and then threw another +careful glance all about. He coughed a little, came close to Nick's +side, wiped the sweat from his face, and finally spoke, hesitatingly, +in a half whisper: + +"Say, Nick, what do you-all think about Will Whittaker? Do you reckon +Emerson killed him?" + +Ellhorn shut one eye at the jagged peak which seemed to bore into the +blue above them, considered a moment, and replied: "Well, I reckon if +he did Will needed killin' almighty bad." + +"You bet he did," was Tom's emphatic response. + +They trudged on to the head of the canyon and explored most of the +smaller ones opening into it. But no trace of human presence, either +recent or remote, did they find anywhere. When night came on they +returned to their camp somewhat disappointed that they had seen no +sign of the two men. Early the next morning they started out again, +and searched carefully through the remaining canyons that were +tributary to the large one, climbed again to its head, and clambered +over the ridge at its source. There they looked down the other side of +the mountain, over a barren wilderness of jagged cliffs and yawning +chasms, with here and there a little clump of scrub pines or cedars +clinging and crawling along the mountain side. They examined the +summit of the peak and walked a little way down the eastern slope, +looking into the gorges and searching the scrub-dotted slopes until +the sinking sun drove them back to their camp. But they found neither +water, save some strongly alkaline springs, nor any trace of human +beings. As they discussed the day's adventures over their supper, Tom +said: + +"There must have been some reason why they killed that horse just +where they did." + +"Yes," said Nick, "if they had moved their camp to some other canyon +higher up, or on the other side of the mountain, they might just as +well have driven the beast farther up before they killed it." + +"If they had wanted the meat down here," added Tom, "they wouldn't +have driven it so far away. They must have wanted it right there." + +They looked at each other with a sudden flash of intelligence in their +puzzled eyes and Nick thwacked his knee resoundingly. Then he spoke +the thought that had burst into each mind: + +"There must be a trail up the canyon wall!" + +[Illustration: "YOU'VE NOTHING TO FEAR FROM ME. I'LL BE DEAD IN TEN +MINUTES."--_p. 206_] + +Early the next morning they were examining more closely than they had +done before the walls of the canyon near the carcass. On the right +hand side, the same side on which was the canyon where they had their +camp, they found a narrow ledge beginning several feet above the +boulders which strewed the floor of the canyon at the base of the +wall. They found that with care they could walk along it, although in +some places it was so narrow that there was scarcely room for Tuttle's +big bulk. Nick was in constant fear lest his friend might topple over, +and finally insisted that Tom should go back and wait until he reached +the top of the wall or the end of the ledge. Tuttle blankly refused to +do anything of the sort. + +They were then in the narrowest place they had found, and it was only +by flattening their bodies against the rock and clinging with all the +strength in their fingers to the little knobs and crevices which +roughened the wall that they could keep their footing. Nick, standing +flat against the precipice with a hand stretched out on each side, +looked over his shoulder at Tom, who was a few feet in the rear. He +also was facing the wall, clinging with both hands and shuffling his +feet along sidewise, a few inches at each step. Beyond, the ledge rose +in a gradual incline to the top of the cliff, perhaps six hundred +feet farther on. Below, the wall dropped abruptly a hundred feet to +the boulder covered floor of the canyon. + +"Tommy," said Nick, "you-all better go back. It ain't safe for a man +of your size." + +"Go back! Not much!" + +"Well, I shan't go any farther until you do!" + +"Then you'll have to hang on by your eyelids till I get past you!" + +"Tom, don't be a fool!" + +"Don't you, neither." + +"Tom, you're the darnedest obstinate cuss I ever saw in my life. +You'll tip over backwards first thing you know." + +"Nick, if Emerson was here it would sure be his judgment that we-all +can get to the top of this cliff. So you shut up and go on." + +"I tell you I won't do it till you go back! Darn your skin, I wouldn't +be as pig-headed as you are for a hundred dollars a minute!" + +"Well, I wouldn't be as big a fool as you are for a thousand!" + +"Tommy, if you-all don't go back, I'll be no friend of yours after +this day!" + +"Well, if you don't go on and shut up that fool talk I don't want to +be friends any longer with any such hen-headed, white-livered--" + +"Tom!" + +"Well, then, shut up and go on, or I'll call you worse names than +that!" + +"You obstinate son of a sea-cook, I tell you I won't go on unless you +go back!" + +"Nick, it will take me just about half a minute to get near enough to +push you off. And I'm goin' to do it, too, if you don't hold your +jackass jaw and go on." + +There was silence for the space of full twenty seconds while Ellhorn +watched Tuttle edging his way carefully along the narrow shelf. Then +he spoke: + +"Well, anyway, Tom, don't you try to take a deep breath or that belly +of yours will tip the mountain over and make it mash somebody on the +other side!" Then he turned his head and shuffled along toward the top +of the cliff. + +The shelf widened again presently and they found the rest of it +comparatively easy traveling. At one place there were some drops of +dried blood on the ledge and in another a bloody stain on the wall at +about the height of a man's shoulders. This confirmed their belief +that Haney and Jim had found and climbed this narrow ledge with the +meat and camp supplies on their backs. When they reached the top Nick +held out his hand and said: + +"Say, old man, I reckon we-all didn't mean anything we said back +there." + +Tom took the proffered hand and held it a moment: + +"No, I guess not. I sure reckon Emerson would say we didn't. Nick, +what made you get that fool notion in your head that I didn't have +sand to get through?" + +"I didn't think you didn't have sand, Tommy. I thought--the trail was +so narrow, I thought you'd tumble off." A broad grin sent the curling +ends of his mustache up toward his eyes and he went on: "Tom, you sure +looked plumb ridiculous!" + +Shaking hands again, they turned to their work. They stood on the +steep, sloping side of the mountain, which was cracked and seamed with +a network of chasms and gulches. A ridge ran slantingly down the +mountain and the intricate, irregular network of narrow, steep-sided +cracks and gulches which filled the slope finally gave, on the right +hand, into the deep, gaping canyon which had been their thoroughfare, +and on their left into another, apparently similar, some distance to +the south. Farther up, toward the backbone of the ridge, there seemed +to be a narrow stretch, unbroken by the gulches, which extended to the +next canyon. They made their way thither and walked slowly along, +stopping now and then to scan the mountain side or to sweep with their +eyes the visible portions of the canyons below and behind them. They +had covered more than half the distance between the two canyons when +Tom, who had been studying one particular spot far down the mountain, +exclaimed: + +"Nick, there's water down there! See where the top of that pine tree +comes up above the rocks, away down there, nearly to the divide?" + +"You're sure right," said Nick, looking carefully over the ground +which Tom indicated. A moment later he went on: "That's the head of +the spring in the canyon where our camp is! You can follow the course +of the gulch right along. I reckon that's where we'll find what we're +looking for!" + +They turned to retrace their steps, their faces eager and alert and +their feet quickening beneath them, when through the silence came the +dull, far-away thud of a pistol shot. It was behind them and seemed to +come from the canyon toward which they had been walking. With one +glance at each other they drew their pistols and ran toward its head. +They clambered over the boulders and, with reckless leaps and swings, +let themselves down to its floor. Pausing only a moment to +reconnoiter, they hurried down the gulch, casting quick glances all +about them for the first sign of a living being. After a little they +stopped and listened intently, each holding a cocked revolver, but not +the faintest sound broke the midday stillness. + +"Do you reckon it was in this canyon?" said Tom in a hoarse whisper. + +"Got to be," Nick replied, poking out his lower jaw. "We've been +sniffing the trail long enough. We'll give them a bait now." + +He raised his revolver to shoot into the air, but even before his +finger touched the trigger, a pistol shot resounded from down the +canyon and its echoes rolled and rumbled between the walls. An instant +later they saw the smoke curling upward and dissolving in the still, +clear air, perhaps half way toward the canyon's mouth. But they could +see no sign of man, nor of any moving thing in its vicinity. They +hurried on, cautiously watching the walls and the canyon in front of +them, and now and then turning for a quick backward glance, to guard +against attack in the rear. As they neared the point from which the +smoke had risen, they saw that one of the narrow, deep chasms in the +mountain side opened there, with a wide, gaping mouth, into the +canyon. A mound of debris was heaped in front. Stepping softly, they +peered around the pile of rocks and saw, lying in the mouth of the +chasm, a man with a revolver gripped in his right hand. Blood stained +his clothing and ran out over the rocks and sand. He was a tall man +with a short, bushy, iron-gray beard covering his face. Tuttle and +Ellhorn covered him with their revolvers and walked to his side. He +put up a feeble, protesting hand. + +"It's all right, strangers. You've nothing to fear from me. I'll be +dead in ten minutes." + +"Who killed you?" + +"Was it the two ornery scrubs we're after?" + +"I've put the last shot in myself. If you'd been half an hour earlier +I might have had a chance." + +"What's the matter? What's happened? Tom, give him a drink out of the +flask." + +"No, give me water," said the man. "I emptied my canteen this +morning." + +Nick lifted his head and Tom held their canteen to his lips. He drank +deeply, and as he lay down again he looked at Tom curiously. + +"Two days ago I had a fight with two men, and I've been lying here +ever since. They did me up, so that I knew I'd got to die if no help +came. And I knew that was just about as likely as a snowstorm, but I +couldn't help bankin' on the possibility. So I laid here two days and +threw rocks at the coyote that came and sat on that heap of stones and +waited for me to die. This morning I drank the last of the water and I +said to myself that if nobody came by the time the sun was straight +above that peak yonder I'd put a bullet into my heart. I had two left, +and I used one on the coyote that had been a-settin' on that rock +watchin' me the whole morning. I was bound he shouldn't pick my bones, +he'd been so sassy and so sure about it. You'll find his carcass down +the canyon a ways. That tired my arm and I waited and rested a spell +before I tried it on myself. But I was weaker than I thought and I +couldn't hold the gun steady, and the bullet didn't go where I meant +it to. But I'm bleedin' to death." + +"The two men--what became of them? I reckon they're the ones we're +lookin' for!" exclaimed Nick. + +"Are you? Well, I guess you'll find 'em scattered down the canyon, or +else up there," and he pointed to the mountain side above. "They +couldn't get very far." + +"Did you kill 'em?" asked Tom anxiously. "You've spoiled a job we've +come here for if you did." + +The man scanned Tom's face again and a light of recognition broke into +his eyes. "I reckon I did," he replied complacently. "Anyway, I hope +so." + +"What was the matter? Did they do you up?" + +"Well, I'll tell you about the whole business. My name's Bill Frank, +and I've been here in the mountains since--well, a long time, huntin' +for the lost Dick Winter's mine. I found it, too. It was right in here +behind me, but he'd worked it clean out. I reckon it was nothin' but a +pocket, but a mighty big, rich one, and then the vein had pinched. So +then I went to work and hunted for the gold he'd taken out. I found it +all, or all he told me about. You see, I knew Dick. I was with him +when he died, and he told me what he'd got. There was a Dutch oven and +a pail and a coffee pot, all full of lumps, and two tomato cans full +of little ones, and a whisky flask full of dust, and a gunny sack full +of ore that was just lousy with gold. Much good it will do me now, or +them other fellows, either, damn their souls! Well, I'd hid the coffee +pot and the pail and the Dutch oven and the whisky flask and one +tomato can down by the spring, where I had my camp. I knew pretty well +where the rest of it was, after I'd found that much, and I came up +here two days ago, in the morning, and looked around till I found the +gunny sack. I brought it here and threw it inside this place, which +poor Dick Winters had blasted out, never dreamin' of such a thing as +that anybody would show up. Then I went away again to find the other +tomato can, and when I came back two men were here packin' out my sack +of ore." + +"What did they look like?" Nick exclaimed. + +"One was tall and thin and youngish like, with a bad look, and the +other was short and stout and a good deal older, and he had a red, +round face." + +"The damned, ornery scrubs! They're the ones we're after," Tom +exclaimed, jumping up. "You didn't kill 'em, stranger?" he added +pleadingly. + +"I guess I did. I sure reckon you'll find 'em scattered promiscuous +down the canyon. I drew my gun and told 'em to drop it, that it was +mine. They began to shoot, and so did I, and I backed 'em out, and +made 'em drop the sack, and started 'em on the run. They couldn't +shoot as well as I could, and I know I hit one of 'em in the head and +the other one mighty near the heart. I poked my head out for a last +blaze at 'em, to make sure of my work, and the short one, he let drive +at me and took me in the lung, and that's the one that did me up. But +they'd broken one leg before." + +"Can't you-all pull through if we tote you out of here?" asked Nick. + +Bill Frank shook his head. His breath was beginning to fail and his +voice sank to a whisper with each sentence. + +"No; I'm done for. You can't do nothin' for me." Then he turned to +Tom. "Pardner, I did you a bad trick when I saw you before, though I +had to do it. And when I told you good-bye I said I hoped that if I +ever saw you again I could treat you whiter than I did that time. +Well, I've got the chance now. That tomato can and that gunny sack are +over there behind your pardner, and you and him can have 'em. The +other tomato can and the whisky flask and the coffee pot and the pail +and the Dutch oven are under some big rocks behind a boulder south +from the spring, if them two thieves didn't carry 'em away, and you +and your pardner can have it all. The trail takes you to the spring." + +Tom was staring at him in wide-eyed amazement, trying to recall his +face. Nick exclaimed hurriedly: + +"Hold on, pard! Ain't you-all got some folks somewhere who ought to +have this? Tell us where they are and we'll see that they get it." + +The man shook his head. His breath was labored, and he spoke with +difficulty as he whispered: "There ain't anybody who'd care whether +I'm dead or alive, except to get that gold, and I'd rather you'd have +it. You're white, anyway, and you've treated me white, both of you, +and I've always been sorry I had to play Thomson Tuttle here that mean +trick, because he was a gentleman about it, and sand clean through." + +Tom was still staring at him. "Stranger," he said, "you've got the +advantage of me. I can't remember that I've ever set eyes on you +before." + +The death glaze was coming in the man's eyes and his failing whisper +struggled to get past his stiffening lips. + +"I held you up, and held a gun on you-all one night, last spring, up +near the White Sands." + +"Oh, that time!" Tom exclaimed. "That was all right. I reckoned +you-all had good reason for it." + +Bill Frank nodded. "Yes," he whispered, "we had to--in the wagon--" +Some of his words were unintelligible, but a sudden flash of +inspiration leaped through Nick's mind. + +"Did you have Will Whittaker's body? Who killed him? Tom, the whisky, +quick! We must keep him alive till he can tell!" + +The man's lips were moving and Nick put his ear close to them and +thought he caught the word "not," but he was not sure. Bill Frank's +head moved from side to side, but whether he meant to shake it, or +whether it was the death agony, they could not tell. Tom put the flask +to his lips, but he could not swallow, and in another moment the death +rattle sounded in his throat. + +They waited beside the dead man's body until every sign of life was +extinct. They closed his eyes, straightened his limbs, and folded his +hands upon his breast. Then said Tom: + +"Nick, he was too white a man to leave for the coyotes. We must do +something with him." + +"You're sure right, Tommy. But what can we do? This sand ain't deep +enough to keep 'em from diggin' him up, even if we bury him." + +Tom looked about him and considered the situation a moment. "We'll +have to rock him up in here, Nick, in Dick Winters' mine." + +At one side of the wide, blasted out mouth of the deep crack in the +mountain from which Dick Winters had taken his gold, and level with +the bottom of the crevice, there was a long, oval hollow, half as wide +as a man's body. The solid rock had cracked out of it after some +giant-powder blast. They laid the body of Bill Frank in this shallow +crypt and began to pile rocks around it. Suddenly Tom stopped, looked +at Nick inquiringly, hesitated and cleared his throat. + +"Say, Nick," he blurted out, "it ain't a square deal to put a fellow +away like this. Somebody ought to say something over him." + +"No, you bet it ain't a square deal," said Nick. "We wouldn't like it +if it was one of us. But what can we do? There ain't no preacher +here." + +"I was thinkin', Nick," Tom hesitated and blushed a deep crimson, "I +was sure thinkin' that maybe--well, I thought--that you-all could say +something. You know you always can say something. You-all better say +it, Nick." And without waiting for denial or protest Tom took off his +hat and bent his head. Nick flashed a surprised look at his companion, +waiting in reverent attitude, hesitated an instant, and then doffed +his hat, bent his head and began. And the good Lord who heard his +prayer did not need to ask his pedigree, for the Irish intonation +with which he rolled the words off his tongue in honey-like waves told +his ancestry: + +"Good Lord, sure and Ye'll rest this poor man's soul, for he was white +clean through. Sure, and he was no coward, and no scrub, neither. But +the other two--Ye'd better let them fry in their own fat till they're +cracklin's. You bet, that is what they deserve, and we can prove it. +Amen." + +They built a close wall of rock around Bill Frank's resting place high +enough to reach the over-hanging rock, and so heavy and secure that no +prowling coyote could reach the body, or even dislodge a single stone. +After it was all finished they decided that there ought to be +something about the grave to show whose bones rested within it. Nick +Ellhorn tore some blank paper from the bottom of a partly filled sheet +which he found in his pocket and wrote the inscription: + + "Here lies the body of Bill Frank, who was white clean + through. He was done up by two of the damnedest scrubs that + ever died lying down. He killed them both before Tom Tuttle + and Nick Ellhorn got sight of the color of their hair, which + is the only thing we can't forgive him. + + "P. S. and N. B.--This is the lost Dick Winters' mine, and + there is nothing in it, except Bill Frank's body." + +They emptied the nuggets of gold from the tomato can and put them in +their pockets. Then they folded the paper and put it in the can, with +a small stone to hold it in place. Tom found an unused envelope in +his pocket, and Nick printed on it, in big capitals, "Bill Frank," and +they pasted it, by means of the flap, on the front of the can. Then +they made a place for the can midway of the stone wall, and fastened +it in so that it would be held firmly in place by the surrounding +stones. + +There was an easy trail down one side of the canyon, which Dick +Winters had made long before by removing the largest stones. A dribble +of blood, dried on the sands, marked it all the way. Perhaps a mile +down the gulch it came to a sudden stop in a great heap of debris, and +a zigzag path started up the side of the canyon. The two men stopped, +following the course of the shelving trail with their eyes, and as +they looked there was a rattle of loose stone and sand, and some dark +body rolled over the side of the gulch from the top of the path. Their +hands flashed to their revolver butts, and stopped there, as they +watched its downward course in wonder. They saw the arms and feet of a +human form flung out aimlessly as the thing rolled from ledge to +ledge, and they tried to catch a glimpse of the face as now and again +the head hung over a rock and disclosed for a second the ghastly +features. Down it came, with the cascade of loose pebbles before it, +and lay still in the hot sand at their feet. It was Jim's lifeless and +mangled body. Nick glanced to the rim of the canyon wall and saw the +head of a coyote peering over. + +"There's the beast that tumbled him down," he whispered, and raised +his revolver, but before he could shoot, the thing disappeared. + +At this point the canyon walls began to grow less steep, and Dick +Winters had taken advantage of the sloping, shelving side to make a +zigzag trail to the summit, in some places blasting the solid rock, +and in others building out the pathway with great stones. Nick and Tom +followed the path to the mountain side above, where little pools of +dried blood made a trail which showed the way a wounded man had taken. +A little farther they found the body of Bill Haney, flat on its face, +with arms spread out on either side. A coyote slunk away as they +appeared, dragging its hinder parts uselessly. + +"I reckon that's the one Bill Frank thought he killed," said Nick, as +he put a bullet through its head. + +They turned the body of Bill Haney over on its back and regarded it +silently for some moments. + +"Tommy," said Nick, "we ought to put these poor devils where the +coyotes can't get 'em." + +Tom looked away with disfavor in his face. "They might have got +Emerson into a hell of a scrape. Suppose anybody but us had found +Wellesly the other day! Everybody would have believed that Emerson had +ordered these two measly scamps to do what they did!" + +"That's so," Nick replied, "but that's all straight now, and they are +past doin' any more harm, and it ain't a square deal to let a fellow +be eat up by coyotes." + +Tom looked down into the dead, staring eyes and soberly replied: "I +guess you're right, Nick, and I sure reckon Emerson would say we ought +to do it." + +They carried both bodies to the bottom of the canyon and up the bloody +trail until they came to a steep-sided, narrow chasm which yawned into +the wider gulch. There they put their burdens down, side by side, and +decently straightened the limbs, folded the hands, and closed the eyes +of the two dead men. + +"Now," said Nick, "we'll pile rocks across the mouth of the gulch, and +then they'll be safe enough, for no coyote is going to jump down from +the top of these walls." + +Tom made no answer. He was standing with his hands in his pockets +looking at the two bloody, mangled corpses. + +"Nick, don't you-all think we'd better say something over these +fellows, too? It ain't the square deal to put 'em away without a word, +even if they were the worst scrubs in creation. You-all better say +something, Nick, like you did before." + +Tom took off his hat, without even a glance at his companion, and bent +his head. Ellhorn also doffed his sombrero and bent forward in +reverent attitude, ready to begin. + +"Good Lord," he said, and then he stopped and hesitated so long that +Tuttle looked up to see what was the matter. "Go on, Nick," he urged +in a low tone. + +"Good Lord, Ye'd better do as Ye think best about lettin' 'em fry in +their own fat--so long. They were scrubs, that's straight, but they're +dead now, and can't do any more harm. Good Lord, we hope--Ye'll see +Your way to have mercy on their souls. Amen." + +They began piling rocks across the mouth of the narrow chasm, and +worked for some moments in silence. Nick glanced inquiringly at Tom +several times, and finally he spoke: + +"Say, Tommy, that was all right, I guess, wasn't it?" + +"Nick, I sure reckon Emerson would say it was." And Ellhorn knew that +his companion could give no stronger assent. + +They built a wall high enough to keep the coyotes away from the two +bodies, and then followed the trail upon the canyon wall and across +the mountain side to the spring. There they found Bill Frank's camping +outfit and the few things that Jim and Haney had transferred from the +canyon below. They found, also, the pan and the hand mortar, rusty and +battered by the storms of many years, with which Dick Winters had +slowly and with infinite toil beaten and washed out the gold he was +never to enjoy. After an hour's search they found the store of nuggets +where Bill Frank had hidden them. Haney and Jim had never guessed how +near they had come to the wealth for which they were searching. + +The two men looked over the contents of pail, coffee pot, oven and +cans and talked of the long, wearisome, lonely labor Dick Winters must +have had, carrying the sacks of ore on his back, from his mine down +the canyon, up the trail, and across the mountain side, to this little +spring, where he had then to pound it up in his mortar and wash out +the gold in his pan. + +"It's no wonder the desert did him up," said Nick. "He had no strength +left to fight it with. It's likely he was luny before he started." + +"Nick, you don't reckon there's a cuss on this gold, do you? Just see +how many people it has killed. Dick Winters and Bill Frank and Jim and +Haney, besides all the prospectors that have died huntin' for it. +You-all don't reckon anything will happen to us, or to Emerson, if we +take it?" + +The two big Texans, who had never quailed before man or gun, looked at +each other, their faces full of sudden seriousness, and there was just +a shadow of fear in both blue eyes and black. The silence and the +vastness of an empty earth and sky can bring up undreamed of things +from the bottom of men's minds. Ellhorn's more skeptical nature was +the first to gird itself against the suggestion. + +"No, Tommy, I don't reckon anything of the sort. Bill Frank gave it to +us, and Dick Winters gave it to him, or, anyway, wanted him to find it +and have it, and I reckon Dick Winters worked hard enough to get it +to have a better right to it than God himself. It's sure ours, Tom, +and I reckon there won't be any cuss on it as long as we can shoot +straighter than anybody who wants to hold us up for it." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Emerson Mead heard the story which Ellhorn and Tuttle told and looked +at the heap of yellow nuggets without enthusiasm. His face was gloomy +and there was a sadness in his eyes that neither of his friends had +ever seen there before. He demurred over their proposal that he should +share with them, saying that he would rather they should have it all +and that he had no use for so much money. When they insisted and Tom +said, with a little catch in his voice, "Emerson, we can't enjoy any +of it if you-all don't have your share," he replied, "Well, all right, +boys. I reckon no man ever had better friends than you are." + +Judge Harlin was still at the ranch, and while he and Nick and Tom +were excitedly weighing the nuggets, Mead slipped out to the corral, +saddled a horse and galloped across the foothills. Tuttle watched him +riding away with concern in his big, round face. + +"Judge," he said, "what's the matter with Emerson? Is he sick?" + +"I guess not. He didn't say anything about it." + +"Did you bring him any bad news?" + +"Not that I know of." + +"Have them fellows over in Plumas been hatchin' out any more +deviltry?" + +"N-no, I think not. Oh, yes, I did hear that Colonel Whittaker and +Daniels and Halliday were going over to the White Sands to hunt for +Will Whittaker's body. I told Emerson so. That's the only thing I know +of that would be likely to disturb him." + +A quick glance of intelligence flashed between Tuttle's eyes and +Ellhorn's. Each was recalling Mead's promise to surrender if Will +Whittaker's body could be produced. Tuttle stood silent, with his +hands in his pockets, looking across the foothills to where Mead's +figure was disappearing against the horizon. Then without a word he +walked to the corral, saddled a horse, and went off on the gallop in +the same direction. + +He came upon his friend at Alamo Springs, ten miles away. This was the +best water hole on Mead's ranch, and, indeed, the best in all that +part of the Fernandez mountains, and was the one which the Fillmore +Company particularly coveted. Its copious yield of water never +diminished, and around the reservoir which Mead had constructed, half +a mile below the spring, a goodly grove of young cottonwoods, which he +had planted, made for the cattle a cool retreat from midday suns. + +Tuttle found Mead standing beside the reservoir, flicking the water +with his quirt, while the horse, with dropped bridle, waited meekly +beside him. Tom dismounted and stood by Mead's side, making some +remark about the cattle that were grazing within sight. + +"Tommy," Emerson said abruptly, "I've about decided that I'll give up +this fight, let the Fillmore folks have the damned place for what they +will give, and pull my freight." + +Tom looked surprised at this unheralded proposition, but paid no +further attention to it. Instead, he plunged at once into the subject +that concerned him. + +"Emerson, what's the matter with you?" + +"Nothing," Mead replied, looking at the horizon. + +"Emerson, you're lying, and you know it." + +"Well, then, nothing that can be helped." + +"How do you know it can't?" + +Mead shrugged his shoulders and rested his hand upon his horse's neck. +It straightway cuddled its head against his body and began nosing his +pockets. Mead brought out a lump of sugar and made the beast nod its +age for the reward. Tom watched him helplessly, noting the hopeless, +gloomy look on his face, and wondered what he ought to do or say. He +wished Nick had come along. Nick never was at a loss for words. But +his great love came to his rescue and he blurted out: + +"Have you tried to do anything?" + +"It's no use. There's nothing to be done. It's something that can't be +helped, and I'd better just get out." + +"Can't I--can't Nick and me do anything?" + +"No." + +Tom Tuttle was discouraged by this answer, for he knew that it meant +that the trouble, whatever it was, must be beyond the help of rifles +and revolvers. Still, he thought that it must have some connection +with the Whittaker murder, and he guessed that Mead was in fear of +something--discovery, apprehension, the result of a trial--that he +meant to get rid of the whole thing by quietly leaving the country. +Tom's brain required several minutes in which to reach this +conclusion, but only a second longer to decide that if this was what +Emerson wanted to do, it was the right thing and should have his help. + +"Well," he said, "if you want to pull out on the quiet, Nick and me +will stand off the Republicans over at Plumas till you get out of +their reach." + +"Oh, I don't mean to run away." Mead picked up the bridle and with one +hand on the pommel turned suddenly around. There was a half smile +about his mouth, which his sad eyes belied. Tom's idea of the case had +just occurred to him. "Don't you worry about it, Tom. It has nothing +to do with the Whittaker case, nor with the political fights in Las +Plumas." + +They remounted and cantered silently toward home. Tom was revolving in +his mind everything he knew about his friend, trying to find the key +to the present situation. After a long time he recalled the +conversation he and Ellhorn had had, as they sat on the top of the +cattle-pen fence at Las Plumas, concerning the possibility of Mead's +being in love. + +"Golly! I can't ask him about that!" Tuttle thought, spurring his +horse to faster pace. "But I reckon I'll have to. I've got to find out +what's the matter with him, and then Nick and me have got to help him +out, if we can." + +He rode close beside Mead and began: "Say, Emerson--" Then he coughed +and blushed until his mustache looked a faded yellow against the deep +crimson of his face. He glanced helplessly around, vaguely wishing +some enemy might suddenly rise out of the hills whom it would be +necessary to fight. But no living thing, save Emerson's own cattle, +was in sight. So, having begun, he rushed boldly on: + +"Say, Emerson, I don't want to be too curious about your affairs, +but--this--this trouble you're in--has it--is it--anything about a--a +girl?" + +Mead's spurs instinctively touched his horse into a gallop as he +answered, "Yes." + +"Miss Delarue?" + +"Yes." + +"Wouldn't her father let her have you?" + +Mead pulled his sombrero over his eyes with a sudden jerk, as the +thought drove into his brain that he had not asked for her. The idea +of asking Marguerite Delarue to marry him loomed before him as a +gigantic impossibility, a thing not even to be dreamed of. He set his +teeth together as he put into words for the first time the thing that +was making him heart-sick, and plunged his spurs into the horse's +flank with a thrust that sent it flying forward in a headlong run: + +"She's going to marry Wellesly." + +Tuttle lagged behind and thought about the situation. Sympathize +though he did with Mead's trouble, he could not help a little feeling +of gratification that after all there was to be no wife to come +between them and take Emerson away from him and Nick. Emerson would +forget all about it in a little while and their lifelong friendship +would go on and be just as it had always been. On the whole, he felt +pleased, and at the same time ashamed that he was pleased, that Miss +Delarue was going to marry Wellesly. + +"I don't think much of her judgment, though," he commented to himself, +contemptuously. "Any girl that would take that scrub Wellesly when she +might have Emerson Mead--well, she can't amount to much! Bah! +Emerson's better off without her!" + +That evening, as the four men sat smoking under the cottonwoods, Mead +said quietly: + +"Judge, I'm goin' to pull my freight." + +"What do you mean, Emerson?" + +"I mean that this country will be better off without me and I'll be +better off without it. I'm goin' to light out." + +"Soon?" + +"As soon as I can give away this ranch to the Fillmore outfit, or +anybody that will have it. Nick, you and Tom better take it. I'll give +it to you for love and affection and one dollar, if you want to take +the fight along with it." + +"Nothing would please me better," Nick replied, "than to clean up all +your old scores against the Fillmore outfit, but I reckon if we take +it we'll just run it for you until you-all come back." + +"All right. I'll turn it over to you to-morrow. You can have all you +can make out of it and if I'm not back inside of five years you can +divide it between you." + +"Everybody will say you are running away from the Whittaker case and +that you are afraid to face a trial," said Judge Harlin. + +"They may say what they damn please," replied Mead. + +Something like a smothered sob sounded from Tuttle's chair, and he +exclaimed fiercely, "They'd better not say that to me!" + +"There's no likelihood," said Judge Harlin, "that the grand jury will +indict you, as things stand now, or that the case would amount to much +if they should. If you want to stay and face the music, Emerson, I +don't think you need to feel apprehensive about the result." + +"Oh, I'm not afraid of the trial, if there should be one. But I don't +think there'll be any. I'm not going to submit to arrest, trial, or +anything else, until they can prove that Will Whittaker's dead, and +they can't do that. I told Wellesly that I would let them arrest me +whenever they can prove that Will Whittaker died with his boots on, +and I'll stick to my word. I'll come back from anywhere this side of +hell for my trial whenever they can prove it, and you can tell 'em so, +Judge. But I'm tired of this country and done with it, and I mean to +pull my freight to-morrow." + +"If you want to start from Plumas you'd better ride over with me," +said Harlin, "and you'd better go prepared for trouble, for the +Republicans won't let you leave the country if they can help it." + +"All right. They can have all the trouble they want." + +"You bet they can! All they want, and a whole heap more than they'll +want when it comes!" exclaimed Nick. + +"That's what's the matter! We'll see that they get it!" added Tom. + +The next morning they stowed the gold nuggets under the seat of Judge +Harlin's buggy, in which rode Mead and Harlin, with rifles and +revolvers. Tuttle and Ellhorn rode on horseback, each with a revolver +in his holster and a rifle slung beside him. + +Tom Tuttle was much disturbed because he alone knew the secret reason +for Emerson Mead's abrupt departure. He thought Nick ought to know it, +too, but he could not persuade himself that it would be the square +thing for him to tell it to Ellhorn. "Nick ought to know it," he said +to himself, "or he'll sure go doin' some fool thing, thinkin' +Emerson's goin' away on account of the Whittaker business, but I +reckon Emerson don't want me to leak anything he told me yesterday. +No, I sure reckon Emerson would say he didn't want me to go gabblin' +that to anybody. But Nick, he's got to know it." + +After a time he chanced to recall the gossip about Miss Delarue and +Wellesly, which Judge Harlin had told him, and decided that he was +relieved from secrecy on that point. Still, he felt self-conscious and +as if he were rubbing very near to Emerson's secret when he rode +beside Ellhorn and exclaimed: + +"Say, Nick, did Judge Harlin tell you that Wellesly and Frenchy +Delarue's daughter are going to be married next fall?" + +"The hell they are! Say, he's in luck, a whole heap better than he +deserves!" Then a light broke over Nick's face, as he shot a glance at +the carriage behind them. He slapped his thigh and exclaimed: +"Jerusalem! Tom, that's why Emerson is pullin' his freight!" + +At the moment, Tom felt guilty, as if he had betrayed a confidence, +and he merely said, "Maybe it is." + +"I might have known Nick would see through it in a minute," he said to +himself afterward. "Well, I reckon it's all right. He knows now, and +he'd sure have heard that they are going to be married, anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The four men stayed at Muletown that night and drove across the hot, +dry levels of the Fernandez plain in the early morning. In the +foothills of the Hermosa mountains there was a little place called +Agua Fria--Cold Water. It was a short distance off the main road, but +travelers across the plain frequently went thither to refresh +themselves and their beasts with the cool waters which it furnished. +It was only a small Mexican ranch, irrigated by a bountiful flow of +water from a never failing spring. Cottonwood trees surrounded the +house, and around the spring grew a little peach orchard. The ruins of +a mining camp, long since deserted, could be seen on the hill above. + +Emerson Mead and his companions turned aside into the road leading to +the Agua Fria ranch and drew rein in the shade of the peach trees. A +woman was washing clothes beside the spring and a man came from a +near-by field where he was at work. They chatted with the couple while +the horses were allowed to rest in the shade. Presently Tuttle and +Ellhorn remounted and started slowly back, leaving Mead and Harlin in +the buggy, ready to go, but exchanging some last words with the +Mexican. The road curved below the house, through the trees, and as +Tuttle and Ellhorn came out on the other side they saw a party of +horsemen approaching from the main road. At once they recognized John +Daniels and Jim Halliday, who were riding in the front. Behind them +came half a dozen others, and in the rear of the company they saw +Colonel Whittaker with some pack horses. Tom and Nick drew back into +the cover of the trees and conferred a moment over the probable +intentions of the party. + +"They are all armed," said Tom. "Six-shooters and Winchesters on every +one." + +"I'll bet they're after Emerson, Tommy," Nick exclaimed. "They want +trouble, and I reckon we'd better begin to give it to 'em right now." + +They drew their rifles from beside their saddles, for the men were +still too far away for the use of revolvers. Then Tom looked at Nick +doubtfully. + +"Nick, what do you-all think would be Emerson's judgment? You know he +always wants the other side to begin the fight." + +"My judgment is that the sooner this fight is begun the better. Them +fellows are out here lookin' for trouble, and I say, if a man wants +trouble, Lord! let him have it!" + +He raised his rifle to his shoulder and sent a bullet singing down the +road, saying to Tom as he fired: "This is just to let 'em know we're +here." + +The bullet creased the neck of Halliday's horse, which reared and +plunged with sudden fright. The whole party checked their horses in +surprise and looked intently toward the clump of cottonwoods from +which the shot had come. Tom raised his gun to his shoulder, saying, +"You've started the fun, Nick, so here goes," and he sent a rifle ball +whizzing past Daniels' ear. Harlin and Mead dashed around the house in +the buggy, jumped out, and tied their horses in the rear of the trees. +Tuttle and Ellhorn dismounted and dropped their bridles. + +The approaching party paused for a moment in a close group and held an +excited conference. Then they separated and, drawing their guns from +the saddle scabbards, sent a volley into the grove. Four rifle bullets +made quick answer and set their horses to rearing. It was some time +before the beasts could be made quiet enough for the shots to be +returned, and in the meantime bullets were pattering all about them. +Colonel Whittaker stopped far in the rear with the pack horses, beyond +the reach of the rifle balls, and the others made a sudden dash +forward. Checking their horses, they fired a concerted volley into the +trees. One of the bullets scorched the band of Tom's hat. + +"Nick," said Tom, "that was Daniels fired that shot. He's gettin' too +impudent. You take care of him while I clean my gun. Don't you let him +get any closer, but don't hurt him, for he's my meat." + +He went down on the ground cross-legged and swabbed his gun-barrel +while the bullets pattered on the ground about him and thudded into +the trees and ploughed up the dirt at his feet. Nick bent his rifle +on the sheriff and sent a bullet through his hat brim and another +through his horse's ear, and bit his bridle with one and tore his +trouser leg with another. One dropped and stung on the beast's fetlock +as Tom sprang to his feet exclaiming, "Now I'll get him!" + +Daniels first checked his horse, and then lost control of it as the +bridle broke, and when the bullet struck its fetlock it wheeled and +went flying to the rear. The sheriff felt a tingle in his left arm, +and, maddened, he seized the severed parts of his bridle and forced +the horse to face about. Then he bent forward, apparently taking +careful aim at one of the figures beneath the trees, but before he +could fire, his horse reared and plunged and went down in a heap +beneath him. + +In the meantime, Nick, Emerson, and Judge Harlin were exchanging rapid +shots with the rest of the sheriff's party. Those of the latter went +rather wild, because their frightened horses made it impossible for +them to take careful aim. And also by reason of the constant dancing +about of the beasts, the accurate markmanship of the men under the +trees was not of much avail. Nick found that his magazine was empty +and called out: + +"Tom, give me some of your hulls! I used up all mine keepin' your +darned sheriff back. Gimme some hulls quick!" + +He dropped a handful of cartridges into the magazine and raised his +rifle with the remark, "Now see 'em scatter!" + +The sharp, crashing din of the Winchesters kept steadily on. One of +the Daniels party fell over on his horse's neck, and two of their +animals became unmanageable. Daniels had knelt behind his fallen horse +and across its body he was taking careful aim. Tom felt a bullet graze +his cheek, and saw whence it had come. "I'll put a stop to that," he +exclaimed, and in another moment the sheriff tumbled over with a +bullet in his shoulder. Mead felt a sharp pain in one side, and knew +that hot lead had kissed his flesh. It was the first wound he had ever +received. With a scream of pain a horse fell, struggling, beneath its +rider. From one man's hands the rifle dropped and his right arm hung +helpless by his side. Another horseman swayed in his saddle and fell +to the ground, and his horse galloped to the rear, dragging the man +part of the way with his foot in the stirrup. + +Still the remnant of horsemen held their own against the steady rain +of bullets from the trees. Presently a flesh wound made Halliday's +horse unmanageable and it bolted straight for the grove. The four men +paused with fingers on triggers, looking at him in wonder. + +"Who would have thought he had the sand to do that!" Mead exclaimed. + +Suddenly his horse turned and flew toward the rear. "Whoo-oo-oo-ee!" +came a derisive shout from the grove, followed by a volley of +bullets. The other horsemen took advantage of the diverted firing, and +made a dash forward, dropping their rifles across their saddles and +using their revolvers. It was evident that they hoped, by this sudden +charge, to dislodge the enemy and force a retreat. + +"Out and at 'em, boys," yelled Nick. "Whoo-oo-oo-ee!" And the four men +rushed from under cover of the trees, rifles in hand, straight toward +the approaching horsemen. + +Dropping on one knee and firing, then rising and running forward a few +steps, and dropping and firing again, they dashed toward the enemy. +Surprised and confused by this sudden move, the horsemen halted, +irresolute, then turned and fled down the road. + +"Buffaloed!" yelled Mead. + +"After 'em, boys!" shouted Judge Harlin. And the four started on the +run after the retreating enemy. + +"Chase 'em to Plumas!" yelled Nick. + +"And learn 'em to let us alone after this!" bellowed Tom, in a voice +that reached the ears of the flying party, above the muffled roar of +their horses' hoofs. + +Halliday had got his horse under control again by the time he reached +the place where Colonel Whittaker stood guard, beside the pack horses, +and after a few hasty words with Whittaker he started back. When he +saw the rout of his party he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket +and waving it aloft he came galloping on. + +"Look at that, will you!" yelled Nick. "They want to surrender!" + +"I reckon they want to have a conference," said Judge Harlin. + +The four men halted and stood with their guns in their hands, waiting +Halliday's approach. + +"Emerson," he called, "do you stick to what you told Mr. Wellesly?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"That you'd submit to arrest when we could prove that Will Whittaker +died by violence." + +"Certainly, I do." + +"Then hand over your guns, for we've got his body!" + +"Let me see it first. If I can recognize it I'll keep my word." + +"It's back there where his father is." + +"Well, bring it here." + +"Will you keep the truce?" + +"Yes, if you do." + +Halliday galloped down the road again, and presently returned with +Colonel Whittaker. Between them was one of the pack horses with +something lashed to its back. They walked their horses to the spot +where the four men stood, untied the pack, spread a blanket on the +ground, and laid on it the ghastly, mangled remains of what had once +been a man's body. + +"We found it in the White Sands," Halliday explained. "It had been +buried nearly at the top of the ridge and the coyotes had dug it out +and this is all they had left. But his father here, and every one of +us, have identified it." + +Mead and his friends looked the body over carefully. The face had been +gnawed by coyotes and picked by buzzards until not a recognizable +feature was left. The shining white teeth glared from a lipless mouth. +Closely cropped black hair still covered the head. On one hand was a +plain gold ring set with a large turquoise. + +"You must remember that ring," said the father. Mead nodded. Colonel +Whittaker slipped it from the finger, dried and burned by the sun, and +showed the four men the initials, "W. W.," on the inside. The clothing +was badly tattered and much of it had been torn away. Part of a pongee +silk shirt still hung on the body. On the inside of the collar were +the young man's initials worked in red silk. "His mother did that," +said Colonel Whittaker. Around the neck was a dark-colored scarf, and +in it was an odd, noticeable pin, a gold nugget of curious shape. The +four men had all seen Will Whittaker wear it many times. A ragged +remnant of a coat hung on the mangled body. In the breast pocket +Colonel Whittaker showed them some letters and a small memorandum +book. From the book had been torn some leaves and all the remaining +pages were blank. But on the inside of the leather cover the name, +"Will Whittaker," had been printed in heavy black letters. Rain and +sun had almost obliterated the addresses on the two envelopes in the +pocket, but enough of the letters could still be made out to show what +the words had probably been. + +Halliday turned the body over and showed them three bullet holes in +the back, in the left shoulder blade. They were so close together that +their ragged edges touched one another, and a silver dollar would have +covered all of them. Apparently, the man had been shot at close range +and the bullets had gone through to the heart. + +Mead finished his inspection of the body and turned to Halliday. All +the rest of the party had come up and dismounted and were standing +beside their horses around the grisly, mangled thing and the four men +who were examining it. Several of the men were wounded and blood was +dripping over their clothing. A red mark across Tuttle's cheek showed +how narrow had been his escape, and a bloody stain on Mead's shirt +told the story of a flesh wound. + +"Jim," Mead began, and then paused, looking Halliday squarely in the +eyes, while his own friends and the sheriff's party edged closer, all +listening breathlessly. None of them had any idea what he was going to +say, whether it would be surrender, or defiance and a declaration of +continued war. Nick and Tom exchanged glances and cocked their +revolvers, which they held down beside their legs. "Jim," Mead went +on, "I acknowledge nothing about this body except that, as far as I +can see, it seems to be the body of Will Whittaker and he seems to +have died from these pistol shots. But I reckon it calls, merely on +the face of it, mind, for me to make good the word I gave to Wellesly. +Here are my guns." + +He handed his rifle to Halliday, unfastened his cartridge belt and +passed that and his revolver to the deputy sheriff. Among the +Whittaker party there were some glances of surprise, but more nods of +congratulation. Nick and Tom looked at each other in indignant dismay. +Tom's eyes were full of tears and his lips were twitching. "What did +he want to do that for?" he whispered to Nick. "We had 'em sure +buffaloed and on the run, and now he's plum' spoiled the whole thing!" + +"I reckon it was the best thing you could do, Emerson," said Judge +Harlin, "but I'm sorry you had to do it." + +Mead saw Daniels in the crowd around the body. "Hello, John," he +called, "I thought we tipped you over just now. Hurt much?" + +"No, not much. Only a scratch on the shoulder." + +The entire party went around to the spring and bathed one another's +wounds, and the Mexican woman tore her sheets into strips and made +bandages for them. No one had been killed, but there were a number of +flesh wounds and some broken bones. They hired horses of the Mexican +to take the place of those that had been killed and then started for +Las Plumas, Mead riding between Daniels and Halliday. Judge Harlin, +with Nick and Tom, followed some distance in the rear. + +Tom looked after them, as they rode away, with angry eyes. His huge +chest was heaving with sobs he could scarcely control. "Damn their +souls," he exclaimed fiercely to Nick, "if Emerson wasn't among them +I'd open on 'em right now." + +"How we could buffalo 'em," assented Nick. + +"It was a damned shame," Tuttle went on indignantly, "for Emerson to +give up that way. We could have cleaned 'em all out and got rid of 'em +for good, if he hadn't given up. We'll never get such a chance again, +and the Lord knows what will happen to Emerson now!" And Tom bent his +huge frame over his gun and bowed his head on his hands, while a great +sob convulsed his big bulk from head to foot. He and Judge Harlin +argued the question all the way to Las Plumas, and the judge well-nigh +exhausted his knowledge of law and his ingenuity in argument in the +effort to convince his companion that Emerson Mead had done the best +thing possible for him to do. But the last thing Tom said as they drew +up in front of Judge Harlin's office was: + +"Well, it was a grand chance to clean out Emerson's enemies, for good +and all, and make an end of 'em, so that he could live here in peace. +It was plumb ridiculous not to do it." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +The grand jury sat upon the Whittaker case and returned a true bill +against Emerson Mead, indicting him for the murder of Will Whittaker. +Mead was confined in the jail at Las Plumas to await his trial, which +would not take place until the following autumn. The finding of Will +Whittaker's body convinced many who had formerly believed in his +innocence that Mead was guilty. Everybody knew that his usual practice +in shooting was to fire three quick shots, so rapidly that the three +explosions were almost a continuous sound, pause an instant, and then, +if necessary, fire three more in the same way. The three bullets were +pretty sure to go where he meant they should, and if he wished he +could put them so close together that the ragged edges of the holes +touched one another, as did those in the back of Whittaker's corpse. +It was the number and character of those bullet holes that made many +of Mead's friends believe that he was guilty of the murder. "Nobody +but Emerson could have put those bullets in like that," they said to +themselves, although publicly the Democrats all loudly and +persistently insisted that he was innocent. + +In the constant debate over the matter which followed the finding of +the body the Democrats contended that the two men who had held Thomson +Tuttle captive all night near the White Sands must have been the +murderers. And it was on them and their mysterious conduct that Judge +Harlin rested his only hope for his client. The lawyer did not believe +they had Whittaker's body in their wagon, although he intended to try +to make the jury think so. Privately he believed that Mead was guilty, +but he admitted this to no one, and in his talks with Mead he +constantly assumed that his client was innocent. He had never asked +Mead to tell him whether or not he had committed the murder. + +Nick Ellhorn and Tom Tuttle lingered about Las Plumas for a short +time, sending their gold to the mint, and trying to contrive some +scheme by which Emerson Mead could be forced into liberty. Each of +them felt it a keen personal injury that their friend was in jail, and +they were ready to forego everything else if they could induce him to +break his promise and with them make a wild dash for freedom. But he +would listen to none of their plans and told them, over and over, that +he had given his word and proposed to keep it. + +"Of course," he said, "when I made that promise to Wellesly I didn't +suppose they would find Will's body. But they did, and I mean to keep +my promise. I gave my word for you-all too, and I don't want you to +make any fool breaks that will cause people to think I'm trying to +skip." + +Finally they gave up their plans and Tom returned to his duties with +Marshal Black at Santa Fe and Nick went out to Mead's ranch to keep +things in order there. + +Ellhorn returned to Las Plumas for his own trial, the result of which +was that he was found guilty of assault and battery upon the Chinese +and fined five hundred dollars. The moment sentence was pronounced +upon him he strode to the judge's desk and laid down his check for the +amount of his fine. Then he straightened up, thrust his hands in his +pockets, and exclaimed: + +"Now, I want that pig tail!" + +"You are fined five dollars for contempt of court," said the judge, +frowning at the tall Texan, who looked very much in earnest. + +"All right, Judge! Here you are!" said Nick cheerfully, as he put a +gold piece down beside the check. "Now, I want that Chiny pig tail! +It's mine! I've paid big for it! It's cost me five hundred and five +dollars, and no end of trouble, and it belongs to me." + +"You are fined ten dollars for contempt of court," the judge said +severely, biting his lips behind his whiskers. + +"Here you are, Judge!" and Nick spun a ten-dollar gold piece on the +desk. "I want that scalp as a memento of this affair, and to remind me +not to mix my drinks again. I've paid for it, a whole heap more'n it's +worth, and I demand my property!" And Nick brought his fist down on +the judge's desk with a bang that made the gold coins rattle. + +"Mr. Sheriff, remove this man!" ordered the Judge, and John Daniels +stepped forward to seize his arm. Ellhorn leaped to one side, +exclaiming, "I'll not go till I get my property!" He thrust his hand +into the accustomed place for his revolver, and with a look of +surprise and chagrin on his face stood meekly before the sheriff. + +"A man can't get his rights unless he has a gun, even in a court," he +growled, as he submitted to be led out. At the door he looked back and +called to the judge: + +"That scalp's mine, and I mean to have what I've paid for, if I have +to sue your blamed old court till the day o' judgment!" And he went at +once and filed a suit against the district attorney for the recovery +of the queue. + +Marguerite Delarue kept on with her quiet life through the summer, +caring for little Paul and attending to her father's house. She did +not see Emerson Mead again after the day when, with her little white +sunbonnet pulled over her disordered hair, she helped her baby brother +to mount his horse. Long before the summer was over she decided that +he cared nothing for her and that she must no longer feel more +interest in him than she did in any other casual acquaintance. But +sometimes she wakened suddenly, or started at her work, seeming to +feel the intent gaze of a pair of brown eyes. Then she would blush, +cry a little, and scold herself severely. + +It was late in the summer when Albert Wellesly made his next visit to +Las Plumas. He had decided to buy a partly abandoned gold mine in the +Hermosa mountains, and he explained to Marguerite Delarue, as he sat +on her veranda the afternoon of his arrival, that he was making a +hurried visit to Las Plumas in order to give it a thorough +examination. And then he added in a lower tone and with a meaning look +in his eyes, that that was not the only reason for the trip. She +blushed with pleasure at this, and he felt well enough satisfied not +to go any farther just then. + +He came to see her again after he returned from the mine. It was +Sunday afternoon, and they sat together on the veranda, behind the +rose and honeysuckle vines, with Marguerite's tea table between them. +He told her about his trip to the mine and what he thought of its +condition and deferentially asked her advice in some small matters +that had an ethical as well as a commercial bearing. She listened with +much pleasure and her blue eyes shone with the gratification that +filled her heart, for never before had a man, fighting his battles +with the world, turned aside to ask her whether or not he was doing +right. Then he told her how much he valued her judgment upon such +matters and how much he admired and reverenced the pure, high +standard of her life. His tones grew more lover-like as he said it +would mean far more to him than he could express if he might hope that +her sweet influence would some day come intimately into his own life. +Then he paused and looked at her lowered eyelids, bent head and +burning cheeks. But she said nothing, sitting as still as one dead, +save for her heaving breast. After a moment he went on, saying that he +cared more for her than for any other woman he had ever known, and +that if she did not love him then, he would be willing to wait many +years to win her love, and make her his wife. Still she did not speak, +and he laid one hand on hers, where it rested on the table, and +whispered softly, "Marguerite, do you love me?" With that she lifted +her head, and the troubled, appealing look in her eyes smote his heart +into a brighter flame. He pressed her hand in a closer grasp and +exclaimed, "Marguerite, dearest, say that you love me!" + +The innocent, fluttering, maiden heart of her, glad and proud to feel +that she had been chosen above all others, but doubtful of itself, and +ignorant of everything else, leaped toward him then and a wistful +little smile brightened her face. She opened her lips to speak, but +suddenly she seemed to see, beside the gate, a tall and comely figure +bending toward her with eyes that burned her cheeks and cast her own +to the ground. She snatched her hand from Wellesly's grasp and buried +her face in her palms. + +"I do not know," she panted. "I must think about it." + +"Yes, certainly, dear--you will let me call you dear, won't you--take +time to think it over. I will wait for your answer until your heart is +quite sure. I hope it will be what I want, and don't make me wait very +long, dear. Good-bye, sweetheart." + +He lifted her hand to his lips and went away. She sat quite still +beside the table, her burning face in her hands, her breast a turmoil +of blind doubts, and longings, and keen disappointments with, she knew +not what, and over all an imperious, sudden-born wish to be loved. + +Wellesly walked down the street smiling to himself in serene assurance +of an easy victory. He was accustomed to having women show him much +favor, and more than one had let him know that he might marry her if +he wished. Moreover, he thought himself a very desirable match, and he +did not doubt for an instant that any woman, who liked him as well as +he was sure Marguerite did, would accept his offer. + +"It was evidently her first proposal," he thought, "and she did not +know exactly what to do with it. She is as shy and as sweet as a +little wood-violet. Some girls, after my undemonstrative manner this +afternoon, would write me a sarcastic note with a 'no' in it as big as +a house. But nothing else would have done with Marguerite. She isn't +one of the sort that wants every man she knows to begin kissing her at +the first opportunity. And that is one of the reasons I mean to marry +her. The other sort are all very well, but a man doesn't want to marry +one of them. I want my wife to have such dignity and modesty that I +can feel sure no other man ever has, or ever will, kiss her but me. +And I can feel sure of that with Marguerite--just as sure as I can +that I'll have a favorable answer from her by the time I make my next +visit to Las Plumas." + +Marguerite sat behind her screen of honeysuckle vines, her face in her +hands and a mob of blind, wild, incoherent desires and doubts making +tumult in her heart, until she heard her father's footsteps in the +house. Pierre Delarue had been taking his Sunday afternoon siesta, and +he came out upon the veranda in a very comfortable frame of mind. He +patted Marguerite's shoulder affectionately and asked her to make him +a cup of tea. He was very fond of his fair young daughter, who had +grown into the living likeness of the wife he had married in the days +of his exuberant youth. But he rarely withdrew his thoughts from +outside affairs long enough to be conscious of his affection, except +on Sunday afternoons, when interest and excitement on Main street were +at too low an ebb to attract his presence. On other days, she endeared +herself to him by the sympathetic attention she gave to his accounts +of what was going on down-town and to his rehearsals of the speeches +he had made. On Sundays, when he had the leisure to feel a quickened +sense of responsibility, he both pleased himself and felt that he was +discharging a duty to her by discoursing upon his observations and +experiences of the world and by propounding his theories of life and +conduct. For Pierre prided himself on his philosophy quite as much as +he did on his oratory. + +Marguerite, on her part, was very fond of her father, but it was a +fondness which considered his love of speech-making and his flighty +enthusiasms with smiling tolerance. Her cooler and more critical way +of looking at things had caused her, young as she was, to distrust his +judgment in practical affairs, and about most matters she had long +since ceased asking his advice. + +She sat beside him and talked with him while he drank his cup of tea. +A recently married young couple passed the house, and Marguerite made +some disapproving comment on the man's character, adding that she did +not understand how so nice a girl could have married him. + +"Oh, he has a smooth and ready tongue," answered her father, "and I +dare say it was easy for him to make love. When you are older you will +know that it is the man who can talk love easily who can make the most +women think they love him." Pierre Delarue stopped to drink the last +of his tea, and Marguerite blushed consciously, remembering the scene +through which she had just passed. She rose to put his cup on the +table, and was glad that her face was turned away from him when next +he spoke: + +"When a man tells a woman that he loves her," Delarue went on, "and it +rolls easily off his tongue, she should never believe a word that he +says. If a man really loves a woman, those three little words, 'I love +you,' are the hardest ones in the whole world for him to say. Most +women do not know that when they hear their first proposals, but they +ought to know it, especially in this country, where they make so much +of love. But, after all, I do not know that it makes so much +difference, because all women want to hear no end of love talked to +them, and it is only the man who does not feel it very deeply who can +talk enough about it to satisfy them. A woman is bound to be +disappointed, whichever way she marries, for she is sure to find out +after a while that the flow of words is empty, and the love without +the words never satisfies. After all, it is better for a woman to +think of other things than love when she marries. They manage these +things better in France. Don't you think so, my daughter?" + +There was a deep thrill of passionate protest in her voice as she +answered, "No, father, I certainly do not." + +He laughed indulgently and patted her hand as he said: "Ah, you are a +little American!" Then he added, more seriously: "I suppose you, too, +will soon be thinking of love and marriage." + +She threw her arms around his neck and there was a sob in her voice as +she exclaimed: "Father, I shall never marry!" + +He smoothed her brown hair and laid his hand on her shoulder saying, +"Ah, that means you will surely be married within a year!" + +She shook her head. "No, I mean it, father! I shall never marry!" + +"My dear, I should be sorry if you did not," he answered with dignity, +and with a strong note of disapproval in his voice. "For what is a +woman who does not marry and bear children? Nothing! She is a rose +bush that never flowers, a grape vine that never fruits. She is +useless, a weed that cumbers the earth. No, my daughter, you must +marry, or displease your father very much." + +Marguerite lay awake long that night, trying to decide what she ought +to do. Her father's words gave sight to a blind, vague misgiving she +had already felt, but at the same time she could not believe that +Wellesly meant less than his words when he told her that he loved her +and wished to make her his wife. + +"Why should he propose to me if he does not wish to marry me?" she +argued with herself, "and why should he want to marry me if he does +not love me? No, he surely loves me. Perhaps father is right about the +Frenchmen. He knows them, but he does not understand the Americans. +They always feel so sure about things, and they do everything as if +there was no possibility of failure. But I wish I knew if I love him! +I suppose I do, for I felt so pleased that he should wish to marry me. +But I don't have to decide at once. I'll wait till he comes to Las +Plumas again before I give him an answer." + +She debated whether or not she ought to tell her father and ask his +advice, but she feared that in his mind other considerations would +outweigh the one she felt to be the chief, and she decided to say +nothing to him until she knew her own mind in the matter. "If I refuse +him," she said to herself, "there will be no reason for me to say +anything about it, and it wouldn't be fair to Mr. Wellesly for me to +tell father or any one else that he had proposed to me. Besides, +father might possibly speak of it outside, and I couldn't bear to +think that people were gossiping about it. No, I will not say +anything, unless I should decide that I want to marry him. Then I will +ask father if he thinks I'd better." + +The next morning she woke with a sudden start, all her consciousness +filled with an overwhelming desire to love and be loved, to be all of +life to some one who would be more than life to her. She sat up, +panting, pressing her hand to her heart. At once her thoughts leaped +to Wellesly. + +"He loves me, he has told me so, and surely this is love I feel now, +and for him. I suppose--I do--love him." + +She lifted her nightgown above her bare feet and stood beside little +Paul's crib. With her disheveled hair falling in waving masses around +her face she bent over him and lightly kissed his forehead. + +"My little Bye-Bye, I would not leave you to be any man's wife. But he +will not wish me to leave you, because he thinks--that it is beautiful +and noble that I--that I have cared for you--though how could I have +done anything else--and that is partly why he loves me. Surely, I love +him, and I suppose--it is best--for me to marry him. But I'll wait +till he comes again--there!" + +With burning cheeks she stood erect and stamped one bare foot on the +floor. Again the memory of the brown eyes smote suddenly into her +consciousness. Her chin took a sharper angle and her red lips shut +tightly as she threw back her head and twisted her fingers together. + +"I will not think of him again," she said slowly, in a low voice. "He +is in jail, to be tried for murder, and he will probably be hung--" +She hesitated, her face turned white and there was a spasmodic +throbbing in her throat, but she went resolutely on: "And he does not +care the least thing about me. He was merely fond of my little +Bye-Bye, and I am grateful to him for that. But he is nothing to me. +I'll marry Mr. Wellesly--I think--but I'll wait--" And then the +throbbing in her throat choked her voice and she threw herself upon +the bed and buried her face in the pillow and cried. Just as thousands +of young girls have cried over their fluttering, doubtful, ignorant +maiden hearts, ever since man gave up seizing the girl of his choice +and carrying her away, willy-nilly, and began proposing to her +instead. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +The first days of October were at hand, and the court session at which +Emerson Mead was to be tried for the murder of Will Whittaker would +soon open. The supreme court of the territory was sitting at Santa Fe, +and its decision upon the shrievalty would be announced in a few days. +The flames of partisan feeling were already breaking out in Las +Plumas. The dividing line of Main street had begun to be drawn, +although fitfully as yet, and conveniently forgotten if business +called to the other an occupant of either side. But in the matter of +mint juleps, cocktails, and the swapping of yarns Main street +stretched its dusty length between Republicans and Democrats as grim +and impassable as a mountain barrier. On both sides there were meaning +glances and significant nods and half-spoken threats of assault and +resistance. The Democrats professed to believe that the Republicans +were determined to hold the office of sheriff through the trial of +Emerson Mead, whatever should be the decision, in order that they +might find some means to end his life should the court discharge him. +The Republicans insisted that the Democrats were planning to seize the +office by hook or by crook before the trial should begin in order +that they might allow him to escape. And each side declared, with +angry eyes and set teeth, that the other should not be allowed to +thwart justice, if the streets of Las Plumas had to be paved with dead +men. + +Judge Harlin sent word to Mead's ranch, asking Nick Ellhorn to come +into town as soon as possible, and telegraphed to Tom Tuttle at Santa +Fe to return to Las Plumas at once. But it happened that Tom was +chasing an escaped criminal in the Gran Quivera country, far from +railroads and telegraphs, and that Nick was out on the range and did +not receive the message until nearly a week later. + +Nick had settled the matter of the Chinaman's queue on his last visit +to Las Plumas, two weeks before, but not to his entire satisfaction. +Judge Harlin had refused to conduct his suit for the recovery of the +queue against Harry Gillam, the district attorney, and Nick had +declared that he would be his own lawyer and get that "scalp," if it +"took till he was gray headed." Secretly, he was glad that Judge +Harlin would not take the case, because he had an active animosity +against Harry Gillam, mainly because Gillam wore a silk hat, and he +thought that, as his own lawyer, he could contrive to cast enough +ridicule on the district attorney to set the whole town laughing and +make Gillam so angry that he would lose his temper and want to fight. +So he set about preparing his case, with advice and suggestion from +Judge Harlin, who, while he did not wish to be openly connected with +the matter, was very willing to see Gillam, who was a Republican and +the judge's chief professional rival, made a laughing stock and +brought to grief. And he knew that the case, with Nick Ellhorn at the +helm, would be the funniest thing that had happened in Las Plumas for +many a day. Ellhorn's plans began to be whispered about. Presently the +whole town was chuckling and smiling in anticipation of the fun there +would be at the trial. Gillam fidgeted in nervous apprehension for +several days; then he put the pig tail in his pocket, hunted up +Ellhorn and invited him to have a drink. As they drained their glasses +he exclaimed: + +"Oh, by the way, Nick, are you really in earnest about that fool suit +you've filed against me?" + +"You mean about my Chiny pigtail?" asked Ellhorn. + +"About the Chinaman's queue, yes." + +"You bet I am. That blamed thing's cost me a whole heap more'n it's +worth to anybody except me and the Chinaman. I reckon he's sold it to +me for that five hundred dollars. It's mine, and I mean to have it. I +sure reckon I naturalized one heathen when I took that scalp. There's +one bias-eyed fan-tanner that won't pull his freight for Chiny as soon +as he gets his pockets full of good American money. I reckon I was a +public benefactor when I sheared that washee-washee, and I deserve the +pig tail as a decoration for my services. No, sir, the scalp's mine, +by every count you can mention, and you'll have to give it up." + +"Is the queue all you want?" + +"If that's all you've got that belongs to me." + +"Well, then, take it, and stop your jackassing about the fool thing," +said Gillam, holding out the queue. + +"The hell you say!" Nick exclaimed, quite taken aback and much +disappointed. + +"Yes, here it is. And I call these gentlemen to witness that I offer +it to you freely and without any conditions." + +So Nick reluctantly took the braid and gave up his case against +Gillam. "It was just like the blamed whelp," he complained to Judge +Harlin, "to back down and spoil all the fun, but it's no more than you +might expect from a man that wears a stove-pipe." Harry Gillam was the +only man in Las Plumas who wished, or dared to wear a silk hat, and +his taste in the matter of headgear gave constant edge to Ellhorn's +feeling of contempt and aversion. "I'm blamed sorry for it," Nick went +on, "for I sure reckon half the kids in town would have been shyin' +rocks at that plug before the trial was over." + +"I guess he was buffaloed," he said later, as he finished giving an +account of the affair to Emerson Mead. "It was the meanest sort of a +backdown you ever saw, but it just showed the fellow's gait. A man +with no more grit than that had better go back east, where he can +wear a stove-pipe hat without lookin' like a fool, which he sure is." + +"What made you so determined to have the thing, Nick?" Mead asked, +examining the braid. + +Nick gave a twist to the ends of his mustache and looked +contemplatively at the ceiling. "Well," he said slowly, and there were +signs of the Irish roll in his voice, "it was my scalp. I took it, +first, and then I was after payin' for it. Sure and I wanted it, +Emerson, to remind me not to mix my drinks again. It's my pledge to +take whisky straight and beer the next day. And I sure reckon whenever +I look at it I'll say to myself, 'Nick, you've been a blooming, +blasted, balky, blithering, bildaverous idiot once too often. Don't +you do it again.'" + +Notwithstanding his feeling about it, Ellhorn went away and forgot the +earnest of his future good behavior. Emerson smiled that evening as he +saw it trailing its snaky length over the back of a chair and stuffed +it in the side pocket of his coat, thinking he would give it to +Ellhorn the next time his friend should come to the jail. + +Judge Harlin thought Emerson Mead unaccountably despondent about the +probable outcome of his trial, and at times even indifferent to his +fate. He wondered much why this man, formerly of such buoyant and +determined nature, should suddenly collapse, in this weak-kneed +fashion, lose all confidence in himself, and seem to care so little +what happened to him. The lawyer finally decided that it was all on +account of his client's honesty and uprightness of character, which +would not allow him, being guilty, to make an effort to prove that he +was not, and he lived in daily expectation of an order from Mead to +change his plea to guilty. The time was drawing near for the opening +of the case when Judge Harlin one day hurried excitedly to the jail +for a conference with Mead. + +"Emerson," he said, "some member of the last grand jury has been +leaking, and it has come to my ears that testimony was given there by +some one who declared he saw you kill Whittaker. And I've just found +out that the other side has got a witness, presumably the same one, +who will swear to the same thing." + +Mead's face set into a grim defiance that rejoiced Harlin more than +anything that had happened since his client's imprisonment, as he +answered: + +"I've been expecting this. Who is it and what's his testimony?" + +"I haven't been able to learn any details about it--merely that he +will swear he saw you kill Whittaker. I'm not positive who the man is, +but I feel reasonably sure I've spotted him. I think he is a Mexican, +a red-headed Mexican, called Antone Colorow." + +Mead nodded. "I think likely," he said, and then he told Judge Harlin +how Antone had tried to lasso him and of the angry man's threats of +revenge for his broken wrists. "I've expected all along," he added, +"that they'd come out with some such lay as that. I don't see how we +can buck against it," he went on, despondently, "for I can't prove an +alibi. Unless you can break down his testimony we might as well give +up." + +"I guess there won't be any difficulty about that," said Harlin +assuringly. "What you've just told me will be a very important matter, +and if I can keep Mexicans off the jury it won't take much to convince +Americans that he is lying, just because he is a Mexican." + +After Judge Harlin went away Mead sat on the edge of his bed, his +elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands, and his broad shoulders +rounded into an attitude of deep dejection. + +"What is the use?" his thoughts ran. "They are bound to get me sooner +or later, and it might just as well be now as any time. It won't make +any difference whether they clear me or convict me. She will believe +me guilty anyway, because her father and all her friends will say so." +He rose and began pacing the room and his thoughts turned persistently +to Marguerite Delarue. Since he had heard the rumor of her approaching +marriage to Wellesly he had tried not to let his thoughts rest upon +her, but sometimes the rush of his scanty memories would not be +forbidden. + +Again he recalled the day when he first saw her, as she stood with her +sick baby brother in her arms. She was so young, so blooming, so fair, +that her anxious face and troubled eyes seemed all the more +appealing. He remembered that he had looked at her a moment before he +could speak, and in that moment love smote his heart. He had wished to +see her father and she had laid the sick child on a couch while she +left the room. The little one had fretted and he had sat down beside +it and shown it his watch and his revolver, and it had put out its +hands to him, and when Marguerite came back she had found the big, +tall, broad-shouldered man cradling the sick child in his arms. He +halted in his moody pacing of the cell and a sudden, shivering thrill +shot through his whole big body as he saw again the look of pleasure +and of trustful admiration which had lighted her face and shone in her +dark blue eyes. The child had clung to him and, pleased, he had asked +if he might not take it in his arms for a short ride on his horse. And +after that, whenever he had passed the Delarue house alone, he had +tried to see the little boy, and had tried still more, in roundabout +ways, to bring the child's sister outside the house, where he might +see her and hear her voice. Four times he had done that, and once he +had seen her in her father's store and had held a few minutes' +conversation with her. He remembered every word she had said. He +repeated them all to himself, and went over again every least incident +of the times he had stopped his horse at her gate and had taken the +laughing child from her arms and they had looked at each other and he +had tried to say something--anything, and then had ridden away. + +When the meager little memories were all done he sat down on his bed +again and felt that nothing mattered, since she was to marry Albert +Wellesly and would surely believe him guilty of all that was charged +against him. He felt no jealousy of her chosen husband, and no anger +toward Wellesly because he had won her. He was conscious only of a +vague wonder that any man had dared ask Marguerite Delarue to be his +wife. + +On Saturday of the first week in October Judge Harlin received a +private dispatch from Santa Fe saying that the supreme court had +decided the shrievalty contest in favor of Joe Davis, the Democratic +candidate. At once the threatened storm began to break. By noon Main +street was again divided into two opposing camps. Every rifle, +revolver and shot-gun in the town that was not carried on some man's +person was put within easy reach of ready hands. Shops and offices, +stores and gardens were deserted, and men hurried to the center of the +town, where they drifted along the sidewalk or stood in doorways in +excited groups, each side anxiously and angrily on the alert for some +open act of hostility from the other. The Republicans said they had +not received official notice of the decision of the court, and that +they would not surrender the office until it should reach them. The +Democrats demanded that it be given up at once and accused the other +side of secreting the court order with the intention of holding the +office through Emerson Mead's trial. The district court was to convene +at Las Plumas on the following Monday. Mead's case was the first on +the docket. + +Men who were next door neighbors, or friends of long standing, passed +each other with scowls or averted faces, if they were members of the +opposing parties. Mrs. John Daniels was planning to give a swell +breakfast to a dozen chosen friends early the next week, the first +appearance of that form of entertainment in Las Plumas society, and +she was delightedly pluming herself over the talk the function would +be sure to create and the envious admiration her friends would feel +because she had introduced something new. She had talked the matter +over with her dearest friend, Mrs. Judge Harlin, whom she had sworn to +secrecy, and she was on her way to the post-office to mail her +invitations when she saw that the threatened storm was breaking. Her +glance swept up Main street on one side and down on the other, and she +turned about and hurried home to substitute in her list of guests for +those whose sympathies were Democratic, others whose masculine +affiliations were Republican. + +Hurried messages were sent out to mines and cattle ranches, and in the +afternoon fighting men of both parties began to come in from the +country. A procession of horsemen poured into the town, bronzed and +grim-faced men, each with a roll of blankets behind him, a revolver at +his side, a rifle swung to his saddle, or a shot-gun across its +pommel. They loped about the town, sometimes surrounding the +court-house, angrily discussing whether or not the clerk of the court +was probably hiding the official order, and sometimes lining the two +sides of Main street, as if they were two opposing companies of +cavalry ready to join battle. Among the Republican forces Judge Harlin +saw a red-whiskered Mexican who, he learned, was Antone Colorow. The +man's broken wrists had healed, but they had lost all their +suppleness, and he could never throw the lariat again. He could shoot +as well as ever though, and not a day had passed since that morning at +the round-up when he had not sworn to himself that Emerson Mead should +die by his hand. He hated Mead with all the vengefulness and +fierceness of his race. His mind held but one idea, to work upon the +man who had ruined his occupation the crudest possible revenge, in +whatever way he could compass it. He had allied himself with the +Republican forces only because they were opposed to his enemy, and he +hoped that in the impending clash he would find opportunity to carry +out his purpose. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +On that same Saturday Marguerite Delarue received a letter from Albert +Wellesly saying he would be in Las Plumas the following Tuesday, when +he hoped he would hear from her own lips the answer for which he had +been waiting. She was no nearer a decision than she had been weeks +before, and in her perplexity she at last decided that she must ask +her father's advice. But he was so absorbed in the factional feud that +she could scarcely catch sight of him. In the late afternoon of Sunday +she took little Paul and walked to the mesa east of the town, toward +the Hermosa mountains. For the hundredth time she debated the matter, +for the hundredth time she told herself that he loved her and that she +loved him, that it would please her father, and that there was no +reason why she should not marry him. And for the hundredth time her +misgivings held her back and would not let her say conclusively that +she would be Wellesly's wife. Then she would think that her hesitancy +was because she really preferred not to marry any one, and that she +would always feel the same doubts. + +She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she did not notice the +unusual abstraction of the child. With one chubby fist grasping her +forefinger and the other trailing, head downward, a big yellow +chrysanthemum, he trudged silently by her side, his red fez making a +spot of bright color against her white dress. He was wondering why he +had no mamma. Many times he had talked the matter over with +Marguerite, but she had never been able to explain it to his entire +satisfaction. He accepted her statements when she made them, but as +they did not seem to him to justify the fact, she had to make them all +over again the next time he thought of the subject. That day he had +visited a little playmate who had both a big sister and a mamma, and +as he walked across the mesa with Marguerite his small brain was busy +with the problem and his childish heart was full of longing. He lifted +his serious, puzzled face, with its big, blue, childishly earnest eyes +to his sister, who was as absorbed in her problem as was he in his. + +"Say, Daisy, why haven't I got a mamma, just like Janey?" + +"Darling, our mamma, yours and mine, has gone to Heaven." + +"What did she go there for?" + +"Because God wanted her to go there and live with Him." + +"Did God take her to Heaven?" + +"Yes, dear." + +"Well, it was awful mean for Him to do that." + +"Oh, my darling! My little Bye-Bye mustn't say such things! +Everything God does is right. Poor mamma was so ill she could not stay +with us any longer, and God took her to Heaven to make her well." + +"Is she ill in Heaven?" + +"No, dearie. She is well and happy in Heaven, and so is every one who +goes there." + +"When I go to Heaven shall I see my mamma?" + +"Yes, dear." + +The child was silent for a few moments and Marguerite turned again to +her own thoughts. She scarcely heard him when he spoke again: + +"Heaven is up in the sky, ain't it, Daisy?" + +His eyes were caught by the sunset glow on the Hermosa mountains and +he did not press her for confirmation of his idea. The swelling flanks +and the towers and pinnacles and castellated crags of the rugged +Hermosa range were glowing and flaming with the tenderest, deepest +pink, as though the living granite had been dyed in the blood of +crimson roses. The eastern sky, vivid with seashell tints, hovered so +low that the topmost crags seemed to support its glowing colors. It +was no wonder that the child's mind, already awed and made receptive +by his thoughts of Heaven, was at once filled with the idea that its +gates had been opened before him. He dropped his sister's finger and +went forward a few steps, his eager eyes fixed on the glory that +flamed in the east, and his heart beating wildly with the thought that +if he ran on a little way he could go in and see his mother. Of +course, she would see him coming and she would run out to meet him and +take him in her arms, just as Marguerite did when he came home from +Janey's. Filled with the sudden, imperious impulse, he ran down the +hill on which they were standing, across the dry, sandy bed of a +watercourse, and up the hill on the other side. The miracle of beauty +which dazzled him was of almost daily occurrence, but, baby that he +was, he had never noticed it before. + +Marguerite took Wellesly's letter from her pocket when Paul dropped +her hand, and, turning to get the sunset light on the page, read it +over and over. She knew Paul had run on ahead, but thought he was +playing in the arroyo. She folded the letter slowly and put it in her +pocket again and watched for a few moments the glowing banks of color +that filled the western sky. Then she looked down the little hill and +along the arroyo, calling, "Come, Paul! We must go home." But the +sturdy little figure was nowhere in sight. At that moment he was +crossing the second hill beyond. She ran up and down the arroyo +calling, "Paul! Paul!" at the top of her voice. Gathering her white +skirts in one hand, she rushed to the top of the hill and called again +and again. But there was no reply. As she listened, straining forward, +all the earth seemed strangely still. The silence struck back upon her +heart suffocatingly. Over the crest of the next hill Paul heard her +voice and hid behind a big, close clump of feathery mesquite, fearful +lest she should find him and take him home again. Across the arroyo +she ran, and up to the hill-top, where she stood and called and looked +eagerly about. But he, intent on carrying out his plan of reaching the +rosy, glowing gates of Heaven over there such a little way, crouched +close behind the spreading bush and made no answer. + +"He would not have gone so far," she thought, anxiously. "He must be +back there in one of those arroyos." + +She ran back and hurried farther up and down, first one and then the +other gulch, calling the little one's name and straining her eyes +through the dusk that had begun to gather for a glimpse of his flaxen +curls and red cap. Paul, meanwhile, was scurrying across the hills as +fast as his two fat, determined legs could carry him, straight toward +the deepening, darkening glory upon the mountains. + +At last Marguerite decided that he must have turned about, after he +had run a few steps away from her, and gone home. Comforting herself +with this hope, she hurried back, looking about her as she ran, to be +sure that she did not pass him. Flushed and panting, she rushed +through the house and asked the servant if little Bye-Bye had come +home. The maid had not seen him, and the two women looked through the +house and searched the yard and garden, stopping every moment to call +the child. Then they ran out again upon the mesa, where Marguerite +had walked with him, calling and circling about through the gathering +dusk. + +When it became quite dark Marguerite, thoroughly frightened, ran back +to the town and hurried down Main street looking for her father. She +met a clerk from his store on the way to tell her that he had just +started to his alfalfa ranch, ten miles down the river, to bring in +the men who were there at work, and would not return until early the +next morning. The clerk quickly got together a half dozen young men +and they set out for the mesa. The mother of one and the sister of +another stayed with Marguerite, and by dint of constant persuasion +kept her at home. + +At daybreak the party returned, worn out by their long tramp. The moon +had risen about ten o'clock, and by its brilliant light they had +searched carefully the hills and arroyos within two or three miles of +the town, but had not found a trace of the lost child. Main street had +slept on its arms that night. Men of both parties, wrapped in their +blankets, with revolvers and shot-guns and rifles under their hands, +had dotted the court-house yard, had lain on the sidewalks near the +jail, and had slept on the floors of shops and offices along both +sides of Main street. Feeling had risen so high that a hasty word, or +the unguarded movement of a hand toward a pistol butt, was likely to +cause the beginning of the battle. The Democrats had telegraphed to +Santa Fe and learned that the order of the court making Joe Davis +sheriff, having left there by mail on Saturday, should have reached +Las Plumas on Sunday. So they announced that they would wait until the +arrival of the mail from the north on Monday at noon, and that if the +Republicans did not then vacate the office they would march upon the +court-house, seize the clerk of the court, take forcible possession of +the jail, and install Joe Davis in the office of sheriff. They swore +they would do all this before sunset Monday night if they had to soak +the sand of the streets a foot deep in blood. The Republicans grimly +said that they would not give up the office without the official order +of the court if they had to kill every Democrat in the town to hold +it. + +When the party searching for little Paul walked down Main street in +the dim, early light, their footsteps breaking loudly upon the morning +silence, men jumped to their feet with revolvers at ready, and set +faces, crowned with disheveled hair, looked out from doorways whence +came the click of cocking triggers. As the party was divided in its +political affiliations, the young men knew that it would be safer for +them to separate and for each to walk down Main street on that side to +which his elders belonged. And so it happened that armed men, jumping +from their blankets with revolvers drawn and cocked, and sternly +commanding "halt," heard on both sides of the street at the same time +how Pierre Delarue's little boy was lost on the mesa. Over and over +again the young men told their story as they walked down the street, +and group after group of armed and expectant men asked anxiously, +"What's the matter?" "What's up?" "What's happened?" As they listened, +the angry resolve in their faces softened into sympathy and concern, +and everywhere there were low exclamations of "We must hunt him up!" +"We must all turn out!" + +When Pierre Delarue returned he found the feud forgotten. Men were +running hither and thither getting horses and carriages ready, a long +line of men and boys straggled out across the mesa, the Main street +barrier, which had risen sky high when he left the town, had sunk to +the middle of the earth, and men who, a few hours before, would have +shot to kill, had either opened mouth to the other, rode or walked +side by side, talking together of the lost child, as they hurried out +to the hills to join in the search. + +Mrs. John Daniels, as soon as she rose from the breakfast table, +hastened to Mrs. Judge Harlin's house, and together they went to offer +sympathy and neighborly kindness to Marguerite. Other women came, and +their tear-dyed lids told how the mother-sympathy in their hearts had +already opened the flood-gates of feeling. None of them thought it +possible that the child could be found alive, though they talked +encouragingly with Marguerite. But among themselves they said, "Poor +girl! It will kill her!" + +Marguerite wished to join the searchers on the mesa, but the women +would not let her go. She had not slept during the night, and her +usually blooming face was pale and drawn and her eyes were wide and +brilliant. When her father came she appealed to him. + +"No, my dear, you can do no good out there. Stay here and be ready to +take care of him when we bring him home. We shall find him, my dear, +we shall find him. Keep up your courage and save all your strength for +the time when it will be needed." + +So Marguerite stood on her veranda and watched the people stringing +out to the hills, men and boys and even a few women, on foot, on +horseback, in carts and carriages and wagons. She could not shut from +her eyes the vision of her little Bye-Bye alone, far out on the hills +in the darkness and cold--the little baby Bye-Bye, who, if he wakened +in the night, had always to be taken into her own bed and cuddled in +her arms before he could sleep again. + +Judge Truman, of the district court, reached Las Plumas on Sunday and +prepared to open the court and call the case of Emerson Mead on Monday +morning. The sheriff and his deputy brought Mead out of the jail and +started to conduct him to the court-house. Suddenly the bell of the +Methodist church began to ring violently; a moment later that of the +Catholic convent added its sharp tones, and the fire bell, over by the +plaza, joined their clamor. + +"What are those bells ringing for, John," said Mead to Daniels. + +"Haven't you heard about Frenchy Delarue's kid? He was lost on the +mesa last night and the whole town is turning out to hunt him. They +are ringing the bells to call out everybody that hasn't gone already." + +Mead stopped short at the words "Frenchy Delarue's kid." + +"Little Paul Delarue?" he asked in quick, sharp tones. + +"Yes, the little fellow with the yellow curls." + +Without a word Mead turned sharply on his heel and ran with long +strides down Main street toward Delarue's house. The hands of the two +men went instinctively to their revolvers, then their eyes met, and +Daniels said: + +"I guess we'd better not touch him, Jim." + +At that moment Judge Truman turned the corner, just from the +court-house, and saw the escaping prisoner. + +"Let him go, Mr. Sheriff," he said. "His help will be valuable in the +search. Better go yourself, and take as many with you as you can. I +have adjourned court and told everybody to hurry out to the mesa, and +I'm going myself as soon as I can get a horse." + +Emerson Mead ran at the top of his speed to the Delarue house, going +there without thought of why he did it, feeling only that Marguerite +was in deepest trouble, and all his mind filled with the idea that it +would kill her if anything happened to the child. As he entered the +gate Marguerite saw him and rushed down from the veranda. + +"How did it happen?" he asked hastily. + +"I took him out to walk with me on the mesa yesterday afternoon, and +he slipped away from me and I could not find him." + +"Can you tell me where you saw him last?" + +"Let me go with you! I can show you the very place!" + +"Are you strong enough? Can you stand it? You are very pale!" + +"Yes, yes! It will not be so hard as to stay here and wait! Let me go +with you and help you!" + +"Come, then, quick!" + +She snatched her little white sunbonnet from a chair on the porch and +they hurried off. Walking swiftly and silently they passed through the +back streets of the town and across vacant lots and hurried over the +rising plain until they came to the place in the rolling hills where +the child had disappeared. + +"It was here," said Marguerite. "I am very sure of the place. He stood +beside me and while I was thinking about--something that troubled me, +and reading a letter, he slipped away. I was sure he had only run down +the hill into the arroyo, but when I looked for him, and it seemed +hardly more than a minute, I could not find him." + +Mead looked about for footprints, but the ground had been trampled by +scores of feet since the night before, and tracks of shoes in many +sizes covered the sandy earth. A few scattered searchers were near +them, but the great mass of people could be seen in groups and bunches +trailing off over the hills, most of them headed to the northeast. A +shout came along the line and one of the men near by ran across the +hills to learn its cause. + +"What had he been talking about?" Mead asked. + +"About Heaven and our mother, and if he could see her if he should go +there." + +Mead looked about him, thinking there was no clue in that, when his +glance rested upon the towering peaks of the Hermosa range, their +western slopes soft in the violet shadows of the forenoon, their +upreared crags seeming to lean against the very blue of the sky. A +sudden memory from his own childish years flashed into his mind. + +"I remember when I was a kid I used to think that if I could only get +to the top of a mountain I could jump from it into the sky and see +God. Children always think Heaven is in the sky, don't they? Maybe he +had some such idea. Let's go straight toward the mountain and see if +we can't find his tracks." + +They walked down the hill, and in the sand in the bottom of the arroyo +Mead's quick eye caught a faint depression. He stopped Marguerite as +she was about to step on it, and they knelt together to examine it. +There were other footprints all about, but this one little track had +escaped obliteration, and none had noticed it. Marguerite thought it +was the size and shape of his shoe, and they went on over the hill, +watching the ground closely, but seeing nothing more. A man came +running back to tell them that a child's footprints had been found +near the mountain road, two miles or more to the northward. Marguerite +wished to go there at once. + +"Yes, certainly, go if you wish," said Mead, "but I think I will stay +here. If they have found his tracks there are plenty of people there +to follow them, but I am anxious to follow this lead." + +Marguerite said she would stay with him, and the others hurried over +the mesa to the mountain road, leaving the two alone. They walked +slowly up and down the hills toward the mountains, finding in one +place a little curved depression, as if from the toe of the child's +shoe. And presently, close behind a clump of bushes, they saw two +little shoe-prints clearly defined in the sand. They were so close to +the bush that they had escaped detection. + +"Why, he must have hid here while I was looking for him!" Marguerite +exclaimed, "for I came to the top of the hill, not more than twenty +feet away! He must have hid behind this big bush and kept very still +when he heard me calling, and that was how he got away from me!" + +They went on over the hills, Mead keeping a fairly straight course +toward the mountains, and constantly running his eye along the ground +in front of them. Twice he saw faint depressions in the sand, partly +obliterated, but enough to make him think they were on the right +track. At last, in a wide, sandy arroyo, he paused before a track in +the farther edge of the sand which turned up the canyon. + +"What time was it when you lost him?" he asked. + +"Just at sunset. I remember, because the red was on the mountains and +the sky was very brilliant." + +"Then by the time he had traveled this far it was dark and this wide +sandy streak was lighter and brighter than the hill up there, covered +with bushes. Come on!" + +Mead rushed up the canyon, almost on the run, his eye catching a +toe-print here, a heel track there, a sunken pebble in one spot, a +crushed blade of grass beside the sand in another. The young men who +had gone out first had been through this arroyo the night before, when +the moonlight did not show the faint trail. Since sunrise the +searching parties had gone farther toward the north, covering ground +which the other party had left untouched, for every one believed, +since the failure of the first expedition, that the child must have +turned in that direction and tried to go home. + +Mead and Marguerite followed the winding of the arroyo for a mile or +more, and at last, where it headed and the ground was covered by a +thicker growth of bushes, the little tracks climbed the hill. By that +time they were well beyond the farthest point toward the mountains +which any one else believed the child could have reached, and there +were no footprints of previous searchers to perplex their eyes or blot +out such traces as they might find. From the top of the hill they saw +the great body of men again scattering out over the mesa, and knew +that they had been disappointed. + +It was some minutes before Mead found any indication of the trail on +the hill. Then the child seemed to have wandered about in the dark +without purpose. For a long time he had kept to the top of the hill, +going backward and forward and circling about, and at last following +its crest toward the mountains. + +"This must have been after the moon rose," Mead said, "and while it +was still so low that only the top of the hill was light." + +After a time the track turned down the hillside again, and the man and +the girl followed, eagerly scanning the ground for the faint traces of +the child's feet. Slowly and carefully they walked along, sometimes +able to follow the trail without difficulty for long distances, and +again keeping it only by the greatest care. Marguerite noticed that +Mead looked for it always toward the south, and asked him why he did +it. + +"Because the moon was considerably past the full and shone more from +the south, and he would have kept his face toward it." + +Up and down the hills they went and along the arroyos, the trail +sometimes heading straight for the mountains, and again turning toward +the south, sometimes following the sandy watercourse beds and +sometimes the hilltops, and again crossing them at varying angles. +Once they lost it entirely, and searched over a wide area in vain, +until Marguerite found a shred of brown linen hanging upon the thorny +limb of a mesquite bush. + +"This is from his dress!" she exclaimed. + +About the same time Mead saw a number of dog-like tracks, all going in +the same direction, and a sickening fear rose in him so great that he +scarcely dared sweep with his eyes the arroyo into which they were +descending. He did not let Marguerite see that he had noticed anything +unusual, and she followed him silently, wondering how he could trace +the trail so rapidly. For he knew that he need not stop to look for +the child's footprints. He could follow swiftly, almost on the run, +the plain trail of the dog-like tracks down the sandy arroyo. +Presently she saw him stoop and pick up something from the ground. He +turned and held out to her a large yellow chrysanthemum. She ran to +him and seized it eagerly. + +"Yes, I picked it as we were leaving home yesterday. He wanted it and +I gave it to him. And he clung to it all this way! I wonder what made +him drop it finally!" + +Mead did not tell her of the fear that probably had relaxed the little +muscles and sent the weary feet flying over the sand. He could think +of no word of encouragement to say, for he felt no hope in his heart. +But her face had lighted with the finding of the flower and she seemed +to feel almost as though it were a call from the child. She pressed +the yellow bloom to her face and thrust it into her bosom. Then she +dropped upon her knees and hid her face in her hands. Mead felt that +she was praying, and impulsively he took off his hat and bent his +head, but his eyes still swept the arroyo in front of them. As they +went on he noticed that the child's tracks had been almost +obliterated. Here and there a toe print, pressed deeply into the sand, +showed that the little one had been running. At last Mead stopped +beside a large flat stone. The child's footprints showed plainly +beside it. And the dog-like tracks ranged in a half circle six or +eight feet distant. + +"He must have sat down here to rest," said Mead, hoping she would not +notice the other tracks. But she saw them and looked at him with +sudden fear in her eyes. A single word shaped itself upon her +whitening lips. + +"Coyotes?" + +He nodded, saying, "I have been watching their tracks for the last +mile." + +She threw her hands to her head with a despairing gesture. He moved +toward her, filled with the yearning to take her in his arms and +comfort her. But he remembered that she was to be married to Albert +Wellesly and his hands dropped to his sides. He turned to examine the +ground about the stone and saw in the sand many little holes and +scratches. He noticed, too, some pebbles in front of the coyote +tracks. + +"Look!" he exclaimed. "The brave little man! He threw stones at the +coyotes and kept them off! He must have had a stick, too, for see +these little holes in the sand. He probably stood up and thrust the +stick toward them." + +"Could he keep them off so that they would not attack him?" + +"Yes, I think he could. As long as--as he kept moving they would only +follow him." + +A little farther on they found many deep impressions of the child's +feet close together, as if he had been jumping, and after that the +coyote tracks disappeared. + +"He must have jumped at them and shouted and thrust out his stick," +said Mead, "and frightened them away. He might have done that after he +found he could drive them back. And this was probably after daybreak, +when they would be less likely to follow him. We can't be so very far +behind him now, for he would be tired and could not walk fast." + +"Come, hurry! Let us go on!" urged Marguerite, + +He looked at her doubtfully. Her face was drawn and white under her +sunbonnet, notwithstanding her long walk in the hot sun, and dark +rings circled her eyes. + +"Have you strength to go farther? Hadn't you better wait here?" + +"No, no! I can go on! Come, let's hurry!" and she moved forward. + +"Then lean on my arm. That will help you some." + +"No, thank you. I might keep you back. You go on and follow the trail +as fast as you can and I will come behind. Don't stop a minute for +me." + +The trail left the arroyo and climbed the hill again and from its +summit they could see the crowd of people far toward the north +scattering out over the mesa and dotting the hills beyond the mountain +road. A banner of smoke lay low against the northern horizon, while +across the distance came the faint whistle of an approaching train. A +vague remembrance came into Marguerite's mind that there was to have +been trouble in the town, a battle and bloodshed, after the passing of +that train, and that she had been anxious on her father's account. But +that all seemed years ago, and the remembrance of it quickly passed. + +The trail wandered on, keeping to the hilltops for some time. Mead +told Marguerite that the boy had been cold in the early morning and +had stayed on the hilltops because it was warmer there when the sun +first rose. Then the trail went up and down again, sometimes over the +hills and sometimes following the arroyos, sometimes turning on itself +and going back, and sometimes circling about in long curves, facing by +turns all points of the compass. Along arroyos, and on hillsides that +were comparatively barren and sandy it was easily followed. At other +times Mead lost it entirely and they would wander about, searching the +ground closely. Once Marguerite found the faint track of the shoe when +Mead was going away in another direction, and she called him back +delightedly. For long distances he would spring rapidly along a trail +so faint that it was only by close scrutiny she could see anything, +his mind unconsciously marking the distance from one trace to where +the next should be, his eye skimming the ground and his quick sight +catching the crushed flower stem, the sunken pebble, the broken blade +of grass, the tiny depression of heel or toe that marked the way. + +The girl toiled on after him, sometimes falling far behind and again +catching up and walking by his side. The slumbrous heat of the October +day filled the clear, dry air and the sun shone fiercely, unveiled by +a single vaporous cloud. Marguerite's mouth was dry and her throat was +parched and all her body called for water. She thought of the thirst +and the hunger that must be tormenting the little thing that had been +wandering over those sun-flooded hills, with neither food nor drink +nor sight of friendly face, for so many hours, and the agony of the +thought seemed more than she could endure. Sharp, lightning-like pains +cracked through her brain, and a dizzy, chaotic whirl filled her head. +She put her hands to her forehead and stopped short on the hillside, +the fear flying through her mind that she might be going mad. Mead saw +her and came quickly to her side, alarmed by her white, tense face and +the wild look of agony in her eyes. Her lips were pale and dry. + +"Do not stop!" she pleaded. "It is nothing but a little headache. +Don't stop a minute for me. Five minutes may mean the difference +between life and death for my little boy. Hurry on, and I will come +close behind you." + +The fear of delaying her companion gave her fresh strength and she +went on beside him. In the next arroyo they found a footprint deeply +marked in a bed of sand. As Mead glanced at it he saw some grains of +sand fall down from the rim of the depression. He called Marguerite's +attention to them. + +"We must be close behind him," he said, "or that sand would not still +be trembling on the edge like that." + +"If we only had some water for him!" said Marguerite. "He will need it +so badly." + +Mead thought that the child would probably be beyond the need of human +aid when they should find him, but he merely answered: "Yes, I ought +to have thought of it, but we started so hurriedly." His only hope was +that they might be in time to save the little worn body from the +coyotes. The trail crossed the arroyo and essayed the hill. It was +steep and had been too much for the child's ebbing strength. The track +went down into the valley again and part way up the other side, then +back and across the arroyo, and took the hill once more at a long +slant. They lost the trail there and walked about for a few minutes, +searching the ground closely for signs of the little feet. Marguerite +went on to the top of the hill, and Mead, glancing toward her, saw her +standing stiff and still as if turned to stone, holding a little +forward her tightly clasped hands. She gave a low cry and he sprang to +her side. A moving splotch of red showed above a clump of greasewood +half way down the hill. Then a tottering little figure in a torn and +ragged linen kilt moved slowly down the hillside, lifting its feet +wearily, but still going on. + +"Paul! Paul! My darling!" A ringing call broke from Marguerite's lips +and she rushed down the hill at a pace which even Mead's running +strides could barely equal. The boy heard her cry, turned, swayed on +trembling legs, and fell to the ground. She snatched the child to her +breast and pressed her face to his. He smiled faintly and wearily, and +his parched, cracked lips whispered, "some drink!" and then his eyes +closed and his head fell back upon her arm. The gladness in her face +froze into terror and she turned to Mead in despairing appeal. + +"Is he dead?" she whispered. + +The man bent one ear to the child's heart. + +"No, he is not dead, nor dying. His heart seems to be beating +naturally, but feebly. If we only had some water!" + +She held the child toward him, speaking rapidly: "Take him in your +arms and run to where the others are. Doctor Long is there, and +somebody will have water." + +He looked at her anxiously. "But you?" he exclaimed. + +She answered with a sharp insistence in her tones, leaning toward him, +the words flying from her lips: + +"Take him and run, run! Never mind me. I will come behind you. Go, go +quickly!" + +He cradled the unconscious child in his arms, running with long +strides up hill and down, aiming a straight course toward the bulk of +the searching party, which he could see from the hilltops, a multitude +of moving dots straggling back into the hills where he and Marguerite +had first followed the footprints. As he ran, his mind went back over +the winding trail they had followed, and he calculated that the child +had traveled not less than a dozen miles since sunset of the night +before. He glanced over the hills at the crowds beyond and thought it +must be some four or five miles to the nearest one. He saw a single +horseman off to his left who seemed much nearer, but he decided it +would be safer to run straight for the greater number, lest the man +might turn about and ride away without seeing him. But the horseman +presently came in his direction and soon Mead saw that the man was +looking toward him. He waved his hat and halloed, and the man +evidently saw and understood, for he spurred his horse into a gallop. +As he came nearer Mead thought there was something familiar in his +attitude and the outline of his body. But he did not look closely, for +he was running through a growth of prickly pear cactus and needed to +watch his footsteps. Scarcely more than two hundred yards separated +them when the horseman leaned forward in his saddle, studying keenly +the figure of the man on foot. A look of cruel, snarling triumph +flashed over his face and a Spanish oath broke from his lips. He +whipped out a revolver and leveled it at the running man with the +child in his arms. Mead had been looking at the ground, choosing his +course, and then had glanced at Paul's face for a moment. When he +raised his eyes again he saw the shining muzzle of a revolver pointed +at his breast and above it the savage, revengeful, triumphant face of +Antone Colorow. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +A bullet tore through the sleeve of Mead's coat, passing but a few +inches from the head of the unconscious child. Another sang over his +left shoulder, scorching his coat. His face, flushed with running, +went white and grim with sudden passion, his lips closed in a narrow, +straight line, and the yellow flame blazed in his wide and brilliant +eyes. He shifted the child more to the left and turned sidewise toward +his assailant, shielding the little one with his body. Antone Colorow, +shouting curses and vile names, came dashing on, revolver in hand, to +try again at closer quarters. Mead kept on, running sidewise, his set +white face turned over his shoulder and his flashing eyes fixed on +Antone's revolver hand. They were within a score of paces of each +other when Mead suddenly jumped to one side and the bullet that was +meant for his head whistled harmlessly through the air. "Three!" he +thought, his eyes fixed steadily on Antone's right hand, as he still +advanced toward the angry man. For he had noticed that the Mexican +wore no cartridge belt. Again he sprang to one side as he saw Antone's +finger stiffen upon the trigger, and the ball rattled through the +bushes behind him. "Four!" he thought, veering toward the west. The +Mexican turned his horse to follow, and Mead, with eyes fixed on the +trigger, and noting, too, the slant of the barrel, knew that he had no +need to dodge the next bullet. It went wild and tore up the ground +some feet away. "Only one more!" he thought, as he halted with the sun +at his back and shining straight in the Mexican's face. A sudden, +quick leap and a loud yell startled Antone's horse, it jerked +backward, and the last bullet went singing harmlessly through the air. + +Antone's voice shot up into a falsetto, and shrieking vile curses he +threw the empty revolver over his shoulder and leaped to the ground. +Mead's watchful eye caught the gleam of a steel blade in the sunlight. +He dropped his burden upon the ground, in the shade of a clump of +greasewood, and sprang to one side. He caught Antone's wrist, as the +knife made its downward turn, and held that hand high in the air for a +moment while he looked into the Mexican's eyes. They shone with the +angry glare of a wild beast. + +"Antone," he said, "I have found the lost child. It is still alive, +and it may live if I can get it to the doctor at once. Will you let me +go and finish this quarrel afterward?" + +The Mexican's only answer was a volley of curses. This man had broken +his wrists and made useless that boasted skill with the lasso which +had been the one pride of his life. For weeks and months anger and +hatred and the determination to have revenge had blazed in his heart, +and at sight of his enemy everything else went from his mind. He too +had been ranging the hills since early morning searching for the boy, +but so fierce was his rage that he could have jumped upon the little +form and trampled its life out, if by so doing he could have killed +Mead with a double death. + +Antone's wrists were stiff and his arms had not recovered their full +strength, so that Mead had no difficulty in holding the dagger aloft. +He waited a moment to see if some glimmer of human feeling would not +strike through the man's rage. Suddenly Antone began kicking his +shins, and Mead understood that the sooner the struggle began the +sooner it would be ended. He strove warily, with the coolness of a +masterful determination, with a quick eye, a quick hand, and a quick +brain. The Mexican fought with the insensate rage of an angered beast. +They struggled first for the possession of the knife. Antone succeeded +in releasing his wrist and sprang backward out of Mead's reach. With a +lunge straight at his enemy's heart he came forward again, but Mead +sprang quickly to one side and the Mexican barely saved himself from +sprawling headlong on the ground. He faced about, his features +distorted with anger, and, as he dashed forward, Mead caught his wrist +again. There was a short, sharp struggle, and Mead sent the knife +whirling down the hillside. + +Then they closed in a hand to hand struggle. Antone bent his head and +sent his teeth deep into Mead's arm. Into the flesh they sank and met +and with a slipping sound tore the solid muscle from its bed. Then +there flamed in Emerson Mead's heart that wild, white rage that +mettles the nerves and steels the muscles of him who suffers that +indignity. He felt the strength of a giant in his arms as he gripped +the Mexican by both shoulders. In another minute Antone Colorow was +flat upon the ground and Emerson Mead was sitting on his chest. + +"You hound!" Mead exclaimed, "I ought to kill you, and by the living +God, I would if I could do it decently! But I'm no Greaser, to use +lariats and knives and boot-heels, and so you get off this time, you +beast! If I had a rope," he went on, "I'd tie you here!" + +With his right hand he grasped Antone's two wrists while he thrust his +left into his pockets in search of something with which he could bind +the fallen man. From the side pocket of his coat he drew a shiny, +snaky black thing, and a satisfied "ah!" broke from his lips as he saw +the Chinaman's queue, which Nick Ellhorn had forgotten, and which he +had put into that pocket two weeks before. + +As he held it in his hands Marguerite Delarue came running over the +hill. Her sunbonnet hung by its strings around her neck, her hair had +come down and was streaming over her shoulders, her dress hung in rags +and tatters, and she was panting and almost breathless. She had +hurried on behind Mead as rapidly as she could walk, until she heard +the first pistol shot. Then, fearful of trouble, she had run as fast +as possible, stopping at nothing, her anxiety giving speed to her feet +and endurance to her muscles. + +The look of savage triumph on Mead's face made her shrink back for an +instant, awed and frightened. But her comprehension quickly took in +what had happened and her heart rose in sympathetic exultation. + +"You are just in time," said Mead, "and I'm mighty glad. I'll have to +ask you to sit on this man's chest and hold him down while I tie him +fast to that mesquite." + +Marguerite sat down on the Mexican's breast while Mead tied his wrists +tightly together and then began fastening them to the stocky stem of +the bush beside which he had fallen. Antone struggled and tried to +throw her off, and Mead said: + +"I think, Miss Delarue, you'd better put your thumbs on his windpipe +and press a little, just to keep him from fighting too hard. We've got +no time to waste on him." + +Marguerite gasped and hesitated, but her eye fell on little Paul's +unconscious figure, and she did as he asked her. + +"There," said Mead. "Now get up and jump quickly away." + +The prostrate Mexican struggled and rolled about, but he could not +rise. Marguerite ran to the child and with her ear to his breast she +called to Mead. + +"His heart is beating! He is still alive!" + +Mead caught Antone's horse, and with Marguerite behind him and the +child on one arm started off on the gallop. A long, straggling line of +searchers stretched across the mesa, the nearest at least four miles +away. As Mead came nearer he dropped the bridle on the horse's neck +and waved his hat and shouted again and again. At last he attracted +the attention of the nearest ones, and two or three came running +toward him. "Water! Water!" he called, at the top of his voice. They +understood, and one ran back to the nearest horseman, who galloped off +to a group of people still farther away. + +Almost instantly the great throng, like a huge organism, animated by +one thought, started off across the mesa toward the galloping horse, +every atom in it moved by the single purpose to reach at once the +new-found babe. Two horses in front of the hastening multitude ran at +their topmost speed and distanced all the others. One carried Pierre +Delarue and the other Doctor Long, and behind them came horsemen, +carts, carriages and people on foot, all rushing to the one point. + +The physician administered such restoratives as he had with him and +brought the boy back to consciousness. Then, in the shade of a canopy +phaeton, he carried the child home in his arms, while Marguerite and +her father and Emerson Mead followed in another carriage, and all the +crowd came pouring along after them. + +But there were four men who stayed behind. Joe Davis and John Daniels +and two others, all in perfect accord and friendliness, went back to +find Antone Colorow. They had listened to Mead's hastily told story of +how Antone had attacked and delayed him. Daniels and Davis had looked +at each other with a single significant glance and the one remark, +"We'd better attend to him!" And then they had taken the other two men +and started back. + +They found Antone Colorow still struggling, rolling and kicking on the +ground. His lips were stained with the blood his own teeth had drawn, +and his red beard was flecked with foam. They untied him, and he +sprang to his feet and would have darted away, intent on his one +purpose to kill the enemy who had escaped his vengeance, had not quick +hands seized him. They tied his arms behind him and set him astride +his own horse, and then, surrounding him, with their revolvers drawn, +they rode away to the southwest, leaving Las Plumas far to their +right. On to the river bottom they went, and into a _bosque_ where the +cottonwoods and the sycamores grew thickly and the willow underbrush +was dense. + +Long afterward a river ranchman, hunting a lost cow, penetrated the +_bosque_ and started back in sudden fright from a dangling, decaying +body that hung from a sycamore limb. + +Pierre Delarue insisted that Emerson Mead should come into his house +for some wine and wait until they should know the worst or the best +concerning little Paul. He sat alone in the room where first he had +seen Marguerite, his anxiety about the child driven quite out of his +mind by the thought that the long hours alone with her, out on the +hills, their hearts and minds united in a common purpose, had come to +an end, that she was soon to be another man's wife, and that he would +never see her again. After a time the door opened and she came toward +him, smiling gladly. The color had come back to her cheeks and her +eyes were bright, though there were still dark rings around them, and +her face told of the weariness her brain had not yet recognized. So +absorbed had she been in giving the physician assistance and carrying +out his directions that she had not thought of her appearance. Her +white dress, which yesterday had been fresh and dainty, was in tatters +and bedraggled strings, and her hair hung down her back in a +disheveled mass. But she came shining down upon Mead's dark thoughts, +fresh and beautiful and glorious beyond compare. He did not remember +rising, but presently he knew that he was on his feet and that she was +standing in front of him. He did not even hear her say, "Doctor Long +says my little Bye-Bye will live and that there will probably be no +serious results." + +Then she saw that he was trembling from head to foot, shaking as do +the leaves of a cottonwood tree in a west wind, and she drew back in +alarm, looking at him anxiously. + +"What is the--" she began, but the look in his eyes stopped her tongue +and held her gaze, while she felt her breath come hard and her heart +beat like a triphammer. For an instant there was silence. Then +Marguerite heard in a whisper so soft that it barely reached her ears, +"I love you! I love you!" It was the loosing of the floods, and at +once their arms were about each other. But in a second he remembered +that she was to be another man's wife, and the thought came over him +like the drawing down of the black cap over the head of a condemned +man. With a fierce girding of his will he put both his hands upon her +shoulders and drew back. + +"I forgot! Forgive me!" The words came in a groan from his lips. "I +forgot you're going to be his wife!" + +"Whose?" said Marguerite, stepping back. For the instant she had +forgotten there was any other man in the world. + +"Why, Wellesly's!" + +"Indeed, I am not!" That one second in Mead's embrace had settled +Marguerite's long-vexed problem, and she felt her mind grow full of +sudden wonder that it had ever troubled her. "He wanted me to marry +him, but I'm not going to do it!" + +Again their arms were about each other, their lips met, and her head +was pillowed on his shoulder. Then he remembered the fate that was +hanging over him, and he said bitterly: + +"I've no right to ask you to be my wife, for in another week I'll +probably be convicted of murder and sentenced to be hung, or sent to +the penitentiary for life." + +From the yard came the sound of Pierre Delarue's voice speaking to the +crowd. She took Mead's hands in hers and swung a little away from him, +looking into his face. + +"I know that you didn't kill Will Whittaker!" + +"How do you know it?" he answered, looking at her in loving surprise. + +"Because he was shot in the back!" + +She felt herself swept into the sudden storm of a masterful embrace, +and with soft laughter yielded to his rapturous caresses. "And all +this time," came to her ear in a whisper, "I've cared about it only +because I thought you would believe me guilty even if I was cleared! + +"But I've no proof of my innocence," he added presently, "and I can't +ask your father's consent, or allow your name to be mentioned with +mine in the town's gossip until my own is clear. I've no right even to +ask you for another kiss until--" + +She closed his lips with the kiss he would not ask for, and said: + +"I would just as lief go out there now and say to all that crowd that +I love you and know that you are innocent--" + +"No, no!" he broke in upon her passionate protestation. "No one shall +couple your name with mine and pity you while they are doing it! The +penitentiary may be my fate, for the rest of my life, but its shadow +shall not touch yours. If I can clear myself of this charge I will +come and ask you to be my wife, and openly ask your father's consent. +If I can't--" He turned and looked out of the window, but instead of +the trees and flowers that were there, he saw a big, grim building +with a high stone wall all around it and armed guards on the bastions. +Outside they heard the crowd calling for him. She understood his +feeling, and taking his face between her palms she kissed his lips, +whispering, "We will wait," and hurried from the room. + +The crowd massed itself around the house, squatting on the sidewalk, +perching on the fence, and filling the waiting vehicles, until Pierre +came out and announced that the physician said little Paul would +recover and would probably be none the worse for his experience. +Everybody shouted "hurrah!" and somebody yelled, "three cheers for +Frenchy!" The cheers were given, and Pierre stepped out on the +sidewalk and began thanking them all for the kindness and sympathy +they had shown and for their willing efforts to help him in his +trouble. Then he launched into rhetorical praises of the country, the +climate and the community, and from these turned to enthusiastic +commendation of the man who had restored to him his lost child. +"Among all the brave and noble men of this favored region," he +exclaimed, "there is none braver, nobler, greater-hearted, more +chivalrous, than he who has this day proved himself worthy of all our +praises--Emerson Mead!" The crowd cheered loudly and called for Mead. +Somebody shouted, "Three cheers for Emerson!" and the whole +assemblage, Pierre leading, waved their hats and cheered again and +again. + +Then there arose a general cry for "Emerson Mead! Emerson Mead!" +"Where is Emerson!" "Bring him out, Frenchy!" and Delarue rushed back +into the house to find him. When Pierre entered the room which his +daughter had just left it occurred to him, vaguely, that Mead looked +unusually proud and happy, but as he himself, also, felt happy and +proud, and filled with a genial glow over the success of his burst of +oratory, it seemed quite proper that every one else should also be +elated. So he thought nothing of it and hurried Mead out to the +waiting crowd, where everybody, Democrats and Republicans alike, +gathered about him and shook hands and made terse, complimentary +remarks, until Jim Halliday presently took him away to his former +quarters. + +The crowd trailed off down Main street, and Judge Harlin and Colonel +Whittaker stood treat together for the entire company, first at the +White Horse and then at the Palmleaf saloon. The whistle of the train +from the south, two hours late, broke in upon all this friendliness +with a harsh reminder. Men suddenly recalled the fact that the mail +from the north had come in long ago and had not brought the court +order for which they had been waiting. The issues which had set the +town at gun muzzles the day before again asserted themselves, and +gradually the two factions began to mass, each on its own side of the +street. In the midst of this the clerk of the court came out of the +post-office with the missing order, which had gone astray in the mails +and had just come in on the train from El Paso. Neither Joe Davis nor +John Daniels could be found, and it was an hour later when they rode +together into the town, coming back from the hanging of Antone +Colorow. + +Daniels read the official paper through and handed it to Davis. "Well, +Joe," he said, "the court says you are sheriff now, and I reckon +there's no goin' back of that. I hope the office will bring you better +luck than it has me. Let's have a drink." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Darkness so dense lay over the Fernandez plain that not the faintest +outline of the rimming mountains penetrated its blackness. Like some +palpable, suffocating substance it filled the plain and mounted far up +into the air, even to the blue-black sky, whence a million gemming +stars pierced it with their diamond lances. + +Perched alone among the foothills of the Fernandez range, Juan +Garcia's gray adobe house glimmered faintly through the darkness. +Every sound about the house was hushed, and only the burro in the +_jacal_ down the hillside made known to the silent plain that he was +still awake. The door into the _portal_ opened softly, and with a +quick, gliding, silent movement a dark figure came hastily out, closed +the door, listened a moment, and then trod lightly across the _portal_ +and down to the road. There it paused, and Amada Garcia's face, +anxious and wistful, framed in the black folds of her mantilla, looked +back at the silent house. A deep, dry sob shook all her frame and she +half turned back, as if irresolute. Then she drew from her breast a +folded bit of paper, pressed it to her heart and her cheek, and kissed +it again and again. She cast another regretful, longing look at the +gray adobe house, and started off in the direction of Muletown. The +faintly glimmering track of the sandy road opened slowly before her in +the darkness, and, drawing her mantilla closely around her shoulders, +she walked briskly along the dusty highway. + +She kept the folded paper in her hand, pressing it to her lips and +cheek with little cooing sounds of love. Once, standing still in the +darkness and silence of the wide, black plain, she unfolded the letter +and kissed the open sheet. It was too dark for her to see a single +word upon the page, but she knew just where were "_mi esposa_," and +"_mi querida_," and "_mi corazon_." + +That afternoon, as she filled her _olla_ at the spring, a young +Mexican came riding by in brave attire of braided jacket and trousers +and silver trimmed sombrero. She knew him well. Indeed, she had often +bantered back his compliments and adroitly turned to merriment the +sweet speeches he would rather have had her take in earnest. He +stopped and gave her the letter, which he had brought all the way from +the post-office at Muletown solely for excuse to see her. She poised +the _olla_ full of water upon her head and he walked up the hill to +the house by her side, and while he talked to her mother she slipped +stealthily out and hid in the _jacal_ beside the burro for a chance to +read the letter. When she returned she showed so plainly that his +compliments and sweet speeches were distasteful to her that he sulkily +left the house and galloped home again. Then her mother reproved her, +telling her that she must not discourage the young man, because he was +plainly in earnest in his attentions and would make the best and +richest husband of all the young _caballeros_ who came to the house, +and that when next she saw him she must make amends for her unkind +treatment. Amada listened with terror and rebellion in her heart; and +in her brain there sprang into life the purpose which she set out to +execute as soon as her father and mother were asleep. + +In her pocket she had four dollars which she had saved from the sale +of eggs and goat's-milk cheeses at Muletown, and which she had been +carefully keeping for the purpose of buying a new mantilla with a +deep, deep silk fringe the next time they should go to Las Plumas to +celebrate the fiesta of its patron saint. And under one arm she +carried some _enchiladas_ and _tamales_, left from that night's +supper. + +She trudged on through the darkness and silence of the night, and, +although she walked briskly, the frosty air now and again sent a +shiver of cold through her body and made her draw her mantilla more +closely across her chest. The staccato yelping of coyotes down in the +plain was answered by short, sharp barks from the hills, and all night +long the beasts kept up a running exchange of howls from one to the +other side of the road. Sometimes Amada heard the stealthy rustle of +the herbage as they neared the highway, or saw the gleaming of their +eyes in the darkness. But she knew their cowardly nature too well to +be afraid, and when they came too near, a pebble from her hand sent +them scurrying away. + +Hour after hour she followed the faint glimmer of the dusty road, over +the low, rolling hills, across the sloping upland, and down into the +edge of the Fernandez plain, steadily leaving behind her the slowly +measured miles. At last the east began to glow above the Fernandez +mountains and against the golden sky shone the thin, silver-white +crescent of the old moon. The blackness of night gradually faded into +the gray light of dawn, the sky blushed rosy red, the plain spread +itself out before her, flooded with golden red sunlight, and still +Amada held to the pace she had kept up all night long. Before her she +saw columns of blue smoke rising from the chimneys of Muletown, and +she thought longingly of the well in the plaza. But early though it +was, she feared to be seen and questioned, for she knew many people in +Muletown. So she turned from the main road, leaving the town far to +her right, and struck across the trackless plain for the highway +running toward the Hermosa mountains. When she reached it the sun was +well up in the sky and she sat down on a hillock of sand to rest and +eat her breakfast. She was very tired and it seemed good to lie still +on the warm sand under the warm sun, so she rested there for a long +time, thinking at first of the little gray adobe house far back in +the foothills and wondering what the two old people would think and +what they would do when they should find their one child gone and no +trace left to tell them whither or why she had fled. These thoughts +would bring the tears to her eyes, then she would open the letter and +read it slowly over and over, and kiss the words of love, and, with +soft little laughs and cooings, picture to herself her journey's end. + +At last she saw a cloud of dust coming toward her from the direction +of Muletown and, reminded of the possibility of being seen and +questioned by some one she knew, she got up and hurried on her way. +She knew her father and mother would not at once be alarmed over her +departure. They would think she had risen early and gone up into the +foothills to gather sweet herbs. Even after they should find that she +was gone she knew that, in the leisurely fashion of the land and +people of _mañana_, it might be two or three days before they would +hitch the horses to the wagon and drive to Muletown to ask if any one +there had seen her. But she did not wish to be discovered in her +flight by any one whom she knew, and so she hurried on, drawing her +mantilla across her face until only her two great black eyes peeped +from its folds. + +The wagon behind her clattered up and its sole occupant, a middle-aged +American, asked her in Spanish if she would like to ride. She +hesitated, instinctively fearing speech with any one, and glanced +shyly at the Americano, who was smiling down good-naturedly at her +from the wagon. The man added that if she were going far she had +better ride, for the road across the plain would soon be very hot. She +considered that she did not know this man, that he would not know who +she was, and thought how much more quickly she could cross that wide +plain, so, with a grateful glance of her black eyes and a "_muchas +gracias, señor_," she climbed up and sat down in the seat beside him. +He asked her how far she was going, and she answered, to the other +side of the Hermosa mountains. He replied that he was going to his +mining camp in the mountains, but that he would drive her to the top +of the pass, as the road was rocky and steep up the mountain side. He +had some water in a canteen, from which she drank gratefully, and as +midday approached, he shared with her his luncheon of bread and +cheese, while she divided with him what remained of her _tamales_ and +_enchiladas_. + +The man's kindly manner gave her confidence and the innate coquetry of +her nature unconsciously began to assert itself. She talked gaily with +him, her eyes by turns sparkled, invited and repelled, her mantilla +almost covered her face one moment and the next was shaken gracefully +down to her shoulders, leaving the coils of her hair shining black as +a crow's wing in the sun. Her little, rosebud mouth pouted and smiled, +and altogether she was so sweet and dainty and graceful that the +middle-aged, gray-bearded Americano began to beam upon her with +admiring eyes and to hover over her with jerky, heavy attempts at +gallantry. He asked her name, but she took sudden alarm and answered +only with a shrug of her shoulders and a swooning glance of her great +black eyes. He put his arm about her waist and stooped to kiss her +smiling mouth. She struggled away from him with a terrified, appealing +cry, "No, no, señor!" of whose meaning there could be no mistake. + +The man looked at her with wide, surprised eyes and exclaimed, "Well, +I'll be damned!" and whipped up his horses. He glanced at her +curiously several times and saw that she had edged away from him as +far as she could and drawn the black folds of her mantilla well over +her face. Presently he said, in her own tongue: + +"Pardon me, señorita! I thought you would not care." + +Her only answer was a little shiver, and they drove on in silence up +the winding mountain road to the top of the pass. There she climbed +out of the wagon and smiled back at the man with a grateful "_muchas, +muchas gracias, señor_," and started down the road toward Las Plumas. +He looked after her contemplatively for a moment and said to himself: + +"Well, I'll be damned! But you never can tell how a Greaser's going to +break out next!" Then he turned his team about and drove whistling +back to his own road. + +Amada's spirits rose as she looked down into the Rio Grande valley and +saw the thread of glowing yellow foliage which marked the course of +the _acequia_ and the long, straggling procession of gray dots which +she knew was the town of Las Plumas. She had been there twice with her +father and mother when they had gone to join in the fiesta of Santa +Guadaloupe. They had a "_primo_" there, one of those distant relatives +of whom the Mexicans keep track so faithfully, but she meant to stay +far away from his house and to be seen neither by him nor any of his +family. She was sure she could reach the town by nightfall. She began +to wonder if the train on which she meant to go away would come after +that and what she should do with herself all night if it did not. The +two visits she had made to Las Plumas had been the only times in her +life when she had seen a railroad train, and she asked herself if she +would be afraid when she should get into the car and it should go +tearing across the country so fast. Ah, it would not go fast enough +for her, not nearly fast enough! And unconsciously she quickened her +steps to keep pace with her thoughts. + +Presently mighty pains began to rack her body. She groaned and +clenched her fists until the blood stained her palms. But still she +hurried on, urging herself with thoughts of her journey's end, which +began to loom distant and impossible through the haze of her +suffering. The road wound over the rounded foothills, across the crest +of one, down the hillside, and over another, and another, and another, +until Amada thought their end would never come. She longed to lie down +there in the dusty road and give herself up to the agony that held her +body in its grip. But she so feared that she might yield to the +temptation, and never rise again, that she ran down the hills and +hurried her aching feet up the slopes until she panted for breath. An +awful fear had come to terrify her soul. In its absorbing clutch she +scarcely thought again of her wish to reach the railroad, and the love +letter that had brought her comfort and sustained her strength was +almost forgotten. If she should die there alone, with no priest to +listen to the story of the sins that oppressed her soul, to give her +the sacrament and whisper the holy names in her ear--ah, she could +not--any suffering could be endured better than so terrible a fate. So +she gathered up her strength and strove to force a little more speed +into her aching, blistered feet and to endure the pains that gripped +and racked her body, hoping only that she might reach the town and +find the priest before the end should come. + +At last the gray, rolling waves of the foothills smoothed themselves +out and gently merged into the plain that rose from the valley below. +So near seemed the houses and the long streets of the town, with the +yellow cottonwoods flaming through its heart, that Amada felt +encouraged. She hurried limping down the road, her black dress gray +with dust, her mantilla pulled awry, her eyes wide with the terror +that filled her soul, and her face tense and drawn with the pain that +tortured her body. + +She reached the edge of the town and saw people in the houses along +the street. But she met none and she could not make up her mind to +stop long enough to turn aside to one of the houses and ask the way to +the priest's dwelling. Presently she saw two children come hand in +hand through a gateway. One of them, a tiny boy with flaxen curls +about his neck and a thin white face, put his hands on the shoulders +of his baby girl companion and kissed the face she lifted to his. As +she went away she turned and threw kisses to him and he waved his hand +to her and called out "bye-bye, bye-bye." + +Amada staggered against the fence and stood there resting a moment +while she smiled at the pretty scene, notwithstanding her suffering +and anxiety. When the child turned back into the yard she moved away +from the fence and tried to go on. But her knees trembled and gave +way, a cry of pain broke from her lips, and she fell upon the +sidewalk. For woman's greatest extremity was upon her and she could go +no farther. + +Marguerite Delarue stood upon the veranda steps smiling fondly upon +little Paul as he came up the walk. She had noticed the strange young +Mexican woman leaning against the fence, and when Amada fell she ran +down to the gate to see if the stranger were ill. The look of awful +agony in Amada's face and eyes frightened her, and quickly calling the +maid, the two women took her into the house and put her to bed. Then +Marguerite sent in all haste for the physician, and herself removed +the dusty shoes and stockings, bathed the swollen, blistered feet, +took off the dust-filled garments and clothed the suffering girl in +one of her own night robes. + +All night long the physician worked, his face anxious and troubled, +and in the early morning he gave up hope. For Amada lay in a stupor +from which he thought there was no probability she would ever rouse. +Suddenly she moaned, stretched out her hands and called, "My baby! +Where is my baby?" + +Marguerite knelt beside her and tried to tell her that the little one +had never breathed, and Amada flung herself upon the girl's neck and +gave herself up to such transports of grief that the physician sat +down in dumb, amazed helplessness, sure that immediate collapse would +cut short her cries of woe. + +"But you can't tell a blessed thing about these Greasers," he said +afterward to Marguerite. "I was sure she was going to die, and I +reckon she would if she had not done the very thing that I thought +would be certain to finish her anyway. Maybe I'll learn sometime that +these Mexican women have got to let out their emotions or they would +die of suppressed volcanoes." + +When Marguerite had sympathized with and soothed and comforted her +accidental guest Amada asked if she would send for the _padre_. + +"I shall die very soon," she said, "and he must come at once. I +thought I should die long before this, but God has let me live through +all that time that I do not remember, when I was so nearly dead, only +that the _padre_ might come and make me ready for death." + +After the priest had gone Marguerite went to the sick girl's room with +a cup of gruel. Amada lay back on the pillow, her face gray with +pallor against the background of her shining black hair. She kissed +and fondled Marguerite's hand. + +"You have been very good to me, señorita, but I shall have to trouble +you one little time more, and then I shall be ready to die, and some +one can ride over to the Fernandez mountains, beyond Muletown, and +tell my father, Juan Garcia, that his daughter, Amada, is dead, and +that she was very, very sorry to bring so much grief to him and her +mother. You will tell him that, will you not, señorita? But you must +not tell him about the _niño_, because they do not know--ah, señorita, +you must not think that I am a--a bad woman! See! Here is a letter +that says _mi esposa_! But they might not believe it--and they must +not know--you will not tell them, señorita!" + +"But you are not going to die!" said Marguerite encouragingly. "You +will soon be strong again." + +Amada shook her head. "No! I shall be dead before another morning +comes. But now the _padre_ says I must see _el Señor Don_ Emerson +Mead." + +The girl's eyes caught a sudden, brief flicker which crossed +Marguerite's face, and, weak though she was, she raised herself on one +elbow, her black hair streaming past her face and her eyes shining. +She caught Marguerite's hand, calling softly: + +"Señorita! You love Don Emerson! Is it not so? I saw it in your face! +Ah, señorita, it is good to love, is it not? Now you must bring Señor +Mead to me here and I must tell him something that the _padre_ says I +must before I die. But you must not ask me what it is, for I can not +tell you. I can not tell any one but Don Emerson." + +"He is in the court room now," Marguerite replied, "and they would not +let him leave. But his friend, Señor Ellhorn, is here, and I will see +if I can find him." + +Marguerite met Nick Ellhorn coming out of John Daniel's office with a +broad smile curling his mustaches toward his eyes. He had been on a +still hunt for his Chinese queue, and had run at once upon the +certainty that something had happened which several people would like +to keep quiet. And he had not only recovered the pig tail, but had +found out what had been done and who had done it. + +"Oh, Mr. Ellhorn!" exclaimed Marguerite, "I am so glad to find you! +There is a Mexican girl at my house--she dropped down dreadfully ill +at my gate last night and I took her in--who wants to see Mr. Mead. +She says her father is Juan Garcia, and that he lives away beyond +Muletown, in the Fernandez mountains. The _padre_ confessed her this +morning and now she says he told her that she must tell Emerson Mead +something before she dies. I do not know what it is, and she says she +can not tell any one except Mr. Mead. Will you come to the house and +find out what she wants?" + +Ellhorn's eyes opened wide, but he kept an impassive face. "Amada +Garcia! What the--whatever is she here for, and how did she get here!" + +"I think she must have walked, for her feet were blistered." + +"Walked! Walked from old Garcia's ranch! Good God! Well, I sure reckon +she must have something to say. I'll go right along and see her." + +When Nick Ellhorn came out of the Delarue house he heard the whistle +of the train from the north. + +"I've just time to make it," he thought. "I can't stop to say a word +to anybody about this business, or I'll miss this train. Well, I +reckon I might just as well not say anything about it, anyway, as long +as Tommy isn't here, until I get back--if I ever get back! They'll be +only too glad to snake me in down there, if they get the chance. I'll +just have to make a quick scoot across the line, and trust to the luck +of the Irish army! If Tommy was only here we'd get this thing through, +if we had to wade through hell and tote home the back doors. But I +can't stop to wait for company. I'll try it alone, and I sure reckon +I'll be too smart for 'em!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +Emerson Mead's trial had been in progress nearly two weeks, but most +of the time had been exhausted in impaneling a jury. Almost the entire +male population of Las Plumas had filed between the opposing lawyers +and, for one reason or another, had been excused. At last a jury had +been chosen, not because its members were satisfactory to either side, +but because both sides had exhausted their peremptory challenges and +neither could find further objection which the judge would allow. + +Thomson Tuttle arrived soon after Nick Ellhorn's departure, and was +alternately puzzled and indignant over his absence. He felt sure that +Nick had gone away on some expedition of importance and probably of +danger. He was puzzled to think what it could possibly be, and +indignant that Nick had thus risked himself without the aid and +protection of his best friend. + +"It was plumb ridiculous for him to go off alone like that," he +complained to Judge Harlin. "He knew I'd be along in a day or two, and +here he goes flirtin' the gravel off the road all alone as if I was +some didn't-know-it-was-loaded kind of a fool who couldn't handle a +gun! He'll sure get into some kind of trouble if I'm not with him!" + +Interest in the trial was universal and intense, and during the +sessions of the court, especially after the taking of testimony began, +the streets of the town were well nigh deserted, while a large part of +the population crowded the court room, swarmed in the corridors, and +filled the windows. Those who could not get into the court-house +gathered in groups on the outside and discussed the news and the +rumors, which came in plentiful supply from its doors. + +The prosecution had put on several witnesses, employees of the +Fillmore Cattle Company, who had sworn to the ill-feeling between Mead +and young Whittaker, and one who had been a witness of the quarrel +between them, just previous to Whittaker's disappearance, when Mead +had threatened the young man's life. Then Colonel Whittaker took the +stand. It was rumored that after him would be given the testimony of +an eye-witness of the murder, and an even larger crowd than usual +sought the court-house that afternoon. Two score of women sat +comfortably in a space fitted with chairs at one end of the judge's +desk. But the body of the room was jammed with a standing crowd of +men, both Mexicans and Americans. Late comers crowded the corridor, +and those who could get them mounted chairs outside the door. Inside +the room a row of men swung their heels from each window seat, while +outside another row stood on the ledges and looked over their heads. + +Colonel Whittaker told the story of how his son had set out from the +ranch to come to town and had never been seen alive again. He declared +that the young man had no enemies except the prisoner and that there +was no possible explanation of his disappearance except that he had +been murdered. Then he told of the work of the searching party which +he had taken to the White Sands, and of the body which they had found. +He had identified this corpse as the body of his son, and on the +sketched outline of a man's back he located the position of the three +bullet holes by which the young man had come to his death. The shirt, +with the initials worked in the collar, the ring, scarfpin, memorandum +book and envelopes that had been taken from the body were placed +before him and he identified them all as having belonged to his son. +The crowded court room was still, with the silence of tense +expectancy. Every neck was craned and every eye was fixed on these +articles as one by one they were held up before him and then passed on +to the judge's desk. + +A slight disturbance at the door, as of people unwillingly moving +back, fell upon the strained hush. Some one was forcing his way +through the crowd. The witness leaned back in his chair, waiting for +another question, and the lawyers consulted together for a moment. +Then the prosecuting attorney asked the witness if he had positively +identified the body as that of his missing son, William Whittaker. + +"I did, sir," replied Colonel Whittaker. As the words left his lips +his gaze fell past the attorney upon two men who had just struggled +out of the crowd and into the free railed space in front of the +judge's desk. His jaw fell, his pale face turned an ashen gray, his +eyes opened wide, and, with trembling hands upon the arms of his +chair, he unconsciously lifted himself to his feet. The lawyers, the +judge, and the jury followed his gaze. Some sprang to their feet and +some fell back in their chairs, their mouths open, but dumb with +amazement. All over the court room there was a shuffling of feet and a +craning of necks, and a buzzing whisper went back from the foremost +ranks. + +Nick Ellhorn was there, tall and slender and smiling, with a happy, +triumphant look overspreading his handsome face. By his side was a +young man, dark-skinned, black-haired and black-mustached, who looked +ashamed and self-conscious. Ellhorn tucked one hand into his arm and +urged him to a quicker pace. Nick's eye sought Emerson Mead and as +Mead's glance flashed from the stranger's face to his, Nick's lid +dropped in a significant wink. Mead leaned back in his chair, a look +of amused triumph on his face, as he watched the scene before him and +waited for it to come to its conclusion. + +Slowly Colonel Whittaker stepped forward, trembling, with a look upon +his face that was almost fear. The crowd was pushing and pressing +toward the center of interest, and everywhere wide eyes looked out +from amazed, incredulous faces. Nick Ellhorn and his companion slowly +edged their way between the tables and chairs, the young man advancing +reluctantly, with downcast face, until they stood in front of Colonel +Whittaker. Then he looked up, and exclaimed in a choking voice: + +"Father! I am not dead!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +"It was Amada Garcia put me on," said Nick Ellhorn to Emerson Mead and +Tom Tuttle, as the three sat in Mead's room, whither they went at once +to hear Nick's story. "One morning the first of this week Miss Delarue +came runnin' up to me on the street and said Amada was sick at her +house and had walked all the way in from Garcia's ranch and had +something to tell that she wouldn't say to anybody but Emerson. I went +over to see if she would tell me what she wanted, and Emerson can +thank her, and the _padre_, for gettin' out of this scrape with the +laugh on the other side. She thought she was goin' to die and had +unloaded her soul on to the _padre_, and he had ordered her to tell +Emerson Mead what she had told him. I reckon the little witch wouldn't +have peeped about it to anybody if the _padre_ hadn't made her. She +didn't want to say a word to me, and at first she said she wouldn't, +but I finally made her understand she couldn't see Emerson, and I +swore by all the saints I could think of that I'd tell him and nobody +else exactly what she said. So then she whispered in my ear that Señor +Mead didn't kill Señor Whittaker, and I inched her along until I got +out of her that Will Whittaker wasn't dead. + +"That was all she meant to tell me, but I was bound to get all she +knew. And I got it, but I want to tell you right now, boys, that I had +a hell of a time gettin' it. Every time I got a new thing out of her +she'd make me get down on my knees and kiss the crucifix and swear by +a dozen fresh saints that I wouldn't tell anybody but Don Emerson, and +that he wouldn't tell anybody else, and that nothin' should happen to +Don Will because she had told it. + +"She finally admitted that she and Will Whittaker had been secretly +married away last spring and had never said a word about it to +anybody. By that time I felt pretty sure that it was Mr. Will himself +who had made a killin', and I sprung my suspicion on her and +threatened her with the _padre_ and swore a lot of things by a whole +heap of fresh saints, and she finally told me just what had happened. + +"It seems that a cousin of hers--one of their everlastin' _primos_ in +the sixty-third degree, I reckon--came up from down along the line +somewheres, and she was so glad to see him and he was so glad to see +her that he hugged her and stooped over to kiss her--I reckon likely +she'd been flirtin' her eyes and her shoulders at him--when bang! +bang! bang! and he dropped dead at her feet and there was _esposo_ +Will in the door, mad with jealousy and ready to kill her too. Say, +boys!" Nick stopped short, the stream of his narrative interrupted by +a certain memory. "Say, that was what it was!" And he slapped his +thigh with delight at having solved a mystery. "That's the reason she +had such fantods when I wanted to kiss her that day last summer! It +was just because she happened to remember this other time!" + +The others smiled and chuckled and Mead said: "You know I told you +then, Nick, it wasn't because she didn't like your looks!" + +"Well, he was ready to kill her, too, but she threw herself on him and +begged for her life and swore the man was her cousin and there was no +harm, and presently Will's companion came runnin' in and they got the +young man cooled off. He and the other man talked together a little +while and then they put Will's clothes on the corpse and Will dressed +himself in the dead man's and they took the dead body away in the +wagon, and Amada washed up all the blood stains and never let a soul +know what had happened, because Will told her if she did her father +would sure have him arrested and hung. And he made her swear to be a +faithful wife to him and promised to send for her as soon as he could. + +"So she waited for word from him all summer, and the other day there +came a letter, and the same day she found out that her mother meant +for her to marry some young Mexican blood at Muletown. Then she made +up her mind to go to Will, although he had told her he couldn't send +for her for another month or two. That night she started off alone in +the dark and walked to Muletown. Somebody gave her a ride across the +plain and then she walked to Plumas from the Hermosa pass. + +"I made up my mind right then and there that I'd yank that young scrub +back to Plumas quicker'n hell could singe a cat, but she wouldn't tell +me where he was. And maybe I didn't have a skin-your-teeth sort of a +time gettin' it out of her! I just tell you that little girl is cute +enough to take care of herself most anywhere, and don't you forget it! +I coaxed her and she'd coax back, and I threatened her and she'd come +back at me with all the things I'd sworn not to tell, and I wheedled +her as Irish as the pigs in Drogheda, and she'd lie back on the pillow +and smile at me--and all the time just lookin' too sweet and pretty +and sick--well, it was the hardest job I ever tackled. Boys, I sure +reckon that little handful of a girl would have been too many for me +and we'd have been palaverin' yet if she hadn't gone too weak to talk +any more. I saw she was mighty near played out, and I just sicked +myself on for all I was worth. I felt ornery enough to go off and get +horned by a steer, but I reckoned I sure had to. She gave up at last, +when she couldn't hold out any longer, and agreed to let me see the +envelope her letter had come in if I'd kiss the crucifix and swear by +a few more saints that I wouldn't let anybody touch Will, and swear +over again on my knees everything I'd promised her before. I finally +got through with all the religious doin's she could think of, and +then I lit out for the train. I heard it comin' when I left French's +house, and I made a run for it, which was why I didn't tell Judge +Harlin where I was goin'. I couldn't stop to say a word to anybody +without missin' the train and losin' a day. + +"The only clue I had was that he was at Chihuahua, and at work at +something, I didn't know what, and I thought likely he was _pasearing_ +around under an assumed name, which he was. I nosed around for two +days, layin' low and keepin' mighty quiet, and you better guess I made +a quick scoot through Juarez, too." + +The others grinned broadly and as Nick stopped to light a fresh cigar +Tom said: + +"I sure thought, Nick, that you'd never get back alive, for I knew +you-all must have gone off some place you'd no business to go alone, +and I'd have started off on a blind hunt for you in another day." + +"Well, I run across him by accident on the street one evening, and you +ought to have seen him turn white and shaky when I stepped up and +spoke to him. The boy's nerve's all gone, and you know he used to have +the devil's own grit. You-all saw how he acted when I got him into the +court room this afternoon. I reckon it takes all the sand out of a +fellow to live in the dark and be all the time afraid something's +goin' to drop, the way he's done all summer. + +"'Hullo, Will,' says I, and then I took pity on him and showed my +hand right from the start. But I'd sized him up all in a minute, and I +reckoned that would work best anyway. 'I haven't got any warrant for +you,' says I, 'and I don't mean to arrest you, and I've sworn to Amada +Garcia not to let any harm happen to you, but I've got a proposition I +want to talk over with you, if you'll take me somewheres where we can +be private.' For I didn't mean to let him out of my sight again until +I got him into the court room at Plumas, and I didn't, neither. He +took me to his room and we chinned the thing over for two or three +hours. He knew that everybody thought he was dead and that his body +had been found, and that Emerson was being tried for his murder. But +he'd started out on that lay and he was afraid to go back on it. + +"He told me the whole story, on my promise to keep it secret. I told +him I'd have to tell it to you-all, because Emerson had the right to +know it, and Tommy would be sure to go makin' some bad break if he +didn't know it, but that I'd give him my word of honor it shouldn't go +outside of us three. He was just gone plum' crazy on Amada, and one +day he was at her house when a justice of the peace from Muletown came +along. The old folks were out in the fields and for a good, plump fee +the justice married them right then and there. They had no witnesses, +and it happened that the justice died in a week--it was old Crowby, +from Muletown, you remember him. Will was deathly afraid his father +would find it out and be bull roaring mad about it and hist him out +of the country, and so he didn't dare say a word about it, and he made +Amada keep it secret, too. Well, the boy's young, and I reckon that's +some excuse for him, but I'll be everlastingly horn-spooned if I think +his father's got much reason to be proud of him. + +"Then came the day when he stepped to the door and saw that Mexican +_primo_ hugging her, and he swore to me that all in a flash he was so +wild with anger and jealousy he didn't know what he was doin' until he +heard the report and the man dropped dead--that he didn't remember +drawin' or takin' aim, or anything but just wantin' to kill. When he +cooled down and realized what he had done he was in a regular panic. +If he gave himself up the facts about the wedding would have to come +out, in order to protect Amada, and then his father would roar, and +probably cast him off if he wouldn't give her up, and if he escaped +conviction for the murder the _primo's_ relatives would be dead sure +to get even with him. The only way he could see out of it was to hide +the body and skip. The man who was with him--a cow-boy they had just +hired who had come out of the mountains to make a stake so he could go +prospectin' again--Bill Frank was his name, and I told him yes, I knew +him--well, this man offered to see him out for the stake he'd expected +to have to work some time for, and as Will had some money in his +clothes they made the bargain and skipped. They changed the clothing +and carried the body in their wagon up to the White Sands and buried +it. It was them that held you up, Tom, that night last spring, and it +was Will Whittaker, in the Mexican's duds, that you thought was a +Mexican, who slunk around in the bushes and held the gun on you part +of the time. They had the Mexican's body in the wagon and they didn't +mean to allow any curiosity about it or about their business, and +you'd have dropped dead in your tracks if you'd shown any." + +"I knew that very well all the time I was with 'em," Tom answered +quietly. + +"When they got nearly to the railroad they burned the wagon and killed +the horses, and Will scooted for Mexico, and he's been in Chihuahua +ever since. + +"'My boy,' I says to him, 'you've got to come back with me.' 'I +can't,' says he, 'it will be my everlasting ruin if I do.' 'Face the +music like a man,' I said, 'and get out of it what you can.' I could +see by his eyes that he was honin' to come back, but he was almighty +afraid, I reckon mostly on Amada's account. He's plum' daft about +her--and I don't know as I blame him very much--and he told me he had +planned to get her down there soon. + +"'How can I go back?' says he. 'I'll be arrested and tried and +probably convicted.' 'No, you won't,' says I. 'You go back with me and +get Emerson Mead out of this scrape and I'll give you my word of +honor you won't be arrested.' 'But what can I say?' he says. 'How can +I explain?' 'Hell!' says I. 'Explain nothin'! Tell your father as much +or as little as you like, and if Colonel Whittaker walks down Main +street with his head up and his mouth shut I reckon nobody's goin' to +ask him any impudent questions. If you want any help yourself you've +got Nick Ellhorn and Emerson Mead and Tommy Tuttle behind you, and if +you think them three couldn't send the devil himself sashayin' down +the Rio Grande you'd better not say so to yours truly. If you don't +want to stay there, take Amada and get out, and if your father won't +set you up somewheres we three will see that you have what you need. +And whatever he does we'll give you a thousand apiece anyway.' + +"'I wish I dared!' says he. 'Will Whittaker,' says I, 'Amada Garcia +started out to come to you with only four dollars in her pocket, and +she walked in the night nearly all the way to Plumas, and then she +nearly died givin' premature birth to your child, because she had +tried to find you.' With that he jumped up and grabbed my arm and +could hardly speak, for I hadn't told him about any of that business +before. + +"'She isn't dead,' says I, 'but you may thank Miss Delarue that she +isn't. The child was born dead. But do you think, after all that, +you-all can do any less than go back and marry her again, with a +priest and a ring and a white dress and all the rest of it? Do you +think, after that, you-all can do any less than pretend you're a man, +and ever face yourself in the glass again without smashin' it?' + +"He dropped back in his chair with his face in his hands and cried, +actually cried. But I sure reckon he was shook up pretty sudden by +what I told him about Amada. I didn't say any more, but I just made up +my mind that if he hung back after that I'd tie my Chiny pig tail +around his neck and yank him back to Plumas like a yellow dog at the +end of a string. + +"After a little while he said he'd go. I knew he meant it, but I was +so almighty afraid he'd go back on it if he got thinkin' about his +father and skip on me that I didn't let him out of my sight while he +was awake, and at night I tied his arm fast to mine with my pig tail. + +"Well, when we finally got to Plumas I just concluded Emerson's neck +wasn't in danger for another hour, and that I'd better set that +little girl straight the first thing I did, before the young chap +got under his father's thumb. I knew he meant all right and loved +her like hell's blazes, but he's more afraid of his father than a +self-respectin' young man of his age ought to be. So we went straight +to Miss Delarue's. I tell you what, boys, that Miss Delarue is a +regular royal flush. There ain't another girl can stack up with her in +the whole territory. I took Will Whittaker in and told her how matters +stood, and you ought to have seen how pleased she was! If it had been +her own weddin' she couldn't have been more interested, or looked +happier. She was as glad to see Will as if he'd been her own brother, +and all because she likes poor little Amada, and was glad to see her +made happy, for of course it didn't concern her any other way." + +A little smile moved Mead's lips as he heard this, and he turned his +eyes away to hide the happy look he felt was in them, for he knew how +deep were Marguerite's reasons to be glad the runaway had returned. + +"While I went down-town to hunt up the _padre_," Nick went on, "she +fixed Amada up with a white veil--you know these Mexican girls hardly +think they've been married if they haven't had a white veil on--and a +bunch of white flowers and a white sack that was all lace and ribbons +over her night gown--for Amada's in bed yet, and had to be propped up +on the pillows--and then she and I stood up with 'em and put our names +down as witnesses. Then I marched the young man up to the court-house, +and you-all know what happened there." + +"I saw you talking with Colonel Whittaker," said Mead. "Did you tell +him about the wedding?" + +"You bet I did! I was plum' determined he should hear some straight +talk about that, and if that little girl don't have a fair show with +the Whittaker family it won't be my fault." + +"What did you-all say to him?" Tom asked. + +"Oh, I gave it to him straight from the shoulder! 'Colonel +Whittaker,' I said, 'I've brought your son back to you alive, and I'm +goin' to see to it that no harm comes to him because he's been away. +He can tell you as much or as little as he likes, but I know the whole +story, and I want to tell you right now that if anybody tries to get +him into trouble about it they've got Nick Ellhorn and Tom Tuttle and +Emerson Mead to buck against, and there's my hand on it. But you +needn't thank me. You can thank a little Mexican girl whose name was +Amada Garcia, but it's Amada Whittaker now. They have been married +without any proof of it ever since last spring, but they are married +tight and fast now, _padre_ and witnesses and the whole thing, and I +helped 'em to do it not an hour ago. Now, keep your temper, Colonel,' +says I, 'and wait till I get through. I know you'll be disappointed +and mad, but you'd better keep cool and make the best of it, for the +girl's just as good as you are, if she is a Mexican, and she's a whole +heap too good for your son. And she's just the cutest and prettiest +little piece of calico you ever laid your eyes on, in the bargain. +Now, don't try to step in and make a mess of this, Colonel,' I said, +'for you won't succeed if you do try, because the boy has got Emerson +and Tom and me to back him, and if you-all don't play a father's part +toward him we will. If you should get him away from her you'd just +simply send your son to the devil, and he'd be the devil's own brat if +he let you do it. + +"'Now, Colonel,' says I, 'you-all better go and make a call on your +new daughter-in-law, and find out from Will what she's done to protect +him and get to him, and if you don't take her right into camp you're +not the gentleman and the judge of beauty I take you for. Besides, +Colonel' says I, 'if Amada gets the right kind of treatment from you +and your folks, my bargain with Will holds. If she don't--well, I'll +keep my word, of course, but there's likely to be consequences.'" + +Nick's narrative came to its end and for a few minutes the three men +smoked in silence. Then Ellhorn turned half reluctantly to Mead: + +"Say, Emerson, that was mighty queer about those three bullet holes. +We sure thought nobody but you-all could do that." + +Mead smiled, thinking of Marguerite. "Even if he was shot in the +back?" he said quietly. + +Nick and Tom looked at each other with chagrin on their faces. "We-all +never thought of that!" Tom exclaimed. + +"And he did need killin' so damn bad," said Nick, "and you-all never +said a word to deny it." + +"I don't usually deny things I'm charged with," said Mead. + +"That's so, Emerson, you don't," assented Tom. + +"People are welcome to believe anything they like about me," Mead went +on, "and I don't intend to belittle myself askin' 'em not to. It's all +right, boys. I didn't blame you for believin' I'd done it But I did +think you'd notice he'd been shot in the back. I'm goin' out now. I'll +see you later." And he hurried off down Main street to find Pierre +Delarue. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +The February sunshine lay warm and bright and still over Las Plumas +and the sky bent low and blue and cloudless above the town. Bright +feathered birds were darting through the orchards and trilling their +nesting songs, the peach tree buds were showing their pink noses, and +the promise of spring was everywhere. In the big, wide hall of Pierre +Delarue's house Marguerite stood beside the door of her room, talking +with Emerson Mead, while he clumsily buttoned her gloves. She was +dressed in a traveling gown, and as his glance wandered over her +figure his eyes shone with admiration. Tall though he was and superb +of physique, her head reached his shoulder and her figure matched his +in its own strength and beauty. + +"Tom and Nick look as forlorn as two infant orphans," he was saying to +her. "You would think I had died instead of getting married. Nick has +hinted that he means to go on a spree, and Tom says he'll lock him up +in their room and sit on his chest for a week if he tries to make that +kind of a break." + +"Do you think he will?" Marguerite asked. + +"Sit on him? Yes, I think likely. He's done it before, and it's about +the only thing that will keep Nick sober when he has made up his mind +that he wants to get drunk. It's a good plan to keep Nick sober, too, +for when he gets drunk most anything's likely to happen." + +"No, I meant, do you think he will get drunk?" + +Emerson shrugged his shoulders. "I reckon that will depend on whether +Tom goes to sleep or not." + +"Where are they?" + +"Out on the porch with Bye-Bye." + +They went out on the veranda where Tom and Nick were standing, and +Marguerite put a hand on the arm of each, looking up in their faces +with smiling earnestness. "I wonder," she said, "if I could ask you +boys to do something for me while we are gone?" + +They turned toward her eagerly. "You bet we'll do anything you-all +want us to, Mrs.--Mrs.--" Nick tried to say "Mrs. Mead," choked a +little, and ended with "Mrs. Emerson." And "Mrs. Emerson" she was to +him and Tom from that time forth. + +"What can we-all do?" asked Tom. + +"Why, I've been hoping you wouldn't mind looking after Paul a little +bit for me. I am so afraid he will miss me, because I've always been +with him. The housekeeper will take good care of him, of course, but I +know he will be lonely if there is nothing to distract his mind. And I +couldn't be happy, even on my wedding journey, if I thought my little +Bye-Bye was crying for me." + +"Don't you worry, Mrs. Emerson," Nick exclaimed. "We'll give him so +much fun he won't know you're gone. I'll bring my horse and take him +to ride every day." + +"We'll buy all the playthings in town for him." + +"We'll tote him around all the time. It'll give us something to do and +keep us out of mischief. He shan't shed a tear while you're gone." + +"Here, Bye-Bye," called Tom, "come and ride on my shoulder." And +mounted on that big, high pedestal the child was marched up and down +the porch, laughing and clapping his hands. "We'll stay and amuse him +while you-all go to the depot, so he won't cry after you." + +"I'll make him some reins out of my Chiny pigtail," said Nick. +"You-all go right along, Mrs. Emerson, and don't you worry once. He +shan't whimper while you're gone, and he'll have such a good time +he'll be sorry to see you come home." + +Marguerite looked back from the carriage window as they drove away and +saw little Paul holding fast to the middle of Nick's precious queue, +laughing and shouting, while two tall figures attached to its ends +pranced and kicked and cavorted up and down the veranda. + +THE END + + + + + "The Books You Like to Read + at the Price You Like to Pay" + +_There Are Two Sides to Everything_-- + +--including the wrapper which covers every Grosset & Dunlap book. When +you feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully +selected list of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by +prominent writers of the day which is printed on the back of every +Grosset & Dunlap book wrapper. + +You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from--books for +every mood and every taste and every pocketbook. + +_Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write +to the publishers for a complete catalog._ + +_There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book for every mood and for every taste_ + + + + +RUBY M. AYRE'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +RICHARD CHATTERTON + +A fascinating story in which love and jealousy play strange tricks +with women's souls. + +A BACHELOR HUSBAND + +Can a woman love two men at the same time? + +In its solving of this particular variety of triangle "A Bachelor +Husband" will particularly interest, and strangely enough, without one +shock to the most conventional minded. + +THE SCAR + +With fine comprehension and insight the author shows a terrific +contrast between the woman whose love was of the flesh and one whose +love was of the spirit. + +THE MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW + +Here is a man and woman who, marrying for love, yet try to build their +wedded life upon a gospel of hate for each other and yet win back to a +greater love for each other in the end. + +THE UPHILL ROAD + +The heroine of this story was a consort of thieves. The man was fine, +clean, fresh from the West. It is a story of strength and passion. + +WINDS OF THE WORLD + +Jill, a poor little typist, marries the great Henry Sturgess and +inherits millions, but not happiness. Then at last--but we must leave +that to Ruby M. Ayres to tell you as only she can. + +THE SECOND HONEYMOON + +In this story the author has produced a book which no one who has +loved or hopes to love can afford to miss. The story fairly leaps from +climax to climax. + +THE PHANTOM LOVER + +Have you not often heard of someone being in love with love rather +than the person they believed the object of their affections? That was +Esther! But she passes through the crisis into a deep and profound +love. + + + + +PETER B. KYNE'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +THE PRIDE OF PALOMAR + +When two strong men clash and the under-dog has Irish blood in his +veins--there's a tale that Kyne can tell! And "the girl" is also very +much in evidence. + +KINDRED OF THE DUST + +Donald McKay, son of Hector McKay, millionaire lumber king, falls in +love with "Nan of the Sawdust Pile," a charming girl who has been +ostracized by her townsfolk. + +THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS + +The fight of the Cardigans, father and son, to hold the Valley of the +Giants against treachery. The reader finishes with a sense of having +lived with big men and women in a big country. + +CAPPY RICKS + +The story of old Cappy Ricks and of Matt Peasley, the boy he tried to +break because he knew the acid test was good for his soul. + +WEBSTER: MAN'S MAN + +In a little Jim Crow Republic in Central America, a man and a woman, +hailing from the "States," met up with a revolution and for a while +adventures and excitement came so thick and fast that their love +affair had to wait for a lull in the game. + +CAPTAIN SCRAGGS + +This sea yarn recounts the adventures of three rapscallion sea-faring +men--a Captain Scraggs, owner of the green vegetable freighter Maggie, +Gibney the mate and McGuffney the engineer. + +THE LONG CHANCE + +A story fresh from the heart of the West, of San Pasqual, a sun-baked +desert town, of Harley P. Hennage, the best gambler, the best and +worst man of San Pasqual and of lovely Donna. + + + + +JACKSON GREGORY'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +THE EVERLASTING WHISPER + +The story of a strong man's struggle against savage nature and +humanity, and of a beautiful girl's regeneration from a spoiled child +of wealth into a courageous strong-willed woman. + +DESERT VALLEY + +A college professor sets out with his daughter to find gold. They meet +a rancher who loses his heart, and become involved in a feud. An +intensely exciting story. + +MAN TO MAN + +Encircled with enemies, distrusted, Steve defends his rights. How he +won his game and the girl he loved is the story filled with breathless +situations. + +THE BELLS OF SAN JUAN + +Dr. Virginia Page is forced to go with the sheriff on a night journey +into the strongholds of a lawless band. Thrills and excitement sweep +the reader along to the end. + +JUDITH OF BLUE LAKE RANCH + +Judith Sanford part owner of a cattle ranch realizes she is being +robbed by her foreman. How, with the help of Bud Lee, she checkmates +Trevor's scheme makes fascinating reading. + +THE SHORT CUT + +Wayne is suspected of killing his brother after a violent quarrel. +Financial complications, villains, a horse-race and beautiful Wanda, +all go to make up a thrilling romance. + +THE JOYOUS TROUBLE MAKER + +A reporter sets up housekeeping close to Beatrice's Ranch much to her +chagrin. There is "another man" who complicates matters, but all turns +out as it should in this tale of romance and adventure. + +SIX FEET FOUR + +Beatrice Waverly is robbed of $5,000 and suspicion fastens upon Buck +Thornton, but she soon realizes he is not guilty. Intensely exciting, +here is a real story of the Great Far West. + +WOLF BREED + +No Luck Drennan had grown hard through loss of faith in men he had +trusted. A woman hater and sharp of tongue, he finds a match in +Ygerne, whose clever fencing wins the admiration and love of the "Lone +Wolf." + + + + +ELEANOR H. PORTER'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +JUST DAVID + +The tale of a loveable boy and the place he comes to fill in the +hearts of the gruff farmer folk to whose care he is left. + +THE ROAD TO UNDERSTANDING + +A compelling romance of love and marriage. + +OH, MONEY! MONEY! + +Stanley Fulton, a wealthy bachelor, to test the dispositions of his +relatives, sends them each a check for $100,000, and then as plain +John Smith comes among them to watch the result of his experiment. + +SIX STAR RANCH + +A wholesome story of a club of six girls and their summer on Six Star +Ranch. + +DAWN + +The story of a blind boy whose courage leads him through the gulf of +despair into a final victory gained by dedicating his life to the +service of blind soldiers. + +ACROSS THE YEARS + +Short stories of our own kind and of our own people. Contains some of +the best writing Mrs. Porter has done. + +THE TANGLED THREADS + +In these stories we find the concentrated charm and tenderness of all +her other books. + +THE TIE THAT BINDS + +Intensely human stories told with Mrs. Porter's wonderful talent for +warm and vivid character drawing. + + + + +"STORM COUNTRY" BOOKS BY GRACE MILLER WHITE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +JUDY OF ROGUES' HARBOR + +Judy's untutored ideas of God, her love of wild things, her faith in +life are quite as inspiring as those of Tess. Her faith and sincerity +catch at your heart strings. This book has all of the mystery and +tense action of the other Storm Country books. + +TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY + +It was as Tess, beautiful, wild, impetuous, that Mary Pickford made +her reputation as a motion picture actress. How love acts upon a +temperament such as hers--a temperament that makes a woman an angel or +an outcast, according to the character of the man she loves--is the +theme of the story. + +THE SECRET OF THE STORM COUNTRY + +The sequel to "Tess of the Storm Country," with the same wild +background, with its half-gypsy life of the squatters--tempestuous, +passionate, brooding. Tess learns the "secret" of her birth and finds +happiness and love through her boundless faith in life. + +FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSING + +A haunting story with its scene laid near the country familiar to +readers of "Tess of the Storm Country." + +ROSE O' PARADISE + +"Jinny" Singleton, wild, lovely, lonely, but with a passionate +yearning for music, grows up in the house of Lafe Grandoken, a +crippled cobbler of the Storm Country. Her romance is full of power +and glory and tenderness. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. 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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: With Hoops of Steel + +Author: Florence Finch Kelly + +Illustrator: Dan Smith + +Release Date: April 22, 2009 [EBook #28585] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH HOOPS OF STEEL *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="centerbox bbox"> +<h1> WITH<br /> +HOOPS OF STEEL</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>FLORENCE FINCH KELLY</h2> + +<h4> ILLUSTRATED BY</h4> +<h3>DAN SMITH</h3> + +<p class="center"> “<i>The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,<br /> +Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel.</i>”</p> + +<p class="smallgap"> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h3>NEW YORK</h3> +<h2>GROSSET & DUNLAP</h2> +<h3>PUBLISHERS</h3> + +<p class="center"> Made in the United States of America</p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span> 1900</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Bowen-Merrill Company</span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">All Rights Reserved</span></p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="40%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="CONTENTS"> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER I.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#WITH_HOOPS_OF_STEEL">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER II.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">11</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER III.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">19</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER IV.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">36</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER V.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">46</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER VI.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">57</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER VII.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">70</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER VIII.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">77</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER IX.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">85</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER X.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">91</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XI.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">98</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XII.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">116</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XIII.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">147</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XIV.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">164</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XV.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">181</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XVI.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">197</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XVII.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">220</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XVIII.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">229</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XIX.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">240</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XX.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">254</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XXI.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">265</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XXII.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">289</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XXIII.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">302</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XXIV.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">317</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XXV.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">322</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left">CHAPTER XXVI.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">336</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i003.jpg" class="medgap jpg" width="500" height="312" alt="“ON AND ON THROUGH THE NIGHT THEY GALLOPED, NECK TO NECK AND HEEL TO HEEL.”—p. 63" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“ON AND ON THROUGH THE NIGHT THEY GALLOPED, NECK TO NECK AND HEEL TO HEEL.”—<i>p. <a href="#Page_63">63</a></i></span> +</div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h3><a name="PUBLISHERS_NOTE" id="PUBLISHERS_NOTE"></a>PUBLISHERS’ NOTE</h3> + +<p>Owen Wister’s <span class="smcap">The Virginian</span> and Florence Finch Kelly’s <span class="smcap">With +Hoops of Steel</span> were the first of the modern cow-boy novels. Twenty-five +years have passed since Mrs. Kelly’s enthralling story first +appeared—September, 1900. Most of the novels published then and +since, are dead and forgotten. Not so <span class="smcap">With Hoops of Steel</span>. It +was in continuous demand from its first friendly welcome by the critics +until the World War turned public attention to Europe. Even so its +vitality persisted, justified this new edition, and seems to warrant +the belief that the present generation will find its story interest as +vivid and as exciting as did the past, and its value even greater, for +it presents an authentic portrait of the old southwestern cattlemen and +a fascinating picture of a phase of national development now passed into +history.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">The Publishers.</span></p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WITH_HOOPS_OF_STEEL" id="WITH_HOOPS_OF_STEEL"></a>WITH HOOPS OF STEEL</h2> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he soft, muffling dusk settled slowly downward from the darkening +blue sky and little by little smothered the weird gleam that rose from +the gray-white plain. Away toward the east a range of mountains +gloomed faintly, rimming the distance. Another towered against the +western horizon. Cactus clumps and bunches of mesquite and greasewood +blotted the whitely gleaming earth. In and out among these dark spots +a man was slowly riding. Now and then he leaned forward and looked +keenly through the growing darkness as though searching for some +familiar landmark. The horse lagged across the heavy sand, with +drooping head and ears. The rider patted its neck with a buckskin +gloved hand and spoke cheerily to the tired animal:</p> + +<p>“Hot and tired, ain’t you, old fellow? You want your supper and a big +drink of water. Well, you oughtn’t to have wandered off the road while +I was asleep. Now, I sure reckon we’ve got to bunk on a sand heap +to-night and wait till daylight to find out where we are.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p><p>Again he peered through the dusk, and a little ray of light came +glimmering from far away toward the right. He knew that it must come +from either a ranch house or a camp-fire.</p> + +<p>“I don’t remember any ranch as far up toward the White Sands as that +seems to be,” he thought. “It must be a camp-fire. We don’t know whose +it is, old pard, but we’re goin’ to take chances on it.”</p> + +<p>He rode on in silence, the bridle lying loosely on the horse’s neck. +All the senses of the plainsman were on the alert, his ears were +strained to catch the faintest sound that might come from the +direction of the fire, while his eyes alternately swept the darkened +plain and fastened themselves on the light. His horse pricked up its +ears and gave a loud whinny, which was answered in kind from the +direction of the fire. Presently the man shouted a loud “hello,” but +there was no reply. “That’s queer!” he thought. “My voice ought to +carry that far, sure!” He waited a few moments, listening intently, +then, drawing in a deep breath, he sent out another long, loud call +that bellowed across the plain and sank into the far darkness. Still +there was no reply, but when his horse neighed again there was instant +response. The animal had quickened its pace and with head up and ears +bent forward was rapidly lessening the distance between them and the +light. The rider could see that it was a camp-fire, and soon could +distinguish the flickering of the flames, but, in the illuminated +circle <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>around it there was no sign of human beings nor shadow of +moving life. He drew rein and again sent a full lunged, far-reaching +“hello-o-o” across the distance. The moon, just showing a silver edge +above the mountain tops, threw a faint glimmer of light across the +plain, making visible the nearest clumps of bushes.</p> + +<p>“I guess that would mighty near wake a dead man. If there’s anybody +alive around that camp they sure heard me this time,” he thought, as +he looked and listened with straining eyes and ears. But there was no +movement about the fire, and another whinny was the only sound that +came from its direction. “Mighty queer!” was his inward comment, as +his hand sought the revolver which hung by his side, while a light +pressure of spurs started his horse forward again. Suddenly there was +a swift rustle of the bushes beside him.</p> + +<p>“Stop! Throw up your hands!”</p> + +<p>A man had sprung from a tall clump of mesquite, and the traveler saw +the faint light reflected from a gun barrel pointed straight at his +breast. He stopped his horse, but did not respond to the other +summons; instead, his fingers closed quickly over the butt of his +revolver.</p> + +<p>“Throw up your hands, or I’ll blow a hole through you!”</p> + +<p>“Well, the drop’s yours, stranger, so here goes,” and the traveler’s +hands went straight above his head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p><p>“That’s better! Now, what do you want here?”</p> + +<p>“I saw your camp-fire and I reckoned I might get some water for my +horse and some supper for myself.”</p> + +<p>“Who are you?”</p> + +<p>“My name is Thomson Tuttle.”</p> + +<p>“What are you doing here?”</p> + +<p>“Attendin’ to my own affairs and lettin’ other people’s alone.”</p> + +<p>“You allowed just now it was my drop.” There was a note of warning in +the man’s voice. The traveler hesitated a moment. The click of a +trigger quickened his discretion.</p> + +<p>“I am on my way from Muletown to Las Plumas, but I lost the road this +afternoon and I’ve no idea where I am now. As soon as I saw your +camp-fire I came straight for it, for my horse needs water mighty +bad.”</p> + +<p>There was a moment of silence. The moon was well above the mountains, +and in its brightening light the form of the traveler stood out in +ridiculous silhouette, his hands held high above his head. He could +see plainly the figure of the man and the gun leveled at his breast.</p> + +<p>“How long had you been in Muletown?”</p> + +<p>“I got in this forenoon, and I guess I stopped an hour. I left about +noon.”</p> + +<p>“Where from?”</p> + +<p>“I started yesterday morning from Millbank. I had been there two days. +I went there from Santa <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>Fe. I’ve been in New Mexico about ten years, +and I was born—”</p> + +<p>“Never mind about that. You can have some supper. Unfasten your belt +with your left hand, and be sure to keep your right hand where it is.” +Tuttle’s left hand fumbled a moment with his cartridge belt, and +revolver and belt dropped to the ground.</p> + +<p>“Anything else?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Put up your hands again until I fix these things.”</p> + +<p>Again the traveler lifted his hands above his head, while the other +buckled the belt around his own body, which it circled above another +already heavy with cartridges and revolver. This latter weapon he drew +from his holster, and, coming close beside Tuttle, held it at cock +while he passed his hand lightly over the rider’s person.</p> + +<p>“I guess you spoke the truth,” he said, returning the pistol to his +belt, and again leveling the shot-gun. “Now, Mr. Thomson Tuttle, +you’ve been a gentleman so far, and as long as you keep up that play +you’ll be all right. You won’t be hurt if you don’t make any breaks. +Take down your hands and we’ll go into camp and have some supper.”</p> + +<p>Tuttle held his hands motionless in the air a moment longer as he +said:</p> + +<p>“Any objection to my askin’ who you are?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p><p>“You said yourself that the drop’s mine.”</p> + +<p>“All right, pard.”</p> + +<p>As they neared the camp, the man called to him to dismount, walk +forward and sit down in a wagon seat near the fire. Tuttle could see +the wagon from which the seat had been taken, a small, light affair, +standing back in the shadow, and near it two horses feeding. Another +man stood a little way off with leveled gun, apparently relieving +guard for the first. He was in the shade of a tall mesquite bush, but +Tuttle could see that he was of medium height and build and was +dressed in a Mexican suit of closely fitting, braided trousers and +jacket. The wide brim of his Mexican sombrero was pulled low over his +eyes, so that only the lower part of his face could be seen, and that +dimly. But it was evidently dark-skinned, and the mouth was shaded by +a black mustache. “Some Greaser scalawag,” was Tuttle’s immediate +decision. The other unsaddled, watered and fed the horse, and then +returned to the fire and began making coffee.</p> + +<p>“We haven’t much to eat,” he said apologetically, “but you’re welcome +to a share of whatever we’ve got.”</p> + +<p>Soon he put beside Tuttle a supper of hot coffee, fried bacon, canned +baked beans, and a loaf of bread. Then he sat on the ground near by +and talked cheerfully while Tuttle ate, now and then urging him, in +hospitable fashion, to eat heartily. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>But all the time he held his +revolver in his hand, and the other man stood in the shadow with his +Winchester ready to fire at a second’s notice. Tuttle and his captor +talked on in a friendly way for half an hour after supper, while the +other still kept guard from the shadow of the mesquite bush. At last +the first man got up leisurely, took a flask from his pocket and +handed it to Tuttle with the request, “Drink hearty, pard.” With a +little flourish and a kindly “Here’s luck,” he took a long pull +himself, then, telling Tuttle he could use his saddle for a pillow and +lie down near the fire, he picked up his shot-gun and sat down on the +wagon seat and the man who had stood beside the mesquite walked away +into the bushes.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said the man with the shot-gun, “you can sleep just as sound as +a baby in its cradle, for I’m going to watch here and see that the +coyotes don’t bite you. You’ll be safe,” and the note of warning +filled his voice again, “as long as you don’t make any breaks.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not a fool,” responded Tuttle, stretching out on the ground and +resting his head against the saddle. Whenever he awoke during the +night he saw his guard keeping alert watch, gun in hand and revolver +by his side. Just before daybreak the other man returned and held +guard while the first watered and saddled Tuttle’s horse and prepared +breakfast. The captive was dimly conscious of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>change, and then +slept again until he was awakened at sunrise.</p> + +<p>“I had a mind to wake you by shooting a button off your coat, just to +see if that would do the business,” said his host, smiling pleasantly, +as he handed Tuttle the flask which had done duty the night before. “I +reckon you’re about the soundest sleeper I ever saw.”</p> + +<p>By daylight Tuttle saw that the man was well along in middle life and +that his face was smoothly shaven. Tuttle himself looked to be less +than thirty years old. He was tall, broad of shoulder and big of +girth, with large hands and great, round, well-muscled wrists that +told of arms like limbs of oak and of legs like iron pillars.</p> + +<p>The young man ate his breakfast alone, his captor standing near by and +talking pleasantly with him, but holding alertly a shot-gun at half +cock, while crouching behind a bunch of greasewood was the Mexican +with a drawn pistol in his hands. As Tuttle mounted, the tall man +called out sternly:</p> + +<p>“Hold up your hands!”</p> + +<p>Tuttle hesitated for a moment, looking at him in surprise.</p> + +<p>“I mean it!” and the trigger of his shot-gun clicked to full cock. +Tuttle’s hands went up quickly. The man came beside him and buckled on +his cartridge belt, with the revolver in its holster. Then he backed +to his own horse, mounted it, and leveled his shot-gun at Tuttle’s +breast.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>“Now you can take down your hands and go,” he said. “But remember that +I’m ridin’ behind you, ready to bang a hole through your head if you +make the first motion toward your gun, or anything happens that ain’t +straight. I’ll put you on the road to Plumas, and then I want you to +make tracks, for we’ve got no time to waste.”</p> + +<p>As they rode away, Tuttle could hear the hoof beats of two horses and +knew that both men were following. After a few miles the tall man +called to Tuttle to halt and said, pointing to a road that wound a +white line across the distance:</p> + +<p>“That’s your road over there, and you can go on, now alone. But I want +you to remember that I’m here watchin’ you, with two loads of buckshot +and six of lead, and every one of them is goin’ plumb through you if +you ain’t square. You’ve been a gentleman so far, and dead game, and +I’m proud to ’ve met you, Mr. Thomson Tuttle. If it ever comes my way +to treat you whiter than I have this time, I’ll be glad to do it. +Good-bye, sir.”</p> + +<p>As Tuttle rode away, he saw, from the corner of his eye, the tall man, +shot-gun in hand, sitting motionless on his horse, and the other, +watchful, holding a rifle, a little distance behind him. The young man +put spurs to his horse and rode several miles with his eyes steadily +in front of him, discreetly holding curiosity in check. He did not +look back until he reached the highroad, and then he saw his two +captors galloping across the plain toward their <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>camp. He took out his +pistol and examined it carefully. It was just as he had left it the +night before.</p> + +<p>“They might have put every bullet into my head,” was his mental +comment, “but they didn’t, and they might have emptied ’em all out and +left me in a box. But they didn’t do that, either. I guess they played +as square as they could.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">“</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">M</span>e, Tom Tuttle, holding up my hands while a fellow takes my gun! What +will Emerson Mead say to that! Well, I reckon he wouldn’t have done +different, for Emerson’s got good judgment.”</p> + +<p>Such was Tuttle’s soliloquy as he mounted the gradual ascent of the +range that bounded the plain on the west. Alternately he chuckled and +slapped his thigh in appreciation of the joke on himself, and exploded +an indignant oath as mortified pride asserted itself.</p> + +<p>After a time he espied a black dot in a halo of dust coming down the +mountain side. He considered it a moment and then decided, “It’s a man +on horseback.” He took out his revolver and, holding it in his hand, +made another scrutiny of the approaching figure.</p> + +<p>“Je-e-mima! If he don’t ride like Nick Ellhorn! I shouldn’t wonder if +it’s Nick!”</p> + +<p>Presently the figure flourished a black sombrero and down the dusty +road came a yell which began full-lunged and ended in a screeching +“whee-ee-e.” Tuttle answered with a loud “hello,” and both men put +spurs to their horses and were soon shaking hands.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>“What’s the news at Plumas and out at Emerson’s?” asked Tuttle.</p> + +<p>“Oh, things are fairly quiet at Plumas just now, but you never know +when hell is going to break loose there. You’re just in time, though, +for Emerson’s up to his ears in fight. Goin’ to stay?”</p> + +<p>“I will if Emerson needs me. I’ve been with Marshal Black over to +Millbank after some counterfeiters from Colorado. He took ’em back, +and, as he didn’t need me, I thought I’d just ride over here and see +if you-all mightn’t be in trouble and need some help.”</p> + +<p>“Ain’t after anybody, then?”</p> + +<p>“No. But, say, Nick! I struck the darndest outfit last night! I got +regularly held up!”</p> + +<p>“What! You! Held up?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I did. Sat with my hands in the air like a fool tenderfoot while +a man took my gun and cross-questioned me like a lawyer.”</p> + +<p>Ellhorn rolled and rocked on his horse with laughter. When he could +speak he demanded the whole story, which Tuttle told him in detail.</p> + +<p>“What was their lay?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I’ll give it up. I’ve thought of everything I could, and there ain’t +a blamed thing that’ll explain it.”</p> + +<p>“Tommy, I reckon they need to be arrested about as bad as two men ever +needed anything. Come along and we’ll corral ’em.”</p> + +<p>“We’ve got no warrants, Nick!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p><p>“Haven’t you got any in your pockets?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but not for them.”</p> + +<p>“Tommy, you’re a deputy marshal, and that outfit took you at a +disadvantage and misused you shameful. You’re an officer of the law, +Tommy, and it was as bad as contempt of court! It’s our duty to arrest +’em for it and bring ’em in.”</p> + +<p>“But we can’t do it without warrants, Nick.”</p> + +<p>Ellhorn took some papers from his pocket and looked them over. “I’m +lookin’ for a Mexican named Antonio Diaz,” he said. “Here’s the +warrant for his arrest. Violation of the Edmunds act. You say one of +these men was a Mexican. I think likely he’s Antonio. We’ll go and +find out. Never mind tellin’ me how he looked,” he went on hastily, as +Tuttle began to speak. “It’s likely he’s Antonio, and it’s my duty to +go and find out. Of course, they’ll resist arrest, and then they’ll +get their punishment for the way they treated you.”</p> + +<p>Tuttle looked disapproving. “Nick, what do you think would be +Emerson’s judgment?”</p> + +<p>“Emerson ain’t here, and I’m acting on my own judgment, which is to go +after this outfit and pepper ’em full of holes if they’re sassy.”</p> + +<p>Tuttle shook his head. “I don’t like the scheme.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it ain’t your scheme, and you don’t have to like it. I think we +ought to go after these men right now. They’ve done something they +ought to be arrested for. And, anyway, they ought to be punished for +holdin’ you up.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p><p>“Nick, I’d go with you in a minute, you know I would, if we had a +warrant for ’em, or if I had any reason to think that the Mexican is +the man you want. You don’t think so yourself. They might have blowed +my brains out any minute, and nobody would ever have known a thing +about it. But they didn’t and I reckon they treated me as white as +they could and look after their own interests. It’s my judgment, and I +think it would be Emerson’s, too, that it would be a mean trick for me +to come up behind ’em and begin shootin’, just for holdin’ me up, when +they might have treated me a whole heap worse. I won’t go with you, +Nick.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, then, and I’ll go alone,” Ellhorn responded cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“They’ll be two to one.”</p> + +<p>“Not very long, I reckon.”</p> + +<p>“Better wait a few days, Nick, till you can go after ’em legally.”</p> + +<p>“They’ll be out of the country by that time. I’m under no obligations +to be kind to ’em, and I don’t mean to be. I’m goin’ to camp on their +trail right now.” He dismounted and cinched up his saddle and +inspected his revolver.</p> + +<p>Tuttle regarded him dubiously and in silence until he remounted. Then +he said, slowly: “Well, my judgment’s against it, Nick, but I won’t +see you go off alone into any such scrape as this is <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>bound to be. +I’ll go with you, but I won’t do any shootin’—unless you need me +mighty bad.”</p> + +<p>They galloped back to the scene of Tuttle’s captivity the night +before. They found the trail of the wagon, and followed it rapidly +toward the north. Soon they saw a glaring white line against the +horizon. “There’s the White Sands,” said Ellhorn. “We ought to catch +’em before they get there.” A few moments later they came within sight +of the wagon. Tuttle and Ellhorn spurred their horses to a quicker +pace and when they were within hailing distance Ellhorn shouted to its +two occupants to surrender. Their only response was to put whip to +their horses, and Ellhorn sent a pistol ball whizzing past them. They +replied in kind and a quick fusillade began. Tuttle rode silently +beside his companion, not even drawing his six-shooter from its +holster. A bullet bit into the rim of his sombrero, and he grumbled a +big oath under his breath. Another nicked the ear of Ellhorn’s horse. +In the wagon, the Mexican was crouched in the bottom, shooting from +behind the seat, apparently taking careful aim. The tall man stood up, +lashing the horses furiously. He turned, holding the reins in one +hand, and with the other discharged another volley, necessarily +somewhat at random. But it came near doing good execution, for one +bullet went through Tuttle’s sleeve and another singed the shoulder of +Ellhorn’s coat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p><p>“Whee-ee-e!” shouted Ellhorn. “Sure, and I’ve winged him! I’ve hit the +big one in the leg!”</p> + +<p>The next moment his pistol dropped to the ground. A bullet from the +Mexican’s Winchester had plowed through his right arm. Tuttle, who had +not even put hand to his revolver, drew rein beside him while the +other men stopped shooting and devoted all their energies to getting +away as quickly as possible. Tuttle tore strips from his shirt with +which to bind Ellhorn’s wound, and persuaded him to return to Las +Plumas, where he could have the services of a physician.</p> + +<p>“I guess I’ll have to, Tom,” he said regretfully. “I’d like to go +after ’em and finish this job up right now. I got one into the big +one, but that’s nothin’ to what they deserve. Lord! but they need to +be peppered full of holes! But I can’t fight now, and you won’t, so +it’s no use.”</p> + +<p>As they rode back Tuttle said: “You say that Emerson’s up to his ears +in fight? What’s it about? That cattle business?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s it. You know he’s been havin’ trouble for some time with +Colonel Whittaker and the Fillmore Cattle Company, and I reckon hell’s +a-popping over there by this time. Colonel Whittaker—he’s manager of +the company now, and one of the stock-holders—wants to corral the +whole blamed country for his range. Well, there’s Emerson Mead has had +his range for the last five years, and Willet still longer, and +McAlvin and Brewer, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>they’ve been there a long time, too, and they all +say they’ve got more right to the range than the company has, because +they own the water holes, and they don’t propose to be crowded out by +no corporation. But I reckon they’ll have to fight for their rights if +they get ’em.”</p> + +<p>“How’s Whittaker off for men? Got anybody that can shoot?”</p> + +<p>“You bet he has. Young Will Whittaker is mighty near as good a shot as +Emerson is. He does most of the managing at their ranch headquarters, +while the old man works politics over in Plumas.”</p> + +<p>“Have they had any fights yet?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t seen Emerson for a month. He was over in Plumas then and he +said he expected to have trouble and wanted me to come out.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say that the Fillmore outfit is really tryin’ to +drive Emerson and the rest of them out of the Fernandez mountains?”</p> + +<p>“Well, they want to get control of the whole range for about a hundred +miles, if they can. And there’s some politics mixed up in it, of +course. Old Whittaker is a Republican, you know, with a lot of +political schemes he wants to put through. Of course Emerson and the +others are Democrats and stand in with the party, and the Colonel +thinks he’ll be doing the Republicans a big service if he can break +them up. Emerson expected the trouble to come to a head over the +spring round-up, for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>Colonel Whittaker said that Emerson and McAlvin +and the rest of them shouldn’t round-up with him.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Emerson won’t stand any such nonsense as that!”</p> + +<p>“I guess Whittaker and his cow-boys will have to flirt gravel mighty +fast if they keep him from it!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">U</span>nkempt, dusty and dirty, straggling its narrow length for a mile +along the irrigating ditch, the village of Las Plumas lay sleepily +quiet under the hot, white, brooding spring sunshine. A few +trim-looking places cuddled their yards and gardens close against the +life-giving channel, whose green banks, covered with vegetation and +shaded by trees, bisected the town. Elsewhere, naked adobe walls +flanked the dusty streets and from their stark surfaces gave back the +sunshine in a blinding glare. Here and there an umbrella tree, or a +locust, made a welcome splotch of green and shade down the length of +the barren, dusty streets, or the tiny yard of a house set back a +little from the adobe sidewalk held a few clumps of shrubs and +flowers. A half dozen cross streets sprang up among the scattered +adobe houses that dotted the edge of the plain rising to the Hermosa +mountains on the east, crossed the bridges of the irrigating ditch, +and ended in the one business street, which trailed a few closely +built blocks along the western edge of the town, near the railroad and +its depot. On one of these cross streets a yard and orchard of goodly +size extended from the ditch a block or more to the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>east and +surrounded a flat-roofed, square adobe house. A wide veranda, its +white pillars covered with rose and honeysuckle vines, ran around the +house, and a square of lawn, with shrubs and flowers and trees, filled +the yard. A little boy, perhaps four years old, with flaxen curls +floating about his neck, played in the shade of a fig tree beside the +veranda.</p> + +<p>Down the dusty road which wound a white strip over the pale, +gray-green upland and merged into the street which passed this house, +a man came riding at a leisurely lope. He was tall and broad +shouldered, straight in the back and trim in the girth, and he sat his +horse with the easy, unconscious grace of a man who has lived much in +the saddle. His black sombrero shaded a dark-skinned face, tanned to a +rosy brown. An unshaven stubble of beard darkened his cheeks and a +soft, drooping, black mustache covered his lip. A constant smile +seemed lurking in the corners of his mouth and in his brown eyes. But +his face was square, firm-jawed and resolute, and had in it the look +of a man accustomed to meet men on their own ground and to ask favors +of none.</p> + +<p>He checked his horse to a slow trot and, without turning his head, +searched with a sidewise glance the yard and veranda of the adobe +house. When he saw a flutter of pink inside a window he stopped at the +gate and called to the child:</p> + +<p>“Hello, little Bye-Bye! Don’t you want a ride?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p><p>The child ran to the gate with a shout of welcome.</p> + +<p>“Better ask your sister if you can come.”</p> + +<p>“Daisy! Daisy! May I go?” the boy called, running back to the porch. A +young woman in a pale pink muslin gown came out and led the child to +the gate.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Miss Delarue. May I take little Bye-Bye for a ride?”</p> + +<p>The roses in her cheeks deepened as she looked up and saw the +admiration in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Certainly, Mr. Mead. It is very kind of you, I’m sure. But please +don’t take him far.”</p> + +<p>The boy, shouting with laughter, was lifted to the saddle in front of +the rider, and the girl, smiling in sympathy with his delight, leaned +against the gate watching them. She was tall, with the broad +shoulders, deep bosom, slender waist, and clear, blooming complexion +that tell of English nativity. Her eyes were blue, the soft, dark blue +of the cornflower, and her face, a long, thin oval, was gentle and +sweet in expression. Her light brown hair, which shone with an elusive +glimmer of gold in the sunlight, was gathered on her neck in a loose, +rippling mass. She took the child from Mead’s hands when they +returned, and her eyes went from the boy’s laughing face to the +smiling one of the man. Then the roses deepened again and she looked +away. The man said nothing and they both waited, silent and smiling, +watching the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>antics of the child. Presently she turned to him again:</p> + +<p>“Are you—do you expect to stay long in town, Mr. Mead?”</p> + +<p>“I think—I—do not know. It will depend on business.”</p> + +<p>They were silent again, and after a moment he gravely said, “Good +morning,” and rode away. He frowned and bit his lip, muttered a mild +oath under his breath, and then put spurs to his horse and rode on a +gallop up the main street. The girl glanced after him, still blushing +and smiling. Then a frown wrinkled her forehead and she said, “Well!” +under her breath with such emphasis that the child looked up at her +curiously. At that, she laughed with a little touch of embarrassment +in her manner, and, taking the boy in her arms, ran into the house.</p> + +<p>In the busiest part of the main street, a flat-roofed adobe house with +a narrow, covered porch forming the sidewalk in front, flanked the +street for half a block. Offices and shops of various kinds filled its +many rooms, and the open door of a saloon showed a cool and pleasant +interior. In front of this saloon Emerson Mead halted as Tuttle and +Ellhorn came out of a lawyer’s office beside it. Ellhorn explained his +non-appearance at the ranch and told the story of Tuttle’s capture, +over which they made jokes at his expense.</p> + +<p>“The doctor says this is only a flesh wound,” said Nick, touching his +sling-swung arm and speaking <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>in answer to Mead’s question, “and that +I can use my gun again in another week.”</p> + +<p>“I’d have been out right away, Emerson,” said Tuttle, “but Nick had to +stay here for the doctor to take care of his arm, and I didn’t dare +leave him alone. He was bound he’d go on a spree, and he couldn’t +shoot, and the Lord knows what trouble he’d have got into. Maybe I +haven’t had a time of it! I’d rather have had a fight with the +Fillmore outfit every day!”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” growled Ellhorn, “he put me to bed one night and sat on my neck +till I went to sleep. And yesterday morning he planted himself against +the door and held his six-shooter on me till I promised I wouldn’t +drink all day. Lord! the week’s been long enough for the +resurrection!”</p> + +<p>“How’s things at the ranch, Emerson?” asked Tuttle. “Have you had any +fightin’ yet with the Fillmore outfit?”</p> + +<p>“No, not real fightin’. I caught ’em puttin’ a branded steer into one +of my herds, so they could say I stole it, about a week ago, and Will +Whittaker and I exchanged compliments over the affair.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke a tall, gray-haired man, riding a sweating horse at a hard +gallop, rushed up the street and dismounted on the opposite side. His +thin, pale face bore a look of angry excitement.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with Colonel Whittaker?” exclaimed Ellhorn. “He +looks as if he’d heard the devil behind him!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p><p>Whittaker had spoken to a man in the doorway of an office bearing the +sign, “Fillmore Cattle Company,” and already several others had +gathered around the two and all were listening eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Something’s happened, boys,” said Mead, as they watched the group +across the way. “They told me in Muletown that Colonel Whittaker had +passed through there the day before on his way to the ranch.”</p> + +<p>Just then Miss Delarue came up the sidewalk leading the flaxen-haired +child, and as she passed the three men she smiled a pleasant +recognition to Ellhorn and Mead.</p> + +<p>“Who’s she?” Tuttle asked, gazing after her admiringly.</p> + +<p>“Why, Frenchy Delarue’s daughter!” Ellhorn answered. “Didn’t you ever +see her before? That’s queer. You remember Delarue, the Frenchman who +has the store up the street a-ways and loves to hear himself talk so +well. He came here two years ago with a sick wife. She was an +Englishwoman and the girl looks just like her. She died in a little +while and the daughter has taken care of the kid ever since as if she +was its mother. She’s a fine girl.”</p> + +<p>“She’s mighty fine lookin’, anyway,” Tuttle declared.</p> + +<p>“Well, boys,” said Mead, “I’m goin’ to my room to slick up. If you +find out what the excitement’s about, come over and tell me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>“I reckon if Emerson was rich he’d be a dude,” said Ellhorn, looking +meditatively after Mead. “He keeps a room and his best duds here all +the time, and the first thing he does after he strikes town is to go +and put on a bald-faced shirt and a long-tailed coat. He don’t even +stop to take a drink first.”</p> + +<p>The crowd across the street had increased, and the men who composed it +were talking in low, excited tones. As Emerson Mead walked away many +turned to look at him, and significant glances were sent over the way +to Ellhorn and Tuttle, who still stood on the sidewalk. They stopped a +man who was hurrying across the street and asked him what the +excitement was about.</p> + +<p>“Will Whittaker has disappeared. His father thinks he’s been killed. +He left the ranch a week ago to come to town and nobody’s seen him +since. I’m goin’ after Sheriff Daniels.”</p> + +<p>“Gee-ee! Moses!” Ellhorn exclaimed, as his eyes, full of amazed +inquiry, sought Tuttle’s. But amazed inquiry of like sort was all that +flashed back at him from Tuttle’s mild blue orbs, and after an +instant’s pause he went on: “Whew! won’t hell’s horns be a-tootin’ +this afternoon! Confound this arm! Say, Tom, you-all go and tell +Emerson about it and I’ll skate around and find out what’s goin’ on.”</p> + +<p>Tuttle hesitated. “You won’t go to drinkin’?”</p> + +<p>“Not this time, Tommy! There’ll be excitement enough here in another +two hours without me making <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>any a-purpose, and don’t you forget it! +Things are a-goin’ to be too serious for me to soak any of my wits in +whisky just now!”</p> + +<p>“No, Nick,” said Tuttle, looking at the other’s helpless arm, “I +reckon I better go along with you-all, if there’s likely to be any +trouble.”</p> + +<p>It was as Ellhorn predicted. Before night the town was buzzing with +excitement. Wild rumors flew from tongue to tongue, and with every +flight took new shape. Shops and offices were deserted and men +gathered in knots on the sidewalk, discussing the quarrel between the +cattlemen and Emerson Mead’s possible connection with young +Whittaker’s disappearance, and predicting many and varied tragic +results. All those who congregated on one side of the street scouted +the idea that the young man had been murdered, indignantly denied the +possibility of Emerson Mead’s connection with his disappearance, +insisted that it was all a trick of the Republicans to throw discredit +on the Democrats, and declared that Will Whittaker would show up again +in a few days just as much alive as anybody. Nearly all the men who +had offices or stores in the long adobe building were Democrats, and +the saloon it contained, called the Palmleaf, was the place where the +men of that party congregated when any unusual excitement arose. On +the other side of the street were the offices of the Fillmore Cattle +Company, the White Horse saloon, and Delarue’s store, all gathering +places for the Republican <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>clans. There it was declared that +undoubtedly Emerson Mead had killed young Whittaker, and had come into +town to kill the father, too, that other outrages against the +Republicans would probably follow, and that the thing ought to be +stopped at once. But each party kept to its own side of the street, +and each watched the other as a bulldog about to spring watches its +antagonist.</p> + +<p>A man, whose manner and well-groomed appearance betokened city +residence, mingled with the groups about the cattle company’s office, +listening with interest to everything that was said. He himself did +not often speak, but when he did every one listened with attention. He +was of medium stature, of compact, wiry build, had large eyes of a +pale, brilliant gray, and a thin face with prominent features. He +joined Miss Delarue when she came down the street on her way home.</p> + +<p>“You get up very sudden storms in your quiet town, Miss Delarue,” he +said. “An hour ago Las Plumas was as sleepy and decorous—and dead—as +the graveyard on the hill over yonder. But a man rides up and says ten +words and, br-r-r, the whole population is agog and ready to spring at +one another’s throats.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she assented, “when I went up town a little while ago +everything was as quiet as usual. What is the excitement all about?”</p> + +<p>“Why, they are saying that Emerson Mead has killed Will Whittaker!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p><p>“What!”</p> + +<p>Her face suddenly went white, and she stared at him with wide, +horrified eyes.</p> + +<p>“It may not be true.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t believe it can be true!”</p> + +<p>He swept her face with a sudden, curious glance.</p> + +<p>“Nobody seems to know, certainly, that Will is dead. He and Mead had a +quarrel a week ago and Mead threatened to kill him. Will left the +ranch that day to come to town, and he hasn’t been seen since. Of +course, he may have changed his mind and gone off to some other part +of the range.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” she assented eagerly. “At this time of year he is very +likely to have been needed somewhere else on the range. I don’t +believe he has—he is dead.”</p> + +<p>“There is much feeling about it on the street. And it seems to be +quite as much a matter of politics as a personal quarrel.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, everything is politics here, Mr. Wellesly!” said the girl. “If +the people all over the United States take as much interest in +politics as they do here, I don’t see how they have found time to +build railroads and cities.”</p> + +<p>Wellesly laughed. “They don’t take it the same way, Miss Delarue. Las +Plumas politics is a thing apart and of its own kind. Except in party +names, it has no connection with the politics of the states. Here it +is merely a case of ‘follow your leader,’ of personal loyalty to some +man who has run, or who <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>expects to run, for office. Being so +personal, of course, it is more virulent.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think there is likely to be any violence this time?” she +asked, with a tremor of anxiety in her voice.</p> + +<p>“There is violent talk already. I heard more than one man say that +Mead ought to be lynched”—he was watching her face as he talked—“and +his two friends, Ellhorn and Tuttle, along with him. There is a great +deal of feeling against Mead, and the general idea seems to be that he +is an inveterate cattle thief, and that the country would be better +off without him.”</p> + +<p>She turned an indignant face and flashing eyes upon him and opened her +mouth to reply. Then she blushed a little, caught her breath, and +asked him if he thought her father was in any danger. When Wellesly +left her he said to himself: “That’s an unusually fine girl. Handsome, +too. Or she would be if she didn’t wear English shoes and walk like an +elephant. She seems to be interested in Emerson Mead, but old Delarue +certainly wouldn’t permit anything serious. He’s too ardently on our +side, or thinks he is, the old French windbag, though he’s never even +been naturalized. I’ll see her again while I’m here and find out if +there is anything between them. It might have some consequence for us +if there is. I wish the Colonel hadn’t got the company so mixed up in +their political quarrels. But there may be an advantage in it, after +all, for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>I guess it will furnish the easiest way of getting rid of +those one-horse outfits. The old man’s got the upper hand now, and as +long as he keeps it we’ll be all right.”</p> + +<p>Marguerite Delarue stood on her veranda looking after Wellesly as he +walked away. “What a nice looking man he is,” ran her thoughts. “He is +interesting to talk with, too. The people here may be just as good as +he is, but—well, at least, he isn’t tongue-tied.”</p> + +<p>Ellhorn and Tuttle met Emerson Mead as he stepped from his room, +freshly shaven and clad in black frock coat and vest, gray trousers +and newly polished shoes. As he listened to Ellhorn’s account of the +sudden storm that was already shaking the little town from end to end, +a yellow light flashed in his brown eyes and there came into them an +intent, defiant look, the look of battle, like that in the eyes of a +captured eagle. He went back into the room, buckled on a full +cartridge belt, and transferred his revolver from his waistband to its +usual holster.</p> + +<p>“Now, boys,” said Mead, “we’ll go back up town and have a drink, and +I’ll talk with Judge Harlin about this matter.”</p> + +<p>The three friends walked leisurely up Main street, talking quietly +together, and apparently unconscious of any unusual disturbance. +Except that their eyes were restless and alert and that Mead’s glowed +with the yellow light and the defiant look, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>they showed no sign of +the excitement they felt. They were all three of nearly the same age, +they were all Texan born and bred, and for many years had been the +closest of friends. Each one stood six feet and some inches in his +stockings, and their great stature, broad shoulders, deep chests and +sinewy figures marked them for notice, even in the southwest, the land +of tall, well-muscled men.</p> + +<p>Thomson Tuttle was the tallest and by far the heaviest of the three—a +great, blond giant, with the round, frank, sincere face of an +overgrown school-boy, glowing with the red tan which fair skins take +on in the hot, dry air of the southwest. From this red expanse a pair +of serious blue eyes looked out, while a short, tawny mustache covered +his lip, and auburn hair curled in close rings over his head. It was +never necessary for Thomson Tuttle to do any swearing, for the colors +that dwelt in his face kept up a constant profanity. There was a +strain of German blood in him—his mother had come from Germany in her +childhood—which showed in his impassive countenance and in the open, +serious directness of his mental habit.</p> + +<p>Ellhorn was the handsome one of the three friends. He was straight, +slender, long of limb, clean of muscle, and remarkably quick and +graceful in his movements. His regular features were clear-cut and his +dancing eyes were bright and black and keen. His sweeping black +mustache curled up at the ends in a wide curve that shaded a dimple +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>in each cheek. He was as proud of the fact that both of his maternal +grandparents had been born in Ireland as he was that he himself was a +native of Texas. The vigorous Celtic strain, that in the clash of +nationalities can always hold its own against any blood with which it +mingles, had dowered him well with Celtic characteristics. A trace of +the brogue still lingered in his speech, along with the slurred r’s +and the soft drawl of his southern tongue, while his spontaneous +rebellion under restraint and his brilliant disregard of the +consequences of his behavior were as truly Celtic as was the +honey-sweet persuasiveness with which he could convince his friends +that whatever he had done had been exactly right and the only thing +possible. He was all Irish that wasn’t Texan, and all Texan that +wasn’t Irish, and everybody he knew he either loved or hated, and was +ready, according to his feeling, either to do anything for, or to “do +up” on a moment’s notice.</p> + +<p>Emerson Mead’s stronger and more sober intelligence harked back to New +England, whence his mother had come in her bridal days, and although +the Puritan characteristics showed less plainly in his nature than she +wished, having been much warmed and mellowed by their transplantation +to southern soil, no Puritan of them all could have outdone this tall +Texan in dogged adherence to what he believed to be his rights. His +mother had kept faith with the land of her nativity, and as <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>part of +her worship from afar at the shrine of its great sage had given his +name to her only son. By virtue of his stronger character and better +poised intelligence, Emerson Mead had always been the leader of the +three friends. Tuttle yielded unquestioning obedience to “Emerson’s +judgment,” and, if Emerson were not present, to what he imagined that +judgment would be. Ellhorn, in whose nature dwelt the instinctive +rebellion of the Irish blood, was less loyal in this respect, but not +a whit behind in the whole-heartedness with which he threw himself +into his friend’s service. For years they had taken share and share +alike in one another’s needs, and whenever one was in trouble the +other two rushed to his help. Together they had gone through the usual +routine of southwestern occupations. They had prospected together, had +herded cattle together, together they had battled their way through +sudden quarrels and fore-planned gunfights, and together, with +official warrants in their pockets, had helped to keep the peace in +riotous frontier towns. Some years before, they had gone into +partnership in the cattle business, on the ranch which Mead still +owned. But Tuttle and Ellhorn had tired of it, had sold their interest +to Mead, and ever since, as deputy United States marshals, had upheld +the arm of the law in its contests with the “bad men” of the frontier. +All three men were known far and wide for the marvelous quickness and +accuracy with which they could handle their guns.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p><p>Main street was lined, in the vicinity of the two saloons, with knots +of men who talked in excited, repressed tones, as though they feared +to be overheard. These knots constantly broke up and reformed as men +hurried from one to another, but there was no crossing the street. +Each party kept to its own side, the Democrats on the east and the +Republicans on the west, and each constantly watched the other. The +women had all disappeared from Main street, gone scuttling home like +fowls, rushing to cover from a hailstorm, and the whole town was in a +state of strained expectancy, waiting for the battle to begin. When +the three friends came walking leisurely down the street, there were +nods and meaning glances on the Republican side and excited whispers +of “There they are!” “They are ready for work!” “That’s what they are +all here together for!” “We’d better get ready for them!”</p> + +<p>On the Democratic side of the street it was declared that this was a +scheme of the cattle company to get Mead away from his ranch, so they +could do as they liked at the round-up, and that the Republicans had +planned the whole story of Will Whittaker’s disappearance in order +that they might arrest Mead, kill him if he resisted, and inaugurate a +general slaughter of the Democrats if they should come to his help.</p> + +<p>The three friends went at once to the office of Judge Harlin, who was +Mead’s lawyer, and Harlin <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>and Mead had a long conference in private, +while Ellhorn and Tuttle talked on the sidewalk with the changing +groups of men. Beyond the surprised inquiry which each had darted into +the eyes of the other when they were first told of Whittaker’s +disappearance, neither Tom Tuttle nor Nick Ellhorn had said a word to +each other, or exchanged a meaning look, as to the possibility of +Mead’s guilt. They did not know whether or not he had killed the +missing man, and, except as a matter of curiosity, they did not +particularly care. If he had, they knew that either of them would have +done the same thing in his place. Whatever he might have done, he was +their friend and in trouble, and they would have put on belts and guns +and rushed to his assistance, even though they had known they would be +dropped in their tracks beside him.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">P</span>ierre Delarue, “Frenchy” Delarue, as all Las Plumas called him, had +been born and brought up in the south of France, whence he had +wandered to many parts of the earth. He had married and lived for +years in England, and, finally, he had come to Las Plumas with his +invalid wife in the hope that its healing airs might restore her to +health. But she had died in a few months, and he, perhaps because the +flooding sunshine and the brilliant skies of the southwestern plains +reminded him of the home of his youth, stayed on and on, went into +business, and became one of the prominent citizens of the town. The +leisurely, let-things-drift spirit of the region, which could be so +easily stirred to violent storms and ardent enthusiasms, was near akin +to his own volatile nature. Nobody in the town could be more quickly +and more thoroughly convinced by first appearances than he, and nobody +held opinions more volubly and more aggressively, so that from the +start he had assumed a leading place in the discussion of all public +matters. Although he had not taken even the first step toward +naturalization, he was active in the constantly sizzling political +life of the town, and along all that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>side of Main street there was +none more staunchly and violently Republican than he.</p> + +<p>He believed, and voiced his belief loudly and aggressively, that Will +Whittaker had been slain and that swift punishment should be visited +upon his murderer. The Gascogne nimbleness of tongue which enabled him +to express his conviction with volubility made him, all through that +excited day, the constant center of an assenting crowd. As night came +on, the groups of men all gathered about his store. By that time every +one among them was convinced that Emerson Mead had killed young +Whittaker. At first this theory had been a mere guess, a hazard of +probability. But it had been asserted and repeated and insisted upon +so many times during the day that every man on the west side of the +street had finally adopted it as his own original opinion, and by +nightfall refused to entertain any other explanation. Inside the +store, Delarue was expounding the necessity of swift retribution. Men +crowded in and packed the room to its last capacity. They made Delarue +get up on the counter, so that all could hear what he said. Those +outside struggled and pushed about the door. A man on the sidewalk +cried out:</p> + +<p>“We can’t hear! Let’s go to the hall and give everybody a chance!”</p> + +<p>The crowd gave instant response: “To the hall, so everybody can hear! +Let’s go to the hall!”</p> + +<p>Those within took up the cry and drowned the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>speaker’s voice with +cries of, “Let’s go to the hall! Let’s go to the hall!”</p> + +<p>Delarue stopped in his harangue and shouted: “Yes, my friends, let us +go to the hall and make this a public meeting of indignation against +the cowardly murder that has been done!”</p> + +<p>Out they rushed, and with Delarue in front, gesticulating and calling +to them to come on, they hurried to the public hall. A man quickly +mounted the platform and nominated Pierre Delarue for presiding +officer of the meeting. The crowd responded with yells of, “Yes, yes!” +“Of course!” “Go on, Frenchy!” “Hurrah for Frenchy!” There were many +Mexicans among them, and as Delarue stepped to his place, there was a +call for an interpreter and a young half-Mexican walked to the +platform. Some one was sent to hold guard at the door, with orders to +admit “no turbulent persons.” Then Delarue began an impassioned +speech, pausing after each sentence for it to be translated into +Spanish. With each flaming outburst the “hurrahs” of the Americans +were mingled with the “vivas” of the Mexicans.</p> + +<p>The interpreter leaned far over the edge of the platform, swaying and +gesticulating as though the speech were his own, his face glowing with +excitement. The crowd yelled madly, while with flushed face, streaming +forehead, and heaving chest the speaker went on, each fiery sentiment +increasing his conviction in the righteousness of his cause, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>the +cries of approval urging him to still more inflamed denunciation and +outright accusal.</p> + +<p>Those who had gathered in Judge Harlin’s office and in and about the +Palmleaf saloon were closely watching developments. Two or three men +who mingled with the Republicans, and were apparently in sympathy with +them, came in occasionally by way of back doors, and reported all that +was being said and done. Emerson Mead talked in a brief aside with one +of these men, and presently he stepped out alone into the deserted +street. The other man hastened to the hall, took the place of the one +on guard, giving him the much-wished-for opportunity to go inside, and +when, hands in pockets, Mead strolled up, his confederate quickly +admitted him, and he stood unobserved in the semi-darkness at the back +of the room. A single small lamp on the speaker’s table and one +bracketed against the wall on each side made a half circle of dusky +light about the platform, showing a mass of eager, excited faces with +gleaming eyes, while it left the rear part of the bare room in shadow.</p> + +<p>“I demand justice,” cried the speaker, “upon the murderer, the +assassin of poor Will Whittaker! And I say to you, friends and +neighbors, that unless you now, at once, mete out justice upon that +murderer’s head, there is no surety that justice will be done. To-day +you have seen him walking defiantly about the streets, armed to the +teeth, ready to plunge his hands still deeper into the blood of +innocent <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>men. Your own lives may yet pay the penalty if you do not +stop his lawless career! Such a measure as he measures to others it is +right that you should measure to him!”</p> + +<p>There was an instant of solemn, breathless hush as the speaker leaned +forward, shaking an uplifted finger at the audience. Then some one on +a front seat cried out, “Emerson Mead! He ought to be lynched!” The +cry was a firebrand thrown into a powder box. The whole mass of men +broke into a yell: “Emerson Mead! Lynch him! Lynch the murderer!” The +speaker stood with uplifted hands, demanding further attention, but +the crowd was beyond his control. Moved by one impulse, it had sprung +to its feet, clamoring and yelling, “A rope! A rope! for Emerson +Mead!”</p> + +<p>Then, like men pierced through with sudden death, they halted in +mid-gesture, with shout half uttered, and stood staring, struck dumb +with amazement. For Emerson Mead, a half smile on his face, his hat +pushed back from his forehead, was walking quietly across the +platform. The speaker, turning to follow the staring eyes of his +audience, saw him just as he put out his hand and said, “How do you +do, Mr. Delarue!” The orator’s jaw fell, his hands dropped nervelessly +beside him, and involuntarily he jumped backward, as if to shelter +himself behind the table. The interpreter leaped to the floor and +crouched against the platform. All over the hall hands went to +revolver butts in waistband, hip-pocket <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>and holster. The dim light +shone back from the barrels of a score of weapons already drawn. Mead +faced the audience, the half smile still lingering about his mouth.</p> + +<p>“I understand,” he said quietly, “that you want to lynch me. Well, I’m +here!”</p> + +<p>A sudden, bellowing voice roared through the room: “Stop in your +tracks, you cowards!”</p> + +<p>Judge Harlin, having guessed where Mead had gone, had just plunged +through the door and was shouldering his way up the aisle, his robust, +broad-backed frame, big head and bull neck dominating the crowd. +Behind him came Tom Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn, their guns in their +hands. A young Mexican, who was with them, leaped to the back of a +seat, and on light toes raced by Harlin’s side from seat to seat, +interpreting into Spanish as he ran.</p> + +<p>“A nice lot you are!” shouted Judge Harlin. “A nice lot to prate about +law and order, and ready to do murder yourselves! That is what you are +preparing to do! Murder! As cold-blooded a murder as ever man did!”</p> + +<p>He mounted the platform and faced Delarue, while Tuttle and Ellhorn, +with revolvers drawn, stood beside Mead.</p> + +<p>“Better put your guns away, boys,” whispered Mead.</p> + +<p>“Not much!” Ellhorn replied. “We can’t draw as quick as you can!”</p> + +<p>“Let’s go for ’em!” pleaded Tuttle in a whisper. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>“You and Nick and me +can down half of ’em before they know what’s happened, and the other +half before they could shoot.”</p> + +<p>“No, Tommy; it wouldn’t do.”</p> + +<p>“It would be the best thing that could happen to the town,” he +grumbled back. “Say, Emerson, we’d better go for ’em before they make +a rush.”</p> + +<p>“No, no, Tom; better not shoot. I tell you it wouldn’t do!”</p> + +<p>“Well, if you say so, as long as they don’t begin it. But they shan’t +touch you while there’s a cartridge left in my belt.”</p> + +<p>The crowd, arrested and controlled, first by the spectacle of Mead’s +audacity and then by the compelling roar of Judge Harlin’s +denunciation, listened quietly, still subdued by its amazement, while +Harlin went on, standing beside Delarue and shaking at him an +admonishing finger.</p> + +<p>“Pierre Delarue, I am astonished that a good citizen like you should +be here inciting to murder! You have not one jot of evidence that +Emerson Mead killed Will Whittaker! You do not even know that +Whittaker is dead!”</p> + +<p>The crowd shuffled and muttered angrily at this defiance of its +conviction. It was returning to its former frame of mind, and was +beginning to feel incensed at the irruption into the meeting.</p> + +<p>“We do know it!” a man in the front row flamed out, his face working +with the violent back-rush of recent passion. “And we know Mead did +it!” <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>another one yelled. Murmurs of “Lynch him! Lynch him!” quickly +followed. Tuttle and Ellhorn were white with suppressed rage, and +their eyes were wide and blazing. Tuttle was nervously fingering his +trigger guard. “Then bring your evidence into a court of law and let +unprejudiced men judge its value,” Judge Harlin roared back. “Accusers +who have the right on their side are not afraid to face the law!”</p> + +<p>Mead caught the angry eye of a brutal-faced man directly in front of +him, and saw that the man’s revolver was at full cock and his hand on +the trigger. In the flash that went from eye to eye he saw with surety +what would happen in another moment. And he knew what the sequence of +one shot would be.</p> + +<p>“Neighbors!” he shouted. “Jim Halliday has a warrant for my arrest. I +protest that it has been illegally issued, because there is no +evidence upon which it can be based. But to avoid any further trouble, +here and now, I will submit to having it served. I will not be +disarmed, and I warn you that any attempt of that sort will make +trouble. But I give you my word, for both myself and my friends, that +otherwise there shall be no disturbance.”</p> + +<p>Judge Harlin shot at Mead a surprised look, hesitated an instant, and +then nodded approval. Tuttle and Ellhorn looked at him in +open-mouthed, open-eyed amazement for a moment, then dropped their +pistols to their holsters and stepped back. A sudden <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>hush fell over +the crowd, which waited expectantly, no one moving.</p> + +<p>“I think Jim Halliday is here,” Mead said quietly. “He has my word. He +can come and take me and there shall be no trouble, if he don’t try to +take my gun.”</p> + +<p>A stout, red-haired young man worked his way forward through the +crowded aisle to the platform and took a paper from his pocket. Mead +glanced at it, said “All right,” and the two walked away together. The +crowd in the hall quickly poured out after them. Tuttle, his lips +white and trembling, looked after Mead’s retreating figure and his +huge chest began to heave and his big blue eyes to fill with tears. He +turned to Ellhorn, his voice choking with sobs:</p> + +<p>“Emerson Mead goin’ off to jail with Jim Halliday! Nick, why didn’t he +let us shoot? He needn’t have been arrested! Here was a good chance to +clean up more’n half his enemies, and he wouldn’t let us do it!” He +looked at Ellhorn in angry, regretful grief, and the tears dropped +over his tanned cheeks. “Say, Nick,” he went on, lowering his voice to +a hoarse whisper, “you-all don’t think he was afraid, do you?”</p> + +<p>“Sure, and I don’t,” Ellhorn replied promptly. “I reckon Emerson Mead +never was afraid of anybody or anything.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m glad you don’t,” Tom replied, his voice still shaking with +sobs. “I couldn’t help <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>thinkin’ when he kept tellin’ us not to shoot, +that maybe he was afraid, with all those guns in front and only us +four against ’em, and I said to myself, ‘Good Lord, have I been +runnin’ alongside a coward all these years!’ And I was sure sick for a +minute. But I guess it was just his judgment that there’d better not +be any shootin’ just now.”</p> + +<p>Ellhorn looked over the empty hall with one eye shut. “Well, I reckon +there would have been a heap o’ dead folks in this room by now if +we-all had turned loose.”</p> + +<p>“About as many as we-all had cartridges,” and Tuttle glanced at their +well-filled belts. He was silent a moment, while he wiped his eyes and +blew his nose, and his sobs gradually ceased. “No, Emerson couldn’t +have been afraid. Though I sure thought for a minute I’d have to quit +him. But you’re right, Nick. Emerson ain’t afraid of anything, livin’ +or dead. It was just his judgment. And Emerson’s got powerful good +judgment, too. I ought to have known better than to think anything +else. But, Lord! I did hate to see that measly crowd sneakin’ out of +here alive!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he next morning there were only faint traces of the excitement of the +day before. Men began to cross Main street from one side to the other, +at first with cautious, apprehensive glances that swept the hostile +territory and penetrated open doors and windows, but, as the day wore +quietly on, with increasing confidence and unconcern. At noon Colonel +Whittaker and Pierre Delarue walked over to the Palmleaf saloon, and +while they clinked the ice in their mint juleps, good-natured and +smiling, they leaned on the bar and chatted with the two or three +Democrats who were in the room. An hour or so later, Judge Harlin +strolled across to the White Horse saloon and called for a whisky +straight. Then all Las Plumas knew that the war was over and went +about its usual affairs as amiably as if the day before had never +been.</p> + +<p>At the breakfast table Pierre Delarue told his daughter about the +mass-meeting, its balked determination to lynch Emerson Mead, and +Mead’s subsequent arrest.</p> + +<p>“But, Father, how could they be so sure that Mr. Mead killed him? Did +they have any evidence?”</p> + +<p>“Ah,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders protestingly, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>“you women +never understand such things! Because Mead is a handsome young man and +looks good-natured, you think he can’t possibly be a murderer. But it +is well known that he had killed more than one man before he murdered +poor Whittaker, and he is notorious as one of the worst cattle thieves +in the southwest.”</p> + +<p>“Father! These are dreadful things! Do you know them to be true?”</p> + +<p>She looked across the table at him with horror in her face and eyes. +Delarue considered her indulgently.</p> + +<p>“Everybody knows them to be true. There is plenty of proof.”</p> + +<p>“Then why hasn’t he been arrested and tried and—punished?”</p> + +<p>“That is what many are saying now—why has he not been punished long +before this? People have been lenient with him for a long time, but he +has at last reached the end of his career. They are now determined +that a stop shall be put to his crimes and that he shall suffer the +punishment he has so long deserved.”</p> + +<p>Marguerite was accustomed to having the remnants of her father’s +down-town speeches served up at home, and her cooler judgment had +learned not to put much dependence upon them. She gave a perfunctory +assent and made another effort to reach facts.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Father, it is certainly very dreadful that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>such things should +be allowed to go unpunished. But did any one see him stealing the +Fillmore Company’s cattle, and do they really know that he killed Mr. +Whittaker?”</p> + +<p>“The proof is as clear as any unprejudiced person need want. Will +Whittaker and some of his men caught Mead in the very act of driving +into his own herd a steer plainly marked with their brand. They +stopped him, and he foolishly tried to crawl out of his predicament by +accusing them of driving the branded steer into his herd. A most +absurd story! They had a quarrel, and Mead threatened to kill +Whittaker. Immediately after that Will disappeared and has not been +seen since. Evidently, he has been killed, and there is no one except +Mead, who had threatened to kill him, who could possibly have had any +motive for murdering him. The evidence may be circumstantial, but it +is conclusive. Besides, if Mead had not known that the case against +him was complete, he would not have given himself up last night as he +did. And if he had not done so he would certainly have been lynched. +The people were thoroughly aroused, and it was impossible to control +their indignation.”</p> + +<p>A little shiver ran through Marguerite’s frame and she turned away, +looking much disturbed. Her father patted her head indulgently. +“There, there, my dear child, these things do not concern you in the +least. Don’t trouble yourself about public affairs.”</p> + +<p>He hurried down-town and she sat alone, a little <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>frown on her +forehead and her mouth drooping, as she thought: “I can not believe he +is a thief and a murderer, without more evidence than this. And +still—how can it be that so many men are so sure of his guilt +that—and he is in jail now—Oh, a thief and a murderer!”</p> + +<p>She hurried from the room calling, “Paul! Paul!” The boy ran in from +the veranda and she caught him in her arms and pressed him to her +bosom, kissing him over and over again and calling him her darling, +her treasure, and all the dear names with which womankind voices its +love, and at last, sobbing, buried her face in his flaxen curls. The +child put his arms about her head and patted her cheek and said, “Poor +sister! Poor Daisy!” until, frightened by her emotion, he too began to +cry. The necessity of soothing and comforting him gave her that +distraction which has been woman’s chief comfort since woman first had +trouble. But her face was still sad and anxious when Wellesly appeared +on the veranda in the late afternoon.</p> + +<p>Albert Wellesly, who lived in Denver, disliked very much the +occasional visits to Las Plumas which his financial interests made +necessary. He was still on the under side of thirty, but his business +associates declared that he possessed a shrewdness and a capacity that +would have done credit to a man of twice his years. Possibly people +not infatuated with commercial success might have said that his +ability was nothing more than an unscrupulous determination <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>to grab +everything in sight. Whatever it was, it had made him remarkably +successful. The saying was common among those who knew him that +everything he touched turned to gold. They also prophesied that in +twenty years he would be one of the financial giants of the country. +Las Plumas bored him to desperation, but on this occasion he thought +it would be the part of wisdom to stay longer than had been his first +intention. As long as the town was feverish with excitement he found +it endurable. But when the dullness of peace settled over the streets +again he walked about listlessly, wondering how he could manage to get +through the day. At last he thought of Miss Delarue.</p> + +<p>“That’s so!” he inwardly exclaimed. “I can go and find out if the +English girl is in love with this handsome big fellow who has been +stealing my cattle. I suppose it will be necessary for me to drink a +cup of tea, but she will amuse me for an hour.”</p> + +<p>Marguerite Delarue’s friends always thought of her and spoke of her as +English, notwithstanding her French paternity. For her appearance and +her temperament she had inherited from her English mother, who had +given her also English training. Miss Delarue laughed at the forlorn +dejection of Wellesly’s face and figure.</p> + +<p>“My face is a jovial mask,” he gravely told her. “You should see the +melancholy gloom that shrouds my mind.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>“I hope nothing has happened,” she exclaimed, with sudden alarm.</p> + +<p>“That’s just the trouble, Miss Delarue. It’s because nothing does +happen here, and I have to endure the aching void, that I am filled +with such melancholy.”</p> + +<p>“Surely there was enough excitement yesterday and last night.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yesterday! That was something like! But it was yesterday, and +to-day the deadly dullness is enough to turn the blood in one’s veins +to mud!”</p> + +<p>“Then everything is quiet down-town? There is no more danger of +trouble?”</p> + +<p>“There is no danger of anything, except that every blessed person in +the place may lie down in his tracks and fall into a hundred years’ +sleep. I assure you, Miss Delarue, the town is as peaceful as the +plain out yonder, and birds in their little nests are not nearly so +quiet as are the valiant warriors of Las Plumas.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that is good! I am very glad, on my father’s account. He is so +aggressive in his opinions that whenever there is any excitement of +this kind I am anxious about him until the trouble is over.” She +hesitated a moment, her lips trembling on the verge of further speech, +and he waited for her to go on. “Mr. Wellesly,” she said, a note of +uncertainty sounding in her voice, “you are not prejudiced by the +political feeling which colors people’s opinions here. I wish you +would tell me what you <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>think about this matter. Do you believe Mr. +Mead has killed Will Whittaker?”</p> + +<p>Wellesly noted her earnest expression and the intentness of her voice +and pose, and he decided at once that this was not mere curiosity. He +paused a moment, looking thoughtful. His keen, brilliant eyes were +bent on her face.</p> + +<p>“It’s a hard question you’ve asked me, Miss Delarue. One does not like +to decide against a man in such serious accusations unless he can be +sure. The evidence against Emerson Mead, in this murder case, is all +circumstantial, it is true, but, at least to me, it is strongly +convincing.” His eyes were almost closed, only a strip of brilliant +gray light showing between their lids, but he was watching her +narrowly. “We know that he has been stealing cattle from us. We have +found many bearing our brand among his herds. Our men have even caught +him driving them into his own bands. In fact, there is no doubt about +this matter. Emerson Mead is a cattle thief of the wiliest sort.” He +paused a moment, noting the horrified expression on her downcast face. +But she did not speak, and he went on:</p> + +<p>“About this murder, if murder it is, of course nobody knows anything +with certainty. But in my judgment there is only one tenable theory of +Will Whittaker’s disappearance, and that is, that he was murdered and +his body hidden. Mead is the only enemy he was known to have, and Mead +had threatened <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>to kill him. The evidence, while, of course, not +conclusive, is shockingly bad for Mead.”</p> + +<p>She looked away, toward the Hermosa mountains looming sharp and jagged +in the fierce afternoon sunlight, and he saw her lips tremble. Then, +as if her will caught and held them, the movements ceased with a +little inrush of breath. He lowered his voice and made it very kindly +and sympathetic as he leaned toward her and went on:</p> + +<p>“For your sake, I am very sorry for all this if Mr. Mead is a friend +of yours. He is a very taking young fellow, with his handsome face and +good-natured smile. But, also for your sake,” and his voice went down +almost to a murmur, “I hope he is not a friend.”</p> + +<p>There were tears in her eyes and distress, perplexity and pain in her +face as she turned impulsively toward him, as if grasping at his +sympathy.</p> + +<p>“I have it!” he thought. “She is in love with Mead! Now we’ll find out +how far it has gone. Papa Frenchy couldn’t have known of it.”</p> + +<p>“I can not say he is a friend,” she said slowly. “He is scarcely an +acquaintance. I have not met him, I think, more than half a dozen +times, and only a few minutes each time. But he has always been so +kind to my little brother that I find it hard to believe a man so +gentle and thoughtful with a child could be so—criminal.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! Love at first sight, probably not reciprocated!” was Wellesly’s +mental comment. “I guess <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>it is a case in which it would be proper to +offer consolation, and watch the effect.” Gradually he led the +conversation away from this painful topic and talked with her about +other places in which she had lived. Then they drifted to more +personal matters, to theories upon life and duty, and he spoke with +the warmest admiration of what he called the ideal principles by which +she guided her life and declared that they would be impossible to a +man, unless he had the good fortune to be stimulated and helped by +some noble woman who realized them in her own life. It was admiration +of the most delicate, impersonal sort, seemingly directed not to the +girl herself, but to the girl she had wished and tried to be. It set +Marguerite Delarue’s heart a-flutter with pleasure. No one had ever +given her such open and such delicate admiration, and she was too +unsophisticated to conceal her delight. He smiled to himself at her +evident pleasure in his words, and, with much the same feeling with +which he might have cuddled a purring, affectionate kitten, he went a +step farther and made love—a very shadowy, intangible sort of love, +in a very indefinite sort of way.</p> + +<p>Albert Wellesly usually made love to whatever woman happened to be at +hand, if he had nothing else to do, or if he thought it would advance +his interests. With men he was keen and forceful, studying them +shrewdly, seeing quickly their weak points, turning these to his own +advantage, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>helping himself over their heads by every means he +could grasp. In his dealings and relations with women he aimed at the +same masterful result, but while with men this might be attained in +many ways, with women he held there was but one way, and that was to +make love to them.</p> + +<p>Marguerite bade him good-by with the same deep pain still in her +heart, but pleased in spite of herself. His words had been laden +heavily with the honey of admiration of a sort that to her serious +nature was most pleasing, while about them had hovered the faintest, +most elusive aroma of love. In her thought, she went over their long +conversation again and again, and dwelt on all that he had said with +constant delight. For to women admiration is always pleasing, even +though they may know it to be insincere. To young women it is a wine +that makes them feel themselves rulers of the earth, and to their +elders it is a cordial which makes them forget their years.</p> + +<p>Marguerite Delarue had had little experience with either love or +admiration. Her heart had been virgin ground when her face had first +flushed under the look in Emerson Mead’s brown eyes. And the first +words of love to fall upon her ears had been the uncertain ones of +Wellesly that afternoon. She conned them over to herself, saying that +of course they meant only that he was a high-minded gentleman who +admired high ideals. She repeated all that he had said on the subject +of Mead’s guilt.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p><p>“He seemed fair and unprejudiced,” she thought, “but I can not believe +it without certain proof. I know more about Mr. Mead than some of +those who think they know so much, for I have seen him with my little +Bye-Bye, and until they can prove what they say I shall believe him +just as good as he seems to be.”</p> + +<p>So she locked up in her heart her belief in Mead’s innocence, saying +nothing about the matter to any one, till after a little that belief +came to be like a secret treasure, hidden away from all other eyes, +but in her own thought held most dear.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he jail at Las Plumas was a spreading, one-story adobe building, with +a large, high-walled court at the back. This wall was also of adobe, +some ten feet high and three feet thick, without an opening, and +crowned with a luxuriant growth of prickly-pear cactus. At certain +hours of the day the prisoners were allowed the freedom of this court, +while a guard kept on them an occasional eye. Behind the court, and +coming up to its very walls, was a small tract of land planted with +vegetables, flowers and fruit trees and worked by an old Mexican who +lived alone in a tiny hut at the farther end of the enclosure.</p> + +<p>For two days after the night of Emerson Mead’s arrest his friends +tried every device known to the law to get him free of the prison +walls. But each attempt was cleverly met and defeated by the opposing +party, and he was still behind the bars. Then Nick Ellhorn and Thomson +Tuttle held a conference, and agreed that Mead must get back to his +ranch at once in order to save his affairs from further injury.</p> + +<p>“That’s what they are doin’ this thing for,” said Nick, “so they can +get a good chance to steal all his cattle. And what they don’t steal +they’ll scatter <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>over the plains till it will be more than they’re +worth to get ’em together again. They think they can just +everlastingly do him up by keepin’ him in jail for a month.”</p> + +<p>Tuttle broke out with an indignant oath. “It’s the meanest, +low-downest, dirtiest, measliest trick they’ve ever tried to do, and +that’s sayin’ a whole heap! But they’ll find out they’ve got more to +buck against than they’re a-lookin’ for now!”</p> + +<p>“You bet they will! They’ve got to travel mighty fast if they keep up +with this procession! Talk about measly tricks! Tom, that Fillmore +outfit’s the biggest cattle thief in the southwest. It’s just plum’ +ridiculous to hear them talk about Emerson stealin’ their cattle! Why, +if he’d stayed up nights to steal from them he couldn’t have got even +for what they’ve taken from him.”</p> + +<p>They talked over the plan Ellhorn had proposed and when it was all +arranged Tuttle asked, “Shall we tell the judge?”</p> + +<p>“Tell nothin’ to nobody!” Nick exclaimed. “The judge will find it out +soon enough, and if we don’t tell him he won’t bother us with advice +to give it up. We’ve got some horse sense, Tommy, and I reckon we-all +can run this here excursion without help from any darn fool lawyer in +the territory. If they’d left it to us in the first place, we’d have +had Emerson at home long before this.”</p> + +<p>“I guess we-all can play our part of this game if Emerson can play +his.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p><p>“Don’t you worry about Emerson. He’s ready to ride the devil through +hell to get back to his round-up.”</p> + +<p>The next morning Nick Ellhorn hunted up the Mexican who worked the +garden behind the jail and talked through the enclosure with the old +man, who was crippled and half blind. Ellhorn talked with him about +the garden and finally said he would like to eat some onions. The +Mexican pulled a bunch of young green ones for him, and he sat down on +a bench under a peach tree near the wall of the jail-court to eat +them. He sent the Mexican back to his hut for some salt, and at once +began whistling loudly the air of “Bonnie Dundee.” Presently he broke +into the words of the song and woke the echoes round about, as he and +Emerson Mead had done on many a night around the camp-fire on the +range:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">“Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Come saddle my horse and call out my men.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>There he stopped and waited, and in a moment a baritone voice on the +other side of the wall took up the song:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">“Come ope the west port and let us go free<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To follow the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Ellhorn went on singing as he threw one of his onions, then another, +over the wall. One of them <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>came sailing back and fell beside the +peach tree. Then he took a slip of folded paper from his pocket, tied +it to another onion and sent it over the cactus-crowned adobe. The +Mexican returned with the salt and they sat down together under the +tree, chatting sociably. Presently Mead’s voice came floating out from +behind the wall in the stirring first lines of the old Scotch ballad:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">“To the lords of convention, ’twas Claverhouse spoke:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">‘If there are heads to be crowned, there are heads to be broke!’”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Nick chuckled, winked at the old Mexican, and hurried off to find +Tuttle.</p> + +<p>That evening, soon after the full darkness of night had mantled the +earth, Nick Ellhorn and Tommy Tuttle rode toward the jail, leading an +extra horse. Ellhorn gave Tuttle a lariat.</p> + +<p>“You’d better manage this part,” he said in a low tone. “My arm’s not +strong enough yet to be depended on in such ticklish matters. I tried +it to-day with my gun, and it’s mighty near as steady as ever for +shooting, but I won’t risk it on this.”</p> + +<p>They rode into the Mexican’s garden and Ellhorn stood with the extra +horse under the drooping branches of the peach tree. They listened and +heard the sound of a soft whistling in the <i>patio</i>, as if some one +were idly walking to and fro.</p> + +<p>“That’s him!” Ellhorn whispered excitedly. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>“That’s what I told him to +be doing at just this time! He’s listening for us!” Ellhorn whistled +softly several bars of the same air, which were at once repeated from +within. Tuttle rode beside the wall and threw over it the end of his +lariat. He waited until the whistling ceased, and then, winding the +rope around the pommel, he struck home the spurs and the horse leaped +forward, straining to the work. It was a trained cow-pony, Mead’s own +favorite “cutting-out” horse, and it answered with perfect will and +knowledge the urging of Tuttle’s spurs. With a soft “f-s-s-t” the rope +wore over the top of the wall and Mead’s tall form stood dimly +outlined behind the battlement of cactus. He untied the rope from his +waist, threw it to the ground, and with foot and fist thrust aside the +bristling, sharp-spined masses, dropped over the outer edge, hung at +full length by his hands for an instant, and landed in the soft earth +at the bottom.</p> + +<p>They heard his name called inside the <i>patio</i>. It was the guard, who +had just missed him. As they quickly mounted there came over the wall +the sound of hurrying feet and the rapid conference of excited voices. +Mead shot his revolver into the air and Ellhorn, lifting his voice to +its loudest and fullest, sang:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">“Come ope the west port and let us go free<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To follow the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“Whoo-oo-oo-ee-ee!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p><p>Spur met with flank and the three horses bounded forward, over the +fence of the Mexican’s garden, and up the street at a breakneck +gallop. They clattered across the <i>acequia</i> bridge and past Delarue’s +place, where Mead, eagerly sweeping the house with a sidewise glance, +had a brief glimpse of a brightly lighted room. Instantly his memory +went back, as it had done a thousand times, to that day, more than a +year before, when he had stood at the door of that room and had first +seen Marguerite Delarue. As they galloped up the street the vision of +the room and of the girl came vividly back—the inviting, homelike +room, with its easy-chairs, its pictures and shaded lamps, its tables +with their tidy litter of papers and fancy work, its pillowed lounges, +and deep cushioned window-seats, and the tall, anxious-eyed girl with +the sick child in her arms, held close to her breast. Unconsciously he +turned his head, possessed for the moment by the vision, and looked +back at the dark mass of the house and trees, lighted by the one +gleaming window.</p> + +<p>“Think they’ll follow us?” asked Tuttle, noticing the movement.</p> + +<p>“Who? Oh! No, I guess not.”</p> + +<p>Beyond the town, in the edge of the rising plain, they drew rein and +listened for the sound of pursuing hoof-beats. Facing their horses +roundabout, they bent forward, their hands hollowed behind their ears. +Out of the darkness, where it was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>gemmed by the lights of the town, +came the sound of galloping horses.</p> + +<p>“They’re after us!” cried Nick. “Three of ’em!”</p> + +<p>Mead took off his sombrero and as his left hand sent it twirling +through the air, a vague, black shape in the darkness, his right drew +his revolver from its holster and three quick, sharp explosions +flashed through the night. A pressure of his heels, and he was leaning +far over from his darting horse and snatching the hat as it barely +touched the gray earth. He held it up toward the sky and in the +starlight three bullet holes showed dimly through the crown, inside +the space a silver dollar could cover. Ellhorn waved his hat and sent +his peculiar “Whoo-oo-ee-e!” back through the darkness toward the +town. They listened again and heard the pursuing horsemen clattering +over the <i>acequia</i> bridge and into the street through which they had +come.</p> + +<p>“I reckon we could keep ahead of ’em if we wanted to,” said Mead, “but +we’ll make the pass, and then if they are still following we’ll teach +them some manners.”</p> + +<p>Ellhorn shouted out again his yell of defiance and clicked the trigger +of his gun to follow it with a challenging volley of bullets, but Mead +stopped him with a cautioning word that they might need all their +cartridges.</p> + +<p>They spurred their horses forward again and galloped over the rolling +foothills, neck to neck and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>heel to heel. The cool, dry night air +streamed into their faces, braced their nerves and filled their hearts +with exultation. Behind them they could hear the hoof-beats of their +pursuers, now gaining on them and again falling behind. On and on they +went, sometimes sending back a defiant yell, but for the most part +riding silently. They reached the steep grade leading to the mountain +pass and eased their horses, letting them walk slowly up the incline. +But the others took it at a furious pace, and presently, at the +entrance to the pass, a voice shouted Mead’s name and ordered him to +halt. Mead, laughing aloud, sent a pistol ball whizzing back through +the darkness. Ellhorn and Tuttle followed his example, and their three +pursuers discharged a volley in concert. The fugitives put spurs to +their horses, and, turning in their saddles, fired rapidly back at the +vague, moving shapes they could barely see in the darkness. Ellhorn +heard an angry oath and guessed that somebody had been injured. The +bullets whistled past their ears, and now and then they heard the dull +ping of lead against the rocky walls of the narrow pass. Their horses +had kept their wind through the slow walk up the hill and sprang +forward with fresh, willing speed. But the others had been exhausted +by the fierce gallop up the steep ascent, and could not hold the pace +that Mead and his friends set for them. Slowly the officers fell back, +until they were so far in the rear that they ceased shooting. Mead, +Tuttle and Ellhorn put away their <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>revolvers and galloped on in +silence for some distance before they stopped to listen. Far back in +the darkness they could hear the faint footfalls of the three horses.</p> + +<p>“They blowed their horses so bad comin’ up the hill,” said Mead, “that +they’ll never catch up with us again. I reckon they won’t try now. +They’ll stay in Muletown to-night and go on to the Fillmore ranch +to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“If they don’t turn round and go back,” said Ellhorn. “I don’t believe +they’ll want to try this thing on at the ranch.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll sure be ready for ’em if they show up there,” said Tuttle, the +grim note of battle in his voice.</p> + +<p>Ellhorn laughed joyously. “I guess we’re just goin’ to everlastingly +get even with that Fillmore outfit!”</p> + +<p>“Well, it will keep us busy, but we’ll do our best,” Mead cheerfully +assented.</p> + +<p>They galloped down the long eastern declivity of the mountain, +stopping once at a miner’s camp, a little way off the road, to water +and breathe their horses. A little later they stopped to listen again, +but they could not catch the faintest sound of hoof-beats from the +mountain side. They did not know whether their pursuers had turned +about and gone back to Las Plumas, or were taking the road leisurely, +intending to stop at Muletown until morning.</p> + +<p>On again they galloped, neck to neck and heel <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>to heel, with the +starry sky above and the long level of the plain before them. Mead +glanced to the north, where the Big Dipper, pivoted on the twinkling +pole star, was swinging its mighty course through the blue spaces of +the sky, and said, “It’s about midnight, boys.” The dim, faintly +gleaming, dusty gray of the road contracted to a lance-like point in +front of them and sped onward, seeming to cleave the wall of darkness +and open the way through which they galloped. The three tall, +broad-shouldered, straight-backed figures sat their horses with +constant grace, galloping abreast, neck to neck and heel to heel, +without pause or slackened pace. The rhythmical, resounding hoof-beats +made exhilarating music for their ears, and now and again Ellhorn’s +yell went calling across the empty darkness or the sound of Mead’s or +Tuttle’s gun cleft the air. On and on through the night they went, +their wiry ponies with ears closely laid and muscles strained in +willing compliance, the starry sky above and the long level of the +plain behind them.</p> + +<p>At Muletown they stopped to water their horses at the brimming +pump-trough in the plaza and, as the thirsty creatures drank, Ellhorn +glanced at the swinging starry Dipper in the northern sky again and +said, “I reckon it’s three o’clock, boys.” Then on they went, +clattering down the long adobe street, flanked by dim houses, dark and +silent; and out into the rising edge of the plain, where it lifted +itself into the uplands. The black silence was unbroken now <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>save as a +distant coyote filled the night with its yelping bark, or a low word +from one or another of the riders told of human presence. On and on +they galloped, neck to neck and heel to heel, without pause or +slackened pace. At last they swerved to the right and began mounting +the low, rolling foothills of the Fernandez mountains. The cold night +air, dry and sharp, stung their faces and cooled the sweating flanks +of their horses. The creatures’ ears were bent forward, as if they +recognized their surroundings, and their springing muscles were still +strong and willing. Over the hills they galloped, the lance-like point +of the road cleaving the black wall in front and the hoof-beats +volleying into the silence and darkness behind them.</p> + +<p>The gray walls of an adobe house took dim shape in the darkness, and +beyond it a mass of trees, their leaves rustling in the night wind, +told of running water. The three men halted and with lowered bridles +allowed their horses to drink.</p> + +<p>“Is this old Juan Garcia’s ranch?” Tuttle asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Mead replied, “old Juan still lives here. And a very good old +fellow he is, too. He isn’t any lazier than he has to be, considering +he’s a Mexican. He keeps his ranch in pretty good order, and he raises +all the corn and <i>chili</i> and wheat and <i>frijoles</i> that he needs +himself and has some to sell, which is a very good record for a +Mexican.”</p> + +<p>“What’s become of his pretty daughter?” asked Ellhorn. “Is she married +yet?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p><p>“Amada? She’s still here, and she’s about the prettiest Mexican girl I +ever saw. She’s a great belle among all the Mexicans from Muletown to +the other side of the Fernandez mountains, and with some of the +Americans, too. Will Whittaker used to hang around here a good deal, +and Amada seemed to be pretty well stuck on him.”</p> + +<p>Again the horses sprang to the pace they had kept so gallantly, and on +and on their hoofs flew over the low, rolling hills. The riders sat +their horses as if they were part and parcel of the beasts, horse and +rider with one will and one motion, and all galloping on with rhythmic +hoof-beats, neck to neck and heel to heel, without pause or slackened +pace, while the cold, dry night wind whistled past their ears and the +stars measured their courses through the violet blue of the bending +vault above. On they went over the slowly rising hills, and the +slender, silver sickle of the old moon shone brightly in the graying +east. Soon the mountains ranged themselves against the brightening +sky, and as they galloped, on and on, the stars vanished, and from out +the black void below the plain emerged, gray-green and grim, spreading +itself out, miles and miles into the distance, to the rimming mass of +mountains in the west. Still the hoof-beats rang out as the sky +blushed with the dawn and the cloud-flecks flamed crimson and the +peaks of the distant mountain range glittered with the first golden +rays.</p> + +<p>Neck to neck and heel to heel they galloped on <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>over the faint track +of the road, which now they could see, winding over the hills in front +of them. The men spoke cheerily to the horses and patted their wet +sides, and the spirited beasts still bent willingly to their task. The +three riders sat erect, straight-shouldered, graceful in their saddles +and the gentle morning breeze bathed their faces as on they rode over +the hills, while the sun mounted above the Fernandez range and flooded +all the plain with its soft, early light.</p> + +<p>They swept around the curving bend in the road, where it half-circled +the corrals, and Ellhorn’s lusty “Whoo-oo-oo-ee-ee” rang out as they +drew rein at Mead’s door; Las Plumas, the night and ninety miles +behind them. Ellhorn’s yell brought the cook to the door, coffee-pot +in hand, with two <i>vaqueros</i> following close behind. One of these took +the horses to the stables and the three friends stood up against the +wall in the sunshine, stretching themselves. Mead took out his +pocket-knife and began cutting the cactus spines from his swollen +hands.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad to have a chance to get rid of these things,” he said. +“They’ve been stinging like hornets all night.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">E</span>merson Mead’s ranch house was a small, white, flat-roofed adobe +building, with cottonwood trees growing all about it, and the water +from a spring on the hillside beyond, flowing in a little rill past +the kitchen door. Inside, on the whitewashed walls, hung the skins of +rattlesnakes, coyotes, wild cats, the feet, head and spread wings of +an eagle, and some deer heads and horns. There were also some colored +posters and prints from weekly papers. A banjo stood in one corner of +the dining room, while guns and revolvers of various kinds and +patterns and belts heavy with cartridges hung against the walls or +sprawled in corners.</p> + +<p>The cook and housekeeper was a stockily built, round-faced Englishman, +whom Mead had found stranded in Las Plumas. He had been put off the +overland train at that place because the conductor had discovered that +he was riding on a scalper’s ticket. Mead had taken a liking to the +man’s jovial manner, and, being in need of a cook, had offered him the +place. The Englishman, who said his name was Bill Haney, had accepted +it gladly and had since earned his wage twice over by the care he took +of the house and by the entertainment he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>afforded his employer. For +he told many tales of his life in many lands, enough, had they all +been true, to have filled the years of a Methuselah to overflowing. +Mead did not believe any of his stories, and, indeed, strongly +suspected that they were told for the purpose of throwing doubt upon +any clue to his past life which he might inadvertently give. +Good-natured and jovial though he was in face and talk and manner, +there was a look at times in his small, keen, dark eyes which Mead did +not like.</p> + +<p>As Haney bustled about getting a fresh breakfast for the three men he +said to Mead, “It’s mighty lucky you’ve come ’ome, sir. There’s been +merry ’ell ’erself between our boys and the Fillmore boys, and they’re +likely to be killin’ each other off at Alamo Springs to-day. They ’ad +shots over a maverick yesterday, and the swearin’ they’ve been doin’ +’ad enough fire and brimstone in it to swamp ’ell ’erself.”</p> + +<p>Haney’s conversation contained frequent reference to the abode of lost +spirits, and always in the feminine gender. Mead asked him once why he +always spoke of “hell” as “her,” and he replied:</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, accordin’ to my reckonings, ’ell is a woman, or two women, +or a thousand of ’em, accordin’ as a man ’as made it, and bein’ female +it ’as to be called ’er.”</p> + +<p>As the three men mounted fresh horses after a hasty breakfast, Nick +Ellhorn said to Mead:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p><p>“Emerson, you’re in big luck that that confounded thug in the kitchen +hasn’t cut your throat yet.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he won’t do anything to me,” Mead replied, smiling. “I reckon +likely he is a thug, or a crook of some sort, but he won’t do me any +harm.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you be too sure, Emerson,” said Tuttle, looking concerned. +“It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him, but I don’t think I’d like to +have him around me on dark nights.”</p> + +<p>“He is a good cook and he keeps the house as neat and clean as a woman +would. He won’t try to do anything to me because I’m not big enough +game. He knows I never keep money at the ranch, and that I haven’t got +very much, any way. Besides, he’s seen me shoot, and I don’t think he +wants to run up against my gun.”</p> + +<p>They were hurrying to Alamo Springs, a watering place which Mead +controlled farther up in the Fernandez mountains, where they arrived +just in time to stop a pistol fight between the cow-boys of the +opposing interests, half-a-dozen on each side, who had quarreled +themselves into such anger that they were ready to end the whole +matter by mutual annihilation.</p> + +<p>Mead found that the round-up had progressed slowly during his absence. +There had been constant quarreling, occasional exchange of shots, and +unceasing effort on each side to retard the interests of the other. +The Fillmore Company had routed the cow-boys of the small cattlemen, +Mead’s included, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>and for the last two days had prevented them from +joining in the round-up. Mead found his neighbors and their and his +employees disorganized, angry, and determined on revenge. Accompanied +by Tuttle and Ellhorn, he galloped over the hills all that day and the +next, visiting the camps on his own range and on the ranges of his +neighbors who were leagued with him in the fight against the Fillmore +Cattle Company. He smoothed down ruffled tempers, inquired into the +justice of claims, gave advice, issued orders, and organized all the +interests opposed to the cattle company into a compact, determined +body.</p> + +<p>After those two days there was a change in the way affairs were going, +and the allied cattlemen began to win the disputes which were +constantly coming up. There were not many more attempts to prevent the +round-up from being carried on in concert, but there was no lessening +of the bad temper and the bad words with which the work was done. Each +side constantly harassed and defied the other, and each constantly +accused the other of all the cattle-crimes known to the raisers of +hoofed beasts. The mavericks were an unfailing source of quarrels. +According to the Law of the Herds, as it is held in the southwest, +each cattleman is entitled to whatever mavericks he finds on his own +range, and none may say him nay. But the leagued cattle growers and +the Fillmore people struggled valiantly over every unbranded calf they +found <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>scurrying over the hillsides. Each side accused the other of +driving the mavericks off the ranges on which they belonged, and the +<i>vaqueros</i> belonging to each force declared that they recognized as +their own every calf which they found, no matter where or on whose +range it chanced to be, and they branded it at once with small saddle +irons if the other side did not prevent the operation.</p> + +<p>Mead was the leader of his side, and, guarded always by his two +friends, rode constantly over the ranges, helping in the bunching, +cutting-out and branding of the cattle, giving orders, directing the +movements of the herds and deciding quarrels. Colonel Whittaker came +out from Las Plumas, and was as active in the management of the +Fillmore Company’s interests as was Emerson Mead for those of his +faction. Ellhorn and Tuttle would not allow Mead to go out of their +sight. They rode with him every day and at night slept by his side. If +he protested that he was in no danger, Ellhorn would reply:</p> + +<p>“You-all may not need us, but I reckon you’re a whole heap less likely +to need us if we’re right with you in plain view.”</p> + +<p>And so they saw to it that they and their guns were never out of +“plain view.” And, possibly in consequence, for the reputation of the +three as men of dare-devil audacity and unequalled skill with rifle +and revolver was supreme throughout that region, wherever the three +tall Texans appeared the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>battle was won. The maverick was given up, +the quarrel was dropped, the brand was allowed, and the accusation +died on its maker’s lips if Emerson Mead, Tom Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn +were present or came galloping to the scene.</p> + +<p>The look of smiling good nature seldom left Mead’s face, but his lips +were closely shut in a way that brought out lines of dogged +resolution. He was determined that the cattle company should recognize +as their right whatever claims he and his neighbors should make. +Tuttle and Ellhorn talked over the situation with him many times, and +they were as determined as he, partly from love of him and partly from +lust of fight, that the cattle company should be vanquished and +compelled to yield whatever was asked of it. But they took the +situation less seriously than did Mead, looking upon the whole affair +as something of a lark well spiced with the danger which they enjoyed.</p> + +<p>Ellhorn heard one day that Jim Halliday was at the Fillmore ranch +house, and they decided at once that his business was to lay hands +upon Mead. It was also rumored that several people from Las Plumas had +been riding over the Fernandez plain and the foothills of the +Fernandez mountains trying to find Will Whittaker’s body or some clue +to his disappearance. The three friends learned that all these people +had been able to discover was that he had left the ranch on the +morning of his disappearance with a <i>vaquero</i>, a newly hired man who +had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>just come out of the Oro Fino mountains, where he had been +prospecting, in the hope of making another stake. A man had seen them +driving down through the foothills, but after that all trace of them +was lost. Old Juan Garcia and his wife, past whose house the road +would have taken them, had been away, gathering firewood in the hills, +but Amada, their daughter, had been at home all day, and she declared +she had seen nothing of them, and that she did not think they could +have gone past without her seeing them. It was accordingly argued that +whatever had happened must have taken place not far from the junction +of the main road with the road which led to Emerson Mead’s ranch, and +all that region was searched for traces of recent burial.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he round-up was almost finished, and, so far, Emerson Mead had won +the day. Backed always by his two friends, he had compelled the +recognition of every general claim which had been made, and in most of +the daily quarrels his side had come out victor.</p> + +<p>Toward the end of the round-up, Mead and two <i>vaqueros</i>, accompanied +by Tuttle and Ellhorn, had worked all day, getting together a +scattered band of cattle, and at night had them bunched at a water +hole near the edge of his range. The next day they were to be driven a +few miles farther and joined with the droves collected by the Fillmore +Company’s men and by two or three of his neighbors for the last work +of the spring round-up. In the evening one of the cow-boys was sent to +the ranch house with a message to the foreman, and a little later the +other was seized with a sudden illness from having drunk at an alkali +spring during the day. Mead, Tuttle and Ellhorn then arranged to share +the night in watches of three hours each with the cattle. Mead’s began +at midnight. He saddled and mounted his horse and began the monotonous +patrol of the herd.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>There were some three hundred steers in the bunch of cattle. They lay, +sleeping quietly, so closely huddled together that there was barely +room for them to move. Occasionally, one lying at the outer edge got +up, stretched himself, nibbled a few bunches of grass, and then lay +down again. Now and then, as one changed his position, a long, blowing +breath, or a satisfied grunt and groan, came out of the darkness. When +Mead started his horse on the slow walk round and round the sleeping +herd the sky was clear. In its violet-blue the stars were blazing big +and bright, and he said to himself that the cattle would sleep quietly +and he would probably have an uneventful watch. He let the horse poke +round the circle at its own pace, while his thoughts wandered back to +his last visit to Las Plumas and hovered about the figure of +Marguerite Delarue as she stood beside her gate and took little Paul +from his hands. With a sudden warming of the heart he saw again her +tall figure in the pink gown, with the rose bloom in her cheeks and +the golden glimmer in her brown hair and the loving mother-look in her +eyes as she smiled at the happy child. But with a sigh and a shake of +the head he checked his thoughts and sent them to the mass-meeting and +the days he had spent in the jail.</p> + +<p>Presently it occurred to him that his watch must be nearly over and he +looked up at the Great Dipper, swinging on its north star pivot. Then +he smiled at himself, for it seemed scarcely to have <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>changed position +since he had mounted his horse. “Not an hour yet,” was his mental +comment. Clouds were beginning to roll up from the horizon, and he +could hear low mutterings of thunder and among the mountain tops see +occasional flashes of lightning. Soon the sky was heavily overcast, +and the darkness was so dense that it seemed palpable, like an +enveloping, smothering cover, which might almost be grasped in the +hands, torn down and thrown away. Mead could not see the horse’s head, +so, letting the reins lie loosely on its neck, he allowed the animal +to pick its own way around the circle.</p> + +<p>The cattle began to show signs of nervousness, and from the huddled +mass there came sounds of uneasy movements. Mead urged his horse into +a quicker walk and with one leg over its neck as they went round and +round the herd, he sang to them in a crooning monotone, like a +mother’s lullaby to a babe that is just dropping into dreamland. It +quieted the incipient disturbance, the rumbling thunder ceased for a +time, and after a little moving about the cattle settled down to sleep +again.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, without forerunner or warning, a vivid flash of lightning +cleft the clouds and a roar of thunder rattled and boomed from the +mountain peaks. And on the instant, as one animal, hurled by sudden +fright, the whole band of cattle was on its feet and plunging forward. +There was a snorting breath, a second of muffled noise as they sprang +to their feet, and the whole stampeded herd was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>rushing pell-mell +into the darkness. They chanced to head toward Mead, and he, idling +along with one leg over his saddle horn, with a quick jab of the spur +sent his pony in a long, quick leap to one side, barely in time to +escape their maddened rush. A second’s delay and he and his horse +would have been thrown down by the sheer overpowering mass of the +frenzied creatures and trampled under their hoofs, for the horn of a +plunging steer tore the leg of his overalls as the mad animals passed. +Away went the herd, silent, through the dense blackness of the night, +running at the top of their speed. And Mead, spurring his horse, was +after them without a moment’s loss of time, galloping close beside the +frightened beasts, alertly watchful lest they might suddenly change +their course and trample him down. They ran in a close mass, straight +ahead, paying heed to nothing, beating under their hoofs whatever +stood in their way.</p> + +<p>They rushed crazily on through the darkness which was so intense that +Mead’s face seemed to cleave it as the head cleaves water when one +dives. He galloped so close to the running band that by reaching out +one arm he could almost touch one or another heaving side. But he +could see nothing, not a tossing horn nor a lumbering back of the +whole three hundred steers, except when an occasional flash of +lightning gave him a second’s half-blinded glimpse of the plunging +mass. By hearing rather than by sight he could outline the rushing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>huddle at his right hand. And watching it as intently as if it had +been a rattlesnake ready to strike, he galloped on by its side in a +wild race through the darkness, over the plain, up and down hills, +through cactus and sagebrush, over boulders and through treacherous, +tunneled prairie dog towns, plunging headlong into whatever might be +in front of them.</p> + +<p>From the rushing herd beside him there came the muffled roar of their +thousand hoofs, overtoned by the constant popping and scraping of +their clashing horns. The noise filled his ears and could not quite be +drowned even by the rattling peals of thunder. Swift drops of rain +stung his face and the water of a pelting shower dripped from his hat +brim and trickled from his boot heels. The beating rain, the vivid +flashes of lightning and the loud peals of thunder drove the maddened +creatures on at a still faster pace. Mead put frequent spurs to his +horse and held on to the side of the mob of cattle, bent only on going +wherever they went and being with them at the dawn, when it might be +possible to get them under control.</p> + +<p>They plunged on at a frenzied gallop through the darkness and the +storm, and when at last the sky brightened and a wet, gray light made +the earth dimly visible, Mead could see beside him a close huddle of +lumbering, straining backs and over it a tangle of tossing and +knocking horns. The crowding, crazy herd, and he beside it, were +rushing pell-mell <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>down a long, sloping hill. With one keen, sweeping +glance through the dim light and the streaming rain he saw a clump of +trees, which meant water, at the foot of the hill, and near it a herd +of cattle, some lying down, and some standing with heads up, looking +toward him; while his own senseless mass of thundering hoofs and +knocking horns was headed straight toward them.</p> + +<p>With a whooping yell he dashed at the head of the plunging herd, sent +a pistol ball whizzing in front of their eyes and with a quick, sharp +turn leaped his horse to one side, barely in time to escape the hoofs +and horns of the nearest steer. They swerved a little, and making a +detour he came yelling down upon them again, with his horse at its +topmost speed, and sent a bullet crashing through the skull of the +creature in the lead. It dropped to its knees, struggled a moment, +fell over dead, and the herd turned a little more to the right. +Spurring his horse till it leaped, straining, with outstretched legs, +he charged the head of the rushing column again, and bending low fired +his revolver close over their heads. Again they swerved a little to +the right, and dashing past the foremost point he sent a pistol ball +into the eye of the leader. It fell, struggling, and with a sudden +jerk he swung the horse round on its hind legs and struck home the +spurs for a quick, long leap, for he was directly in the front of the +racing herd. As the horse’s fore feet came down on the wet earth it +slipped, and fell to its knees, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>scrambled an instant and was up +again, and leaped to one side with a bleeding flank, torn by the horns +of the leading steer. The startled animals had made a more decided +turn to the right, and by scarcely more than a hand’s breadth horse +and rider had escaped their hoofs. The crazy, maddened creatures +slackened their pace and the outermost ones and those in the rear +began to drop off, one by one, grazing and tailing off behind in a +straggling procession. Another rush, and Mead had the mob of cattle, +half turned back on itself, struggling, twisting and turning in a +bewildered mass. The stampeding impulse had been checked, but the +senseless brutes were not yet subdued to their usual state.</p> + +<p>Glancing down the hill to the clump of trees, he saw men rushing about +and horses being saddled. Shouting and yelling, he rushed again at the +turned flank of his herd, firing his pistol under their noses, forcing +the leaders this time to turn tail completely and trot toward the rear +of the band. The rest followed, and with another furious yell he +swerved them again to the right and forced them into a circle, a sort +of endless chain of cattle, trotting round and round. He knew they +would keep up that motion until they were thoroughly subdued and +restored to their senses, and would then scatter over the hillside to +graze.</p> + +<p>He had conquered the crazy herd of cattle, but four horsemen were +galloping up the hill, and he knew they were part of the Fillmore +Company’s <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>outfit. He reloaded his revolver, put it in its holster, +and rode a little way toward them. Then he checked his horse and +waited, with his back to the “milling” herd, for them to come near +enough to hail. Through the lances of the rain he could see that one +of the men was Jim Halliday, the deputy sheriff from Las Plumas, who +had arrested him on the night of the mass-meeting. Another he +recognized as the Fillmore Company’s foreman, and the two others he +knew were cow-boys. One of these he saw was a red-headed, +red-whiskered Mexican known as Antone Colorow—Red Antony—who was +famous in all that region for the skill with which he could throw the +lariat. His eye was accurate and his wrist was quick and supple, and +it was his greatest pride in life that the rope never missed landing +where he meant it should.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he thunder clap which frightened the herd of cattle also roused +Tuttle and Ellhorn, and through half-awakened consciousness they heard +the noise of the stampede.</p> + +<p>“What’s that! The cattle?” exclaimed Tuttle, rising on his elbow. +Ellhorn jumped to his feet.</p> + +<p>“Tom, there goes ten thousand dollars on the hoof and a-runnin’ like +hell!”</p> + +<p>“Where are the horses? Come on, Nick! Buck! Buck! Hello, Buck! Whoa! +Here’s mine, Nick! Yours is over by the chuck wagon!”</p> + +<p>Fumbling in the darkness, they hurried to release and saddle the +hobbled horses, and, calling to the sick cow-boy that when the foreman +should come in the morning he must make haste after them, they jumped +upon the ponies and set out on the gallop through the darkness to +trail the noise of the running cattle. With every flash of lightning +Nick Ellhorn looked about with keen, quick glances, and with +half-blinded eyes located mountain peaks and arroyos, considered the +direction in which they were headed, and the general lay of the land, +and after a time he broke out with a string of oaths:</p> + +<p>“Tommy, them cow-brutes are headed straight <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>for Sweetwater Springs, +and the Fillmore outfit’s camped there to-night! Jim Halliday is +there, and so is that measly Wellesly, if he hasn’t gone back to town. +He was out here two days ago. Emerson and the cattle will sure strike +the Springs just about daylight, if they keep up their gait and +nothing stops ’em!”</p> + +<p>Tuttle swore angrily under his breath. “That’s just the snap they’ve +been waitin’ for all this time! Their only show to get Emerson, or to +kill him either, is to come down on him half a dozen to one, and they +know it. Well, if they kill him he won’t be the first to drop—nor the +last, either,” he added with a little break in his voice, as he gave +his sombrero a nervous pull over his forehead.</p> + +<p>“I reckon,” Ellhorn replied, “they don’t want to kill Emerson, as long +as you and me are alive. They know what would happen afterward. Jim +Halliday has got that same old warrant over there, and what they want +to do is to shut him up in jail again.”</p> + +<p>The first stinging drops of rain dashed in their faces and they +buttoned their coats and galloped on in silence. Tuttle was the first +to speak again:</p> + +<p>“What’s that scrub Wellesly doing out here?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, unless he came to bring ’em some brains. They need some +bad enough. Wellesly and Colonel Whittaker have been ridin’ around +over the range for the last two or three days, though I didn’t know +about it till yesterday. I guess they’ve been so everlastingly beaten +on every proposition that he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>thought he’d better come out himself and +see if he couldn’t save the day for ’em on something.”</p> + +<p>They hurried on in the trail of the roar from the stampeding herd, but +suddenly Ellhorn’s horse struck his fore feet on the slope of a wet +and slippery mound beside a prairie dog’s hole. Before the animal +could recover, its feet slid down the bank into the mouth of the hole +with a forward jerk, and it came down with a groaning cry of pain. +Ellhorn rose to his feet in the stirrups, and as the horse struck the +ground he stood astride its body and with a quick leap jumped to one +side unhurt. By the light of a match, which Tuttle sheltered under his +sombrero, standing bareheaded, meanwhile, with the rain running in +streams down his neck, Ellhorn examined the fallen horse.</p> + +<p>“He’s broke both his forelegs, Tom. There’s only one thing to do with +him, now.”</p> + +<p>Tuttle stroked the beast’s nose. “I reckon so, Nick. You-all better do +it.” Then he turned away, while Ellhorn put his revolver to the +horse’s head and ended its pain.</p> + +<p>“Now, Tom, you go on after Emerson as fast as you can and I’ll hoof it +back to camp and get Bob’s horse.”</p> + +<p>“No, you-all jump on behind me, Nick, and we’ll go on together. +Emerson will need us both in the morning. If that crowd gets after him +maybe he can stand ’em off till we-all get there. But he’ll need us by +daylight, Nick.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p><p>“I ’low you’re right, Tommy, but ain’t you on that horse that always +bucks at double?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but I reckon he’ll have to pack double, if you and me fork him.”</p> + +<p>“You bet he will!” and Ellhorn leaped to the horse’s back behind +Tuttle. “Whoo-oo-ee-ee!” Two pairs of spurs dug the horse’s flank and +a rein as tight as a steel band held its head so high that bucking was +impossible. The horse jumped and danced and stood on its hind legs and +snorted defiance and with stiffened legs did its best to hump its back +and dismount its unwelcome double burden. It might as well have tried +to get rid of its own mane. The riders swayed and bent with its motion +as if they were a part of its own bounding body. Tuttle gave the +animal its head just enough to allow it to work off its disapproval +harmlessly, and for the rest, it did nothing that he did not allow it +to do. Finally it recognized the mastery, and, pretending to be +dreadfully frightened by a sudden vivid flash of lightning, it started +off on a run.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i093.jpg" class="medgap jpg" width="500" height="342" alt="“WITH A WHOOPING YELL, HE DASHED AT THE HEAD OF THE +PLUNGING HERD”—p. 82" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“WITH A WHOOPING YELL, HE DASHED AT THE HEAD OF THE +PLUNGING HERD”—<i>p. <a href="#Page_82">82</a></i></span> +</div> + +<p>“Hold on there, old man!” said Tuttle. “This won’t do with two heavy +weights on top of you. You’ve got to pack double, but you’d better go +slow about it.”</p> + +<p>Calming the horse down to a quick trot, they hurried on in the wake of +the stampede. They had lost all sound of the herd, and the trail which +the ploughing hoofs had made at the beginning of the storm had been +nearly obliterated by the beating <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>rain. Once they thought they caught the sound again and must be off +the track. They followed it and found it was the roaring of a high +wave coming down an arroyo from a cloudburst farther up in the +mountain. Hurrying back, they kept to the general direction the cattle +had taken until the trail began to show more plainly in the soaked +earth, like a strip of ploughed land across the hills. When they +reached the next arroyo, they found it a torrent of roaring water. The +greater part of the cloudburst had flowed down this channel, and where +Mead and the cattle had to cross merely wet sand and soaked earth, +they would have to swim.</p> + +<p>“See here, Tom,” said Ellhorn, “two’s too much for this beast in the +water. You take care of my belt and gun and I’ll swim across.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a mighty swift current, Nick. Don’t you think we-all can make +it together?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to take any chances. Buck can get across with you all +right, but if he’s got us both on him he might go down and then we’d +have to follow Emerson on foot. We’re coverin’ ground almighty slow, +anyway. I’m the best swimmer, and you-all can take care of my boots +and gun.”</p> + +<p>They waited a few moments for a flash of lightning to show them the +banks of the arroyo. By its light they saw a water course thirty feet +wide and probably ten feet deep, bank-full of a muddy, foaming flood, +in which waves two feet high roared after one another, carrying clumps +of bushes, stalks of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>cactus, bones, and other debris. As they plunged +into the torrent, Ellhorn seized the tail of Tuttle’s horse, and, +holding it with one hand and swimming with the other, made good +progress. But in mid-stream a big clump of mesquite struck him in the +side, stunning him for an instant, and he let go his hold upon the +pony’s tail. A high wave roared down upon him the next moment, and +carried him his length and more down stream. He fought with all his +strength against the swift current, but, faint and stunned, could +barely hold his own. He shouted to Tuttle, who was just landing, and +Tom threw the end of his lariat far out into the middle of the stream. +Ellhorn felt the rope across his body, grasped it and called to Tuttle +to pull.</p> + +<p>“Tommy,” he said, when safe on land, “I hope we’ll find the whole +Fillmore outfit just a-walkin’ all over Emerson. I don’t want more’n +half an excuse to get even with ’em for this trip. Sure and I wish I +had ’em all here right now! I’m just in the humor to make sieves of +’em!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">E</span>merson Mead waited until the four horsemen were within two hundred +yards of him, and then he called out a good-natured “hello.” The +others checked their horses to a slow walk, and after a moment one of +them hastily shouted an answering salutation. Mead instantly called in +reply:</p> + +<p>“I reckon you’d better stay where you are, boys. We can talk this way +just as well as any other.” The others halted and he went on: “Suppose +you say, right now, whether you want anything particular.”</p> + +<p>They looked at one another, apparently surprised by this speech, and +presently the foreman said:</p> + +<p>“We thought you must be having trouble with your cattle. Stampede on +you?”</p> + +<p>“They’re all right now. They’re ‘milling,’ and won’t give me any more +trouble. But I reckon you didn’t ride up here to ask me if my cattle +had stampeded. You better talk straight just what you do want.”</p> + +<p>They hesitated again, looking at one another as if their plans had +miscarried. “They expected I’d begin poppin’ at ’em and give ’em an +excuse to open out on me all at once,” Mead thought. Then he called +out:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p><p>“Jim, you out here to buy some cattle? Can I sell you some of mine?”</p> + +<p>“You know I don’t want to buy cattle,” Halliday replied, sulkily.</p> + +<p>“No? Then maybe you’ve come to ask me if it’s goin’ to rain?” Mead +smilingly replied.</p> + +<p>“I reckon you know what I want, Emerson Mead,” Halliday said angrily, +as if nettled by Mead’s assured, good-natured tone and manner. “You +know you’re a fugitive from justice, and that it’s my duty to take you +back to jail.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, then you want me!” said Mead, as if greatly surprised.</p> + +<p>“That’s what, old man!” Halliday’s voice and manner suddenly became +genial. He thought Mead was going to surrender, as he had done before. +He had no desire for a battle, even four to one, with the man who had +the reputation of being the best and coolest shot in the southwest, +for he knew that he would be the first target for that unerring aim, +and he was accordingly much relieved by the absence of defiance and +anger in Mead’s manner.</p> + +<p>“You want me, do you?” said Mead, his voice suddenly becoming +sarcastic. “Is that what you’ve been waitin’ around the Fillmore ranch +the last three weeks for? Why didn’t you come straight over to my +house and say so, like a man who wasn’t afraid? You want me, do you? +Well, now, what are you goin’ to do about it?” There was a taunt in +Mead’s tone that stirred the others to anger. Mead knew <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>perfectly +well what his reputation was, and he knew, too, that they were afraid +of him.</p> + +<p>“You won’t surrender?”</p> + +<p>“Whenever you’ve got any evidence for a warrant to stand on I’ll give +myself up. I let you take me in before to stop trouble, but I won’t do +it again, and you, and all your outfit, had better let me alone. I’m +not goin’ to be run in on any fool charge fixed up to help the +Fillmore Company do me up. That’s all there is about it, and you-all +had better turn tail and go back to camp.”</p> + +<p>While he was speaking the foreman said something to Antone Colorow, +and the man left the group and trotted away toward Mead’s left as if +he were going back to camp. Without seeming to notice his departure, +Mead watched the cow-boy’s actions from a corner of his eye while he +listened to Jim Halliday:</p> + +<p>“Now, Emerson, be reasonable about this matter and give yourself up. +You know I’ve got to take you in, and I don’t want to have any +gun-fight over it. The best thing you can do is to stand trial, and +clear yourself, if you can. That’ll end the whole business.”</p> + +<p>Antone Colorow turned and came galloping back, his lariat in his hand. +Mead’s revolver was still untouched in his holster, and his horse, +standing with drooping mane and tail, faced Halliday and the others. +The cow-boy came galloping through the rain from Mead’s left, and so +far behind him that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>he could barely see the man from the corner of +his eye. He was apparently unconscious of Antone’s approach as he +quietly replied to Halliday, but his fingers tightened on the bridle, +and the horse, answering a closer pressure of heel and knee, suddenly +lifted its head and stiffened its lax muscles into alertness.</p> + +<p>“I’d hate to make you lose your job, Jim,” said Mead, smiling, “but +you can’t expect a fellow to let himself be arrested for nothing, just +so you can keep a soft snap as deputy sheriff. You get some evidence +against me, and then I’ll go with you as quiet as any maverick you +ever saw.”</p> + +<p>As Mead spoke he was listening intently. He heard Antone’s horse stop +a little way behind him, and, as the last word left his lips, the hiss +of the rope through the air. With a dig of the spurs and a sharp jerk +of the bridle the horse reared. The noose fell over Mead’s head, but +his revolver was already in his hand, and with a turn as quick as a +lightning flash he swung the horse round on its hind legs in a quarter +circle and before the astounded Mexican could tighten the loop there +were two flashing reports and a bullet had crashed through each wrist. +Antone’s arms dropped on his saddle, and through the shrill din of the +mingled Spanish and English curses he shrieked at Mead came the sharp +cracking of three revolvers. Emerson Mead felt one bullet whistle +through his sleeve and one through the rim of his sombrero, as, with +the rope <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>still on his shoulders, he whirled his horse round again +with his smoking revolver leveled at Halliday.</p> + +<p>“Whoo-oo-oo-ee-ee!” Ellhorn’s long-drawn-out yell came floating down +from the top of the hill and close on its heels the report of a +pistol.</p> + +<p>“That was a very pretty trick, Emerson,” said the foreman, in a voice +which tried hard to sound unconcerned, “even if it was my man you +played it on.”</p> + +<p>“It will be played on you if you make another break,” Mead replied in +an even tone, with his revolver still leveled at Halliday. He turned +his horse slightly so that a sidewise glance up the hill showed Tom +Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn, guns in hand, both astride one horse, coming +toward them on a gallop. Tuttle’s deep-lunged voice bellowed down the +slope:</p> + +<p>“We’re a-comin’, Emerson! Hold ’em off! We’re a-comin’!” and another +pistol ball sung through the rain and dropped beside Halliday’s horse. +Mead flung the rope from his shoulders and grinned at Halliday and his +party.</p> + +<p>“Well, what are you going to do now? Do you want to fight?”</p> + +<p>Halliday put his gun in its holster: “I don’t want any pitched battle +over this business. We’ll call the game off for this morning.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all right, boys,” Mead yelled to his friends. “Don’t shoot any +more.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a fool, Emerson,” Halliday went on, “or you’d give yourself +up, go down to Plumas and clear <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>yourself,—if you can—and have this +thing over with. For we’re goin’ to get you yet, somehow.”</p> + +<p>Antone Colorow spurred his horse close to Mead and with all the varied +and virulent execration of which the cow-boy is capable shouted at +him:</p> + +<p>“Yes, and if they don’t get you, I will! I come after you till I get +you, and I come a-smoking every time! You won’t need a trial after I +get through with you! You’ve done me up, but I’ll get even and more +too!”</p> + +<p>Mead listened quietly, looking the man in the eye. “Look here,” he +said, “what did you reckon would happen to any man who tried to rope +me? Did you think I’d let you-all drag me into camp at your horse’s +tail? I’m sorry I had to do that, but I didn’t want to kill you. Here, +Jim, you fellows better tie up Antone’s wrists.” Mead offered his own +handkerchief to help out the bandages, and, suddenly remembering the +whisky flask in his breast pocket, took it out and told the wounded +man to finish its contents.</p> + +<p>While this was going on Tuttle and Ellhorn rode up. The rain had +stopped, and through a rift in the eastern clouds the level, red rays +of the sun were shining. Mead met their eager, anxious faces with a +smile.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right, boys. Jim says the game’s off for this morning.”</p> + +<p>Nick and Tom turned black and scowling looks on Halliday and his +party, and the deputy sheriff, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>manifestly nervous, rode toward them +with an exaggeratedly genial greeting:</p> + +<p>“Howdy, boys! Put up your guns! We ain’t goin’ to have any gun-fight +this morning.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know we ain’t?” growled Tom.</p> + +<p>“Well, Emerson says so,” he replied, with an apprehensive glance at +Mead.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Nick, “if Emerson says so it’s all right. But we’ve had a +devil of a ride, and we’d like to get square somehow!”</p> + +<p>Mead laughed. “You can tally up with Jim, who’s going to lose his job +because I’m too mean to let him run me in.”</p> + +<p>Tuttle and Ellhorn turned grimly joyous faces toward Halliday. “If you +want to arrest Emerson this morning,” said Ellhorn, “just begin right +now! We’re three to three! Come on now and try it!”</p> + +<p>The officer edged his horse away: “I’ll wait till the round-up is +over. Then you can’t have the excuse that the Fillmore Company’s doing +it. But I’ll have him yet, and don’t you forget it!”</p> + +<p>“Just like you got him this time!” taunted Ellhorn.</p> + +<p>Halliday turned back a red and angry face: “I’ll have him,” he yelled, +“if I have to kill the whole damned three of you to get him!”</p> + +<p>A derisive shout of laughter was the only answer he received as he and +his party galloped back to camp.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span>fter the round-up was finished Emerson Mead and his two friends +started, with two <i>vaqueros</i>, to drive a band of cattle to Las Plumas +for shipment. When they reached Juan Garcia’s ranch Mead remembered +that he wished to see the old Mexican, and the two cow-boys were sent +on with the cattle while he and Tuttle and Ellhorn tied their horses +in the shade of the cottonwoods at the foot of the hill. They found +Amada Garcia leaning on her folded arms across the window-sill and +making a picture in the frame of the gray adobe walls that was very +good to see.</p> + +<p>It is not often that the señorita of the southwest can lay claim to +any more of beauty than glows in midnight hair and eyes. But Amada +Garcia was one of the favored few. Her short, plump figure was rounded +into dainty curves and her oval face, with its smooth, brown skin, its +dimples, its regular features, its little, rosebud, pouting mouth, and +its soft, black, heavy-lidded eyes, was alluring with sensuous beauty. +A red handkerchief tied into a saucy cap was perched on her shining, +black hair, and her black dress, carelessly open a little at the neck, +showed a full, soft, brown throat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p><p>She received the three men with that dignified courtesy that is never +forgotten in the humblest Mexican adobe hut, but she tempered its +gravity with many coquettish glances of her great black eyes. They +talked in Spanish, the only language Amada knew, which the men spoke +as readily as they did their own. No, her father was not at home, she +said. He had gone to Muletown and would not be back until night. But +was it the wish of the señores to be seated and rest themselves from +their travel and refresh themselves with a drink of cool water? Mead +presented Tuttle, who had never seen the girl before, and Amada said, +with many flashes of languorous light from under her heavy lids, ah, +she had heard of the señor, a most brave <i>caballero</i>, a man whom all +women must admire, so brave and skillful. Her carriage and the poise +of her body as she stood, or sat down, or walked about the room, would +have befitted a queen’s approach to her throne, so unconsciously regal +and graceful were they. For ever since she was old enough Amada had +carried every day to the house, up the hill from the spring, in an +<i>olla</i> poised on her head, all the water for their domestic +necessities. And in consequence she walked with a grace and carried +her head with an air that not one American woman in a hundred thousand +could equal.</p> + +<p>She brought them water from an <i>olla</i> which stood in the <i>portal</i>, +where it would be free to the breeze and shaded from the sun, and as +she handed it to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>one after another she smiled and dimpled, her white +teeth gleamed, her black eyes shone alluringly in sudden flashes from +under their long-fringed covers, and her sweet, soft voice prattled +airy, beguiling flatteries and dear little complimentary nothings. As +she talked, she tossed her head and swayed her body and made graceful, +eloquent little gestures with her hands and arms. There was +unconscious coquetry in every movement and a mischievous “you dare +not” in every glance of her eyes and in every dimpling smile. She was +like a plump, saucy, sweet-throated bobolink, perched on a swaying +bough and singing a joyous and daring “catch me if you can.”</p> + +<p>She walked across the room to put the cup on the table and Ellhorn +sprang to her side and threw his arm about her. She drew back a +little, tossed her head, and looked at him with eyes gleaming “if you +dare, if you dare,” from under their soft lids. She faced the door as +she did so and as he bent his head to take the kiss she dared, a +sudden, gray horror fell over her laughing face and changed it in a +second to a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, drawn thing, pitiful in its +helpless, ashen fear. The sudden change stopped him with his lips +close to hers, and with his hand on his gun he wheeled toward the door +to see what had frightened her. The other two, looking and laughing, +saw the sudden horror transform her face and they also sprang toward +the open entrance, revolvers in hand. But there was nothing there. The +<i>portal</i> was empty of any living thing. And all <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>across the gray-green +plain the only sign of life was the drove of cattle far down the +winding road. They turned to the girl in surprise and asked her what +was the matter. She had recovered her smiling, coquettish self, and +declared that Señor Ellhorn had frightened her. She scolded him +prettily, in the soft, sweet, Mexican tones that are a caress in +themselves, and, with a demure expression, to which only the black +eyes would not lend themselves, she told him it was not right for a +man to take advantage of a girl when she was all alone. If he wished +to kiss her when her mother was present, ah, that was different. Yes, +she would forgive him this one time if he truly were very sorry, but +he must never, never frighten her so again. And her eyes flashed a +smile at him that flouted every word she said.</p> + +<p>As the three men rode away Tuttle asked:</p> + +<p>“Emerson, did she really mean what she said about Nick’s frightening +her?”</p> + +<p>Mead looked at him with an indulgent smile: “Tom Tuttle, you’re the +biggest maverick I ever saw. I reckon havin’ a man want to kiss her +ain’t such an unusual thing that it’s goin’ to frighten Amada Garcia +into a conniption fit.”</p> + +<p>“What in thunder was the matter with her then?” said Ellhorn, a bit +nettled over the outcome of his gallantry. “It couldn’t have been +because she didn’t want me to kiss her.”</p> + +<p>Mead broke into a loud, hearty roar, Tuttle grinned broadly, and +Ellhorn regarded the two of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>them with an angry look. Mead leaned over +and slapped his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Nick, you’re a devil of a fellow with the women, and I know it as +well as you do. I guess Amada’s not very different from the rest of +’em, if she did stop your performance. She looked as if she saw a +ghost, and maybe she thought she did. These Mexicans are a +superstitious lot. Maybe she’s kissed one too many some time and +happened to think of it just when it spoiled your fun.”</p> + +<p>“She’s a stunner, anyway!” said Ellhorn enthusiastically, his good +humor restored. “I say, Emerson, is she straight?”</p> + +<p>“I guess so. Yes, I sure reckon she must be, or Juan Garcia would have +made trouble. Old Juan and his wife are fine old people, and any man +who wronged Amada would have to answer for it to her father. He’d have +to either kill the old man or be killed himself in mighty short order. +Oh, yes, Amada’s a good girl, but she’s an awful little flirt.”</p> + +<p>As soon as the cattle were secured in the pens at the railroad +station, ready to be transferred to the cars, Emerson Mead put spurs +to his horse and rode off alone to the northward without a word to his +friends. Nick and Tom, perched on the high fence of a cattle-pen, +watched him gallop away with amazement. His action was unusual and +surprising, for when the three were together where one went the others +went also, or, at least, knew all about it. The two left behind +discussed what it might mean. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>Nick watched him until, half a dozen +blocks away, he turned off toward the mountains from which they had +just come. Then a light broke upon Ellhorn and he slapped his knee +with his palm and broke into a laugh.</p> + +<p>“Tom Tuttle, I reckon I’m onto his curves! He’s goin’ to strike the +mountain road back of town a ways and come in alone, past Frenchy +Delarue’s place, as if he’d just come to town!”</p> + +<p>“Frenchy Delarue! Does he mean to have it out with Frenchy for the way +he talked at that mass-meetin’? Say, Nick, we ought to be handy, for +he’ll sure need us. Come on, let’s ride out that way.” And Tuttle +began to climb down from his high perch. Ellhorn stopped him with +another roar of laughter.</p> + +<p>“Tommy, sometimes I think you sure ain’t got any more sense than a +two-year-old! Emerson don’t care anything about Frenchy Delarue, or +what he said at a dozen mass-meetings. He don’t hold things against a +man that way.” Ellhorn ended with another laugh and sat there +chuckling while Tom looked at him resentfully.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see what you want to make a fool of a fellow for,” he said +sulkily. “If you-all don’t want to tell me what it’s all about, say +so, and I won’t ask any more questions.”</p> + +<p>Ellhorn slapped him on the shoulder. “That’s all right, Tommy. It was +such a good joke I couldn’t help it. Don’t you remember that stunning +pretty <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>girl we saw on the street with the kid the day Emerson came +into town, that I told you was Frenchy Delarue’s daughter?”</p> + +<p>“What? Emerson! You don’t mean—say, Nick! I don’t—Emerson?” And +Tuttle stopped, from sheer inability to express his mingled feelings, +and stared at his companion, his face the picture of mystified +amazement.</p> + +<p>Ellhorn nodded. “I don’t know anything about it, but two or three +times I’ve seen things about Emerson that made me think he must be +gettin’ into that sort of trouble somewhere, and if he is I sure think +it can’t be anybody but Miss Delarue.”</p> + +<p>Tuttle was silent a few moments, thinking the matter over. Then he +shook his head doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“If it was you or me, Nick, I could understand it. But Emerson! Nick, +I can’t believe it until I know it’s so!”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t have thought so either, but you never can tell,” Nick +replied oracularly. “Now, I’d kiss Amada Garcia, or any other pretty +girl, every time I got a chance. You wouldn’t do it unless you could +sneak around behind the house where nobody could see, and you wouldn’t +say a word about it afterward. But Emerson, well, maybe Emerson would +too, but I don’t reckon he would even think about kissin’ her unless +she asked him to, and I’m dead sure he’d never think about it +afterward. But that’s just the sort of a man who gets knocked plumb +out when a woman does hit him. It wouldn’t make any <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>difference to you +or me, or not very long anyway, because we’d go right along and love +some other girl just as much the next time. Likely you’ve been in love +as many times as I have, and I don’t know how many that is, but I +don’t believe Emerson ever thought more’n twice about any woman before +this. But I sure reckon he’s knocked out now, and bad enough to last +him a long time. He’s just the sort that don’t want any woman if he +can’t get the one he does want. But you and me, Tommy,—Lord-a-mighty! +We’ll have a sweetheart every time we can get one!”</p> + +<p>Tuttle blushed a still deeper crimson under his red tan at this frank +account of his possible love affairs, and after a few moments of +silence he nodded thoughtfully:</p> + +<p>“I guess you-all have hit it off about right, Nick, But I never +thought Emerson would be the first one of us three to go and get +married! I thought likely none of us ever would!”</p> + +<p>“He ain’t married yet, and I don’t know as she’d have him.”</p> + +<p>“Why not? Of course she would!” said Tom, resentful at the idea that +any girl could refuse his idolized friend. He whittled the board fence +despondently a few moments, and then added with a brighter look: “But +he’s on the wrong side of politics to suit her father, and I reckon +Frenchy wouldn’t have it.”</p> + +<p>The whistle of the northbound train came up the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>track and they +climbed down from the fence and went to the depot. The telegraph +operator called Tom and handed him a dispatch.</p> + +<p>“It’s from Marshal Black,” said Tuttle to Ellhorn, “and he wants me to +go up to Santa Fe as quick as I can get there. I reckon I’d better +jump right onto this train. Emerson don’t need me any more now. Tell +him about it, and if he wants me for anything, or you-all think I’d +better come, wire, and I’ll flirt gravel in a minute. Good-bye, old +man.”</p> + +<p>Emerson Mead made a detour through the northern end of the town and +came into the mountain road at the lower edge of the uplands. He +galloped down the street, checking his horse to a slow trot as he +neared Pierre Delarue’s house. With sidelong glances he keenly +examined the veranda and the open doors and windows, but he could see +no flutter of drapery, nor the flaxen curls of the child. With a +protesting disappointment in his heart he held the horse back to a +walk while he stooped over and examined the cinch. He had almost +passed the place when little Paul came around the house, trailing a +subdued looking puppy at the end of a string, saw him, and ran to the +gate shrieking his name. Mead turned back, a warm flood of delight +surging into his breast.</p> + +<p>“Hello, little Bye-Bye! Do you want to ride with me? Run back to the +house and ask your sister if you can go.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p><p>The child ran back to the porch and from within the house Mead heard +Marguerite give permission. “Won’t she come out?” he thought, +anxiously.</p> + +<p>“You must come and lift me up,” said Paul, and Mead determined to buy +him the finest toy in the town.</p> + +<p>“Climb on the fence and let Mr. Mead put you on.”</p> + +<p>“She won’t come. She does not want to see me,” thought Mead.</p> + +<p>“No, I want you to come,” persisted Paul, who was in a naughty mood.</p> + +<p>“No, dearie, Mr. Mead can stoop over and help you on just as well as I +can.”</p> + +<p>“She is determined not to see me,” thought Mead. “She never did so +before.”</p> + +<p>Paul began to cry. “I can’t, Daisy. Truly, I can’t get on if you don’t +come. And then I can’t have any ride.”</p> + +<p>Marguerite came out with a little, white, high-crowned sunbonnet +pulled over her head. She had been arranging her hair and had put on +the bonnet to conceal its disarray, when she found that the child +could not be persuaded to let her remain indoors. Mead thought her +face more adorable than ever as it looked out from its dainty frame. +Paul kicked his heels into the horse’s shoulders, but a firm hand held +the bridle and the animal did not move. Marguerite turned a smiling +face upon Mead and met in his eyes the same look she always saw there. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>She glanced down again, blushing, and felt the silence embarrassing, +but all the things she would ordinarily have said suddenly seemed +trivial and out of place, so she turned to the child with a gentle, +“Be a good boy, Paul.” Mead looked at her in silence, smiling gravely. +Many things were whirling about in his mind to say, but he hesitated +before each one, doubting if that were the best. Paul kicked +vigorously and shouted, “Come on! Come on! Aren’t you ready to go, Mr. +Mead?” Emerson’s grave smile relaxed into a foolish grin, he lifted +his hat to Marguerite, and he and the boy cantered off.</p> + +<p>Marguerite hurried back to her room and as she stood before her +mirror, trembling, she resumed her hair dressing to the accompaniment +of thoughts that ran contrariwise:</p> + +<p>“I would think the man was dumb if I didn’t know better. Why doesn’t +he ever say anything? He is certainly the rudest creature I ever saw! +He stares at me until I am so confused that I can not even be +courteous. He isn’t nearly so nice as Mr. Wellesly—I don’t care, he +isn’t! I like Mr. Wellesly, and he seems to like me, but—he does not +look at me out of his eyes as Mr. Mead does. I wonder—if he—looks at +any one else that way?”</p> + +<p>After Mead had returned the child he rode at once to his room, and +while he bathed and shaved and dressed himself in the garments of +civilization he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>gave himself up to gloomy thoughts about Marguerite.</p> + +<p>“Of course, she thinks I am a criminal of the worst sort,—a thief and +a murderer,—and maybe she does not like to have me stop at her gate. +She was nervous about it to-day, and she wouldn’t come out until the +kid made her. It is plain enough that she doesn’t want to see me any +more, and I suppose I ought not to stop there again. Still, the boy is +always so pleased to ride with me that it would be a shame to take +that pleasure away from him. But she doesn’t like it—how sweet she +looked in that sunbonnet!—and she’s too kind-hearted to ask me not +to. Well, she would rather I would not—yes, it is plain that she does +not want me to do it—so—well—all right—I’ll not stop there again.”</p> + +<p>His revolver lay on the table, hidden by some of the clothing he had +just taken off. Under the stress of his thoughts it escaped both eye +and mind. As he put on vest and coat he struggled to his final +resolution. Then he quickly jammed his hat on his head, thinking, “I +suppose I can’t see her any more at all,” and hurried into the street. +Presently he heard a loud whoop from the direction of the jail. +“That’s Nick’s yell, sure,” he thought, “and it sounds as if he was +drunk. Now what’s to pay, I wonder!”</p> + +<p>He hurried in the direction from which the sound had come, and was +just in time to see Ellhorn, yelling and waving his hat, led by Jim +Halliday into <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>the jail, while a half-dozen excited Chinese, who had +been following close behind, stood chattering at the door.</p> + +<p>When the train which carried Thomson Tuttle northward left the +station, Nick Ellhorn watched it disappear in the hot, white, +quivering distance, and then wandered forlornly up town. He went first +to Emerson Mead’s room, but Mead had not yet returned. He went to +Judge Harlin’s office, and found that he was out of town. He next +tried the Palmleaf saloon, where he solaced and cooled himself with +some glasses of beer. Several men were already there, and others came +in, whom he knew, and all wanted to hear about Emerson Mead’s round-up +and to congratulate him on its success. He drank mint juleps with two, +straight whisky with two others, a cocktail with another, and ended +with more beer. He walked up the street to the hotel, and as he talked +with the landlord he could feel the liquors he had so recklessly mixed +beginning to bite into his blood and raise little commotions in remote +corners of his brain. A pleasant-faced young Mexican came into the +office, and the landlord asked him how his patient was. The young man +replied in broken English that the man was a little better but very +sad, and that he wished to find some one to stay with him a few +minutes while he went out on an errand.</p> + +<p>Nick Ellhorn’s heart was warmed and expansive and he promptly +volunteered to sit with the invalid <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>and entertain him for an hour, +and with effusive thanks the Mexican nurse conducted the tall Texan to +the sick-room. White, gaunt and weak, the invalid lay in his bed and +looked with eyes of envy and admiration at the tall, firm, well-knit +frame, the big muscles and the tanned face of his companion. By that +time Nick began to be conscious of a high, swift tide in his veins, +and through his dancing brain came the conviction that he must hold a +steady hand on himself and be very serious. He sat up stiff and +straight in his chair by the bedside, and his demeanor was grave and +solemn. When the sick man spoke of his health and strength, Nick +replied with admonishing seriousness:</p> + +<p>“I’d be just such a lookin’ thing as you are if I stayed indoors like +you do. You can’t expect to be worth a whoop in hell if you stay in +the house and in bed all the time. I’ll steal you away from here so +that coyote of a Mexican can’t get hold of you again, and I’ll take +you out to Emerson Mead’s ranch and put you on a horse and make you +ride after the cattle, and sure and you’ll be a well man before you +know it.”</p> + +<p>The invalid appeared apprehensive, and, feeling himself weakened by +the fear lest something untoward might happen, he asked Ellhorn to +give him a drink of brandy from a flask which stood on the mantel. +Nick poured the measured dose into a glass, smelt of it, and looked +frowningly at the sick man.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>“Do you-all mean to say that you drink this stuff, as sick as you are? +You can have it if you insist, but I tell you you’ll be dead by +sundown if you drink it! Sure and you ought to be ashamed of yourself, +lyin’ in bed and soakin’ with brandy, right on the ragged edge of the +tomb! That Mexican coyote ought to be shot as full of holes as a +pepper box for keepin’ this stuff in the room, and I’ll do it when he +comes back! I’ve taken a notion to you-all, and I’m goin’ to carry you +off on my horse to Emerson’s ranch and make a well man of you. But you +must sure let brandy and whisky alone, I’ll tell you that right now! +And I’ll put this out of your sight, so it won’t be a temptation to +you. I’ll drink it myself, just to save your life!”</p> + +<p>He poured the glass full and drank it off without a breath. Then he +began to lecture the thoroughly frightened invalid on the evil results +of too much indulgence in strong drink. “Look at me!” he solemnly +exclaimed. “I used to drink just as bad as you do, and where did it +bring me! Yes, sir! I’ve had feathers enough in my time to make me a +good bed, but I scattered and wasted ’em all with whisky and brandy, +just as you’re doin’ now, and here I am a-layin’ on the hard ground! +But I’ve quit! No, sirree! I don’t drink another drop, unless it’s to +save a friend, same as I’m drinkin’ this.”</p> + +<p>When the Mexican nurse returned he found his patient fainting from +fright, and a very drunken man solemnly marching up and down the room, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>flourishing an empty flask and uttering incoherent remarks about the +evils of strong drink and the certainty of death.</p> + +<p>“I’ve saved him!” Nick proudly exclaimed to the Mexican. “I’ve saved +his life! He’d ’a’ been drunk as I am, and dead, too, if I hadn’t drunk +all the brandy myself! I didn’t let him touch a drop!”</p> + +<p>The nurse pitched him out of the room and locked the door behind him, +and he, after a dazed stare, stalked off indignantly to the front +entrance. A Chinaman was passing by, with placid face, folded arms and +long queue flopping in the wind. Ellhorn grabbed the queue with a +drunken shout. The man yelled from sudden fright, and started off on +the run with Ellhorn hanging on to the braid, shouting, his spurs +clicking and his revolver flapping at his side. Nick’s yells and the +Chinaman’s frightened screams filled the street with noise and brought +people running to see what was happening. Ellhorn whipped out his +knife and cut off the queue at the Chinaman’s neck, and the man, +feeling the sudden release from the grip of the “white devil” behind +him, ran with flying leaps down the street and at the end of the block +banged against Jim Halliday, himself running to learn the cause of the +uproar. The Chinaman knew Halliday’s office, and with wild gestures +and screaming chatter demanded that he should go back and arrest the +man who had despoiled him of his dearest possession. Halliday, +guessing that his enemy was too drunk to offer much resistance, +hastened <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>at once to the task, and in five minutes Nick Ellhorn was +locked in the jail.</p> + +<p>Emerson Mead at once went to work to get his friend out on bail. He +saw the sheriff, John Daniels, go into the White Horse saloon and +hurried after him. As they stood facing each other, leaning against +the bar and talking earnestly, Mead saw Daniels flash a look of +intelligence and nod his head slightly to some one who had entered +from a back room toward which Emerson’s back was turned. Instinctively +he reached for his gun, and Jim Halliday grabbed his right wrist with +both hands while John Daniels seized his left. With the first touch of +their fingers, the remembrance flashed through his brain that he had +left his revolver on the table in his room. He would have thought it +as impossible to forget that as to forget his trousers, but the thing +was done, and here was the result. He shrugged his shoulders and said +quietly:</p> + +<p>“You’ve caught me unarmed, boys. I’m at your service—this time.”</p> + +<p>They looked at him in doubting surprise. To catch Emerson Mead unarmed +seemed a most unlikely fairy tale. The two men held his arms and +Daniels called a third to search him. Mead flushed and bit his lip.</p> + +<p>“I’m not used to having my word doubted,” he said, “but I can’t blame +you for doubting it this time. I can hardly believe it myself. Jim, +you’ve struck just the one chance in a thousand years.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p><p>Halliday laughed. “Well, I’ve been lucky twice to-day, and I reckon I +haven’t worn out the run yet.”</p> + +<p>Mead smiled indulgently down from his superior height, and said: “Work +it while it runs, Jim; work it while it runs. You can have your +innings now, but mine won’t be long coming.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you won’t have any chance to get yourself hauled over the back +wall this time, I’ll tell you that right now.”</p> + +<p>They hurried their prisoner off to jail, and in a few minutes he also +was locked behind thick adobe walls.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span>lbert Wellesly never made a new investment, nor allowed any change to +be made in property in which he was interested, without first making a +thorough personal inspection. For that reason he spent a number of +busy days at the ranch, near the close of the round-up, inspecting the +range and debating with Colonel Whittaker whether it would be better +to enlarge it or to run the risk of overstocking by increasing the +number of cattle on the land which they already held. They decided +that if they could get control of certain springs and surrounding +ranges, especially Emerson Mead’s Alamo and Cienega springs and +another belonging to McAlvin, which joined the range they already +held, it would be exactly what they needed.</p> + +<p>“These water holes would be worth a lot to us,” said Colonel +Whittaker, “but it would be just like these contrary cusses to refuse +to sell at any price, especially to us.”</p> + +<p>“Then they’ll have to be persuaded,” Wellesly replied.</p> + +<p>It was necessary for Colonel Whittaker to return to Las Plumas before +they had quite finished their inspection, and Wellesly decided to +remain a little <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>longer and go back to town alone. Whittaker hesitated +over the arrangement, for he knew that Wellesly had neither the +instinct nor the training of the plainsman, and that he was unusually +deficient in that sense of direction which is the traveler’s best +pilot over monotonous levels and rolling hills.</p> + +<p>“Do you think you can find your way?” he said. “One of the boys can +guide you over the range, and when you start back to town, unless you +are perfectly sure of yourself, you’d better have him go with you, as +far as Muletown, at least.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll have no trouble about getting back,” Wellesly replied. “It’s +a perfectly plain, straight road all the way, and all I’ll have to do +will be to follow the main track. I’ll stay here two days longer and +I’ll take two days for the trip to town. You can expect me—this is +Monday—some time Thursday afternoon.”</p> + +<p>The misadventure of Nick Ellhorn, which landed both him and Emerson +Mead in jail, was on Tuesday afternoon, and it was early the next +morning that Albert Wellesly left the ranch house and rode down +through the foothills. He decided that the horse knew more about the +road than he did, and would do just as well if left to its own +guidance. So he let the reins lie loosely on its neck and, forgetful +of his surroundings, was soon absorbed in a consideration of the +problems of the cattle ranch. Well down toward the plain the road +forked, one branch turning sharply to the right and the other <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>to the +left. The horse which he rode had, until recently, belonged to Emerson +Mead, from whom the Fillmore Company had bought it. Left to its own +will, at the forks it chose the left hand branch and cantered +contentedly on over rising foothills. Wellesly’s thoughts turned from +the ranch to other business ventures in which he was interested. It +was a long time and the horse had covered much ground before he +finally looked about him to take his bearings and consider his +progress. Looking at his watch he thought he ought to be well down in +the plain toward Muletown, and wondered that he was still among the +foothills. He had an uneasy feeling that there was something wrong, +but he said to himself that he had followed the straight road all the +way and that therefore it must be all right. At any rate, it would be +foolish not to go straight ahead until he should meet some one from +whom he could ask directions. So he rode on and on and the sun rose +higher and higher, and nowhere was there sign of human being. But at +last he saw in the distance a splotch of green trees through which +shone whitewashed walls. And presently he was hallooing in front of +Emerson Mead’s ranch house.</p> + +<p>A thick-set, elderly man, with a round, smooth, pleasant face, out of +which shrewdly looked small dark eyes, came out to see what was +wanted. In his knocking around the world Billy Haney had kept fast +hold of two principles. One was to find <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>out all that he could about +any stranger whom he chanced to meet, and the other, never to tell +that stranger anything about himself that was true. In response to +Wellesly’s question, Haney told him that he was far off the road to +Las Plumas, and then by means of two or three shrewd, roundabout +questions and suggestions, he brought out enough information to enable +him to guess who his visitor was. He knew about Wellesly’s connection +with the cattle company and his recent presence at the ranch, and the +man’s personal appearance had been described to him by Mead and +Ellhorn. So he felt very sure of his ground when he shortly surprised +the traveler by addressing him by name. Then he told Wellesly that his +own name was Mullford, which was the name of a man who owned a cattle +range much farther to the south and who had not been engaged in the +recent trouble over the round-up. He represented himself as the owner +of the place and said that he had been engaged in the cattle business +ten years, but that he was not pleased with it and intended to pull +out within the next year. It was nearly noon and he insisted that +Wellesly should stay to dinner. An idea was dawning in his brain and +he wanted time to consider it.</p> + +<p>A hammock hung in the shade of the cottonwoods, where the breeze blew +cool and refreshing, and he invited Wellesly to stretch himself there +until dinner should be ready. A <i>vaquero</i> took his horse to the stable +and Wellesly threw himself into <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>the hammock and looked up into the +green thickets of the trees with a soul-satisfying sense of relief and +comfort. His revolver in his hip pocket interfered with his ease and +he took it out and laid it on a chair beside the hammock. Then he +pulled his hat over his eyes and in five minutes was asleep.</p> + +<p>There was only one <i>vaquero</i> at the ranch house, and he and Billy +Haney and Wellesly were the only human beings within many miles. When +the cow-boy had taken care of Wellesly’s horse Haney called him into +the kitchen. The man was tall and sinewy, with a hatchet face, a +thin-lipped mouth and a sharp chin.</p> + +<p>“Jim,” said Haney, “I’ve got a scheme in my ’ead about that man, and I +think there’ll be lots of money in it. Do you want to come in?”</p> + +<p>“What’ll it be worth to me?”</p> + +<p>“If there’s anything in it, there’ll be a big pile and we’ll go ’alf +and ’alf, and if there isn’t—well, of course there’s chances to be +took in everything.”</p> + +<p>“What’ll it cost?”</p> + +<p>“Some work and some nerve, and then a quick scoot.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Billy. What’s your play?”</p> + +<p>When they had finished their planning Haney walked softly toward the +hammock. A gentle snore from beneath the hat told him that Wellesly +was sleeping quietly. He took the revolver from the chair, removed the +cartridges from the six chambers and put it back in the same position. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>Then he walked around to the other side of the sleeper and called him +in a hearty tone. Wellesly rose yawning, and they started toward the +house for luncheon.</p> + +<p>“You’ve forgotten your revolver, sir,” said Billy.</p> + +<p>“So I have! I’m not accustomed to carrying the thing, and if you had +not reminded me I probably wouldn’t have thought of it again for a +week. I don’t believe it is necessary to carry one, anyway, but my +friend, Colonel Whittaker, insisted that I should do so.”</p> + +<p>“You never know when you’ll need one down in this country,” Haney +replied, with a sad shake of the head. “It’s pretty tough, I can tell +you. There’s that Emerson Mead outfit. They’re the worst in the +southwest. You’d need your gun if you should meet any of them.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, our company has had very serious and very sad experience with +them.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes! Poor young Whittaker! I ’eard about ’is death. That was the +wickedest thing they’ve ever dared to do. Most everybody in this +country ’as lost cattle by them and we’d all be glad to see ’em driven +out.”</p> + +<p>“They belong to that class of cattlemen,” Wellesly replied, “who start +in the business with one old steer and a branding iron, and then let +nature take its course.”</p> + +<p>Haney laughed uproariously and when he could speak added: “Yes, and in +three years they ’ave <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>bigger ’erds than any of their neighbors. +You’re right, sir, and the sooner the country gets rid of such men the +better. I don’t think, Mr. Wellesly, it’s safe for you to ride alone +where you are likely to meet any of that outfit. You know the feeling +they ’ave for your company, and what they did for young Will, poor +boy, they’d do for you if they got the chance. I’ve got business out +your way, over at Muletown, and if you don’t mind I’ll ride along with +you that far. That will put you on the right road and if we should +meet any of the Mead outfit they wouldn’t be so likely to shoot as if +you were alone.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Mr. Mullford, I’ll be very glad of your company. I’m no +plainsman, and it is the easiest thing in the world for me to get lost +out here among the mesquite and sagebrush, where the country all looks +alike. I suppose I have about the least sense of direction of any man +who ever tried to find his way across a plain alone.”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t worry about that now. Just leave it to me and I’ll get +you to Muletown by the shortest route. I know all this country +thoroughly, every cow-path and water ’ole in it, and you couldn’t lose +me if you tried. You needn’t think about the road again this +afternoon.”</p> + +<p>Haney buckled on a full cartridge belt and a revolver, put a pair of +saddle bags with a big canteen of water in each side over his horse, +slung a rifle on one side of his saddle, and they started off <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>along a +slightly beaten road straight toward the southeast. Wellesly asked +Haney if he were sure they were going in the right direction, and +Haney assured him that it was all right and chaffed him a little that +he so easily lost the points of the compass. In the distance, a mile +or so ahead of them, they saw a man on horseback leading another horse +which carried a pack. When Wellesly again said that he did not +understand how he could be so entirely at sea, Haney suggested that +they overtake this traveler and get his assurance in the matter. They +galloped up beside him and called out a friendly hail. It was Jim, the +<i>vaquero</i> from Mead’s ranch, but he and Haney looked at each other as +if they had never met before. He assured Wellesly that they were +certainly on the road which led to Las Plumas by the way of Muletown, +that he knew it perfectly well, having traveled it many times, and +that he himself was going past Muletown to the Hermosa mountains.</p> + +<p>“You see,” he explained, “Muletown ain’t on the straight line between +here and Las Plumas. It’s away off to one side and you have to go +quite a ways around to get there. That’s what has mixed you up so, +stranger. The road has to go past Muletown, because it’s the only +place on the plain where there’s water.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Wellesly, “since you both say so, it must be all right. +The joke is on me, gentlemen.” He took a flask from his breast pocket. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>“There isn’t much left in this bottle, but as far as it will go, I +acknowledge the corn.”</p> + +<p>The men each took a drink, Wellesly finished the liquor and threw the +empty flask on a sandheap beside the road. Light clouds had risen, so +that the sun and all the western sky were obscured and there were no +shadows to suggest to him that they were going east instead of west. +They were nearing a depression in the Fernandez mountains. Haney +pointed to it, saying:</p> + +<p>“When we get there we can show you just the lay of the land.”</p> + +<p>They passed through the break and a barren plain lay spread out before +them bounded by precipitous mountains which swerved on either hand +toward the range in which they were riding.</p> + +<p>“That,” said Haney, “is the Fernandez plain. You remember crossing +that, surely?” Wellesly nodded. “And the mountains over there,” Haney +went on, “are the ’Ermosas.”</p> + +<p>“The range just this side of Las Plumas,” said Wellesly. “Yes, I am +getting my bearings now.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going prospecting in them mountains,” said Jim. “I’m satisfied +there’s heaps of gold there. I’m going up into that canyon you see at +the foot of that big peak. I was in there two weeks ago and I found +quartz that was just lousy with gold. You fellows better break away +and come along with me. I’ll bet you can’t make more money anywhere +else.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care to go prospecting,” said Wellesly, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>“but if you make a +good strike, and develop it enough to show what it is, I’ll engage to +sell it for you.”</p> + +<p>“Good enough! It’s a bargain!” Jim cried. “Just give me your address, +stranger, so I’ll know where to dig you up when I need you.”</p> + +<p>Wellesly handed his card and Jim carefully put it away in his +pocketbook.</p> + +<p>Haney laughed jovially. “You may count me out, pard, on any of that +sort of business. I’ve blowed all the money into this damn country +that I want to. You’ll never get anything out of it but ’orned toads +and rattlesnakes and ‘bad men’ as long as it lasts. If I can pull out +’alf I’ve planted ’ere I’ll skip, and think I’m lucky to get out with +a whole skin.”</p> + +<p>They trotted across the dry, hot, barren levels of the desert into +which they had descended, seeing nowhere the least sign of human life. +The faintly beaten track of the road stretched out in front of them in +an almost straight line across the gray sand between interminable +clumps of cactus and frowsy, wilted sagebrush. Bunches of yellow, +withered grass cropped out of the earth here and there. But even these +forlorn caricatures of vegetation gave up and stayed their feet on the +edges of frequent alkali flats, where the white, powdery dust covered +the sand and dealt death to any herbage that ventured within its +domain. Hot, parched, forbidding, the desert grew more and more +desolate as they <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>proceeded. To Wellesly there was an awe-inspiring +menace in its dry, bleaching, monotonous levels. He felt more keenly +than ever his own helplessness in such a situation and congratulated +himself on having fallen in with his two guides. He wondered that the +plain had not impressed him more deeply with its desolation and +barrenness when he came out to the ranch. But he had no doubt of the +ability and good faith of his two companions and he drew his horse a +little nearer to them and said:</p> + +<p>“My God! What a place this desert would be for a man to be lost in!”</p> + +<p>Then they told him stories of men who had been lost in it, who had +wandered for days without water and had been found raving maniacs or +bleaching skeletons—the sort of stories that make the blood of any +but a plainsman seem to dry in his veins and his tongue to cleave to +the roof of his mouth. Told in all their details and surrounded by the +very scenes in which their agonies had been suffered, they brought the +perspiration to Wellesly’s brow and a look of horror to his eyes. +Haney and Jim saw that they made him nervous, and racked their +memories and their imaginations for more of the same sort.</p> + +<p>They were approaching the mountains and the country around them was +broken into barren, rocky hills. The road grew rougher and the +mountains towered above them in jagged peaks of seemingly solid rock. +The day was nearly ended and Wellesly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>remembered enough of the +distances along the Las Plumas road to be sure that they ought to be +approaching Muletown. But in this stern wilderness of rock and sand, +human habitation did not seem possible. He looked back across the +desert at the Fernandez mountains, standing out sharply against the +red sunset clouds, and it suddenly flashed across his mind that if the +sun were setting there they must have been traveling in an easterly +direction all the afternoon, which meant that they had been getting +farther and farther away from Las Plumas. Enlightened by this idea, he +sent a quick, seeing glance along the range of mountains standing out +boldly and barrenly in front of them, and he knew it was not the +Hermosa range. Haney turned with a jovial remark on his lips and met +Wellesly’s eyes, two narrow strips of pale gray shining brilliantly +from between half-closed lids, and saw that his game had played itself +smoothly as far as it would go.</p> + +<p>Wellesly disregarded Haney’s jest and looking him squarely in the eyes +said: “I suppose, Mr. Mullford, if we keep on in this direction a +matter of some twenty-five thousand miles we might reach Muletown. But +don’t you think we would save time if we were to turn around and +travel the other way?”</p> + +<p>Haney laughed good-naturedly and exclaimed: “You’ve not got that +notion out of your ’ead yet, ’ave you! Say, pard,” he added to Jim, +“Mr. Wellesly is still turned around. ’E thinks we ought <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>to right +about face and take the back track to get to Muletown. What can we do +to convince ’im’ e’s all right?”</p> + +<p>Wellesly was watching the two men narrowly, his suspicions aroused and +all his faculties alert. Haney’s calm, solicitous tone for a moment +almost made him think he must be mistaken. But another glance at the +rocky, precipitous mountains reassured him that they were not the +Hermosas and settled the conviction in his mind that he had fallen +into the trap of a pair of very smooth rogues. A still, white rage +rose in his heart and mettled his nerves to his finger-tips, as he +thought of the plausible pretensions of good will with which they had +led him into this wilderness. He scarcely heard Jim’s reply:</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what else he wants. We’re going to Muletown, and if he +don’t want to get lost out on this desert and have the coyotes pickin’ +his bones inside of a week he’d better come along with us.”</p> + +<p>“My friends,” said Wellesly, in an even tone in which could barely be +heard here and there the note of suppressed anger, “if you think you +are going to Muletown in this direction, all right, go ahead. That’s +your funeral. But it isn’t mine. If anybody in this crowd is turned +around I’m not the man. I have been, thanks to your very ingenious +efforts, but I’m not now, and I’m not going any farther in this +direction. Unless you can get a little more light on which way is west +I’m afraid we’ll <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>have to part company. Good-bye, gentlemen. I’m going +back.”</p> + +<p>He turned his horse squarely around and faced the long, gray levels of +the darkening desert. As his eye swept over that forbidding, +waterless, almost trackless waste, a sudden fear of its horrors smote +through his anger and chilled his resolution. Haney spurred his horse +to Wellesly’s side, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>“Stop, Mr. Wellesly! You can’t go back over that desert alone in the +night! Why, you couldn’t follow the road two miles after dark! You +know ’ow uncertain it is by day, and in the dark you simply can’t see +it at all. The desert is ’ell ’erself in the daytime, and it’s worse +at night.”</p> + +<p>Wellesly did not reply, for his resolve was wavering. Jim came beside +them, swearing over the delay. “See here,” he said, “we’ve got no time +to fool away. If this here tenderfoot thinks he knows better than we +do which way we’re going, just let him round-up by himself. I’ve been +over this here road dozens of times, I reckon, and I know every inch +of it, but I wouldn’t undertake to travel a mile after night and keep +to the trail. Maybe he can. If he thinks he’s so darned much smarter +than we are let him try it.”</p> + +<p>“Can we make Muletown to-night?” asked Haney.</p> + +<p>Jim swore a big oath. “Didn’t you hear me say I don’t do no travelin’ +on this road at night? No, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>sir. I know a canyon up in the mountain a +ways where there’s sweet water and I’m goin’ to camp there to-night. +If you folks want to come with me and eat prospector’s grub, all +right, you’re welcome.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, pard,” said Haney. “For my part, I’ll be glad to get it. +You’d better come too, Mr. Wellesly. It will be sure death, of the +sort we’ve been talking about this afternoon, for you to start back +alone.”</p> + +<p>“You’re right,” said Wellesly. “I’ll go with you.”</p> + +<p>Jim rode into a canyon which led them into the mountains and for a +mile or more their horses scrambled and stumbled over boulders and +sand heaps. Then they turned into another, opening at right angles +into the first, and after a time they could hear the crunching of wet +sand under their horses’ feet and finally the tinkle of a little +waterfall met their ears.</p> + +<p>“Here’s the place,” said Jim, dismounting.</p> + +<p>“Sure this isn’t h’alkali?” said Haney.</p> + +<p>“You and the tenderfoot needn’t drink it if you don’t want to,” +growled Jim. “And you needn’t stay with me if you’re afraid I’m +a-going to pizen your coffee.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t get angry, my friend,” said Wellesly. “Mr. Mullford didn’t mean +anything out of the way. We are both very much obliged to you for +allowing us to share your camp.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p><p>“Yes,” assented Haney warmly, “it’s w’ite, that’s what it is, to take +in two ’ungry fellows and feed us out of your grub. And we’ll see that +you don’t lose by it.”</p> + +<p>They watered their horses, which Jim hobbled and left to graze upon +the vegetation of the little canyon. All three men hunted about in the +dim light for wood with which to make a fire, and they soon had ready +a supper of coffee, bacon, and canned baked beans, which Jim produced +from his pack. Afterward, he brought out a blanket apiece and each man +rolled himself up and lay down on the ground with his saddle for a +pillow. Wellesly thought the matter all over as he lay on his back and +stared up at the moon-lighted sky. He finally decided there was +nothing to do but to wait for the next day and its developments, and +in the meantime to get as much sleep as he could.</p> + +<p>When he awakened the next morning he found that the others were +already up and had prepared breakfast. The blue sky was brilliant with +the morning sun, but the little canyon was still damp and cool in the +black shadow of its walls and of the beetling mountains that towered +beyond. Their camp was at the very head of the canyon. On two sides +the walls reached high above them in almost perpendicular cliffs. At +the end, the rocky barrier was more broken and was heaped with +boulders, through which the clear waters of the streamlet came +trickling and gurgling and finally leaped over <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>the wall into a little +pool. The floor of the canyon was barely more than two hundred feet +across, and twice that distance below the pool the walls drew so near +together that they formed a narrow pass. In this little oval enclosure +grew several pine trees of fairly good size, some scrub pines and +cedars and other bushes, and the ground was well covered with green +grass and flowers.</p> + +<p>Haney was hearty and jovial in his greeting to Wellesly, solicitous +about his physical welfare and genial and talkative all through +breakfast. Jim grinned at his jokes and stories and ventured some +facetious remarks of his own, and Wellesly told a story or two that +sent the others into peals of laughter. He searched his pockets and +found three cigars, and the three men sat down on the rocks and smoked +them in silence. Each side was waiting for the other to make a move. +At last Wellesly said that he would start back across the plain if the +others still wished to continue in the same direction. They +expostulated and argued with him and reminded him of the probability +that he could not find his way alone, and of the dangers from heat and +thirst which he would have to face.</p> + +<p>Wellesly guessed that they wanted money and were trying to force him +into making an offer. He held to his determination and while they +talked he saddled and mounted his horse. Then they tried to beat down +his resolution by picturing to him the certain death he would meet on +the waterless plain. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>In his heart he was really very much afraid of +that scorching, sandy waste, but he let no sign of his fear show in +his face as he curtly replied:</p> + +<p>“I’m very much obliged to you for all your concern about my welfare, +but I’ll be still more obliged if you won’t worry about me any more. +I’m going back and I’m going to start now, and if you are so sure I’ll +get lost and die you can come along a week or so later, hunt up my +bones and collect the reward that will be offered for news of me.”</p> + +<p>At that suggestion Jim glanced hastily at Haney and Wellesly saw the +Englishman shake his head in reply.</p> + +<p>“We don’t want to be responsible for your death, Mr. Wellesly,” Haney +began, but Wellesly cut him off short:</p> + +<p>“You won’t be. I release you from all responsibility, after I leave +you. Good morning, gentlemen.” And with a cut of the quirt his horse +started. They had been standing near the lower end of the head of the +canyon, and as he moved forward the two men sprang in front of him, +blocking the narrow pass which gave the only outlet.</p> + +<p>“Will you let me pass?” demanded Wellesly, his lips white and his +voice trembling with anger.</p> + +<p>“We’re not ready for you to go yet,” said Haney, all the joviality +gone from his face and voice. His look was that of brutal +determination and his voice was harsh and guttural. Jim added an oath +and both men drew their guns.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p><p>“Then, by God, we’ll shoot it out!” cried Wellesly, whipping his +revolver from his pocket. The hammer fell with a flat thud, and with +an angry exclamation he clicked the trigger again. With furious haste +he went the round of the cylinder. Jim and Haney stood grinning at +him, their guns in their hands.</p> + +<p>“Something the matter with your pop-gun, I reckon,” said Jim.</p> + +<p>Wellesly opened it and looked through the empty cylinder. Then he put +it carefully in his hip pocket, rested his hands on the pommel of his +saddle and looked the two men slowly over, first one and then the +other, from head to foot. At last he spoke:</p> + +<p>“Well, whenever you are ready to make your proposition I will listen +to it.”</p> + +<p>“We ’aven’t any proposition to make,” Haney replied. “We’re not ready +to leave ’ere yet, and we’re not willing for you to risk your life +alone on the desert. That’s all there is about it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, very well! I can stay here as long as you can,” Wellesly replied, +dismounting. He unsaddled his horse, hobbled it and turned it loose to +graze. Then he sat down in the shade of a tree, while the others still +held guard over the narrow pass. He had made up his mind that he would +not offer them money. He would watch his chance to outwit them, he +would match his intelligence against their cunning, his patience +against their brute force. It would be worth a week’s captivity to +turn the tables <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>on these two rogues and get back to civilization in +time to set at work the police machinery of a hundred cities, so that, +whatever way they might turn, there would be no escape for them. He +turned several schemes over in his mind as he watched Haney preparing +their noon meal of bread, coffee, beans and bacon. Jim was taking a +pebble from the shoe of one of the horses. Wellesly sauntered up and +watched the operation, asked some questions about the horses and +gradually led Jim into conversation. After a time he broke abruptly +into the talk with the question:</p> + +<p>“What is the name of these mountains?”</p> + +<p>“The Oro Fino,” Jim answered promptly. Then he remembered that he and +Haney had been insisting that they were the Hermosas ever since the +day before and he stammered a little and added:</p> + +<p>“That is, that’s what the—the Mexicans call them. The Americans call +them the Hermosas.”</p> + +<p>“So you told me last night,” Wellesly answered calmly, “but I had +forgotten.”</p> + +<p>He remembered the name and recalled a topographical map of the region +which he had looked at one day in Colonel Whittaker’s office. He +remembered how the three ranges looked on the map—the Hermosas, the +first range east of Las Plumas, with the wide Fernandez plain lying +beyond, then the Fernandez range, more like high, grassy hills than +mountains, with only their highest summits barren and rocky, and +separated from the Oro Fino—the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>Fine Gold—mountains, by the desert +they had crossed the day before. He recalled the descriptions he had +heard of these Oro Fino mountains—high, barren, precipitous cliffs, +separated by boulder-strewn canyons and cleft by deep gorges and +chasms, a wild and almost impassable region. He remembered, too, that +he had been told that these mountains were rich in minerals, that the +whole rocky, jumbled, upreared, deep-cleft mass was streaked and +striped and crisscrossed with veins of silver and gold, turquoise, +marble, coal and iron, but that it was all practically safe from the +hand of man because of the lack of wholesome water. Alkali and mineral +springs and streams there were, but of so baneful nature that if a +thirsty man were to drink his fill but once he would drink to his +death. Recalling these things, Wellesly concluded that this trickling +spring of sweet, cool water and the little green canyon must be rare +exceptions to the general character of the mountains and that this +must have been the objective point of his captors from the start.</p> + +<p>Along with the awakened memories came also a sudden recollection of a +tale once told him in Denver by a prospector, whom he was grubstaking +for the San Juan country, of a lost mine in the Oro Fino mountains of +New Mexico. He was able to recall the salient points of the story and +it occurred to him that it might be useful in the present emergency. +While they ate dinner Wellesly spoke again <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>of the dangers of the +desert and of the risks he knew he would be taking if he should +attempt to cross it alone.</p> + +<p>“With my deficient sense of direction,” he said, “I should probably +wander all over it a dozen times before I could find my way out.”</p> + +<p>“You’d be dead long before that time,” said Jim.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s very likely I would,” Wellesly calmly assented.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said Haney, “our friend ’ere ’asn’t got much grub and if +you and me continue to live off ’im it won’t last long. ’E knows a way +to get through these mountains and go down to El Paso, but of course +’e can’t be expected to pilot you down there for nothin’. Now, if you +made it worth ’is w’ile, I dare say ’e’d be willin’ to stop ’is +prospecting long enough to get you safe into the town. Eh, pard?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I can,” Jim replied, “if the tenderfoot wants to make it enough +worth while. I ain’t stuck on the trip and I don’t want to fool any +more time away around here. You two have got to decide what you’re +a-going to do mighty quick. I want to get to prospectin’, and if I +have to tote you-all down to El Paso you’ll have to pay big for the +favor.”</p> + +<p>Wellesly did not reply and Haney, who was looking critically at a big +boulder on the top of the canyon wall, burst into the conversation +with an exclamation:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p><p>“My stars! Do you see that ’uge boulder up there, just above the +narrow place in the canyon? ’Ow easy it would be, now, wouldn’t it, +for two men to get up there and pry it loose. It would crash down +there and fill up that whole blamed trail, wouldn’t it, Mr. Wellesly?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and effectually wall up anybody who might have had the bad luck +to be left in here,” Wellesly dryly replied. “But speaking of the +dangers of crossing the desert,” he went on, “I remember a story told +me once in Denver by a prospector who had been down in this country. +It was about a lost mine, the Winters mine. Did you ever hear of it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Jim, “I have. I’ve heard about it many a time. It’s in +these mountains somewhere.”</p> + +<p>“It was so rich,” Wellesly went on, “that Dick Winters knocked the +quartz to pieces with a hammer and selected the chunks that were +filled with gold. He said the rock was seamed and spotted with yellow +and he brought out in his pocket a dozen bits as big as walnuts that +were almost solid gold.”</p> + +<p>The two men were listening with interested faces. Jim nodded. “Yes, +that’s just what I’ve heard about it. But there are so darn many of +them lost mines and so many lies told about ’em that you never can +believe anything of the sort.”</p> + +<p>“What became of this chap and ’is mine?” asked Haney.</p> + +<p>“I reckon the mine’s there yet, just where he left <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>it,” Jim answered, +“but Dick went luny, crossin’ the desert, and wandered around so long +in the heat without water that when he was picked up he was ravin’ +crazy and he didn’t get his senses back before he died. All anybody +knows about his mine is what he said while he was luny, and you can’t +put much stock in that sort of thing.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know about that,” said Wellesly. “I had the story from the +man who took care of him before he died, the prospector I spoke of +just now—I think his name was Frank, Bill Frank. He said that the old +man was conscious part of the time and told him a good deal about the +strike—enough, I should think, to make it possible to find the place +again.”</p> + +<p>Haney and Jim were looking at him with intent faces, their interest +thoroughly aroused. Wellesly decided to draw on his imagination for +any necessary or interesting details that the prospector had not told +him.</p> + +<p>“What did he say,” Jim demanded, “and why didn’t he go after it +himself?”</p> + +<p>“As I remember it, he said that during his delirium Winters talked +constantly of his rich find, that he seemed to be going over the whole +thing again. He would exclaim, ‘There, just look at that! As big as my +fist and solid gold!’ ‘Look at that seam! There’s ten thousand dollars +there if there’s a cent!’ and many other such things. He would jump up +in bed and yell in his excitement. If he was really repeating what he +had seen and done <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>while he was working his strike, Bill Frank said +that he must have taken out a big pile, probably up near a hundred +thousand dollars. That he really had found gold was proved by the +nuggets in his pockets.”</p> + +<p>“Did Winters tell him what he’d done with the ore?” Jim demanded. He +was evidently becoming very much interested.</p> + +<p>“Frank told me that at the very last he seemed to be rational. He +realized that he was about to die and tried to tell Frank how to find +the gold he had taken out. He said he had hidden it in several places +and had tried to conceal the lead in which he had worked. It is likely +that the strike, whatever it was, had upset his head a little and made +him do queer things before he got lost and heat-crazed on the desert.”</p> + +<p>“Well, did this man tell you where he’d hid the dust?”</p> + +<p>“Do you know where it is?”</p> + +<p>“My informant, Bill Frank, said that Winters was very weak when he +came to his senses and could only whisper a few disconnected sentences +before he died, and part of those,” Wellesly went on, smiling at the +recollection, “Frank said ‘the darn fool wasted on gratitude.’ But he +gathered that the Winters mine was somewhere in the southern part of +the Oro Fino mountains, not far from a canyon where there was good +water, and that he had hidden the nuggets and dust and rich rock that +he had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>taken out, in tin cans and kettles and bottles in another +canyon not far away.”</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t your chap go and ’unt for it ’imself?” asked Haney.</p> + +<p>“He did spend several weeks trying to find it, and nearly died of +thirst, and broke his leg falling off a precipice, and had a devil of +a time getting out and getting well again. Then he wanted me to +grubstake him for another hunt for it, but I think a man is more +likely to find a new mine than he is a lost one and so I sent him to +the San Juan instead.”</p> + +<p>“Lots of men have gone into these mountains hunting for the Winters +mine,” said Jim, “but all I’ve known anything about have always gone +farther north than this.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Wellesly, as easily as if it were not an inspiration of +the moment, “Bill Frank told me that when he talked about it he always +made people think that Winters had said it was in the northern part of +the range, but that it was really in the southern part.”</p> + +<p>Jim got up and walked away and presently called Haney. Wellesly lay +down and pulled his hat over his face. He fell into a light slumber +and awoke himself with a snore. He heard the voices of the two men, +and so he kept on snoring, listening intently, meanwhile, to their +conversation. He could not hear all that they said, but he soon found +that they were talking about the lost mine.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p><p>“If this here tenderfoot ain’t lyin’,” said Jim, “the Winters mine +ain’t far from here. I know these mountains and I know this here +spring is the only sweet water within ten miles, yes, twenty of ’em, +unless there may be one up so high among the cliffs that nothing but a +goat could find it. If Dick Winters’ mine is in the southern part of +the Oro Fino mountains it’s somewhere within two miles of us.”</p> + +<p>Then he heard them talk about “finishing up” with him and coming back +to look for the mine. Haney suggested that as they had enough +provisions to last two or three days longer they might spend a day +examining the near-by canyons and “finish up” with Wellesly afterward.</p> + +<p>“If we find the stuff,” he heard Haney say, “and this chap don’t +conclude to be reasonable, we can leave ’im ’ere. If ’e does come to +time, we’ll ’ave so much the more.”</p> + +<p>Then they walked farther away and Wellesly heard no more. His scheme +was coming out as he wished, for they would of course take him with +them, and in their search for the lost mine they might become so +interested that their vigilance would relax and he would find an +opportunity to slip away unobserved. He thought he could find his way +out of the mountains by following the downward course of the canyons. +That would be sure to bring him to the desert.</p> + +<p>After breakfast the next morning Haney said:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p><p>“Well, Mr. Wellesly, do you think you would like to go to El Paso +to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>Wellesly looked him squarely in the eye and replied: “I have no +business in El Paso and do not care to go there.”</p> + +<p>An ugly look came into Haney’s face, and Wellesly saw that his captors +were ready to throw off all pretense and take extreme measures.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Haney; “this is what we’ve decided to do. We’ll give you +till to-morrow morning to make up your mind whether you’ll go to El +Paso and give us ten thousand dollars apiece for taking you there. If +you don’t want to get away that bad, that big rock will roll down into +this canyon and shut up that outlet and you will stay ’ere and starve. +We are going to leave you ’ere alone to-day to think the matter over, +and we are going to tie you fast to that big tree, so you won’t ’ave +anything to distract your attention. We’ll be back to-night and then +you can ’ave your supper and I ’ope we’ll find you in a reasonable +frame of mind.”</p> + +<p>Jim approached with a picket rope, and Wellesly whitened with anger. +For a moment, earth and sky turned black before him, and before he +realized what he was doing he had hit Jim a smashing blow in the jaw. +Jim staggered backward, and then, with a howling oath, whipped out and +leveled his revolver. Haney, who had grabbed one of Wellesly’s wrists +and was struggling to keep it in his grasp, jumped between them and +shouted in a tone <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>of command: “Don’t shoot, Jim, don’t shoot! You’ll +spoil the whole game if you kill ’im!”</p> + +<p>Jim lowered his revolver sullenly and vented his anger in vile +epithets instead of bullets.</p> + +<p>“’Ere, stop your swearing and grab that arm,” said Haney. “You can’t +blame the man for kicking. You or me would do the same thing in ’is +place. Now push ’im up against this pine tree and ’and me the rope. +I’m sorry we ’ave to treat you this way, Mr. Wellesly, but if you +won’t be reasonable it’s the only thing we can do.”</p> + +<p>Wellesly struggled at first, but he soon realized that they were much +the stronger and wasted no more strength in useless resistance, though +grinding his teeth with rage. They tied his arms to his body, and +then, standing him upright, bound him close against the tree. They +stepped back and Jim shook his fist at the captive.</p> + +<p>“I’ll get even with you yet,” he shouted, “for the way you took me in +the jaw! If you ain’t ready to do what we want to-morrow morning you +won’t get a chance to starve, you hear me shout! I’ll wait till then, +but I won’t wait no longer!”</p> + +<p>“Shut up, Jim! Don’t be a fool!” said Haney. “After ’e’s meditated +about it all day ’e’ll be reasonable.”</p> + +<p>Wellesly did not speak, but the two men read a “never surrender” in +his blazing eyes. Haney laughed excitedly and said, replying to his +look:</p> + +<p>“You’ll feel differently to-night, Mr. Wellesly. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>That rope’s likely +to ’ave a big effect on your state of mind. Jim, we don’t want to +leave any knives on ’im.”</p> + +<p>They went through his pockets and took out everything they contained, +dividing the money between them, while Haney took charge of his +papers. Then they made ready for their own trip, saddling their horses +and preparing to lead the two others.</p> + +<p>“We won’t leave ’im the least possibility of getting away,” said Haney +to Jim, “even if ’e should ’appen to get loose.”</p> + +<p>“He’ll never get out of that rope till we let him out.”</p> + +<p>“If the ’orses ain’t ’ere he won’t ’ave any temptation to try. ’E’d +never undertake the desert alone and afoot.”</p> + +<p>As they started, Haney called out, as good-naturedly as if they were +the best of friends: “Good morning, Mr. Wellesly! I ’ope we’ll find +you more reasonable to-night.”</p> + +<p>Jim took out his revolver and turned in his saddle toward the captive. +Haney grabbed his arm.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you worry,” said Jim. “I ain’t a-goin’ to kill him, like I +ought to do. I’m just a-goin’ to put my mark on him.”</p> + +<p>Wellesly heard the clicking of the trigger and the thought sped +through his mind that this was his last moment on earth. He saw the +flash and heard the report, and then it seemed many long minutes until +the whizzing of the bullet filled his ear and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>he heard it thump into +the bark of the tree beside his head. There was a stinging in the rim +of his left ear, where it had nicked out a little rounded segment.</p> + +<p>“There!” said Jim, with an ugly laugh, as he put away his gun, “he’s +my maverick now, and if anybody else claims him there’ll be war.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he next morning after his arrest Nick Ellhorn was released on bail. +He came out thoroughly sobered, and when he learned what had been the +result of his drunken trick his vocabulary of abusive epithets ran dry +in his effort to characterize his conduct.</p> + +<p>“How did you happen to get drunk, Nick?” Judge Harlin asked. “I +thought you had quit. What did you do it for?”</p> + +<p>“Sure, and what did I do it for?” said Nick, and the strong Irish +accent in his speech told how deeply he felt his misdeed. For he was +always most Irish when most moved. “I reckon,” he went on, and the +rolling intonation fell from his tongue like a faint breath from the +green isle itself, “I reckon I did it just to show my friends what a +measly, coyote, white-livered, tackey, ornery, spavined, colicky, +mangy, blitherin’ sort of a beast I am. Sure, now, Judge, I just +wanted everybody to know what a gee-whillikined damn fool I can be if +I try. And they know, now. Oh, yes, they know. There’s nothin’ more I +can tell. Hold on, Judge! Sure, and I’m thinkin’ it all came along of +the way I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>mixed my drinks yesterday when I first struck the Palmleaf. +I had beer, and whisky, and some mint juleps, yes, and maybe a +cocktail, and I think there was some more beer—yes, there was more +beer, and I think likely that I had some brandy up there in that sick +man’s room. For I seem to remember that I took a drink of brandy +because it was goin’ to kill him if he drank it, and so I took it in +his place. Yes, I must have had some brandy, sure, because nothin’ but +brandy will set me up that way. Now, just look at that, Judge! Ain’t +that a fine lay-out for a man to swallow that knows better? If I’d +never been inside a saloon before there’d be some excuse. But me +a-mixin’ my drinks like that! It’s plumb ridiculous!”</p> + +<p>“Jim Halliday isn’t sorry you did it. He’s as proud as a boy with his +first pants over the haul he made yesterday. I hear he’s going to be +measured for a brand-new, tailor-made cartridge belt and six-shooter +as a memento of the occasion.”</p> + +<p>“He’d better hurry up, then, before the occasion turns a back +somersault on him. I reckon what he needs most is a new hat that will +be about six sizes too big for him a week from now. Jim Halliday’s all +right as long as he keeps to his own side of the street, but he’d +better not come over here or he’ll be filled so full of bullets that +he won’t know himself from a dice box. Say, Judge, what’s become of +that John Chiny’s pigtail they say I cut off?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it’s in the hands of the district attorney <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>and will be +brought in as part of the evidence when your case is tried.”</p> + +<p>“Harry Gillam’s got it, has he? Well, I want it myself. It’s mine, and +I want it as a reminder not to mix my drinks. What had I better do +about this business, Judge?”</p> + +<p>“There’s only one thing you can do, Nick—plead guilty and throw +yourself on the mercy of the court, and trust to your confounded Irish +luck to get you off easy.”</p> + +<p>Nick Ellhorn sent a telegram to Thomson Tuttle to return as quickly as +possible and then attended to the shipment of Emerson Mead’s cattle. +When he appeared on Main street again in the afternoon he found the +town dividing itself into two hostile camps. The Palmleaf and the +White Horse saloons were, respectively, the headquarters of the two +factions, and men were dropping their work and leaving their shops and +offices to join the excited crowds that filled the two saloons and +gathered in groups on the sidewalks. On the west side of Main street +the general temper was pleased, exultant, and inclined to jeer at the +other side whenever a Republican met a Democrat. On the east side, +anger and the determination to get even, shone in men’s eyes and +sounded in their talk.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon news came that the territorial district court had +decided in favor of the Democrats a controversy over the sheriff’s +office that had been going on ever since the election the previous +autumn, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>when on the face of the returns the Republican candidate, +John Daniels, had been declared elected. The Democrats had cried +“fraud,” and carried the case into the courts, where it had ever since +been crawling slowly along, while Daniels held the office. The +election had been so hotly contested that each side had counted more +votes than had been registered. But each had felt so confident that it +could cover up its own misdeeds and hide behind its execration of +those of its enemy that neither had had any doubt about the outcome.</p> + +<p>The news of the decision embittered the quarrel which had been opened +by the arrest of Emerson Mead. There were threats of armed resistance +if the Democrats should attempt to take the office, and both John +Daniels and Joe Davis, who had been the Democratic candidate, went +about heavily armed and attended by armed friends as bodyguards, lest +sudden death at the mouth of a smoking gun should end the dispute.</p> + +<p>Toward night the angry talk and the buzzing rumors again centered +about Emerson Mead. It began to be said on the west side of the street +that this whole controversy over the sheriff’s office had been worked +up by Mead and his friends in order that they might get his party into +power and, under its protection, harass the cattle company and by +arrests and murders ruin their business and take their stock. As the +talk whizzed and buzzed along the street men grew more and more +reckless and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>angry in their assertions. They lashed themselves into a +state in which they really believed, for the time being, that Mead’s +continued existence would be a peril to themselves and a danger to the +community. Suggestions of lynching were hazarded and quickly taken up +and discussed. There were many who thought this the best thing that +could be done, and a little group of these got together in the coolest +corner of the White Horse saloon and formed themselves into a secret +vigilance committee. News of these things came by way of the back door +into Judge Harlin’s office. He took the lead on the Democratic side of +the street and organized a party of twelve of their bravest men and +best shots to guard the jail during the night and resist any attempt +to take out Emerson Mead. He was careful also to see that news of what +he was doing was carried to the leaders on the other side. Late in the +evening he and Ellhorn and the rest of their party posted themselves +in dark corners and convenient hiding-places in the neighborhood of +the jail. An hour or more passed and there was no sign that the +vigilance committee had survived the fervors of the afternoon. Finally +Nick Ellhorn began to suspect what had happened and he called Judge +Harlin to account.</p> + +<p>“I call it downright mean, Judge,” he complained, “to bring us fellows +out here in the hope of havin’ a scrimmage and then send the other +side word we’re here, so they’ll be sure not to come! <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>You’ll be +runnin’ on their ticket next thing we know! Now that we are out here +and all ready for business, and nothin’ to do, we’d better just +slam-bang ourselves against that jail over there and get Emerson out.”</p> + +<p>Judge Harlin, Ellhorn, Joe Davis and two others were standing in the +recess of a deep doorway under a <i>portal</i>. On the top of the <i>portal</i>, +stretched at full length, with one ear over the edge, lay a Mexican +listening to their talk. He could not hear Harlin’s reply to Nick’s +suggestion, but one of the others quickly agreed. The listener did not +wait to hear more, and in five minutes the back room of the White +Horse saloon was in a bustle of excitement. John Daniels and Jim +Halliday called for a posse of citizens to help them defend the jail, +and the party set out at once on a quick run up the street.</p> + +<p>Judge Harlin was trying to restrain Ellhorn’s enthusiasm over the idea +of assaulting the jail. “No, Nick,” he said, “we don’t want to do +anything illegal. We are all right so far, because we are here to +protect human life and uphold the law. But the minute you throw +yourself against the doors of the jail you forfeit the law’s +protection and—”</p> + +<p>“Here they come!” Nick interrupted excitedly. His quick ear had caught +the hurried tramp of the approaching party.</p> + +<p>With Daniels, Whittaker and Halliday in the lead and the others +trailing on close behind, they came down the middle of the street on a +half run, plainly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>revealed in the bright moonlight. They expected to +find the Democrats battering down the jail door, if they were not +already taking the prisoner out, and all their attention was turned +toward that building. Presently they saw that the entrance and all the +street round about were silent and apparently deserted, and they +concluded that the rescuing party was already inside the jail. Daniels +turned and made a hushing gesture.</p> + +<p>“Softly, boys,” he said in a repressed voice. “Come along as quietly +as you possibly can and get up to the door in a bunch. Have your guns +ready.”</p> + +<p>Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when from the darkness and +silence of a <i>portal</i> a block beyond them came a flash and a report, +and on the instant a dozen more blazed out along that side of the +street, for half a block.</p> + +<p>The sheriff’s party came to a sudden stop, stunned for a moment by the +complete surprise. One of their number threw out his hands and sank +down groaning into the dust.</p> + +<p>“We’re ambushed, boys! It’s a trick!” shouted a man in the rear, and +he started off as fast as his legs could carry him. Another and +another followed his example, and three others picked up the wounded +man and carried him away. Daniels and Halliday and three or four +others returned the fire, guessing at the location of the enemy, but +one of their party fell to the ground and another dropped <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>his pistol +as his arm suddenly went limp and helpless.</p> + +<p>“It’s nothin’ but a trick to get us out here and kill us,” said +Daniels.</p> + +<p>“It’s no use to stand here and make targets of ourselves in the +moonlight,” added Halliday. “We’d better get out as quick as we can.”</p> + +<p>They picked up the wounded man, and supporting him between two others, +sought the shadow of the sidewalk and hurried away, followed by a +jeering “Whoo-oo-oo-ee” in Nick Ellhorn’s well-known voice.</p> + +<p>“No more shooting, boys!” shouted Judge Harlin. “We’ve buffaloed +’em—let ’em go!”</p> + +<p>“You’re always spoilin’ the fun, Judge,” Nick complained. “This job +was too easy! Now, did you ever see such a pack of cowards start on a +lynchin’ bee? But I reckon they’ve learned one lesson and won’t try to +lynch Emerson again in a hurry.”</p> + +<p>The next day excitement ran higher than ever. The Republicans, +smarting under their defeat, were in a white heat of indignation over +what they believed was a deliberate plan to ambush and kill their +leading men. The Democrats, while they were jubilant over their +victory, were equally indignant over what they declared was an +attempt, by the very men who ought to have protected him, to lynch +Emerson Mead. In reality, each side had been trying to protect him and +uphold the law, but each scoffed at <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>and spurned the story of the +other. Main street was in two hostile camps and all the fire-arms in +the town that were not already in evidence in holsters and hip +pockets, were brought to the center of hostilities and placed within +handy reaching distance in shops and offices. Behind the bar in each +of the saloons was a stack of shot-guns and rifles. The sidewalk on +each side of the street was constantly crowded, but nobody crossed +from one side to the other.</p> + +<p>The women began to feel the war spirit and early in the day Judge +Harlin’s wife and John Daniels’ wife, who were ordinarily the dearest +friends, passed each other on the street without speaking. The ladies +of Las Plumas were accustomed to meet at frequent teas, luncheons and +card parties on terms of the greatest cordiality, but long before +night, if any one whose masculine affiliations were on one side met +one belonging to the other, they passed with a haughty stare.</p> + +<p>Sheriff Daniels was much disturbed over the situation, fearing that he +would be unable to keep his prisoner in jail. He talked the matter +over with his advisers and together they decided that the best plan +would be to get Emerson Mead out of town for the present, and +accordingly a telegram was sent to the sheriff of the adjoining county +asking permission to lodge Mead temporarily in his jail. The Democrats +heard of this plan, and Nick Ellhorn fumed indignantly. Judge Harlin +was secretly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>pleased, and contrived to send word to Colonel +Whittaker, Sheriff Daniels and Jim Halliday that he approved their +plan and would do his best to control the Democratic faction while +they were making the change. He did not tell Nick Ellhorn that he had +done this, but he reasoned with that loyal friend at great length on +the matter.</p> + +<p>“But see here, Judge,” Nick replied to all his arguments, “I got +Emerson into trouble this time and I’ve got to get him out. If he +hadn’t been chasin’ around alone, tryin’ to get me out of the beastly +drunken scrape I’d been fool enough to get into, this wouldn’t have +happened. You know it wouldn’t, Judge. It’s all my fault, and I’ve got +to get Emerson out of it.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, Nick. Your loyalty to Emerson does you great +credit. Much more than your judgment does. But if you’ll just wait a +week or two the grand jury will pronounce on his case, and they’re +bound to let the bottom out of the whole thing. They’ll never find a +true bill against him, with no evidence to go on and no proof even +that Will Whittaker is dead. Then Emerson will come out a vindicated +man and they will have to let him alone after that. His interests will +not suffer now by his being detained a few days, and he will gain in +the respect of the community by submitting quietly. Take my advice, +Nick, and keep still, and let matters follow their legal course for +the next week or two.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p><p>“A week or two, Judge! And let Emerson stay in jail all that time? +When he’s no more right to be there than you or me! Sure, now, Judge! +and what do you-all take me for, anyway?”</p> + +<p>“For a sensible man, Nick, who will see the reason in what I have been +saying and will take my advice in the matter.”</p> + +<p>Nick leaned his face on his hand and gloomed across the desk at the +big judge, who sat calm and judicial on the other side. Judge Harlin +pleased himself much by believing that he could handle Nick Ellhorn +better than any other man in the county, except Emerson Mead, and he +liked to have the opportunity to try his hand, just as he liked to +drive a nervous, mettlesome, erratic horse. He could drive the horse, +but he could not manage Nick Ellhorn. The tall Texan had learned not +to batter words against the judge’s determination, which was as big +and bulky as his figure. He simply gave tacit acquiescence, and then +went away and did as he pleased. If his scheme succeeded he adroitly +flattered the judge by giving him the credit; if it failed he +professed penitence and said how much better it would have been to +follow the judge’s advice. He saw that Judge Harlin had decided to +allow Emerson Mead to stay in jail until the grand jury should meet, +so he presently said:</p> + +<p>“Oh, I reckon you-all are right about it, Judge, but it’s damn hard on +Emerson. But if it’s the only way to keep this blamed town from +fallin’ to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>and gettin’ rid of itself I reckon we’ll have to let him +stand it.” He got up and walked up and down the room for a few minutes +and then, with his black eyes dancing and a broad smile curling his +mustache around the dimple in each cheek, he went to the telegraph +office and sent to Thomson Tuttle a telegram which read:</p> + +<p>“Get off the train to-morrow at Escondida and ride to Bosque Grande, +where you will find Missouri Bill with horses and instructions.” +Escondida was the first station on the railroad north of Las Plumas +and the Bosque Grande was a river flat, covered with a dense growth of +cottonwoods and willow bushes through which the railroad ran, about +midway between the two towns. Missouri Bill was one of Mead’s cow-boys +who had come in with the herd of cattle.</p> + +<p>When it became known that Emerson Mead was to be taken to the +Silverado county jail to await the session of the grand jury and that +the Democrats would not object to the scheme, the war feeling at once +began to abate. The town still rested on its arms and glared across +Main street, each party from its own side. There was no more talk of +extreme measures and there were no more threats of blood letting. So +things went on for a few hours, until the matter of Mead’s transfer to +the Silverado jail was finally settled. Then all the town looked on +while Judge Harlin strolled leisurely across the street, nodded to +Colonel Whittaker and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>Sheriff Daniels, and the three men went into +the White Horse saloon and clinked glasses together over the bar. A +little later Jim Halliday went to the Palmleaf and he and Joe Davis +joined in a friendly “here’s luck.” After which all the town put away +its guns and went quietly about its usual affairs.</p> + +<p>The Republicans frankly gave out that Emerson Mead would be taken away +on the north bound overland train, which passed through Las Plumas in +the middle of the day. Nick Ellhorn decided that this was told too +openly to be true. He guessed that the journey would be made on a +“local” train which passed through the town in the early morning and +that Sheriff Daniels hoped, by thus secretly carrying off his +prisoner, to forestall any possible attempt at a rescue. Accordingly, +he sent another telegram to Tuttle to be in the Bosque Grande for this +train and started off Missouri Bill with two extra horses before +daybreak on the second morning after the fight.</p> + +<p>With Sheriff Daniels beside him and Jim Halliday walking close behind, +Emerson Mead stepped into the rear coach of the “local” train with +none to witness his departure other than the handful of regular +travelers, and a half dozen well armed Republicans who were at the +station to help prevent any attempt at escape. Mead greeted these with +smiling good nature, as if there were no thought of quarrel between +them, and cast his eyes about for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>sight of his own friends. Not one +could he see. He did not know what plan for his assistance Ellhorn and +Tuttle might have schemed, he did not even know that Tuttle had gone +away, but he felt sure they would not allow him to be taken away from +Las Plumas any more than they would allow him to remain in jail longer +than the earliest possible moment at which they could get him out. So +he went along quietly and good-naturedly with his keepers, his eyes +watchful and his mind alert, alike for any relaxation of their +vigilance which would give him a chance of escape, and for the first +sign from his friends.</p> + +<p>Nick Ellhorn did not appear on the station platform at all. He rushed +up from the opposite side just as the train was starting and jumped on +the steps of the smoking car. Inside he saw a man whom he knew, and, +sitting down beside him, they smoked and chatted and laughed together +until the train reached the edge of the Bosque Grande, when Nick +walked leisurely into the baggage compartment which formed the front +half of the smoking car. He nodded a friendly good morning to the +baggage man, handed him a cigar, lighted a fresh one himself, and with +one eye out at the open door stood and bandied a joke or two with the +train man. Presently he caught sight of a bunch of horses behind a +willow thicket a little way ahead and saw a big, burly figure near the +track.</p> + +<p>Then he leaped to the top of the tender, and in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>another moment was +sitting with his long legs dangling from the front end of the coal +box. “Whoo-oo-oo-ee!” sounded in the ears of the engineer and fireman, +above the rattle of the train and the roar of the engine. They looked +around, astonished and startled by the sudden yell, and saw themselves +covered by two cocked revolvers.</p> + +<p>“Stop your old engine before she gets to that trestle yonder or I’ll +blow both of you through your headlight!” yelled Nick.</p> + +<p>The engineer knew Ellhorn and he yelled back, “What for, Nick?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind what for! Stop her quick or—one, two—”</p> + +<p>The engineer waited no longer, but let his lever forward with a sudden +jerk. The wheels ground and scraped and the train trembled and stood +still with the rear coach only a few feet in front of Tuttle’s post.</p> + +<p>Inside the car, Halliday, who sat in the seat behind Mead and the +sheriff, had walked to the front end of the car and was drinking at +the ice-water tank when the train came to a sudden stop. He went to +the front platform and looked up the track to see what was the matter. +Seeing nothing there he turned to face the rear. By that time Tom +Tuttle was on the back platform and nothing was to be seen in that +direction. So he turned to the other side of the platform and looked +diligently up and down the road. Sheriff Daniels and his prisoner were +sitting <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>on the opposite side of the train from that on which Tuttle +was entering. The sheriff stepped into the next seat and put his head +out of the window. Mead’s faculties were on the alert, and when he +heard a quick, heavy step leaping up the back steps of the car he +knew, without turning his head, that it was either Tuttle or Ellhorn. +He leaned over the back of the seat in front of him and jerked the +sheriff’s pistol from its holster just as Tuttle stood beside him. +Daniels jumped back, as he felt his gun drawn out, and found himself, +unarmed, confronted by cocked revolvers in the hands of two of the +best shots in the territory. He yelled for Halliday, and Mead and +Tuttle backed quickly toward the rear door. The train was moving again +as Halliday came rushing in, and Tuttle, disappearing through the back +door, transferred his aim from the sheriff to the deputy. Halliday +knew well that if he fired he would shoot to his own death, and he +paused midway of the car, with his gun half raised, as the two men +leaped from the moving train.</p> + +<p>“Much obliged!” yelled Nick Ellhorn, jumping to the ground from +his perch on the coal box. Daniels and Halliday stood on the rear +platform as the three men leaped on the horses which Missouri Bill had +ready beside the track. Daniels shook his fist at them in rage, and +Halliday emptied the chambers of his six-shooter, but the bullets did +no more damage than to cut some hairs from the tail of Mead’s horse. +Ellhorn waved his sombrero and shouted <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>his loudest and longest +“Whoo-oo-oo-ee!” Tuttle yelled “Buffaloed!” and Mead kissed his hand +to the two angry men on the rear platform of the departing train. Then +they put spurs to their horses and rode away over the plains and the +mountains. They stopped over night at Muletown, and reached Mead’s +ranch about noon the next day.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>ellesly waited in silence and apparent resignation until his captors +disappeared down the canyon and the last sound of the horses’ feet +stumbling over the boulders melted into the distance. Then he began +wriggling his body and twisting his arms to see if there were any +possibility of loosening the rope. It would give just enough +everywhere to allow a very slight movement of limbs and body, but it +was impossible to work this small slack from any two of the loops into +one. Wellesly pulled and worked and wriggled for a long time without +making any change in his bonds. Then he put all his attention upon his +right arm, which he could move up and down a very little. He had a +narrow hand, with thumb and wrist joints as supple as a conjurer’s, so +that he could almost fold the palm upon itself and the hand upon the +arm. One turn of the rope which bound his arms to his body was just +above the wrist, and by working his hand up and down, until he rubbed +the skin off against the bark of the tree, he managed to get this band +a little looser, so that, by doubling his hand back, he could catch it +with his thumb. Then it was only a matter of a few minutes until he +had the right arm <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>free to the elbow. On the ground at his feet lay a +match, which had dropped there when his captors rifled his pockets. If +he could only get it he might possibly burn through some of the bands +of rope. He thought that if he could get rid of the rope across his +chest he might be able to reach the match. He worked at this with his +one free hand for some time, but could neither loosen nor move it. He +picked at it until his finger-ends were bleeding, but he could make no +impression on its iron-like strands.</p> + +<p>A breeze blew the lapel of his light coat out a little way and there +his eye caught the glint of a pin-head. He remembered that Marguerite +Delarue had pinned a rose in his buttonhole the day before he left Las +Plumas. He had been saying pretty, half-loverlike nothings to her +about her hair and her eyes, and to conceal her embarrassed pleasure +she had turned away and plucked a rosebud from the vine that clambered +over the veranda. He had begged for the flower, and she, smiling and +blushing so winsomely that he had been tempted to forget his +discretion, had pinned it in his buttonhole. It had fallen out +unnoticed and he had forgotten all about it until the welcome sight of +the pin brought the incident back to his memory. With a little +exclamation of delight he thrust his free hand upward for the pin, but +he could not reach it. Neither could he pull his coat down through the +bands of rope. He worked at it for a long time, and finally stopped +his efforts, baffled, despairing, his heart <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>filled with angry +hopelessness. Again the breeze fluttered the lapel, and with a sudden +impulse of revengeful savagery he thrust down his head and snapped at +the coat. Unexpectedly, he caught it in his teeth. Filled with a new +inspiration, he kept fast hold of the cloth and by working it along +between his lips, he finally got the head of the pin between his +teeth. Then he easily drew it out, and, leaning his head over, +transferred it to his fingers.</p> + +<p>He drew a deep breath of exultation. “Now,” he thought, “this settles +the matter, and I’ll soon be free—if I don’t drop the pin. My blessed +Marguerite! I could almost marry you for this!”</p> + +<p>Carefully he began picking the rope with the pin, fiber by fiber, and +slowly, strand by strand, the hard, twisted, weather-beaten cords gave +way and stood out on each side in stubby, frazzled ends. The pin bent +and turned in his fingers, and the blood oozed from their raw ends. +But he held a tight grip upon his one hope of freedom, and finally the +rope was so nearly separated that a sudden wrench of his body broke +the last strands. He put the bent, twisted, bloody pin carefully away +in his pocket and, stooping over, found that he could barely reach the +match on the ground. He was able to grasp also two or three dry twigs +and sticks that lay near it. On the bark of the pine tree to which he +was tied were many little balls and drops of pitch. He felt over the +surface of the tree as far as he could reach and pulled off all that +he could get of this. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>Then he found that the only part of the rope +that he could at once reach and see was that directly in front of his +body. He turned and twisted, but there was no other way. If he +attempted to burn it anywhere else he would have to guess at the best +way to hold the match, and he might waste the precious heat in which +lay his only hope.</p> + +<p>He stuck the pitch in a ring around the rope where it circled his body +just below the stomach. Then he set his teeth together, and with his +face gone all white and sick-looking, lighted the match and held it +under the pitch. Eagerly he watched the little flames dart upward over +the rope. He flattened his body against the tree as the scorching heat +reached his skin. The match burned low, and by its dying flame he +lighted one of the dry twigs. It was full of pitch and burned up +brightly. The flame leaped up and caught his shirt. Holding the +burning stick in his mouth he slapped the fire with the palm of his +one free hand and soon smothered it, before it had done more than +scorch the skin of his chest. The cloth of his trousers charred under +the fire and held a constant heat against his body, and the pain from +the blistering wound almost made him forget his desperation. Twice he +started impulsively to fling away the tiny brand, but quick +remembrance of his desperate situation stopped the instinctive +movement, and, with grinding teeth, he held it again under the rope. +The smell of the burning flesh rose to his nostrils and sickened him. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>He felt himself turning faint. “I can not stand it!” he groaned and +flung away the burning twig. In an instant he realized what he had +done, and stooping over he tried to reach it where it blazed upon the +ground. But it was too far away. In an agony of hopelessness he seized +the rope with his one free hand and jerked it with all his strength. +It broke at the burned place and left him free as far as the hips, +although the left arm was still bound to his body.</p> + +<p>An empty tin can caught his eye in the grass a little way off. It was +out of his reach, but he saw a stick on the ground part way around the +tree. By twisting and stretching his body to the utmost he could reach +the stick, and by its aid he soon had the can in his hand. The top had +been almost cut out, and holding the can in his hand and the flying +leaf of tin in his teeth he worked and twisted and pulled until he +tore it out. Its edge was sharp and jagged, and sawing and cutting +with it he soon freed himself from the remaining bonds of rope. As the +last one dropped away and he stood up and stretched himself in the +shade of the pine tree he found that he was trembling like a leaf and +that a cold sweat covered him from head to foot. Shivering, he stepped +out into the hot sunshine.</p> + +<p>But he had no time to waste on a nervous collapse. He found some tea +in the pack, and hastily stirring up the embers of the breakfast fire, +he made the coffee pot full of a brew as strong as he could <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>drink. +There was also part of a small sack of flour, and he quickly mixed a +paste of flour and water and spread it over the deep, blistered burn +on his abdomen. Then, with a can of baked beans in one hand and the +coffee pot of tea in the other, he started down the canyon.</p> + +<p>The tiny stream from the spring grew smaller and smaller and finally +lost itself in the thirsty earth. For a little way farther the +straggling vegetation and the moist sand showed its course, but long +before he reached the mouth of the canyon all sign of water +disappeared and nothing remained but hot sand and barren rocks. When +he reached the larger canyon through which they had come up from the +plain two days before, he hid behind some huge boulders and watched +and listened for sign of his captors. He thought he heard the faint +sound of a horse’s hoofs far in the distance. He started from his +hiding-place and ran down the canyon, hoping to get out of sight, if +it should be his two enemies returning, before they could reach the +place. He was still trembling with the exhaustion of the forenoon’s +long nervous strain, and when his foot slipped upon a stone he could +not save himself from a fall. He went down full length upon the sand, +and half his precious store of tea was spilled. He dared not take the +time to go back and make more. There was still left nearly a quart of +the strong liquid, and he thought that if he would be very careful and +remember to swallow only a little <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>each time it might take him safely +across the desert. He hurried on, running where the way was smooth and +hard enough, and again clambering over boulders or ploughing heavily +through the sand.</p> + +<p>When he came to the mouth of the canyon and looked out over the low, +rocky hills and the sandy, white waste beyond, the sun was already in +its downward course. He was red and panting with the heat, which had +been well nigh intolerable between the high, narrow walls of the +canyon, and his whole body smarted and glowed as if it had been +encased in some stinging hot metal. He carefully studied the sky line +of the Fernandez mountains, which rimmed the desert on the west, and +marked the pass through which he and his companions had come, +impressing it upon his mind that he must keep that constantly before +his eyes. It seemed easy enough, and he said to himself that if he +just kept his face toward that pass he would have no trouble and that +he would certainly reach it before noon the next day. He listened +intently for sounds from the canyon, but could hear nothing, and with +much relief he decided that he must have been mistaken and that he +would be safe from immediate pursuit.</p> + +<p>“I’m lucky so far,” he said to himself as he started on the faintly +marked trail across the barren foothills, “even if I did spill my tea. +If they should follow me, it would be my last day on earth. That +damned Jim would shoot me down as soon as he could get near enough.” +Then he remembered that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>this was Thursday, and that Colonel Whittaker +would expect him in Las Plumas that afternoon. “He’ll send to the +ranch to inquire about me when I don’t show up to-morrow,” Wellesly +thought, “and then everybody will turn out to search for me. But, Good +Lord! I needn’t pin any hopes to that! I’d be dead and my bones picked +and bleached long before anybody would think of looking in this hell +hole for me. There would be absolutely no way of tracing me. My only +hope is to—now, where is that pass! Yes, there it is. I’m headed all +right.”</p> + +<p>He walked rapidly over the low, rocky hills, still fearing possible +pursuit and frequently looking back, until he reached the sandy levels +of the desert. There the trail was so faint that he could scarcely +follow it with his eye. He stopped, perplexed and doubtful, for he +could not remember that it seemed so blind when he traveled it before. +“But there is the pass,” he thought. “I’m headed all right, and this +must be the road. It is just another indication of my general +stupidity about everything out of doors. I never look at a road, or +think about directions, or notice the lay of the land, as long as +there is anybody with me upon whom I can depend. I might as well pay +no more attention to this trail and strike straight across the desert. +If I keep my face toward the pass I’m all right.”</p> + +<p>As long as the road kept a straight course across the sand and alkali +wastes he followed it. But when it bent away in a detour he chose the +air line <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>which he constantly drew from his objective point, and +congratulated himself that he would thus save a little space. He +tramped along, in and out among the cactus and greasewood, and +finally, near sunset, he came upon a great, field-like growth of +prickly-pear cactus. The big, bespined joints spread themselves in a +thick carpet over the sand and climbed over one another in great +hummocks and stuck out their millions upon millions of needles in +every direction. The growth looked as if it might cover hundreds of +acres.</p> + +<p>“So that’s the reason the trail bent like a bow,” thought Wellesly as +he looked at the field of cactus in dismay. “I ought to have known +there was some good reason for it. If I’m lucky enough to find it +again I’ll know enough to stick to it. Well, I must skirt along this +field of devil’s fingers till I find the road again. I wonder if I’ll +know it when I see it.”</p> + +<p>The sun went down, a dazzling ball of yellow fire, behind the rounded, +rolling outlines of the Fernandez mountains, and from out the towering +crags of the Oro Fino range the moon rose, white and cool, looking +like a great, round wheel of snow. Wellesly had planned to keep on +with his journey through the greater part of the night, in order to +take advantage of the cooler atmosphere. But the trail was so faint he +feared he might not recognize it in the less certain light of the +moon, and so he decided to stop where he was for the night. With his +heel and a sharp-edged stone he stamped in the head of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>can of +baked beans and with his fingers helped himself to a goodly share of +its contents. He forced himself to drink sparingly of what remained of +his tea. Not more than a pint was left and he dared take no more than +a few sips. To keep from pouring the whole of it down his throat in +great gulps strained his will power to the utmost. His whole body +clamored for drink. He would seize the coffee pot with a savage grip +and carry it half way to his lips, stop it there with gritting teeth, +and with conjured visions of men dying with thirst force himself to +put it down again. He said to himself that of all the times in his +life which had required self-control none had ever made such sweeping +demands upon his will power as did this. After he had finished his +supper and was ready to lie down on the sand to sleep, he carried the +coffee pot some rods away, to the edge of the growth of cactus, and +hid it there under the protection of the branching, needle-covered +joints of the prickly-pear, where he could not get it without having +his hands pierced and stung by the spines. For he feared that his +thirst might rouse him in the night and that, with his faculties +benumbed with sleep, he might drink the whole of the precious store.</p> + +<p>By midnight the air of the desert had cooled enough for him to sleep +with comfort, save for the thirst that now and again wakened him with +parched mouth and clinging tongue. In the morning, he resolutely ate +his breakfast of cold baked beans, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>helping himself with his fingers, +forcing himself to swallow the very last morsel he could choke down, +before he took the coffee pot from its hiding-place. His eyelids fell, +and with a gasping breath he put it to his lips. Then he summoned all +his will power and took two small swallows.</p> + +<p>As he plodded through the sand he wondered what would be the outcome +of his journey, even if he should succeed in getting safely across the +desert and beyond the mountain pass. He remembered that there was no +sign of water and no human habitation between the desert and the ranch +where his misfortunes had begun. He had seen no one there but the +Englishman, and he wondered whether he would find the place deserted +or whether he would run into the arms of other members of the same +gang that had lured him away. No matter. He would find water there, +and he was ready to face any danger or run any risk for the chance of +once more having all the water he could drink.</p> + +<p>The sun was well up in the sky and the desert glowed like an oven. Hot +winds began to blow across it—light, variable winds, rushing now this +way and now that. They made little whirlwinds that picked up the sand, +carried it some distance, and then dropped it and died away. Wellesly +saw one of these sand clouds dancing across the plain not far away, +and instantly the hopeful thought flashed upon him that it was the +dust raised by some horsemen. He ran toward it, shouting and waving +his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>hat. It turned and whirled along the sandy levels in another +direction, and he turned too and ran toward a point at which he +thought he could intercept it. Presently it vanished into the heated +air and he stopped, bewildered, and for a moment dazed, that no +horsemen came galloping out of the cloud. He looked helplessly about +him and saw another, a high, round column that reached to mid-sky, +swirling across the plain. Then he knew that he had been chasing a +“dust-devil.” He swore angrily at himself and started on, and when +next he swept the mountain range with his eye for the pass that was +his objective point he could not find it. Suddenly he stopped and shut +his eyes, and a shuddering fear held his heart. Slowly he turned +squarely around and looked up, afraid and trembling. There were the +Fernandez mountains and there was the pass he wished to reach. He had +no idea how long he had been traveling in the backward direction. A +sudden panic seized him and he ran wildly about, now in one direction +and now in another. Panting with the exertion he savagely grasped the +coffee pot and drained it of its last drop.</p> + +<p>“Now I have signed my death warrant,” he thought, as he threw away the +empty vessel. He sank down on the hot sands and buried his face in his +arms. For the first time his courage was all gone. Presently he felt +the effects of the tea and he stood up, ready to go on.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p><p>“It is no use trying to find the road again,” he mused. “It would be +just so much lost time and effort. I’ll just keep my eye on the pass +and go directly toward it, as nearly as I can.”</p> + +<p>He tried to eat more of the beans, but they stuck in his parched +throat. The tin was so hot that it burned his fingers, and, believing +they would be of no more use to him, he threw them away. The draught +of tea had much refreshed him and he started across the trackless +waste of sand and alkali with renewed determination.</p> + +<p>He tramped on and on, the sun blazed down from a cloudless sky and +beat upon the level plain, and the sand, filled with heat, threw back +the rays into the scorching air. The heat seemed to fill the plain as +if it were a deep, transparent lake of some hot, shimmering liquid. At +a little distance every object loomed through the heat-haze distorted, +elongated and wavering. The hot sand burned Wellesly’s feet through +his boots. The notion seized him that if he touched his body anywhere +it would blister his fingers. Even the blood in his veins felt fiery +hot and as if it were ready to burst through its channels. The sun +seemed to follow him and blaze down upon him with the malicious +persecution of a personal enemy. He shook his fist and swore at the +ball of fire.</p> + +<p>For a long time he kept his eyes resolutely upon the Fernandez pass +and would look neither to left nor right. But after a while his brain +grew dizzy <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>and his determination faltered. He stopped and looked +about him. Off to one side he thought he saw a lake, lying blue and +limpid in a circlet of gray sand, and he ran panting toward it, +reaching out his hands, and ready to plunge into its cool depths. He +ran and ran, until he stumbled and fell with exhaustion. It happened +that he lay in the shadow of a big clump of greasewood, and after a +little he revived and sat up. Then he rose and looked all about—and +knew that the longed-for lake was only the lying cheat of the desert +sands. He fastened his eyes again upon the mountain pass and trudged +on over the burning waste and through the burning heat, mumbling oaths +of threat and anger. His tongue seemed to fill his whole mouth, and +tongue and mouth and throat burned like red-hot metal.</p> + +<p>The stories he had heard from Jim and Haney constantly haunted him. He +could not drive them away. In imagination he saw himself lying on the +white, hot sands with open mouth, protruding tongue, black face and +sightless eyes. The picture sent a thrill of horror through him and +moved his dizzy, flagging brain to fresh resolution. He stumbled on +through the blazing, parching, cruel heat, sometimes falling and lying +motionless for a time, then pulling himself up and going on with will +newly braced by the fear that he might not rise again. Once he sank, +groaning, his courage quite broken, and mumbled to himself that he +could go no farther. As he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>fell the loud whirr of a rattlesnake +sounded from the bush of greasewood beside him. Instinctive fear +instantly mettled his nerves and he sprang up and leaped away from the +hidden enemy. The fear of this danger, of which he had not thought +before, steadied his brain once more and helped him bend his will +unyieldingly to the task of going on and on and on, forever and +forever, through the burning, blasting heat.</p> + +<p>Often he turned from his course and wandered aimlessly about in wrong +directions, forgetting for a time his objective point and remembering +only that he must keep going. Once he came upon human bones, with +shreds of clothing lying about, and stood staring at them, his eyes +held by the fascination of horror. Finally he forced himself to move +on, and after he had tramped through the scorching sand for a long +time, he found himself staring again at the bleaching skeleton. +Through his heat-dazed brain the thought made way that the fascination +of this white, nameless thing had cast a spell upon him and had drawn +him back to die here, where his bones might lie beside these that had +whitened this desert spot for so many months. Perhaps this poor +creature’s soul hovered over his death place and in its loneliness and +desolation had fastened ghoulish talons into his and would pin him +down to die in the same spot. The idea took instant possession of his +bewildered mind and filled him with such quaking fear and horror that +he turned and ran with new <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>strength and speed, as if the clawing, +clamoring ghost were really at his heels.</p> + +<p>By mere blind luck he ran in the right direction, and when next he had +conscious knowledge of his surroundings he was lying on the ground at +the mouth of the Fernandez pass, well up in the mountains, with the +white moonlight all about him. Dazedly he thought it would be better +for him to lie still and rest, but from somewhere back in his mind +came the conviction that there was something upon which he must keep +his eyes fastened, some place toward which he must go, and that he +must keep on going and going, until he should reach it. Determination +rose spontaneously, and he got up and stumbled on, frequently falling, +but always soon rising again and keeping on with his journey. After a +long time he saw something that glittered in the moonlight. His first +thought was “water!” and with a cry that died in his parched, swollen +throat he sprang forward and seized it. But it was only a bottle, a +flat, empty whisky flask. He turned it over and over in his hands with +a haunting notion that in some way it was connected with his past.</p> + +<p>Slowly the recollection shaped itself in his heat-bewildered faculties +that he and the two men who were luring him away had drunk from this +flask here and that then he had thrown it beside the road. Presently +the idea grew out of this recollection that he was on the right road +and that soon he would come to the house where there was water. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>thought made him spring forward again, and he rushed on aimlessly, +thinking of nothing but that somewhere ahead of him there was water. +He ran on and on, now this way and now that, falling and lying +unconscious, then, revived by the cool night air of the mountains, +rising and staggering on again. The sun rose and looked hotly down +upon him as he dragged himself along, hatless, haggard, his skin +burned to a blister, his eyes red and his swollen, blackened tongue +hanging from his mouth.</p> + +<p>After a time he caught sight of a clump of green trees with something +shining behind them, which he thought was the water he was looking +for—water, for which every boiling drop of blood in his body was +fiercely calling; water, which his blistering throat and tongue must +have; water, for which the very marrow of his bones cried +out—water—water—and he ran with all the speed his frenzied longing +could force into his legs. Presently he could hear the rustle of green +leaves, and he thought it was the purring of wavelets on the bank, the +white, shining bank that beckoned him on. He put out his hands to +plunge into the cool, bright waves. They struck a blank, white hall, +and he fell unconscious beside the doorway of Emerson Mead’s ranch +house.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>hree horsemen galloped around the curve in the road that half circled +the house and the corral and the stables at Emerson Mead’s ranch. One +of them swung his hat and shouted a loud “Whoo-oo-oo-ee!” But there +was no response from the house. Doors and windows were closed and not +a soul appeared in sight.</p> + +<p>“That’s queer,” said Tuttle. “What’s become of Billy Haney?”</p> + +<p>“Boys, there’s a man lyin’ beside the door!” exclaimed Mead. “Somebody +is either drunk or dead!”</p> + +<p>They swung off their horses and rushed to the prostrate figure, which +lay almost on its face.</p> + +<p>“Great God, boys, it’s Wellesly, and he’s dying of thirst!” cried +Mead. “Nick, bring water, lots of it, cold from the pump! Here, Tom, +help me put him in the hammock.”</p> + +<p>They laid him in the hammock, in the cool shade of the cottonwoods, +where he had slept, to his own undoing, three days before. They +moistened his black, protruding tongue and let a few drops of the cool +liquid trickle down his parched throat. They poured water carefully +over his head and neck and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>on his wrists, and then drenched him from +head to foot with pailful after pailful of the fresh, cold water.</p> + +<p>The patient moaned and moved his head. “He’s alive, boys. We’ll save +him yet,” said Mead.</p> + +<p>Through dim, half-awakened consciousness Wellesly heard the swish of +the water as it poured over his body, and felt the cool streams +trickling down his face. He gasped and his dry, cracked lips drew back +wolfishly from his teeth as he threw up his hands and seized the cup +from which Mead was carefully pouring the water over his head. Mead’s +fingers closed tightly over the handle and his arm stiffened to iron.</p> + +<p>“Softly, there, softly,” he said in a gentle voice. “I can’t let you +drink any now, because it would kill you. You shall have some soon.”</p> + +<p>With a choking yell Wellesly half raised himself and clung to the cup +with both hands, trying to force it to his mouth. Nick Ellhorn sprang +to his side and took hold of his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Sure, now, Mr. Wellesly,” he began, and the Irish accent was rich and +strong in his coaxing, wheedling tones, “sure, now, you don’t want to +be killin’ yourself, after you’ve held out this far. Just you-all do +as we say and we’ll bring you through all right. Sure, and you shall +be after havin’ all the water you want, but you must take it on the +outside first. Ah, now, but isn’t this shower bath nice!”</p> + +<p>While he talked he gently forced the patient back <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>and as Wellesly lay +down again Mead poured a little water into his mouth.</p> + +<p>“If he goes luny now that’s the end of him,” said Emerson in a +repressed, tense voice. “We must not let him get excited. Nick, you’d +better stand there and keep him quiet, if you can, and pour water over +his face and head and put a little in his mouth sometimes.”</p> + +<p>Tuttle carried the water for their use, two pailsful at a time, and +Mead kept his body well drenched. Ellhorn stooped over the hammock and +continued his coaxing talk, drawling one sentence after another with +slurred r’s and soft southern accents. With one hand he patted the +patient’s head and shoulders and with the other he dashed water over +his face or trickled it, drop by drop, into his mouth. After a while +they gave the half-conscious man some weak tea, took off his wet +clothes and put him to bed. There they looked after him carefully, +giving him frequent but small instalments of food in liquid form and +an occasional swallow of water. After some hours they decided he was +out of danger and would recover without an illness. Then Nick Ellhorn +mounted a horse and rode away. When he returned he carried a burden +tied in a gunny sack, which he suspended from the limb of a tree and +carefully drenched with water many times before he retired. The next +day he anxiously watched the bag, keeping it constantly wet and shaded +and free to the breezes. And in the afternoon, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>with a smile curling +his mustache almost up to his eyes, he spread before Wellesly a big, +red watermelon, cold and luscious. With delight in his face and +chuckling in his voice he watched the sick man eat as much as Emerson +would allow him to have, and then begged that he be given more. To get +the melon Ellhorn had ridden fifteen miles and back, to the nearest +ranch beyond Mead’s.</p> + +<p>“I never saw a man look happier that you-all do right now,” he said as +he watched Wellesly.</p> + +<p>“And you never saw anybody who felt happier than I do with this melon +slipping down my throat,” Wellesly responded. “I feel now as if I +should never want to do anything but swallow wet things all the rest +of my life. By the way, did one of you fellows stand beside me a long +time yesterday, coaxing me to lie still?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Nick, “it was me. We had to make you keep quiet, or you’d +have gone luny because we wouldn’t give you all the water you wanted +to drink. It would have killed you to drink the water, and if you had +yelled and fought yourself crazy for it I reckon you’d have died +anyway.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess you saved my life, then. For if you hadn’t kept me +quiet I’d have fought all creation for water. The notion took hold of +me that I was a helpless baby and that my mother was beside me, +turning a crank and making it rain into my mouth, and that all I had +to do was to lie still and listen to her voice and hold my mouth open +so that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>the drops could trickle down my throat. Lord! How good they did feel! +That was how I happened to lie still so contentedly.”</p> + +<p>“Nick could quiet a whole insane asylum when he gets on that +Blarneystone brogue of his,” said Emerson.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 340px;"> +<img src="images/i190.jpg" class="medgap jpg" width="340" height="500" alt="“ONCE HE CAME UPON HUMAN BONES, WITH SHREDS OF +CLOTHING.”—p. 179" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“ONCE HE CAME UPON HUMAN BONES, WITH SHREDS OF +CLOTHING.”—<i>p. <a href="#Page_179">179</a></i></span> +</div> + +<p>All that day they did not allow Wellesly to do much talking, but kept +him lying most of the time in the hammock, in the shade of the +cottonwoods, where he slept or luxuriously spent the time slowly +swallowing the cool drinks the others brought to him.</p> + +<p>In the early evening of the next day, when he had sufficiently +recovered his strength, they heard his story. He lay in the hammock, +with the mountain breeze blowing across his face and a pitcher of cold +tea beside him, and told them all that had happened to him from the +time he started for Las Plumas until consciousness failed him, with +his hands against the solid wall of Mead’s house. The three tall +Texans listened gravely, Mead and Tuttle sitting one on each side of +the hammock and Ellhorn leaning against the tree at its foot. They +said nothing, but their eyes were fastened on his with the keenest +interest, and now and then they exchanged a nod or a look of +appreciation. When he finished silence fell on the group for a moment. +Then Mead stretched out a sun-browned hand and shook Wellesly’s.</p> + +<p>“I’ve never been a friend of yours, Mr. Wellesly,” <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>he said, “or +considered you one of mine. But I want to say, right now, that you’ve +got more grit than anybody I know in the southwest, and I’m proud to +have had the chance to save as brave a man as you are.”</p> + +<p>Tuttle seized Wellesly’s other hand and exclaimed, “That’s so! That’s +straight talk! I’m with you there, Emerson!”</p> + +<p>Ellhorn walked up to Wellesly’s side and put his hand in a brotherly +way on the invalid’s arm.</p> + +<p>“I tell you what, Mr. Wellesly, we’ve fought you and the cattle +company straight from the shoulder, and I reckon we’re likely to keep +on fightin’ you as long as you fight us, but if you’re goin’ to give +us the sort of war you showed that desert—well, I reckon Emerson will +need all the help Tom and me can give him!”</p> + +<p>Wellesly laughed in an embarrassed way and Ellhorn went on: “Now, just +see how things turn out. There’s been another war over in Las Plumas +and we-all have been fightin’ you and your interests and the cattle +company and the Republicans for all we were worth. They arrested +Emerson again on that same old murder fake, to say nothin’ of me for +bein’ drunk and disorderly, which I sure was, and there was hell to +pay for two days. They tried to take Emerson out of town, and Tom and +me held up the train they had him on. I buffaloed the engineer while +they took care of Daniels and Halliday, and then we pulled our +freight. And <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>here we ride up to the ranch, fugitives from justice, +just barely in time to save you-all.”</p> + +<p>Wellesly laughed. “I am very glad you did it. My only regret is that +you didn’t break jail several days earlier.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know whether or not you-all understand the position I take +about that Whittaker case,” said Mead. “I reckon likely you think I +break jail every time you get me in just out of pure cussedness. But I +don’t. I do it because I think you-all haven’t any reason but pure +cussedness for puttin’ me in. I consider that you haven’t any right to +arrest me on mere suspicion, and I shall keep on resistin’ arrest and +breakin’ jail just as long as you fellows keep on tryin’ to run me in +without any proof against me. Why, you don’t even know that Will +Whittaker’s dead! Now, Mr. Wellesly, I’ll make a bargain with you.” +Mead’s eyes were fastened on Wellesly’s with an intent look which +gripped the invalid’s attention. Wellesly’s eyelids suddenly half +closed and between them flashed out the strips of pale, brilliant +gray.</p> + +<p>“All right, go on. I must hear it before I assent.”</p> + +<p>“It is this: I won’t ask you to have any evidence that I had a hand in +the killing of Will Whittaker, if he is dead. But whenever you can +prove that he is dead and show that he died by violence, I give you my +word, and my friends here, Tom Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn, will add +theirs to mine, I give you my word that I’ll submit quietly to arrest +and will stand <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>trial for his murder. But unless you can do that I +shall keep on fightin’ you till kingdom come!”</p> + +<p>Tuttle and Ellhorn nodded. “He’s right!” they exclaimed. “We’ll stick +to what he says.”</p> + +<p>Wellesly considered Mead’s challenge in silence for a moment. He was +wondering whether this was the courage of innocence or whether it was +mere bluffing audacity. It was very like the former, but he decided +that it must be the latter, because he was quite convinced that Mead +had killed Whittaker.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” he said, “after what you have done for me here—you have +saved my life and showed me the greatest kindness and generosity—I +can not allow any further proceedings to be taken against you, if I +can prevent them, which is not—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, hang all that!” Mead interrupted with a gesture of irritation. “I +don’t expect and don’t want anything we have done just now to make any +difference with your feelings toward me, or change the policy of the +Fillmore Cattle Company. And I don’t want it to influence the actions +of the Republicans in Las Plumas, either. We didn’t do it for that +purpose, and I’m not buying protection for myself that way. What we +did was the barest humanity.”</p> + +<p>“No, Mr. Wellesly,” Nick Ellhorn broke in, “you needn’t have it on +your conscience that you must be grateful to us, because if we hadn’t +saved you the Republicans over in Plumas would have said that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>we +killed you. We sure had to save you to save our own skins.”</p> + +<p>There was a general laugh at this, and Mead added quietly: “As it was +my men who were to blame for your condition, I suppose I would have +been, in a way, responsible.”</p> + +<p>Tuttle rose and began walking about uneasily. “When are we goin’ to +start after ’em, Nick?” he said.</p> + +<p>“I’m ready whenever you are.”</p> + +<p>“All right. To-morrow morning, then.”</p> + +<p>Wellesly looked up in surprise. It was the first word he had heard +from either of the three concerning his captors, and he was startled +by the calm assurance with which Tom had taken it for granted that he +and Nick would “go after ’em.” “You two won’t go alone!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“We’re enough,” Tuttle replied, a grim, expectant look on his big, +round face.</p> + +<p>“You bet we are!” added Nick. “If they see Tom and me comin’ they’ll +know they’ve got to give up. They’ve seen us shoot, and that scrub, +Haney, has got some sense, though I reckon Jim would be just fool +enough to get behind a rock and pop at us till we blowed his brains +out.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I say, now! This is a foolhardy scheme! Let them go, and if they +come out of there alive we’ll get hold of them somehow. It would be +dangerous to the last degree for you two alone to attempt to bring +them out across that desert.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p><p>“Don’t you worry,” said Nick. “We ain’t ’lowing to bring ’em out.”</p> + +<p>The next morning Tuttle and Ellhorn, with two loaded pack horses, set +out on their journey to the Oro Fino mountains, where they felt sure +the two kidnappers would still be engaged in their hunt for the lost +Winters mine. Mead had already sent word to the Fillmore ranch that +Wellesly was at his house and that some one might meet them at +Muletown that afternoon and carry him on to Las Plumas.</p> + +<p>When the two men parted they looked each other in the eyes and shook +hands. Wellesly began to acknowledge his debt of gratitude. Mead cut +him short.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, Mr. Wellesly,” he said, “but I don’t want you to +think for a minute that I expect this little affair to make any +difference in our relations. In the cattle business I still consider +you my enemy, and I propose to fight you as long as you try to prevent +what I hold to be just and fair dealing between the Fillmore Company +and the rest of us cattle raisers. We still stand exactly where we did +before.”</p> + +<p>Wellesly smiled admiringly. “Personally, I like your pluck, Mr. Mead, +but, if you will pardon my saying so, I think it is very ill-advised. +I’ll frankly admit that you’ve beaten us this year at every turn. But +you can’t keep up this sort of thing year after year, against the +resources and organization of a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>big company. The most distinctive +commercial feature of this period is the constant growth of big +interests at the expense of smaller ones. It is something that the +individual members of a big concern can’t help, because it is bigger +than they are. Our stock-holders will undoubtedly wish to enlarge +their holdings and increase their profits, and I, being only one of a +number, can have no right to put my personal feelings above their +interests. You ought to see that the result is going to be inevitable +in your case, just as it is everywhere else. The little fellows can’t +hold their own against the big ones. I am telling you all this in the +most friendly spirit, and I assure you it will be to your interest to +take my advice and compromise the whole matter. I’ll guarantee that +the Fillmore people will meet you half way, and I am sure it will cost +you less in the long run.”</p> + +<p>As he listened to Wellesly the good-natured smile left Mead’s face, +his lips shut in a hard line, and the defiant yellow flame, the light +of battle, which his friends knew to be the sign that he would fight +to the death, leaped into his eyes. He stared into Wellesly’s face a +moment before he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Compromise! I’ve got nothing to compromise! I reckon that means that +you want my two water holes and grazing land that join yours! Well, +you can’t have them! But if you want any more fight over this cattle +business you can have all you want, and whenever you want it!” And he +turned on his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>heel and walked away. “I reckon they would like me to +compromise,” he said to himself. “It would be lots of money in their +pockets, and holes in mine. It’s a pity that a man with Wellesly’s +grit should be such a hog!”</p> + +<p>Wellesly shrugged his shoulders and climbed into the carriage that was +to take him to Las Plumas. “I can’t help it,” he thought, “if he +chooses to look at it that way. I told him the truth, and I put it in +the kindest way. The little fellows are sure to go down before the big +ones. That is the law that governs all commerce nowadays. He is bound +to be eaten up, and he ought to have sense enough to see it. He’d save +himself trouble and money if he would take my advice, compromise, and +get out now with what he can. He can’t stop things from taking their +natural course, and the more he fights the sooner he’ll go under. Of +course, I don’t like to do anything against him, after he has saved my +life, but my private sentiments can’t interfere with the company’s +interests, and measures will have to be taken before next fall’s +round-up to put a stop to this whole thing. I offered the olive +branch, and he refused it, and now he can have all the war he wants. +He is the head and backbone of all the opposition to us, and if we +were rid of him the Fillmore Company could double its profits. I don’t +doubt for a minute that he killed Will Whittaker, and if we could +prove it that would solve the whole matter. He said he would submit to +arrest and trial if we <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>could prove that Will died a violent death. +That means, of course, that nobody saw him commit the murder and that +he has hid the body where he thinks it can’t be found.</p> + +<p>“Then it must be very much out of the way, where he is sure nobody +would think of looking for it. Probably it isn’t any where near the +traveled road, the cattle ranges, nor the ranches in the foothills. It +must be in some out of the way corner of the Fernandez plain. +Whittaker says the searching parties have been all over this part of +the country, so it must be farther up toward the north. The White +Sands are up that way, I remember, and if a body were buried there, +deep enough, it might as well be at the bottom of the sea. Yes, I +think that’s a pretty good idea. Whittaker must send a searching party +up to the White Sands as soon as he can get one together. If we can +find that body—there’s <i>adios</i> to Emerson Mead and the fight against +us. He’ll have to hang or go to the penitentiary for life.”</p> + +<p>When Wellesly reached Las Plumas he found the town basking in peace +and friendliness. Colonel Whittaker and Judge Harlin were enjoying a +midday mint julep together over the bar of the Palmleaf saloon; John +Daniels and Joe Davis were swapping yarns over a watermelon in the +back room of Pierre Delarue’s store, while Delarue himself was +laughing gleefully at their stories, and Mrs. Harlin was assisting +Mrs. Daniels in preparations for the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>swellest card party of the +summer, which the sheriff’s wife was to give that afternoon.</p> + +<p>In the late afternoon Wellesly sat beside Marguerite Delarue on her +veranda and told her the story of his abduction and of his fight, +which he had come so near to losing, with the fiends of heat and +thirst. He showed her the bent and bloody pin which had helped to +liberate him from his captivity in the canyon and in soft and +lover-like tones told her that he owed his life to her and that a +lifetime of devotion would not be sufficient to express his gratitude. +But he stopped just short of asking her to accept the lifetime of +devotion. She was much moved and her tender blue eyes were misty with +tears as she listened to the story of his sufferings. He thought he +had never seen her look so sweet and attractive and so entirely in +accord with his ideal of womanly sympathy. When he told her how +Emerson Mead and his two friends had worked over him and by what a +narrow margin they had saved him from severe illness and probably from +death, her face brightened and she seemed much pleased. She asked some +questions about Mead, and was evidently so interested in this part of +the story that Wellesly, much to his surprise, felt a sudden impulse +of personal dislike and enmity toward the big Texan. That night, as he +sat at his window smoking and looking thoughtfully at the lop-sided +moon rising over the Hermosa mountains, he was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>thinking about +Marguerite Delarue and the advisability of asking her to marry him.</p> + +<p>“Undoubtedly,” he owned to himself, “I think more of her than I +usually do of women, because I never before cared a hang what their +feelings were toward other men. I must have been mistaken in thinking +there was anything between her and Mead. Her heart is as fresh as her +face, and I can go in and take it, and feel there have been no +predecessors, if I want to. Do I want to? I don’t know. She’s handsome +and she’s got a stunning figure. Her feet aren’t pretty, but they +would look better if she didn’t wear such clumsy shoes. Well, I’d see +that she didn’t. She seems to be sweet and gentle and sympathetic, and +the sort of woman that would be absorbed in her husband and his +interests. She’s overfond of flattery, moral, mental and physical. +Gets that from Frenchy, I suppose, for you can start him strutting +like a rooster any time with a dozen words. But that isn’t much of a +fault in a wife, after all, for if a fellow can only remember about it +it’s the easiest way in the world to keep a woman happy. Well, I’ll +think about it. There are no rivals in the field, and it will be time +enough to decide when I make my next visit to Las Plumas.”</p> + +<p>The next day he went to tell Marguerite good-bye and sat talking with +her a long time upon her veranda. Las Plumas had noticed the frequency +of his calls at the Delarue house on his last trip to the town, and +when it saw him there again two days in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>succession it felt sure that +a love story was going on under the roses and honeysuckles. The smoke +of the engine which carried him away had scarcely melted on the +horizon before people were saying to one another that it would be a +splendid match and what a fine thing it was for Marguerite Delarue +that so rich a man as Wellesly had fallen in love with her.</p> + +<p>Judge Harlin at once drove out to Emerson Mead’s ranch in order that +he might learn, from Mead’s own lips, exactly what had happened to +Wellesly and what sort of a compact Mead had made with him concerning +the finding of Will Whittaker’s body. They sat under the trees +discussing Wellesly’s character, after Mead had told the whole story +down to their parting at Muletown.</p> + +<p>“By the way,” said Harlin, “they are saying, over in town, that +Wellesly is stuck on Frenchy Delarue’s daughter, and that they are to +be married next fall. She is a stunning pretty girl, and as good as +she is pretty, but it seems to me rather odd for Wellesly to come down +here to get a wife. He’s the sort of man you would expect to look for +money and position in a wife, rather than real worth.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>hen Thomson Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn reached the little canyon in the +Oro Fino mountains they saw that the two would-be kidnappers must have +been there since Wellesly’s departure for three of the four horses +were quietly grazing, with hobbled feet, beside the rivulet. They +speculated upon what the absence of the fourth horse might mean while +they staked their own beasts and started on the trail of the two men. +Up the larger canyon a little way they saw buzzards flying low and +heavily.</p> + +<p>“That looks as if one of ’em was dead,” said Nick.</p> + +<p>“It would be just like the scrubs,” Tom grumbled, “for both of ’em to +go and die before we get a pop at ’em. I want to see the color of +their hair just once. Confound their measly skins, they might have got +Emerson into a worse scrape than this Whittaker business.”</p> + +<p>They were both silent for some moments, watching the buzzards as they +swooped low over some dark object on the floor of the canyon. As they +came nearer they saw that the dead thing on which the birds were +feeding was the missing horse.</p> + +<p>“They killed it for meat,” said Nick, pointing to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>a clean cut which +had severed one hind leg from the body.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and not so very long ago, either,” Tom assented, “or the +buzzards wouldn’t have left this much flesh on it, and it would be +dried up more.”</p> + +<p>“Say, Tom, they brought this beast up here to kill it, and they sure +wouldn’t have brought it so far away if they had wanted the meat down +there in that canyon. They must have changed camp.”</p> + +<p>“Then there’s water higher up. They’re in here yet, Nick, and we’ll +find ’em. We must keep our eyes and ears peeled, so they can’t get the +first pop.”</p> + +<p>They picked their way carefully up the canyon, watching the gorge that +lengthened beyond them and the walls that towered above their heads, +listening constantly for the faintest sounds of human voice or foot, +speaking rarely and always in a whisper. The floor of the canyon was +strewn with boulders large and small, and its sides rose above them in +rugged, barren, precipitous cliffs. Nowhere did they see the slightest +sign of vegetation to relieve the wilderness of sand and rock and +barren walls. Not even a single grass blade thrust a brave green head +between forbidding stones. Above them was a sky of pure, brilliant +blue, and around them was the gray of the everlasting granite. Except +for the sound of their own footsteps, the canyon was absolutely +silent. There was no call of animals one to another, or twitter of +birds, or whirr of feathered wings, or piping of insects. Now and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>then a slender, graceful lizard darted silently out of the sunshine +to hide beneath a stone, and far behind them in the canyon the +buzzards wheeled in low, awkward flights above the carcass of the dead +horse. But aside from these no living creature was to be seen.</p> + +<p>The sun shone squarely down upon the canyon and the baking heat +between its narrow walls would have dazed the brains and shaken the +knees of men less hardy and less accustomed to the fierce, pounding +sunshine of the southwest. Tuttle stole several inquiring glances at +Nick’s face. Then he stopped and cast a searching look all about them, +carefully scanning the canyon before and behind them and its walls +above their heads. He looked at Nick again and then threw another +careful glance all about. He coughed a little, came close to Nick’s +side, wiped the sweat from his face, and finally spoke, hesitatingly, +in a half whisper:</p> + +<p>“Say, Nick, what do you-all think about Will Whittaker? Do you reckon +Emerson killed him?”</p> + +<p>Ellhorn shut one eye at the jagged peak which seemed to bore into the +blue above them, considered a moment, and replied: “Well, I reckon if +he did Will needed killin’ almighty bad.”</p> + +<p>“You bet he did,” was Tom’s emphatic response.</p> + +<p>They trudged on to the head of the canyon and explored most of the +smaller ones opening into it. But no trace of human presence, either +recent or remote, did they find anywhere. When night came <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>on they +returned to their camp somewhat disappointed that they had seen no +sign of the two men. Early the next morning they started out again, +and searched carefully through the remaining canyons that were +tributary to the large one, climbed again to its head, and clambered +over the ridge at its source. There they looked down the other side of +the mountain, over a barren wilderness of jagged cliffs and yawning +chasms, with here and there a little clump of scrub pines or cedars +clinging and crawling along the mountain side. They examined the +summit of the peak and walked a little way down the eastern slope, +looking into the gorges and searching the scrub-dotted slopes until +the sinking sun drove them back to their camp. But they found neither +water, save some strongly alkaline springs, nor any trace of human +beings. As they discussed the day’s adventures over their supper, Tom +said:</p> + +<p>“There must have been some reason why they killed that horse just +where they did.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Nick, “if they had moved their camp to some other canyon +higher up, or on the other side of the mountain, they might just as +well have driven the beast farther up before they killed it.”</p> + +<p>“If they had wanted the meat down here,” added Tom, “they wouldn’t +have driven it so far away. They must have wanted it right there.”</p> + +<p>They looked at each other with a sudden flash of intelligence in their +puzzled eyes and Nick thwacked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> his knee resoundingly. Then he spoke the thought that had burst into +each mind:</p> + +<p>“There must be a trail up the canyon wall!”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i207.jpg" class="medgap jpg" width="500" height="350" alt="“YOU’VE NOTHING TO FEAR FROM ME. I’LL BE DEAD IN TEN +MINUTES.”—p. 206" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“YOU’VE NOTHING TO FEAR FROM ME. I’LL BE DEAD IN TEN +MINUTES.”—<i>p. <a href="#Page_206">206</a></i></span> +</div> + +<p>Early the next morning they were examining more closely than they had +done before the walls of the canyon near the carcass. On the right +hand side, the same side on which was the canyon where they had their +camp, they found a narrow ledge beginning several feet above the +boulders which strewed the floor of the canyon at the base of the +wall. They found that with care they could walk along it, although in +some places it was so narrow that there was scarcely room for Tuttle’s +big bulk. Nick was in constant fear lest his friend might topple over, +and finally insisted that Tom should go back and wait until he reached +the top of the wall or the end of the ledge. Tuttle blankly refused to +do anything of the sort.</p> + +<p>They were then in the narrowest place they had found, and it was only +by flattening their bodies against the rock and clinging with all the +strength in their fingers to the little knobs and crevices which +roughened the wall that they could keep their footing. Nick, standing +flat against the precipice with a hand stretched out on each side, +looked over his shoulder at Tom, who was a few feet in the rear. He +also was facing the wall, clinging with both hands and shuffling his +feet along sidewise, a few inches at each step. Beyond, the ledge rose +in a gradual incline to the top of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>cliff, perhaps six hundred +feet farther on. Below, the wall dropped abruptly a hundred feet to +the boulder covered floor of the canyon.</p> + +<p>“Tommy,” said Nick, “you-all better go back. It ain’t safe for a man +of your size.”</p> + +<p>“Go back! Not much!”</p> + +<p>“Well, I shan’t go any farther until you do!”</p> + +<p>“Then you’ll have to hang on by your eyelids till I get past you!”</p> + +<p>“Tom, don’t be a fool!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you, neither.”</p> + +<p>“Tom, you’re the darnedest obstinate cuss I ever saw in my life. +You’ll tip over backwards first thing you know.”</p> + +<p>“Nick, if Emerson was here it would sure be his judgment that we-all +can get to the top of this cliff. So you shut up and go on.”</p> + +<p>“I tell you I won’t do it till you go back! Darn your skin, I wouldn’t +be as pig-headed as you are for a hundred dollars a minute!”</p> + +<p>“Well, I wouldn’t be as big a fool as you are for a thousand!”</p> + +<p>“Tommy, if you-all don’t go back, I’ll be no friend of yours after +this day!”</p> + +<p>“Well, if you don’t go on and shut up that fool talk I don’t want to +be friends any longer with any such hen-headed, white-livered—”</p> + +<p>“Tom!”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, shut up and go on, or I’ll call you worse names than +that!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p><p>“You obstinate son of a sea-cook, I tell you I won’t go on unless you +go back!”</p> + +<p>“Nick, it will take me just about half a minute to get near enough to +push you off. And I’m goin’ to do it, too, if you don’t hold your +jackass jaw and go on.”</p> + +<p>There was silence for the space of full twenty seconds while Ellhorn +watched Tuttle edging his way carefully along the narrow shelf. Then +he spoke:</p> + +<p>“Well, anyway, Tom, don’t you try to take a deep breath or that belly +of yours will tip the mountain over and make it mash somebody on the +other side!” Then he turned his head and shuffled along toward the top +of the cliff.</p> + +<p>The shelf widened again presently and they found the rest of it +comparatively easy traveling. At one place there were some drops of +dried blood on the ledge and in another a bloody stain on the wall at +about the height of a man’s shoulders. This confirmed their belief +that Haney and Jim had found and climbed this narrow ledge with the +meat and camp supplies on their backs. When they reached the top Nick +held out his hand and said:</p> + +<p>“Say, old man, I reckon we-all didn’t mean anything we said back +there.”</p> + +<p>Tom took the proffered hand and held it a moment:</p> + +<p>“No, I guess not. I sure reckon Emerson would say we didn’t. Nick, +what made you get that fool <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>notion in your head that I didn’t have +sand to get through?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t think you didn’t have sand, Tommy. I thought—the trail was +so narrow, I thought you’d tumble off.” A broad grin sent the curling +ends of his mustache up toward his eyes and he went on: “Tom, you sure +looked plumb ridiculous!”</p> + +<p>Shaking hands again, they turned to their work. They stood on the +steep, sloping side of the mountain, which was cracked and seamed with +a network of chasms and gulches. A ridge ran slantingly down the +mountain and the intricate, irregular network of narrow, steep-sided +cracks and gulches which filled the slope finally gave, on the right +hand, into the deep, gaping canyon which had been their thoroughfare, +and on their left into another, apparently similar, some distance to +the south. Farther up, toward the backbone of the ridge, there seemed +to be a narrow stretch, unbroken by the gulches, which extended to the +next canyon. They made their way thither and walked slowly along, +stopping now and then to scan the mountain side or to sweep with their +eyes the visible portions of the canyons below and behind them. They +had covered more than half the distance between the two canyons when +Tom, who had been studying one particular spot far down the mountain, +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Nick, there’s water down there! See where the top of that pine tree +comes up above the rocks, away down there, nearly to the divide?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p><p>“You’re sure right,” said Nick, looking carefully over the ground +which Tom indicated. A moment later he went on: “That’s the head of +the spring in the canyon where our camp is! You can follow the course +of the gulch right along. I reckon that’s where we’ll find what we’re +looking for!”</p> + +<p>They turned to retrace their steps, their faces eager and alert and +their feet quickening beneath them, when through the silence came the +dull, far-away thud of a pistol shot. It was behind them and seemed to +come from the canyon toward which they had been walking. With one +glance at each other they drew their pistols and ran toward its head. +They clambered over the boulders and, with reckless leaps and swings, +let themselves down to its floor. Pausing only a moment to +reconnoiter, they hurried down the gulch, casting quick glances all +about them for the first sign of a living being. After a little they +stopped and listened intently, each holding a cocked revolver, but not +the faintest sound broke the midday stillness.</p> + +<p>“Do you reckon it was in this canyon?” said Tom in a hoarse whisper.</p> + +<p>“Got to be,” Nick replied, poking out his lower jaw. “We’ve been +sniffing the trail long enough. We’ll give them a bait now.”</p> + +<p>He raised his revolver to shoot into the air, but even before his +finger touched the trigger, a pistol shot resounded from down the +canyon and its echoes rolled and rumbled between the walls. An instant +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>later they saw the smoke curling upward and dissolving in the still, +clear air, perhaps half way toward the canyon’s mouth. But they could +see no sign of man, nor of any moving thing in its vicinity. They +hurried on, cautiously watching the walls and the canyon in front of +them, and now and then turning for a quick backward glance, to guard +against attack in the rear. As they neared the point from which the +smoke had risen, they saw that one of the narrow, deep chasms in the +mountain side opened there, with a wide, gaping mouth, into the +canyon. A mound of debris was heaped in front. Stepping softly, they +peered around the pile of rocks and saw, lying in the mouth of the +chasm, a man with a revolver gripped in his right hand. Blood stained +his clothing and ran out over the rocks and sand. He was a tall man +with a short, bushy, iron-gray beard covering his face. Tuttle and +Ellhorn covered him with their revolvers and walked to his side. He +put up a feeble, protesting hand.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right, strangers. You’ve nothing to fear from me. I’ll be +dead in ten minutes.”</p> + +<p>“Who killed you?”</p> + +<p>“Was it the two ornery scrubs we’re after?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve put the last shot in myself. If you’d been half an hour earlier +I might have had a chance.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter? What’s happened? Tom, give him a drink out of the +flask.”</p> + +<p>“No, give me water,” said the man. “I emptied my canteen this +morning.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p><p>Nick lifted his head and Tom held their canteen to his lips. He drank +deeply, and as he lay down again he looked at Tom curiously.</p> + +<p>“Two days ago I had a fight with two men, and I’ve been lying here +ever since. They did me up, so that I knew I’d got to die if no help +came. And I knew that was just about as likely as a snowstorm, but I +couldn’t help bankin’ on the possibility. So I laid here two days and +threw rocks at the coyote that came and sat on that heap of stones and +waited for me to die. This morning I drank the last of the water and I +said to myself that if nobody came by the time the sun was straight +above that peak yonder I’d put a bullet into my heart. I had two left, +and I used one on the coyote that had been a-settin’ on that rock +watchin’ me the whole morning. I was bound he shouldn’t pick my bones, +he’d been so sassy and so sure about it. You’ll find his carcass down +the canyon a ways. That tired my arm and I waited and rested a spell +before I tried it on myself. But I was weaker than I thought and I +couldn’t hold the gun steady, and the bullet didn’t go where I meant +it to. But I’m bleedin’ to death.”</p> + +<p>“The two men—what became of them? I reckon they’re the ones we’re +lookin’ for!” exclaimed Nick.</p> + +<p>“Are you? Well, I guess you’ll find ’em scattered down the canyon, or +else up there,” and he pointed to the mountain side above. “They +couldn’t get very far.”</p> + +<p>“Did you kill ’em?” asked Tom anxiously. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>“You’ve spoiled a job we’ve +come here for if you did.”</p> + +<p>The man scanned Tom’s face again and a light of recognition broke into +his eyes. “I reckon I did,” he replied complacently. “Anyway, I hope +so.”</p> + +<p>“What was the matter? Did they do you up?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll tell you about the whole business. My name’s Bill Frank, +and I’ve been here in the mountains since—well, a long time, huntin’ +for the lost Dick Winter’s mine. I found it, too. It was right in here +behind me, but he’d worked it clean out. I reckon it was nothin’ but a +pocket, but a mighty big, rich one, and then the vein had pinched. So +then I went to work and hunted for the gold he’d taken out. I found it +all, or all he told me about. You see, I knew Dick. I was with him +when he died, and he told me what he’d got. There was a Dutch oven and +a pail and a coffee pot, all full of lumps, and two tomato cans full +of little ones, and a whisky flask full of dust, and a gunny sack full +of ore that was just lousy with gold. Much good it will do me now, or +them other fellows, either, damn their souls! Well, I’d hid the coffee +pot and the pail and the Dutch oven and the whisky flask and one +tomato can down by the spring, where I had my camp. I knew pretty well +where the rest of it was, after I’d found that much, and I came up +here two days ago, in the morning, and looked around till I found the +gunny sack. I brought it here and threw it inside this place, which +poor Dick Winters had blasted <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>out, never dreamin’ of such a thing as +that anybody would show up. Then I went away again to find the other +tomato can, and when I came back two men were here packin’ out my sack +of ore.”</p> + +<p>“What did they look like?” Nick exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“One was tall and thin and youngish like, with a bad look, and the +other was short and stout and a good deal older, and he had a red, +round face.”</p> + +<p>“The damned, ornery scrubs! They’re the ones we’re after,” Tom +exclaimed, jumping up. “You didn’t kill ’em, stranger?” he added +pleadingly.</p> + +<p>“I guess I did. I sure reckon you’ll find ’em scattered promiscuous +down the canyon. I drew my gun and told ’em to drop it, that it was +mine. They began to shoot, and so did I, and I backed ’em out, and +made ’em drop the sack, and started ’em on the run. They couldn’t +shoot as well as I could, and I know I hit one of ’em in the head and +the other one mighty near the heart. I poked my head out for a last +blaze at ’em, to make sure of my work, and the short one, he let drive +at me and took me in the lung, and that’s the one that did me up. But +they’d broken one leg before.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t you-all pull through if we tote you out of here?” asked Nick.</p> + +<p>Bill Frank shook his head. His breath was beginning to fail and his +voice sank to a whisper with each sentence.</p> + +<p>“No; I’m done for. You can’t do nothin’ for me.” Then he turned to +Tom. “Pardner, I did <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>you a bad trick when I saw you before, though I +had to do it. And when I told you good-bye I said I hoped that if I +ever saw you again I could treat you whiter than I did that time. +Well, I’ve got the chance now. That tomato can and that gunny sack are +over there behind your pardner, and you and him can have ’em. The +other tomato can and the whisky flask and the coffee pot and the pail +and the Dutch oven are under some big rocks behind a boulder south +from the spring, if them two thieves didn’t carry ’em away, and you +and your pardner can have it all. The trail takes you to the spring.”</p> + +<p>Tom was staring at him in wide-eyed amazement, trying to recall his +face. Nick exclaimed hurriedly:</p> + +<p>“Hold on, pard! Ain’t you-all got some folks somewhere who ought to +have this? Tell us where they are and we’ll see that they get it.”</p> + +<p>The man shook his head. His breath was labored, and he spoke with +difficulty as he whispered: “There ain’t anybody who’d care whether +I’m dead or alive, except to get that gold, and I’d rather you’d have +it. You’re white, anyway, and you’ve treated me white, both of you, +and I’ve always been sorry I had to play Thomson Tuttle here that mean +trick, because he was a gentleman about it, and sand clean through.”</p> + +<p>Tom was still staring at him. “Stranger,” he said, “you’ve got the +advantage of me. I can’t remember that I’ve ever set eyes on you +before.”</p> + +<p>The death glaze was coming in the man’s eyes <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>and his failing whisper +struggled to get past his stiffening lips.</p> + +<p>“I held you up, and held a gun on you-all one night, last spring, up +near the White Sands.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that time!” Tom exclaimed. “That was all right. I reckoned +you-all had good reason for it.”</p> + +<p>Bill Frank nodded. “Yes,” he whispered, “we had to—in the wagon—” +Some of his words were unintelligible, but a sudden flash of +inspiration leaped through Nick’s mind.</p> + +<p>“Did you have Will Whittaker’s body? Who killed him? Tom, the whisky, +quick! We must keep him alive till he can tell!”</p> + +<p>The man’s lips were moving and Nick put his ear close to them and +thought he caught the word “not,” but he was not sure. Bill Frank’s +head moved from side to side, but whether he meant to shake it, or +whether it was the death agony, they could not tell. Tom put the flask +to his lips, but he could not swallow, and in another moment the death +rattle sounded in his throat.</p> + +<p>They waited beside the dead man’s body until every sign of life was +extinct. They closed his eyes, straightened his limbs, and folded his +hands upon his breast. Then said Tom:</p> + +<p>“Nick, he was too white a man to leave for the coyotes. We must do +something with him.”</p> + +<p>“You’re sure right, Tommy. But what can we do? This sand ain’t deep +enough to keep ’em from diggin’ him up, even if we bury him.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p><p>Tom looked about him and considered the situation a moment. “We’ll +have to rock him up in here, Nick, in Dick Winters’ mine.”</p> + +<p>At one side of the wide, blasted out mouth of the deep crack in the +mountain from which Dick Winters had taken his gold, and level with +the bottom of the crevice, there was a long, oval hollow, half as wide +as a man’s body. The solid rock had cracked out of it after some +giant-powder blast. They laid the body of Bill Frank in this shallow +crypt and began to pile rocks around it. Suddenly Tom stopped, looked +at Nick inquiringly, hesitated and cleared his throat.</p> + +<p>“Say, Nick,” he blurted out, “it ain’t a square deal to put a fellow +away like this. Somebody ought to say something over him.”</p> + +<p>“No, you bet it ain’t a square deal,” said Nick. “We wouldn’t like it +if it was one of us. But what can we do? There ain’t no preacher +here.”</p> + +<p>“I was thinkin’, Nick,” Tom hesitated and blushed a deep crimson, “I +was sure thinkin’ that maybe—well, I thought—that you-all could say +something. You know you always can say something. You-all better say +it, Nick.” And without waiting for denial or protest Tom took off his +hat and bent his head. Nick flashed a surprised look at his companion, +waiting in reverent attitude, hesitated an instant, and then doffed +his hat, bent his head and began. And the good Lord who heard his +prayer did not need to ask his pedigree, for the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>Irish intonation +with which he rolled the words off his tongue in honey-like waves told +his ancestry:</p> + +<p>“Good Lord, sure and Ye’ll rest this poor man’s soul, for he was white +clean through. Sure, and he was no coward, and no scrub, neither. But +the other two—Ye’d better let them fry in their own fat till they’re +cracklin’s. You bet, that is what they deserve, and we can prove it. +Amen.”</p> + +<p>They built a close wall of rock around Bill Frank’s resting place high +enough to reach the over-hanging rock, and so heavy and secure that no +prowling coyote could reach the body, or even dislodge a single stone. +After it was all finished they decided that there ought to be +something about the grave to show whose bones rested within it. Nick +Ellhorn tore some blank paper from the bottom of a partly filled sheet +which he found in his pocket and wrote the inscription:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Here lies the body of Bill Frank, who was white clean +through. He was done up by two of the damnedest scrubs that +ever died lying down. He killed them both before Tom Tuttle +and Nick Ellhorn got sight of the color of their hair, which +is the only thing we can’t forgive him.</p> + +<p>“P. S. and N. B.—This is the lost Dick Winters’ mine, and +there is nothing in it, except Bill Frank’s body.”</p></div> + +<p>They emptied the nuggets of gold from the tomato can and put them in +their pockets. Then they folded the paper and put it in the can, with +a small <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>stone to hold it in place. Tom found an unused envelope in +his pocket, and Nick printed on it, in big capitals, “Bill Frank,” and +they pasted it, by means of the flap, on the front of the can. Then +they made a place for the can midway of the stone wall, and fastened +it in so that it would be held firmly in place by the surrounding +stones.</p> + +<p>There was an easy trail down one side of the canyon, which Dick +Winters had made long before by removing the largest stones. A dribble +of blood, dried on the sands, marked it all the way. Perhaps a mile +down the gulch it came to a sudden stop in a great heap of debris, and +a zigzag path started up the side of the canyon. The two men stopped, +following the course of the shelving trail with their eyes, and as +they looked there was a rattle of loose stone and sand, and some dark +body rolled over the side of the gulch from the top of the path. Their +hands flashed to their revolver butts, and stopped there, as they +watched its downward course in wonder. They saw the arms and feet of a +human form flung out aimlessly as the thing rolled from ledge to +ledge, and they tried to catch a glimpse of the face as now and again +the head hung over a rock and disclosed for a second the ghastly +features. Down it came, with the cascade of loose pebbles before it, +and lay still in the hot sand at their feet. It was Jim’s lifeless and +mangled body. Nick glanced to the rim of the canyon wall and saw the +head of a coyote peering over.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p><p>“There’s the beast that tumbled him down,” he whispered, and raised +his revolver, but before he could shoot, the thing disappeared.</p> + +<p>At this point the canyon walls began to grow less steep, and Dick +Winters had taken advantage of the sloping, shelving side to make a +zigzag trail to the summit, in some places blasting the solid rock, +and in others building out the pathway with great stones. Nick and Tom +followed the path to the mountain side above, where little pools of +dried blood made a trail which showed the way a wounded man had taken. +A little farther they found the body of Bill Haney, flat on its face, +with arms spread out on either side. A coyote slunk away as they +appeared, dragging its hinder parts uselessly.</p> + +<p>“I reckon that’s the one Bill Frank thought he killed,” said Nick, as +he put a bullet through its head.</p> + +<p>They turned the body of Bill Haney over on its back and regarded it +silently for some moments.</p> + +<p>“Tommy,” said Nick, “we ought to put these poor devils where the +coyotes can’t get ’em.”</p> + +<p>Tom looked away with disfavor in his face. “They might have got +Emerson into a hell of a scrape. Suppose anybody but us had found +Wellesly the other day! Everybody would have believed that Emerson had +ordered these two measly scamps to do what they did!”</p> + +<p>“That’s so,” Nick replied, “but that’s all straight now, and they are +past doin’ any more harm, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>it ain’t a square deal to let a fellow +be eat up by coyotes.”</p> + +<p>Tom looked down into the dead, staring eyes and soberly replied: “I +guess you’re right, Nick, and I sure reckon Emerson would say we ought +to do it.”</p> + +<p>They carried both bodies to the bottom of the canyon and up the bloody +trail until they came to a steep-sided, narrow chasm which yawned into +the wider gulch. There they put their burdens down, side by side, and +decently straightened the limbs, folded the hands, and closed the eyes +of the two dead men.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Nick, “we’ll pile rocks across the mouth of the gulch, and +then they’ll be safe enough, for no coyote is going to jump down from +the top of these walls.”</p> + +<p>Tom made no answer. He was standing with his hands in his pockets +looking at the two bloody, mangled corpses.</p> + +<p>“Nick, don’t you-all think we’d better say something over these +fellows, too? It ain’t the square deal to put ’em away without a word, +even if they were the worst scrubs in creation. You-all better say +something, Nick, like you did before.”</p> + +<p>Tom took off his hat, without even a glance at his companion, and bent +his head. Ellhorn also doffed his sombrero and bent forward in +reverent attitude, ready to begin.</p> + +<p>“Good Lord,” he said, and then he stopped and hesitated so long that +Tuttle looked up to see what <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>was the matter. “Go on, Nick,” he urged +in a low tone.</p> + +<p>“Good Lord, Ye’d better do as Ye think best about lettin’ ’em fry in +their own fat—so long. They were scrubs, that’s straight, but they’re +dead now, and can’t do any more harm. Good Lord, we hope—Ye’ll see +Your way to have mercy on their souls. Amen.”</p> + +<p>They began piling rocks across the mouth of the narrow chasm, and +worked for some moments in silence. Nick glanced inquiringly at Tom +several times, and finally he spoke:</p> + +<p>“Say, Tommy, that was all right, I guess, wasn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Nick, I sure reckon Emerson would say it was.” And Ellhorn knew that +his companion could give no stronger assent.</p> + +<p>They built a wall high enough to keep the coyotes away from the two +bodies, and then followed the trail upon the canyon wall and across +the mountain side to the spring. There they found Bill Frank’s camping +outfit and the few things that Jim and Haney had transferred from the +canyon below. They found, also, the pan and the hand mortar, rusty and +battered by the storms of many years, with which Dick Winters had +slowly and with infinite toil beaten and washed out the gold he was +never to enjoy. After an hour’s search they found the store of nuggets +where Bill Frank had hidden them. Haney and Jim had never guessed how +near <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>they had come to the wealth for which they were searching.</p> + +<p>The two men looked over the contents of pail, coffee pot, oven and +cans and talked of the long, wearisome, lonely labor Dick Winters must +have had, carrying the sacks of ore on his back, from his mine down +the canyon, up the trail, and across the mountain side, to this little +spring, where he had then to pound it up in his mortar and wash out +the gold in his pan.</p> + +<p>“It’s no wonder the desert did him up,” said Nick. “He had no strength +left to fight it with. It’s likely he was luny before he started.”</p> + +<p>“Nick, you don’t reckon there’s a cuss on this gold, do you? Just see +how many people it has killed. Dick Winters and Bill Frank and Jim and +Haney, besides all the prospectors that have died huntin’ for it. +You-all don’t reckon anything will happen to us, or to Emerson, if we +take it?”</p> + +<p>The two big Texans, who had never quailed before man or gun, looked at +each other, their faces full of sudden seriousness, and there was just +a shadow of fear in both blue eyes and black. The silence and the +vastness of an empty earth and sky can bring up undreamed of things +from the bottom of men’s minds. Ellhorn’s more skeptical nature was +the first to gird itself against the suggestion.</p> + +<p>“No, Tommy, I don’t reckon anything of the sort. Bill Frank gave it to +us, and Dick Winters gave it to him, or, anyway, wanted him to find it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>and have it, and I reckon Dick Winters worked hard enough to get it +to have a better right to it than God himself. It’s sure ours, Tom, +and I reckon there won’t be any cuss on it as long as we can shoot +straighter than anybody who wants to hold us up for it.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">E</span>merson Mead heard the story which Ellhorn and Tuttle told and looked +at the heap of yellow nuggets without enthusiasm. His face was gloomy +and there was a sadness in his eyes that neither of his friends had +ever seen there before. He demurred over their proposal that he should +share with them, saying that he would rather they should have it all +and that he had no use for so much money. When they insisted and Tom +said, with a little catch in his voice, “Emerson, we can’t enjoy any +of it if you-all don’t have your share,” he replied, “Well, all right, +boys. I reckon no man ever had better friends than you are.”</p> + +<p>Judge Harlin was still at the ranch, and while he and Nick and Tom +were excitedly weighing the nuggets, Mead slipped out to the corral, +saddled a horse and galloped across the foothills. Tuttle watched him +riding away with concern in his big, round face.</p> + +<p>“Judge,” he said, “what’s the matter with Emerson? Is he sick?”</p> + +<p>“I guess not. He didn’t say anything about it.”</p> + +<p>“Did you bring him any bad news?”</p> + +<p>“Not that I know of.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p><p>“Have them fellows over in Plumas been hatchin’ out any more +deviltry?”</p> + +<p>“N-no, I think not. Oh, yes, I did hear that Colonel Whittaker and +Daniels and Halliday were going over to the White Sands to hunt for +Will Whittaker’s body. I told Emerson so. That’s the only thing I know +of that would be likely to disturb him.”</p> + +<p>A quick glance of intelligence flashed between Tuttle’s eyes and +Ellhorn’s. Each was recalling Mead’s promise to surrender if Will +Whittaker’s body could be produced. Tuttle stood silent, with his +hands in his pockets, looking across the foothills to where Mead’s +figure was disappearing against the horizon. Then without a word he +walked to the corral, saddled a horse, and went off on the gallop in +the same direction.</p> + +<p>He came upon his friend at Alamo Springs, ten miles away. This was the +best water hole on Mead’s ranch, and, indeed, the best in all that +part of the Fernandez mountains, and was the one which the Fillmore +Company particularly coveted. Its copious yield of water never +diminished, and around the reservoir which Mead had constructed, half +a mile below the spring, a goodly grove of young cottonwoods, which he +had planted, made for the cattle a cool retreat from midday suns.</p> + +<p>Tuttle found Mead standing beside the reservoir, flicking the water +with his quirt, while the horse, with dropped bridle, waited meekly +beside him. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>Tom dismounted and stood by Mead’s side, making some +remark about the cattle that were grazing within sight.</p> + +<p>“Tommy,” Emerson said abruptly, “I’ve about decided that I’ll give up +this fight, let the Fillmore folks have the damned place for what they +will give, and pull my freight.”</p> + +<p>Tom looked surprised at this unheralded proposition, but paid no +further attention to it. Instead, he plunged at once into the subject +that concerned him.</p> + +<p>“Emerson, what’s the matter with you?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” Mead replied, looking at the horizon.</p> + +<p>“Emerson, you’re lying, and you know it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, nothing that can be helped.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know it can’t?”</p> + +<p>Mead shrugged his shoulders and rested his hand upon his horse’s neck. +It straightway cuddled its head against his body and began nosing his +pockets. Mead brought out a lump of sugar and made the beast nod its +age for the reward. Tom watched him helplessly, noting the hopeless, +gloomy look on his face, and wondered what he ought to do or say. He +wished Nick had come along. Nick never was at a loss for words. But +his great love came to his rescue and he blurted out:</p> + +<p>“Have you tried to do anything?”</p> + +<p>“It’s no use. There’s nothing to be done. It’s something that can’t be +helped, and I’d better just get out.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p><p>“Can’t I—can’t Nick and me do anything?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>Tom Tuttle was discouraged by this answer, for he knew that it meant +that the trouble, whatever it was, must be beyond the help of rifles +and revolvers. Still, he thought that it must have some connection +with the Whittaker murder, and he guessed that Mead was in fear of +something—discovery, apprehension, the result of a trial—that he +meant to get rid of the whole thing by quietly leaving the country. +Tom’s brain required several minutes in which to reach this +conclusion, but only a second longer to decide that if this was what +Emerson wanted to do, it was the right thing and should have his help.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “if you want to pull out on the quiet, Nick and me +will stand off the Republicans over at Plumas till you get out of +their reach.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t mean to run away.” Mead picked up the bridle and with one +hand on the pommel turned suddenly around. There was a half smile +about his mouth, which his sad eyes belied. Tom’s idea of the case had +just occurred to him. “Don’t you worry about it, Tom. It has nothing +to do with the Whittaker case, nor with the political fights in Las +Plumas.”</p> + +<p>They remounted and cantered silently toward home. Tom was revolving in +his mind everything he knew about his friend, trying to find the key +to the present situation. After a long time he recalled <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>the +conversation he and Ellhorn had had, as they sat on the top of the +cattle-pen fence at Las Plumas, concerning the possibility of Mead’s +being in love.</p> + +<p>“Golly! I can’t ask him about that!” Tuttle thought, spurring his +horse to faster pace. “But I reckon I’ll have to. I’ve got to find out +what’s the matter with him, and then Nick and me have got to help him +out, if we can.”</p> + +<p>He rode close beside Mead and began: “Say, Emerson—” Then he coughed +and blushed until his mustache looked a faded yellow against the deep +crimson of his face. He glanced helplessly around, vaguely wishing +some enemy might suddenly rise out of the hills whom it would be +necessary to fight. But no living thing, save Emerson’s own cattle, +was in sight. So, having begun, he rushed boldly on:</p> + +<p>“Say, Emerson, I don’t want to be too curious about your affairs, +but—this—this trouble you’re in—has it—is it—anything about a—a +girl?”</p> + +<p>Mead’s spurs instinctively touched his horse into a gallop as he +answered, “Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Delarue?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t her father let her have you?”</p> + +<p>Mead pulled his sombrero over his eyes with a sudden jerk, as the +thought drove into his brain that he had not asked for her. The idea +of asking Marguerite Delarue to marry him loomed before him as a +gigantic impossibility, a thing not even to be dreamed of. He set his +teeth together as he put <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>into words for the first time the thing that +was making him heart-sick, and plunged his spurs into the horse’s +flank with a thrust that sent it flying forward in a headlong run:</p> + +<p>“She’s going to marry Wellesly.”</p> + +<p>Tuttle lagged behind and thought about the situation. Sympathize +though he did with Mead’s trouble, he could not help a little feeling +of gratification that after all there was to be no wife to come +between them and take Emerson away from him and Nick. Emerson would +forget all about it in a little while and their lifelong friendship +would go on and be just as it had always been. On the whole, he felt +pleased, and at the same time ashamed that he was pleased, that Miss +Delarue was going to marry Wellesly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think much of her judgment, though,” he commented to himself, +contemptuously. “Any girl that would take that scrub Wellesly when she +might have Emerson Mead—well, she can’t amount to much! Bah! +Emerson’s better off without her!”</p> + +<p>That evening, as the four men sat smoking under the cottonwoods, Mead +said quietly:</p> + +<p>“Judge, I’m goin’ to pull my freight.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, Emerson?”</p> + +<p>“I mean that this country will be better off without me and I’ll be +better off without it. I’m goin’ to light out.”</p> + +<p>“Soon?”</p> + +<p>“As soon as I can give away this ranch to the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>Fillmore outfit, or +anybody that will have it. Nick, you and Tom better take it. I’ll give +it to you for love and affection and one dollar, if you want to take +the fight along with it.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing would please me better,” Nick replied, “than to clean up all +your old scores against the Fillmore outfit, but I reckon if we take +it we’ll just run it for you until you-all come back.”</p> + +<p>“All right. I’ll turn it over to you to-morrow. You can have all you +can make out of it and if I’m not back inside of five years you can +divide it between you.”</p> + +<p>“Everybody will say you are running away from the Whittaker case and +that you are afraid to face a trial,” said Judge Harlin.</p> + +<p>“They may say what they damn please,” replied Mead.</p> + +<p>Something like a smothered sob sounded from Tuttle’s chair, and he +exclaimed fiercely, “They’d better not say that to me!”</p> + +<p>“There’s no likelihood,” said Judge Harlin, “that the grand jury will +indict you, as things stand now, or that the case would amount to much +if they should. If you want to stay and face the music, Emerson, I +don’t think you need to feel apprehensive about the result.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m not afraid of the trial, if there should be one. But I don’t +think there’ll be any. I’m not going to submit to arrest, trial, or +anything else, until they can prove that Will Whittaker’s dead, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>and +they can’t do that. I told Wellesly that I would let them arrest me +whenever they can prove that Will Whittaker died with his boots on, +and I’ll stick to my word. I’ll come back from anywhere this side of +hell for my trial whenever they can prove it, and you can tell ’em so, +Judge. But I’m tired of this country and done with it, and I mean to +pull my freight to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“If you want to start from Plumas you’d better ride over with me,” +said Harlin, “and you’d better go prepared for trouble, for the +Republicans won’t let you leave the country if they can help it.”</p> + +<p>“All right. They can have all the trouble they want.”</p> + +<p>“You bet they can! All they want, and a whole heap more than they’ll +want when it comes!” exclaimed Nick.</p> + +<p>“That’s what’s the matter! We’ll see that they get it!” added Tom.</p> + +<p>The next morning they stowed the gold nuggets under the seat of Judge +Harlin’s buggy, in which rode Mead and Harlin, with rifles and +revolvers. Tuttle and Ellhorn rode on horseback, each with a revolver +in his holster and a rifle slung beside him.</p> + +<p>Tom Tuttle was much disturbed because he alone knew the secret reason +for Emerson Mead’s abrupt departure. He thought Nick ought to know it, +too, but he could not persuade himself that it would be the square +thing for him to tell it to Ellhorn. “Nick ought to know it,” he said +to himself, “or he’ll sure <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>go doin’ some fool thing, thinkin’ +Emerson’s goin’ away on account of the Whittaker business, but I +reckon Emerson don’t want me to leak anything he told me yesterday. +No, I sure reckon Emerson would say he didn’t want me to go gabblin’ +that to anybody. But Nick, he’s got to know it.”</p> + +<p>After a time he chanced to recall the gossip about Miss Delarue and +Wellesly, which Judge Harlin had told him, and decided that he was +relieved from secrecy on that point. Still, he felt self-conscious and +as if he were rubbing very near to Emerson’s secret when he rode +beside Ellhorn and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Say, Nick, did Judge Harlin tell you that Wellesly and Frenchy +Delarue’s daughter are going to be married next fall?”</p> + +<p>“The hell they are! Say, he’s in luck, a whole heap better than he +deserves!” Then a light broke over Nick’s face, as he shot a glance at +the carriage behind them. He slapped his thigh and exclaimed: +“Jerusalem! Tom, that’s why Emerson is pullin’ his freight!”</p> + +<p>At the moment, Tom felt guilty, as if he had betrayed a confidence, +and he merely said, “Maybe it is.”</p> + +<p>“I might have known Nick would see through it in a minute,” he said to +himself afterward. “Well, I reckon it’s all right. He knows now, and +he’d sure have heard that they are going to be married, anyway.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he four men stayed at Muletown that night and drove across the hot, +dry levels of the Fernandez plain in the early morning. In the +foothills of the Hermosa mountains there was a little place called +Agua Fria—Cold Water. It was a short distance off the main road, but +travelers across the plain frequently went thither to refresh +themselves and their beasts with the cool waters which it furnished. +It was only a small Mexican ranch, irrigated by a bountiful flow of +water from a never failing spring. Cottonwood trees surrounded the +house, and around the spring grew a little peach orchard. The ruins of +a mining camp, long since deserted, could be seen on the hill above.</p> + +<p>Emerson Mead and his companions turned aside into the road leading to +the Agua Fria ranch and drew rein in the shade of the peach trees. A +woman was washing clothes beside the spring and a man came from a +near-by field where he was at work. They chatted with the couple while +the horses were allowed to rest in the shade. Presently Tuttle and +Ellhorn remounted and started slowly back, leaving Mead and Harlin in +the buggy, ready to go, but exchanging some last words with the +Mexican. The <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>road curved below the house, through the trees, and as +Tuttle and Ellhorn came out on the other side they saw a party of +horsemen approaching from the main road. At once they recognized John +Daniels and Jim Halliday, who were riding in the front. Behind them +came half a dozen others, and in the rear of the company they saw +Colonel Whittaker with some pack horses. Tom and Nick drew back into +the cover of the trees and conferred a moment over the probable +intentions of the party.</p> + +<p>“They are all armed,” said Tom. “Six-shooters and Winchesters on every +one.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll bet they’re after Emerson, Tommy,” Nick exclaimed. “They want +trouble, and I reckon we’d better begin to give it to ’em right now.”</p> + +<p>They drew their rifles from beside their saddles, for the men were +still too far away for the use of revolvers. Then Tom looked at Nick +doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“Nick, what do you-all think would be Emerson’s judgment? You know he +always wants the other side to begin the fight.”</p> + +<p>“My judgment is that the sooner this fight is begun the better. Them +fellows are out here lookin’ for trouble, and I say, if a man wants +trouble, Lord! let him have it!”</p> + +<p>He raised his rifle to his shoulder and sent a bullet singing down the +road, saying to Tom as he fired: “This is just to let ’em know we’re +here.”</p> + +<p>The bullet creased the neck of Halliday’s horse, which reared and +plunged with sudden fright. The <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>whole party checked their horses in +surprise and looked intently toward the clump of cottonwoods from +which the shot had come. Tom raised his gun to his shoulder, saying, +“You’ve started the fun, Nick, so here goes,” and he sent a rifle ball +whizzing past Daniels’ ear. Harlin and Mead dashed around the house in +the buggy, jumped out, and tied their horses in the rear of the trees. +Tuttle and Ellhorn dismounted and dropped their bridles.</p> + +<p>The approaching party paused for a moment in a close group and held an +excited conference. Then they separated and, drawing their guns from +the saddle scabbards, sent a volley into the grove. Four rifle bullets +made quick answer and set their horses to rearing. It was some time +before the beasts could be made quiet enough for the shots to be +returned, and in the meantime bullets were pattering all about them. +Colonel Whittaker stopped far in the rear with the pack horses, beyond +the reach of the rifle balls, and the others made a sudden dash +forward. Checking their horses, they fired a concerted volley into the +trees. One of the bullets scorched the band of Tom’s hat.</p> + +<p>“Nick,” said Tom, “that was Daniels fired that shot. He’s gettin’ too +impudent. You take care of him while I clean my gun. Don’t you let him +get any closer, but don’t hurt him, for he’s my meat.”</p> + +<p>He went down on the ground cross-legged and swabbed his gun-barrel +while the bullets pattered on the ground about him and thudded into +the trees <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>and ploughed up the dirt at his feet. Nick bent his rifle +on the sheriff and sent a bullet through his hat brim and another +through his horse’s ear, and bit his bridle with one and tore his +trouser leg with another. One dropped and stung on the beast’s fetlock +as Tom sprang to his feet exclaiming, “Now I’ll get him!”</p> + +<p>Daniels first checked his horse, and then lost control of it as the +bridle broke, and when the bullet struck its fetlock it wheeled and +went flying to the rear. The sheriff felt a tingle in his left arm, +and, maddened, he seized the severed parts of his bridle and forced +the horse to face about. Then he bent forward, apparently taking +careful aim at one of the figures beneath the trees, but before he +could fire, his horse reared and plunged and went down in a heap +beneath him.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Nick, Emerson, and Judge Harlin were exchanging rapid +shots with the rest of the sheriff’s party. Those of the latter went +rather wild, because their frightened horses made it impossible for +them to take careful aim. And also by reason of the constant dancing +about of the beasts, the accurate markmanship of the men under the +trees was not of much avail. Nick found that his magazine was empty +and called out:</p> + +<p>“Tom, give me some of your hulls! I used up all mine keepin’ your +darned sheriff back. Gimme some hulls quick!”</p> + +<p>He dropped a handful of cartridges into the magazine <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>and raised his +rifle with the remark, “Now see ’em scatter!”</p> + +<p>The sharp, crashing din of the Winchesters kept steadily on. One of +the Daniels party fell over on his horse’s neck, and two of their +animals became unmanageable. Daniels had knelt behind his fallen horse +and across its body he was taking careful aim. Tom felt a bullet graze +his cheek, and saw whence it had come. “I’ll put a stop to that,” he +exclaimed, and in another moment the sheriff tumbled over with a +bullet in his shoulder. Mead felt a sharp pain in one side, and knew +that hot lead had kissed his flesh. It was the first wound he had ever +received. With a scream of pain a horse fell, struggling, beneath its +rider. From one man’s hands the rifle dropped and his right arm hung +helpless by his side. Another horseman swayed in his saddle and fell +to the ground, and his horse galloped to the rear, dragging the man +part of the way with his foot in the stirrup.</p> + +<p>Still the remnant of horsemen held their own against the steady rain +of bullets from the trees. Presently a flesh wound made Halliday’s +horse unmanageable and it bolted straight for the grove. The four men +paused with fingers on triggers, looking at him in wonder.</p> + +<p>“Who would have thought he had the sand to do that!” Mead exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his horse turned and flew toward the rear. “Whoo-oo-oo-ee!” +came a derisive shout <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>from the grove, followed by a volley of +bullets. The other horsemen took advantage of the diverted firing, and +made a dash forward, dropping their rifles across their saddles and +using their revolvers. It was evident that they hoped, by this sudden +charge, to dislodge the enemy and force a retreat.</p> + +<p>“Out and at ’em, boys,” yelled Nick. “Whoo-oo-oo-ee!” And the four men +rushed from under cover of the trees, rifles in hand, straight toward +the approaching horsemen.</p> + +<p>Dropping on one knee and firing, then rising and running forward a few +steps, and dropping and firing again, they dashed toward the enemy. +Surprised and confused by this sudden move, the horsemen halted, +irresolute, then turned and fled down the road.</p> + +<p>“Buffaloed!” yelled Mead.</p> + +<p>“After ’em, boys!” shouted Judge Harlin. And the four started on the +run after the retreating enemy.</p> + +<p>“Chase ’em to Plumas!” yelled Nick.</p> + +<p>“And learn ’em to let us alone after this!” bellowed Tom, in a voice +that reached the ears of the flying party, above the muffled roar of +their horses’ hoofs.</p> + +<p>Halliday had got his horse under control again by the time he reached +the place where Colonel Whittaker stood guard, beside the pack horses, +and after a few hasty words with Whittaker he started back. When he +saw the rout of his party he pulled <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>a handkerchief from his pocket +and waving it aloft he came galloping on.</p> + +<p>“Look at that, will you!” yelled Nick. “They want to surrender!”</p> + +<p>“I reckon they want to have a conference,” said Judge Harlin.</p> + +<p>The four men halted and stood with their guns in their hands, waiting +Halliday’s approach.</p> + +<p>“Emerson,” he called, “do you stick to what you told Mr. Wellesly?”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“That you’d submit to arrest when we could prove that Will Whittaker +died by violence.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, I do.”</p> + +<p>“Then hand over your guns, for we’ve got his body!”</p> + +<p>“Let me see it first. If I can recognize it I’ll keep my word.”</p> + +<p>“It’s back there where his father is.”</p> + +<p>“Well, bring it here.”</p> + +<p>“Will you keep the truce?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, if you do.”</p> + +<p>Halliday galloped down the road again, and presently returned with +Colonel Whittaker. Between them was one of the pack horses with +something lashed to its back. They walked their horses to the spot +where the four men stood, untied the pack, spread a blanket on the +ground, and laid on it the ghastly, mangled remains of what had once +been a man’s body.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>“We found it in the White Sands,” Halliday explained. “It had been +buried nearly at the top of the ridge and the coyotes had dug it out +and this is all they had left. But his father here, and every one of +us, have identified it.”</p> + +<p>Mead and his friends looked the body over carefully. The face had been +gnawed by coyotes and picked by buzzards until not a recognizable +feature was left. The shining white teeth glared from a lipless mouth. +Closely cropped black hair still covered the head. On one hand was a +plain gold ring set with a large turquoise.</p> + +<p>“You must remember that ring,” said the father. Mead nodded. Colonel +Whittaker slipped it from the finger, dried and burned by the sun, and +showed the four men the initials, “W. W.,” on the inside. The clothing +was badly tattered and much of it had been torn away. Part of a pongee +silk shirt still hung on the body. On the inside of the collar were +the young man’s initials worked in red silk. “His mother did that,” +said Colonel Whittaker. Around the neck was a dark-colored scarf, and +in it was an odd, noticeable pin, a gold nugget of curious shape. The +four men had all seen Will Whittaker wear it many times. A ragged +remnant of a coat hung on the mangled body. In the breast pocket +Colonel Whittaker showed them some letters and a small memorandum +book. From the book had been torn some leaves and all the remaining +pages were blank. But on the inside of the leather cover the name, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>“Will Whittaker,” had been printed in heavy black letters. Rain and +sun had almost obliterated the addresses on the two envelopes in the +pocket, but enough of the letters could still be made out to show what +the words had probably been.</p> + +<p>Halliday turned the body over and showed them three bullet holes in +the back, in the left shoulder blade. They were so close together that +their ragged edges touched one another, and a silver dollar would have +covered all of them. Apparently, the man had been shot at close range +and the bullets had gone through to the heart.</p> + +<p>Mead finished his inspection of the body and turned to Halliday. All +the rest of the party had come up and dismounted and were standing +beside their horses around the grisly, mangled thing and the four men +who were examining it. Several of the men were wounded and blood was +dripping over their clothing. A red mark across Tuttle’s cheek showed +how narrow had been his escape, and a bloody stain on Mead’s shirt +told the story of a flesh wound.</p> + +<p>“Jim,” Mead began, and then paused, looking Halliday squarely in the +eyes, while his own friends and the sheriff’s party edged closer, all +listening breathlessly. None of them had any idea what he was going to +say, whether it would be surrender, or defiance and a declaration of +continued war. Nick and Tom exchanged glances and cocked their +revolvers, which they held down beside their legs. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>“Jim,” Mead went +on, “I acknowledge nothing about this body except that, as far as I +can see, it seems to be the body of Will Whittaker and he seems to +have died from these pistol shots. But I reckon it calls, merely on +the face of it, mind, for me to make good the word I gave to Wellesly. +Here are my guns.”</p> + +<p>He handed his rifle to Halliday, unfastened his cartridge belt and +passed that and his revolver to the deputy sheriff. Among the +Whittaker party there were some glances of surprise, but more nods of +congratulation. Nick and Tom looked at each other in indignant dismay. +Tom’s eyes were full of tears and his lips were twitching. “What did +he want to do that for?” he whispered to Nick. “We had ’em sure +buffaloed and on the run, and now he’s plum’ spoiled the whole thing!”</p> + +<p>“I reckon it was the best thing you could do, Emerson,” said Judge +Harlin, “but I’m sorry you had to do it.”</p> + +<p>Mead saw Daniels in the crowd around the body. “Hello, John,” he +called, “I thought we tipped you over just now. Hurt much?”</p> + +<p>“No, not much. Only a scratch on the shoulder.”</p> + +<p>The entire party went around to the spring and bathed one another’s +wounds, and the Mexican woman tore her sheets into strips and made +bandages for them. No one had been killed, but there were a number of +flesh wounds and some broken bones. They hired horses of the Mexican +to take <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>the place of those that had been killed and then started for +Las Plumas, Mead riding between Daniels and Halliday. Judge Harlin, +with Nick and Tom, followed some distance in the rear.</p> + +<p>Tom looked after them, as they rode away, with angry eyes. His huge +chest was heaving with sobs he could scarcely control. “Damn their +souls,” he exclaimed fiercely to Nick, “if Emerson wasn’t among them +I’d open on ’em right now.”</p> + +<p>“How we could buffalo ’em,” assented Nick.</p> + +<p>“It was a damned shame,” Tuttle went on indignantly, “for Emerson to +give up that way. We could have cleaned ’em all out and got rid of ’em +for good, if he hadn’t given up. We’ll never get such a chance again, +and the Lord knows what will happen to Emerson now!” And Tom bent his +huge frame over his gun and bowed his head on his hands, while a great +sob convulsed his big bulk from head to foot. He and Judge Harlin +argued the question all the way to Las Plumas, and the judge well-nigh +exhausted his knowledge of law and his ingenuity in argument in the +effort to convince his companion that Emerson Mead had done the best +thing possible for him to do. But the last thing Tom said as they drew +up in front of Judge Harlin’s office was:</p> + +<p>“Well, it was a grand chance to clean out Emerson’s enemies, for good +and all, and make an end of ’em, so that he could live here in peace. +It was plumb ridiculous not to do it.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he grand jury sat upon the Whittaker case and returned a true bill +against Emerson Mead, indicting him for the murder of Will Whittaker. +Mead was confined in the jail at Las Plumas to await his trial, which +would not take place until the following autumn. The finding of Will +Whittaker’s body convinced many who had formerly believed in his +innocence that Mead was guilty. Everybody knew that his usual practice +in shooting was to fire three quick shots, so rapidly that the three +explosions were almost a continuous sound, pause an instant, and then, +if necessary, fire three more in the same way. The three bullets were +pretty sure to go where he meant they should, and if he wished he +could put them so close together that the ragged edges of the holes +touched one another, as did those in the back of Whittaker’s corpse. +It was the number and character of those bullet holes that made many +of Mead’s friends believe that he was guilty of the murder. “Nobody +but Emerson could have put those bullets in like that,” they said to +themselves, although publicly the Democrats all loudly and +persistently insisted that he was innocent.</p> + +<p>In the constant debate over the matter which <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>followed the finding of +the body the Democrats contended that the two men who had held Thomson +Tuttle captive all night near the White Sands must have been the +murderers. And it was on them and their mysterious conduct that Judge +Harlin rested his only hope for his client. The lawyer did not believe +they had Whittaker’s body in their wagon, although he intended to try +to make the jury think so. Privately he believed that Mead was guilty, +but he admitted this to no one, and in his talks with Mead he +constantly assumed that his client was innocent. He had never asked +Mead to tell him whether or not he had committed the murder.</p> + +<p>Nick Ellhorn and Tom Tuttle lingered about Las Plumas for a short +time, sending their gold to the mint, and trying to contrive some +scheme by which Emerson Mead could be forced into liberty. Each of +them felt it a keen personal injury that their friend was in jail, and +they were ready to forego everything else if they could induce him to +break his promise and with them make a wild dash for freedom. But he +would listen to none of their plans and told them, over and over, that +he had given his word and proposed to keep it.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” he said, “when I made that promise to Wellesly I didn’t +suppose they would find Will’s body. But they did, and I mean to keep +my promise. I gave my word for you-all too, and I don’t want you to +make any fool breaks that will cause people to think I’m trying to +skip.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p><p>Finally they gave up their plans and Tom returned to his duties with +Marshal Black at Santa Fe and Nick went out to Mead’s ranch to keep +things in order there.</p> + +<p>Ellhorn returned to Las Plumas for his own trial, the result of which +was that he was found guilty of assault and battery upon the Chinese +and fined five hundred dollars. The moment sentence was pronounced +upon him he strode to the judge’s desk and laid down his check for the +amount of his fine. Then he straightened up, thrust his hands in his +pockets, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Now, I want that pig tail!”</p> + +<p>“You are fined five dollars for contempt of court,” said the judge, +frowning at the tall Texan, who looked very much in earnest.</p> + +<p>“All right, Judge! Here you are!” said Nick cheerfully, as he put a +gold piece down beside the check. “Now, I want that Chiny pig tail! +It’s mine! I’ve paid big for it! It’s cost me five hundred and five +dollars, and no end of trouble, and it belongs to me.”</p> + +<p>“You are fined ten dollars for contempt of court,” the judge said +severely, biting his lips behind his whiskers.</p> + +<p>“Here you are, Judge!” and Nick spun a ten-dollar gold piece on the +desk. “I want that scalp as a memento of this affair, and to remind me +not to mix my drinks again. I’ve paid for it, a whole heap more’n it’s +worth, and I demand my property!” <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>And Nick brought his fist down on +the judge’s desk with a bang that made the gold coins rattle.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Sheriff, remove this man!” ordered the Judge, and John Daniels +stepped forward to seize his arm. Ellhorn leaped to one side, +exclaiming, “I’ll not go till I get my property!” He thrust his hand +into the accustomed place for his revolver, and with a look of +surprise and chagrin on his face stood meekly before the sheriff.</p> + +<p>“A man can’t get his rights unless he has a gun, even in a court,” he +growled, as he submitted to be led out. At the door he looked back and +called to the judge:</p> + +<p>“That scalp’s mine, and I mean to have what I’ve paid for, if I have +to sue your blamed old court till the day o’ judgment!” And he went at +once and filed a suit against the district attorney for the recovery +of the queue.</p> + +<p>Marguerite Delarue kept on with her quiet life through the summer, +caring for little Paul and attending to her father’s house. She did +not see Emerson Mead again after the day when, with her little white +sunbonnet pulled over her disordered hair, she helped her baby brother +to mount his horse. Long before the summer was over she decided that +he cared nothing for her and that she must no longer feel more +interest in him than she did in any other casual acquaintance. But +sometimes she wakened suddenly, or started at her work, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>seeming to +feel the intent gaze of a pair of brown eyes. Then she would blush, +cry a little, and scold herself severely.</p> + +<p>It was late in the summer when Albert Wellesly made his next visit to +Las Plumas. He had decided to buy a partly abandoned gold mine in the +Hermosa mountains, and he explained to Marguerite Delarue, as he sat +on her veranda the afternoon of his arrival, that he was making a +hurried visit to Las Plumas in order to give it a thorough +examination. And then he added in a lower tone and with a meaning look +in his eyes, that that was not the only reason for the trip. She +blushed with pleasure at this, and he felt well enough satisfied not +to go any farther just then.</p> + +<p>He came to see her again after he returned from the mine. It was +Sunday afternoon, and they sat together on the veranda, behind the +rose and honeysuckle vines, with Marguerite’s tea table between them. +He told her about his trip to the mine and what he thought of its +condition and deferentially asked her advice in some small matters +that had an ethical as well as a commercial bearing. She listened with +much pleasure and her blue eyes shone with the gratification that +filled her heart, for never before had a man, fighting his battles +with the world, turned aside to ask her whether or not he was doing +right. Then he told her how much he valued her judgment upon such +matters and how much he admired and reverenced the pure, high +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>standard of her life. His tones grew more lover-like as he said it +would mean far more to him than he could express if he might hope that +her sweet influence would some day come intimately into his own life. +Then he paused and looked at her lowered eyelids, bent head and +burning cheeks. But she said nothing, sitting as still as one dead, +save for her heaving breast. After a moment he went on, saying that he +cared more for her than for any other woman he had ever known, and +that if she did not love him then, he would be willing to wait many +years to win her love, and make her his wife. Still she did not speak, +and he laid one hand on hers, where it rested on the table, and +whispered softly, “Marguerite, do you love me?” With that she lifted +her head, and the troubled, appealing look in her eyes smote his heart +into a brighter flame. He pressed her hand in a closer grasp and +exclaimed, “Marguerite, dearest, say that you love me!”</p> + +<p>The innocent, fluttering, maiden heart of her, glad and proud to feel +that she had been chosen above all others, but doubtful of itself, and +ignorant of everything else, leaped toward him then and a wistful +little smile brightened her face. She opened her lips to speak, but +suddenly she seemed to see, beside the gate, a tall and comely figure +bending toward her with eyes that burned her cheeks and cast her own +to the ground. She snatched her hand <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>from Wellesly’s grasp and buried +her face in her palms.</p> + +<p>“I do not know,” she panted. “I must think about it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, certainly, dear—you will let me call you dear, won’t you—take +time to think it over. I will wait for your answer until your heart is +quite sure. I hope it will be what I want, and don’t make me wait very +long, dear. Good-bye, sweetheart.”</p> + +<p>He lifted her hand to his lips and went away. She sat quite still +beside the table, her burning face in her hands, her breast a turmoil +of blind doubts, and longings, and keen disappointments with, she knew +not what, and over all an imperious, sudden-born wish to be loved.</p> + +<p>Wellesly walked down the street smiling to himself in serene assurance +of an easy victory. He was accustomed to having women show him much +favor, and more than one had let him know that he might marry her if +he wished. Moreover, he thought himself a very desirable match, and he +did not doubt for an instant that any woman, who liked him as well as +he was sure Marguerite did, would accept his offer.</p> + +<p>“It was evidently her first proposal,” he thought, “and she did not +know exactly what to do with it. She is as shy and as sweet as a +little wood-violet. Some girls, after my undemonstrative manner this +afternoon, would write me a sarcastic note with a ‘no’ in it as big as +a house. But nothing else would <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>have done with Marguerite. She isn’t +one of the sort that wants every man she knows to begin kissing her at +the first opportunity. And that is one of the reasons I mean to marry +her. The other sort are all very well, but a man doesn’t want to marry +one of them. I want my wife to have such dignity and modesty that I +can feel sure no other man ever has, or ever will, kiss her but me. +And I can feel sure of that with Marguerite—just as sure as I can +that I’ll have a favorable answer from her by the time I make my next +visit to Las Plumas.”</p> + +<p>Marguerite sat behind her screen of honeysuckle vines, her face in her +hands and a mob of blind, wild, incoherent desires and doubts making +tumult in her heart, until she heard her father’s footsteps in the +house. Pierre Delarue had been taking his Sunday afternoon siesta, and +he came out upon the veranda in a very comfortable frame of mind. He +patted Marguerite’s shoulder affectionately and asked her to make him +a cup of tea. He was very fond of his fair young daughter, who had +grown into the living likeness of the wife he had married in the days +of his exuberant youth. But he rarely withdrew his thoughts from +outside affairs long enough to be conscious of his affection, except +on Sunday afternoons, when interest and excitement on Main street were +at too low an ebb to attract his presence. On other days, she endeared +herself to him by the sympathetic attention she gave to his accounts +of what was going on down-town and to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>his rehearsals of the speeches +he had made. On Sundays, when he had the leisure to feel a quickened +sense of responsibility, he both pleased himself and felt that he was +discharging a duty to her by discoursing upon his observations and +experiences of the world and by propounding his theories of life and +conduct. For Pierre prided himself on his philosophy quite as much as +he did on his oratory.</p> + +<p>Marguerite, on her part, was very fond of her father, but it was a +fondness which considered his love of speech-making and his flighty +enthusiasms with smiling tolerance. Her cooler and more critical way +of looking at things had caused her, young as she was, to distrust his +judgment in practical affairs, and about most matters she had long +since ceased asking his advice.</p> + +<p>She sat beside him and talked with him while he drank his cup of tea. +A recently married young couple passed the house, and Marguerite made +some disapproving comment on the man’s character, adding that she did +not understand how so nice a girl could have married him.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he has a smooth and ready tongue,” answered her father, “and I +dare say it was easy for him to make love. When you are older you will +know that it is the man who can talk love easily who can make the most +women think they love him.” Pierre Delarue stopped to drink the last +of his tea, and Marguerite blushed consciously, remembering <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>the scene +through which she had just passed. She rose to put his cup on the +table, and was glad that her face was turned away from him when next +he spoke:</p> + +<p>“When a man tells a woman that he loves her,” Delarue went on, “and it +rolls easily off his tongue, she should never believe a word that he +says. If a man really loves a woman, those three little words, ‘I love +you,’ are the hardest ones in the whole world for him to say. Most +women do not know that when they hear their first proposals, but they +ought to know it, especially in this country, where they make so much +of love. But, after all, I do not know that it makes so much +difference, because all women want to hear no end of love talked to +them, and it is only the man who does not feel it very deeply who can +talk enough about it to satisfy them. A woman is bound to be +disappointed, whichever way she marries, for she is sure to find out +after a while that the flow of words is empty, and the love without +the words never satisfies. After all, it is better for a woman to +think of other things than love when she marries. They manage these +things better in France. Don’t you think so, my daughter?”</p> + +<p>There was a deep thrill of passionate protest in her voice as she +answered, “No, father, I certainly do not.”</p> + +<p>He laughed indulgently and patted her hand as he said: “Ah, you are a +little American!” Then <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>he added, more seriously: “I suppose you, too, +will soon be thinking of love and marriage.”</p> + +<p>She threw her arms around his neck and there was a sob in her voice as +she exclaimed: “Father, I shall never marry!”</p> + +<p>He smoothed her brown hair and laid his hand on her shoulder saying, +“Ah, that means you will surely be married within a year!”</p> + +<p>She shook her head. “No, I mean it, father! I shall never marry!”</p> + +<p>“My dear, I should be sorry if you did not,” he answered with dignity, +and with a strong note of disapproval in his voice. “For what is a +woman who does not marry and bear children? Nothing! She is a rose +bush that never flowers, a grape vine that never fruits. She is +useless, a weed that cumbers the earth. No, my daughter, you must +marry, or displease your father very much.”</p> + +<p>Marguerite lay awake long that night, trying to decide what she ought +to do. Her father’s words gave sight to a blind, vague misgiving she +had already felt, but at the same time she could not believe that +Wellesly meant less than his words when he told her that he loved her +and wished to make her his wife.</p> + +<p>“Why should he propose to me if he does not wish to marry me?” she +argued with herself, “and why should he want to marry me if he does +not love me? No, he surely loves me. Perhaps father is right about the +Frenchmen. He knows them, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>but he does not understand the Americans. +They always feel so sure about things, and they do everything as if +there was no possibility of failure. But I wish I knew if I love him! +I suppose I do, for I felt so pleased that he should wish to marry me. +But I don’t have to decide at once. I’ll wait till he comes to Las +Plumas again before I give him an answer.”</p> + +<p>She debated whether or not she ought to tell her father and ask his +advice, but she feared that in his mind other considerations would +outweigh the one she felt to be the chief, and she decided to say +nothing to him until she knew her own mind in the matter. “If I refuse +him,” she said to herself, “there will be no reason for me to say +anything about it, and it wouldn’t be fair to Mr. Wellesly for me to +tell father or any one else that he had proposed to me. Besides, +father might possibly speak of it outside, and I couldn’t bear to +think that people were gossiping about it. No, I will not say +anything, unless I should decide that I want to marry him. Then I will +ask father if he thinks I’d better.”</p> + +<p>The next morning she woke with a sudden start, all her consciousness +filled with an overwhelming desire to love and be loved, to be all of +life to some one who would be more than life to her. She sat up, +panting, pressing her hand to her heart. At once her thoughts leaped +to Wellesly.</p> + +<p>“He loves me, he has told me so, and surely this <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>is love I feel now, +and for him. I suppose—I do—love him.”</p> + +<p>She lifted her nightgown above her bare feet and stood beside little +Paul’s crib. With her disheveled hair falling in waving masses around +her face she bent over him and lightly kissed his forehead.</p> + +<p>“My little Bye-Bye, I would not leave you to be any man’s wife. But he +will not wish me to leave you, because he thinks—that it is beautiful +and noble that I—that I have cared for you—though how could I have +done anything else—and that is partly why he loves me. Surely, I love +him, and I suppose—it is best—for me to marry him. But I’ll wait +till he comes again—there!”</p> + +<p>With burning cheeks she stood erect and stamped one bare foot on the +floor. Again the memory of the brown eyes smote suddenly into her +consciousness. Her chin took a sharper angle and her red lips shut +tightly as she threw back her head and twisted her fingers together.</p> + +<p>“I will not think of him again,” she said slowly, in a low voice. “He +is in jail, to be tried for murder, and he will probably be hung—” +She hesitated, her face turned white and there was a spasmodic +throbbing in her throat, but she went resolutely on: “And he does not +care the least thing about me. He was merely fond of my little +Bye-Bye, and I am grateful to him for that. But he is nothing to me. +I’ll marry Mr. Wellesly—I think—but I’ll wait—” And then the +throbbing in her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>throat choked her voice and she threw herself upon +the bed and buried her face in the pillow and cried. Just as thousands +of young girls have cried over their fluttering, doubtful, ignorant +maiden hearts, ever since man gave up seizing the girl of his choice +and carrying her away, willy-nilly, and began proposing to her +instead.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he first days of October were at hand, and the court session at which +Emerson Mead was to be tried for the murder of Will Whittaker would +soon open. The supreme court of the territory was sitting at Santa Fe, +and its decision upon the shrievalty would be announced in a few days. +The flames of partisan feeling were already breaking out in Las +Plumas. The dividing line of Main street had begun to be drawn, +although fitfully as yet, and conveniently forgotten if business +called to the other an occupant of either side. But in the matter of +mint juleps, cocktails, and the swapping of yarns Main street +stretched its dusty length between Republicans and Democrats as grim +and impassable as a mountain barrier. On both sides there were meaning +glances and significant nods and half-spoken threats of assault and +resistance. The Democrats professed to believe that the Republicans +were determined to hold the office of sheriff through the trial of +Emerson Mead, whatever should be the decision, in order that they +might find some means to end his life should the court discharge him. +The Republicans insisted that the Democrats were planning to seize the +office by hook or by crook before <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>the trial should begin in order +that they might allow him to escape. And each side declared, with +angry eyes and set teeth, that the other should not be allowed to +thwart justice, if the streets of Las Plumas had to be paved with dead +men.</p> + +<p>Judge Harlin sent word to Mead’s ranch, asking Nick Ellhorn to come +into town as soon as possible, and telegraphed to Tom Tuttle at Santa +Fe to return to Las Plumas at once. But it happened that Tom was +chasing an escaped criminal in the Gran Quivera country, far from +railroads and telegraphs, and that Nick was out on the range and did +not receive the message until nearly a week later.</p> + +<p>Nick had settled the matter of the Chinaman’s queue on his last visit +to Las Plumas, two weeks before, but not to his entire satisfaction. +Judge Harlin had refused to conduct his suit for the recovery of the +queue against Harry Gillam, the district attorney, and Nick had +declared that he would be his own lawyer and get that “scalp,” if it +“took till he was gray headed.” Secretly, he was glad that Judge +Harlin would not take the case, because he had an active animosity +against Harry Gillam, mainly because Gillam wore a silk hat, and he +thought that, as his own lawyer, he could contrive to cast enough +ridicule on the district attorney to set the whole town laughing and +make Gillam so angry that he would lose his temper and want to fight. +So he set about preparing his case, with advice and suggestion from +Judge Harlin, who, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>while he did not wish to be openly connected with +the matter, was very willing to see Gillam, who was a Republican and +the judge’s chief professional rival, made a laughing stock and +brought to grief. And he knew that the case, with Nick Ellhorn at the +helm, would be the funniest thing that had happened in Las Plumas for +many a day. Ellhorn’s plans began to be whispered about. Presently the +whole town was chuckling and smiling in anticipation of the fun there +would be at the trial. Gillam fidgeted in nervous apprehension for +several days; then he put the pig tail in his pocket, hunted up +Ellhorn and invited him to have a drink. As they drained their glasses +he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Oh, by the way, Nick, are you really in earnest about that fool suit +you’ve filed against me?”</p> + +<p>“You mean about my Chiny pigtail?” asked Ellhorn.</p> + +<p>“About the Chinaman’s queue, yes.”</p> + +<p>“You bet I am. That blamed thing’s cost me a whole heap more’n it’s +worth to anybody except me and the Chinaman. I reckon he’s sold it to +me for that five hundred dollars. It’s mine, and I mean to have it. I +sure reckon I naturalized one heathen when I took that scalp. There’s +one bias-eyed fan-tanner that won’t pull his freight for Chiny as soon +as he gets his pockets full of good American money. I reckon I was a +public benefactor when I sheared that washee-washee, and I deserve the +pig tail as a decoration for my services. No, sir, the scalp’s <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>mine, +by every count you can mention, and you’ll have to give it up.”</p> + +<p>“Is the queue all you want?”</p> + +<p>“If that’s all you’ve got that belongs to me.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, take it, and stop your jackassing about the fool thing,” +said Gillam, holding out the queue.</p> + +<p>“The hell you say!” Nick exclaimed, quite taken aback and much +disappointed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, here it is. And I call these gentlemen to witness that I offer +it to you freely and without any conditions.”</p> + +<p>So Nick reluctantly took the braid and gave up his case against +Gillam. “It was just like the blamed whelp,” he complained to Judge +Harlin, “to back down and spoil all the fun, but it’s no more than you +might expect from a man that wears a stove-pipe.” Harry Gillam was the +only man in Las Plumas who wished, or dared to wear a silk hat, and +his taste in the matter of headgear gave constant edge to Ellhorn’s +feeling of contempt and aversion. “I’m blamed sorry for it,” Nick went +on, “for I sure reckon half the kids in town would have been shyin’ +rocks at that plug before the trial was over.”</p> + +<p>“I guess he was buffaloed,” he said later, as he finished giving an +account of the affair to Emerson Mead. “It was the meanest sort of a +backdown you ever saw, but it just showed the fellow’s gait. A man +with no more grit than that had better go back <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>east, where he can +wear a stove-pipe hat without lookin’ like a fool, which he sure is.”</p> + +<p>“What made you so determined to have the thing, Nick?” Mead asked, +examining the braid.</p> + +<p>Nick gave a twist to the ends of his mustache and looked +contemplatively at the ceiling. “Well,” he said slowly, and there were +signs of the Irish roll in his voice, “it was my scalp. I took it, +first, and then I was after payin’ for it. Sure and I wanted it, +Emerson, to remind me not to mix my drinks again. It’s my pledge to +take whisky straight and beer the next day. And I sure reckon whenever +I look at it I’ll say to myself, ‘Nick, you’ve been a blooming, +blasted, balky, blithering, bildaverous idiot once too often. Don’t +you do it again.’”</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding his feeling about it, Ellhorn went away and forgot the +earnest of his future good behavior. Emerson smiled that evening as he +saw it trailing its snaky length over the back of a chair and stuffed +it in the side pocket of his coat, thinking he would give it to +Ellhorn the next time his friend should come to the jail.</p> + +<p>Judge Harlin thought Emerson Mead unaccountably despondent about the +probable outcome of his trial, and at times even indifferent to his +fate. He wondered much why this man, formerly of such buoyant and +determined nature, should suddenly collapse, in this weak-kneed +fashion, lose all confidence in himself, and seem to care so little +what happened to him. The lawyer finally decided that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>it was all on +account of his client’s honesty and uprightness of character, which +would not allow him, being guilty, to make an effort to prove that he +was not, and he lived in daily expectation of an order from Mead to +change his plea to guilty. The time was drawing near for the opening +of the case when Judge Harlin one day hurried excitedly to the jail +for a conference with Mead.</p> + +<p>“Emerson,” he said, “some member of the last grand jury has been +leaking, and it has come to my ears that testimony was given there by +some one who declared he saw you kill Whittaker. And I’ve just found +out that the other side has got a witness, presumably the same one, +who will swear to the same thing.”</p> + +<p>Mead’s face set into a grim defiance that rejoiced Harlin more than +anything that had happened since his client’s imprisonment, as he +answered:</p> + +<p>“I’ve been expecting this. Who is it and what’s his testimony?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t been able to learn any details about it—merely that he +will swear he saw you kill Whittaker. I’m not positive who the man is, +but I feel reasonably sure I’ve spotted him. I think he is a Mexican, +a red-headed Mexican, called Antone Colorow.”</p> + +<p>Mead nodded. “I think likely,” he said, and then he told Judge Harlin +how Antone had tried to lasso him and of the angry man’s threats of +revenge for his broken wrists. “I’ve expected all along,” he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>added, +“that they’d come out with some such lay as that. I don’t see how we +can buck against it,” he went on, despondently, “for I can’t prove an +alibi. Unless you can break down his testimony we might as well give +up.”</p> + +<p>“I guess there won’t be any difficulty about that,” said Harlin +assuringly. “What you’ve just told me will be a very important matter, +and if I can keep Mexicans off the jury it won’t take much to convince +Americans that he is lying, just because he is a Mexican.”</p> + +<p>After Judge Harlin went away Mead sat on the edge of his bed, his +elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands, and his broad shoulders +rounded into an attitude of deep dejection.</p> + +<p>“What is the use?” his thoughts ran. “They are bound to get me sooner +or later, and it might just as well be now as any time. It won’t make +any difference whether they clear me or convict me. She will believe +me guilty anyway, because her father and all her friends will say so.” +He rose and began pacing the room and his thoughts turned persistently +to Marguerite Delarue. Since he had heard the rumor of her approaching +marriage to Wellesly he had tried not to let his thoughts rest upon +her, but sometimes the rush of his scanty memories would not be +forbidden.</p> + +<p>Again he recalled the day when he first saw her, as she stood with her +sick baby brother in her arms. She was so young, so blooming, so fair, +that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>her anxious face and troubled eyes seemed all the more +appealing. He remembered that he had looked at her a moment before he +could speak, and in that moment love smote his heart. He had wished to +see her father and she had laid the sick child on a couch while she +left the room. The little one had fretted and he had sat down beside +it and shown it his watch and his revolver, and it had put out its +hands to him, and when Marguerite came back she had found the big, +tall, broad-shouldered man cradling the sick child in his arms. He +halted in his moody pacing of the cell and a sudden, shivering thrill +shot through his whole big body as he saw again the look of pleasure +and of trustful admiration which had lighted her face and shone in her +dark blue eyes. The child had clung to him and, pleased, he had asked +if he might not take it in his arms for a short ride on his horse. And +after that, whenever he had passed the Delarue house alone, he had +tried to see the little boy, and had tried still more, in roundabout +ways, to bring the child’s sister outside the house, where he might +see her and hear her voice. Four times he had done that, and once he +had seen her in her father’s store and had held a few minutes’ +conversation with her. He remembered every word she had said. He +repeated them all to himself, and went over again every least incident +of the times he had stopped his horse at her gate and had taken the +laughing child from her arms and they had looked <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>at each other and he +had tried to say something—anything, and then had ridden away.</p> + +<p>When the meager little memories were all done he sat down on his bed +again and felt that nothing mattered, since she was to marry Albert +Wellesly and would surely believe him guilty of all that was charged +against him. He felt no jealousy of her chosen husband, and no anger +toward Wellesly because he had won her. He was conscious only of a +vague wonder that any man had dared ask Marguerite Delarue to be his +wife.</p> + +<p>On Saturday of the first week in October Judge Harlin received a +private dispatch from Santa Fe saying that the supreme court had +decided the shrievalty contest in favor of Joe Davis, the Democratic +candidate. At once the threatened storm began to break. By noon Main +street was again divided into two opposing camps. Every rifle, +revolver and shot-gun in the town that was not carried on some man’s +person was put within easy reach of ready hands. Shops and offices, +stores and gardens were deserted, and men hurried to the center of the +town, where they drifted along the sidewalk or stood in doorways in +excited groups, each side anxiously and angrily on the alert for some +open act of hostility from the other. The Republicans said they had +not received official notice of the decision of the court, and that +they would not surrender the office until it should reach them. The +Democrats demanded that it be given <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>up at once and accused the other +side of secreting the court order with the intention of holding the +office through Emerson Mead’s trial. The district court was to convene +at Las Plumas on the following Monday. Mead’s case was the first on +the docket.</p> + +<p>Men who were next door neighbors, or friends of long standing, passed +each other with scowls or averted faces, if they were members of the +opposing parties. Mrs. John Daniels was planning to give a swell +breakfast to a dozen chosen friends early the next week, the first +appearance of that form of entertainment in Las Plumas society, and +she was delightedly pluming herself over the talk the function would +be sure to create and the envious admiration her friends would feel +because she had introduced something new. She had talked the matter +over with her dearest friend, Mrs. Judge Harlin, whom she had sworn to +secrecy, and she was on her way to the post-office to mail her +invitations when she saw that the threatened storm was breaking. Her +glance swept up Main street on one side and down on the other, and she +turned about and hurried home to substitute in her list of guests for +those whose sympathies were Democratic, others whose masculine +affiliations were Republican.</p> + +<p>Hurried messages were sent out to mines and cattle ranches, and in the +afternoon fighting men of both parties began to come in from the +country. A procession of horsemen poured into the town, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>bronzed and +grim-faced men, each with a roll of blankets behind him, a revolver at +his side, a rifle swung to his saddle, or a shot-gun across its +pommel. They loped about the town, sometimes surrounding the +court-house, angrily discussing whether or not the clerk of the court +was probably hiding the official order, and sometimes lining the two +sides of Main street, as if they were two opposing companies of +cavalry ready to join battle. Among the Republican forces Judge Harlin +saw a red-whiskered Mexican who, he learned, was Antone Colorow. The +man’s broken wrists had healed, but they had lost all their +suppleness, and he could never throw the lariat again. He could shoot +as well as ever though, and not a day had passed since that morning at +the round-up when he had not sworn to himself that Emerson Mead should +die by his hand. He hated Mead with all the vengefulness and +fierceness of his race. His mind held but one idea, to work upon the +man who had ruined his occupation the crudest possible revenge, in +whatever way he could compass it. He had allied himself with the +Republican forces only because they were opposed to his enemy, and he +hoped that in the impending clash he would find opportunity to carry +out his purpose.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">O</span>n that same Saturday Marguerite Delarue received a letter from Albert +Wellesly saying he would be in Las Plumas the following Tuesday, when +he hoped he would hear from her own lips the answer for which he had +been waiting. She was no nearer a decision than she had been weeks +before, and in her perplexity she at last decided that she must ask +her father’s advice. But he was so absorbed in the factional feud that +she could scarcely catch sight of him. In the late afternoon of Sunday +she took little Paul and walked to the mesa east of the town, toward +the Hermosa mountains. For the hundredth time she debated the matter, +for the hundredth time she told herself that he loved her and that she +loved him, that it would please her father, and that there was no +reason why she should not marry him. And for the hundredth time her +misgivings held her back and would not let her say conclusively that +she would be Wellesly’s wife. Then she would think that her hesitancy +was because she really preferred not to marry any one, and that she +would always feel the same doubts.</p> + +<p>She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she did not notice the +unusual abstraction of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>child. With one chubby fist grasping her +forefinger and the other trailing, head downward, a big yellow +chrysanthemum, he trudged silently by her side, his red fez making a +spot of bright color against her white dress. He was wondering why he +had no mamma. Many times he had talked the matter over with +Marguerite, but she had never been able to explain it to his entire +satisfaction. He accepted her statements when she made them, but as +they did not seem to him to justify the fact, she had to make them all +over again the next time he thought of the subject. That day he had +visited a little playmate who had both a big sister and a mamma, and +as he walked across the mesa with Marguerite his small brain was busy +with the problem and his childish heart was full of longing. He lifted +his serious, puzzled face, with its big, blue, childishly earnest eyes +to his sister, who was as absorbed in her problem as was he in his.</p> + +<p>“Say, Daisy, why haven’t I got a mamma, just like Janey?”</p> + +<p>“Darling, our mamma, yours and mine, has gone to Heaven.”</p> + +<p>“What did she go there for?”</p> + +<p>“Because God wanted her to go there and live with Him.”</p> + +<p>“Did God take her to Heaven?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it was awful mean for Him to do that.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my darling! My little Bye-Bye mustn’t <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>say such things! +Everything God does is right. Poor mamma was so ill she could not stay +with us any longer, and God took her to Heaven to make her well.”</p> + +<p>“Is she ill in Heaven?”</p> + +<p>“No, dearie. She is well and happy in Heaven, and so is every one who +goes there.”</p> + +<p>“When I go to Heaven shall I see my mamma?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear.”</p> + +<p>The child was silent for a few moments and Marguerite turned again to +her own thoughts. She scarcely heard him when he spoke again:</p> + +<p>“Heaven is up in the sky, ain’t it, Daisy?”</p> + +<p>His eyes were caught by the sunset glow on the Hermosa mountains and +he did not press her for confirmation of his idea. The swelling flanks +and the towers and pinnacles and castellated crags of the rugged +Hermosa range were glowing and flaming with the tenderest, deepest +pink, as though the living granite had been dyed in the blood of +crimson roses. The eastern sky, vivid with seashell tints, hovered so +low that the topmost crags seemed to support its glowing colors. It +was no wonder that the child’s mind, already awed and made receptive +by his thoughts of Heaven, was at once filled with the idea that its +gates had been opened before him. He dropped his sister’s finger and +went forward a few steps, his eager eyes fixed on the glory that +flamed in the east, and his heart beating wildly with the thought that +if he ran on a little way he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>could go in and see his mother. Of +course, she would see him coming and she would run out to meet him and +take him in her arms, just as Marguerite did when he came home from +Janey’s. Filled with the sudden, imperious impulse, he ran down the +hill on which they were standing, across the dry, sandy bed of a +watercourse, and up the hill on the other side. The miracle of beauty +which dazzled him was of almost daily occurrence, but, baby that he +was, he had never noticed it before.</p> + +<p>Marguerite took Wellesly’s letter from her pocket when Paul dropped +her hand, and, turning to get the sunset light on the page, read it +over and over. She knew Paul had run on ahead, but thought he was +playing in the arroyo. She folded the letter slowly and put it in her +pocket again and watched for a few moments the glowing banks of color +that filled the western sky. Then she looked down the little hill and +along the arroyo, calling, “Come, Paul! We must go home.” But the +sturdy little figure was nowhere in sight. At that moment he was +crossing the second hill beyond. She ran up and down the arroyo +calling, “Paul! Paul!” at the top of her voice. Gathering her white +skirts in one hand, she rushed to the top of the hill and called again +and again. But there was no reply. As she listened, straining forward, +all the earth seemed strangely still. The silence struck back upon her +heart suffocatingly. Over the crest of the next hill Paul heard her +voice and hid behind a big, close <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>clump of feathery mesquite, fearful +lest she should find him and take him home again. Across the arroyo +she ran, and up to the hill-top, where she stood and called and looked +eagerly about. But he, intent on carrying out his plan of reaching the +rosy, glowing gates of Heaven over there such a little way, crouched +close behind the spreading bush and made no answer.</p> + +<p>“He would not have gone so far,” she thought, anxiously. “He must be +back there in one of those arroyos.”</p> + +<p>She ran back and hurried farther up and down, first one and then the +other gulch, calling the little one’s name and straining her eyes +through the dusk that had begun to gather for a glimpse of his flaxen +curls and red cap. Paul, meanwhile, was scurrying across the hills as +fast as his two fat, determined legs could carry him, straight toward +the deepening, darkening glory upon the mountains.</p> + +<p>At last Marguerite decided that he must have turned about, after he +had run a few steps away from her, and gone home. Comforting herself +with this hope, she hurried back, looking about her as she ran, to be +sure that she did not pass him. Flushed and panting, she rushed +through the house and asked the servant if little Bye-Bye had come +home. The maid had not seen him, and the two women looked through the +house and searched the yard and garden, stopping every moment to call +the child. Then they ran out again upon the mesa, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>where Marguerite +had walked with him, calling and circling about through the gathering +dusk.</p> + +<p>When it became quite dark Marguerite, thoroughly frightened, ran back +to the town and hurried down Main street looking for her father. She +met a clerk from his store on the way to tell her that he had just +started to his alfalfa ranch, ten miles down the river, to bring in +the men who were there at work, and would not return until early the +next morning. The clerk quickly got together a half dozen young men +and they set out for the mesa. The mother of one and the sister of +another stayed with Marguerite, and by dint of constant persuasion +kept her at home.</p> + +<p>At daybreak the party returned, worn out by their long tramp. The moon +had risen about ten o’clock, and by its brilliant light they had +searched carefully the hills and arroyos within two or three miles of +the town, but had not found a trace of the lost child. Main street had +slept on its arms that night. Men of both parties, wrapped in their +blankets, with revolvers and shot-guns and rifles under their hands, +had dotted the court-house yard, had lain on the sidewalks near the +jail, and had slept on the floors of shops and offices along both +sides of Main street. Feeling had risen so high that a hasty word, or +the unguarded movement of a hand toward a pistol butt, was likely to +cause the beginning of the battle. The Democrats had telegraphed to +Santa Fe and learned that the order <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>of the court making Joe Davis +sheriff, having left there by mail on Saturday, should have reached +Las Plumas on Sunday. So they announced that they would wait until the +arrival of the mail from the north on Monday at noon, and that if the +Republicans did not then vacate the office they would march upon the +court-house, seize the clerk of the court, take forcible possession of +the jail, and install Joe Davis in the office of sheriff. They swore +they would do all this before sunset Monday night if they had to soak +the sand of the streets a foot deep in blood. The Republicans grimly +said that they would not give up the office without the official order +of the court if they had to kill every Democrat in the town to hold +it.</p> + +<p>When the party searching for little Paul walked down Main street in +the dim, early light, their footsteps breaking loudly upon the morning +silence, men jumped to their feet with revolvers at ready, and set +faces, crowned with disheveled hair, looked out from doorways whence +came the click of cocking triggers. As the party was divided in its +political affiliations, the young men knew that it would be safer for +them to separate and for each to walk down Main street on that side to +which his elders belonged. And so it happened that armed men, jumping +from their blankets with revolvers drawn and cocked, and sternly +commanding “halt,” heard on both sides of the street at the same time +how Pierre Delarue’s little boy was lost on the mesa. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>Over and over +again the young men told their story as they walked down the street, +and group after group of armed and expectant men asked anxiously, +“What’s the matter?” “What’s up?” “What’s happened?” As they listened, +the angry resolve in their faces softened into sympathy and concern, +and everywhere there were low exclamations of “We must hunt him up!” +“We must all turn out!”</p> + +<p>When Pierre Delarue returned he found the feud forgotten. Men were +running hither and thither getting horses and carriages ready, a long +line of men and boys straggled out across the mesa, the Main street +barrier, which had risen sky high when he left the town, had sunk to +the middle of the earth, and men who, a few hours before, would have +shot to kill, had either opened mouth to the other, rode or walked +side by side, talking together of the lost child, as they hurried out +to the hills to join in the search.</p> + +<p>Mrs. John Daniels, as soon as she rose from the breakfast table, +hastened to Mrs. Judge Harlin’s house, and together they went to offer +sympathy and neighborly kindness to Marguerite. Other women came, and +their tear-dyed lids told how the mother-sympathy in their hearts had +already opened the flood-gates of feeling. None of them thought it +possible that the child could be found alive, though they talked +encouragingly with Marguerite. But among themselves they said, “Poor +girl! It will kill her!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p><p>Marguerite wished to join the searchers on the mesa, but the women +would not let her go. She had not slept during the night, and her +usually blooming face was pale and drawn and her eyes were wide and +brilliant. When her father came she appealed to him.</p> + +<p>“No, my dear, you can do no good out there. Stay here and be ready to +take care of him when we bring him home. We shall find him, my dear, +we shall find him. Keep up your courage and save all your strength for +the time when it will be needed.”</p> + +<p>So Marguerite stood on her veranda and watched the people stringing +out to the hills, men and boys and even a few women, on foot, on +horseback, in carts and carriages and wagons. She could not shut from +her eyes the vision of her little Bye-Bye alone, far out on the hills +in the darkness and cold—the little baby Bye-Bye, who, if he wakened +in the night, had always to be taken into her own bed and cuddled in +her arms before he could sleep again.</p> + +<p>Judge Truman, of the district court, reached Las Plumas on Sunday and +prepared to open the court and call the case of Emerson Mead on Monday +morning. The sheriff and his deputy brought Mead out of the jail and +started to conduct him to the court-house. Suddenly the bell of the +Methodist church began to ring violently; a moment later that of the +Catholic convent added its sharp tones, and the fire bell, over by the +plaza, joined their clamor.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p><p>“What are those bells ringing for, John,” said Mead to Daniels.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t you heard about Frenchy Delarue’s kid? He was lost on the +mesa last night and the whole town is turning out to hunt him. They +are ringing the bells to call out everybody that hasn’t gone already.”</p> + +<p>Mead stopped short at the words “Frenchy Delarue’s kid.”</p> + +<p>“Little Paul Delarue?” he asked in quick, sharp tones.</p> + +<p>“Yes, the little fellow with the yellow curls.”</p> + +<p>Without a word Mead turned sharply on his heel and ran with long +strides down Main street toward Delarue’s house. The hands of the two +men went instinctively to their revolvers, then their eyes met, and +Daniels said:</p> + +<p>“I guess we’d better not touch him, Jim.”</p> + +<p>At that moment Judge Truman turned the corner, just from the +court-house, and saw the escaping prisoner.</p> + +<p>“Let him go, Mr. Sheriff,” he said. “His help will be valuable in the +search. Better go yourself, and take as many with you as you can. I +have adjourned court and told everybody to hurry out to the mesa, and +I’m going myself as soon as I can get a horse.”</p> + +<p>Emerson Mead ran at the top of his speed to the Delarue house, going +there without thought of why <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>he did it, feeling only that Marguerite +was in deepest trouble, and all his mind filled with the idea that it +would kill her if anything happened to the child. As he entered the +gate Marguerite saw him and rushed down from the veranda.</p> + +<p>“How did it happen?” he asked hastily.</p> + +<p>“I took him out to walk with me on the mesa yesterday afternoon, and +he slipped away from me and I could not find him.”</p> + +<p>“Can you tell me where you saw him last?”</p> + +<p>“Let me go with you! I can show you the very place!”</p> + +<p>“Are you strong enough? Can you stand it? You are very pale!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes! It will not be so hard as to stay here and wait! Let me go +with you and help you!”</p> + +<p>“Come, then, quick!”</p> + +<p>She snatched her little white sunbonnet from a chair on the porch and +they hurried off. Walking swiftly and silently they passed through the +back streets of the town and across vacant lots and hurried over the +rising plain until they came to the place in the rolling hills where +the child had disappeared.</p> + +<p>“It was here,” said Marguerite. “I am very sure of the place. He stood +beside me and while I was thinking about—something that troubled me, +and reading a letter, he slipped away. I was sure he had only run down +the hill into the arroyo, but <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>when I looked for him, and it seemed +hardly more than a minute, I could not find him.”</p> + +<p>Mead looked about for footprints, but the ground had been trampled by +scores of feet since the night before, and tracks of shoes in many +sizes covered the sandy earth. A few scattered searchers were near +them, but the great mass of people could be seen in groups and bunches +trailing off over the hills, most of them headed to the northeast. A +shout came along the line and one of the men near by ran across the +hills to learn its cause.</p> + +<p>“What had he been talking about?” Mead asked.</p> + +<p>“About Heaven and our mother, and if he could see her if he should go +there.”</p> + +<p>Mead looked about him, thinking there was no clue in that, when his +glance rested upon the towering peaks of the Hermosa range, their +western slopes soft in the violet shadows of the forenoon, their +upreared crags seeming to lean against the very blue of the sky. A +sudden memory from his own childish years flashed into his mind.</p> + +<p>“I remember when I was a kid I used to think that if I could only get +to the top of a mountain I could jump from it into the sky and see +God. Children always think Heaven is in the sky, don’t they? Maybe he +had some such idea. Let’s go straight toward the mountain and see if +we can’t find his tracks.”</p> + +<p>They walked down the hill, and in the sand in the bottom of the arroyo +Mead’s quick eye caught <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>a faint depression. He stopped Marguerite as +she was about to step on it, and they knelt together to examine it. +There were other footprints all about, but this one little track had +escaped obliteration, and none had noticed it. Marguerite thought it +was the size and shape of his shoe, and they went on over the hill, +watching the ground closely, but seeing nothing more. A man came +running back to tell them that a child’s footprints had been found +near the mountain road, two miles or more to the northward. Marguerite +wished to go there at once.</p> + +<p>“Yes, certainly, go if you wish,” said Mead, “but I think I will stay +here. If they have found his tracks there are plenty of people there +to follow them, but I am anxious to follow this lead.”</p> + +<p>Marguerite said she would stay with him, and the others hurried over +the mesa to the mountain road, leaving the two alone. They walked +slowly up and down the hills toward the mountains, finding in one +place a little curved depression, as if from the toe of the child’s +shoe. And presently, close behind a clump of bushes, they saw two +little shoe-prints clearly defined in the sand. They were so close to +the bush that they had escaped detection.</p> + +<p>“Why, he must have hid here while I was looking for him!” Marguerite +exclaimed, “for I came to the top of the hill, not more than twenty +feet away! He must have hid behind this big bush and kept very still +when he heard me calling, and that was how he got away from me!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p><p>They went on over the hills, Mead keeping a fairly straight course +toward the mountains, and constantly running his eye along the ground +in front of them. Twice he saw faint depressions in the sand, partly +obliterated, but enough to make him think they were on the right +track. At last, in a wide, sandy arroyo, he paused before a track in +the farther edge of the sand which turned up the canyon.</p> + +<p>“What time was it when you lost him?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Just at sunset. I remember, because the red was on the mountains and +the sky was very brilliant.”</p> + +<p>“Then by the time he had traveled this far it was dark and this wide +sandy streak was lighter and brighter than the hill up there, covered +with bushes. Come on!”</p> + +<p>Mead rushed up the canyon, almost on the run, his eye catching a +toe-print here, a heel track there, a sunken pebble in one spot, a +crushed blade of grass beside the sand in another. The young men who +had gone out first had been through this arroyo the night before, when +the moonlight did not show the faint trail. Since sunrise the +searching parties had gone farther toward the north, covering ground +which the other party had left untouched, for every one believed, +since the failure of the first expedition, that the child must have +turned in that direction and tried to go home.</p> + +<p>Mead and Marguerite followed the winding of the arroyo for a mile or +more, and at last, where it <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>headed and the ground was covered by a +thicker growth of bushes, the little tracks climbed the hill. By that +time they were well beyond the farthest point toward the mountains +which any one else believed the child could have reached, and there +were no footprints of previous searchers to perplex their eyes or blot +out such traces as they might find. From the top of the hill they saw +the great body of men again scattering out over the mesa, and knew +that they had been disappointed.</p> + +<p>It was some minutes before Mead found any indication of the trail on +the hill. Then the child seemed to have wandered about in the dark +without purpose. For a long time he had kept to the top of the hill, +going backward and forward and circling about, and at last following +its crest toward the mountains.</p> + +<p>“This must have been after the moon rose,” Mead said, “and while it +was still so low that only the top of the hill was light.”</p> + +<p>After a time the track turned down the hillside again, and the man and +the girl followed, eagerly scanning the ground for the faint traces of +the child’s feet. Slowly and carefully they walked along, sometimes +able to follow the trail without difficulty for long distances, and +again keeping it only by the greatest care. Marguerite noticed that +Mead looked for it always toward the south, and asked him why he did +it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p><p>“Because the moon was considerably past the full and shone more from +the south, and he would have kept his face toward it.”</p> + +<p>Up and down the hills they went and along the arroyos, the trail +sometimes heading straight for the mountains, and again turning toward +the south, sometimes following the sandy watercourse beds and +sometimes the hilltops, and again crossing them at varying angles. +Once they lost it entirely, and searched over a wide area in vain, +until Marguerite found a shred of brown linen hanging upon the thorny +limb of a mesquite bush.</p> + +<p>“This is from his dress!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>About the same time Mead saw a number of dog-like tracks, all going in +the same direction, and a sickening fear rose in him so great that he +scarcely dared sweep with his eyes the arroyo into which they were +descending. He did not let Marguerite see that he had noticed anything +unusual, and she followed him silently, wondering how he could trace +the trail so rapidly. For he knew that he need not stop to look for +the child’s footprints. He could follow swiftly, almost on the run, +the plain trail of the dog-like tracks down the sandy arroyo. +Presently she saw him stoop and pick up something from the ground. He +turned and held out to her a large yellow chrysanthemum. She ran to +him and seized it eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I picked it as we were leaving home yesterday. He wanted it and +I gave it to him. And <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>he clung to it all this way! I wonder what made +him drop it finally!”</p> + +<p>Mead did not tell her of the fear that probably had relaxed the little +muscles and sent the weary feet flying over the sand. He could think +of no word of encouragement to say, for he felt no hope in his heart. +But her face had lighted with the finding of the flower and she seemed +to feel almost as though it were a call from the child. She pressed +the yellow bloom to her face and thrust it into her bosom. Then she +dropped upon her knees and hid her face in her hands. Mead felt that +she was praying, and impulsively he took off his hat and bent his +head, but his eyes still swept the arroyo in front of them. As they +went on he noticed that the child’s tracks had been almost +obliterated. Here and there a toe print, pressed deeply into the sand, +showed that the little one had been running. At last Mead stopped +beside a large flat stone. The child’s footprints showed plainly +beside it. And the dog-like tracks ranged in a half circle six or +eight feet distant.</p> + +<p>“He must have sat down here to rest,” said Mead, hoping she would not +notice the other tracks. But she saw them and looked at him with +sudden fear in her eyes. A single word shaped itself upon her +whitening lips.</p> + +<p>“Coyotes?”</p> + +<p>He nodded, saying, “I have been watching their tracks for the last +mile.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p><p>She threw her hands to her head with a despairing gesture. He moved +toward her, filled with the yearning to take her in his arms and +comfort her. But he remembered that she was to be married to Albert +Wellesly and his hands dropped to his sides. He turned to examine the +ground about the stone and saw in the sand many little holes and +scratches. He noticed, too, some pebbles in front of the coyote +tracks.</p> + +<p>“Look!” he exclaimed. “The brave little man! He threw stones at the +coyotes and kept them off! He must have had a stick, too, for see +these little holes in the sand. He probably stood up and thrust the +stick toward them.”</p> + +<p>“Could he keep them off so that they would not attack him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I think he could. As long as—as he kept moving they would only +follow him.”</p> + +<p>A little farther on they found many deep impressions of the child’s +feet close together, as if he had been jumping, and after that the +coyote tracks disappeared.</p> + +<p>“He must have jumped at them and shouted and thrust out his stick,” +said Mead, “and frightened them away. He might have done that after he +found he could drive them back. And this was probably after daybreak, +when they would be less likely to follow him. We can’t be so very far +behind him now, for he would be tired and could not walk fast.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p><p>“Come, hurry! Let us go on!” urged Marguerite,</p> + +<p>He looked at her doubtfully. Her face was drawn and white under her +sunbonnet, notwithstanding her long walk in the hot sun, and dark +rings circled her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Have you strength to go farther? Hadn’t you better wait here?”</p> + +<p>“No, no! I can go on! Come, let’s hurry!” and she moved forward.</p> + +<p>“Then lean on my arm. That will help you some.”</p> + +<p>“No, thank you. I might keep you back. You go on and follow the trail +as fast as you can and I will come behind. Don’t stop a minute for +me.”</p> + +<p>The trail left the arroyo and climbed the hill again and from its +summit they could see the crowd of people far toward the north +scattering out over the mesa and dotting the hills beyond the mountain +road. A banner of smoke lay low against the northern horizon, while +across the distance came the faint whistle of an approaching train. A +vague remembrance came into Marguerite’s mind that there was to have +been trouble in the town, a battle and bloodshed, after the passing of +that train, and that she had been anxious on her father’s account. But +that all seemed years ago, and the remembrance of it quickly passed.</p> + +<p>The trail wandered on, keeping to the hilltops for some time. Mead +told Marguerite that the boy had been cold in the early morning and +had stayed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>on the hilltops because it was warmer there when the sun +first rose. Then the trail went up and down again, sometimes over the +hills and sometimes following the arroyos, sometimes turning on itself +and going back, and sometimes circling about in long curves, facing by +turns all points of the compass. Along arroyos, and on hillsides that +were comparatively barren and sandy it was easily followed. At other +times Mead lost it entirely and they would wander about, searching the +ground closely. Once Marguerite found the faint track of the shoe when +Mead was going away in another direction, and she called him back +delightedly. For long distances he would spring rapidly along a trail +so faint that it was only by close scrutiny she could see anything, +his mind unconsciously marking the distance from one trace to where +the next should be, his eye skimming the ground and his quick sight +catching the crushed flower stem, the sunken pebble, the broken blade +of grass, the tiny depression of heel or toe that marked the way.</p> + +<p>The girl toiled on after him, sometimes falling far behind and again +catching up and walking by his side. The slumbrous heat of the October +day filled the clear, dry air and the sun shone fiercely, unveiled by +a single vaporous cloud. Marguerite’s mouth was dry and her throat was +parched and all her body called for water. She thought of the thirst +and the hunger that must be tormenting the little thing that had been +wandering over those <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>sun-flooded hills, with neither food nor drink +nor sight of friendly face, for so many hours, and the agony of the +thought seemed more than she could endure. Sharp, lightning-like pains +cracked through her brain, and a dizzy, chaotic whirl filled her head. +She put her hands to her forehead and stopped short on the hillside, +the fear flying through her mind that she might be going mad. Mead saw +her and came quickly to her side, alarmed by her white, tense face and +the wild look of agony in her eyes. Her lips were pale and dry.</p> + +<p>“Do not stop!” she pleaded. “It is nothing but a little headache. +Don’t stop a minute for me. Five minutes may mean the difference +between life and death for my little boy. Hurry on, and I will come +close behind you.”</p> + +<p>The fear of delaying her companion gave her fresh strength and she +went on beside him. In the next arroyo they found a footprint deeply +marked in a bed of sand. As Mead glanced at it he saw some grains of +sand fall down from the rim of the depression. He called Marguerite’s +attention to them.</p> + +<p>“We must be close behind him,” he said, “or that sand would not still +be trembling on the edge like that.”</p> + +<p>“If we only had some water for him!” said Marguerite. “He will need it +so badly.”</p> + +<p>Mead thought that the child would probably be beyond the need of human +aid when they should <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>find him, but he merely answered: “Yes, I ought +to have thought of it, but we started so hurriedly.” His only hope was +that they might be in time to save the little worn body from the +coyotes. The trail crossed the arroyo and essayed the hill. It was +steep and had been too much for the child’s ebbing strength. The track +went down into the valley again and part way up the other side, then +back and across the arroyo, and took the hill once more at a long +slant. They lost the trail there and walked about for a few minutes, +searching the ground closely for signs of the little feet. Marguerite +went on to the top of the hill, and Mead, glancing toward her, saw her +standing stiff and still as if turned to stone, holding a little +forward her tightly clasped hands. She gave a low cry and he sprang to +her side. A moving splotch of red showed above a clump of greasewood +half way down the hill. Then a tottering little figure in a torn and +ragged linen kilt moved slowly down the hillside, lifting its feet +wearily, but still going on.</p> + +<p>“Paul! Paul! My darling!” A ringing call broke from Marguerite’s lips +and she rushed down the hill at a pace which even Mead’s running +strides could barely equal. The boy heard her cry, turned, swayed on +trembling legs, and fell to the ground. She snatched the child to her +breast and pressed her face to his. He smiled faintly and wearily, and +his parched, cracked lips whispered, “some drink!” and then his eyes +closed and his head fell <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>back upon her arm. The gladness in her face +froze into terror and she turned to Mead in despairing appeal.</p> + +<p>“Is he dead?” she whispered.</p> + +<p>The man bent one ear to the child’s heart.</p> + +<p>“No, he is not dead, nor dying. His heart seems to be beating +naturally, but feebly. If we only had some water!”</p> + +<p>She held the child toward him, speaking rapidly: “Take him in your +arms and run to where the others are. Doctor Long is there, and +somebody will have water.”</p> + +<p>He looked at her anxiously. “But you?” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>She answered with a sharp insistence in her tones, leaning toward him, +the words flying from her lips:</p> + +<p>“Take him and run, run! Never mind me. I will come behind you. Go, go +quickly!”</p> + +<p>He cradled the unconscious child in his arms, running with long +strides up hill and down, aiming a straight course toward the bulk of +the searching party, which he could see from the hilltops, a multitude +of moving dots straggling back into the hills where he and Marguerite +had first followed the footprints. As he ran, his mind went back over +the winding trail they had followed, and he calculated that the child +had traveled not less than a dozen miles since sunset of the night +before. He glanced over the hills at the crowds beyond and thought it +must be some four or five miles to the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>nearest one. He saw a single +horseman off to his left who seemed much nearer, but he decided it +would be safer to run straight for the greater number, lest the man +might turn about and ride away without seeing him. But the horseman +presently came in his direction and soon Mead saw that the man was +looking toward him. He waved his hat and halloed, and the man +evidently saw and understood, for he spurred his horse into a gallop. +As he came nearer Mead thought there was something familiar in his +attitude and the outline of his body. But he did not look closely, for +he was running through a growth of prickly pear cactus and needed to +watch his footsteps. Scarcely more than two hundred yards separated +them when the horseman leaned forward in his saddle, studying keenly +the figure of the man on foot. A look of cruel, snarling triumph +flashed over his face and a Spanish oath broke from his lips. He +whipped out a revolver and leveled it at the running man with the +child in his arms. Mead had been looking at the ground, choosing his +course, and then had glanced at Paul’s face for a moment. When he +raised his eyes again he saw the shining muzzle of a revolver pointed +at his breast and above it the savage, revengeful, triumphant face of +Antone Colorow.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span> bullet tore through the sleeve of Mead’s coat, passing but a few +inches from the head of the unconscious child. Another sang over his +left shoulder, scorching his coat. His face, flushed with running, +went white and grim with sudden passion, his lips closed in a narrow, +straight line, and the yellow flame blazed in his wide and brilliant +eyes. He shifted the child more to the left and turned sidewise toward +his assailant, shielding the little one with his body. Antone Colorow, +shouting curses and vile names, came dashing on, revolver in hand, to +try again at closer quarters. Mead kept on, running sidewise, his set +white face turned over his shoulder and his flashing eyes fixed on +Antone’s revolver hand. They were within a score of paces of each +other when Mead suddenly jumped to one side and the bullet that was +meant for his head whistled harmlessly through the air. “Three!” he +thought, his eyes fixed steadily on Antone’s right hand, as he still +advanced toward the angry man. For he had noticed that the Mexican +wore no cartridge belt. Again he sprang to one side as he saw Antone’s +finger stiffen upon the trigger, and the ball rattled through the +bushes behind him. “Four!” <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>he thought, veering toward the west. The +Mexican turned his horse to follow, and Mead, with eyes fixed on the +trigger, and noting, too, the slant of the barrel, knew that he had no +need to dodge the next bullet. It went wild and tore up the ground +some feet away. “Only one more!” he thought, as he halted with the sun +at his back and shining straight in the Mexican’s face. A sudden, +quick leap and a loud yell startled Antone’s horse, it jerked +backward, and the last bullet went singing harmlessly through the air.</p> + +<p>Antone’s voice shot up into a falsetto, and shrieking vile curses he +threw the empty revolver over his shoulder and leaped to the ground. +Mead’s watchful eye caught the gleam of a steel blade in the sunlight. +He dropped his burden upon the ground, in the shade of a clump of +greasewood, and sprang to one side. He caught Antone’s wrist, as the +knife made its downward turn, and held that hand high in the air for a +moment while he looked into the Mexican’s eyes. They shone with the +angry glare of a wild beast.</p> + +<p>“Antone,” he said, “I have found the lost child. It is still alive, +and it may live if I can get it to the doctor at once. Will you let me +go and finish this quarrel afterward?”</p> + +<p>The Mexican’s only answer was a volley of curses. This man had broken +his wrists and made useless that boasted skill with the lasso which +had been the one pride of his life. For weeks and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>months anger and +hatred and the determination to have revenge had blazed in his heart, +and at sight of his enemy everything else went from his mind. He too +had been ranging the hills since early morning searching for the boy, +but so fierce was his rage that he could have jumped upon the little +form and trampled its life out, if by so doing he could have killed +Mead with a double death.</p> + +<p>Antone’s wrists were stiff and his arms had not recovered their full +strength, so that Mead had no difficulty in holding the dagger aloft. +He waited a moment to see if some glimmer of human feeling would not +strike through the man’s rage. Suddenly Antone began kicking his +shins, and Mead understood that the sooner the struggle began the +sooner it would be ended. He strove warily, with the coolness of a +masterful determination, with a quick eye, a quick hand, and a quick +brain. The Mexican fought with the insensate rage of an angered beast. +They struggled first for the possession of the knife. Antone succeeded +in releasing his wrist and sprang backward out of Mead’s reach. With a +lunge straight at his enemy’s heart he came forward again, but Mead +sprang quickly to one side and the Mexican barely saved himself from +sprawling headlong on the ground. He faced about, his features +distorted with anger, and, as he dashed forward, Mead caught his wrist +again. There was a short, sharp struggle, and Mead sent the knife +whirling down the hillside.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p><p>Then they closed in a hand to hand struggle. Antone bent his head and +sent his teeth deep into Mead’s arm. Into the flesh they sank and met +and with a slipping sound tore the solid muscle from its bed. Then +there flamed in Emerson Mead’s heart that wild, white rage that +mettles the nerves and steels the muscles of him who suffers that +indignity. He felt the strength of a giant in his arms as he gripped +the Mexican by both shoulders. In another minute Antone Colorow was +flat upon the ground and Emerson Mead was sitting on his chest.</p> + +<p>“You hound!” Mead exclaimed, “I ought to kill you, and by the living +God, I would if I could do it decently! But I’m no Greaser, to use +lariats and knives and boot-heels, and so you get off this time, you +beast! If I had a rope,” he went on, “I’d tie you here!”</p> + +<p>With his right hand he grasped Antone’s two wrists while he thrust his +left into his pockets in search of something with which he could bind +the fallen man. From the side pocket of his coat he drew a shiny, +snaky black thing, and a satisfied “ah!” broke from his lips as he saw +the Chinaman’s queue, which Nick Ellhorn had forgotten, and which he +had put into that pocket two weeks before.</p> + +<p>As he held it in his hands Marguerite Delarue came running over the +hill. Her sunbonnet hung by its strings around her neck, her hair had +come down and was streaming over her shoulders, her dress hung in rags +and tatters, and she was panting <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>and almost breathless. She had +hurried on behind Mead as rapidly as she could walk, until she heard +the first pistol shot. Then, fearful of trouble, she had run as fast +as possible, stopping at nothing, her anxiety giving speed to her feet +and endurance to her muscles.</p> + +<p>The look of savage triumph on Mead’s face made her shrink back for an +instant, awed and frightened. But her comprehension quickly took in +what had happened and her heart rose in sympathetic exultation.</p> + +<p>“You are just in time,” said Mead, “and I’m mighty glad. I’ll have to +ask you to sit on this man’s chest and hold him down while I tie him +fast to that mesquite.”</p> + +<p>Marguerite sat down on the Mexican’s breast while Mead tied his wrists +tightly together and then began fastening them to the stocky stem of +the bush beside which he had fallen. Antone struggled and tried to +throw her off, and Mead said:</p> + +<p>“I think, Miss Delarue, you’d better put your thumbs on his windpipe +and press a little, just to keep him from fighting too hard. We’ve got +no time to waste on him.”</p> + +<p>Marguerite gasped and hesitated, but her eye fell on little Paul’s +unconscious figure, and she did as he asked her.</p> + +<p>“There,” said Mead. “Now get up and jump quickly away.”</p> + +<p>The prostrate Mexican struggled and rolled about, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>but he could not +rise. Marguerite ran to the child and with her ear to his breast she +called to Mead.</p> + +<p>“His heart is beating! He is still alive!”</p> + +<p>Mead caught Antone’s horse, and with Marguerite behind him and the +child on one arm started off on the gallop. A long, straggling line of +searchers stretched across the mesa, the nearest at least four miles +away. As Mead came nearer he dropped the bridle on the horse’s neck +and waved his hat and shouted again and again. At last he attracted +the attention of the nearest ones, and two or three came running +toward him. “Water! Water!” he called, at the top of his voice. They +understood, and one ran back to the nearest horseman, who galloped off +to a group of people still farther away.</p> + +<p>Almost instantly the great throng, like a huge organism, animated by +one thought, started off across the mesa toward the galloping horse, +every atom in it moved by the single purpose to reach at once the +new-found babe. Two horses in front of the hastening multitude ran at +their topmost speed and distanced all the others. One carried Pierre +Delarue and the other Doctor Long, and behind them came horsemen, +carts, carriages and people on foot, all rushing to the one point.</p> + +<p>The physician administered such restoratives as he had with him and +brought the boy back to consciousness. Then, in the shade of a canopy +phaeton, he carried the child home in his arms, while Marguerite and +her father and Emerson Mead followed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>in another carriage, and all the +crowd came pouring along after them.</p> + +<p>But there were four men who stayed behind. Joe Davis and John Daniels +and two others, all in perfect accord and friendliness, went back to +find Antone Colorow. They had listened to Mead’s hastily told story of +how Antone had attacked and delayed him. Daniels and Davis had looked +at each other with a single significant glance and the one remark, +“We’d better attend to him!” And then they had taken the other two men +and started back.</p> + +<p>They found Antone Colorow still struggling, rolling and kicking on the +ground. His lips were stained with the blood his own teeth had drawn, +and his red beard was flecked with foam. They untied him, and he +sprang to his feet and would have darted away, intent on his one +purpose to kill the enemy who had escaped his vengeance, had not quick +hands seized him. They tied his arms behind him and set him astride +his own horse, and then, surrounding him, with their revolvers drawn, +they rode away to the southwest, leaving Las Plumas far to their +right. On to the river bottom they went, and into a <i>bosque</i> where the +cottonwoods and the sycamores grew thickly and the willow underbrush +was dense.</p> + +<p>Long afterward a river ranchman, hunting a lost cow, penetrated the +<i>bosque</i> and started back in sudden fright from a dangling, decaying +body that hung from a sycamore limb.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p><p>Pierre Delarue insisted that Emerson Mead should come into his house +for some wine and wait until they should know the worst or the best +concerning little Paul. He sat alone in the room where first he had +seen Marguerite, his anxiety about the child driven quite out of his +mind by the thought that the long hours alone with her, out on the +hills, their hearts and minds united in a common purpose, had come to +an end, that she was soon to be another man’s wife, and that he would +never see her again. After a time the door opened and she came toward +him, smiling gladly. The color had come back to her cheeks and her +eyes were bright, though there were still dark rings around them, and +her face told of the weariness her brain had not yet recognized. So +absorbed had she been in giving the physician assistance and carrying +out his directions that she had not thought of her appearance. Her +white dress, which yesterday had been fresh and dainty, was in tatters +and bedraggled strings, and her hair hung down her back in a +disheveled mass. But she came shining down upon Mead’s dark thoughts, +fresh and beautiful and glorious beyond compare. He did not remember +rising, but presently he knew that he was on his feet and that she was +standing in front of him. He did not even hear her say, “Doctor Long +says my little Bye-Bye will live and that there will probably be no +serious results.”</p> + +<p>Then she saw that he was trembling from head to foot, shaking as do +the leaves of a cottonwood tree <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>in a west wind, and she drew back in +alarm, looking at him anxiously.</p> + +<p>“What is the—” she began, but the look in his eyes stopped her tongue +and held her gaze, while she felt her breath come hard and her heart +beat like a triphammer. For an instant there was silence. Then +Marguerite heard in a whisper so soft that it barely reached her ears, +“I love you! I love you!” It was the loosing of the floods, and at +once their arms were about each other. But in a second he remembered +that she was to be another man’s wife, and the thought came over him +like the drawing down of the black cap over the head of a condemned +man. With a fierce girding of his will he put both his hands upon her +shoulders and drew back.</p> + +<p>“I forgot! Forgive me!” The words came in a groan from his lips. “I +forgot you’re going to be his wife!”</p> + +<p>“Whose?” said Marguerite, stepping back. For the instant she had +forgotten there was any other man in the world.</p> + +<p>“Why, Wellesly’s!”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, I am not!” That one second in Mead’s embrace had settled +Marguerite’s long-vexed problem, and she felt her mind grow full of +sudden wonder that it had ever troubled her. “He wanted me to marry +him, but I’m not going to do it!”</p> + +<p>Again their arms were about each other, their lips met, and her head +was pillowed on his shoulder. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>Then he remembered the fate that was +hanging over him, and he said bitterly:</p> + +<p>“I’ve no right to ask you to be my wife, for in another week I’ll +probably be convicted of murder and sentenced to be hung, or sent to +the penitentiary for life.”</p> + +<p>From the yard came the sound of Pierre Delarue’s voice speaking to the +crowd. She took Mead’s hands in hers and swung a little away from him, +looking into his face.</p> + +<p>“I know that you didn’t kill Will Whittaker!”</p> + +<p>“How do you know it?” he answered, looking at her in loving surprise.</p> + +<p>“Because he was shot in the back!”</p> + +<p>She felt herself swept into the sudden storm of a masterful embrace, +and with soft laughter yielded to his rapturous caresses. “And all +this time,” came to her ear in a whisper, “I’ve cared about it only +because I thought you would believe me guilty even if I was cleared!</p> + +<p>“But I’ve no proof of my innocence,” he added presently, “and I can’t +ask your father’s consent, or allow your name to be mentioned with +mine in the town’s gossip until my own is clear. I’ve no right even to +ask you for another kiss until—”</p> + +<p>She closed his lips with the kiss he would not ask for, and said:</p> + +<p>“I would just as lief go out there now and say to all that crowd that +I love you and know that you are innocent—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p><p>“No, no!” he broke in upon her passionate protestation. “No one shall +couple your name with mine and pity you while they are doing it! The +penitentiary may be my fate, for the rest of my life, but its shadow +shall not touch yours. If I can clear myself of this charge I will +come and ask you to be my wife, and openly ask your father’s consent. +If I can’t—” He turned and looked out of the window, but instead of +the trees and flowers that were there, he saw a big, grim building +with a high stone wall all around it and armed guards on the bastions. +Outside they heard the crowd calling for him. She understood his +feeling, and taking his face between her palms she kissed his lips, +whispering, “We will wait,” and hurried from the room.</p> + +<p>The crowd massed itself around the house, squatting on the sidewalk, +perching on the fence, and filling the waiting vehicles, until Pierre +came out and announced that the physician said little Paul would +recover and would probably be none the worse for his experience. +Everybody shouted “hurrah!” and somebody yelled, “three cheers for +Frenchy!” The cheers were given, and Pierre stepped out on the +sidewalk and began thanking them all for the kindness and sympathy +they had shown and for their willing efforts to help him in his +trouble. Then he launched into rhetorical praises of the country, the +climate and the community, and from these turned to enthusiastic +commendation of the man who had restored to him his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>lost child. +“Among all the brave and noble men of this favored region,” he +exclaimed, “there is none braver, nobler, greater-hearted, more +chivalrous, than he who has this day proved himself worthy of all our +praises—Emerson Mead!” The crowd cheered loudly and called for Mead. +Somebody shouted, “Three cheers for Emerson!” and the whole +assemblage, Pierre leading, waved their hats and cheered again and +again.</p> + +<p>Then there arose a general cry for “Emerson Mead! Emerson Mead!” +“Where is Emerson!” “Bring him out, Frenchy!” and Delarue rushed back +into the house to find him. When Pierre entered the room which his +daughter had just left it occurred to him, vaguely, that Mead looked +unusually proud and happy, but as he himself, also, felt happy and +proud, and filled with a genial glow over the success of his burst of +oratory, it seemed quite proper that every one else should also be +elated. So he thought nothing of it and hurried Mead out to the +waiting crowd, where everybody, Democrats and Republicans alike, +gathered about him and shook hands and made terse, complimentary +remarks, until Jim Halliday presently took him away to his former +quarters.</p> + +<p>The crowd trailed off down Main street, and Judge Harlin and Colonel +Whittaker stood treat together for the entire company, first at the +White Horse and then at the Palmleaf saloon. The whistle of the train +from the south, two hours late, broke in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>upon all this friendliness +with a harsh reminder. Men suddenly recalled the fact that the mail +from the north had come in long ago and had not brought the court +order for which they had been waiting. The issues which had set the +town at gun muzzles the day before again asserted themselves, and +gradually the two factions began to mass, each on its own side of the +street. In the midst of this the clerk of the court came out of the +post-office with the missing order, which had gone astray in the mails +and had just come in on the train from El Paso. Neither Joe Davis nor +John Daniels could be found, and it was an hour later when they rode +together into the town, coming back from the hanging of Antone +Colorow.</p> + +<p>Daniels read the official paper through and handed it to Davis. “Well, +Joe,” he said, “the court says you are sheriff now, and I reckon +there’s no goin’ back of that. I hope the office will bring you better +luck than it has me. Let’s have a drink.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">D</span>arkness so dense lay over the Fernandez plain that not the faintest +outline of the rimming mountains penetrated its blackness. Like some +palpable, suffocating substance it filled the plain and mounted far up +into the air, even to the blue-black sky, whence a million gemming +stars pierced it with their diamond lances.</p> + +<p>Perched alone among the foothills of the Fernandez range, Juan +Garcia’s gray adobe house glimmered faintly through the darkness. +Every sound about the house was hushed, and only the burro in the +<i>jacal</i> down the hillside made known to the silent plain that he was +still awake. The door into the <i>portal</i> opened softly, and with a +quick, gliding, silent movement a dark figure came hastily out, closed +the door, listened a moment, and then trod lightly across the <i>portal</i> +and down to the road. There it paused, and Amada Garcia’s face, +anxious and wistful, framed in the black folds of her mantilla, looked +back at the silent house. A deep, dry sob shook all her frame and she +half turned back, as if irresolute. Then she drew from her breast a +folded bit of paper, pressed it to her heart and her cheek, and kissed +it again and again. She cast another regretful, longing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>look at the +gray adobe house, and started off in the direction of Muletown. The +faintly glimmering track of the sandy road opened slowly before her in +the darkness, and, drawing her mantilla closely around her shoulders, +she walked briskly along the dusty highway.</p> + +<p>She kept the folded paper in her hand, pressing it to her lips and +cheek with little cooing sounds of love. Once, standing still in the +darkness and silence of the wide, black plain, she unfolded the letter +and kissed the open sheet. It was too dark for her to see a single +word upon the page, but she knew just where were “<i>mi esposa</i>,” and +“<i>mi querida</i>,” and “<i>mi corazon</i>.”</p> + +<p>That afternoon, as she filled her <i>olla</i> at the spring, a young +Mexican came riding by in brave attire of braided jacket and trousers +and silver trimmed sombrero. She knew him well. Indeed, she had often +bantered back his compliments and adroitly turned to merriment the +sweet speeches he would rather have had her take in earnest. He +stopped and gave her the letter, which he had brought all the way from +the post-office at Muletown solely for excuse to see her. She poised +the <i>olla</i> full of water upon her head and he walked up the hill to +the house by her side, and while he talked to her mother she slipped +stealthily out and hid in the <i>jacal</i> beside the burro for a chance to +read the letter. When she returned she showed so plainly that his +compliments and sweet speeches were distasteful to her that he sulkily +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>left the house and galloped home again. Then her mother reproved her, +telling her that she must not discourage the young man, because he was +plainly in earnest in his attentions and would make the best and +richest husband of all the young <i>caballeros</i> who came to the house, +and that when next she saw him she must make amends for her unkind +treatment. Amada listened with terror and rebellion in her heart; and +in her brain there sprang into life the purpose which she set out to +execute as soon as her father and mother were asleep.</p> + +<p>In her pocket she had four dollars which she had saved from the sale +of eggs and goat’s-milk cheeses at Muletown, and which she had been +carefully keeping for the purpose of buying a new mantilla with a +deep, deep silk fringe the next time they should go to Las Plumas to +celebrate the fiesta of its patron saint. And under one arm she +carried some <i>enchiladas</i> and <i>tamales</i>, left from that night’s +supper.</p> + +<p>She trudged on through the darkness and silence of the night, and, +although she walked briskly, the frosty air now and again sent a +shiver of cold through her body and made her draw her mantilla more +closely across her chest. The staccato yelping of coyotes down in the +plain was answered by short, sharp barks from the hills, and all night +long the beasts kept up a running exchange of howls from one to the +other side of the road. Sometimes Amada heard the stealthy rustle of +the herbage as they <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>neared the highway, or saw the gleaming of their +eyes in the darkness. But she knew their cowardly nature too well to +be afraid, and when they came too near, a pebble from her hand sent +them scurrying away.</p> + +<p>Hour after hour she followed the faint glimmer of the dusty road, over +the low, rolling hills, across the sloping upland, and down into the +edge of the Fernandez plain, steadily leaving behind her the slowly +measured miles. At last the east began to glow above the Fernandez +mountains and against the golden sky shone the thin, silver-white +crescent of the old moon. The blackness of night gradually faded into +the gray light of dawn, the sky blushed rosy red, the plain spread +itself out before her, flooded with golden red sunlight, and still +Amada held to the pace she had kept up all night long. Before her she +saw columns of blue smoke rising from the chimneys of Muletown, and +she thought longingly of the well in the plaza. But early though it +was, she feared to be seen and questioned, for she knew many people in +Muletown. So she turned from the main road, leaving the town far to +her right, and struck across the trackless plain for the highway +running toward the Hermosa mountains. When she reached it the sun was +well up in the sky and she sat down on a hillock of sand to rest and +eat her breakfast. She was very tired and it seemed good to lie still +on the warm sand under the warm sun, so she rested there for a long +time, thinking at <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>first of the little gray adobe house far back in +the foothills and wondering what the two old people would think and +what they would do when they should find their one child gone and no +trace left to tell them whither or why she had fled. These thoughts +would bring the tears to her eyes, then she would open the letter and +read it slowly over and over, and kiss the words of love, and, with +soft little laughs and cooings, picture to herself her journey’s end.</p> + +<p>At last she saw a cloud of dust coming toward her from the direction +of Muletown and, reminded of the possibility of being seen and +questioned by some one she knew, she got up and hurried on her way. +She knew her father and mother would not at once be alarmed over her +departure. They would think she had risen early and gone up into the +foothills to gather sweet herbs. Even after they should find that she +was gone she knew that, in the leisurely fashion of the land and +people of <i>mañana</i>, it might be two or three days before they would +hitch the horses to the wagon and drive to Muletown to ask if any one +there had seen her. But she did not wish to be discovered in her +flight by any one whom she knew, and so she hurried on, drawing her +mantilla across her face until only her two great black eyes peeped +from its folds.</p> + +<p>The wagon behind her clattered up and its sole occupant, a middle-aged +American, asked her in Spanish if she would like to ride. She +hesitated, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>instinctively fearing speech with any one, and glanced +shyly at the Americano, who was smiling down good-naturedly at her +from the wagon. The man added that if she were going far she had +better ride, for the road across the plain would soon be very hot. She +considered that she did not know this man, that he would not know who +she was, and thought how much more quickly she could cross that wide +plain, so, with a grateful glance of her black eyes and a “<i>muchas +gracias, señor</i>,” she climbed up and sat down in the seat beside him. +He asked her how far she was going, and she answered, to the other +side of the Hermosa mountains. He replied that he was going to his +mining camp in the mountains, but that he would drive her to the top +of the pass, as the road was rocky and steep up the mountain side. He +had some water in a canteen, from which she drank gratefully, and as +midday approached, he shared with her his luncheon of bread and +cheese, while she divided with him what remained of her <i>tamales</i> and +<i>enchiladas</i>.</p> + +<p>The man’s kindly manner gave her confidence and the innate coquetry of +her nature unconsciously began to assert itself. She talked gaily with +him, her eyes by turns sparkled, invited and repelled, her mantilla +almost covered her face one moment and the next was shaken gracefully +down to her shoulders, leaving the coils of her hair shining black as +a crow’s wing in the sun. Her little, rosebud mouth pouted and smiled, +and altogether she was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>so sweet and dainty and graceful that the +middle-aged, gray-bearded Americano began to beam upon her with +admiring eyes and to hover over her with jerky, heavy attempts at +gallantry. He asked her name, but she took sudden alarm and answered +only with a shrug of her shoulders and a swooning glance of her great +black eyes. He put his arm about her waist and stooped to kiss her +smiling mouth. She struggled away from him with a terrified, appealing +cry, “No, no, señor!” of whose meaning there could be no mistake.</p> + +<p>The man looked at her with wide, surprised eyes and exclaimed, “Well, +I’ll be damned!” and whipped up his horses. He glanced at her +curiously several times and saw that she had edged away from him as +far as she could and drawn the black folds of her mantilla well over +her face. Presently he said, in her own tongue:</p> + +<p>“Pardon me, señorita! I thought you would not care.”</p> + +<p>Her only answer was a little shiver, and they drove on in silence up +the winding mountain road to the top of the pass. There she climbed +out of the wagon and smiled back at the man with a grateful “<i>muchas, +muchas gracias, señor</i>,” and started down the road toward Las Plumas. +He looked after her contemplatively for a moment and said to himself:</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll be damned! But you never can tell how a Greaser’s going to +break out next!” Then <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>he turned his team about and drove whistling +back to his own road.</p> + +<p>Amada’s spirits rose as she looked down into the Rio Grande valley and +saw the thread of glowing yellow foliage which marked the course of +the <i>acequia</i> and the long, straggling procession of gray dots which +she knew was the town of Las Plumas. She had been there twice with her +father and mother when they had gone to join in the fiesta of Santa +Guadaloupe. They had a “<i>primo</i>” there, one of those distant relatives +of whom the Mexicans keep track so faithfully, but she meant to stay +far away from his house and to be seen neither by him nor any of his +family. She was sure she could reach the town by nightfall. She began +to wonder if the train on which she meant to go away would come after +that and what she should do with herself all night if it did not. The +two visits she had made to Las Plumas had been the only times in her +life when she had seen a railroad train, and she asked herself if she +would be afraid when she should get into the car and it should go +tearing across the country so fast. Ah, it would not go fast enough +for her, not nearly fast enough! And unconsciously she quickened her +steps to keep pace with her thoughts.</p> + +<p>Presently mighty pains began to rack her body. She groaned and +clenched her fists until the blood stained her palms. But still she +hurried on, urging herself with thoughts of her journey’s end, which +began to loom distant and impossible through the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>haze of her +suffering. The road wound over the rounded foothills, across the crest +of one, down the hillside, and over another, and another, and another, +until Amada thought their end would never come. She longed to lie down +there in the dusty road and give herself up to the agony that held her +body in its grip. But she so feared that she might yield to the +temptation, and never rise again, that she ran down the hills and +hurried her aching feet up the slopes until she panted for breath. An +awful fear had come to terrify her soul. In its absorbing clutch she +scarcely thought again of her wish to reach the railroad, and the love +letter that had brought her comfort and sustained her strength was +almost forgotten. If she should die there alone, with no priest to +listen to the story of the sins that oppressed her soul, to give her +the sacrament and whisper the holy names in her ear—ah, she could +not—any suffering could be endured better than so terrible a fate. So +she gathered up her strength and strove to force a little more speed +into her aching, blistered feet and to endure the pains that gripped +and racked her body, hoping only that she might reach the town and +find the priest before the end should come.</p> + +<p>At last the gray, rolling waves of the foothills smoothed themselves +out and gently merged into the plain that rose from the valley below. +So near seemed the houses and the long streets of the town, with the +yellow cottonwoods flaming through its <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>heart, that Amada felt +encouraged. She hurried limping down the road, her black dress gray +with dust, her mantilla pulled awry, her eyes wide with the terror +that filled her soul, and her face tense and drawn with the pain that +tortured her body.</p> + +<p>She reached the edge of the town and saw people in the houses along +the street. But she met none and she could not make up her mind to +stop long enough to turn aside to one of the houses and ask the way to +the priest’s dwelling. Presently she saw two children come hand in +hand through a gateway. One of them, a tiny boy with flaxen curls +about his neck and a thin white face, put his hands on the shoulders +of his baby girl companion and kissed the face she lifted to his. As +she went away she turned and threw kisses to him and he waved his hand +to her and called out “bye-bye, bye-bye.”</p> + +<p>Amada staggered against the fence and stood there resting a moment +while she smiled at the pretty scene, notwithstanding her suffering +and anxiety. When the child turned back into the yard she moved away +from the fence and tried to go on. But her knees trembled and gave +way, a cry of pain broke from her lips, and she fell upon the +sidewalk. For woman’s greatest extremity was upon her and she could go +no farther.</p> + +<p>Marguerite Delarue stood upon the veranda steps smiling fondly upon +little Paul as he came up the walk. She had noticed the strange young +Mexican woman leaning against the fence, and when Amada <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>fell she ran +down to the gate to see if the stranger were ill. The look of awful +agony in Amada’s face and eyes frightened her, and quickly calling the +maid, the two women took her into the house and put her to bed. Then +Marguerite sent in all haste for the physician, and herself removed +the dusty shoes and stockings, bathed the swollen, blistered feet, +took off the dust-filled garments and clothed the suffering girl in +one of her own night robes.</p> + +<p>All night long the physician worked, his face anxious and troubled, +and in the early morning he gave up hope. For Amada lay in a stupor +from which he thought there was no probability she would ever rouse. +Suddenly she moaned, stretched out her hands and called, “My baby! +Where is my baby?”</p> + +<p>Marguerite knelt beside her and tried to tell her that the little one +had never breathed, and Amada flung herself upon the girl’s neck and +gave herself up to such transports of grief that the physician sat +down in dumb, amazed helplessness, sure that immediate collapse would +cut short her cries of woe.</p> + +<p>“But you can’t tell a blessed thing about these Greasers,” he said +afterward to Marguerite. “I was sure she was going to die, and I +reckon she would if she had not done the very thing that I thought +would be certain to finish her anyway. Maybe I’ll learn sometime that +these Mexican women have got to let out their emotions or they would +die of suppressed volcanoes.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p><p>When Marguerite had sympathized with and soothed and comforted her +accidental guest Amada asked if she would send for the <i>padre</i>.</p> + +<p>“I shall die very soon,” she said, “and he must come at once. I +thought I should die long before this, but God has let me live through +all that time that I do not remember, when I was so nearly dead, only +that the <i>padre</i> might come and make me ready for death.”</p> + +<p>After the priest had gone Marguerite went to the sick girl’s room with +a cup of gruel. Amada lay back on the pillow, her face gray with +pallor against the background of her shining black hair. She kissed +and fondled Marguerite’s hand.</p> + +<p>“You have been very good to me, señorita, but I shall have to trouble +you one little time more, and then I shall be ready to die, and some +one can ride over to the Fernandez mountains, beyond Muletown, and +tell my father, Juan Garcia, that his daughter, Amada, is dead, and +that she was very, very sorry to bring so much grief to him and her +mother. You will tell him that, will you not, señorita? But you must +not tell him about the <i>niño</i>, because they do not know—ah, señorita, +you must not think that I am a—a bad woman! See! Here is a letter +that says <i>mi esposa</i>! But they might not believe it—and they must +not know—you will not tell them, señorita!”</p> + +<p>“But you are not going to die!” said Marguerite encouragingly. “You +will soon be strong again.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p><p>Amada shook her head. “No! I shall be dead before another morning +comes. But now the <i>padre</i> says I must see <i>el Señor Don</i> Emerson +Mead.”</p> + +<p>The girl’s eyes caught a sudden, brief flicker which crossed +Marguerite’s face, and, weak though she was, she raised herself on one +elbow, her black hair streaming past her face and her eyes shining. +She caught Marguerite’s hand, calling softly:</p> + +<p>“Señorita! You love Don Emerson! Is it not so? I saw it in your face! +Ah, señorita, it is good to love, is it not? Now you must bring Señor +Mead to me here and I must tell him something that the <i>padre</i> says I +must before I die. But you must not ask me what it is, for I can not +tell you. I can not tell any one but Don Emerson.”</p> + +<p>“He is in the court room now,” Marguerite replied, “and they would not +let him leave. But his friend, Señor Ellhorn, is here, and I will see +if I can find him.”</p> + +<p>Marguerite met Nick Ellhorn coming out of John Daniel’s office with a +broad smile curling his mustaches toward his eyes. He had been on a +still hunt for his Chinese queue, and had run at once upon the +certainty that something had happened which several people would like +to keep quiet. And he had not only recovered the pig tail, but had +found out what had been done and who had done it.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Ellhorn!” exclaimed Marguerite, “I am so glad to find you! +There is a Mexican girl at my house—she dropped down dreadfully ill +at my <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>gate last night and I took her in—who wants to see Mr. Mead. +She says her father is Juan Garcia, and that he lives away beyond +Muletown, in the Fernandez mountains. The <i>padre</i> confessed her this +morning and now she says he told her that she must tell Emerson Mead +something before she dies. I do not know what it is, and she says she +can not tell any one except Mr. Mead. Will you come to the house and +find out what she wants?”</p> + +<p>Ellhorn’s eyes opened wide, but he kept an impassive face. “Amada +Garcia! What the—whatever is she here for, and how did she get here!”</p> + +<p>“I think she must have walked, for her feet were blistered.”</p> + +<p>“Walked! Walked from old Garcia’s ranch! Good God! Well, I sure reckon +she must have something to say. I’ll go right along and see her.”</p> + +<p>When Nick Ellhorn came out of the Delarue house he heard the whistle +of the train from the north.</p> + +<p>“I’ve just time to make it,” he thought. “I can’t stop to say a word +to anybody about this business, or I’ll miss this train. Well, I +reckon I might just as well not say anything about it, anyway, as long +as Tommy isn’t here, until I get back—if I ever get back! They’ll be +only too glad to snake me in down there, if they get the chance. I’ll +just have to make a quick scoot across the line, and trust to the luck +of the Irish army! If Tommy was only here we’d get this thing through, +if we had to wade <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>through hell and tote home the back doors. But I +can’t stop to wait for company. I’ll try it alone, and I sure reckon +I’ll be too smart for ’em!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">E</span>merson Mead’s trial had been in progress nearly two weeks, but most +of the time had been exhausted in impaneling a jury. Almost the entire +male population of Las Plumas had filed between the opposing lawyers +and, for one reason or another, had been excused. At last a jury had +been chosen, not because its members were satisfactory to either side, +but because both sides had exhausted their peremptory challenges and +neither could find further objection which the judge would allow.</p> + +<p>Thomson Tuttle arrived soon after Nick Ellhorn’s departure, and was +alternately puzzled and indignant over his absence. He felt sure that +Nick had gone away on some expedition of importance and probably of +danger. He was puzzled to think what it could possibly be, and +indignant that Nick had thus risked himself without the aid and +protection of his best friend.</p> + +<p>“It was plumb ridiculous for him to go off alone like that,” he +complained to Judge Harlin. “He knew I’d be along in a day or two, and +here he goes flirtin’ the gravel off the road all alone as if I was +some didn’t-know-it-was-loaded kind of a fool <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>who couldn’t handle a +gun! He’ll sure get into some kind of trouble if I’m not with him!”</p> + +<p>Interest in the trial was universal and intense, and during the +sessions of the court, especially after the taking of testimony began, +the streets of the town were well nigh deserted, while a large part of +the population crowded the court room, swarmed in the corridors, and +filled the windows. Those who could not get into the court-house +gathered in groups on the outside and discussed the news and the +rumors, which came in plentiful supply from its doors.</p> + +<p>The prosecution had put on several witnesses, employees of the +Fillmore Cattle Company, who had sworn to the ill-feeling between Mead +and young Whittaker, and one who had been a witness of the quarrel +between them, just previous to Whittaker’s disappearance, when Mead +had threatened the young man’s life. Then Colonel Whittaker took the +stand. It was rumored that after him would be given the testimony of +an eye-witness of the murder, and an even larger crowd than usual +sought the court-house that afternoon. Two score of women sat +comfortably in a space fitted with chairs at one end of the judge’s +desk. But the body of the room was jammed with a standing crowd of +men, both Mexicans and Americans. Late comers crowded the corridor, +and those who could get them mounted chairs outside the door. Inside +the room a row of men swung their heels from each window seat, while +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>outside another row stood on the ledges and looked over their heads.</p> + +<p>Colonel Whittaker told the story of how his son had set out from the +ranch to come to town and had never been seen alive again. He declared +that the young man had no enemies except the prisoner and that there +was no possible explanation of his disappearance except that he had +been murdered. Then he told of the work of the searching party which +he had taken to the White Sands, and of the body which they had found. +He had identified this corpse as the body of his son, and on the +sketched outline of a man’s back he located the position of the three +bullet holes by which the young man had come to his death. The shirt, +with the initials worked in the collar, the ring, scarfpin, memorandum +book and envelopes that had been taken from the body were placed +before him and he identified them all as having belonged to his son. +The crowded court room was still, with the silence of tense +expectancy. Every neck was craned and every eye was fixed on these +articles as one by one they were held up before him and then passed on +to the judge’s desk.</p> + +<p>A slight disturbance at the door, as of people unwillingly moving +back, fell upon the strained hush. Some one was forcing his way +through the crowd. The witness leaned back in his chair, waiting for +another question, and the lawyers consulted together for a moment. +Then the prosecuting attorney <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>asked the witness if he had positively +identified the body as that of his missing son, William Whittaker.</p> + +<p>“I did, sir,” replied Colonel Whittaker. As the words left his lips +his gaze fell past the attorney upon two men who had just struggled +out of the crowd and into the free railed space in front of the +judge’s desk. His jaw fell, his pale face turned an ashen gray, his +eyes opened wide, and, with trembling hands upon the arms of his +chair, he unconsciously lifted himself to his feet. The lawyers, the +judge, and the jury followed his gaze. Some sprang to their feet and +some fell back in their chairs, their mouths open, but dumb with +amazement. All over the court room there was a shuffling of feet and a +craning of necks, and a buzzing whisper went back from the foremost +ranks.</p> + +<p>Nick Ellhorn was there, tall and slender and smiling, with a happy, +triumphant look overspreading his handsome face. By his side was a +young man, dark-skinned, black-haired and black-mustached, who looked +ashamed and self-conscious. Ellhorn tucked one hand into his arm and +urged him to a quicker pace. Nick’s eye sought Emerson Mead and as +Mead’s glance flashed from the stranger’s face to his, Nick’s lid +dropped in a significant wink. Mead leaned back in his chair, a look +of amused triumph on his face, as he watched the scene before him and +waited for it to come to its conclusion.</p> + +<p>Slowly Colonel Whittaker stepped forward, trembling, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>with a look upon +his face that was almost fear. The crowd was pushing and pressing +toward the center of interest, and everywhere wide eyes looked out +from amazed, incredulous faces. Nick Ellhorn and his companion slowly +edged their way between the tables and chairs, the young man advancing +reluctantly, with downcast face, until they stood in front of Colonel +Whittaker. Then he looked up, and exclaimed in a choking voice:</p> + +<p>“Father! I am not dead!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">“</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">I</span>t was Amada Garcia put me on,” said Nick Ellhorn to Emerson Mead and +Tom Tuttle, as the three sat in Mead’s room, whither they went at once +to hear Nick’s story. “One morning the first of this week Miss Delarue +came runnin’ up to me on the street and said Amada was sick at her +house and had walked all the way in from Garcia’s ranch and had +something to tell that she wouldn’t say to anybody but Emerson. I went +over to see if she would tell me what she wanted, and Emerson can +thank her, and the <i>padre</i>, for gettin’ out of this scrape with the +laugh on the other side. She thought she was goin’ to die and had +unloaded her soul on to the <i>padre</i>, and he had ordered her to tell +Emerson Mead what she had told him. I reckon the little witch wouldn’t +have peeped about it to anybody if the <i>padre</i> hadn’t made her. She +didn’t want to say a word to me, and at first she said she wouldn’t, +but I finally made her understand she couldn’t see Emerson, and I +swore by all the saints I could think of that I’d tell him and nobody +else exactly what she said. So then she whispered in my ear that Señor +Mead didn’t kill Señor Whittaker, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span>and I inched her along until I got +out of her that Will Whittaker wasn’t dead.</p> + +<p>“That was all she meant to tell me, but I was bound to get all she +knew. And I got it, but I want to tell you right now, boys, that I had +a hell of a time gettin’ it. Every time I got a new thing out of her +she’d make me get down on my knees and kiss the crucifix and swear by +a dozen fresh saints that I wouldn’t tell anybody but Don Emerson, and +that he wouldn’t tell anybody else, and that nothin’ should happen to +Don Will because she had told it.</p> + +<p>“She finally admitted that she and Will Whittaker had been secretly +married away last spring and had never said a word about it to +anybody. By that time I felt pretty sure that it was Mr. Will himself +who had made a killin’, and I sprung my suspicion on her and +threatened her with the <i>padre</i> and swore a lot of things by a whole +heap of fresh saints, and she finally told me just what had happened.</p> + +<p>“It seems that a cousin of hers—one of their everlastin’ <i>primos</i> in +the sixty-third degree, I reckon—came up from down along the line +somewheres, and she was so glad to see him and he was so glad to see +her that he hugged her and stooped over to kiss her—I reckon likely +she’d been flirtin’ her eyes and her shoulders at him—when bang! +bang! bang! and he dropped dead at her feet and there was <i>esposo</i> +Will in the door, mad with jealousy and ready to kill her too. Say, +boys!” Nick stopped short, the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>stream of his narrative interrupted by +a certain memory. “Say, that was what it was!” And he slapped his +thigh with delight at having solved a mystery. “That’s the reason she +had such fantods when I wanted to kiss her that day last summer! It +was just because she happened to remember this other time!”</p> + +<p>The others smiled and chuckled and Mead said: “You know I told you +then, Nick, it wasn’t because she didn’t like your looks!”</p> + +<p>“Well, he was ready to kill her, too, but she threw herself on him and +begged for her life and swore the man was her cousin and there was no +harm, and presently Will’s companion came runnin’ in and they got the +young man cooled off. He and the other man talked together a little +while and then they put Will’s clothes on the corpse and Will dressed +himself in the dead man’s and they took the dead body away in the +wagon, and Amada washed up all the blood stains and never let a soul +know what had happened, because Will told her if she did her father +would sure have him arrested and hung. And he made her swear to be a +faithful wife to him and promised to send for her as soon as he could.</p> + +<p>“So she waited for word from him all summer, and the other day there +came a letter, and the same day she found out that her mother meant +for her to marry some young Mexican blood at Muletown. Then she made +up her mind to go to Will, although he had told her he couldn’t send +for her for another <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>month or two. That night she started off alone in +the dark and walked to Muletown. Somebody gave her a ride across the +plain and then she walked to Plumas from the Hermosa pass.</p> + +<p>“I made up my mind right then and there that I’d yank that young scrub +back to Plumas quicker’n hell could singe a cat, but she wouldn’t tell +me where he was. And maybe I didn’t have a skin-your-teeth sort of a +time gettin’ it out of her! I just tell you that little girl is cute +enough to take care of herself most anywhere, and don’t you forget it! +I coaxed her and she’d coax back, and I threatened her and she’d come +back at me with all the things I’d sworn not to tell, and I wheedled +her as Irish as the pigs in Drogheda, and she’d lie back on the pillow +and smile at me—and all the time just lookin’ too sweet and pretty +and sick—well, it was the hardest job I ever tackled. Boys, I sure +reckon that little handful of a girl would have been too many for me +and we’d have been palaverin’ yet if she hadn’t gone too weak to talk +any more. I saw she was mighty near played out, and I just sicked +myself on for all I was worth. I felt ornery enough to go off and get +horned by a steer, but I reckoned I sure had to. She gave up at last, +when she couldn’t hold out any longer, and agreed to let me see the +envelope her letter had come in if I’d kiss the crucifix and swear by +a few more saints that I wouldn’t let anybody touch Will, and swear +over again on my knees everything I’d promised her before. I finally +got through with all the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span>religious doin’s she could think of, and +then I lit out for the train. I heard it comin’ when I left French’s +house, and I made a run for it, which was why I didn’t tell Judge +Harlin where I was goin’. I couldn’t stop to say a word to anybody +without missin’ the train and losin’ a day.</p> + +<p>“The only clue I had was that he was at Chihuahua, and at work at +something, I didn’t know what, and I thought likely he was <i>pasearing</i> +around under an assumed name, which he was. I nosed around for two +days, layin’ low and keepin’ mighty quiet, and you better guess I made +a quick scoot through Juarez, too.”</p> + +<p>The others grinned broadly and as Nick stopped to light a fresh cigar +Tom said:</p> + +<p>“I sure thought, Nick, that you’d never get back alive, for I knew +you-all must have gone off some place you’d no business to go alone, +and I’d have started off on a blind hunt for you in another day.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I run across him by accident on the street one evening, and you +ought to have seen him turn white and shaky when I stepped up and +spoke to him. The boy’s nerve’s all gone, and you know he used to have +the devil’s own grit. You-all saw how he acted when I got him into the +court room this afternoon. I reckon it takes all the sand out of a +fellow to live in the dark and be all the time afraid something’s +goin’ to drop, the way he’s done all summer.</p> + +<p>“‘Hullo, Will,’ says I, and then I took pity on <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>him and showed my +hand right from the start. But I’d sized him up all in a minute, and I +reckoned that would work best anyway. ‘I haven’t got any warrant for +you,’ says I, ‘and I don’t mean to arrest you, and I’ve sworn to Amada +Garcia not to let any harm happen to you, but I’ve got a proposition I +want to talk over with you, if you’ll take me somewheres where we can +be private.’ For I didn’t mean to let him out of my sight again until +I got him into the court room at Plumas, and I didn’t, neither. He +took me to his room and we chinned the thing over for two or three +hours. He knew that everybody thought he was dead and that his body +had been found, and that Emerson was being tried for his murder. But +he’d started out on that lay and he was afraid to go back on it.</p> + +<p>“He told me the whole story, on my promise to keep it secret. I told +him I’d have to tell it to you-all, because Emerson had the right to +know it, and Tommy would be sure to go makin’ some bad break if he +didn’t know it, but that I’d give him my word of honor it shouldn’t go +outside of us three. He was just gone plum’ crazy on Amada, and one +day he was at her house when a justice of the peace from Muletown came +along. The old folks were out in the fields and for a good, plump fee +the justice married them right then and there. They had no witnesses, +and it happened that the justice died in a week—it was old Crowby, +from Muletown, you remember him. Will was deathly afraid his father +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>would find it out and be bull roaring mad about it and hist him out +of the country, and so he didn’t dare say a word about it, and he made +Amada keep it secret, too. Well, the boy’s young, and I reckon that’s +some excuse for him, but I’ll be everlastingly horn-spooned if I think +his father’s got much reason to be proud of him.</p> + +<p>“Then came the day when he stepped to the door and saw that Mexican +<i>primo</i> hugging her, and he swore to me that all in a flash he was so +wild with anger and jealousy he didn’t know what he was doin’ until he +heard the report and the man dropped dead—that he didn’t remember +drawin’ or takin’ aim, or anything but just wantin’ to kill. When he +cooled down and realized what he had done he was in a regular panic. +If he gave himself up the facts about the wedding would have to come +out, in order to protect Amada, and then his father would roar, and +probably cast him off if he wouldn’t give her up, and if he escaped +conviction for the murder the <i>primo’s</i> relatives would be dead sure +to get even with him. The only way he could see out of it was to hide +the body and skip. The man who was with him—a cow-boy they had just +hired who had come out of the mountains to make a stake so he could go +prospectin’ again—Bill Frank was his name, and I told him yes, I knew +him—well, this man offered to see him out for the stake he’d expected +to have to work some time for, and as Will had some money in his +clothes they made the bargain and skipped. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>They changed the clothing +and carried the body in their wagon up to the White Sands and buried +it. It was them that held you up, Tom, that night last spring, and it +was Will Whittaker, in the Mexican’s duds, that you thought was a +Mexican, who slunk around in the bushes and held the gun on you part +of the time. They had the Mexican’s body in the wagon and they didn’t +mean to allow any curiosity about it or about their business, and +you’d have dropped dead in your tracks if you’d shown any.”</p> + +<p>“I knew that very well all the time I was with ’em,” Tom answered +quietly.</p> + +<p>“When they got nearly to the railroad they burned the wagon and killed +the horses, and Will scooted for Mexico, and he’s been in Chihuahua +ever since.</p> + +<p>“‘My boy,’ I says to him, ‘you’ve got to come back with me.’ ‘I +can’t,’ says he, ‘it will be my everlasting ruin if I do.’ ‘Face the +music like a man,’ I said, ‘and get out of it what you can.’ I could +see by his eyes that he was honin’ to come back, but he was almighty +afraid, I reckon mostly on Amada’s account. He’s plum’ daft about +her—and I don’t know as I blame him very much—and he told me he had +planned to get her down there soon.</p> + +<p>“‘How can I go back?’ says he. ‘I’ll be arrested and tried and +probably convicted.’ ‘No, you won’t,’ says I. ‘You go back with me and +get Emerson Mead out of this scrape and I’ll give you my <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span>word of +honor you won’t be arrested.’ ‘But what can I say?’ he says. ‘How can +I explain?’ ‘Hell!’ says I. ‘Explain nothin’! Tell your father as much +or as little as you like, and if Colonel Whittaker walks down Main +street with his head up and his mouth shut I reckon nobody’s goin’ to +ask him any impudent questions. If you want any help yourself you’ve +got Nick Ellhorn and Emerson Mead and Tommy Tuttle behind you, and if +you think them three couldn’t send the devil himself sashayin’ down +the Rio Grande you’d better not say so to yours truly. If you don’t +want to stay there, take Amada and get out, and if your father won’t +set you up somewheres we three will see that you have what you need. +And whatever he does we’ll give you a thousand apiece anyway.’</p> + +<p>“‘I wish I dared!’ says he. ‘Will Whittaker,’ says I, ‘Amada Garcia +started out to come to you with only four dollars in her pocket, and +she walked in the night nearly all the way to Plumas, and then she +nearly died givin’ premature birth to your child, because she had +tried to find you.’ With that he jumped up and grabbed my arm and +could hardly speak, for I hadn’t told him about any of that business +before.</p> + +<p>“‘She isn’t dead,’ says I, ‘but you may thank Miss Delarue that she +isn’t. The child was born dead. But do you think, after all that, +you-all can do any less than go back and marry her again, with a +priest and a ring and a white dress and all the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>rest of it? Do you +think, after that, you-all can do any less than pretend you’re a man, +and ever face yourself in the glass again without smashin’ it?’</p> + +<p>“He dropped back in his chair with his face in his hands and cried, +actually cried. But I sure reckon he was shook up pretty sudden by +what I told him about Amada. I didn’t say any more, but I just made up +my mind that if he hung back after that I’d tie my Chiny pig tail +around his neck and yank him back to Plumas like a yellow dog at the +end of a string.</p> + +<p>“After a little while he said he’d go. I knew he meant it, but I was +so almighty afraid he’d go back on it if he got thinkin’ about his +father and skip on me that I didn’t let him out of my sight while he +was awake, and at night I tied his arm fast to mine with my pig tail.</p> + +<p>“Well, when we finally got to Plumas I just concluded Emerson’s neck +wasn’t in danger for another hour, and that I’d better set that little +girl straight the first thing I did, before the young chap got under +his father’s thumb. I knew he meant all right and loved her like +hell’s blazes, but he’s more afraid of his father than a +self-respectin’ young man of his age ought to be. So we went straight +to Miss Delarue’s. I tell you what, boys, that Miss Delarue is a +regular royal flush. There ain’t another girl can stack up with her in +the whole territory. I took Will Whittaker in and told her how matters +stood, and you ought to have seen how pleased she <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>was! If it had been +her own weddin’ she couldn’t have been more interested, or looked +happier. She was as glad to see Will as if he’d been her own brother, +and all because she likes poor little Amada, and was glad to see her +made happy, for of course it didn’t concern her any other way.”</p> + +<p>A little smile moved Mead’s lips as he heard this, and he turned his +eyes away to hide the happy look he felt was in them, for he knew how +deep were Marguerite’s reasons to be glad the runaway had returned.</p> + +<p>“While I went down-town to hunt up the <i>padre</i>,” Nick went on, “she +fixed Amada up with a white veil—you know these Mexican girls hardly +think they’ve been married if they haven’t had a white veil on—and a +bunch of white flowers and a white sack that was all lace and ribbons +over her night gown—for Amada’s in bed yet, and had to be propped up +on the pillows—and then she and I stood up with ’em and put our names +down as witnesses. Then I marched the young man up to the court-house, +and you-all know what happened there.”</p> + +<p>“I saw you talking with Colonel Whittaker,” said Mead. “Did you tell +him about the wedding?”</p> + +<p>“You bet I did! I was plum’ determined he should hear some straight +talk about that, and if that little girl don’t have a fair show with +the Whittaker family it won’t be my fault.”</p> + +<p>“What did you-all say to him?” Tom asked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I gave it to him straight from the shoulder! <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>‘Colonel +Whittaker,’ I said, ‘I’ve brought your son back to you alive, and I’m +goin’ to see to it that no harm comes to him because he’s been away. +He can tell you as much or as little as he likes, but I know the whole +story, and I want to tell you right now that if anybody tries to get +him into trouble about it they’ve got Nick Ellhorn and Tom Tuttle and +Emerson Mead to buck against, and there’s my hand on it. But you +needn’t thank me. You can thank a little Mexican girl whose name was +Amada Garcia, but it’s Amada Whittaker now. They have been married +without any proof of it ever since last spring, but they are married +tight and fast now, <i>padre</i> and witnesses and the whole thing, and I +helped ’em to do it not an hour ago. Now, keep your temper, Colonel,’ +says I, ‘and wait till I get through. I know you’ll be disappointed +and mad, but you’d better keep cool and make the best of it, for the +girl’s just as good as you are, if she is a Mexican, and she’s a whole +heap too good for your son. And she’s just the cutest and prettiest +little piece of calico you ever laid your eyes on, in the bargain. +Now, don’t try to step in and make a mess of this, Colonel,’ I said, +‘for you won’t succeed if you do try, because the boy has got Emerson +and Tom and me to back him, and if you-all don’t play a father’s part +toward him we will. If you should get him away from her you’d just +simply send your son to the devil, and he’d be the devil’s own brat if +he let you do it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p><p>“‘Now, Colonel,’ says I, ‘you-all better go and make a call on your +new daughter-in-law, and find out from Will what she’s done to protect +him and get to him, and if you don’t take her right into camp you’re +not the gentleman and the judge of beauty I take you for. Besides, +Colonel’ says I, ‘if Amada gets the right kind of treatment from you +and your folks, my bargain with Will holds. If she don’t—well, I’ll +keep my word, of course, but there’s likely to be consequences.’”</p> + +<p>Nick’s narrative came to its end and for a few minutes the three men +smoked in silence. Then Ellhorn turned half reluctantly to Mead:</p> + +<p>“Say, Emerson, that was mighty queer about those three bullet holes. +We sure thought nobody but you-all could do that.”</p> + +<p>Mead smiled, thinking of Marguerite. “Even if he was shot in the +back?” he said quietly.</p> + +<p>Nick and Tom looked at each other with chagrin on their faces. “We-all +never thought of that!” Tom exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“And he did need killin’ so damn bad,” said Nick, “and you-all never +said a word to deny it.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t usually deny things I’m charged with,” said Mead.</p> + +<p>“That’s so, Emerson, you don’t,” assented Tom.</p> + +<p>“People are welcome to believe anything they like about me,” Mead went +on, “and I don’t intend to belittle myself askin’ ’em not to. It’s all +right, boys. I didn’t blame you for believin’ I’d done it <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>But I did +think you’d notice he’d been shot in the back. I’m goin’ out now. I’ll +see you later.” And he hurried off down Main street to find Pierre +Delarue.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he February sunshine lay warm and bright and still over Las Plumas +and the sky bent low and blue and cloudless above the town. Bright +feathered birds were darting through the orchards and trilling their +nesting songs, the peach tree buds were showing their pink noses, and +the promise of spring was everywhere. In the big, wide hall of Pierre +Delarue’s house Marguerite stood beside the door of her room, talking +with Emerson Mead, while he clumsily buttoned her gloves. She was +dressed in a traveling gown, and as his glance wandered over her +figure his eyes shone with admiration. Tall though he was and superb +of physique, her head reached his shoulder and her figure matched his +in its own strength and beauty.</p> + +<p>“Tom and Nick look as forlorn as two infant orphans,” he was saying to +her. “You would think I had died instead of getting married. Nick has +hinted that he means to go on a spree, and Tom says he’ll lock him up +in their room and sit on his chest for a week if he tries to make that +kind of a break.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think he will?” Marguerite asked.</p> + +<p>“Sit on him? Yes, I think likely. He’s done it <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span>before, and it’s about +the only thing that will keep Nick sober when he has made up his mind +that he wants to get drunk. It’s a good plan to keep Nick sober, too, +for when he gets drunk most anything’s likely to happen.”</p> + +<p>“No, I meant, do you think he will get drunk?”</p> + +<p>Emerson shrugged his shoulders. “I reckon that will depend on whether +Tom goes to sleep or not.”</p> + +<p>“Where are they?”</p> + +<p>“Out on the porch with Bye-Bye.”</p> + +<p>They went out on the veranda where Tom and Nick were standing, and +Marguerite put a hand on the arm of each, looking up in their faces +with smiling earnestness. “I wonder,” she said, “if I could ask you +boys to do something for me while we are gone?”</p> + +<p>They turned toward her eagerly. “You bet we’ll do anything you-all +want us to, Mrs.—Mrs.—” Nick tried to say “Mrs. Mead,” choked a +little, and ended with “Mrs. Emerson.” And “Mrs. Emerson” she was to +him and Tom from that time forth.</p> + +<p>“What can we-all do?” asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“Why, I’ve been hoping you wouldn’t mind looking after Paul a little +bit for me. I am so afraid he will miss me, because I’ve always been +with him. The housekeeper will take good care of him, of course, but I +know he will be lonely if there is nothing to distract his mind. And I +couldn’t be happy, even on my wedding journey, if I thought my little +Bye-Bye was crying for me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p><p>“Don’t you worry, Mrs. Emerson,” Nick exclaimed. “We’ll give him so +much fun he won’t know you’re gone. I’ll bring my horse and take him +to ride every day.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll buy all the playthings in town for him.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll tote him around all the time. It’ll give us something to do and +keep us out of mischief. He shan’t shed a tear while you’re gone.”</p> + +<p>“Here, Bye-Bye,” called Tom, “come and ride on my shoulder.” And +mounted on that big, high pedestal the child was marched up and down +the porch, laughing and clapping his hands. “We’ll stay and amuse him +while you-all go to the depot, so he won’t cry after you.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll make him some reins out of my Chiny pigtail,” said Nick. +“You-all go right along, Mrs. Emerson, and don’t you worry once. He +shan’t whimper while you’re gone, and he’ll have such a good time +he’ll be sorry to see you come home.”</p> + +<p>Marguerite looked back from the carriage window as they drove away and +saw little Paul holding fast to the middle of Nick’s precious queue, +laughing and shouting, while two tall figures attached to its ends +pranced and kicked and cavorted up and down the veranda.</p> + +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="centerbox2 bbox"> +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<p class="center">“<i>The Books You Like to Read<br /> +at the Price You Like to Pay</i>”</p> + +<hr class="largest" /> + +<h2><i>There Are Two Sides<br /> to Everything</i>—</h2> + +<p>—including the wrapper which covers every Grosset & Dunlap book. When +you feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully +selected list of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by +prominent writers of the day which is printed on the back of every +Grosset & Dunlap book wrapper.</p> + +<p>You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from—books for +every mood and every taste and every pocketbook.</p> + +<p><i>Don’t forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write +to the publishers for a complete catalog.</i></p> + +<hr class="largest" /> + +<p class="center"><i>There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book<br /> for every mood and for every taste</i></p></div> + +<hr class="large" /><div class="centerbox bbox2"> + +<div class="double2"></div> + +<h3>RUBY M. AYRE’S NOVELS</h3> + +<div class="double"></div> + +<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list.</p> + +<div class="double"></div> + +<p class="u">RICHARD CHATTERTON</p> + +<p>A fascinating story in which love and jealousy play strange tricks +with women’s souls.</p> + +<p class="u">A BACHELOR HUSBAND</p> + +<p>Can a woman love two men at the same time?</p> + +<p>In its solving of this particular variety of triangle “A Bachelor +Husband” will particularly interest, and strangely enough, without one +shock to the most conventional minded.</p> + +<p class="u">THE SCAR</p> + +<p>With fine comprehension and insight the author shows a terrific +contrast between the woman whose love was of the flesh and one whose +love was of the spirit.</p> + +<p class="u">THE MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW</p> + +<p>Here is a man and woman who, marrying for love, yet try to build their +wedded life upon a gospel of hate for each other and yet win back to a +greater love for each other in the end.</p> + +<p class="u">THE UPHILL ROAD</p> + +<p>The heroine of this story was a consort of thieves. The man was fine, +clean, fresh from the West. It is a story of strength and passion.</p> + +<p class="u">WINDS OF THE WORLD</p> + +<p>Jill, a poor little typist, marries the great Henry Sturgess and +inherits millions, but not happiness. Then at last—but we must leave +that to Ruby M. Ayres to tell you as only she can.</p> + +<p class="u">THE SECOND HONEYMOON</p> + +<p>In this story the author has produced a book which no one who has +loved or hopes to love can afford to miss. The story fairly leaps from +climax to climax.</p> + +<p class="u">THE PHANTOM LOVER</p> + +<p>Have you not often heard of someone being in love with love rather +than the person they believed the object of their affections? That was +Esther! But she passes through the crisis into a deep and profound +love.</p> + +<div class="double"></div> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset& Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> +<div class="double3"> </div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="double2"></div> + +<h3>PETER B. KYNE’S NOVELS</h3> + +<div class="double"> </div> + +<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list.</p> + +<div class="double"> </div> + +<p class="u">THE PRIDE OF PALOMAR</p> + +<p>When two strong men clash and the under-dog has Irish blood in his +veins—there’s a tale that Kyne can tell! And “the girl” is also very +much in evidence.</p> + +<p class="u">KINDRED OF THE DUST</p> + +<p>Donald McKay, son of Hector McKay, millionaire lumber king, falls in +love with “Nan of the Sawdust Pile,” a charming girl who has been +ostracized by her townsfolk.</p> + +<p class="u">THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS</p> + +<p>The fight of the Cardigans, father and son, to hold the Valley of the +Giants against treachery. The reader finishes with a sense of having +lived with big men and women in a big country.</p> + +<p class="u">CAPPY RICKS</p> + +<p>The story of old Cappy Ricks and of Matt Peasley, the boy he tried to +break because he knew the acid test was good for his soul.</p> + +<p class="u">WEBSTER: MAN’S MAN</p> + +<p>In a little Jim Crow Republic in Central America, a man and a woman, +hailing from the “States,” met up with a revolution and for a while +adventures and excitement came so thick and fast that their love +affair had to wait for a lull in the game.</p> + +<p class="u">CAPTAIN SCRAGGS</p> + +<p>This sea yarn recounts the adventures of three rapscallion sea-faring +men—a Captain Scraggs, owner of the green vegetable freighter Maggie, +Gibney the mate and McGuffney the engineer.</p> + +<p class="u">THE LONG CHANCE</p> + +<p>A story fresh from the heart of the West, of San Pasqual, a sun-baked +desert town, of Harley P. Hennage, the best gambler, the best and +worst man of San Pasqual and of lovely Donna.</p> + +<div class="double"> </div> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset& Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> +<div class="double3"> </div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="double2"> </div> + +<h3>JACKSON GREGORY’S NOVELS</h3> + +<div class="double"></div> + +<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list.</p> + +<div class="double"></div> + +<p class="u">THE EVERLASTING WHISPER</p> + +<p>The story of a strong man’s struggle against savage nature and +humanity, and of a beautiful girl’s regeneration from a spoiled child +of wealth into a courageous strong-willed woman.</p> + +<p class="u">DESERT VALLEY</p> + +<p>A college professor sets out with his daughter to find gold. They meet +a rancher who loses his heart, and become involved in a feud. An +intensely exciting story.</p> + +<p class="u">MAN TO MAN</p> + +<p>Encircled with enemies, distrusted, Steve defends his rights. How he +won his game and the girl he loved is the story filled with breathless +situations.</p> + +<p class="u">THE BELLS OF SAN JUAN</p> + +<p>Dr. Virginia Page is forced to go with the sheriff on a night journey +into the strongholds of a lawless band. Thrills and excitement sweep +the reader along to the end.</p> + +<p class="u">JUDITH OF BLUE LAKE RANCH</p> + +<p>Judith Sanford part owner of a cattle ranch realizes she is being +robbed by her foreman. How, with the help of Bud Lee, she checkmates +Trevor’s scheme makes fascinating reading.</p> + +<p class="u">THE SHORT CUT</p> + +<p>Wayne is suspected of killing his brother after a violent quarrel. +Financial complications, villains, a horse-race and beautiful Wanda, +all go to make up a thrilling romance.</p> + +<p class="u">THE JOYOUS TROUBLE MAKER</p> + +<p>A reporter sets up housekeeping close to Beatrice’s Ranch much to her +chagrin. There is “another man” who complicates matters, but all turns +out as it should in this tale of romance and adventure.</p> + +<p class="u">SIX FEET FOUR</p> + +<p>Beatrice Waverly is robbed of $5,000 and suspicion fastens upon Buck +Thornton, but she soon realizes he is not guilty. Intensely exciting, +here is a real story of the Great Far West.</p> + +<p class="u">WOLF BREED</p> + +<p>No Luck Drennan had grown hard through loss of faith in men he had +trusted. A woman hater and sharp of tongue, he finds a match in +Ygerne, whose clever fencing wins the admiration and love of the “Lone +Wolf.”</p> + +<div class="double"></div> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset& Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> +<div class="double3"> </div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="double2"></div> + +<h3>ELEANOR H. PORTER’S NOVELS</h3> + +<div class="double"></div> + +<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list.</p> + +<div class="double"></div> + +<p class="u">JUST DAVID</p> + +<p>The tale of a loveable boy and the place he comes to fill in the +hearts of the gruff farmer folk to whose care he is left.</p> + +<p class="u">THE ROAD TO UNDERSTANDING</p> + +<p>A compelling romance of love and marriage.</p> + +<p class="u">OH, MONEY! MONEY!</p> + +<p>Stanley Fulton, a wealthy bachelor, to test the dispositions of his +relatives, sends them each a check for $100,000, and then as plain +John Smith comes among them to watch the result of his experiment.</p> + +<p class="u">SIX STAR RANCH</p> + +<p>A wholesome story of a club of six girls and their summer on Six Star +Ranch.</p> + +<p class="u">DAWN</p> + +<p>The story of a blind boy whose courage leads him through the gulf of +despair into a final victory gained by dedicating his life to the +service of blind soldiers.</p> + +<p class="u">ACROSS THE YEARS</p> + +<p>Short stories of our own kind and of our own people. Contains some of +the best writing Mrs. Porter has done.</p> + +<p class="u">THE TANGLED THREADS</p> + +<p>In these stories we find the concentrated charm and tenderness of all +her other books.</p> + +<p class="u">THE TIE THAT BINDS</p> + +<p>Intensely human stories told with Mrs. Porter’s wonderful talent for +warm and vivid character drawing.</p> + +<div class="double"></div> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset& Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> +<div class="double3"> </div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="double2"></div> + +<h3>“STORM COUNTRY” BOOKS BY GRACE MILLER WHITE</h3> + +<div class="double"></div> + +<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list.</p> + +<div class="double"></div> + +<p class="u">JUDY OF ROGUES’ HARBOR</p> + +<p>Judy’s untutored ideas of God, her love of wild things, her faith in +life are quite as inspiring as those of Tess. Her faith and sincerity +catch at your heart strings. This book has all of the mystery and +tense action of the other Storm Country books.</p> + +<p class="u">TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY</p> + +<p>It was as Tess, beautiful, wild, impetuous, that Mary Pickford made +her reputation as a motion picture actress. How love acts upon a +temperament such as hers—a temperament that makes a woman an angel or +an outcast, according to the character of the man she loves—is the +theme of the story.</p> + +<p class="u">THE SECRET OF THE STORM COUNTRY</p> + +<p>The sequel to “Tess of the Storm Country,” with the same wild +background, with its half-gypsy life of the squatters—tempestuous, +passionate, brooding. Tess learns the “secret” of her birth and finds +happiness and love through her boundless faith in life.</p> + +<p class="u">FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSING</p> + +<p>A haunting story with its scene laid near the country familiar to +readers of “Tess of the Storm Country.”</p> + +<p class="u">ROSE O’ PARADISE</p> + +<p>“Jinny” Singleton, wild, lovely, lonely, but with a passionate +yearning for music, grows up in the house of Lafe Grandoken, a +crippled cobbler of the Storm Country. Her romance is full of power +and glory and tenderness.</p> + +<div class="double"></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</i></p> + +<div class="double"> </div> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p> +<div class="double3"> </div></div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h3><a name="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTE" id="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTE"></a>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</h3> + +<p>1. Minor changes have been made to correct obvious typesetters’s errors; +otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author’s +words and intent.</p> + +<p>2. The original of this book did not have a Table of Contents; this has been added +for the reader’s convenience.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's With Hoops of Steel, by Florence Finch Kelly + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH HOOPS OF STEEL *** + +***** This file should be named 28585-h.htm or 28585-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/5/8/28585/ + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://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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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: With Hoops of Steel + +Author: Florence Finch Kelly + +Illustrator: Dan Smith + +Release Date: April 22, 2009 [EBook #28585] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH HOOPS OF STEEL *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + WITH + HOOPS OF STEEL + + BY + FLORENCE FINCH KELLY + + ILLUSTRATED BY + DAN SMITH + + "_The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, + Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel._" + + NEW YORK + GROSSET & DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS + + Made in the United States of America + + + + +COPYRIGHT 1900 + +THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + + +[Illustration: "ON AND ON THROUGH THE NIGHT THEY GALLOPED, NECK TO +NECK AND HEEL TO HEEL."--_p. 63_] + + + + +PUBLISHERS' NOTE + +Owen Wister's THE VIRGINIAN and Florence Finch Kelly's WITH +HOOPS OF STEEL were the first of the modern cow-boy novels. Twenty-five +years have passed since Mrs. Kelly's enthralling story first +appeared--September, 1900. Most of the novels published then and +since, are dead and forgotten. Not so WITH HOOPS OF STEEL. It +was in continuous demand from its first friendly welcome by the critics +until the World War turned public attention to Europe. Even so its +vitality persisted, justified this new edition, and seems to warrant +the belief that the present generation will find its story interest as +vivid and as exciting as did the past, and its value even greater, for +it presents an authentic portrait of the old southwestern cattlemen +and a fascinating picture of a phase of national development now passed +into history. + + THE PUBLISHERS. + + + + +WITH HOOPS OF STEEL + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The soft, muffling dusk settled slowly downward from the darkening +blue sky and little by little smothered the weird gleam that rose from +the gray-white plain. Away toward the east a range of mountains +gloomed faintly, rimming the distance. Another towered against the +western horizon. Cactus clumps and bunches of mesquite and greasewood +blotted the whitely gleaming earth. In and out among these dark spots +a man was slowly riding. Now and then he leaned forward and looked +keenly through the growing darkness as though searching for some +familiar landmark. The horse lagged across the heavy sand, with +drooping head and ears. The rider patted its neck with a buckskin +gloved hand and spoke cheerily to the tired animal: + +"Hot and tired, ain't you, old fellow? You want your supper and a big +drink of water. Well, you oughtn't to have wandered off the road while +I was asleep. Now, I sure reckon we've got to bunk on a sand heap +to-night and wait till daylight to find out where we are." + +Again he peered through the dusk, and a little ray of light came +glimmering from far away toward the right. He knew that it must come +from either a ranch house or a camp-fire. + +"I don't remember any ranch as far up toward the White Sands as that +seems to be," he thought. "It must be a camp-fire. We don't know whose +it is, old pard, but we're goin' to take chances on it." + +He rode on in silence, the bridle lying loosely on the horse's neck. +All the senses of the plainsman were on the alert, his ears were +strained to catch the faintest sound that might come from the +direction of the fire, while his eyes alternately swept the darkened +plain and fastened themselves on the light. His horse pricked up its +ears and gave a loud whinny, which was answered in kind from the +direction of the fire. Presently the man shouted a loud "hello," but +there was no reply. "That's queer!" he thought. "My voice ought to +carry that far, sure!" He waited a few moments, listening intently, +then, drawing in a deep breath, he sent out another long, loud call +that bellowed across the plain and sank into the far darkness. Still +there was no reply, but when his horse neighed again there was instant +response. The animal had quickened its pace and with head up and ears +bent forward was rapidly lessening the distance between them and the +light. The rider could see that it was a camp-fire, and soon could +distinguish the flickering of the flames, but, in the illuminated +circle around it there was no sign of human beings nor shadow of +moving life. He drew rein and again sent a full lunged, far-reaching +"hello-o-o" across the distance. The moon, just showing a silver edge +above the mountain tops, threw a faint glimmer of light across the +plain, making visible the nearest clumps of bushes. + +"I guess that would mighty near wake a dead man. If there's anybody +alive around that camp they sure heard me this time," he thought, as +he looked and listened with straining eyes and ears. But there was no +movement about the fire, and another whinny was the only sound that +came from its direction. "Mighty queer!" was his inward comment, as +his hand sought the revolver which hung by his side, while a light +pressure of spurs started his horse forward again. Suddenly there was +a swift rustle of the bushes beside him. + +"Stop! Throw up your hands!" + +A man had sprung from a tall clump of mesquite, and the traveler saw +the faint light reflected from a gun barrel pointed straight at his +breast. He stopped his horse, but did not respond to the other +summons; instead, his fingers closed quickly over the butt of his +revolver. + +"Throw up your hands, or I'll blow a hole through you!" + +"Well, the drop's yours, stranger, so here goes," and the traveler's +hands went straight above his head. + +"That's better! Now, what do you want here?" + +"I saw your camp-fire and I reckoned I might get some water for my +horse and some supper for myself." + +"Who are you?" + +"My name is Thomson Tuttle." + +"What are you doing here?" + +"Attendin' to my own affairs and lettin' other people's alone." + +"You allowed just now it was my drop." There was a note of warning in +the man's voice. The traveler hesitated a moment. The click of a +trigger quickened his discretion. + +"I am on my way from Muletown to Las Plumas, but I lost the road this +afternoon and I've no idea where I am now. As soon as I saw your +camp-fire I came straight for it, for my horse needs water mighty +bad." + +There was a moment of silence. The moon was well above the mountains, +and in its brightening light the form of the traveler stood out in +ridiculous silhouette, his hands held high above his head. He could +see plainly the figure of the man and the gun leveled at his breast. + +"How long had you been in Muletown?" + +"I got in this forenoon, and I guess I stopped an hour. I left about +noon." + +"Where from?" + +"I started yesterday morning from Millbank. I had been there two days. +I went there from Santa Fe. I've been in New Mexico about ten years, +and I was born--" + +"Never mind about that. You can have some supper. Unfasten your belt +with your left hand, and be sure to keep your right hand where it is." +Tuttle's left hand fumbled a moment with his cartridge belt, and +revolver and belt dropped to the ground. + +"Anything else?" + +"No." + +"Put up your hands again until I fix these things." + +Again the traveler lifted his hands above his head, while the other +buckled the belt around his own body, which it circled above another +already heavy with cartridges and revolver. This latter weapon he drew +from his holster, and, coming close beside Tuttle, held it at cock +while he passed his hand lightly over the rider's person. + +"I guess you spoke the truth," he said, returning the pistol to his +belt, and again leveling the shot-gun. "Now, Mr. Thomson Tuttle, +you've been a gentleman so far, and as long as you keep up that play +you'll be all right. You won't be hurt if you don't make any breaks. +Take down your hands and we'll go into camp and have some supper." + +Tuttle held his hands motionless in the air a moment longer as he +said: + +"Any objection to my askin' who you are?" + +"You said yourself that the drop's mine." + +"All right, pard." + +As they neared the camp, the man called to him to dismount, walk +forward and sit down in a wagon seat near the fire. Tuttle could see +the wagon from which the seat had been taken, a small, light affair, +standing back in the shadow, and near it two horses feeding. Another +man stood a little way off with leveled gun, apparently relieving +guard for the first. He was in the shade of a tall mesquite bush, but +Tuttle could see that he was of medium height and build and was +dressed in a Mexican suit of closely fitting, braided trousers and +jacket. The wide brim of his Mexican sombrero was pulled low over his +eyes, so that only the lower part of his face could be seen, and that +dimly. But it was evidently dark-skinned, and the mouth was shaded by +a black mustache. "Some Greaser scalawag," was Tuttle's immediate +decision. The other unsaddled, watered and fed the horse, and then +returned to the fire and began making coffee. + +"We haven't much to eat," he said apologetically, "but you're welcome +to a share of whatever we've got." + +Soon he put beside Tuttle a supper of hot coffee, fried bacon, canned +baked beans, and a loaf of bread. Then he sat on the ground near by +and talked cheerfully while Tuttle ate, now and then urging him, in +hospitable fashion, to eat heartily. But all the time he held his +revolver in his hand, and the other man stood in the shadow with his +Winchester ready to fire at a second's notice. Tuttle and his captor +talked on in a friendly way for half an hour after supper, while the +other still kept guard from the shadow of the mesquite bush. At last +the first man got up leisurely, took a flask from his pocket and +handed it to Tuttle with the request, "Drink hearty, pard." With a +little flourish and a kindly "Here's luck," he took a long pull +himself, then, telling Tuttle he could use his saddle for a pillow and +lie down near the fire, he picked up his shot-gun and sat down on the +wagon seat and the man who had stood beside the mesquite walked away +into the bushes. + +"Now," said the man with the shot-gun, "you can sleep just as sound as +a baby in its cradle, for I'm going to watch here and see that the +coyotes don't bite you. You'll be safe," and the note of warning +filled his voice again, "as long as you don't make any breaks." + +"I'm not a fool," responded Tuttle, stretching out on the ground and +resting his head against the saddle. Whenever he awoke during the +night he saw his guard keeping alert watch, gun in hand and revolver +by his side. Just before daybreak the other man returned and held +guard while the first watered and saddled Tuttle's horse and prepared +breakfast. The captive was dimly conscious of the change, and then +slept again until he was awakened at sunrise. + +"I had a mind to wake you by shooting a button off your coat, just to +see if that would do the business," said his host, smiling pleasantly, +as he handed Tuttle the flask which had done duty the night before. "I +reckon you're about the soundest sleeper I ever saw." + +By daylight Tuttle saw that the man was well along in middle life and +that his face was smoothly shaven. Tuttle himself looked to be less +than thirty years old. He was tall, broad of shoulder and big of +girth, with large hands and great, round, well-muscled wrists that +told of arms like limbs of oak and of legs like iron pillars. + +The young man ate his breakfast alone, his captor standing near by and +talking pleasantly with him, but holding alertly a shot-gun at half +cock, while crouching behind a bunch of greasewood was the Mexican +with a drawn pistol in his hands. As Tuttle mounted, the tall man +called out sternly: + +"Hold up your hands!" + +Tuttle hesitated for a moment, looking at him in surprise. + +"I mean it!" and the trigger of his shot-gun clicked to full cock. +Tuttle's hands went up quickly. The man came beside him and buckled on +his cartridge belt, with the revolver in its holster. Then he backed +to his own horse, mounted it, and leveled his shot-gun at Tuttle's +breast. + +"Now you can take down your hands and go," he said. "But remember that +I'm ridin' behind you, ready to bang a hole through your head if you +make the first motion toward your gun, or anything happens that ain't +straight. I'll put you on the road to Plumas, and then I want you to +make tracks, for we've got no time to waste." + +As they rode away, Tuttle could hear the hoof beats of two horses and +knew that both men were following. After a few miles the tall man +called to Tuttle to halt and said, pointing to a road that wound a +white line across the distance: + +"That's your road over there, and you can go on, now alone. But I want +you to remember that I'm here watchin' you, with two loads of buckshot +and six of lead, and every one of them is goin' plumb through you if +you ain't square. You've been a gentleman so far, and dead game, and +I'm proud to've met you, Mr. Thomson Tuttle. If it ever comes my way +to treat you whiter than I have this time, I'll be glad to do it. +Good-bye, sir." + +As Tuttle rode away, he saw, from the corner of his eye, the tall man, +shot-gun in hand, sitting motionless on his horse, and the other, +watchful, holding a rifle, a little distance behind him. The young man +put spurs to his horse and rode several miles with his eyes steadily +in front of him, discreetly holding curiosity in check. He did not +look back until he reached the highroad, and then he saw his two +captors galloping across the plain toward their camp. He took out his +pistol and examined it carefully. It was just as he had left it the +night before. + +"They might have put every bullet into my head," was his mental +comment, "but they didn't, and they might have emptied 'em all out and +left me in a box. But they didn't do that, either. I guess they played +as square as they could." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +"Me, Tom Tuttle, holding up my hands while a fellow takes my gun! What +will Emerson Mead say to that! Well, I reckon he wouldn't have done +different, for Emerson's got good judgment." + +Such was Tuttle's soliloquy as he mounted the gradual ascent of the +range that bounded the plain on the west. Alternately he chuckled and +slapped his thigh in appreciation of the joke on himself, and exploded +an indignant oath as mortified pride asserted itself. + +After a time he espied a black dot in a halo of dust coming down the +mountain side. He considered it a moment and then decided, "It's a man +on horseback." He took out his revolver and, holding it in his hand, +made another scrutiny of the approaching figure. + +"Je-e-mima! If he don't ride like Nick Ellhorn! I shouldn't wonder if +it's Nick!" + +Presently the figure flourished a black sombrero and down the dusty +road came a yell which began full-lunged and ended in a screeching +"whee-ee-e." Tuttle answered with a loud "hello," and both men put +spurs to their horses and were soon shaking hands. + +"What's the news at Plumas and out at Emerson's?" asked Tuttle. + +"Oh, things are fairly quiet at Plumas just now, but you never know +when hell is going to break loose there. You're just in time, though, +for Emerson's up to his ears in fight. Goin' to stay?" + +"I will if Emerson needs me. I've been with Marshal Black over to +Millbank after some counterfeiters from Colorado. He took 'em back, +and, as he didn't need me, I thought I'd just ride over here and see +if you-all mightn't be in trouble and need some help." + +"Ain't after anybody, then?" + +"No. But, say, Nick! I struck the darndest outfit last night! I got +regularly held up!" + +"What! You! Held up?" + +"Yes, I did. Sat with my hands in the air like a fool tenderfoot while +a man took my gun and cross-questioned me like a lawyer." + +Ellhorn rolled and rocked on his horse with laughter. When he could +speak he demanded the whole story, which Tuttle told him in detail. + +"What was their lay?" he asked. + +"I'll give it up. I've thought of everything I could, and there ain't +a blamed thing that'll explain it." + +"Tommy, I reckon they need to be arrested about as bad as two men ever +needed anything. Come along and we'll corral 'em." + +"We've got no warrants, Nick!" + +"Haven't you got any in your pockets?" + +"Yes, but not for them." + +"Tommy, you're a deputy marshal, and that outfit took you at a +disadvantage and misused you shameful. You're an officer of the law, +Tommy, and it was as bad as contempt of court! It's our duty to arrest +'em for it and bring 'em in." + +"But we can't do it without warrants, Nick." + +Ellhorn took some papers from his pocket and looked them over. "I'm +lookin' for a Mexican named Antonio Diaz," he said. "Here's the +warrant for his arrest. Violation of the Edmunds act. You say one of +these men was a Mexican. I think likely he's Antonio. We'll go and +find out. Never mind tellin' me how he looked," he went on hastily, as +Tuttle began to speak. "It's likely he's Antonio, and it's my duty to +go and find out. Of course, they'll resist arrest, and then they'll +get their punishment for the way they treated you." + +Tuttle looked disapproving. "Nick, what do you think would be +Emerson's judgment?" + +"Emerson ain't here, and I'm acting on my own judgment, which is to go +after this outfit and pepper 'em full of holes if they're sassy." + +Tuttle shook his head. "I don't like the scheme." + +"Well, it ain't your scheme, and you don't have to like it. I think we +ought to go after these men right now. They've done something they +ought to be arrested for. And, anyway, they ought to be punished for +holdin' you up." + +"Nick, I'd go with you in a minute, you know I would, if we had a +warrant for 'em, or if I had any reason to think that the Mexican is +the man you want. You don't think so yourself. They might have blowed +my brains out any minute, and nobody would ever have known a thing +about it. But they didn't and I reckon they treated me as white as +they could and look after their own interests. It's my judgment, and I +think it would be Emerson's, too, that it would be a mean trick for me +to come up behind 'em and begin shootin', just for holdin' me up, when +they might have treated me a whole heap worse. I won't go with you, +Nick." + +"Sure, then, and I'll go alone," Ellhorn responded cheerfully. + +"They'll be two to one." + +"Not very long, I reckon." + +"Better wait a few days, Nick, till you can go after 'em legally." + +"They'll be out of the country by that time. I'm under no obligations +to be kind to 'em, and I don't mean to be. I'm goin' to camp on their +trail right now." He dismounted and cinched up his saddle and +inspected his revolver. + +Tuttle regarded him dubiously and in silence until he remounted. Then +he said, slowly: "Well, my judgment's against it, Nick, but I won't +see you go off alone into any such scrape as this is bound to be. +I'll go with you, but I won't do any shootin'--unless you need me +mighty bad." + +They galloped back to the scene of Tuttle's captivity the night +before. They found the trail of the wagon, and followed it rapidly +toward the north. Soon they saw a glaring white line against the +horizon. "There's the White Sands," said Ellhorn. "We ought to catch +'em before they get there." A few moments later they came within sight +of the wagon. Tuttle and Ellhorn spurred their horses to a quicker +pace and when they were within hailing distance Ellhorn shouted to its +two occupants to surrender. Their only response was to put whip to +their horses, and Ellhorn sent a pistol ball whizzing past them. They +replied in kind and a quick fusillade began. Tuttle rode silently +beside his companion, not even drawing his six-shooter from its +holster. A bullet bit into the rim of his sombrero, and he grumbled a +big oath under his breath. Another nicked the ear of Ellhorn's horse. +In the wagon, the Mexican was crouched in the bottom, shooting from +behind the seat, apparently taking careful aim. The tall man stood up, +lashing the horses furiously. He turned, holding the reins in one +hand, and with the other discharged another volley, necessarily +somewhat at random. But it came near doing good execution, for one +bullet went through Tuttle's sleeve and another singed the shoulder of +Ellhorn's coat. + +"Whee-ee-e!" shouted Ellhorn. "Sure, and I've winged him! I've hit the +big one in the leg!" + +The next moment his pistol dropped to the ground. A bullet from the +Mexican's Winchester had plowed through his right arm. Tuttle, who had +not even put hand to his revolver, drew rein beside him while the +other men stopped shooting and devoted all their energies to getting +away as quickly as possible. Tuttle tore strips from his shirt with +which to bind Ellhorn's wound, and persuaded him to return to Las +Plumas, where he could have the services of a physician. + +"I guess I'll have to, Tom," he said regretfully. "I'd like to go +after 'em and finish this job up right now. I got one into the big +one, but that's nothin' to what they deserve. Lord! but they need to +be peppered full of holes! But I can't fight now, and you won't, so +it's no use." + +As they rode back Tuttle said: "You say that Emerson's up to his ears +in fight? What's it about? That cattle business?" + +"Yes, that's it. You know he's been havin' trouble for some time with +Colonel Whittaker and the Fillmore Cattle Company, and I reckon hell's +a-popping over there by this time. Colonel Whittaker--he's manager of +the company now, and one of the stock-holders--wants to corral the +whole blamed country for his range. Well, there's Emerson Mead has had +his range for the last five years, and Willet still longer, and +McAlvin and Brewer, they've been there a long time, too, and they all +say they've got more right to the range than the company has, because +they own the water holes, and they don't propose to be crowded out by +no corporation. But I reckon they'll have to fight for their rights if +they get 'em." + +"How's Whittaker off for men? Got anybody that can shoot?" + +"You bet he has. Young Will Whittaker is mighty near as good a shot as +Emerson is. He does most of the managing at their ranch headquarters, +while the old man works politics over in Plumas." + +"Have they had any fights yet?" + +"I haven't seen Emerson for a month. He was over in Plumas then and he +said he expected to have trouble and wanted me to come out." + +"You don't mean to say that the Fillmore outfit is really tryin' to +drive Emerson and the rest of them out of the Fernandez mountains?" + +"Well, they want to get control of the whole range for about a hundred +miles, if they can. And there's some politics mixed up in it, of +course. Old Whittaker is a Republican, you know, with a lot of +political schemes he wants to put through. Of course Emerson and the +others are Democrats and stand in with the party, and the Colonel +thinks he'll be doing the Republicans a big service if he can break +them up. Emerson expected the trouble to come to a head over the +spring round-up, for Colonel Whittaker said that Emerson and McAlvin +and the rest of them shouldn't round-up with him." + +"Well, Emerson won't stand any such nonsense as that!" + +"I guess Whittaker and his cow-boys will have to flirt gravel mighty +fast if they keep him from it!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Unkempt, dusty and dirty, straggling its narrow length for a mile +along the irrigating ditch, the village of Las Plumas lay sleepily +quiet under the hot, white, brooding spring sunshine. A few +trim-looking places cuddled their yards and gardens close against the +life-giving channel, whose green banks, covered with vegetation and +shaded by trees, bisected the town. Elsewhere, naked adobe walls +flanked the dusty streets and from their stark surfaces gave back the +sunshine in a blinding glare. Here and there an umbrella tree, or a +locust, made a welcome splotch of green and shade down the length of +the barren, dusty streets, or the tiny yard of a house set back a +little from the adobe sidewalk held a few clumps of shrubs and +flowers. A half dozen cross streets sprang up among the scattered +adobe houses that dotted the edge of the plain rising to the Hermosa +mountains on the east, crossed the bridges of the irrigating ditch, +and ended in the one business street, which trailed a few closely +built blocks along the western edge of the town, near the railroad and +its depot. On one of these cross streets a yard and orchard of goodly +size extended from the ditch a block or more to the east and +surrounded a flat-roofed, square adobe house. A wide veranda, its +white pillars covered with rose and honeysuckle vines, ran around the +house, and a square of lawn, with shrubs and flowers and trees, filled +the yard. A little boy, perhaps four years old, with flaxen curls +floating about his neck, played in the shade of a fig tree beside the +veranda. + +Down the dusty road which wound a white strip over the pale, +gray-green upland and merged into the street which passed this house, +a man came riding at a leisurely lope. He was tall and broad +shouldered, straight in the back and trim in the girth, and he sat his +horse with the easy, unconscious grace of a man who has lived much in +the saddle. His black sombrero shaded a dark-skinned face, tanned to a +rosy brown. An unshaven stubble of beard darkened his cheeks and a +soft, drooping, black mustache covered his lip. A constant smile +seemed lurking in the corners of his mouth and in his brown eyes. But +his face was square, firm-jawed and resolute, and had in it the look +of a man accustomed to meet men on their own ground and to ask favors +of none. + +He checked his horse to a slow trot and, without turning his head, +searched with a sidewise glance the yard and veranda of the adobe +house. When he saw a flutter of pink inside a window he stopped at the +gate and called to the child: + +"Hello, little Bye-Bye! Don't you want a ride?" + +The child ran to the gate with a shout of welcome. + +"Better ask your sister if you can come." + +"Daisy! Daisy! May I go?" the boy called, running back to the porch. A +young woman in a pale pink muslin gown came out and led the child to +the gate. + +"Good morning, Miss Delarue. May I take little Bye-Bye for a ride?" + +The roses in her cheeks deepened as she looked up and saw the +admiration in his eyes. + +"Certainly, Mr. Mead. It is very kind of you, I'm sure. But please +don't take him far." + +The boy, shouting with laughter, was lifted to the saddle in front of +the rider, and the girl, smiling in sympathy with his delight, leaned +against the gate watching them. She was tall, with the broad +shoulders, deep bosom, slender waist, and clear, blooming complexion +that tell of English nativity. Her eyes were blue, the soft, dark blue +of the cornflower, and her face, a long, thin oval, was gentle and +sweet in expression. Her light brown hair, which shone with an elusive +glimmer of gold in the sunlight, was gathered on her neck in a loose, +rippling mass. She took the child from Mead's hands when they +returned, and her eyes went from the boy's laughing face to the +smiling one of the man. Then the roses deepened again and she looked +away. The man said nothing and they both waited, silent and smiling, +watching the antics of the child. Presently she turned to him again: + +"Are you--do you expect to stay long in town, Mr. Mead?" + +"I think--I--do not know. It will depend on business." + +They were silent again, and after a moment he gravely said, "Good +morning," and rode away. He frowned and bit his lip, muttered a mild +oath under his breath, and then put spurs to his horse and rode on a +gallop up the main street. The girl glanced after him, still blushing +and smiling. Then a frown wrinkled her forehead and she said, "Well!" +under her breath with such emphasis that the child looked up at her +curiously. At that, she laughed with a little touch of embarrassment +in her manner, and, taking the boy in her arms, ran into the house. + +In the busiest part of the main street, a flat-roofed adobe house with +a narrow, covered porch forming the sidewalk in front, flanked the +street for half a block. Offices and shops of various kinds filled its +many rooms, and the open door of a saloon showed a cool and pleasant +interior. In front of this saloon Emerson Mead halted as Tuttle and +Ellhorn came out of a lawyer's office beside it. Ellhorn explained his +non-appearance at the ranch and told the story of Tuttle's capture, +over which they made jokes at his expense. + +"The doctor says this is only a flesh wound," said Nick, touching his +sling-swung arm and speaking in answer to Mead's question, "and that +I can use my gun again in another week." + +"I'd have been out right away, Emerson," said Tuttle, "but Nick had to +stay here for the doctor to take care of his arm, and I didn't dare +leave him alone. He was bound he'd go on a spree, and he couldn't +shoot, and the Lord knows what trouble he'd have got into. Maybe I +haven't had a time of it! I'd rather have had a fight with the +Fillmore outfit every day!" + +"Yes," growled Ellhorn, "he put me to bed one night and sat on my neck +till I went to sleep. And yesterday morning he planted himself against +the door and held his six-shooter on me till I promised I wouldn't +drink all day. Lord! the week's been long enough for the +resurrection!" + +"How's things at the ranch, Emerson?" asked Tuttle. "Have you had any +fightin' yet with the Fillmore outfit?" + +"No, not real fightin'. I caught 'em puttin' a branded steer into one +of my herds, so they could say I stole it, about a week ago, and Will +Whittaker and I exchanged compliments over the affair." + +As he spoke a tall, gray-haired man, riding a sweating horse at a hard +gallop, rushed up the street and dismounted on the opposite side. His +thin, pale face bore a look of angry excitement. + +"What's the matter with Colonel Whittaker?" exclaimed Ellhorn. "He +looks as if he'd heard the devil behind him!" + +Whittaker had spoken to a man in the doorway of an office bearing the +sign, "Fillmore Cattle Company," and already several others had +gathered around the two and all were listening eagerly. + +"Something's happened, boys," said Mead, as they watched the group +across the way. "They told me in Muletown that Colonel Whittaker had +passed through there the day before on his way to the ranch." + +Just then Miss Delarue came up the sidewalk leading the flaxen-haired +child, and as she passed the three men she smiled a pleasant +recognition to Ellhorn and Mead. + +"Who's she?" Tuttle asked, gazing after her admiringly. + +"Why, Frenchy Delarue's daughter!" Ellhorn answered. "Didn't you ever +see her before? That's queer. You remember Delarue, the Frenchman who +has the store up the street a-ways and loves to hear himself talk so +well. He came here two years ago with a sick wife. She was an +Englishwoman and the girl looks just like her. She died in a little +while and the daughter has taken care of the kid ever since as if she +was its mother. She's a fine girl." + +"She's mighty fine lookin', anyway," Tuttle declared. + +"Well, boys," said Mead, "I'm goin' to my room to slick up. If you +find out what the excitement's about, come over and tell me." + +"I reckon if Emerson was rich he'd be a dude," said Ellhorn, looking +meditatively after Mead. "He keeps a room and his best duds here all +the time, and the first thing he does after he strikes town is to go +and put on a bald-faced shirt and a long-tailed coat. He don't even +stop to take a drink first." + +The crowd across the street had increased, and the men who composed it +were talking in low, excited tones. As Emerson Mead walked away many +turned to look at him, and significant glances were sent over the way +to Ellhorn and Tuttle, who still stood on the sidewalk. They stopped a +man who was hurrying across the street and asked him what the +excitement was about. + +"Will Whittaker has disappeared. His father thinks he's been killed. +He left the ranch a week ago to come to town and nobody's seen him +since. I'm goin' after Sheriff Daniels." + +"Gee-ee! Moses!" Ellhorn exclaimed, as his eyes, full of amazed +inquiry, sought Tuttle's. But amazed inquiry of like sort was all that +flashed back at him from Tuttle's mild blue orbs, and after an +instant's pause he went on: "Whew! won't hell's horns be a-tootin' +this afternoon! Confound this arm! Say, Tom, you-all go and tell +Emerson about it and I'll skate around and find out what's goin' on." + +Tuttle hesitated. "You won't go to drinkin'?" + +"Not this time, Tommy! There'll be excitement enough here in another +two hours without me making any a-purpose, and don't you forget it! +Things are a-goin' to be too serious for me to soak any of my wits in +whisky just now!" + +"No, Nick," said Tuttle, looking at the other's helpless arm, "I +reckon I better go along with you-all, if there's likely to be any +trouble." + +It was as Ellhorn predicted. Before night the town was buzzing with +excitement. Wild rumors flew from tongue to tongue, and with every +flight took new shape. Shops and offices were deserted and men +gathered in knots on the sidewalk, discussing the quarrel between the +cattlemen and Emerson Mead's possible connection with young +Whittaker's disappearance, and predicting many and varied tragic +results. All those who congregated on one side of the street scouted +the idea that the young man had been murdered, indignantly denied the +possibility of Emerson Mead's connection with his disappearance, +insisted that it was all a trick of the Republicans to throw discredit +on the Democrats, and declared that Will Whittaker would show up again +in a few days just as much alive as anybody. Nearly all the men who +had offices or stores in the long adobe building were Democrats, and +the saloon it contained, called the Palmleaf, was the place where the +men of that party congregated when any unusual excitement arose. On +the other side of the street were the offices of the Fillmore Cattle +Company, the White Horse saloon, and Delarue's store, all gathering +places for the Republican clans. There it was declared that +undoubtedly Emerson Mead had killed young Whittaker, and had come into +town to kill the father, too, that other outrages against the +Republicans would probably follow, and that the thing ought to be +stopped at once. But each party kept to its own side of the street, +and each watched the other as a bulldog about to spring watches its +antagonist. + +A man, whose manner and well-groomed appearance betokened city +residence, mingled with the groups about the cattle company's office, +listening with interest to everything that was said. He himself did +not often speak, but when he did every one listened with attention. He +was of medium stature, of compact, wiry build, had large eyes of a +pale, brilliant gray, and a thin face with prominent features. He +joined Miss Delarue when she came down the street on her way home. + +"You get up very sudden storms in your quiet town, Miss Delarue," he +said. "An hour ago Las Plumas was as sleepy and decorous--and dead--as +the graveyard on the hill over yonder. But a man rides up and says ten +words and, br-r-r, the whole population is agog and ready to spring at +one another's throats." + +"Yes," she assented, "when I went up town a little while ago +everything was as quiet as usual. What is the excitement all about?" + +"Why, they are saying that Emerson Mead has killed Will Whittaker!" + +"What!" + +Her face suddenly went white, and she stared at him with wide, +horrified eyes. + +"It may not be true." + +"Oh, I don't believe it can be true!" + +He swept her face with a sudden, curious glance. + +"Nobody seems to know, certainly, that Will is dead. He and Mead had a +quarrel a week ago and Mead threatened to kill him. Will left the +ranch that day to come to town, and he hasn't been seen since. Of +course, he may have changed his mind and gone off to some other part +of the range." + +"Of course," she assented eagerly. "At this time of year he is very +likely to have been needed somewhere else on the range. I don't +believe he has--he is dead." + +"There is much feeling about it on the street. And it seems to be +quite as much a matter of politics as a personal quarrel." + +"Oh, everything is politics here, Mr. Wellesly!" said the girl. "If +the people all over the United States take as much interest in +politics as they do here, I don't see how they have found time to +build railroads and cities." + +Wellesly laughed. "They don't take it the same way, Miss Delarue. Las +Plumas politics is a thing apart and of its own kind. Except in party +names, it has no connection with the politics of the states. Here it +is merely a case of 'follow your leader,' of personal loyalty to some +man who has run, or who expects to run, for office. Being so +personal, of course, it is more virulent." + +"Do you think there is likely to be any violence this time?" she +asked, with a tremor of anxiety in her voice. + +"There is violent talk already. I heard more than one man say that +Mead ought to be lynched"--he was watching her face as he talked--"and +his two friends, Ellhorn and Tuttle, along with him. There is a great +deal of feeling against Mead, and the general idea seems to be that he +is an inveterate cattle thief, and that the country would be better +off without him." + +She turned an indignant face and flashing eyes upon him and opened her +mouth to reply. Then she blushed a little, caught her breath, and +asked him if he thought her father was in any danger. When Wellesly +left her he said to himself: "That's an unusually fine girl. Handsome, +too. Or she would be if she didn't wear English shoes and walk like an +elephant. She seems to be interested in Emerson Mead, but old Delarue +certainly wouldn't permit anything serious. He's too ardently on our +side, or thinks he is, the old French windbag, though he's never even +been naturalized. I'll see her again while I'm here and find out if +there is anything between them. It might have some consequence for us +if there is. I wish the Colonel hadn't got the company so mixed up in +their political quarrels. But there may be an advantage in it, after +all, for I guess it will furnish the easiest way of getting rid of +those one-horse outfits. The old man's got the upper hand now, and as +long as he keeps it we'll be all right." + +Marguerite Delarue stood on her veranda looking after Wellesly as he +walked away. "What a nice looking man he is," ran her thoughts. "He is +interesting to talk with, too. The people here may be just as good as +he is, but--well, at least, he isn't tongue-tied." + +Ellhorn and Tuttle met Emerson Mead as he stepped from his room, +freshly shaven and clad in black frock coat and vest, gray trousers +and newly polished shoes. As he listened to Ellhorn's account of the +sudden storm that was already shaking the little town from end to end, +a yellow light flashed in his brown eyes and there came into them an +intent, defiant look, the look of battle, like that in the eyes of a +captured eagle. He went back into the room, buckled on a full +cartridge belt, and transferred his revolver from his waistband to its +usual holster. + +"Now, boys," said Mead, "we'll go back up town and have a drink, and +I'll talk with Judge Harlin about this matter." + +The three friends walked leisurely up Main street, talking quietly +together, and apparently unconscious of any unusual disturbance. +Except that their eyes were restless and alert and that Mead's glowed +with the yellow light and the defiant look, they showed no sign of +the excitement they felt. They were all three of nearly the same age, +they were all Texan born and bred, and for many years had been the +closest of friends. Each one stood six feet and some inches in his +stockings, and their great stature, broad shoulders, deep chests and +sinewy figures marked them for notice, even in the southwest, the land +of tall, well-muscled men. + +Thomson Tuttle was the tallest and by far the heaviest of the three--a +great, blond giant, with the round, frank, sincere face of an +overgrown school-boy, glowing with the red tan which fair skins take +on in the hot, dry air of the southwest. From this red expanse a pair +of serious blue eyes looked out, while a short, tawny mustache covered +his lip, and auburn hair curled in close rings over his head. It was +never necessary for Thomson Tuttle to do any swearing, for the colors +that dwelt in his face kept up a constant profanity. There was a +strain of German blood in him--his mother had come from Germany in her +childhood--which showed in his impassive countenance and in the open, +serious directness of his mental habit. + +Ellhorn was the handsome one of the three friends. He was straight, +slender, long of limb, clean of muscle, and remarkably quick and +graceful in his movements. His regular features were clear-cut and his +dancing eyes were bright and black and keen. His sweeping black +mustache curled up at the ends in a wide curve that shaded a dimple +in each cheek. He was as proud of the fact that both of his maternal +grandparents had been born in Ireland as he was that he himself was a +native of Texas. The vigorous Celtic strain, that in the clash of +nationalities can always hold its own against any blood with which it +mingles, had dowered him well with Celtic characteristics. A trace of +the brogue still lingered in his speech, along with the slurred r's +and the soft drawl of his southern tongue, while his spontaneous +rebellion under restraint and his brilliant disregard of the +consequences of his behavior were as truly Celtic as was the +honey-sweet persuasiveness with which he could convince his friends +that whatever he had done had been exactly right and the only thing +possible. He was all Irish that wasn't Texan, and all Texan that +wasn't Irish, and everybody he knew he either loved or hated, and was +ready, according to his feeling, either to do anything for, or to "do +up" on a moment's notice. + +Emerson Mead's stronger and more sober intelligence harked back to New +England, whence his mother had come in her bridal days, and although +the Puritan characteristics showed less plainly in his nature than she +wished, having been much warmed and mellowed by their transplantation +to southern soil, no Puritan of them all could have outdone this tall +Texan in dogged adherence to what he believed to be his rights. His +mother had kept faith with the land of her nativity, and as part of +her worship from afar at the shrine of its great sage had given his +name to her only son. By virtue of his stronger character and better +poised intelligence, Emerson Mead had always been the leader of the +three friends. Tuttle yielded unquestioning obedience to "Emerson's +judgment," and, if Emerson were not present, to what he imagined that +judgment would be. Ellhorn, in whose nature dwelt the instinctive +rebellion of the Irish blood, was less loyal in this respect, but not +a whit behind in the whole-heartedness with which he threw himself +into his friend's service. For years they had taken share and share +alike in one another's needs, and whenever one was in trouble the +other two rushed to his help. Together they had gone through the usual +routine of southwestern occupations. They had prospected together, had +herded cattle together, together they had battled their way through +sudden quarrels and fore-planned gunfights, and together, with +official warrants in their pockets, had helped to keep the peace in +riotous frontier towns. Some years before, they had gone into +partnership in the cattle business, on the ranch which Mead still +owned. But Tuttle and Ellhorn had tired of it, had sold their interest +to Mead, and ever since, as deputy United States marshals, had upheld +the arm of the law in its contests with the "bad men" of the frontier. +All three men were known far and wide for the marvelous quickness and +accuracy with which they could handle their guns. + +Main street was lined, in the vicinity of the two saloons, with knots +of men who talked in excited, repressed tones, as though they feared +to be overheard. These knots constantly broke up and reformed as men +hurried from one to another, but there was no crossing the street. +Each party kept to its own side, the Democrats on the east and the +Republicans on the west, and each constantly watched the other. The +women had all disappeared from Main street, gone scuttling home like +fowls, rushing to cover from a hailstorm, and the whole town was in a +state of strained expectancy, waiting for the battle to begin. When +the three friends came walking leisurely down the street, there were +nods and meaning glances on the Republican side and excited whispers +of "There they are!" "They are ready for work!" "That's what they are +all here together for!" "We'd better get ready for them!" + +On the Democratic side of the street it was declared that this was a +scheme of the cattle company to get Mead away from his ranch, so they +could do as they liked at the round-up, and that the Republicans had +planned the whole story of Will Whittaker's disappearance in order +that they might arrest Mead, kill him if he resisted, and inaugurate a +general slaughter of the Democrats if they should come to his help. + +The three friends went at once to the office of Judge Harlin, who was +Mead's lawyer, and Harlin and Mead had a long conference in private, +while Ellhorn and Tuttle talked on the sidewalk with the changing +groups of men. Beyond the surprised inquiry which each had darted into +the eyes of the other when they were first told of Whittaker's +disappearance, neither Tom Tuttle nor Nick Ellhorn had said a word to +each other, or exchanged a meaning look, as to the possibility of +Mead's guilt. They did not know whether or not he had killed the +missing man, and, except as a matter of curiosity, they did not +particularly care. If he had, they knew that either of them would have +done the same thing in his place. Whatever he might have done, he was +their friend and in trouble, and they would have put on belts and guns +and rushed to his assistance, even though they had known they would be +dropped in their tracks beside him. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Pierre Delarue, "Frenchy" Delarue, as all Las Plumas called him, had +been born and brought up in the south of France, whence he had +wandered to many parts of the earth. He had married and lived for +years in England, and, finally, he had come to Las Plumas with his +invalid wife in the hope that its healing airs might restore her to +health. But she had died in a few months, and he, perhaps because the +flooding sunshine and the brilliant skies of the southwestern plains +reminded him of the home of his youth, stayed on and on, went into +business, and became one of the prominent citizens of the town. The +leisurely, let-things-drift spirit of the region, which could be so +easily stirred to violent storms and ardent enthusiasms, was near akin +to his own volatile nature. Nobody in the town could be more quickly +and more thoroughly convinced by first appearances than he, and nobody +held opinions more volubly and more aggressively, so that from the +start he had assumed a leading place in the discussion of all public +matters. Although he had not taken even the first step toward +naturalization, he was active in the constantly sizzling political +life of the town, and along all that side of Main street there was +none more staunchly and violently Republican than he. + +He believed, and voiced his belief loudly and aggressively, that Will +Whittaker had been slain and that swift punishment should be visited +upon his murderer. The Gascogne nimbleness of tongue which enabled him +to express his conviction with volubility made him, all through that +excited day, the constant center of an assenting crowd. As night came +on, the groups of men all gathered about his store. By that time every +one among them was convinced that Emerson Mead had killed young +Whittaker. At first this theory had been a mere guess, a hazard of +probability. But it had been asserted and repeated and insisted upon +so many times during the day that every man on the west side of the +street had finally adopted it as his own original opinion, and by +nightfall refused to entertain any other explanation. Inside the +store, Delarue was expounding the necessity of swift retribution. Men +crowded in and packed the room to its last capacity. They made Delarue +get up on the counter, so that all could hear what he said. Those +outside struggled and pushed about the door. A man on the sidewalk +cried out: + +"We can't hear! Let's go to the hall and give everybody a chance!" + +The crowd gave instant response: "To the hall, so everybody can hear! +Let's go to the hall!" + +Those within took up the cry and drowned the speaker's voice with +cries of, "Let's go to the hall! Let's go to the hall!" + +Delarue stopped in his harangue and shouted: "Yes, my friends, let us +go to the hall and make this a public meeting of indignation against +the cowardly murder that has been done!" + +Out they rushed, and with Delarue in front, gesticulating and calling +to them to come on, they hurried to the public hall. A man quickly +mounted the platform and nominated Pierre Delarue for presiding +officer of the meeting. The crowd responded with yells of, "Yes, yes!" +"Of course!" "Go on, Frenchy!" "Hurrah for Frenchy!" There were many +Mexicans among them, and as Delarue stepped to his place, there was a +call for an interpreter and a young half-Mexican walked to the +platform. Some one was sent to hold guard at the door, with orders to +admit "no turbulent persons." Then Delarue began an impassioned +speech, pausing after each sentence for it to be translated into +Spanish. With each flaming outburst the "hurrahs" of the Americans +were mingled with the "vivas" of the Mexicans. + +The interpreter leaned far over the edge of the platform, swaying and +gesticulating as though the speech were his own, his face glowing with +excitement. The crowd yelled madly, while with flushed face, streaming +forehead, and heaving chest the speaker went on, each fiery sentiment +increasing his conviction in the righteousness of his cause, and the +cries of approval urging him to still more inflamed denunciation and +outright accusal. + +Those who had gathered in Judge Harlin's office and in and about the +Palmleaf saloon were closely watching developments. Two or three men +who mingled with the Republicans, and were apparently in sympathy with +them, came in occasionally by way of back doors, and reported all that +was being said and done. Emerson Mead talked in a brief aside with one +of these men, and presently he stepped out alone into the deserted +street. The other man hastened to the hall, took the place of the one +on guard, giving him the much-wished-for opportunity to go inside, and +when, hands in pockets, Mead strolled up, his confederate quickly +admitted him, and he stood unobserved in the semi-darkness at the back +of the room. A single small lamp on the speaker's table and one +bracketed against the wall on each side made a half circle of dusky +light about the platform, showing a mass of eager, excited faces with +gleaming eyes, while it left the rear part of the bare room in shadow. + +"I demand justice," cried the speaker, "upon the murderer, the +assassin of poor Will Whittaker! And I say to you, friends and +neighbors, that unless you now, at once, mete out justice upon that +murderer's head, there is no surety that justice will be done. To-day +you have seen him walking defiantly about the streets, armed to the +teeth, ready to plunge his hands still deeper into the blood of +innocent men. Your own lives may yet pay the penalty if you do not +stop his lawless career! Such a measure as he measures to others it is +right that you should measure to him!" + +There was an instant of solemn, breathless hush as the speaker leaned +forward, shaking an uplifted finger at the audience. Then some one on +a front seat cried out, "Emerson Mead! He ought to be lynched!" The +cry was a firebrand thrown into a powder box. The whole mass of men +broke into a yell: "Emerson Mead! Lynch him! Lynch the murderer!" The +speaker stood with uplifted hands, demanding further attention, but +the crowd was beyond his control. Moved by one impulse, it had sprung +to its feet, clamoring and yelling, "A rope! A rope! for Emerson +Mead!" + +Then, like men pierced through with sudden death, they halted in +mid-gesture, with shout half uttered, and stood staring, struck dumb +with amazement. For Emerson Mead, a half smile on his face, his hat +pushed back from his forehead, was walking quietly across the +platform. The speaker, turning to follow the staring eyes of his +audience, saw him just as he put out his hand and said, "How do you +do, Mr. Delarue!" The orator's jaw fell, his hands dropped nervelessly +beside him, and involuntarily he jumped backward, as if to shelter +himself behind the table. The interpreter leaped to the floor and +crouched against the platform. All over the hall hands went to +revolver butts in waistband, hip-pocket and holster. The dim light +shone back from the barrels of a score of weapons already drawn. Mead +faced the audience, the half smile still lingering about his mouth. + +"I understand," he said quietly, "that you want to lynch me. Well, I'm +here!" + +A sudden, bellowing voice roared through the room: "Stop in your +tracks, you cowards!" + +Judge Harlin, having guessed where Mead had gone, had just plunged +through the door and was shouldering his way up the aisle, his robust, +broad-backed frame, big head and bull neck dominating the crowd. +Behind him came Tom Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn, their guns in their +hands. A young Mexican, who was with them, leaped to the back of a +seat, and on light toes raced by Harlin's side from seat to seat, +interpreting into Spanish as he ran. + +"A nice lot you are!" shouted Judge Harlin. "A nice lot to prate about +law and order, and ready to do murder yourselves! That is what you are +preparing to do! Murder! As cold-blooded a murder as ever man did!" + +He mounted the platform and faced Delarue, while Tuttle and Ellhorn, +with revolvers drawn, stood beside Mead. + +"Better put your guns away, boys," whispered Mead. + +"Not much!" Ellhorn replied. "We can't draw as quick as you can!" + +"Let's go for 'em!" pleaded Tuttle in a whisper. "You and Nick and me +can down half of 'em before they know what's happened, and the other +half before they could shoot." + +"No, Tommy; it wouldn't do." + +"It would be the best thing that could happen to the town," he +grumbled back. "Say, Emerson, we'd better go for 'em before they make +a rush." + +"No, no, Tom; better not shoot. I tell you it wouldn't do!" + +"Well, if you say so, as long as they don't begin it. But they shan't +touch you while there's a cartridge left in my belt." + +The crowd, arrested and controlled, first by the spectacle of Mead's +audacity and then by the compelling roar of Judge Harlin's +denunciation, listened quietly, still subdued by its amazement, while +Harlin went on, standing beside Delarue and shaking at him an +admonishing finger. + +"Pierre Delarue, I am astonished that a good citizen like you should +be here inciting to murder! You have not one jot of evidence that +Emerson Mead killed Will Whittaker! You do not even know that +Whittaker is dead!" + +The crowd shuffled and muttered angrily at this defiance of its +conviction. It was returning to its former frame of mind, and was +beginning to feel incensed at the irruption into the meeting. + +"We do know it!" a man in the front row flamed out, his face working +with the violent back-rush of recent passion. "And we know Mead did +it!" another one yelled. Murmurs of "Lynch him! Lynch him!" quickly +followed. Tuttle and Ellhorn were white with suppressed rage, and +their eyes were wide and blazing. Tuttle was nervously fingering his +trigger guard. "Then bring your evidence into a court of law and let +unprejudiced men judge its value," Judge Harlin roared back. "Accusers +who have the right on their side are not afraid to face the law!" + +Mead caught the angry eye of a brutal-faced man directly in front of +him, and saw that the man's revolver was at full cock and his hand on +the trigger. In the flash that went from eye to eye he saw with surety +what would happen in another moment. And he knew what the sequence of +one shot would be. + +"Neighbors!" he shouted. "Jim Halliday has a warrant for my arrest. +I protest that it has been illegally issued, because there is no +evidence upon which it can be based. But to avoid any further trouble, +here and now, I will submit to having it served. I will not be +disarmed, and I warn you that any attempt of that sort will make +trouble. But I give you my word, for both myself and my friends, +that otherwise there shall be no disturbance." + +Judge Harlin shot at Mead a surprised look, hesitated an instant, +and then nodded approval. Tuttle and Ellhorn looked at him in +open-mouthed, open-eyed amazement for a moment, then dropped their +pistols to their holsters and stepped back. A sudden hush fell over +the crowd, which waited expectantly, no one moving. + +"I think Jim Halliday is here," Mead said quietly. "He has my word. He +can come and take me and there shall be no trouble, if he don't try to +take my gun." + +A stout, red-haired young man worked his way forward through the +crowded aisle to the platform and took a paper from his pocket. Mead +glanced at it, said "All right," and the two walked away together. The +crowd in the hall quickly poured out after them. Tuttle, his lips +white and trembling, looked after Mead's retreating figure and his +huge chest began to heave and his big blue eyes to fill with tears. He +turned to Ellhorn, his voice choking with sobs: + +"Emerson Mead goin' off to jail with Jim Halliday! Nick, why didn't he +let us shoot? He needn't have been arrested! Here was a good chance to +clean up more'n half his enemies, and he wouldn't let us do it!" He +looked at Ellhorn in angry, regretful grief, and the tears dropped +over his tanned cheeks. "Say, Nick," he went on, lowering his voice to +a hoarse whisper, "you-all don't think he was afraid, do you?" + +"Sure, and I don't," Ellhorn replied promptly. "I reckon Emerson Mead +never was afraid of anybody or anything." + +"Well, I'm glad you don't," Tom replied, his voice still shaking with +sobs. "I couldn't help thinkin' when he kept tellin' us not to shoot, +that maybe he was afraid, with all those guns in front and only us +four against 'em, and I said to myself, 'Good Lord, have I been +runnin' alongside a coward all these years!' And I was sure sick for a +minute. But I guess it was just his judgment that there'd better not +be any shootin' just now." + +Ellhorn looked over the empty hall with one eye shut. "Well, I reckon +there would have been a heap o' dead folks in this room by now if +we-all had turned loose." + +"About as many as we-all had cartridges," and Tuttle glanced at their +well-filled belts. He was silent a moment, while he wiped his eyes and +blew his nose, and his sobs gradually ceased. "No, Emerson couldn't +have been afraid. Though I sure thought for a minute I'd have to quit +him. But you're right, Nick. Emerson ain't afraid of anything, livin' +or dead. It was just his judgment. And Emerson's got powerful good +judgment, too. I ought to have known better than to think anything +else. But, Lord! I did hate to see that measly crowd sneakin' out of +here alive!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The next morning there were only faint traces of the excitement of the +day before. Men began to cross Main street from one side to the other, +at first with cautious, apprehensive glances that swept the hostile +territory and penetrated open doors and windows, but, as the day wore +quietly on, with increasing confidence and unconcern. At noon Colonel +Whittaker and Pierre Delarue walked over to the Palmleaf saloon, and +while they clinked the ice in their mint juleps, good-natured and +smiling, they leaned on the bar and chatted with the two or three +Democrats who were in the room. An hour or so later, Judge Harlin +strolled across to the White Horse saloon and called for a whisky +straight. Then all Las Plumas knew that the war was over and went +about its usual affairs as amiably as if the day before had never +been. + +At the breakfast table Pierre Delarue told his daughter about the +mass-meeting, its balked determination to lynch Emerson Mead, and +Mead's subsequent arrest. + +"But, Father, how could they be so sure that Mr. Mead killed him? Did +they have any evidence?" + +"Ah," he replied, shrugging his shoulders protestingly, "you women +never understand such things! Because Mead is a handsome young man and +looks good-natured, you think he can't possibly be a murderer. But it +is well known that he had killed more than one man before he murdered +poor Whittaker, and he is notorious as one of the worst cattle thieves +in the southwest." + +"Father! These are dreadful things! Do you know them to be true?" + +She looked across the table at him with horror in her face and eyes. +Delarue considered her indulgently. + +"Everybody knows them to be true. There is plenty of proof." + +"Then why hasn't he been arrested and tried and--punished?" + +"That is what many are saying now--why has he not been punished long +before this? People have been lenient with him for a long time, but he +has at last reached the end of his career. They are now determined +that a stop shall be put to his crimes and that he shall suffer the +punishment he has so long deserved." + +Marguerite was accustomed to having the remnants of her father's +down-town speeches served up at home, and her cooler judgment had +learned not to put much dependence upon them. She gave a perfunctory +assent and made another effort to reach facts. + +"Yes, Father, it is certainly very dreadful that such things should +be allowed to go unpunished. But did any one see him stealing the +Fillmore Company's cattle, and do they really know that he killed Mr. +Whittaker?" + +"The proof is as clear as any unprejudiced person need want. Will +Whittaker and some of his men caught Mead in the very act of driving +into his own herd a steer plainly marked with their brand. They +stopped him, and he foolishly tried to crawl out of his predicament +by accusing them of driving the branded steer into his herd. A most +absurd story! They had a quarrel, and Mead threatened to kill +Whittaker. Immediately after that Will disappeared and has not been +seen since. Evidently, he has been killed, and there is no one except +Mead, who had threatened to kill him, who could possibly have had any +motive for murdering him. The evidence may be circumstantial, but it +is conclusive. Besides, if Mead had not known that the case against +him was complete, he would not have given himself up last night as he +did. And if he had not done so he would certainly have been lynched. +The people were thoroughly aroused, and it was impossible to control +their indignation." + +A little shiver ran through Marguerite's frame and she turned away, +looking much disturbed. Her father patted her head indulgently. +"There, there, my dear child, these things do not concern you in the +least. Don't trouble yourself about public affairs." + +He hurried down-town and she sat alone, a little frown on her +forehead and her mouth drooping, as she thought: "I can not believe he +is a thief and a murderer, without more evidence than this. And +still--how can it be that so many men are so sure of his guilt +that--and he is in jail now--Oh, a thief and a murderer!" + +She hurried from the room calling, "Paul! Paul!" The boy ran in from +the veranda and she caught him in her arms and pressed him to her +bosom, kissing him over and over again and calling him her darling, +her treasure, and all the dear names with which womankind voices its +love, and at last, sobbing, buried her face in his flaxen curls. The +child put his arms about her head and patted her cheek and said, "Poor +sister! Poor Daisy!" until, frightened by her emotion, he too began to +cry. The necessity of soothing and comforting him gave her that +distraction which has been woman's chief comfort since woman first had +trouble. But her face was still sad and anxious when Wellesly appeared +on the veranda in the late afternoon. + +Albert Wellesly, who lived in Denver, disliked very much the +occasional visits to Las Plumas which his financial interests made +necessary. He was still on the under side of thirty, but his business +associates declared that he possessed a shrewdness and a capacity that +would have done credit to a man of twice his years. Possibly people +not infatuated with commercial success might have said that his +ability was nothing more than an unscrupulous determination to grab +everything in sight. Whatever it was, it had made him remarkably +successful. The saying was common among those who knew him that +everything he touched turned to gold. They also prophesied that in +twenty years he would be one of the financial giants of the country. +Las Plumas bored him to desperation, but on this occasion he thought +it would be the part of wisdom to stay longer than had been his first +intention. As long as the town was feverish with excitement he found +it endurable. But when the dullness of peace settled over the streets +again he walked about listlessly, wondering how he could manage to get +through the day. At last he thought of Miss Delarue. + +"That's so!" he inwardly exclaimed. "I can go and find out if the +English girl is in love with this handsome big fellow who has been +stealing my cattle. I suppose it will be necessary for me to drink a +cup of tea, but she will amuse me for an hour." + +Marguerite Delarue's friends always thought of her and spoke of her as +English, notwithstanding her French paternity. For her appearance and +her temperament she had inherited from her English mother, who had +given her also English training. Miss Delarue laughed at the forlorn +dejection of Wellesly's face and figure. + +"My face is a jovial mask," he gravely told her. "You should see the +melancholy gloom that shrouds my mind." + +"I hope nothing has happened," she exclaimed, with sudden alarm. + +"That's just the trouble, Miss Delarue. It's because nothing does +happen here, and I have to endure the aching void, that I am filled +with such melancholy." + +"Surely there was enough excitement yesterday and last night." + +"Ah, yesterday! That was something like! But it was yesterday, and +to-day the deadly dullness is enough to turn the blood in one's veins +to mud!" + +"Then everything is quiet down-town? There is no more danger of +trouble?" + +"There is no danger of anything, except that every blessed person in +the place may lie down in his tracks and fall into a hundred years' +sleep. I assure you, Miss Delarue, the town is as peaceful as the +plain out yonder, and birds in their little nests are not nearly so +quiet as are the valiant warriors of Las Plumas." + +"Oh, that is good! I am very glad, on my father's account. He is so +aggressive in his opinions that whenever there is any excitement of +this kind I am anxious about him until the trouble is over." She +hesitated a moment, her lips trembling on the verge of further speech, +and he waited for her to go on. "Mr. Wellesly," she said, a note of +uncertainty sounding in her voice, "you are not prejudiced by the +political feeling which colors people's opinions here. I wish you +would tell me what you think about this matter. Do you believe Mr. +Mead has killed Will Whittaker?" + +Wellesly noted her earnest expression and the intentness of her voice +and pose, and he decided at once that this was not mere curiosity. He +paused a moment, looking thoughtful. His keen, brilliant eyes were +bent on her face. + +"It's a hard question you've asked me, Miss Delarue. One does not like +to decide against a man in such serious accusations unless he can be +sure. The evidence against Emerson Mead, in this murder case, is all +circumstantial, it is true, but, at least to me, it is strongly +convincing." His eyes were almost closed, only a strip of brilliant +gray light showing between their lids, but he was watching her +narrowly. "We know that he has been stealing cattle from us. We have +found many bearing our brand among his herds. Our men have even caught +him driving them into his own bands. In fact, there is no doubt about +this matter. Emerson Mead is a cattle thief of the wiliest sort." He +paused a moment, noting the horrified expression on her downcast face. +But she did not speak, and he went on: + +"About this murder, if murder it is, of course nobody knows anything +with certainty. But in my judgment there is only one tenable theory of +Will Whittaker's disappearance, and that is, that he was murdered and +his body hidden. Mead is the only enemy he was known to have, and Mead +had threatened to kill him. The evidence, while, of course, not +conclusive, is shockingly bad for Mead." + +She looked away, toward the Hermosa mountains looming sharp and jagged +in the fierce afternoon sunlight, and he saw her lips tremble. Then, +as if her will caught and held them, the movements ceased with a +little inrush of breath. He lowered his voice and made it very kindly +and sympathetic as he leaned toward her and went on: + +"For your sake, I am very sorry for all this if Mr. Mead is a friend +of yours. He is a very taking young fellow, with his handsome face and +good-natured smile. But, also for your sake," and his voice went down +almost to a murmur, "I hope he is not a friend." + +There were tears in her eyes and distress, perplexity and pain in her +face as she turned impulsively toward him, as if grasping at his +sympathy. + +"I have it!" he thought. "She is in love with Mead! Now we'll find out +how far it has gone. Papa Frenchy couldn't have known of it." + +"I can not say he is a friend," she said slowly. "He is scarcely an +acquaintance. I have not met him, I think, more than half a dozen +times, and only a few minutes each time. But he has always been so +kind to my little brother that I find it hard to believe a man so +gentle and thoughtful with a child could be so--criminal." + +"Ah! Love at first sight, probably not reciprocated!" was Wellesly's +mental comment. "I guess it is a case in which it would be proper to +offer consolation, and watch the effect." Gradually he led the +conversation away from this painful topic and talked with her about +other places in which she had lived. Then they drifted to more +personal matters, to theories upon life and duty, and he spoke with +the warmest admiration of what he called the ideal principles by which +she guided her life and declared that they would be impossible to a +man, unless he had the good fortune to be stimulated and helped by +some noble woman who realized them in her own life. It was admiration +of the most delicate, impersonal sort, seemingly directed not to the +girl herself, but to the girl she had wished and tried to be. It set +Marguerite Delarue's heart a-flutter with pleasure. No one had ever +given her such open and such delicate admiration, and she was too +unsophisticated to conceal her delight. He smiled to himself at her +evident pleasure in his words, and, with much the same feeling with +which he might have cuddled a purring, affectionate kitten, he went a +step farther and made love--a very shadowy, intangible sort of love, +in a very indefinite sort of way. + +Albert Wellesly usually made love to whatever woman happened to be at +hand, if he had nothing else to do, or if he thought it would advance +his interests. With men he was keen and forceful, studying them +shrewdly, seeing quickly their weak points, turning these to his own +advantage, and helping himself over their heads by every means he +could grasp. In his dealings and relations with women he aimed at the +same masterful result, but while with men this might be attained in +many ways, with women he held there was but one way, and that was to +make love to them. + +Marguerite bade him good-by with the same deep pain still in her +heart, but pleased in spite of herself. His words had been laden +heavily with the honey of admiration of a sort that to her serious +nature was most pleasing, while about them had hovered the faintest, +most elusive aroma of love. In her thought, she went over their long +conversation again and again, and dwelt on all that he had said with +constant delight. For to women admiration is always pleasing, even +though they may know it to be insincere. To young women it is a wine +that makes them feel themselves rulers of the earth, and to their +elders it is a cordial which makes them forget their years. + +Marguerite Delarue had had little experience with either love or +admiration. Her heart had been virgin ground when her face had first +flushed under the look in Emerson Mead's brown eyes. And the first +words of love to fall upon her ears had been the uncertain ones of +Wellesly that afternoon. She conned them over to herself, saying that +of course they meant only that he was a high-minded gentleman who +admired high ideals. She repeated all that he had said on the subject +of Mead's guilt. + +"He seemed fair and unprejudiced," she thought, "but I can not believe +it without certain proof. I know more about Mr. Mead than some of +those who think they know so much, for I have seen him with my little +Bye-Bye, and until they can prove what they say I shall believe him +just as good as he seems to be." + +So she locked up in her heart her belief in Mead's innocence, saying +nothing about the matter to any one, till after a little that belief +came to be like a secret treasure, hidden away from all other eyes, +but in her own thought held most dear. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The jail at Las Plumas was a spreading, one-story adobe building, with +a large, high-walled court at the back. This wall was also of adobe, +some ten feet high and three feet thick, without an opening, and +crowned with a luxuriant growth of prickly-pear cactus. At certain +hours of the day the prisoners were allowed the freedom of this court, +while a guard kept on them an occasional eye. Behind the court, and +coming up to its very walls, was a small tract of land planted with +vegetables, flowers and fruit trees and worked by an old Mexican who +lived alone in a tiny hut at the farther end of the enclosure. + +For two days after the night of Emerson Mead's arrest his friends +tried every device known to the law to get him free of the prison +walls. But each attempt was cleverly met and defeated by the opposing +party, and he was still behind the bars. Then Nick Ellhorn and Thomson +Tuttle held a conference, and agreed that Mead must get back to his +ranch at once in order to save his affairs from further injury. + +"That's what they are doin' this thing for," said Nick, "so they +can get a good chance to steal all his cattle. And what they don't +steal they'll scatter over the plains till it will be more than +they're worth to get 'em together again. They think they can just +everlastingly do him up by keepin' him in jail for a month." + +Tuttle broke out with an indignant oath. "It's the meanest, +low-downest, dirtiest, measliest trick they've ever tried to do, and +that's sayin' a whole heap! But they'll find out they've got more to +buck against than they're a-lookin' for now!" + +"You bet they will! They've got to travel mighty fast if they keep up +with this procession! Talk about measly tricks! Tom, that Fillmore +outfit's the biggest cattle thief in the southwest. It's just plum' +ridiculous to hear them talk about Emerson stealin' their cattle! Why, +if he'd stayed up nights to steal from them he couldn't have got even +for what they've taken from him." + +They talked over the plan Ellhorn had proposed and when it was all +arranged Tuttle asked, "Shall we tell the judge?" + +"Tell nothin' to nobody!" Nick exclaimed. "The judge will find it out +soon enough, and if we don't tell him he won't bother us with advice +to give it up. We've got some horse sense, Tommy, and I reckon we-all +can run this here excursion without help from any darn fool lawyer in +the territory. If they'd left it to us in the first place, we'd have +had Emerson at home long before this." + +"I guess we-all can play our part of this game if Emerson can play +his." + +"Don't you worry about Emerson. He's ready to ride the devil through +hell to get back to his round-up." + +The next morning Nick Ellhorn hunted up the Mexican who worked the +garden behind the jail and talked through the enclosure with the old +man, who was crippled and half blind. Ellhorn talked with him about +the garden and finally said he would like to eat some onions. The +Mexican pulled a bunch of young green ones for him, and he sat down on +a bench under a peach tree near the wall of the jail-court to eat +them. He sent the Mexican back to his hut for some salt, and at once +began whistling loudly the air of "Bonnie Dundee." Presently he broke +into the words of the song and woke the echoes round about, as he and +Emerson Mead had done on many a night around the camp-fire on the +range: + + "Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, + Come saddle my horse and call out my men." + +There he stopped and waited, and in a moment a baritone voice on the +other side of the wall took up the song: + + "Come ope the west port and let us go free + To follow the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee!" + +Ellhorn went on singing as he threw one of his onions, then another, +over the wall. One of them came sailing back and fell beside the +peach tree. Then he took a slip of folded paper from his pocket, tied +it to another onion and sent it over the cactus-crowned adobe. The +Mexican returned with the salt and they sat down together under the +tree, chatting sociably. Presently Mead's voice came floating out from +behind the wall in the stirring first lines of the old Scotch ballad: + + "To the lords of convention, 'twas Claverhouse spoke: + 'If there are heads to be crowned, there are heads to be broke!'" + +Nick chuckled, winked at the old Mexican, and hurried off to find +Tuttle. + +That evening, soon after the full darkness of night had mantled the +earth, Nick Ellhorn and Tommy Tuttle rode toward the jail, leading an +extra horse. Ellhorn gave Tuttle a lariat. + +"You'd better manage this part," he said in a low tone. "My arm's not +strong enough yet to be depended on in such ticklish matters. I tried +it to-day with my gun, and it's mighty near as steady as ever for +shooting, but I won't risk it on this." + +They rode into the Mexican's garden and Ellhorn stood with the extra +horse under the drooping branches of the peach tree. They listened and +heard the sound of a soft whistling in the _patio_, as if some one +were idly walking to and fro. + +"That's him!" Ellhorn whispered excitedly. "That's what I told him to +be doing at just this time! He's listening for us!" Ellhorn whistled +softly several bars of the same air, which were at once repeated from +within. Tuttle rode beside the wall and threw over it the end of his +lariat. He waited until the whistling ceased, and then, winding the +rope around the pommel, he struck home the spurs and the horse leaped +forward, straining to the work. It was a trained cow-pony, Mead's own +favorite "cutting-out" horse, and it answered with perfect will and +knowledge the urging of Tuttle's spurs. With a soft "f-s-s-t" the rope +wore over the top of the wall and Mead's tall form stood dimly +outlined behind the battlement of cactus. He untied the rope from his +waist, threw it to the ground, and with foot and fist thrust aside the +bristling, sharp-spined masses, dropped over the outer edge, hung at +full length by his hands for an instant, and landed in the soft earth +at the bottom. + +They heard his name called inside the _patio_. It was the guard, who +had just missed him. As they quickly mounted there came over the wall +the sound of hurrying feet and the rapid conference of excited voices. +Mead shot his revolver into the air and Ellhorn, lifting his voice to +its loudest and fullest, sang: + + "Come ope the west port and let us go free + To follow the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee!" + +"Whoo-oo-oo-ee-ee!" + +Spur met with flank and the three horses bounded forward, over the +fence of the Mexican's garden, and up the street at a breakneck +gallop. They clattered across the _acequia_ bridge and past Delarue's +place, where Mead, eagerly sweeping the house with a sidewise glance, +had a brief glimpse of a brightly lighted room. Instantly his memory +went back, as it had done a thousand times, to that day, more than a +year before, when he had stood at the door of that room and had first +seen Marguerite Delarue. As they galloped up the street the vision of +the room and of the girl came vividly back--the inviting, homelike +room, with its easy-chairs, its pictures and shaded lamps, its tables +with their tidy litter of papers and fancy work, its pillowed lounges, +and deep cushioned window-seats, and the tall, anxious-eyed girl with +the sick child in her arms, held close to her breast. Unconsciously he +turned his head, possessed for the moment by the vision, and looked +back at the dark mass of the house and trees, lighted by the one +gleaming window. + +"Think they'll follow us?" asked Tuttle, noticing the movement. + +"Who? Oh! No, I guess not." + +Beyond the town, in the edge of the rising plain, they drew rein and +listened for the sound of pursuing hoof-beats. Facing their horses +roundabout, they bent forward, their hands hollowed behind their ears. +Out of the darkness, where it was gemmed by the lights of the town, +came the sound of galloping horses. + +"They're after us!" cried Nick. "Three of 'em!" + +Mead took off his sombrero and as his left hand sent it twirling +through the air, a vague, black shape in the darkness, his right drew +his revolver from its holster and three quick, sharp explosions +flashed through the night. A pressure of his heels, and he was leaning +far over from his darting horse and snatching the hat as it barely +touched the gray earth. He held it up toward the sky and in the +starlight three bullet holes showed dimly through the crown, inside +the space a silver dollar could cover. Ellhorn waved his hat and sent +his peculiar "Whoo-oo-ee-e!" back through the darkness toward the +town. They listened again and heard the pursuing horsemen clattering +over the _acequia_ bridge and into the street through which they had +come. + +"I reckon we could keep ahead of 'em if we wanted to," said Mead, "but +we'll make the pass, and then if they are still following we'll teach +them some manners." + +Ellhorn shouted out again his yell of defiance and clicked the trigger +of his gun to follow it with a challenging volley of bullets, but Mead +stopped him with a cautioning word that they might need all their +cartridges. + +They spurred their horses forward again and galloped over the rolling +foothills, neck to neck and heel to heel. The cool, dry night air +streamed into their faces, braced their nerves and filled their hearts +with exultation. Behind them they could hear the hoof-beats of their +pursuers, now gaining on them and again falling behind. On and on they +went, sometimes sending back a defiant yell, but for the most part +riding silently. They reached the steep grade leading to the mountain +pass and eased their horses, letting them walk slowly up the incline. +But the others took it at a furious pace, and presently, at the +entrance to the pass, a voice shouted Mead's name and ordered him to +halt. Mead, laughing aloud, sent a pistol ball whizzing back through +the darkness. Ellhorn and Tuttle followed his example, and their three +pursuers discharged a volley in concert. The fugitives put spurs to +their horses, and, turning in their saddles, fired rapidly back at the +vague, moving shapes they could barely see in the darkness. Ellhorn +heard an angry oath and guessed that somebody had been injured. The +bullets whistled past their ears, and now and then they heard the dull +ping of lead against the rocky walls of the narrow pass. Their horses +had kept their wind through the slow walk up the hill and sprang +forward with fresh, willing speed. But the others had been exhausted +by the fierce gallop up the steep ascent, and could not hold the pace +that Mead and his friends set for them. Slowly the officers fell back, +until they were so far in the rear that they ceased shooting. Mead, +Tuttle and Ellhorn put away their revolvers and galloped on in +silence for some distance before they stopped to listen. Far back in +the darkness they could hear the faint footfalls of the three horses. + +"They blowed their horses so bad comin' up the hill," said Mead, "that +they'll never catch up with us again. I reckon they won't try now. +They'll stay in Muletown to-night and go on to the Fillmore ranch +to-morrow." + +"If they don't turn round and go back," said Ellhorn. "I don't believe +they'll want to try this thing on at the ranch." + +"We'll sure be ready for 'em if they show up there," said Tuttle, the +grim note of battle in his voice. + +Ellhorn laughed joyously. "I guess we're just goin' to everlastingly +get even with that Fillmore outfit!" + +"Well, it will keep us busy, but we'll do our best," Mead cheerfully +assented. + +They galloped down the long eastern declivity of the mountain, +stopping once at a miner's camp, a little way off the road, to water +and breathe their horses. A little later they stopped to listen again, +but they could not catch the faintest sound of hoof-beats from the +mountain side. They did not know whether their pursuers had turned +about and gone back to Las Plumas, or were taking the road leisurely, +intending to stop at Muletown until morning. + +On again they galloped, neck to neck and heel to heel, with the +starry sky above and the long level of the plain before them. Mead +glanced to the north, where the Big Dipper, pivoted on the twinkling +pole star, was swinging its mighty course through the blue spaces of +the sky, and said, "It's about midnight, boys." The dim, faintly +gleaming, dusty gray of the road contracted to a lance-like point in +front of them and sped onward, seeming to cleave the wall of darkness +and open the way through which they galloped. The three tall, +broad-shouldered, straight-backed figures sat their horses with +constant grace, galloping abreast, neck to neck and heel to heel, +without pause or slackened pace. The rhythmical, resounding hoof-beats +made exhilarating music for their ears, and now and again Ellhorn's +yell went calling across the empty darkness or the sound of Mead's or +Tuttle's gun cleft the air. On and on through the night they went, +their wiry ponies with ears closely laid and muscles strained in +willing compliance, the starry sky above and the long level of the +plain behind them. + +At Muletown they stopped to water their horses at the brimming +pump-trough in the plaza and, as the thirsty creatures drank, Ellhorn +glanced at the swinging starry Dipper in the northern sky again and +said, "I reckon it's three o'clock, boys." Then on they went, +clattering down the long adobe street, flanked by dim houses, dark and +silent; and out into the rising edge of the plain, where it lifted +itself into the uplands. The black silence was unbroken now save as a +distant coyote filled the night with its yelping bark, or a low word +from one or another of the riders told of human presence. On and on +they galloped, neck to neck and heel to heel, without pause or +slackened pace. At last they swerved to the right and began mounting +the low, rolling foothills of the Fernandez mountains. The cold night +air, dry and sharp, stung their faces and cooled the sweating flanks +of their horses. The creatures' ears were bent forward, as if they +recognized their surroundings, and their springing muscles were still +strong and willing. Over the hills they galloped, the lance-like point +of the road cleaving the black wall in front and the hoof-beats +volleying into the silence and darkness behind them. + +The gray walls of an adobe house took dim shape in the darkness, and +beyond it a mass of trees, their leaves rustling in the night wind, +told of running water. The three men halted and with lowered bridles +allowed their horses to drink. + +"Is this old Juan Garcia's ranch?" Tuttle asked. + +"Yes," Mead replied, "old Juan still lives here. And a very good old +fellow he is, too. He isn't any lazier than he has to be, considering +he's a Mexican. He keeps his ranch in pretty good order, and he raises +all the corn and _chili_ and wheat and _frijoles_ that he needs +himself and has some to sell, which is a very good record for a +Mexican." + +"What's become of his pretty daughter?" asked Ellhorn. "Is she married +yet?" + +"Amada? She's still here, and she's about the prettiest Mexican girl I +ever saw. She's a great belle among all the Mexicans from Muletown to +the other side of the Fernandez mountains, and with some of the +Americans, too. Will Whittaker used to hang around here a good deal, +and Amada seemed to be pretty well stuck on him." + +Again the horses sprang to the pace they had kept so gallantly, and on +and on their hoofs flew over the low, rolling hills. The riders sat +their horses as if they were part and parcel of the beasts, horse and +rider with one will and one motion, and all galloping on with rhythmic +hoof-beats, neck to neck and heel to heel, without pause or slackened +pace, while the cold, dry night wind whistled past their ears and the +stars measured their courses through the violet blue of the bending +vault above. On they went over the slowly rising hills, and the +slender, silver sickle of the old moon shone brightly in the graying +east. Soon the mountains ranged themselves against the brightening +sky, and as they galloped, on and on, the stars vanished, and from out +the black void below the plain emerged, gray-green and grim, spreading +itself out, miles and miles into the distance, to the rimming mass of +mountains in the west. Still the hoof-beats rang out as the sky +blushed with the dawn and the cloud-flecks flamed crimson and the +peaks of the distant mountain range glittered with the first golden +rays. + +Neck to neck and heel to heel they galloped on over the faint track +of the road, which now they could see, winding over the hills in front +of them. The men spoke cheerily to the horses and patted their wet +sides, and the spirited beasts still bent willingly to their task. The +three riders sat erect, straight-shouldered, graceful in their saddles +and the gentle morning breeze bathed their faces as on they rode over +the hills, while the sun mounted above the Fernandez range and flooded +all the plain with its soft, early light. + +They swept around the curving bend in the road, where it half-circled +the corrals, and Ellhorn's lusty "Whoo-oo-oo-ee-ee" rang out as they +drew rein at Mead's door; Las Plumas, the night and ninety miles +behind them. Ellhorn's yell brought the cook to the door, coffee-pot +in hand, with two _vaqueros_ following close behind. One of these took +the horses to the stables and the three friends stood up against the +wall in the sunshine, stretching themselves. Mead took out his +pocket-knife and began cutting the cactus spines from his swollen +hands. + +"I'm glad to have a chance to get rid of these things," he said. +"They've been stinging like hornets all night." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Emerson Mead's ranch house was a small, white, flat-roofed adobe +building, with cottonwood trees growing all about it, and the water +from a spring on the hillside beyond, flowing in a little rill past +the kitchen door. Inside, on the whitewashed walls, hung the skins of +rattlesnakes, coyotes, wild cats, the feet, head and spread wings of +an eagle, and some deer heads and horns. There were also some colored +posters and prints from weekly papers. A banjo stood in one corner of +the dining room, while guns and revolvers of various kinds and +patterns and belts heavy with cartridges hung against the walls or +sprawled in corners. + +The cook and housekeeper was a stockily built, round-faced Englishman, +whom Mead had found stranded in Las Plumas. He had been put off the +overland train at that place because the conductor had discovered that +he was riding on a scalper's ticket. Mead had taken a liking to the +man's jovial manner, and, being in need of a cook, had offered him the +place. The Englishman, who said his name was Bill Haney, had accepted +it gladly and had since earned his wage twice over by the care he took +of the house and by the entertainment he afforded his employer. For +he told many tales of his life in many lands, enough, had they all +been true, to have filled the years of a Methuselah to overflowing. +Mead did not believe any of his stories, and, indeed, strongly +suspected that they were told for the purpose of throwing doubt upon +any clue to his past life which he might inadvertently give. +Good-natured and jovial though he was in face and talk and manner, +there was a look at times in his small, keen, dark eyes which Mead did +not like. + +As Haney bustled about getting a fresh breakfast for the three men he +said to Mead, "It's mighty lucky you've come 'ome, sir. There's been +merry 'ell 'erself between our boys and the Fillmore boys, and they're +likely to be killin' each other off at Alamo Springs to-day. They 'ad +shots over a maverick yesterday, and the swearin' they've been doin' +'ad enough fire and brimstone in it to swamp 'ell 'erself." + +Haney's conversation contained frequent reference to the abode of lost +spirits, and always in the feminine gender. Mead asked him once why he +always spoke of "hell" as "her," and he replied: + +"Well, sir, accordin' to my reckonings, 'ell is a woman, or two women, +or a thousand of 'em, accordin' as a man 'as made it, and bein' female +it 'as to be called 'er." + +As the three men mounted fresh horses after a hasty breakfast, Nick +Ellhorn said to Mead: + +"Emerson, you're in big luck that that confounded thug in the kitchen +hasn't cut your throat yet." + +"Oh, he won't do anything to me," Mead replied, smiling. "I reckon +likely he is a thug, or a crook of some sort, but he won't do me any +harm." + +"Don't you be too sure, Emerson," said Tuttle, looking concerned. +"It's the first time I've ever seen him, but I don't think I'd like to +have him around me on dark nights." + +"He is a good cook and he keeps the house as neat and clean as a woman +would. He won't try to do anything to me because I'm not big enough +game. He knows I never keep money at the ranch, and that I haven't got +very much, any way. Besides, he's seen me shoot, and I don't think he +wants to run up against my gun." + +They were hurrying to Alamo Springs, a watering place which Mead +controlled farther up in the Fernandez mountains, where they arrived +just in time to stop a pistol fight between the cow-boys of the +opposing interests, half-a-dozen on each side, who had quarreled +themselves into such anger that they were ready to end the whole +matter by mutual annihilation. + +Mead found that the round-up had progressed slowly during his absence. +There had been constant quarreling, occasional exchange of shots, and +unceasing effort on each side to retard the interests of the other. +The Fillmore Company had routed the cow-boys of the small cattlemen, +Mead's included, and for the last two days had prevented them from +joining in the round-up. Mead found his neighbors and their and his +employees disorganized, angry, and determined on revenge. Accompanied +by Tuttle and Ellhorn, he galloped over the hills all that day and the +next, visiting the camps on his own range and on the ranges of his +neighbors who were leagued with him in the fight against the Fillmore +Cattle Company. He smoothed down ruffled tempers, inquired into the +justice of claims, gave advice, issued orders, and organized all the +interests opposed to the cattle company into a compact, determined +body. + +After those two days there was a change in the way affairs were going, +and the allied cattlemen began to win the disputes which were +constantly coming up. There were not many more attempts to prevent the +round-up from being carried on in concert, but there was no lessening +of the bad temper and the bad words with which the work was done. Each +side constantly harassed and defied the other, and each constantly +accused the other of all the cattle-crimes known to the raisers of +hoofed beasts. The mavericks were an unfailing source of quarrels. +According to the Law of the Herds, as it is held in the southwest, +each cattleman is entitled to whatever mavericks he finds on his own +range, and none may say him nay. But the leagued cattle growers and +the Fillmore people struggled valiantly over every unbranded calf they +found scurrying over the hillsides. Each side accused the other of +driving the mavericks off the ranges on which they belonged, and the +_vaqueros_ belonging to each force declared that they recognized as +their own every calf which they found, no matter where or on whose +range it chanced to be, and they branded it at once with small saddle +irons if the other side did not prevent the operation. + +Mead was the leader of his side, and, guarded always by his two +friends, rode constantly over the ranges, helping in the bunching, +cutting-out and branding of the cattle, giving orders, directing the +movements of the herds and deciding quarrels. Colonel Whittaker came +out from Las Plumas, and was as active in the management of the +Fillmore Company's interests as was Emerson Mead for those of his +faction. Ellhorn and Tuttle would not allow Mead to go out of their +sight. They rode with him every day and at night slept by his side. If +he protested that he was in no danger, Ellhorn would reply: + +"You-all may not need us, but I reckon you're a whole heap less likely +to need us if we're right with you in plain view." + +And so they saw to it that they and their guns were never out of +"plain view." And, possibly in consequence, for the reputation of the +three as men of dare-devil audacity and unequalled skill with rifle +and revolver was supreme throughout that region, wherever the three +tall Texans appeared the battle was won. The maverick was given up, +the quarrel was dropped, the brand was allowed, and the accusation +died on its maker's lips if Emerson Mead, Tom Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn +were present or came galloping to the scene. + +The look of smiling good nature seldom left Mead's face, but his lips +were closely shut in a way that brought out lines of dogged +resolution. He was determined that the cattle company should recognize +as their right whatever claims he and his neighbors should make. +Tuttle and Ellhorn talked over the situation with him many times, and +they were as determined as he, partly from love of him and partly from +lust of fight, that the cattle company should be vanquished and +compelled to yield whatever was asked of it. But they took the +situation less seriously than did Mead, looking upon the whole affair +as something of a lark well spiced with the danger which they enjoyed. + +Ellhorn heard one day that Jim Halliday was at the Fillmore ranch +house, and they decided at once that his business was to lay hands +upon Mead. It was also rumored that several people from Las Plumas had +been riding over the Fernandez plain and the foothills of the +Fernandez mountains trying to find Will Whittaker's body or some clue +to his disappearance. The three friends learned that all these people +had been able to discover was that he had left the ranch on the +morning of his disappearance with a _vaquero_, a newly hired man who +had just come out of the Oro Fino mountains, where he had been +prospecting, in the hope of making another stake. A man had seen them +driving down through the foothills, but after that all trace of them +was lost. Old Juan Garcia and his wife, past whose house the road +would have taken them, had been away, gathering firewood in the hills, +but Amada, their daughter, had been at home all day, and she declared +she had seen nothing of them, and that she did not think they could +have gone past without her seeing them. It was accordingly argued that +whatever had happened must have taken place not far from the junction +of the main road with the road which led to Emerson Mead's ranch, and +all that region was searched for traces of recent burial. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The round-up was almost finished, and, so far, Emerson Mead had won +the day. Backed always by his two friends, he had compelled the +recognition of every general claim which had been made, and in most of +the daily quarrels his side had come out victor. + +Toward the end of the round-up, Mead and two _vaqueros_, accompanied +by Tuttle and Ellhorn, had worked all day, getting together a +scattered band of cattle, and at night had them bunched at a water +hole near the edge of his range. The next day they were to be driven a +few miles farther and joined with the droves collected by the Fillmore +Company's men and by two or three of his neighbors for the last work +of the spring round-up. In the evening one of the cow-boys was sent to +the ranch house with a message to the foreman, and a little later the +other was seized with a sudden illness from having drunk at an alkali +spring during the day. Mead, Tuttle and Ellhorn then arranged to share +the night in watches of three hours each with the cattle. Mead's began +at midnight. He saddled and mounted his horse and began the monotonous +patrol of the herd. + +There were some three hundred steers in the bunch of cattle. They lay, +sleeping quietly, so closely huddled together that there was barely +room for them to move. Occasionally, one lying at the outer edge got +up, stretched himself, nibbled a few bunches of grass, and then lay +down again. Now and then, as one changed his position, a long, blowing +breath, or a satisfied grunt and groan, came out of the darkness. When +Mead started his horse on the slow walk round and round the sleeping +herd the sky was clear. In its violet-blue the stars were blazing big +and bright, and he said to himself that the cattle would sleep quietly +and he would probably have an uneventful watch. He let the horse poke +round the circle at its own pace, while his thoughts wandered back to +his last visit to Las Plumas and hovered about the figure of +Marguerite Delarue as she stood beside her gate and took little Paul +from his hands. With a sudden warming of the heart he saw again her +tall figure in the pink gown, with the rose bloom in her cheeks and +the golden glimmer in her brown hair and the loving mother-look in her +eyes as she smiled at the happy child. But with a sigh and a shake of +the head he checked his thoughts and sent them to the mass-meeting and +the days he had spent in the jail. + +Presently it occurred to him that his watch must be nearly over and he +looked up at the Great Dipper, swinging on its north star pivot. Then +he smiled at himself, for it seemed scarcely to have changed position +since he had mounted his horse. "Not an hour yet," was his mental +comment. Clouds were beginning to roll up from the horizon, and he +could hear low mutterings of thunder and among the mountain tops see +occasional flashes of lightning. Soon the sky was heavily overcast, +and the darkness was so dense that it seemed palpable, like an +enveloping, smothering cover, which might almost be grasped in the +hands, torn down and thrown away. Mead could not see the horse's head, +so, letting the reins lie loosely on its neck, he allowed the animal +to pick its own way around the circle. + +The cattle began to show signs of nervousness, and from the huddled +mass there came sounds of uneasy movements. Mead urged his horse into +a quicker walk and with one leg over its neck as they went round and +round the herd, he sang to them in a crooning monotone, like a +mother's lullaby to a babe that is just dropping into dreamland. It +quieted the incipient disturbance, the rumbling thunder ceased for a +time, and after a little moving about the cattle settled down to sleep +again. + +Suddenly, without forerunner or warning, a vivid flash of lightning +cleft the clouds and a roar of thunder rattled and boomed from the +mountain peaks. And on the instant, as one animal, hurled by sudden +fright, the whole band of cattle was on its feet and plunging forward. +There was a snorting breath, a second of muffled noise as they sprang +to their feet, and the whole stampeded herd was rushing pell-mell +into the darkness. They chanced to head toward Mead, and he, idling +along with one leg over his saddle horn, with a quick jab of the spur +sent his pony in a long, quick leap to one side, barely in time to +escape their maddened rush. A second's delay and he and his horse +would have been thrown down by the sheer overpowering mass of the +frenzied creatures and trampled under their hoofs, for the horn of a +plunging steer tore the leg of his overalls as the mad animals passed. +Away went the herd, silent, through the dense blackness of the night, +running at the top of their speed. And Mead, spurring his horse, was +after them without a moment's loss of time, galloping close beside the +frightened beasts, alertly watchful lest they might suddenly change +their course and trample him down. They ran in a close mass, straight +ahead, paying heed to nothing, beating under their hoofs whatever +stood in their way. + +They rushed crazily on through the darkness which was so intense that +Mead's face seemed to cleave it as the head cleaves water when one +dives. He galloped so close to the running band that by reaching out +one arm he could almost touch one or another heaving side. But he +could see nothing, not a tossing horn nor a lumbering back of the +whole three hundred steers, except when an occasional flash of +lightning gave him a second's half-blinded glimpse of the plunging +mass. By hearing rather than by sight he could outline the rushing +huddle at his right hand. And watching it as intently as if it had +been a rattlesnake ready to strike, he galloped on by its side in a +wild race through the darkness, over the plain, up and down hills, +through cactus and sagebrush, over boulders and through treacherous, +tunneled prairie dog towns, plunging headlong into whatever might be +in front of them. + +From the rushing herd beside him there came the muffled roar of their +thousand hoofs, overtoned by the constant popping and scraping of +their clashing horns. The noise filled his ears and could not quite be +drowned even by the rattling peals of thunder. Swift drops of rain +stung his face and the water of a pelting shower dripped from his hat +brim and trickled from his boot heels. The beating rain, the vivid +flashes of lightning and the loud peals of thunder drove the maddened +creatures on at a still faster pace. Mead put frequent spurs to his +horse and held on to the side of the mob of cattle, bent only on going +wherever they went and being with them at the dawn, when it might be +possible to get them under control. + +They plunged on at a frenzied gallop through the darkness and the +storm, and when at last the sky brightened and a wet, gray light made +the earth dimly visible, Mead could see beside him a close huddle of +lumbering, straining backs and over it a tangle of tossing and +knocking horns. The crowding, crazy herd, and he beside it, were +rushing pell-mell down a long, sloping hill. With one keen, sweeping +glance through the dim light and the streaming rain he saw a clump of +trees, which meant water, at the foot of the hill, and near it a herd +of cattle, some lying down, and some standing with heads up, looking +toward him; while his own senseless mass of thundering hoofs and +knocking horns was headed straight toward them. + +With a whooping yell he dashed at the head of the plunging herd, sent +a pistol ball whizzing in front of their eyes and with a quick, sharp +turn leaped his horse to one side, barely in time to escape the hoofs +and horns of the nearest steer. They swerved a little, and making a +detour he came yelling down upon them again, with his horse at its +topmost speed, and sent a bullet crashing through the skull of the +creature in the lead. It dropped to its knees, struggled a moment, +fell over dead, and the herd turned a little more to the right. +Spurring his horse till it leaped, straining, with outstretched legs, +he charged the head of the rushing column again, and bending low fired +his revolver close over their heads. Again they swerved a little to +the right, and dashing past the foremost point he sent a pistol ball +into the eye of the leader. It fell, struggling, and with a sudden +jerk he swung the horse round on its hind legs and struck home the +spurs for a quick, long leap, for he was directly in the front of the +racing herd. As the horse's fore feet came down on the wet earth it +slipped, and fell to its knees, scrambled an instant and was up +again, and leaped to one side with a bleeding flank, torn by the horns +of the leading steer. The startled animals had made a more decided +turn to the right, and by scarcely more than a hand's breadth horse +and rider had escaped their hoofs. The crazy, maddened creatures +slackened their pace and the outermost ones and those in the rear +began to drop off, one by one, grazing and tailing off behind in a +straggling procession. Another rush, and Mead had the mob of cattle, +half turned back on itself, struggling, twisting and turning in a +bewildered mass. The stampeding impulse had been checked, but the +senseless brutes were not yet subdued to their usual state. + +Glancing down the hill to the clump of trees, he saw men rushing about +and horses being saddled. Shouting and yelling, he rushed again at the +turned flank of his herd, firing his pistol under their noses, forcing +the leaders this time to turn tail completely and trot toward the rear +of the band. The rest followed, and with another furious yell he +swerved them again to the right and forced them into a circle, a sort +of endless chain of cattle, trotting round and round. He knew they +would keep up that motion until they were thoroughly subdued and +restored to their senses, and would then scatter over the hillside to +graze. + +He had conquered the crazy herd of cattle, but four horsemen were +galloping up the hill, and he knew they were part of the Fillmore +Company's outfit. He reloaded his revolver, put it in its holster, +and rode a little way toward them. Then he checked his horse and +waited, with his back to the "milling" herd, for them to come near +enough to hail. Through the lances of the rain he could see that +one of the men was Jim Halliday, the deputy sheriff from Las Plumas, +who had arrested him on the night of the mass-meeting. Another he +recognized as the Fillmore Company's foreman, and the two others +he knew were cow-boys. One of these he saw was a red-headed, +red-whiskered Mexican known as Antone Colorow--Red Antony--who was +famous in all that region for the skill with which he could throw the +lariat. His eye was accurate and his wrist was quick and supple, and +it was his greatest pride in life that the rope never missed landing +where he meant it should. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The thunder clap which frightened the herd of cattle also roused +Tuttle and Ellhorn, and through half-awakened consciousness they heard +the noise of the stampede. + +"What's that! The cattle?" exclaimed Tuttle, rising on his elbow. +Ellhorn jumped to his feet. + +"Tom, there goes ten thousand dollars on the hoof and a-runnin' like +hell!" + +"Where are the horses? Come on, Nick! Buck! Buck! Hello, Buck! Whoa! +Here's mine, Nick! Yours is over by the chuck wagon!" + +Fumbling in the darkness, they hurried to release and saddle the +hobbled horses, and, calling to the sick cow-boy that when the foreman +should come in the morning he must make haste after them, they jumped +upon the ponies and set out on the gallop through the darkness to +trail the noise of the running cattle. With every flash of lightning +Nick Ellhorn looked about with keen, quick glances, and with +half-blinded eyes located mountain peaks and arroyos, considered the +direction in which they were headed, and the general lay of the land, +and after a time he broke out with a string of oaths: + +"Tommy, them cow-brutes are headed straight for Sweetwater Springs, +and the Fillmore outfit's camped there to-night! Jim Halliday is +there, and so is that measly Wellesly, if he hasn't gone back to town. +He was out here two days ago. Emerson and the cattle will sure strike +the Springs just about daylight, if they keep up their gait and +nothing stops 'em!" + +Tuttle swore angrily under his breath. "That's just the snap they've +been waitin' for all this time! Their only show to get Emerson, or to +kill him either, is to come down on him half a dozen to one, and they +know it. Well, if they kill him he won't be the first to drop--nor the +last, either," he added with a little break in his voice, as he gave +his sombrero a nervous pull over his forehead. + +"I reckon," Ellhorn replied, "they don't want to kill Emerson, as long +as you and me are alive. They know what would happen afterward. Jim +Halliday has got that same old warrant over there, and what they want +to do is to shut him up in jail again." + +The first stinging drops of rain dashed in their faces and they +buttoned their coats and galloped on in silence. Tuttle was the first +to speak again: + +"What's that scrub Wellesly doing out here?" + +"I don't know, unless he came to bring 'em some brains. They need some +bad enough. Wellesly and Colonel Whittaker have been ridin' around +over the range for the last two or three days, though I didn't know +about it till yesterday. I guess they've been so everlastingly beaten +on every proposition that he thought he'd better come out himself and +see if he couldn't save the day for 'em on something." + +They hurried on in the trail of the roar from the stampeding herd, but +suddenly Ellhorn's horse struck his fore feet on the slope of a wet +and slippery mound beside a prairie dog's hole. Before the animal +could recover, its feet slid down the bank into the mouth of the hole +with a forward jerk, and it came down with a groaning cry of pain. +Ellhorn rose to his feet in the stirrups, and as the horse struck the +ground he stood astride its body and with a quick leap jumped to one +side unhurt. By the light of a match, which Tuttle sheltered under his +sombrero, standing bareheaded, meanwhile, with the rain running in +streams down his neck, Ellhorn examined the fallen horse. + +"He's broke both his forelegs, Tom. There's only one thing to do with +him, now." + +Tuttle stroked the beast's nose. "I reckon so, Nick. You-all better do +it." Then he turned away, while Ellhorn put his revolver to the +horse's head and ended its pain. + +"Now, Tom, you go on after Emerson as fast as you can and I'll hoof it +back to camp and get Bob's horse." + +"No, you-all jump on behind me, Nick, and we'll go on together. +Emerson will need us both in the morning. If that crowd gets after him +maybe he can stand 'em off till we-all get there. But he'll need us by +daylight, Nick." + +"I 'low you're right, Tommy, but ain't you on that horse that always +bucks at double?" + +"Yes, but I reckon he'll have to pack double, if you and me fork him." + +"You bet he will!" and Ellhorn leaped to the horse's back behind +Tuttle. "Whoo-oo-ee-ee!" Two pairs of spurs dug the horse's flank and +a rein as tight as a steel band held its head so high that bucking was +impossible. The horse jumped and danced and stood on its hind legs and +snorted defiance and with stiffened legs did its best to hump its back +and dismount its unwelcome double burden. It might as well have tried +to get rid of its own mane. The riders swayed and bent with its motion +as if they were a part of its own bounding body. Tuttle gave the +animal its head just enough to allow it to work off its disapproval +harmlessly, and for the rest, it did nothing that he did not allow it +to do. Finally it recognized the mastery, and, pretending to be +dreadfully frightened by a sudden vivid flash of lightning, it started +off on a run. + +"Hold on there, old man!" said Tuttle. "This won't do with two heavy +weights on top of you. You've got to pack double, but you'd better go +slow about it." + +[Illustration: "WITH A WHOOPING YELL, HE DASHED AT THE HEAD OF THE +PLUNGING HERD"--_p. 82_] + +Calming the horse down to a quick trot, they hurried on in the wake of +the stampede. They had lost all sound of the herd, and the trail which +the ploughing hoofs had made at the beginning of the storm had been +nearly obliterated by the beating rain. Once they thought they +caught the sound again and must be off the track. They followed it and +found it was the roaring of a high wave coming down an arroyo from a +cloudburst farther up in the mountain. Hurrying back, they kept to the +general direction the cattle had taken until the trail began to show +more plainly in the soaked earth, like a strip of ploughed land across +the hills. When they reached the next arroyo, they found it a torrent +of roaring water. The greater part of the cloudburst had flowed down +this channel, and where Mead and the cattle had to cross merely wet +sand and soaked earth, they would have to swim. + +"See here, Tom," said Ellhorn, "two's too much for this beast in the +water. You take care of my belt and gun and I'll swim across." + +"That's a mighty swift current, Nick. Don't you think we-all can make +it together?" + +"I don't want to take any chances. Buck can get across with you all +right, but if he's got us both on him he might go down and then we'd +have to follow Emerson on foot. We're coverin' ground almighty slow, +anyway. I'm the best swimmer, and you-all can take care of my boots +and gun." + +They waited a few moments for a flash of lightning to show them the +banks of the arroyo. By its light they saw a water course thirty feet +wide and probably ten feet deep, bank-full of a muddy, foaming flood, +in which waves two feet high roared after one another, carrying clumps +of bushes, stalks of cactus, bones, and other debris. As they plunged +into the torrent, Ellhorn seized the tail of Tuttle's horse, and, +holding it with one hand and swimming with the other, made good +progress. But in mid-stream a big clump of mesquite struck him in the +side, stunning him for an instant, and he let go his hold upon the +pony's tail. A high wave roared down upon him the next moment, and +carried him his length and more down stream. He fought with all his +strength against the swift current, but, faint and stunned, could +barely hold his own. He shouted to Tuttle, who was just landing, and +Tom threw the end of his lariat far out into the middle of the stream. +Ellhorn felt the rope across his body, grasped it and called to Tuttle +to pull. + +"Tommy," he said, when safe on land, "I hope we'll find the whole +Fillmore outfit just a-walkin' all over Emerson. I don't want more'n +half an excuse to get even with 'em for this trip. Sure and I wish I +had 'em all here right now! I'm just in the humor to make sieves of +'em!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Emerson Mead waited until the four horsemen were within two hundred +yards of him, and then he called out a good-natured "hello." The +others checked their horses to a slow walk, and after a moment one of +them hastily shouted an answering salutation. Mead instantly called in +reply: + +"I reckon you'd better stay where you are, boys. We can talk this way +just as well as any other." The others halted and he went on: "Suppose +you say, right now, whether you want anything particular." + +They looked at one another, apparently surprised by this speech, and +presently the foreman said: + +"We thought you must be having trouble with your cattle. Stampede on +you?" + +"They're all right now. They're 'milling,' and won't give me any more +trouble. But I reckon you didn't ride up here to ask me if my cattle +had stampeded. You better talk straight just what you do want." + +They hesitated again, looking at one another as if their plans had +miscarried. "They expected I'd begin poppin' at 'em and give 'em an +excuse to open out on me all at once," Mead thought. Then he called +out: + +"Jim, you out here to buy some cattle? Can I sell you some of mine?" + +"You know I don't want to buy cattle," Halliday replied, sulkily. + +"No? Then maybe you've come to ask me if it's goin' to rain?" Mead +smilingly replied. + +"I reckon you know what I want, Emerson Mead," Halliday said angrily, +as if nettled by Mead's assured, good-natured tone and manner. "You +know you're a fugitive from justice, and that it's my duty to take you +back to jail." + +"Oh, then you want me!" said Mead, as if greatly surprised. + +"That's what, old man!" Halliday's voice and manner suddenly became +genial. He thought Mead was going to surrender, as he had done before. +He had no desire for a battle, even four to one, with the man who had +the reputation of being the best and coolest shot in the southwest, +for he knew that he would be the first target for that unerring aim, +and he was accordingly much relieved by the absence of defiance and +anger in Mead's manner. + +"You want me, do you?" said Mead, his voice suddenly becoming +sarcastic. "Is that what you've been waitin' around the Fillmore ranch +the last three weeks for? Why didn't you come straight over to my +house and say so, like a man who wasn't afraid? You want me, do you? +Well, now, what are you goin' to do about it?" There was a taunt in +Mead's tone that stirred the others to anger. Mead knew perfectly +well what his reputation was, and he knew, too, that they were afraid +of him. + +"You won't surrender?" + +"Whenever you've got any evidence for a warrant to stand on I'll give +myself up. I let you take me in before to stop trouble, but I won't do +it again, and you, and all your outfit, had better let me alone. I'm +not goin' to be run in on any fool charge fixed up to help the +Fillmore Company do me up. That's all there is about it, and you-all +had better turn tail and go back to camp." + +While he was speaking the foreman said something to Antone Colorow, +and the man left the group and trotted away toward Mead's left as if +he were going back to camp. Without seeming to notice his departure, +Mead watched the cow-boy's actions from a corner of his eye while he +listened to Jim Halliday: + +"Now, Emerson, be reasonable about this matter and give yourself up. +You know I've got to take you in, and I don't want to have any +gun-fight over it. The best thing you can do is to stand trial, and +clear yourself, if you can. That'll end the whole business." + +Antone Colorow turned and came galloping back, his lariat in his hand. +Mead's revolver was still untouched in his holster, and his horse, +standing with drooping mane and tail, faced Halliday and the others. +The cow-boy came galloping through the rain from Mead's left, and so +far behind him that he could barely see the man from the corner of +his eye. He was apparently unconscious of Antone's approach as he +quietly replied to Halliday, but his fingers tightened on the bridle, +and the horse, answering a closer pressure of heel and knee, suddenly +lifted its head and stiffened its lax muscles into alertness. + +"I'd hate to make you lose your job, Jim," said Mead, smiling, "but +you can't expect a fellow to let himself be arrested for nothing, just +so you can keep a soft snap as deputy sheriff. You get some evidence +against me, and then I'll go with you as quiet as any maverick you +ever saw." + +As Mead spoke he was listening intently. He heard Antone's horse stop +a little way behind him, and, as the last word left his lips, the hiss +of the rope through the air. With a dig of the spurs and a sharp jerk +of the bridle the horse reared. The noose fell over Mead's head, but +his revolver was already in his hand, and with a turn as quick as a +lightning flash he swung the horse round on its hind legs in a quarter +circle and before the astounded Mexican could tighten the loop there +were two flashing reports and a bullet had crashed through each wrist. +Antone's arms dropped on his saddle, and through the shrill din of the +mingled Spanish and English curses he shrieked at Mead came the sharp +cracking of three revolvers. Emerson Mead felt one bullet whistle +through his sleeve and one through the rim of his sombrero, as, with +the rope still on his shoulders, he whirled his horse round again +with his smoking revolver leveled at Halliday. + +"Whoo-oo-oo-ee-ee!" Ellhorn's long-drawn-out yell came floating down +from the top of the hill and close on its heels the report of a +pistol. + +"That was a very pretty trick, Emerson," said the foreman, in a voice +which tried hard to sound unconcerned, "even if it was my man you +played it on." + +"It will be played on you if you make another break," Mead replied in +an even tone, with his revolver still leveled at Halliday. He turned +his horse slightly so that a sidewise glance up the hill showed Tom +Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn, guns in hand, both astride one horse, coming +toward them on a gallop. Tuttle's deep-lunged voice bellowed down the +slope: + +"We're a-comin', Emerson! Hold 'em off! We're a-comin'!" and another +pistol ball sung through the rain and dropped beside Halliday's horse. +Mead flung the rope from his shoulders and grinned at Halliday and his +party. + +"Well, what are you going to do now? Do you want to fight?" + +Halliday put his gun in its holster: "I don't want any pitched battle +over this business. We'll call the game off for this morning." + +"It's all right, boys," Mead yelled to his friends. "Don't shoot any +more." + +"You're a fool, Emerson," Halliday went on, "or you'd give yourself +up, go down to Plumas and clear yourself,--if you can--and have this +thing over with. For we're goin' to get you yet, somehow." + +Antone Colorow spurred his horse close to Mead and with all the varied +and virulent execration of which the cow-boy is capable shouted at +him: + +"Yes, and if they don't get you, I will! I come after you till I get +you, and I come a-smoking every time! You won't need a trial after I +get through with you! You've done me up, but I'll get even and more +too!" + +Mead listened quietly, looking the man in the eye. "Look here," he +said, "what did you reckon would happen to any man who tried to rope +me? Did you think I'd let you-all drag me into camp at your horse's +tail? I'm sorry I had to do that, but I didn't want to kill you. Here, +Jim, you fellows better tie up Antone's wrists." Mead offered his own +handkerchief to help out the bandages, and, suddenly remembering the +whisky flask in his breast pocket, took it out and told the wounded +man to finish its contents. + +While this was going on Tuttle and Ellhorn rode up. The rain had +stopped, and through a rift in the eastern clouds the level, red rays +of the sun were shining. Mead met their eager, anxious faces with a +smile. + +"It's all right, boys. Jim says the game's off for this morning." + +Nick and Tom turned black and scowling looks on Halliday and his +party, and the deputy sheriff, manifestly nervous, rode toward them +with an exaggeratedly genial greeting: + +"Howdy, boys! Put up your guns! We ain't goin' to have any gun-fight +this morning." + +"How do you know we ain't?" growled Tom. + +"Well, Emerson says so," he replied, with an apprehensive glance at +Mead. + +"Well," said Nick, "if Emerson says so it's all right. But we've had a +devil of a ride, and we'd like to get square somehow!" + +Mead laughed. "You can tally up with Jim, who's going to lose his job +because I'm too mean to let him run me in." + +Tuttle and Ellhorn turned grimly joyous faces toward Halliday. "If you +want to arrest Emerson this morning," said Ellhorn, "just begin right +now! We're three to three! Come on now and try it!" + +The officer edged his horse away: "I'll wait till the round-up is +over. Then you can't have the excuse that the Fillmore Company's doing +it. But I'll have him yet, and don't you forget it!" + +"Just like you got him this time!" taunted Ellhorn. + +Halliday turned back a red and angry face: "I'll have him," he yelled, +"if I have to kill the whole damned three of you to get him!" + +A derisive shout of laughter was the only answer he received as he and +his party galloped back to camp. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +After the round-up was finished Emerson Mead and his two friends +started, with two _vaqueros_, to drive a band of cattle to Las Plumas +for shipment. When they reached Juan Garcia's ranch Mead remembered +that he wished to see the old Mexican, and the two cow-boys were sent +on with the cattle while he and Tuttle and Ellhorn tied their horses +in the shade of the cottonwoods at the foot of the hill. They found +Amada Garcia leaning on her folded arms across the window-sill and +making a picture in the frame of the gray adobe walls that was very +good to see. + +It is not often that the senorita of the southwest can lay claim to +any more of beauty than glows in midnight hair and eyes. But Amada +Garcia was one of the favored few. Her short, plump figure was rounded +into dainty curves and her oval face, with its smooth, brown skin, its +dimples, its regular features, its little, rosebud, pouting mouth, and +its soft, black, heavy-lidded eyes, was alluring with sensuous beauty. +A red handkerchief tied into a saucy cap was perched on her shining, +black hair, and her black dress, carelessly open a little at the neck, +showed a full, soft, brown throat. + +She received the three men with that dignified courtesy that is never +forgotten in the humblest Mexican adobe hut, but she tempered its +gravity with many coquettish glances of her great black eyes. They +talked in Spanish, the only language Amada knew, which the men spoke +as readily as they did their own. No, her father was not at home, she +said. He had gone to Muletown and would not be back until night. But +was it the wish of the senores to be seated and rest themselves from +their travel and refresh themselves with a drink of cool water? Mead +presented Tuttle, who had never seen the girl before, and Amada said, +with many flashes of languorous light from under her heavy lids, ah, +she had heard of the senor, a most brave _caballero_, a man whom all +women must admire, so brave and skillful. Her carriage and the poise +of her body as she stood, or sat down, or walked about the room, would +have befitted a queen's approach to her throne, so unconsciously regal +and graceful were they. For ever since she was old enough Amada had +carried every day to the house, up the hill from the spring, in an +_olla_ poised on her head, all the water for their domestic +necessities. And in consequence she walked with a grace and carried +her head with an air that not one American woman in a hundred thousand +could equal. + +She brought them water from an _olla_ which stood in the _portal_, +where it would be free to the breeze and shaded from the sun, and as +she handed it to one after another she smiled and dimpled, her white +teeth gleamed, her black eyes shone alluringly in sudden flashes from +under their long-fringed covers, and her sweet, soft voice prattled +airy, beguiling flatteries and dear little complimentary nothings. As +she talked, she tossed her head and swayed her body and made graceful, +eloquent little gestures with her hands and arms. There was +unconscious coquetry in every movement and a mischievous "you dare +not" in every glance of her eyes and in every dimpling smile. She was +like a plump, saucy, sweet-throated bobolink, perched on a swaying +bough and singing a joyous and daring "catch me if you can." + +She walked across the room to put the cup on the table and Ellhorn +sprang to her side and threw his arm about her. She drew back a +little, tossed her head, and looked at him with eyes gleaming "if you +dare, if you dare," from under their soft lids. She faced the door as +she did so and as he bent his head to take the kiss she dared, a +sudden, gray horror fell over her laughing face and changed it in a +second to a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, drawn thing, pitiful in its +helpless, ashen fear. The sudden change stopped him with his lips +close to hers, and with his hand on his gun he wheeled toward the door +to see what had frightened her. The other two, looking and laughing, +saw the sudden horror transform her face and they also sprang toward +the open entrance, revolvers in hand. But there was nothing there. The +_portal_ was empty of any living thing. And all across the gray-green +plain the only sign of life was the drove of cattle far down the +winding road. They turned to the girl in surprise and asked her what +was the matter. She had recovered her smiling, coquettish self, and +declared that Senor Ellhorn had frightened her. She scolded him +prettily, in the soft, sweet, Mexican tones that are a caress in +themselves, and, with a demure expression, to which only the black +eyes would not lend themselves, she told him it was not right for a +man to take advantage of a girl when she was all alone. If he wished +to kiss her when her mother was present, ah, that was different. Yes, +she would forgive him this one time if he truly were very sorry, but +he must never, never frighten her so again. And her eyes flashed a +smile at him that flouted every word she said. + +As the three men rode away Tuttle asked: + +"Emerson, did she really mean what she said about Nick's frightening +her?" + +Mead looked at him with an indulgent smile: "Tom Tuttle, you're the +biggest maverick I ever saw. I reckon havin' a man want to kiss her +ain't such an unusual thing that it's goin' to frighten Amada Garcia +into a conniption fit." + +"What in thunder was the matter with her then?" said Ellhorn, a bit +nettled over the outcome of his gallantry. "It couldn't have been +because she didn't want me to kiss her." + +Mead broke into a loud, hearty roar, Tuttle grinned broadly, and +Ellhorn regarded the two of them with an angry look. Mead leaned over +and slapped his shoulder. + +"Nick, you're a devil of a fellow with the women, and I know it as +well as you do. I guess Amada's not very different from the rest of +'em, if she did stop your performance. She looked as if she saw a +ghost, and maybe she thought she did. These Mexicans are a +superstitious lot. Maybe she's kissed one too many some time and +happened to think of it just when it spoiled your fun." + +"She's a stunner, anyway!" said Ellhorn enthusiastically, his good +humor restored. "I say, Emerson, is she straight?" + +"I guess so. Yes, I sure reckon she must be, or Juan Garcia would have +made trouble. Old Juan and his wife are fine old people, and any man +who wronged Amada would have to answer for it to her father. He'd have +to either kill the old man or be killed himself in mighty short order. +Oh, yes, Amada's a good girl, but she's an awful little flirt." + +As soon as the cattle were secured in the pens at the railroad +station, ready to be transferred to the cars, Emerson Mead put spurs +to his horse and rode off alone to the northward without a word to his +friends. Nick and Tom, perched on the high fence of a cattle-pen, +watched him gallop away with amazement. His action was unusual and +surprising, for when the three were together where one went the others +went also, or, at least, knew all about it. The two left behind +discussed what it might mean. Nick watched him until, half a dozen +blocks away, he turned off toward the mountains from which they had +just come. Then a light broke upon Ellhorn and he slapped his knee +with his palm and broke into a laugh. + +"Tom Tuttle, I reckon I'm onto his curves! He's goin' to strike the +mountain road back of town a ways and come in alone, past Frenchy +Delarue's place, as if he'd just come to town!" + +"Frenchy Delarue! Does he mean to have it out with Frenchy for the way +he talked at that mass-meetin'? Say, Nick, we ought to be handy, for +he'll sure need us. Come on, let's ride out that way." And Tuttle +began to climb down from his high perch. Ellhorn stopped him with +another roar of laughter. + +"Tommy, sometimes I think you sure ain't got any more sense than a +two-year-old! Emerson don't care anything about Frenchy Delarue, or +what he said at a dozen mass-meetings. He don't hold things against a +man that way." Ellhorn ended with another laugh and sat there +chuckling while Tom looked at him resentfully. + +"I don't see what you want to make a fool of a fellow for," he said +sulkily. "If you-all don't want to tell me what it's all about, say +so, and I won't ask any more questions." + +Ellhorn slapped him on the shoulder. "That's all right, Tommy. It was +such a good joke I couldn't help it. Don't you remember that stunning +pretty girl we saw on the street with the kid the day Emerson came +into town, that I told you was Frenchy Delarue's daughter?" + +"What? Emerson! You don't mean--say, Nick! I don't--Emerson?" And +Tuttle stopped, from sheer inability to express his mingled feelings, +and stared at his companion, his face the picture of mystified +amazement. + +Ellhorn nodded. "I don't know anything about it, but two or three +times I've seen things about Emerson that made me think he must be +gettin' into that sort of trouble somewhere, and if he is I sure think +it can't be anybody but Miss Delarue." + +Tuttle was silent a few moments, thinking the matter over. Then he +shook his head doubtfully. + +"If it was you or me, Nick, I could understand it. But Emerson! Nick, +I can't believe it until I know it's so!" + +"I wouldn't have thought so either, but you never can tell," Nick +replied oracularly. "Now, I'd kiss Amada Garcia, or any other pretty +girl, every time I got a chance. You wouldn't do it unless you could +sneak around behind the house where nobody could see, and you wouldn't +say a word about it afterward. But Emerson, well, maybe Emerson would +too, but I don't reckon he would even think about kissin' her unless +she asked him to, and I'm dead sure he'd never think about it +afterward. But that's just the sort of a man who gets knocked plumb +out when a woman does hit him. It wouldn't make any difference to you +or me, or not very long anyway, because we'd go right along and love +some other girl just as much the next time. Likely you've been in love +as many times as I have, and I don't know how many that is, but I +don't believe Emerson ever thought more'n twice about any woman before +this. But I sure reckon he's knocked out now, and bad enough to last +him a long time. He's just the sort that don't want any woman if he +can't get the one he does want. But you and me, Tommy,--Lord-a-mighty! +We'll have a sweetheart every time we can get one!" + +Tuttle blushed a still deeper crimson under his red tan at this frank +account of his possible love affairs, and after a few moments of +silence he nodded thoughtfully: + +"I guess you-all have hit it off about right, Nick, But I never +thought Emerson would be the first one of us three to go and get +married! I thought likely none of us ever would!" + +"He ain't married yet, and I don't know as she'd have him." + +"Why not? Of course she would!" said Tom, resentful at the idea that +any girl could refuse his idolized friend. He whittled the board fence +despondently a few moments, and then added with a brighter look: "But +he's on the wrong side of politics to suit her father, and I reckon +Frenchy wouldn't have it." + +The whistle of the northbound train came up the track and they +climbed down from the fence and went to the depot. The telegraph +operator called Tom and handed him a dispatch. + +"It's from Marshal Black," said Tuttle to Ellhorn, "and he wants me to +go up to Santa Fe as quick as I can get there. I reckon I'd better +jump right onto this train. Emerson don't need me any more now. Tell +him about it, and if he wants me for anything, or you-all think I'd +better come, wire, and I'll flirt gravel in a minute. Good-bye, old +man." + +Emerson Mead made a detour through the northern end of the town and +came into the mountain road at the lower edge of the uplands. He +galloped down the street, checking his horse to a slow trot as he +neared Pierre Delarue's house. With sidelong glances he keenly +examined the veranda and the open doors and windows, but he could see +no flutter of drapery, nor the flaxen curls of the child. With a +protesting disappointment in his heart he held the horse back to a +walk while he stooped over and examined the cinch. He had almost +passed the place when little Paul came around the house, trailing a +subdued looking puppy at the end of a string, saw him, and ran to the +gate shrieking his name. Mead turned back, a warm flood of delight +surging into his breast. + +"Hello, little Bye-Bye! Do you want to ride with me? Run back to the +house and ask your sister if you can go." + +The child ran back to the porch and from within the house Mead heard +Marguerite give permission. "Won't she come out?" he thought, +anxiously. + +"You must come and lift me up," said Paul, and Mead determined to buy +him the finest toy in the town. + +"Climb on the fence and let Mr. Mead put you on." + +"She won't come. She does not want to see me," thought Mead. + +"No, I want you to come," persisted Paul, who was in a naughty mood. + +"No, dearie, Mr. Mead can stoop over and help you on just as well as I +can." + +"She is determined not to see me," thought Mead. "She never did so +before." + +Paul began to cry. "I can't, Daisy. Truly, I can't get on if you don't +come. And then I can't have any ride." + +Marguerite came out with a little, white, high-crowned sunbonnet +pulled over her head. She had been arranging her hair and had put on +the bonnet to conceal its disarray, when she found that the child +could not be persuaded to let her remain indoors. Mead thought her +face more adorable than ever as it looked out from its dainty frame. +Paul kicked his heels into the horse's shoulders, but a firm hand held +the bridle and the animal did not move. Marguerite turned a smiling +face upon Mead and met in his eyes the same look she always saw there. +She glanced down again, blushing, and felt the silence embarrassing, +but all the things she would ordinarily have said suddenly seemed +trivial and out of place, so she turned to the child with a gentle, +"Be a good boy, Paul." Mead looked at her in silence, smiling gravely. +Many things were whirling about in his mind to say, but he hesitated +before each one, doubting if that were the best. Paul kicked +vigorously and shouted, "Come on! Come on! Aren't you ready to go, Mr. +Mead?" Emerson's grave smile relaxed into a foolish grin, he lifted +his hat to Marguerite, and he and the boy cantered off. + +Marguerite hurried back to her room and as she stood before her +mirror, trembling, she resumed her hair dressing to the accompaniment +of thoughts that ran contrariwise: + +"I would think the man was dumb if I didn't know better. Why doesn't +he ever say anything? He is certainly the rudest creature I ever saw! +He stares at me until I am so confused that I can not even be +courteous. He isn't nearly so nice as Mr. Wellesly--I don't care, he +isn't! I like Mr. Wellesly, and he seems to like me, but--he does not +look at me out of his eyes as Mr. Mead does. I wonder--if he--looks at +any one else that way?" + +After Mead had returned the child he rode at once to his room, and +while he bathed and shaved and dressed himself in the garments of +civilization he gave himself up to gloomy thoughts about Marguerite. + +"Of course, she thinks I am a criminal of the worst sort,--a thief and +a murderer,--and maybe she does not like to have me stop at her gate. +She was nervous about it to-day, and she wouldn't come out until the +kid made her. It is plain enough that she doesn't want to see me any +more, and I suppose I ought not to stop there again. Still, the boy is +always so pleased to ride with me that it would be a shame to take +that pleasure away from him. But she doesn't like it--how sweet she +looked in that sunbonnet!--and she's too kind-hearted to ask me not +to. Well, she would rather I would not--yes, it is plain that she does +not want me to do it--so--well--all right--I'll not stop there again." + +His revolver lay on the table, hidden by some of the clothing he had +just taken off. Under the stress of his thoughts it escaped both eye +and mind. As he put on vest and coat he struggled to his final +resolution. Then he quickly jammed his hat on his head, thinking, "I +suppose I can't see her any more at all," and hurried into the street. +Presently he heard a loud whoop from the direction of the jail. +"That's Nick's yell, sure," he thought, "and it sounds as if he was +drunk. Now what's to pay, I wonder!" + +He hurried in the direction from which the sound had come, and was +just in time to see Ellhorn, yelling and waving his hat, led by Jim +Halliday into the jail, while a half-dozen excited Chinese, who had +been following close behind, stood chattering at the door. + +When the train which carried Thomson Tuttle northward left the +station, Nick Ellhorn watched it disappear in the hot, white, +quivering distance, and then wandered forlornly up town. He went first +to Emerson Mead's room, but Mead had not yet returned. He went to +Judge Harlin's office, and found that he was out of town. He next +tried the Palmleaf saloon, where he solaced and cooled himself with +some glasses of beer. Several men were already there, and others came +in, whom he knew, and all wanted to hear about Emerson Mead's round-up +and to congratulate him on its success. He drank mint juleps with two, +straight whisky with two others, a cocktail with another, and ended +with more beer. He walked up the street to the hotel, and as he talked +with the landlord he could feel the liquors he had so recklessly mixed +beginning to bite into his blood and raise little commotions in remote +corners of his brain. A pleasant-faced young Mexican came into the +office, and the landlord asked him how his patient was. The young man +replied in broken English that the man was a little better but very +sad, and that he wished to find some one to stay with him a few +minutes while he went out on an errand. + +Nick Ellhorn's heart was warmed and expansive and he promptly +volunteered to sit with the invalid and entertain him for an hour, +and with effusive thanks the Mexican nurse conducted the tall Texan to +the sick-room. White, gaunt and weak, the invalid lay in his bed and +looked with eyes of envy and admiration at the tall, firm, well-knit +frame, the big muscles and the tanned face of his companion. By that +time Nick began to be conscious of a high, swift tide in his veins, +and through his dancing brain came the conviction that he must hold a +steady hand on himself and be very serious. He sat up stiff and +straight in his chair by the bedside, and his demeanor was grave and +solemn. When the sick man spoke of his health and strength, Nick +replied with admonishing seriousness: + +"I'd be just such a lookin' thing as you are if I stayed indoors like +you do. You can't expect to be worth a whoop in hell if you stay in +the house and in bed all the time. I'll steal you away from here so +that coyote of a Mexican can't get hold of you again, and I'll take +you out to Emerson Mead's ranch and put you on a horse and make you +ride after the cattle, and sure and you'll be a well man before you +know it." + +The invalid appeared apprehensive, and, feeling himself weakened by +the fear lest something untoward might happen, he asked Ellhorn to +give him a drink of brandy from a flask which stood on the mantel. +Nick poured the measured dose into a glass, smelt of it, and looked +frowningly at the sick man. + +"Do you-all mean to say that you drink this stuff, as sick as you are? +You can have it if you insist, but I tell you you'll be dead by +sundown if you drink it! Sure and you ought to be ashamed of yourself, +lyin' in bed and soakin' with brandy, right on the ragged edge of the +tomb! That Mexican coyote ought to be shot as full of holes as a +pepper box for keepin' this stuff in the room, and I'll do it when he +comes back! I've taken a notion to you-all, and I'm goin' to carry you +off on my horse to Emerson's ranch and make a well man of you. But you +must sure let brandy and whisky alone, I'll tell you that right now! +And I'll put this out of your sight, so it won't be a temptation to +you. I'll drink it myself, just to save your life!" + +He poured the glass full and drank it off without a breath. Then he +began to lecture the thoroughly frightened invalid on the evil results +of too much indulgence in strong drink. "Look at me!" he solemnly +exclaimed. "I used to drink just as bad as you do, and where did it +bring me! Yes, sir! I've had feathers enough in my time to make me a +good bed, but I scattered and wasted 'em all with whisky and brandy, +just as you're doin' now, and here I am a-layin' on the hard ground! +But I've quit! No, sirree! I don't drink another drop, unless it's to +save a friend, same as I'm drinkin' this." + +When the Mexican nurse returned he found his patient fainting from +fright, and a very drunken man solemnly marching up and down the room, +flourishing an empty flask and uttering incoherent remarks about the +evils of strong drink and the certainty of death. + +"I've saved him!" Nick proudly exclaimed to the Mexican. "I've saved +his life! He'd 'a' been drunk as I am, and dead, too, if I hadn't drunk +all the brandy myself! I didn't let him touch a drop!" + +The nurse pitched him out of the room and locked the door behind him, +and he, after a dazed stare, stalked off indignantly to the front +entrance. A Chinaman was passing by, with placid face, folded arms and +long queue flopping in the wind. Ellhorn grabbed the queue with a +drunken shout. The man yelled from sudden fright, and started off on +the run with Ellhorn hanging on to the braid, shouting, his spurs +clicking and his revolver flapping at his side. Nick's yells and the +Chinaman's frightened screams filled the street with noise and brought +people running to see what was happening. Ellhorn whipped out his +knife and cut off the queue at the Chinaman's neck, and the man, +feeling the sudden release from the grip of the "white devil" behind +him, ran with flying leaps down the street and at the end of the block +banged against Jim Halliday, himself running to learn the cause of the +uproar. The Chinaman knew Halliday's office, and with wild gestures +and screaming chatter demanded that he should go back and arrest the +man who had despoiled him of his dearest possession. Halliday, +guessing that his enemy was too drunk to offer much resistance, +hastened at once to the task, and in five minutes Nick Ellhorn was +locked in the jail. + +Emerson Mead at once went to work to get his friend out on bail. He +saw the sheriff, John Daniels, go into the White Horse saloon and +hurried after him. As they stood facing each other, leaning against +the bar and talking earnestly, Mead saw Daniels flash a look of +intelligence and nod his head slightly to some one who had entered +from a back room toward which Emerson's back was turned. Instinctively +he reached for his gun, and Jim Halliday grabbed his right wrist with +both hands while John Daniels seized his left. With the first touch of +their fingers, the remembrance flashed through his brain that he had +left his revolver on the table in his room. He would have thought it +as impossible to forget that as to forget his trousers, but the thing +was done, and here was the result. He shrugged his shoulders and said +quietly: + +"You've caught me unarmed, boys. I'm at your service--this time." + +They looked at him in doubting surprise. To catch Emerson Mead unarmed +seemed a most unlikely fairy tale. The two men held his arms and +Daniels called a third to search him. Mead flushed and bit his lip. + +"I'm not used to having my word doubted," he said, "but I can't blame +you for doubting it this time. I can hardly believe it myself. Jim, +you've struck just the one chance in a thousand years." + +Halliday laughed. "Well, I've been lucky twice to-day, and I reckon I +haven't worn out the run yet." + +Mead smiled indulgently down from his superior height, and said: "Work +it while it runs, Jim; work it while it runs. You can have your +innings now, but mine won't be long coming." + +"Well, you won't have any chance to get yourself hauled over the back +wall this time, I'll tell you that right now." + +They hurried their prisoner off to jail, and in a few minutes he also +was locked behind thick adobe walls. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Albert Wellesly never made a new investment, nor allowed any change to +be made in property in which he was interested, without first making a +thorough personal inspection. For that reason he spent a number of +busy days at the ranch, near the close of the round-up, inspecting the +range and debating with Colonel Whittaker whether it would be better +to enlarge it or to run the risk of overstocking by increasing the +number of cattle on the land which they already held. They decided +that if they could get control of certain springs and surrounding +ranges, especially Emerson Mead's Alamo and Cienega springs and +another belonging to McAlvin, which joined the range they already +held, it would be exactly what they needed. + +"These water holes would be worth a lot to us," said Colonel +Whittaker, "but it would be just like these contrary cusses to refuse +to sell at any price, especially to us." + +"Then they'll have to be persuaded," Wellesly replied. + +It was necessary for Colonel Whittaker to return to Las Plumas before +they had quite finished their inspection, and Wellesly decided to +remain a little longer and go back to town alone. Whittaker hesitated +over the arrangement, for he knew that Wellesly had neither the +instinct nor the training of the plainsman, and that he was unusually +deficient in that sense of direction which is the traveler's best +pilot over monotonous levels and rolling hills. + +"Do you think you can find your way?" he said. "One of the boys can +guide you over the range, and when you start back to town, unless you +are perfectly sure of yourself, you'd better have him go with you, as +far as Muletown, at least." + +"Oh, I'll have no trouble about getting back," Wellesly replied. "It's +a perfectly plain, straight road all the way, and all I'll have to do +will be to follow the main track. I'll stay here two days longer and +I'll take two days for the trip to town. You can expect me--this is +Monday--some time Thursday afternoon." + +The misadventure of Nick Ellhorn, which landed both him and Emerson +Mead in jail, was on Tuesday afternoon, and it was early the next +morning that Albert Wellesly left the ranch house and rode down +through the foothills. He decided that the horse knew more about the +road than he did, and would do just as well if left to its own +guidance. So he let the reins lie loosely on its neck and, forgetful +of his surroundings, was soon absorbed in a consideration of the +problems of the cattle ranch. Well down toward the plain the road +forked, one branch turning sharply to the right and the other to the +left. The horse which he rode had, until recently, belonged to Emerson +Mead, from whom the Fillmore Company had bought it. Left to its own +will, at the forks it chose the left hand branch and cantered +contentedly on over rising foothills. Wellesly's thoughts turned from +the ranch to other business ventures in which he was interested. It +was a long time and the horse had covered much ground before he +finally looked about him to take his bearings and consider his +progress. Looking at his watch he thought he ought to be well down in +the plain toward Muletown, and wondered that he was still among the +foothills. He had an uneasy feeling that there was something wrong, +but he said to himself that he had followed the straight road all the +way and that therefore it must be all right. At any rate, it would be +foolish not to go straight ahead until he should meet some one from +whom he could ask directions. So he rode on and on and the sun rose +higher and higher, and nowhere was there sign of human being. But at +last he saw in the distance a splotch of green trees through which +shone whitewashed walls. And presently he was hallooing in front of +Emerson Mead's ranch house. + +A thick-set, elderly man, with a round, smooth, pleasant face, out of +which shrewdly looked small dark eyes, came out to see what was +wanted. In his knocking around the world Billy Haney had kept fast +hold of two principles. One was to find out all that he could about +any stranger whom he chanced to meet, and the other, never to tell +that stranger anything about himself that was true. In response to +Wellesly's question, Haney told him that he was far off the road to +Las Plumas, and then by means of two or three shrewd, roundabout +questions and suggestions, he brought out enough information to enable +him to guess who his visitor was. He knew about Wellesly's connection +with the cattle company and his recent presence at the ranch, and the +man's personal appearance had been described to him by Mead and +Ellhorn. So he felt very sure of his ground when he shortly surprised +the traveler by addressing him by name. Then he told Wellesly that his +own name was Mullford, which was the name of a man who owned a cattle +range much farther to the south and who had not been engaged in the +recent trouble over the round-up. He represented himself as the owner +of the place and said that he had been engaged in the cattle business +ten years, but that he was not pleased with it and intended to pull +out within the next year. It was nearly noon and he insisted that +Wellesly should stay to dinner. An idea was dawning in his brain and +he wanted time to consider it. + +A hammock hung in the shade of the cottonwoods, where the breeze blew +cool and refreshing, and he invited Wellesly to stretch himself there +until dinner should be ready. A _vaquero_ took his horse to the stable +and Wellesly threw himself into the hammock and looked up into the +green thickets of the trees with a soul-satisfying sense of relief and +comfort. His revolver in his hip pocket interfered with his ease and +he took it out and laid it on a chair beside the hammock. Then he +pulled his hat over his eyes and in five minutes was asleep. + +There was only one _vaquero_ at the ranch house, and he and Billy +Haney and Wellesly were the only human beings within many miles. When +the cow-boy had taken care of Wellesly's horse Haney called him into +the kitchen. The man was tall and sinewy, with a hatchet face, a +thin-lipped mouth and a sharp chin. + +"Jim," said Haney, "I've got a scheme in my 'ead about that man, and I +think there'll be lots of money in it. Do you want to come in?" + +"What'll it be worth to me?" + +"If there's anything in it, there'll be a big pile and we'll go 'alf +and 'alf, and if there isn't--well, of course there's chances to be +took in everything." + +"What'll it cost?" + +"Some work and some nerve, and then a quick scoot." + +"All right, Billy. What's your play?" + +When they had finished their planning Haney walked softly toward the +hammock. A gentle snore from beneath the hat told him that Wellesly +was sleeping quietly. He took the revolver from the chair, removed the +cartridges from the six chambers and put it back in the same position. +Then he walked around to the other side of the sleeper and called him +in a hearty tone. Wellesly rose yawning, and they started toward the +house for luncheon. + +"You've forgotten your revolver, sir," said Billy. + +"So I have! I'm not accustomed to carrying the thing, and if you had +not reminded me I probably wouldn't have thought of it again for a +week. I don't believe it is necessary to carry one, anyway, but my +friend, Colonel Whittaker, insisted that I should do so." + +"You never know when you'll need one down in this country," Haney +replied, with a sad shake of the head. "It's pretty tough, I can tell +you. There's that Emerson Mead outfit. They're the worst in the +southwest. You'd need your gun if you should meet any of them." + +"Yes, our company has had very serious and very sad experience with +them." + +"Ah, yes! Poor young Whittaker! I 'eard about 'is death. That was the +wickedest thing they've ever dared to do. Most everybody in this +country 'as lost cattle by them and we'd all be glad to see 'em driven +out." + +"They belong to that class of cattlemen," Wellesly replied, "who start +in the business with one old steer and a branding iron, and then let +nature take its course." + +Haney laughed uproariously and when he could speak added: "Yes, and in +three years they 'ave bigger 'erds than any of their neighbors. +You're right, sir, and the sooner the country gets rid of such men the +better. I don't think, Mr. Wellesly, it's safe for you to ride alone +where you are likely to meet any of that outfit. You know the feeling +they 'ave for your company, and what they did for young Will, poor +boy, they'd do for you if they got the chance. I've got business out +your way, over at Muletown, and if you don't mind I'll ride along with +you that far. That will put you on the right road and if we should +meet any of the Mead outfit they wouldn't be so likely to shoot as if +you were alone." + +"All right, Mr. Mullford, I'll be very glad of your company. I'm no +plainsman, and it is the easiest thing in the world for me to get lost +out here among the mesquite and sagebrush, where the country all looks +alike. I suppose I have about the least sense of direction of any man +who ever tried to find his way across a plain alone." + +"You needn't worry about that now. Just leave it to me and I'll get +you to Muletown by the shortest route. I know all this country +thoroughly, every cow-path and water 'ole in it, and you couldn't lose +me if you tried. You needn't think about the road again this +afternoon." + +Haney buckled on a full cartridge belt and a revolver, put a pair of +saddle bags with a big canteen of water in each side over his horse, +slung a rifle on one side of his saddle, and they started off along a +slightly beaten road straight toward the southeast. Wellesly asked +Haney if he were sure they were going in the right direction, and +Haney assured him that it was all right and chaffed him a little that +he so easily lost the points of the compass. In the distance, a mile +or so ahead of them, they saw a man on horseback leading another horse +which carried a pack. When Wellesly again said that he did not +understand how he could be so entirely at sea, Haney suggested that +they overtake this traveler and get his assurance in the matter. They +galloped up beside him and called out a friendly hail. It was Jim, the +_vaquero_ from Mead's ranch, but he and Haney looked at each other as +if they had never met before. He assured Wellesly that they were +certainly on the road which led to Las Plumas by the way of Muletown, +that he knew it perfectly well, having traveled it many times, and +that he himself was going past Muletown to the Hermosa mountains. + +"You see," he explained, "Muletown ain't on the straight line between +here and Las Plumas. It's away off to one side and you have to go +quite a ways around to get there. That's what has mixed you up so, +stranger. The road has to go past Muletown, because it's the only +place on the plain where there's water." + +"Well," said Wellesly, "since you both say so, it must be all right. +The joke is on me, gentlemen." He took a flask from his breast pocket. +"There isn't much left in this bottle, but as far as it will go, I +acknowledge the corn." + +The men each took a drink, Wellesly finished the liquor and threw the +empty flask on a sandheap beside the road. Light clouds had risen, so +that the sun and all the western sky were obscured and there were no +shadows to suggest to him that they were going east instead of west. +They were nearing a depression in the Fernandez mountains. Haney +pointed to it, saying: + +"When we get there we can show you just the lay of the land." + +They passed through the break and a barren plain lay spread out before +them bounded by precipitous mountains which swerved on either hand +toward the range in which they were riding. + +"That," said Haney, "is the Fernandez plain. You remember crossing +that, surely?" Wellesly nodded. "And the mountains over there," Haney +went on, "are the 'Ermosas." + +"The range just this side of Las Plumas," said Wellesly. "Yes, I am +getting my bearings now." + +"I'm going prospecting in them mountains," said Jim. "I'm satisfied +there's heaps of gold there. I'm going up into that canyon you see at +the foot of that big peak. I was in there two weeks ago and I found +quartz that was just lousy with gold. You fellows better break away +and come along with me. I'll bet you can't make more money anywhere +else." + +"I don't care to go prospecting," said Wellesly, "but if you make a +good strike, and develop it enough to show what it is, I'll engage to +sell it for you." + +"Good enough! It's a bargain!" Jim cried. "Just give me your address, +stranger, so I'll know where to dig you up when I need you." + +Wellesly handed his card and Jim carefully put it away in his +pocketbook. + +Haney laughed jovially. "You may count me out, pard, on any of that +sort of business. I've blowed all the money into this damn country +that I want to. You'll never get anything out of it but 'orned toads +and rattlesnakes and 'bad men' as long as it lasts. If I can pull out +'alf I've planted 'ere I'll skip, and think I'm lucky to get out with +a whole skin." + +They trotted across the dry, hot, barren levels of the desert into +which they had descended, seeing nowhere the least sign of human life. +The faintly beaten track of the road stretched out in front of them in +an almost straight line across the gray sand between interminable +clumps of cactus and frowsy, wilted sagebrush. Bunches of yellow, +withered grass cropped out of the earth here and there. But even these +forlorn caricatures of vegetation gave up and stayed their feet on the +edges of frequent alkali flats, where the white, powdery dust covered +the sand and dealt death to any herbage that ventured within its +domain. Hot, parched, forbidding, the desert grew more and more +desolate as they proceeded. To Wellesly there was an awe-inspiring +menace in its dry, bleaching, monotonous levels. He felt more keenly +than ever his own helplessness in such a situation and congratulated +himself on having fallen in with his two guides. He wondered that the +plain had not impressed him more deeply with its desolation and +barrenness when he came out to the ranch. But he had no doubt of the +ability and good faith of his two companions and he drew his horse a +little nearer to them and said: + +"My God! What a place this desert would be for a man to be lost in!" + +Then they told him stories of men who had been lost in it, who had +wandered for days without water and had been found raving maniacs or +bleaching skeletons--the sort of stories that make the blood of any +but a plainsman seem to dry in his veins and his tongue to cleave to +the roof of his mouth. Told in all their details and surrounded by the +very scenes in which their agonies had been suffered, they brought the +perspiration to Wellesly's brow and a look of horror to his eyes. +Haney and Jim saw that they made him nervous, and racked their +memories and their imaginations for more of the same sort. + +They were approaching the mountains and the country around them was +broken into barren, rocky hills. The road grew rougher and the +mountains towered above them in jagged peaks of seemingly solid rock. +The day was nearly ended and Wellesly remembered enough of the +distances along the Las Plumas road to be sure that they ought to be +approaching Muletown. But in this stern wilderness of rock and sand, +human habitation did not seem possible. He looked back across the +desert at the Fernandez mountains, standing out sharply against the +red sunset clouds, and it suddenly flashed across his mind that if the +sun were setting there they must have been traveling in an easterly +direction all the afternoon, which meant that they had been getting +farther and farther away from Las Plumas. Enlightened by this idea, he +sent a quick, seeing glance along the range of mountains standing out +boldly and barrenly in front of them, and he knew it was not the +Hermosa range. Haney turned with a jovial remark on his lips and met +Wellesly's eyes, two narrow strips of pale gray shining brilliantly +from between half-closed lids, and saw that his game had played itself +smoothly as far as it would go. + +Wellesly disregarded Haney's jest and looking him squarely in the eyes +said: "I suppose, Mr. Mullford, if we keep on in this direction a +matter of some twenty-five thousand miles we might reach Muletown. But +don't you think we would save time if we were to turn around and +travel the other way?" + +Haney laughed good-naturedly and exclaimed: "You've not got that +notion out of your 'ead yet, 'ave you! Say, pard," he added to Jim, +"Mr. Wellesly is still turned around. 'E thinks we ought to right +about face and take the back track to get to Muletown. What can we do +to convince 'im 'e's all right?" + +Wellesly was watching the two men narrowly, his suspicions aroused and +all his faculties alert. Haney's calm, solicitous tone for a moment +almost made him think he must be mistaken. But another glance at the +rocky, precipitous mountains reassured him that they were not the +Hermosas and settled the conviction in his mind that he had fallen +into the trap of a pair of very smooth rogues. A still, white rage +rose in his heart and mettled his nerves to his finger-tips, as he +thought of the plausible pretensions of good will with which they had +led him into this wilderness. He scarcely heard Jim's reply: + +"I don't know what else he wants. We're going to Muletown, and if he +don't want to get lost out on this desert and have the coyotes pickin' +his bones inside of a week he'd better come along with us." + +"My friends," said Wellesly, in an even tone in which could barely be +heard here and there the note of suppressed anger, "if you think you +are going to Muletown in this direction, all right, go ahead. That's +your funeral. But it isn't mine. If anybody in this crowd is turned +around I'm not the man. I have been, thanks to your very ingenious +efforts, but I'm not now, and I'm not going any farther in this +direction. Unless you can get a little more light on which way is west +I'm afraid we'll have to part company. Good-bye, gentlemen. I'm going +back." + +He turned his horse squarely around and faced the long, gray levels of +the darkening desert. As his eye swept over that forbidding, +waterless, almost trackless waste, a sudden fear of its horrors smote +through his anger and chilled his resolution. Haney spurred his horse +to Wellesly's side, exclaiming: + +"Stop, Mr. Wellesly! You can't go back over that desert alone in the +night! Why, you couldn't follow the road two miles after dark! You +know 'ow uncertain it is by day, and in the dark you simply can't see +it at all. The desert is 'ell 'erself in the daytime, and it's worse +at night." + +Wellesly did not reply, for his resolve was wavering. Jim came beside +them, swearing over the delay. "See here," he said, "we've got no time +to fool away. If this here tenderfoot thinks he knows better than we +do which way we're going, just let him round-up by himself. I've been +over this here road dozens of times, I reckon, and I know every inch +of it, but I wouldn't undertake to travel a mile after night and keep +to the trail. Maybe he can. If he thinks he's so darned much smarter +than we are let him try it." + +"Can we make Muletown to-night?" asked Haney. + +Jim swore a big oath. "Didn't you hear me say I don't do no travelin' +on this road at night? No, sir. I know a canyon up in the mountain a +ways where there's sweet water and I'm goin' to camp there to-night. +If you folks want to come with me and eat prospector's grub, all +right, you're welcome." + +"Thank you, pard," said Haney. "For my part, I'll be glad to get it. +You'd better come too, Mr. Wellesly. It will be sure death, of the +sort we've been talking about this afternoon, for you to start back +alone." + +"You're right," said Wellesly. "I'll go with you." + +Jim rode into a canyon which led them into the mountains and for a +mile or more their horses scrambled and stumbled over boulders and +sand heaps. Then they turned into another, opening at right angles +into the first, and after a time they could hear the crunching of wet +sand under their horses' feet and finally the tinkle of a little +waterfall met their ears. + +"Here's the place," said Jim, dismounting. + +"Sure this isn't h'alkali?" said Haney. + +"You and the tenderfoot needn't drink it if you don't want to," +growled Jim. "And you needn't stay with me if you're afraid I'm +a-going to pizen your coffee." + +"Don't get angry, my friend," said Wellesly. "Mr. Mullford didn't mean +anything out of the way. We are both very much obliged to you for +allowing us to share your camp." + +"Yes," assented Haney warmly, "it's w'ite, that's what it is, to take +in two 'ungry fellows and feed us out of your grub. And we'll see that +you don't lose by it." + +They watered their horses, which Jim hobbled and left to graze upon +the vegetation of the little canyon. All three men hunted about in the +dim light for wood with which to make a fire, and they soon had ready +a supper of coffee, bacon, and canned baked beans, which Jim produced +from his pack. Afterward, he brought out a blanket apiece and each man +rolled himself up and lay down on the ground with his saddle for a +pillow. Wellesly thought the matter all over as he lay on his back and +stared up at the moon-lighted sky. He finally decided there was +nothing to do but to wait for the next day and its developments, and +in the meantime to get as much sleep as he could. + +When he awakened the next morning he found that the others were +already up and had prepared breakfast. The blue sky was brilliant with +the morning sun, but the little canyon was still damp and cool in the +black shadow of its walls and of the beetling mountains that towered +beyond. Their camp was at the very head of the canyon. On two sides +the walls reached high above them in almost perpendicular cliffs. At +the end, the rocky barrier was more broken and was heaped with +boulders, through which the clear waters of the streamlet came +trickling and gurgling and finally leaped over the wall into a little +pool. The floor of the canyon was barely more than two hundred feet +across, and twice that distance below the pool the walls drew so near +together that they formed a narrow pass. In this little oval enclosure +grew several pine trees of fairly good size, some scrub pines and +cedars and other bushes, and the ground was well covered with green +grass and flowers. + +Haney was hearty and jovial in his greeting to Wellesly, solicitous +about his physical welfare and genial and talkative all through +breakfast. Jim grinned at his jokes and stories and ventured some +facetious remarks of his own, and Wellesly told a story or two that +sent the others into peals of laughter. He searched his pockets and +found three cigars, and the three men sat down on the rocks and smoked +them in silence. Each side was waiting for the other to make a move. +At last Wellesly said that he would start back across the plain if the +others still wished to continue in the same direction. They +expostulated and argued with him and reminded him of the probability +that he could not find his way alone, and of the dangers from heat and +thirst which he would have to face. + +Wellesly guessed that they wanted money and were trying to force him +into making an offer. He held to his determination and while they +talked he saddled and mounted his horse. Then they tried to beat down +his resolution by picturing to him the certain death he would meet on +the waterless plain. In his heart he was really very much afraid of +that scorching, sandy waste, but he let no sign of his fear show in +his face as he curtly replied: + +"I'm very much obliged to you for all your concern about my welfare, +but I'll be still more obliged if you won't worry about me any more. +I'm going back and I'm going to start now, and if you are so sure I'll +get lost and die you can come along a week or so later, hunt up my +bones and collect the reward that will be offered for news of me." + +At that suggestion Jim glanced hastily at Haney and Wellesly saw the +Englishman shake his head in reply. + +"We don't want to be responsible for your death, Mr. Wellesly," Haney +began, but Wellesly cut him off short: + +"You won't be. I release you from all responsibility, after I leave +you. Good morning, gentlemen." And with a cut of the quirt his horse +started. They had been standing near the lower end of the head of the +canyon, and as he moved forward the two men sprang in front of him, +blocking the narrow pass which gave the only outlet. + +"Will you let me pass?" demanded Wellesly, his lips white and his +voice trembling with anger. + +"We're not ready for you to go yet," said Haney, all the joviality +gone from his face and voice. His look was that of brutal +determination and his voice was harsh and guttural. Jim added an +oath and both men drew their guns. + +"Then, by God, we'll shoot it out!" cried Wellesly, whipping his +revolver from his pocket. The hammer fell with a flat thud, and with +an angry exclamation he clicked the trigger again. With furious haste +he went the round of the cylinder. Jim and Haney stood grinning at +him, their guns in their hands. + +"Something the matter with your pop-gun, I reckon," said Jim. + +Wellesly opened it and looked through the empty cylinder. Then he put +it carefully in his hip pocket, rested his hands on the pommel of his +saddle and looked the two men slowly over, first one and then the +other, from head to foot. At last he spoke: + +"Well, whenever you are ready to make your proposition I will listen +to it." + +"We 'aven't any proposition to make," Haney replied. "We're not ready +to leave 'ere yet, and we're not willing for you to risk your life +alone on the desert. That's all there is about it." + +"Oh, very well! I can stay here as long as you can," Wellesly replied, +dismounting. He unsaddled his horse, hobbled it and turned it loose to +graze. Then he sat down in the shade of a tree, while the others still +held guard over the narrow pass. He had made up his mind that he would +not offer them money. He would watch his chance to outwit them, he +would match his intelligence against their cunning, his patience +against their brute force. It would be worth a week's captivity to +turn the tables on these two rogues and get back to civilization in +time to set at work the police machinery of a hundred cities, so that, +whatever way they might turn, there would be no escape for them. He +turned several schemes over in his mind as he watched Haney preparing +their noon meal of bread, coffee, beans and bacon. Jim was taking a +pebble from the shoe of one of the horses. Wellesly sauntered up and +watched the operation, asked some questions about the horses and +gradually led Jim into conversation. After a time he broke abruptly +into the talk with the question: + +"What is the name of these mountains?" + +"The Oro Fino," Jim answered promptly. Then he remembered that he and +Haney had been insisting that they were the Hermosas ever since the +day before and he stammered a little and added: + +"That is, that's what the--the Mexicans call them. The Americans call +them the Hermosas." + +"So you told me last night," Wellesly answered calmly, "but I had +forgotten." + +He remembered the name and recalled a topographical map of the region +which he had looked at one day in Colonel Whittaker's office. He +remembered how the three ranges looked on the map--the Hermosas, the +first range east of Las Plumas, with the wide Fernandez plain lying +beyond, then the Fernandez range, more like high, grassy hills than +mountains, with only their highest summits barren and rocky, and +separated from the Oro Fino--the Fine Gold--mountains, by the desert +they had crossed the day before. He recalled the descriptions he had +heard of these Oro Fino mountains--high, barren, precipitous cliffs, +separated by boulder-strewn canyons and cleft by deep gorges and +chasms, a wild and almost impassable region. He remembered, too, that +he had been told that these mountains were rich in minerals, that the +whole rocky, jumbled, upreared, deep-cleft mass was streaked and +striped and crisscrossed with veins of silver and gold, turquoise, +marble, coal and iron, but that it was all practically safe from the +hand of man because of the lack of wholesome water. Alkali and mineral +springs and streams there were, but of so baneful nature that if a +thirsty man were to drink his fill but once he would drink to his +death. Recalling these things, Wellesly concluded that this trickling +spring of sweet, cool water and the little green canyon must be rare +exceptions to the general character of the mountains and that this +must have been the objective point of his captors from the start. + +Along with the awakened memories came also a sudden recollection of a +tale once told him in Denver by a prospector, whom he was grubstaking +for the San Juan country, of a lost mine in the Oro Fino mountains of +New Mexico. He was able to recall the salient points of the story and +it occurred to him that it might be useful in the present emergency. +While they ate dinner Wellesly spoke again of the dangers of the +desert and of the risks he knew he would be taking if he should +attempt to cross it alone. + +"With my deficient sense of direction," he said, "I should probably +wander all over it a dozen times before I could find my way out." + +"You'd be dead long before that time," said Jim. + +"Yes, it's very likely I would," Wellesly calmly assented. + +"Of course," said Haney, "our friend 'ere 'asn't got much grub and if +you and me continue to live off 'im it won't last long. 'E knows a way +to get through these mountains and go down to El Paso, but of course +'e can't be expected to pilot you down there for nothin'. Now, if you +made it worth 'is w'ile, I dare say 'e'd be willin' to stop 'is +prospecting long enough to get you safe into the town. Eh, pard?" + +"Yes, I can," Jim replied, "if the tenderfoot wants to make it enough +worth while. I ain't stuck on the trip and I don't want to fool any +more time away around here. You two have got to decide what you're +a-going to do mighty quick. I want to get to prospectin', and if I +have to tote you-all down to El Paso you'll have to pay big for the +favor." + +Wellesly did not reply and Haney, who was looking critically at a big +boulder on the top of the canyon wall, burst into the conversation +with an exclamation: + +"My stars! Do you see that 'uge boulder up there, just above the +narrow place in the canyon? 'Ow easy it would be, now, wouldn't it, +for two men to get up there and pry it loose. It would crash down +there and fill up that whole blamed trail, wouldn't it, Mr. Wellesly?" + +"Yes, and effectually wall up anybody who might have had the bad luck +to be left in here," Wellesly dryly replied. "But speaking of the +dangers of crossing the desert," he went on, "I remember a story told +me once in Denver by a prospector who had been down in this country. +It was about a lost mine, the Winters mine. Did you ever hear of it?" + +"Yes," said Jim, "I have. I've heard about it many a time. It's in +these mountains somewhere." + +"It was so rich," Wellesly went on, "that Dick Winters knocked the +quartz to pieces with a hammer and selected the chunks that were +filled with gold. He said the rock was seamed and spotted with yellow +and he brought out in his pocket a dozen bits as big as walnuts that +were almost solid gold." + +The two men were listening with interested faces. Jim nodded. "Yes, +that's just what I've heard about it. But there are so darn many of +them lost mines and so many lies told about 'em that you never can +believe anything of the sort." + +"What became of this chap and 'is mine?" asked Haney. + +"I reckon the mine's there yet, just where he left it," Jim answered, +"but Dick went luny, crossin' the desert, and wandered around so long +in the heat without water that when he was picked up he was ravin' +crazy and he didn't get his senses back before he died. All anybody +knows about his mine is what he said while he was luny, and you can't +put much stock in that sort of thing." + +"I don't know about that," said Wellesly. "I had the story from the +man who took care of him before he died, the prospector I spoke of +just now--I think his name was Frank, Bill Frank. He said that the old +man was conscious part of the time and told him a good deal about the +strike--enough, I should think, to make it possible to find the place +again." + +Haney and Jim were looking at him with intent faces, their interest +thoroughly aroused. Wellesly decided to draw on his imagination for +any necessary or interesting details that the prospector had not told +him. + +"What did he say," Jim demanded, "and why didn't he go after it +himself?" + +"As I remember it, he said that during his delirium Winters talked +constantly of his rich find, that he seemed to be going over the whole +thing again. He would exclaim, 'There, just look at that! As big as my +fist and solid gold!' 'Look at that seam! There's ten thousand dollars +there if there's a cent!' and many other such things. He would jump up +in bed and yell in his excitement. If he was really repeating what he +had seen and done while he was working his strike, Bill Frank said +that he must have taken out a big pile, probably up near a hundred +thousand dollars. That he really had found gold was proved by the +nuggets in his pockets." + +"Did Winters tell him what he'd done with the ore?" Jim demanded. He +was evidently becoming very much interested. + +"Frank told me that at the very last he seemed to be rational. He +realized that he was about to die and tried to tell Frank how to find +the gold he had taken out. He said he had hidden it in several places +and had tried to conceal the lead in which he had worked. It is likely +that the strike, whatever it was, had upset his head a little and made +him do queer things before he got lost and heat-crazed on the desert." + +"Well, did this man tell you where he'd hid the dust?" + +"Do you know where it is?" + +"My informant, Bill Frank, said that Winters was very weak when he +came to his senses and could only whisper a few disconnected sentences +before he died, and part of those," Wellesly went on, smiling at the +recollection, "Frank said 'the darn fool wasted on gratitude.' But he +gathered that the Winters mine was somewhere in the southern part of +the Oro Fino mountains, not far from a canyon where there was good +water, and that he had hidden the nuggets and dust and rich rock that +he had taken out, in tin cans and kettles and bottles in another +canyon not far away." + +"Why didn't your chap go and 'unt for it 'imself?" asked Haney. + +"He did spend several weeks trying to find it, and nearly died of +thirst, and broke his leg falling off a precipice, and had a devil of +a time getting out and getting well again. Then he wanted me to +grubstake him for another hunt for it, but I think a man is more +likely to find a new mine than he is a lost one and so I sent him to +the San Juan instead." + +"Lots of men have gone into these mountains hunting for the Winters +mine," said Jim, "but all I've known anything about have always gone +farther north than this." + +"Yes," said Wellesly, as easily as if it were not an inspiration of +the moment, "Bill Frank told me that when he talked about it he always +made people think that Winters had said it was in the northern part of +the range, but that it was really in the southern part." + +Jim got up and walked away and presently called Haney. Wellesly lay +down and pulled his hat over his face. He fell into a light slumber +and awoke himself with a snore. He heard the voices of the two men, +and so he kept on snoring, listening intently, meanwhile, to their +conversation. He could not hear all that they said, but he soon found +that they were talking about the lost mine. + +"If this here tenderfoot ain't lyin'," said Jim, "the Winters mine +ain't far from here. I know these mountains and I know this here +spring is the only sweet water within ten miles, yes, twenty of 'em, +unless there may be one up so high among the cliffs that nothing but a +goat could find it. If Dick Winters' mine is in the southern part of +the Oro Fino mountains it's somewhere within two miles of us." + +Then he heard them talk about "finishing up" with him and coming back +to look for the mine. Haney suggested that as they had enough +provisions to last two or three days longer they might spend a day +examining the near-by canyons and "finish up" with Wellesly afterward. + +"If we find the stuff," he heard Haney say, "and this chap don't +conclude to be reasonable, we can leave 'im 'ere. If 'e does come to +time, we'll 'ave so much the more." + +Then they walked farther away and Wellesly heard no more. His scheme +was coming out as he wished, for they would of course take him with +them, and in their search for the lost mine they might become so +interested that their vigilance would relax and he would find an +opportunity to slip away unobserved. He thought he could find his way +out of the mountains by following the downward course of the canyons. +That would be sure to bring him to the desert. + +After breakfast the next morning Haney said: + +"Well, Mr. Wellesly, do you think you would like to go to El Paso +to-morrow?" + +Wellesly looked him squarely in the eye and replied: "I have no +business in El Paso and do not care to go there." + +An ugly look came into Haney's face, and Wellesly saw that his captors +were ready to throw off all pretense and take extreme measures. + +"Well," said Haney; "this is what we've decided to do. We'll give you +till to-morrow morning to make up your mind whether you'll go to El +Paso and give us ten thousand dollars apiece for taking you there. If +you don't want to get away that bad, that big rock will roll down into +this canyon and shut up that outlet and you will stay 'ere and starve. +We are going to leave you 'ere alone to-day to think the matter over, +and we are going to tie you fast to that big tree, so you won't 'ave +anything to distract your attention. We'll be back to-night and then +you can 'ave your supper and I 'ope we'll find you in a reasonable +frame of mind." + +Jim approached with a picket rope, and Wellesly whitened with anger. +For a moment, earth and sky turned black before him, and before he +realized what he was doing he had hit Jim a smashing blow in the jaw. +Jim staggered backward, and then, with a howling oath, whipped out and +leveled his revolver. Haney, who had grabbed one of Wellesly's wrists +and was struggling to keep it in his grasp, jumped between them and +shouted in a tone of command: "Don't shoot, Jim, don't shoot! You'll +spoil the whole game if you kill 'im!" + +Jim lowered his revolver sullenly and vented his anger in vile +epithets instead of bullets. + +"'Ere, stop your swearing and grab that arm," said Haney. "You can't +blame the man for kicking. You or me would do the same thing in 'is +place. Now push 'im up against this pine tree and 'and me the rope. +I'm sorry we 'ave to treat you this way, Mr. Wellesly, but if you +won't be reasonable it's the only thing we can do." + +Wellesly struggled at first, but he soon realized that they were much +the stronger and wasted no more strength in useless resistance, though +grinding his teeth with rage. They tied his arms to his body, and +then, standing him upright, bound him close against the tree. They +stepped back and Jim shook his fist at the captive. + +"I'll get even with you yet," he shouted, "for the way you took me in +the jaw! If you ain't ready to do what we want to-morrow morning you +won't get a chance to starve, you hear me shout! I'll wait till then, +but I won't wait no longer!" + +"Shut up, Jim! Don't be a fool!" said Haney. "After 'e's meditated +about it all day 'e'll be reasonable." + +Wellesly did not speak, but the two men read a "never surrender" in +his blazing eyes. Haney laughed excitedly and said, replying to his +look: + +"You'll feel differently to-night, Mr. Wellesly. That rope's likely +to 'ave a big effect on your state of mind. Jim, we don't want to +leave any knives on 'im." + +They went through his pockets and took out everything they contained, +dividing the money between them, while Haney took charge of his +papers. Then they made ready for their own trip, saddling their horses +and preparing to lead the two others. + +"We won't leave 'im the least possibility of getting away," said Haney +to Jim, "even if 'e should 'appen to get loose." + +"He'll never get out of that rope till we let him out." + +"If the 'orses ain't 'ere he won't 'ave any temptation to try. 'E'd +never undertake the desert alone and afoot." + +As they started, Haney called out, as good-naturedly as if they were +the best of friends: "Good morning, Mr. Wellesly! I 'ope we'll find +you more reasonable to-night." + +Jim took out his revolver and turned in his saddle toward the captive. +Haney grabbed his arm. + +"Don't you worry," said Jim. "I ain't a-goin' to kill him, like I +ought to do. I'm just a-goin' to put my mark on him." + +Wellesly heard the clicking of the trigger and the thought sped +through his mind that this was his last moment on earth. He saw the +flash and heard the report, and then it seemed many long minutes until +the whizzing of the bullet filled his ear and he heard it thump into +the bark of the tree beside his head. There was a stinging in the rim +of his left ear, where it had nicked out a little rounded segment. + +"There!" said Jim, with an ugly laugh, as he put away his gun, "he's +my maverick now, and if anybody else claims him there'll be war." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The next morning after his arrest Nick Ellhorn was released on bail. +He came out thoroughly sobered, and when he learned what had been the +result of his drunken trick his vocabulary of abusive epithets ran dry +in his effort to characterize his conduct. + +"How did you happen to get drunk, Nick?" Judge Harlin asked. "I +thought you had quit. What did you do it for?" + +"Sure, and what did I do it for?" said Nick, and the strong Irish +accent in his speech told how deeply he felt his misdeed. For he was +always most Irish when most moved. "I reckon," he went on, and the +rolling intonation fell from his tongue like a faint breath from the +green isle itself, "I reckon I did it just to show my friends what a +measly, coyote, white-livered, tackey, ornery, spavined, colicky, +mangy, blitherin' sort of a beast I am. Sure, now, Judge, I just +wanted everybody to know what a gee-whillikined damn fool I can be if +I try. And they know, now. Oh, yes, they know. There's nothin' more I +can tell. Hold on, Judge! Sure, and I'm thinkin' it all came along of +the way I mixed my drinks yesterday when I first struck the Palmleaf. +I had beer, and whisky, and some mint juleps, yes, and maybe a +cocktail, and I think there was some more beer--yes, there was more +beer, and I think likely that I had some brandy up there in that sick +man's room. For I seem to remember that I took a drink of brandy +because it was goin' to kill him if he drank it, and so I took it in +his place. Yes, I must have had some brandy, sure, because nothin' but +brandy will set me up that way. Now, just look at that, Judge! Ain't +that a fine lay-out for a man to swallow that knows better? If I'd +never been inside a saloon before there'd be some excuse. But me +a-mixin' my drinks like that! It's plumb ridiculous!" + +"Jim Halliday isn't sorry you did it. He's as proud as a boy with his +first pants over the haul he made yesterday. I hear he's going to be +measured for a brand-new, tailor-made cartridge belt and six-shooter +as a memento of the occasion." + +"He'd better hurry up, then, before the occasion turns a back +somersault on him. I reckon what he needs most is a new hat that will +be about six sizes too big for him a week from now. Jim Halliday's all +right as long as he keeps to his own side of the street, but he'd +better not come over here or he'll be filled so full of bullets that +he won't know himself from a dice box. Say, Judge, what's become of +that John Chiny's pigtail they say I cut off?" + +"I suppose it's in the hands of the district attorney and will be +brought in as part of the evidence when your case is tried." + +"Harry Gillam's got it, has he? Well, I want it myself. It's mine, and +I want it as a reminder not to mix my drinks. What had I better do +about this business, Judge?" + +"There's only one thing you can do, Nick--plead guilty and throw +yourself on the mercy of the court, and trust to your confounded Irish +luck to get you off easy." + +Nick Ellhorn sent a telegram to Thomson Tuttle to return as quickly as +possible and then attended to the shipment of Emerson Mead's cattle. +When he appeared on Main street again in the afternoon he found the +town dividing itself into two hostile camps. The Palmleaf and the +White Horse saloons were, respectively, the headquarters of the two +factions, and men were dropping their work and leaving their shops and +offices to join the excited crowds that filled the two saloons and +gathered in groups on the sidewalks. On the west side of Main street +the general temper was pleased, exultant, and inclined to jeer at the +other side whenever a Republican met a Democrat. On the east side, +anger and the determination to get even, shone in men's eyes and +sounded in their talk. + +In the afternoon news came that the territorial district court had +decided in favor of the Democrats a controversy over the sheriff's +office that had been going on ever since the election the previous +autumn, when on the face of the returns the Republican candidate, +John Daniels, had been declared elected. The Democrats had cried +"fraud," and carried the case into the courts, where it had ever since +been crawling slowly along, while Daniels held the office. The +election had been so hotly contested that each side had counted more +votes than had been registered. But each had felt so confident that it +could cover up its own misdeeds and hide behind its execration of +those of its enemy that neither had had any doubt about the outcome. + +The news of the decision embittered the quarrel which had been opened +by the arrest of Emerson Mead. There were threats of armed resistance +if the Democrats should attempt to take the office, and both John +Daniels and Joe Davis, who had been the Democratic candidate, went +about heavily armed and attended by armed friends as bodyguards, lest +sudden death at the mouth of a smoking gun should end the dispute. + +Toward night the angry talk and the buzzing rumors again centered +about Emerson Mead. It began to be said on the west side of the street +that this whole controversy over the sheriff's office had been worked +up by Mead and his friends in order that they might get his party into +power and, under its protection, harass the cattle company and by +arrests and murders ruin their business and take their stock. As the +talk whizzed and buzzed along the street men grew more and more +reckless and angry in their assertions. They lashed themselves into a +state in which they really believed, for the time being, that Mead's +continued existence would be a peril to themselves and a danger to the +community. Suggestions of lynching were hazarded and quickly taken up +and discussed. There were many who thought this the best thing that +could be done, and a little group of these got together in the coolest +corner of the White Horse saloon and formed themselves into a secret +vigilance committee. News of these things came by way of the back door +into Judge Harlin's office. He took the lead on the Democratic side of +the street and organized a party of twelve of their bravest men and +best shots to guard the jail during the night and resist any attempt +to take out Emerson Mead. He was careful also to see that news of what +he was doing was carried to the leaders on the other side. Late in the +evening he and Ellhorn and the rest of their party posted themselves +in dark corners and convenient hiding-places in the neighborhood of +the jail. An hour or more passed and there was no sign that the +vigilance committee had survived the fervors of the afternoon. Finally +Nick Ellhorn began to suspect what had happened and he called Judge +Harlin to account. + +"I call it downright mean, Judge," he complained, "to bring us fellows +out here in the hope of havin' a scrimmage and then send the other +side word we're here, so they'll be sure not to come! You'll be +runnin' on their ticket next thing we know! Now that we are out here +and all ready for business, and nothin' to do, we'd better just +slam-bang ourselves against that jail over there and get Emerson out." + +Judge Harlin, Ellhorn, Joe Davis and two others were standing in the +recess of a deep doorway under a _portal_. On the top of the _portal_, +stretched at full length, with one ear over the edge, lay a Mexican +listening to their talk. He could not hear Harlin's reply to Nick's +suggestion, but one of the others quickly agreed. The listener did not +wait to hear more, and in five minutes the back room of the White +Horse saloon was in a bustle of excitement. John Daniels and Jim +Halliday called for a posse of citizens to help them defend the jail, +and the party set out at once on a quick run up the street. + +Judge Harlin was trying to restrain Ellhorn's enthusiasm over the idea +of assaulting the jail. "No, Nick," he said, "we don't want to do +anything illegal. We are all right so far, because we are here to +protect human life and uphold the law. But the minute you throw +yourself against the doors of the jail you forfeit the law's +protection and--" + +"Here they come!" Nick interrupted excitedly. His quick ear had caught +the hurried tramp of the approaching party. + +With Daniels, Whittaker and Halliday in the lead and the others +trailing on close behind, they came down the middle of the street on a +half run, plainly revealed in the bright moonlight. They expected to +find the Democrats battering down the jail door, if they were not +already taking the prisoner out, and all their attention was turned +toward that building. Presently they saw that the entrance and all the +street round about were silent and apparently deserted, and they +concluded that the rescuing party was already inside the jail. Daniels +turned and made a hushing gesture. + +"Softly, boys," he said in a repressed voice. "Come along as quietly +as you possibly can and get up to the door in a bunch. Have your guns +ready." + +Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when from the darkness and +silence of a _portal_ a block beyond them came a flash and a report, +and on the instant a dozen more blazed out along that side of the +street, for half a block. + +The sheriff's party came to a sudden stop, stunned for a moment by the +complete surprise. One of their number threw out his hands and sank +down groaning into the dust. + +"We're ambushed, boys! It's a trick!" shouted a man in the rear, and +he started off as fast as his legs could carry him. Another and +another followed his example, and three others picked up the wounded +man and carried him away. Daniels and Halliday and three or four +others returned the fire, guessing at the location of the enemy, but +one of their party fell to the ground and another dropped his pistol +as his arm suddenly went limp and helpless. + +"It's nothin' but a trick to get us out here and kill us," said +Daniels. + +"It's no use to stand here and make targets of ourselves in the +moonlight," added Halliday. "We'd better get out as quick as we can." + +They picked up the wounded man, and supporting him between two others, +sought the shadow of the sidewalk and hurried away, followed by a +jeering "Whoo-oo-oo-ee" in Nick Ellhorn's well-known voice. + +"No more shooting, boys!" shouted Judge Harlin. "We've buffaloed +'em--let 'em go!" + +"You're always spoilin' the fun, Judge," Nick complained. "This job +was too easy! Now, did you ever see such a pack of cowards start on a +lynchin' bee? But I reckon they've learned one lesson and won't try to +lynch Emerson again in a hurry." + +The next day excitement ran higher than ever. The Republicans, +smarting under their defeat, were in a white heat of indignation over +what they believed was a deliberate plan to ambush and kill their +leading men. The Democrats, while they were jubilant over their +victory, were equally indignant over what they declared was an +attempt, by the very men who ought to have protected him, to lynch +Emerson Mead. In reality, each side had been trying to protect him and +uphold the law, but each scoffed at and spurned the story of the +other. Main street was in two hostile camps and all the fire-arms in +the town that were not already in evidence in holsters and hip +pockets, were brought to the center of hostilities and placed within +handy reaching distance in shops and offices. Behind the bar in each +of the saloons was a stack of shot-guns and rifles. The sidewalk on +each side of the street was constantly crowded, but nobody crossed +from one side to the other. + +The women began to feel the war spirit and early in the day Judge +Harlin's wife and John Daniels' wife, who were ordinarily the dearest +friends, passed each other on the street without speaking. The ladies +of Las Plumas were accustomed to meet at frequent teas, luncheons and +card parties on terms of the greatest cordiality, but long before +night, if any one whose masculine affiliations were on one side met +one belonging to the other, they passed with a haughty stare. + +Sheriff Daniels was much disturbed over the situation, fearing that he +would be unable to keep his prisoner in jail. He talked the matter +over with his advisers and together they decided that the best plan +would be to get Emerson Mead out of town for the present, and +accordingly a telegram was sent to the sheriff of the adjoining county +asking permission to lodge Mead temporarily in his jail. The Democrats +heard of this plan, and Nick Ellhorn fumed indignantly. Judge Harlin +was secretly pleased, and contrived to send word to Colonel +Whittaker, Sheriff Daniels and Jim Halliday that he approved their +plan and would do his best to control the Democratic faction while +they were making the change. He did not tell Nick Ellhorn that he had +done this, but he reasoned with that loyal friend at great length on +the matter. + +"But see here, Judge," Nick replied to all his arguments, "I got +Emerson into trouble this time and I've got to get him out. If he +hadn't been chasin' around alone, tryin' to get me out of the beastly +drunken scrape I'd been fool enough to get into, this wouldn't have +happened. You know it wouldn't, Judge. It's all my fault, and I've got +to get Emerson out of it." + +"That's all right, Nick. Your loyalty to Emerson does you great +credit. Much more than your judgment does. But if you'll just wait a +week or two the grand jury will pronounce on his case, and they're +bound to let the bottom out of the whole thing. They'll never find a +true bill against him, with no evidence to go on and no proof even +that Will Whittaker is dead. Then Emerson will come out a vindicated +man and they will have to let him alone after that. His interests will +not suffer now by his being detained a few days, and he will gain in +the respect of the community by submitting quietly. Take my advice, +Nick, and keep still, and let matters follow their legal course for +the next week or two." + +"A week or two, Judge! And let Emerson stay in jail all that time? +When he's no more right to be there than you or me! Sure, now, Judge! +and what do you-all take me for, anyway?" + +"For a sensible man, Nick, who will see the reason in what I have been +saying and will take my advice in the matter." + +Nick leaned his face on his hand and gloomed across the desk at the +big judge, who sat calm and judicial on the other side. Judge Harlin +pleased himself much by believing that he could handle Nick Ellhorn +better than any other man in the county, except Emerson Mead, and he +liked to have the opportunity to try his hand, just as he liked to +drive a nervous, mettlesome, erratic horse. He could drive the horse, +but he could not manage Nick Ellhorn. The tall Texan had learned not +to batter words against the judge's determination, which was as big +and bulky as his figure. He simply gave tacit acquiescence, and then +went away and did as he pleased. If his scheme succeeded he adroitly +flattered the judge by giving him the credit; if it failed he +professed penitence and said how much better it would have been to +follow the judge's advice. He saw that Judge Harlin had decided to +allow Emerson Mead to stay in jail until the grand jury should meet, +so he presently said: + +"Oh, I reckon you-all are right about it, Judge, but it's damn hard on +Emerson. But if it's the only way to keep this blamed town from +fallin' to and gettin' rid of itself I reckon we'll have to let him +stand it." He got up and walked up and down the room for a few minutes +and then, with his black eyes dancing and a broad smile curling his +mustache around the dimple in each cheek, he went to the telegraph +office and sent to Thomson Tuttle a telegram which read: + +"Get off the train to-morrow at Escondida and ride to Bosque Grande, +where you will find Missouri Bill with horses and instructions." +Escondida was the first station on the railroad north of Las Plumas +and the Bosque Grande was a river flat, covered with a dense growth of +cottonwoods and willow bushes through which the railroad ran, about +midway between the two towns. Missouri Bill was one of Mead's cow-boys +who had come in with the herd of cattle. + +When it became known that Emerson Mead was to be taken to the +Silverado county jail to await the session of the grand jury and that +the Democrats would not object to the scheme, the war feeling at once +began to abate. The town still rested on its arms and glared across +Main street, each party from its own side. There was no more talk of +extreme measures and there were no more threats of blood letting. So +things went on for a few hours, until the matter of Mead's transfer to +the Silverado jail was finally settled. Then all the town looked on +while Judge Harlin strolled leisurely across the street, nodded to +Colonel Whittaker and Sheriff Daniels, and the three men went into +the White Horse saloon and clinked glasses together over the bar. A +little later Jim Halliday went to the Palmleaf and he and Joe Davis +joined in a friendly "here's luck." After which all the town put away +its guns and went quietly about its usual affairs. + +The Republicans frankly gave out that Emerson Mead would be taken away +on the north bound overland train, which passed through Las Plumas in +the middle of the day. Nick Ellhorn decided that this was told too +openly to be true. He guessed that the journey would be made on a +"local" train which passed through the town in the early morning and +that Sheriff Daniels hoped, by thus secretly carrying off his +prisoner, to forestall any possible attempt at a rescue. Accordingly, +he sent another telegram to Tuttle to be in the Bosque Grande for this +train and started off Missouri Bill with two extra horses before +daybreak on the second morning after the fight. + +With Sheriff Daniels beside him and Jim Halliday walking close behind, +Emerson Mead stepped into the rear coach of the "local" train with +none to witness his departure other than the handful of regular +travelers, and a half dozen well armed Republicans who were at the +station to help prevent any attempt at escape. Mead greeted these with +smiling good nature, as if there were no thought of quarrel between +them, and cast his eyes about for sight of his own friends. Not one +could he see. He did not know what plan for his assistance Ellhorn and +Tuttle might have schemed, he did not even know that Tuttle had gone +away, but he felt sure they would not allow him to be taken away from +Las Plumas any more than they would allow him to remain in jail longer +than the earliest possible moment at which they could get him out. So +he went along quietly and good-naturedly with his keepers, his eyes +watchful and his mind alert, alike for any relaxation of their +vigilance which would give him a chance of escape, and for the first +sign from his friends. + +Nick Ellhorn did not appear on the station platform at all. He rushed +up from the opposite side just as the train was starting and jumped on +the steps of the smoking car. Inside he saw a man whom he knew, and, +sitting down beside him, they smoked and chatted and laughed together +until the train reached the edge of the Bosque Grande, when Nick +walked leisurely into the baggage compartment which formed the front +half of the smoking car. He nodded a friendly good morning to the +baggage man, handed him a cigar, lighted a fresh one himself, and with +one eye out at the open door stood and bandied a joke or two with the +train man. Presently he caught sight of a bunch of horses behind a +willow thicket a little way ahead and saw a big, burly figure near the +track. + +Then he leaped to the top of the tender, and in another moment was +sitting with his long legs dangling from the front end of the coal +box. "Whoo-oo-oo-ee!" sounded in the ears of the engineer and fireman, +above the rattle of the train and the roar of the engine. They looked +around, astonished and startled by the sudden yell, and saw themselves +covered by two cocked revolvers. + +"Stop your old engine before she gets to that trestle yonder or I'll +blow both of you through your headlight!" yelled Nick. + +The engineer knew Ellhorn and he yelled back, "What for, Nick?" + +"Never mind what for! Stop her quick or--one, two--" + +The engineer waited no longer, but let his lever forward with a sudden +jerk. The wheels ground and scraped and the train trembled and stood +still with the rear coach only a few feet in front of Tuttle's post. + +Inside the car, Halliday, who sat in the seat behind Mead and the +sheriff, had walked to the front end of the car and was drinking at +the ice-water tank when the train came to a sudden stop. He went to +the front platform and looked up the track to see what was the matter. +Seeing nothing there he turned to face the rear. By that time Tom +Tuttle was on the back platform and nothing was to be seen in that +direction. So he turned to the other side of the platform and looked +diligently up and down the road. Sheriff Daniels and his prisoner were +sitting on the opposite side of the train from that on which Tuttle +was entering. The sheriff stepped into the next seat and put his head +out of the window. Mead's faculties were on the alert, and when he +heard a quick, heavy step leaping up the back steps of the car he +knew, without turning his head, that it was either Tuttle or Ellhorn. +He leaned over the back of the seat in front of him and jerked the +sheriff's pistol from its holster just as Tuttle stood beside him. +Daniels jumped back, as he felt his gun drawn out, and found himself, +unarmed, confronted by cocked revolvers in the hands of two of the +best shots in the territory. He yelled for Halliday, and Mead and +Tuttle backed quickly toward the rear door. The train was moving again +as Halliday came rushing in, and Tuttle, disappearing through the back +door, transferred his aim from the sheriff to the deputy. Halliday +knew well that if he fired he would shoot to his own death, and he +paused midway of the car, with his gun half raised, as the two men +leaped from the moving train. + +"Much obliged!" yelled Nick Ellhorn, jumping to the ground from +his perch on the coal box. Daniels and Halliday stood on the rear +platform as the three men leaped on the horses which Missouri Bill had +ready beside the track. Daniels shook his fist at them in rage, and +Halliday emptied the chambers of his six-shooter, but the bullets did +no more damage than to cut some hairs from the tail of Mead's horse. +Ellhorn waved his sombrero and shouted his loudest and longest +"Whoo-oo-oo-ee!" Tuttle yelled "Buffaloed!" and Mead kissed his hand +to the two angry men on the rear platform of the departing train. Then +they put spurs to their horses and rode away over the plains and the +mountains. They stopped over night at Muletown, and reached Mead's +ranch about noon the next day. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Wellesly waited in silence and apparent resignation until his captors +disappeared down the canyon and the last sound of the horses' feet +stumbling over the boulders melted into the distance. Then he began +wriggling his body and twisting his arms to see if there were any +possibility of loosening the rope. It would give just enough +everywhere to allow a very slight movement of limbs and body, but it +was impossible to work this small slack from any two of the loops into +one. Wellesly pulled and worked and wriggled for a long time without +making any change in his bonds. Then he put all his attention upon his +right arm, which he could move up and down a very little. He had a +narrow hand, with thumb and wrist joints as supple as a conjurer's, so +that he could almost fold the palm upon itself and the hand upon the +arm. One turn of the rope which bound his arms to his body was just +above the wrist, and by working his hand up and down, until he rubbed +the skin off against the bark of the tree, he managed to get this band +a little looser, so that, by doubling his hand back, he could catch it +with his thumb. Then it was only a matter of a few minutes until he +had the right arm free to the elbow. On the ground at his feet lay a +match, which had dropped there when his captors rifled his pockets. If +he could only get it he might possibly burn through some of the bands +of rope. He thought that if he could get rid of the rope across his +chest he might be able to reach the match. He worked at this with his +one free hand for some time, but could neither loosen nor move it. He +picked at it until his finger-ends were bleeding, but he could make no +impression on its iron-like strands. + +A breeze blew the lapel of his light coat out a little way and there +his eye caught the glint of a pin-head. He remembered that Marguerite +Delarue had pinned a rose in his buttonhole the day before he left Las +Plumas. He had been saying pretty, half-loverlike nothings to her +about her hair and her eyes, and to conceal her embarrassed pleasure +she had turned away and plucked a rosebud from the vine that clambered +over the veranda. He had begged for the flower, and she, smiling and +blushing so winsomely that he had been tempted to forget his +discretion, had pinned it in his buttonhole. It had fallen out +unnoticed and he had forgotten all about it until the welcome sight of +the pin brought the incident back to his memory. With a little +exclamation of delight he thrust his free hand upward for the pin, but +he could not reach it. Neither could he pull his coat down through the +bands of rope. He worked at it for a long time, and finally stopped +his efforts, baffled, despairing, his heart filled with angry +hopelessness. Again the breeze fluttered the lapel, and with a sudden +impulse of revengeful savagery he thrust down his head and snapped at +the coat. Unexpectedly, he caught it in his teeth. Filled with a new +inspiration, he kept fast hold of the cloth and by working it along +between his lips, he finally got the head of the pin between his +teeth. Then he easily drew it out, and, leaning his head over, +transferred it to his fingers. + +He drew a deep breath of exultation. "Now," he thought, "this settles +the matter, and I'll soon be free--if I don't drop the pin. My blessed +Marguerite! I could almost marry you for this!" + +Carefully he began picking the rope with the pin, fiber by fiber, and +slowly, strand by strand, the hard, twisted, weather-beaten cords gave +way and stood out on each side in stubby, frazzled ends. The pin bent +and turned in his fingers, and the blood oozed from their raw ends. +But he held a tight grip upon his one hope of freedom, and finally the +rope was so nearly separated that a sudden wrench of his body broke +the last strands. He put the bent, twisted, bloody pin carefully away +in his pocket and, stooping over, found that he could barely reach the +match on the ground. He was able to grasp also two or three dry twigs +and sticks that lay near it. On the bark of the pine tree to which he +was tied were many little balls and drops of pitch. He felt over the +surface of the tree as far as he could reach and pulled off all that +he could get of this. Then he found that the only part of the rope +that he could at once reach and see was that directly in front of his +body. He turned and twisted, but there was no other way. If he +attempted to burn it anywhere else he would have to guess at the best +way to hold the match, and he might waste the precious heat in which +lay his only hope. + +He stuck the pitch in a ring around the rope where it circled his body +just below the stomach. Then he set his teeth together, and with his +face gone all white and sick-looking, lighted the match and held it +under the pitch. Eagerly he watched the little flames dart upward over +the rope. He flattened his body against the tree as the scorching heat +reached his skin. The match burned low, and by its dying flame he +lighted one of the dry twigs. It was full of pitch and burned up +brightly. The flame leaped up and caught his shirt. Holding the +burning stick in his mouth he slapped the fire with the palm of his +one free hand and soon smothered it, before it had done more than +scorch the skin of his chest. The cloth of his trousers charred under +the fire and held a constant heat against his body, and the pain from +the blistering wound almost made him forget his desperation. Twice he +started impulsively to fling away the tiny brand, but quick +remembrance of his desperate situation stopped the instinctive +movement, and, with grinding teeth, he held it again under the rope. +The smell of the burning flesh rose to his nostrils and sickened him. +He felt himself turning faint. "I can not stand it!" he groaned and +flung away the burning twig. In an instant he realized what he had +done, and stooping over he tried to reach it where it blazed upon the +ground. But it was too far away. In an agony of hopelessness he seized +the rope with his one free hand and jerked it with all his strength. +It broke at the burned place and left him free as far as the hips, +although the left arm was still bound to his body. + +An empty tin can caught his eye in the grass a little way off. It was +out of his reach, but he saw a stick on the ground part way around the +tree. By twisting and stretching his body to the utmost he could reach +the stick, and by its aid he soon had the can in his hand. The top had +been almost cut out, and holding the can in his hand and the flying +leaf of tin in his teeth he worked and twisted and pulled until he +tore it out. Its edge was sharp and jagged, and sawing and cutting +with it he soon freed himself from the remaining bonds of rope. As the +last one dropped away and he stood up and stretched himself in the +shade of the pine tree he found that he was trembling like a leaf and +that a cold sweat covered him from head to foot. Shivering, he stepped +out into the hot sunshine. + +But he had no time to waste on a nervous collapse. He found some tea +in the pack, and hastily stirring up the embers of the breakfast fire, +he made the coffee pot full of a brew as strong as he could drink. +There was also part of a small sack of flour, and he quickly mixed a +paste of flour and water and spread it over the deep, blistered burn +on his abdomen. Then, with a can of baked beans in one hand and the +coffee pot of tea in the other, he started down the canyon. + +The tiny stream from the spring grew smaller and smaller and finally +lost itself in the thirsty earth. For a little way farther the +straggling vegetation and the moist sand showed its course, but long +before he reached the mouth of the canyon all sign of water +disappeared and nothing remained but hot sand and barren rocks. When +he reached the larger canyon through which they had come up from the +plain two days before, he hid behind some huge boulders and watched +and listened for sign of his captors. He thought he heard the faint +sound of a horse's hoofs far in the distance. He started from his +hiding-place and ran down the canyon, hoping to get out of sight, if +it should be his two enemies returning, before they could reach the +place. He was still trembling with the exhaustion of the forenoon's +long nervous strain, and when his foot slipped upon a stone he could +not save himself from a fall. He went down full length upon the sand, +and half his precious store of tea was spilled. He dared not take the +time to go back and make more. There was still left nearly a quart of +the strong liquid, and he thought that if he would be very careful and +remember to swallow only a little each time it might take him safely +across the desert. He hurried on, running where the way was smooth and +hard enough, and again clambering over boulders or ploughing heavily +through the sand. + +When he came to the mouth of the canyon and looked out over the low, +rocky hills and the sandy, white waste beyond, the sun was already in +its downward course. He was red and panting with the heat, which had +been well nigh intolerable between the high, narrow walls of the +canyon, and his whole body smarted and glowed as if it had been +encased in some stinging hot metal. He carefully studied the sky line +of the Fernandez mountains, which rimmed the desert on the west, and +marked the pass through which he and his companions had come, +impressing it upon his mind that he must keep that constantly before +his eyes. It seemed easy enough, and he said to himself that if he +just kept his face toward that pass he would have no trouble and that +he would certainly reach it before noon the next day. He listened +intently for sounds from the canyon, but could hear nothing, and with +much relief he decided that he must have been mistaken and that he +would be safe from immediate pursuit. + +"I'm lucky so far," he said to himself as he started on the faintly +marked trail across the barren foothills, "even if I did spill my tea. +If they should follow me, it would be my last day on earth. That +damned Jim would shoot me down as soon as he could get near enough." +Then he remembered that this was Thursday, and that Colonel Whittaker +would expect him in Las Plumas that afternoon. "He'll send to the +ranch to inquire about me when I don't show up to-morrow," Wellesly +thought, "and then everybody will turn out to search for me. But, Good +Lord! I needn't pin any hopes to that! I'd be dead and my bones picked +and bleached long before anybody would think of looking in this hell +hole for me. There would be absolutely no way of tracing me. My only +hope is to--now, where is that pass! Yes, there it is. I'm headed all +right." + +He walked rapidly over the low, rocky hills, still fearing possible +pursuit and frequently looking back, until he reached the sandy levels +of the desert. There the trail was so faint that he could scarcely +follow it with his eye. He stopped, perplexed and doubtful, for he +could not remember that it seemed so blind when he traveled it before. +"But there is the pass," he thought. "I'm headed all right, and this +must be the road. It is just another indication of my general +stupidity about everything out of doors. I never look at a road, or +think about directions, or notice the lay of the land, as long as +there is anybody with me upon whom I can depend. I might as well pay +no more attention to this trail and strike straight across the desert. +If I keep my face toward the pass I'm all right." + +As long as the road kept a straight course across the sand and alkali +wastes he followed it. But when it bent away in a detour he chose the +air line which he constantly drew from his objective point, and +congratulated himself that he would thus save a little space. He +tramped along, in and out among the cactus and greasewood, and +finally, near sunset, he came upon a great, field-like growth of +prickly-pear cactus. The big, bespined joints spread themselves in a +thick carpet over the sand and climbed over one another in great +hummocks and stuck out their millions upon millions of needles in +every direction. The growth looked as if it might cover hundreds of +acres. + +"So that's the reason the trail bent like a bow," thought Wellesly as +he looked at the field of cactus in dismay. "I ought to have known +there was some good reason for it. If I'm lucky enough to find it +again I'll know enough to stick to it. Well, I must skirt along this +field of devil's fingers till I find the road again. I wonder if I'll +know it when I see it." + +The sun went down, a dazzling ball of yellow fire, behind the rounded, +rolling outlines of the Fernandez mountains, and from out the towering +crags of the Oro Fino range the moon rose, white and cool, looking +like a great, round wheel of snow. Wellesly had planned to keep on +with his journey through the greater part of the night, in order to +take advantage of the cooler atmosphere. But the trail was so faint he +feared he might not recognize it in the less certain light of the +moon, and so he decided to stop where he was for the night. With his +heel and a sharp-edged stone he stamped in the head of the can of +baked beans and with his fingers helped himself to a goodly share of +its contents. He forced himself to drink sparingly of what remained of +his tea. Not more than a pint was left and he dared take no more than +a few sips. To keep from pouring the whole of it down his throat in +great gulps strained his will power to the utmost. His whole body +clamored for drink. He would seize the coffee pot with a savage grip +and carry it half way to his lips, stop it there with gritting teeth, +and with conjured visions of men dying with thirst force himself to +put it down again. He said to himself that of all the times in his +life which had required self-control none had ever made such sweeping +demands upon his will power as did this. After he had finished his +supper and was ready to lie down on the sand to sleep, he carried the +coffee pot some rods away, to the edge of the growth of cactus, and +hid it there under the protection of the branching, needle-covered +joints of the prickly-pear, where he could not get it without having +his hands pierced and stung by the spines. For he feared that his +thirst might rouse him in the night and that, with his faculties +benumbed with sleep, he might drink the whole of the precious store. + +By midnight the air of the desert had cooled enough for him to sleep +with comfort, save for the thirst that now and again wakened him with +parched mouth and clinging tongue. In the morning, he resolutely ate +his breakfast of cold baked beans, helping himself with his fingers, +forcing himself to swallow the very last morsel he could choke down, +before he took the coffee pot from its hiding-place. His eyelids fell, +and with a gasping breath he put it to his lips. Then he summoned all +his will power and took two small swallows. + +As he plodded through the sand he wondered what would be the outcome +of his journey, even if he should succeed in getting safely across the +desert and beyond the mountain pass. He remembered that there was no +sign of water and no human habitation between the desert and the ranch +where his misfortunes had begun. He had seen no one there but the +Englishman, and he wondered whether he would find the place deserted +or whether he would run into the arms of other members of the same +gang that had lured him away. No matter. He would find water there, +and he was ready to face any danger or run any risk for the chance of +once more having all the water he could drink. + +The sun was well up in the sky and the desert glowed like an oven. Hot +winds began to blow across it--light, variable winds, rushing now this +way and now that. They made little whirlwinds that picked up the sand, +carried it some distance, and then dropped it and died away. Wellesly +saw one of these sand clouds dancing across the plain not far away, +and instantly the hopeful thought flashed upon him that it was the +dust raised by some horsemen. He ran toward it, shouting and waving +his hat. It turned and whirled along the sandy levels in another +direction, and he turned too and ran toward a point at which he +thought he could intercept it. Presently it vanished into the heated +air and he stopped, bewildered, and for a moment dazed, that no +horsemen came galloping out of the cloud. He looked helplessly about +him and saw another, a high, round column that reached to mid-sky, +swirling across the plain. Then he knew that he had been chasing a +"dust-devil." He swore angrily at himself and started on, and when +next he swept the mountain range with his eye for the pass that was +his objective point he could not find it. Suddenly he stopped and shut +his eyes, and a shuddering fear held his heart. Slowly he turned +squarely around and looked up, afraid and trembling. There were the +Fernandez mountains and there was the pass he wished to reach. He had +no idea how long he had been traveling in the backward direction. A +sudden panic seized him and he ran wildly about, now in one direction +and now in another. Panting with the exertion he savagely grasped the +coffee pot and drained it of its last drop. + +"Now I have signed my death warrant," he thought, as he threw away the +empty vessel. He sank down on the hot sands and buried his face in his +arms. For the first time his courage was all gone. Presently he felt +the effects of the tea and he stood up, ready to go on. + +"It is no use trying to find the road again," he mused. "It would be +just so much lost time and effort. I'll just keep my eye on the pass +and go directly toward it, as nearly as I can." + +He tried to eat more of the beans, but they stuck in his parched +throat. The tin was so hot that it burned his fingers, and, believing +they would be of no more use to him, he threw them away. The draught +of tea had much refreshed him and he started across the trackless +waste of sand and alkali with renewed determination. + +He tramped on and on, the sun blazed down from a cloudless sky and +beat upon the level plain, and the sand, filled with heat, threw back +the rays into the scorching air. The heat seemed to fill the plain as +if it were a deep, transparent lake of some hot, shimmering liquid. At +a little distance every object loomed through the heat-haze distorted, +elongated and wavering. The hot sand burned Wellesly's feet through +his boots. The notion seized him that if he touched his body anywhere +it would blister his fingers. Even the blood in his veins felt fiery +hot and as if it were ready to burst through its channels. The sun +seemed to follow him and blaze down upon him with the malicious +persecution of a personal enemy. He shook his fist and swore at the +ball of fire. + +For a long time he kept his eyes resolutely upon the Fernandez pass +and would look neither to left nor right. But after a while his brain +grew dizzy and his determination faltered. He stopped and looked +about him. Off to one side he thought he saw a lake, lying blue and +limpid in a circlet of gray sand, and he ran panting toward it, +reaching out his hands, and ready to plunge into its cool depths. He +ran and ran, until he stumbled and fell with exhaustion. It happened +that he lay in the shadow of a big clump of greasewood, and after a +little he revived and sat up. Then he rose and looked all about--and +knew that the longed-for lake was only the lying cheat of the desert +sands. He fastened his eyes again upon the mountain pass and trudged +on over the burning waste and through the burning heat, mumbling oaths +of threat and anger. His tongue seemed to fill his whole mouth, and +tongue and mouth and throat burned like red-hot metal. + +The stories he had heard from Jim and Haney constantly haunted him. He +could not drive them away. In imagination he saw himself lying on the +white, hot sands with open mouth, protruding tongue, black face and +sightless eyes. The picture sent a thrill of horror through him and +moved his dizzy, flagging brain to fresh resolution. He stumbled on +through the blazing, parching, cruel heat, sometimes falling and lying +motionless for a time, then pulling himself up and going on with will +newly braced by the fear that he might not rise again. Once he sank, +groaning, his courage quite broken, and mumbled to himself that he +could go no farther. As he fell the loud whirr of a rattlesnake +sounded from the bush of greasewood beside him. Instinctive fear +instantly mettled his nerves and he sprang up and leaped away from the +hidden enemy. The fear of this danger, of which he had not thought +before, steadied his brain once more and helped him bend his will +unyieldingly to the task of going on and on and on, forever and +forever, through the burning, blasting heat. + +Often he turned from his course and wandered aimlessly about in wrong +directions, forgetting for a time his objective point and remembering +only that he must keep going. Once he came upon human bones, with +shreds of clothing lying about, and stood staring at them, his eyes +held by the fascination of horror. Finally he forced himself to move +on, and after he had tramped through the scorching sand for a long +time, he found himself staring again at the bleaching skeleton. +Through his heat-dazed brain the thought made way that the fascination +of this white, nameless thing had cast a spell upon him and had drawn +him back to die here, where his bones might lie beside these that had +whitened this desert spot for so many months. Perhaps this poor +creature's soul hovered over his death place and in its loneliness and +desolation had fastened ghoulish talons into his and would pin him +down to die in the same spot. The idea took instant possession of his +bewildered mind and filled him with such quaking fear and horror that +he turned and ran with new strength and speed, as if the clawing, +clamoring ghost were really at his heels. + +By mere blind luck he ran in the right direction, and when next he had +conscious knowledge of his surroundings he was lying on the ground at +the mouth of the Fernandez pass, well up in the mountains, with the +white moonlight all about him. Dazedly he thought it would be better +for him to lie still and rest, but from somewhere back in his mind +came the conviction that there was something upon which he must keep +his eyes fastened, some place toward which he must go, and that he +must keep on going and going, until he should reach it. Determination +rose spontaneously, and he got up and stumbled on, frequently falling, +but always soon rising again and keeping on with his journey. After a +long time he saw something that glittered in the moonlight. His first +thought was "water!" and with a cry that died in his parched, swollen +throat he sprang forward and seized it. But it was only a bottle, a +flat, empty whisky flask. He turned it over and over in his hands with +a haunting notion that in some way it was connected with his past. + +Slowly the recollection shaped itself in his heat-bewildered faculties +that he and the two men who were luring him away had drunk from this +flask here and that then he had thrown it beside the road. Presently +the idea grew out of this recollection that he was on the right road +and that soon he would come to the house where there was water. The +thought made him spring forward again, and he rushed on aimlessly, +thinking of nothing but that somewhere ahead of him there was water. +He ran on and on, now this way and now that, falling and lying +unconscious, then, revived by the cool night air of the mountains, +rising and staggering on again. The sun rose and looked hotly down +upon him as he dragged himself along, hatless, haggard, his skin +burned to a blister, his eyes red and his swollen, blackened tongue +hanging from his mouth. + +After a time he caught sight of a clump of green trees with something +shining behind them, which he thought was the water he was looking +for--water, for which every boiling drop of blood in his body was +fiercely calling; water, which his blistering throat and tongue must +have; water, for which the very marrow of his bones cried +out--water--water--and he ran with all the speed his frenzied longing +could force into his legs. Presently he could hear the rustle of green +leaves, and he thought it was the purring of wavelets on the bank, the +white, shining bank that beckoned him on. He put out his hands to +plunge into the cool, bright waves. They struck a blank, white hall, +and he fell unconscious beside the doorway of Emerson Mead's ranch +house. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Three horsemen galloped around the curve in the road that half circled +the house and the corral and the stables at Emerson Mead's ranch. One +of them swung his hat and shouted a loud "Whoo-oo-oo-ee!" But there +was no response from the house. Doors and windows were closed and not +a soul appeared in sight. + +"That's queer," said Tuttle. "What's become of Billy Haney?" + +"Boys, there's a man lyin' beside the door!" exclaimed Mead. "Somebody +is either drunk or dead!" + +They swung off their horses and rushed to the prostrate figure, which +lay almost on its face. + +"Great God, boys, it's Wellesly, and he's dying of thirst!" cried +Mead. "Nick, bring water, lots of it, cold from the pump! Here, Tom, +help me put him in the hammock." + +They laid him in the hammock, in the cool shade of the cottonwoods, +where he had slept, to his own undoing, three days before. They +moistened his black, protruding tongue and let a few drops of the cool +liquid trickle down his parched throat. They poured water carefully +over his head and neck and on his wrists, and then drenched him from +head to foot with pailful after pailful of the fresh, cold water. + +The patient moaned and moved his head. "He's alive, boys. We'll save +him yet," said Mead. + +Through dim, half-awakened consciousness Wellesly heard the swish of +the water as it poured over his body, and felt the cool streams +trickling down his face. He gasped and his dry, cracked lips drew back +wolfishly from his teeth as he threw up his hands and seized the cup +from which Mead was carefully pouring the water over his head. Mead's +fingers closed tightly over the handle and his arm stiffened to iron. + +"Softly, there, softly," he said in a gentle voice. "I can't let you +drink any now, because it would kill you. You shall have some soon." + +With a choking yell Wellesly half raised himself and clung to the cup +with both hands, trying to force it to his mouth. Nick Ellhorn sprang +to his side and took hold of his shoulders. + +"Sure, now, Mr. Wellesly," he began, and the Irish accent was rich and +strong in his coaxing, wheedling tones, "sure, now, you don't want to +be killin' yourself, after you've held out this far. Just you-all do +as we say and we'll bring you through all right. Sure, and you shall +be after havin' all the water you want, but you must take it on the +outside first. Ah, now, but isn't this shower bath nice!" + +While he talked he gently forced the patient back and as Wellesly lay +down again Mead poured a little water into his mouth. + +"If he goes luny now that's the end of him," said Emerson in a +repressed, tense voice. "We must not let him get excited. Nick, you'd +better stand there and keep him quiet, if you can, and pour water over +his face and head and put a little in his mouth sometimes." + +Tuttle carried the water for their use, two pailsful at a time, and +Mead kept his body well drenched. Ellhorn stooped over the hammock and +continued his coaxing talk, drawling one sentence after another with +slurred r's and soft southern accents. With one hand he patted the +patient's head and shoulders and with the other he dashed water over +his face or trickled it, drop by drop, into his mouth. After a while +they gave the half-conscious man some weak tea, took off his wet +clothes and put him to bed. There they looked after him carefully, +giving him frequent but small instalments of food in liquid form and +an occasional swallow of water. After some hours they decided he was +out of danger and would recover without an illness. Then Nick Ellhorn +mounted a horse and rode away. When he returned he carried a burden +tied in a gunny sack, which he suspended from the limb of a tree and +carefully drenched with water many times before he retired. The next +day he anxiously watched the bag, keeping it constantly wet and shaded +and free to the breezes. And in the afternoon, with a smile curling +his mustache almost up to his eyes, he spread before Wellesly a big, +red watermelon, cold and luscious. With delight in his face and +chuckling in his voice he watched the sick man eat as much as Emerson +would allow him to have, and then begged that he be given more. To get +the melon Ellhorn had ridden fifteen miles and back, to the nearest +ranch beyond Mead's. + +"I never saw a man look happier that you-all do right now," he said as +he watched Wellesly. + +"And you never saw anybody who felt happier than I do with this melon +slipping down my throat," Wellesly responded. "I feel now as if I +should never want to do anything but swallow wet things all the rest +of my life. By the way, did one of you fellows stand beside me a long +time yesterday, coaxing me to lie still?" + +"Yes," said Nick, "it was me. We had to make you keep quiet, or you'd +have gone luny because we wouldn't give you all the water you wanted +to drink. It would have killed you to drink the water, and if you had +yelled and fought yourself crazy for it I reckon you'd have died +anyway." + +[Illustration: "ONCE HE CAME UPON HUMAN BONES, WITH SHREDS OF +CLOTHING."--_p. 179_] + +"Well, I guess you saved my life, then. For if you hadn't kept me +quiet I'd have fought all creation for water. The notion took hold of +me that I was a helpless baby and that my mother was beside me, +turning a crank and making it rain into my mouth, and that all I had +to do was to lie still and listen to her voice and hold my mouth open +so that the drops could trickle down my throat. Lord! How good they +did feel! That was how I happened to lie still so contentedly." + +"Nick could quiet a whole insane asylum when he gets on that +Blarneystone brogue of his," said Emerson. + +All that day they did not allow Wellesly to do much talking, but kept +him lying most of the time in the hammock, in the shade of the +cottonwoods, where he slept or luxuriously spent the time slowly +swallowing the cool drinks the others brought to him. + +In the early evening of the next day, when he had sufficiently +recovered his strength, they heard his story. He lay in the hammock, +with the mountain breeze blowing across his face and a pitcher of cold +tea beside him, and told them all that had happened to him from the +time he started for Las Plumas until consciousness failed him, with +his hands against the solid wall of Mead's house. The three tall +Texans listened gravely, Mead and Tuttle sitting one on each side of +the hammock and Ellhorn leaning against the tree at its foot. They +said nothing, but their eyes were fastened on his with the keenest +interest, and now and then they exchanged a nod or a look of +appreciation. When he finished silence fell on the group for a moment. +Then Mead stretched out a sun-browned hand and shook Wellesly's. + +"I've never been a friend of yours, Mr. Wellesly," he said, "or +considered you one of mine. But I want to say, right now, that you've +got more grit than anybody I know in the southwest, and I'm proud to +have had the chance to save as brave a man as you are." + +Tuttle seized Wellesly's other hand and exclaimed, "That's so! That's +straight talk! I'm with you there, Emerson!" + +Ellhorn walked up to Wellesly's side and put his hand in a brotherly +way on the invalid's arm. + +"I tell you what, Mr. Wellesly, we've fought you and the cattle +company straight from the shoulder, and I reckon we're likely to keep +on fightin' you as long as you fight us, but if you're goin' to give +us the sort of war you showed that desert--well, I reckon Emerson will +need all the help Tom and me can give him!" + +Wellesly laughed in an embarrassed way and Ellhorn went on: "Now, just +see how things turn out. There's been another war over in Las Plumas +and we-all have been fightin' you and your interests and the cattle +company and the Republicans for all we were worth. They arrested +Emerson again on that same old murder fake, to say nothin' of me for +bein' drunk and disorderly, which I sure was, and there was hell to +pay for two days. They tried to take Emerson out of town, and Tom and +me held up the train they had him on. I buffaloed the engineer while +they took care of Daniels and Halliday, and then we pulled our +freight. And here we ride up to the ranch, fugitives from justice, +just barely in time to save you-all." + +Wellesly laughed. "I am very glad you did it. My only regret is that +you didn't break jail several days earlier." + +"I don't know whether or not you-all understand the position I take +about that Whittaker case," said Mead. "I reckon likely you think I +break jail every time you get me in just out of pure cussedness. But I +don't. I do it because I think you-all haven't any reason but pure +cussedness for puttin' me in. I consider that you haven't any right to +arrest me on mere suspicion, and I shall keep on resistin' arrest and +breakin' jail just as long as you fellows keep on tryin' to run me in +without any proof against me. Why, you don't even know that Will +Whittaker's dead! Now, Mr. Wellesly, I'll make a bargain with you." +Mead's eyes were fastened on Wellesly's with an intent look which +gripped the invalid's attention. Wellesly's eyelids suddenly half +closed and between them flashed out the strips of pale, brilliant +gray. + +"All right, go on. I must hear it before I assent." + +"It is this: I won't ask you to have any evidence that I had a hand in +the killing of Will Whittaker, if he is dead. But whenever you can +prove that he is dead and show that he died by violence, I give you my +word, and my friends here, Tom Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn, will add +theirs to mine, I give you my word that I'll submit quietly to arrest +and will stand trial for his murder. But unless you can do that I +shall keep on fightin' you till kingdom come!" + +Tuttle and Ellhorn nodded. "He's right!" they exclaimed. "We'll stick +to what he says." + +Wellesly considered Mead's challenge in silence for a moment. He was +wondering whether this was the courage of innocence or whether it was +mere bluffing audacity. It was very like the former, but he decided +that it must be the latter, because he was quite convinced that Mead +had killed Whittaker. + +"Of course," he said, "after what you have done for me here--you have +saved my life and showed me the greatest kindness and generosity--I +can not allow any further proceedings to be taken against you, if I +can prevent them, which is not--" + +"Oh, hang all that!" Mead interrupted with a gesture of irritation. "I +don't expect and don't want anything we have done just now to make any +difference with your feelings toward me, or change the policy of the +Fillmore Cattle Company. And I don't want it to influence the actions +of the Republicans in Las Plumas, either. We didn't do it for that +purpose, and I'm not buying protection for myself that way. What we +did was the barest humanity." + +"No, Mr. Wellesly," Nick Ellhorn broke in, "you needn't have it on +your conscience that you must be grateful to us, because if we hadn't +saved you the Republicans over in Plumas would have said that we +killed you. We sure had to save you to save our own skins." + +There was a general laugh at this, and Mead added quietly: "As it was +my men who were to blame for your condition, I suppose I would have +been, in a way, responsible." + +Tuttle rose and began walking about uneasily. "When are we goin' to +start after 'em, Nick?" he said. + +"I'm ready whenever you are." + +"All right. To-morrow morning, then." + +Wellesly looked up in surprise. It was the first word he had heard +from either of the three concerning his captors, and he was startled +by the calm assurance with which Tom had taken it for granted that he +and Nick would "go after 'em." "You two won't go alone!" he exclaimed. + +"We're enough," Tuttle replied, a grim, expectant look on his big, +round face. + +"You bet we are!" added Nick. "If they see Tom and me comin' they'll +know they've got to give up. They've seen us shoot, and that scrub, +Haney, has got some sense, though I reckon Jim would be just fool +enough to get behind a rock and pop at us till we blowed his brains +out." + +"Oh, I say, now! This is a foolhardy scheme! Let them go, and if they +come out of there alive we'll get hold of them somehow. It would be +dangerous to the last degree for you two alone to attempt to bring +them out across that desert." + +"Don't you worry," said Nick. "We ain't 'lowing to bring 'em out." + +The next morning Tuttle and Ellhorn, with two loaded pack horses, set +out on their journey to the Oro Fino mountains, where they felt sure +the two kidnappers would still be engaged in their hunt for the lost +Winters mine. Mead had already sent word to the Fillmore ranch that +Wellesly was at his house and that some one might meet them at +Muletown that afternoon and carry him on to Las Plumas. + +When the two men parted they looked each other in the eyes and shook +hands. Wellesly began to acknowledge his debt of gratitude. Mead cut +him short. + +"That's all right, Mr. Wellesly," he said, "but I don't want you to +think for a minute that I expect this little affair to make any +difference in our relations. In the cattle business I still consider +you my enemy, and I propose to fight you as long as you try to prevent +what I hold to be just and fair dealing between the Fillmore Company +and the rest of us cattle raisers. We still stand exactly where we did +before." + +Wellesly smiled admiringly. "Personally, I like your pluck, Mr. Mead, +but, if you will pardon my saying so, I think it is very ill-advised. +I'll frankly admit that you've beaten us this year at every turn. But +you can't keep up this sort of thing year after year, against the +resources and organization of a big company. The most distinctive +commercial feature of this period is the constant growth of big +interests at the expense of smaller ones. It is something that the +individual members of a big concern can't help, because it is bigger +than they are. Our stock-holders will undoubtedly wish to enlarge +their holdings and increase their profits, and I, being only one of a +number, can have no right to put my personal feelings above their +interests. You ought to see that the result is going to be inevitable +in your case, just as it is everywhere else. The little fellows can't +hold their own against the big ones. I am telling you all this in the +most friendly spirit, and I assure you it will be to your interest to +take my advice and compromise the whole matter. I'll guarantee that +the Fillmore people will meet you half way, and I am sure it will cost +you less in the long run." + +As he listened to Wellesly the good-natured smile left Mead's face, +his lips shut in a hard line, and the defiant yellow flame, the light +of battle, which his friends knew to be the sign that he would fight +to the death, leaped into his eyes. He stared into Wellesly's face a +moment before he spoke. + +"Compromise! I've got nothing to compromise! I reckon that means that +you want my two water holes and grazing land that join yours! Well, +you can't have them! But if you want any more fight over this cattle +business you can have all you want, and whenever you want it!" And he +turned on his heel and walked away. "I reckon they would like me to +compromise," he said to himself. "It would be lots of money in their +pockets, and holes in mine. It's a pity that a man with Wellesly's +grit should be such a hog!" + +Wellesly shrugged his shoulders and climbed into the carriage that was +to take him to Las Plumas. "I can't help it," he thought, "if he +chooses to look at it that way. I told him the truth, and I put it in +the kindest way. The little fellows are sure to go down before the big +ones. That is the law that governs all commerce nowadays. He is bound +to be eaten up, and he ought to have sense enough to see it. He'd save +himself trouble and money if he would take my advice, compromise, and +get out now with what he can. He can't stop things from taking their +natural course, and the more he fights the sooner he'll go under. Of +course, I don't like to do anything against him, after he has saved my +life, but my private sentiments can't interfere with the company's +interests, and measures will have to be taken before next fall's +round-up to put a stop to this whole thing. I offered the olive +branch, and he refused it, and now he can have all the war he wants. +He is the head and backbone of all the opposition to us, and if we +were rid of him the Fillmore Company could double its profits. I don't +doubt for a minute that he killed Will Whittaker, and if we could +prove it that would solve the whole matter. He said he would submit to +arrest and trial if we could prove that Will died a violent death. +That means, of course, that nobody saw him commit the murder and that +he has hid the body where he thinks it can't be found. + +"Then it must be very much out of the way, where he is sure nobody +would think of looking for it. Probably it isn't any where near the +traveled road, the cattle ranges, nor the ranches in the foothills. It +must be in some out of the way corner of the Fernandez plain. +Whittaker says the searching parties have been all over this part of +the country, so it must be farther up toward the north. The White +Sands are up that way, I remember, and if a body were buried there, +deep enough, it might as well be at the bottom of the sea. Yes, I +think that's a pretty good idea. Whittaker must send a searching party +up to the White Sands as soon as he can get one together. If we can +find that body--there's _adios_ to Emerson Mead and the fight against +us. He'll have to hang or go to the penitentiary for life." + +When Wellesly reached Las Plumas he found the town basking in peace +and friendliness. Colonel Whittaker and Judge Harlin were enjoying a +midday mint julep together over the bar of the Palmleaf saloon; John +Daniels and Joe Davis were swapping yarns over a watermelon in the +back room of Pierre Delarue's store, while Delarue himself was +laughing gleefully at their stories, and Mrs. Harlin was assisting +Mrs. Daniels in preparations for the swellest card party of the +summer, which the sheriff's wife was to give that afternoon. + +In the late afternoon Wellesly sat beside Marguerite Delarue on her +veranda and told her the story of his abduction and of his fight, +which he had come so near to losing, with the fiends of heat and +thirst. He showed her the bent and bloody pin which had helped to +liberate him from his captivity in the canyon and in soft and +lover-like tones told her that he owed his life to her and that a +lifetime of devotion would not be sufficient to express his gratitude. +But he stopped just short of asking her to accept the lifetime of +devotion. She was much moved and her tender blue eyes were misty with +tears as she listened to the story of his sufferings. He thought he +had never seen her look so sweet and attractive and so entirely in +accord with his ideal of womanly sympathy. When he told her how +Emerson Mead and his two friends had worked over him and by what a +narrow margin they had saved him from severe illness and probably from +death, her face brightened and she seemed much pleased. She asked some +questions about Mead, and was evidently so interested in this part of +the story that Wellesly, much to his surprise, felt a sudden impulse +of personal dislike and enmity toward the big Texan. That night, as he +sat at his window smoking and looking thoughtfully at the lop-sided +moon rising over the Hermosa mountains, he was thinking about +Marguerite Delarue and the advisability of asking her to marry him. + +"Undoubtedly," he owned to himself, "I think more of her than I +usually do of women, because I never before cared a hang what their +feelings were toward other men. I must have been mistaken in thinking +there was anything between her and Mead. Her heart is as fresh as her +face, and I can go in and take it, and feel there have been no +predecessors, if I want to. Do I want to? I don't know. She's handsome +and she's got a stunning figure. Her feet aren't pretty, but they +would look better if she didn't wear such clumsy shoes. Well, I'd see +that she didn't. She seems to be sweet and gentle and sympathetic, and +the sort of woman that would be absorbed in her husband and his +interests. She's overfond of flattery, moral, mental and physical. +Gets that from Frenchy, I suppose, for you can start him strutting +like a rooster any time with a dozen words. But that isn't much of a +fault in a wife, after all, for if a fellow can only remember about it +it's the easiest way in the world to keep a woman happy. Well, I'll +think about it. There are no rivals in the field, and it will be time +enough to decide when I make my next visit to Las Plumas." + +The next day he went to tell Marguerite good-bye and sat talking with +her a long time upon her veranda. Las Plumas had noticed the frequency +of his calls at the Delarue house on his last trip to the town, and +when it saw him there again two days in succession it felt sure that +a love story was going on under the roses and honeysuckles. The smoke +of the engine which carried him away had scarcely melted on the +horizon before people were saying to one another that it would be a +splendid match and what a fine thing it was for Marguerite Delarue +that so rich a man as Wellesly had fallen in love with her. + +Judge Harlin at once drove out to Emerson Mead's ranch in order that +he might learn, from Mead's own lips, exactly what had happened to +Wellesly and what sort of a compact Mead had made with him concerning +the finding of Will Whittaker's body. They sat under the trees +discussing Wellesly's character, after Mead had told the whole story +down to their parting at Muletown. + +"By the way," said Harlin, "they are saying, over in town, that +Wellesly is stuck on Frenchy Delarue's daughter, and that they are to +be married next fall. She is a stunning pretty girl, and as good as +she is pretty, but it seems to me rather odd for Wellesly to come down +here to get a wife. He's the sort of man you would expect to look for +money and position in a wife, rather than real worth." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +When Thomson Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn reached the little canyon in the +Oro Fino mountains they saw that the two would-be kidnappers must have +been there since Wellesly's departure for three of the four horses +were quietly grazing, with hobbled feet, beside the rivulet. They +speculated upon what the absence of the fourth horse might mean while +they staked their own beasts and started on the trail of the two men. +Up the larger canyon a little way they saw buzzards flying low and +heavily. + +"That looks as if one of 'em was dead," said Nick. + +"It would be just like the scrubs," Tom grumbled, "for both of 'em to +go and die before we get a pop at 'em. I want to see the color of +their hair just once. Confound their measly skins, they might have got +Emerson into a worse scrape than this Whittaker business." + +They were both silent for some moments, watching the buzzards as they +swooped low over some dark object on the floor of the canyon. As they +came nearer they saw that the dead thing on which the birds were +feeding was the missing horse. + +"They killed it for meat," said Nick, pointing to a clean cut which +had severed one hind leg from the body. + +"Yes, and not so very long ago, either," Tom assented, "or the +buzzards wouldn't have left this much flesh on it, and it would be +dried up more." + +"Say, Tom, they brought this beast up here to kill it, and they sure +wouldn't have brought it so far away if they had wanted the meat down +there in that canyon. They must have changed camp." + +"Then there's water higher up. They're in here yet, Nick, and we'll +find 'em. We must keep our eyes and ears peeled, so they can't get the +first pop." + +They picked their way carefully up the canyon, watching the gorge that +lengthened beyond them and the walls that towered above their heads, +listening constantly for the faintest sounds of human voice or foot, +speaking rarely and always in a whisper. The floor of the canyon was +strewn with boulders large and small, and its sides rose above them in +rugged, barren, precipitous cliffs. Nowhere did they see the slightest +sign of vegetation to relieve the wilderness of sand and rock and +barren walls. Not even a single grass blade thrust a brave green head +between forbidding stones. Above them was a sky of pure, brilliant +blue, and around them was the gray of the everlasting granite. Except +for the sound of their own footsteps, the canyon was absolutely +silent. There was no call of animals one to another, or twitter of +birds, or whirr of feathered wings, or piping of insects. Now and +then a slender, graceful lizard darted silently out of the sunshine +to hide beneath a stone, and far behind them in the canyon the +buzzards wheeled in low, awkward flights above the carcass of the dead +horse. But aside from these no living creature was to be seen. + +The sun shone squarely down upon the canyon and the baking heat +between its narrow walls would have dazed the brains and shaken the +knees of men less hardy and less accustomed to the fierce, pounding +sunshine of the southwest. Tuttle stole several inquiring glances at +Nick's face. Then he stopped and cast a searching look all about them, +carefully scanning the canyon before and behind them and its walls +above their heads. He looked at Nick again and then threw another +careful glance all about. He coughed a little, came close to Nick's +side, wiped the sweat from his face, and finally spoke, hesitatingly, +in a half whisper: + +"Say, Nick, what do you-all think about Will Whittaker? Do you reckon +Emerson killed him?" + +Ellhorn shut one eye at the jagged peak which seemed to bore into the +blue above them, considered a moment, and replied: "Well, I reckon if +he did Will needed killin' almighty bad." + +"You bet he did," was Tom's emphatic response. + +They trudged on to the head of the canyon and explored most of the +smaller ones opening into it. But no trace of human presence, either +recent or remote, did they find anywhere. When night came on they +returned to their camp somewhat disappointed that they had seen no +sign of the two men. Early the next morning they started out again, +and searched carefully through the remaining canyons that were +tributary to the large one, climbed again to its head, and clambered +over the ridge at its source. There they looked down the other side of +the mountain, over a barren wilderness of jagged cliffs and yawning +chasms, with here and there a little clump of scrub pines or cedars +clinging and crawling along the mountain side. They examined the +summit of the peak and walked a little way down the eastern slope, +looking into the gorges and searching the scrub-dotted slopes until +the sinking sun drove them back to their camp. But they found neither +water, save some strongly alkaline springs, nor any trace of human +beings. As they discussed the day's adventures over their supper, Tom +said: + +"There must have been some reason why they killed that horse just +where they did." + +"Yes," said Nick, "if they had moved their camp to some other canyon +higher up, or on the other side of the mountain, they might just as +well have driven the beast farther up before they killed it." + +"If they had wanted the meat down here," added Tom, "they wouldn't +have driven it so far away. They must have wanted it right there." + +They looked at each other with a sudden flash of intelligence in their +puzzled eyes and Nick thwacked his knee resoundingly. Then he spoke +the thought that had burst into each mind: + +"There must be a trail up the canyon wall!" + +[Illustration: "YOU'VE NOTHING TO FEAR FROM ME. I'LL BE DEAD IN TEN +MINUTES."--_p. 206_] + +Early the next morning they were examining more closely than they had +done before the walls of the canyon near the carcass. On the right +hand side, the same side on which was the canyon where they had their +camp, they found a narrow ledge beginning several feet above the +boulders which strewed the floor of the canyon at the base of the +wall. They found that with care they could walk along it, although in +some places it was so narrow that there was scarcely room for Tuttle's +big bulk. Nick was in constant fear lest his friend might topple over, +and finally insisted that Tom should go back and wait until he reached +the top of the wall or the end of the ledge. Tuttle blankly refused to +do anything of the sort. + +They were then in the narrowest place they had found, and it was only +by flattening their bodies against the rock and clinging with all the +strength in their fingers to the little knobs and crevices which +roughened the wall that they could keep their footing. Nick, standing +flat against the precipice with a hand stretched out on each side, +looked over his shoulder at Tom, who was a few feet in the rear. He +also was facing the wall, clinging with both hands and shuffling his +feet along sidewise, a few inches at each step. Beyond, the ledge rose +in a gradual incline to the top of the cliff, perhaps six hundred +feet farther on. Below, the wall dropped abruptly a hundred feet to +the boulder covered floor of the canyon. + +"Tommy," said Nick, "you-all better go back. It ain't safe for a man +of your size." + +"Go back! Not much!" + +"Well, I shan't go any farther until you do!" + +"Then you'll have to hang on by your eyelids till I get past you!" + +"Tom, don't be a fool!" + +"Don't you, neither." + +"Tom, you're the darnedest obstinate cuss I ever saw in my life. +You'll tip over backwards first thing you know." + +"Nick, if Emerson was here it would sure be his judgment that we-all +can get to the top of this cliff. So you shut up and go on." + +"I tell you I won't do it till you go back! Darn your skin, I wouldn't +be as pig-headed as you are for a hundred dollars a minute!" + +"Well, I wouldn't be as big a fool as you are for a thousand!" + +"Tommy, if you-all don't go back, I'll be no friend of yours after +this day!" + +"Well, if you don't go on and shut up that fool talk I don't want to +be friends any longer with any such hen-headed, white-livered--" + +"Tom!" + +"Well, then, shut up and go on, or I'll call you worse names than +that!" + +"You obstinate son of a sea-cook, I tell you I won't go on unless you +go back!" + +"Nick, it will take me just about half a minute to get near enough to +push you off. And I'm goin' to do it, too, if you don't hold your +jackass jaw and go on." + +There was silence for the space of full twenty seconds while Ellhorn +watched Tuttle edging his way carefully along the narrow shelf. Then +he spoke: + +"Well, anyway, Tom, don't you try to take a deep breath or that belly +of yours will tip the mountain over and make it mash somebody on the +other side!" Then he turned his head and shuffled along toward the top +of the cliff. + +The shelf widened again presently and they found the rest of it +comparatively easy traveling. At one place there were some drops of +dried blood on the ledge and in another a bloody stain on the wall at +about the height of a man's shoulders. This confirmed their belief +that Haney and Jim had found and climbed this narrow ledge with the +meat and camp supplies on their backs. When they reached the top Nick +held out his hand and said: + +"Say, old man, I reckon we-all didn't mean anything we said back +there." + +Tom took the proffered hand and held it a moment: + +"No, I guess not. I sure reckon Emerson would say we didn't. Nick, +what made you get that fool notion in your head that I didn't have +sand to get through?" + +"I didn't think you didn't have sand, Tommy. I thought--the trail was +so narrow, I thought you'd tumble off." A broad grin sent the curling +ends of his mustache up toward his eyes and he went on: "Tom, you sure +looked plumb ridiculous!" + +Shaking hands again, they turned to their work. They stood on the +steep, sloping side of the mountain, which was cracked and seamed with +a network of chasms and gulches. A ridge ran slantingly down the +mountain and the intricate, irregular network of narrow, steep-sided +cracks and gulches which filled the slope finally gave, on the right +hand, into the deep, gaping canyon which had been their thoroughfare, +and on their left into another, apparently similar, some distance to +the south. Farther up, toward the backbone of the ridge, there seemed +to be a narrow stretch, unbroken by the gulches, which extended to the +next canyon. They made their way thither and walked slowly along, +stopping now and then to scan the mountain side or to sweep with their +eyes the visible portions of the canyons below and behind them. They +had covered more than half the distance between the two canyons when +Tom, who had been studying one particular spot far down the mountain, +exclaimed: + +"Nick, there's water down there! See where the top of that pine tree +comes up above the rocks, away down there, nearly to the divide?" + +"You're sure right," said Nick, looking carefully over the ground +which Tom indicated. A moment later he went on: "That's the head of +the spring in the canyon where our camp is! You can follow the course +of the gulch right along. I reckon that's where we'll find what we're +looking for!" + +They turned to retrace their steps, their faces eager and alert and +their feet quickening beneath them, when through the silence came the +dull, far-away thud of a pistol shot. It was behind them and seemed to +come from the canyon toward which they had been walking. With one +glance at each other they drew their pistols and ran toward its head. +They clambered over the boulders and, with reckless leaps and swings, +let themselves down to its floor. Pausing only a moment to +reconnoiter, they hurried down the gulch, casting quick glances all +about them for the first sign of a living being. After a little they +stopped and listened intently, each holding a cocked revolver, but not +the faintest sound broke the midday stillness. + +"Do you reckon it was in this canyon?" said Tom in a hoarse whisper. + +"Got to be," Nick replied, poking out his lower jaw. "We've been +sniffing the trail long enough. We'll give them a bait now." + +He raised his revolver to shoot into the air, but even before his +finger touched the trigger, a pistol shot resounded from down the +canyon and its echoes rolled and rumbled between the walls. An instant +later they saw the smoke curling upward and dissolving in the still, +clear air, perhaps half way toward the canyon's mouth. But they could +see no sign of man, nor of any moving thing in its vicinity. They +hurried on, cautiously watching the walls and the canyon in front of +them, and now and then turning for a quick backward glance, to guard +against attack in the rear. As they neared the point from which the +smoke had risen, they saw that one of the narrow, deep chasms in the +mountain side opened there, with a wide, gaping mouth, into the +canyon. A mound of debris was heaped in front. Stepping softly, they +peered around the pile of rocks and saw, lying in the mouth of the +chasm, a man with a revolver gripped in his right hand. Blood stained +his clothing and ran out over the rocks and sand. He was a tall man +with a short, bushy, iron-gray beard covering his face. Tuttle and +Ellhorn covered him with their revolvers and walked to his side. He +put up a feeble, protesting hand. + +"It's all right, strangers. You've nothing to fear from me. I'll be +dead in ten minutes." + +"Who killed you?" + +"Was it the two ornery scrubs we're after?" + +"I've put the last shot in myself. If you'd been half an hour earlier +I might have had a chance." + +"What's the matter? What's happened? Tom, give him a drink out of the +flask." + +"No, give me water," said the man. "I emptied my canteen this +morning." + +Nick lifted his head and Tom held their canteen to his lips. He drank +deeply, and as he lay down again he looked at Tom curiously. + +"Two days ago I had a fight with two men, and I've been lying here +ever since. They did me up, so that I knew I'd got to die if no help +came. And I knew that was just about as likely as a snowstorm, but I +couldn't help bankin' on the possibility. So I laid here two days and +threw rocks at the coyote that came and sat on that heap of stones and +waited for me to die. This morning I drank the last of the water and I +said to myself that if nobody came by the time the sun was straight +above that peak yonder I'd put a bullet into my heart. I had two left, +and I used one on the coyote that had been a-settin' on that rock +watchin' me the whole morning. I was bound he shouldn't pick my bones, +he'd been so sassy and so sure about it. You'll find his carcass down +the canyon a ways. That tired my arm and I waited and rested a spell +before I tried it on myself. But I was weaker than I thought and I +couldn't hold the gun steady, and the bullet didn't go where I meant +it to. But I'm bleedin' to death." + +"The two men--what became of them? I reckon they're the ones we're +lookin' for!" exclaimed Nick. + +"Are you? Well, I guess you'll find 'em scattered down the canyon, or +else up there," and he pointed to the mountain side above. "They +couldn't get very far." + +"Did you kill 'em?" asked Tom anxiously. "You've spoiled a job we've +come here for if you did." + +The man scanned Tom's face again and a light of recognition broke into +his eyes. "I reckon I did," he replied complacently. "Anyway, I hope +so." + +"What was the matter? Did they do you up?" + +"Well, I'll tell you about the whole business. My name's Bill Frank, +and I've been here in the mountains since--well, a long time, huntin' +for the lost Dick Winter's mine. I found it, too. It was right in here +behind me, but he'd worked it clean out. I reckon it was nothin' but a +pocket, but a mighty big, rich one, and then the vein had pinched. So +then I went to work and hunted for the gold he'd taken out. I found it +all, or all he told me about. You see, I knew Dick. I was with him +when he died, and he told me what he'd got. There was a Dutch oven and +a pail and a coffee pot, all full of lumps, and two tomato cans full +of little ones, and a whisky flask full of dust, and a gunny sack full +of ore that was just lousy with gold. Much good it will do me now, or +them other fellows, either, damn their souls! Well, I'd hid the coffee +pot and the pail and the Dutch oven and the whisky flask and one +tomato can down by the spring, where I had my camp. I knew pretty well +where the rest of it was, after I'd found that much, and I came up +here two days ago, in the morning, and looked around till I found the +gunny sack. I brought it here and threw it inside this place, which +poor Dick Winters had blasted out, never dreamin' of such a thing as +that anybody would show up. Then I went away again to find the other +tomato can, and when I came back two men were here packin' out my sack +of ore." + +"What did they look like?" Nick exclaimed. + +"One was tall and thin and youngish like, with a bad look, and the +other was short and stout and a good deal older, and he had a red, +round face." + +"The damned, ornery scrubs! They're the ones we're after," Tom +exclaimed, jumping up. "You didn't kill 'em, stranger?" he added +pleadingly. + +"I guess I did. I sure reckon you'll find 'em scattered promiscuous +down the canyon. I drew my gun and told 'em to drop it, that it was +mine. They began to shoot, and so did I, and I backed 'em out, and +made 'em drop the sack, and started 'em on the run. They couldn't +shoot as well as I could, and I know I hit one of 'em in the head and +the other one mighty near the heart. I poked my head out for a last +blaze at 'em, to make sure of my work, and the short one, he let drive +at me and took me in the lung, and that's the one that did me up. But +they'd broken one leg before." + +"Can't you-all pull through if we tote you out of here?" asked Nick. + +Bill Frank shook his head. His breath was beginning to fail and his +voice sank to a whisper with each sentence. + +"No; I'm done for. You can't do nothin' for me." Then he turned to +Tom. "Pardner, I did you a bad trick when I saw you before, though I +had to do it. And when I told you good-bye I said I hoped that if I +ever saw you again I could treat you whiter than I did that time. +Well, I've got the chance now. That tomato can and that gunny sack are +over there behind your pardner, and you and him can have 'em. The +other tomato can and the whisky flask and the coffee pot and the pail +and the Dutch oven are under some big rocks behind a boulder south +from the spring, if them two thieves didn't carry 'em away, and you +and your pardner can have it all. The trail takes you to the spring." + +Tom was staring at him in wide-eyed amazement, trying to recall his +face. Nick exclaimed hurriedly: + +"Hold on, pard! Ain't you-all got some folks somewhere who ought to +have this? Tell us where they are and we'll see that they get it." + +The man shook his head. His breath was labored, and he spoke with +difficulty as he whispered: "There ain't anybody who'd care whether +I'm dead or alive, except to get that gold, and I'd rather you'd have +it. You're white, anyway, and you've treated me white, both of you, +and I've always been sorry I had to play Thomson Tuttle here that mean +trick, because he was a gentleman about it, and sand clean through." + +Tom was still staring at him. "Stranger," he said, "you've got the +advantage of me. I can't remember that I've ever set eyes on you +before." + +The death glaze was coming in the man's eyes and his failing whisper +struggled to get past his stiffening lips. + +"I held you up, and held a gun on you-all one night, last spring, up +near the White Sands." + +"Oh, that time!" Tom exclaimed. "That was all right. I reckoned +you-all had good reason for it." + +Bill Frank nodded. "Yes," he whispered, "we had to--in the wagon--" +Some of his words were unintelligible, but a sudden flash of +inspiration leaped through Nick's mind. + +"Did you have Will Whittaker's body? Who killed him? Tom, the whisky, +quick! We must keep him alive till he can tell!" + +The man's lips were moving and Nick put his ear close to them and +thought he caught the word "not," but he was not sure. Bill Frank's +head moved from side to side, but whether he meant to shake it, or +whether it was the death agony, they could not tell. Tom put the flask +to his lips, but he could not swallow, and in another moment the death +rattle sounded in his throat. + +They waited beside the dead man's body until every sign of life was +extinct. They closed his eyes, straightened his limbs, and folded his +hands upon his breast. Then said Tom: + +"Nick, he was too white a man to leave for the coyotes. We must do +something with him." + +"You're sure right, Tommy. But what can we do? This sand ain't deep +enough to keep 'em from diggin' him up, even if we bury him." + +Tom looked about him and considered the situation a moment. "We'll +have to rock him up in here, Nick, in Dick Winters' mine." + +At one side of the wide, blasted out mouth of the deep crack in the +mountain from which Dick Winters had taken his gold, and level with +the bottom of the crevice, there was a long, oval hollow, half as wide +as a man's body. The solid rock had cracked out of it after some +giant-powder blast. They laid the body of Bill Frank in this shallow +crypt and began to pile rocks around it. Suddenly Tom stopped, looked +at Nick inquiringly, hesitated and cleared his throat. + +"Say, Nick," he blurted out, "it ain't a square deal to put a fellow +away like this. Somebody ought to say something over him." + +"No, you bet it ain't a square deal," said Nick. "We wouldn't like it +if it was one of us. But what can we do? There ain't no preacher +here." + +"I was thinkin', Nick," Tom hesitated and blushed a deep crimson, "I +was sure thinkin' that maybe--well, I thought--that you-all could say +something. You know you always can say something. You-all better say +it, Nick." And without waiting for denial or protest Tom took off his +hat and bent his head. Nick flashed a surprised look at his companion, +waiting in reverent attitude, hesitated an instant, and then doffed +his hat, bent his head and began. And the good Lord who heard his +prayer did not need to ask his pedigree, for the Irish intonation +with which he rolled the words off his tongue in honey-like waves told +his ancestry: + +"Good Lord, sure and Ye'll rest this poor man's soul, for he was white +clean through. Sure, and he was no coward, and no scrub, neither. But +the other two--Ye'd better let them fry in their own fat till they're +cracklin's. You bet, that is what they deserve, and we can prove it. +Amen." + +They built a close wall of rock around Bill Frank's resting place high +enough to reach the over-hanging rock, and so heavy and secure that no +prowling coyote could reach the body, or even dislodge a single stone. +After it was all finished they decided that there ought to be +something about the grave to show whose bones rested within it. Nick +Ellhorn tore some blank paper from the bottom of a partly filled sheet +which he found in his pocket and wrote the inscription: + + "Here lies the body of Bill Frank, who was white clean + through. He was done up by two of the damnedest scrubs that + ever died lying down. He killed them both before Tom Tuttle + and Nick Ellhorn got sight of the color of their hair, which + is the only thing we can't forgive him. + + "P. S. and N. B.--This is the lost Dick Winters' mine, and + there is nothing in it, except Bill Frank's body." + +They emptied the nuggets of gold from the tomato can and put them in +their pockets. Then they folded the paper and put it in the can, with +a small stone to hold it in place. Tom found an unused envelope in +his pocket, and Nick printed on it, in big capitals, "Bill Frank," and +they pasted it, by means of the flap, on the front of the can. Then +they made a place for the can midway of the stone wall, and fastened +it in so that it would be held firmly in place by the surrounding +stones. + +There was an easy trail down one side of the canyon, which Dick +Winters had made long before by removing the largest stones. A dribble +of blood, dried on the sands, marked it all the way. Perhaps a mile +down the gulch it came to a sudden stop in a great heap of debris, and +a zigzag path started up the side of the canyon. The two men stopped, +following the course of the shelving trail with their eyes, and as +they looked there was a rattle of loose stone and sand, and some dark +body rolled over the side of the gulch from the top of the path. Their +hands flashed to their revolver butts, and stopped there, as they +watched its downward course in wonder. They saw the arms and feet of a +human form flung out aimlessly as the thing rolled from ledge to +ledge, and they tried to catch a glimpse of the face as now and again +the head hung over a rock and disclosed for a second the ghastly +features. Down it came, with the cascade of loose pebbles before it, +and lay still in the hot sand at their feet. It was Jim's lifeless and +mangled body. Nick glanced to the rim of the canyon wall and saw the +head of a coyote peering over. + +"There's the beast that tumbled him down," he whispered, and raised +his revolver, but before he could shoot, the thing disappeared. + +At this point the canyon walls began to grow less steep, and Dick +Winters had taken advantage of the sloping, shelving side to make a +zigzag trail to the summit, in some places blasting the solid rock, +and in others building out the pathway with great stones. Nick and Tom +followed the path to the mountain side above, where little pools of +dried blood made a trail which showed the way a wounded man had taken. +A little farther they found the body of Bill Haney, flat on its face, +with arms spread out on either side. A coyote slunk away as they +appeared, dragging its hinder parts uselessly. + +"I reckon that's the one Bill Frank thought he killed," said Nick, as +he put a bullet through its head. + +They turned the body of Bill Haney over on its back and regarded it +silently for some moments. + +"Tommy," said Nick, "we ought to put these poor devils where the +coyotes can't get 'em." + +Tom looked away with disfavor in his face. "They might have got +Emerson into a hell of a scrape. Suppose anybody but us had found +Wellesly the other day! Everybody would have believed that Emerson had +ordered these two measly scamps to do what they did!" + +"That's so," Nick replied, "but that's all straight now, and they are +past doin' any more harm, and it ain't a square deal to let a fellow +be eat up by coyotes." + +Tom looked down into the dead, staring eyes and soberly replied: "I +guess you're right, Nick, and I sure reckon Emerson would say we ought +to do it." + +They carried both bodies to the bottom of the canyon and up the bloody +trail until they came to a steep-sided, narrow chasm which yawned into +the wider gulch. There they put their burdens down, side by side, and +decently straightened the limbs, folded the hands, and closed the eyes +of the two dead men. + +"Now," said Nick, "we'll pile rocks across the mouth of the gulch, and +then they'll be safe enough, for no coyote is going to jump down from +the top of these walls." + +Tom made no answer. He was standing with his hands in his pockets +looking at the two bloody, mangled corpses. + +"Nick, don't you-all think we'd better say something over these +fellows, too? It ain't the square deal to put 'em away without a word, +even if they were the worst scrubs in creation. You-all better say +something, Nick, like you did before." + +Tom took off his hat, without even a glance at his companion, and bent +his head. Ellhorn also doffed his sombrero and bent forward in +reverent attitude, ready to begin. + +"Good Lord," he said, and then he stopped and hesitated so long that +Tuttle looked up to see what was the matter. "Go on, Nick," he urged +in a low tone. + +"Good Lord, Ye'd better do as Ye think best about lettin' 'em fry in +their own fat--so long. They were scrubs, that's straight, but they're +dead now, and can't do any more harm. Good Lord, we hope--Ye'll see +Your way to have mercy on their souls. Amen." + +They began piling rocks across the mouth of the narrow chasm, and +worked for some moments in silence. Nick glanced inquiringly at Tom +several times, and finally he spoke: + +"Say, Tommy, that was all right, I guess, wasn't it?" + +"Nick, I sure reckon Emerson would say it was." And Ellhorn knew that +his companion could give no stronger assent. + +They built a wall high enough to keep the coyotes away from the two +bodies, and then followed the trail upon the canyon wall and across +the mountain side to the spring. There they found Bill Frank's camping +outfit and the few things that Jim and Haney had transferred from the +canyon below. They found, also, the pan and the hand mortar, rusty and +battered by the storms of many years, with which Dick Winters had +slowly and with infinite toil beaten and washed out the gold he was +never to enjoy. After an hour's search they found the store of nuggets +where Bill Frank had hidden them. Haney and Jim had never guessed how +near they had come to the wealth for which they were searching. + +The two men looked over the contents of pail, coffee pot, oven and +cans and talked of the long, wearisome, lonely labor Dick Winters must +have had, carrying the sacks of ore on his back, from his mine down +the canyon, up the trail, and across the mountain side, to this little +spring, where he had then to pound it up in his mortar and wash out +the gold in his pan. + +"It's no wonder the desert did him up," said Nick. "He had no strength +left to fight it with. It's likely he was luny before he started." + +"Nick, you don't reckon there's a cuss on this gold, do you? Just see +how many people it has killed. Dick Winters and Bill Frank and Jim and +Haney, besides all the prospectors that have died huntin' for it. +You-all don't reckon anything will happen to us, or to Emerson, if we +take it?" + +The two big Texans, who had never quailed before man or gun, looked at +each other, their faces full of sudden seriousness, and there was just +a shadow of fear in both blue eyes and black. The silence and the +vastness of an empty earth and sky can bring up undreamed of things +from the bottom of men's minds. Ellhorn's more skeptical nature was +the first to gird itself against the suggestion. + +"No, Tommy, I don't reckon anything of the sort. Bill Frank gave it to +us, and Dick Winters gave it to him, or, anyway, wanted him to find it +and have it, and I reckon Dick Winters worked hard enough to get it +to have a better right to it than God himself. It's sure ours, Tom, +and I reckon there won't be any cuss on it as long as we can shoot +straighter than anybody who wants to hold us up for it." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Emerson Mead heard the story which Ellhorn and Tuttle told and looked +at the heap of yellow nuggets without enthusiasm. His face was gloomy +and there was a sadness in his eyes that neither of his friends had +ever seen there before. He demurred over their proposal that he should +share with them, saying that he would rather they should have it all +and that he had no use for so much money. When they insisted and Tom +said, with a little catch in his voice, "Emerson, we can't enjoy any +of it if you-all don't have your share," he replied, "Well, all right, +boys. I reckon no man ever had better friends than you are." + +Judge Harlin was still at the ranch, and while he and Nick and Tom +were excitedly weighing the nuggets, Mead slipped out to the corral, +saddled a horse and galloped across the foothills. Tuttle watched him +riding away with concern in his big, round face. + +"Judge," he said, "what's the matter with Emerson? Is he sick?" + +"I guess not. He didn't say anything about it." + +"Did you bring him any bad news?" + +"Not that I know of." + +"Have them fellows over in Plumas been hatchin' out any more +deviltry?" + +"N-no, I think not. Oh, yes, I did hear that Colonel Whittaker and +Daniels and Halliday were going over to the White Sands to hunt for +Will Whittaker's body. I told Emerson so. That's the only thing I know +of that would be likely to disturb him." + +A quick glance of intelligence flashed between Tuttle's eyes and +Ellhorn's. Each was recalling Mead's promise to surrender if Will +Whittaker's body could be produced. Tuttle stood silent, with his +hands in his pockets, looking across the foothills to where Mead's +figure was disappearing against the horizon. Then without a word he +walked to the corral, saddled a horse, and went off on the gallop in +the same direction. + +He came upon his friend at Alamo Springs, ten miles away. This was the +best water hole on Mead's ranch, and, indeed, the best in all that +part of the Fernandez mountains, and was the one which the Fillmore +Company particularly coveted. Its copious yield of water never +diminished, and around the reservoir which Mead had constructed, half +a mile below the spring, a goodly grove of young cottonwoods, which he +had planted, made for the cattle a cool retreat from midday suns. + +Tuttle found Mead standing beside the reservoir, flicking the water +with his quirt, while the horse, with dropped bridle, waited meekly +beside him. Tom dismounted and stood by Mead's side, making some +remark about the cattle that were grazing within sight. + +"Tommy," Emerson said abruptly, "I've about decided that I'll give up +this fight, let the Fillmore folks have the damned place for what they +will give, and pull my freight." + +Tom looked surprised at this unheralded proposition, but paid no +further attention to it. Instead, he plunged at once into the subject +that concerned him. + +"Emerson, what's the matter with you?" + +"Nothing," Mead replied, looking at the horizon. + +"Emerson, you're lying, and you know it." + +"Well, then, nothing that can be helped." + +"How do you know it can't?" + +Mead shrugged his shoulders and rested his hand upon his horse's neck. +It straightway cuddled its head against his body and began nosing his +pockets. Mead brought out a lump of sugar and made the beast nod its +age for the reward. Tom watched him helplessly, noting the hopeless, +gloomy look on his face, and wondered what he ought to do or say. He +wished Nick had come along. Nick never was at a loss for words. But +his great love came to his rescue and he blurted out: + +"Have you tried to do anything?" + +"It's no use. There's nothing to be done. It's something that can't be +helped, and I'd better just get out." + +"Can't I--can't Nick and me do anything?" + +"No." + +Tom Tuttle was discouraged by this answer, for he knew that it meant +that the trouble, whatever it was, must be beyond the help of rifles +and revolvers. Still, he thought that it must have some connection +with the Whittaker murder, and he guessed that Mead was in fear of +something--discovery, apprehension, the result of a trial--that he +meant to get rid of the whole thing by quietly leaving the country. +Tom's brain required several minutes in which to reach this +conclusion, but only a second longer to decide that if this was what +Emerson wanted to do, it was the right thing and should have his help. + +"Well," he said, "if you want to pull out on the quiet, Nick and me +will stand off the Republicans over at Plumas till you get out of +their reach." + +"Oh, I don't mean to run away." Mead picked up the bridle and with one +hand on the pommel turned suddenly around. There was a half smile +about his mouth, which his sad eyes belied. Tom's idea of the case had +just occurred to him. "Don't you worry about it, Tom. It has nothing +to do with the Whittaker case, nor with the political fights in Las +Plumas." + +They remounted and cantered silently toward home. Tom was revolving in +his mind everything he knew about his friend, trying to find the key +to the present situation. After a long time he recalled the +conversation he and Ellhorn had had, as they sat on the top of the +cattle-pen fence at Las Plumas, concerning the possibility of Mead's +being in love. + +"Golly! I can't ask him about that!" Tuttle thought, spurring his +horse to faster pace. "But I reckon I'll have to. I've got to find out +what's the matter with him, and then Nick and me have got to help him +out, if we can." + +He rode close beside Mead and began: "Say, Emerson--" Then he coughed +and blushed until his mustache looked a faded yellow against the deep +crimson of his face. He glanced helplessly around, vaguely wishing +some enemy might suddenly rise out of the hills whom it would be +necessary to fight. But no living thing, save Emerson's own cattle, +was in sight. So, having begun, he rushed boldly on: + +"Say, Emerson, I don't want to be too curious about your affairs, +but--this--this trouble you're in--has it--is it--anything about a--a +girl?" + +Mead's spurs instinctively touched his horse into a gallop as he +answered, "Yes." + +"Miss Delarue?" + +"Yes." + +"Wouldn't her father let her have you?" + +Mead pulled his sombrero over his eyes with a sudden jerk, as the +thought drove into his brain that he had not asked for her. The idea +of asking Marguerite Delarue to marry him loomed before him as a +gigantic impossibility, a thing not even to be dreamed of. He set his +teeth together as he put into words for the first time the thing that +was making him heart-sick, and plunged his spurs into the horse's +flank with a thrust that sent it flying forward in a headlong run: + +"She's going to marry Wellesly." + +Tuttle lagged behind and thought about the situation. Sympathize +though he did with Mead's trouble, he could not help a little feeling +of gratification that after all there was to be no wife to come +between them and take Emerson away from him and Nick. Emerson would +forget all about it in a little while and their lifelong friendship +would go on and be just as it had always been. On the whole, he felt +pleased, and at the same time ashamed that he was pleased, that Miss +Delarue was going to marry Wellesly. + +"I don't think much of her judgment, though," he commented to himself, +contemptuously. "Any girl that would take that scrub Wellesly when she +might have Emerson Mead--well, she can't amount to much! Bah! +Emerson's better off without her!" + +That evening, as the four men sat smoking under the cottonwoods, Mead +said quietly: + +"Judge, I'm goin' to pull my freight." + +"What do you mean, Emerson?" + +"I mean that this country will be better off without me and I'll be +better off without it. I'm goin' to light out." + +"Soon?" + +"As soon as I can give away this ranch to the Fillmore outfit, or +anybody that will have it. Nick, you and Tom better take it. I'll give +it to you for love and affection and one dollar, if you want to take +the fight along with it." + +"Nothing would please me better," Nick replied, "than to clean up all +your old scores against the Fillmore outfit, but I reckon if we take +it we'll just run it for you until you-all come back." + +"All right. I'll turn it over to you to-morrow. You can have all you +can make out of it and if I'm not back inside of five years you can +divide it between you." + +"Everybody will say you are running away from the Whittaker case and +that you are afraid to face a trial," said Judge Harlin. + +"They may say what they damn please," replied Mead. + +Something like a smothered sob sounded from Tuttle's chair, and he +exclaimed fiercely, "They'd better not say that to me!" + +"There's no likelihood," said Judge Harlin, "that the grand jury will +indict you, as things stand now, or that the case would amount to much +if they should. If you want to stay and face the music, Emerson, I +don't think you need to feel apprehensive about the result." + +"Oh, I'm not afraid of the trial, if there should be one. But I don't +think there'll be any. I'm not going to submit to arrest, trial, or +anything else, until they can prove that Will Whittaker's dead, and +they can't do that. I told Wellesly that I would let them arrest me +whenever they can prove that Will Whittaker died with his boots on, +and I'll stick to my word. I'll come back from anywhere this side of +hell for my trial whenever they can prove it, and you can tell 'em so, +Judge. But I'm tired of this country and done with it, and I mean to +pull my freight to-morrow." + +"If you want to start from Plumas you'd better ride over with me," +said Harlin, "and you'd better go prepared for trouble, for the +Republicans won't let you leave the country if they can help it." + +"All right. They can have all the trouble they want." + +"You bet they can! All they want, and a whole heap more than they'll +want when it comes!" exclaimed Nick. + +"That's what's the matter! We'll see that they get it!" added Tom. + +The next morning they stowed the gold nuggets under the seat of Judge +Harlin's buggy, in which rode Mead and Harlin, with rifles and +revolvers. Tuttle and Ellhorn rode on horseback, each with a revolver +in his holster and a rifle slung beside him. + +Tom Tuttle was much disturbed because he alone knew the secret reason +for Emerson Mead's abrupt departure. He thought Nick ought to know it, +too, but he could not persuade himself that it would be the square +thing for him to tell it to Ellhorn. "Nick ought to know it," he said +to himself, "or he'll sure go doin' some fool thing, thinkin' +Emerson's goin' away on account of the Whittaker business, but I +reckon Emerson don't want me to leak anything he told me yesterday. +No, I sure reckon Emerson would say he didn't want me to go gabblin' +that to anybody. But Nick, he's got to know it." + +After a time he chanced to recall the gossip about Miss Delarue and +Wellesly, which Judge Harlin had told him, and decided that he was +relieved from secrecy on that point. Still, he felt self-conscious and +as if he were rubbing very near to Emerson's secret when he rode +beside Ellhorn and exclaimed: + +"Say, Nick, did Judge Harlin tell you that Wellesly and Frenchy +Delarue's daughter are going to be married next fall?" + +"The hell they are! Say, he's in luck, a whole heap better than he +deserves!" Then a light broke over Nick's face, as he shot a glance at +the carriage behind them. He slapped his thigh and exclaimed: +"Jerusalem! Tom, that's why Emerson is pullin' his freight!" + +At the moment, Tom felt guilty, as if he had betrayed a confidence, +and he merely said, "Maybe it is." + +"I might have known Nick would see through it in a minute," he said to +himself afterward. "Well, I reckon it's all right. He knows now, and +he'd sure have heard that they are going to be married, anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The four men stayed at Muletown that night and drove across the hot, +dry levels of the Fernandez plain in the early morning. In the +foothills of the Hermosa mountains there was a little place called +Agua Fria--Cold Water. It was a short distance off the main road, but +travelers across the plain frequently went thither to refresh +themselves and their beasts with the cool waters which it furnished. +It was only a small Mexican ranch, irrigated by a bountiful flow of +water from a never failing spring. Cottonwood trees surrounded the +house, and around the spring grew a little peach orchard. The ruins of +a mining camp, long since deserted, could be seen on the hill above. + +Emerson Mead and his companions turned aside into the road leading to +the Agua Fria ranch and drew rein in the shade of the peach trees. A +woman was washing clothes beside the spring and a man came from a +near-by field where he was at work. They chatted with the couple while +the horses were allowed to rest in the shade. Presently Tuttle and +Ellhorn remounted and started slowly back, leaving Mead and Harlin in +the buggy, ready to go, but exchanging some last words with the +Mexican. The road curved below the house, through the trees, and as +Tuttle and Ellhorn came out on the other side they saw a party of +horsemen approaching from the main road. At once they recognized John +Daniels and Jim Halliday, who were riding in the front. Behind them +came half a dozen others, and in the rear of the company they saw +Colonel Whittaker with some pack horses. Tom and Nick drew back into +the cover of the trees and conferred a moment over the probable +intentions of the party. + +"They are all armed," said Tom. "Six-shooters and Winchesters on every +one." + +"I'll bet they're after Emerson, Tommy," Nick exclaimed. "They want +trouble, and I reckon we'd better begin to give it to 'em right now." + +They drew their rifles from beside their saddles, for the men were +still too far away for the use of revolvers. Then Tom looked at Nick +doubtfully. + +"Nick, what do you-all think would be Emerson's judgment? You know he +always wants the other side to begin the fight." + +"My judgment is that the sooner this fight is begun the better. Them +fellows are out here lookin' for trouble, and I say, if a man wants +trouble, Lord! let him have it!" + +He raised his rifle to his shoulder and sent a bullet singing down the +road, saying to Tom as he fired: "This is just to let 'em know we're +here." + +The bullet creased the neck of Halliday's horse, which reared and +plunged with sudden fright. The whole party checked their horses in +surprise and looked intently toward the clump of cottonwoods from +which the shot had come. Tom raised his gun to his shoulder, saying, +"You've started the fun, Nick, so here goes," and he sent a rifle ball +whizzing past Daniels' ear. Harlin and Mead dashed around the house in +the buggy, jumped out, and tied their horses in the rear of the trees. +Tuttle and Ellhorn dismounted and dropped their bridles. + +The approaching party paused for a moment in a close group and held an +excited conference. Then they separated and, drawing their guns from +the saddle scabbards, sent a volley into the grove. Four rifle bullets +made quick answer and set their horses to rearing. It was some time +before the beasts could be made quiet enough for the shots to be +returned, and in the meantime bullets were pattering all about them. +Colonel Whittaker stopped far in the rear with the pack horses, beyond +the reach of the rifle balls, and the others made a sudden dash +forward. Checking their horses, they fired a concerted volley into the +trees. One of the bullets scorched the band of Tom's hat. + +"Nick," said Tom, "that was Daniels fired that shot. He's gettin' too +impudent. You take care of him while I clean my gun. Don't you let him +get any closer, but don't hurt him, for he's my meat." + +He went down on the ground cross-legged and swabbed his gun-barrel +while the bullets pattered on the ground about him and thudded into +the trees and ploughed up the dirt at his feet. Nick bent his rifle +on the sheriff and sent a bullet through his hat brim and another +through his horse's ear, and bit his bridle with one and tore his +trouser leg with another. One dropped and stung on the beast's fetlock +as Tom sprang to his feet exclaiming, "Now I'll get him!" + +Daniels first checked his horse, and then lost control of it as the +bridle broke, and when the bullet struck its fetlock it wheeled and +went flying to the rear. The sheriff felt a tingle in his left arm, +and, maddened, he seized the severed parts of his bridle and forced +the horse to face about. Then he bent forward, apparently taking +careful aim at one of the figures beneath the trees, but before he +could fire, his horse reared and plunged and went down in a heap +beneath him. + +In the meantime, Nick, Emerson, and Judge Harlin were exchanging rapid +shots with the rest of the sheriff's party. Those of the latter went +rather wild, because their frightened horses made it impossible for +them to take careful aim. And also by reason of the constant dancing +about of the beasts, the accurate markmanship of the men under the +trees was not of much avail. Nick found that his magazine was empty +and called out: + +"Tom, give me some of your hulls! I used up all mine keepin' your +darned sheriff back. Gimme some hulls quick!" + +He dropped a handful of cartridges into the magazine and raised his +rifle with the remark, "Now see 'em scatter!" + +The sharp, crashing din of the Winchesters kept steadily on. One of +the Daniels party fell over on his horse's neck, and two of their +animals became unmanageable. Daniels had knelt behind his fallen horse +and across its body he was taking careful aim. Tom felt a bullet graze +his cheek, and saw whence it had come. "I'll put a stop to that," he +exclaimed, and in another moment the sheriff tumbled over with a +bullet in his shoulder. Mead felt a sharp pain in one side, and knew +that hot lead had kissed his flesh. It was the first wound he had ever +received. With a scream of pain a horse fell, struggling, beneath its +rider. From one man's hands the rifle dropped and his right arm hung +helpless by his side. Another horseman swayed in his saddle and fell +to the ground, and his horse galloped to the rear, dragging the man +part of the way with his foot in the stirrup. + +Still the remnant of horsemen held their own against the steady rain +of bullets from the trees. Presently a flesh wound made Halliday's +horse unmanageable and it bolted straight for the grove. The four men +paused with fingers on triggers, looking at him in wonder. + +"Who would have thought he had the sand to do that!" Mead exclaimed. + +Suddenly his horse turned and flew toward the rear. "Whoo-oo-oo-ee!" +came a derisive shout from the grove, followed by a volley of +bullets. The other horsemen took advantage of the diverted firing, and +made a dash forward, dropping their rifles across their saddles and +using their revolvers. It was evident that they hoped, by this sudden +charge, to dislodge the enemy and force a retreat. + +"Out and at 'em, boys," yelled Nick. "Whoo-oo-oo-ee!" And the four men +rushed from under cover of the trees, rifles in hand, straight toward +the approaching horsemen. + +Dropping on one knee and firing, then rising and running forward a few +steps, and dropping and firing again, they dashed toward the enemy. +Surprised and confused by this sudden move, the horsemen halted, +irresolute, then turned and fled down the road. + +"Buffaloed!" yelled Mead. + +"After 'em, boys!" shouted Judge Harlin. And the four started on the +run after the retreating enemy. + +"Chase 'em to Plumas!" yelled Nick. + +"And learn 'em to let us alone after this!" bellowed Tom, in a voice +that reached the ears of the flying party, above the muffled roar of +their horses' hoofs. + +Halliday had got his horse under control again by the time he reached +the place where Colonel Whittaker stood guard, beside the pack horses, +and after a few hasty words with Whittaker he started back. When he +saw the rout of his party he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket +and waving it aloft he came galloping on. + +"Look at that, will you!" yelled Nick. "They want to surrender!" + +"I reckon they want to have a conference," said Judge Harlin. + +The four men halted and stood with their guns in their hands, waiting +Halliday's approach. + +"Emerson," he called, "do you stick to what you told Mr. Wellesly?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"That you'd submit to arrest when we could prove that Will Whittaker +died by violence." + +"Certainly, I do." + +"Then hand over your guns, for we've got his body!" + +"Let me see it first. If I can recognize it I'll keep my word." + +"It's back there where his father is." + +"Well, bring it here." + +"Will you keep the truce?" + +"Yes, if you do." + +Halliday galloped down the road again, and presently returned with +Colonel Whittaker. Between them was one of the pack horses with +something lashed to its back. They walked their horses to the spot +where the four men stood, untied the pack, spread a blanket on the +ground, and laid on it the ghastly, mangled remains of what had once +been a man's body. + +"We found it in the White Sands," Halliday explained. "It had been +buried nearly at the top of the ridge and the coyotes had dug it out +and this is all they had left. But his father here, and every one of +us, have identified it." + +Mead and his friends looked the body over carefully. The face had been +gnawed by coyotes and picked by buzzards until not a recognizable +feature was left. The shining white teeth glared from a lipless mouth. +Closely cropped black hair still covered the head. On one hand was a +plain gold ring set with a large turquoise. + +"You must remember that ring," said the father. Mead nodded. Colonel +Whittaker slipped it from the finger, dried and burned by the sun, and +showed the four men the initials, "W. W.," on the inside. The clothing +was badly tattered and much of it had been torn away. Part of a pongee +silk shirt still hung on the body. On the inside of the collar were +the young man's initials worked in red silk. "His mother did that," +said Colonel Whittaker. Around the neck was a dark-colored scarf, and +in it was an odd, noticeable pin, a gold nugget of curious shape. The +four men had all seen Will Whittaker wear it many times. A ragged +remnant of a coat hung on the mangled body. In the breast pocket +Colonel Whittaker showed them some letters and a small memorandum +book. From the book had been torn some leaves and all the remaining +pages were blank. But on the inside of the leather cover the name, +"Will Whittaker," had been printed in heavy black letters. Rain and +sun had almost obliterated the addresses on the two envelopes in the +pocket, but enough of the letters could still be made out to show what +the words had probably been. + +Halliday turned the body over and showed them three bullet holes in +the back, in the left shoulder blade. They were so close together that +their ragged edges touched one another, and a silver dollar would have +covered all of them. Apparently, the man had been shot at close range +and the bullets had gone through to the heart. + +Mead finished his inspection of the body and turned to Halliday. All +the rest of the party had come up and dismounted and were standing +beside their horses around the grisly, mangled thing and the four men +who were examining it. Several of the men were wounded and blood was +dripping over their clothing. A red mark across Tuttle's cheek showed +how narrow had been his escape, and a bloody stain on Mead's shirt +told the story of a flesh wound. + +"Jim," Mead began, and then paused, looking Halliday squarely in the +eyes, while his own friends and the sheriff's party edged closer, all +listening breathlessly. None of them had any idea what he was going to +say, whether it would be surrender, or defiance and a declaration of +continued war. Nick and Tom exchanged glances and cocked their +revolvers, which they held down beside their legs. "Jim," Mead went +on, "I acknowledge nothing about this body except that, as far as I +can see, it seems to be the body of Will Whittaker and he seems to +have died from these pistol shots. But I reckon it calls, merely on +the face of it, mind, for me to make good the word I gave to Wellesly. +Here are my guns." + +He handed his rifle to Halliday, unfastened his cartridge belt and +passed that and his revolver to the deputy sheriff. Among the +Whittaker party there were some glances of surprise, but more nods of +congratulation. Nick and Tom looked at each other in indignant dismay. +Tom's eyes were full of tears and his lips were twitching. "What did +he want to do that for?" he whispered to Nick. "We had 'em sure +buffaloed and on the run, and now he's plum' spoiled the whole thing!" + +"I reckon it was the best thing you could do, Emerson," said Judge +Harlin, "but I'm sorry you had to do it." + +Mead saw Daniels in the crowd around the body. "Hello, John," he +called, "I thought we tipped you over just now. Hurt much?" + +"No, not much. Only a scratch on the shoulder." + +The entire party went around to the spring and bathed one another's +wounds, and the Mexican woman tore her sheets into strips and made +bandages for them. No one had been killed, but there were a number of +flesh wounds and some broken bones. They hired horses of the Mexican +to take the place of those that had been killed and then started for +Las Plumas, Mead riding between Daniels and Halliday. Judge Harlin, +with Nick and Tom, followed some distance in the rear. + +Tom looked after them, as they rode away, with angry eyes. His huge +chest was heaving with sobs he could scarcely control. "Damn their +souls," he exclaimed fiercely to Nick, "if Emerson wasn't among them +I'd open on 'em right now." + +"How we could buffalo 'em," assented Nick. + +"It was a damned shame," Tuttle went on indignantly, "for Emerson to +give up that way. We could have cleaned 'em all out and got rid of 'em +for good, if he hadn't given up. We'll never get such a chance again, +and the Lord knows what will happen to Emerson now!" And Tom bent his +huge frame over his gun and bowed his head on his hands, while a great +sob convulsed his big bulk from head to foot. He and Judge Harlin +argued the question all the way to Las Plumas, and the judge well-nigh +exhausted his knowledge of law and his ingenuity in argument in the +effort to convince his companion that Emerson Mead had done the best +thing possible for him to do. But the last thing Tom said as they drew +up in front of Judge Harlin's office was: + +"Well, it was a grand chance to clean out Emerson's enemies, for good +and all, and make an end of 'em, so that he could live here in peace. +It was plumb ridiculous not to do it." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +The grand jury sat upon the Whittaker case and returned a true bill +against Emerson Mead, indicting him for the murder of Will Whittaker. +Mead was confined in the jail at Las Plumas to await his trial, which +would not take place until the following autumn. The finding of Will +Whittaker's body convinced many who had formerly believed in his +innocence that Mead was guilty. Everybody knew that his usual practice +in shooting was to fire three quick shots, so rapidly that the three +explosions were almost a continuous sound, pause an instant, and then, +if necessary, fire three more in the same way. The three bullets were +pretty sure to go where he meant they should, and if he wished he +could put them so close together that the ragged edges of the holes +touched one another, as did those in the back of Whittaker's corpse. +It was the number and character of those bullet holes that made many +of Mead's friends believe that he was guilty of the murder. "Nobody +but Emerson could have put those bullets in like that," they said to +themselves, although publicly the Democrats all loudly and +persistently insisted that he was innocent. + +In the constant debate over the matter which followed the finding of +the body the Democrats contended that the two men who had held Thomson +Tuttle captive all night near the White Sands must have been the +murderers. And it was on them and their mysterious conduct that Judge +Harlin rested his only hope for his client. The lawyer did not believe +they had Whittaker's body in their wagon, although he intended to try +to make the jury think so. Privately he believed that Mead was guilty, +but he admitted this to no one, and in his talks with Mead he +constantly assumed that his client was innocent. He had never asked +Mead to tell him whether or not he had committed the murder. + +Nick Ellhorn and Tom Tuttle lingered about Las Plumas for a short +time, sending their gold to the mint, and trying to contrive some +scheme by which Emerson Mead could be forced into liberty. Each of +them felt it a keen personal injury that their friend was in jail, and +they were ready to forego everything else if they could induce him to +break his promise and with them make a wild dash for freedom. But he +would listen to none of their plans and told them, over and over, that +he had given his word and proposed to keep it. + +"Of course," he said, "when I made that promise to Wellesly I didn't +suppose they would find Will's body. But they did, and I mean to keep +my promise. I gave my word for you-all too, and I don't want you to +make any fool breaks that will cause people to think I'm trying to +skip." + +Finally they gave up their plans and Tom returned to his duties with +Marshal Black at Santa Fe and Nick went out to Mead's ranch to keep +things in order there. + +Ellhorn returned to Las Plumas for his own trial, the result of which +was that he was found guilty of assault and battery upon the Chinese +and fined five hundred dollars. The moment sentence was pronounced +upon him he strode to the judge's desk and laid down his check for the +amount of his fine. Then he straightened up, thrust his hands in his +pockets, and exclaimed: + +"Now, I want that pig tail!" + +"You are fined five dollars for contempt of court," said the judge, +frowning at the tall Texan, who looked very much in earnest. + +"All right, Judge! Here you are!" said Nick cheerfully, as he put a +gold piece down beside the check. "Now, I want that Chiny pig tail! +It's mine! I've paid big for it! It's cost me five hundred and five +dollars, and no end of trouble, and it belongs to me." + +"You are fined ten dollars for contempt of court," the judge said +severely, biting his lips behind his whiskers. + +"Here you are, Judge!" and Nick spun a ten-dollar gold piece on the +desk. "I want that scalp as a memento of this affair, and to remind me +not to mix my drinks again. I've paid for it, a whole heap more'n it's +worth, and I demand my property!" And Nick brought his fist down on +the judge's desk with a bang that made the gold coins rattle. + +"Mr. Sheriff, remove this man!" ordered the Judge, and John Daniels +stepped forward to seize his arm. Ellhorn leaped to one side, +exclaiming, "I'll not go till I get my property!" He thrust his hand +into the accustomed place for his revolver, and with a look of +surprise and chagrin on his face stood meekly before the sheriff. + +"A man can't get his rights unless he has a gun, even in a court," he +growled, as he submitted to be led out. At the door he looked back and +called to the judge: + +"That scalp's mine, and I mean to have what I've paid for, if I have +to sue your blamed old court till the day o' judgment!" And he went at +once and filed a suit against the district attorney for the recovery +of the queue. + +Marguerite Delarue kept on with her quiet life through the summer, +caring for little Paul and attending to her father's house. She did +not see Emerson Mead again after the day when, with her little white +sunbonnet pulled over her disordered hair, she helped her baby brother +to mount his horse. Long before the summer was over she decided that +he cared nothing for her and that she must no longer feel more +interest in him than she did in any other casual acquaintance. But +sometimes she wakened suddenly, or started at her work, seeming to +feel the intent gaze of a pair of brown eyes. Then she would blush, +cry a little, and scold herself severely. + +It was late in the summer when Albert Wellesly made his next visit to +Las Plumas. He had decided to buy a partly abandoned gold mine in the +Hermosa mountains, and he explained to Marguerite Delarue, as he sat +on her veranda the afternoon of his arrival, that he was making a +hurried visit to Las Plumas in order to give it a thorough +examination. And then he added in a lower tone and with a meaning look +in his eyes, that that was not the only reason for the trip. She +blushed with pleasure at this, and he felt well enough satisfied not +to go any farther just then. + +He came to see her again after he returned from the mine. It was +Sunday afternoon, and they sat together on the veranda, behind the +rose and honeysuckle vines, with Marguerite's tea table between them. +He told her about his trip to the mine and what he thought of its +condition and deferentially asked her advice in some small matters +that had an ethical as well as a commercial bearing. She listened with +much pleasure and her blue eyes shone with the gratification that +filled her heart, for never before had a man, fighting his battles +with the world, turned aside to ask her whether or not he was doing +right. Then he told her how much he valued her judgment upon such +matters and how much he admired and reverenced the pure, high +standard of her life. His tones grew more lover-like as he said it +would mean far more to him than he could express if he might hope that +her sweet influence would some day come intimately into his own life. +Then he paused and looked at her lowered eyelids, bent head and +burning cheeks. But she said nothing, sitting as still as one dead, +save for her heaving breast. After a moment he went on, saying that he +cared more for her than for any other woman he had ever known, and +that if she did not love him then, he would be willing to wait many +years to win her love, and make her his wife. Still she did not speak, +and he laid one hand on hers, where it rested on the table, and +whispered softly, "Marguerite, do you love me?" With that she lifted +her head, and the troubled, appealing look in her eyes smote his heart +into a brighter flame. He pressed her hand in a closer grasp and +exclaimed, "Marguerite, dearest, say that you love me!" + +The innocent, fluttering, maiden heart of her, glad and proud to feel +that she had been chosen above all others, but doubtful of itself, and +ignorant of everything else, leaped toward him then and a wistful +little smile brightened her face. She opened her lips to speak, but +suddenly she seemed to see, beside the gate, a tall and comely figure +bending toward her with eyes that burned her cheeks and cast her own +to the ground. She snatched her hand from Wellesly's grasp and buried +her face in her palms. + +"I do not know," she panted. "I must think about it." + +"Yes, certainly, dear--you will let me call you dear, won't you--take +time to think it over. I will wait for your answer until your heart is +quite sure. I hope it will be what I want, and don't make me wait very +long, dear. Good-bye, sweetheart." + +He lifted her hand to his lips and went away. She sat quite still +beside the table, her burning face in her hands, her breast a turmoil +of blind doubts, and longings, and keen disappointments with, she knew +not what, and over all an imperious, sudden-born wish to be loved. + +Wellesly walked down the street smiling to himself in serene assurance +of an easy victory. He was accustomed to having women show him much +favor, and more than one had let him know that he might marry her if +he wished. Moreover, he thought himself a very desirable match, and he +did not doubt for an instant that any woman, who liked him as well as +he was sure Marguerite did, would accept his offer. + +"It was evidently her first proposal," he thought, "and she did not +know exactly what to do with it. She is as shy and as sweet as a +little wood-violet. Some girls, after my undemonstrative manner this +afternoon, would write me a sarcastic note with a 'no' in it as big as +a house. But nothing else would have done with Marguerite. She isn't +one of the sort that wants every man she knows to begin kissing her at +the first opportunity. And that is one of the reasons I mean to marry +her. The other sort are all very well, but a man doesn't want to marry +one of them. I want my wife to have such dignity and modesty that I +can feel sure no other man ever has, or ever will, kiss her but me. +And I can feel sure of that with Marguerite--just as sure as I can +that I'll have a favorable answer from her by the time I make my next +visit to Las Plumas." + +Marguerite sat behind her screen of honeysuckle vines, her face in her +hands and a mob of blind, wild, incoherent desires and doubts making +tumult in her heart, until she heard her father's footsteps in the +house. Pierre Delarue had been taking his Sunday afternoon siesta, and +he came out upon the veranda in a very comfortable frame of mind. He +patted Marguerite's shoulder affectionately and asked her to make him +a cup of tea. He was very fond of his fair young daughter, who had +grown into the living likeness of the wife he had married in the days +of his exuberant youth. But he rarely withdrew his thoughts from +outside affairs long enough to be conscious of his affection, except +on Sunday afternoons, when interest and excitement on Main street were +at too low an ebb to attract his presence. On other days, she endeared +herself to him by the sympathetic attention she gave to his accounts +of what was going on down-town and to his rehearsals of the speeches +he had made. On Sundays, when he had the leisure to feel a quickened +sense of responsibility, he both pleased himself and felt that he was +discharging a duty to her by discoursing upon his observations and +experiences of the world and by propounding his theories of life and +conduct. For Pierre prided himself on his philosophy quite as much as +he did on his oratory. + +Marguerite, on her part, was very fond of her father, but it was a +fondness which considered his love of speech-making and his flighty +enthusiasms with smiling tolerance. Her cooler and more critical way +of looking at things had caused her, young as she was, to distrust his +judgment in practical affairs, and about most matters she had long +since ceased asking his advice. + +She sat beside him and talked with him while he drank his cup of tea. +A recently married young couple passed the house, and Marguerite made +some disapproving comment on the man's character, adding that she did +not understand how so nice a girl could have married him. + +"Oh, he has a smooth and ready tongue," answered her father, "and I +dare say it was easy for him to make love. When you are older you will +know that it is the man who can talk love easily who can make the most +women think they love him." Pierre Delarue stopped to drink the last +of his tea, and Marguerite blushed consciously, remembering the scene +through which she had just passed. She rose to put his cup on the +table, and was glad that her face was turned away from him when next +he spoke: + +"When a man tells a woman that he loves her," Delarue went on, "and it +rolls easily off his tongue, she should never believe a word that he +says. If a man really loves a woman, those three little words, 'I love +you,' are the hardest ones in the whole world for him to say. Most +women do not know that when they hear their first proposals, but they +ought to know it, especially in this country, where they make so much +of love. But, after all, I do not know that it makes so much +difference, because all women want to hear no end of love talked to +them, and it is only the man who does not feel it very deeply who can +talk enough about it to satisfy them. A woman is bound to be +disappointed, whichever way she marries, for she is sure to find out +after a while that the flow of words is empty, and the love without +the words never satisfies. After all, it is better for a woman to +think of other things than love when she marries. They manage these +things better in France. Don't you think so, my daughter?" + +There was a deep thrill of passionate protest in her voice as she +answered, "No, father, I certainly do not." + +He laughed indulgently and patted her hand as he said: "Ah, you are a +little American!" Then he added, more seriously: "I suppose you, too, +will soon be thinking of love and marriage." + +She threw her arms around his neck and there was a sob in her voice as +she exclaimed: "Father, I shall never marry!" + +He smoothed her brown hair and laid his hand on her shoulder saying, +"Ah, that means you will surely be married within a year!" + +She shook her head. "No, I mean it, father! I shall never marry!" + +"My dear, I should be sorry if you did not," he answered with dignity, +and with a strong note of disapproval in his voice. "For what is a +woman who does not marry and bear children? Nothing! She is a rose +bush that never flowers, a grape vine that never fruits. She is +useless, a weed that cumbers the earth. No, my daughter, you must +marry, or displease your father very much." + +Marguerite lay awake long that night, trying to decide what she ought +to do. Her father's words gave sight to a blind, vague misgiving she +had already felt, but at the same time she could not believe that +Wellesly meant less than his words when he told her that he loved her +and wished to make her his wife. + +"Why should he propose to me if he does not wish to marry me?" she +argued with herself, "and why should he want to marry me if he does +not love me? No, he surely loves me. Perhaps father is right about the +Frenchmen. He knows them, but he does not understand the Americans. +They always feel so sure about things, and they do everything as if +there was no possibility of failure. But I wish I knew if I love him! +I suppose I do, for I felt so pleased that he should wish to marry me. +But I don't have to decide at once. I'll wait till he comes to Las +Plumas again before I give him an answer." + +She debated whether or not she ought to tell her father and ask his +advice, but she feared that in his mind other considerations would +outweigh the one she felt to be the chief, and she decided to say +nothing to him until she knew her own mind in the matter. "If I refuse +him," she said to herself, "there will be no reason for me to say +anything about it, and it wouldn't be fair to Mr. Wellesly for me to +tell father or any one else that he had proposed to me. Besides, +father might possibly speak of it outside, and I couldn't bear to +think that people were gossiping about it. No, I will not say +anything, unless I should decide that I want to marry him. Then I will +ask father if he thinks I'd better." + +The next morning she woke with a sudden start, all her consciousness +filled with an overwhelming desire to love and be loved, to be all of +life to some one who would be more than life to her. She sat up, +panting, pressing her hand to her heart. At once her thoughts leaped +to Wellesly. + +"He loves me, he has told me so, and surely this is love I feel now, +and for him. I suppose--I do--love him." + +She lifted her nightgown above her bare feet and stood beside little +Paul's crib. With her disheveled hair falling in waving masses around +her face she bent over him and lightly kissed his forehead. + +"My little Bye-Bye, I would not leave you to be any man's wife. But he +will not wish me to leave you, because he thinks--that it is beautiful +and noble that I--that I have cared for you--though how could I have +done anything else--and that is partly why he loves me. Surely, I love +him, and I suppose--it is best--for me to marry him. But I'll wait +till he comes again--there!" + +With burning cheeks she stood erect and stamped one bare foot on the +floor. Again the memory of the brown eyes smote suddenly into her +consciousness. Her chin took a sharper angle and her red lips shut +tightly as she threw back her head and twisted her fingers together. + +"I will not think of him again," she said slowly, in a low voice. "He +is in jail, to be tried for murder, and he will probably be hung--" +She hesitated, her face turned white and there was a spasmodic +throbbing in her throat, but she went resolutely on: "And he does not +care the least thing about me. He was merely fond of my little +Bye-Bye, and I am grateful to him for that. But he is nothing to me. +I'll marry Mr. Wellesly--I think--but I'll wait--" And then the +throbbing in her throat choked her voice and she threw herself upon +the bed and buried her face in the pillow and cried. Just as thousands +of young girls have cried over their fluttering, doubtful, ignorant +maiden hearts, ever since man gave up seizing the girl of his choice +and carrying her away, willy-nilly, and began proposing to her +instead. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +The first days of October were at hand, and the court session at which +Emerson Mead was to be tried for the murder of Will Whittaker would +soon open. The supreme court of the territory was sitting at Santa Fe, +and its decision upon the shrievalty would be announced in a few days. +The flames of partisan feeling were already breaking out in Las +Plumas. The dividing line of Main street had begun to be drawn, +although fitfully as yet, and conveniently forgotten if business +called to the other an occupant of either side. But in the matter of +mint juleps, cocktails, and the swapping of yarns Main street +stretched its dusty length between Republicans and Democrats as grim +and impassable as a mountain barrier. On both sides there were meaning +glances and significant nods and half-spoken threats of assault and +resistance. The Democrats professed to believe that the Republicans +were determined to hold the office of sheriff through the trial of +Emerson Mead, whatever should be the decision, in order that they +might find some means to end his life should the court discharge him. +The Republicans insisted that the Democrats were planning to seize the +office by hook or by crook before the trial should begin in order +that they might allow him to escape. And each side declared, with +angry eyes and set teeth, that the other should not be allowed to +thwart justice, if the streets of Las Plumas had to be paved with dead +men. + +Judge Harlin sent word to Mead's ranch, asking Nick Ellhorn to come +into town as soon as possible, and telegraphed to Tom Tuttle at Santa +Fe to return to Las Plumas at once. But it happened that Tom was +chasing an escaped criminal in the Gran Quivera country, far from +railroads and telegraphs, and that Nick was out on the range and did +not receive the message until nearly a week later. + +Nick had settled the matter of the Chinaman's queue on his last visit +to Las Plumas, two weeks before, but not to his entire satisfaction. +Judge Harlin had refused to conduct his suit for the recovery of the +queue against Harry Gillam, the district attorney, and Nick had +declared that he would be his own lawyer and get that "scalp," if it +"took till he was gray headed." Secretly, he was glad that Judge +Harlin would not take the case, because he had an active animosity +against Harry Gillam, mainly because Gillam wore a silk hat, and he +thought that, as his own lawyer, he could contrive to cast enough +ridicule on the district attorney to set the whole town laughing and +make Gillam so angry that he would lose his temper and want to fight. +So he set about preparing his case, with advice and suggestion from +Judge Harlin, who, while he did not wish to be openly connected with +the matter, was very willing to see Gillam, who was a Republican and +the judge's chief professional rival, made a laughing stock and +brought to grief. And he knew that the case, with Nick Ellhorn at the +helm, would be the funniest thing that had happened in Las Plumas for +many a day. Ellhorn's plans began to be whispered about. Presently the +whole town was chuckling and smiling in anticipation of the fun there +would be at the trial. Gillam fidgeted in nervous apprehension for +several days; then he put the pig tail in his pocket, hunted up +Ellhorn and invited him to have a drink. As they drained their glasses +he exclaimed: + +"Oh, by the way, Nick, are you really in earnest about that fool suit +you've filed against me?" + +"You mean about my Chiny pigtail?" asked Ellhorn. + +"About the Chinaman's queue, yes." + +"You bet I am. That blamed thing's cost me a whole heap more'n it's +worth to anybody except me and the Chinaman. I reckon he's sold it to +me for that five hundred dollars. It's mine, and I mean to have it. I +sure reckon I naturalized one heathen when I took that scalp. There's +one bias-eyed fan-tanner that won't pull his freight for Chiny as soon +as he gets his pockets full of good American money. I reckon I was a +public benefactor when I sheared that washee-washee, and I deserve the +pig tail as a decoration for my services. No, sir, the scalp's mine, +by every count you can mention, and you'll have to give it up." + +"Is the queue all you want?" + +"If that's all you've got that belongs to me." + +"Well, then, take it, and stop your jackassing about the fool thing," +said Gillam, holding out the queue. + +"The hell you say!" Nick exclaimed, quite taken aback and much +disappointed. + +"Yes, here it is. And I call these gentlemen to witness that I offer +it to you freely and without any conditions." + +So Nick reluctantly took the braid and gave up his case against +Gillam. "It was just like the blamed whelp," he complained to Judge +Harlin, "to back down and spoil all the fun, but it's no more than you +might expect from a man that wears a stove-pipe." Harry Gillam was the +only man in Las Plumas who wished, or dared to wear a silk hat, and +his taste in the matter of headgear gave constant edge to Ellhorn's +feeling of contempt and aversion. "I'm blamed sorry for it," Nick went +on, "for I sure reckon half the kids in town would have been shyin' +rocks at that plug before the trial was over." + +"I guess he was buffaloed," he said later, as he finished giving an +account of the affair to Emerson Mead. "It was the meanest sort of a +backdown you ever saw, but it just showed the fellow's gait. A man +with no more grit than that had better go back east, where he can +wear a stove-pipe hat without lookin' like a fool, which he sure is." + +"What made you so determined to have the thing, Nick?" Mead asked, +examining the braid. + +Nick gave a twist to the ends of his mustache and looked +contemplatively at the ceiling. "Well," he said slowly, and there were +signs of the Irish roll in his voice, "it was my scalp. I took it, +first, and then I was after payin' for it. Sure and I wanted it, +Emerson, to remind me not to mix my drinks again. It's my pledge to +take whisky straight and beer the next day. And I sure reckon whenever +I look at it I'll say to myself, 'Nick, you've been a blooming, +blasted, balky, blithering, bildaverous idiot once too often. Don't +you do it again.'" + +Notwithstanding his feeling about it, Ellhorn went away and forgot the +earnest of his future good behavior. Emerson smiled that evening as he +saw it trailing its snaky length over the back of a chair and stuffed +it in the side pocket of his coat, thinking he would give it to +Ellhorn the next time his friend should come to the jail. + +Judge Harlin thought Emerson Mead unaccountably despondent about the +probable outcome of his trial, and at times even indifferent to his +fate. He wondered much why this man, formerly of such buoyant and +determined nature, should suddenly collapse, in this weak-kneed +fashion, lose all confidence in himself, and seem to care so little +what happened to him. The lawyer finally decided that it was all on +account of his client's honesty and uprightness of character, which +would not allow him, being guilty, to make an effort to prove that he +was not, and he lived in daily expectation of an order from Mead to +change his plea to guilty. The time was drawing near for the opening +of the case when Judge Harlin one day hurried excitedly to the jail +for a conference with Mead. + +"Emerson," he said, "some member of the last grand jury has been +leaking, and it has come to my ears that testimony was given there by +some one who declared he saw you kill Whittaker. And I've just found +out that the other side has got a witness, presumably the same one, +who will swear to the same thing." + +Mead's face set into a grim defiance that rejoiced Harlin more than +anything that had happened since his client's imprisonment, as he +answered: + +"I've been expecting this. Who is it and what's his testimony?" + +"I haven't been able to learn any details about it--merely that he +will swear he saw you kill Whittaker. I'm not positive who the man is, +but I feel reasonably sure I've spotted him. I think he is a Mexican, +a red-headed Mexican, called Antone Colorow." + +Mead nodded. "I think likely," he said, and then he told Judge Harlin +how Antone had tried to lasso him and of the angry man's threats of +revenge for his broken wrists. "I've expected all along," he added, +"that they'd come out with some such lay as that. I don't see how we +can buck against it," he went on, despondently, "for I can't prove an +alibi. Unless you can break down his testimony we might as well give +up." + +"I guess there won't be any difficulty about that," said Harlin +assuringly. "What you've just told me will be a very important matter, +and if I can keep Mexicans off the jury it won't take much to convince +Americans that he is lying, just because he is a Mexican." + +After Judge Harlin went away Mead sat on the edge of his bed, his +elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands, and his broad shoulders +rounded into an attitude of deep dejection. + +"What is the use?" his thoughts ran. "They are bound to get me sooner +or later, and it might just as well be now as any time. It won't make +any difference whether they clear me or convict me. She will believe +me guilty anyway, because her father and all her friends will say so." +He rose and began pacing the room and his thoughts turned persistently +to Marguerite Delarue. Since he had heard the rumor of her approaching +marriage to Wellesly he had tried not to let his thoughts rest upon +her, but sometimes the rush of his scanty memories would not be +forbidden. + +Again he recalled the day when he first saw her, as she stood with her +sick baby brother in her arms. She was so young, so blooming, so fair, +that her anxious face and troubled eyes seemed all the more +appealing. He remembered that he had looked at her a moment before he +could speak, and in that moment love smote his heart. He had wished to +see her father and she had laid the sick child on a couch while she +left the room. The little one had fretted and he had sat down beside +it and shown it his watch and his revolver, and it had put out its +hands to him, and when Marguerite came back she had found the big, +tall, broad-shouldered man cradling the sick child in his arms. He +halted in his moody pacing of the cell and a sudden, shivering thrill +shot through his whole big body as he saw again the look of pleasure +and of trustful admiration which had lighted her face and shone in her +dark blue eyes. The child had clung to him and, pleased, he had asked +if he might not take it in his arms for a short ride on his horse. And +after that, whenever he had passed the Delarue house alone, he had +tried to see the little boy, and had tried still more, in roundabout +ways, to bring the child's sister outside the house, where he might +see her and hear her voice. Four times he had done that, and once he +had seen her in her father's store and had held a few minutes' +conversation with her. He remembered every word she had said. He +repeated them all to himself, and went over again every least incident +of the times he had stopped his horse at her gate and had taken the +laughing child from her arms and they had looked at each other and he +had tried to say something--anything, and then had ridden away. + +When the meager little memories were all done he sat down on his bed +again and felt that nothing mattered, since she was to marry Albert +Wellesly and would surely believe him guilty of all that was charged +against him. He felt no jealousy of her chosen husband, and no anger +toward Wellesly because he had won her. He was conscious only of a +vague wonder that any man had dared ask Marguerite Delarue to be his +wife. + +On Saturday of the first week in October Judge Harlin received a +private dispatch from Santa Fe saying that the supreme court had +decided the shrievalty contest in favor of Joe Davis, the Democratic +candidate. At once the threatened storm began to break. By noon Main +street was again divided into two opposing camps. Every rifle, +revolver and shot-gun in the town that was not carried on some man's +person was put within easy reach of ready hands. Shops and offices, +stores and gardens were deserted, and men hurried to the center of the +town, where they drifted along the sidewalk or stood in doorways in +excited groups, each side anxiously and angrily on the alert for some +open act of hostility from the other. The Republicans said they had +not received official notice of the decision of the court, and that +they would not surrender the office until it should reach them. The +Democrats demanded that it be given up at once and accused the other +side of secreting the court order with the intention of holding the +office through Emerson Mead's trial. The district court was to convene +at Las Plumas on the following Monday. Mead's case was the first on +the docket. + +Men who were next door neighbors, or friends of long standing, passed +each other with scowls or averted faces, if they were members of the +opposing parties. Mrs. John Daniels was planning to give a swell +breakfast to a dozen chosen friends early the next week, the first +appearance of that form of entertainment in Las Plumas society, and +she was delightedly pluming herself over the talk the function would +be sure to create and the envious admiration her friends would feel +because she had introduced something new. She had talked the matter +over with her dearest friend, Mrs. Judge Harlin, whom she had sworn to +secrecy, and she was on her way to the post-office to mail her +invitations when she saw that the threatened storm was breaking. Her +glance swept up Main street on one side and down on the other, and she +turned about and hurried home to substitute in her list of guests for +those whose sympathies were Democratic, others whose masculine +affiliations were Republican. + +Hurried messages were sent out to mines and cattle ranches, and in the +afternoon fighting men of both parties began to come in from the +country. A procession of horsemen poured into the town, bronzed and +grim-faced men, each with a roll of blankets behind him, a revolver at +his side, a rifle swung to his saddle, or a shot-gun across its +pommel. They loped about the town, sometimes surrounding the +court-house, angrily discussing whether or not the clerk of the court +was probably hiding the official order, and sometimes lining the two +sides of Main street, as if they were two opposing companies of +cavalry ready to join battle. Among the Republican forces Judge Harlin +saw a red-whiskered Mexican who, he learned, was Antone Colorow. The +man's broken wrists had healed, but they had lost all their +suppleness, and he could never throw the lariat again. He could shoot +as well as ever though, and not a day had passed since that morning at +the round-up when he had not sworn to himself that Emerson Mead should +die by his hand. He hated Mead with all the vengefulness and +fierceness of his race. His mind held but one idea, to work upon the +man who had ruined his occupation the crudest possible revenge, in +whatever way he could compass it. He had allied himself with the +Republican forces only because they were opposed to his enemy, and he +hoped that in the impending clash he would find opportunity to carry +out his purpose. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +On that same Saturday Marguerite Delarue received a letter from Albert +Wellesly saying he would be in Las Plumas the following Tuesday, when +he hoped he would hear from her own lips the answer for which he had +been waiting. She was no nearer a decision than she had been weeks +before, and in her perplexity she at last decided that she must ask +her father's advice. But he was so absorbed in the factional feud that +she could scarcely catch sight of him. In the late afternoon of Sunday +she took little Paul and walked to the mesa east of the town, toward +the Hermosa mountains. For the hundredth time she debated the matter, +for the hundredth time she told herself that he loved her and that she +loved him, that it would please her father, and that there was no +reason why she should not marry him. And for the hundredth time her +misgivings held her back and would not let her say conclusively that +she would be Wellesly's wife. Then she would think that her hesitancy +was because she really preferred not to marry any one, and that she +would always feel the same doubts. + +She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she did not notice the +unusual abstraction of the child. With one chubby fist grasping her +forefinger and the other trailing, head downward, a big yellow +chrysanthemum, he trudged silently by her side, his red fez making a +spot of bright color against her white dress. He was wondering why he +had no mamma. Many times he had talked the matter over with +Marguerite, but she had never been able to explain it to his entire +satisfaction. He accepted her statements when she made them, but as +they did not seem to him to justify the fact, she had to make them all +over again the next time he thought of the subject. That day he had +visited a little playmate who had both a big sister and a mamma, and +as he walked across the mesa with Marguerite his small brain was busy +with the problem and his childish heart was full of longing. He lifted +his serious, puzzled face, with its big, blue, childishly earnest eyes +to his sister, who was as absorbed in her problem as was he in his. + +"Say, Daisy, why haven't I got a mamma, just like Janey?" + +"Darling, our mamma, yours and mine, has gone to Heaven." + +"What did she go there for?" + +"Because God wanted her to go there and live with Him." + +"Did God take her to Heaven?" + +"Yes, dear." + +"Well, it was awful mean for Him to do that." + +"Oh, my darling! My little Bye-Bye mustn't say such things! +Everything God does is right. Poor mamma was so ill she could not stay +with us any longer, and God took her to Heaven to make her well." + +"Is she ill in Heaven?" + +"No, dearie. She is well and happy in Heaven, and so is every one who +goes there." + +"When I go to Heaven shall I see my mamma?" + +"Yes, dear." + +The child was silent for a few moments and Marguerite turned again to +her own thoughts. She scarcely heard him when he spoke again: + +"Heaven is up in the sky, ain't it, Daisy?" + +His eyes were caught by the sunset glow on the Hermosa mountains and +he did not press her for confirmation of his idea. The swelling flanks +and the towers and pinnacles and castellated crags of the rugged +Hermosa range were glowing and flaming with the tenderest, deepest +pink, as though the living granite had been dyed in the blood of +crimson roses. The eastern sky, vivid with seashell tints, hovered so +low that the topmost crags seemed to support its glowing colors. It +was no wonder that the child's mind, already awed and made receptive +by his thoughts of Heaven, was at once filled with the idea that its +gates had been opened before him. He dropped his sister's finger and +went forward a few steps, his eager eyes fixed on the glory that +flamed in the east, and his heart beating wildly with the thought that +if he ran on a little way he could go in and see his mother. Of +course, she would see him coming and she would run out to meet him and +take him in her arms, just as Marguerite did when he came home from +Janey's. Filled with the sudden, imperious impulse, he ran down the +hill on which they were standing, across the dry, sandy bed of a +watercourse, and up the hill on the other side. The miracle of beauty +which dazzled him was of almost daily occurrence, but, baby that he +was, he had never noticed it before. + +Marguerite took Wellesly's letter from her pocket when Paul dropped +her hand, and, turning to get the sunset light on the page, read it +over and over. She knew Paul had run on ahead, but thought he was +playing in the arroyo. She folded the letter slowly and put it in her +pocket again and watched for a few moments the glowing banks of color +that filled the western sky. Then she looked down the little hill and +along the arroyo, calling, "Come, Paul! We must go home." But the +sturdy little figure was nowhere in sight. At that moment he was +crossing the second hill beyond. She ran up and down the arroyo +calling, "Paul! Paul!" at the top of her voice. Gathering her white +skirts in one hand, she rushed to the top of the hill and called again +and again. But there was no reply. As she listened, straining forward, +all the earth seemed strangely still. The silence struck back upon her +heart suffocatingly. Over the crest of the next hill Paul heard her +voice and hid behind a big, close clump of feathery mesquite, fearful +lest she should find him and take him home again. Across the arroyo +she ran, and up to the hill-top, where she stood and called and looked +eagerly about. But he, intent on carrying out his plan of reaching the +rosy, glowing gates of Heaven over there such a little way, crouched +close behind the spreading bush and made no answer. + +"He would not have gone so far," she thought, anxiously. "He must be +back there in one of those arroyos." + +She ran back and hurried farther up and down, first one and then the +other gulch, calling the little one's name and straining her eyes +through the dusk that had begun to gather for a glimpse of his flaxen +curls and red cap. Paul, meanwhile, was scurrying across the hills as +fast as his two fat, determined legs could carry him, straight toward +the deepening, darkening glory upon the mountains. + +At last Marguerite decided that he must have turned about, after he +had run a few steps away from her, and gone home. Comforting herself +with this hope, she hurried back, looking about her as she ran, to be +sure that she did not pass him. Flushed and panting, she rushed +through the house and asked the servant if little Bye-Bye had come +home. The maid had not seen him, and the two women looked through the +house and searched the yard and garden, stopping every moment to call +the child. Then they ran out again upon the mesa, where Marguerite +had walked with him, calling and circling about through the gathering +dusk. + +When it became quite dark Marguerite, thoroughly frightened, ran back +to the town and hurried down Main street looking for her father. She +met a clerk from his store on the way to tell her that he had just +started to his alfalfa ranch, ten miles down the river, to bring in +the men who were there at work, and would not return until early the +next morning. The clerk quickly got together a half dozen young men +and they set out for the mesa. The mother of one and the sister of +another stayed with Marguerite, and by dint of constant persuasion +kept her at home. + +At daybreak the party returned, worn out by their long tramp. The moon +had risen about ten o'clock, and by its brilliant light they had +searched carefully the hills and arroyos within two or three miles of +the town, but had not found a trace of the lost child. Main street had +slept on its arms that night. Men of both parties, wrapped in their +blankets, with revolvers and shot-guns and rifles under their hands, +had dotted the court-house yard, had lain on the sidewalks near the +jail, and had slept on the floors of shops and offices along both +sides of Main street. Feeling had risen so high that a hasty word, or +the unguarded movement of a hand toward a pistol butt, was likely to +cause the beginning of the battle. The Democrats had telegraphed to +Santa Fe and learned that the order of the court making Joe Davis +sheriff, having left there by mail on Saturday, should have reached +Las Plumas on Sunday. So they announced that they would wait until the +arrival of the mail from the north on Monday at noon, and that if the +Republicans did not then vacate the office they would march upon the +court-house, seize the clerk of the court, take forcible possession of +the jail, and install Joe Davis in the office of sheriff. They swore +they would do all this before sunset Monday night if they had to soak +the sand of the streets a foot deep in blood. The Republicans grimly +said that they would not give up the office without the official order +of the court if they had to kill every Democrat in the town to hold +it. + +When the party searching for little Paul walked down Main street in +the dim, early light, their footsteps breaking loudly upon the morning +silence, men jumped to their feet with revolvers at ready, and set +faces, crowned with disheveled hair, looked out from doorways whence +came the click of cocking triggers. As the party was divided in its +political affiliations, the young men knew that it would be safer for +them to separate and for each to walk down Main street on that side to +which his elders belonged. And so it happened that armed men, jumping +from their blankets with revolvers drawn and cocked, and sternly +commanding "halt," heard on both sides of the street at the same time +how Pierre Delarue's little boy was lost on the mesa. Over and over +again the young men told their story as they walked down the street, +and group after group of armed and expectant men asked anxiously, +"What's the matter?" "What's up?" "What's happened?" As they listened, +the angry resolve in their faces softened into sympathy and concern, +and everywhere there were low exclamations of "We must hunt him up!" +"We must all turn out!" + +When Pierre Delarue returned he found the feud forgotten. Men were +running hither and thither getting horses and carriages ready, a long +line of men and boys straggled out across the mesa, the Main street +barrier, which had risen sky high when he left the town, had sunk to +the middle of the earth, and men who, a few hours before, would have +shot to kill, had either opened mouth to the other, rode or walked +side by side, talking together of the lost child, as they hurried out +to the hills to join in the search. + +Mrs. John Daniels, as soon as she rose from the breakfast table, +hastened to Mrs. Judge Harlin's house, and together they went to offer +sympathy and neighborly kindness to Marguerite. Other women came, and +their tear-dyed lids told how the mother-sympathy in their hearts had +already opened the flood-gates of feeling. None of them thought it +possible that the child could be found alive, though they talked +encouragingly with Marguerite. But among themselves they said, "Poor +girl! It will kill her!" + +Marguerite wished to join the searchers on the mesa, but the women +would not let her go. She had not slept during the night, and her +usually blooming face was pale and drawn and her eyes were wide and +brilliant. When her father came she appealed to him. + +"No, my dear, you can do no good out there. Stay here and be ready to +take care of him when we bring him home. We shall find him, my dear, +we shall find him. Keep up your courage and save all your strength for +the time when it will be needed." + +So Marguerite stood on her veranda and watched the people stringing +out to the hills, men and boys and even a few women, on foot, on +horseback, in carts and carriages and wagons. She could not shut from +her eyes the vision of her little Bye-Bye alone, far out on the hills +in the darkness and cold--the little baby Bye-Bye, who, if he wakened +in the night, had always to be taken into her own bed and cuddled in +her arms before he could sleep again. + +Judge Truman, of the district court, reached Las Plumas on Sunday and +prepared to open the court and call the case of Emerson Mead on Monday +morning. The sheriff and his deputy brought Mead out of the jail and +started to conduct him to the court-house. Suddenly the bell of the +Methodist church began to ring violently; a moment later that of the +Catholic convent added its sharp tones, and the fire bell, over by the +plaza, joined their clamor. + +"What are those bells ringing for, John," said Mead to Daniels. + +"Haven't you heard about Frenchy Delarue's kid? He was lost on the +mesa last night and the whole town is turning out to hunt him. They +are ringing the bells to call out everybody that hasn't gone already." + +Mead stopped short at the words "Frenchy Delarue's kid." + +"Little Paul Delarue?" he asked in quick, sharp tones. + +"Yes, the little fellow with the yellow curls." + +Without a word Mead turned sharply on his heel and ran with long +strides down Main street toward Delarue's house. The hands of the two +men went instinctively to their revolvers, then their eyes met, and +Daniels said: + +"I guess we'd better not touch him, Jim." + +At that moment Judge Truman turned the corner, just from the +court-house, and saw the escaping prisoner. + +"Let him go, Mr. Sheriff," he said. "His help will be valuable in the +search. Better go yourself, and take as many with you as you can. I +have adjourned court and told everybody to hurry out to the mesa, and +I'm going myself as soon as I can get a horse." + +Emerson Mead ran at the top of his speed to the Delarue house, going +there without thought of why he did it, feeling only that Marguerite +was in deepest trouble, and all his mind filled with the idea that it +would kill her if anything happened to the child. As he entered the +gate Marguerite saw him and rushed down from the veranda. + +"How did it happen?" he asked hastily. + +"I took him out to walk with me on the mesa yesterday afternoon, and +he slipped away from me and I could not find him." + +"Can you tell me where you saw him last?" + +"Let me go with you! I can show you the very place!" + +"Are you strong enough? Can you stand it? You are very pale!" + +"Yes, yes! It will not be so hard as to stay here and wait! Let me go +with you and help you!" + +"Come, then, quick!" + +She snatched her little white sunbonnet from a chair on the porch and +they hurried off. Walking swiftly and silently they passed through the +back streets of the town and across vacant lots and hurried over the +rising plain until they came to the place in the rolling hills where +the child had disappeared. + +"It was here," said Marguerite. "I am very sure of the place. He stood +beside me and while I was thinking about--something that troubled me, +and reading a letter, he slipped away. I was sure he had only run down +the hill into the arroyo, but when I looked for him, and it seemed +hardly more than a minute, I could not find him." + +Mead looked about for footprints, but the ground had been trampled by +scores of feet since the night before, and tracks of shoes in many +sizes covered the sandy earth. A few scattered searchers were near +them, but the great mass of people could be seen in groups and bunches +trailing off over the hills, most of them headed to the northeast. A +shout came along the line and one of the men near by ran across the +hills to learn its cause. + +"What had he been talking about?" Mead asked. + +"About Heaven and our mother, and if he could see her if he should go +there." + +Mead looked about him, thinking there was no clue in that, when his +glance rested upon the towering peaks of the Hermosa range, their +western slopes soft in the violet shadows of the forenoon, their +upreared crags seeming to lean against the very blue of the sky. A +sudden memory from his own childish years flashed into his mind. + +"I remember when I was a kid I used to think that if I could only get +to the top of a mountain I could jump from it into the sky and see +God. Children always think Heaven is in the sky, don't they? Maybe he +had some such idea. Let's go straight toward the mountain and see if +we can't find his tracks." + +They walked down the hill, and in the sand in the bottom of the arroyo +Mead's quick eye caught a faint depression. He stopped Marguerite as +she was about to step on it, and they knelt together to examine it. +There were other footprints all about, but this one little track had +escaped obliteration, and none had noticed it. Marguerite thought it +was the size and shape of his shoe, and they went on over the hill, +watching the ground closely, but seeing nothing more. A man came +running back to tell them that a child's footprints had been found +near the mountain road, two miles or more to the northward. Marguerite +wished to go there at once. + +"Yes, certainly, go if you wish," said Mead, "but I think I will stay +here. If they have found his tracks there are plenty of people there +to follow them, but I am anxious to follow this lead." + +Marguerite said she would stay with him, and the others hurried over +the mesa to the mountain road, leaving the two alone. They walked +slowly up and down the hills toward the mountains, finding in one +place a little curved depression, as if from the toe of the child's +shoe. And presently, close behind a clump of bushes, they saw two +little shoe-prints clearly defined in the sand. They were so close to +the bush that they had escaped detection. + +"Why, he must have hid here while I was looking for him!" Marguerite +exclaimed, "for I came to the top of the hill, not more than twenty +feet away! He must have hid behind this big bush and kept very still +when he heard me calling, and that was how he got away from me!" + +They went on over the hills, Mead keeping a fairly straight course +toward the mountains, and constantly running his eye along the ground +in front of them. Twice he saw faint depressions in the sand, partly +obliterated, but enough to make him think they were on the right +track. At last, in a wide, sandy arroyo, he paused before a track in +the farther edge of the sand which turned up the canyon. + +"What time was it when you lost him?" he asked. + +"Just at sunset. I remember, because the red was on the mountains and +the sky was very brilliant." + +"Then by the time he had traveled this far it was dark and this wide +sandy streak was lighter and brighter than the hill up there, covered +with bushes. Come on!" + +Mead rushed up the canyon, almost on the run, his eye catching a +toe-print here, a heel track there, a sunken pebble in one spot, a +crushed blade of grass beside the sand in another. The young men who +had gone out first had been through this arroyo the night before, when +the moonlight did not show the faint trail. Since sunrise the +searching parties had gone farther toward the north, covering ground +which the other party had left untouched, for every one believed, +since the failure of the first expedition, that the child must have +turned in that direction and tried to go home. + +Mead and Marguerite followed the winding of the arroyo for a mile or +more, and at last, where it headed and the ground was covered by a +thicker growth of bushes, the little tracks climbed the hill. By that +time they were well beyond the farthest point toward the mountains +which any one else believed the child could have reached, and there +were no footprints of previous searchers to perplex their eyes or blot +out such traces as they might find. From the top of the hill they saw +the great body of men again scattering out over the mesa, and knew +that they had been disappointed. + +It was some minutes before Mead found any indication of the trail on +the hill. Then the child seemed to have wandered about in the dark +without purpose. For a long time he had kept to the top of the hill, +going backward and forward and circling about, and at last following +its crest toward the mountains. + +"This must have been after the moon rose," Mead said, "and while it +was still so low that only the top of the hill was light." + +After a time the track turned down the hillside again, and the man and +the girl followed, eagerly scanning the ground for the faint traces of +the child's feet. Slowly and carefully they walked along, sometimes +able to follow the trail without difficulty for long distances, and +again keeping it only by the greatest care. Marguerite noticed that +Mead looked for it always toward the south, and asked him why he did +it. + +"Because the moon was considerably past the full and shone more from +the south, and he would have kept his face toward it." + +Up and down the hills they went and along the arroyos, the trail +sometimes heading straight for the mountains, and again turning toward +the south, sometimes following the sandy watercourse beds and +sometimes the hilltops, and again crossing them at varying angles. +Once they lost it entirely, and searched over a wide area in vain, +until Marguerite found a shred of brown linen hanging upon the thorny +limb of a mesquite bush. + +"This is from his dress!" she exclaimed. + +About the same time Mead saw a number of dog-like tracks, all going in +the same direction, and a sickening fear rose in him so great that he +scarcely dared sweep with his eyes the arroyo into which they were +descending. He did not let Marguerite see that he had noticed anything +unusual, and she followed him silently, wondering how he could trace +the trail so rapidly. For he knew that he need not stop to look for +the child's footprints. He could follow swiftly, almost on the run, +the plain trail of the dog-like tracks down the sandy arroyo. +Presently she saw him stoop and pick up something from the ground. He +turned and held out to her a large yellow chrysanthemum. She ran to +him and seized it eagerly. + +"Yes, I picked it as we were leaving home yesterday. He wanted it and +I gave it to him. And he clung to it all this way! I wonder what made +him drop it finally!" + +Mead did not tell her of the fear that probably had relaxed the little +muscles and sent the weary feet flying over the sand. He could think +of no word of encouragement to say, for he felt no hope in his heart. +But her face had lighted with the finding of the flower and she seemed +to feel almost as though it were a call from the child. She pressed +the yellow bloom to her face and thrust it into her bosom. Then she +dropped upon her knees and hid her face in her hands. Mead felt that +she was praying, and impulsively he took off his hat and bent his +head, but his eyes still swept the arroyo in front of them. As they +went on he noticed that the child's tracks had been almost +obliterated. Here and there a toe print, pressed deeply into the sand, +showed that the little one had been running. At last Mead stopped +beside a large flat stone. The child's footprints showed plainly +beside it. And the dog-like tracks ranged in a half circle six or +eight feet distant. + +"He must have sat down here to rest," said Mead, hoping she would not +notice the other tracks. But she saw them and looked at him with +sudden fear in her eyes. A single word shaped itself upon her +whitening lips. + +"Coyotes?" + +He nodded, saying, "I have been watching their tracks for the last +mile." + +She threw her hands to her head with a despairing gesture. He moved +toward her, filled with the yearning to take her in his arms and +comfort her. But he remembered that she was to be married to Albert +Wellesly and his hands dropped to his sides. He turned to examine the +ground about the stone and saw in the sand many little holes and +scratches. He noticed, too, some pebbles in front of the coyote +tracks. + +"Look!" he exclaimed. "The brave little man! He threw stones at the +coyotes and kept them off! He must have had a stick, too, for see +these little holes in the sand. He probably stood up and thrust the +stick toward them." + +"Could he keep them off so that they would not attack him?" + +"Yes, I think he could. As long as--as he kept moving they would only +follow him." + +A little farther on they found many deep impressions of the child's +feet close together, as if he had been jumping, and after that the +coyote tracks disappeared. + +"He must have jumped at them and shouted and thrust out his stick," +said Mead, "and frightened them away. He might have done that after he +found he could drive them back. And this was probably after daybreak, +when they would be less likely to follow him. We can't be so very far +behind him now, for he would be tired and could not walk fast." + +"Come, hurry! Let us go on!" urged Marguerite, + +He looked at her doubtfully. Her face was drawn and white under her +sunbonnet, notwithstanding her long walk in the hot sun, and dark +rings circled her eyes. + +"Have you strength to go farther? Hadn't you better wait here?" + +"No, no! I can go on! Come, let's hurry!" and she moved forward. + +"Then lean on my arm. That will help you some." + +"No, thank you. I might keep you back. You go on and follow the trail +as fast as you can and I will come behind. Don't stop a minute for +me." + +The trail left the arroyo and climbed the hill again and from its +summit they could see the crowd of people far toward the north +scattering out over the mesa and dotting the hills beyond the mountain +road. A banner of smoke lay low against the northern horizon, while +across the distance came the faint whistle of an approaching train. A +vague remembrance came into Marguerite's mind that there was to have +been trouble in the town, a battle and bloodshed, after the passing of +that train, and that she had been anxious on her father's account. But +that all seemed years ago, and the remembrance of it quickly passed. + +The trail wandered on, keeping to the hilltops for some time. Mead +told Marguerite that the boy had been cold in the early morning and +had stayed on the hilltops because it was warmer there when the sun +first rose. Then the trail went up and down again, sometimes over the +hills and sometimes following the arroyos, sometimes turning on itself +and going back, and sometimes circling about in long curves, facing by +turns all points of the compass. Along arroyos, and on hillsides that +were comparatively barren and sandy it was easily followed. At other +times Mead lost it entirely and they would wander about, searching the +ground closely. Once Marguerite found the faint track of the shoe when +Mead was going away in another direction, and she called him back +delightedly. For long distances he would spring rapidly along a trail +so faint that it was only by close scrutiny she could see anything, +his mind unconsciously marking the distance from one trace to where +the next should be, his eye skimming the ground and his quick sight +catching the crushed flower stem, the sunken pebble, the broken blade +of grass, the tiny depression of heel or toe that marked the way. + +The girl toiled on after him, sometimes falling far behind and again +catching up and walking by his side. The slumbrous heat of the October +day filled the clear, dry air and the sun shone fiercely, unveiled by +a single vaporous cloud. Marguerite's mouth was dry and her throat was +parched and all her body called for water. She thought of the thirst +and the hunger that must be tormenting the little thing that had been +wandering over those sun-flooded hills, with neither food nor drink +nor sight of friendly face, for so many hours, and the agony of the +thought seemed more than she could endure. Sharp, lightning-like pains +cracked through her brain, and a dizzy, chaotic whirl filled her head. +She put her hands to her forehead and stopped short on the hillside, +the fear flying through her mind that she might be going mad. Mead saw +her and came quickly to her side, alarmed by her white, tense face and +the wild look of agony in her eyes. Her lips were pale and dry. + +"Do not stop!" she pleaded. "It is nothing but a little headache. +Don't stop a minute for me. Five minutes may mean the difference +between life and death for my little boy. Hurry on, and I will come +close behind you." + +The fear of delaying her companion gave her fresh strength and she +went on beside him. In the next arroyo they found a footprint deeply +marked in a bed of sand. As Mead glanced at it he saw some grains of +sand fall down from the rim of the depression. He called Marguerite's +attention to them. + +"We must be close behind him," he said, "or that sand would not still +be trembling on the edge like that." + +"If we only had some water for him!" said Marguerite. "He will need it +so badly." + +Mead thought that the child would probably be beyond the need of human +aid when they should find him, but he merely answered: "Yes, I ought +to have thought of it, but we started so hurriedly." His only hope was +that they might be in time to save the little worn body from the +coyotes. The trail crossed the arroyo and essayed the hill. It was +steep and had been too much for the child's ebbing strength. The track +went down into the valley again and part way up the other side, then +back and across the arroyo, and took the hill once more at a long +slant. They lost the trail there and walked about for a few minutes, +searching the ground closely for signs of the little feet. Marguerite +went on to the top of the hill, and Mead, glancing toward her, saw her +standing stiff and still as if turned to stone, holding a little +forward her tightly clasped hands. She gave a low cry and he sprang to +her side. A moving splotch of red showed above a clump of greasewood +half way down the hill. Then a tottering little figure in a torn and +ragged linen kilt moved slowly down the hillside, lifting its feet +wearily, but still going on. + +"Paul! Paul! My darling!" A ringing call broke from Marguerite's lips +and she rushed down the hill at a pace which even Mead's running +strides could barely equal. The boy heard her cry, turned, swayed on +trembling legs, and fell to the ground. She snatched the child to her +breast and pressed her face to his. He smiled faintly and wearily, and +his parched, cracked lips whispered, "some drink!" and then his eyes +closed and his head fell back upon her arm. The gladness in her face +froze into terror and she turned to Mead in despairing appeal. + +"Is he dead?" she whispered. + +The man bent one ear to the child's heart. + +"No, he is not dead, nor dying. His heart seems to be beating +naturally, but feebly. If we only had some water!" + +She held the child toward him, speaking rapidly: "Take him in your +arms and run to where the others are. Doctor Long is there, and +somebody will have water." + +He looked at her anxiously. "But you?" he exclaimed. + +She answered with a sharp insistence in her tones, leaning toward him, +the words flying from her lips: + +"Take him and run, run! Never mind me. I will come behind you. Go, go +quickly!" + +He cradled the unconscious child in his arms, running with long +strides up hill and down, aiming a straight course toward the bulk of +the searching party, which he could see from the hilltops, a multitude +of moving dots straggling back into the hills where he and Marguerite +had first followed the footprints. As he ran, his mind went back over +the winding trail they had followed, and he calculated that the child +had traveled not less than a dozen miles since sunset of the night +before. He glanced over the hills at the crowds beyond and thought it +must be some four or five miles to the nearest one. He saw a single +horseman off to his left who seemed much nearer, but he decided it +would be safer to run straight for the greater number, lest the man +might turn about and ride away without seeing him. But the horseman +presently came in his direction and soon Mead saw that the man was +looking toward him. He waved his hat and halloed, and the man +evidently saw and understood, for he spurred his horse into a gallop. +As he came nearer Mead thought there was something familiar in his +attitude and the outline of his body. But he did not look closely, for +he was running through a growth of prickly pear cactus and needed to +watch his footsteps. Scarcely more than two hundred yards separated +them when the horseman leaned forward in his saddle, studying keenly +the figure of the man on foot. A look of cruel, snarling triumph +flashed over his face and a Spanish oath broke from his lips. He +whipped out a revolver and leveled it at the running man with the +child in his arms. Mead had been looking at the ground, choosing his +course, and then had glanced at Paul's face for a moment. When he +raised his eyes again he saw the shining muzzle of a revolver pointed +at his breast and above it the savage, revengeful, triumphant face of +Antone Colorow. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +A bullet tore through the sleeve of Mead's coat, passing but a few +inches from the head of the unconscious child. Another sang over his +left shoulder, scorching his coat. His face, flushed with running, +went white and grim with sudden passion, his lips closed in a narrow, +straight line, and the yellow flame blazed in his wide and brilliant +eyes. He shifted the child more to the left and turned sidewise toward +his assailant, shielding the little one with his body. Antone Colorow, +shouting curses and vile names, came dashing on, revolver in hand, to +try again at closer quarters. Mead kept on, running sidewise, his set +white face turned over his shoulder and his flashing eyes fixed on +Antone's revolver hand. They were within a score of paces of each +other when Mead suddenly jumped to one side and the bullet that was +meant for his head whistled harmlessly through the air. "Three!" he +thought, his eyes fixed steadily on Antone's right hand, as he still +advanced toward the angry man. For he had noticed that the Mexican +wore no cartridge belt. Again he sprang to one side as he saw Antone's +finger stiffen upon the trigger, and the ball rattled through the +bushes behind him. "Four!" he thought, veering toward the west. The +Mexican turned his horse to follow, and Mead, with eyes fixed on the +trigger, and noting, too, the slant of the barrel, knew that he had no +need to dodge the next bullet. It went wild and tore up the ground +some feet away. "Only one more!" he thought, as he halted with the sun +at his back and shining straight in the Mexican's face. A sudden, +quick leap and a loud yell startled Antone's horse, it jerked +backward, and the last bullet went singing harmlessly through the air. + +Antone's voice shot up into a falsetto, and shrieking vile curses he +threw the empty revolver over his shoulder and leaped to the ground. +Mead's watchful eye caught the gleam of a steel blade in the sunlight. +He dropped his burden upon the ground, in the shade of a clump of +greasewood, and sprang to one side. He caught Antone's wrist, as the +knife made its downward turn, and held that hand high in the air for a +moment while he looked into the Mexican's eyes. They shone with the +angry glare of a wild beast. + +"Antone," he said, "I have found the lost child. It is still alive, +and it may live if I can get it to the doctor at once. Will you let me +go and finish this quarrel afterward?" + +The Mexican's only answer was a volley of curses. This man had broken +his wrists and made useless that boasted skill with the lasso which +had been the one pride of his life. For weeks and months anger and +hatred and the determination to have revenge had blazed in his heart, +and at sight of his enemy everything else went from his mind. He too +had been ranging the hills since early morning searching for the boy, +but so fierce was his rage that he could have jumped upon the little +form and trampled its life out, if by so doing he could have killed +Mead with a double death. + +Antone's wrists were stiff and his arms had not recovered their full +strength, so that Mead had no difficulty in holding the dagger aloft. +He waited a moment to see if some glimmer of human feeling would not +strike through the man's rage. Suddenly Antone began kicking his +shins, and Mead understood that the sooner the struggle began the +sooner it would be ended. He strove warily, with the coolness of a +masterful determination, with a quick eye, a quick hand, and a quick +brain. The Mexican fought with the insensate rage of an angered beast. +They struggled first for the possession of the knife. Antone succeeded +in releasing his wrist and sprang backward out of Mead's reach. With a +lunge straight at his enemy's heart he came forward again, but Mead +sprang quickly to one side and the Mexican barely saved himself from +sprawling headlong on the ground. He faced about, his features +distorted with anger, and, as he dashed forward, Mead caught his wrist +again. There was a short, sharp struggle, and Mead sent the knife +whirling down the hillside. + +Then they closed in a hand to hand struggle. Antone bent his head and +sent his teeth deep into Mead's arm. Into the flesh they sank and met +and with a slipping sound tore the solid muscle from its bed. Then +there flamed in Emerson Mead's heart that wild, white rage that +mettles the nerves and steels the muscles of him who suffers that +indignity. He felt the strength of a giant in his arms as he gripped +the Mexican by both shoulders. In another minute Antone Colorow was +flat upon the ground and Emerson Mead was sitting on his chest. + +"You hound!" Mead exclaimed, "I ought to kill you, and by the living +God, I would if I could do it decently! But I'm no Greaser, to use +lariats and knives and boot-heels, and so you get off this time, you +beast! If I had a rope," he went on, "I'd tie you here!" + +With his right hand he grasped Antone's two wrists while he thrust his +left into his pockets in search of something with which he could bind +the fallen man. From the side pocket of his coat he drew a shiny, +snaky black thing, and a satisfied "ah!" broke from his lips as he saw +the Chinaman's queue, which Nick Ellhorn had forgotten, and which he +had put into that pocket two weeks before. + +As he held it in his hands Marguerite Delarue came running over the +hill. Her sunbonnet hung by its strings around her neck, her hair had +come down and was streaming over her shoulders, her dress hung in rags +and tatters, and she was panting and almost breathless. She had +hurried on behind Mead as rapidly as she could walk, until she heard +the first pistol shot. Then, fearful of trouble, she had run as fast +as possible, stopping at nothing, her anxiety giving speed to her feet +and endurance to her muscles. + +The look of savage triumph on Mead's face made her shrink back for an +instant, awed and frightened. But her comprehension quickly took in +what had happened and her heart rose in sympathetic exultation. + +"You are just in time," said Mead, "and I'm mighty glad. I'll have to +ask you to sit on this man's chest and hold him down while I tie him +fast to that mesquite." + +Marguerite sat down on the Mexican's breast while Mead tied his wrists +tightly together and then began fastening them to the stocky stem of +the bush beside which he had fallen. Antone struggled and tried to +throw her off, and Mead said: + +"I think, Miss Delarue, you'd better put your thumbs on his windpipe +and press a little, just to keep him from fighting too hard. We've got +no time to waste on him." + +Marguerite gasped and hesitated, but her eye fell on little Paul's +unconscious figure, and she did as he asked her. + +"There," said Mead. "Now get up and jump quickly away." + +The prostrate Mexican struggled and rolled about, but he could not +rise. Marguerite ran to the child and with her ear to his breast she +called to Mead. + +"His heart is beating! He is still alive!" + +Mead caught Antone's horse, and with Marguerite behind him and the +child on one arm started off on the gallop. A long, straggling line of +searchers stretched across the mesa, the nearest at least four miles +away. As Mead came nearer he dropped the bridle on the horse's neck +and waved his hat and shouted again and again. At last he attracted +the attention of the nearest ones, and two or three came running +toward him. "Water! Water!" he called, at the top of his voice. They +understood, and one ran back to the nearest horseman, who galloped off +to a group of people still farther away. + +Almost instantly the great throng, like a huge organism, animated by +one thought, started off across the mesa toward the galloping horse, +every atom in it moved by the single purpose to reach at once the +new-found babe. Two horses in front of the hastening multitude ran at +their topmost speed and distanced all the others. One carried Pierre +Delarue and the other Doctor Long, and behind them came horsemen, +carts, carriages and people on foot, all rushing to the one point. + +The physician administered such restoratives as he had with him and +brought the boy back to consciousness. Then, in the shade of a canopy +phaeton, he carried the child home in his arms, while Marguerite and +her father and Emerson Mead followed in another carriage, and all the +crowd came pouring along after them. + +But there were four men who stayed behind. Joe Davis and John Daniels +and two others, all in perfect accord and friendliness, went back to +find Antone Colorow. They had listened to Mead's hastily told story of +how Antone had attacked and delayed him. Daniels and Davis had looked +at each other with a single significant glance and the one remark, +"We'd better attend to him!" And then they had taken the other two men +and started back. + +They found Antone Colorow still struggling, rolling and kicking on the +ground. His lips were stained with the blood his own teeth had drawn, +and his red beard was flecked with foam. They untied him, and he +sprang to his feet and would have darted away, intent on his one +purpose to kill the enemy who had escaped his vengeance, had not quick +hands seized him. They tied his arms behind him and set him astride +his own horse, and then, surrounding him, with their revolvers drawn, +they rode away to the southwest, leaving Las Plumas far to their +right. On to the river bottom they went, and into a _bosque_ where the +cottonwoods and the sycamores grew thickly and the willow underbrush +was dense. + +Long afterward a river ranchman, hunting a lost cow, penetrated the +_bosque_ and started back in sudden fright from a dangling, decaying +body that hung from a sycamore limb. + +Pierre Delarue insisted that Emerson Mead should come into his house +for some wine and wait until they should know the worst or the best +concerning little Paul. He sat alone in the room where first he had +seen Marguerite, his anxiety about the child driven quite out of his +mind by the thought that the long hours alone with her, out on the +hills, their hearts and minds united in a common purpose, had come to +an end, that she was soon to be another man's wife, and that he would +never see her again. After a time the door opened and she came toward +him, smiling gladly. The color had come back to her cheeks and her +eyes were bright, though there were still dark rings around them, and +her face told of the weariness her brain had not yet recognized. So +absorbed had she been in giving the physician assistance and carrying +out his directions that she had not thought of her appearance. Her +white dress, which yesterday had been fresh and dainty, was in tatters +and bedraggled strings, and her hair hung down her back in a +disheveled mass. But she came shining down upon Mead's dark thoughts, +fresh and beautiful and glorious beyond compare. He did not remember +rising, but presently he knew that he was on his feet and that she was +standing in front of him. He did not even hear her say, "Doctor Long +says my little Bye-Bye will live and that there will probably be no +serious results." + +Then she saw that he was trembling from head to foot, shaking as do +the leaves of a cottonwood tree in a west wind, and she drew back in +alarm, looking at him anxiously. + +"What is the--" she began, but the look in his eyes stopped her tongue +and held her gaze, while she felt her breath come hard and her heart +beat like a triphammer. For an instant there was silence. Then +Marguerite heard in a whisper so soft that it barely reached her ears, +"I love you! I love you!" It was the loosing of the floods, and at +once their arms were about each other. But in a second he remembered +that she was to be another man's wife, and the thought came over him +like the drawing down of the black cap over the head of a condemned +man. With a fierce girding of his will he put both his hands upon her +shoulders and drew back. + +"I forgot! Forgive me!" The words came in a groan from his lips. "I +forgot you're going to be his wife!" + +"Whose?" said Marguerite, stepping back. For the instant she had +forgotten there was any other man in the world. + +"Why, Wellesly's!" + +"Indeed, I am not!" That one second in Mead's embrace had settled +Marguerite's long-vexed problem, and she felt her mind grow full of +sudden wonder that it had ever troubled her. "He wanted me to marry +him, but I'm not going to do it!" + +Again their arms were about each other, their lips met, and her head +was pillowed on his shoulder. Then he remembered the fate that was +hanging over him, and he said bitterly: + +"I've no right to ask you to be my wife, for in another week I'll +probably be convicted of murder and sentenced to be hung, or sent to +the penitentiary for life." + +From the yard came the sound of Pierre Delarue's voice speaking to the +crowd. She took Mead's hands in hers and swung a little away from him, +looking into his face. + +"I know that you didn't kill Will Whittaker!" + +"How do you know it?" he answered, looking at her in loving surprise. + +"Because he was shot in the back!" + +She felt herself swept into the sudden storm of a masterful embrace, +and with soft laughter yielded to his rapturous caresses. "And all +this time," came to her ear in a whisper, "I've cared about it only +because I thought you would believe me guilty even if I was cleared! + +"But I've no proof of my innocence," he added presently, "and I can't +ask your father's consent, or allow your name to be mentioned with +mine in the town's gossip until my own is clear. I've no right even to +ask you for another kiss until--" + +She closed his lips with the kiss he would not ask for, and said: + +"I would just as lief go out there now and say to all that crowd that +I love you and know that you are innocent--" + +"No, no!" he broke in upon her passionate protestation. "No one shall +couple your name with mine and pity you while they are doing it! The +penitentiary may be my fate, for the rest of my life, but its shadow +shall not touch yours. If I can clear myself of this charge I will +come and ask you to be my wife, and openly ask your father's consent. +If I can't--" He turned and looked out of the window, but instead of +the trees and flowers that were there, he saw a big, grim building +with a high stone wall all around it and armed guards on the bastions. +Outside they heard the crowd calling for him. She understood his +feeling, and taking his face between her palms she kissed his lips, +whispering, "We will wait," and hurried from the room. + +The crowd massed itself around the house, squatting on the sidewalk, +perching on the fence, and filling the waiting vehicles, until Pierre +came out and announced that the physician said little Paul would +recover and would probably be none the worse for his experience. +Everybody shouted "hurrah!" and somebody yelled, "three cheers for +Frenchy!" The cheers were given, and Pierre stepped out on the +sidewalk and began thanking them all for the kindness and sympathy +they had shown and for their willing efforts to help him in his +trouble. Then he launched into rhetorical praises of the country, the +climate and the community, and from these turned to enthusiastic +commendation of the man who had restored to him his lost child. +"Among all the brave and noble men of this favored region," he +exclaimed, "there is none braver, nobler, greater-hearted, more +chivalrous, than he who has this day proved himself worthy of all our +praises--Emerson Mead!" The crowd cheered loudly and called for Mead. +Somebody shouted, "Three cheers for Emerson!" and the whole +assemblage, Pierre leading, waved their hats and cheered again and +again. + +Then there arose a general cry for "Emerson Mead! Emerson Mead!" +"Where is Emerson!" "Bring him out, Frenchy!" and Delarue rushed back +into the house to find him. When Pierre entered the room which his +daughter had just left it occurred to him, vaguely, that Mead looked +unusually proud and happy, but as he himself, also, felt happy and +proud, and filled with a genial glow over the success of his burst of +oratory, it seemed quite proper that every one else should also be +elated. So he thought nothing of it and hurried Mead out to the +waiting crowd, where everybody, Democrats and Republicans alike, +gathered about him and shook hands and made terse, complimentary +remarks, until Jim Halliday presently took him away to his former +quarters. + +The crowd trailed off down Main street, and Judge Harlin and Colonel +Whittaker stood treat together for the entire company, first at the +White Horse and then at the Palmleaf saloon. The whistle of the train +from the south, two hours late, broke in upon all this friendliness +with a harsh reminder. Men suddenly recalled the fact that the mail +from the north had come in long ago and had not brought the court +order for which they had been waiting. The issues which had set the +town at gun muzzles the day before again asserted themselves, and +gradually the two factions began to mass, each on its own side of the +street. In the midst of this the clerk of the court came out of the +post-office with the missing order, which had gone astray in the mails +and had just come in on the train from El Paso. Neither Joe Davis nor +John Daniels could be found, and it was an hour later when they rode +together into the town, coming back from the hanging of Antone +Colorow. + +Daniels read the official paper through and handed it to Davis. "Well, +Joe," he said, "the court says you are sheriff now, and I reckon +there's no goin' back of that. I hope the office will bring you better +luck than it has me. Let's have a drink." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Darkness so dense lay over the Fernandez plain that not the faintest +outline of the rimming mountains penetrated its blackness. Like some +palpable, suffocating substance it filled the plain and mounted far up +into the air, even to the blue-black sky, whence a million gemming +stars pierced it with their diamond lances. + +Perched alone among the foothills of the Fernandez range, Juan +Garcia's gray adobe house glimmered faintly through the darkness. +Every sound about the house was hushed, and only the burro in the +_jacal_ down the hillside made known to the silent plain that he was +still awake. The door into the _portal_ opened softly, and with a +quick, gliding, silent movement a dark figure came hastily out, closed +the door, listened a moment, and then trod lightly across the _portal_ +and down to the road. There it paused, and Amada Garcia's face, +anxious and wistful, framed in the black folds of her mantilla, looked +back at the silent house. A deep, dry sob shook all her frame and she +half turned back, as if irresolute. Then she drew from her breast a +folded bit of paper, pressed it to her heart and her cheek, and kissed +it again and again. She cast another regretful, longing look at the +gray adobe house, and started off in the direction of Muletown. The +faintly glimmering track of the sandy road opened slowly before her in +the darkness, and, drawing her mantilla closely around her shoulders, +she walked briskly along the dusty highway. + +She kept the folded paper in her hand, pressing it to her lips and +cheek with little cooing sounds of love. Once, standing still in the +darkness and silence of the wide, black plain, she unfolded the letter +and kissed the open sheet. It was too dark for her to see a single +word upon the page, but she knew just where were "_mi esposa_," and +"_mi querida_," and "_mi corazon_." + +That afternoon, as she filled her _olla_ at the spring, a young +Mexican came riding by in brave attire of braided jacket and trousers +and silver trimmed sombrero. She knew him well. Indeed, she had often +bantered back his compliments and adroitly turned to merriment the +sweet speeches he would rather have had her take in earnest. He +stopped and gave her the letter, which he had brought all the way from +the post-office at Muletown solely for excuse to see her. She poised +the _olla_ full of water upon her head and he walked up the hill to +the house by her side, and while he talked to her mother she slipped +stealthily out and hid in the _jacal_ beside the burro for a chance to +read the letter. When she returned she showed so plainly that his +compliments and sweet speeches were distasteful to her that he sulkily +left the house and galloped home again. Then her mother reproved her, +telling her that she must not discourage the young man, because he was +plainly in earnest in his attentions and would make the best and +richest husband of all the young _caballeros_ who came to the house, +and that when next she saw him she must make amends for her unkind +treatment. Amada listened with terror and rebellion in her heart; and +in her brain there sprang into life the purpose which she set out to +execute as soon as her father and mother were asleep. + +In her pocket she had four dollars which she had saved from the sale +of eggs and goat's-milk cheeses at Muletown, and which she had been +carefully keeping for the purpose of buying a new mantilla with a +deep, deep silk fringe the next time they should go to Las Plumas to +celebrate the fiesta of its patron saint. And under one arm she +carried some _enchiladas_ and _tamales_, left from that night's +supper. + +She trudged on through the darkness and silence of the night, and, +although she walked briskly, the frosty air now and again sent a +shiver of cold through her body and made her draw her mantilla more +closely across her chest. The staccato yelping of coyotes down in the +plain was answered by short, sharp barks from the hills, and all night +long the beasts kept up a running exchange of howls from one to the +other side of the road. Sometimes Amada heard the stealthy rustle of +the herbage as they neared the highway, or saw the gleaming of their +eyes in the darkness. But she knew their cowardly nature too well to +be afraid, and when they came too near, a pebble from her hand sent +them scurrying away. + +Hour after hour she followed the faint glimmer of the dusty road, over +the low, rolling hills, across the sloping upland, and down into the +edge of the Fernandez plain, steadily leaving behind her the slowly +measured miles. At last the east began to glow above the Fernandez +mountains and against the golden sky shone the thin, silver-white +crescent of the old moon. The blackness of night gradually faded into +the gray light of dawn, the sky blushed rosy red, the plain spread +itself out before her, flooded with golden red sunlight, and still +Amada held to the pace she had kept up all night long. Before her she +saw columns of blue smoke rising from the chimneys of Muletown, and +she thought longingly of the well in the plaza. But early though it +was, she feared to be seen and questioned, for she knew many people in +Muletown. So she turned from the main road, leaving the town far to +her right, and struck across the trackless plain for the highway +running toward the Hermosa mountains. When she reached it the sun was +well up in the sky and she sat down on a hillock of sand to rest and +eat her breakfast. She was very tired and it seemed good to lie still +on the warm sand under the warm sun, so she rested there for a long +time, thinking at first of the little gray adobe house far back in +the foothills and wondering what the two old people would think and +what they would do when they should find their one child gone and no +trace left to tell them whither or why she had fled. These thoughts +would bring the tears to her eyes, then she would open the letter and +read it slowly over and over, and kiss the words of love, and, with +soft little laughs and cooings, picture to herself her journey's end. + +At last she saw a cloud of dust coming toward her from the direction +of Muletown and, reminded of the possibility of being seen and +questioned by some one she knew, she got up and hurried on her way. +She knew her father and mother would not at once be alarmed over her +departure. They would think she had risen early and gone up into the +foothills to gather sweet herbs. Even after they should find that she +was gone she knew that, in the leisurely fashion of the land and +people of _manana_, it might be two or three days before they would +hitch the horses to the wagon and drive to Muletown to ask if any one +there had seen her. But she did not wish to be discovered in her +flight by any one whom she knew, and so she hurried on, drawing her +mantilla across her face until only her two great black eyes peeped +from its folds. + +The wagon behind her clattered up and its sole occupant, a middle-aged +American, asked her in Spanish if she would like to ride. She +hesitated, instinctively fearing speech with any one, and glanced +shyly at the Americano, who was smiling down good-naturedly at her +from the wagon. The man added that if she were going far she had +better ride, for the road across the plain would soon be very hot. She +considered that she did not know this man, that he would not know who +she was, and thought how much more quickly she could cross that wide +plain, so, with a grateful glance of her black eyes and a "_muchas +gracias, senor_," she climbed up and sat down in the seat beside him. +He asked her how far she was going, and she answered, to the other +side of the Hermosa mountains. He replied that he was going to his +mining camp in the mountains, but that he would drive her to the top +of the pass, as the road was rocky and steep up the mountain side. He +had some water in a canteen, from which she drank gratefully, and as +midday approached, he shared with her his luncheon of bread and +cheese, while she divided with him what remained of her _tamales_ and +_enchiladas_. + +The man's kindly manner gave her confidence and the innate coquetry of +her nature unconsciously began to assert itself. She talked gaily with +him, her eyes by turns sparkled, invited and repelled, her mantilla +almost covered her face one moment and the next was shaken gracefully +down to her shoulders, leaving the coils of her hair shining black as +a crow's wing in the sun. Her little, rosebud mouth pouted and smiled, +and altogether she was so sweet and dainty and graceful that the +middle-aged, gray-bearded Americano began to beam upon her with +admiring eyes and to hover over her with jerky, heavy attempts at +gallantry. He asked her name, but she took sudden alarm and answered +only with a shrug of her shoulders and a swooning glance of her great +black eyes. He put his arm about her waist and stooped to kiss her +smiling mouth. She struggled away from him with a terrified, appealing +cry, "No, no, senor!" of whose meaning there could be no mistake. + +The man looked at her with wide, surprised eyes and exclaimed, "Well, +I'll be damned!" and whipped up his horses. He glanced at her +curiously several times and saw that she had edged away from him as +far as she could and drawn the black folds of her mantilla well over +her face. Presently he said, in her own tongue: + +"Pardon me, senorita! I thought you would not care." + +Her only answer was a little shiver, and they drove on in silence up +the winding mountain road to the top of the pass. There she climbed +out of the wagon and smiled back at the man with a grateful "_muchas, +muchas gracias, senor_," and started down the road toward Las Plumas. +He looked after her contemplatively for a moment and said to himself: + +"Well, I'll be damned! But you never can tell how a Greaser's going to +break out next!" Then he turned his team about and drove whistling +back to his own road. + +Amada's spirits rose as she looked down into the Rio Grande valley and +saw the thread of glowing yellow foliage which marked the course of +the _acequia_ and the long, straggling procession of gray dots which +she knew was the town of Las Plumas. She had been there twice with her +father and mother when they had gone to join in the fiesta of Santa +Guadaloupe. They had a "_primo_" there, one of those distant relatives +of whom the Mexicans keep track so faithfully, but she meant to stay +far away from his house and to be seen neither by him nor any of his +family. She was sure she could reach the town by nightfall. She began +to wonder if the train on which she meant to go away would come after +that and what she should do with herself all night if it did not. The +two visits she had made to Las Plumas had been the only times in her +life when she had seen a railroad train, and she asked herself if she +would be afraid when she should get into the car and it should go +tearing across the country so fast. Ah, it would not go fast enough +for her, not nearly fast enough! And unconsciously she quickened her +steps to keep pace with her thoughts. + +Presently mighty pains began to rack her body. She groaned and +clenched her fists until the blood stained her palms. But still she +hurried on, urging herself with thoughts of her journey's end, which +began to loom distant and impossible through the haze of her +suffering. The road wound over the rounded foothills, across the crest +of one, down the hillside, and over another, and another, and another, +until Amada thought their end would never come. She longed to lie down +there in the dusty road and give herself up to the agony that held her +body in its grip. But she so feared that she might yield to the +temptation, and never rise again, that she ran down the hills and +hurried her aching feet up the slopes until she panted for breath. An +awful fear had come to terrify her soul. In its absorbing clutch she +scarcely thought again of her wish to reach the railroad, and the love +letter that had brought her comfort and sustained her strength was +almost forgotten. If she should die there alone, with no priest to +listen to the story of the sins that oppressed her soul, to give her +the sacrament and whisper the holy names in her ear--ah, she could +not--any suffering could be endured better than so terrible a fate. So +she gathered up her strength and strove to force a little more speed +into her aching, blistered feet and to endure the pains that gripped +and racked her body, hoping only that she might reach the town and +find the priest before the end should come. + +At last the gray, rolling waves of the foothills smoothed themselves +out and gently merged into the plain that rose from the valley below. +So near seemed the houses and the long streets of the town, with the +yellow cottonwoods flaming through its heart, that Amada felt +encouraged. She hurried limping down the road, her black dress gray +with dust, her mantilla pulled awry, her eyes wide with the terror +that filled her soul, and her face tense and drawn with the pain that +tortured her body. + +She reached the edge of the town and saw people in the houses along +the street. But she met none and she could not make up her mind to +stop long enough to turn aside to one of the houses and ask the way to +the priest's dwelling. Presently she saw two children come hand in +hand through a gateway. One of them, a tiny boy with flaxen curls +about his neck and a thin white face, put his hands on the shoulders +of his baby girl companion and kissed the face she lifted to his. As +she went away she turned and threw kisses to him and he waved his hand +to her and called out "bye-bye, bye-bye." + +Amada staggered against the fence and stood there resting a moment +while she smiled at the pretty scene, notwithstanding her suffering +and anxiety. When the child turned back into the yard she moved away +from the fence and tried to go on. But her knees trembled and gave +way, a cry of pain broke from her lips, and she fell upon the +sidewalk. For woman's greatest extremity was upon her and she could go +no farther. + +Marguerite Delarue stood upon the veranda steps smiling fondly upon +little Paul as he came up the walk. She had noticed the strange young +Mexican woman leaning against the fence, and when Amada fell she ran +down to the gate to see if the stranger were ill. The look of awful +agony in Amada's face and eyes frightened her, and quickly calling the +maid, the two women took her into the house and put her to bed. Then +Marguerite sent in all haste for the physician, and herself removed +the dusty shoes and stockings, bathed the swollen, blistered feet, +took off the dust-filled garments and clothed the suffering girl in +one of her own night robes. + +All night long the physician worked, his face anxious and troubled, +and in the early morning he gave up hope. For Amada lay in a stupor +from which he thought there was no probability she would ever rouse. +Suddenly she moaned, stretched out her hands and called, "My baby! +Where is my baby?" + +Marguerite knelt beside her and tried to tell her that the little one +had never breathed, and Amada flung herself upon the girl's neck and +gave herself up to such transports of grief that the physician sat +down in dumb, amazed helplessness, sure that immediate collapse would +cut short her cries of woe. + +"But you can't tell a blessed thing about these Greasers," he said +afterward to Marguerite. "I was sure she was going to die, and I +reckon she would if she had not done the very thing that I thought +would be certain to finish her anyway. Maybe I'll learn sometime that +these Mexican women have got to let out their emotions or they would +die of suppressed volcanoes." + +When Marguerite had sympathized with and soothed and comforted her +accidental guest Amada asked if she would send for the _padre_. + +"I shall die very soon," she said, "and he must come at once. I +thought I should die long before this, but God has let me live through +all that time that I do not remember, when I was so nearly dead, only +that the _padre_ might come and make me ready for death." + +After the priest had gone Marguerite went to the sick girl's room with +a cup of gruel. Amada lay back on the pillow, her face gray with +pallor against the background of her shining black hair. She kissed +and fondled Marguerite's hand. + +"You have been very good to me, senorita, but I shall have to trouble +you one little time more, and then I shall be ready to die, and some +one can ride over to the Fernandez mountains, beyond Muletown, and +tell my father, Juan Garcia, that his daughter, Amada, is dead, and +that she was very, very sorry to bring so much grief to him and her +mother. You will tell him that, will you not, senorita? But you must +not tell him about the _nino_, because they do not know--ah, senorita, +you must not think that I am a--a bad woman! See! Here is a letter +that says _mi esposa_! But they might not believe it--and they must +not know--you will not tell them, senorita!" + +"But you are not going to die!" said Marguerite encouragingly. "You +will soon be strong again." + +Amada shook her head. "No! I shall be dead before another morning +comes. But now the _padre_ says I must see _el Senor Don_ Emerson +Mead." + +The girl's eyes caught a sudden, brief flicker which crossed +Marguerite's face, and, weak though she was, she raised herself on one +elbow, her black hair streaming past her face and her eyes shining. +She caught Marguerite's hand, calling softly: + +"Senorita! You love Don Emerson! Is it not so? I saw it in your face! +Ah, senorita, it is good to love, is it not? Now you must bring Senor +Mead to me here and I must tell him something that the _padre_ says I +must before I die. But you must not ask me what it is, for I can not +tell you. I can not tell any one but Don Emerson." + +"He is in the court room now," Marguerite replied, "and they would not +let him leave. But his friend, Senor Ellhorn, is here, and I will see +if I can find him." + +Marguerite met Nick Ellhorn coming out of John Daniel's office with a +broad smile curling his mustaches toward his eyes. He had been on a +still hunt for his Chinese queue, and had run at once upon the +certainty that something had happened which several people would like +to keep quiet. And he had not only recovered the pig tail, but had +found out what had been done and who had done it. + +"Oh, Mr. Ellhorn!" exclaimed Marguerite, "I am so glad to find you! +There is a Mexican girl at my house--she dropped down dreadfully ill +at my gate last night and I took her in--who wants to see Mr. Mead. +She says her father is Juan Garcia, and that he lives away beyond +Muletown, in the Fernandez mountains. The _padre_ confessed her this +morning and now she says he told her that she must tell Emerson Mead +something before she dies. I do not know what it is, and she says she +can not tell any one except Mr. Mead. Will you come to the house and +find out what she wants?" + +Ellhorn's eyes opened wide, but he kept an impassive face. "Amada +Garcia! What the--whatever is she here for, and how did she get here!" + +"I think she must have walked, for her feet were blistered." + +"Walked! Walked from old Garcia's ranch! Good God! Well, I sure reckon +she must have something to say. I'll go right along and see her." + +When Nick Ellhorn came out of the Delarue house he heard the whistle +of the train from the north. + +"I've just time to make it," he thought. "I can't stop to say a word +to anybody about this business, or I'll miss this train. Well, I +reckon I might just as well not say anything about it, anyway, as long +as Tommy isn't here, until I get back--if I ever get back! They'll be +only too glad to snake me in down there, if they get the chance. I'll +just have to make a quick scoot across the line, and trust to the luck +of the Irish army! If Tommy was only here we'd get this thing through, +if we had to wade through hell and tote home the back doors. But I +can't stop to wait for company. I'll try it alone, and I sure reckon +I'll be too smart for 'em!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +Emerson Mead's trial had been in progress nearly two weeks, but most +of the time had been exhausted in impaneling a jury. Almost the entire +male population of Las Plumas had filed between the opposing lawyers +and, for one reason or another, had been excused. At last a jury had +been chosen, not because its members were satisfactory to either side, +but because both sides had exhausted their peremptory challenges and +neither could find further objection which the judge would allow. + +Thomson Tuttle arrived soon after Nick Ellhorn's departure, and was +alternately puzzled and indignant over his absence. He felt sure that +Nick had gone away on some expedition of importance and probably of +danger. He was puzzled to think what it could possibly be, and +indignant that Nick had thus risked himself without the aid and +protection of his best friend. + +"It was plumb ridiculous for him to go off alone like that," he +complained to Judge Harlin. "He knew I'd be along in a day or two, and +here he goes flirtin' the gravel off the road all alone as if I was +some didn't-know-it-was-loaded kind of a fool who couldn't handle a +gun! He'll sure get into some kind of trouble if I'm not with him!" + +Interest in the trial was universal and intense, and during the +sessions of the court, especially after the taking of testimony began, +the streets of the town were well nigh deserted, while a large part of +the population crowded the court room, swarmed in the corridors, and +filled the windows. Those who could not get into the court-house +gathered in groups on the outside and discussed the news and the +rumors, which came in plentiful supply from its doors. + +The prosecution had put on several witnesses, employees of the +Fillmore Cattle Company, who had sworn to the ill-feeling between Mead +and young Whittaker, and one who had been a witness of the quarrel +between them, just previous to Whittaker's disappearance, when Mead +had threatened the young man's life. Then Colonel Whittaker took the +stand. It was rumored that after him would be given the testimony of +an eye-witness of the murder, and an even larger crowd than usual +sought the court-house that afternoon. Two score of women sat +comfortably in a space fitted with chairs at one end of the judge's +desk. But the body of the room was jammed with a standing crowd of +men, both Mexicans and Americans. Late comers crowded the corridor, +and those who could get them mounted chairs outside the door. Inside +the room a row of men swung their heels from each window seat, while +outside another row stood on the ledges and looked over their heads. + +Colonel Whittaker told the story of how his son had set out from the +ranch to come to town and had never been seen alive again. He declared +that the young man had no enemies except the prisoner and that there +was no possible explanation of his disappearance except that he had +been murdered. Then he told of the work of the searching party which +he had taken to the White Sands, and of the body which they had found. +He had identified this corpse as the body of his son, and on the +sketched outline of a man's back he located the position of the three +bullet holes by which the young man had come to his death. The shirt, +with the initials worked in the collar, the ring, scarfpin, memorandum +book and envelopes that had been taken from the body were placed +before him and he identified them all as having belonged to his son. +The crowded court room was still, with the silence of tense +expectancy. Every neck was craned and every eye was fixed on these +articles as one by one they were held up before him and then passed on +to the judge's desk. + +A slight disturbance at the door, as of people unwillingly moving +back, fell upon the strained hush. Some one was forcing his way +through the crowd. The witness leaned back in his chair, waiting for +another question, and the lawyers consulted together for a moment. +Then the prosecuting attorney asked the witness if he had positively +identified the body as that of his missing son, William Whittaker. + +"I did, sir," replied Colonel Whittaker. As the words left his lips +his gaze fell past the attorney upon two men who had just struggled +out of the crowd and into the free railed space in front of the +judge's desk. His jaw fell, his pale face turned an ashen gray, his +eyes opened wide, and, with trembling hands upon the arms of his +chair, he unconsciously lifted himself to his feet. The lawyers, the +judge, and the jury followed his gaze. Some sprang to their feet and +some fell back in their chairs, their mouths open, but dumb with +amazement. All over the court room there was a shuffling of feet and a +craning of necks, and a buzzing whisper went back from the foremost +ranks. + +Nick Ellhorn was there, tall and slender and smiling, with a happy, +triumphant look overspreading his handsome face. By his side was a +young man, dark-skinned, black-haired and black-mustached, who looked +ashamed and self-conscious. Ellhorn tucked one hand into his arm and +urged him to a quicker pace. Nick's eye sought Emerson Mead and as +Mead's glance flashed from the stranger's face to his, Nick's lid +dropped in a significant wink. Mead leaned back in his chair, a look +of amused triumph on his face, as he watched the scene before him and +waited for it to come to its conclusion. + +Slowly Colonel Whittaker stepped forward, trembling, with a look upon +his face that was almost fear. The crowd was pushing and pressing +toward the center of interest, and everywhere wide eyes looked out +from amazed, incredulous faces. Nick Ellhorn and his companion slowly +edged their way between the tables and chairs, the young man advancing +reluctantly, with downcast face, until they stood in front of Colonel +Whittaker. Then he looked up, and exclaimed in a choking voice: + +"Father! I am not dead!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +"It was Amada Garcia put me on," said Nick Ellhorn to Emerson Mead and +Tom Tuttle, as the three sat in Mead's room, whither they went at once +to hear Nick's story. "One morning the first of this week Miss Delarue +came runnin' up to me on the street and said Amada was sick at her +house and had walked all the way in from Garcia's ranch and had +something to tell that she wouldn't say to anybody but Emerson. I went +over to see if she would tell me what she wanted, and Emerson can +thank her, and the _padre_, for gettin' out of this scrape with the +laugh on the other side. She thought she was goin' to die and had +unloaded her soul on to the _padre_, and he had ordered her to tell +Emerson Mead what she had told him. I reckon the little witch wouldn't +have peeped about it to anybody if the _padre_ hadn't made her. She +didn't want to say a word to me, and at first she said she wouldn't, +but I finally made her understand she couldn't see Emerson, and I +swore by all the saints I could think of that I'd tell him and nobody +else exactly what she said. So then she whispered in my ear that Senor +Mead didn't kill Senor Whittaker, and I inched her along until I got +out of her that Will Whittaker wasn't dead. + +"That was all she meant to tell me, but I was bound to get all she +knew. And I got it, but I want to tell you right now, boys, that I had +a hell of a time gettin' it. Every time I got a new thing out of her +she'd make me get down on my knees and kiss the crucifix and swear by +a dozen fresh saints that I wouldn't tell anybody but Don Emerson, and +that he wouldn't tell anybody else, and that nothin' should happen to +Don Will because she had told it. + +"She finally admitted that she and Will Whittaker had been secretly +married away last spring and had never said a word about it to +anybody. By that time I felt pretty sure that it was Mr. Will himself +who had made a killin', and I sprung my suspicion on her and +threatened her with the _padre_ and swore a lot of things by a whole +heap of fresh saints, and she finally told me just what had happened. + +"It seems that a cousin of hers--one of their everlastin' _primos_ in +the sixty-third degree, I reckon--came up from down along the line +somewheres, and she was so glad to see him and he was so glad to see +her that he hugged her and stooped over to kiss her--I reckon likely +she'd been flirtin' her eyes and her shoulders at him--when bang! +bang! bang! and he dropped dead at her feet and there was _esposo_ +Will in the door, mad with jealousy and ready to kill her too. Say, +boys!" Nick stopped short, the stream of his narrative interrupted by +a certain memory. "Say, that was what it was!" And he slapped his +thigh with delight at having solved a mystery. "That's the reason she +had such fantods when I wanted to kiss her that day last summer! It +was just because she happened to remember this other time!" + +The others smiled and chuckled and Mead said: "You know I told you +then, Nick, it wasn't because she didn't like your looks!" + +"Well, he was ready to kill her, too, but she threw herself on him and +begged for her life and swore the man was her cousin and there was no +harm, and presently Will's companion came runnin' in and they got the +young man cooled off. He and the other man talked together a little +while and then they put Will's clothes on the corpse and Will dressed +himself in the dead man's and they took the dead body away in the +wagon, and Amada washed up all the blood stains and never let a soul +know what had happened, because Will told her if she did her father +would sure have him arrested and hung. And he made her swear to be a +faithful wife to him and promised to send for her as soon as he could. + +"So she waited for word from him all summer, and the other day there +came a letter, and the same day she found out that her mother meant +for her to marry some young Mexican blood at Muletown. Then she made +up her mind to go to Will, although he had told her he couldn't send +for her for another month or two. That night she started off alone in +the dark and walked to Muletown. Somebody gave her a ride across the +plain and then she walked to Plumas from the Hermosa pass. + +"I made up my mind right then and there that I'd yank that young scrub +back to Plumas quicker'n hell could singe a cat, but she wouldn't tell +me where he was. And maybe I didn't have a skin-your-teeth sort of a +time gettin' it out of her! I just tell you that little girl is cute +enough to take care of herself most anywhere, and don't you forget it! +I coaxed her and she'd coax back, and I threatened her and she'd come +back at me with all the things I'd sworn not to tell, and I wheedled +her as Irish as the pigs in Drogheda, and she'd lie back on the pillow +and smile at me--and all the time just lookin' too sweet and pretty +and sick--well, it was the hardest job I ever tackled. Boys, I sure +reckon that little handful of a girl would have been too many for me +and we'd have been palaverin' yet if she hadn't gone too weak to talk +any more. I saw she was mighty near played out, and I just sicked +myself on for all I was worth. I felt ornery enough to go off and get +horned by a steer, but I reckoned I sure had to. She gave up at last, +when she couldn't hold out any longer, and agreed to let me see the +envelope her letter had come in if I'd kiss the crucifix and swear by +a few more saints that I wouldn't let anybody touch Will, and swear +over again on my knees everything I'd promised her before. I finally +got through with all the religious doin's she could think of, and +then I lit out for the train. I heard it comin' when I left French's +house, and I made a run for it, which was why I didn't tell Judge +Harlin where I was goin'. I couldn't stop to say a word to anybody +without missin' the train and losin' a day. + +"The only clue I had was that he was at Chihuahua, and at work at +something, I didn't know what, and I thought likely he was _pasearing_ +around under an assumed name, which he was. I nosed around for two +days, layin' low and keepin' mighty quiet, and you better guess I made +a quick scoot through Juarez, too." + +The others grinned broadly and as Nick stopped to light a fresh cigar +Tom said: + +"I sure thought, Nick, that you'd never get back alive, for I knew +you-all must have gone off some place you'd no business to go alone, +and I'd have started off on a blind hunt for you in another day." + +"Well, I run across him by accident on the street one evening, and you +ought to have seen him turn white and shaky when I stepped up and +spoke to him. The boy's nerve's all gone, and you know he used to have +the devil's own grit. You-all saw how he acted when I got him into the +court room this afternoon. I reckon it takes all the sand out of a +fellow to live in the dark and be all the time afraid something's +goin' to drop, the way he's done all summer. + +"'Hullo, Will,' says I, and then I took pity on him and showed my +hand right from the start. But I'd sized him up all in a minute, and I +reckoned that would work best anyway. 'I haven't got any warrant for +you,' says I, 'and I don't mean to arrest you, and I've sworn to Amada +Garcia not to let any harm happen to you, but I've got a proposition I +want to talk over with you, if you'll take me somewheres where we can +be private.' For I didn't mean to let him out of my sight again until +I got him into the court room at Plumas, and I didn't, neither. He +took me to his room and we chinned the thing over for two or three +hours. He knew that everybody thought he was dead and that his body +had been found, and that Emerson was being tried for his murder. But +he'd started out on that lay and he was afraid to go back on it. + +"He told me the whole story, on my promise to keep it secret. I told +him I'd have to tell it to you-all, because Emerson had the right to +know it, and Tommy would be sure to go makin' some bad break if he +didn't know it, but that I'd give him my word of honor it shouldn't go +outside of us three. He was just gone plum' crazy on Amada, and one +day he was at her house when a justice of the peace from Muletown came +along. The old folks were out in the fields and for a good, plump fee +the justice married them right then and there. They had no witnesses, +and it happened that the justice died in a week--it was old Crowby, +from Muletown, you remember him. Will was deathly afraid his father +would find it out and be bull roaring mad about it and hist him out +of the country, and so he didn't dare say a word about it, and he made +Amada keep it secret, too. Well, the boy's young, and I reckon that's +some excuse for him, but I'll be everlastingly horn-spooned if I think +his father's got much reason to be proud of him. + +"Then came the day when he stepped to the door and saw that Mexican +_primo_ hugging her, and he swore to me that all in a flash he was so +wild with anger and jealousy he didn't know what he was doin' until he +heard the report and the man dropped dead--that he didn't remember +drawin' or takin' aim, or anything but just wantin' to kill. When he +cooled down and realized what he had done he was in a regular panic. +If he gave himself up the facts about the wedding would have to come +out, in order to protect Amada, and then his father would roar, and +probably cast him off if he wouldn't give her up, and if he escaped +conviction for the murder the _primo's_ relatives would be dead sure +to get even with him. The only way he could see out of it was to hide +the body and skip. The man who was with him--a cow-boy they had just +hired who had come out of the mountains to make a stake so he could go +prospectin' again--Bill Frank was his name, and I told him yes, I knew +him--well, this man offered to see him out for the stake he'd expected +to have to work some time for, and as Will had some money in his +clothes they made the bargain and skipped. They changed the clothing +and carried the body in their wagon up to the White Sands and buried +it. It was them that held you up, Tom, that night last spring, and it +was Will Whittaker, in the Mexican's duds, that you thought was a +Mexican, who slunk around in the bushes and held the gun on you part +of the time. They had the Mexican's body in the wagon and they didn't +mean to allow any curiosity about it or about their business, and +you'd have dropped dead in your tracks if you'd shown any." + +"I knew that very well all the time I was with 'em," Tom answered +quietly. + +"When they got nearly to the railroad they burned the wagon and killed +the horses, and Will scooted for Mexico, and he's been in Chihuahua +ever since. + +"'My boy,' I says to him, 'you've got to come back with me.' 'I +can't,' says he, 'it will be my everlasting ruin if I do.' 'Face the +music like a man,' I said, 'and get out of it what you can.' I could +see by his eyes that he was honin' to come back, but he was almighty +afraid, I reckon mostly on Amada's account. He's plum' daft about +her--and I don't know as I blame him very much--and he told me he had +planned to get her down there soon. + +"'How can I go back?' says he. 'I'll be arrested and tried and +probably convicted.' 'No, you won't,' says I. 'You go back with me and +get Emerson Mead out of this scrape and I'll give you my word of +honor you won't be arrested.' 'But what can I say?' he says. 'How can +I explain?' 'Hell!' says I. 'Explain nothin'! Tell your father as much +or as little as you like, and if Colonel Whittaker walks down Main +street with his head up and his mouth shut I reckon nobody's goin' to +ask him any impudent questions. If you want any help yourself you've +got Nick Ellhorn and Emerson Mead and Tommy Tuttle behind you, and if +you think them three couldn't send the devil himself sashayin' down +the Rio Grande you'd better not say so to yours truly. If you don't +want to stay there, take Amada and get out, and if your father won't +set you up somewheres we three will see that you have what you need. +And whatever he does we'll give you a thousand apiece anyway.' + +"'I wish I dared!' says he. 'Will Whittaker,' says I, 'Amada Garcia +started out to come to you with only four dollars in her pocket, and +she walked in the night nearly all the way to Plumas, and then she +nearly died givin' premature birth to your child, because she had +tried to find you.' With that he jumped up and grabbed my arm and +could hardly speak, for I hadn't told him about any of that business +before. + +"'She isn't dead,' says I, 'but you may thank Miss Delarue that she +isn't. The child was born dead. But do you think, after all that, +you-all can do any less than go back and marry her again, with a +priest and a ring and a white dress and all the rest of it? Do you +think, after that, you-all can do any less than pretend you're a man, +and ever face yourself in the glass again without smashin' it?' + +"He dropped back in his chair with his face in his hands and cried, +actually cried. But I sure reckon he was shook up pretty sudden by +what I told him about Amada. I didn't say any more, but I just made up +my mind that if he hung back after that I'd tie my Chiny pig tail +around his neck and yank him back to Plumas like a yellow dog at the +end of a string. + +"After a little while he said he'd go. I knew he meant it, but I was +so almighty afraid he'd go back on it if he got thinkin' about his +father and skip on me that I didn't let him out of my sight while he +was awake, and at night I tied his arm fast to mine with my pig tail. + +"Well, when we finally got to Plumas I just concluded Emerson's neck +wasn't in danger for another hour, and that I'd better set that +little girl straight the first thing I did, before the young chap +got under his father's thumb. I knew he meant all right and loved +her like hell's blazes, but he's more afraid of his father than a +self-respectin' young man of his age ought to be. So we went straight +to Miss Delarue's. I tell you what, boys, that Miss Delarue is a +regular royal flush. There ain't another girl can stack up with her in +the whole territory. I took Will Whittaker in and told her how matters +stood, and you ought to have seen how pleased she was! If it had been +her own weddin' she couldn't have been more interested, or looked +happier. She was as glad to see Will as if he'd been her own brother, +and all because she likes poor little Amada, and was glad to see her +made happy, for of course it didn't concern her any other way." + +A little smile moved Mead's lips as he heard this, and he turned his +eyes away to hide the happy look he felt was in them, for he knew how +deep were Marguerite's reasons to be glad the runaway had returned. + +"While I went down-town to hunt up the _padre_," Nick went on, "she +fixed Amada up with a white veil--you know these Mexican girls hardly +think they've been married if they haven't had a white veil on--and a +bunch of white flowers and a white sack that was all lace and ribbons +over her night gown--for Amada's in bed yet, and had to be propped up +on the pillows--and then she and I stood up with 'em and put our names +down as witnesses. Then I marched the young man up to the court-house, +and you-all know what happened there." + +"I saw you talking with Colonel Whittaker," said Mead. "Did you tell +him about the wedding?" + +"You bet I did! I was plum' determined he should hear some straight +talk about that, and if that little girl don't have a fair show with +the Whittaker family it won't be my fault." + +"What did you-all say to him?" Tom asked. + +"Oh, I gave it to him straight from the shoulder! 'Colonel +Whittaker,' I said, 'I've brought your son back to you alive, and I'm +goin' to see to it that no harm comes to him because he's been away. +He can tell you as much or as little as he likes, but I know the whole +story, and I want to tell you right now that if anybody tries to get +him into trouble about it they've got Nick Ellhorn and Tom Tuttle and +Emerson Mead to buck against, and there's my hand on it. But you +needn't thank me. You can thank a little Mexican girl whose name was +Amada Garcia, but it's Amada Whittaker now. They have been married +without any proof of it ever since last spring, but they are married +tight and fast now, _padre_ and witnesses and the whole thing, and I +helped 'em to do it not an hour ago. Now, keep your temper, Colonel,' +says I, 'and wait till I get through. I know you'll be disappointed +and mad, but you'd better keep cool and make the best of it, for the +girl's just as good as you are, if she is a Mexican, and she's a whole +heap too good for your son. And she's just the cutest and prettiest +little piece of calico you ever laid your eyes on, in the bargain. +Now, don't try to step in and make a mess of this, Colonel,' I said, +'for you won't succeed if you do try, because the boy has got Emerson +and Tom and me to back him, and if you-all don't play a father's part +toward him we will. If you should get him away from her you'd just +simply send your son to the devil, and he'd be the devil's own brat if +he let you do it. + +"'Now, Colonel,' says I, 'you-all better go and make a call on your +new daughter-in-law, and find out from Will what she's done to protect +him and get to him, and if you don't take her right into camp you're +not the gentleman and the judge of beauty I take you for. Besides, +Colonel' says I, 'if Amada gets the right kind of treatment from you +and your folks, my bargain with Will holds. If she don't--well, I'll +keep my word, of course, but there's likely to be consequences.'" + +Nick's narrative came to its end and for a few minutes the three men +smoked in silence. Then Ellhorn turned half reluctantly to Mead: + +"Say, Emerson, that was mighty queer about those three bullet holes. +We sure thought nobody but you-all could do that." + +Mead smiled, thinking of Marguerite. "Even if he was shot in the +back?" he said quietly. + +Nick and Tom looked at each other with chagrin on their faces. "We-all +never thought of that!" Tom exclaimed. + +"And he did need killin' so damn bad," said Nick, "and you-all never +said a word to deny it." + +"I don't usually deny things I'm charged with," said Mead. + +"That's so, Emerson, you don't," assented Tom. + +"People are welcome to believe anything they like about me," Mead went +on, "and I don't intend to belittle myself askin' 'em not to. It's all +right, boys. I didn't blame you for believin' I'd done it But I did +think you'd notice he'd been shot in the back. I'm goin' out now. I'll +see you later." And he hurried off down Main street to find Pierre +Delarue. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +The February sunshine lay warm and bright and still over Las Plumas +and the sky bent low and blue and cloudless above the town. Bright +feathered birds were darting through the orchards and trilling their +nesting songs, the peach tree buds were showing their pink noses, and +the promise of spring was everywhere. In the big, wide hall of Pierre +Delarue's house Marguerite stood beside the door of her room, talking +with Emerson Mead, while he clumsily buttoned her gloves. She was +dressed in a traveling gown, and as his glance wandered over her +figure his eyes shone with admiration. Tall though he was and superb +of physique, her head reached his shoulder and her figure matched his +in its own strength and beauty. + +"Tom and Nick look as forlorn as two infant orphans," he was saying to +her. "You would think I had died instead of getting married. Nick has +hinted that he means to go on a spree, and Tom says he'll lock him up +in their room and sit on his chest for a week if he tries to make that +kind of a break." + +"Do you think he will?" Marguerite asked. + +"Sit on him? Yes, I think likely. He's done it before, and it's about +the only thing that will keep Nick sober when he has made up his mind +that he wants to get drunk. It's a good plan to keep Nick sober, too, +for when he gets drunk most anything's likely to happen." + +"No, I meant, do you think he will get drunk?" + +Emerson shrugged his shoulders. "I reckon that will depend on whether +Tom goes to sleep or not." + +"Where are they?" + +"Out on the porch with Bye-Bye." + +They went out on the veranda where Tom and Nick were standing, and +Marguerite put a hand on the arm of each, looking up in their faces +with smiling earnestness. "I wonder," she said, "if I could ask you +boys to do something for me while we are gone?" + +They turned toward her eagerly. "You bet we'll do anything you-all +want us to, Mrs.--Mrs.--" Nick tried to say "Mrs. Mead," choked a +little, and ended with "Mrs. Emerson." And "Mrs. Emerson" she was to +him and Tom from that time forth. + +"What can we-all do?" asked Tom. + +"Why, I've been hoping you wouldn't mind looking after Paul a little +bit for me. I am so afraid he will miss me, because I've always been +with him. The housekeeper will take good care of him, of course, but I +know he will be lonely if there is nothing to distract his mind. And I +couldn't be happy, even on my wedding journey, if I thought my little +Bye-Bye was crying for me." + +"Don't you worry, Mrs. Emerson," Nick exclaimed. "We'll give him so +much fun he won't know you're gone. I'll bring my horse and take him +to ride every day." + +"We'll buy all the playthings in town for him." + +"We'll tote him around all the time. It'll give us something to do and +keep us out of mischief. He shan't shed a tear while you're gone." + +"Here, Bye-Bye," called Tom, "come and ride on my shoulder." And +mounted on that big, high pedestal the child was marched up and down +the porch, laughing and clapping his hands. "We'll stay and amuse him +while you-all go to the depot, so he won't cry after you." + +"I'll make him some reins out of my Chiny pigtail," said Nick. +"You-all go right along, Mrs. Emerson, and don't you worry once. He +shan't whimper while you're gone, and he'll have such a good time +he'll be sorry to see you come home." + +Marguerite looked back from the carriage window as they drove away and +saw little Paul holding fast to the middle of Nick's precious queue, +laughing and shouting, while two tall figures attached to its ends +pranced and kicked and cavorted up and down the veranda. + +THE END + + + + + "The Books You Like to Read + at the Price You Like to Pay" + +_There Are Two Sides to Everything_-- + +--including the wrapper which covers every Grosset & Dunlap book. When +you feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully +selected list of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by +prominent writers of the day which is printed on the back of every +Grosset & Dunlap book wrapper. + +You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from--books for +every mood and every taste and every pocketbook. + +_Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write +to the publishers for a complete catalog._ + +_There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book for every mood and for every taste_ + + + + +RUBY M. AYRE'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +RICHARD CHATTERTON + +A fascinating story in which love and jealousy play strange tricks +with women's souls. + +A BACHELOR HUSBAND + +Can a woman love two men at the same time? + +In its solving of this particular variety of triangle "A Bachelor +Husband" will particularly interest, and strangely enough, without one +shock to the most conventional minded. + +THE SCAR + +With fine comprehension and insight the author shows a terrific +contrast between the woman whose love was of the flesh and one whose +love was of the spirit. + +THE MARRIAGE OF BARRY WICKLOW + +Here is a man and woman who, marrying for love, yet try to build their +wedded life upon a gospel of hate for each other and yet win back to a +greater love for each other in the end. + +THE UPHILL ROAD + +The heroine of this story was a consort of thieves. The man was fine, +clean, fresh from the West. It is a story of strength and passion. + +WINDS OF THE WORLD + +Jill, a poor little typist, marries the great Henry Sturgess and +inherits millions, but not happiness. Then at last--but we must leave +that to Ruby M. Ayres to tell you as only she can. + +THE SECOND HONEYMOON + +In this story the author has produced a book which no one who has +loved or hopes to love can afford to miss. The story fairly leaps from +climax to climax. + +THE PHANTOM LOVER + +Have you not often heard of someone being in love with love rather +than the person they believed the object of their affections? That was +Esther! But she passes through the crisis into a deep and profound +love. + + + + +PETER B. KYNE'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +THE PRIDE OF PALOMAR + +When two strong men clash and the under-dog has Irish blood in his +veins--there's a tale that Kyne can tell! And "the girl" is also very +much in evidence. + +KINDRED OF THE DUST + +Donald McKay, son of Hector McKay, millionaire lumber king, falls in +love with "Nan of the Sawdust Pile," a charming girl who has been +ostracized by her townsfolk. + +THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS + +The fight of the Cardigans, father and son, to hold the Valley of the +Giants against treachery. The reader finishes with a sense of having +lived with big men and women in a big country. + +CAPPY RICKS + +The story of old Cappy Ricks and of Matt Peasley, the boy he tried to +break because he knew the acid test was good for his soul. + +WEBSTER: MAN'S MAN + +In a little Jim Crow Republic in Central America, a man and a woman, +hailing from the "States," met up with a revolution and for a while +adventures and excitement came so thick and fast that their love +affair had to wait for a lull in the game. + +CAPTAIN SCRAGGS + +This sea yarn recounts the adventures of three rapscallion sea-faring +men--a Captain Scraggs, owner of the green vegetable freighter Maggie, +Gibney the mate and McGuffney the engineer. + +THE LONG CHANCE + +A story fresh from the heart of the West, of San Pasqual, a sun-baked +desert town, of Harley P. Hennage, the best gambler, the best and +worst man of San Pasqual and of lovely Donna. + + + + +JACKSON GREGORY'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +THE EVERLASTING WHISPER + +The story of a strong man's struggle against savage nature and +humanity, and of a beautiful girl's regeneration from a spoiled child +of wealth into a courageous strong-willed woman. + +DESERT VALLEY + +A college professor sets out with his daughter to find gold. They meet +a rancher who loses his heart, and become involved in a feud. An +intensely exciting story. + +MAN TO MAN + +Encircled with enemies, distrusted, Steve defends his rights. How he +won his game and the girl he loved is the story filled with breathless +situations. + +THE BELLS OF SAN JUAN + +Dr. Virginia Page is forced to go with the sheriff on a night journey +into the strongholds of a lawless band. Thrills and excitement sweep +the reader along to the end. + +JUDITH OF BLUE LAKE RANCH + +Judith Sanford part owner of a cattle ranch realizes she is being +robbed by her foreman. How, with the help of Bud Lee, she checkmates +Trevor's scheme makes fascinating reading. + +THE SHORT CUT + +Wayne is suspected of killing his brother after a violent quarrel. +Financial complications, villains, a horse-race and beautiful Wanda, +all go to make up a thrilling romance. + +THE JOYOUS TROUBLE MAKER + +A reporter sets up housekeeping close to Beatrice's Ranch much to her +chagrin. There is "another man" who complicates matters, but all turns +out as it should in this tale of romance and adventure. + +SIX FEET FOUR + +Beatrice Waverly is robbed of $5,000 and suspicion fastens upon Buck +Thornton, but she soon realizes he is not guilty. Intensely exciting, +here is a real story of the Great Far West. + +WOLF BREED + +No Luck Drennan had grown hard through loss of faith in men he had +trusted. A woman hater and sharp of tongue, he finds a match in +Ygerne, whose clever fencing wins the admiration and love of the "Lone +Wolf." + + + + +ELEANOR H. PORTER'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +JUST DAVID + +The tale of a loveable boy and the place he comes to fill in the +hearts of the gruff farmer folk to whose care he is left. + +THE ROAD TO UNDERSTANDING + +A compelling romance of love and marriage. + +OH, MONEY! MONEY! + +Stanley Fulton, a wealthy bachelor, to test the dispositions of his +relatives, sends them each a check for $100,000, and then as plain +John Smith comes among them to watch the result of his experiment. + +SIX STAR RANCH + +A wholesome story of a club of six girls and their summer on Six Star +Ranch. + +DAWN + +The story of a blind boy whose courage leads him through the gulf of +despair into a final victory gained by dedicating his life to the +service of blind soldiers. + +ACROSS THE YEARS + +Short stories of our own kind and of our own people. Contains some of +the best writing Mrs. Porter has done. + +THE TANGLED THREADS + +In these stories we find the concentrated charm and tenderness of all +her other books. + +THE TIE THAT BINDS + +Intensely human stories told with Mrs. Porter's wonderful talent for +warm and vivid character drawing. + + + + +"STORM COUNTRY" BOOKS BY GRACE MILLER WHITE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +JUDY OF ROGUES' HARBOR + +Judy's untutored ideas of God, her love of wild things, her faith in +life are quite as inspiring as those of Tess. Her faith and sincerity +catch at your heart strings. This book has all of the mystery and +tense action of the other Storm Country books. + +TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY + +It was as Tess, beautiful, wild, impetuous, that Mary Pickford made +her reputation as a motion picture actress. How love acts upon a +temperament such as hers--a temperament that makes a woman an angel or +an outcast, according to the character of the man she loves--is the +theme of the story. + +THE SECRET OF THE STORM COUNTRY + +The sequel to "Tess of the Storm Country," with the same wild +background, with its half-gypsy life of the squatters--tempestuous, +passionate, brooding. Tess learns the "secret" of her birth and finds +happiness and love through her boundless faith in life. + +FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSING + +A haunting story with its scene laid near the country familiar to +readers of "Tess of the Storm Country." + +ROSE O' PARADISE + +"Jinny" Singleton, wild, lovely, lonely, but with a passionate +yearning for music, grows up in the house of Lafe Grandoken, a +crippled cobbler of the Storm Country. Her romance is full of power +and glory and tenderness. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. 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